A few days after her execution, Adam Luz published a pamphlet, in which he enthusiastically praised her deed, and proposed that a statue with the inscription, “Greater than Brutus,” should be erected to her memory on the spot where she had perished. He was arrested and thrown into prison. On entering the Abbaye, he passionately exclaimed, “I am going to die for her!” His wish was fulfilled ere long. Strange, feverish times were those which could rouse a gentle and lovely maiden to avenge freedom by such a deadly deed; which could waken in a human heart a love whose thoughts were not of life or earthly bliss, but of the grave and the scaffold. Let the times, then, explain those natures, where so much evil and heroism are blended, that man cannot mark the limits between both. Whatever judgment may be passed upon her, the character of Charlotte Corday was certainly not cast in an ordinary mould. It is a striking and noble trait, that to the last she did not repent: never was error more sincere. If she could have repented, she would never have become guilty. Her deed created an extraordinary impression throughout France. On hearing of it, a beautiful royalist lady fell down on her knees, and invoked “Saint Charlotte Corday.” The republican Madame Roland calls her a heroine worthy of a better age. The poet, Andre Chenier—who, before a year had elapsed, followed her on the scaffold—sang her heroism in a soul-stirring strain. The political influence of that deed may be estimated by the exclamation of Vergniaud: “She kills us, but she teaches us how to die!” It was so. The assassination of Marat exasperated all his fanatic partisans against the Girondists. Almost divine honors were paid to his memory; forms of prayer were addressed to him; altars were erected to his honor, and numberless victims sent to the scaffold as a peace-offering to his manes. On the wreck of his popularity rose the far more dangerous power of Robespierre; a new impulse was given to the Reign of Terror. Such was the “peace” which the erring and heroic Charlotte Corday won for France. ----- [12] Lamartine. * * * * * THE DYING ROSE. BY MRS. E. J. EAMES. The Queen of the Flowers sat on her throne, But the rosy gems from her crown were falling— A paleness was over her beauty thrown, For she heard the death-spirit on her calling! Lowly she bent her royal head, And mourned in tones of plaintive sweetness That mortals should call her the fading rose— The rose of early, perishing fleetness! “Ungrateful man! do I not make My span of life, though short, delicious? And yield you rich perfumes after death? But there is no bound to human wishes I see all my sister flow’rets fade, In their blighted beauty around me lying; Yet only of _me_ ’tis sung, and said— Alas! for the rose—so early dying!”