l late in the day at Waterloo, (3) that the share of
credit for the victory rested in overwhelming measure with Bluecher
and Gneisenau.

* * * * *

CHAPTER XLI

FROM THE ELYSEE TO ST. HELENA

Napoleon was far from accepting Waterloo as a final blow. At
Philippeville on the day after the battle, he wrote to his brother
Joseph that he would speedily have 300,000 men ready to defend France:
he would harness his guns with carriage-horses, raise 100,000
conscripts, and arm them with muskets taken from the royalists and
malcontent National Guards: he would arouse Dauphine, Lyonnais, and
Burgundy, and overwhelm the enemy. "But the people must help me and
not bewilder me.... Write to me what effect this horrible piece of bad
luck has had on the Chamber. I believe the deputies will feel
convinced that their duty in this crowning moment is to rally round me
and save France."[527]

The tenacious will, then, is only bent, not broken. Waterloo is merely
a greater La Rothiere, calling for a mightier defensive effort than
that of 1814. Such are his intentions, even when he knows not that
Grouchy is escaping from the Prussians. The letter breathes a firm
resolve. He has no scruples as to the wickedness of spurring on a
wearied people to a conflict with Europe. As yet he forms no
magnanimous resolve to take leave of a nation whom his genius may once
more excite to a fatal frenzy. He still seems unable to conceive of
France happy and prosperous apart from himself. In indissoluble union
they will struggle on and defy the world.

Such was the frame of mind in which he reached the Elysee Palace early
on the 21st of June. For a time he was much agitated. "Oh, my God!" he
exclaimed to Lavalette, raising his eyes to heaven and walking up and
down the room. But after taking a warm bath--his unfailing remedy for
fatigue--he became calm and discussed with the Ministers plans of a
national defence. The more daring advised the prorogation of the
Chambers and the declaration of a state of siege in Paris; but others
demurred to a step that would lead to civil war. The Council dragged
on at great length, the Emperor only once rousing himself from his
weariness to declare that all was not lost; that _he_, and not the
Chambers, could save France. If so, he should have gone to the
deputies, thrilled them with that commanding voice, or dissolved them
at once. Montholon states that this course was reco