NAPOLEON: “GENERAL HEADQUARTERS, JERUSALEM”
Napoleon replied that he had to conquer Acre first and then “come in person and plant the tree of Liberty at the very spot where Christ suffered, and the first French soldier who fell in the attack would be buried in the Holy Sepulchre.” But Bonaparte and his troops clearly regarded their expedition against the Muslims as falling outside the rules of civilized conduct. When he stormed Jaffa, his “soldiers hacked to pieces, men and women—the sights were terrible,” wrote one of the French scientists, shocked by “the sound of shots, shrieks of women and fathers, piles of bodies, a daughter being raped on the cadaver of her mother, the smell of blood, the groans of the wounded, the shouts of victors quarrelling about loot.” Finally the French themselves rested, “sated by blood and gold, on top of a heap of dead.”
Before he marched on towards Acre, Bonaparte ordered the slaughter in cold blood of at least 2,440 but probably more like 4,000 of the Butcher’s troops, killing them in batches of 600 a day. On 18 March 1799, he laid siege to Acre, still under the command of the Butcher, whom Napoleon superciliously called “an old man whom I don’t know.” Yet Bluebeard and his 4,000 Afghans, Albanians and Moors resisted vigorously.
On 16 April, Napoleon defeated the Butcher’s cavalry and an Ottoman army at the Battle of Tabor Mountain. Afterwards, finding himself at Ramla, 25 miles from Jerusalem, he issued a pro-Zionist “Proclamation to the Jews,” mendaciously datelined, “General Headquarters, Jerusalem, 20 April 1799.”
Bonaparte, Commander in Chief of the Armies of the French Republic in Africa and Asia, to the rightful heirs of Palestine—the unique nation of Jews who have been deprived of the land of your fathers by thousands of years of lust for conquest and tyranny. Arise then with gladness, ye exiled, and take unto yourselves Israel’s patrimony. The young army has made Jerusalem my headquarters and will within a few days transfer to Damascus so you can remain there [in Jerusalem] as ruler.
The official French gazette, Le Moniteur, claimed that Napoleon had “already armed a great number [of Jews] to re-establish ancient Jerusalem,” but Napoleon could not seize Zion until Acre was his2 and the Butcher was now reinforced by two Royal Navy ships-of-the-line under a maverick English commodore.
SIR SIDNEY SMITH—“MOST BRILLIANT OF CHEVALIERS”
Sidney Smith, the son of an eloping heiress and an adventurer, was “good looking with tremendous moustaches and penetrating black eyes.” He had joined the navy at thirteen, fought the American rebels and then, when he was seconded to the Swedish navy, Catherine the Great’s Russians. The King of Sweden knighted him, so English rivals mocked him as the “Swedish knight.” After the French Revolution, Smith raided France, but was captured and imprisoned in the dreaded Temple. Dashingly he escaped, taunting Bonaparte, whom he particularly despised, in a series of public letters. Not everyone was convinced by Smith: he was, wrote one observer, an “enthusiast, restlessly active, extravagantly vain with no fixed purpose save that of persuading mankind that Sidney Smith was the most brilliant of chevaliers.” But if he was preposterous in normal life, he was heroic in a crisis.
Smith and the Butcher struck up a rapport. When the Englishman admired the gleaming Damascene sword that the Butcher kept beside him at all times, Jazzar boasted, “The one I carry never fails. It’s taken off dozens of heads.” Smith wanted proof, whereupon the Butcher had an ox brought to him which he then beheaded with a single blow. Smith merged his eighty-eight sailors with the Butcher’s multinational garrison. Bonaparte launched three assaults on Acre but Smith and the Butcher managed to repel all three. As Ottoman reinforcements approached and the siege dragged into its third month, the French generals became restless.
On 21 May 1799, with 1,200 troops dead and 2,300 sick or wounded, Napoleon led the retreat towards Egypt. However, 800 French soldiers lay ill in Jaffa. As they would slow the retreat, Napoleon ordered his wounded to be killed by his own doctors. When the French medics refused, a Turkish doctor administered fatal doses of laudanum to the patients. No wonder the French general Jean-Baptiste Kléber reflected, “We have committed in the Holy Land enormous sins and great stupidities.” Two thousand mounted Jerusalemites under the command of the city’s governor pursued and harassed the retreating French. When the peasant fighters of Nablus broke into Jaffa, Smith managed to prevent a massacre of Christians by summoning the Jerusalemites to restore order.
