SELF-PRESCRIBING PHYSICIAN.

219

XX.

exertions, I will not pretend to determine; but the point seems CHAP.. to be in some degree settled by the conduct of a celebrated Bath physician, of whom it is related, that, happening once to suffer under a malady from which as his skill had frequently relieved others, he determined to prescribe for himself. The recipe at first had not the desired effect. The doctor was surprised. At last he recollected that he had not feed himself. Upon making this discovery, he drew the strings of his purse, and with his left hand placed a guinea in his right, and then prescribed. The story concludes by informing its readers, that the prescription succeeded, and the doctor recovered. — In adorning the front of his own hôtel, Mons. le G, in my very humble opinion, has not exhibited his accustomed powers. In a small confined court-yard he has attempted to give to a private dwelling the appearance of one of those vast temples of which he became enamoured when at Athens. The roof is supported by two massy fluted pilastres, which in size are calculated to bear the burthen of some prodigious dome. The muscular powers of Hercules seem to be here exercised in raising a grasshopper from the ground. The genius of Mons. le G, unlike the world's charity, does not begin at home, but seems more disposed to display its most successful energies abroad. His roof, however, contains such a monument of his goodness and generosity, that I must not pass it over. This distinguished architect is one of those unfortunate beings who have been decreed to taste the bitterness, very soon after the sweets of matrimony. Upon discovering the infidelity of his lady, who is very pretty and prepossessing, the distracted hus

220

CHAP.

XX.

ANECDOTE OF MONS. LE G.

band immediately sought a divorce from the laws of his country. This affair happened a very short time before the revolution afforded unusual acceleration and facilities to the wishes of parties, who, under similar circumstances, wished to get rid of each other as soon as possible. The then "law's delay" afforded some cause of vexation to Mons. le G who was deeply injured. Before his suit had passed through its last forms, the father of his wife, who at the time of their marriage lived in great affluence, became a bankrupt. In the vortex of his failure, all the means of supporting his family were swallowed up. The generous' le G, disdaining to expose to want and ignominy the woman who had once been dear to him, would proceed no further. She is still his wife; she bears his name, is maintained by him, and in a separate suite of apartments lives under the same roof with him. But Mons. and Madame le G have had no intercourse whatever with each other for eleven years. If in the gallery or in the hall they meet by accident, they pass without the interchange of a word. This painful and difficult arrangement has now lost a com siderable portion of its misery, by having become familiar to the unfortunate couple.

In the valuable and curious cabinet of Mons. le G, I found out, behind several other casts, a bust of Robespierre, which was taken of him, a short period before he fell. A tyrant, whose offences look white, contrasted with the deep délinquency of the oppressor of France, is said to be indebted more to his character, than to nature, for the representation

of

of that deformity of person which appears in Shakspeare's
portrait of him, when he puts this soliloquy in his lips :-

"I that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,

"Cheated of feature, by dissembling Nature,

66

Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time,

"Into the breathing world, scarce half made up;
"And that so lamely and unfashionably,

"That dogs bark at me, as I halt by them."

History, enraged at the review of the insatiable crimes of Ro-
bespierre, has already bestowed upon him a fanciful physiog-
nomy, which she has composed of features which rather cor-
respond with the ferocity of his soul, than with his real coun-
tenance. From the appearance of this bust, which is an
authentic remblance of him, his face must have been rather
handsome. His features were small, and his countenance must
have strongly expressed animation, penetration and subtlety.
This bust is a real curiosity. It is very likely that not another
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 any 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

221

СНАР.

XX.

222

CHAP.
XX.

CORN HALL.

of his former lodgings look towards the Place de la Concorde, on the right of which his prime minister, the permanent guillotine, 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 Romc, and a spirit of evil which, with its 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 which 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 english consume, is considered to form a part of their national character. Before I left Paris, I was requested

to