A LONG MARCH AND A SHORT BATTLE
That the advance to Cairo might be made as rapidly as possible,
Bonaparte decided that the bulk of his army should proceed direct to
Damanhour, a town thirty-three miles to the south of Alexandria, and
on the most direct road to the capital. As it would have been most
difficult to convey the heavy baggage of the expedition by this route,
lying as it did across desert and inhospitable lands, General Dugua
was commissioned to proceed by the longer but more practical and
agreeable one, usually adopted by the people of the country. This led
by Rosetta, a town situated four miles from the sea on the west bank
of the Nile, and forty-five miles from Alexandria. Thence as soon as
the town had been effectively occupied the General, accompanied by a
flotilla of boats, which were to be sent round from Alexandria as
transports for the troops and stores, was to proceed up the Nile to
Ramanieh, where his division was to meet the main army under the
immediate command of Bonaparte.
Short as was the distance to Damanhour, the march over the barren,
burning desert was a most trying one for the troops of the
expedition, who suffered severely from the want of food and water.
Meat and bread were alike unobtainable, and the famished soldiers at
the end of their day's march had to satisfy their hunger with rude
cakes of grain crushed between stones and roughly baked on open fires.
Nor did their arrival at Damanhour bring them any very sensible relief
or encouragement, for there, as everywhere on their advance, the plain
evidence the miserable homes of the people afforded of the chronic
poverty in which they lived, was such as to wholly damp the ardour of
the troops and fill them with dismay at the prospect of a sojourn and
campaign in such an inhospitable country. Fortunately for them it was
the season of the water-melons, and on these and the coarse cakes of
bread I have mentioned they had to support the fatigues of their march
as best they might. To add to their distress, small parties of Arabs
hovered perpetually around the wretched column and, while keeping at a
safe distance from the main body, lost no opportunity of slaughtering
every weary straggler who got separated from his companions.
These Arabs were all Bedouins, or nomadic Arabs belonging to tribes
inhabiting the deserts that skirt the Delta and valley of the Nile,
and, possessing all the characteristics of their race, were nothing
more than restless, roving bands of robbers, ever ready to prey upon
all unhappy enough to fall into their hands. Arabs by race and
Mahomedans by religion, they yet acknowledged no ties of kinship or
brotherhood outside of their own tribes, and were as ready to
plunder, ill-use, and massacre the Egyptians as the French, or to
unite with either against the other as the interest of the moment
might dictate. In attacking the French, therefore, they were actuated
by no other desire than that of securing the spoil of arms and other
loot to be reaped from the bodies of their victims.
Of the people of the country the French during their advance saw
almost nothing; for fearing, not only the loss of everything they
possessed, but that they themselves might be seized and compelled to
work as slaves in the service of the army or be sent for sale in
foreign lands, and dreading that their women would be outraged and
their children massacred, they had, at the first warning of the
approach of the French enemy, hastened to forsake their homes and seek
safety in distant towns or villages, taking with them their flocks and
herds and as much as possible of their portable property.
After spending a couple of nights at Damanhour in taking the rest it
so badly needed, the army set out for Ramanieh by a route leading
almost at right angles to that which they had been following. On the
way they fell in with a small party of the Mamaluks, with which they
had a brief skirmish, Bonaparte himself narrowly escaping capture
while separated, with a few attendants, from the main column of the
force. At Ramanieh the army again halted for a rest and to await the
arrival of the division for Rosetta.
Meanwhile General Dugua, with the force under his command, had arrived
at Rosetta. This town, now fallen into decay and yearly decreasing in
population, was then a place of considerable importance, owing to its
position at the mouth of the Nile, and the fact of its being the
chosen terminus of the journey by boat of those travelling between
Cairo and Alexandria. In many ways one of the most pleasant spots in
the whole of Egypt, surrounded by gardens and cultivation, and having
markets well filled with all the produce of the country, it was at
that time probably of all the towns of Egypt the one most attractive
to foreigners.
Here as in other parts of the country there was a small colony of
Christians, including some few Europeans, and when the fugitives from
Alexandria began to arrive with the news of the landing of the French
and their occupation of that town, these were thrown into a state of
the greatest alarm by the prompt outbreak of a fanatical cry for their
assassination. There were in the town a number of Candiotes who had
been drawn to it by the fact that the acting Governor was a countryman
of theirs, and these had brought with them the fanatical spirit common
in their own country. It was among these that the demand for a
massacre of the Christians was started, and the Governor himself
appears to have been favourable to the project, which was in fact one
of plunder rather than of murder, conceived in the hope that it would
provide the Candiotes with an opportunity of enriching themselves safe
from all danger of retribution. That the Egyptians did not readily
accept the proposal is clear, as otherwise it would undoubtedly have
been put into immediate practice. Happily for the Christians the
opposition offered was strong enough to delay the carrying out of the
plan the turbulent bigots had formed. The matter was still being
heatedly discussed when messengers arrived from Alexandria with copies
of Bonaparte's proclamation. These testified that so far the people of
that town had not only received generous treatment from the French,
but were being liberally paid for all that the French required from
them.
