After the 20th of March, the Emperor was made acquainted with these projects of insurrection; and knew that certain chiefs hesitated about having any thing to do with him. "The leaders," said he, "wished to take the business into their own hands, and labour for themselves; now they pretend, that they opened the way for me to Paris: I know better; it was the nation, the people, the soldiers, and the sub-lieutenants, who did all. It is to these, and to these only, that I owe every thing."] [Footnote 66: A nickname given to the emigrant officers.] He wrote to the Empress for the third time. This letter finished, Napoleon turned his thoughts to the means of embarking a part of his army, harassed by forced marches. He sent for the chief of the boat department, required an account of the number of boats, the means of preventing accidents, &c. He entered so minutely into particulars with him, that the man could scarcely recover from his surprise, or comprehend how an Emperor should know so much as a boatman. Napoleon persisted in the speedy departure of his troops. Several times he ordered me to go and hasten the embarkation: he was in the habit of employing those about him for every thing that came into his head. His genius knowing no bounds, he imagined, that we poor mortals ought equally to know every thing, and do every thing. The Emperor had given orders to his scouts, to bring him all the mails; and he had appointed me, to examine their contents. I waged implacable war with the correspondence of ministers; and if I frequently found in it threats and abuse, of which I came in for my share, it presented me at least with matters as important as curious. I particularly remarked two secret instructions, the publication of which, even now, would cover their authors with eternal disgrace. The letters _comme il faut_ were equally revolting. Most of them, dictated by frantic hatred, might have sanctioned the rigours of the law: but I considered them as the offspring of brains to be pitied for their diseased state, and contented myself with writing on them in large letters, before I returned to the post-boy, a _Seen_; which, like the head of Medusa, no doubt petrified more than one noble reader. The darksome conspiracies of the enemies of Napoleon were not the only objects, that met my indiscreet eyes. Sometimes I found myself unintentionally initiated into gentler mysteries and my pen, by mistake, traced the fatal _Seen_ at the bottom of epistles, which should have charmed the sight only of the happy mortals, for whom love had destined them.