durst not execute any treaty without consulting the Cortes.  They disdained to treat at all with Napoleon.  He then liberated the King unconditionally; and after five years’ captivity, Ferdinand re-entered Spain, amidst the all but universal acclamations of a nation, who had bled at every pore in his cause, and whom his government was destined ere long to satisfy that they had bled in vain.  Napoleon, no doubt, understood well what sort of a present he was conferring on the Spaniards when he restored Ferdinand, and probably calculated that his arrival would fill the country with civil tumults, sufficient to paralyse its arm for foreign war.  And—­had the King returned but a year earlier—­such, in all likelihood, would have been the consequence.  Once more Napoleon was too late in doing good that evil might follow.

For some time, thanks to the slavery of the Parisian press, the population of the capital remained in ignorance as to the proceedings of the Allies on the Rhine.  Indeed—­such was still the influence of the Emperor’s military reputation—­the inhabitants of the French provinces on that frontier, continued to believe it impossible that any foreign army should dare to invade their soil, until they that had ears to hear, and eyes to see, were perforce undeceived.  Schwartzenberg, with the Grand Army, at length crossed the Rhine, between Basle and Schaffhausen, on the 20th of December, and disregarding the claim of the Swiss to preserve neutrality, advanced through that territory unopposed, and began to show themselves in Franche-Comte, in Burgundy, even to the gates of Dijon.  On the 1st of January, 1814, the Silesian Army, under Blucher, crossed the river at various points between Rastadt and Coblentz; and shortly after, the Army of the North, commanded by Witzingerode and Bulow (for Bernadotte declined having any part in the actual invasion of France) began to penetrate the frontier of the Netherlands.  The wealthier inhabitants of the invaded provinces escaped to Paris, bearing with them these tidings; the English detenus of Verdun were seen traversing the capital on their route to more distant quarters; the state prisoners of Vincennes itself, under the walls of Paris, were removed.  The secret, in a word, could no longer be kept.  It was known to every one that the Pyrenees had been crossed by Wellington, and the Rhine by three mighty hosts, amounting together to 300,000 men, and including representatives of every tongue and tribe, from the Germans of Westphalia to the wildest barbarians of Tartary.  Persons of condition despatched their plate and valuables to places at a distance from the capital; many whole families removed daily; and the citizens of Paris were openly engaged in laying up stores of flour and salted provisions, in contemplation of a siege.