Memoirs of Napoleon Bonaparte — Complete
which will arrive afterwards by land, I do not fear it this year. I will
cause everything to be destroyed, all the way to the entrance of the
desert. I will render the passage of an army impossible for two years.
Troops cannot exist amoung ruins."
As soon as I returned to my tent I committed to paper this conversation,
which was then quite fresh in my memory, and, I may venture to say that
every word I put down is correct. I may add, that during the siege our
camp was constantly filled with the inhabitants, who invoked Heaven to
favour our arms, and prayed fervently at every assault for our success,
many of them on their knees, with their faces to the city. The people
of Damascus, too, had offered the keys to Bonaparte. Thus everything
contributed to make him confident in his favourite plan.
The troops left St. Jean d'Acre on the 20th of May, taking advantage
of the night to avoid a sortie from the besieged, and to conceal the
retreat of the army, which had to march three leagues along the shore,
exposed to the fire of the English vessels lying in the roads of Mount
Carmel. The removal of the wounded and sick commenced on the 18th and
19th of May.
Bonaparte then made a proclamation, which from one end to the other
offends against truth. It has been published in many works. The season
of the year for hostile landing is there very dexterously placed in
the foreground; all the rest is a deceitful exaggeration. It must be
observed that the proclamations which Bonaparte regarded as calculated
to dazzle an ever too credulous public were amplifications often
ridiculous and incomprehensible upon the spot, and which only excited
the laughter of men of common sense. In all Bonaparte's correspondence
there is an endeavour to disguise his reverses, and impose on the
public, and even on his own generals. For example, he wrote to General
Dugua, commandant of Cairo, on the 15th of February, "I will bring you
plenty of prisoners and flags!" One would almost be inclined to say that
he had resolved, during his stay in the East, thus to pay a tribute to
the country of fables.
--[The prisoners and flags were sent. The Turkish flags were
entrusted by Berthier to the Adjutant-Commandant Boyer, who
conducted a convoy of sick and wounded to Egypt. Sidney Smith
acknowledges the loss of some flags by the Turks. The Turkish
prisoners were used as carriers of the litters for the wounded, and
were, for the most part, brought into Egypt. (Erreurs, tome i. pp.
47 and 160)]--
Thus terminated this disastrous expedition. I have read somewhere that
during this immortal campaign the two heroes Murat and Mourad had often
been in face of one another. There is only a little difficulty; Mourad
Bey never put his foot in Syria.
We proceeded along the coast, and passed Mount Carmel. Some of the
wounded were carried on litters, the remainder on horses, mules, and
camels. At a short distance from Mount Carmel we were informed that
three soldiers, ill of the plague, who were left in a convent (which
served for a hospital), and abandoned too confidently to the generosity
of the Turks, had been barbarously put to death.
A most intolerable thirst, the total want of water, an excessive heat,
and a fatiguing march over burning sand-hills, quite disheartened the
men, and made every generous sentiment give way to feelings of the
grossest selfishness and most shocking indifference. I saw officers,
with their limbs amputated, thrown off the litters, whose removal
in that way had been ordered, and who had themselves given money to
recompense the bearers. I saw the amputated, the wounded, the infected,
or those only suspected of infection, deserted and left to themselves.
The march was illumined by torches, lighted for the purpose of setting
fire to the little towns, villages, and hamlets which lay in the route,
and the rich crops with which the land was then covered. The whole
country was in a blaze. Those who were ordered to preside at this work
of destruction seemed eager to spread desolation on every side, as if
they could thereby avenge themselves for their reverses, and find
in such dreadful havoc an alleviation of their sufferings. We were
constantly surrounded by plunderers, incendiaries, and the dying, who,
stretched on the sides of the road, implored assistance in a feeble
voice, saying, "I am not infected--I am only wounded;" and to convince
those whom they addressed, they reopened their old wounds, or inflicted
on themselves fresh ones. Still nobody attended to them. "It is all
over with him," was the observation applied to the unfortunate beings in
succession, while every one pressed onward. The sun, which shone in
an unclouded sky in all its brightness, was often darkened by our
conflagrations. On our right lay the sea; on our left, and behind us,
the desert made by ourselves; before were the privations and sufferings
which awaited us. Such was our true situation.
We reached Tentoura on the 20th of May, when a most oppressive heat
prevailed, and produced general dejection. We had nothing to sleep on
but the parched and burning sand; on our right lay a hostile sea; our
losses in wounded and sick were already considerable since leaving Acre;
and there was nothing consolatory in the future. The truly afflicting
condition in which the remains of an army called triumphant were
plunged, produced, as might well be expected, a corresponding impression
on the mind of the General-in-Chief. Scarcely had he arrived at Tentoura
when he ordered his tent to be pitched. He then called me, and with a
mind occupied by the calamities of our situation, dictated an order
that every one should march on foot; and that all the horses, mules, and
camels should be given up to the wounded, the sick, and infected who
had been removed, and who still showed signs of life. "Carry that to
Berthier," said he; and the order was instantly despatched. Scarcely had
I returned to the tent when the elder Vigogne, the General-in-Chief's
groom, entered, and raising his hand to his cap, said, "General, what
horse do you reserve for yourself?" In the state of excitement in which
Bonaparte was this question irritated him so violently that, raising his
whip, he gave the man a severe blow on the head, saying in a terrible
voice, "Every-one must go on foot, you rascal--I the first--Do you not
know the order? Be off!"
