uld do nothing to
commit their choice. Chenier was empowered to inquire whether M.
Lemercier would refuse to accompany them to the Tuileries when they
repaired thither in a body, and whether, on his election, he would comply
with the usual ceremony of being presented to the Emperor. M. Lemercier
replied that he would do nothing contrary to the customs and usages of
the body to which he might belong: he was accordingly elected. The
Government candidate was M. Esmenard, who was also elected. The two new
members were presented to the Emperor on the same day. On this occasion
upwards of 400 persons were present in the salon, from one of whom I
received these details. When the Emperor saw M. Lemercier, for whom he
had long pretended great friendship, he said to him in a kind tone,
"Well, Lemercier, you are now installed." Lemercier respectfully bowed
to the Emperor; but without uttering a word of reply. Napoleon was
mortified at this silence, but without saying anything more to Lemercier
he turned to Esmenard, the member who should have been most acceptable to
him, and vented upon him the whole weight of his indignation in a manner
equally unfeeling and unjust. "Well, Esmenard," said he, "do you still
hold your place in the police?" These words were spoken in so loud a
tone as to be heard by all present; and it was doubtless this cruel and
ambiguous speech which furnished the enemies of Esmenard with arms to
attack his reputation as a man of honour, and to give an appearance of
disgrace to those functions which he exercised with so much zeal and
ability.

When, at the commencement of 1811, I left Paris I had ceased to delude
myself respecting the brilliant career which seemed opening before me
during the Consulate. I clearly perceived that since Bonaparte, instead
of receiving me as I expected, had refused to see me at all, the
calumnies of my enemies were triumphant, and that I had nothing to hope
for from an absolute ruler, whose past injustice rendered him the more
unjust. He now possessed what he had so long and ardently wished
for,--a son of his own, an inheritor of his name, his power, and his
throne. I must take this opportunity of stating that the malevolent and
infamous rumours spread abroad respecting the birth of the King of Rome
were wholly without foundation. My friend Corvisart, who did not for a
single instant leave Maria Louisa during her long and painful labour,
removed from my mind every doubt on the subjec