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 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.