His intention was to return to France.  Availing himself of the departure of the English fleet for the Mediterranean, the alarm excited by his Egyptian expedition, the panic that would be inspired by his sudden appearance at Boulogne, and his preparations against England, he hoped to oblige that power to withdraw her naval force from the Mediterranean, and to prevent her sending out troops to Egypt.  This project was often in his head.  He would have thought it sublime to date an order of the day from the ruins of Memphis, and three months later, one from London.  The loss of the fleet converted all these bold conceptions into mere romantic visions.

When alone with me he gave free vent to his emotion.  I observed to him that the disaster was doubtless great, but that it would have been infinitely more irreparable had Nelson fallen in with us at Malta, or had he waited for us four-and-twenty hours before Alexandria, or in the open sea.  “Any one of these events,” said I, “which were not only possible but probable, would have deprived us of every resource.  We are blockaded here, but we have provisions and money.  Let us then wait patiently to see what the Directory will do for us.”—­“The Directory!” exclaimed he angrily, “the Directory is composed of a set of scoundrels! they envy and hate me, and would gladly let me perish here.  Besides, you see how dissatisfied the whole army is:  not a man is willing to stay.”

The pleasing illusions which were cherished at the outset of the expedition vanished long before our arrival in Cairo.  Egypt was no longer the empire of the Ptolemies, covered with populous and wealthy cities; it now presented one unvaried scene of devastation and misery.  Instead of being aided by the inhabitants, whom we had ruined, for the sake of delivering them from the yoke of the beys, we found all against us:  Mamelukes, Arabs, and fellahs.  No Frenchman was secure of his life who happened to stray half a mile from any inhabited place, or the corps to which he belonged.  The hostility which prevailed against us and the discontent of the army were clearly developed in the numerous letters which were written to France at the time, and intercepted.

The gloomy reflections which at first assailed Bonaparte, were speedily banished; and he soon recovered the fortitude and presence of mind which had been for a moment shaken by the overwhelming news from Aboukir.  He, however, sometimes repeated, in a tone which it would be difficult to describe, “Unfortunate Brueys, what have you done!”

I have remarked that in some chance observations which escaped Napoleon at St. Helena he endeavoured to throw all the blame of the affair on Admiral Brueys.  Persons who are determined to make Bonaparte an exception to human nature have unjustly reproached the Admiral for the loss of the fleet.

CHAPTER XVI.

1798.