ABOUKIR AND THE GREAT DESERTION[9]
[Footnote 9: Authorities as before.]
The Last of the Mamelukes -- Aboukir -- The News from Paris -- An
Adventurer's Decision -- Preparations for Departure -- His Plans
Concealed -- The Last Visit to Corsica -- A Narrow Escape --
Reception in France -- Conjugal Estrangement.
[Sidenote: 1799]
The Turkish army which had sailed from Rhodes numbered about twelve
thousand men. The fleet which transported them appeared off Alexandria
on July twentieth, and a landing was attempted. Repulsed by the forts,
the ships drew off to Aboukir, where the effort was successful. The
force was composed of infantry, and as nothing further could be done
without cavalry, they began immediately to throw up breastworks,
hoping to make a successful stand until the arrival of Murad. But this
romantic personage, the last of the Mamelukes to enjoy undisputed
sway, was able to come no farther than the Pyramids; the land at which
he gazed from the summit of Cheops was never again to be his. Before
he could reach his allies they had been overwhelmed, and before the
evacuation of Egypt by its invaders he fell a victim to the plague.
Mehemet Ali and the Albanians were to inherit his power. By July
twenty-fourth the Turks had strongly fortified the peninsula of
Aboukir with a double line of works. Not only did they hear nothing
from Murad, but Ibrahim, who was expected from Syria, also failed
them, and the lack of cavalry threw them on the defensive. (p.~078)
But their presence, they hoped, would be sufficient to fan the
rebellious spirit of the country, and they might maintain themselves
until reinforcements should come by sea, or the belated cavalry arrive
by land.
With his accustomed rapidity Bonaparte made ready to strike. Ibrahim
was checked, Murad was finally driven back, and Desaix was called in
from upper Egypt to keep order below while the contest was going on in
the Delta. With six thousand men in the main army, and two thousand
reserves under Kleber, Bonaparte set out. On July twenty-fifth the
battle was joined. It was short and murderous. The enemy was first
outflanked on the left, and that wing driven into the sea; then the
right was caught in the same manner, and suffered a like fate.
Finally, with a rush the infantry of Lannes surmounted a redoubt in
the center. What was their surprise to find Murat with his cavalry
already on the other side! The dashing riders had madly circumvented
the line of intrenchment. There were but three thousand Turks now
left, and these took refuge in a citadel which they had constructed at
the apex of the peninsula. On August first, 1799, the anniversary of
the battle of the Nile, the entire force surrendered. Bonaparte told
the Directory that twelve thousand Turks were drowned. As he said in
his despatch to Cairo, "Not a single man of the hostile army which had
landed escaped." The French troops were now convinced that their
general had always been invincible, and that somehow he would open the
doors of their prison-house, and find a way for their return.
[Illustration: Napoleon Exposition, 1895
NAPOLEON--BY INGRES
(Belonging to Germain Bapst).]
It was nearly six months since the date of the latest authentic news
from Paris. At least so thought the general's adjutants and
companions, and they were possibly right. They knew that he had been
constantly forwarding news of their enterprise, and probably
regular instructions, to the authorities at Paris. Bonaparte
mentions in his correspondence the despatch of sixty vessels of
various kinds with his letters, and some of them, at least, reached
their destination. This certainty, with the wise adaptation of his
subsequent course to his ultimate ends, has led to the supposition
that he was in constant receipt of secret information from his
brothers, by way of Genoa and Tunis. This he never explicitly denied,
although he said at St. Helena that newspapers were sent ashore from
the English fleet after the battle of Aboukir, adding, as a kind of
ingenuous generalization, that, besides, news did not come from France
by way of Tunis. Joseph declares in his memoirs that he himself sent a
messenger to tell the sorry tale of French affairs to Napoleon. But
there is no proof and no likelihood that this courier ever reached his
destination. It is certain that Bonaparte learned at Acre of the new
coalition against France from Phelippeaux in a parley held across the
trenches; it is probable that his private news came by way of the
Barbary States; it is unquestioned that his best information was
obtained through the English fleet, which was now off Alexandria,
negotiating for exchanges on behalf of Turkey. According to Marmont,
Sir Sidney Smith, hoping to discourage his enemy, sent a packet of
papers ashore, and declared that if the French army should strive to
escape, in accordance with the desire of the Directory, he would
endeavor to give an account himself to the fugitives.
