Beware of Heroes

by Peter Shankland

  Sir Sidney at once detached the Theseus and sent Colonel Phélippeaux in her to Acre to do everything possible to put the town in a state of defence and to reassure Djezzar that help was on the way. He wrote to him also warning him not to risk a pitched battle, but to constantly harry the invaders. Then he sent a Turkish vessel to Zante to bring a contingent of his Albanian troops, and another to Rhodes directing the Turkish forces assembling there to meet him without delay at Acre.

  In the harbour of Alexandria Bonaparte still had eight frigates, numerous gunboats and from 250 to 300 transports, so it was reasonable to suppose that he would use some of them to support his invasion of Syria. Leaving the Lion, Captain Manly Dixon, off the Western Port of Alexandria, he looked into the Eastern Port in The Tigre, and then went on to the Rosetta Mouth of the Nile. Finding nothing of interest there, he continued towards Acre, searching for French transports. For the first 120 miles the coast was a line of open beach with breakers and sand dunes, and the sky reaching down to a luminous horizon behind them as though no more land was there. Then a dimly discerned mountain range appeared, closer and darker until it formed a rocky coastline with outlying shoals.

  They passed the Port of Jaffa, the white-walled, flat-roofed town rising above it, the Joppa of the Bible, where God told Peter in a dream that the revelation of the Gospel of Love was to be proclaimed to all men. Palm trees waved along the shore, olive gardens covered the nearer slopes, and beyond them the desolate hills, scarred with dark ravines, rose into the pale amethyst of the sky. It all looked so peaceful, it was hard to realise that Jaffa had just been taken and that men were fighting and dying among the olive trees. All along the coast between the mountains and the sea there was a fertile strip of fields and gardens with scattered villages and classic ruins. Small native craft, high-winged feluccas, scudded along the coast from one fortified harbour to the next.

  On the evening of 16th March, The Tigre rounded the bold headland of Mount Carmel (where Elijah discomfited the Prophets of Baal) and entered the Bay of Acre. The Theseus was lying off the town which they saw at a distance across the bay, its high walls blood-red in the evening sun.

  As soon as The Tigre had dropped her anchor, Captain Miller came aboard with a detailed report on the defences, which he had found in a lamentable state. There was no modern fortification of any kind; all the embrasures were empty except those facing the sea where Djezzar had had guns mounted to resist any attempt by the Sultan to dispossess him of his fortress; only two mortars protected the landward side, and there were no shells for them. Many years’ collection of the dirt of the town had been heaped up where it provided cover for an enemy approaching the main gates; none of the batteries had casemates, traverses or protection from blast, and although there were many guns, most of them were small or defective.

  In ancient times Acre had been a place of great importance. It was called Ptolemais in the days of St. Paul, and it was christened St. Jean d’Acre by the crusaders, who held it for many years as a base for their attempts to conquer Jerusalem. It was taken from them by Saladin, but retaken in 1191, mainly by the exertions of Richard Coeur de Lion. In appearance it had changed little since those days. It stood on a low promontory, the walls of golden-yellow limestone washed on two sides by the sea. Those on the other two sides met at a large square tower inland which formed the north-east corner of the town: it was known as ‘The Cursed Tower’ because it was supposed to have been paid for by Judas Iscariot’s thirty pieces of silver. There were smaller towers at regular intervals connected by curtain walls, inadequate against artillery and much dilapidated.

  Within the walls there were five or six mosques, one very large and magnificent, surrounded by vaulted galleries built from the ruins of Tyre and Caesarea. Djezzar’s palace was close to the main gates, and also his seraglio which included a large courtyard with a fountain and a garden planted with palms and fig-trees. The ancient church and hospital of the Knights of St. John had survived intact, and behind and around these larger buildings there was a maze of streets so narrow that laden camels could hardly pass each other. About 10,000 people lived in the square flat-roofed houses. A fine aqueduct with rounded arches ran from the north-east corner of the town, across the plain to the nearby hills. A small harbour, protected by a mole on the eastern side, was almost silted up. The anchorage was exposed. Rocks and shoals extended for two miles from the shore.

