THE ITALIAN CAMPAIGN
(1796)
In the personality of Napoleon nothing is more remarkable than the
combination of gifts which in most natures are mutually exclusive; his
instincts were both political and military; his survey of a land took
in not only the geographical environment but also the material welfare
of the people. Facts, which his foes ignored, offered a firm fulcrum
for the leverage of his will: and their political edifice or their
military policy crumbled to ruin under an assault planned with
consummate skill and pressed home with relentless force.
For the exercise of all these gifts what land was so fitted as the
mosaic of States which was dignified with the name of Italy?
That land had long been the battle-ground of the Bourbons and the
Hapsburgs; and their rivalries, aided by civic dissensions, had
reduced the people that once had given laws to Europe into a condition
of miserable weakness. Europe was once the battle-field of the Romans:
Italy was now the battle-field of Europe. The Hapsburgs dominated the
north, where they held the rich Duchy of Milan, along with the great
stronghold of Mantua, and some scattered imperial fiefs. A scion of
the House of Austria reigned at Florence over the prosperous Duchy of
Tuscany. Modena and Lucca were under the general control of the Court
of Vienna. The south of the peninsula, along with Sicily, was swayed
by Ferdinand IV., a descendant of the Spanish Bourbons, who kept his
people in a condition of mediæval ignorance and servitude; and this
dynasty controlled the Duchy of Parma. The Papal States were also sunk
in the torpor of the Middle Ages; but in the northern districts of
Bologna and Ferrara, known as the "Legations," the inhabitants still
remembered the time of their independence, and chafed under the
irritating restraints of Papal rule. This was seen when the leaven of
French revolutionary thought began to ferment in Italian towns. Two
young men of Bologna were so enamoured of the new ideas, as to raise
an Italian tricolour flag, green, white, and red, and summon their
fellow-citizens to revolt against the rule of the Pope's legate
(November, 1794). The revolt was crushed, and the chief offenders were
hanged; but elsewhere the force of democracy made itself felt,
especially among the more virile peoples of Northern Italy. Lombardy
and Piedmont throbbed with suppressed excitement. Even when the King
of Sardinia, Victor Amadeus III., was waging war against the French
Republic, the men of Turin were with difficulty kept from revolt; and,
as we have seen, the Austro-Sardinian alliance was powerless to
recover Savoy and Nice from the soldiers of liberty or to guard the
Italian Riviera from invasion.
In fact, Bonaparte--for he henceforth spelt his name thus--detected
the political weakness of the Hapsburgs' position in Italy. Masters of
eleven distinct peoples north of the Alps, how could they hope
permanently to dominate a wholly alien people south of that great
mountain barrier? The many failures of the old Ghibelline or Imperial
party in face of any popular impulse which moved the Italian nature to
its depths revealed the artificiality of their rule. Might not such an
impulse be imparted by the French Revolution? And would not the hopes
of national freedom and of emancipation from feudal imposts fire these
peoples with zeal for the French cause? Evidently there were vast
possibilities in a democratic propaganda. At the outset Bonaparte's
racial sympathies were warmly aroused for the liberation of
Italy; and though his judgment was to be warped by the promptings of
ambition, he never lost sight of the welfare of the people whence he
was descended. In his "Memoirs written at St. Helena" he summed up his
convictions respecting the Peninsula in this statesmanlike utterance:
"Italy, isolated within its natural limits, separated by the sea and
by very high mountains from the rest of Europe, seems called to be a
great and powerful nation.... Unity in manners, language, literature
ought finally, in a future more or less remote, to unite its
inhabitants under a single government.... Rome is beyond doubt the
capital which the Italians will one day choose." A prophetic saying:
it came from a man who, as conqueror and organizer, awakened that
people from the torpor of centuries and breathed into it something of
his own indomitable energy.
