An old jacobin, one of Bonaparte’s condemned spirits, was employed to speak to the judges, to induce them to condemn Moreau to death.  “That is necessary” said he to them, “to the consideration due to the emperor, who caused him to be arrested; but you ought to make the less scruple in consenting to it, as the emperor is resolved to pardon him.”  “And who will enable us to pardon ourselves, if we cover ourselves with such infamy?” replied one of the judges,* whose name I am not at liberty to mention, for fear of exposing him.  General Moreau was condemned to two years’ imprisonment; George and several others of his friends to death; one of the mm. de Polignac to two, and the other to four years’ imprisonment:  and both of them are still confined, as well as several others, of whom the police laid hold, when the period of their sentence had expired.  Moreau requested to have his imprisonment commuted for perpetual banishment; perpetual in this instance should be called for life, for the misery of the world is placed on the head of one man.  Bonaparte readily consented to this banishment, which suited his views in all respects.  Frequently, on Moreau’s passage to the place where he was to embark, the mayors of the towns, whose business it was to viser his passport of banishment, shewed him the most respectful attention.  “Gentlemen,” said one of them to his audience, “make way for General Moreau,” and he made an obeisance to him as he would have done to the emperor.  There was still a France in the hearts of men, but the idea of acting according to one’s opinion had already ceased to exist, and at present it is difficult to know if there remains any, it has been so long stifled.  When he arrived at Cadiz, these same Spaniards, who were a few years after destined to give so great an example, paid every possible homage to a victim of tyranny.  When Moreau passed through the English fleet, their vessels saluted him as if he had been the commander of an allied army.  Thus the supposed enemies of France took upon them to acquit her debt to one of her most illustrious defenders.  When Bonaparte caused Moreau to be arrested, he said, “I might have made him come to me, and have told him:  ’Listen, you and I cannot remain upon the same soil; go therefore, as I am the strongest;’ and I believe he would have gone.  But these chivalrous manners are puerile in public matters.”  Bonaparte believes, and has had the art to persuade several of the Machiavelian apprentices of the new generation, that every generous feeling is mere childishness.  It is high time to teach him that virtue also has something manly in it, and more manly than crime with all its audacity.

* M. Clavier.

CHAPTER 18.

Commencement of the Empire.