The battle of Waterloo broke the power of Napoleon for ever. So confident of victory had that great soldier been, that he did not even make any preparations for retreat, and hence, when he was defeated, a terrible rout ensued. The wreck of the French army, blocking the only road which was available, hurried from the scene of disaster in a confused mass of fugitives. The Prussians, who were comparatively fresh, took up the pursuit, and relentlessly they pressed it home, driving the enemy back, increasing his panic, and completing his misfortunes. Through the whole night of the 18th-19th of June, a fierce and active pursuit was maintained; while the British troops, exhausted by the labours and anxieties of the day, bivouacked as they stood, on the bloody but glorious field of victory. Napoleon, stupefied by the unexpected result of the battle, forced his way through the surging mass of his now disorganized troops to Quatre-Bras, and as he went along, he had ever increasing evidence of the catastrophe that had overwhelmed him. He sent a message to Grouchy, announced his defeat, but gave the Marshal no orders. He then rode to Charleroi, and, almost unattended, pushed on to Philippeville, where he made his first effort to repair his broken fortunes. He ordered Marshal Soult to rally the _débris_ of his forces at Laon; he despatched a letter to General Rapp, who was in command on the German frontier, and to General Lamarque, engaged in La Vendée, with orders to march to Paris; and he was sanguine enough to declare that he could reorganize a sufficient force to cover the capital, and to give time for the concentration of a much larger army, wherewith to renew the war and to save France from the invasion that threatened her.[3] But he was far from being reassured. He could scarcely deny even to himself that the end of his career had at last come in earnest, and that the stupendous ascendency which he exercised over his countrymen had disappeared now and for ever. Once before had he been obliged to acknowledge himself vanquished, and the glamour of invincibility no longer surrounded his person. He had engaged in a desperate undertaking. The whole of Europe was arming against him, and was determined to put him down. His first bold venture to try and beat the Allies in detail had signally failed. The armies of Great Britain and of Prussia had hopelessly crushed the flower of his forces. He had henceforward to reckon with Austria and Russia, and with a formidable coalition flushed with victory. His countrymen never forgave a military leader who had suffered a disaster in the field. He knew that his prestige was weakened, that the influence which his name inspired was shaken, that his resources were at an end, and that his enemies were gathering about him from every quarter. ----- Footnote 3: George Hooper, _Waterloo: the Downfall of the First Napoleon_ , pp. 239, 263 (London, 1862). -----