In Egypt, Napoleon, facing the reality of a disastrous campaign that could only be saved by shameless distortion of the truth, abandoned his men and sailed for home. General Kléber, left in command of Egypt, cursed Napoleon: “That bugger has deserted us with his breeches full of shit.” But in France Napoleon was hailed as a returning conqueror, soon to seize power from the Directory as first consul,b and a romantic song about his expedition—“Partant pour la Syrie”—became the Bonapartist anthem.
The Christians of Jerusalem, particularly the Catholics, were in peril from Muslim reprisals. Addicted to grandiose gestures, Smith decided that only a show of English sangfroid would save his brethren. With permission from the Butcher and the sultan, he marched his sailors in dress uniform with beating drums from Jaffa to Jerusalem. Progressing through the streets, he hoisted the British flag over St. Saviour’s Monastery, whose Franciscan superior declared that “every Christian in Jerusalem was under the greatest obligation to the English nation and particularly Smith by whose means they have been preserved from the merciless hand of Bonaparte.” In fact it was the Muslims whom they feared. Smith and his crew prayed at the Sepulchre, the first Frankish troops to enter Jerusalem since 1244.3
Sultan Selim III showered honours on the Butcher, who was appointed pasha of his native Bosnia as well as of Egypt and Damascus. After a short war with the pasha of Gaza, he again dominated Jerusalem and Palestine. But he had not mellowed, for he cut off his prime minister’s nose to spite a face that already lacked an ear and an eye. On his death in 1804, Palestine sank into chaos.
Yet Napoleon and Smith had made the Levant fashionable. Among the adventurers who now started to explore the East and recount their exploits in bestselling books that beguiled the West, the most influential was a French vicomte who in 1806 found Jerusalem bedevilled by fire, rebellion and rapine, at its lowest ebb since the Mongols.4
a He was a Christian slaveboy from Bosnia who, escaping after committing a murder, sold himself to the slave-markets of Istanbul. There he was bought by an Egyptian ruler who converted him to Islam and used him as his chief executioner and hitman. He began his rise as governor of Cairo but made his name defending Beirut against Catherine the Great’s navy. Beirut was honourably surrendered to the Russians after a long siege and the sultan rewarded the Butcher with promotion to Governor of Sidon, and sometimes also that of Damascus. He visited Jerusalem, unofficially in his sphere of influence, where the Husseinis owed him allegiance.
b Napoleon blamed his defeat on Smith, “the man who made me miss my destiny,” but he left one legacy in Jerusalem. On taking Jaffa, his sick soldiers (those whom he later had killed) were nursed by Armenian monks, whom he thanked by presenting them with his tent. The Armenians converted it into chasubles, now used in St. Jameses Cathedral in Jerusalem’s Armenian Quarter.
CHAPTER 35
The New Romantics:
Chateaubriand and Disraeli
1806–1830
THE VICOMTE OF THE ORDER OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE
“Jerusalem overawes me,” declared François-René, Vicomte de Chateaubriand, even though this “deicidal city” was “a heap of rubbish” with the “confused monuments of a cemetery in the midst of a desert.” This bouffant-haired Catholic royalist embraced the romantic view of a shabby Gothic Jerusalem awaiting rescue by the “genius of Christianity.” To him, the more miserable Jerusalem was, the holier and more poetical she became—and the city was now desperate.
Rebel pashas and hordes of Palestinian peasants repeatedly rebelled and seized a godforsaken Jerusalem which had to be stormed b
y the governors of Damascus who marched down annually with an army and treated the city as conquered enemy territory. The vicomte arrived to find the governor of Damascus camped outside the Jaffa Gate while his three thousand soldiers menaced the inhabitants. When Chateaubriand settled in the St. Saviour’s Monastery, it was occupied by these ruffians who extorted cash from the friars. He strutted the streets armed with several pistols but in the monastery, one of them caught him unawares and tried to kill him: he only survived by almost throttling the Turk. In the streets, “we met not a creature! What wretchedness, what desolation for most of the inhabitants had fled to the mountains. Shops are shut, people conceal themselves in cellars or withdraw to the mountains.” When the pasha left, the garrison in David’s Tower numbered just a dozen and the city became even more eerie: “The only noise is the galloping of a steed of the desert—it’s a janissary who brings the head of a Bedouin or returns from plundering the unhappy peasants.”