The assurances they thus received that they had nothing to fear as to
the safety of their lives or property were accepted by the people of
Rosetta with the thoughtless impulsiveness of the true Egyptian. From
a condition of panic and despair they passed at a bound to one of
scarcely doubting satisfaction. Difficult as it may be for us to
realise it, this was but the natural consequence of the character of
the people and of the circumstances in which they lived. As we have
seen, their rulers, the Mamaluks, were foreigners, to whom they were
united by no ties, whom they hated and feared, and from whom they
could expect no benefit or advantage of any kind. When, therefore,
they learned upon the testimony of their own countrymen the generous
behaviour of the French to their vanquished enemy, they had reason
rather to welcome than to oppose them, their hostility to the idea of
being ruled by Christians being for the moment wholly outweighed by
the rapture of their release from appalling alarm.
The panic that had arisen being thus allayed the counsels of the
tolerant Egyptians were promptly accepted, and so heartily was the
suggestion of an attack upon the Christians repudiated by the people
in general, that the Governor and some others who had been foremost in
the agitation for the massacre hastened to leave the town, and set out
to join the forces of the Mamaluks. As soon as their departure became
known it was decided to offer no opposition to the French, and when,
therefore, General Dugua approached he was met by a deputation which
presented the keys of the town to him, and gave him an assurance of
the peaceful disposition of the inhabitants.
Of the attitude of the people of Alexandria and Rosetta towards the
French after their first glad acceptance of the terms accorded them,
we can learn little from the native historians; it is not, however,
difficult to conceive what that attitude really was. Assured for the
time of the peaceful possession of their lives and property, and freed
from the terrors that had assailed them at the first coming of the
enemy, they were in no mood to criticise or question the good faith of
the newcomers, but as their feelings regained their wonted calm doubts
began to arise. It was to them an altogether unheard-of thing that a
military force should occupy a country and not at once seize upon its
wealth, or at least exact tribute of some kind or other from the
people. Nor could they forget that the Mamaluks when moving in the
country, alike in time of peace or in time of war, ruthlessly took all
they needed as a right to which they were entitled. How came it, then,
that the French not only did not despoil them, but paid and paid well
for what they required? Why should they pay when they could if they
would help themselves freely? That, in the abstract, it was but
justice the people knew well enough, but that any people could possess
so keen a sense of justice as to thus conciliate its claims they could
not understand, for, after all, they could not but regard it as a
voluntary foregoing of what seemed to them a clearly defined and
evident right. Hence they were not long in coming to the conclusion
that the forbearance of the French might be a mere trick to enable
them to more effectually carry out some deep-laid scheme for the
complete spoliation of the people. But the honest man has an inborn
sense of the false and true that is seldom misled. Rogues batten upon
rogues. And the Egyptian, by nature honest in thought and deed, is not
slow to recognise honesty in others, so the straightforward sincerity
of the French beat back his doubts; and baffled and perplexed he took
refuge in a halting attitude, a kind of moral armed neutrality,
neither fully accepting nor yet rejecting their proffered friendship.
As to the French, though they could not but be conscious that they had
not been received with the open arms they had expected to greet them,
and were sensible that the people were acting under some restraint,
they had no just conception of the real position, and believed that
only a little time was needed to enable them to gain the full
confidence of the people.
On the whole, therefore, things went smoothly enough in the early days
of the occupation, and General Dugua lost no time in establishing at
Rosetta a provisional administration on the lines of that set up by
Bonaparte in Alexandria. This having been done the work of preparing a
flotilla for the ascent of the Nile was carried on with the utmost
despatch. It took but a few days to do all that was necessary, and
General Dugua, leaving a small force as a garrison, started with the
division under his command for Ramanieh, which he reached without
encountering any difficulty or opposition.
