who, upon not finding our colleague on board the frigate
_Muiron_ beside Monge and Berthollet, imagined that Bonaparte did not
appreciate his eminent qualities. If Fourier was not a passenger, this
arose from the circumstance of his having been a hundred leagues from
the Mediterranean when the _Muiron_ set sail. The explanation contains
nothing striking, but it is true. In any case, the friendly feeling of
Kleber towards the Secretary of the Institute of Egypt, the influence
which he justly granted to him on a multitude of delicate occasions,
amply compensated him for an unjust omission.

I arrive, Gentlemen, at the epoch so suggestive of painful
recollections, when the _Agas_ of the Janissaries who had fled into
Syria, having despaired of vanquishing our troops so admirably
commanded, by the honourable arms of the soldier, had recourse to the
dagger of the assassin. You are aware that a young fanatic, whose
imagination had been wrought up to a high state of excitement in the
mosques by a month of prayers and abstinence, aimed a mortal blow at the
hero of Heliopolis at the instant when he was listening, without
suspicion, and with his usual kindness, to a recital of pretended
grievances, and was promising redress.

This sad misfortune plunged our colony into profound grief. The
Egyptians themselves mingled their tears with those of the French
soldiers. By a delicacy of feeling which we should be wrong in supposing
the Mahometans not to be capable of, they did not then omit, they have
not since omitted, to remark, that the assassin and his three
accomplices were not born on the banks of the Nile.

The army, to mitigate its grief, desired that the funeral of Kleber
should be celebrated with great pomp. It wished, also, that on that
solemn day, some person should recount the long series of brilliant
actions which will transmit the name of the illustrious general to the
remotest posterity. By unanimous consent this honourable and perilous
mission was confided to Fourier.

There are very few individuals, Gentlemen, who have not seen the
brilliant dreams of their youth wrecked one after the other against the
sad realities of mature age. Fourier was one of those few exceptions.

In effect, transport yourselves mentally back to the year 1789, and
consider what would be the future prospects of the humble convert of St.
Benoit-sur-Loire. No doubt a small share of literary glory; the favour
of being heard occasionally in the