English Caricature and Satire on Napoleon I. Volume I (of 2)

CHAPTER XV

It is a singular thing, that, even in the very meagre accounts, of transactions in Egypt no mention of this should have got into the English newspapers; but I have searched, and can find none. But when, in 1803, this country was in fear of invasion, it was brought up, and used with great effect, in stimulating patriotism. Take, as an instance, one47 out of the thousands of broadsides which then flooded the country, and we shall find that the fact, although broadly stated, has not been exaggerated.

‘On the 7th that town was taken by assault. This affair is on all hands allowed to have been bloody in the extreme; but a tale has been brought to light, and attested by persons of undoubted credit, so bloody, so diabolical, as to outstrip everything which such an expression is calculated to describe.

‘It is asserted that three days after the capture of the town, three thousand eight hundred prisoners were marched to a rising ground, and there massacred by means of musquetry, grape shot, and the bayonet. This fact was first made known in Europe by Sir Sidney Smith, and Mr. Morier, Secretary to Lord Elgin, now a prisoner in Paris; its history has been minutely given by Colonel Sir Robert Wilson, of Hompesch’s hussars, and its truth has been attested by Dr. Wittman who accompanied the army of the Grand Vizir.’

This Dr. Wittman was the physician to the British Military Mission, which went with that army through Turkey, Syria, and Egypt, and who wrote a narrative of his travels, in which, at p. 128, he says the unfortunates were dragged ‘to the sand hills, about a league distant, in the way to Gaza, and there most inhumanly put to death. I have seen the Skeletons of those unfortunate victims, which lie scattered over the hills; a modern Golgotha, which remains a lasting disgrace to a Nation calling itself civilised.’

Sir Robert Wilson says: ‘Vollies of musquetry and grape instantly played against them; and Buonaparte, who had been regarding the scene through a telescope, when he saw the smoke ascending, could not restrain his joy, but broke out into exclamations of approval; indeed, he had just reason to dread the refusal of his troops thus to dishonour themselves. Kleber had remonstrated in the most strenuous manner, and the officer of the Etat-Major, who commanded (for the general to whom the division belonged, was absent) even refused to execute the order without a written instruction; but Buonaparte was too cautious, and sent Berthier to enforce obedience… The bones still lie in heaps, and are shown to every traveller who arrives; nor can they be confounded with those who perished in the assault, since this field of butchery lies a mile from the town.’

Combe, of course, does not forget this incident.

Napoleon now turned his attention to the siege of St. Jean d’Acre, where the garrison had the advantage of European aid, besides which, Sir Sydney Smith cruised about the fort, and Napoleon’s battering-train, which had been captured, was duly pointed at the besiegers. He was, besides, called off to help Kleber, who was in an awkward situation at Mount Thabor, and had been fighting Achmet Pasha, who had a considerably superior force, from six in the morning till one in the afternoon. Not one moment too soon did Napoleon make his appearance; but he turned the tide of battle, and the Turks were defeated with the loss of 5,000 or 6,000 men, and all their stores, &c.

Back they went to St. Jean d’Acre, and did their best at the siege; but it was not to be. Reinforcements were thrown into the town, Napoleon’s army grew smaller, provisions got scarcer, the plague was in their midst; so, sending his sick and wounded to Jaffa, he raised the siege and began to retreat on May 20.

O’Meara tells us Napoleon’s version of the causes which led to this.48 ‘“The chief cause of the failure there was that Sir Sydney Smith took all my battering-train, which was on board of several small vessels. Had it not been for that, I would have taken Acre in spite of him. He behaved very bravely, and was well seconded by Phillipeaux, a Frenchman of talent, who had studied with me as an engineer… The acquisition of five or six hundred seamen as cannoniers, was a great advantage to the Turks, whose spirits they revived, and whom they showed how to defend the fortress.

‘“But he committed a great fault in making sorties, which cost the lives of two or three hundred brave fellows, without the possibility of success. For it was impossible he could succeed against the number of the French who were before Acre. I would lay a wager, he lost half of his crew in them. He dispersed proclamations among my troops which certainly shook some of them, and I, in consequence, published an order, stating that he was mad, and forbidding all communication with him. Some days after, he sent, by means of a flag of truce, a lieutenant, or a midshipman, with a letter containing a challenge to me, to meet him at some place he pointed out, in order to fight a duel. I laughed at this, and sent him back an intimation that when he brought Marlborough to fight me I would meet him. Notwithstanding this, I like the character of the man.”’