From Ramanieh the French army continued its advance upon Cairo, and
keeping always within touch of the west bank of the Nile, was
accompanied by the flotilla laden with the stores and provisions. As
is usual at that time of the year, the ascent of the river was
facilitated by the strong winds which blow across the country and up
the river with a strength more than sufficient to counteract the swift
downward flow of the stream. Coming from the north these winds
naturally tend to moderate the temperature, but though thus beneficial
to the troops, who had already suffered so much from the parching heat
of the desert, they proved an unexpected source of danger, for, its
progress exceeding that of the troops, the flotilla unexpectedly
encountered near Shebriss a fleet of gunboats from Cairo that, borne
by the downward current of the river, was approaching it at a speed
not less than its own, and was supported on either bank of the river
by large bodies of the Mamaluks. The French finding themselves thus
running right into the midst of their enemies, while their own troops
were as yet too far behind to succour them, the boats of the flotilla
were hastily anchored in the positions they happened to occupy at the
moment. A brisk engagement followed, in which the invaders were so
sorely pressed that had not the explosion of a powder magazine on one
of the Egyptian boats suddenly thrown the enemy into confusion, it is
more than probable the whole flotilla would have fallen into the hands
of the Egyptians. As it was, several of the French boats were
captured, and their crews either driven into the river or ruthlessly
cut down, and their decapitated heads exposed to the horrified gaze of
their companions. So evident was the danger that pressed them that
Bertillon, one of the _savants_ who accompanied the force, began to
fill his pockets with stones gathered from the ballast of the boat in
which he happened to be, and when asked why he did so replied that he
might sink rapidly rather than fall into the hands of the enemy.
Fortunately for the French, ere the Egyptians had recovered from the
confusion the explosion had created the fall of night put an end to
the contest.
Meanwhile, intelligence of what was happening having been sent to
Bonaparte, he had hastened to the aid of the flotilla, but only
succeeded in reaching it too late to take any part in the battle.
Early the next morning, however, the two armies were drawn up in
battle array, and the Mamaluks, with the fearless and impetuous
bravery which had always been characteristic of them, lost no time in
opening the attack and charged right up to the French line. Their
accustomed dash and reckless courage proved, however, of no avail, and
they were speedily repulsed by the veterans to whom they were opposed,
who kept their ranks unbroken, and waited for the near approach of
their foes to pour upon them a galling and destructive fire. Baffled
by the stolid calmness of the French, and puzzled by the impotency of
their own wild charge, the Mamaluks hastily withdrew beyond the French
line of fire and halted, apparently uncertain what course to pursue.
In the pause that followed an incident occurred curiously illustrating
the widely different ideas and spirit by which the two armies were
animated. One of the Mamaluk Beys rode unaccompanied towards the
French line, and boldly challenged his foes to single combat; but, for
the French at all events, as a French historian cynically remarks, the
time for such chivalrous exploits was past, and to the disgrace of the
French the daring Mamaluk was shot down on the spot. Discomfited by
the repulse they had sustained and with the whole of their forces
thrown into disorder, the Mamaluk chiefs decided to abandon the field,
and turning their horses' heads retreated precipitately towards Cairo.
Thenceforth the expedition continued its advance without further
opposition until within sight of Cairo, always keeping close to the
river, not only for the sake of the water, but for that of the more
abundant supplies obtainable in its vicinity, and for the mutual
support of the army and the flotilla. To carry out these latter
objects more effectually a strong detachment was sent across the river
to guard the east bank, and to forage in the villages of the Delta. On
both sides of the river the troops continued to be harassed by small
parties of the Bedouins, who, following all their movements, availed
themselves of every opportunity of cutting off stragglers. One of
these raiding parties having surprised a junior officer, whom from his
uniform and appearance they mistakenly supposed to be a man of high
rank, carried him into their camp with a view to holding him for
ransom. Bonaparte at once sent a messenger to offer a few guineas for
his release. Thereupon a dispute arose among his captors as to which
of them should receive the ransom, and was continued so heatedly that
the chief of the party, enraged at their obstinacy, declaring that
none of them should have it, shot the unfortunate prisoner and sent
the ransom back.
As the force moved onwards towards Cairo the heat became daily more
and more oppressive and enervating to the troops, to whom, fresh from
the genial spring climate of Southern Europe, the fierce and dazzling
glare of the sun in the shelterless lands through which their route
lay, was little short of an agonising misery. To add to their
sufferings the food obtainable was, as before, neither adequate nor
adapted to their needs.
It was not until the 20th of July that the army caught its first sight
of the pyramids and of the Mokattam hills overhanging the city of
Cairo. As they had drawn nearer the capital, the evidence of a greatly
increased density of population, and the greater abundance and variety
of the supplies they had been able to secure, gave the jaded troops
fresh energy and hope. They were still much more than a long day's
march from the pyramids when Bonaparte received intelligence that the
Mamaluk army was encamped at Embabeh, a village on the west bank of
the river, at the spot where it is now crossed by the railway bridge.
