Since the 18th Fructidor, Pichegru had 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 Caesar 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.