of the fight, Persano made the great ram _Affondatore_ nearly
useless by persisting in keeping on the outskirts of the conflict.
If he had ventured in with her it is very likely he would have been
sunk by the better-handled Austrian ships. The _Palestro_, which
had gone into action immediately astern of the _Ré d’Italia_,
had been almost as severely handled as her leader. She had been
rammed. Her steering gear and rudder had been knocked to pieces, and
her gun-decks were on fire. She drew out of the fight, her commander
getting his steam hose to work to drown the magazine. The Austrian
ships were now clearing the Italian line, and steering for Lissa. The
_mêlée_, which had lasted for rather more than half-an-hour, was
over. The position of the two fleets was reversed. The Austrians with
their left near Lissa, were forming up in line across the channel
between that island and Lesina. Everyone of their ironclads was still
in good condition, and even the disabled _Kaiser_, which had
gone into the harbour with her foremast burning and her decks strewed
with nearly two hundred killed and wounded, was again clearing for
action. The Italian wooden ships were assembling off the western end
of the island. To the northward the ironclads were scattered here and
there, on the waters that had just been the scene of the fight. As
the smoke cleared, Persano signalled to the nearest ship--“Where is
the _Ré d’Italia_?” and got for answer, “Sunk to the bottom.”
Close astern of the _Affondatore_ lay the _Palestro_, the
black smoke pouring from hatchway and porthole. Her crew believed
that the magazine had been successfully drowned, and that they were
getting the fire under. As they recognised Persano on the bridge of the
_Affondatore_, they gave him a cheer. His own crew were answering
it when there was a burst of flame and a volume of dense smoke from the
_Palestro_, and an explosion louder than all the din of battle
went echoing over sea and shore. It was the death-knell of 400 men, for
the _Palestro_ had blown up with all on board.
Admiral Vacca, thinking that Persano had gone down with the _Ré
d’Italia_, had signalled to the fleet to re-form in line of battle.
The same signal from the _Affondatore_ showed him where his
commander was. And the ironclads, now reduced from ten to eight,
re-formed in line. It was noon on a blazing hot day, and for some time
the two fleets watched each other across the sunny space of open water
that divided them. Persano had still the advantage of numbers, and
everyone expected that he would signal to renew the attack. But if he
had very little confidence in his fleet before the battle, he was now
reduced to a condition of something like despair. Even the wooden ships
of the Austrian squadron had passed in safety through his line, while
their ironclads had destroyed two of his ships and more than a thousand
of his men. It must be added that he had now been three times in
action, and his stock of both coals for his engines and ammunition for
his guns must have run very low. In this state of affairs, he persuaded
himself that he need not actually attack the Austrians; all that honour
demanded of him was to give them the opportunity of renewing the trial
of strength if they wished. So for another hour he remained in line of
battle, just out of long range of his enemy’s guns.
But Tegethoff had accomplished the task assigned to his fleet. He had
relieved Lissa, by bringing the guns, the men, and the supplies of his
fleet to the help of its brave little garrison. He had done this, too,
not by slipping past the Italians in the morning fog, but by fighting
his way through their most powerful squadron, making them pay dearly
for their attempt to intercept him. Why should he renew the fight when
there was nothing more to be gained for the moment?
Persano at last decided that he, too, had done enough for honour. He
signalled to the fleet to steam away to the north-west, and shortly
after altered his course for Ancona. He anchored there next day, and
added to all his previous blunders the final folly of sending to his
Government, and wiring all over Italy, the report that he had fought a
pitched battle with the Austrians, and won a victory over them in the
waters of Lissa. That night Florence (then the capital) was illuminated
in honour of his “triumph.” Next day the facts began to be known. It
was impossible to deny that the Austrian fleet was intact; that the
Italians had lost two ships, and had been forced to raise the siege
of Lissa. It was in vain that Persano argued that he was the victor
because he had remained in possession of the waters in which the battle
had been fought, and that he had for a whole hour dared the Austrians
to come on again. There was the obvious reply that a naval battle is
not fought for the possession of a stretch of open water; that Persano
had tried to prevent the Austrians reaching Lissa, that they had gone
there in spite of him; and that they would have been fools to come
back in order to show twice over that they were not afraid to fight
him. There was a wild outburst of indignation against the unfortunate
admiral; there were riots at Florence, and a royal decree removed him
from the command of the fleet. As if to add to the general collapse
of the Italian navy, the _Affondatore_, supposed to be its most
powerful ship, whether through injuries received at Lissa, or through
mere defects in her structure, sank at her anchors in the harbour of
Ancona.
