at his feet this very William. It was at this moment that his crime

suddenly seized him. He did not struggle against it; he was the

condemned man who obeys his sentence. He submitted to everything which

terrible Fate exacted from him. Never was there a more docile patient.

He had no army, he made war; he had only Rouher, he provoked Bismarck;

he had only Leboeuf, he attacked Moltke. He confided Strasburg to

Uhrich; he gave Metz to Bazaine to guard. He had 120,000 men at Châlons;

he had it in his power to cover Paris. He felt that his crime rose up

there, threatening and erect; he fled, not daring to face Paris. He

himself led--purposely, and yet despite himself; willing and yet

unwilling, knowingly and yet unknowingly, a miserable mind, a prey to

the abyss--he led his army into a place of annihilation; he made that

terrible choice, a battle-field without an outlet; he was no longer

conscious of anything, no more of his blunder of to-day than of his

crime of former days; he must finish, but he could only finish as a

fugitive; this condemned one was not worthy to look his end in the face;

he lowered his head, he turned his back. God executed him in degrading

him. Napoleon III. as an Emperor had a right to thunder, but for this

man the thunder was ignominious--he was thunderstruck in the back.

[

40] "L'Année Terrible."

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The History of a Crime