Throughout Italy the principles of the French Revolution had made
considerable progress, and in every province there were intelligent men
who welcomed the advent of Napoleon as the dawn of a new era. The young
warrior was an astute politician, and he assumed the pose of liberator.
With the same pen he wrote proclamations to Italy and letters to
France: in the one he dwelt on the delights of liberty; in the other
on the amount of the loot. And while apparently there was shameful
inconsistency here, really there was much sincerity. He was in earnest
when he spoke of tributes to be levied upon princes and municipalities;
he was also in earnest when he spoke of planting in Italy the
principles of the French Revolution. The extreme type of misgovernment
which prevailed throughout the Italian peninsula shocked his reason,
his sense of justice.
He despised the pampered nobles who could neither govern, fight, nor
die like men. He loathed an idle, ignorant, ferocious priesthood which
robbed the peasantry in the name of religion, and which compelled rich
and poor to bow before such idols as the black doll of Loretto. Hence,
while he compelled the defeated enemies of France, the ruling princes,
to pay heavy sums by way of indemnity, he did, in fact, replace the old
feudal institutions with new ones and better ones.
Napoleon has been heartily abused because he stripped the art galleries
of Italy of their gems--statuary and paintings. French writers of
the royalist school swell the cry and emphasize the guilt. Lanfrey,
particularly, calls the world to witness the fact that he hangs
his head in shame, so much is his conscience pricked by Napoleon’s
seizure of pictures. How absurd is all this! If to the victor belong
the spoils, where is the line to be drawn? If one may take the purse
of the vanquished, his jewels, his house, his lands, why are his
pictures sacred? If the civilized world insists upon maintaining the
trained soldier, and continues to hunger after the alleged glories
of wars of conquest, we must get accustomed to the results. Wars of
conquest are waged for very practical purposes. We combat the enemy
because he happens to be in possession of something which we want
and which we mean to have. When we have taken the trouble to go up
against this adversary, prepared to smite him hip and thigh, in robust,
Old-Testament style, and have prevailed against him by the help of the
Lord, shall we not Biblically despoil him of all such things as seem
good in our own eyes? Are we to allow the vanquished heathen--heathen
because vanquished--to choose for us those things which we shall take
with us when we go back home? If mine enemy has a golden crown, or a
golden throne, the appearance and the weight and the fineness of which
please me exceedingly, shall I not take it? If I happen to be a king,
shall I not include such trophies among my “crown jewels” in my strong
“Tower of London”?
And if by chance there should be in the land of mine enemy, the land
which the Lord has given me as the conquest of my sword, a diamond of
surpassing size and purity,--a gem so rich and rare that the mouth of
the whole world waters at the mere mention of Kohinoor--the heathen
name thereof,--shall I not take this rare gem from among unappreciative
heathen, and carry it to my own land, where people worship the only
true and living God and cultivate ennobling fondness for the best
diamonds? If I should chance to be king of my native land, shall I not
gladden the heart of my queen by the gift of the marvellous gem, so
that she may wear it upon her royal brow, and so outshine all royal
ladies whomsoever?
Between such trophies as these and paintings, Napoleon could see
no difference in principle. Numerous are the historians, tracking
dutifully after other historians, who have been, these many years,
heaping abuse upon Napoleon concerning those Italian paintings. It so
happens that while the present chronicler has been engaged with this
book, the world has witnessed quite a variety of warfare. There has
been battle and conquest in China, South Africa, the Philippines; and
the Christian soldiers of Europe and America have prevailed mightily
against the heathen and the insurgent. There has been much victory and
much loot; and with the record of what our Christian soldiers took in
Africa, Asia, and the islands of the sea fresh in mind, it seems to me
that we might all become silent about Napoleon’s Italian “works of art.”
* * * * *
Lombardy, in 1796, was a possession of the house of Austria, and was
nominally ruled by the Archduke Ferdinand, who lived at Milan in
magnificent state. The victorious approach of the French filled him
and his court with terror, and he called on the Church for help.
The priests aroused themselves, put forth the arm ecclesiastic, and
endeavored to avert the storm by religious ceremonies. The bones of
the saints were brought out, processions formed, and street parades
held. Also there were chants, prayers, mystical invocations. Heaven
was implored to interfere and save the city. Heaven, as usual, had
no smiles for the weak; the angels, who save no doves from hawks, no
shrieking virgin from the ravisher, concerned themselves not at all
(so far as any one could see) with the terrors of the priests and the
nobles of Milan. The Archduke with his Duchess, and the ever faithful
few, deserted his beautiful capital; and Count Melzi went forth with a
deputation to soften the wrath of the conqueror.
Napoleon’s terms were not hard. Money he needed to pay his troops,
also provisions, clothing, munitions of war. These he must have, and
these Milan could supply. About $4,000,000 was the sum demanded, but
he allowed this to be reduced by payments in such things as the army
needed. The conquered province was reorganized on a liberal basis, a
national guard enrolled, new officials appointed, and a constitution
framed for it--all this being provisional, of course.
