Napoleon Bonaparte

by Alan Schom

  He had of course burned his political bridges in Paris and had no real friends in the Directory. In any event, they would be in no particular hurry to come to his rescue, he believed, sighing aloud that they had “a grudge against me and hate me; they will let me perish here.”[237] Even if they wanted to prepare a fresh fleet to relieve him, he had stripped the Mediterranean of most of its better warships; others would take time to build, repair, or somehow replace. And would events in Europe even permit the Directory to dispatch the fresh troops and vessels to Egypt, leaving French shores exposed and unprotected? In fact, Napoleon had to admit to himself what he never would publicly — that he had made a hash of his great Egyptian campaign, the greatest strategic and military gaffe of his life, because he had been cocky, headstrong, and thought he had all the answers, just like the preening Parisian political peacocks he so detested. He had not acted, weighed, and planned this campaign like a mature, professional soldier.

  Then there was the problem here with the Mameluke armies, which he had hoped literally to annihilate on the battlefield but which had largely escaped, Ibrahim to the northeast and Murad to the south. Bonaparte found himself coping with an army of perhaps 20,000 deployable men dispersed into various smaller units all over the country. Desaix was already dispatched up the Nile, while Napoleon held two divisions in and around Cairo. Meanwhile, Kléber was in the coastal area. Far to the eastern side of the delta, General Dugua with Zayoncheck and a mere 4,274 men, was given the onerous task of trying to clear and pacify a wild region hitherto unknown to Napoleon, around Menouf.[238] Farther to the northeast, around Salheyeh, Reynier was trying to coordinate his actions with Dugua to clear that region of strong bedouin forces, at the same time securing the Damietta branch of the Nile for flotillas via canal to Damietta and Lake Manzalah. All this was to be anchored by new French forts and depots at Salheyeh and Peluse, to be used as a base from which to launch a possible drive up the Mediterranean to Syria. Then, of course, the large area of the delta between Damietta and Rosetta would also have to be quelled. As for General Dumas’s cavalry, at this stage limited to 1,677 mounted men (with a small dromedary, or camel, corps being added), it was needed everywhere at once in this vast desert, where cavalry mobility was of far greater importance than in Europe — yet another major miscalculation by Napoleon.

  The result was recalcitrance, intransigence, frustration, anger, and despair among a majority of the brigadiers and colonels in the field, rebelling against their impossible tasks, dispersed hither and thither and incapable of stanching resistance permanently, with little firepower and practically nonexistent logistical support. Supplies and reinforcements still were not reaching the army, hampered by the lack of accurate maps.

  “Who could dare deny that a general sense of disgust pervaded the entire army and that the sole desire of its leaders, like everyone else, was to return to France: The number of requests to leave was truly heartbreaking,” eyewitness Bourrienne lamented.[239] Discontent continued to swell, and the presence of Berthier’s name at the top of that list did not help matters. When the valuable if fiery cavalry commander Gen. Alexandre Dumas[240] openly rebelled and quarreled with Napoleon before fellow officers, it was too much. The number of brigadiers opposing this campaign is not clear, but Bourrienne acknowledged that the feeling was “general,” and it appears to have involved a large number. This of course trickled down to the junior officers and the men in the ranks, and the result was wanton bad discipline, refusal to execute orders, and at times chaos; open rebellion was averted only because the troops and their officers had no superior authority above Bonaparte to appeal to. In any event, there was certainly no place to flee to but the desert. The hours were long, the tasks unending, and the conditions appalling.

