Part 14
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.
THE EMPEROR’S METHOD OF DICTATING.
October 1st—3rd. The wind, the sea, and the temperature still continued without variation. The westerly wind, which had at first been so much in our favour, now began to be adverse. We had taken an easterly direction, in the hope of falling in with the trade-winds; but we now found ourselves to the leeward of the place of our destination, through the continuance of the westerly winds—a circumstance which surprised every body, and excited dissatisfaction among the crew.
The Emperor every morning regularly continued his dictation, in which he daily took a deeper interest; consequently his hours henceforth seemed less tedious.
The vessel had been sent out of port in such a hurry that many repairs remained to be completed after we had put to sea, and the painting of the ship had only recently been finished. The Emperor’s sense of smelling is extremely delicate; and he found the paint so very offensive that he was forced to confine himself to his cabin for two days.
Every evening, when taking his walk on deck, he loved to revert to the occupation of the morning. At first, he was assisted by no other document than a wretched work entitled _Guerres des Français en Italie_, written without end or object, and devoid of any connected chronological plan. The Emperor glanced through it, and his memory supplied all deficiences: this faculty indeed appeared to me the more extraordinary since it always seemed to be in readiness when needed, and as if at command.
When the Emperor commenced his daily dictations, he always complained that the circumstances to which he wished to recur were no longer familiar to him. He seemed to want confidence in himself, saying he should never get through the task. After considering for a few moments he would rise and walk about, and then begin to dictate. From that moment he was quite another man: every thing flowed smoothly; he spoke as if by inspiration; places, dates, phrases—he stopped at nothing.
On the following day I read to him what he had dictated. After making the first correction he continued to go on with the same subject, as though he had said nothing about it the day before. The difference between the first and the second version was very great: the latter was more positive and diffuse, and better arranged; indeed it sometimes materially differed from the first.
On the day succeeding the first correction, the same operation was repeated, and the Emperor commenced his third dictation for the purpose of setting the two former ones right. But after that, had he dictated a fourth, a seventh, or a tenth time, as he in some instances did, it would have been a repetition of precisely the same ideas, the same construction of phrases, and almost the same words. It was needless to take the trouble to write, though before his eyes: he paid no attention to what was doing, and continued to the end of his subject. It would have been vain to ask him to repeat any thing that might not have been distinctly heard: he still went on; and as he dictated with great rapidity, I never ventured to interrupt him, lest I should lose still more, and find myself unable to recover the thread of the subject.
A SINGULAR ACCIDENT.
4th—7th. The continuance of the south-west wind was truly unfortunate. We were now going back instead of forward and we had completely entered the Gulf of Guinea. There we perceived a ship, with which we spoke. She proved to be a French ship, driven out of her course like ourselves. She had sailed from a port in Britany, and was bound for the Isle of Bourbon. The Emperor had been much distressed for want of books; and I jokingly said that perhaps I might have a box-full on board that ship, as I had despatched one to the Isle of Bourbon, a few months since. I spoke truly. Such is the caprice of chance! Had I been in quest of this ship, I might have traversed the ocean in vain. This was the identical vessel: I learned her name next day from the officer who had visited her. This officer strangely surprised the French captain, by telling him that the Emperor Napoleon was on board the ship which he then saw making for St. Helena. The poor fellow shook his head sorrowfully, and said, “You have robbed us of our treasure: you have taken away him who knew how to govern us according to our tastes and manners.”
COMPLAINTS OF THE CREW AGAINST THE ADMIRAL.—EXAMINATION OF ANOTHER WORK.—REFUTATIONS.—REFLECTIONS.
8th—11th. The weather continued obstinately settled. We every evening consoled ourselves, for the unfavourable state of the day, with the hope of a change during the night; but we arose in the morning with the same disappointment. We had been almost within sight of the Congo, and we stood off. Every one manifested discontent and _ennui_. The crew complained of the Admiral; had he taken the usual course, said they, we should have reached our destination long before; his caprice, they observed, had led him, in spite of reason, to try an experiment, of which they knew not what might be the consequence. Their murmurs were not, however, so vehement as those raised against Christopher Columbus; we should not have been ill pleased had he been reduced to the necessity of finding another Saint Salvador, in order to evade the crisis. Being for my own part fully occupied, this circumstance engrossed but little of my attention; and after all, one prison was as good as another. As to the Emperor, he was still more unconcerned at this delay; he merely looked upon it as so many days spent.
