CHARLOTTE CORDAY D'ARMONT.

AN INCIDENT IN THE FRENCH REVOLUTION OF 1793:

BY MRS. S. T. MARTYN.

CHAPTER IV. THE TRIAL AND EXECUTION.

"The pathway of my duty lies in sunlight,

And I will tread it with as firm a step,

Though it must end in dark oblivion,

As if Elysian pleasures at its close

Flash'd palpable to sight as things of earth."-IoN.

THE National Assembly or Convention of France, which at first was divided into two nearly equal factions, called La Plaine and La Montagne, was now, in the summer of 1793, wholly under the dominion of the Montagnards, with Robespierre, Danton, and the odious denouncer, Fouquier Tinville, at their head. Since the expulsion of the Girondists, who though fierce republicans, were known after the death of Louis Sixteenth, as the more moderate party, the voice of mercy was a sound unheard within those walls, and none but the extremest measures found favor there. To the triumvirate who ruled the councils of the nation, the death of Marat was in truth, a welcome event, as they found it impossible to control his blind and headlong fury, and the mad worship of the populace gave constant umbrage to their jealousy and self-esteem. But now, that he was forever removed from their path, they could well afford to grant him an apotheosis, and therefore, while at the instance of the Assembly, unprecedented honors were paid to his remains, the leaders affected the utmost veneration for his character, and indignation against his murderer. They sent to her cell Montane, the president of the revolutionary tribunal, that in this private interrogatory, Charlotte Corday might be more readily induced to betray her supposed accomplices, for they could not conceive the possibility that such a deed was planned and executed by herself alone. So deeply did Montane feel the influence of the beauty, grace and dauntless resolution of the young girl, that he framed his questions, and tacitly dictated her answers so as to induce her if possible to save her life, by suffering the act to be regarded as the effect of madness, rather than crime. But she VOL. III.-21

resolutely spurned these attempts--and frustrated his humane design by avowing herself the sole agent in the dreadful transaction, and glorying in it as a fitting holocaust to liberty. She sent by him the following request to the Committee of General Safety

"As I have yet some moments to live, may I hope, citizens, that you will permit me to sit for my portrait, as I would fain leave this souvenir to my friends. Besides, as the likeness of good citizens are carefully preserved, so curiosity sometimes seeks those of great criminals, in order to perpetuate their crime. If you grant my request, be so good as to send me a miniature painter."

From the Abbaye, the prisoner was removed to the Conciergerie, as her trial was to take place in the large Salle immediately above the dungeons. On entering those gloomy vaults, from whose dark recesses so many illustrious victims had been led forth to the scaf fold, she was committed to the care of Madame Richard, the wife of the keeper, and the maternal kindness of this good woman more deeply affected the heart, and tried the resolution of the friendless girl, than all the previous horrors of her lot. "I can bear misfortune," she said, "for it has long been my companion, and I have grown familiar with its features-but to disinterested kindness I have been till now a stranger, and know not how to respond to it as I ought." By an act of unusual indulgence, the means of writing were allowed to Charlotte Corday, and she sent the following brief letter to her father immediately after her removal to the Conciergerie:" Pardon me, my father, for having disposed of my existence without your permission. I have avenged many innocent victims, and prevented many other disasters. The people who will one day be disabused, will rejoice at their deliverance from a tyrant. If I sought to persuade you that I had gone to England, it was because I hoped to remain unknown. I have chosen as my defender Gustave de Pontecoulant-but only for form's sake, as such a deed admits of no defence. Adieu, dear father. I pray you to forget me, or rather rejoice at my fate-the cause is noble. I embrace my sister whom I love with all my heart. Do not forget the words of Corneille

La crime fait la houte, et non pas l'echefaud !' * To-morrow at eight o'clock, I am tried."

"The crime, and not the scaffold, makes the shame."