23rd–25th. The West wind still continued, to our great astonishment; it
was a sort of phenomenon in these regions, and had hitherto been very
much in our favour. But, with regard to phenomena, chance produced one
of a much more extraordinary kind on the 23rd, when we crossed the Line
in 0° latitude 0° longitude, and 0° declination. This is a circumstance
which chance alone may perhaps renew only once in a century, since it is
necessary to arrive precisely at the first meridian about noon, in order
to pass the Line at that same hour, and to arrive there at the same time
with the sun.
This was a day of great merriment and disorder among the crew: it was
the ceremony which our sailors call _the Christening_, and which the
English call _the great Shaving day_. The sailors dress themselves up in
the most grotesque way; one is disguised as Neptune, and all persons on
board the ship who have not previously crossed the Line, are formally
presented to him; an immense razor is passed over their chins, with a
lather made of pitch; buckets of water are thrown over them, and the
loud bursts of laughter which accompany their retreat complete their
initiation into the grand mystery. No one is spared; and the officers
are generally more roughly used than the lowest of the sailors. The
Admiral, who had previously amused himself by endeavouring to alarm us
with the anticipation of this awful ceremony, now very courteously
exempted us from the inconvenience and ridicule attending it. We were,
with every mark of attention and respect, presented to the rude god, who
paid to each of us a compliment after his own fashion: and thus our
trial ended.
The Emperor was scrupulously respected during the whole of this
Saturnalian festivity, when respect is usually shewn to no one. On being
informed of the decorum which had been observed with respect to him, he
ordered a hundred Napoleons to be distributed to the grotesque Neptune
and his crew, which the Admiral opposed, perhaps from motives of
prudence as well as politeness.
EXAMINATION OF THE ANTI-GALLICAN.—SIR ROBERT WILSON’S WRITINGS.—PLAGUE
AT JAFFA.—ANECDOTES OF THE FRENCH ARMY IN EGYPT.—FEELINGS OF THE
ARMY IN THE EGYPTIAN CAMPAIGN.—BERTHIER.—JESTS OF THE
SOLDIERY.—DROMEDARIES.—DEATH OF KLEBER.—THE YOUNG ARAB.—SINGULAR
COINCIDENCES RESPECTING PHILIPEAUX AND NAPOLEON.—CIRCUMSTANCES ON
WHICH THE FATE OF INDIVIDUALS DEPENDS.—CAFFARELLI’S ATTACHMENT TO
NAPOLEON.—REPUTATION OF THE FRENCH ARMY IN THE EAST.—NAPOLEON
QUITTING EGYPT TO ASSUME THE GOVERNMENT OF FRANCE.—THE ENGLISH
EXPEDITION.—KLEBER AND DESAIX.
26th—30th. The weather still continued favourable. Having passed the
Line, we momentarily expected to fall in with an east or south-east
wind. The continuance of the west wind was extraordinary, and it was
impossible it could last much longer. The resolution which the Admiral
had adopted of bearing considerably to the east rendered our situation
very favourable, and we had every reason to hope for a short passage.
One afternoon, the sailors caught an enormous shark. The Emperor
enquired the cause of the great noise and confusion which he suddenly
heard overhead; being informed of what had occurred, he expressed a wish
to have a sight of the sea-monster. He accordingly went up to the poop,
and incautiously approached too near the animal, which by a sudden
movement knocked down four or five of the sailors, and had well nigh
broken the Emperor’s legs. He went below with his left stocking covered
with blood: we thought he was severely hurt, but it proved to be only
the blood of the shark.
My labours advanced with the greatest regularity. The Anti-Gallican,
which was the first work I undertook to read, was a volume of five
hundred pages, comprising all that had been written in England at the
time when that country was menaced with the French invasion. It was the
object of the English government to nationalize opposition to that
attempt, and to rouse the whole nation against her dangerous enemy. The
book contained a collection of public speeches, exhortations, patriotic
appeals of zealous citizens, satirical songs, sarcastic productions, and
highly-coloured newspaper articles, all pouring a torrent of odium and
ridicule upon the French and their First Consul, whose courage, genius,
and power excited the greatest alarm. This was all perfectly natural and
allowable. Productions of this sort are like a shower of arrows thrown
by combatants before they come to a close action: some hit, and some are
carried away by the wind. Such writings will never afford satisfactory
evidence to a man of judgment, and they scarcely merit contradiction.
Pamphleteers are little regarded, because their character is the
antidote of their poison: it is not so with the historian. The latter,
however, degrades himself to a level with the pamphlet-writer when he
departs from the calm dignity and impartiality required for his office,
to indulge in declamation and to steep his pen in gall.
With these feelings I arose from the perusal of the different
productions of Sir Robert Wilson, which I read after the Anti-Gallican.
This writer did us the greater injury, because his talents, his courage,
and his numerous and brilliant services, gave him importance in the eyes
of his countrymen. A circumstance which I am about to state caused the
writings of Sir R. Wilson to be particularly known and spoken of on
board the ship.
Sir Robert had a son among the young midshipmen on board the
Northumberland, and my son, whose similarity of age occasioned him to be
much in the society of these youths, could easily observe the change
which took place in their opinions with respect to us. They were at
first very much prejudiced against us. When the Emperor came on board,
they regarded him as an ogre ready to devour them. But on a better
acquaintance with us, truth soon exercised over them the same influence
which it produced on the rest of the crew. This was, however, at the
expense of young Wilson, who was scouted by his companions, by way of
expiation, as they said, for the stories which his father had
circulated.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
_At this part of the manuscript a great number of pages are struck out;
the reason was explained, on the margin, as follows:_
“I had collected numerous offensive statements from the writings of Sir
Robert Wilson, to which I had perhaps replied with too much bitterness:
a recent circumstance has induced me to suppress this portion of my
journal.
