During the trial Moreau delivered a defence, which I knew had been written by his friend Garat, whose eloquence I well remember was always disliked by Bonaparte.  Of this I had a proof on the occasion of a grand ceremony which took place in the Place des Victoires, on laying the first stone of a monument which was to have been erected to the memory of Desaix, but which was never executed.  The First Consul returned home in very ill-humour, and said to me, “Bourrienne, what a brute that Garat is!  What a stringer of words!  I have been obliged to listen to him for three-quarters of an hour.  There are people who never know when to hold their tongues!”

Whatever might be the character of Garat’s eloquence or Bonaparte’s opinion of it, his conduct was noble on the occasion of Moreau’s trial; for he might be sure Bonaparte would bear him a grudge for lending the aid of his pen to the only man whose military glory, though not equal to that of the First Consul, might entitle him to be looked upon as his rival in fame.  At one of the sittings a circumstance occurred which produced an almost electrical effect.  I think I still see General Lecourbe, the worthy friend of Moreau, entering unexpectedly into the Court, leading a little boy.  Raising the child in his arms, he exclaimed aloud, and with considerable emotion, “Soldiers, behold the son of your general!”

—­[This action of Lecourbe, together with the part played in this trial by his brother, one of the judges, was most unfortunate, not only for Lecourbe but for France, which consequently lost the services of its best general of mountain warfare.  His campaigns of Switzerland in 1799 on the St. Gothard against Suwarrow are well known.  Naturally disgraced for the part he took with Moreau, he was not again employed till the Cent Jours, when he did good service, although he had disapproved of the defection of Ney from the Royalist cause.  He died in 1816; his brother, the judge, had a most furious reception from Napoleon, who called him a prevaricating judge, and dismissed him from his office (Remusat, tome ii. p. 8).]—­

At this unexpected movement all the military present spontaneously rose and presented arms; while a murmur of approbation from the spectators applauded the act.  It is certain that had Moreau at that moment said but one word, such was the enthusiasm in his favour, the tribunal would have been broken up and the prisoners liberated.  Moreau, however, was silent, and indeed appeared the only unconcerned person in Court.  Throughout the whole course of the trial Moreau inspired so much respect that when he was asked a question and rose to reply the gendarmes appointed to guard him rose at the same time and stood uncovered while he spoke.