On the side of Austria, there were rejoicings in which the name of
Tegethoff was celebrated as that of an heroic sailor who had given
his country the consolation of a naval victory at a time when her
fortunes on land were at the lowest. He had won his great victory with
comparatively little loss. The _Kaiser_ was the only ship that
suffered at all heavily. In some of the ironclads there were only a few
wounded, and every one of the ships was in a position to continue the
fight when the Italian fleet retired. The battle was the first that had
been fought by ironclad fleets in European waters, and the impression
it made upon naval experts was that the ram would be the chief weapon
of future battles on the sea. Yet, though we have by no means clear or
full accounts of what happened in the _mêlée_ while the two fleets
were passing through each other’s lines, it is certain that the number
of attempts to ram made by the Austrians was out of all proportion to
their two successful attacks. All the attempts of the Italians to ram
ended in failure. It must be remembered that since Lissa a great change
has come over naval tactics, through the development of the torpedo and
the quick-firing gun, and it is now generally recognised by naval men
that to attempt to ram an adversary till he is disabled by gunfire or
otherwise is to invite failure and disaster. Tegethoff regarded the ram
as his chief weapon. Nowadays it is looked upon as the means of giving
the _coup de grâce_ and completing a victory that is already half
won.
The victor of Lissa was rightly honoured by his sovereign and his
countrymen, while Admiral Persano was put on his trial on the charge
of having lost the battle through cowardice and incompetence. He was
acquitted of the charge of cowardice, but found guilty of having
sacrificed his fleet through his incompetent conduct at Lissa, and
he was deprived of all rank and dismissed from the navy. There is no
doubt that although he alone was condemned, he was not the only officer
of the Italian fleet who was responsible for the defeat of Lissa.
Throughout there was a lamentable want of energy, pluck, and decision.
Otherwise the Austrians would not have achieved their victory with so
slight a loss. Albini’s conduct in looking on idly with his frigates
while Petz on the Austrian side was leading his wooden squadron against
Ribotti’s ironclads, is a good instance of this.
Indeed, the Battle of Lissa, considered in its details, shows that
success on the sea, as well as on land, is primarily a question of
brave and competent leadership. Good officers are the first condition
of naval success; well-trained and disciplined crews the second;
powerful ships are the third. Public opinion is often so ill informed
as to put in the first place what really stands last; but none of these
elements of naval power can be safely neglected by a maritime State,
and one which claims the Empire of the Sea must spare no effort to
possess all three, and to possess them in abundance.
[Illustration:
MACMAHON AT MAGENTA
BY STODDARD DEWEY]
It was noon of the 4th of June, 1859, before the French general,
Trochu, at the head of his division, could move out in turn from
Novara along the high road leading to Milan across the river Ticino.
The Emperor, Napoleon III., was commanding in person the united French
and Italian armies. He had gone on ahead, and was himself preceded by
several divisions of the French troops. It was known, in a general way,
that the Austrian enemy was not far distant to the south and eastward
beyond the river. An attack was expected, but it was uncertain where it
would be made.
Suddenly the noise of cannon was heard from the front, several miles
away. It went on steadily increasing.
“What is the meaning of that?” inquired Trochu of an officer he met
watering his horse by the roadside.
“At first we thought it was a fight,” was the answer; “but it is only
General Lebœuf trying his cannon.”
“Cannon would not thunder like that under trial,” replied Trochu.
“Those guns are loaded with something heavier than powder.”
He hastened the march of his troops with not a little anxiety. Soon
another officer, in the sky-blue uniform which marked the personal
staff of the Emperor, dashed up.
“Ah, General, what a fearful surprise! The Emperor has been attacked by
the Austrians when he least expected them. We are all but beaten.”
“Where is MacMahon?” asked the General.
“MacMahon had orders to march forward, no matter what happened, to the
church-tower of Magenta.”
