I received, four days afterwards, at the circle of Madame Joseph Bonaparte, with all other visitors, a copy of these stanzas.  Most of the foreign Ambassadors were of the party, and had also a share of this patriotic donation.  Count von Cobenzl had prudently absented himself; otherwise, this delenda of the Austrian Carthage would have been officially announced to him.

Another poetaster, of the name of Brouet, in a long, dull, disgusting poem, after comparing Bonaparte with all great men of antiquity, and proving that he surpasses them all, tells his countrymen that their Emperor is the deputy Divinity upon earth—­the mirror of wisdom, a demi-god to whom future ages will erect statues, build temples, burn incense, fall down and adore.  A proportionate share of abuse is, of course, bestowed on your nation.  He says: 

A Londres on vit briller d’un eclat ephemere Le front tout radieux d’un ministre influent; Mais pour faire palir l’etoile d’Angleterre, Un soleil tout nouveau parut au firmament, Et ce soleil du peuple franc Admire de l’Europe entiere Sur la terre est nomme Bonaparte Le grand.

For this delicate compliment Brouet was made deputy postmaster-general in Italy, and a Knight of the Legion of Honour.  It must be granted that, if Bonaparte is fond of flattery, he does not receive it gratis, but pays for it like a real Emperor.

It has lately become the etiquette, not only in our Court circle and official assemblies, but even in fashionable societies of persons who are, or wish to become, Bonaparte’s public functionaries, to distribute and have read and applauded these disinterested effusions of our poetical geniuses.  This fashion occasioned lately a curious blunder at a tea-party in the hotel of Madame de Talleyrand.  The same printer who had been engaged by this lady had also been employed by Chenier, or some other poet, to print a short satire against several of our literary ladies, in which Madame de Genlis and Madame de Stael (who has just arrived here from her exile) were, with others, very severely handled.  By mistake, a bundle of this production was given to the porter of Madame de Talleyrand, and a copy was handed to each visitor, even to Madame de Genlis and Madame de Stael, who took them without noticing their contents.  Picard, after reading an act of a new play, was asked by the lady of the house to read this poetic worship of the Emperor of the French.  After the first two lines he stopped short, looking round him confused, suspecting a trick had been played upon him.  This induced the audience to read what had been given them, and Madame de Talleyrand with the rest; who, instead of permitting Picard to continue with another. scene of his play, as he had adroitly begun, made the most awkward apology in the world, and by it exposed the ladies still more who were the objects of the satire; which, an hour afterwards, was exchanged for the verses intended for the homage of the Emperor, and the cause of the error was cleared up.