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BUST OF ROBESPIERRE. 221
of that deformity of person which appears in Shakspeare's Chap. portrait of him,. when he puts this soliloquy in his lips:— xx"
"I that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
History* enraged at the review of the insatiable crimes of Ro-
is now to be found. Mons. le G is permitted to preserve
it, without reproach on account of his art. I can-safely say, he does not retain, it, from arty emotions of veneration for the original. It is worthy of being placed between the heads of Caligula and Nero. Very near the residence of Mons. le
G is the house in which Robespierre lodged. It is at
the end of the Rue Florentine, in the Rue St. Honore, at a wax chandler's. This man is too much celebrated, not to render every thing which relates to him curious. The front windows
of his former lodgings look towards the Place de la Concorde, on the right of which his prime .minister, the permanent guik lotine, was quartered. Robespierre, who, like the revolting angel, before the world's formation, appears to have preferred the sceptre of Hell .and chaos, to the allegiance of order and social happiness, will descend to posterity with no common attributes of distinction and preeminence. His mind was fully suited to its labours, which, in their wide sphere of mischief, required more genius to direct them than was bestowed upon the worst of the tyrants of Rome, and a spirit of evil which, with its xt broad circumference" of guilt, was calculated to darken the disk of their less expanded enormity.
From Robespierre's lodgings, curiosity led me to visit the building in wluch the jacobin club held their Pandemonium. It is a noble edifice, and once belonged to the Order of Jacobins. Near this church stands the beautiful fabric of the Corn Hall of Paris, designed by Monsieur le Grand. The dome of the bank of England is in the same style, but inferior, in point of lightness and elegance. That of the Corn Hall resembles a vast concavity of glass. In this noble building the millers deposit their corn for sale. Its deep and lofty arches and area, were nearly filled with sacks, containing that grain whichis precious to all nations, but to none more than the french; to a frenchman, bread is most emphatically the staff of life. He consumes more of it at one meal than an englishman does at four. In France, the little comparative quantity of bread which the engiish consume, is considered to form a part of their national character. Before I left Paris, I was requested