Napoleon in Egypt (62 page)

Napoleon’s defeat at Acre, for such it was, meant the end of his immediate dreams of overthrowing the Ottoman Empire, of following in the footsteps of Alexander to India, of establishing an Oriental empire. He had no doubts about the colossal extent of this setback to his destiny, nor who was responsible for it. Many years later he would confide to his brother Lucien: “I missed my fortune at Acre,” and after he had got over his immediate denunciation of Smith as a “madman” and a “lunatic,” he would finally admit, “That man made me lose my destiny.”
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XXV

The Retreat from Acre

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March 25, during the first week of the siege of Acre, the courier Wynand Mourveau had arrived at Napoleon’s headquarters bringing a message from the Directory in Paris. Dated November 4, 1798, it had taken almost three months to reach its destination. In fact, it was the third copy of this message to have been dispatched. The first had left Paris in the first week of November carried by Brigadier Lucotte, who had traveled to Spain in the hope of finding a ship that would take him to Egypt, or at least part of the way there. But this quest had proved fruitless, and after three months he crossed Europe to Italy, arriving at the southeastern port of Ancona, only to find himself under siege before he could set sail. A second copy of the Directory’s letter to Napoleon had been entrusted to a French businessman traveling to Tunis, but just two days after his arrival the Bey of Tunis had declared war on France, putting an end to this mission. Finally Wynand Mourveau had been dispatched from Paris in late January 1799, bearing the Directory’s three-month-old message as well as some more up-to-date newspapers. On February 9 he had sailed from Genoa on a ship that had managed to beat the British naval blockade of Egypt and had arrived at Damietta on February 26, only to discover that Napoleon had left for Syria. It had then taken him a further month to reach Napoleon’s headquarters outside Acre.

The message from the Directory was in the form of a lengthy letter, approved by the Directory, but for the most part written by Talleyrand. It opened by informing Napoleon that “since your departure from Malta, the Directory has only received one piece of news directly from you, that dated 2 Fructidor [August 20] which was brought to us on 23 Vendémiaire [October 14] by the courier Mothey. Any other couriers that you have been able to send have either been killed, or been taken prisoner.”
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The Directory’s letter was intended to inform Napoleon of the latest developments in Europe and issue him with further instructions. On both counts it proved woefully inadequate. The description of the European political situation pre-dated the one Napoleon had received from the merchant Hamelin before setting out for Syria, and even the later newspapers gave him no significant further information. Russia, Turkey and Britain had formed a triple alliance and were at war with France; meanwhile the general European situation remained threatening but not too serious, in the view of the Directory. The letter ended with superfluous advice which can only have further convinced Napoleon of the Directory’s ineptitude: “Not being able to give you any help, the Directory will refrain from giving you any orders, or even instructions. You will act according to your own assessment of your position and how strongly established you are in Egypt.” Having admitted that it was incapable of shipping Napoleon’s army back to France, it suggested:

This seems to leave you with three options amongst which you can choose. Either to sit it out in Egypt, setting yourself up so as to be protected from Turkish attacks . . . or to march for India, where, if you arrive, there is no doubt you will find men ready to join up with you to destroy English domination. Or finally, to march on Constantinople and meet the enemy who is threatening you. It is up to you to choose, in accord with the elite of brave and distinguished men who surround you.

Talleyrand’s motives were always difficult to fathom, but it appears from this message that he may have taken Napoleon’s dreams of an Oriental empire seriously, even if the Directory had previously been somewhat less sure on this account. Or possibly he was simply using these dreams as a camouflage for the utter paucity of what he had to offer. Either way, this message boiled down to little more than a confession of complete impotence where Napoleon was concerned, and Napoleon would certainly have recognized this. He was in total command, and on his own: the fact had now been officially acknowledged. He took orders from no one.

Napoleon barely mentioned this message, beyond informing a few of his senior generals that little appeared to have changed in the international situation. There may have been no possibility of shipping his army back to Europe, but there can be no doubt that he still kept open the option that he himself might return. His inability to take Acre meant the end of his Oriental dreams, at least for the time being. The possibility of returning to France now became a more serious option—though indicatively it was not one of the options suggested by the Directory.

Napoleon was determined that the retreat from Acre should not have a further disillusioning effect upon the already low morale of his troops, and to this end he issued a proclamation:

Soldiers! You have crossed the desert which separates Africa from Asia faster than an army of Arabs.

The army which was marching towards Egypt has been destroyed; you have captured its general, its equipment, its waterskins and its camels. On the battlefield at Mount Tabor you put to flight a horde of men gathered from all over Asia intent on the pillage of Egypt.

The thirty ships which you saw anchored off Acre . . . brought an army . . . which is now destroyed. Its captured flags will accompany your triumph. Having captured forty guns and taken 6,000 prisoners, and reducing to rubble the fortifications of Gaza, Jaffa, Haifa and Acre, we shall return to Egypt. I must return because it is now the time of year when hostile landings can be expected.

Just a few days ago, you were on the point of taking Djezzar captive in his palace, but now the capture of Acre is not worth wasting time over. The brave men we might have lost here are needed for more important endeavors.

