The year 1796 found the Republic in sorry plight. The treasury was
empty, labor unemployed, business at a standstill. So much paper
money, genuine and counterfeit, had been issued, that it almost took a
cord of assignats to pay for a cord of wood. Landlords who had leased
houses before the Revolution, and who had now to accept pay in paper,
could hardly buy a pullet with a year’s rental of a house. There was
famine, stagnation, maladministration. The hope of the Republic was its
armies. Drawn from the bosom of the aroused people at the time when
revolutionary ardor was at its height, the soldiers, after three years
of service, were veterans who were still devoted to republican ideals.
Great victories had given them confidence, and they only needed proper
equipment and proper direction to accomplish still greater results. At
the end of 1795, Moreau commanded the army of the Rhine, Jourdan that
of the Sambre and Meuse, Hoche that of the West. Schérer commanded the
Army of Italy, where, on November 24, 1795, he beat the Austrians and
Sardinians in the battle of Loano. He did not follow up his victory,
however, and the Directory complained of him. On his part he complained
of the Directory. They sent him no money with which to pay his troops,
no clothing for them, and only bread to feed them on. The commissary
was corrupt; and the Directory, which was corrupt, winked at the
robbery of the troops by thievish contractors. Schérer, discouraged,
wished to resign. It was to this ill-fed, scantily clothed, unpaid, and
discouraged army that Napoleon was sent; and it was this army which he
thrilled with a trumpet-like proclamation.
“Soldiers! You are naked, badly fed. The government owes you much; it
can give you nothing. Your endurance, and the courage you have shown,
do you credit, but gain you no advantage, get you no glory. I will lead
you into the most fertile plains in the world. Rich provinces, great
cities, will be in your power; and there you will find honor, glory,
and riches. Soldiers of Italy, can you be found wanting in courage?”
The army was electrified by this brief address, which touched
masterfully the chords most likely to respond. Courage, pride,
patriotism, and cupidity were all invoked and aroused. For the first
time the soldiers of the Revolution were tempted with the promise of
the loot of the vanquished. “Italy is the richest land in the world;
let us go and despoil it.” Here, indeed, was the beginning of a new
chapter in the history of republican France.
[Illustration: NAPOLEON
From a print in the collection of Mr. W. C. Crane. The
original engraving by G. Fiesinger, after a miniature by
Jean-Baptiste-Paulin Guérin. Deposited in the National Library,
Paris, 1799.]
Not without a purpose did Napoleon so word his proclamation. There had
been an understanding between himself and the Directory that his army
must be self-sustaining; he must forage on the enemy as did Wallenstein
in the Thirty Years’ War. The government had exerted itself to the
utmost for Napoleon, and had supplied him with a small sum of specie
and good bills; but, this done, he understood that the Directors could
do no more. As rapidly as possible he put his army in marching order,
and then marched. From the defensive attitude in which Schérer had
left it, he passed at once to the offensive. The plan of campaign
which Napoleon, the year before, had drawn up for the revolutionary
committee, and which, when forwarded to the army, Kellermann had
pronounced “the dream of a madman,” was about to be inaugurated by the
lunatic himself.
The generals of division in the Army of Italy were older men, older
officers than Napoleon, and they resented his appointment. Masséna,
Augereau, Sérurier, Laharpe, Kilmaine, Cervoni, but especially the two
first, murmured discontentedly, calling Napoleon, “one of Barras’s
favorites,” a “mere street general,” a “dreamer” who had “never been in
action.”
Napoleon, aware of this feeling, adopted the wisest course. He drew
around himself the line of ceremony, repelled with steady look all
inclination toward familiarity, abruptly cut short those who ventured
to give advice, adopted a stern, imperative, distant manner, took the
earliest opportunity of showing his absolute self-confidence and his
superiority, indulged in no levity or dissipation, and issued his
orders in a tone so laconic and authoritative that, after his first
formal interview with his division commanders at Albenga, his power
over them was established. On leaving the tent of the new chief,
Augereau remarked to Masséna, “That little ---- of a general frightened
me,” and Masséna confessed to the same experience.
The military plans of the Directory, emanating from such men as
Carnot and Bonaparte, were bold and practical. Austria, which had
invaded France from the Rhine, was to be held in check there by
Moreau and Jourdan at the same time that she was assailed by way of
Italy. The three armies of the republic, operating far apart, were to
coöperate in general design, and were finally to converge upon Vienna.
Incidentally to this plan of campaign, Genoa was to be brought to terms
for violations of neutrality; the Pope was to be punished for his
constant encouragement to La Vendée and the royalists generally; and
also because he had screened the assassins of the French ambassador,
Basseville. Sardinia (whose king was father-in-law to the Counts of
Provence and Artois, afterward respectively Louis XVIII. and Charles
X.) was to be humbled for its alliance with Austria against France.