“Sir Robert Wilson has lately acted a conspicuous part in a cause which
does honour to the hearts of all who were concerned in it: I allude to
the saving of Lavalette. Being asked, before a French tribunal, whether
he had not formerly published works respecting our affairs? he replied
in the affirmative, and added that he had stated in them what he _then_
believed to be true. These words are more to the purpose than any thing
I could say; and I therefore hasten to cancel what I have already
written; happy in thus having an opportunity to render justice to Sir
Robert Wilson, on whose sincerity and good intentions I had, in my
indignation, cast reflections.”[19]
Footnote 19:
After my removal from Longwood, Sir Hudson Lowe, who had seized my
papers, looked over this Journal, with my permission. He, of course,
met with parts which were very displeasing to him; and he said to me:
“What a pretty legacy you are preparing for my children, Count!”—“That
is not my fault,” replied I; “it depends only on yourself to render it
otherwise; I shall be happy to have reason to strike out any thing
respecting you, as I did the other day with regard to Sir Robert
Wilson.” Upon which he asked me what I had written about Sir Robert,
and I pointed out the place. After reading all that had been written,
and my reasons for cancelling it, he said, with a thoughtful and
mortified air: “Yes, I see; but I can’t tell what to make of it; for I
know Wilson well, and he has proved himself a warm friend of the
Bourbons.”
We leaped for joy when we heard of the deliverance of Lavalette. Some
one observed, that his deliverer, Wilson, could not be the same
individual who had written so many offensive things concerning the
Emperor. “And why not?” said Napoleon. “You know but little of men,
and the passions that actuate them. What leads you to suppose that Sir
Robert Wilson is not a man of enthusiasm and violent passions, who
wrote what he then believed to be true? And while we were enemies we
contended with each other; but in our present adversity he knows
better: he may have been abused, and deceived, and may be sorry for
it; and he is perhaps now as sincere in wishing us well as he formerly
was in seeking to injure us.”
Either sagacity or chance so happily led the Emperor to this
conclusion that it may be said he was enabled to read character at a
distance. Sir R. Wilson was indeed the man who wrote against Napoleon.
Vexed to see a great people deprived of their natural rights, he
reproached the allies as bitterly as though they had imposed chains on
himself, and no one has manifested stronger indignation at the
treatment of Napoleon, or testified a more ardent wish to see it end.
I therefore set aside the works of Sir Robert Wilson, and the various
accusations contained in them; I also suppress the numerous refutations
I had collected. I shall merely stop to consider one circumstance which
has been repeated in a hundred different works; the report of which has
been circulated through Europe, and has obtained credit even in France.
I allude to the poisoning of the men infected with the plague at Jaffa.
Certainly nothing can more clearly prove how easily calumny may effect
its object. If the voice of slander be bold and powerful, and can
command numerous echoes, no matter how far probability, reason, common
sense, and truth be violated—the wished-for end is sure to be attained.
A general, a hero, a great man, hitherto respected by fortune, as well
as by mankind, at that moment riveting the attention of three quarters
of the globe, commanding admiration even from his enemies, was suddenly
accused of a crime declared to be unheard-of and unparalleled; of an act
pronounced to be inhuman, atrocious, and cruel; and, what is above all
extraordinary, he could have no possible object in committing that
crime. The most absurd details, the most improbable circumstances, the
most ridiculous episodes were invented, to give a colouring to this
first falsehood. The story was circulated through Europe; malevolence
seized it, and exaggerated its enormity; it was published in every
newspaper; recorded in every book; and thenceforward was looked upon as
an established fact:—indignation was at its height, and clamour
universal. It would have been vain to reason, or to attempt to stem the
torrent, or to shew that no proofs of the fact had been adduced, and
that the story contradicted itself. It would have been vain to bring
forward opposite and incontrovertible evidence—the evidence of those
very medical men who were said to have administered, or to have refused
to administer, the poison. It would have been vain to expose the
unreasonableness of accusing of inhumanity the man who, but a short time
before, had immortalized the hospitals of Jaffa by an act of the
sublimest heroism; risking his own safety by solemnly touching the
troops infected with the plague, to deceive and soothe the imaginations
of the sick men. In vain might it have been urged that the idea of such
a crime could not be affixed on him who, when consulted by the medical
officers as to the expediency of burning or merely washing the clothes
worn by the invalids, and being reminded of the enormous loss attendant
on the former measure, replied;—“Gentlemen, I came here to fix the
attention and to recal the interests of Europe to the centre of the
ancient world, and not with the view of amassing wealth.” In vain would
it have been shewn that there could be no object, no motive whatever,
for this supposed crime. Had the French General any reason to suspect a
design for corrupting his invalids and converting them into
reinforcements against himself? Did he hope that this barbarous act
would completely rid him of the infection? He might have effected that
object equally well by leaving his invalids to be overtaken by the
enemy’s troops, which would moreover have been the means of spreading
the contagion among the latter. It would have been vain to shew that an
unfeeling and selfish chief might have freed himself from all
embarrassment by merely leaving the unfortunate men behind him: they
would have been massacred, it is true; but no one would ever have
thought of addressing a reproach to him.
These and all other arguments would have been vain and useless, so
powerful and infallible are the effects of falsehood and declamation
when the passions of mankind are interested in their propagation. The
imaginary crime was repeated by every mouth, was engraven on every
heart, and to the common mass of mankind it will perhaps for ever
continue a positive and incontrovertible fact.
A circumstance which will not a little surprise those who have yet to
learn how little credit is due to public report, and which will also
serve to shew the errors that may creep into history, is that Marshal
Bertrand, who was himself with the army in Egypt, (though certainly in a
rank which did not enable him to come into immediate contact with the
General-in-chief) firmly believed, up to the period of his residence at
St. Helena, the story of poison having been administered to sixty
invalids. The report was circulated and believed even in our army;
therefore, what answer could be given to those who triumphantly asserted
“It is a fact, I assure you, I have it from officers who served in the
French army at the time?” Nevertheless, the whole story is false. I have
collected the following facts from the highest source, from the mouth of
Napoleon himself.
1st. That the invalids in question, who were infected with the plague,
amounted, according to the report made to the General-in-chief, only to
_seven_ in number.
2nd. That it was not the General-in-chief, but a professional man, who,
at the moment of the crisis, proposed the administering of opium.
3rd. That opium was not administered to a single individual.
