Part 13
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.”