THE TWO LOVERS.

escape the keen, observing eye of a cold, mercenary mother. She charged her daughter with her fondness, and forbade her distracted lover the house. To close up every avenue of hope, she withdrew with her wretched child into Italy, where they remained for two years; at the expiration of which, the mother had arranged for her daughter a match more congenial to her own pride and avarice, with an elderly gentleman, who had considerable fortune and property in the vicinity of Bourdeaux. Every necessary preparation was made for this cruel union, which it was determined should be celebrated in Paris, to which city they returned for that purpose. Two days before the marriage was intended to take place, the young lover, wrought up to frenzy by the intelligence of the approaching nuptials, contrived, by bribing the porter whilst the mother was at the opera with her intended son-in-law, to reach the room of the beloved being from whom he was about to be separated for ever. Emaciated by grief, she presented the mere spectre of what she was when he last left her. As soon as he entered the room, he fell senseless at her feet, from which state he was roused by the loud fits of her frightful maniac laughter. She stared upon him, like one bewildered. He clasped her with one hand, and with the other drew from his pocket a vial containing double distilled laurel water he pressed it to her lips, until she had swallowed half of its contents; the remainder he drank himself.-The drug of death soon began to operate.— Clasped in each other's arms, pale and expiring, they reviewed their hard fate, and, in faint and lessening sentences, implored of the great God of mercy, that he would pardon them for what

F F

217

CHAP.

XX.

218

CHAP.

XX.

THE TWO LOVERS.

what they had done, and that he would receive their spirits
into his regions of eternal repose; that he would be pleased,
in his divine goodness, to forgive the misjudging severity which
had driven them to despair, and would support the unconscious
author of it, under the heavy afflictions which their disastrous
deaths would occasion. They had scarcely finished their prayer,
when they heard footsteps approaching the room. Madame
R, who had been indisposed at the opera, returned home
before its conclusion, with the intended bridegroom. The
young man awoke, as it were, from his deadly drowsiness,
and, exerting his last strength, pulled from his breast a dagger,
stabbed the expiring being, upon whom he doated, to the
heart; and, falling upon her body, gave himself several mortal
wounds. The door opened; the frantic mother appeared.
All the house was in an instant alarmed; and the fatal ex-
planation which furnished the materials of this short and sad
recital, was taken from the lips of the dying lover, who had
scarcely finished it before he breathed his last.
Two days
afterwards, the story was hawked about the streets.
From this painful narrative, in which the French im-
petuosity is strongly depicted, I must turn to mention my visit
to Mons. le G, who lives in the Rue Florentine, and
is considered to be one of the first architects in France; in
which are many monuments of his taste and elegance. It is
a curious circumstance that all artists exercise their talents
more successfully for their patrons than for themselves. Whether
it is the hope of a more substantial reward than that of mere
self-complacency, which usually excites the mind to its happiest

exertions,

SELF-PRESCRIBING PHYSICIAN.

exertions, I will not pretend to determine; but the point seems 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 guinca 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

219

CHAP.

XX.

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 considerable 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 delinquency of the oppressor of France, is said to be indebted more to his character, than to nature, for the representation

of

BUST OF ROBESPIERRE.

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,
"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 Robespierre, has already bestowed upon him a fanciful physiognomy, which she has composed of features which rather correspond with the ferocity of his soul, than with his real countenance. 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

221

CHAP.

XX.

of