  The men in the ranks balked at the introduction of rice, unfamiliar to them, as a main staple substitute. Bread would finally be available within the next few weeks, but not wine and eau de vie. There were coffee and sugar, however, but almost no cheese, another French staple. The principal source of drinking water, frequently the Nile, was hardly a healthy substitute for French wines (as the increasing number of dysentery cases resulting from its consumption dramatically attested). Just as bad, there was not enough European entertainment, and of course very few unmarried European women for these thousands of frustrated soldiers. Thus when officers and men were not working round the clock, there was little for them to do but sit around coffeehouses, gambling and grumbling. And since the men knew that reinforcements would not be in sight for months — perhaps years — to come, the grumbling soon turned ominous, focusing on the men’s generals, and ultimately on the one general who had thought up this crackpot expedition in the first place. “Anxiety, unhappiness, nostalgia [for France] afflicted nearly everyone...The positive illusion of the expedition had disappeared from the very beginning. Only the reality of the situation now remained: it was sad,” bemoaned Bourrienne. How many “bitter complaints” there were from all units, and “these continuous complaints, without measure or moderation...greatly upset Bonaparte...And that, I can say without the slightest exaggeration, is the truth of the matter.”[241]

  The full significance of this débâcle was just beginning to make its impact on Napoleon. The military aspects he could not discuss with his otherwise sympathetic friend Monge, who was busy trying to solve the institute’s problems, including the necessity of manufacturing replacements for their own dwindling supply of munitions. The French would in fact have to provide everything here themselves, something Napoleon had not anticipated when the sea channels were still open. And thus Napoleon found himself entirely isolated, apart from some quiet moments with the ever optimistic Monge. He remained the harried, hard-driven, frustrated, at times anguished young military commander who had gotten himself into very deep water from which he could rely on no one else to extricate him. The magnificent Elfi palace had become a torture chamber.

  Outwardly, however, his show of confidence continued, as troops were reviewed and festivities celebrated in the grand manner. One of the principal planks of Napoleon’s program was of course the observation of Egyptian and Muslim traditions and holy days, which included the age-old annual celebration marking the flooding of the Nile, dating back to pharaonic times. And although — with casualty and damage reports still arriving from Alexandria — he was hardly in a festive mood, at 6:00 A.M. on August 18, just four days after his return to Cairo, General Bonaparte, attended by three divisional generals, the general staff, and a bevy of brigadiers, Col. Louis Bonaparte and Eugène de Beauharnais, along with the highest Muslim dignitaries of the capital, reached Madkias. There the swelling river waters were about to break the main dike leading to the irrigation canals, officially opening the Feast of the Inundation of the Nile, as salvos from French gunboats and Citadel cannon announced the arrival of Bonaparte and his colorful retinue, attended by traditional Egyptian music and Muslim prayers, as workers dug away at the earth dike to release the first floodwaters of the year. Bonaparte — in full-dress uniform, covered by the mullah’s traditional black robes — stood by, throwing handfuls of coins to the crowd of thousands; then he distributed caftans to the thirty-eight senior Muslim officials present.

  Two days later fresh celebrations, known as the Feast of the Prophet Muhammad, began at the Elfi palace, continuing with illuminations at night and a great torchlit procession from the different quarters of the city, religious prayers being chanted throughout the night and for the next few days, “making an infernal racket,” according to the none-too-tolerant Major Detroye. The festivities concluded on August 24 with a series of spectacles, as trainers of monkeys and bears entertained the public before Napoleon’s reviewing stand, while snake charmers lured their friends out of baskets, women and children singing all the while, and the French garrison firing thundering celebratory salvos as the army’s dashing cavalry and infantry units, accompanied by French army bands, executed military drills in Esbekiya Square. Following a sumptuous state feast in the p
alace, all gathered in the square, filled with tens of thousands of spectators, to watch the concluding fireworks display prepared by the army engineers — which regrettably fizzled due to the poor quality of powder.[242] Although the distraction offered by these twin feasts was brief, Bonaparte, determined to the very end to win over the Egyptian peasantry and Muslims in general, continued to do all in his power to show his respect for their religious beliefs.