“Then nothing is yet lost. MacMahon is not a Cæsar, but he is stubborn.
If he has been told to march on the tower of Magenta, he will reach
it in spite of all. And then it is we who shall have outflanked the
Austrian army.”
Several hours passed before the guns of MacMahon made themselves
heard. It was late at night before the Emperor learned what MacMahon
and his men had been doing. Generals and soldiers, wearied out with
the afternoon’s bloody fighting by the river, could not believe that a
great victory had been won in the evening without them over by Magenta.
In the morning, when they looked for the battle to be renewed, they
found that the enemy was indeed drawing off, sullen and beaten.
Even afterwards, when each movement of the hostile troops was known and
could be followed on the map, great authorities in practical warfare,
like the Prussian general, von Moltke, criticised the winning of the
battle. MacMahon at Magenta is an instance of a battle won contrary to
rule.
I.--THE PREPARATIONS OF BATTLE.
The enmity between Austrians and Italians was of old date. It belonged
to the great popular movement in favour of a common government for all
of the Italian race and language. Until now the whole of Italy had
been divided up piecemeal among many rulers. To the north-west Victor
Emanuel had his kingdom of Sardinia, or Piedmont. He represented the
Italian hopes in this war with Austria which held possession of the
rich provinces of Lombardy and Venice to the east of his dominions.
Toward the south were the petty duchies of Parma and Modena, the
grand-duchy of Tuscany, the States of the Church, and the kingdom of
Naples, or the Two Sicilies. All these were at one with Austria in
striving to keep things as they had been so long; but their people
were ripe for the revolution which was bound to come. Magenta was
the first decisive victory won, after an invasion of the Austrian
territory, in the name of United Italy.
The war had been long preparing. In 1849 the Austrians crushed for a
time the Italian uprising by a victory over the Sardinians here at
Novara. For many years nothing could be done but by way of diplomacy.
This was the work of Cavour, the Minister of King Victor Emanuel. From
1852 he had been persuading the governments of Europe that there was an
Italian question which would soon have to be settled.
[Illustration: “GENERAL LEBŒUF ... DASHED UP”
(_p._ 166).]
Louis Napoleon, who was now Emperor in France, had himself been a
revolutionist in Italy when he was only a needy adventurer. That was
in 1831, when he took part in an insurrection in the Papal States.
He then became a _carbonaro_, or member of one of those secret
societies in which the chief obligation was to forward the cause of
Italian unity. For a long time after he became emperor he shrank from
precipitating the war to which his oath obliged him. The explosion of a
bomb under his carriage in Paris by Orsini, the son of the man who had
stood sponsor for him in the revolutionary society, reminded him that
the _carbonari_ were relentless in their vengeance on traitors to
their cause. In July, 1858, it was made known that the Emperor of the
French had entered into close alliance with the King of Sardinia.
Austria, seeing that war was inevitable, preferred that it should come
sooner rather than later. On the 19th of April, 1859, she summoned
Sardinia to put her army on a peace footing within three days. Cavour
refused, and on the 29th the Austrian commander Gyulaï invaded the
Sardinian territory.
Napoleon III. now announced that the acts of Austria constituted a
declaration of war on France, the ally of Sardinia. At once he set
about organising his army for the Italian campaign. On the 4th of May
his troops were entering the valley of the Po, along which lay the open
way to Lombardy. On the 10th the Emperor himself left Paris for the
seat of war, to command the allied armies in person.
The news of Napoleon’s coming was enough to send Gyulaï back from the
threatening movement which he had already made on Turin, the capital
of Sardinia. Napoleon had not yet his artillery, but the Austrian
commander did not know the essential weakness and confusion of the
forces that were coming to meet him. Until the battle of Magenta, when
consistent and energetic measures were already too late, the Austrian
movements were a strange alternation of forward marches leading to no
decisive action, and of hasty and fatiguing retreats when no enemy
pursued.