As it was then evening the army was halted and bivouacked for the
night at the hamlet of Om el Dinar, but only to rise and resume its
march before the first dawn of day. Animated by the prospect of the
combat now but a few hours before them, and which, as they confidently
expected, was to gain them a fair reward for all the hardships they
had been enduring, the troops pressed onward eager for battle, but it
was not until two o'clock in the afternoon that at the end of a twelve
hours' march, they found themselves in touch with the enemy.
Learning that the Mamaluks had entrenched themselves in front of the
village of Embabeh, and had planted a battery of forty guns in
position behind their trenches, Bonaparte decided that it would be
necessary to advance in such a way as to be able to attack the enemy's
position upon its flanks, and he therefore so disposed his forces
that, each division marching in the form of a hollow square, the whole
would approach the enemy's position in the form of a crescent, and so
that, while the right and left wings would threaten the Mamaluks'
flanks, the centre would be prepared to repulse the front attack he
expected them to make according to their custom.
Murad Bey, who, with his long white beard covering his breast, was in
personal command of the Mamaluks, was not slow to detect the aim of
the French General, and quickly ordered Eyoub Bey, one of the best
and bravest of the Mamaluk commanders, to advance and attack the
division of General Desaix, who was moving round towards the west with
a view to outflanking the left wing of the Egyptian position. Eyoub,
who had under him a large and fearless, but wholly undisciplined, body
of cavalry, at once bore straight down on the French without seeking
cover of any kind, and, when within charging distance, dashed upon the
French square with the wild cries, brandishing of arms, and tumultuous
crowding customary to all Oriental warfare of that day.
Faithful to the orders they had received, the French withheld their
fire until the enemy were close upon them, so close that the ruthless
rending of the ranks of the Mamaluks by the fierce hail of shot poured
upon them was all insufficient to stay their headlong charge, which,
bearing down the resistance of their foes, carried them into the
centre of the broken square. But the French veterans, always cool and
prompt, turned about, and the Mamaluks, finding themselves encircled
by their enemies' fire, fought their way back and out of the square,
but only to bring themselves under a heavy crossfire from the square
and the division of General Kleber, who was moving up to its support.
Eyoub's party being thus routed, the French made a direct attack in
force upon the entrenched position in front of the village of Embabeh
and carried it at the bayonet's point, while the divisions forming the
left wing of the attack pushed on between the village and the river.
The Mamaluks were thus caught between the horns of a crescent that
was threatening to close and entirely surround them. Seeing the
danger, Murad Bey at once withdrew his men, and sought the scanty
shelter of a grove of date-trees at a little distance from the
village. In doing this he was compelled to leave behind him some
hundreds of the Mamaluk troops who, caught between the French and the
river, utterly unable to defend themselves or to fly, were
deliberately shot down by the French or perished in an attempt to
escape across the river. As one historian says, it was no longer a
fight but a massacre; and thus ingloriously ended what is termed by
the Egyptians the "Battle of Embabeh," and by the French the "Battle
of the Pyramids," a battle by which the power of the Mamaluks was
shattered, and Bonaparte was left for the moment master of Egypt; a
battle in which the steady discipline of modern warfare proved once
and for all its immeasurable superiority over the wild chivalry of the
past; a battle which, apart from this and the vast consequences that
have resulted from its issue, is scarcely worthy of remembrance.
The whole combat had lasted rather less than an hour, and when it was
over the French soldiers, forgetting their fatigues and weariness,
turned the field into a vast mart, bartering and selling the spoils of
rich armour, weapons, apparel and other things they were able to reap
from the bodies of their vanquished foes.
Murad Bey, finding it impossible to recover his position, and that his
forces were too disorganised and dismayed by a system of warfare so
strange and incomprehensible to them to make any further effort,
abandoned the field and hastened away to his summer palace at Ghizeh,
whence, after collecting his most portable valuables, he set out for
Upper Egypt.
The justice that never fails had thus overtaken the iniquities of the
Mamaluks. For centuries they had desolated the land, sacrificing all
else to their own ambitious greed, and now they were "shattered and
broken," never again to recover. For a short time they were to
struggle and hope vainly for a return to power, but it was not to be.
The fiat of Heaven itself was against them, and the decree of their
doom went forth as infinitely more inexorable than the laws of the
Medes and the Persians as Omnipotence is to impotency. Some years
afterwards, when the British were encamped upon the banks of the Nile
near Beni Souif, a poor, half-blind, wholly-destitute fugitive sought
protection and a pittance at their hands. It was Ibrahim, the last of
the great Mamaluk Beys, a man by no means typical of the baser of his
class, with many faults, yet with some good points, one who under
happier circumstances might have left an honourable record of service
for the welfare of his fellow-men. As it was, his fate was but a part
of the answer of that wrath that had at last heard the cry of the
distressed, and avenged the wrongs of the widow and the orphan.