Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

But to return to the voyage. Franklin was to embark on board his ship at Chester, a port situated down the river from Philadelphia, on the confines of the State of Delaware. A cavalcade of three hundred people from Philadelphia accompanied him to Chester, and a great company assembled upon the wharf, when the vessel was about to sail, to take leave of their distinguished countryman and wish him a prosperous voyage. The crowd thus assembled saluted Franklin with acclamations and cheers, as the boat which was to convey him to the vessel slowly moved away from the shore. The day of his sailing was the 7th of November, 1764, about two years after his return from his former visit.

The voyage across the Atlantic was a prosperous one, notwithstanding that it was so late in the season. Franklin wrote a letter home to give his wife and daughter an account of his voyage, before he left the vessel. On landing he proceeded to London, and went directly to his old landlady’s, at Mrs. Stevenson’s, in Craven-street, Strand. When the news of his safe arrival reached Philadelphia, the people of the city celebrated the event by ringing the bells, and other modes of public rejoicing. The hostility which had been manifested toward him had operated to make him a greater favorite than ever.

Franklin now began to turn his attention toward the business of his agency. He had not been long in England, however, before difficulties grew up between the colonies and the mother country, which proved to be of a far more serious character than those which had been discussed at Philadelphia. Parliament claimed the right to tax the colonies. The colonies maintained that their own legislatures alone had this right, and a long and obstinate dispute ensued. The English government devised all sorts of expedients to assess the taxes in such a way that the Americans should be compelled to pay them; and the Americans on their part met these attempts by equally ingenious and far more effectual contrivances for evading the payment. For a time the Americans refused to use any British commodities, in order that the people of England might see that by the persisting of the government in their determination to tax the colonies, they would lose a very valuable trade. Franklin joined in this effort, insomuch that for a long time he would not make purchases in England of any articles to send home to his family. At length the difficulty was in some measure compromised. One of the most obnoxious of the acts of Parliament for taxing America was repealed, and then for the first time Franklin purchased and sent home to his wife and daughter quite a trunk full of dresses—silks, satins, and brocade—with gloves, and bottles of lavender water, and other such niceties to fill the corners. He told her, in the letter which he sent with this trunk, that, as the Stamp Act was repealed, he was now willing that she should have a new gown.

In fact the great philosopher’s attention was attracted at this time in some degree to the effect of dress upon his own personal appearance, for on making a visit to Paris, which he did toward the close of 1767, he says that the French tailor and perruquier so transformed him as to make him appear twenty years younger than he really was.

Franklin received a great deal of attention while he was in Paris, and he seems to have enjoyed his visit there very highly. The most distinguished men in the walks of literature and science sought his society, for they all knew well his reputation as a philosopher; and many of them had read his writings and had repeated the experiments which he had made, and which had awakened so deep an interest throughout the whole learned world. Franklin received too, many marks of distinction and honor from the public men of France—especially from those who were connected with the government. It was supposed that they had been watching the progress of the disputes between England and her colonies, and secretly hoping that these disputes might end in an open rupture; for such a rupture they thought would end in weakening the power of their ancient rival. Sympathizing thus with the party in this contest which Franklin represented, they naturally felt a special interest in him. Franklin was presented at court, and received into the most distinguished society in the metropolis.

After a time he returned again to England, but he found when he arrived there that the state of things between the English government and the American colonies was growing worse instead of better. Parliament insisted on its right “to bind the colonies,” as their resolve expressed it, “in all cases whatsoever.” The Americans, on the other hand, were more and more determined to resist such a claim. Parliament adopted measures more and more stringent every day, to compel the colonies to submit. They passed coercive laws; they devised ingenious modes of levying taxes; they sent out troops, and in every possible way strengthened the military position of the government in America. The colonists, on the other hand, began to evince the most determined spirit of hostility to the measures of the mother country. They held great public assemblages; they passed violent resolves; they began to form extensive and formidable combinations for resisting or evading the laws. Thus every thing portended an approaching conflict.

Franklin exerted all his power and influence for a long time in attempting to heal the breach. He wrote pamphlets and articles in the newspapers in England defending, though in a tone of great candor and moderation, the rights of America, and urging the ministry and people of England not to persist in their attempts at coercion. At the same time he wrote letters to America, endeavoring to diminish the violence of the agitation there, in hopes that by keeping back the tide of excitement and passion which was so rapidly rising, some mode of adjustment might be found to terminate the difficulty. All these efforts were, however, in vain. The quarrel grew wider and more hopeless every day.

About this time the administration of the colonial affairs for the English government was committed to a new officer, Lord Hillsborough, who was now made Secretary of State for America; and immediately new negotiations were entered into, and new schemes formed, for settling the dispute. Two or three years thus passed away, but nothing was done. At length Lord Hillsborough seems to have conceived the idea of winning over Franklin’s influence to the side of the English government by compliments and flattering attentions. He met him one morning in Dublin, at the house of the Lord-lieutenant of Ireland, where he paid him special civilities, and invited him in the most cordial manner to visit him at his country mansion at Hillsborough, in the north of England. Franklin was then contemplating a journey northward, and in the course of this journey he stopped at Hillsborough. He and his party were received with the greatest attention by his lordship, and detained four days, during which time Franklin was loaded with civilities.