  Even before the celebrations concluded, on the eighteenth Napoleon had ordered Rear Admiral Perrée to convoy Brigadier General Marmont down the Nile to take charge of all fluvial communications between Rahmaniya and Alexandria in particular, where the more-than-one-hundred-foot-wide canal was beginning to fill and would now be of critical importance for the shipment of supplies and men between Alexandria and Rosetta and ultimately Cairo. Constant Bedouin attacks along the canal, by land and boat, still rendered it perilous even for strong French military escorts. What is more, the Arabs, intent on foiling the French invaders, kept destroying the banks of the canal in numerous places, requiring emergency work details directed by General Caffarelli’s hard-pressed engineers. It was a demanding job, but Marmont was a capable and energetic young officer, who had been personally instructed by Napoleon (to whom he remained completely loyal throughout), that “you will write me in the greatest detail...to inform me on the situation regarding the English and how our fleet behaved during the battle [of Abukir].”[243]

  Meanwhile Napoleon was sending his personal report to the Executive Directory in Paris (in duplicate form by a variety of messengers and small vessels) regarding the great naval clash with Nelson, somehow never actually mentioning the disaster itself, instead just suddenly informing them that the French had suffered some “800 wounded” (seventeen hundred had already been officially listed in Alexandria; other estimates suggested a much higher figure) and claimed he did not yet know the number of French killed in action, “but I am assured it is not very high” (although twelve hundred corpses had already been recovered). He praised Rear Admiral Villeneuve for escaping with two ships and two frigates, and also “the brave” Capt. Dupetit Thouars and Captain Casabianca, “who died calmly and courageously in the midst of the fire [that swept his ship],” but implied strong criticism of Brueys through praise of Ganteaume, who he said (quite incorrectly) had “opposed Brueys’s tactics.” Even Napoleon could not ignore the reality of the battle’s consequences, however, as he instructed the Directory “to gather all our warships at Toulon, Malta, Ancona, and Corfu in order to prepare a fresh fleet” to be dispatched at once to Egypt with supplies and thousands of reinforcements.[244] That said it all.

  In a similar attempt to put up a good front, he wrote to General Kléber two days later, assuring him that “my health has never been better. All goes very well indeed here, and the country is beginning to submit to our rule...Every month [they had been in Egypt less than two months], every day, our position improves as a result of the proper measures we are taking to feed the Army and because of the fortifications we are raising.” Then he closed: “I salute and embrace you with all my heart.”[245]

  That was in fact the last fond embrace Kléber, as governor of Alexandria, was to receive from Bonaparte. A series of acrimonious communications between the two began immediately. “The English do not permit our vessels either to enter or leave the port; commerce is stagnating, and customs therefore produce nothing whatsoever,” Kléber informed Napoleon, and therein lay the crux of the problem: money, or rather, the lack thereof. According to Bonaparte’s principles, all maintenance costs for occupying a conquered people, in this case those of Alexandria, should invariably be borne by the conquered. But with the enforced closure of that port, most income naturally dried up. And now unexpectedly Kléber was required to find barracks for several thousand additional men (seventeen hundred wounded, plus three thousand prisoners shortly to be repatriated by the English, not to mention another eighteen hundred unharmed survivors), who would otherwise have been housed, clothed, and fed by the navy (at sea). What is more, the naval personnel — including officers — now under Rear Admiral Ganteaume’s command, refused to comply with Kléber’s orders. Kléber described them as rowdy, undisciplined, and arrogant, “men accustomed to living in a state of disorder, men familiar with every sort of vice,” and he summed up the navy as “an infected cadaver.” In addition, Kléber informed Bonaparte that not only were his own army troops owed some three hundred thousand francs in back pay, but that normal monthly expenses required another two hundred thousand — all of which was nonexistent — and thus “we find ourselves at this time in a state of the most dire penury.” Yet he had to meet these financial obligations, as well as those of the navy, and the building of fortifications against the British and the repairs of the Alexandria-Rahmaniya Canal. “It would be most unjust on your part, Citizen General, if you were to take as a sign of weakness or discouragement the vehemence with which I point out our needs and situation here,” the otherwise tough but now bedridden Kléber protested. “As for myself...you can count on my full support in any situation, and my obedience to every order you give me.” Napoleon instantly took him at his word and demanded a “loan” of five hundred thousand francs from local merchants. Kléber was astonished. At this very moment his reduced circumstances were forcing him to attempt to transfer a thousand wounded sailors to General Menou in Rosetta, because of the lack of food, medicines, money, and facilities in Alexandria, only to have them refused in turn by Menou, who was in equally dire financial straits. To this addtional bad news, a daunted Kléber replied, “Only a bit of fabulous luck and our own national genius can extricate us now from this state of misery.”

