wherein we see that bonaparte's presentiments did not deceive him
the french arrived at jaffa on the 24th. they stayed there the 25th, 26th, 27th and 28th. jaffa was indeed a city of misfortune for bonaparte.
the reader will remember the four thousand prisoners whom croisier and eugene de beauharnais had taken, who could neither be fed, nor sent to cairo, and who had to be, and were, shot.
a graver and still more lamentable necessity awaited bonaparte on his return. there was a hospital at jaffa for plague-stricken patients. there is a fine picture by gros, at the musée, which portrays bonaparte in the act of touching the plague stricken at jaffa. the picture is[pg 658] none the less beautiful because it represents an occurrence which did not take place.
here is what m. thiers says. we who are only petty novelists are sorry to find ourselves again in opposition to that giant among historians. it is the author of "the revolution," of "the consulate and the empire" who is speaking.
when he reached jaffa, bonaparte blew up the fortifications. there was a hospital there for plague-stricken patients. it would have been impossible to carry them away. they would have been exposed to inevitable death had they been left where they were, either from sickness, hunger or the cruelty of the enemy. therefore bonaparte told dr. desgenettes that it would be much more humane to give them opium than to allow them to live; to which the doctor made the much-lauded reply: "my trade is to cure, not to kill." the opium was not administered, and this occurrence served to propagate an outrageous slander which has now been refuted.
i humbly beg m. thiers's pardon, but this reply credited to desgenettes, whom i knew as well as i did larrey and all of the "egyptians"—i mean my father's companions in the great expedition—is as apocryphal as that of cambronne.
god forbid that i should slander (that is the word which m. thiers used) the man who illuminated the first half of the nineteenth century with the torch of his glory; and when we come to pichegru and the duc d'enghien, the reader will see whether i simply repeat infamous echoes.
we have said that gros's picture represents something which did not happen, and we will prove it. here is davoust's report, written under the eyes and the orders of the commander-in-chief, in his official narrative:
the army reached jaffa on the 5th prairial (may 24). it remained there the 6th, 7th, and 8th (25th, 26th, 27th of may). the time was spent in disciplining the villages which had behaved badly. the fortifications of jaffa were all blown up. all the artillery of the place was thrown into the sea. the wounded were sent away, both by land and sea. there were only a few ships, and in order to give time[pg 659] for the land evacuation we were obliged to defer the departure of the army until the 9th.
kléber's division formed the rear-guard, and did not start from jaffa until the 10th (29th of may).
you see not a word about the plague, not a word about the visit to the hospital, and, above all, nothing about the touching of the plague-stricken patients. not a word in any of the official reports.
bonaparte's eyes had been bent upon france ever since he had turned them from the east, and it would have been very much misplaced modesty on his part had he concealed such a remarkable fact, which would have done honor, not to his reason perhaps, but to his daring.
furthermore, this is how bourrienne, who was an eye-witness, and a very impressionable actor, relates the incident:
bonaparte went to the hospital. he found men there with their limbs amputated, wounded soldiers, afflicted with ophthalmia, who were moaning piteously, and men sick with the plague. the beds occupied by the latter stood to the right of the entrance. i was walking beside the general. i affirm that i did not see him touch one of the plague patients. why should he? they were in the last stages of the malady; none of them spoke. bonaparte knew well that he was not immune from the malady. would fortune interfere in his behalf to shield him. it had certainly not seconded his plans with sufficient ardor during the last two months for him to depend upon that.
i ask: would he expose himself to certain death, and leave his army in the midst of a desert which we had just made by our own ravages, in a demolished town, without help, or the hope of receiving any—he so necessary, so indispensable, as everybody must admit, to his army; he upon whom rested the responsibility of all the lives of those who had survived the last disaster, and who had just given proof of such devotion by their unalterable courage, their sufferings, and the endurance of privations; who were doing all that he could humanly ask of them, and who had confidence in him.
that is the voice of logic; but here is something convincing.
[pg 660]
bonaparte walked rapidly through the rooms, lightly flicking the yellow tops of his boots with the riding-whip which he held in his hand.
he spoke as follows as he strode back and forth:
"the fortifications are destroyed. fortune was against me at saint-jean-d'acre. i must go back to egypt to preserve it against the enemies who are coming. in a few hours the turks will be here. let all those who are strong enough to rise, get up and come with us; they will be carried on litters and horses."
there were at the most sixty down with the plague. anything that may have been said about a greater number is mere exaggeration. their absolute silence, their complete prostration, and their general weakness announced the near approach of death. to take them in that state meant infallibly to introduce the plague in the army.
if one longs for ceaseless conquests, glory, and brilliant deeds one must accept his share of ill-fortune. when we think we have found something to cavil at in the actions of a leader who is hurried along by reverses and disastrous circumstances to terrible extremities, it is essential, before passing judgment upon him, to post ourselves thoroughly as to the given condition of affairs, and ask ourselves with our hands on our hearts whether we would not have done as he did. then we must pity the man who is forced to do something cruel, but we must absolve him, since victory—let us be frank about it—cannot be won except with such or similar horrible accompaniments.
here again is some one who has every interest in telling the truth. listen:
he ordered an examination to be made in order to determine what had best be done. the report stated that seven or eight were so dangerously ill that they could not live more than twenty-four hours longer, and that, furthermore, plague-stricken as they were, they would spread the disease among all the soldiers who came in contact with them. several asked for instant death. he thought that it would be an act of charity to advance their death by a few hours.
do you still doubt? napoleon shall speak for himself in the first person.
where is the man who would not have preferred a speedy death to the horror of living exposed to the tortures of these[pg 661] barbarians? if my son—and i think i love him as dearly as a child can be loved—were in a situation similar to that of those unfortunates, my opinion would be in favor of doing the same thing to him; and were i in the same position i should demand that it be done to me.
it seems that nothing could be clearer than those few lines. how does it happen that m. thiers did not read them? and if he did read them, why did he deny a fact which was confessed by the man who would have the most interest in concealing it?
thus we establish the truth, not for the purpose of attacking bonaparte, who could not have acted otherwise, but to prove to the partisans of pure history that it is not always true history.
the little army followed the same route in returning from cairo that it had on coming to syria. but the heat grew more terrible each day. when they left gaza it registered 35 degrees centigrade, and if the mercury was placed in the sand it rose to 45 degrees. bonaparte noticed two men filling a grave a short time before they reached el-arich. he thought he recognized in them the two men to whom he had spoken a fortnight before. and when he questioned them they said that they were indeed the men who had carried croisier's litter. the poor fellow had just died of tetanus.
"did you bury his sabre with him?" asked bonaparte.
"yes," replied both men together.
he stayed until the grave was filled up. then fearing that it might be violated, he said: "i want a volunteer to stay here as a sentinel until the army has passed."
"here," said a voice.
bonaparte turned and saw quartermaster falou seated upon his dromedary. "ah, is it you?"
"yes, citizen-general."
"how does it happen that you have a dromedary when the rest are on foot?"
"because two men have died of the plague on my dromedary's back, and no one will ride it."
[pg 662]
"and it seems that you are not afraid of the plague?"
"i am not afraid of anything, citizen-general."
"very well. i will remember that. look up your friend faraud and both of you come to me at cairo."
"we will be there, citizen-general."
bonaparte glanced at croisier's grave.
"sleep in peace, poor croisier," he said, "your modest grave will not often be disturbed."