And then again, the Austrian possessions south of the Alps were
difficult to hold for purely military reasons. They were separated
from Vienna by difficult mountain ranges through which armies
struggled with difficulty. True, Mantua was a formidable stronghold,
but no fortress could make the Milanese other than a weak and
straggling territory, the retention of which by the Court of Vienna
was a defiance to the gospel of nature of which Rousseau was the
herald and Bonaparte the militant exponent.
The Austro-Sardinian forces were now occupying the pass which
separates the Apennines from the Maritime Alps north of the town of
Savona. They were accordingly near the headwaters of the Bormida and
the Tanaro, two of the chief affluents of the River Po: and roads
following those river valleys led, the one north-east, in the
direction of Milan, the other north-west towards Turin, the Sardinian
capital. A wedge of mountainous country separated these roads as they
diverged from the neighbourhood of Montenotte. Here obviously was the
vulnerable point of the Austro-Sardinian position. Here therefore
Bonaparte purposed to deliver his first strokes, foreseeing that,
should he sever the allies, he would have in his favour every
advantage both political and topographical.
All this was possible to a commander who could overcome the initial
difficulties. But these difficulties were enormous. The position of
the French Army of Italy in March, 1796, was precarious. Its
detachments, echelonned near the coast from Savona to Loano, and
thence to Nice, or inland to the Col di Tende, comprised in all
42,000 men, as against the Austro-Sardinian forces amounting to
52,000 men.[36] Moreover, the allies occupied strong positions on the
northern slopes of the Maritime Alps and Apennines, and, holding the
inner and therefore shorter curve, they could by a dextrous
concentration have pushed their more widely scattered opponents on to
the shore, where the republicans would have been harassed by the guns
of the British cruisers. Finally, Bonaparte's troops were badly
equipped, worse clad, and were not paid at all. On his arrival at Nice
at the close of March, the young commander had to disband one
battalion for mutinous conduct.[37] For a brief space it seemed
doubtful how the army would receive this slim, delicate-looking youth,
known hitherto only as a skilful artillerist at Toulon and in the
streets of Paris. But he speedily gained the respect and confidence of
the rank and file, not only by stern punishment of the mutineers, but
by raising money from a local banker, so as to make good some of the
long arrears of pay. Other grievances he rectified by prompt
reorganization of the commissariat and kindred departments. But, above
all, by his burning words he thrilled them: "Soldiers, you are half
starved and half naked. The Government owes you much, but can do
nothing for you. Your patience and courage are honourable to you, but
they procure you neither advantage nor glory. I am about to lead you
into the most fertile valleys of the world: there you will find
flourishing cities and teeming provinces: there you will reap honour,
glory, and riches. Soldiers of the Army of Italy, will you lack
courage?" Two years previously so open a bid for the soldiers'
allegiance would have conducted any French commander forthwith to the
guillotine.
[Illustration: MAP TO ILLUSTRATE THE CAMPAIGNS IN NORTH ITALY.]
But much had changed since the days of Robespierre's supremacy;
Spartan austerity had vanished; and the former insane jealousy of
individual pre-eminence was now favouring a startling reaction which
was soon to install the one supremely able man as absolute master of
France.
Bonaparte's conduct produced a deep impression alike on troops and
officers. From Masséna his energy and his trenchant orders extorted
admiration: and the tall swaggering Augereau shrank beneath the
intellectual superiority of his gaze. Moreover, at the beginning of
April the French received reinforcements which raised their total to
49,300 men, and gave them a superiority of force; for though the
allies had 52,000, yet they were so widely scattered as to be inferior
in any one district. Besides, the Austrian commander, Beaulieu, was
seventy-one years of age, had only just been sent into Italy, with
which land he was ill acquainted, and found one-third of his troops
down with sickness.[38]
Bonaparte now began to concentrate his forces near Savona. Fortune
favoured him even before the campaign commenced. The snows of winter,
still lying on the mountains, though thawing on the southern slopes,
helped to screen his movements from the enemy's outposts; and the
French vanguard pushed along the coastline even as far as Voltri. This
movement was designed to coerce the Senate of Genoa into payment of a
fine for its acquiescence in the seizure of a French vessel by a
British cruiser within its neutral roadstead; but it served to alarm
Beaulieu, who, breaking up his cantonments, sent a strong column
towards that city. At the time this circumstance greatly annoyed
Bonaparte, who had hoped to catch the Imperialists dozing in their
winter quarters. Yet it is certain that the hasty move of their left
flank towards Voltri largely contributed to that brilliant opening of
Bonaparte's campaign, which his admirers have generally regarded as
due solely to his genius.[39] For, when Beaulieu had thrust his column
into the broken coast district between Genoa and Voltri, he severed it
dangerously far from his centre, which marched up the valley of the
eastern branch of the Bormida to occupy the passes of the Apennines
north of Savona. This, again, was by no means in close touch with the
Sardinian allies encamped further to the west in and beyond Ceva.