In any case, what was now definitely made known to Bonaparte was not
unwelcome information. He was assured that war had broken out, as he
expected and perhaps knew; that the French arms had suffered disgrace
in Italy; and that a fleet under Admiral Bruix had been despatched to
conquer the Mediterranean and to bring home the Army of Egypt. No
doubt he guessed that the Directory was showing hopeless incapacity.
What he could not know was that on May twenty-sixth they had actually
despatched a special courier to express the hope that he himself would
return to take command of the armies of the republic. This messenger,
we know, never landed in Egypt, but his services were not required;
for no sooner was Bonaparte convinced that the crisis he had long
foreseen was actually occurring than the resolution he had twice
foreshadowed in his letters to Paris was finally taken. He told
Marmont that the state of things in Europe compelled him to return:
the French armies defeated, all the fruits of his hard-earned
victories in Italy lost! Of what use were these incapables who were at
the head of affairs? With them all was hesitation, stupidity, and
corruption. "I--I alone have borne the burden, and by constant victory
have given strength to this administration, which without me would
never have lifted its head. On my departure everything had, of
necessity, to crumble. Let us not wait until the destruction is
complete; the evil would be irremediable.... The news of my return
will be heard in France simultaneously with that of the destruction of
the Turkish army at Aboukir. My presence will elevate men's spirits,
restore to the army its lost confidence, and to the good people the
hope of a prosperous future." No commentary could make this language
clearer.
His arrangements were quickly made. A few trusted men were
confidentially informed of the situation, and Kleber was appointed to
the chief command of the army, which was so dishonorably to be
abandoned in a most critical situation, reduced as it was to half its
original numbers, destitute of provisions and ammunition, surrounded
by a hostile, fanatical population, and confronted by the powerful
fleet of its most unrelenting enemy. Secretly, and by night, the two
frigates in the harbor of Alexandria were prepared, and anchored off a
remote point of the shore. In the early hours of August twenty-second
the fugitive general embarked, accompanied by a few devoted and choice
friends--capable generals like Murat, Lannes, Marmont, Berthier,
Duroc, Bessieres, Lavalette, Ganteaume, and Andreossy; equally fine
political scholars like Monge, Denon, and Berthollet. It was arranged
that Junot and Desaix should come later.
The great deserter could easily persuade himself that this was an act
of heroism--risking his life on hostile waters in order to save
France. It was not hard to reason speciously that it was a colony
which had been intended, and a colony which had been planted; that in
his return he was using the discretion granted by the Directory, and
carrying out a plan announced from the outset. But it needed no
verdict of posterity to declare that it would have been more heroic to
remain and share the consequences of a scheme so largely his own. His
conscience asserted as much, for he deceived the brilliant and acute
Kleber in an appointment to say farewell, which was not kept; while
the Grand Council of Cairo was told that he had gone to take command
of his fleet, and would return in three months. Orders were left that
if fifteen hundred soldiers should die of the pest, Kleber should open
negotiations for evacuating the country. An angry and emphatic protest
was written by the victimized general; but it was intercepted by the
English cruisers, and did not fall into the hands of his betrayer
until after he had become First Consul. At St. Helena, Napoleon
declared that the failure of the expedition was clear to him from the
moment of Nelson's victory; for any force which cannot be recruited
must melt away and eventually surrender.
Sir Sidney Smith, not thinking either that a general would abandon his
army, or that vessels would sail for Europe against the adverse winds
of that season, had made for Cyprus to renew his supply of water. In
this interval the two French frigates gained the open sea, their
captains entertaining the vague hope of reaching Toulon direct, by
some reversal of nature's laws. But the prevalent breezes continued,
and compelled them to coast along the African shore. It was three
weeks before they even sighted the headlands of Tunis. At last a
favoring wind began to blow. With lights extinguished, they passed at
night the strait which separates Africa from Sicily, escaping the
observation of the English cruisers sent from Nelson's fleet to patrol
those waters. Skirting Sardinia, the flotilla reached Corsica early in
October. Though, as Bonaparte declared, he was "deeply moved by the
sight of his native town," no remnant of his early enthusiasm could
sweeten for him the enforced delay of several days in the harbor of
Ajaccio. He had left far behind the emotions of that primitive
society, and, evidently fretting to be gone, was rather impatient at
the abounding caresses of all the friends who thronged the town when
he was ashore and crowded the decks when he was afloat. Some deeds
have been recorded to his credit: all the money he had by him, about
forty thousand francs, he distributed to the garrison, which had not
been paid for over a year and a half; his features, it is also said,
relaxed with evident joy as he tenderly returned the greeting of the
old woman who had been his earliest attendant. It was his last visit
to the island of his birth, but not the last time the accents of its
dialect fell on his ears, for it was a Corsican who troubled his dying
hours at St. Helena.