4th. That the retreat having been effected slowly, a rear-guard was left
behind in Jaffa for three days.
5th. That, on the departure of the rear-guard, the invalids were all
dead, except one or two, who must have fallen into the hands of the
English.
N.B. Since my return to Paris, having had opportunities of conversing
with those whose situation and profession naturally rendered them the
first actors in the scene—those whose testimony must be considered as
official and authentic, I have had the curiosity to enquire into the
most minute details, and the following is the result of my enquiries.
“The invalids under the care of the Surgeon-in-chief, that is to say,
the wounded, were all, without exception, removed, with the help of the
horses belonging to the staff, not excepting even those of the
General-in-chief, who proceeded for a considerable distance on foot,
like the rest of the army. These, therefore, are quite out of the
question.
“With regard to the rest of the invalids, about twenty in number, who
were under the care of the Physician-in-chief, and who were in an
absolutely desperate condition, totally unfit to be removed, while the
enemy was advancing, it is very true that Napoleon asked the
Physician-in-chief whether it would not be an act of humanity to
administer opium to them. It is also true that the Physician replied,
his business was to cure and not to kill;—an answer which, as it seems
to have reference to an order rather than to a subject of discussion,
has, perhaps, furnished a basis on which slander and falsehood might
invent and propagate the fabrication which has since been circulated on
this subject.
“Finally, the details which I have been able to collect afford me the
following incontestible results:—
“1st. That no order was given for the administering of opium to the
sick.
“2nd. That there was not at the period in question, in the
medicine-chest of the army, a single grain of opium for the use of the
sick.
“3rd. That even had the order been given, and had there been a supply of
opium, temporary and local circumstances, which it would be tedious to
enumerate here, would have rendered its execution impossible.
“The following circumstances have probably helped to occasion, and may,
perhaps, in some degree excuse, the mistake of those who have
obstinately maintained the truth of the contrary facts. Some of our
wounded men, who had been put on board ship, fell into the hands of the
English. We had been short of medicines of all kinds in the camp, and we
had supplied the deficiency by compositions formed from indigenous trees
and plants. The draughts and other medicines had a horrible taste and
appearance. The prisoners, either for the purpose of exciting pity, or
from having heard of the opium story, which the nature of the medicines
might incline them to believe, told the English that they had
miraculously escaped death, having had poison administered to them by
their medical officers.” So much for the invalids under the care of the
Surgeon-in-chief.
Now for the others.—“The army unfortunately had, as Apothecary-in-chief,
a wretch who had been allowed the use of five camels to convey from
Cairo the quantity of medicines necessary for the expedition. This man
was base enough to supply himself on his own account, instead of
medicines, with sugar, coffee, wine, and other provisions, which he
afterwards sold at an enormous profit. On the discovery of the fraud,
the indignation of the General-in-chief was without bounds, and the
offender was condemned to be shot; but all the medical officers, who
were so distinguished for their courage, and whose attentive care had
rendered them so dear to the army, implored his pardon, alleging that
the honour of the whole body would be compromised by his punishment; and
thus the culprit escaped. Some time after, when the English took
possession of Cairo, this man joined them, and made common cause with
them; but, having attempted to renew some of his old offences, he was
condemned to be hanged, and again escaped by slandering the
General-in-chief Buonaparte, of whom he invented a multitude of horrible
stories, and, by representing himself as the identical person who had,
by the General’s orders, administered opium to the soldiers infected
with the plague. His pardon was the condition and the reward of his
calumnies. This was doubtless the first source whence the story was
derived, by those who were not induced to propagate it from malevolent
motives.
“Time has, however, fully exposed this absurd calumny, as well as many
others which have been applied in the same direction, and that with so
great a rapidity, that on revising my manuscript, I have been surprised
at the importance I have attached to the refutation of a charge which no
one would now dare to maintain. Still, I thought it best to preserve
what I had written, as a testimony of the impression of the moment; and
if I have now added some farther details, it is because they happened to
lie within my reach, and I thought it important to record them as
historical facts.”
Sir Robert Wilson has, in his work, boasted, with seeming complacency,
of having been the first to make known and to propagate these odious
charges in Europe. His countryman, Sir Sydney Smith, may perhaps dispute
this honour with him, particularly as he may, in a great measure at
least, justly lay claim to the merit of their invention. To him, and to
the system of corruption he encouraged, Europe is indebted for all the
false reports with which she has been inundated, to the great detriment
of our brave army of Egypt.
It is well known that Sir Sydney Smith did every thing in his power to
corrupt our army. The false intelligence from Europe—the slander of the
General-in-chief—the powerful bribes held out to the officers and
soldiers,—were all approved by him: the documents are published, his
proclamations are known. At one time they created sufficient alarm in
the French General to induce him to seek to put a stop to them; which he
did by forbidding all communication with the English, and stating in the
Order of the day that their Commodore had gone mad. This assertion was
believed in the French army; and it enraged Sir Sydney Smith so much
that he sent Napoleon a challenge. The General replied that he had
business of too great importance on his hands to think of troubling
himself about such a trifle: had he received a challenge from the great
Marlborough, then indeed he might have thought it worth while to
consider of it: but if the English seaman really felt inclined to amuse
himself at a tilting-match, he would send him one of the bullies in his
army, and neutralize a few yards of the sea-coast, where the mad
Commodore might come ashore, and enjoy his heart’s content of it.
As I am on the subject of Egypt, I will here note down all the
information I collected in my detached conversations, and which may
possibly not be found in the Campaign of Egypt, dictated by Napoleon to
the Grand Marshal.
The campaign of Italy exhibits all the most brilliant and decisive
results to which military genius and conception ever gave birth.
Diplomatic views, administrative talents, legislative measures, are
there uniformly blended in harmony with the prodigies of war. But the
most striking and the finishing touch in the picture is the sudden and
irresistible ascendancy which the young General acquired:—the anarchy of
equality—the jealousy of republican principles—every thing vanished
before him: there was not a power, even to the ridiculous sovereignty of
the Directory, which was not immediately suspended. The Directory
required no accounts from the General-in-chief of the army of Italy; it
was left to himself to send them: no plan, no system was prescribed to
him; but accounts of victories and conclusions of armistices, of the
destruction of old states, and the creation of new ones, were constantly
received from him.