The French reached Jaffa on May 24, and found the hospitals full of wounded and those sick of the plague. Compelled still to retreat, it was necessary to remove the sick; and, to encourage his soldiers in the task, and to show them how little was the risk, Napoleon is said to have handled several of the infected.

CHAPTER XVI

But this retreat became the subject of a dreadful accusation against Napoleon, which must have hit him hard at the time of his projected invasion in 1803 – aye, quite as hard as the massacre at Jaffa. It was nothing less than that he poisoned, with opium, 500 of his sick soldiers, before he left Jaffa. There was a solid foundation for this fearful charge, as will be shown hereafter. Combe speaks of it thus —

The truth of this has never been accurately established, but I fancy, at that time, there were very few Englishmen who did not thoroughly believe it. Sir Robert Wilson wrote: ‘Buonaparte finding that his hospitals at Jaffa were crowded with sick, sent for a physician, whose name should be inscribed in letters of gold, but which, from important reasons, cannot be here inserted; on his arrival, he entered into a long conversation with him respecting the danger of contagion, concluding at last with the remark, that something must be done to remedy the evil, and that the destruction of the sick at present in the hospital, was the only measure which could be adopted. The physician, alarmed at the proposal, bold in the confidence of virtue, and the cause of humanity, remonstrated vehemently, respecting the cruelty, as well as the atrocity, of such a murder; but, finding that Buonaparte persevered and menaced, he indignantly left the tent, with this memorable observation; “Neither my principles, nor the character of my profession, will allow me to become a murderer; and, General, if such qualities as you insinuate are necessary to form a great man, I thank my God that I do not possess them.”

‘Buonaparte was not to be diverted from his object by moral considerations; he persevered, and found an apothecary, who (dreading the weight of power, but who since has made an atonement to his mind, by unequivocally confessing the fact) consented to become his agent, and to administer poison to the sick. Opium, at night, was distributed in gratifying food, the wretched, unsuspecting, victims banqueted, and, in a few hours, five hundred and eighty soldiers, who had suffered so much for their country, perished thus miserably by the order of its idol…

‘If a doubt should still exist as to the veracity of this statement, let the Members of the Institute at Cairo be asked what passed in their sitting after the return of Buonaparte from Syria; they will relate, that the same virtuous physician, who refused to become the destroyer of those committed to his protection, accused Buonaparte of high treason, in the full assembly, against the honour of France, her children, and humanity; that he entered into the full details of the poisoning of the sick, and the massacre of the garrison, aggravating these crimes by charging Buonaparte with strangling, previously, at Rosetta, a number of French and Copts, who were ill of the plague; thus proving that this disposal of his sick was a premeditated plan, which he wished to introduce into general practice. In vain Buonaparte attempted to justify himself; the members sat petrified with terror, and almost doubted whether the scene passing before their eyes was not an illusion.’

Dr. Wittman assures his readers that whilst he was in Egypt with the army, a man was pointed out to them as having been the executioner of Napoleon’s commands to poison the sick and wounded French soldiers in the hospitals of Jaffa.

Barre says: ‘Although neither Sir Robert Wilson nor Dr. Wittman mention the name of the worthy physician who refused with horror, and of the infamous wretch, who basely consented to become the executioner of the sick soldiers, it is now well known that the former was the worthy physician Dr. Desgenettes, and the latter, one Rouyer, an infamous apothecary, who thus became the murderer of his own countrymen, in compliance with the wishes of a Corsican assassin.’