If these attentions were really designed to make Franklin more manageable, as the representative of the colonies in the contest that was going on, they wholly failed of their object; for in the negotiations which followed, Franklin continued as firm and intractable as ever. In fact, not long after this, he came directly into conflict with Lord Hillsborough before the Board of Trade, when a certain measure relating to the colony—one which Lord Hillsborough strongly opposed, and Franklin as strenuously advocated—was in debate. At last after a long contest Franklin gained the day; and this result so changed his lordship’s sentiments toward Franklin that for some time he treated him with marked rudeness. At one time Franklin called to pay his respects to Lord Hillsborough on a day when his lordship was holding a levee, and when there were a number of carriages at the door. Franklin’s coachman drove up, alighted, and was opening the carriage for Franklin to dismount, when the porter came out, and in the most supercilious and surly manner rebuked the coachman for opening the door of the carriage before he had inquired whether his lordship was at home; and then turning to Franklin he said, “My lord is _not_ at home.”

Lord Hillsborough, however, recovered from his resentment after this, in the course of a year; and at length on one occasion his lordship called upon Franklin in his room, and accosted him in a very cordial and friendly manner, as if no difficulty between them had ever occurred.

In the mean time the determination in America to resist the principle of the supremacy of Parliament over the colonies, became more and more extended. A disposition was manifested by the several colonies to combine their efforts for this end, and one after another of them sent out commissions to Franklin to act as their agent, as well as agent for Pennsylvania. Things went on in this way until a certain tragical affair occurred in Boston, known generally in American accounts of these events as the Boston massacre, which greatly increased the popular excitement among the people of the colonies.

This massacre, as it was called, was the shooting of some persons in a crowd in State-street in Boston, by the British soldiers. It originated thus: A company of boys one day undertook to burn effigies of certain merchants who persisted in importing British goods and secretly selling them, thus taking sides as it were against their countrymen in the contest that was going on. While doing this a man whom they considered a spy and informer came by; and the boys, in some way or other, became involved in a quarrel with him. The man retreated to his house; the boys followed him and threw snow-balls and pieces of ice at the house when he had gone in. The man brought a gun to the window and shot one of the boys dead on the spot.

This of course produced a very intense excitement throughout the city. The soldiers naturally took part with those supposed to favor British interests; this exasperated the populace against them, and finally, after various collisions, a case occurred in which the British officer deemed it his duty to order the troops to fire upon a crowd of people that were assembled to taunt and threaten them, and pelt them with ice and snow. They had been led to assemble thus, through some quarrel that had sprung up between a sentinel and one of the young men of the town. In the firing three men were killed outright, and two more were mortally wounded. The killing of these men was called a massacre, and the tidings of it produced a universal and uncontrollable excitement throughout the provinces.

In proportion, however, as the spirit of resistance to British rule manifested itself in America, the determination became more and more firm and decided on the part of the British government not to yield. It is a point of honor with all governments, and especially with monarchical governments, not to give way in the slightest degree to what they call rebellion. There were, however, a few among the British statesmen who foresaw the impossibility of subduing the spirit which was manifesting itself in America, by any force which could be brought to bear upon so distant and determined a population. Lord Chatham was one of these; and he actually brought forward in Parliament, in 1775, just before the revolution broke out, a bill for withdrawing the troops from Boston as the first step toward a conciliatory course of measures. Franklin was present in Parliament, by Chatham’s particular request, at the time when this motion was brought forward. In the speech which Lord Chatham made on this occasion, he alluded to Franklin, and spoke of him in the highest terms. The motion was advocated too, by Lord Camden, another of the British peers, who made an able speech in favor of it. On the other hand it was most violently opposed by other speakers, and Franklin himself was assailed by one of them in very severe terms. When the vote came to be taken, it was lost by a large majority; and thus all hope of any thing like a reconciliation disappeared.

A great variety of ingenious devices were resorted to from time to time to propitiate Franklin, and to secure his influence in America, in favor of some mode of settling the difficulty, which would involve submission on the part of the colonies. He was for example quite celebrated for his skill in playing chess, and at one time he was informed that a certain lady of high rank desired to play chess with him, thinking that she could beat him. He of course acceded to this request and played several games with her. The lady was a sister of Lord Howe, a nobleman who subsequently took a very active and important part in the events of the revolution. It turned out in the end that this plan of playing chess was only a manœuvre to open the way for Franklin’s visiting at Mrs. Howe’s house, in order that Lord Howe himself might there have the opportunity of conferring with him on American affairs without attracting attention. Various conferences were accordingly held between Franklin and Lord Howe, at this lady’s house, and many other similar negotiations were carried on with various other prominent men about this time, but they led to nothing satisfactory. In fact, the object of them all was to bring over Franklin to the British side of the question, and to induce him to exert his almost unlimited influence with the colonies to bring them over. But nothing of this sort could be done.