In the expedition of Egypt may be retraced all that is admired in the
campaign of Italy. The reflecting observer will even perceive that, in
the Egyptian expedition, the points of resemblance are of a more
important nature, from the difficulties of every kind which gave
character to the campaign, and required greater genius and resources on
the part of its conductor. In Egypt, a new order of things appeared:
climate, country, inhabitants, religion, manners, and mode of fighting,
all were different.[20]
Footnote 20:
The most valuable information respecting these two immortal campaigns
will doubtless be furnished by the collection of the orders of the
day, and the daily correspondence of the General-in-chief with the
Generals and Commissaries of his army. Several volumes of them have
been published by Pankouke, under the title of “Correspondance
inédite, officielle et confidentielle de Napoléon Bonaparte, &c.” They
will altogether furnish the most excellent and useful lessons to the
students of the military art.
The Memoirs of the Campaign of Egypt will determine points which, at the
time, formed only the subjects of conjecture and discussion to a large
portion of society.
1st. The expedition of Egypt was undertaken at the earnest and mutual
desire of the Directory and the General-in-chief.
2nd. The taking of Malta was not the consequence of a private
understanding, but of the wisdom of the General-in-chief. “It was in
Mantua that I took Malta,” said the Emperor one day; “it was the
generous treatment observed towards Wurmser that secured to me the
submission of the Grand Master and his Knights.”
3rd. The conquest of Egypt was planned with as much judgment as it was
executed with skill. If Saint Jean d’Acre had surrendered to the French
army, a great revolution would have taken place in the East; the
General-in-chief would have established an empire there, and the
destinies of France would have taken a different turn.
4th. On its return from the campaign of Syria, the French army had
scarcely sustained any loss; it remained in the most formidable and
prosperous condition.
5th. The departure of the General-in-chief for France was the result of
a grand and magnanimous plan. How ridiculous is the imbecility of those
who consider that departure as an escape or a desertion!
6th. Kleber fell a victim to Mussulman fanaticism. There is not the
slightest foundation for the absurd calumny which would have attributed
this catastrophe to the policy of his predecessor, or to the intrigues
of his successor.
7th, and lastly. It is pretty well proved that Egypt would have remained
for ever a French province if any other but Menou had been appointed for
her defence; nothing but the gross errors of that general could have
lost us the possession of Egypt.
The Emperor said, that no army in the world was less fit for the
Egyptian expedition than that which he led there—the army of Italy. It
would be difficult to describe the disgust, the discontent, the
melancholy, the despair of that army, on its first arrival in Egypt. The
Emperor himself saw two dragoons run out of the ranks and throw
themselves into the Nile. Bertrand had seen the most distinguished
generals, such as Lannes and Murat, in momentary fits of rage, throw
their laced hats on the sand and trample on them in the presence of the
soldiers. The Emperor explained these feelings surprisingly well. “This
army,” said he, “had fulfilled its career. All the individuals belonging
to it were satiated with wealth, rank, pleasure, and consideration; they
were not fit for the Deserts and the fatigues of Egypt: and,” continued
he, “had that army been placed in other hands than mine, it is difficult
to say what excesses might not have been committed.”
More than one conspiracy was formed to carry away the flags to
Alexandria, and other things of the same sort. The influence, the
character, and the glory of the General, could alone restrain the
troops. One day, Napoleon, losing his temper in his turn, rushed among a
group of discontented generals, and addressing himself, to the tallest,
“You have held mutinous language,” said he, with vehemence, “take care
that I do not fulfil my duty; it is not your being six foot high that
should save you from being shot in a couple of hours.”
With regard, however, to their conduct before the enemy, the Emperor
said that this army never ceased to be the army of Italy; that it still
preserved the same admirable character. The most difficult party to
manage was that which the Emperor used to call “the faction of the
_sentimentalists_,” whom it was impossible to keep under any restraint;
their minds were diseased; they spent the night in gazing on the moon
for the reflected image of the idols they had left in Europe. At the
head of this party was Berthier, the weak and spiritless Berthier, who,
when the General-in-chief was preparing to sail from Toulon, posted
night and day from Paris to tell him that he was unwell, and could not
accompany him, though he was the head of the staff. The General-in-chief
took not the smallest notice of what he said, and Berthier, finding
himself no longer at the feet of the fair one who had despatched him
with the excuse, set sail along with him! On his arrival in Egypt, he
became a prey to _ennui_, and was unable to subdue his tender
recollections;—he solicited and obtained permission to return to France.
He took leave of Napoleon, and bade him a formal adieu; but shortly
returned with his eyes full of tears, saying that, after all, he would
not dishonour himself, and that he could not separate his destiny from
that of his General.
Berthier’s love was mingled with a kind of worship. Adjoining the tent,
destined for his own use, he always had another prepared, and furnished
with the magnificence of the most elegant boudoir; this was consecrated
to the portrait of his mistress, before which he would sometimes even go
so far as to burn incense. This tent was pitched even in the deserts of
Syria. Napoleon said, with a smile, that his temple had oftener than
once been profaned by a worship less pure, through the clandestine
introduction of foreign divinities.
Berthier never relinquished his passion, which sometimes carried him to
the very verge of idiotcy. In his first account of the battle of
Marengo, young Visconti, his aide-de-camp, who was but a captain at
most, was mentioned five or six times in remembrance of his mother. “One
would have thought,” said Napoleon, “that the youth had gained the
battle.” Surely the General-in-chief must have been ready to throw the
paper in the writer’s face!
The Emperor calculated that he had given Berthier forty millions during
his life; but he supposed that from this weakness of his mind, his want
of regularity, and his ridiculous passion, he had squandered away a
great part of it.
The discontent of the troops in Egypt happily vented itself in sarcastic
jokes: this is the humour which always bears a Frenchman through
difficulties. They bore a great resentment against General Caffarelli,
whom they believed to have been one of the promoters of the expedition.