General Gyulaï’s mind in the matter is now known. He was continually
urged from Vienna, and afterwards from Verona, in Italy, where the
Austrian Emperor had placed himself to direct the campaign, to push
forward with his numerous, well-drilled, and well-equipped troops,
and take the offensive. He himself was beset with fears that the
enemy might pass him by and take Lombardy unprotected. He was not
reassured when a division of his army in the north had succeeded in
driving the free bands of Garibaldi to the very edge of the neutral
Swiss territory. He gradually drew back to the region where the river
Ticino, in its lower course, separated Lombardy from Sardinia. There he
gave all his attention to concentrating his forces around the strong
defensive positions which he had already prepared. But all this gave
time to the French army to perfect its order and equipment, and to
concentrate its own strength in line with the Sardinian troops.
Such was the general situation of things on the 1st of June, when
Napoleon was directing the main body of the allied troops along the
great highway leading to Milan, the capital of Lombardy, only twenty
miles beyond the Ticino. On that day Gyulaï again retreated with all
his forces, leaving the astonished French Emperor free to enter Novara.
Napoleon could not believe that the Austrians would long delay their
attack. On both sides the service of scouts was so ill-organised that
neither commander had any clear idea of the other’s strength and
position.
On the 2nd of June Napoleon sent forward two divisions of MacMahon’s
corps to see what was awaiting them along the Ticino. General Camou
reached the river, with his light infantry, at Porto di Turbigo, six
miles to the north-east of Novara. He found no one facing him from the
Austrian side but the single Customs officer, who was still faithful to
the post which he had occupied in time of peace. From the yellow and
black flagstaff beside him floated the double-headed eagle of Austria.
Camou ordered first one, and then a second cannon-shot to be fired.
The functionary disappeared open-mouthed. General Lebœuf, who was in
command of the artillery, dashed up, pale with indignation.
“General,” he cried to Camou, “what are you firing at? It is lucky
there is no one in front of you. Do you wish to bring the enemy down on
us?”
In this campaign of blunders fortune steadily favoured the French and
Italian armies. Unmolested by any sharpshooters that might have been
hidden in the marshy thickets across the river, the bridge of pontoons
was completed, boat by boat, and at half-past six in the evening a
division of the light infantry was safely established on the enemy’s
ground.
General Espinasse, with his division, had gone forward along the high
road to Milan as far as the stone bridge of San Martino. This was
expected to be a strong defensive position of the Austrians. To his
surprise he found that it too had been abandoned, after an ineffectual
attempt to blow it up. The only two arches that had been seriously
injured were repaired that same afternoon, and another way lay open
into the enemy’s country.
It now seemed evident that the Austrians would make their stand along
the Naviglio Grande--the broad and deep canal which here follows the
general course of the Ticino, at from one to three miles’ distance
toward Milan. The indecision of the French Emperor was still great. He
could not determine on any general advance of the allied armies further
to the east, fearing always that the invisible enemy might be turning
back to attack him from the south.
At three o’clock in the morning of the 3rd of June, the light infantry
reached a bridge over the canal. It was untouched, and the Austrians
were not there to defend it. Two companies of the French troops at once
installed themselves in houses on the bank, and, by mattresses at the
windows and otherwise, prepared a defence against any sudden attack.
The remainder of the battalion crossed the bridge and disposed itself
behind the stone walls of the gardens and the haystacks which were near
at hand. In this way an enemy would be covered by the fire from each
bank. MacMahon’s entire corps, comprising the divisions of Generals
Espinasse and Lamotterouge, besides the light infantry of Camou, had
been ordered to cross the river and canal by the bridges which had
thus been secured. While the greater part were still at the pontoons,
MacMahon and Camou, with a large body of troops, pushed on beyond the
canal to Turbigo, a village farther north. The corps thus took the
position, which it kept through all the subsequent fighting, of left
wing (farthest to the north and east) of the long, scattered line of
the allied armies.
General Mellinet, with the Grenadiers of the Imperial Guard, was
substituted for Espinasse at the bridge of San Martino to the south.
The Austrian division of Clam-Gallas, which was occupying Magenta,
faced all these troops approaching it from the north and west.
The Turcos, whom MacMahon had brought with his other soldiers from
their posts in Algiers, soon dislodged the few Austrian companies that
were on guard at Turbigo. Seeing the way clear, MacMahon, with Camou
and a small escort, rode forward to the hamlet of Robecchetto, where
the two generals climbed the church-tower with the hope of ascertaining
the position of the enemy. Instead, they saw a large number of the
Austrian troops charging down on them. They had barely time to get
to their horses and ride away, with the Austrians behind them in hot
pursuit. The Algerian sharpshooters came to the rescue, and soon a
serious battle was raging around Turbigo.
