After the foundation of the Empire M. Lemercier ceased to present himself at the Tuileries, St. Cloud, or at Malmaison, though he was often seen in the salons of Madame Bonaparte while she yet hoped not to become a Queen.  Two places were vacant at once in the second class of the Institute, which still contained a party favourable to liberty.  This party, finding it impossible to influence the nomination of both members, contented itself with naming one, it being the mutual condition, in return for favouring the Government candidate, that the Government party should not oppose the choice of the liberals.  The liberal party selected M. Lemercier, but as they knew his former connection with Bonaparte had been broken off they wished first to ascertain that he would 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