by Emil Ludwig
The Turks now arrive by sea, intending to make an end of the French. Once more, the whole existence of the expeditionary force is at stake. The enemy is to land in Aboukir Bay, just a year after the battle of the Nile. He lets them land, and then inflicts a crushing defeat on them, though their army outnumbers his by two to one. After the battle, Murat meets him, and embracing him, says : " General, you are as great as the world, but the world is too small for you ! " Bonaparte writes to Cairo : " You will have heard of the battle on the shores of Aboukir Bay, one of the finest I have ever seen ! Of the army the enemy had landed, not a man escaped."
At this time he notices among the Mamelukes who have
Flight Homewards
entered his service a tall, handsome fellow with blue eyes, a Georgian named Rustam, who has five times been sold as a slave. Fidelity is written on his countenance. Napoleon gives him a sword with an enchased hilt and scabbard, and makes him his body-servant. For fifteen years, Rustam sleeps outside his master's door.
After the victory at Aboukir, Napoleon enters into a parley with the admiral of the blockading fleet. Ostensibly he wishes to discuss an exchange of prisoners with the English. Really he is hungering for news ; newspapers are worth more than king's crowns. Some one manages to get hold of what he covets, and an adjutant brings them into his tent. The commander is asleep. " Here are newspapers, General. Bad news." He sits up. " What's happened ? "
" Scherer has been beaten. We have lost nearly the whole of Italy." Napoleon jumps out of bed, seizes the papers, and goes on reading them all through the night, with an occasional pause for an outburst of wrath. At dawn, he sends for his admiral-in-chief, is closeted with the seaman for a couple of hours, and then sets out for Cairo.
" I have made up my mind to return to France," he says behind shut doors to the faithful Marmont. " You will come with me. Our armies in Europe have been defeated. God knows where the enemy will have got to by now. Italy is lost. What are they about, these incompetent idiots at the head of affairs ? Stupidity and corruption! I have borne the whole burden single-handed, and by my victories have propped up a government which could never have maintained itself but for me. As soon as I leave, everything collapses. If I start at once, I shall get to Paris almost as soon as the news of my latest victory. My presence will restore confidence to the troops, and will reanimate the citizens with hopes for a happier future." " My future," he thinks, as soon as Marmont has gone. " People will say I have abandoned the army in Egypt. It will get along
Through the Enemy's Fleet
get along all right under Kleber. I came here to found a colony. It is founded, and the Turks have been beaten. Help can only come from France, and no one but myself can send it. I have nothing more to gain here, but everything to win on the battlefields of Europe. Thirty years ! How many days before I can get away ? The admiral says it is a bad winter for Toulon, and that English warships swarm in the Mediterranean. I'm afraid I can't get to Paris in an air-balloon ! But Paris is the heart of the world. I must risk the sea passage."
XVII
They show no lights, the two small frigates which had once flown Venetian colours. The vessel freighted with the commander is the " Muiron," thus rechristened in memory of the lieutenant who had died to save him at Areola. Fifteen years later he is to do still more honour to this name. Here, off Cape Bon, is the most dangerous point. Literally, they sail through the English fleet, for they know the ships by their lights. An August night, but cold, for the mistral is blowing. They sit on deck in the starlight, feeling dull and rather depressed. Let's liven things up with a game of cards; there's just light enough to play! Bonaparte cheats, and is delighted that no one notices. Next morning, with mischievous glee, he owns up, and restores his ill-gotten gains.
What a different voyage from that of fifteen months ago ! Only two ships now, and then there were four hundred. Half of the army is dead bones. True, France still holds the land of ancient story—but for how long ? The hopes of striking an effective blow against England have been dashed. What has become of the plan for a landing at Dover ? Gone to join the scheme for the invasion of India ! He has had to steal away furtively from Egypt, for there might have been a mutiny had his impending departure become generally known among the soldiers of the army of occupation. Kleber was not appointed
Corsica Again
commander-in-chief until Napoleon had gone. The last order of the day had been dry and brief. The civilians had been sent to Upper Egypt, for Monge and Berthollet, who were in the know, and were now on board, might have blabbed the news to their colleagues. But poets were a nuisance ! One of the fellows, keen-witted, had guessed what was in the wind, and had stolen aboard the frigate, whose destination was still undisclosed. Oh, well, let the beggar come along. He and his tribe are the brokers of fame, so we can't do without them. After the last victory, Paris will be on our side.
