Napoleon

by Emil Ludwig

  A terrible reverse ! What will Paris say ? He is not admiral of the fleet, and was not present at the battle of the Nile, but the disaster will certainly affect his prestige. How are we to get home again ? On Turkish ships ? But will the sultan remain neutral any longer ? He has been wavering between Russia and France, and will be likely, now, to turn against the French. England, too. The fleet annihilated ; thirteen battleships gone. How many years will it be before we can again face England on the high seas ? A decade, perhaps. Allah is Allah, but behind what cloud was my star hidden ?

  No, not my star ! For, when he reports the defeat, he conceals nothing, but is careful to explain in his official despatches that fortune had delayed Nelson's return until the French had been able to secure their footing in Egypt.

  Weeks of uncertainty. This is a new phase in Bonaparte's life. He must remain inactive, while he waits for news that will throw light upon the state of affairs in Europe. If England keeps good watch, perhaps no letter will be able to cross the seas. For the first time in his career, he begins to wonder how he can kill time. The administration of a whole army, the suppression of disturbances, the rehabilitation of crumbling fortresses—these are no more than variants of idleness. The hours hang heavily,

  He Dreams of India

  and he becomes more nervous, more fanciful than of yore. Bourrienne tries to tranquillise the commander's mind, saying: " Let us wait till we hear what the Directory proposes to do ! "

  " The Directory ? A dung-heap ! The Directors hate me, and will leave me here to rot! "

  If he could only ride ! But it is too hot, at any rate to ride in uniform, and an attempt to wear Arab clothing has been abandoned. Sometimes he goes for a ride, in spite of the heat. When, on his return, he finds that no despatches have come, he grows meditative :

  " Do you know what I have been thinking, Bourrienne ?—If I ever see France again, my greatest ambition will be to conduct a campaign on the Bavarian lowland. There I could win a great battle, and take vengeance for Blenheim. Then I should retire to my country seat, and lead a quiet life, perfectly contented." The fire still glows ; the kettle goes on simmering ! In the plain of the Po, his restless spirit was yearning for the East; having made his way to Egypt, he craves for Bavaria; and always he thinks in terms of battles.

  Now, when his future is so uncertain, when he is perhaps cut off from all chance of returning home, and when there is no longer a strong tie of personal affection to bind him to distant Europe, he opens negotiations with the shah of Persia and Tippoo Sahib, England's enemies : asking the former for a right of way to India ; and offering the latter an alliance, and deliverance from " The iron yoke of England." The prospect of following in Alexander's footsteps looms nearer. But when he comes to practical calculations he begins to doubt the possibility : " Only if fifteen thousand men can be left here, and I have another thirty thousand at my disposal, shall I be able to venture a march on India."

  Although all remains in the realm of fancy, such imaginative excursions fill Bonaparte's happiest hours; he luxuriates in these vast plans. Four years later, he declares : "In Egypt alone

  Cleopatra

  did I feel free from the trammels of civilisation; and there I seemed to have the means of realising all my dreams. I pictured myself on the road to Asia, the founder of a new religion, mounted on an elephant, wearing a turban, and holding a new Koran which contained my own message. My plan was to weld the experiences of two worlds, to force history into my service, to attack the English power in India, and, through my conquests there, to reopen communications with Europe."

  Are these the visions of a poet ? Or is it that the conqueror and the poet are close kin ? In Egypt, he has a romantic name for himself, " Sultan El Kebir "—he is, in truth, always the sultan, more or less. El Kebir is his third name, as visionary as the whole campaign.

  His lively imagination, his spleen on account of his wife's infidelity—these combine with the influences of climate and lack of occupation to drive him into an amourette. A pretty young woman, the wife of a lieutenant, had sailed with the army from Toulon, in male attire. She was the illegitimate daughter of a cook, had herself been a dressmaker before marriage, was piquant, blonde, violet-eyed. He takes her to himself, and sends her husband back to France on official service. She soon learns to play Cleopatra's part boldly and charmingly; graces the head of his table ; drives out with him. But Eugene, her rival's son, is adjutant, and his duty is to follow the carriage on horseback. This conjuncture is disagreeable to all parties, and so the young man is given furlough.