The Duke of Modena sued for peace, and was made to pay $2,000,000,
furnish provisions and horses, and to give up many precious works of
art.
During the negotiations with Modena, Salicetti came into Napoleon’s
room one day and said: “The brother of the Duke is here with four
coffers of gold, 4,000,000 francs. He offers them to you in his
brother’s name, and I advise you to accept them.”
“Thank you,” answered Napoleon, “I shall not for that sum place myself
in the power of the Duke of Modena.”
Such rivulets of gold as Napoleon had set flowing into the army chest
had far-reaching influence. First of all, the army itself was put
into first-class condition. The troops were newly clothed, well fed,
punctually paid. The pockets of the generals were filled with coin. The
cavalry was splendidly mounted; the artillery brought to perfection. As
a war machine, the Army of Italy was now one of the best the world ever
saw. The Directors were not forgotten. Napoleon gladdened the souls of
Barras and his colleagues with $1,000,000 in hard cash. Other millions
followed the first, Napoleon doling out the sums judiciously, until his
contributions exceeded $4,000,000.
To Moreau, sitting idly on the Rhine, purse empty and spirit low,
Napoleon sent a million in French money. To Kellermann, commanding in
Savoy, he sent 1,200,000 francs. It is hardly necessary to add that he
kept the lion’s share of all his booty for his own army chest. Austria
was rousing herself to renew the struggle, France could send him no
supplies, and it would have been lunacy for him to have emptied his
pockets at the opening of another campaign.
After a rest of a week in Milan, the French army was pushed forward
toward Austria. Napoleon advanced his headquarters to Lodi on the
24th of May, 1796. Shortly after his arrival, he learned that a
revolt had broken out behind him, that the French garrison at Pavia
had surrendered, and that insurrection had spread to many towns of
Lombardy, and that in Milan itself there was revolt.
He immediately turned back with a small force, reëntered Milan, fought
the insurgents at Binasco, where Lannes took and burned the town,
and then with fifteen hundred men stormed Pavia, defended by thirty
thousand insurgents, forced his way in, and gave it over to pillage,
butchery, and the flames. The French officer who had signed the order
of capitulation was court-martialled and shot.
Why had the Italians risen against their liberator? There are those who
say that his exactions in money, provisions, horses, paintings, and
so forth caused it. This could hardly have been the sole cause, for
Napoleon’s exactions did not directly reach the peasants. His heavy
hand was felt by the rich men of the Church and the State; but upon the
poor he laid no burden. A more reasonable explanation seems to be that
the priests, encouraged by aristocrats, preached a crusade against the
French marauders, who looted rich temples, and made spoil of things
that were believed to be holy. Besides, these marauders were infidel
French who had trampled upon the Church in France, confiscating the
riches thereof, and ousting fat clericals from high, soft places. The
Pope knew that his turn would come,--Basseville’s ghost not yet being
laid,--and that he would have to suffer for all the cruel blows he
had aimed at republican France. Therefore as Napoleon marched off to
meet the Austrians, who were reported to be mustering in overwhelming
numbers, it was thought to be a good time to kindle flames in his rear.
Priests rushed frantically to and fro, the cross was lifted on high,
church bells pealed from every steeple, and the ignorant peasants flew
to arms to win a place in heaven by shedding the blood of heretics.
The insurrection stamped out, Napoleon proved what _he_ thought of
its origin. He demanded hostages, not from the peasants, but from the
nobles. The hostages were given, and there was no further revolt.
The Austrian army, in its retreat from Lodi, had taken up the line
of the Mincio, its left at Mantua and its right at Peschiera, a city
belonging to Venice. This violation of neutral ground by Beaulieu gave
Napoleon an excuse, and he seized upon the Venetian town of Brescia. He
proclaimed his purpose to do nothing against Venice, to preserve strict
discipline, and to pay for whatever he might take. Pursuing his march,
he again deceived the aged Beaulieu as to the place where he meant
to cross the river; and he was over the Mincio before the Austrians
could mass sufficient troops to make any considerable resistance. On
the other side of the river, Napoleon, in passing with a small escort
from the division of Augereau to that of Masséna, narrowly missed
falling into the hands of an Austrian corps which was hastening up the
river to join Beaulieu. Napoleon, after having ridden some distance
with Augereau, had returned to Valeggio, where he stopped to get a
foot-bath to relieve a headache. At this moment the light cavalry of
the enemy dashed into the village. There was barely time to sound the
alarm, close the gates of the carriage-way, and to post the escort to
defend the place. Napoleon ran out the back way with only one boot on,
made his escape through the garden, jumped on his horse, and galloped
as hard as he could to Masséna, whose troops, near by, were cooking
their dinner. Masséna promptly aroused his men, rushed them against the
enemy--and then it was the turn of the Austrians to run.
The danger which he had incurred caused Napoleon to form a personal
guard for his own protection. Called by the modest name of _Guides_
at first, the force swelled in numbers and importance until it became
the immortal Imperial Guard. Its commander was Bessières, a young
officer of humble birth, who had attracted Napoleon’s notice during the
campaign by his coolness and courage. He became Marshal of France and
Duke of Istria.