Caffarelli had a wooden leg, having lost one of his limbs on the banks
of the Rhine; and whenever the soldiers saw him hobbling-past, they
would say, loud enough for him to hear,—“That fellow does not care what
happens; he is certain, at all events, to have one foot in France.”
The men of science who accompanied the expedition also came in for their
share of the jests. Asses were very numerous in Egypt; almost all the
soldiers possessed one or two, and they used always to call them their
_demi-savans_.
The General-in-chief, on his departure from France, had issued a
proclamation, in which he informed the troops that he was about to take
them to a country where he would make them all rich; where they should
each have seven acres of land at their disposal. The soldiers, when they
found themselves in the midst of the Desert, surrounded by the boundless
ocean of sand, began to question the generosity of their General: they
thought he had observed singular moderation in having promised only
seven acres. “The rogue,” said they, “might with safety give us as much
as he pleases; we should not abuse his good nature.”
While the army was passing through Syria, there was not a soldier but
was heard to repeat these lines from Zaire:—
Les Français sont lassés de chercher désormais
Des climats que pour eux le destin n’a point faits,
Ils n’abandonnent point leur fertile patrie,
Pour languir aux déserts de l’aride Arabie.
On one occasion, the General-in-chief, having a few moments’ leisure to
look about the country, took advantage of the ebb-tide, and crossed on
foot to the opposite coast of the Red Sea. Night surprised him on his
return, and he lost his way in the midst of the rising tide. He was in
the greatest danger, and very narrowly escaped perishing precisely in
the same manner as Pharaoh. “This,” said Napoleon, “would have furnished
all the preachers of Christianity with a splendid text against me.” On
reaching the Arabian coast of the Red Sea, he received a deputation of
the Cenobites of Mount Sinai, who came to implore his protection, and to
request him to inscribe his name on the ancient register of their
charters. Napoleon inscribed his name in the same list with those of
Ali, Saladin, Ibrahim, and others! In allusion to this circumstance, or
something of a similar kind, the Emperor observed that he had in the
course of one year received letters from Rome and Mecca; the Pope
addressing him as his dearest son, and the Sherif styling him the
Protector of the holy Kaaba.
This singular coincidence, however, is scarcely surprising, with
reference to him who has led armies both through the burning sands of
the Tropic, and over the frozen _Steppes_ of the North; who, when he
narrowly escaped being swallowed up in the waves of the Red Sea, or
might have perished in the flames of Moscow, was threatening the Indies
from those two extreme points.
The General-in-chief shared the fatigues of the soldiers. The privations
endured by every individual in the army were sometimes so great that
they were compelled to dispute with each other for the smallest
enjoyments, without the least distinction of rank. To such extremities
were they reduced that, in the Desert, the soldiers would hardly
relinquish their places to allow the General to dip his hands in a muddy
stream. On one occasion, as they were passing by the ruins of Pelusium,
and were almost suffocated with the heat, some one resigned to him a
fragment of a door, beneath which he contrived to shade his head for a
few minutes: “And this,” said Napoleon, “was no trifling concession.” It
was on this very spot, while removing some stones at his feet, that
chance rendered him the possessor of a superb antique, well known in the
learned world.[21]
Footnote 21:
A cameo of Augustus, a mere sketch, but admirably designed. Napoleon
gave it to General Andreossi, who was a great collector of
antiquities; but M. Denon, who was at that time absent, having
afterwards seen this cameo, was struck with its resemblance to
Napoleon, who then had the stone returned to him and kept it. It
afterwards fell into the possession of Josephine, and M. Denon does
not know what has since become of it. (_This information was furnished
to me by M. Denon since my return to France._)
In proceeding to Asia, the French army had to cross the Desert which
separates that continent from Africa. Kleber, who commanded the advanced
guard, mistook his road, and lost his way in the Desert. Napoleon, who
was following at the distance of half a day’s march, attended by a
slender escort, found himself at night-fall in the midst of the Turkish
camp: he was closely pursued, and escaped only because, it being night,
the Turks suspected that an ambush was intended. The next source of
uneasiness was the doubtful fate of Kleber and his detachment, and the
greater part of the night was passed in the most cruel anxiety. At
length they obtained information respecting them from some Arabs of the
Desert, and the General-in-chief hastened, on his dromedary, in quest of
his troops. He found them overwhelmed with despair, and ready to perish
from thirst and fatigue; some of the young soldiers had, in a moment of
frenzy, even broken their muskets. The sight of their General seemed to
give them new life, by reviving their hopes. Napoleon informed them that
a supply of provisions and water was coming up behind him. “But,” said
he, to the troops, “if relief had been longer delayed, would that have
excused your murmuring and loss of courage? No, soldiers; learn to die
with honour.”
Napoleon travelled the greater part of the way through the Desert on a
dromedary. The physical hardihood of this animal renders it unnecessary
to pay the least attention to his sustenance; he scarcely eats or
drinks; but his moral sensibility is extreme, harsh treatment provokes
his resentment, and renders him furious. The Emperor observed that the
roughness of his trot created nausea, like the motion of a ship. The
animal will travel twenty leagues a day. The Emperor formed some
dromedary regiments, and the use he made of them in the army soon proved
the destruction of the Arabs. The rider squats himself on the back of
the animal, through whose nostrils a ring is passed, which serves to
guide him: he is very obedient, and on a certain signal, made by the
voice of the rider, the animal kneels down to allow him to alight. The
dromedary will carry very heavy burdens, and he is never unloaded during
the whole of the journey. On his arrival at evening stations, his load
is propped up, and the animal lies down and goes to sleep: at day-break
he rises,—his burden is on his back, and he is ready to continue his
journey. The dromedary is only a beast of burden, and not at all fit for
draught. In Syria, however, they succeeded in yoking them to
field-pieces, thus rendering them essentially serviceable.