_Les Mémoires de Napoléon Bonaparte, par quelqu’un qui ne l’a jamais quitté pendant 15 ans_, (_The Memoirs of Napoleon Bonaparte, by one who was constantly near him, during fifteen years_,) was the title of a work which I began to examine after the writings of Sir Robert Wilson. It is a volume of three hundred pages, by an anonymous author—a circumstance in itself sufficient to inspire distrust at the first outset. But the composition and style of the work soon created more positive doubts in the mind of the reflecting reader, who is accustomed to judge of books. Finally, he who has seen and known but little of the Emperor will not hesitate to affirm, on reading the very first pages, that this work is a mere romance, written at pleasure; that the author has never approached the Emperor; and that he is a hundred leagues distant from his language, habits, and every thing concerning him. The Emperor never said to a minister: “Count, do this,”—“Count, execute that.” Ambassadors never attended his levee. Napoleon could not, at fourteen years of age, have made to a lady in company, the reply attributed to him, relative to the Viscomte de Turenne; because from the age of ten to eighteen he was attending the Military School, where he could not possibly have been introduced to the company of ladies. It was not Perignon, who did not know him, but Dugommier, who had been his General, who recommended him in so marked a way to the Directory. It was a letter for restoring the Democracy, and not the Bourbons, which an officer addressed to the First Consul, &c.
The Emperor, who in Europe was universally acknowledged to have preserved the most impenetrable secrecy with regard to his plans and views, never indulged in gestures, and still less in soliloquies, which would have been likely to betray him: nor did his anger ever throw him into fits of insanity or epilepsy—an absurd fabrication which was long circulated in the saloons of Paris, but which was relinquished when it was found that those accidents never occurred on important occasions. These Memoirs have unquestionably been an ordered work, the speculation of some bookseller who has furnished the title. Be this as it may, it might have been supposed that, in adverting to a career so public as that of the Emperor and of those who surrounded him, the author might have evinced more accuracy and knowledge of his subject. He is aware of his insufficiency on this head, and seeks to defend himself by saying that he was under the necessity of altering names, and that he did not wish to render certain portraits too striking; but he also observes this circumspection with regard to facts, so that they cannot be recognised. They are for the most part entirely the creations of his own fancy. Thus, the paper whose loss cost the General-in-chief so much anxiety in Egypt; the recommendation of the young Englishman, who transported Bonaparte with joy by opening to him so brilliant a perspective of fortune at Constantinople; the melodrama of Malmaison, where the heroism of Madame Bonaparte (who is described as an absolute amazon) so promptly secures the safety of her husband, may perhaps excite the interest of the reader; but they are only so many fables; and the story relative to Malmaison shews that the author knew no more of the character and disposition of the Empress Josephine than of those of the Emperor. The writer, however, by extolling certain traits, praising certain actions, and refuting certain falsehoods, assumes an air of impartiality, which, joined to his pretended situation near the Emperor during fifteen years, produces a wonderful effect in the eyes of common readers. Most of the Englishmen on board the vessel looked upon this work as a kind of oracle. Their opinion was not changed on finding the Emperor’s character so different from that attributed to him in this romance. They were inclined to believe that adversity and constraint had wrought an alteration in the Emperor, rather than to suppose that these printed statements were false. To my observations, they constantly replied:—“But the author was an impartial man, and one who was about the Emperor for fifteen years:”—“But,” said I, “what is this man’s name? If he had personally injured you in his book, how could you bring him to justice? Any body here might have written it!” These arguments were of course unanswerable; but the English found great difficulty in overcoming their first impressions: such are the common mass of readers, and such is the effect inevitably produced by printed falsehoods!
But I shall no longer continue my examination of a work which is not deserving of farther notice; I therefore dispense with the remainder. On revising my manuscript in Europe, I found that public opinion had made such progress that I should be ashamed to waste time in refuting allegations and facts which judgment and common sense have long since rejected, and which are now repeated only by fools.
In endeavouring to subvert the erroneous notions which this author thought proper to create respecting the character of Napoleon, it will perhaps be thought that I should substitute my own opinions in their stead; but this I shall carefully avoid. I shall content myself with noting down all that I saw and heard; I will report his conversations, and nothing more must be expected.
12th—13th. By dint of patience, and with the help of a few trifling variations, we gradually approached the termination of our voyage; and, though deprived of the natural monsoon, we had now advanced within a short distance of our place of destination. As we continued our course, the weather gradually improved, and at length the wind became perfectly favourable; but this change did not take place until twenty-four hours before our arrival.
14th.—The Admiral had previously informed us that he expected to come within sight of St. Helena this day. We had scarcely risen from table when our ears were saluted with the cry of _Land!_ This was just within a quarter of an hour of the moment that had been fixed on. Nothing can better prove the advancement of navigation, than this sort of miracle, by which seamen are enabled to foretel the hour at which they shall arrive at a particular point in the vast expanse. The Emperor went on the forecastle to see the island: he thought he perceived it, but I could see nothing. We lay-to all night.
ARRIVAL OFF SAINT-HELENA.