For weeks, the two frigates are in continual danger. " What would you do, if the English fleet were to heave in sight ? Fight ? Impossible ! Surrender ? You would none of you like that any better than I should. The only other alternative is to blow up the ship." A general silence. Monge, who is sitting beside the commander, grows pale. " That shall be your charge," adds Napoleon, turning to him with a mischievous smile. A few days later, a ship is sighted, and is wrongly supposed to be an English man-of-war. The mathematician vanishes, and is found afterwards at the door of the powder magazine.
This incident gives us the measure of Bonaparte's authority. After a six weeks' cruise in the Mediterranean, an island is sighted on a fine October morning, a familiar ridge of mountains is seen on the horizon. The captain of the frigate consults his chart. " That is Corsica," says Bonaparte unhesitatingly. Does he order the seamen to clap on all sail and make for the island ? No, they must find out, first, whether the place is still French. But a strong wind is blowing shoreward, and, even under light canvas, progress is rapid. His thoughts run swiftly, too.
" ' Still French ? ' My question used to be, ' French yet ? ' Only six years ago. I was twenty-four then, and to be master of this island seemed to me the greatest thing in the world. Since then, I have had Italy at my feet; Egypt has been con-
The Old Home
quered; Paris smiles. All has happened as if by natural sequence. The wind is freshening. What will be the answer from the shore ? " The signals show that the harbour is open to a French ship. The native island of the man without a country is home to him once more.
They land, and all Ajaccio crowds to the harbour; thousands who once cursed the name of Bonaparte are now eager to welcome him. He regards the throng cynically. Many address him with the familiar " thou " ; and hundreds wish to shake hands with him. He accepts these demonstrations unmoved. But suddenly he hears a voice : " Figlio ! Caro figlio ! " Camilla is speaking, his old nurse, a vigorous peasantwoman, hardly fifty years of age. The sight of her is the only thing that stirs his emotions.
Napoleon makes for his ancestral home, which his mother has had set in order once more, though she is away just now. He summons those best fitted to give him the news he craves. There, beside the family hearth, he learns what has, during the last three months, happened to his creations. Mantua and Milan have gone, and with them most of Italy, won by his feats of arms three short years ago. Genoa is still French, though hard to keep. Massena has been forced back through Switzerland ! The English have landed in Holland ! What is the first thing to do ? Make for Nice ! Instantly take the lead ! Win back all in a storm of victories. " What's that you say ? " Two of the Directors forcibly removed ! Only by such tricks can the shaky government still keep in power ? General Moulin is one of the Directors ? Moulin, who the devil is he ? The other substitute ? Sieyes, you say ? Another coup must be impending—perhaps a forcible change of government. We must make all speed for Paris. On board ! On board ! Take a big rowing boat in tow !
Two days' sail towards Toulon. Twilight when the coast is sighted. The look-out man reports English ships. " Put about! "
orders the admiral. " Forward ! " thunders Bonaparte.
Landing at Frejus
In case of need, we can make the shore in the big rowing boat! Once more his star blinds the enemy; once more he escapes capture by the English. Night falls. Impossible to land at Toulon ? Let us make for Frejus, then. Uncharted rocks there ? Rocks everywhere ! In sight of the French coast after a seven weeks' voyage, we must run all risks to land !
Does this Italian love the country on which he now sets his foot ? To him it is nothing more than the fiddle on which he can play a better tune than on any other instrument.
Next day, in the little town of Frejus, Bonaparte's name is on every one's lips. Why is the harbour full of rowing boats, laden with sightseers ? Why this popular rejoicing ? What has the man done in Africa, that the inhabitants of the provincial town should greet him as if he were a Roman imperator celebrating a triumph ? An official says something about quarantine. " We prefer the plague to the Austrians, and the Austrians are almost at our gates ! " shouts the crowd, escorting him through the streets as a deliverer.