  So great were the immediate medical needs of the hospitals there, not to mention the increasing demands on food and clothing for the troops and sailors and the bills from hard-put local merchants, that a desperate Kléber unilaterally seized 100,000 francs Napoleon had just sent to Ordonnateur LeRoy for ship repairs and outfitting of the navy. Writing a week later, Kléber informed him, “Citizen General, if you really cannot appreciate what I have been trying to explain to you about how very critical our situation is here, then my contravention of your orders will no doubt displease you.” What is more, he pointed out, Ganteaume’s unruly grounded sailors were now completely out of hand, ravaging Alexandria and terrifying the Egyptians, though fortunately several hundred had been reorganized into an infantry unit known as the “Nautical Legion” and seconded to the army. On top of everything, the troops still were not receiving their daily bread requirements and engineering commander Caffarelli’s new defense plans for Alexandria were wholly unsatisfactory. Kléber, who did not have a second-in-command capable of relieving him of numerous anxieties, and in constant pain from his head wound, was at his wit’s end. Finally, on September 3 he wrote to Bonaparte: “I see that my conduct does not comply with your orders. I therefore request permission to return to the command of my division.”

  All this was too much for Bonaparte, who had the whole of Egypt’s problems to contend with. In his reply to Kléber, he complained that the administration of Alexandria had cost twice as much as the rest of the army combined, which of course was utter nonsense, and implied sharply that Kléber was the most incompetent general in the French army. He ordered him to “return the [diverted] hundred thousand francs to the Navy immediately and not to contradict the dispositions I take hereafter.”[246] On receipt of this stinging rebuke, Kléber fired back: “I desire, for my own satisfaction, that you have the Army Paymaster give you the receipts and expenses of this place to study. I do not think you will be able to disapprove of a single item.” He closed with: “I must insist that you allow me to rejoin my division immediately.” Then, after receiving yet another sharp accusation of gross financial incompetence, the proud Kléber snapped: “When you wrote that letter, Citizen General, you forgot that you were holding a historical record in your hands and also that you were addressing Kléber...Accordingly, I hereby await by return co
urier, the order not only to relieve me of my functions here but also as a member of your army, until such time as you make yourself better acquainted with the real facts.” After an unrepentant reply from Bonaparte, without permission Kléber simply handed over command of Alexandria to General Manscourt, his incompetent second-in-command, followed by a request that shook Napoleon, who now knew that he had indeed gone too far. “Today the state of my health and the consequences of my wound no longer permit me to associate myself with your brilliant career and campaign here, and I am thus asking General Caffarelli to obtain permission from you for me to return to France.” Kléber’s resignation finally brought repentance and soothing words from the commander in chief of the Army of the Orient, with as close to an apology as Napoleon Bonaparte ever made to anyone: “I sincerely hope you will have a speedy recovery and that you appreciate the price I attach to your friendship. I am afraid we both got a little hot under the collar...My respect for you is at least equal to that which you on occasion have shown for me.” In closing, he said he hoped to see Kléber in Cairo in a few days. As usual, Napoleon’s language was easily open to interpretation.

  Although the differences between the two proud men were partially resolved, at least superficially, and the faithful Kléber ultimately did withdraw his resignation from the army, their personal and professional relationships were never again the same, with nothing capable of dispelling “the deep aversion they continued to have for each other,” as Bourrienne acknowledged.[247] Kléber’s hitherto unwavering trust in Napoleon Bonaparte had been shattered forever, which Napoleon was to reciprocate with a vengeance when he abandoned the country the following year, naming Kléber his successor without even informing him in advance of the appointment or of his own departure. Napoleon may have respected the very few men who dared stand up to him, but as a true Corsican he neither forgave nor forgot. As for the unrepentant Kléber, he was ultimately to pay the supreme penalty.