nd, is ended; the lone Stylites has got
hurled down suddenly from his pillar--_whitherward_ He that made him
knows. Patriot Paris may sound triple and tenfold, in dole and wail;
re-echoed by patriot France; and the Convention, "Chabot pale with
terror, declaring that they are to be all assassinated," may decree
him Pantheon Honors, Public Funeral, Mirabeau's dust making way for
him; and Jacobin Societies, in lamentable oratory, summing up his
character, parallel him to One, whom they think it honor to call "the
good Sans-culotte,"--whom we name not here; also a Chapel may be made,
for the urn that holds his Heart, in the Place du Carrousel; and
new-born children be named Marat; and Lago-di-Como Hawkers bake
mountains of stucco into unbeautiful Busts; and David paint his
Picture, or Death-Scene; and such other Apotheosis take place as the
human genius, in these circumstances, can devise: but Marat returns no
more to the light of this Sun. One sole circumstance we have read with
clear sympathy, in the old Moniteur Newspaper: how Marat's Brother
comes from Neuchatel to ask of the Convention, "that the deceased
Jean-Paul Marat's musket be given to him." For Marat too had a brother
and natural affections; and was wrapped once in swaddling-clothes, and
slept safe in a cradle like the rest of us. Ye children of men!--A
sister of his, they say, lives still to this day in Paris.

As for Charlotte Corday, her work is accomplished; the recompense of
it is near and sure. The _chere amie_, and the neighbors of the house,
flying at her, she "overturns some movables," intrenches herself till
the gendarmes arrive; then quietly surrenders; goes quietly to the
Abbaye Prison: she alone quiet, all Paris sounding, in wonder, in rage
or admiration, round her. Duperret is put in arrest, on account of
her; his Papers sealed,--which may lead to consequences. Fauchet, in
like manner; though Fauchet had not so much as heard of her.
Charlotte, confronted with these two Deputies, praises the grave
firmness of Duperret, censures the dejection of Fauchet.

On Wednesday morning the thronged Palais de Justice and Revolutionary
Tribunal can see her face; beautiful and calm: she dates it "fourth
day of the Preparation of Peace." A strange murmur ran through the
Hall, at sight of her; you could not say of what character. Tinville
has his indictments and tape-papers: the cutler of the Palais Royal
will testify that he sold her the sheath-knife; "All these