Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1848-09-21

of the setting sun fell on her head and her
complexion, heightened by the red chemse
seemed of an unearthly brlliancy Robes
pierre, Danton, and Camille Desmoulins,
had placed themselves on her passage, to
gaze on her, for all those who anticipated
assassination were curious to study in her
features the expression of that ianaticism
which might threaten them on the morrow.
She resembled celestial vengeance appeased
and TRANSPORTED, and from time to time
seemed to seek glance of intelligence on
which her eye could rest. Adam Lux n
waited the cart at the entrance of the Rue
st. Honore, and followed it to the foot of
the scaffold. He engraved in his heart
to quote his own words, this unutterable
sweetness, amid the barbarous outcries of
the crowd, that look so gentle yet penetra-
ting-those vivid flashes that broke forth
like burning ideas from those bright eyes,
I in which spoke a soul as intrepid as tender.
Charming eyes which should have melted a
stone
Thus an enthusiastic and unearthly at
tachment accompanied her, without her
knowledge, to the very scalIod, and prepar-
cd to follow her, in hope of an eternal re-
union. The cart stopped, and Charlotte, at
the sight of the fatal instrument, turned
pale, but soon recovering herself, assembled
the scalfold with as light and rapid step
as the long chemise and her pinioned arms
permitted. When the eXecutioner, to bare
her neck, removed the handkerchief that
covered her bosom, this insult to her mod
esty moved her more than her impending
death; then, turning TO the guillotine, she
nj nv m hnn
blade fell, and her head rolled on the scaff-
old. One of the assistants, named Lcgros,
took it in his hand and struck it on the
cheek. 1t is said that deep crimson SUI
fusion overspread the face, as though digni-
ty and modesty had for an instant lasted
longer, even, than life.
Such was the death of Marat such were
the life and death of Charlotte Corday. In
the face of murder, history does not praise
and in the face of hcroism, darcs not con-
denim her. The appreciation of such an
act places US IN the terrible alternative of
blaming virtue or applaudng assassination.
Like the painter who, desparing of render
ing the expression of a mingled sentiment,
cast veil over the face of the figure, we
must leave this mystery to be debated in the
abysses of the human heart. There are
deeds of which men are no Judges, and
which mount, without appeal, direct to the
tribunal of God. There are human actions
so strange mixture of weakness and
strength pure intent and cupable means.
error and truth, murder and martyrdom
that we know not whether to term them
crime or virtue The culpable devotion of
/ Charlotte Corday is among those acts which
admiration and horror would leave eternay
III doubt, did not mortality reprove them
Had we to find for this sublime lberatrix
of her country, aud generous murderess of
a tyrant, name which should at once con-
vey the enthusiasm of our feelings toward
her and the severity of our judgment on her
action, we would coin phrase combining
the extreme of admiration and horror, and
term her the Angel of Assassination.
A few days aiterward Adam Lux pub
lshed the Apology of Charlotte Corday,'
and associated himself with her deed, in or
der to share her martyrdom. Arrested and
sent to the Abbaye, he exclaimed, as he en-
tered the prison, shall die, then, Tor her.
He persisted soon after saluting, as the al
tar of Liberty and love, the scafiold which
the blood of his model had hallowed. The
heroism of Charlotte was sung by the poet
Andre Chenier, who was himself so soon to
die for that common iatherland of all great
sous-purc liberty.
Whose is this tomb ? sings the German
poet, Klopstock 1t is the tomb of Char
lotte. Let us gather flowers and scatter
: them over her ashes, for she is dead for her
country. No, no: gather nothing let us
seek a weeping willow, and plant it DER 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 Vergniand, on learning in
his dungeon, of the crime, trial, and death
of Charlotte, exclaimed, She destroys US,
but she teaches us how to die,