The armies opposed to Napoleon were commanded by old men, excellent
officers so long as war was conducted with a sword in one hand and a
book of etiquette in the other. Opposed to a man like Napoleon, who
set all rules at naught, and put into practice a new system, they were
sadly outclassed and bewildered.
Napoleon intended to force his way into Italy at the point where the
Alps and the Apennines join. From Savona on the Mediterranean to Cairo
it is about nine miles by a road practicable for artillery. From Cairo
carriage roads led into Italy. At no other point could the country be
entered save by crossing lofty mountains. Therefore Napoleon’s plan
was to turn the Alps instead of crossing them, and to enter Piedmont
through the pass of Cadibona.
Putting his troops in motion, he threw forward toward Genoa a
detachment under Laharpe. The Austrian commander, thinking that
Bonaparte’s plan was to seize Genoa, divided his forces into three
bodies,--the Sardinians on the right at Ceva, the centre under
D’Argenteau marching toward Montenotte, and the right under Beaulieu
himself moved from Novi upon Voltri, a town within ten miles of Genoa.
Between these three divisions there was no connection; and, on account
of the mountainous country, it was difficult for them to communicate
with each other, or be concentrated.
On April 10, 1796, Beaulieu attacked Cervoni, leading the van of the
French in their march toward Genoa, and drove him.
But D’Argenteau, who had advanced on Montenotte, was less fortunate.
Colonel Rampon, who commanded twelve hundred Frenchmen at this point,
realized the immense importance of checking the Austrian advance,
to prevent it from falling upon the flank of Napoleon’s army as it
moved along the Corniche road. Throwing himself into the redoubt
of Montelegino, Rampon barred the way of the Austrians with heroic
gallantry. Three times he threw back the assault of the entire
Austrian-Sardinian division. During the combat he called upon his
little band to swear that they would die in the redoubt rather than
give it up, and the oath was taken with the greatest enthusiasm.
Had D’Argenteau continued his efforts, the oath-bound defenders would
probably have been exterminated, but he did not persevere. He drew off
his forces in the evening, to wait till next morning, and then renew
the attack. Morning came, but so did Napoleon. D’Argenteau looked
around him, and lo! he was a lost man. Three French divisions enveloped
the one division of their foe, and to the discomfited Austrians was
left the dismal alternative of surrender or a desperate fight against
overwhelming odds. The battle was fought, and Napoleon won his first
individual and undivided triumph, the victory of Montenotte. The enemy
lost colors and cannon, a thousand slain, and two thousand prisoners.
Napoleon had kept the divisions of his army so skilfully placed
that each could support the other, and all could concentrate. Thus
he crushed the Austrian centre, which could get no support from its
two wings, and with his small force triumphed over the larger armies
opposed to him.
But in this his first campaign, Napoleon’s tactics presented that weak
point which was in the end to be his ruin; he risked so much that one
slip in his combination was too likely to bring about a Waterloo.
Had Rampon been merely an average officer, or had D’Argenteau been a
Rampon, or had the gallant twelve hundred been merely average soldiers,
the road through the pass at Montenotte would have been cleared, the
Austrians would have been on Napoleon’s flank, and only a miracle could
have saved him from disaster. But Napoleon was young, and luck was with
him: the time was far distant when he himself was to be angrily amazed
at seeing Fortune mock his best combinations, and trivial accidents
ruin his campaigns.
Swiftly following up his advantage, Napoleon pushed forward to Cairo,
to wedge his army in between the separated wings of the enemy. At Dego,
lower down the valley of the Bormida, in which the French were now
operating, were the rallying Austrians, guarding the road from Acqui
into Lombardy. To the left of the French were the Sardinians in the
gorges of Millesimo, blocking the route from Ceva into Piedmont. It was
necessary for Napoleon to strike the enemy at both points, drive them
farther apart, so that he might combat each in detail.
On April 13 the French moved forward, Augereau to the attack of the
Sardinians, Masséna and Laharpe against the Austrians. The Sardinians
were strongly posted on high ground, but the onset of the French
carried all before it. So impetuous had been the rush of Augereau, that
one of the divisions of the enemy under General Provera was cut off.
That brave soldier threw himself into the old castle of Cossario, and
could not be dislodged. Napoleon in person came up and directed three
separate assaults, which were heavily repulsed. Provera was then left
in possession, the castle blockaded, and the strength of the French
reserved for the remaining divisions of the Sardinian army. On the
next day (April 14) General Colli, commander-in-chief of the Sardinian
army, made every effort to relieve Provera, but was repulsed and driven
back upon Ceva, farther than ever from the Austrians. Provera then
surrendered.