In the fighting which took place at Borghetta, the cavalry began
to show its capacity for achieving brilliant results. It was young
Murat, the innkeeper’s son, who inspired, led it, and impetuously
fought it. A finer cavalier never sat a horse. A better leader of
cavalry never headed a charge. It was a sight to see him,--brilliantly
dressed, superbly mounted, on fire with the ardor of battle, leading
his magnificent squadrons to the charge. Even Napoleon thrilled with
unwonted admiration in looking upon Murat in battle. “Had I been at
Waterloo,” said Murat, the outcast, in 1815, with a flash of his old
pride, “the day had been ours.”
And the sad, lonely man of St. Helena assented:--
“It is probable. There were turning-points in that battle when such a
diversion as Murat could have made might have been decisive.”
Beaulieu fell back to the Tyrol, and Napoleon occupied Peschiera. He
was furiously angry with Venice because she had allowed Beaulieu to
take possession of this town, which cost the lives of many Frenchmen
before it was retaken. The Venetian Senate, bewildered and dismayed,
sent envoys to propitiate the terrible young warrior. Napoleon assumed
his haughtiest tone, and threatened vengeance.
Finally, when the Venetians had opened to him the gates of Verona, and
had agreed to supply his army, he began to soften, and to talk to the
envoys of a possible alliance between Venice and France.
On June 5, 1796, one of these envoys wrote of Napoleon, in a letter to
Venice, “That man will some day have great influence over his country.”
The French were now masters of the line of the Adige, which Napoleon
considered the strongest for the defence of Italy. This line was of
vast importance to him, for he knew that Austria was recruiting her
strength and preparing to retrieve her losses. He had won Italy; could
he hold it? That was now the issue.
Before reënforcements from Austria could arrive, Napoleon calculated
that he would have time to punish the Pope and to humble Naples.
Leaving Mantua invested, and the line of the Adige well defended, he
took one division and turned to the South. There were many reasons
why he should do so. The Bourbons of Tuscany had welcomed the English
to Leghorn, and in Naples preparations were being made to equip a
large force to act against the French. Genoa was giving trouble, her
nobles being very unfriendly to France. In Genoese territories troops
of disbanded Piedmontese soldiers, escaped Austrian prisoners and
deserters, infested the Apennine passes, stopped couriers, plundered
convoys, and massacred French detachments.
Reaching Milan, Napoleon directed Augereau upon Bologna, and Vaubois
on Modena. To the Senate of Genoa was sent a haughty letter demanding
to know whether that state could put down the disorders of which the
French complained. Murat, the bearer of the message, read it to the
trembling Senate. It had the effect desired: Genoa promised, and did
all that was asked.
Lannes, with twelve hundred men, sent to chastise the feudatory
families of Austria and Naples, resident in Genoese territories, did
the work with energy and success. Châteaux of conspiring nobles were
burnt; and wherever any of the bands which had been molesting the
French could be found, they were summarily shot down.
Naples was cowed before she had been struck, and she sent in her
submission to the conqueror. He dealt with her leniently. She must
abandon the coalition against France, open all her ports to the
French, withdraw her ships from England, and deliver to Napoleon
the twenty-four hundred cavalry which she had furnished to Austria.
This armistice signed, he turned his attention and his troops in the
direction of Rome. Bologna, a papal fief, was seized. Ferrara, another
papal domain, threw off the papal yoke.
The Pope, smitten with fear, sent Azara, the ambassador of Spain, to
negotiate terms; and again Napoleon was mild. He required that Ancona
should receive a French garrison, that Bologna and Ferrara should
remain independent, that an indemnity of 21,000,000 francs should
be paid, that one hundred statues and paintings should be given up,
besides grain and cattle for the army. The Pope consented. Here again
Napoleon gave great offence to the Directory, and to many republicans
in France, as well as in the army.
The Pope had been the centre of the hostility against the Revolution
and its principles. He had actively coöperated with the enemies of
France, had torn her with civil strife, had suffered her ambassador
to be brutally murdered, and had given aid, comfort, blessings, and
pontifical inspiration to her enemies wherever he could. The Directory
wished that the papal power should be totally destroyed. Napoleon had
no such intention. Catholicism was a fact, a power, and he proposed to
deal with it accordingly. He accepted the money and the paintings and
the marbles: Basseville’s ghost being left to lay itself as best it
could. In delicate compliment to the Pope, the young conqueror did not
enter Rome. In all his passings to and fro, this modern Cæsar, this
restorer of the Empire of the West, never set his foot in the Sacred
City.
On June 26, 1796, Napoleon crossed the Apennines into Tuscany. By
forced marches, a division was thrown forward to Leghorn, where, it
was hoped, the English ships would be taken. Warned in time, they had
sailed away, but the French seized large quantities of English goods.
Leaving a garrison at Leghorn, Napoleon proceeded to Florence, where
the grand-duke fêted him royally. The grand-duchess did not appear at
the banquet: she was “indisposed.” Italy having been pacified in this
swift manner, Napoleon returned to his army headquarters near Mantua.