overthrowing
Mameluke tyranny, to respect the Moslem faith: "Have we not destroyed
the Pope, who bade men wage war on Moslems? Have we not destroyed the
Knights of Malta, because those fools believed it to be God's will to
war against Moslems?" The French soldiers were vastly amused by the
humour of these proceedings, and the liberated people fully
appreciated the menaces with which Bonaparte's proclamation closed,
backed up as these were by irresistible force.[102]

After arranging affairs at Alexandria, where the gallant Kleber was
left in command, Bonaparte ordered an advance into the interior.
Never, perhaps, did he show the value of swift offensive action more
decisively than in this prompt march on Damanhour across the desert.
The other route by way of Rosetta would have been easier; but, as it
was longer, he rejected it, and told off General Menou to capture that
city and support a flotilla of boats which was to ascend the Nile and
meet the army on its march to Cairo. On July 4th the first division of
the main force set forth by night into the desert south of Alexandria.
All was new and terrible; and, when the rays of the sun smote on their
weary backs, the murmurings of the troops grew loud. This, then, was
the land "more fertile than Lombardy," which was the goal of their
wanderings. "See, there are the six acres of land which you are
promised," exclaimed a waggish soldier to his comrade as they first
gazed from ship-board on the desert east of Alexandria; and all the
sense of discipline failed to keep this and other gibes from the ears
of staff officers even before they reached that city. Far worse was
their position now in the shifting sand of the desert, beset by
hovering Bedouins, stung by scorpions, and afflicted by intolerable
thirst. The Arabs had filled the scanty wells with stones, and only
after long toil could the sappers reach the precious fluid beneath.
Then the troops rushed and fought for the privilege of drinking a few
drops of muddy liquor. Thus they struggled on, the succeeding
divisions faring worst of all. Berthier, chief of the staff, relates
that a glass of water sold for its weight in gold. Even brave officers
abandoned themselves to transports of rage and despair which left them
completely prostrate.[103]

But Bonaparte flinched not. His stern composure offered the best
rebuke to such childish sallies; and when out of a murmuring group
there came the bold remark, "Well, General, are yo