lid veterans, he
tasted their food and would have the Empress taste it too; she
graciously assented and there was universal delight. In short, the
domestic bliss of the Tuileries radiated happiness into the plain
homes of the nation, and made the common people not merely tolerant
but fond of such a paternal despotism.

Napoleon returned from Russia sincerely protesting that what he most
desired was peace. Yes, peace; but of what kind? The answer was
inclusive of the whole European question. It was easy to believe that
Spain was nearly exhausted, that if the process of devastation could
be continued three years longer, her shattered society would finally
accept the gentle Joseph as its regenerator. It was not unnatural for
the Emperor to regard his Confederation of the Rhine as safe and
loyal; yet, just as in the Moscow campaign his superlative strategy
far outran the remainder of his system, so he had failed, embodiment
of the new social order as he believed himself to be, in fully
estimating the creative force of the revolution in middle and southern
Germany. Some inkling of the national movement he must have had, for
Schwarzenberg's lukewarmness had awakened suspicions of Austria, and
Prussia's new strength could not be entirely concealed. Soon after
reaching Paris he learned with dismay that his Prussian auxiliaries
had made terms with the Czar. This was done in defiance of their king;
but it indicated the national temper, which, seeing the hand of God in
the disasters of the monster who after humiliating Prussia had dared
to invade Russia, made it impossible for Prussian troops to serve
again in the ranks of a French army. The bolts of divine wrath had
fallen on the French and the French dependants, the Prussian and the
Austrian contingents had escaped unscathed; both German armies must
surely have been spared for a special purpose.

In his interview at Warsaw with de Pradt, Napoleon had predicted that
he would speedily have another army of three hundred thousand men
afoot. In this rough calculation he had included both Prussians and
Austrians. With a spirit of bravado, he there referred to the narrow
escapes of his life: defeated at Marengo until six, next morning he
had been master of Italy; at Essling, the rise of the Danube by
sixteen feet in one night had alone prevented the annihilation of
Austria; having defeated the Russians in every battle, he had expected
peace; was it possible, he asked, for him to have