wide, he only half opened it, and it was only a semi-liberty that issued
from it. In inspiring his country with a desire for a republic, he
defended a constitution and a throne. His principles and his conduct
were in opposition; he was honest, and yet seemed to betray; whilst he
struggled with regret from duty to the monarchy, his heart was in the
republic. Protector of the throne, he was at the same time its bugbear.
One life can only be devoted to one cause. Monarchy and republicanism
had the same esteem, the same wrongs in his mind, and he served for and
against both. He died without having seen either of them triumphant, but
he died virtuous and popular. He had, beside his private virtues, a
public virtue, which will ever be a pardon to his faults, and
immortality to his name; he had before all, more than all, and after
all, the feeling, constancy, and moderation of the Revolution.

Such was the man and such the army on which reposed the executive power,
the safety of Paris, the constitutional throne, and the life of the
king.


XXIII.

Thus on the 1st of June, 1791, were parties situated, such the men and
things in the midst of which the irresistible spirit of a vast social
renovation advanced with occult and continuous impulse. What but
contention, anarchy, crime, and death, could emanate from such elements!
No party had the reason, no mind had the genius, no soul had the
virtue, no arm had the energy, to control this chaos, and extract from
it justice, truth, and strength. Things will only produce what they
contain. Louis XVI. was upright and devoted to well doing, but he had
not understood, from the very first symptoms of the Revolution, that