Napoleon became very popular among the Egyptians, who gave him the name
of Sultan Kebir (Father of Fire). He inspired particular respect:
wherever he appeared the people rose in his presence; and this deference
was paid to him alone. The uniform consideration with which he treated
the Sheiks, and the adroitness by which he gained their confidence,
rendered him truly the sovereign of Egypt, and more than once saved his
life. But for their disclosures, he would have fallen a victim to
fanaticism, like Kleber, who, on the contrary, rendered himself odious
to the Sheiks, and perished in consequence of subjecting one of them to
the punishment of the bastinado. Bertrand was one of the judges who
condemned the assassin, and, on his telling us this fact one day at
dinner, the Emperor observed:—“If the slanderers, who accuse me of
having caused the death of Kleber, were acquainted with the fact you
have mentioned, they would not hesitate to call you the assassin, or the
accomplice, and would take it for granted that your title of Grand
Marshal, and your residence at Saint Helena, are the reward and the
punishment of the crime.”
Napoleon willingly conversed with the people of the country, and always
displayed sentiments of justice which struck them with wonder. On his
way back to Syria, an Arab tribe came to meet him, for the double
purpose of shewing him respect and of selling their services as guides.
“The chief of the tribe was unwell, and his place was filled by his son,
a youth of the age and size of your boy here,” said the Emperor to me:
“he was mounted on his dromedary, riding close beside me, and chatting
to me with great familiarity. ’Sultan Kebir, said he, ‘I could give you
good advice, now that you are returning to Cairo,’ ‘Well, speak, my
friend, and if your advice is good, I will follow it.’—‘I’ll tell you
what I would do, if I were in your place. As soon as I got to Cairo, I
would order the richest slave-merchant into the market, and I would
choose twenty of the prettiest women for myself; I would next send for
the richest jewellers, and would make them give me up a good share of
their stock; I would then do the same with all the other merchants; for
what is the use of reigning, or being powerful, if not to acquire
riches?’—‘But, my friend, suppose it were more noble to preserve them
for others?’ This sentiment seemed to make him reflect a little, without
convincing him. The young man was evidently very promising, for an Arab:
he was lively and courageous, and led his troop with dignity and order.
He is, perhaps, destined, one day or other, to carry his advice into
execution for his own benefit in the market-place of Cairo.”
On another occasion, some Arabs who were on friendly terms with the
army, penetrated into a village on the frontier, and an unfortunate
Fellah (peasant) was killed. The Sultan Kebir flew into a great passion;
and, vowing that he would have vengeance, gave orders that the tribe
should be pursued into the Desert to extinction. This order was given in
the presence of the principal Sheiks, one of whom could not refrain from
laughing at his anger and his determination. “Sultan Kebir,” said he,
“you are playing a bad game just now: do not quarrel with these people;
they can do you ten times more harm than you can do them. And besides,
what is it all about. Because they have killed a miserable peasant? Was
he your cousin (a proverbial expression among them)?” “He was more than
my cousin,” replied Napoleon; “all those whom I govern are my children:
power is given to me only that I may ensure their safety.” On hearing
these words all the Sheiks bowed their heads, and said, “O! that is very
fine;—you have spoken like the Prophet.”
The decision of the Grand Mosque of Cairo in favour of the French army
was a masterpiece of skill on the part of the General-in-chief, who
induced the synod of the chief Sheiks to declare, by a public act, that
the Mussulmans should obey, and pay tribute to, the French general. It
is the first and only example of the sort, since the establishment of
the Koran, which forbids submission to Infidels. The details of this
transaction are invaluable: they will be found in the Campaigns of
Egypt.
Saint-Jean d’Acre, doubtless, presented a singular spectacle, when two
European armies met with hostile intentions in a little town of Asia,
with the mutual purpose of securing the possession of a portion of
Africa; but it is still more extraordinary that the persons who directed
the efforts of each party were both of the same nation, of the same age,
of the same rank, of the same corps, and of the same school.
Philippeaux, to whose talents the English and Turks owed the
preservation of Saint Jean d’Acre, had been the companion of Napoleon at
the military school of Paris: they had been there examined together,
previous to their being sent to their respective corps. “His figure
resembled yours,” said the Emperor to me, after having dictated his
eulogium in the Memoirs, and mentioned all the mischief he had done him.
“Sire,” I answered, “there were many other points of affinity between
us; we had been intimate and inseparable companions at the Military
School. When he passed through London with Sir Sydney Smith, who, by his
assistance, had been enabled to escape from the Temple, he sought for me
in every direction. I called at his lodgings only half an hour after his
departure; had it not been for this accident, I should probably have
accompanied him. I was at the time without occupation; the prospect of
adventure might have tempted me; and how strangely might the course of
my destinies have been turned in a new direction!”
“I am well aware,” said Napoleon, “of the influence which chance usurps
over our political determinations; and it is the knowledge of that
circumstance which has always kept me free from prejudice, and rendered
me very indulgent with regard to the party adopted by individuals in our
political convulsions. To be a good Frenchman, or to wish to become one,
was all that I looked for in any one.”—The Emperor then went on to
compare the confusion of our troubles to battles in the night-time,
where each man attacks his neighbour, and friends are often confounded
with foes; but when daylight returns, and order is restored, every one
forgives the injury which he has sustained through mistake. “Even for
myself,” said he, “how could I undertake to say that there might not
have existed circumstances sufficiently powerful, notwithstanding my
natural sentiments, to induce me to emigrate? The vicinity of the
frontier, for instance, a friendly attachment, or the influence of a
chief. In revolutions, we can only speak with certainty to what we have
done: it is silly to affirm that we could not have acted otherwise.” The
Emperor then related a singular example of the influence of chance over
the destinies of men. Serrurier and the younger Hedouville, while
travelling together on foot to emigrate into Spain, were met by a
military patrol. Hedouville, being the younger and more active of the
two, cleared the frontier, thought himself very lucky, and went to spend
a life of mere vegetation in Spain. Serrurier, on the contrary, being
obliged to return into the interior, bewailed his unhappy fate, and
became a marshal: such is the uncertainty of human foresight and
calculations!
