Even Austria could now see that Beaulieu was no match for Napoleon. In
his place the Emperor sent the aged Wurmser, another officer excellent
in the old leisurely cut-and-dried style of campaigning. If Napoleon
would rest satisfied to wage war according to the rules laid down in
the books, Wurmser would perhaps crush him, for to the 34,000 French
there would be 53,000 Austrians in the field, not counting the 15,000
Austrians who were blockaded in Mantua by 8000 French.
Napoleon was at Milan when news came that Wurmser had issued from the
mountain passes and was in full march to envelop the French below Lake
Garda. Hastening back to the front, Napoleon established headquarters
at Castel-Nuovo. Wurmser was confident; Napoleon anxious, watchful, and
determined. The Austrians were divided into three columns,--one came
down the western bank of Lake Garda, and the other two down the eastern
shore. At first the Austrians drove the French at all points, and
Napoleon’s line was broken, July 30, 1796. This brought on the crisis
in which it is said that he lost his nerve, threw up the command, and
was saved by doughty Augereau. The evidence upon which this alleged
loss of nerve is based is of the frailest, and the undisputed record
of the campaign discloses Napoleon’s plan, Napoleon’s orders, and
Napoleon’s presence throughout. His only hope was to prevent the
junction of the Austrian divisions. Could he hold two off while he
concentrated on the third? Practically the same tactics which won
at Montenotte prevailed again. While Wurmser was passing forward to
Mantua by forced marches, Napoleon had already called in Sérurier;
and when the Austrians arrived, expecting to capture the besiegers,
no besiegers were there. They had spiked their siege guns, destroyed
surplus ammunition, and gone to join the main army of Napoleon, and to
aid in crushing one of Wurmser’s lieutenants while Wurmser was idling
uselessly at Mantua. Almost identically the same thing had occurred at
Montenotte, where Beaulieu had rushed upon Voltri to capture French who
had been withdrawn, and who were destroying Colli at Montenotte while
Beaulieu at Voltri talked idly with Lord Nelson of the English fleet,
devising plans whereby Napoleon was to be annihilated. Napoleon struck
the first blow at Quasdanovitch, who led the Austrian division which
had come down the western side of the lake. At Lonato, July 31, 1796,
the French beat the Austrians, driving them back, recovering the line
of communication with Milan which had been cut. Then Napoleon hastened
back to confront the Austrian centre. Twenty-five thousand Austrians,
marching to join Quasdanovitch, reached Lonato. On August 3, Napoleon
threw himself upon this force, and almost destroyed it. So demoralized
were the Austrians that a force of four thousand surrendered to twelve
hundred French.
[Illustration: LETTER TO JOSEPHINE.]
Next day Wurmser came up offering battle. Stretching his line too far
and leaving his centre weak, Napoleon struck him there, beat him with
heavy loss, and sent him flying back toward the mountains. In these
various operations, Austria had lost about forty thousand men; France
about ten thousand. Mantua had been revictualled, and the French now
invested it again. Their siege outfit having been destroyed, they could
only rely upon a blockade to starve the enemy out.
Both armies were exhausted, and there followed a period of rest.
Reënforcements were received by Wurmser, and by Napoleon also. The
Austrians still outnumbered him, but Napoleon took the offensive.
Wurmser had committed the familiar mistake of dividing his forces.
Napoleon fell upon Davidovitch at Roveredo and routed him. Then turning
upon Wurmser, who was advancing to the relief of Mantua, Napoleon
captured at Primolano the Austrian advance guard. Next day, September
8, 1796, he defeated the main army at Bassano.
Wurmser was now in a desperate situation. Shut in by the French on one
side and the river Adige on the other, his ruin seemed inevitable.
By the mistake of a lieutenant colonel, Legnano had been left by the
French without a garrison, and the bridge not destroyed. Here Wurmser
crossed, and continued his retreat on Mantua. He gained some brilliant
successes over French forces, which sought to cut him off, and he
reached Mantua in such good spirits that he called out the garrison and
fought the battle of St. George. Defeated in this, he withdrew into the
town. He had lost about twenty-seven thousand men in the brief campaign.
At length the armies on the Rhine had got in motion. Moreau crossed
that river at Kehl, defeated the Austrians, and entered Munich. Jourdan
crossed at Dusseldorf, and won the battle of Alten Kirchen. Then the
young Archduke Charles, learning a lesson from Napoleon, left a
small force to hold Moreau in check, and massed his strength against
Jourdan. The French were badly beaten, and both their armies fell back
to the Rhine. The original plan of a junction of Jourdan, Moreau, and
Bonaparte for an advance upon Vienna was, for the present, frustrated.