Beaulieu, writing at a later date to Colonel Graham, the English
_attaché_ at his headquarters, ascribed his first disasters to
Argenteau, his lieutenant at Montenotte, who employed only a third of
the forces placed under his command. But division of forces was
characteristic of the Austrians in all their operations, and they now
gave a fine opportunity to any enterprising opponent who should crush
their weak and unsupported centre. In obedience to orders from Vienna,
Beaulieu assumed the offensive; but he brought his chief force to bear
on the French vanguard at Voltri, which he drove in with some loss.
While he was occupying Voltri, the boom of cannon echoing across the
mountains warned his outposts that the real campaign was opening in
the broken country north of Savona.[40] There the weak Austrian centre
had occupied a ridge or plateau above the village of Montenotte,
through which ran the road leading to Alessandria and Milan.
Argenteau's attack partly succeeded: but the stubborn bravery of a
French detachment checked it before the redoubt which commanded the
southern prolongation of the heights named Monte-Legino.[41]
Such was the position of affairs when Bonaparte hurried up. On the
following day (April 12th), massing the French columns of attack
under cover of an early morning mist, he moved them to their
positions, so that the first struggling rays of sunlight revealed to
the astonished Austrians the presence of an army ready to crush their
front and turn their flanks. For a time the Imperialists struggled
bravely against the superior forces in their front; but when Masséna
pressed round their right wing, they gave way and beat a speedy
retreat to save themselves from entire capture. Bonaparte took no
active share in the battle: he was, very properly, intent on the wider
problem of severing the Austrians from their allies, first by the
turning movement of Masséna, and then by pouring other troops into the
gap thus made. In this he entirely succeeded. The radical defects in
the Austrian dispositions left them utterly unable to withstand the
blows which he now showered upon them. The Sardinians were too far
away on the west to help Argenteau in his hour of need: they were in
and beyond Ceva, intent on covering the road to Turin: whereas, as
Napoleon himself subsequently wrote, they should have been near enough
to their allies to form one powerful army, which, at Dego or
Montenotte, would have defended both Turin and Milan. "United, the two
forces would have been superior to the French army: separated, they
were lost."
The configuration of the ground favoured Bonaparte's plan of driving
the Imperialists down the valley of the Bormida in a north-easterly
direction; and the natural desire of a beaten general to fall back
towards his base of supplies also impelled Beaulieu and Argenteau to
retire towards Milan. But that would sever their connections with the
Sardinians, whose base of supplies, Turin, lay in a north-westerly
direction.