In a little periodical, called ‘Ring the Alarum Bell!’ (which only ran four numbers), published in 1803, is the following, written by a General Danican: ‘In 1801, I met at a lazaretto in Sicily, with a number of French Soldiers just come from Alexandria. With one of them I contracted habits of intimacy during my stay, and who frequently related to me some curious particulars of the conduct of Buonaparté in Egypt… Having been witness to the poisoning scene at Caiffa he related to me the following anecdote. A grenadier, who had lost two brothers, was amongst the unfortunate wretches slightly affected with the pestilential disease. From what he had previously observed in the hospital, he had become more suspicious than his companions in distress, and he had scarcely taken the Corsican physic, than he immediately discharged it, made his way out of the hospital, and escaping the guard, whom he contrived to knock down, he gained the column under the command of Kleber, at whose feet he threw himself, and, in the intercession, almost of despair, conjured him to let him mount one of the camels, describing what he had escaped from, and venting the most energetic maledictions on the Poisoner in Chief. The poor wretch, in the most piteous manner, assured General Kleber that he would keep at a distance from the army, so that no one should be in any danger of catching his disorder, except the camel. Kleber granted his request; the grenadier was saved and recovered, and was alive when the English landed under the brave Abercrombie.’

Now let us hear the Emperor’s side of the question, beginning with De Bourrienne. ‘Orders were given directly to undermine the fortifications and blow them up; and, on the 27th May, upon the signal being given, the town was in a moment laid bare. An hour afterwards, the General in Chief left his tent and repaired to the town, accompanied by Berthier, some physicians and surgeons, and his usual staff. I was also one of the party. A long and sad deliberation took place on the question, which now arose, relative to the men who were incurably ill of the plague, or were at the point of death. After a discussion of the most serious and conscientious kind, it was decided to accelerate a few moments, by a potion, a death which was inevitable, and which otherwise would be painful and cruel…

‘I cannot say that I saw the potion administered. I should state an untruth if I did. I cannot name any person concerned in the matter, without hazarding a misrepresentation. But I well know that the decision was come to after that deliberation, which was due to so important a measure; that the order was given, and that the infected are dead. What! shall that which formed the subject of the whole conversation of the head quarters, on the day after leaving Jaffa, and was spoken of without any question of its reality; which was regarded by us as a dreadful, but unavoidable, misfortune; which was never mentioned in the army but as a fact, of which there was no doubt, and only the details of which were inquired after – I appeal to every honourable man who was present, for the truth of what I state – shall that, I say, be now stigmatized as a malignant calumny, fabricated to injure the reputation of a hero, who, were this the only reproach that might be addressed to him, would go down with little blemish on his character, to posterity?’

Las Cases is specially wroth with Sir Robert Wilson, but, even he, cannot successfully whitewash his beloved emperor. His attempted vindication is too long to be reproduced in extenso, but it goes to prove how widely spread in the army was the belief that the sick were hurried to their rest at Jaffa. ‘A circumstance, which will not a little surprise those who have yet to learn how little credit is due to public report, and which will serve to show the errors that may creep into history, is that Marshall Bertrand, who was himself with the army in Egypt, (though certainly in a rank which did not enable him to come into immediate contact with the General in Chief) firmly believed, up to the period of his residence at Saint Helena, the story of poison having been administered to sixty invalids. The report was circulated, and believed, even in our army; therefore, what answer could be given to those who triumphantly asserted, “It is a fact, I assure you, I have it from officers who served in the French army at the time.” Nevertheless, the whole story is false. I have collected the following facts from the highest source, from the mouth of Napoleon himself.

‘1st. That the invalids in question who were infected with the plague, amounted, according to the report made to the General in Chief, only to seven in number.

‘2nd. That it was not the General in Chief, but a professional man, who, at the moment of the crisis, proposed the administering of opium.

‘3rd. That opium was not administered to a single individual.

‘4th. That the retreat having been effected slowly, a rear-guard was left behind in Jaffa for three days.

‘5th. That on the departure of the rear guard, the invalids were all dead, except one or two, who must have fallen into the hands of the English.’

But Las Cases, in his zeal, tries to prove too much; for, in a later passage, he says, that since his return to Paris he has had opportunities of conversing with those whose situation and profession naturally rendered them the first actors on the scene, and he finds ‘that no order was given for the administering of opium to the sick,’ and ‘That there was not at the period in question, in the medicine chest of the army, a single grain of opium for the use of the sick.’ So he admits that the emperor had the proposition made to him, by a man who must have known he had not the means to carry it out.

