Bonaparte had scarcely arrived at Toulon when he heard that the law for the death of emigrants was enforced with frightful rigour; and that but recently an old man, upwards of eighty, had been shot.  Indignant at this barbarity, he dictated to me, in a tone of anger, the following letter: 

HeadquartersToulon,
27th Floreal, year vi. (16th May 1798).

Bonaparte, member of the national institute, to the military
commissioners of the ninth division, established by the law of
the 19th Fructidor.

I have learned, citizens, with deep regret, that an old man, between seventy and eighty years of age, and some unfortunate women, in a state of pregnancy, or surrounded with children of tender age, have been shot on the charge of emigration.

   Have the soldiers of liberty become executioners?  Can the mercy
   which they have exercised even in the fury of battle be extinct in
   their hearts?

The law of the 19th Fructidor was a measure of public safety.  Its
object was to reach conspirators, not women and aged men.

I therefore exhort you, citizens, whenever the law brings to your
tribunals women or old men, to declare that in the field of battle
you have respected the women and old men of your enemies.

The officer who signs a sentence against a person incapable of
bearing arms is a coward. 
(Signed) Bonaparte.

This letter saved the life of an unfortunate man who came under the description of persons to whom Bonaparte referred.  The tone of this note shows what an idea he already entertained of his power.  He took upon him, doubtless from the noblest motives, to step out of his way to interpret and interdict the execution of a law, atrocious, it is true, but which even in those times of weakness, disorder, and anarchy was still a law.  In this instance, at least, the power of his name was nobly employed.  The letter gave great satisfaction to the army destined for the expedition.

A man named Simon, who had followed his master in emigration, and dreaded the application of the law, heard that I wanted a servant.  He came to me and acknowledged his situation.  He suited me, and I hired him.  He then told me he feared he should be arrested whilst going to the port to embark.  Bonaparte, to whom I mentioned the circumstance, and who had just given a striking proof of his aversion to these acts of barbarity, said to me in a tone of kindness, “Give him my portfolio to carry, and let him remain with you.”  The words “Bonaparte, General-in-Chief of the Army of the East,” were inscribed in large gold letters on the green morocco.  Whether it was the portfolio or his connection with us that prevented Simon from being arrested I know not; but he passed on without interruption.  I reprimanded him for having smiled derisively at the ill humour of the persons appointed to arrest him.  He served me faithfully, and was even sometimes useful to Bonaparte.