" France seems to be in a bad way," thinks the man in the carriage, as he acknowledges the vociferations. " It looks as if every one had been waiting for me. A while back would have been too soon. To-morrow would have been too late. I have come at the right moment."
He drives westward from Frejus, and stays for a time in Aix, questioning every one he meets. At Aix, a copy of a letter comes into his hands, an old letter that had miscarried : " The Directory is waiting for you, General; for you and your brave companions! " This was written in the panic of rulers who are at their wits' end for a saviour! What had he better do ? Stay where he is for a time, and write before going to Paris. " Egypt is wholly ours, and safe from invasion.—I was cut off from newspapers till the end of July, but when I heard of your troubles I instantly set out for home. I had to take all risks, for my place was the spot where I could be of most use. Had there been no frigate, I should have wrapped myself in my cloak and
General Bonaparte in 1797. Drawing by Wocher in Basle. Town Library, Basle
France Greets Him
should have sailed in the first cockle-shell I could find. With Kleber in command, Egypt is in good hands. When I left, the whole country was under water—the best Nile for fifty years."
This carefully worded epistle goes as a herald to Paris. The people there must be told who is on the way. His northward journey is a via triumphalis; salutes are fired everywhere. Passing through Valence, he recognises among the onlookers the good woman who keeps the cafe where he used to lodge, the place with the billiard room ; he gives her a keepsake from the East. In Lyons, he waits two or three hours to see the performance of a hastily extemporised drama, " The Hero's Return." Everything shows the powerful spell already exercised by his name. Perhaps the most signal instance is the sensational end of Baudin, one of the best of the deputies, who utters a shout of joy on hearing the news of Napoleon's return, and drops dead from surcharge of emotion. The light that radiates from the commander is so strong that it kills.
Paris draws near. He is still gathering news. But about private affairs, about Josephine, he can ask no questions. Is he already a divorce ? Where are his brothers ? The news of his coming has been noised abroad ; why has no one come to meet him ? She, where is she ? Will she, after all, be waiting for him in the mirrored room, ready to welcome him with a smile ? In the grey dawn he passes the octroi, drives along the outer boulevards, turns into his own little street. There is the house. A woman stands alone at the door. Who is it ?
His mother.
XVIII
" Bonaparte's landing is one of those events which at first we hesitate to believe. The news spread over night at theatres and in social gatherings. In the most obscure pot-houses, people were drinking to celebrate his return. . . ." " Every one hails him
Josephine's Plan of Campaign
with delight, for he brings us new hope. . . ." " Glory, peace, and happiness follow in his train."
These and similar items catch Bonaparte's eye as he flutters the newspapers. Day by day he can read an abundance of details, mingled truth and falsehood, concerning his aspect, demeanour, and dress. Even the opposition press pins its hopes on him : " His Egyptian campaign has miscarried ; but what matter ? He is satisfied with having undertaken it, and it is difficult to say whither his rashness may lead. All the same, his bold ventures restore our courage."—He is received with acclamation, and his plans are consolidated.
But his wife is away. When the news that he had landed reached Paris, she was dining with Gohier, the first of the five Directors. She and her host were equally alarmed. Both had uneasy consciences, and now the volcano was rumbling beneath them. Some time ago, Barras (who during this period seems still to have been an occasional recipient of her favours') had advised her to procure a divorce from the absent and almost vanished adventurer, and to marry handsome Hippolyte. She had received no letters from Napoleon. If he had written any, they must have miscarried. But her brother-in-law's hostile attitude showed her what was in the wind. Barras was right. She would do well to act first.—Then Paris was electrified by the news of Napoleon's great victory over the Turks. Perhaps it would be wiser, after all, to stay in her present safe harbour
age. Unstable and frivolous, she had of late been coquetting with the thought of reconciliation. A glance at her own image in the mirror, a knowledge of the way she could turn men's heads, sufficed to convince her of the possibility. Now, at Corner's table, she pulls herself together, and her host tries to outdo her in self-command. They drink to the general's return. She hurries home, packs up all that can set off her beauty to the best advantage, and in a trice is driving southward. As her carriage rattles past the barrier, she thinks : " Act promptly, and take the enemy by surprise— is not that the secret of his
She Lays Siege
military success ? On the return journey, I shall be with him day and night, and shall win him over before the tale-bearers can get at him ! "
But she misses him, learns that he has passed her, and hastens back to Paris. She has lost three precious days, during which his relatives have told him all the scandal. True, some of his intimates warn him against applying for a divorce. In Paris, a cuckold is always a figure of fun. He is resolute, however : " I have done with her. What do I care about the chatter ? It will only last for a day or two." He has her trunks packed, and carried down to the porter's lodge, so that she shall not enter the house. Could he give plainer proof that he dreads his own weakness ?
