The daily crescent. [volume] ([New Orleans, La.]) 1848-1851, 1848-07-04

she believed she had called in vain to be her de-
fender. The letter was as follows:
g Doulcet de Pontecoulant is coward to have
refused TO defend me whenit was SO easy. He who
undertook it performed his task with all possible
dignity and shall retain grateful recollection OF
him to my last moments.
Her Indignation was unjust; the young Ponte-
coulant who was absent from Paris, had not re-
ceiyed her letter his generosity and courage were
a sufficient guaranty that he would have accepted
the office and Charlotte bore an error and an IN
Justice to the scaffold.
The artist who had sketched Charlotte's likeness
at the tribunal was M. Hauer apainter and officer
of the national guard of the section of the Vheatre
Francois. On her return TO the prison, she request
ed the concierge to allow him to finish his work,
and, on his arrival, Charlotte thanked him for the
interest he appeared take IN her. and quietly sat
to him. as though, while she permitted him to trans
nit her form and features to pesterity, she also
charged him to hand down her mind and her patri
otism to unborn generations She cOnyerssd with
M Hauer on his profession, the events Of the day,
and the peace of mind she felt after the execution
Of her design she also spoke Of her young friends
at Caen, and requested him to paint miniature
from the portrait and send lit her family.
Suddenly, a gentle knock was heard at this door,
and the executioner entered. Charlotte, turning
round, perceived the scissors and red chernise he
carried over his arm.
What! already exclaimed she, turning pale.
Then, recovering her composite, and CHANGING
at the unfinished portrait " Monsieur, said she 20
the artist, =" know not how 70 thank you for tha
trouble you have taken; have only this to oller
you. Keeepit in memory Of your kindness aild nIS
gratitude"
As she spoke, she took the scissors from theA
executioner, and, seyering lock Of her long fair
hsir, gave it to NJ Hauer.
This portrait, interrupted by DEATH is still in the
possession of the family Of NJ. Halier The head
only was painted, and the bust merely sketehed.
But the painter, who watched the preparations for
the scaffod was so struck with the sinister eplen-
dor added by the red chenise to the beauty Of his
model that, after Charotte's DEATH he painted her
in this costume
A priest, sent by the public aecuser, presented
himself to offer the last consultations Of religion.
Thank" said she to him, : those who have had
the attention TO send you, but need not your mir
istry. The blood have split, and my own, which
am about to shed, are the only sacrifices can
offer the Etsrnaln The executoner then cut oil
her hair, bound her hands, and put Oh the chenise
des eondamngs This, y said shs, i the toilette
Of death, arranged by somewhat rude hands, but il
leads TO immortality
She collected her long hair looked at il for the
last time, and gave h to Madame Richard. As
she mounted the fatal cart violent storm broke
over Paris, but the lightning and rain did not dis
perse the crowd, who blocked up the squares, the
bridges and the streets which she passed HDfles
of women, or rather furies, followed her, with the
iercest imprecationsj but, nsensible to these it'
suits, she gazed on the populace with eyes beaHng
with serenity and compassion,
The sky cleared up, and the rain, which wetted
her form, like those Of a woman leaving the bath
Her hands, bound behind her back, obliged her I'd
hold up her head, and this forced rigidity Of the
muscles gave more fxty to her attitude, and set off
the outlines of her figure. The rays Of the setting
sun fell on her head and her complexion, height
ened by the red chemise, seemed Of an unearthy
brilliancy. Robespierre, Danton and Camille Des-
moulins had placed themselves on her passage, to
gaze on her; for all those who anticipated assassi-
nation were curious to study in her features the ex-
Of f. nat nuivh
them on the morrow She resembed celestial yen-
geance appeased and TRANSPORTED, and from time TO
time she seemed to seek glance of intelligence on
which her eye could rest. Adam I9lx awaited the
cart at the entrance of the Rue st. Honore, and
followed it to the foot Of the scafold. He en-.
graved in his heart, 10 quote his own words, this
unutterable sweetness amid the barbarous cries of
the crowd, that look so gentle, yet generating
those vivid flashes that broke forth Ike burning
ideas from these bright eyes, in which spoke soul
as intrepid as tender Charming eyes, which should
have melted stone.
Thus an enthusiastic and unearthly attachment
| accompanied her, without her knowledge, to the
very scaffod and prepared to follow her, IN hope
| of an eternal reunion. The cart stopped, and
| Charlotte, at the sight Of the fatal instruments
turned pale, but soon recovering herself, assembled
the scaffod with as light and rapid step al the
| long chemise and her pinioned arms permitted
| When the executoner, to bare her neck, removed
the handkerchief that covered her bosom, this in
suit to her modesty moved her more than her inn
pending death then, turning to the gmliotlne, she
| placed herself under the axe. The heavy blade
fell and her head rolled on the scaffold. One of
the assistants named Legros. took it in his hand
and struck it on the cheek. II is said that deep
crimson suffusion overspread the face, as though
dignity and modesty had for an instant lasted longer
even than life.
Such was the death Of Marat and such were
the life and death of Charlotte Corday. In the
face of MURDER history dares not praise and in the
| face of heroism, dares not condemn her. The APP
/ ,fi ofr,lro a.
| alternative of blaming virtue or appauding assas-
sination Like the painter who, despaifng of rem
derng the expression of mingled sentiment, cast
veil the face Of the figure, we must leave
this mystery to be debated in the abysses of the hui
man heart. There are deeds of which men are no
judges, and which mount without appeal, direct 70
the tribunal Of God, There are human actions SO
strange mixture of weakness and strength, pure
intent and culpable MEANS error .nd truth murder
and martyrdom that we know not whes1er % aerll "
them crime or virtue, The cllpabe dev0ton "
Charlotte Corday is among those acts which admi-
ration and horror would leave etemalIy in doubt,
did not morality reprove them. Had we 70 find for
this sublime beratrix of her country, and generous
murderess of q tyrant, name which should at
once convey the enthusiasm Of our feelings toward
her and the severity OF our judgement on her ac-
| ton we would coin phrase combining the ex-
| IRENE of admiration and horror, ani term her lie
/ Angel of Assassination me
! 4 few DAYS afterward, Adam Lux published. lie
/ q Apology Of Charlotte Corday," and associated
himself with her Decd in order 10 share her MARTYR
! dom Arrested and sent to the Abbaye he ex-
claimed as he entered the prison, " shall die them
for her. He persisted soon after, saIuting, as the
altar Of liberty and love, the seaffod which the
blood of his model had hallowed The heroism of
Charlotte was sung by the poet Andre Chenier,
who was himself soon to die for that common
fatherand of all great souls--pure liberty.
Whose is this tomb r sings the German poet,
Klopstock. g 1t is the tomb OF Charlotte. Let us
gather flowers and scatter them over her ashes for
She is dead for her country. No. no. gather nothing:
let us seek weeping willow, and plant it Ger her
tomb, for she is dead for her country. No, no /;
plant nothing; but Weep and let your tears be blood
for she is dead in vain for her country Vergniaud
on learning in his dungeon, Of the crime trial. and
death Of Charlotte, exclaimed, I" She destroys us,
but she teaches us how TO die.''
FRoM HAYTI--Rnmorea Bakile and Massacre al