  At daybreak Sir Sidney sent the Theseus to patrol off Jaffa to prevent Bonaparte bringing supplies up by sea; then he went ashore and told Djezzar that if the enemy was permitted to enter the town he would bombard it and bury him and the Frenchmen in its ruins. His prestige was immediately established with the garrison because Djezzar, who had never been known to respect anyone, treated him with great respect.

  This redoubtable character, famous for his bravery and for his cruelty, was a powerfully-built man of more than sixty years old. In his seraglio he had eighteen white women and many Levantines and Ethiopians. While still a young man in Bosnia he had sold himself into slavery and made himself so useful to his master, Ali Bey the Mameluke, by quietly disposing of his enemies, that he had quickly gained preferment and earned for himself the name of Djezzar, which means the slasher, or the butcher. When sent by Ali Bey to gather taxes he had kept the money himself, hired an army and taken possession, both by fair means and by foul, of the Pashlik of Acre.

  Phélippeaux had made full use of the three days since he landed: he had drawn up a plan of what was necessary to be done, and Djezzar had willingly supplied the labour and the material he required. There was feverish activity everywhere: gangs were working at the construction of new defences, and clearing away houses and gardens that obstructed the field of fire, and bringing up ammunition, and sharpening scimitars and heaping up piles of stones to hurl at the invaders. Djezzar, with Phélippeaux at his side, was at the centre of all this activity, ordering, punishing, exhorting, rewarding — he seemed to do everything himself with no subordinate officers. He wore a burnous like a common Arab; his symbol of authority was a curved dagger ornamented with diamonds on the hilt and scabbard. He was very proud of his name, and kept on repeating, ‘Djezzar will do this, Djezzar will do that’. He admitted that his garrison, consisting of Kurds, Bosnians, Albanians, Syrians, Anatolians and Negroes, had been badly shaken by the French successes. He paid off and sent away a group of Turkish cavalry because he couldn’t trust them. He told them to attack the enemy and not return until they had performed some deeds worthy of his notice. They streamed out of the town and retreated into the mountains. The remaining garrison numbered upwards of 4,000 men — about one-third the size of Bonaparte’s army.

  To put new heart into them Sir Sidney landed marines and gunners, with ship’s guns and a good supply of ammunition which he stored in magazines that had been built along the insides of the town walls by the crusaders. He sent Lieutenant Knight and Lieutenant Hillier ashore to act as duty officers and keep watch and watch; he ordered sentries to be posted and the approaches to the walls to be illuminated by fires and lanterns to guard against any surprise attack by night.

  In the evening he took The Tigre across the bay to Mount Carmel. He went close inshore in one of the ship’s boats and distinguished in the dusk a troop of about 150 men, dressed as Arabs and riding upon asses and dromedaries, moving round the base of Mount Carmel. He went in closer until he could make out that they were speaking French: then he sent Lieutenant Bushby in the launch, which had a 32-pounder carronade mounted in the bows, to shoot them up. Lieutenant Bushby intercepted the advancing column at dawn and opened fire on them at close range, with the result that the French were scattered and driven inland. They lost their way in a stagnant marsh and had to abandon several pieces of artillery.

  At about 3 p.m. on the following day, the 18th, a French convoy appeared in misty weather off Cape Carmel. It consisted of nine gunboats escorted by the frigate Le Cheval Marin, forty-four guns. Sir Sidney made all sail after the frigate, and when he had d
riven her away from the convoy he turned and captured all the gunboats, except two that slipped away in the mist because he hadn’t enough boats to board them all at the same time. One of them, La Torride, was a French prize that Le Cheval Marin had recaptured only that morning; the rest contained Bonaparte’s heavy siege guns, platforms and ammunition for the reduction of Acre. He immediately landed the guns and had them mounted on the wall under Phélippeaux’s directions.

  Meanwhile a small tender, the Emma, leaving Egyptian waters to join the squadron that was blockading Malta, put in at Palermo and reported to Nelson that Sir Sidney Smith had given up the blockade of Alexandria and had proceeded off St. Jean d’Acre.