Bonaparte therefore hurled his forces at once against the Austrians
and a Sardinian contingent at Millesimo, and defeated them, Augereau's
division cutting off the retreat of twelve hundred of their men under
Provera. Weakened by this second blow, the allies fell back on the
intrenched village of Dego. Their position was of a strength
proportionate to its strategic importance; for its loss would
completely sever all connection between their two main armies save by
devious routes many miles in their rear. They therefore clung
desperately to the six mamelons and redoubts which barred the valley
and dominated some of the neighbouring heights. Yet such was the
superiority of the French in numbers that these positions were
speedily turned by Masséna, whom Bonaparte again intrusted with the
movement on the enemy's flank and rear. A strange event followed. The
victors, while pillaging the country for the supplies which
Bonaparte's sharpest orders failed to draw from the magazines and
stores on the sea-coast, were attacked in the dead of night by five
Austrian battalions that had been ordered up to support their
countrymen at Dego. These, after straying among the mountains, found
themselves among bands of the marauding French, whom they easily
scattered, seizing Dego itself. Apprised of this mishap, Bonaparte
hurried up more troops from the rear, and on the 15th recovered the
prize which had so nearly been snatched from his grasp. Had Beaulieu
at this time thrown all his forces on the French, he might have
retrieved his first misfortunes: but foresight and energy were not to
be found at the Austrian headquarters: the surprise at Dego was the
work of a colonel; and for many years to come the incompetence of
their aged commanders was to paralyze the fine fighting qualities of
the "white-coats." In three conflicts they had been outmanoeuvred and
outnumbered, and drew in their shattered columns to Acqui.
The French commander now led his columns westward against the
Sardinians, who had fallen back on their fortified camp at Ceva, in
the upper valley of the Tanaro. There they beat off one attack of the
French. A check in front of a strongly intrenched position was
serious. It might have led to a French disaster, had the Austrians
been able to bring aid to their allies. Bonaparte even summoned a
council of war to deliberate on the situation. As a rule, a council of
war gives timid advice. This one strongly advised a second attack on
the camp--a striking proof of the ardour which then nerved the
republican generals. Not yet were they _condottieri_ carving out
fortunes by their swords: not yet were they the pampered minions of an
autocrat, intent primarily on guarding the estates which his favour
had bestowed. Timidity was rather the mark of their opponents. When
the assault on the intrenchments of Ceva was about to be renewed, the
Sardinian forces were discerned filing away westwards. Their general
indulged the fond hope of holding the French at bay at several
strong natural positions on his march. He was bitterly to rue his
error. The French divisions of Sérurier and Dommartin closed in on
him, drove him from Mondovi, and away towards Turin.
Bonaparte had now completely succeeded. Using to the full the
advantage of his central position between the widely scattered
detachments of his foes, he had struck vigorously at their natural
point of junction, Montenotte, and by three subsequent successes--for
the evacuation of Ceva can scarcely be called a French victory--had
forced them further and further apart until Turin was almost within
his power.
It now remained to push these military triumphs to their natural
conclusion, and impose terms of peace on the House of Savoy, which was
secretly desirous of peace. The Directors had ordered Bonaparte that
he should seek to detach Sardinia from the Austrian alliance by
holding out the prospect of a valuable compensation for the loss of
Savoy and Nice in the fertile Milanese.[42] The prospect of this rich
prize would, the Directors surmised, dissolve the Austro-Sardinian
alliance, as soon as the allies had felt the full vigour of the French
arms. Not that Bonaparte himself was to conduct these negotiations. He
was to forward to the Directory all offers of submission. Nay, he was
not empowered to grant on his own responsibility even an armistice. He
was merely to push the foe hard, and feed his needy soldiers on the
conquered territory. He was to be solely a general, never a
negotiator.
The Directors herein showed keen jealousy or striking ignorance of
military affairs. How could he keep the Austrians quiet while envoys
passed between Turin and Paris? All the dictates of common sense
required him to grant an armistice to the Court of Turin before the
Austrians could recover from their recent disasters. But the King of
Sardinia drew him from a perplexing situation by instructing Colli to
make overtures for an armistice as preliminary to a peace. At once the
French commander replied that such powers belonged to the Directory;
but as for an armistice, it would only be possible if the Court of
Turin placed in his hands three fortresses, Coni, Tortona, and
Alessandria, besides guaranteeing the transit of French armies through
Piedmont and the passage of the Po at Valenza. Then, with his
unfailing belief in accomplished facts, Bonaparte pushed on his troops
to Cherasco.