Now the Frenchman could revel in the squalid sacred mysteries of the shrines. Yet this enthusiastic gourmand, who gave his name to his recipe for steak, relished the banquets he shared with his famously plump Franciscan hosts, feasting on “lentil soup, veal with cucumbers and onions, broiled kid with rice, pigeons, partridges, game, excellent wine.” Armed with several pistols, he retraced every step of Jesus while mocking Ottoman monuments (“not worth notice”) and the Jews who were “covered in rags, sealed in the dust of Zion, with vermin that devoured them.” Chateaubriand was astonished to “behold these rightful masters of Judaea living as slaves and strangers in their own country.”
In the Sepulchre he prayed on his knees for half an hour, his eyes “riveted to the stone” of Jesus’ tomb, dizzy with the incense, the clash of Ethiopian cymbals and chanting of the Greeks, before kneeling at the tombs of Godfrey and Baldwin, those French paladins who had defeated Islam, “a religion hostile to civilization that systematically favoured ignorance, despotism and slavery.”
The Franciscans awarded Chateaubriand the Order of the Holy Sepulchre in a solemn ceremony. As they encircled the kneeling vicomte, attaching the spurs of Godfrey to his heels and knighting him with the Crusader’s sword, he experienced an almost ecstatic joy:
If it is considered that I was at Jerusalem, in the Church of Calvary, within a dozen paces of the tomb of Jesus Christ, and thirty from that of Godfrey de Bouillon, that I was equipped with the spurs of the Deliverer of the Holy Sepulchre; and had touched that sword, both long and large, which so noble and so valiant an arm had once wielded, I couldn’t remain unmoved.5
On 12 October 1808, an Armenian sacristan fell asleep by the stove in the Armenian gallery on the second floor of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The stove caught fire, burned him to death and then spread. The Tomb of Jesus was destroyed. In the ensuing chaos, the Christians invited Hassan al-Husseini, the mufti, to camp in the courtyard of the Church to prevent looting. The Greeks accused the Armenians of arson. England and Austria were fighting to contain the apparently invincible Emperor Napoleon so the Greeks, backed by Russia, were able to consolidate their control over the Church. They built the rococo aedicule that stands around the tomb today. They celebrated by smashing the beautifully-decorated sarcophagi of the Crusader kings: Chateaubriand, now back in France, was the last outsider to see them.a A Muslim mob attacked the builders restoring the Church; the garrison mutinied, and the Butcher’s successor and son-in-law, Suleiman Pasha—who was known as the Just (though anyone would have seemed clement after his predecessor)—captured the city: forty-six rebels were executed, their heads decorating the gates.6
As the real Jerusalem decayed, the imaginary Jerusalem ignited Western dreams, encouraged by Napoleon’s nasty little Middle Eastern war, the decline of the Ottomans—and the book that Chateaubriand wrote when he got home. His Itinerary from Paris to Jerusalem set the tone of the European attitude to the Orient with its cruel but inept Turks, wailing Jews, and primitive but ferocious Arabs who tended to congregate in picturesque biblical poses. It was such a bestseller that it launched a new genre and even his valet, Julien, wrote his memoirs of the trip.b In London, Sir Sidney Smith’s boasting about his Levantine exploits caught the imagination of his royal mistress—and inspired the most absurd of royal tours.
CAROLINE OF BRUNSWICK AND HESTER STANHOPE:
QUEEN OF ENGLAND AND QUEEN OF THE DESERT
Princess Caroline, estranged wife of the English Prince Regent (later King George IV), was much taken with the dashing Smith, and regularly invited his cousin, Lady Hester Stanhope, niece of Prime Minister William Pitt the Younger, to provide cover for their brazen affair.
Lady Hester loathed the coarse, deluded and lecherous Princess Caroline, who showed off to Smith by “dancing about, exposing herself, like an opera girl” and even gartering below the knee: “an impudent woman, a downright whore! So low! So vulgar!” Caroline’s marriage to the Prince Regent had been a disaster and the so-called Delicate Investigation into her love-life at that time later revealed at least five lovers including Smith, Lord Hood, the painter Thomas Lawrence and various servants. But Smith’s stories of Acre and Jerusalem at least found their mark: both women quite separately decided to travel to the East.
