ation 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 recommended by
Cambaceres, Carnot, and Maret, but that most of the Ministers urged
him not to expose his wearied frame to the storms of an excited
assembly. At St. Helena he told Gourgaud that, despite his fatigue, he
would have made the effort had he thought success possible, but he did
not.[528]

The Chamber of Deputies meanwhile was acting with vigour. Agonized by
the tales of disaster already spread abroad by wounded soldiers, it
eagerly assented to Lafayette's proposal to sit in permanence and
declare any attempt at dissolution an act of high treason. So
unblenching a defiance, which recalled the Tennis Court Oath of
twenty-six years before, struck the Emperor almost dumb with
astonishment. Lucien bade him prepare for a _coup d'etat_: but
Napoleon saw that the days for such an act were passed. He had
squandered the physical and moral resources bequeathed by the
Revolution. Its armies were mouldering under the soil of Spain,
Russia, Germany, and Belgium; and a decade of reckless ambition had
worn to tatters Rousseau's serviceable theory of a military
dictatorship. Exhausted France was turning away from him to the prime
source of liberty, her representatives.

These were doubtless the thoughts that coursed through his brain as he
paced with Lucien up and down the garden of the Elysee. A crowd of
_federes_ and workmen outside cheered him frantically. He saluted them
with a smile; but, says Pasquier, "the expression of his eyes showed
the sadness that filled his soul." True, he might have led that
unthinking rabble against the Chambers; but that would mean civil war,
and from this he shrank. Still Lucien bade him strike. "Dare," he
whispered with Dantonesque terseness. "Alas," replied his brother, "I
have dared only too much already." Davoust also opined that it was too
late now that the deputies had firmly seized the reins and were
protected by the National Guards of Paris.

And so Napoleon let matters drift. In truth, he was "bewildered" by
the disunion of France. It was a France that he kne