generals at the same time on the field of battle. After the Cent Jours
they refused to recognise the Bourbons, and were shot by sentence of
court-martial at Bordeaux. (Bouillet)]--I shall merely state that they
wrote me a letter the evening preceding their execution, in which they
begged me to forgive their conduct towards me. The following is an
extract from this letter:

In our dungeon we hear our sentence of death being cried in the streets.
To-morrow we shall walk to the scaffold; but we will meet death with such
calmness and courage as shall make our executioners blush. We are sixty
years old, therefore our lives will only be shortened by a brief apace.
During our lives we have shared in common, illness, grief, pleasure,
danger, and good fortune. We both entered the world on the same day, and
on the same day we shall both depart from it. As to you, sir....

I suppress what relates to myself.

The hour of the grand levee arrived just as the singular interview which
I have described terminated. I remained a short time to look at this
phantasmagoria. Duroc was there. As soon as he saw me he came up, and
taking me into the recess of a window told me that Moreau's guilt was
evident, and that he was about to be put on his trial. I made some
observations on the subject, and in particular asked whether there were
sufficient proofs of his guilt to justify his condemnation? "They should
be cautious," said I; "it is no joke to accuse the conqueror of
Hohenlinden." Duroc's answer satisfied me that he at least had no doubt
on the subject. "Besides," added he, "when such a general as Moreau has
been between two gendarmes he is lost, and is good for nothing more. He
will only inspire pity." In vain I tried to refute this assertion so
entirely contrary to facts, and to convince Duroc that Moreau would never