Whether it was an innate belief that Alexander of Russia was his friend, or the fact that Francis of Austria was his father-in-law, he certainly avowed—­according to the St. Helena chroniclers—­that if he had surrendered to either of them he would have been treated, not only with kindness, but with a proper regard as befitted a monarch who had governed eighty-three millions of people, or more than the half of Europe.  But even if he were merely soliloquising, or wished to convince himself and those he expressed this opinion to, it is hard to think that any of the continental Powers would have risked the certain consequences of having him either shot or ill-treated, and it is extremely doubtful whether even in France there could have been found a soldier that would have obeyed an order to shoot his former Emperor, who had been requisitioned to return from Elba, and who so recently, with only six hundred soldiers, made war against Louis with his two hundred thousand and defeated and dethroned him.

Nothing so magnificent has ever been known.  This great man had complete hold of the imagination and devotion of his common people and soldiers.  Even in the hour of defeat their loyalty was amazing.

Various instances are given of this deep-rooted loyalty and affection.  Some of his Imperial Guards who were wounded at Waterloo killed themselves on hearing that he had lost the battle, and many, who had been thought to be dead, when brought to consciousness shouted “Vive l’Empereur.”  The hospitals were full of dying men who uttered the same cry.  One was having his leg amputated, and as he looked at the blood streaming from it, said that he would willingly give it all in the service of Napoleon.  Another, who was having a ball extracted from his left side near the heart, shouted, “Probe an inch deeper and there you will find the Emperor.”

The story of the old woman whom he and Duroc met during the second campaign in Italy, and while climbing Mont Tarare, is a striking illustration of how he was regarded by the poorer classes.  She hated the Bourbons and wanted to see the First Consul.  Napoleon answered, “Bah! tyrant for tyrant—­they are just the same thing.”  “No, no!” she replied; “Louis XVI. was the king of the nobles, Bonaparte is the king of the people.”  This idea of the old woman was the universal feeling of her class right through his reign.  No writer has been able to give proof that it was withdrawn, even when he was overwhelmed with disaster which drained his empire of vast masses of its population.  No cruel inhuman despot could magnetise with an enduring fascination multitudes of men and women as he did.  It was not his incomparable genius, nor his matchless military successes in battle.  He was loved because he was lovable, and was trusted because he inspired belief in his high motives of amelioration of all down-trodden people.  He ruled with a stern but kindly discipline, and put a heavy hand on those who had despotic tendencies.