Thus, however, has the slow-moving Chaos or modern Saturnalia of the Ancients, reached the Barrier; and must halt, to be harangued by Mayor Bailly. Thereafter it has to lumber along, between the double row of faces, in the transcendent heaven-lashing Haha; two hours longer, towards the Hôtel-de-Ville. Then again to be harangued there, by several persons; by Moreau de Saint-Méry, among others; Moreau of the Three-thousand orders, now National Deputy for St. Domingo. To all which poor Louis, who seemed to “experience a slight emotion” on entering this Townhall, can answer only that he ‘comes with pleasure, with confidence among his people.’ Mayor Bailly, in reporting it, forgets “confidence;” and the poor Queen says eagerly: ‘Add, with confidence.’—‘Messieurs,’ rejoins Bailly, ‘You are happier than if I had not forgot.’ Finally, the King is shewn on an upper balcony, by torchlight, with a huge tricolor in his hat: “And all the ‘people,’ says Weber, grasped one another’s hands;—thinking _now_ surely the New Era was born.” Hardly till eleven at night can Royalty get to its vacant, long-deserted Palace of the Tuileries: to lodge there, somewhat in strolling-player fashion. It is Tuesday, the sixth of October, 1789. Poor Louis has Two other Paris Processions to make: one ludicrous-ignominious like this; the other not ludicrous nor ignominious, but serious, nay sublime. END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. VOLUME II. THE CONSTITUTION Mauern seh ich’ gestürzt, und Mauern seh’ ich errichtet Hier Gefangene, dort auch der Gefangenen viel. Ist vielleicht nur die Welt ein grosser Kerker? Und frei ist Wohl der Tolle, der sich Ketten zu Kränzen erkiest? GOETHE. BOOK 2.I. THE FEAST OF PIKES Chapter 2.1.I. In the Tuileries. The victim having once got his stroke-of-grace, the catastrophe can be considered as almost come. There is small interest now in watching his long low moans: notable only are his sharper agonies, what convulsive struggles he may take to cast the torture off from him; and then finally the last departure of life itself, and how he lies extinct and ended, either wrapt like Cæsar in decorous mantle-folds, or unseemly sunk together, like one that had not the force even to die.