Kitabı oku: «The Camp-fires of Napoleon», sayfa 4
THE CAMP-FIRE ON THE ALPS
Although Bonaparte had performed amazing, and, in some respects, unparalleled, exploits in Italy, there was a general disposition among both Frenchmen and foreigners to set up inferior commanders as his rivals. Now it was Moreau, then Massena; then Hoche, and then the young Archduke Charles, of Austria. The last mentioned had attained a high reputation by a campaign in which he triumphed over Generals Moreau and Jourdan, but his valor and skill, although great, were overrated, as Bonaparte and Massena soon rendered evident.
The Archduke took command of the Austrian army of Italy, and on the 6th of February, 1797, advanced his head-quarter to Innspruck. During that month, his engineers visited the passes of the Julien and Noric Alps, which it had been designed to fortify. Napoleon, having about fifty-three thousand troops under his command, resolved to astonish his enemy by a rapid and daring march upon the passes of the Alps before they could be fortified. He formed the plan of a campaign, the great object of which was the Austrian capital, Vienna, and the execution was as prompt as the conception was bold. The Tagliamento was passed, and the enemy completely defeated; the passes of the Alps were carried, after a tremendous struggle. Joubert beat the Austrians in the Tyrol, the Archduke’s reputation was reduced to its proper dimensions, and Vienna trembled, having no means of resisting the all-conquering Bonaparte. Tarwis is the loftiest pass of the Noric Alps. It is above the clouds and is generally covered with snow and ice, which give it a desolate and terrible aspect. It overlooks Germany and Dalmatia. At this point the roads leading to Italy and Trieste separate; the road to Italy running west, and that leading to Trieste running south. At this place, Bonaparte fixed his head-quarters, shortly after the pass had been captured by the indomitable Massena. It was the last day of March. The weather was intensely cold, and and the body of troops accompanying the French general suffered severely. Bonaparte and his aids were snugly quartered in the rude chalets, which are the only habitations upon the height of Tarwis. The soldiers were grouped amid a cordon of fires, the fuel for which they had brought from a great distance below, with a vast amount of labor and difficulty. Yet they shivered beside the crackling blaze. It was a wild and startling scene. The night was cloudy—the wind, keen and furious. The red glare of the fires was reflected by walls of ice and blood-stained snow. As the soldiers wrapped themselves in their blankets, crept as close to the fires as they could get, and conversed with a French attempt at gaiety, they were surprised to see their beloved general, accompanied by Berthier and Duroc, come out of a chalet, to examine their condition, and speak a word of cheer.
“A freezing time, men; but it will be hot enough soon,” he remarked to a group of veterans.
“The cold is more terrible than the Austrians, general,” said one of them, with an attempt at a laugh.
“But it cannot conquer the conquerors of Italy,” replied Bonaparte. Thus he went among the brave men who followed his standard, and thus he communicated his own spirit to all with whom he came in contact. After traversing the whole ground occupied by the troops, the French general returned to his quarters to repose.
Beneath a kind of shed in the rear of the chalet, several of the Guides were seated round a cheerful fire, smoking pipes and conversing of the recent actions and their thrilling incidents. Among them were Bessieres and Lemarois. The wall of the chalet, which formed the rear of the shed, served to keep off the fury of the wind, so that this place was comfortable, compared with the position of the soldiers. Besides, the hearts of these veterans had been gladdened with abundance of good eating at the chalet, and satisfaction was evident in their faces. The manly face of Bessieres, wore that expression of calm circumspection, which it never lost in the thickest of battle.
“The passage of the Tagliamento,” said this brave leader, “will take rank with any similar exploit, recorded in history.”
“It must be acknowledged that the archduke had posted his forces in an admirable style,” said young Lemarois. “His artillery covered the level shingle of the river, and his fine cavalry, deployed on the wings, so as to be brought rapidly into service, was an admirable disposition.”
“Yes,” said Bessieres, “but as usual, the character of the manœuvres which defeated the Austrians throws all their dispositions into insignificance. Was there ever a general so fertile of stratagem as Bonaparte? See how quickly he determined upon a plan to diminish the vigilance of the enemy! An immense number of men might have been lost if he had attempted the passage of the river as soon as he reached its banks. But he valued the lives of his soldiers too much, to throw them away, when a simple stratagem could save them. The Austrians naturally supposed that after marching all night, he wanted rest, and when the general ordered us to halt and begin to partake of our soup, they were completely deceived. How the archduke must have opened his eyes, when he saw us get suddenly in motion at noon!”
“The disposition of our forces was so admirable that it made some of our own skilful officers open their eyes,” said Lemarois. “Look at it! Guyeux’s division on the left, and Bernadotte’s on the right, by which arrangement the troops of Italy and the soldiers of the Rhine were brought into a noble rivalry. Then battalions of grenadiers were formed. At the head of each division was placed the light infantry, ready to disperse as sharp-shooters, then the grenadiers who were to charge, and the dragoons who were to support them. Each demi-brigade had its first battalions, deployed in line, and the two others arranged in close column on the wings of the first. The cavalry hovered on the wings. A finer disposition could not have been made.”
“Crossing the river was a glorious scene!” said Bessieres. “The light infantry covered the bank with a cloud of sharp-shooters. Then the grenadiers entered the water. ‘Soldiers of the Rhine!’ exclaimed Bernadotte, ‘the army of Italy has its eyes upon you.’ Each division displayed the utmost bravery in the charge; we can make no distinction between them.”
“No, indeed,” observed a grim-visaged Guide, who sat next to Bessieres. “Our soldiers called the troops of the Rhine the contingent, and treated them with the greatest contempt before the battle. A number of sabre cuts were exchanged on account of this raillery. But the contingent proved themselves worthy of any army at Tagliamento. They drove the Austrians before them like a flock of sheep.”
