destruction, are in their very nature irrevocable and
irremediable. The nobility was gone; he had not
resisted its suppression. The Church was gone;
he had himself been among the foremost of its assailants.
How, even if he had wished it, could he have undone
these acts? and if he could not, how, without those
indispensable pillars and supports, could any monarchy
endure? That he was now fully alive to the magnitude
of the dangers which encompassed both throne and people,
and that he would have labored vigorously to avert
them, we may do him the justice to believe. But
it seems not so probable that he would have succeeded,
as that he would have added one more to the list of
these politicians who, having allowed their own selfish
aims to carry them beyond the limits of prudence and
justice, have afterward found it impossible to retrace
their steps, but have learned to their shame and sorrow
that their rashness has but led to the disappointment
of their hopes, the permanent downfall of their own
reputations, and the ruin of what they would gladly
have defended and preserved. And, on the whole,
it is well that from time to time such lessons should
be impressed upon the world. It is well that
men of lofty genius and pure patriotism should learn,
equally with the most shallow empiric or the most self-seeking
demagogue, that false steps in politics can rarely
be retraced; that concessions once made can seldom,
if ever, be recalled, but are usually the stepping-stones
to others still more extensive; that what it would
have been easy to preserve, it is commonly impossible
to repair or to restore.
He had been laid in the grave only a fortnight, when,
as if on purpose to show how utterly defenseless the
king now was, the Jacobins excited the mob and the
assembly to inflict greater insults on him than had
been offered even by the attack on Versailles, or
by any previous vote. As Easter, which was unusually
late this year, approached, Louis became anxious to
spend a short time in tranquillity and holy meditation;
and, since the tumultuousness of the city was not
very favorable for such a purpose, he resolved to
pass a fortnight at St. Cloud. But when he was
preparing to set out, a furious mob seized the horses
and unharnessed them; the National Guards united with
the rioters, refusing to obey La Fayette’s orders
to clear the way for the royal carriage, and the king
and queen were compelled to dismount and to return
to their apartments; while, a day or two afterward,
the Assembly came to a vote which seemed as if designed
for an express sanction of this outrage, and which
ordained that the king should not be permitted ever
to move more than twenty leagues from Paris.