Encouraged by the success, Austria sent a new army of fifty-three
thousand men, under Alvinczy, to recover the lost ground in Italy.
Napoleon had about forty thousand troops, several thousand of whom were
in hospitals, and once more his safety depended upon preventing the
concentration of the enemy.
As in the former campaign, Austria won the first encounters. Vaubois
was driven to Trent, and from Trent to Roveredo, and from thence to
Rivoli. Masséna fell back, before superior numbers, from Bassano.
Napoleon, with the division of Augereau, went to Masséna’s support.
All day, November 6, 1796, Augereau fought at Bassano, and Masséna at
Citadella. Alvinczy gave ground, but the French retreated, because of
the defeat of Vaubois. It seemed now that the two Austrian divisions
would unite, but they did not. At Rivoli a French division, eager to
win back the respect of their chief, who had publicly reproved them
and degraded their commander, held Davidovitch in check, and prevented
his junction with Alvinczy. Fearful that Rivoli might be forced, and
the Austrian divisions united, Napoleon again attacked Alvinczy. This
time the French were repulsed with heavy loss, some three thousand men
(November 13, 1796). Napoleon now had a fresh Austrian army on each
flank, and Wurmser on his rear.
Should the three Austrian commanders coöperate, the French were lost.
But Napoleon calculated upon there being no coöperation, and he was
correct. Nevertheless, he almost desponded, and in the army there was
discouragement.
As night closed round the dejected French, Napoleon ordered his troops
to take up arms. Leaving a garrison to hold the town, he led his troops
out of Verona, and crossed to the right side of the Adige. Apparently
he was in retreat upon the Mincio. Down the Adige he marched as far
as Ronco. There he recrossed the river on a bridge of boats which he
had prepared. On this march the French had followed the bend which the
river here makes to the Adriatic. Therefore he had reached the rear of
the enemy simply by crossing the Adige and following its natural curve.
Arrived at Ronco and crossing the river again, the troops saw at a
glance the masterly move their chief had made; their gloom gave way to
enthusiastic confidence.
It is a marshy country about Ronco, and the roadways are high dikes
lifted above the swamp,--one of these raised roads leading to Verona
in Alvinczy’s front, another leading from Ronco to Villanova in the
Austrian rear. Early in the morning, November 15, 1796, Masséna
advanced from Ronco on the first of these roads, and Augereau on the
other. Masséna passed the swamp without opposition, but Augereau met
an unforeseen and bloody resistance at the bridge of Arcole, a town
between Ronco and Villanova, where the little river Alpon crosses the
road on its way to the Adige. Two battalions of Croats with two pieces
of artillery defended this bridge, and so bravely was their task done
that Augereau’s column was thrown back in disorder. There was no
better soldier in the army than he, and Augereau seized the standard
himself, rallied his men, and led them to the bridge. Again the Croats
drove them back with enfilading fire. The bridge must be taken; it was
a matter of vital necessity, and Napoleon dashed forward to head the
charge. Seizing the colors, he called upon the troops to follow, and
with his own hands planted the flag on the bridge. But the fire of the
enemy was too hot, their bayonets too determined: the Croats drove the
French from the bridge, and in the confusion of the backward struggle,
Napoleon got pushed off the dike into the swamp where he sank to his
waist. “Forward! forward! To save our general!”
With this cry the French grenadiers rallied their broken line, made a
desperate rush, drove back the Croats, and pulled Napoleon out of the
mud.
It was in the charge led by Napoleon that Muiron, his aide, threw
himself in front of his chief, as a shield, saved Napoleon’s life, and
lost his own.
It was not till a French corps, which had crossed the Adige lower down
at a ferry, came upon the Austrian flank, that the French were able
to carry the bridge and take Arcole. By this time, owing to stubborn
fight at the bridge, Alvinczy had had time to get out of the trap which
Napoleon had planned. The Austrians took up a new position farther
back, and were still superior in numbers and position to the French.
If Davidovitch would only brush Vaubois out of his way and come upon
Napoleon’s flank, and if Wurmser would only bestir himself against the
weakened blockading force at Mantua and make trouble in Napoleon’s
rear, it would be the French, not the Austrians, who would feel the
inconvenience of the trap! But Davidovitch did nothing; Wurmser did
nothing; and Alvinczy continued to make mistakes. For when Napoleon,
after the first day’s fighting before Arcole, fell back to Ronco in
fear that Davidovitch might come, Alvinczy took up the idea that the
French were in full retreat, and he started in pursuit, using the
raised roads for his march. On these dikes only the heads of columns
could meet, the Austrian superiority in numbers was of no advantage,
and Napoleon could not have been better served than by the offer of
battle under such conditions. Again there was a day of fighting.
