The Camp-fires of Napoleon

THE CAMP-FIRE ON THE NILE

The evening of the 21st of July, 1798, had cast its shadows on the Nile. Although the day had been excessively warm, the air was now cool and pleasant. The full moon was gradually deepening the placid splendor of her light, and giving a silvery sheen to the winding waters of the river. On an elevated terrace, in the distance, could be distinguished the bold and gorgeous minarets and gilded domes of Cairo. The villages of Bulak and Shoubra were nestled on the river banks, overlooking a vast extent of cultivated plain, rich in vineyards and grain. The great obelisk of Heliopolis stood out against the eastern sky; and the vast Lybian desert stretched away in desolation to the west. In the midst of this sea of sand, could be faintly distinguished the awful forms of the great pyramids of Ghizeh, from which that day, “forty centuries had looked down,” upon the victory achieved by Bonaparte over the Mameluke tyrants of Egypt.

The French were encamped upon the banks of the Nile; and the light of their watch-fires could be seen for a great distance along the river. The victorious general was at Ghizeh, having fixed his quarters in the country-seat of Murad Bey. But although the watch-fires were burning, the soldiers of the conquering army were not gathered around them. No; the spoils of victory would not let them rest. They had suffered much in the dreary march towards Cairo, and fought bravely in overcoming the gallant cavalry of the Egyptian army, and now very naturally sought to repay themselves for their hardships and toils. The field of battle was covered with the troops, who were engaged in stripping the valuable articles from the bodies of the slain Mamelukes. Among the spoils thus obtained were splendid shawls, weapons of fine workmanship, purses, some of which contained as many as two and three hundred pieces of gold; for the Mamelukes carried all their ready money on their persons. More than a thousand of these Egyptian warriors had been drowned in the Nile; and even now, by the light of the moon, the French troops were engaged in dragging for the bodies, to swell the amount of their booty. A more indefatigable set of spoil-seekers never won a victory.

The Mamelukes had sixty vessels on the Nile, containing the bulk of their riches. In consequence of the unexpected result of the battle, they lost all hope of saving them, and set them on fire. The great blaze suddenly rising to the sky, caused the French troops to pause in the midst of their search for valuables. They knew the contents of those vessels, and they beheld the gradual destruction of those vast treasures with feelings of disappointment not easily delineated. During the whole night, through the volumes of smoke and flame, the French could perceive the forms of the minarets and buildings of Cairo and the City of the Dead; and the red glare was even gloriously reflected by the Pyramids. To increase the terrors of the scene, the wild and treacherous populace of Cairo, learning the disasters of their countrymen, set fire to the splendid palaces of the Beys, and these great edifices blazed and crackled up against the sky throughout the night.

About nine, in the evening, Bonaparte, accompanied by Berthier, Desaix, Lannes, Regnier, and nearly all his principal officers, and even a number of the privates, entered the country-house of Murad Bey, at Ghizeh. This residence presented a magnificent appearance at a distance, and a close inspection disclosed many additional beauties. But it was a point of some difficulty at first to make it serve for a lodging, or to comprehend the distribution of the apartments. But what chiefly struck the officers with surprise, was the great quantity of cushions and divans covered with the finest damasks and Lyons silks, and ornamented with gold fringe. For the first time, they found the luxury and arts of Europe in Egypt—the cradle of luxury and arts. Bonaparte and his staff explored this singular structure in every direction. The gardens were full of magnificent trees, but without avenues, and not unlike the gardens in some of the nunneries of Italy. The soldiers were much elated at the discovery of large arbors of vines, burdened with the finest grapes in the world. The rapid vintage excited the laughter of the French generals, who, themselves, joined in the scramble for the delicious fruit.

In the meantime, the two divisions of Bon and Menou, which had remained behind in an entrenched camp, were equally well supplied. Among the baggage taken, had been found a great number of canteens full of preserves, both of confectionary and sweetmeats, besides carpets, porcelain, vases of perfume, and a multitude of little elegancies used by the Mamelukes. All these luxuries had been purchased by the oppression of the mass of the Egyptians, and it was but a stroke of justice which took them from the oppressor.

The French troops, who had murmured much while traversing the hot sands of the desert, now fell in love with Egypt, and began to hope for a career of easy conquest and rare enjoyment. Their general was pleased at their change of tone, and permitted them to revel amidst the fruits of their labor and endurance.