While the battle raged at Millesimo, Laharpe had crossed the Bormida,
his troops wading up to their waists, and attacked the Austrian
flank and rear at Dego; at the same time Masséna struck the line of
communication between the two armies on the heights of Biastro. Both
attacks succeeded; and as Colli retreated on Turin, Beaulieu drew off
toward Milan.
On the morning after these victories a fresh Austrian division, which
had come from Voltri on the seacoast to join the main army, reached
Dego, and drove out the few French they found there. The appearance
of this force in his rear gave Napoleon a surprise, and a feeling of
alarm ran through his army. He immediately marched upon the town, and
gave battle. The French were twice beaten off. A third charge led by
Lanusse, waving his hat on the point of his sword, carried all before
it.
For his gallantry in this action, Lanusse was made brigadier general on
the recommendation of Napoleon, under whose eyes the splendid charge
had been made. Lieutenant Colonel Lannes distinguished himself greatly
also, and Napoleon made him colonel on the field.
The result of these battles were nine thousand of the enemy taken
prisoners, other thousands killed, besides thirty cannon taken, and
a great quantity of baggage. Napoleon was now master of the valley
of the Bormida, and of all the roads into Italy. It was his duty,
for Carnot had so ordered, to leave the Sardinians and pursue the
Austrians. He took just the opposite course. Turning to his left, he
entered the gorges of Millesimo, and followed the road to Piedmont.
Laharpe’s division was left to watch the Austrians. On April 28 the
French were in full march upon Mondovi. When they reached the height of
Mount Lemota, “the richest provinces in the world” lay beneath them,
stretching from the foot of the height as far as eye could reach. The
troops, so wonderfully led and so daringly fought, were in raptures
with themselves and their chief.
As they looked down upon the lovely Italian plains, dotted with towns
and silvered with rivers, they broke into enthusiastic cheers for the
young Napoleon. For him and for them it was a proud moment. “Hannibal
forced the Alps; we have turned them.”
Passing the Tanaro, the French entered the plains, and for the first
time cavalry was in demand. On April 22 the Sardinians made a stubborn
fight at Mondovi. They had repulsed Sérurier with heavy loss on the
day before; but now Sérurier was joined by Masséna and the Sardinians
routed. The Piedmontese cavalry, however, turned upon the French
horse, which had pursued too far, and General Stengel, its commander,
was killed. Murat, at the head of three regiments, dashed against
the Sardinian cavalry with such reckless courage that they broke.
The Sardinians, defeated at all points, lost three thousand, slain
or prisoners, eight cannon, ten stand of colors. Colli requested an
armistice which Napoleon refused to grant. The French continued their
advance upon Turin. The king of Sardinia, Amadeus, wished to prolong
the struggle; but his courtiers clamored for peace, and prevailed.
Overtures were made, Napoleon gladly accepted. Such terror had Napoleon
inspired by his rapid and brilliant victories that he practically
dictated his own terms to the king. The “Keys of the Alps,” Coni and
Tortona, besides Alessandria and other fortresses, were surrendered to
him pending negotiations, and the immense magazines they contained were
appropriated to the use of the French army. The Sardinian army was to
be retired from the field, and the roads of Piedmont were to be opened
to the French. The Austrian alliance should cease, and the royalist
émigrés from France should be expelled. This armistice was signed April
29, 1796. As to a definitive peace, plenipotentiaries were to be sent
at once to Paris to conclude it.
Napoleon had violated both the letter and the spirit of his
instructions in virtually making peace with the king of Sardinia. The
Directory, many republicans in France, and many in the army maintained
that Amadeus, a kinsman of the Bourbons, should have been dethroned,
and his country revolutionized. Augereau and others boldly declared
their disapproval of Napoleon’s course. He himself was serenely certain
that he had done the proper thing, and he gave himself no concern about
the grumblers.
To Paris he sent his brilliant cavalry-officer, Murat, with twenty-one
flags taken from the enemy. To his troops he issued a stirring address,
recounting their great achievements, and inspiring them to still
greater efforts.
With hands freed, Napoleon turned upon the Austrians. Deceiving them as
to the point at which he would cross the Po, they prepared for him at
one place while he dashed at another. While Beaulieu waited at Valenza,
Napoleon was crossing at Placenza, May 7, 1796. On the next day an
Austrian division arrived at Fombio, a league from Placenza. Napoleon
attacked and routed it, taking two thousand prisoners and all their
cannon. Beaulieu put his troops in motion, hoping to catch the French
in the act of crossing the river.
