CHAPTER XIII
THE SIEGE OF CAIRO
It was the middle of June, 1799, before Bonaparte got back to Cairo from Syria. His prolonged siege of Acre had been an utter failure, and save for a little worthless loot the whole expedition had been but a sample of that which his whole life was to be—a selfish, reckless waste of human life, useless, unprofitable, and, in spite of the servile adulation it has had, entirely contemptible. That this man was personally brave, skilful in war, a clever general—in short, that he was a man of many abilities that, rightly exercised, would have entitled him to respect and admiration—is perfectly true, but it is not more true of him than of many that the world has rightly and properly agreed to class as criminals. Seeking nothing but his own gain, in this futile expedition he had sacrificed thousands of lives, wrecked hundreds of innocent homes. More than a third of his army had perished, including twelve hundred of his sick and wounded abandoned to the vengeance of the enemy for his own ruthless slaughter of his prisoners. Such is the great hero of modern civilisation!
But defeated and discomfited as he was, he entered Cairo in triumph with banners flying, drums beating, and all the rest of the idle fanfaronade and pompous puerilities associated with triumphal entries. Five long hours the grand procession occupied in passing through the city gates, and thenceforth for three days and nights his coming was celebrated with loud rejoicings and feastings, and the Egyptians looked on and even took such part in the hollow mockery as they were commanded to do, but they were in no way deceived; the gaunt skeleton of defeat and failure was clothed but not concealed by the gaudy glare of lying pretence.
So the "Great" Bonaparte paid honour to himself, heedless of the droning of the surges on St. Helena's distant shore.
A month later the long-expected Turkish army arrived by sea, and, landing at Abou Kir on the 14th of July, was besieged by the French under Bonaparte himself on the 25th. Although aided by Sir Sidney Smith, who was in command of a fleet that had already assisted in the defence of Acre, the Turks, defeated by starvation, had to yield on the 2nd of August.
The news of the arrival of the Turks had been received in Cairo with unbounded joy, though none but a few of the hot-headed lower classes had given any open expression to their feelings, but when Bonaparte returned to the city with a long file of Turkish prisoners the despondency of the people was overwhelming; yet, though it was felt by all to be a rebinding of the chains of their bondage, they gave no sign, and the life of the town went on in the listless way that was becoming habitual to it. It was the easier for the people to bear this reverse that they by no means looked upon it as in any way a final one. The defeat of the Turks was but the defeat of a small force taken at great disadvantage, and one which they did not doubt was but the advance guard of an army against which the French could make no stand. Meanwhile, the period of the inundation having arrived, the rising of the Nile was celebrated by order, as it had been the year before, but this time with an abandon on the part of the Christians that gravely shocked Gabarty, who tells us that the eve of the fête was spent by them in boats on the river, or in the open along its banks, with feasting and drinking and women and music. "On this occasion," he writes, "they forgot their self-respect and cast modesty aside for indecency, raillery, impudence, and impiety. The pen refuses to paint the scandals of the night. Licence was carried to its extreme, and the dregs of the people, following the example set them, the debauchery and effrontery were without limit." All night the Bacchanalian festival was continued, the outrageous orgie ceasing only with the utter exhaustion of the degraded devotees of pleasure.
Some four days later Bonaparte gave a fresh proof of his greatness by deserting the army that had served him so faithfully, and, abandoning his dream of founding an Eastern Empire, hastened back to Europe to pursue with unabated enthusiasm his own selfish ambitions. His departure, like his coming and all his stay, was accompanied by the silly rigmarole of braggart falsehoods he was never tired of issuing, and which deceived no one but himself. He was going, so he said, to open communications with France, and was to return in three months to exterminate "the enemies of order."