Ten years had now passed away since Franklin went to England, and it began to appear very obvious that the difficulties in which his mission had originated, could not be settled, but would soon lead to an open rupture between the colonies and the mother country. Franklin of course concluded that for him to remain any longer in England would be of no avail. He had hitherto exerted all his power to promote a settlement of the dispute, and had endeavored to calm the excitement of the people at home, and restrain them from the adoption of any rash or hasty measures. He now, however, gave up all hope of a peaceable settlement of the question, and returned to America prepared to do what lay in his power to aid his countrymen in the approaching struggle.

It was in May, 1775, that Franklin arrived in Philadelphia, just about the time that open hostilities were commenced between the colonies and the mother country. Though he was now quite advanced in age, being about seventy years old, he found himself called to the discharge of the most responsible and arduous duties. A Continental Congress had been summoned—to consist of delegates from all the colonies. Franklin was elected, on the next day after his arrival, as a member of this body, and he entered at once upon the discharge of the duties which his position brought upon him, and prosecuted them in the most efficient manner. In all the measures which were adopted by Congress for organizing and arming the country, he took a very prominent and conspicuous part. In fact so high was the estimation in which he was held, on account of his wisdom and experience, and the far-reaching sagacity which characterized all his doings, that men were not willing to allow any important business to be transacted without his concurrence; and at length, notwithstanding his advanced age, for he was now, as has been said, about seventy years old, they proposed to send him as a commissioner into Canada.

The province of Canada had not hitherto evinced a disposition to take part with the other colonies in the contest which had been coming on, and now Congress, thinking it desirable to secure the co-operation of that colony if possible, decided on sending a commission there to confer with the people, and endeavor to induce them to join the general confederation. Franklin was appointed at the head of this commission. He readily consented to accept the appointment, though for a man of his years the journey, long as it was, and leading through such a wilderness as then intervened, was a very formidable undertaking. So few were the facilities for traveling in those days that it required five or six weeks to make the journey. The commissioners left Philadelphia on the 20th of March, and did not reach Montreal until near the end of April. In fact after commencing the journey, and finding how fatiguing and how protracted it was likely to be, Franklin felt some doubt whether he should ever live to return; and when he reached Saratoga he wrote to a friend, saying that he began to apprehend that he had undertaken a fatigue which at his time of life might prove too much for him; and so he had taken paper, he said, to write to a few friends by way of farewell.

He did, however, safely return, after a time, though unfortunately the mission proved unsuccessful. The Canadians were not disposed to join the confederation.

At length early in the spring of 1776 the leading statesmen of America came to the conclusion that the end of the contest in which they were engaged must be the absolute and final separation of the colonies from the mother country, and the establishment of an independent government for America. When this was resolved upon, a committee of five members of Congress, namely Jefferson, Adams, Franklin, Sherman, and Livingston, were appointed a committee to prepare a declaration of independence. The original resolution, on the basis of which the appointment of this committee was made, was as follows:

“Resolved, That these united colonies are and of right ought to be free and independent states, and that all political connection between them and Great Britain is, and of right ought to be totally dissolved.”

This resolution was first proposed and debated on the 8th of June. Some of the provinces were however found to be not quite prepared for such a measure, and so the debate was adjourned. The vote was finally taken on the 1st of July, and carried by a majority of nine out of thirteen colonies. Pennsylvania and South Carolina were against it; Delaware was divided; and New York did not vote, on account of some informality in the instructions of her delegates.

In the mean time the committee had proceeded to the work of drawing up the declaration of independence. Jefferson was appointed to write the document, and he, when he had prepared his draft, read it in committee meeting for the consideration of the other members. The committee approved the draft substantially as Jefferson had written it, and it was accordingly reported to Congress and was adopted by the vote of all the colonies.

For by the time that the final and decisive vote was to be taken, the delegates from all the colonies had received fresh instructions from their constituents, or fresh intelligence in respect to the state of public sentiment in the communities which they represented, so that at last the concurrence of the colonies was unanimous in the act of separation; and all the members present on the 4th of July, the day on which the declaration was passed, excepting one, signed the paper; thus making themselves individually and personally responsible for it, under the awful pains and penalties of treason.