  Eugene knows more than he cares to know about the scandal attaching to his mother's name; Bonaparte has himself enlightened the youth. What a painful situation ! His mother, not far on in the thirties, is a coquette, and makes his stepfather (the hero of the nation!) ridiculous in all men's eyes by her open and shameless intrigue with a young coxcomb who is but little older than her son. Eugene himself has to look on while Napoleon, commander-in-chief of the army and pasha of the new French colony, flaunts his mistress before the public gaze.

  The Hunt for an Heir

  The little dressmaker, who would probably find the handsome adjutant more to her taste than his stepfather, laughs gaily, showing her white teeth. Anyhow, she has cut out the Creole countess, and she glories in the new spirit of equality. Napoleon Bonaparte is the central figure of the composition. All he asks of the young woman is that she shall give him a child.

  An heir, that is what he has been wanting for years ! If she will but provide one, he will marry her, for divorces can be arranged. One of his ruling passions is the desire to found a family. The mother would be of working-class origin ? So are most of his generals! What matter, so long as the child is legitimate, and of the blood of Bonaparte ? He believes in the equality of all who play an active part in the world; but he believes no less strongly in legitimacy. The hereditary succession of kingship is over and done with. The hereditary succession of efficiency is the new doctrine. Such is the fallacy by which his mind is enslaved.

  After a while, he says savagely to one of his confidants: " The silly fool of a woman does not even know how to make children ! " The gibe is retailed to her, and she exclaims mockingly : "It's not my fault, you know ! " Bonaparte hears of the rejoinder, and his face is shadowed. He has no proof to the contrary, nothing but the inner consciousness of a productivity such as no mortal has ever had before.

  His spirit embraces the whole world in its grasp. But if nature has denied him the capacity for reproduction, the foundation of all activity has been shattered. His self-confidence would collapse.

  XVI

  In the Institute, the commander-in-chief sits as an equal among equals. He never tries, in argument there, to gain a victory by rank instead of reason. Yet many of the questions

  Explorations and Discoveries

  that are discussed relate to army matters of immediate practical importance, such as the filtering of Nile water, the erection of windmills, the search for ingredients needed to make gunpowder. On one occasion, Napoleon grew heated. Ber-thollet said quietly : " You are wrong, my friend, for you have lost your temper." A naval surgeon supported Berthollet. " You men of science are as thick as thieves," exclaimed Bonaparte. " Chemistry plays the cook for medicine, and plays the assassin for science ! " The surgeon's answer came pat: " But how, Citizen-General, would you define the conqueror's art ? " Within the republic of learning, this equality pleased the dictator, whom elsewhere hardly any one now ventured to contradict.

  For weeks in succession, the orders of the day ended with the words : " No news from France." Everything was at a standstill ; widespread uncertainty prevailed. Amid the general inertia, the travelling university was an exception; the savants were hard at work, studying, advising, ever ready to help in the second line. As far as they were concerned, this time of waiting was a great opportunity for research. A thorough investigation of the country and its resources was in progress: the fishes of the Nile and the minerals of the
Red Sea, the flora of the Delta and the constituents of the desert sand—all were now for the first time being elaborately scrutinised. The exploitation of the natron lakes and the Nile mud was under consideration. The physicians of the expedition were enquiring into the causes of oriental plague; and of trachoma, the terrible form of ophthalmia which is so frequent a cause of blindness in Egypt. A dictionary and a grammar were printed; some of the buried temples of Upper Egypt were disinterred ; the Wells of Moses were discovered. One day, an engineer officer came back from Rosetta bringing with him a granite slab on which there was a polyglot inscription, chiselled in Greek and in two variants of the ancient Egyptian picture-writing. The riddle of the hieroglyphs had been unriddled.

