The Mistress of Assassination

 

France, 1793, Revolution

Marie-Charlotte Corday D'Armont, a manor born and virtuous twenty-four year old, left her sheltered life in Normandy and traveled alone to Paris to assassinate Jean-Paul Marat. 

Witnesses wondered whether Charlotte Corday was aware, in the seconds after the guillotine removed her head, of Sanson’s assistant slapping her cheek. Those who saw it say she blushed from the blow. Perhaps they found it necessary to believe she had demurred at the end. People had always been unnerved by her staggering poise and forthright character. It was an affront to most. For many of those involved, believing she demurred replaced her courage with impudence and provided a stalwart barrier to regret over her beheading.

Charlotte Corday did have her posthumous admirers. There was the boy who wrote poetry to her after her beheading, Andre Marie de Chenier. He belittles the men involved in Corday's trial and execution in his poem: Ode to Marie-Anne-Charlotte Corday "

“ … (Virtue alone is free. Honor of our history, 
Our immortal shame we live beside your glory. 
Only you were a man, your knife did vengeance wreak; 
And we, vile eunuchs, cowardly and soul-less cattle. 
We can at best complain like women prattle, 
But to wield a sword our hands would be too weak … “ 

Is it any wonder that, once she was in custody, they were determined to uncover a conspiracy, or network? It was inconceivable that a girl from the country could have masterminded let alone carried out such a task. 

As it became apparent during the trial, she was not only unapologetic and remorseless, she had the arrogance to claim to speak for the people, for France itself. It was offending most everyone she came in contact with. The people loved Marat, they kept telling her. 

He was the mastermind of abominations, massacres, she responded. What horrors will be committed in the name of France next she would wonder night after night, lying awake in her room in the convent where she lived. For France to turn from this grievous path of destruction, this blood thirsty, glory hungry master of deception must be removed, that she had decided. If no man was prepared to do it then she will have to. For the sake of France. She thought of this as offering herself for her country. "I killed one man to save 100,000,” was for Charlotte a higher calling than devoting her life to God or family. 

There was her lawyer, Chauveau-Lagarde, who defended Marie Antoinette, which bode poorly for Charlotte, yet he appears to have understood her quite well. He did not offer Charlotte insanity though he could have. It would have reduced a courageous act to humiliation. He must have admired her because he said about her -
"This incredible calm … this complete tranquility and abnegation which in their way are sublime, are not natural.” Her poise must have been masterful. 

It is claimed she said for too long she lived and breathed that moment when she pushed the blade into his heart. There was no moment in her life more compelling than when the blade popped through his skin and into his body. It was the most intimacy she had ever known. She had never seen a naked man. Let alone been that close.

Marat was naked in the bath when she entered the room. Her skin was so pale she blushed redder and more easily than others. He noticed her discomfort immediately. He was apparently intent on amusing himself over it because he gestured for her to come closer on the pretense of hearing clearly about all the Girondins she claimed were plotting against him. He began scribbling their names in the margins of a text he had apparently been working on prior to her arrival. Charlotte was relieved to find him repulsive. It made what she had to do much easier.

After it was done, Charlotte was taken aback by Marat’s companion rushing to his side and crying over him as he died. After all, for Charlotte, he had always been a monster. Not ever a man. 

Charlotte had invested a lot of thought on the idea of Marat’s demise. To her he was abhorrent. What’s done is done. He was gone and now France could be righteous again. She never put another thought on the woman again in the remaining days of her life. She had already written a statement. She told herself to remain focused. 

There was such ruthlessness in her act that it was morally compromising. How righteous can you be with a bloody knife in your hand and the stink of murder on you? Charlotte managed it. She was a tall woman. And pretty. Described as masculine no doubt due to her assertive manner and the way her strong jaw line jutted forward with conviction when she spoke. Most offensively, she never looked down. She never demurred.

 

 

Reviews

[eye]

Instead of "Could be" - Perhaps, perhaps? Instead of "affront for" - affront to, maybe? hells bells, i don't know, but i do know that i enjoyed this snippet. i misunderstood your link to this world, it is quite a resource for the likes of you, toiling away at your writing, lo these many, many decades. many. i intend to stop back when i've the time to read more, is that a-ok with you?

[Tim H]

It was a compelling read; much like a news paper or tabloid account.