In connection with these discussions in relations to the declaration of independence, a curious instance is preserved of the tone of good humor and pleasantry which always marked the intercourse which Franklin held with others, even in cases where interests of the most momentous importance were concerned. When Jefferson had read his draft in the presence of the committee, the several members had various suggestions to make, and amendments to propose, as is usual in such cases; while the author, as is also equally usual, was very sensitive to these criticisms, and was unwilling to consent to any changing of his work. At length Jefferson appearing to be quite annoyed by the changes proposed, Franklin consoled him by saying that his case was not quite so bad, after all, as that of John Thompson, the hatter. “He wrote a sign,” said Franklin, “to be put up over his door, which read thus, ‘_John Thompson makes and sells hats for ready money_.’ On showing his work to his friends they one and all began to amend it. The first proposed to strike out ‘for ready money,’ since it was obvious, he said, that if a hatter sold hats at all he would be glad to sell them for ready money. Another thought the words ‘makes and sells hats,’ superfluous—that idea being conveyed in the word ‘hatter;’ and finally a third proposed to expunge the ‘hatter,’ and put the figure of a hat after the name, instead, which he said would be equally well understood, and be more striking. Thus the composition was reduced from ‘John Thompson, hatter, makes and sells hats for ready money,’ to simply ‘John Thompson,’ with the figure of a hat subjoined.” The whole story was perhaps fabricated by Franklin on the spot, for the occasion. It answered its purpose, however, perfectly. Jefferson laughed, and his good-humor was restored.

In the mean time during the summer of 1776 the hostile operations which had been commenced between the new government and the parent state were prosecuted on both sides with great vigor. Great Britain however did not yet give up all hope of persuading the revolted provinces to return. The English government sent out Lord Howe with instructions to communicate with the leading men in America and endeavor to effect some accommodation of the difficulty. When Lord Howe arrived in this country he attempted to open communications with the Americans through Franklin, but insuperable difficulties were encountered at the outset. Lord Howe could only treat with the American authorities as private persons in a state of rebellion, and the offers he made were offers of _pardon_. The American government indignantly rejected all such propositions. In a letter which he wrote in reply to Lord Howe Franklin says, “Directing pardons to be offered to the colonies, who are the very parties injured, expresses indeed that opinion of our ignorance, baseness, and insensibility, which your uninformed and proud nation has long been pleased to entertain of us: but it can have no other effect than that of increasing our resentment.” Of course all hope of an accommodation was soon abandoned, and both parties began to give their whole attention to the means for a vigorous prosecution of the war.

The American government soon turned their thoughts to the subject of forming some foreign alliance to help them in the impending struggle; and they presently proposed to send Franklin to France to attempt to open a negotiation for this purpose with the government of that country. Franklin was now very far advanced in life and his age and infirmities would naturally have prompted him to desire repose—but he did not decline the duty to which he was thus called; and all aged men should learn from his example that they are not to consider the work of life as ended, so long as any available health and strength remain.

Franklin arrived in Paris in the middle of winter in 1776. He traveled on this expedition wholly as a private person, his appointment as commissioner to the court of France having been kept a profound secret, for obvious reasons. He however, immediately entered into private negotiations with the French ministry, and though he found the French government disposed to afford the Americans such indirect aid as could be secretly rendered, they were not yet willing to form any alliance with them, or to take any open ground in their favor. While this state of things continued, Franklin, of course, and his brother commissioners could not be admitted to the French court; but though they were all the time in secret communication with the government, they assumed the position at Paris of private gentlemen residing at the great capital for their pleasure.

Notwithstanding his being thus apparently in private life, Franklin was a very conspicuous object of public attention at Paris. His name and fame had been so long before the world, and his character and manners were invested with so singular a charm, that he was universally known and admired; all ranks and classes of people were full of enthusiasm for the venerable American philosopher. Pictures, busts, and medallions of the illustrious Franklin were met on every hand. He was received into the very highest society, being welcomed by all circles with the greatest cordiality and interest.

At length, after the lapse of about a year, the progress of the Americans in making good their defense against the armies of the mother country was so decided, that it began to appear very probable that the independence of the country would be maintained, and the French government deemed that it would be safe for them to enter into treaties of commerce and friendship with the new state. This was accordingly done in February, 1778, though it necessarily involved the consequence of a war with England.

When these treaties were at length signed, Franklin and the two other commissioners were formally presented at court, where they were received by the French monarch as the acknowledged representatives of an independent and sovereign power, now for the first time taking her place among the nations of the earth. This was an event in the life of Franklin of the highest interest and importance, since the open negotiations of the American government by France made the success of the country, in its effort to achieve its independence, almost certain, and thus it was the seal and consummation of all that he had been so laboriously toiling to accomplish for fifty years. For we may safely say that the great end and aim of Franklin’s life, the one object which he kept constantly in view, and to which all his efforts tended from the beginning to the end of his public career, was the security of popular rights and popular liberty against the encroachments of aristocratic prerogative and power; and the establishment of the independence of these United States, which he saw thus happily settled at last, sealed and secured this object for half the world.

As soon as the event of the acknowledgment of the independence of the United States of America, by the French government transpired, the whole subject of the conflict between the late colonies and the mother country assumed a new aspect before mankind. The British government became now more desirous than ever to contrive some means of settling the dispute without entirely losing so important a portion of their ancient dominion. A great many applications were made to Franklin, by the secret agents of the British government, with a view of drawing off the Americans from their alliance with the French, and making a separate peace with them. Franklin, however, would listen to no such proposals, but on the contrary, made them all known to the French government.