Soldiers! Hardship and danger lie ahead. . . . For you these will be new opportunities for glory. If, in the midst of so much combat, every day sees the death of a hero, then new heroes must rise up and take their place . . . and from such dangers seize victory.
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The French soldiers were surprised to learn that their Syrian campaign had been such a succession of glorious victories, and Bourrienne, to whom Napoleon would have dictated this proclamation, remarked in his memoirs: “This proclamation, from beginning to end, mutilated the truth.”
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Another document dictated to Bourrienne on this matter, which must have left him similarly unimpressed, was Napoleon’s report to the Directory:

The occasion appeared favorable for taking Acre, but our spies, their deserters and our prisoners all indicated that the city was being ravaged by the plague, that more than sixty people per day were dying of the disease, all dying within 36 hours of catching the disease, amidst convulsions similar to rabies. As our men poured into the city it would have been impossible to prevent them from pillaging, and that night they would have brought back into our camp the germs of this terrible scourge, which is more formidable than any army in the world.
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This charade of glorious victory, and astute tactical holding back, was further encouraged by Napoleon’s order to his retreating troops: “Every time the army passes through a village they will enter bearing the unfurled Turkish flags captured from the enemy, accompanied by a band playing.”
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Perhaps the locals could be convinced of French victory, even if the army itself could not.

In reality the French army crept away from Acre undercover of darkness. As Peyrusse recalled: “All that we could not take with us, which included cannons of all calibers, mortars, shells and bombs, and almost all the tools from the artillery depot, were buried in the fields and along the seashore. We blew up all the gunpowder that was left, and all the empty crates were stacked and burnt on the plain. Such was the fate of our entire artillery park.”
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But worst of all: “We had not time to lose: we were without any means of transport whatever and we had between a thousand and one thousand two hundred wounded or fever cases to carry, as well as forty pieces of artillery to drag, along with all their gear.”

The sick and wounded presented a very real problem. Perrée had been ordered to put in at Tantura to pick up several hundred wounded, so that they could be shipped to Alexandria. However, he had felt certain that his flotilla would only be attacked by Smith’s squadron, and had refused to take the risk. The problem of shipping the wounded back to hospitals in Egypt could have been resolved if Napoleon had been willing to ask Smith for safe conduct for French ships carrying the wounded, a request Smith would certainly have granted. Yet Napoleon stood on his pride, and still refused to have any further dealings with Smith, let alone ask him a favor. At this point, Perrée and his flotilla made for the safety of the open sea, and here he came to the extraordinary decision that his best course of action was simply to sail back to France.

Napoleon faced an impossible situation: no sick or wounded could be left behind, for the Turks would have beheaded them, or worse still subjected them to hideous tortures. (This was their custom with such victims of war, and after the massacre of their comrades at Jaffa it might even have appeared justified.) To make matters worse, the French were now joined by further sick and wounded from the outlying field hospitals, as well as patients from the plague hospital at Mount Carmel and other isolation centers.

This meant that Napoleon had the task of transporting 2,300 sick and wounded men the 500 miles overland to Egypt as best he could. To that end, he divided them into three categories: those who could walk (or could be assisted to do so by others), those who were able to ride on a horse or a donkey, and those who required to be carried on a makeshift stretcher. As for the army itself: every man, from the generals to the lowliest drummer boys, was ordered to walk. Horses, even Napoleon’s own, were to be requisitioned for the second category of sick and wounded. Pack mules and donkeys which had previously been used for transporting water skins and supplies were also requisitioned for carrying those who could not walk. The aging Monge, who was still stricken with dysentery, was allowed to travel in Napoleon’s carriage, along with Berthollet, who had also fallen ill, as well as the sick mathematician-savant Costaz, and an officer’s wife who was breastfeeding a newly born child.

But this still left the problem of what to do with the plague victims. It was unlikely that many would volunteer to assist them back to Egypt, no matter how great the incentive. Desgenettes described in his memoirs what happened next:

Bonaparte summoned me to his tent, where he was alone with his chief of staff [Berthier]. After a brief chat about the general medical situation, he said to me: “If I was in your place, I would end at once the suffering of our plague patients, and would put an end to the dangers facing them by giving them [a lethal dose of] opium.” I replied simply, “My duty, as I see it, is to preserve life.” In consequence, the general began expounding his thoughts with great calmness, saying that he would not expect others to do anything that he would not do himself. He pointed out to me that he was, before anything else, charged with preserving the army, and
for that reason
to prevent our sick who cannot be taken with us from being left to the mercy of the Turkish scimitars. “I am not seeking to overcome your scruples,” he added, “but I believe I can find people who will better appreciate my intentions.”

General Berthier remained completely silent throughout this meeting, merely biting his nails; but afterwards he indicated to me that he approved of my refusal.
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Desgenettes, who had risked inoculating himself with the plague virus in order to fulfill his duties and encourage his patients, was not willing at this late stage to go back on his Hippocratic oath to save life. It seemed that he had called Napoleon’s bluff, and for the time being the commander-in-chief decided against mass euthanasia for his men: the army left Acre carrying all its sick and wounded with them.

According to Desgenettes, “The retreat was undertaken in meticulous order.” Lannes’ division led the way, followed by the equipment; then came further long columns of trudging soldiers, with the sick and wounded protected in the midst of their divisions, which stretched back across the rolling countryside to Kléber’s division, supported by Murat’s cavalry, which guarded the rear. Many of the men had become unfit during the long siege, and the army made slow progress. Soon they were also being joined by streams of Christian refugees fleeing from the vengeance they knew Djezzar would wreak upon their communities. As the French army continued on its way, it burned villages, orchards and crops in its path, leaving a swath of scorched earth, so that if Djezzar’s forces attempted to harass their retreat they would find it impossible to live off the land. Soon some of the sick and wounded proved too great a burden, and were simply abandoned by the wayside—those with the plague frequently being dumped at the first opportunity. Bourrienne tells of “dying figures cast by the roadside calling out in feeble voices: ‘I have not got the plague, I am only wounded,’ and in the effort to convince their passing comrades they would re-open their wounds or give themselves new ones.”
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Peyrusse described how