[Illustration]
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.
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[Illustration: NAPOLEON AT MOUNT TABOR. Page 98.]
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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.
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[Illustration: JUNOT.]
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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.
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[Illustration: NAPOLEON AT ACRE. Page 105.]
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“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.
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