Napoleon attempted to get to Alvinczy’s rear by crossing the Alpon, but
failed. Night came, both armies drew off, and nothing decisive had been
done.
Again Napoleon fell back to Ronco to be prepared for Davidovitch, and
again the son of David was not at hand. Neither was Wurmser doing
anything in the rear. In front, Alvinczy, stubbornly bent on staying
just where Napoleon wanted him, came upon the narrow dikes again. Once
more it was a battle between heads of columns, where the veteran French
had the advantage of the recent recruits of Austria. For a moment the
giving way of part of the bridge the French had made over the Adige
threatened them with disaster. The Austrians came forward in force to
cut off a demi-brigade left on their side of the broken bridge. But the
bridge was repaired, French troops rushed over, and threw the Austrians
back on the marsh. Napoleon laid an ambuscade in some willows bordering
the Alpon, and when the enemy, in retreat, passed along the dike, the
soldiers in the ambuscade poured a deadly fire on their flank, and
then charged with the bayonet. Taken by surprise, assailed on front
of flank, some three thousand Croats were thrown into the swamp, where
most of them perished.
Calculating that in the battles of the last three days Alvinczy had
lost so many men that his army did not now outnumber the French,
Napoleon determined to leave the swamps, advance to the open, dry
ground, and beat the Austrians in pitched battle. Crossing the Alpon by
a bridge built during the night, the French fought a sternly contested
field on the afternoon of the 17th of November, 1796, and finally
won it. Napoleon had sent about twenty-five mounted guides with four
trumpets to the swamp on which rested the Austrian left, and this
trifling force breaking through the swamp, and making a tremendous
noise with their trumpets, caused the Austrians to think that another
ambuscade was being sprung. This fear, falling upon them at a time when
they were almost overcome by the stress of actual battle, decided the
day. Alvinczy retreated on Montebello, and the long struggle was ended.
It is said that Napoleon, who had not taken off his clothes for a week,
and who for nearly three days had not closed his eyes, threw himself
upon his couch and slept for thirty-six hours.
At last Davidovitch roused himself, swept Vaubois out of his path, and
came marching down to join Alvinczy. There was no Alvinczy to join;
Davidovitch was some three or more days too late. And Wurmser down at
Mantua made brilliant sally, to create apprehension in the rear. The
old man was a week or so behind time. The grip of Napoleon still held;
the line of the Adige was intact.
But while Napoleon had succeeded in holding his own, he had done so
by such desperate straits and narrow margins, leaving the Austrian
armies unbroken, that the Emperor decided on another great effort.
Recruits and volunteers were enrolled to reënforce Alvinczy, and
hurried forward, bearing a banner embroidered by the Empress. Once more
the Austrians took the field with superior numbers; once more these
forces were divided; once more Napoleon beat them in detail by skilful
concentration.
General Provera was to lead a division to the relief of Mantua;
Alvinczy was to overwhelm Napoleon. Provera was to follow the Brenta,
pass the Adige low down, and march across to Mantua. Alvinczy was to
move along the Adige from Trent, and fall upon the main French army,
which it was hoped would have been drawn to the lower Adige by the
demonstration of Provera.
The heights of Rivoli on Monte Baldo command the valley of the Adige;
and no sooner had the preliminary movements of the enemy revealed their
plan of campaign, than Napoleon sent orders to Joubert to seize and
fortify the plateau of Rivoli, and to hold it at all hazards. This was
on January 13, 1797. That night Napoleon himself marched to Rivoli with
twenty thousand men, reaching the heights by a forced march at two in
the morning.
Alvinczy felt so confident of enclosing and capturing the small force
of Joubert that he had gone to sleep, ranging his army in a semicircle
below to await the dawn, when Joubert was to be taken immediately after
breakfast.
When Napoleon arrived, between midnight and day, he looked down
from the heights, and there below, peacefully snoring and bathed in
moonlight, were the confident Austrians--five divisions strong. Leaving
them to slumber, he spent the balance of the wintry night getting
ready for the battle that would come with the day. As morning broke,
the Austrians attacked the French right at St. Mark, and the contest
soon raged along the whole line as far as Caprino, where the French
left was driven. Berthier and Masséna restored order, and repulsed
every charge. Strongly posted on the heights, the French had all the
advantage. Alvinczy found it impossible to use his cavalry or artillery
with effect, and many of his troops could not be brought into action.