Another consequence of the recognition of American independence was that a large number of young French gentlemen desired to proceed to America and join the army there. Many of them applied to Franklin for commissions—more in fact than could possibly be received. Among those who were successful was the Marquis de La Fayette, then a young man, who came to this country with letters of recommendation from Franklin, and who afterward distinguished himself so highly in the war.

After this, Franklin remained in France for several years, at first as commissioner, and afterward as minister plenipotentiary of the government at the French court, during all which time the most arduous and the most responsible public duties devolved upon him. He concluded most important negotiations with other foreign powers. He received of the French government and transmitted to America vast sums of money to be used in the prosecution of the war. He conferred with various other commissioners and embassadors who were sent out from time to time from the government at home. In a word, there devolved upon him day by day, an uninterrupted succession of duties of the most arduous and responsible character.

It is a curious illustration of the manner in which the tastes and habits of early life come back in old age, that Franklin was accustomed at this time, for recreation, to amuse himself with a little printing office, which he caused to be arranged at his lodgings—on a small scale it is true—but sufficiently complete to enable him to live his youth over again, as it were, in bringing back old associations and thoughts to his mind by giving himself up to his ancient occupations. The things that he printed in this little office were all trifles, as he called them, and were only intended for the amusement of his friends; but the work of producing them gave him great pleasure.

The time at length arrived when England began to conclude that it would be best for her to give up the attempt to reduce her revolted colonies to subjection again; and negotiations for peace were commenced at Paris, at first indirectly and informally, and afterward in a more open and decided manner. In these negotiations Franklin of course took a very prominent part. In fact the conclusion and signing of the great treaty of peace between Great Britain and the United States, by which the independence of this nation was finally and fully acknowledged, was the last crowning act of Franklin’s official career. The treaty was signed in 1783, and thus the work of the great statesman’s life was ended. His public life, in fact, began and ended with the beginning and the end of that great protracted struggle by which the American nation was ushered into being. His history is then simply the history of the establishment of American independence; and when this work was achieved his duty was done.

Soon after the peace was made, Franklin prepared to take leave of France, in order to return to his native land. He had contemplated a tour over the continent before going back to America, but the increasing infirmities of age prevented the realization of this plan. When the time arrived for leaving Paris, almost all the rank, fashion, and wealth of the city gathered around him to bid him farewell. He was borne in the queen’s palanquin to Havre, and accompanied on the journey by numerous friends. From Havre he crossed the channel to Southampton, and there took passage in the London packet for Philadelphia.

The voyage occupied a period of forty-eight days, at the end of which time the ship anchored just below Philadelphia. The health-officer of the port went on board, and finding no sickness gave the passengers leave to land. The passengers accordingly left the ship in a boat, and landed at the Market-street wharf, where crowds of people were assembled, who received Franklin with loud acclamations, and accompanied him through the streets, with cheers and rejoicings, to his door.

In a word, the great philosopher and statesman, on his return to his native land, received the welcome he deserved, and spent the short period that still remained to him on earth, surrounded by his countrymen and friends, the object of universal respect and veneration. But great as was the veneration which was felt for his name and memory then, it is greater now, and it will be greater and greater still, at the end of every succeeding century, as long as any written records of our country’s early history remain.

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.(2) THE SYRIAN EXPEDITION. BY JOHN S. C. ABBOTT.

Though, after the Battle of the Pyramids, Napoleon was the undisputed master of Egypt, still much was to be accomplished in pursuing the desperate remnants of the Mamelukes, and in preparing to resist the overwhelming forces which it was to be expected that England and Turkey would send against him. Mourad Bey had retreated with a few thousand of his horsemen into Upper Egypt. Napoleon dispatched General Desaix, with two thousand men, to pursue him. After several terribly bloody conflicts, Desaix took possession of all of Upper Egypt as far as the cataracts. Imbibing the humane and politic sentiments of Napoleon, he became widely renowned and beloved for his justice and his clemency. A large party of scientific men accompanied the military division, examining every object of interest, and taking accurate drawings of those sphinxes, obelisks, temples, and sepulchral monuments, which, in solitary grandeur, have withstood the ravages of four thousand years. To the present hour, the Egyptians remember with affection, the mild and merciful, yet efficient government of Desaix. They were never weary with contrasting it with the despotism of the Turks.