Near that town he received the Piedmontese envoys; and from the pen of
one of them we have an account of the general's behaviour in his first
essay in diplomacy. His demeanour was marked by that grave and frigid
courtesy which was akin to Piedmontese customs. In reply to the
suggestions of the envoys that some of the conditions were of little
value to the French, he answered: "The Republic, in intrusting to me
the command of an army, has credited me with possessing enough
discernment to judge of what that army requires, without having
recourse to the advice of my enemy." Apart, however, from this
sarcasm, which was uttered in a hard and biting voice, his tone was
coldly polite. He reserved his home thrust for the close of the
conference. When it had dragged on till considerably after noon with
no definite result, he looked at his watch and exclaimed: "Gentlemen,
I warn you that a general attack is ordered for two o'clock, and that
if I am not assured that Coni will be put in my hands before
nightfall, the attack will not be postponed for one moment. It may
happen to me to lose battles, but no one shall ever see me lose
minutes either by over-confidence or by sloth." The terms of the
armistice of Cherasco were forthwith signed (April 28th); they were
substantially the same as those first offered by the victor. During
the luncheon which followed, the envoys were still further impressed
by his imperturbable confidence and trenchant phrases; as when he told
them that the campaign was the exact counterpart of what he had
planned in 1794; or described a council of war as a convenient device
for covering cowardice or irresolution in the commander; or asserted
that nothing could now stop him before the walls of Mantua.[43]
As a matter of fact, the French army was at that time so disorganized
by rapine as scarcely to have withstood a combined and vigorous attack
by Beaulieu and Colli. The republicans, long exposed to hunger and
privations, were now revelling in the fertile plains of Piedmont.
Large bands of marauders ranged the neighbouring country, and the
regiments were often reduced to mere companies. From the grave risks
of this situation Bonaparte was rescued by the timidity of the Court
of Turin, which signed the armistice at Cherasco eighteen days after
the commencement of the campaign. A fortnight later the preliminaries
of peace were signed between France and the King of Sardinia, by which
the latter yielded up his provinces of Savoy and Nice, and renounced
the alliance with Austria. Great indignation was felt in the
Imperialist camp at this news; and it was freely stated that the
Piedmontese had let themselves be beaten in order to compass a peace
that had been tacitly agreed upon in the month of January.[44]
Even before this auspicious event, Bonaparte's despatches to the
Directors were couched in almost imperious terms, which showed that he
felt himself the master of the situation. He advised them as to their
policy towards Sardinia, pointing out that, as Victor Amadeus had
yielded up three important fortresses, he was practically in the hands
of the French: "If you do not accept peace with him, if your plan is
to dethrone him, you must amuse him for a few decades[45] and must
warn me: I then seize Valenza and march on Turin." In military
affairs the young general showed that he would brook no interference
from Paris. He requested the Directory to draft 15,000 men from
Kellermann's Army of the Alps to reinforce him: "That will give me an
army of 45,000 men, of which possibly I may send a part to Rome. If
you continue your confidence and approve these plans, I am sure of
success: Italy is yours." Somewhat later, the Directors proposed to
grant the required reinforcements, but stipulated for the retention of
part of the army in the Milanese _under the command of Kellermann_.
Thereupon Bonaparte replied (May 14th) that, as the Austrians had been
reinforced, it was highly impolitic to divide the command. Each
general had his own way of making war. Kellermann, having more
experience, would doubtless do it better: but both together would do
it very badly.
Again the Directors had blundered. In seeking to subject Bonaparte to
the same rules as had been imposed on all French generals since the
treason of Dumouriez in 1793, they were doubtless consulting the vital
interests of the Commonwealth. But, while striving to avert all
possibilities of Cæsarism, they now sinned against that elementary
principle of strategy which requires unity of design in military
operations. Bonaparte's retort was unanswerable, and nothing more was
heard of the luckless proposal.
