Who has not had his ears deafened by royalist diatribes concerning the murder of the Duke d’Enghien? And how silent are the same royalist authors concerning the murder of the Prince Carraccioli!
The closer the facts of history are studied and compared, the less certain the reader will be that Napoleon Bonaparte was a whit worse in any respect than the average public man of his time.
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From the newspapers which Napoleon read at Alexandria during the night of July 25, 1799, he first learned the full extent of the disasters which had befallen France in his absence.
“Great heavens, the fools have lost Italy! I must return to France!”
In the East his work was done. He had crushed organized resistance. From the cataracts to the sea all was quietude. True, he had not conquered Syria, but he had broken Djezzar’s strength, and destroyed the relieving army of Turks. What remained? What more had he to do in Egypt? Was he, when France was in such dire distress, to stay at Cairo running the newspaper, making pencils, supervising canals and schools, and dawdling along the Nile as local governor?
In France itself there was no division of sentiment on the subject. All felt that the best soldier of the Republic was needed at home. “Where is Bonaparte?” was the cry throughout the country. The need for him was felt in Italy as well as France, on the Rhine as on the Seine.
Even the Directory realized the necessity for the presence of the one Frenchman who could restore courage, inspire confidence, assure victory. They despatched a special messenger to call him home (September, 1799). This courier did not reach Egypt, and the order of recall was revoked; but the fact that it was issued, proves that Napoleon, in returning to France, obeyed an impulse which even his enemies shared.
Hastily and secretly making the necessary arrangements, and taking with him a chosen few of his soldiers and his savants, Napoleon embarked in four small vessels, August 23, 1799, and next morning made sail for France.
In the army left behind there was a wail of despair, a burst of wrath. Napoleon’s name was cursed,—the traitor, the deserter, the coward! This was very natural, and very unjust. Kléber himself, to whom Napoleon had delegated the chief command, was as indignant as the rest. In bitter, unmeasured terms he denounced Bonaparte in letters to the Directory—despatches which, when opened, were opened by Bonaparte, First Consul. Kléber had grossly exaggerated the difficulties of his situation, and soon gave proof of that fact. He was in no real danger. When other armies were thrown against him, he gloriously defeated them, and held his ground.