What moved him really and deeply was the news of French disasters on
the Trebbia and at Novi, of Joubert's death, of the dissolution of the
Italian republics, and of Moreau's last stand in the Piedmont
fortresses. What probably moved him most was the further news that the
old Directory had virtually fallen on the thirtieth of Prairial, and
that Sieyes, who had returned but partly successful from Berlin, had
been chosen as a member of the new one, to preserve at least a
semblance of respect for the institution. Finally, the favoring breeze
sprang up, and on October eighth sail was made again, not for Italy,
to restore the fortunes of the army, as Bourrienne says had been
planned during the voyage, but direct for France. Suddenly, at sunset,
a British squadron loomed on the horizon. Was Fortune at last to
desert her child? It seemed so. The captain of Bonaparte's vessel gave
orders to make again for Ajaccio, and prepared a long-boat for the
solitary landing of his passenger on the wild shores of the island in
case of extremity. But a dark night revived his courage. The English,
deceived by the apparent angle of their enemy's yards, mistook his
course, and sailed in a wrong direction. The French kept directly on.
Next morning the adventurer set foot once more on French soil near
Frejus. A few nights later news of Bonaparte's landing was brought to
his sisters in their box at the theater. They received it with
exultation, but apparently with no manifestation of surprise.
How was he received, this thwarted leader of a costly fiasco, this
general who for nothing had left the bones of thousands to whiten upon
Eastern deserts, who had deserted in a plague-stricken land many
thousands more of the finest troops which France could furnish? With a
passion of delight! From Frejus through Lyons to Paris, along the old
familiar route, the people knew nothing of their hero's failures. They
had not forgotten his Italian victories, which only a short year
before had made them masters where now their armies were in disgrace
and their name was execrated; they knew only too well the widespread
legends of the same man's triumphs in the romantic East, before Cairo
and at the feet of the Pyramids. With all this they contrasted the
valley of humiliation through which the republic had been dragged by
the incapacity of their leaders. Was it wonderful that at Lyons the
fetes were like a jubilee, through which Bonaparte, aware that his
goal was near, moved like one already elevated among his
fellows--conciliating, deprecating, mysterious?
It was on October sixteenth that he arrived at his house on Victory
street, in Paris. Mme. Bonaparte was not there to give him a welcome.
During the absence of her husband she had made her house the center of
a brilliant society which numbered among its members the ablest men of
the time. This circle was untiring in its devotion to Bonaparte's
interests, making friends for him at home, plotting in his behalf
abroad, turning every political incident to his advantage, and
building up a strong party which believed that he was the only
possible savior of France. In conduct the associates were gay and even
dissolute; occasionally a select inner coterie withdrew to Plombieres,
nominally for repose, but probably for a seclusion not altogether
innocent. Into this loyal but licentious company the sudden
announcement of Bonaparte's approach brought something like
consternation. Josephine, in particular, having been recklessly
unfaithful during his absence, was now over-anxious to display a
feigned devotion to her husband. Doubtless she had heard of his
desperate licentiousness in Egypt; she must have recalled her own
orgies of faithlessness during his absence, in Italy first and now
again in Egypt; she may have learned that his family were already
hinting divorce and that his ears were only too attentive to the
suggestion. But she knew her powers and resolved to stake all on
another cast. Learning of his approach, she went out some distance to
meet him, but took the wrong road, and passed him unawares. Hurrying
back, she found the door of his chamber barred, her absence being of
course a confirmation of the general's jealous suspicions. For hours
her entreaties and tears were vain. At last Eugene and Hortense joined
theirs with their mother's, and the door was opened. The breach was
apparently healed, but rather to avoid a scandal than from sincere
forgiveness.