Lady Hester had her own Jerusalem destiny. Richard Brothers, an ex-sailor and radical Calvinist, had declared himself a descendant of King David who would be the Ruler of the World until the Second Coming of Christ. His book Plan for New Jerusalem revealed that God had “preordained me to be the King and Restorer of the Jews,” and Brothers also asserted that the British people were descended from the Lost Tribes: he would lead them back to Jerusalem. He designed gardens and palaces for the Temple Mount, and uniforms and flags for his new Israelites, but he was eventually imprisoned as a lunatic. This Anglo-Israelite vision was an eccentric one. Yet within thirty years a belief in a sacred return of the Jews to accelerate the Second Coming was almost British government policy.
Brothers expected a heavenly lady to assist in this enterprise and selected Lady Hester Stanhope to be his “Queen of the Jews.” When she visited him in Newgate Prison, he predicted that “she would one day go to Jerusalem and lead back the Chosen People!” Stanhope did indeed visit Jerusalem in 1812, dressed fetchingly in Ottoman costume, but Brothers’ predictions did not materialize. She stayed in the East—and her fame helped to promote European interest. Most satisfyingly of all, she beat the despised Caroline to Jerusalem by three years.
On 9 August 1814, the princess, aged forty-six, departed on a scandalous Mediterranean tour. Inspired by Smith, Stanhope and the pilgrimages of various crusading ancestors, Caroline declared that “Jerusalem is my great ambition.”
In Acre, the princess was greeted by Suleiman the Just’s “prime minister, a Jew who wants an eye, an ear and a nose”—for the pasha had inherited not only the Butcher’s fiefdom but also his Jewish adviser, Haim Farhi. Ten years after the Butcher’s death, Caroline’s courtiers were amazed how many “persons one sees in the streets without noses.” But the princess relished the “barbarous pomp of Eastern mores.” She arrived with an entourage of twenty-six including a foundling, Willie Austin, whom she had adopted (though he was possibly her own child), and her latest lover, an Italian soldier named Bartholomeo Pergami, sixteen years her junior. Now a baron and her chamberlain, he was “a man six feet high with a magnificent head of black hair, pale complexion and moustaches that reach from here to London!” as one lady swooningly described him. By the time Caroline left for Jerusalem, her retinue of 200 “presented the appearance of an army.”
She entered Jerusalem on a donkey like Jesus, but she was sufficiently fat to need a servant propping her up on each side. The Franciscans escorted her on her ass to her suite at St. Saviour’s. “It would be impossible to paint the scene,” remembered one of her courtiers. “Men, women and children, Jews and Arabs, Armenians, Greeks, Catholics and infidels all received us. ‘Ben venute!’ they cried!” Illuminated by burning torches, “many fingers extended towards the Roya
l Pilgrim” with shouts of “That’s her!” No wonder: Caroline often sported “a wig (curled at the sides nearly as high as the top of the bonnet), artificial eyebrows (nature having denied her any) and false teeth,” with a scarlet dress, cut low at front and back and far too short, scarcely hiding the “immense protuberance of her ventre.” A courtier had to admit that her entry was both “solemn and certainly laughable.”
Proud of being the first Christian princess to visit for six centuries, Caroline sincerely wanted to leave “a proper feeling of her elevated status,” so she established an Order of St. Caroline with its own banner—a red cross with a riband of lilac and silver. Her lover Pergami was the Order’s first (and last) “Grand Master.” On her return, she commissioned a painting of her pilgrimage: The Entry Queen Caroline into Jerusalem.
The future Queen of England handed out generous donations to the Franciscans, and on 17 July 1815 (four weeks after Napoleon’s final defeat at Waterloo) “quit Jerusalem amid the thanks and regrets of all ranks and degrees”—hardly surprising given the state of the place.
When Damascus trebled the taxes in 1819, the city revolted again. This time, Abdullah Pasha,c the strongman of Palestine, the Butcher’s grandson, attacked Jerusalem and when it was captured, the city governor personally strangled twenty-eight rebels—the rest were beheaded the next day, all the bodies lined up outside Jaffa Gate. In 1824, the savage depredations of the Ottoman pasha known as Mustafa the Criminal led to a peasants’ revolt. Jerusalem achieved independence for some months until Abdullah bombarded it from the Mount of Olives. By the late 1820s, Jerusalem was “fallen, desolate and abject,” wrote a brave English traveller, Judith Montefiore, visiting with her wealthy husband, Moses. “Not a single relic,” she said, remained of “the city that was the joy of the whole earth.”