In the mean time Napoleon, in person, made an expedition to Suez, to inspect the proposed route of a canal to connect the waters of the Mediterranean with the Red Sea. With indefatigable activity of mind he gave orders for the construction of new works to fortify the harbor of Suez, and commenced the formation of an infant marine. One day, with quite a retinue, he made an excursion to that identical point of the Red Sea which, as tradition reports, the children of Israel crossed three thousand years ago. The tide was out, and he passed over to the Asiatic shore upon extended flats. Various objects of interest engrossed his attention until late in the afternoon, when he commenced his return. The twilight faded away, and darkness came rapidly on. The party lost their path, and, as they were wandering, bewildered among the sands, the rapidly returning tide surrounded them. The darkness of the night increased, and the horses floundered deeper and deeper in the rising waves The water reached the girths of the saddles, and dashed upon the feet of the riders, and destruction seemed inevitable. From this perilous position Napoleon extricated himself, by that presence of mind, and promptness of decision, which seemed never to fail him. It was an awful hour and an awful scene. And yet, amidst the darkness and the rising waves of apparently a shoreless ocean, the spirit of Napoleon was as unperturbed as if he were reposing in slippered ease upon his sofa. He collected his escort around him, in concentric circles, each horseman facing outward, and ranged in several rows. He then ordered them to advance, each in a straight line. When the horse of the leader of one of these columns lost his foothold, and began to swim, the column drew back, and followed in the direction of another column, which had not yet lost the firm ground. The radii, thus thrown out in every direction, were thus successively withdrawn, till all were following in the direction of one column, which had a stable footing. Thus escape was effected. The horses did not reach the shore until midnight, when they were wading breast deep in the swelling waves. The tide rises on that part of the coast to the height of twenty-two feet. “Had I perished in that manner, like Pharaoh,” said Napoleon, “it would have furnished all the preachers of Christendom with a magnificent text against me.”

England, animated in the highest degree by the great victory of Aboukir, now redoubled her exertions to concentrate all the armies of Europe upon Republican France. Napoleon had been very solicitous to avoid a rupture with the Grand Seignor at Constantinople. The Mamelukes who had revolted against his authority had soothed the pride of the Ottoman Porte, and purchased peace by paying tribute. Napoleon proposed to continue the tribute, that the revenues of the Turkish Empire might not be diminished by the transfer of the sovereignty of Egypt from the oppressive Mamelukes to better hands. The Sultan was not sorry to see the Mamelukes punished, but he looked with much jealousy upon the movements of a victorious European army so near his throne. The destruction of the French fleet deprived Napoleon of his ascendency in the Levant, and gave the preponderance to England. The agents of the British government succeeded in rousing Turkey to arms, to recover a province which the Mamelukes had wrested from her, before Napoleon took it from the Mamelukes. Russia also, with her barbaric legions, was roused by the eloquence of England, to rush upon the French Republic in this day of disaster. Her troops crowded down from the north to ally themselves with the turbaned Turk, for the extermination of the French in Egypt. Old enmities were forgotten, as Christians and Mussulmans grasped hands in friendship, forgetting all other animosities in their common hatred and dread of Republicanism. The Russian fleet crowded down from the Black Sea, through the Bosphorus, to the Golden Horn, where, amidst the thunders of artillery, and the acclamations of the hundreds of thousands who throng the streets of Constantinople, Pera, and Scutari, it was received into the embrace of the Turkish squadron. It was indeed a gorgeous spectacle as, beneath the unclouded splendor of a September sun, this majestic armament swept through the beautiful scenery of the Hellespont. The shores of Europe and Asia, separated by this classic strait, were lined with admiring spectators, as the crescent and the cross, in friendly blending, fluttered together in the breeze. The combined squadron emerged into the Mediterranean, to co-operate with the victorious fleet of England, which was now the undisputed mistress of the sea. Religious animosities the most inveterate, and national antipathies the most violent were reconciled by the pressure of a still stronger hostility to those principles of popular liberty which threatened to overthrow the despotism both of the Sultan and the Czar. The Grand Seignor had assembled an army of twenty thousand men at Rhodes. They were to be conveyed by the combined fleet to the shores of Egypt, and there effect a landing under cover of its guns. Another vast army was assembled in Syria, to march down upon the French by way of the desert, and attack them simultaneously with the forces sent by the fleet. England, and the emissaries of the Bourbons, with vast sums of money accumulated from the European monarchies, were actively co-operating upon the Syrian coast, by landing munitions of war, and by supplying able military engineers. The British Government was also accumulating a vast army in India, to be conveyed by transports up the Red Sea, and to fall upon the French in their rear. England also succeeded in forming a new coalition with Austria, Sardinia, Naples, and other minor European states to drive the French out of Italy, and with countless numbers to invade the territory of France. Thus it would be in vain for the Directory to attempt even to send succors to their absent general. And it was not doubted that Napoleon, thus assailed in diverse quarters by overpowering numbers, would fall an easy prey to his foes. Thus suddenly and portentously peril frowned upon France from every quarter.

Mourad Bey, animated by this prospect of the overthrow of his victorious foes, formed a widespread conspiracy, embracing all the friends of the Mamelukes and of the Turks. Every Frenchman was doomed to death, as in one hour, all over the land, the conspirators, with scimitar and poniard, should fall upon their unsuspecting foes. In this dark day of accumulating disaster the genius of Napoleon blazed forth with new and terrible brilliance.

