Some days later, on the fourteenth of July, 1790, a great _fête_ was held on the Champ de Mars[3] in Paris, as in all the other cities of France, to celebrate the inauguration of the new _régime_. The storm of the Revolution which had broken out in the previous year seemed to have passed away with this celebration, and there was a general feeling of hope and cheerful expectancy even among the opponents of the new order of things. All the people, without distinction of rank or class, had contributed to the erection of a huge amphitheatre-like structure built around the Champ de Mars, and in its construction had treated one another like members of one great family. Even the heavy gusts of rain which ushered in the long-talked-of day failed to dampen the ardor of the deputies and the vast throng of people assembled there. The endless processions followed each other in perfect order; and at last the sun burst forth triumphantly from the mists and rain clouds. First, Lafayette[4] mounted the steps of the high altar erected under the open sky, where Talleyrand,[5] Bishop of Autun, with sixty priests, read the Mass and consecrated the banners of the eighty-three districts of France, and swore, with the colors of Paris in his hand, in the name of the National Guard and the army of France, to be true to the law and the King; then the President of the National Assembly, rising from his seat at the right of the King, took the same oath; and finally the King himself arose and swore with uplifted arms to use all the power bestowed on him by the law and the new Constitution for their maintenance. At this instant, while cannon thundered and trumpets blared, loud shouts arose. The Queen, who was on a raised dais beside the throne, carried away by the excitement of the moment, lifted her son, the Dauphin, high in her arms to show him to the people and also to let him share in the oaths. The lovely child, smiling and radiant, stretched out his innocent arms as though to invoke a blessing from Heaven upon France, whereat the multitude that witnessed the charming sight broke forth into cheers and deafening huzzas that rent the ragged clouds and penetrated to the heavens above. The envoys of the people thronged about the little Dauphin to offer him their loyalty and homage, which the Prince received with such grace and childish dignity that the enthusiasm broke out afresh, and thousands of hearts vowed unswerving allegiance to this child whose innocent breast seemed to harbor no thoughts but those of peace and good-will to men. The King and Queen embraced each other, many eyes were filled with tears, and a general reconciliation seemed to have closed forever the abyss of the Revolution which had threatened to engulf unhappy France. These were still sunny days; but, alas! they were the last to shine upon the well-meaning King and his unfortunate consort. Fate had doomed them to misfortune, and “misfortune travels swiftly.”