On the 21st of July the army came within sight of the Pyramids, which, but for the regularity of the outline, might have been taken for a distant ridge of rocky mountains.  While every eye was fixed on these hoary monuments of the past, they gained the brow of a gentle eminence, and saw at length spread out before them the vast army of the beys, its right posted on an entrenched camp by the Nile, its centre and left composed of that brilliant cavalry with which they were by this time acquainted.  Napoleon, riding forwards to reconnoitre, perceived (what escaped the observation of all his staff) that the guns on the entrenched camp were not provided with carriages; and instantly decided on his plan of attack.  He prepared to throw his force on the left, where the guns could not be available.  Mourad Bey, who commanded in chief, speedily penetrated his design; and the Mamelukes advanced gallantly to the encounter.  “Soldiers,” said Napoleon, “from the summit of yonder pyramids forty ages behold you;” and the battle began.

The French formed into separate squares, and awaited the assault of the Mamelukes.  These came on with impetuous speed and wild cries, and practised every means to force their passage into the serried ranks of their new opponents.  They rushed on the line of bayonets, backed their horses upon them, and at last, maddened by the firmness which they could not shake, dashed their pistols and carbines into the faces of the men.  They who had fallen wounded from their seats, would crawl along the sand, and hew at the legs of their enemies with their scimitars.  Nothing could move the French:  the bayonet and the continued roll of musketry by degrees thinned the host around them; and Buonaparte at last advanced.  Such were the confusion and terror of the enemy when he came near the camp, that they abandoned their works, and flung themselves by hundreds into the Nile.  The carnage was prodigious.  Multitudes more were drowned.  Mourad and a remnant of his Mamelukes retreated on Upper Egypt.  Cairo surrendered:  Lower Egypt was entirely conquered.

Such were the immediate consequences of the Battle of the Pyramids.  The name of Buonaparte now spread panic through the East; and the “Sultan Kebir” (or King of Fire—­as he was called from the deadly effects of the musketry in this engagement) was considered as the destined scourge of God, whom it was hopeless to resist.

The French now had recompense for the toils they had undergone.  The bodies of the slain and drowned Mamelukes were rifled, and, it being the custom for those warriors to carry their wealth about them, a single corpse often made a soldier’s fortune.  In the deserted harems of the chiefs at Cairo, and in the neighbouring villages, men at length found proofs that “eastern luxury” is no empty name.  The savans ransacked the monuments of antiquity, and formed collections which will ever reflect honour on their zeal and skill.  Napoleon