ences. His studies in electricity gained for him the admiration of
Benjamin Franklin and the praise of Goethe. But when he turned to
politics he left all this career behind him. He plunged into the very
mire of red republicanism, and even there he was for a time so much
hated that he sought refuge in London to save his life.

On his return he was hunted by his enemies, so that his only place of
refuge was in the sewers and drains of Paris. A woman, one Simonne
Evrard, helped him to escape his pursuers. In the sewers, however, he
contracted a dreadful skin-disease from which he never afterward
recovered, and which was extremely painful as well as shocking to
behold.

It is small wonder that the stories about Marat circulated through the
provinces made him seem more a devil than a man. His vindictiveness
against the Girondists brought all of this straight home to Charlotte
Corday and led her to dream of acting the part of Brutus, so that she
might free her country from this hideous tyrant.

In January, 1793, King Louis XVI. met his death upon the scaffold; and
the queen was thrust into a foul prison. This was a signal for activity
among the Girondists in Normandy, and especially at Caen, where
Charlotte was present at their meetings and heard their fervid oratory.
There was a plot to march on Paris, yet in some instinctive way she
felt that such a scheme must fail. It was then that she definitely
formed the plan of going herself, alone, to the French capital to seek
out the hideous Marat and to kill him with her own hands.

To this end she made application for a passport allowing her to visit
Paris. This passport still exists, and it gives us an official
description of the girl. It reads:

Allow citizen Marie Corday to pass. She is twenty-four years of age,
five feet and one inch in height, hair and eyebrows chestnut color,
eyes gray, forehead high, mouth medium size, chin dimpled, and an oval
face.

Apart from this verbal description we have two portraits painted while
she was in prison. Both of them make the description of the passport
seem faint and pale. The real Charlotte had a wealth of chestnut hair
which fell about her face and neck in glorious abundance. Her great
gray eyes spoke eloquently of truth and courage. Her mouth was firm yet
winsome, and her form combined both strength and grace. Such is the
girl who, on reaching Paris, wrote to Marat in these words:

Citizen, I have just arrived from Caen. Your