She returned to her inn, and despatched a note, telling him that she was from Caen, the seat of rebellion; that she desired earnestly to see him, and would put it in his power to do France a great service. She received no answer. She wrote another note still more pressing, and carried it herself to the door. He was just leaving his bath, but her business was urgent, and she was admitted to his presence. “I am from Caen,” said she, “and wished to speak with you.” “Be seated, my child. What are the traitors doing at Caen? What deputies are at Caen?” He took out his tablets, and wrote down the names as Charlotte gave them,—“Louvet, Petion, Barbaroux; I will have them all guillotined at Paris within a fortnight.” “Then you shall precede them,” exclaimed Charlotte, and plunged a dagger through his heart.
She was at once seized and committed to prison. We will again quote from her letter to Barbaroux. “I expected to have been instantly put to death, but some men, truly courageous, preserved me from the excusable rage of those I had rendered unhappy. As I really preserved my presence of mind, I felt hurt at the exclamations of some women, but those who save their country think nothing of the cost. May peace be established as soon as I wish it! For these two days I have enjoyed a delicious state of mental repose. The happiness of my country constitutes mine; there is no act of self-devotion which does not overpay in pleasure, the pain of resolving to adopt it. I never hated but one single being, and I have demonstrated how violent that hatred was. But there are thousands whom I love with more warmth than I hated him. A lively imagination and a feeling heart promise but a stormy life; I beg those who may regret my fate to think of this, and they will rejoice at seeing me enjoy repose in the Elysian fields with Brutus and a few of the ancients. As for the moderns, there are few real patriots, who know how to die for their country; they are almost all selfish. What a people to form a republic! I am exceedingly well accommodated in my prison; the jailors are the best kind of people in the world; to keep away ennui they have placed soldiers in my room. I have no objection to make to this by day, but by night it is not so pleasant. I have complained of the indecency, but no one has thought fit to attend to my remonstrance.... My trial comes on to-morrow at eight; probably at noon, according to the Roman phrase, I shall have lived. I cannot say how I shall encounter my last moments; I have no need to affect insensibility, for I never yet knew the fear of death, and never loved life but in proportion to its possible utility.”
On the 17th of July she was put on trial, and avowed the fact and all the circumstances, alleging, as justification, that she considered Marat a criminal already convicted by public opinion, and that she had a right to put him to death. She added, that she did not expect to have been brought to trial, but to have been delivered up to the rage of the populace, torn to pieces, and that her head, borne on a pike before the corpse of Marat, would have served as a rallying point to Frenchmen, if any still existed worthy of the name.
She was led from the place of trial to that of execution. On the way she displayed a firmness and tranquillity which even awed into silence the poissardes, those furies of the guillotine, who in general pursued the victim to death with execrations and reproaches. She submitted to her fate with the same composure that had marked all her previous conduct.
The circumstances which attended this extraordinary action, the privacy with which it was concerted, the resolution with which it was executed, the openness of confession, the contempt of punishment, and, above all, the execrable character of the monster who was the subject of it, have taken off so much of the horror generally felt at an act of assassination, that the name of Charlotte Corday is generally pronounced with respect and a great degree of admiration.
Grammatical Witticism.—“Bobby, what’s steam?” “Boiling water.” “That’s right. Compare it.” “Positive, boil; comparative, boiler; superlative, burst.”
Conjugal Affection.
CHAPTER I.
One of the most remarkable instances of conjugal affection is furnished by the story of Victoria Colonna, which I will relate.