Bonaparte and his officers spent the greater part of the night in exploring the residence of Murad Bey. Towards morning they reclined upon its luxurious couches, and while the conflagration raged without, and the soldiers were revelling among the spoil, these veteran officers indulged in repose. A short time previous these gallant men had shared Bonaparte’s doubt and anxiety as he stood upon the deck of a vessel, in the harbor of Alexandria, viewing the shores of the land of the Pharoahs. Now they could sleep in the confidence of continued victory.

On the 20th of July, the young conqueror of the Pyramids, entered Grand Cairo, receiving the humble submission of the sic and the shouts of the thronging populace. The capital of Egypt was in the power of the French.

THE CAMP-FIRE AT MOUNT TABOR

In Lower Galilee, to the north-east of the great plain of Esdraelon, rises an eminence rendered intensely interesting by memories sacred and profane. It is Mount Tabor. Although surrounded by chains of mountains on nearly all sides, it is the only one that stands entirely aloof from its neighbors. The figure of the mount approaches that of a semi-sphere, and presents a regular appearance. Its ground figure is usually described as round; and, indeed, seems to be perfectly so to those coming from the midst of the great plain, or from the sea of Galilee. But, in reality, it is really somewhat longer from east to west than broad, so that its true figure is oval. The height of this mountain has never been subjected to actual measurement. It appears, however, that it occupies three hours to travel round the base of the mountain; that an hour is generally required to reach the summit by a circuitous path, and that the plain upon the top of the eminence is seldom traversed in less time than half an hour.

The mountain is inaccessible except on the north, where the ascent offers so little difficulty that there are few parts which suggest to the traveler the prudence or necessity of dismounting from his horse. This remarkable mountain offers so rare a combination of the bold and beautiful, that pilgrims of all ages have expatiated upon its glories with untiring wonder and delight. The trees of various species, and the bushes always green, with which it is invested, and the small groves with which it is crowned, contribute no less than its figure to its perfect beauty. Ounces, wild boars, gazelles, and hares, are among the animals which find shelter in its more wooded parts; while the trees are tenanted by “birds of every wing,” whose warblings and motions beguile the fatigues of the ascent. “The path,” says Mr. Stephens, “wound around the mountain, and gave us a view from all its different sides, every step presenting something new, and more and more beautiful, until all was completely forgotten and lost in the exceeding loveliness of the view from the summit. Stripped of every association, and considered merely as an elevation commanding a view of unknown valleys and mountains, I never saw a mountain which, for beauty of scene, better repaid the toil of ascending it.”

The view it commands is magnificent. To the north, in successive ranges, are the mountains of Galilee, backed by the mighty Lebanon; and Safet, as always, stands out in prominent relief. To the north-east is the Mount of Beatitudes, with its peculiar outline and interesting associations; behind which rise Great Hermon, and the whole chain of Anti-Lebanon. To the east are the hills of the Haouran, and the country of the Gadarenes, below which the eye catches a glimpse of the Lake of Tiberius, while to the south-east it crosses the valley of the Jordan, and rests on the high land of Bashan. Due south rise the mountains of Gilboa, and behind them those of Samaria, stretching far to the west. On the south-south-west the villages of Endor and Nain are seen on the Little Hermon. Mount Carmel and the Bay of Acre appear on the north-west; and towards them flows, through the fertile plains of Esdraelon, “that great river, the River Kishon,” now dwindled into a little stream. Each feature in this prospect is beautiful: the eye and mind are delighted; and, by a combination of objects and associations, unusual to fallen man, earthly scenes, which more than satisfy the external sense, elevate the soul to heavenly contemplations.

The beautiful upper plain is inclosed by a wall,—probably the same which was built by Josephus, when Governor of Galilee,—and contains some ruins, which are probably those of the two monasteries, which, according to William of Tyre, were built here by Godfrey of Bouillon, in the place of others of earlier date which the Moslems had destroyed. The plain has at different times been under cultivation; but when, from oppression or fear, abandoned by the cultivator, it becomes a table of rich grass and wild flowers, which send forth a most refreshing and luxurious odor. In summer the dews fall copiously on Tabor, and a strong wind blows over it all day.

Tabor is chiefly interesting to the Christian, however, as the supposed scene of the Transfiguration, when Christ appeared in glory, with Moses, and Elias. To the reader of profane history and the student of the career of Napoleon Bonaparte, it is also rendered interesting as the scene of a decisive victory gained by the French general over some of the bravest forces of the East.