As the Austrians, preceded by a regiment of cavalry, approached,
they struck the advance posts of Laharpe. That general rode forward
to reconnoitre, and, returning by a different road, was fired upon
and killed by his own troops, in almost precisely the same manner
as the great Confederate soldier, Stonewall Jackson, was slain at
Chancellorsville.
The Austrians, realizing that they were too late, drew off toward Lodi.
On May 10, Napoleon overtook them there. The town was on that side of
the river Adda on which were the French, and Napoleon drove out the
small detachment of Austrians which held it.
On the opposite side of the river Beaulieu had stationed twelve
thousand infantry, two thousand horse, and twenty cannon to dispute
the passage. A single wooden bridge, which the retreating Austrians
had not had time to burn, spanned the river. In the face of an army
sixteen thousand strong, and twenty pieces of artillery ready to rain
a torrent of iron on the bridge, Napoleon determined to pass. Behind
the walls of the town of Lodi the French army was sheltered. Napoleon,
under fire, went out to the bank of the river to explore the ground and
form his plan. Returning, he selected six thousand grenadiers, and to
these he spoke brief words of praise and encouragement, holding them
ready, screened behind the houses of the town, to dash for the bridge
at the word. But he had also sent his cavalry up the stream to find a
ford to cross, and to come upon the Austrian flank. Meanwhile his own
artillery rained a hail of deadly missiles upon the Austrian position,
making it impossible for them to approach the bridge. The anxious
eyes of Napoleon at last saw that his cavalry had forded the river,
and were turning the Austrians’ flank. Quick as a flash the word went
to the waiting grenadiers, and with a shout of “Live the Republic,”
they ran for the bridge. A terrific fire from the Austrian batteries
played upon the advancing column, and the effect was so deadly that it
hesitated, wavered, seemed about to break. The French generals sprang
to the front,--Napoleon, Lannes, Masséna, Berthier, Cervoni,--rallied
the column, and carried it over the bridge. Lannes was the first man
across, Napoleon the second. The Austrian gunners were bayoneted before
the infantry could come to their support. In a few minutes the Austrian
army was routed.
The moral effect of this victory, “the terrible passage of the bridge
of Lodi,” as Napoleon himself called it, was tremendous. Beaulieu
afterward told Graham that had Napoleon pushed on, he might have taken
Mantua without difficulty--no preparations for its defence having then
been made. The Austrians lost heart, uncovered Milan in their retreat;
and, five days after the battle, Napoleon entered the Lombard capital,
under a triumphal arch and amid thousands of admiring Italians.
It was after this battle that some of the soldiers got together and
gave Napoleon the name of the “Little Corporal,” an affectionate
nickname which clung to him, in the army, throughout his career. His
personal bravery at Lodi, and his readiness to share the danger, made
a profound impression on his troops, and when he next appeared he was
greeted with shouts of “Live the Little Corporal.”
Napoleon asked a Hungarian prisoner, an old officer, what he now
thought of the war. The prisoner, not knowing that Napoleon himself
was the questioner, replied: “There is no understanding it at all. You
French have a young general who knows nothing about the rules of war.
To-day he is in your front, to-morrow in the rear. Now he is on your
left, and then on your right. One does not know where to place one’s
self. Such violation of the rules is intolerable.”
Upon the victor himself Lodi made a lasting impression; it was the
spark, as he said afterward, “which kindled a great ambition.” Already
Napoleon had begun to levy contributions and to seize precious works
of art. The Duke of Parma, pleading for peace and protection, had been
required to pay $400,000, to furnish sixteen hundred horses and large
quantities of provisions. His gallery was stripped of twenty of its
best paintings, one of which was the “Jerome” of Correggio. The Duke
offered $200,000 to redeem this painting, but Napoleon refused. The
offence which this duke had committed was his adhesion to the coalition
against France, and his contributing three thousand soldiers to aid in
the glorious work of maintaining feudalism.
In France the effect of Napoleon’s victories upon the excitable,
glory-loving people was prodigious. His name was on every tongue.
Crowds gathered around the bulletins, and the streets rang with
acclamations. Murat and Junot, bringing to Paris the captured
colors, were given enthusiastic ovations by government and people.
But the Directors began to be uneasy. They would have been more or
less than human had they relished the autocratic manner in which
Napoleon behaved. He had ignored their plans and their instructions.
He had developed an imperiousness which brooked no control. His fame
was dwarfing all others to an extent which gave rise to unpleasant
forebodings. All things considered, the Directors thought it would be
a good idea to divide the Italian command. To that effect they wrote
Napoleon. In reply he offered to resign. A partner he would not have:
he must be chief, or nothing. The Directors dared not make such an
issue with him at a time when all France was in raptures over his
triumphs; and they yielded.