ndemn 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