It was the night of the 16th of April. The victorious French had encamped at the foot of Mount Tabor. The evening had set in calmly and beautifully, above a plain heaped with the dead of the annihilated army, but the deep shadows of night had scarcely descended, before the French general-in-chief ordered all the villages of the Naplousians to be set on fire; and although they were distant, their red light was so glaring, that it illumined the field of battle and the camp of the victors, and rendered evident many ghastly features of the scene.

At the tent of General Kleber were assembled that gallant officer, Junot, Murat and Bon. Bonaparte was in his tent, surrounded by his faithful Guides. Just outside of the line of tents the watch-fires were brightly burning, and the sentinels paced up and down with solemn tread. Kleber, and his brothers in glory, were seated on camp-stools around a table, on which were several bottles of wine. After Napoleon himself, Kleber was the most remarkable man of the army of Egypt. See him there, with his large and powerful frame—his great head of shaggy hair, his quick, piercing eyes, prominent features, and slovenly costume. Great-souled Jean Baptiste Kleber! The revolution found him a peaceful architect. He entered the ranks as a grenadier, and rose to be esteemed a military genius indispensable to France, and a commander as humane and generous as he was brave and skilful. Always peevish, he yet was guilty of no bitterness of action—mean conduct was with him an impossibility. Opposite Kleber sat Andoche Junot. His mild, pleasant, handsome features expressed nothing of the indomitable spirit which he ever displayed in action; but his eyes were quick and intelligent. His costume was much cut and soiled by the desperate service he had performed during the last two days. Murat was as usual finely dressed. He seemed weary, and drank deeply to revive his spirits. Most terrible had been the slaughter of his sabres that day on the banks of the Jordan. General Bon had nothing remarkable in his appearance. The expression of his sun-burned countenance was that of firmness, united with intelligence and promptitude.

“I wonder how things go on at Acre,” said Junot.

“Bad as usual,” replied Kleber. “The place cannot be taken, that is evident. It was clear to me long ago, that Sidney Smith, and the engineer Philippeaux have stimulated the troops to extraordinary exertions. They repulse every assault; and as we have no siege trains, where is our chance for taking the town. Nowhere, nowhere—and so I told General Bonaparte—the stubborn specimen of lean genius. We shall waste our army before the walls of that place, and gain nothing; whereas, if the siege were raised, we might yet do much for Egypt.

“Then here must end our general’s grand project for striking a blow at the English dominion in Asia,” observed Bon.

“Aye,” said Kleber, “and it was folly to entertain such projects after the destruction of our fleet at Aboukir, by that confounded Englishman, Nelson. The most we could hope to do after that was to consolidate our empire in Egypt, and that would have been no ordinary task. But this ‘Little Corporal,’ will not listen to any one.”

“The march to El Arisch, across that burning desert was bad enough; but I’m afraid that we shall have the same thing to do again, under worse circumstances,” said Murat.

“But this battle has won us glories enough to atone for many hardships,” remarked Junot. “At first the prospect was desperate enough.”

“You, Junot, have certainly increased your reputation,” said Bon. “The advanced guard which you commanded consisted of, at most, but five hundred men. Yet with that force you dared to encounter the enemy on the 8th, and not only covered the field with their dead, but took five stand of colors, and came off with but little loss.”

“Very well, but that is scarcely worthy of mention when we consider the long and successful defence made by Kleber’s whole division on the ground.”

“If I had not arrived too late last night, I might have surprised the Turkish army, and then that long defence would have been unnecessary. I designed to attempt the surprise,” said Kleber.

“The number of the enemy surprised me this morning, when they were drawn up in battle array,” said Junot. “Fifteen thousand infantry occupied the village of Fouli, and more than twelve thousand horse were drawn up in the plain, while we had scarcely three thousand infantry in square.”

“They made an imposing show, but they were met with such steady bravery, and such a blaze of fire, that their ranks seemed to melt away like mist before the sun,” said Kleber. “However, it was well that General Bonaparte came up. The furious charges of the Turkish cavalry had begun to make an impression on my ranks, and it is probable enough they might have been broken in the course of the afternoon, if the general-in-chief had not brought up your division, Bon, and made those admirable dispositions, which placed the enemy between two fires, and soon put them to the rout. A tremendous fire discharged from three points of the triangle, sent the Mamelukes away in heaps. We took the village of Fouli—yes, Fouli, you call it—and then finished the enemy by putting them to soak in the waters of the Jordan. It has been a glorious day.”