But few troops were at the time in Cairo, for no apprehension of danger was cherished, and the French were scattered over Egypt, engaged in all plans of utility. At five o’clock on the morning of the 21st of October, Napoleon was awoke from sleep by the announcement that the city was in revolt, that mounted Bedouin Arabs were crowding in at the gates, that several officers and many soldiers were already assassinated. He ordered an aid immediately to take a number of the Guard, and quell the insurrection. But a few moments passed ere one of them returned covered with blood, and informed him that all the rest were slain. It was an hour of fearful peril. Calmly, fearlessly, mercilessly did Napoleon encounter it. Immediately mounting his horse, accompanied by a body of his faithful Guards, he proceeded to every threatened point. Instantly the presence of Napoleon was felt. A perfect storm of grape-shot, cannon-balls, and bomb-shells swept the streets with unintermitted and terrible destruction. Blood flowed in torrents. The insurgents, in dismay, fled to the most populous quarter of the city. Napoleon followed them with their doom, as calm as destiny. From the windows and the roofs the insurgents fought with desperation. The buildings were immediately enveloped in flames. They fled into the streets only to be hewn down with sabres and mown down with grape-shot. Multitudes, bleeding and breathless with consternation, sought refuge in the mosques. The mosques were battered down and set on fire, and the wretched inmates perished miserably. The calm yet terrible energy with which Napoleon annihilated “the murderers of the French,” sent a thrill of dismay through Egypt. A large body of Turks, who had surprised and assassinated a party of the French, intrenched themselves in a small village. Their doom was sealed. The next day a long line of asses, heavily laden with sacks, was seen entering the gates of Cairo. The mysterious procession proceeded to the public square. The sacks were opened, and the ghastly, gory heads of the assassins were rolled upon the pavements. The city gazed upon the spectacle with horror. “Such,” said Napoleon, sternly, “is the doom of murderers.” This language of energetic action was awfully eloquent. It was heard and heeded. It accomplished the purpose for which it was uttered. Neither Turk nor Arab ventured again to raise the dagger against Napoleon. Egypt felt the spell of the mighty conqueror, and stood still, while he gathered his strength to encounter England, and Russia, and Turkey in their combined power. What comment shall be made upon this horrible transaction. It was the stern necessity of diabolical war. “My soldiers,” said Napoleon, “are my children.” The lives of thirty thousand Frenchmen were in his keeping. Mercy to the barbaric and insurgent Turks would have been counted weakness, and the bones of Napoleon and of his army would soon have whitened the sands of the desert. War is a wholesale system of brutality and carnage. The most revolting, execrable details are essential to its vigorous execution. Bomb-shells can not be thrown affectionately. Charges of cavalry can not be made with a meek and lowly spirit. Red-hot shot, falling into the beleagured city, will not turn from the cradle of the infant, or from the couch of the dying maiden. These horrible scenes must continue to be enacted till the nations of the earth shall learn war no more.

Early in January, Napoleon received intelligence that the vanguard of the Syrian army, with a formidable artillery train, and vast military stores, which had been furnished from the English ships, had invaded Egypt, on the borders of the great Syrian desert, and had captured El Arish. He immediately resolved to anticipate the movement of his enemies, to cross the desert with the rapidity of the wind, to fall upon the enemy unawares, and thus to cut up this formidable army before it could be strengthened by the co-operation of the host assembled at Rhodes.

Napoleon intended to rally around his standard the Druses of Mount Lebanon, and all the Christian tribes of Syria, who were anxiously awaiting his approach, and having established friendly relations with the Ottoman Porte, to march, with an army of an hundred thousand auxiliaries, upon the Indus, and drive the English out of India. As England was the undisputed mistress of the sea, this was the only point where Republican France could assail its unrelenting foe. The imagination of Napoleon was lost in contemplating the visions of power and of empire thus rising before him.

For such an enterprise the ambitious general, with an army of but ten thousand men, commenced his march over the desert, one hundred and fifty miles broad, which separates Africa from Asia. The Pacha of Syria, called Achmet the _Butcher_, from his merciless ferocity, was execrated by the Syrians. Napoleon had received delegations from the Christian tribes entreating him to come for their deliverance from the most intolerable oppression, and assuring him of their readiness to join his standard. The English, to divert the attention of Napoleon from his project upon Syria, commenced the bombardment of Alexandria. He understood the object of the unavailing attack, and treated it with disdain. He raised a regiment of entirely a new kind, called the dromedary regiment. Two men, seated back to back, were mounted on each dromedary; and such was the strength and endurance of these animals, that they could thus travel ninety miles without food, water, or rest. This regiment was formed to give chase to the Arab robbers who, in fierce banditti bands, were the scourge of Egypt. The marauders were held in terror by the destruction with which they were overwhelmed by these swift avengers. Napoleon himself rode upon a dromedary. The conveyance of an army of ten thousand men, with horses and artillery, across such an apparently interminable waste of shifting sand, was attended with inconceivable suffering. To allay the despair of the soldiers, Napoleon, ever calm and unagitated in the contemplation of any catastrophe however dreadful, soon dismounted, and waded through the burning sands by the side of the soldiers, sharing the deprivations and the toils of the humblest private in the ranks. Five days were occupied in traversing this forlorn waste. Water was carried for the troops in skins. At times portions of the army, almost perishing with thirst, surrendered themselves to despair. The presence of Napoleon, however, invariably reanimated hope and courage. The soldiers were ashamed to complain when they saw their youthful leader, pale and slender, and with health seriously impaired, toiling along by their side, sharing cheerfully all their privations and fatigues. The heat of these glowing deserts, beneath the fierce glare of a cloudless sun, was almost intolerable. At one time, when nearly suffocated by the intense heat, while passing by some ruins, a common soldier yielded to Napoleon the fragments of a pillar, in whose refreshing shadow he contrived, for a few moments, to shield his head. “And this,” said Napoleon, “was no trifling concession.” At another time a party of the troops got lost among the sand hills and nearly perished. Napoleon took some Arabs on dromedaries, and hastened in pursuit of them. When found they were nearly dead from thirst, fatigue, and despair. Some of the younger soldiers, in their frenzy, had broken their muskets and thrown them away. The sight of their beloved general revived their hopes, and inspired them with new life. Napoleon informed them that provisions and water were at hand. “But,” said he, “if relief had been longer delayed, would that have excused your murmurings and loss of courage? No! soldiers, learn to die with honor.”