She comes, breaks through the first line of defence, enters the fortress. He has locked himself in. She calls to him and pleads with him through the door. During her journey, the more she has come to realise that his name is in every one's mouth, the more fervent have been her hopes for a reconciliation, and the more has her pride been humbled. But the citadel holds out. At length she decides to call up reinforcements for a final assault. Hortense and Eugene must come to her aid. They clamour, beseech, shed tears. Thus a night passes.
No dispassionate observer can fail to understand Josephine's motives in making this ridiculous scene. What of Bonaparte himself, the man with so profound a knowledge of the human soul ? Was he duped by a woman ?
There he lies, returned after a long absence, with his head full of schemes for the conquest of a nation. Let us try to follow his thoughts. " They have deceived me one and all. The government, the political parties, my own companions-in-arms, were all endeavouring, during my absence, to exclude me from power, for they regarded me as a danger to themselves. As long as I was out of range, no one wanted me back ; my brothers no more than the rest. This capricious woman, whose pretty whims I have never tried to restrain—would it be reasonable for me to
Untrustworthy Relatives
expect that she should have spent a year and more thinking of no one but her absent husband, whose return seemed ever more unlikely as the days went by ? When I am there, she is fascinating. If I make truce with he
r now, when the game is in my hands, she will agree to all my conditions, and I can exact guarantees for the future. What a lovely voice she has. There cannot have been any falling off in her charms, or she would not have so many admirers. What a fool, compared with her, was that little woman in Egypt, and even she could not give me an heir. Where shall I find a woman who will make a more perfect lover and a better wife than Josephine ? Besides, she has had two children, and may yet have more."
He opens the door and, heroic in his silence, suppresses, once and for all, the accusations with which his heart is filled. In this matter, as in others, he holds fast to his resolves. Next day she confesses that she is in debt to the tune of two million francs. He pays without a word.
It is hard for his brothers, and still harder for his sisters, to accept the situation ; but they do not venture a remonstrance.
Nor is there time for the further discussion of family matters. Events are on the wing. His brothers have not been idle while he has been away. Joseph, after being envoy in Rome, is now on guard as one of the Parisian deputies. Lucien is leader of the opposition, although, being only twenty-four, he is under the legal age. A brilliant orator, dreaded in debate, a Hotspur with a taste for theatrical displays, burning with ambition, too headstrong for constructive work. He and Sieyes have been working at plans for a coup d'etat on their own, but they lack the support of a great soldier whom the troops would follow. Now the soldier has come, and Lucien will keep his private wishes to himself. He, too, is a Bonaparte.
Dangerous, inscrutable, and cunning is Joseph's new brother-in-law, Bernadotte. He is slow in coming to greet Bonaparte. When he does come, and Bonaparte speaks of the desperate situation of the republic, Bernadotte rejoins :" It will be able
A Tottering Government
to make headway against its enemies both abroad and at home ! " He looked searchingly at his interlocutor, and for a moment the masterful eyes of the two men clash. But Bonaparte, controlling his emotions as usual, attempts a diversion to political issues, speaks again of the dangers, and then passes severe strictures on the Jacobin Club. Thereupon Bernadotte breaks in : " Your brothers founded it! "