great impulse which had gone forth from Paris since
1789, which had flooded the plains of Germany, the plateaux of Spain,
the cities of Italy, and the steppes of Russia, levelling the barriers
of castes and creeds, and binding men in a new and solid unity. The
reaction against that great centrifugal and international movement had
now become centripetal and profoundly national. Thanks to Napoleon's
statecraft, the peoples of Europe from the Volga to the Tagus were now
embattled in a mighty phalanx, and were about to enter in triumph the
city that only twenty-five years before had heralded the dawn of their
nascent liberties.

And what of Napoleon, in part the product and in part the cause, of
this strange reaction? By a strange Nemesis, his military genius and
his overweening contempt of Schwarzenberg drew him aside at the very
time when the allies could strike with deadly effect at the heart of
his centralized despotism. On the 29th he hears of disaffection at
Paris, of the disaster at La Fere Champenoise, and of the loss of
Lyons by Augereau. He at once sees the enormity of his blunder. His
weary Guards and he seek to annihilate space. They press on by the
unguarded road by way of Troyes and Fontainebleau, thereby cutting off
all chance of the Emperor Francis and Metternich sending messages from
Dijon to Paris. By incredible exertions the men cover seventeen
leagues on the 29th and reach Troyes.

Napoleon, accompanied by Caulaincourt, Drouot, Flahaut, and Lefebvre,
rushes on, wearing out horses at every stage: at Fontainebleau on the
30th he hears that his consort has left Paris; at Essonne, that the
battle is raging. Late at night, near Athis, he meets a troop of horse
under General Belliard: eagerly he questions this brave officer, and
learns that Joseph has left Paris, and that the battle is over.
"Forward then to Paris: everywhere where I am not they act
stupidly."--"But, sire," says the general, "it is too late: Paris has
capitulated."

The indomitable will is not yet broken. He must go on; he will sound
the tocsin, rouse the populace, tear up the capitulation, and beat the
insolent enemy. The sight of Mortier's troops, a little further on, at
last burns the truth into his brain: he sends on Caulaincourt with
full powers to treat for peace, and then sits up for the rest of the
night, poring over his maps and measuring the devotion of his Guard
against the inexorable bounds of time and space. He is within ten
m