  Dreams and Mathematics

  What especially interested the commander, however, was the possibility of cutting a canal through the Isthmus of Suez. He made long journeys in the desert, always exposed to the danger of Bedouin raids ; traced the line of the ancient canal; planned the course of a new channel. All his speculations were confirmed half a century later by Lesseps. Not like an adventurer whose schemes have miscarried, but in the spirit of a conqueror, he designed to separate the continents and link the seas.

  Now at length ! Some merchants on small vessels have managed to slip through the English lines. From them, Napoleon learns that the destruction of the French fleet off Aboukir has brought about a general transformation.The sultan has entered into an alliance with Russia, and the two powers have declared war on France. Achmed, the Turkish commander, is marching on Egypt through Syria. The malcontents in Cairo, encouraged by these tidings, rise in revolt. The insurrection is quelled by artillery fire, and the heads of the rebels are exposed on pikes as a warning. " This will have a salutary effect. Clemency is no good here."

  On the whole, the commander is more relieved than alarmed. If the Turks are marching southwards, so much the better; at length he will have a chance of beating them in open fight.

  From most of his close associates he conceals his deeper cause for anxiety. When he left France to occupy Egypt, his aim was to secure a position that would help him in his scheme for the conquest of India. " With ships, we can cross the. seas ; with camels we can cross the desert," He had allowed fifteen months for the conquest of Egypt and the consolidation of his power there, and for the preparation and equipment of his forces for the Indian campaign. That would need forty thousand men, as many camels, and one hundred and twenty field-guns. He had asked for extensive reinforcements ; ships, guns, and men. These were to support his land army by sea.

  The battle of the Nile had frustrated his fine schemes. The English were blockading the coast; the sultan had become his

  The Jaffa Prisoners

  enemy; Egyptian sentiment was now hostile. But it was Napoleon's way to adapt his plans to changing circumstances, and it seemed to him that he could derive advantage from the turn of events. The Turks and the English are going to make a joint landing ? That threatens our very existence here ? Well, then, let us attack to escape destruction! Seize all the magazines and ports from the Turks, arm the Syrian Christians, stir up the Druses! If we were to take the fortress of Acre, opinion in Cairo would veer round to our side. By June, we shall be in Damascus ; shall thrust outposts forward into the Taurus ; march eastward with 26,000 Frenchmen, 6,000 Mamelukes, and 18,000 Druses. Desaix will come direct from Egypt. The sultan will find it expedient to keep quiet. The shah of Persia has already agreed to our marching by way of Bassora and Shiraz. By March, if Allah favours us, we shall reach the Indus.

  Once more, Bonaparte fashions a splendid dream out of pressing embarrassments. He sets out for Syria.

  There are practically no roads. Sometimes he rides as many as forty-five miles in fifteen hours, invariably by night, without water, and almost always with the vanguard. When Jaffa falls, three thousand Turkish soldiers surrender. What on earth is he to do with them ? Keep them prisoner ? His own men are on short commons ; and, besides, he would then have to spare thousands of Frenchmen to guard the Turks. Send them home ? He has no ships. Exchange them ? The Turks have no prisoners. Set them free ? Then they will reinforce Acre, the next stronghold. What on earth is he to do ? Council of war !

  All are in favour of killing the prisoners. Only a few days before, "the Turks killed one of our envoys ! Our own troops would be infuriated if they were to go hungrier still because of these fellows. Bonaparte wavers, thinks matters over for three days, and finally agrees. The prisoners are marched down to the sea and slaughtered. Subsequent military critics, especially the Germans, have agreed that there was no choice.

  An Invincible Fortress

  Acre lies before us. There we shall find stores of new weapons. Then onwards towards the north! The great dream renews itself during these weeks. Now that Turkey has declared war, he is completely isolated, and forced into a life-and-death struggle. Everything is possible, for needs must when the devil drives. But he is not quite easy in his mind about the Indian scheme, for he mentions an alternative plan to one of his officers : " After I have seized Acre, I shall march upon Damascus and Aleppo, augmenting my army as I go, for I shall announce to the people the overthrow of the tyrannous pashas. Then, with overwhelming forces, I shall take Constantinople, make an end of Turkey, and found a new and great empire. This will bring me immortal fame. Perhaps I shall then make my way home through Adrianople or Vienna, after annihilating the house of Habsburg."

