The Companions of Jehu by Alexandre Dumas (best ereader for comics TXT) 📖

become the symbol of monarchy; Moreau, since he had been christened Fabius, was the symbol of the Republic; Bonaparte, symbol of war, dominated them both by the adventurous aspect of his genius.

Moreau was at that time in the full strength of his age; we would say the full strength of his genius, if decision were not one of the characteristics of genius. But no one was ever more undecided than the famous cunctator. He was thirty-six years old, tall, with a sweet, calm, firm countenance, and must have resembled Xenophon.

Bonaparte had never seen him, nor had he, on his side, ever seen Bonaparte. While the one was battling on the Adige and the Mincio, the other fought beside the Danube and the Rhine. Bonaparte came forward to greet him, saying: “You are welcome, general!”

“General,” replied Moreau, smiling courteously, while all present made a circle around them to see how this new Cæsar would meet the new Pompey, “you come from Egypt, victorious, while I come, defeated, from Italy.”

“A defeat which was not yours, and for which you are not responsible, general. It was Joubert’s fault. If he had rejoined the Army of Italy as soon as he had been made commander-in-chief, it is more than probable that the Russians and Austrians, with the troops they then had, could not have resisted him. But he remained in Paris for his honeymoon! Poor Joubert paid with his life for that fatal month which gave the enemy time to gather its reinforcements. The surrender of Mantua gave them fifteen thousand men on the eve of the battle. It was impossible that our poor army should not have been overwhelmed by such united forces.”

“Alas! yes,” said Moreau; “it is always the greater number which defeats the smaller.”

“A great truth, general,” exclaimed Bonaparte; “an indisputable truth.”

“And yet,” said Arnault, joining in the conversation, “you yourself, general, have defeated large armies with little ones.”

“If you were Marius, instead of the author of ‘Marius,’ you would not say that, my dear poet. Even when I beat great armies with little ones—listen to this, you young men who obey to-day, and will command to-morrow—it was always the larger number which defeated the lesser.”

“I don’t understand,” said Arnault and Lefebvre together.

But Moreau made a sign with his head to show that he understood. Bonaparte continued: “Follow my theory, for it contains the whole art of war. When with lesser forces I faced a large army, I gathered mine together, with great rapidity, fell like a thunderbolt on a wing of the great army, and overthrew it; then I profited by the disorder into which this manoeuvre never failed to throw the enemy to attack again, always with my whole army, on the other side. I beat them, in this way, in detail; and the victory which resulted was always, as you see, the triumph of the many over the few.”

As the able general concluded his definition of his own genius, the door opened and the servant announced that dinner was served.

“General,” said Bonaparte, leading Moreau to Josephine, “take in my wife. Gentlemen, follow them.”

On this invitation all present moved from the salon to the dining-room.

After dinner, on pretence of showing him a magnificent sabre he had brought from Egypt, Bonaparte took Moreau into his study. There the two rivals remained closeted more than an hour. What passed between them? What compact was signed? What promises were made? No one has ever known. Only, when Bonaparte returned to the salon alone, and Lucien asked him: “Well, what of Moreau?” he answered: “Just as I foresaw; he prefers military power to political power. I have promised him the command of an army.” Bonaparte smiled as he pronounced these words; then added, “In the meantime—”

“In the meantime?” questioned Lucien.

“He will have that of the Luxembourg. I am not sorry to make him the jailer of the Directors, before I make him the conqueror of the Austrians.”

The next day the following appeared in the “Moniteur”:

PARIS, 17th Brumaire. Bonaparte has presented Moreau with a magnificent Damascus sword set with precious stones which he brought from Egypt, the value of which is estimated at twelve thousand francs.