  Nelson passed this information on to St. Vincent who thereupon wrote to Lord Spencer as follows:

  My Lord, I have the honour to enclose extracts of letters lately received from Rear-Admiral Lord Nelson, Sir John Acton and Captain Troubridge, and copies of the orders the former has found it necessary to give to Sir Sidney Smith, who commenced his command before Alexandria by counteracting the system laid down by his Lordship, and which always appeared to me fraught with the most consummate wisdom; and it is evident, from the instructions which Buonaparte gave to Consul Beauchamp, copies of which are also enclosed, that he and his army are in the most perilous situation, every means should be used to prevent a single Frenchman from escaping the rage of the Turks. I sincerely lament that the destruction of the ships-of-war and transports in the port of Alexandria was found impracticable. Having pointed out to Lord Nelson the propriety of Sir Sidney Smith commanding when a Turkish squadron was likely to be employed, his Lordship has very judiciously withdrawn Captain Troubridge, and appointed him to command the blockade of Naples; my only apprehension is that Sir Sidney, completely enveloped in the importance of his ambassadorial character, will not attend to the practical part of his military profession...

  Bonaparte’s divisional generals for the invasion of Syria were Kléber, Reynier, Bon and Lannes, with Caffarelli commanding the artillery and the engineers, and Murat the cavalry. The invasion force numbered 12,945 picked troops, including a Dromedary Company trained to fight in the desert. There were in addition the usual camp followers, servants, camel drivers, labourers, etc., and a strong party of savants led by Professor Monge. Many siege guns had been removed from the defences of Alexandria and shipped in gunboats ready to follow the army along the coast. Everything was ready by the end of December 1798, but it was the enemy who made the first move. On 2nd January, 1799, a force sent by Djezzar occupied the desert fort of El Arish in Egyptian territory.

  Kléber was not in favour of the invasion which could not be justified in the defence of Egypt; the desert itself, he said, was their best defence. They should let their enemies cross it, if they could, giving them all the difficulties of transporting food and water, with the prospect of a hazardous retreat if they were defeated. Consequently he would have restricted the operation to the recapture of the fort which was a useful outpost to give warning of an enemy’s approach. When he read the detailed operational orders and saw how little provision had been made for the men under him, he could not restrain his anger. He said that to launch 10,000 men across the desert without assuring their supplies was a criminal enterprise. He thought that a general’s first care should be to conserve the lives of his men, and not use them up like cartridges.

  Bonaparte didn’t allow himself to be swayed by any considerations of that kind. For him the significance of the expedition was that he would be emulating the heroes of antiquity and following in their footsteps: he was taking the way of the conquerors that had been trodden before him by Alexander, Caesar and Scipio Africanus. No general even half as astute could really have believed that it was necessary to invade Syria for the defence of Egypt.

  The road to Acre, the key to Syria and the Holy Land, was 170 miles long, running first between the desert and the sea, and then between the mountains and the sea. General Reynier’s division left its base at Katia on 6th February, and the other divisions followed in succession. The soldiers started out gaily enough, looking forward to the loot and luxury of the East. They had become accustomed to good living in Cairo where there was white bread, wine, beer, vegetables, meat and coffee in abundance, and where everything in the markets was so cheap that they could enjoy life on their meagre pay. But once they were in the desert they suffered cruelly from hunger and thirst. Some ate shellfish that gave them dysentery, some drank sea water, went mad and shot themselves — it was like their first desert march from Alexandria to the Nile all over again. But at last, on 8th February, Reynier reached the frontier fishing village of El Arish, on Egyptian territory, and massacred the inhabitants. So it seems that the policy from the beginning was to terrify everyone into submission.

  The fort, which Djezzar had occupied, was a more difficult proposition, it was a square building with walls thirty feet high and towers at the corners. Djezzar’s troops, numbering about 1,800 men, were encamped nearby; these were easily disposed of. The French had learned that it was not the custom of the Turks to fight in the darkness, or to post sentries, so they approached the camp stealthily after midnight on 14th-15th February and prodded hundreds of them to death with their bayonets while they slept: when the alarm was given the remainder saved themselves by precipitate flight. ‘One of the most beautiful military operations conceivable,’ Bonaparte called it.