  Always the same visions, magnified now, when the situation grows desperate.

  He reaches Acre. Not a big fortress, but well supplied with modern weapons, and defended by English officers and artillerists. Three successive attempts to storm the place are fruitless. English battleships arrive to support the besieged, and threaten the besiegers.

  At last, after eight months, he has direct news from Paris ! It is little to his taste. Talleyrand has not gone to Constantinople to treat with the sultan. Is the rogue hedging ? The French Republic is at war with Naples and Sardiania. Moreau and Augereau, Bonaparte's rivals, have high command. Why, in God's name, do we squat here on the burning sands, inactive ? Storm the place ! Are our schemes to be wrecked against these miserable walls ?

  Who is in charge of the defence ? Phelippeaux is there, a skilled engineer, one of Napoleon's old comrades at the Cadets' School in Paris, afterwards an emigre who had entered the English service!

  Why can they not take the place by storm ? Bonaparte has

  Poisoning the Plague-Stricken

  no patience for a slow siege, for starving his enemy into surrender. The whole idea is foreign to his impetuous temperament. A fortress, like a woman, must be taken by storm, or not at all. He cannot beg, serve, or woo; and he cannot wait. Now time presses, and to wait is out of the question. Storm!

  The soldiers begin to murmur. Even among the officers there are mutterings which are the heralds of mutiny. " Let us have Kleber for our leader ; he is humane and gentle."

  Bonaparte sits in his tent, thinking matters over. A terrible hour ! Is England to be ever invincible, even on land, even here in the East ? Is the siege to drag on for months ? Impossible ! Europe is full of the clash of arms. Turn back, without having won a victory ? An unprecedented experience, an entirely new feeling ; but there is no choice. The enterprise must be abandoned. Back to Egypt! It is only half the truth to say that Acre barred his march upon India. Who can tell whether, if the fortress had been taken, he would have pressed on towards the Indus notwithstanding the ominous news from Paris ? We should have to reckon with incalculable feelings here. Every coincidence is symbolical. Before Acre and on the Po, France is at war with the same monarchical coalition. None but the son of the revolution can save the situation. Contrary to his usual custom, he does not ride in the van, but for hours after the columns have started southward, till nightfall indeed, he stays behind on an elevation to contemplate the stubborn fortress, his mind filled with a sort of ferocious melancholy.

  A ghastly retreat. No roads, no water, the plague as
rearguard. Is Bonaparte's career to be ruined by the desert and the black death ? Calm of aspect, he visits the sick in hospital, and encourages them wherever possible. The doctor points to fifty cases as hopeless. They must be put out of their misery, thinks Bonaparte ; their path to death must be smoothed. With a royal assumption of responsibility, he orders a lethal dose of opium. The doctor demurs. It remains uncertain whether some else

  Victory Over the Turks

  some one else carried out the order. " In such circumstances," he says later, " I would have had my own son poisoned."

  Two thousand sick men and six thousand who are still in health make their way slowly through the desert. Every four of the healthy has to carry a comrade who is too ill to walk, for there are not enough horses to bear the sick and the maimed. The staff officers are all marching with the rest. This is by Napoleon's command. An equerry asks him which horse he will ride. " Did you not hear the order ? " retorts the commander, striking the man with his whip. " Every one on foot! "

  At length the retreating army reaches Cairo. By entering with a triumphal display of captured colours, and by proclamations and marches, he makes a vain attempt to delude the people of Egypt.

  What is Paris saying ? What shall he tell Paris ? We did not occupy Acre, because the plague was raging there! That was why we withdrew from the siege ! In the Institute, a committee is appointed to substantiate this tale. A doctor stands up, and, in the presence of a hundred savants, refuses to attach his name to this fiction. The commander yields with a wry face, but bears no grudge against the stalwart, whom he promotes more than once in years to come.