In relative position, Napoleon held the place of Meade at Gettysburg,
and Alvinczy that of Lee. Perhaps Napoleon was even better intrenched
than Meade, and Alvinczy less able to bring his forces up the heights
than Lee. The result was what it was almost bound to be--the Austrians
were routed with terrible loss, and fled in disorder. So great was
the panic that a young French officer, René, in command of fifty men
at a village on Lake Garda, successfully “bluffed” and captured a
retreating body of fifteen hundred Austrians. Joubert and Murat pursued
vigorously, and in two days they took thirteen thousand prisoners.
It was not till the battle of Rivoli had raged for three hours that
Alvinczy realized that he was attempting the foolhardy feat of storming
the main French army, posted by Napoleon himself, in almost impregnable
positions.
Leaving Joubert and Murat to follow up the victory, Napoleon went at
full speed to head off Provera. That gallant officer had fought his way
against Augereau and Guieu, and had reached the suburb of St. George,
before Mantua, with six thousand men. He had lost the remainder on the
way--some twelve thousand. Throughout the day of January 15, 1797, he
was held in check by Sérurier. Next morning the battle was renewed;
but Napoleon had arrived. Provera attacked the French in front; Wurmser
in the rear. Sérurier threw Wurmser back into Mantua; and Victor,
who had come with Napoleon, vanquished Provera so completely that he
laid down his arms. This action is known as that of La Favorita (the
name of a country-seat of the Dukes of Mantua near by), and threw
into the hands of the French six thousand prisoners, including the
Vienna volunteers and many cannon. One of the trophies was the banner
embroidered by the Empress of Austria.
A few days later Mantua capitulated, and the last stronghold of the
Austrians in Italy was in the hands of the French.
Critics who understand all the mysteries of Napoleon’s character
say that there was not a trace of chivalry or generosity in him.
Yet at Mantua he, a young soldier, would not stay to gloat over the
humiliation of the veteran Wurmser. He praised that old man by word and
by letter, he granted him liberal terms, and he left the older Sérurier
to receive Wurmser’s sword. Was not this delicate, even chivalrous to
Wurmser? Was it not even more generous to Sérurier? Mr. Lanfrey hints
“No”; but Wurmser thought “Yes,” for he warmly expressed his admiration
for Napoleon; and out of gratitude warned him, while he was at Bologna,
of a plot the papal party had made to poison him--a warning which
probably saved his life.
The Pope, believing that Napoleon could not possibly escape final
defeat at the hands of Austria, had broken their friendly compact.
A crusade had been preached against the French, sacred processions
paraded, and miracles worked. The bones of martyrs bled, images of the
Virgin wept. Heaven was outspoken on the side of Rome beyond all doubt.
Aroused by these means, the peasants flocked to the standard of the
Pope; and an army, formidable in numbers, had been raised.
Leaving Sérurier to receive the capitulation of Mantua, Napoleon
hastened to Bologna, and organized a force of French, Italians, and
Poles to operate against the papal troops. Despatching the greater part
of his little army to Ancona, he advanced with about three thousand
men into the States of the Church. Cardinal Busca with an army of
mercenaries, fanatical peasants, and miscellaneous Italian recruits was
intrenched on the banks of the Senio to dispute its passage. The French
came marching up in the afternoon of a pleasant spring day; and the
Cardinal, with a solicitude which did honor to his conscience, sent a
messenger, under flag of truce, to notify Napoleon that if he continued
to advance, he would be fired upon. Greeting this as the joke of the
campaign, the French became hilarious; but Napoleon gravely returned
a polite answer to the Cardinal, informing him that as the French had
been marching all day, were tired, and did not wish to be shot at,
they would stop. Accordingly, camp was struck for the night. Before
morning, Lannes had taken the cavalry, crossed the river above, and
got in the Cardinal’s rear. Day broke, and there was some fighting. In
a short while the Cardinal fled, and the greater part of his motley
army were prisoners. Advancing on Faenza, which had closed its gates
and manned its ramparts, the French battered their way in with cannon,
and routed the defenders. Napoleon’s policy with the Pope was not that
of the Directory; it was his own, and it was subtle and far-sighted.
Prisoners were kindly treated and released. Cardinals and influential
priests were caressed. Papal officers recently captured were visited,
soothed by conciliatory speech, assured that the French were liberators
and desired only the welfare of a regenerated Italy--redeemed from
papal thraldom and rusty feudalism. For the first time modern Italians
heard a great man outlining the future of a united Italy.
At Loretto were found the relics which made that place one of the
holiest of shrines. The very house in which Mary, the mother of Jesus,
had received the visit of Gabriel was at Loretto. Had you asked how
came it there, the answer would have been that the angels carried
it from Nazareth to Dalmatia to keep the Saracens from getting it.