Every one in parting with his horse was now anxious to avoid giving it
to any unfortunate individual supposed to be suffering from plague. Much
pains were taken to ascertain the nature of the diseases of the sick;
and no difficulty was made in accommodating the wounded of amputated.
For my part I had an excellent horse; a mule, and two camels, all which
I gave up with the greatest pleasure; but I confess that I directed my
servant to do all he could to prevent an infected person from getting
my horse. It was returned to me in a very short time. The same thing
happened to many others. The cause may be easily conjectured.
The remains of our heavy artillery were lost in the moving sands of
Tentoura, from the want of horses, the small number that remained being
employed in more indispensable services. The soldiers seemed to forget
their own sufferings, plunged in grief at the loss of their bronze
guns, often the instruments of their triumphs, and which had made Europe
tremble.
We halted at Caesarea on the 22d of May, and we marched all the
following night. Towards daybreak a man, concealed in a bush upon the
left of the road (the sea was two paces from us on the right), fired
a musket almost close to the head of the General-in-Chief, who was
sleeping on his horse. I was beside him. The wood being searched, the
Nablousian was taken without difficulty, and ordered to be shot on the
spot. Four guides pushed him towards the sea by thrusting their carbines
against his back; when close to the water's edge they drew the triggers,
but all the four muskets hung fire: a circumstance which was accounted
for by the great humidity of the night. The Nablousian threw himself
into the water, and, swimming with great agility and rapidity, gained
a ridge of rocks so far off that not a shot from the whole troop, which
fired as it passed, reached him. Bonaparte, who continued his march,
desired me to wait for Kléber, whose division formed the rear-guard,
and to tell him not to forget the Nablousian. He was, I believe, shot at
last.
We returned to Jaffa on the 24th of May, and stopped there during the
25th, 26th, 27th, and 28th. This town had lately been the scene of a
horrible transaction, dictated by necessity, and it was again destined
to witness the exercise of the same dire law. Here I have a painful duty
to perform--I will perform it. I will state what I know, what I saw.
I have seen the following passage in a certain, work:--"Bonaparte,
having arrived at Jaffa, ordered three removals of the infected: one by
sea to Damietta, and also by land; the second to Gaza; and the third to
El-Arish!" So, many words, so many errors!
Some tents were pitched on an eminence near the gardens east of Jaffa.
Orders were given directly to undermine the fortifications and blow them
up; and on the 27th of May, upon the signaling given, the town was in a
moment laid bare. An hour afterwards the General-in-Chief left his tent
and repaired to the town, accompanied by Berthier, some physicians and
surgeons, and his usual staff. I was also one of the party. A long and
sad deliberation took place on the question which now arose relative to
the men who were incurably ill of the plague, or who were at the point
of death. After a discussion of the most serious and conscientious kind
it was decided to accelerate a few moments, by a potion, a death which
was inevitable, and which would otherwise be painful and cruel.
Bonaparte took a rapid view of the destroyed ramparts of the town and
returned to the hospital, where there were men whose limbs had
been amputated, many wounded, many afflicted with ophthalmia, whose
lamentations were distressing, and some infected with the plague. The
beds of the last description of patients were to the right on entering
the first ward. I walked by the General's side, and I assert that I
never saw him touch any one of the infected. And why should he have done
so? They were in the last stage of the disease. Not one of them spoke
a word to him, and Bonaparte well knew that he possessed no protection
against the plague. Is Fortune to be again brought forward here? She
had, in truth, little favoured him during the last few months, when he
had trusted to her favours. I ask, why should he have exposed himself to
certain death, and have left his army in the midst of a desert created
by our ravages, in a desolate town, without succour, and without the
hope of ever receiving any? Would he have acted rightly in doing so--he
who was evidently so necessary, so indispensable to his army; he on
whom depended at that moment the lives of all who had survived the
last disaster, and who had proved their attachment to him by their
sufferings, their privations, and their unshaken courage, and who had
done all that he could have required of men, and whose only trust was in
him?
Bonaparte walked quickly through the rooms, tapping the yellow top of
his boot with a whip he held in his hand. As he passed along with
hasty steps he repeated these words: "The fortifications are destroyed.
Fortune was against me at St. Jean d'Acre. I must return to Egypt to
preserve it from the enemy, who will soon be there: In a few hours the
Turks will be here. Let all those who have strength enough rise and come
along with us. They shall be carried on litters and horses." There were
scarcely sixty cases of plague in the hospital; and all accounts