At Saint-Jean d’Acre, the General-in-chief lost Caffarelli, of whom he
was extremely fond. Caffarelli entertained a sort of reverential respect
for the General-in-chief. The influence of this sentiment was so great
that, though he was delirious for several days previous to his death,
when Napoleon went to see him, the announcement of his name seemed to
recal him to life: he became more collected, his spirits revived, and he
conversed coherently; but he relapsed into his former state immediately
after Napoleon’s departure. This singular phenomenon was renewed every
time the General-in-chief paid him a visit.
Napoleon received, during the siege of Saint-Jean d’Acre, an affecting
proof of heroic devotedness. While he was in the trenches, a shell fell
at his feet; two grenadiers who observed it immediately rushed towards
him, placed him between them, and raising their arms above his head,
completely covered every part of his body. Happily the shell respected
the whole group; nobody was injured.
One of these brave grenadiers afterwards became General Dumesnil, who
lost a leg in the campaign of Moscow, and commanded the fortress of
Vincennes at the time of the invasion in 1814. The capital had been for
some weeks occupied by the Allies, and Dumesnil still held out. Nothing
was then talked of in Paris but his obstinate defence, and his humorous
reply when summoned by the Russians to surrender;—“Give me back my leg,
and I will give up my fortress.”
The French soldiers acquired extraordinary reputation in Egypt, and not
without cause; they had dispersed and dismayed the celebrated Mamelucks,
the most formidable militia of the East. After the retreat from Syria, a
Turkish army landed at Aboukir: Murat-Bey, the most powerful and brave
of the Mamelucks, left Upper Egypt, whither he had fled for safety, and
reached the Turkish camp by a circuitous route. On the landing of the
Turks, the French detachments had fallen back in order to concentrate
their forces. The Pacha who commanded the Turks was delighted at this
movement, which he mistook for the effect of fear; and, on perceiving
Murat-Bey, he exultingly exclaimed:—“So! these are the terrible French
whom you could not face; see, the moment I make my appearance, how they
fly before me.“ The indignant Murat-Bey furiously replied:—“Pacha,
render thanks to the Prophet that it has pleased these Frenchmen to
retire; if they should return, you will disappear before them like dust
before the wind.”
His words were prophetical:—some days after, the French poured down upon
the Turkish army and put it to flight. Murat-Bey, who had interviews
with several of our generals, was extremely surprised at their
diminutive stature and pitiful condition. The Oriental nations attach
high importance to the bodily stature, and they were unable to conceive
how so much genius could exist within such small dimensions. The
appearance of Kleber alone came up to their ideas; he was an uncommonly
fine-looking man, but his manners were rude. The discrimination of the
Egyptians induced them to think that he was not a Frenchman; in fact,
though a native of Alsace, he had spent the early part of his life in
the Prussian army, and might very well have passed for a German. Some
one said that Kleber had been a Janissary in his youth; the Emperor
burst into a fit of laughter, and said somebody had been imposing on
him.
The Grand-Marshal told the Emperor that at the battle of Aboukir he was
for the first time placed in his army, and near his person. He was then
so little accustomed to the boldness of his manœuvres, that he
scarcely understood any of the orders he heard him give. “Particularly,
Sire,” added he, “when I heard you call out to an officer, ‘Hercule, my
dear fellow, take twenty-five men and charge that rabble:’ I really
thought I had lost my senses; your Majesty pointed to a detachment of a
thousand Turkish horse.”
After all, the losses sustained by the army in Egypt were far from being
so considerable as might have been expected in a country to which the
troops were unaccustomed; particularly when the insalubrity of the
climate, the remoteness of the resources of the country, the ravages of
the plague, and the numerous actions which have immortalized that army,
are taken into account. The French force, at its landing in Egypt,
amounted to 30,000 men; it was augmented by the wrecks of the battle of
Aboukir, and probably also by some partial arrivals from France; and yet
the total loss sustained by the army, from the commencement of the
campaign to two months after the departure of the General-in-chief for
Europe, (during the space of seven or eight-and-twenty months,) amounted
only to 8,915, as is proved by the official report of the
Muster-master-general.[22]
Footnote 22:
Killed in battle 3614
Died of their wounds 854
Died through various accidents 290
Died from common disorders 2468
Died from the pestilential fever 1689
——
Total 8915
Signed,
_Cairo, 10 Frimaire, year IX._ Sartelon,
Muster-master-general.
The life of a man must indeed be replete with prodigies, when one of his
acts, which is without parallel in history scarcely arrests our
attention. When Cæsar passed the Rubicon, he possessed an army, and was
advancing in his own defence. When Alexander, urged by the ardour of
youth and the fire of genius, landed in Asia, to make war on the great
King, he, Alexander, was the son of a king, a king himself, and courted
the chances of ambition and glory at the head of the forces of his
kingdom. But that a private individual, whose name three years before
was unknown to the world, who at that moment had nothing to aid him but
the reputation of a few victories, his name, and the consciousness of
his genius, should have dared to conceive the project of taking into his
own hands the destinies of thirty millions of men, of protecting them
from external defeats and internal dissensions;—that, roused by the
recital of the troubles which were described to him, and by the idea of
the disasters which he foresaw, he should have exclaimed, “France will
be lost through these fine talkers, these babblers: now is the time to
save her!”—that he should have abandoned his army, and crossed the seas,
at the risk of his liberty and reputation, have reached the French soil
and flown to the capital; that he should there have seized the helm, and
stopped short a nation intoxicated with every excess; that he should
have suddenly brought her back to the true course of reason and
justice;—that he should from that moment have prepared for her a career
of power and glory till then unknown;—and that all this should have been
accomplished without the shedding of a single tear or a drop of
blood;—such an undertaking may be regarded as one of the most gigantic
and sublime that ever was heard of; it will fill calm and dispassionate
posterity with astonishment and admiration; though at the time it was
branded by some with the name of a desperate flight, and an infamous
desertion. The army, however, which Napoleon left behind him, continued
to occupy Egypt for the space of two years longer. It was the opinion of
the Emperor that it ought never to have been forced to surrender; and
the Grand Marshal, who accompanied the army to the last moment,
concurred in that opinion.
