The administration of the Directory, and that of the General-in-chief of the army of Italy, seemed two distinct Governments. The Directory in France put the emigrants to death: the army of Italy never inflicted capital punishment on any one of them. The Directory, on learning that Wurmser was besieged in Mantua, went so far as to write to Napoleon, to remind him that he was an emigrant; but Napoleon, on making him prisoner, eagerly sought to render an affecting homage of respect to his old age. The Directory adopted the most insulting forms in communicating with the Pope: the General of the army of Italy addressed him by the words “Most Holy Father,” and wrote to him with respect. The Directory endeavoured to overthrow the authority of the Pope: Napoleon preserved it. The Directory banished and proscribed Priests: Napoleon commanded his soldiers, wherever they might fall in with them, to remember that they were Frenchmen and their brothers. The Directory would have exterminated every vestige of aristocracy; Napoleon wrote to the democracy of Genoa, blaming their violence; and did not hesitate to declare that, if the Genoese attached any value to the preservation of his esteem, they must learn to respect the statue of Doria, and the institutions to which they were indebted for their glory.
THE EMPEROR DETERMINES TO WRITE HIS MEMOIRS.
7th—9th. We continued our course, and nothing occurred to interrupt the uniformity which surrounded us. Our days were all alike; the correctness of my journal alone informed me of the day of the week or of the month. Fortunately my time was employed, and therefore the day usually slipped on with a certain degree of facility. The materials which I collected in the afternoon conversation employed me so as to leave no idle time until next day.
Meanwhile the Emperor observed that I was very much occupied, and he even suspected the subject on which I was engaged. He determined to ascertain the fact, and obtained sight of a few pages of my journal: he was not displeased with it. Having alluded several times to the subject, he observed that such a work would be interesting rather than useful. The military events, for example, thus detailed in the ordinary course of conversation, would be meagre, incomplete, and devoid of end or object: they would be mere anecdotes, frequently of the most puerile kind, instead of grand operations and results. I eagerly seized the favourable opportunity: I entirely concurred in his opinion, and ventured to suggest the idea of his dictating to me the campaigns of Italy. “It would,” I observed, “be a benefit to the country—a true monument of national glory. Our time is unemployed, our hours are tedious; occupation will help to divert us, and some moments may not be devoid of pleasure.” This idea became the subject of various conversations.