From Dalmatia the angels, for reasons equally good, had carried it
to Loretto. Within this holy hut was a wooden image of Mary, old,
blackened, crudely carved. The angels had carved it. In times of
clerical distress this image of Mary was seen to shed tears. As there
had been quite an access of clerical woe recently, in consequence
of Napoleon’s brutal disregard of papal armies led by priests with
crucifixes in their hands, the wooden Virgin had been weeping profusely.
Napoleon had doubtless familiarized himself with the methods by which
pagan priests had kept up their stupendous impostures, and he had a
curiosity to see the old wooden doll which was worshipped by latter-day
pagans at Loretto. He found a string of glass beads so arranged that
they fell, one after another, from the inside, athwart the Virgin’s
eyes, and as she was kept at some distance from the devotees, and
behind a glass case, the optical illusion was complete. Napoleon
exposed the trick, and imprisoned the priests who had caused the
recent tears to flow.
To add to the sanctity of the shrine at Loretto, there was a porringer
which had belonged to the Holy Family, and a bed-quilt which had
belonged to Mary, the mother of Jesus. Thousands of devout Catholics
prostrated themselves every year before these relics, and countless
were the rich offerings to the shrine.
Napoleon took from the church pretty much all the treasure which the
priests had not carried off; and the wooden Madonna was sent to Paris.
In 1802 he restored it to the Pope, and it was put back in its old
place in the Virgin’s hut.
Many of the French priests who had refused the oath of allegiance
to the new order of things in France had taken refuge in the papal
States. The Directory wished Napoleon to drive these men out of
Italy. He not only refused to do that, but he gave them the benefit
of his protection. In a proclamation to his troops he directed that
the unfortunate exiles should be kindly treated; and he compelled the
Italian monasteries, which had indeed grown weary of these come-to-stay
visitors, to receive them and supply all their wants.
The breadth and depth of Napoleon’s liberalism was also shown by the
protection he gave to the Jews. These people had, at Ancona, been
treated with mediæval barbarity. Napoleon relieved their disabilities,
putting them upon an exact political equality with other citizens. In
favor of certain Mohammedans, who resided there, he adopted the same
course.
Capturing or dispersing the Pope’s troops as he went, and winning by
his clemency the good-will of the people, Napoleon drew near Rome. The
Vatican was in dismay, and the Pontiff listened to those who advised
peace. The treaty of Tolentino was soon agreed upon, and the papal
power once again escaped that complete destruction which the Directory
wished. A mere push then, an additional day’s march, the capture of
another priest-led mob, would have toppled the sovereignty which was
at war with creed, sound policy, and common sense. It cost torrents of
blood, later, to finish the work which Napoleon had almost completed
then.
By the treaty of Tolentino, February 19, 1797, the Pope lost $3,000,000
more by way of indemnity; the legations of Bologna and Ferrara,
together with the Romagna, were surrendered; papal claims on Avignon
and the Venaisson were released, and the murder of Basseville was to be
formally disavowed. To his credit be it said that Napoleon demanded the
suppression of the Inquisition; to his discredit, that he allowed the
priests to wheedle him into a waiver of the demand.
“The Inquisition was formerly a bad thing, no doubt, but it is harmless
now--merely a mild police institution. Pray let it be.” Napoleon
really was, or pretended to be, deceived by this assurance, and the
Inquisition remained to purify faith with dungeon, living death in
foul tombs, torture of mind and of body in Italy, in Spain, in South
America, in the far Philippines.
“Most Holy Father,” wrote Bonaparte to the Pope; “My Dear Son,” wrote
the Pope to Bonaparte; and so they closed _that_ lesson.
Amid all the changes made and to be made in Italy there was one
government Napoleon did not touch. This was the little republic of San
Marino, perched upon the Apennines, where from its rain-drenched,
wind-swept heights it had for a thousand years or more looked
tranquilly down upon troubled Italy. Governed by a mixed council of
nobles, burgesses, and farmers, it was satisfied with itself, and asked
only to be let alone. Now and then a pope had shown a disposition to
reach out and seize the little republic, but it had always managed to
elude the fatherly clutch. Napoleon respected the rights of San Marino,
and offered to increase its territory. San Marino declined; it had
enough. More would bring trouble. Presenting it with four cannon as
a token of his esteem, the great Napoleon got out of the sunshine of
this Italian Diogenes, and left it in peace. In 1852 the Pope again
hungered for San Marino; but Napoleon III. interfered, and the smallest
and oldest republic in the world was left to its independence in its
mountain home.