After a march of five days they arrived before El Arish, one of those small, strongly fortified military towns, deformed by every aspect of poverty and wretchedness, with which iron despotism has filled the once fertile plains of Syria. El Arish was within the boundaries of Egypt. It had been captured by the Turks, and they had accumulated there immense magazines of military stores. It was the hour of midnight when Napoleon arrived beneath its walls. The Turks, not dreaming that a foe was near, were roused from sleep by the storm of balls and shells, shaking the walls and crushing down through the roofs of their dwellings. They sprang to their guns, and, behind the ramparts of stone, fought with their accustomed bravery. But after a short and bloody conflict, they were compelled to retire, and effected a disorderly retreat. The garrison, in the citadel, consisting of nearly two thousand men, were taken prisoners. Napoleon was not a little embarrassed in deciding what to do with these men. He had but ten thousand soldiers with whom to encounter the whole power of the Ottoman Porte, aided by the fleets of England and Russia. Famine was in his camp, and it was with difficulty that he could obtain daily rations for his troops. He could not keep these prisoners with him. They would eat the bread for which his army was hungering; they would demand a strong guard to keep them from insurrection; and the French army was already so disproportionate to the number of its foes, that not an individual could be spared from active service. They would surely take occasion, in the perilous moments of the day of battle, to rise in revolt, and thus, perhaps, effect the total destruction of the French army. Consequently, to retain them in the camp was an idea not to be entertained for a moment. To disarm them, and dismiss them upon their word of honor no longer to serve against the French, appeared almost equally perilous. There was no sense of honor in the heart of the barbarian Turk. The very idea of keeping faith with infidels they laughed to scorn. They would immediately join the nearest division of the Turkish army, and thus swell the already multitudinous ranks of the foe, and even if they did not secure the final defeat of Napoleon, they would certainly cost him the lives of many of his soldiers. He could not supply them with food, neither could he spare an escort to conduct them across the desert to Egypt. To shoot them in cold blood was revolting to humanity. Napoleon, however, generously resolved to give them their liberty, taking their pledge that they would no longer serve against him; and in order to help them keep their word, he sent a division of the army to escort them, one day’s march, toward Bagdad, whither they promised to go. But no sooner had the escort commenced its return to the army, than these men, between one and two thousand in number, turned also, and made a straight path for their feet to the fortress of Jaffa, laughing at the simplicity of their outwitted foe. But Napoleon was not a man to be laughed at. This merriment soon died away in fearful wailings. Here they joined the marshaled hosts of Achmet the Butcher. The bloody pacha armed them anew, and placed them in his foremost ranks, again to pour a shower of bullets upon the little band headed by Napoleon. El Arish is in Egypt, eighteen miles from the granite pillars which mark the confines of Asia and Africa. Napoleon now continued his march through a dry, barren, and thirsty land. After having traversed a dreary desert of an hundred and fifty miles, the whole aspect of the country began rapidly to change. The soldiers were delighted to see the wreaths of vapor gathering in the hitherto glowing and cloudless skies. Green and flowery valleys, groves of olive-trees, and wood-covered hills, rose, like a vision of enchantment, before the eye, so long weary of gazing upon shifting sands and barren rocks. Napoleon often alluded to his passage across the desert, remarking that the scene was ever peculiarly gratifying to his mind. “I never passed the desert,” said he, “without experiencing very powerful emotions. It was the image of immensity to my thoughts. It displayed no limits. It had neither beginning nor end. It was an ocean for the foot of man.” As they approached the mountains of Syria, clouds began to darken the sky, and when a few drops of rain descended, a phenomenon which they had not witnessed for many months, the joy of the soldiers was exuberant. A murmur of delight ran through the army, and a curious spectacle was presented, as, with shouts of joy and peals of laughter, the soldiers, in a body, threw back their heads and opened their mouths, to catch the grateful drops upon their dry and thirsty lips.