Meanwhile the peace with the House of Savoy had thrown open the
Milanese to Bonaparte's attack. Holding three Sardinian fortresses, he
had an excellent base of operations; for the lands restored to the
King of Sardinia were to remain subject to requisitions for the French
army until the general peace. The Austrians, on the other hand, were
weakened by the hostility of their Italian subjects, and, worst of
all, they depended ultimately on reinforcements drawn from beyond the
Alps by way of Mantua. In the rich plains of Lombardy they, however,
had one advantage which was denied to them among the rocks of the
Apennines. Their generals could display the tactical skill on which
they prided themselves, and their splendid cavalry had some chance of
emulating the former exploits of the Hungarian and Croatian horse.
They therefore awaited the onset of the French, little dismayed by
recent disasters, and animated by the belief that their antagonist,
unversed in regular warfare, would at once lose in the plains the
bubble reputation gained in ravines. But the country in the second
part of this campaign was not less favourable to Bonaparte's peculiar
gifts than that in which he had won his first laurels as commander.
Amidst the Apennines, where only small bodies of men could be moved, a
general inexperienced in the handling of cavalry and infantry could
make his first essays in tactics with fair chances of success. Speed,
energy, and the prompt seizure of a commanding central position were
the prime requisites; the handling of vast masses of men was
impossible. The plains of Lombardy facilitated larger movements; but
even here the numerous broad swift streams fed by the Alpine snows,
and the network of irrigating dykes, favoured the designs of a young
and daring leader who saw how to use natural obstacles so as to baffle
and ensnare his foes. Bonaparte was now to show that he excelled his
enemies, not only in quickness of eye and vigour of intellect, but
also in the minutiæ of tactics and in those larger strategic
conceptions which decide the fate of nations. In the first place,
having the superiority of force, he was able to attack. This is an
advantage at all times: for the aggressor can generally mislead his
adversary by a series of feints until the real blow can be delivered
with crushing effect. Such has been the aim of all great leaders from
the time of Epaminondas and Alexander, Hannibal and Cæsar, down to the
age of Luxembourg, Marlborough, and Frederick the Great. Aggressive
tactics were particularly suited to the French soldiery, always eager,
active, and intelligent, and now endowed with boundless enthusiasm in
their cause and in their leader.
Then again he was fully aware of the inherent vice of the Austrian
situation. It was as if an unwieldy organism stretched a vulnerable
limb across the huge barrier of the Alps, exposing it to the attack of
a compacter body. It only remained for Bonaparte to turn against his
foes the smaller geographical features on which they too implicitly
relied. Beaulieu had retired beyond the Po and the Ticino, expecting
that the attack on the Milanese would be delivered across the latter
stream by the ordinary route, which crossed it at Pavia. Near that
city the Austrians occupied a strong position with 26,000 men, while
other detachments patrolled the banks of the Ticino further north, and
those of the Po towards Valenza, only 5,000 men being sent towards
Piacenza. Bonaparte, however, was not minded to take the ordinary
route. He determined to march, not as yet on the north of the River
Po, where snow-swollen streams coursed down from the Alps, but rather
on the south side, where the Apennines throw off fewer streams and
also of smaller volume. From the fortress of Tortona he could make a
rush at Piacenza, cross the Po there, and thus gain the Milanese
almost without a blow. To this end he had stipulated in the recent
terms of peace that he might cross the Po at Valenza; and now, amusing
his foes by feints on that side, he vigorously pushed his main columns
along the southern bank of the Po, where they gathered up all the
available boats. The vanguard, led by the impetuous Lannes, seized the
ferry at Piacenza, before the Austrian horse appeared, and scattered a
squadron or two which strove to drive them back into the river (May
7th).