Is Barry O’Meara to be trusted? Let us hear what his testimony is (also professedly from the emperor’s own lips). ‘“Previously to leaving Jaffa,” continued Napoleon, “and after the greatest number of the sick and wounded had been embarked, it was reported to me that there were some men in the hospital so dangerously ill, as not to be able to be moved. I ordered, immediately, the chiefs of the medical staff to consult together upon what was best to be done, and to give me their opinion on the subject. Accordingly they met, and found there were seven or eight men so dangerously ill, that they conceived it impossible to recover, and also that they could not exist twenty-four or thirty-six hours longer; that, moreover, being afflicted with the plague, they would spread that complaint amongst all who approached them. Some of them, who were sensible, perceiving they were about to be abandoned, demanded with earnest entreaties, to be put to death. Larrey was of opinion that recovery was impossible, and that those poor fellows could not exist many hours; but as they might live long enough to be alive when the Turks entered, and experience the dreadful torments which they were accustomed to inflict upon their prisoners, he thought it would be an act of charity to comply with their desires, and accelerate their end by a few hours. Desgenettes did not approve of this, and replied, that his profession was to cure the sick, and not to despatch them.

‘“Larrey came to me immediately afterwards, informed me of the circumstances, and of what Desgenettes had said; adding, that perhaps Desgenettes was right. ‘But,’ continued Larrey, ‘those men cannot live more than a few hours, twenty-four, or thirty-six at most; and, if you will leave a rear-guard of cavalry to stay and protect them from advanced parties, it will be sufficient.’ Accordingly I ordered four or five hundred cavalry to remain behind, and not to quit the place until all were dead. They did remain, and informed me that all had expired before they had left the town; but I have heard since, that Sydney Smith found one or two alive when he entered it. This is the truth of the business…

‘“You have been amongst the Turks, and know what they are; I ask you now, to place yourself in the situation of one of those sick men, and that you were asked which you would prefer, to be left to suffer the tortures of those miscreants, or to have opium administered to you?” I replied, “Most undoubtedly I would prefer the latter.” “Certainly, so would any man,” answered Napoleon; “if my own son (and I believe I love my son as well as any father does his child) were in a similar situation with those men, I would advise it to be done; and, if so situated myself, I would insist upon it, if I had sense enough, and strength enough to demand it…

‘“If I had thought such a measure, as that of giving opium, necessary, I would have called a council of war, have stated the necessity of it, and have published it in the order of the day.” He afterwards goes on to say that if he had done so, some of his soldiers would have been sure to have shot him.’

I have gone thus at length into these occurrences at Jaffa, to show how widely spread was the belief in them, and also to prove that these scandals were not of British origin. Whatever amount of truth there may be in them, readers must judge, as I have laid both sides fairly before them. That there was foundation for them, there can be no doubt – but we know that a tale does not lose in telling.

The return to Cairo, and the battle of Aboukir, are soon dismissed by the satirist, and not chronicled by the caricaturist.

CHAPTER XVII

It is refreshing, and like going among green pastures and cool streams, to leave for a while political caricature, with its ambitions, and its carnage, and find a really funny social skit, aiming at the follies of the times, even if it be only in ridiculing extravagance in dress.

Exceedingly droll is a social caricature by Gillray (August 15, 1799), where a courtly old gentleman of the Court of Louis XVI. bows low, saying, ‘Je suis votre tres humble serviteur,’ whilst the ruffianly French ‘gentleman of the Court of Égalité’ replies with a sentence unfit for reproduction. (See next page.)

Littré, in his magnificent dictionary, gives a very terse definition of these ‘Incroyables’: ‘S. m. Nom donné aux petit maîtres sous le Directoire, parce q’uon les entendait s’ecrier propos, c’est vraiment incroyable; et, parce que leur costume était tellement exagéré qu’il dépassait la croyance commune.’ They were Napoleon’s detestation, according to Madame Junot, and she describes them with feminine minuteness. ‘They wore grey greatcoats with black collars and green cravats. Their hair, instead of being à la Titus, which was the prevailing fashion of the day, was powdered, plaited, and turned up with a comb, while on each side of the face hung two long curls, called dog’s ears (oreilles de chien). As these young men were very frequently attacked, they carried about with them large sticks, which were not always weapons of defence; for the frays which arose in Paris at that time were often provoked by them.’