During the autumn of 1804, between the time of the creation of the empire and the coronation of the Emperor, his Majesty made several journeys to the camp of Boulogne; and from this fact rumors arose that the expedition against England would soon set sail.  In one of his frequent tours of inspection, the Emperor, stopping one day near the end of the camp on the left, spoke to a cannoneer from a guard ship, and while conversing with him, asked him several questions, among others, the following, “What is thought here of the Emperor?”—­“That ‘sacre tondu’ puts us out of breath as soon as he arrives.  Each time he comes we have not a moment’s repose while he is here.  It might be thought he was enraged against those dogs of English who are always beating us, not much to our own credit.”

“You believe in glory, then?” said the Emperor.  The cannoneer then looked at him fixedly:  “Somewhat, I think.  Do you doubt it?”—­“No, I do not doubt it, but money, do you believe in that also?”—­“Ah! what—­I see —­do you mean to insult me, you questioner?  I know no other interest than that of the state.”—­“No, no, my brave soldier; I do not intend to insult you, but I bet that a twenty-franc piece would not be disagreeable to you in drinking a cup to my health.”  While speaking thus the Emperor had drawn a Napoleon from his pocket, which he presented to the cannoneer, whereupon the latter uttered a shout loud enough to be heard by the sentinel at the west post some distance off; and even threw himself on the Emperor, whom he took for a spy, and was about to seize him by the throat when the Emperor suddenly opened his gray overcoat and revealed his identity.  The soldier’s astonishment may be imagined!  He prostrated himself at the feet of the Emperor, overcome with confusion at his mistake; but the latter, extending his hand, said, “Rise, my brave fellow, you have done your duty; but you will not keep your word, I am very sure; you will accept this piece, and drink to the health of the ‘sacre tondo’, will you not?” The Emperor then continued his rounds as if nothing had occurred.

Every one admits to-day that never, perhaps, has any man been gifted to the same degree as the Emperor with the art of addressing soldiers.  He appreciated this talent highly in others; but it was not fine phrases which pleased him, and accordingly he held that a master-piece of this kind was the very short harangue of General Vandamme to the soldiers he commanded the day of the battle of Austerlitz.  When day began to break General Vandamme said to the troops, “My brave fellows!  There are the Russians!  Load your pieces, pick your flints, put powder in the pan, fix bayonets, ready and—­forward!” I remember one day the Emperor spoke of this oration before Marshal Berthier, who laughed at it.  “That is like you,” he said.  “Well, all the advocates of Paris would not have said it so well; the soldier understands this, and that is the way battles are won.”