  He arrived on the scene on the 17th. The garrison, though without artillery, resisted very bravely until the 20th when terms of capitulation were agreed: they were to be allowed to retain their arms, but not their horses, and to march across the desert to Bagdad. They took an oath not to serve in Djezzar’s forces for a year. When they had given up the fort the terms were not observed. The Egyptians in the garrison were disarmed and sent to Cairo under escort, together with some captured standards, to demonstrate to the citizens that the victorious campaign had begun. The captured standards were displayed on the minarets of the El Azhar. The Mograbins, North-West Africans, in the garrison were constrained to take service with the French, and were formed into two companies. The remainder were brought along as captives in the wake of the conqueror’s army.

  In spite of the supplies found in their enemies’ camp and in the fort at El Arish, the French were still on short rations; and they began to suffer on the next stage of the journey from the cold nights and the torrential rains that turned the desert into a sea of mud; their light uniforms, designed for the heat of Cairo, gave them little protection. On the 24th they passed Khan-Jounes, the first village in Syria, and entered Gaza unopposed. Here at last they found abundant supplies of food and ammunition. Bonaparte established his headquarters in the town while the army occupied Mount Hebron and rested four days.

  On 3rd March they saw Jaffa on a conical hill surrounded by almond trees and orange groves laden with ripe fruit, and the air was filled with the fragrance of a million blossoms. Halfway up the hill there was a strong wall flanked with towers. This ancient town, supposed to have existed before the Flood, had resisted Alexander’s Macedonians for four months: Bonaparte took it by assault in four days; but his success was tarnished by the most frightful sack of the town and massacre of the inhabitants, men, women and children, irrespective of race or creed, by the blood-intoxicated soldiers. It was as if they were trying to drown the memory of their own terrors during the assault in the even more violent emotions of torture and murder. ‘Anyone with a human face fell a victim to their fury,’ a horrified eye-witness wrote; it was worthy of the terrible sack of Thebes by Alexander.

  On the following day Bonaparte sent two officers of his personal staff to restore order, Captain Crozier and Eugène de Beauharnais, the son of Josephine. They found that several thousand of the enemy were still defending themselves in a walled caravanserai. Seeing the two officers approach, a spokesman for the Turks said they would surrender on condition that their lives were spared; otherwise they would die fighting with their arms in their hands. Crozier gave the
necessary undertaking. The Turks came out and gave up their arms. They were marched to the French camp in a hollow square of French troops. Three days later they were taken in batches to the dunes and to the beach, which was of dazzling white seashells, and here nearly all of them were shot or bayoneted to death on Bonaparte’s orders. The El Arish prisoners were massacred with them.

  Letters written at this time by the French soldiers show that many of them were appalled by what they had seen, and by what they had done. Paymaster André Peyrusse wrote:

  That in a town taken by assault the infuriated soldier pillages, burns and kills everything he meets, is according to the laws of war; and humanity throws a veil over all these horrors. But that two or three days after an assault, when all passions have calmed down, they had the cold barbarity to have 3,000 men stabbed to death who had given themselves up trusting to our good faith! Posterity will no doubt pass judgement on this atrocity, and those who gave the order will have their place among the butchers of mankind...they had no hope of saving themselves except by throwing themselves into the sea; they didn’t hesitate, but threw themselves in and began swimming. They could be shot at leisure, and in an instant the sea was the colour of blood and covered with corpses. Some had the good fortune to climb out on to the rocks; soldiers were sent out in boats to finish them off. Some soldiers were left on the beach, and they perfidiously beckoned a few in, and then shot them also without pity. That execution finished, we wished to persuade ourselves that it would never be repeated, and that all the other prisoners would be spared...but we were soon disillusioned when next day 1,200 Turkish gunners, who for two days had lain without food before the tent of the General in Command, were taken to suffer death. The soldiers had been carefully instructed that powder was not to be wasted, and they had the ferocity to stab them to death with bayonet thrusts; among the victims were found many children who in dying had clung to their father’s bodies. This example will teach our enemies that they cannot count upon French good faith; and, sooner or later, the blood of these 3,000 victims will be upon us.