“All acted in a manner worthy of France,” said Lemarois. “The archduke was routed and the line of the Tagliamento cleared in a remarkably short time.”
“What is the name of that general of cavalry who was captured?” inquired one of the Guides—a burly fellow, with a good-humored cast of countenance.
“I forget his name,” replied Bessieres; “but I cannot forget that he is a brave man, and that he fought with a courage and resolution which put most of his countrymen to shame.
“To be just, however,” observed Lemarois, “there are many gallant officers in the Austrian army. It is not their fault if they have not a Bonaparte to bring victory to their standard. They have a large number of hearts following their flag, as intrepid as old Wurmser. But strange to say, they have never had a first class general.
“That’s about the truth of the matter,” commented the burly Guide.
“By the way, Jacques,” said Bessieres, “it seems to be getting colder as the night advances. Put on a little more of that wood. Its bad enough fuel, though, for it smokes abominably.”
Jacques was the burly Guide previously alluded to. He obeyed the order of his commander.
“The men outside ought to have plenty of provision to console them amid their sufferings on such a night. They will scarcely dare to sleep,” said Lemarois.
“I saw our general out among them a short time ago,” replied Bessieres. “A few sympathetic words from him will do more than any amount of provision.”
“That’s a fact,” said the grim veteran who sat next to the commander of the Guides. “They know that he feels for them, and that he would help them if he could. See there at St. George, an outpost of Mantua, where there was a necessity for constant vigilance, to prevent Provera from surprising us, and relieving Wurmser. The general visiting one of the outposts at night, found a sentinel lying at the foot of a tree, where he had fallen fast asleep from exhaustion. He took the soldier’s musket and walked backwards and forwards on sentry for more than half an hour. Suddenly the soldier started up, and was terrified at seeing General Bonaparte on duty; he expected nothing less than death. But the general spoke kindly to him, told him that after his great fatigues, he wanted sleep; but cautioned him against chosing such a time. That is the way for a general to make heroes out of soldiers. That sentinel would have risked his life at any time to give victory to General Bonaparte.”
“Bonaparte is every inch of a general, a soldier and a man,” said Bessieres.
“Some miserable judges wish to set up this young Archduke Charles as a rival to our general,” said Lemarois. “Why, this battle of Tarwis, in which he had every thing in his favor, proves that he is not by a great deal, up to the measure of Massena.”
“Have you heard the full particulars of the struggle at this pass?” inquired Bessieres. “Battles come so rapidly, that it is difficult to gain a complete knowledge of them.”
“I was present when an officer of Massena’s division who participated in the fight communicated the intelligence,” replied Lemarois. “While we were advancing to Gradisca, General Massena pressed forward, reached this pass, and made himself master of it without much difficulty. The division of Bayalitsch, proceeding across the sources of the Izonzo to anticipate Massena at the pass, would therefore find the outlet closed. The Archduke Charles, foreseeing this result, left the rest of his army on the Friule and Carniola road, with orders to come and rejoin him behind the Alps at Klagenfurt; he then himself made the utmost haste to Villach, where numerous detachments were coming up from the Rhine, to make a fresh attack on the pass, to drive Massena from it, and to re-open the road for Bayalitsch’s division. Bonaparte, on his side, left Bernadotte’s division to pursue the divisions that were retreating into Carniola, and with Guyeux’s and Serrurier’s divisions, proceeded to harass the Bayalitsch division in its rear, in its passage through the valley of the Izonzo. Prince Charles, after rallying behind the Alps the wrecks of Lusignan and Orksay, who had lost the pass, reinforced them with six thousand grenadiers, the finest and bravest soldiers in the imperial service, and again attacked the pass, where Massena had left scarcely a detachment. He succeeded in recovering it, and posted himself here with the regiments of Lusignan and Orksay, and the six thousand grenadiers. Massena collected his whole division, in order to carry it again. Both generals were sensible of the importance of this point. Tarwis retaken, the French army would be masters of the Alps, and would make prisoners of the whole of Bayalitsch’s division. Massena rushed on headlong with his brave infantry, and suffered as usual in person. Prince Charles was not less chary of himself than the republican general, and several times ran the risk of being taken by the French riflemen. Whole lines of cavalry were thrown down and broken on this frightful field of battle. At length, after having brought forward his last battalion, the Archduke Charles abandoned Tarwis to his pertinacious adversary, and found himself compelled to sacrifice Bayalitsch’s division. Massena, left master of Tarwis, fell down upon that division which now came up, attacked it in front, while it was pressed in the rear by the divisions of Guyeux and Serrurier. That division had no other resource than to be made prisoners; and our army captured all the baggage, artillery and ammunition of the enemy that had followed this route. For my part, I think that a good general could have maintained this pass against a greatly superior force.”
“It is a strong position, and it does not appear to me that it could be turned,” observed Bessieres. “However,” continued he, rising, “the pass is ours; Joubert has beaten the enemy and will soon join us; the archduke is completely beaten, and there is scarcely an obstacle in the way of a march to Vienna. These are the results of a march as daring and skilful as any ever conceived by a general. So much glory for General Bonaparte, and renown to the arms of France. Come, Lemarois, we will enter the chalet, and strive to gain some repose. Keep up your spirits, men, and above all keep up the fire. Good night!”
And keen and swiftly blew the Alpine wind, and redly blazed the fires of Tarwis till the light of day arose from the ashes of the night. Then the French general pursued his march. He united his forces; Vienna was threatened, and the treaty of Campo Formio was extorted from Austria.
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.