After the departure of the General-in-chief, Kleber, who succeeded him,
deceived and misled by intrigues, treated for the evacuation of Egypt;
but when the enemy’s refusal compelled him to seek for new glory, and to
form a more just estimate of his own force, he totally altered his
opinions, and declared himself favourable to the occupation of Egypt;
and this had even become the general sentiment of the army. He now
thought only of maintaining himself in the country; he dismissed those
who had influenced him in forming his first design, and collected around
him only those who favoured the contrary measure. Had he lived, Egypt
would have been secure; to his death her loss must be attributed. The
command of the army was afterwards divided between Menou and Regnier. It
then became a mere field of intrigue: the energy and courage of the
French troops continued unabated; but they were no longer employed and
directed as they had been by Kleber. Menou was totally inefficient; the
English advanced to attack him with twenty thousand men; his force was
much more considerable, and the general spirit of the two armies was not
to be compared. By an inconceivable infatuation, Menou hastily dispersed
his troops, as soon as he learned that the English were about to appear,
the latter advanced in a mass, and were attacked only in detail. “How
blind is fortune,” said the Emperor; “by the adoption of contrary
measures, the English would infallibly have been destroyed; and how many
new chances might not that event have brought about!”
Their landing was admirable, said the Grand Marshal: in less than five
or six minutes five thousand five hundred men appeared in order of
battle: it was a truly theatrical movement; and it was thrice repeated.
Their landing was opposed by only twelve hundred men, who did them
considerable damage. Shortly after, this mass, amounting to between
thirteen and fourteen thousand, was intrepidly attacked by General
Lanusse. The General had only three thousand troops; but fired with
ambition, and not doubting that his force was adequate to fulfil the
object he had in view, he would not wait for reinforcements; at first he
overthrew every thing in his way, and, after causing immense slaughter
to the enemy, he was at length defeated. Had his force been two or three
thousand stronger, he would have attained his object.
The English were greatly astonished when they had an opportunity of
judging for themselves of our real situation in Egypt; and they
considered themselves extremely fortunate in the turn which affairs had
taken.
General Hutchinson, who reaped the glory of the conquest, said, on his
return to Europe, that had the English known the real state of things,
they would certainly never have attempted to land; but in England it was
believed that there were not six thousand French troops in Egypt. This
mistake arose out of the intercepted letters, as well as the
intelligence that was collected in Egypt. “So natural is it to
Frenchmen,” said Napoleon, “to exaggerate, murmur, and misrepresent,
whenever they are dissatisfied. These reports, however, were created
merely by ill-humour or diseased imaginations: it was said that there
was a famine in Egypt; that the French had all been destroyed, at every
new battle; that the plague had swept away the whole army; that there
was not a man left,” &c.
Through the repetition of these reports, Pitt was at length persuaded of
their reality; and how could it be otherwise? The First Consul saw the
despatches from his successor addressed to the Directory; and also
letters from various persons in the French army. Who can explain the
contradictions they contained? Who will henceforth trust to individual
authority for the support of his opinion? Kleber, the General-in-chief,
informed the Directory, that he had only six thousand men, while in the
same packet the accounts of the inspector of reviews exhibited upwards
of twenty thousand. Kleber declared that he was without money, and the
treasury accounts display vast sums. The General-in-chief alleged that
the artillery was merely an intrenched park, destitute of ammunition;
while the estimates of that department made mention of stores for
several campaigns. “Thus, if Kleber, by virtue of the treaty he
commenced, had evacuated Egypt,” said the Emperor, “I should undoubtedly
have brought him to trial on his return to France. All these
contradictory documents had been submitted to the examination and
opinion of the Council of State.”
From the letters of Kleber, the General-in-chief, an idea may be formed
of the tone of those written by persons of inferior rank, and by the
common soldiers. Such, however, were the communications daily
intercepted by the English; which they printed and which guided them in
their operations—a circumstance that must have cost them dear. The
Emperor observed that in all his campaigns he had seen the same effect
produced by intercepted letters, which sometimes had proved of great
advantage to him.
Among the letters which at this period fell into his hands, he found
odious attacks upon himself, which he felt the more sensibly because
several of them were written by persons whom he had loaded with
benefits, in whom he had reposed full confidence, and whom he believed
to be strongly attached to him. One of these individuals, whose fortune
he had made, and in whom he trusted with the utmost sincerity, alleged
that the General-in-chief had decamped, after robbing the treasury of
two millions. Fortunately, in these same despatches the accounts of the
Paymaster proved that the General had not even received the whole amount
of the pay due to him. “On reading this statement,” said the Emperor, “I
felt really disgusted at mankind. This was the first moral
disappointment I had ever experienced; and if it has not been the only
one, it has, perhaps, at least, been the most severe. Many individuals
in the army thought me ruined, and they were already eagerly seeking to
pay their court in the proper quarter at my expense.” The author of the
assertion above alluded to subsequently endeavoured to restore himself
to favour. The Emperor signified that he should have no objection to his
being employed in a subordinate situation; but that he would never see
him again. To every application he constantly replied that he did not
know him: this was the only vengeance he took.
The Emperor never ceased to repeat that Egypt ought to have remained in
the possession of the French, which would infallibly have been the case
had the country been defended by Kleber or Desaix. “These were my two
most distinguished lieutenants,” said he; “both possessed great and rare
merits, though their characters and dispositions were very different.”
Kleber’s was the talent of nature; Desaix’s was entirely the result of
education and assiduity. The genius of Kleber only burst forth at
particular moments, when roused by the importance of the occasion; and
then it immediately slumbered again in the bosom of indolence and
pleasure. The talent of Desaix was always in full activity; he lived
only for noble ambition and true glory: his character was formed on the
true ancient model. The Emperor said that his death was the greatest
loss he could possibly have sustained. Their conformity of education and
principles would always have preserved a good understanding between
them. Desaix would have been satisfied with secondary rank, and would
have remained ever devoted and faithful. Had he not been killed at the
battle of Marengo, the First Consul would have given him the command of
the army of Germany, instead of continuing it to Moreau. A very
extraordinary circumstance in the destiny of these two lieutenants of
Napoleon was that on the very day and at the very hour when Kleber was
assassinated at Cairo, Desaix was killed by a cannon-ball at Marengo.