“But now to streams of music come confederates enough, for they have assembled on the Boulevard St. Antoine, and come marching through the city with their eighty-three department banners and blessings, not loud but deep; comes National Assembly, and takes seat under its canopy; comes Royalty, and takes seat on a throne beside it; and La Fayette, on a white charger, is here, and all the civic functionaries; and the confederates form dances till their strictly military evolutions and manœuvres can begin. “Task not the pen of mortal to describe them; truant imagination droops, declares that it is not worth while. There is wheeling and sweeping to slow, to quick, to double-quick time. Sieur Motier, or Generalissimo La Fayette—for they are one and the same, and he, as general of France in the king’s stead, for twenty-four hours—must step forth with that sublime, chivalrous gait of his, solemnly ascend the steps of Fatherland’s altar, in sight of heaven and of scarcely breathing earth, and pronounce the oath: to king, to law, to nation, in his own name and that of armed France; whereat there is waving of banners and sufficient acclaim. [Illustration: GRAND FESTIVAL IN THE CHAMPS DE MARS.] “The National Assembly must swear, standing in its place; the king himself, audibly. The king swears; and now be the welkin split with vivats; let citizens, enfranchised, embrace; armed confederates clang their arms; and, above all, let that floating battery speak. It has spoken, to the four corners of France! From eminence to eminence bursts the thunder, faint heard, loud repeated. From Arras to Avignon, from Metz to Bayonne, over Orleans and Blois, it rolls in cannon recitative. Puy bellows of it amid his granite mountains; Pau, where is the shell cradle of great Henri. At far Marseilles, one can think the ruddy evening witnesses it; over the deep blue Mediterranean waters, the castle of If, ruddy-tinted, darts forth from every cannon’s mouth its tongue of fire; and all the people shout, ‘Yes, France is free!’ Glorious France, that has burst out so into universal sound and smoke, and attained the Phrygian cap of Liberty.” It is not king, or queen, but La Fayette, who is this day the cynosure of all eyes, as he ascends the altar and takes the prescribed oath. His noble nature is neither paralyzed by difficulties nor weakened by popular applause. For the people’s love he is grateful, but to gain that approbation he would not relinquish one iota of his principle. Neither does any rank or power tempt him to seek his personal aggrandizement. When urged by the deputation at this time, that he should accept the permanent command of the military force of the realm he unselfishly refused, accompanying his declination with these disinterested words:—