“Six thousand French have destroyed an army which the Naplousians stated could no more be numbered than the stars in the heavens and the sands on the seashore,” observed Junot. “Well, we may fail in the conquest of the East, but this victory cannot be forgotten.”

“Besides glory,” said Kleber, “it may be as well to mention that the booty taken is worth considerable. The Turkish camp was well supplied with both necessaries and luxuries. We have taken four hundred camels, and the other booty is sufficient to satisfy our soldiers.”

“And see,” said Bon, “the Naplousians will have reason to remember us,” and he pulled aside the canvass of the tent and pointed to the red light of the burning villages.

At this moment, General Bonaparte appeared at the door of the tent, in company with Bessieres. The young general looked much worn and fatigued. His figure was stouter than it had been during the campaign of Italy; but his stern countenance still showed the hollow cheeks and sunken eyes, caused by the constant and powerful workings of his genius. His costume was much soiled, and its appearance indicated his want of attention to such matters during the press of the business of life and death. He held some papers in his hand.

“Generals, I hope I do not interrupt your conversation. But business like ours admits of no delay. I set off at day-break for Acre, where I am determined to press the siege with renewed vigor. I have reason to dread that a large Turkish army will soon be landed near the mouth of the Nile, and if Acre is to be taken at all, we must accomplish the feat very speedily; and it must be taken,” said Bonaparte, in his emphatic way.

“Must be taken,” said Kleber, always outspoken. “My opinion is that the siege will cost us many valuable lives, and yet not be successful. Every day increases the difficulties of our safe return to Cairo.”

“Yes, yes,” said Bonaparte, impatiently, “but it will not do to let this Englishman, Sidney Smith, and his Turks, baffle the conquerors of Italy and Egypt. General Kleber, you will lead your division back to Acre; and you, General Bon, will follow. We have annihilated our foes in this quarter, and have nothing more to fear from them. Hasten your march to Acre, and, doubtless, with a few more determined efforts, that town will be in our hands.” So saying, he bowed, and hurried out of the tent.

“A man destined to do great things; but destined to be mistaken in his present enterprise,” observed Kleber.

Murat now proposed a ride over the field of battle, before retiring to repose. The others agreed, and all were soon mounted, and cantering away along the line of the camp-fires, and among the heaps of the dead. A large number of the French soldiers were engaged in searching for valuables among the bodies of the Mamelukes, and to the inquiries of the generals, they responded that they were reaping a full harvest. Around the line occupied by the troops of Kleber’s division, was seen the wall of carcasses which had served as a protection to those gallant men, when they had become extremely fatigued by the struggle against the overwhelming numbers of the enemy. The light of the burning villages, and the watch-fires, was quite sufficient to enable them to pursue their spoil-seeking occupation. After riding over the whole field, the generals separated, and each sought his tent to stretch himself for repose, and to dream of the glorious incidents of the victory of Mount Tabor.

THE CAMP-FIRE AT ABOUKIR

The battle of Aboukir, was, perhaps, the only instance in the history of war, in which a hostile army was utterly annihilated by an inferior force. The victory, therefore, was one of the most splendid which Bonaparte ever achieved. The Turkish army, conveyed by the squadron of Sir Sidney Smith, anchored in Aboukir Bay on the 11th of July, 1799.

The place fixed upon by the English for their landing, was the peninsula which defends this road, and which bears the same name. This narrow peninsula runs out between the sea and Lake Madieh, and has a fort at its extremity. Bonaparte had ordered Marmont, who commanded at Alexandria, to improve the defences of the fort, and to destroy the village of Aboukir, situated around it. But, instead of destroying the village, he thought it better to keep the place in order to lodge the soldiers there; and it had merely been surrounded by a redoubt to protect it on the land side. But the redoubt not joining on both sides the sea, did not present the appearance of a close work, and put the fort on the same footing as a simple field-work. The Turks, in fact, landed with great boldness, attacked the intrenchments sword in hand, carried them, and made themselves masters of the village of Aboukir, putting the garrison to the sword. The village being taken, the fort could no longer hold out, and it was obliged to surrender. Marmont, who commanded at Alexandria, had issued forth, at the head of twelve hundred men, to hasten to the assistance of the troops at Aboukir. But learning that the Turks had landed in considerable numbers, he durst not attempt to drive them into the sea by a bold attack. He returned to Alexandria, and left them to quietly take up their position on the peninsula of Aboukir.