At the same time a column of 4,000 men, preceded by a battalion of
Tyrolese sharpshooters, was directed against the bridge over the canal,
which the French troops had occupied in the early morning. The Austrian
commander now foresaw the results of the negligence which allowed
the allied troops to cross both river and canal above the positions
on which he relied for defence. It was too late. Before the Austrian
attack could dislodge the French infantry, who answered their fire from
each end of the bridge, MacMahon had gained the day at Turbigo, and
his cannon sounded nearer and nearer. The enemy, fearing to be cut off
from their main body, hastily retreated. It was seven o’clock in the
evening. The combat of Turbigo, which was the prelude of the morrow’s
work, had been fought and won. Napoleon, who came up during the fray,
gave the name to one of the broad, new streets he was opening in Paris.
The Emperor returned to Novara for the night, and made out the
necessary orders for a general movement forward of the allied armies on
the following day. These orders were changed next morning in several
of their details. As they were based on no precise knowledge of the
enemy’s position and movements, they were again upset by the fighting
and surprises of the midday.
II.--THE RIDE OF THE COMMANDANT.
At six o’clock in the morning of the 4th of June, Napoleon despatched
Commandant Schmitz of his staff with his final orders.
“Go first to the King. Inform him of my march forward, and tell him
to begin moving his men, following Camou over the left side of the
river.” This was for Victor Emanuel, who was in command of 22,000 men,
one-half of the Italian regiments of the allied armies. He was but a
short distance to the west of the pontoon bridges which had been thrown
across the Ticino at Porto di Turbigo.
“Go on next to the Ticino. I have ordered two of the bridges to be
brought down to San Martino, to hasten what will be the long crossing
of our own troops.” The Emperor referred to the main portion of his
army, made up of the 41,000 men of Canrobert and Niel, who were still
back of Novara, and of 40,000 more belonging to the corps of Baraguey
d’Hilliers and the second Italian division. The latter were so many
miles in the rear that they could be of no use in any battle to be
fought that day.
“Then find MacMahon, who must be already beyond Turbigo. Ask him what
he counts on doing if he has the enemy in his front. Inform him of
the march and position of the Guard, which he has at his right.” This
was General Mellinet’s division, which had been detached from Camou
and was already across the river at San Martino. With the remainder
of the Guard under Camou, and the entire divisions of Espinasse and
Lamotterouge, this brought to 32,000 the number of men sharing in
MacMahon’s offensive movement on Magenta.
“I shall be at Trecate” (halfway from Novara to the bridge of San
Martino), continued the Emperor, “at noon precisely. Make the entire
round, and be exact in reporting to me at that hour.”
The line of march thus formed left MacMahon in command of the left
wing of the army. This was already in great part across both river and
canal, and was to be followed closely by King Victor Emanuel with his
Italian regiments as a reserve. The Emperor was commanding in person
the centre and right--that is, the long line of troops which was to
advance, division after division, along the high road of Milan. He had
to expect a sharp fight in forcing the strong defensive positions held
by the enemy where the road crosses the canal, before reaching Magenta.
The movement of MacMahon’s corps on Magenta from the other side was
designed by him to divide the Austrian forces during this attack.
In the absence of all precise information, Napoleon still believed that
the bulk of the Austrian army was disposed in a long line parallel to
his own, and several miles to the south. To avoid a possible general
attack all along the line, he had arranged the march of his troops so
that division trod on the heels of division from far beyond Novara. He
hoped, by forcing back the right wing of the Austrian army, which alone
he supposed to be defending the approaches to Magenta, to be able to
pass by the main body of the enemy and march on Milan. At least, this
is the only way of explaining the Emperor’s orders for this 4th day
of June. As a line of battle his forward movement was preposterous,
straddling a river and canal, which were not easy of passage, and
without any defensive positions to support him in case a concentrated
attack should be made in the meantime.
[Illustration: “ON THE TRACK ... LAY A BODY COVERED WITH
A BLUE CLOAK” (_p._ 170).]