Charlotte CordayCharlotte Corday.Thereare few incidents of the French Revolution more intensely interesting than those which relate to Charlotte Corday. Paris was the scene of the most violent commotions that have ever been witnessed in civilized society. All France was agitated with the strife of parties that wrestled with each other in the capital. The hearts of men seemed to be filled with frenzy. The common bonds of society were rent asunder; new and strange ideas took possession of the minds of the people. In the midst of this excitement, and wrought up by the fever of the time, to a design beyond her sex, Charlotte Corday appeared upon the theatre of action, and arrested even the attention of the maddened populace of Paris, by her heroic self-devotion.The triumph of the Jacobins over the rival Girondists in May, 1793, rendered their power uncontrollable. Marat wastreated with more honor and respect than any individual since the revolution, and exerted a sway in the Convention and the clubs more absolute than was ever before known in bodies styled deliberative. In fact, they submitted to all his whims and caprices, and seemed to derive to themselves honor from the submission. His extravagances were more bearable from the obvious certainty that the wretch was hastening to the grave, and that nothing could save him. His constitution was never good, and at this time, he was preyed upon by a leprous complaint; which adding its ravages to his natural deformity and habitual want of personal cleanliness, rendered him a most disgusting object. But this man of blood was not destined to end his days by disease.Of the Girondists, some were arrested and executed, others succeeded in escaping, and were outlawed. Of this latter class, a number, among them Barbaroux, he whose beauty of person and energy of mind could move the heart of the philosophic Madame Roland, had taken refuge at Caen. They held daily meetings at the town-hall, and thither frequently came Charlotte Corday, a young lady of stately figure, with an open and intelligent countenance, and about twenty-five years of age. Her deportment was modest; she was of studious and meditative habits, and was a republican before the revolution. In her visits to the town-hall, she was always attended by a servant, and her inquiry was for Barbaroux, with whom she had been long acquainted, and with whom she pretended to have business. She now heard much of the atrocities of the Terrorists; of the ferocity of Marat, who held in his hands the destiny of her country, and what was as much to her, the fate of Barbaroux. Patriotism and love both prompted her to the commission of an act, by which, at the sacrifice of her own life, she should be the savior both of her country and her friend.A nun of Caen was desirous to obtain some family papers which were in the office of the Minister of the Interior at Paris. Charlotte offered to proceed thither to procure them, and was furnished by Barbaroux, with a letter of introduction to his friend Dupenet, who would aid her in procuring them.On the 9th of July we find her seated in the diligence, and the details of her journey are thus given in a letter to Barbaroux.“You requested an account of my journey, and I will not excuse you from the slightest anecdotes. I travelled with good mountaineers, whom I suffered to talk as much as they pleased, and their discourse, which was as absurd as their persons were disagreeable, contributed not a little to lull me to sleep. I was not perfectly awake till I arrived at Paris. One of my fellow travellers, who is, undoubtedly an admirer of sleepy women, took me for the daughter of one of his old friends, supposed me possessed of a fortune which I have not, gave me a name which I never heard, and, in conclusion, offered me his hand and fortune. When I was tired of his conversation, I said, ‘We are admirable comedians, what a pity that, with such talents, we have no spectators; I will go and fetch our fellow-travellers, that they may have their share of the amusement.’ I lefthim in a very ill humor; all night he sung plaintive songs, excellent procreatives of sleep. At length I parted with him at Paris, refusing to give him my address, or that of my father, of whom he wished to ask me in marriage.”She delivered her letter to Dupenet, and the ostensible object of her journey was accomplished. But she said nothing of returning. She visited the Convention. Marat was not there, he was confined to his house by sickness. She proceeded thither, but was refused admittance.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 awayennuithey 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 thepoissardes, 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.”
Charlotte Corday
Thereare few incidents of the French Revolution more intensely interesting than those which relate to Charlotte Corday. Paris was the scene of the most violent commotions that have ever been witnessed in civilized society. All France was agitated with the strife of parties that wrestled with each other in the capital. The hearts of men seemed to be filled with frenzy. The common bonds of society were rent asunder; new and strange ideas took possession of the minds of the people. In the midst of this excitement, and wrought up by the fever of the time, to a design beyond her sex, Charlotte Corday appeared upon the theatre of action, and arrested even the attention of the maddened populace of Paris, by her heroic self-devotion.
The triumph of the Jacobins over the rival Girondists in May, 1793, rendered their power uncontrollable. Marat wastreated with more honor and respect than any individual since the revolution, and exerted a sway in the Convention and the clubs more absolute than was ever before known in bodies styled deliberative. In fact, they submitted to all his whims and caprices, and seemed to derive to themselves honor from the submission. His extravagances were more bearable from the obvious certainty that the wretch was hastening to the grave, and that nothing could save him. His constitution was never good, and at this time, he was preyed upon by a leprous complaint; which adding its ravages to his natural deformity and habitual want of personal cleanliness, rendered him a most disgusting object. But this man of blood was not destined to end his days by disease.
Of the Girondists, some were arrested and executed, others succeeded in escaping, and were outlawed. Of this latter class, a number, among them Barbaroux, he whose beauty of person and energy of mind could move the heart of the philosophic Madame Roland, had taken refuge at Caen. They held daily meetings at the town-hall, and thither frequently came Charlotte Corday, a young lady of stately figure, with an open and intelligent countenance, and about twenty-five years of age. Her deportment was modest; she was of studious and meditative habits, and was a republican before the revolution. In her visits to the town-hall, she was always attended by a servant, and her inquiry was for Barbaroux, with whom she had been long acquainted, and with whom she pretended to have business. She now heard much of the atrocities of the Terrorists; of the ferocity of Marat, who held in his hands the destiny of her country, and what was as much to her, the fate of Barbaroux. Patriotism and love both prompted her to the commission of an act, by which, at the sacrifice of her own life, she should be the savior both of her country and her friend.
A nun of Caen was desirous to obtain some family papers which were in the office of the Minister of the Interior at Paris. Charlotte offered to proceed thither to procure them, and was furnished by Barbaroux, with a letter of introduction to his friend Dupenet, who would aid her in procuring them.
On the 9th of July we find her seated in the diligence, and the details of her journey are thus given in a letter to Barbaroux.
“You requested an account of my journey, and I will not excuse you from the slightest anecdotes. I travelled with good mountaineers, whom I suffered to talk as much as they pleased, and their discourse, which was as absurd as their persons were disagreeable, contributed not a little to lull me to sleep. I was not perfectly awake till I arrived at Paris. One of my fellow travellers, who is, undoubtedly an admirer of sleepy women, took me for the daughter of one of his old friends, supposed me possessed of a fortune which I have not, gave me a name which I never heard, and, in conclusion, offered me his hand and fortune. When I was tired of his conversation, I said, ‘We are admirable comedians, what a pity that, with such talents, we have no spectators; I will go and fetch our fellow-travellers, that they may have their share of the amusement.’ I lefthim in a very ill humor; all night he sung plaintive songs, excellent procreatives of sleep. At length I parted with him at Paris, refusing to give him my address, or that of my father, of whom he wished to ask me in marriage.”
She delivered her letter to Dupenet, and the ostensible object of her journey was accomplished. But she said nothing of returning. She visited the Convention. Marat was not there, he was confined to his house by sickness. She proceeded thither, but was refused admittance.
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 awayennuithey 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 thepoissardes, 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.”