Time was thus gained for a considerable number of French to cross the
river in boats or by the ferry. Working under the eye of their leader,
the French conquered all obstacles: a bridge of boats soon spanned
the stream, and was defended by a _tête de pont_; and with forces
about equal in number to Liptay's Austrians, the republicans advanced
northwards, and, after a tough struggle, dislodged their foes from the
village of Fombio. This success drove a solid wedge between Liptay and
his commander-in-chief, who afterwards bitterly blamed him, first for
retreating, and secondly for not reporting his retreat to
headquarters.
It would appear, however, that Liptay had only 5,000 men (not the
8,000 which Napoleon and French historians have credited to him), that
he was sent by Beaulieu to Piacenza too late to prevent the crossing
by the French, and that at the close of the fight on the following day
he was completely cut off from communicating with his superior.
Beaulieu, with his main force, advanced on Fombio, stumbled on the
French, where he looked to find Liptay, and after a confused fight
succeeded in disengaging himself and withdrawing towards Lodi, where
the high-road leading to Mantua crossed the River Adda. To that stream
he directed his remaining forces to retire. He thereby left Milan
uncovered (except for the garrison which held the citadel), and
abandoned more than the half of Lombardy; but, from the military point
of view, his retreat to the Adda was thoroughly sound. Yet here again
a movement strategically correct was marred by tactical blunders. Had
he concentrated all his forces at the nearest point of the Adda which
the French could cross, namely Pizzighetone, he would have rendered
any flank march of theirs to the northward extremely hazardous; but he
had not yet sufficiently learned from his terrible teacher the need of
concentration; and, having at least three passages to guard, he kept
his forces too spread out to oppose a vigorous move against any one of
them. Indeed, he despaired of holding the line of the Adda, and
retired eastwards with a great part of his army.
Consequently, when Bonaparte, only three days after the seizure of
Piacenza, threw his almost undivided force against the town of Lodi,
his passage was disputed only by the rearguard, whose anxiety to cover
the retreat of a belated detachment far exceeded their determination
to defend the bridge over the Adda. This was a narrow structure, some
eighty fathoms long, standing high above the swift but shallow river.
Resolutely held by well-massed troops and cannon, it might have cost
the French a severe struggle: but the Imperialists were badly
handled: some were posted in and around the town which was between the
river and the advancing French; and the weak walls of Lodi were soon
escaladed by the impetuous republicans. The Austrian commander,
Sebottendorf, now hastily ranged his men along the eastern bank of the
river, so as to defend the bridge and prevent any passage of the river
by boats or by a ford above the town. The Imperialists numbered only
9,627 men; they were discouraged by defeats and by the consciousness
that no serious stand could be attempted before they reached the
neighbourhood of Mantua; and their efforts to break down the bridge
were now frustrated by the French, who, posted behind the walls of
Lodi on the higher bank of the stream, swept their opponents' position
with a searching artillery fire. Having shaken the constancy of his
foes and refreshed his own infantry by a brief rest in Lodi, Bonaparte
at 6 p.m. secretly formed a column of his choicest troops and hurled
it against the bridge. A hot fire of grapeshot and musketry tore its
front, and for a time the column bent before the iron hail. But,
encouraged by the words of their young leader, generals, corporals,
and grenadiers pressed home their charge. This time, aided by
sharp-shooters who waded to islets in the river, the assailants
cleared the bridge, bayoneted the Austrian cannoneers, attacked the
first and second lines of supporting foot, and, when reinforced,
compelled horse and foot to retreat towards Mantua.[46]
Such was the affair of Lodi (May 10th). A legendary
glamour hovers around all the details of this conflict and invests it
with fictitious importance. Beaulieu's main force was far away, and
there was no hope of entrapping anything more than the rear of his
army. Moreover, if this were the object, why was not the flank move of
the French cavalry above Lodi pushed home earlier in the fight? This,
if supported by infantry, could have outflanked the enemy while the
perilous rush was made against the bridge; and such a turning movement
would probably have enveloped the Austrian force while it was being
shattered in front. That is the view in which the strategist,
Clausewitz, regards this encounter. Far different was the impression
which it created among the soldiers and Frenchmen at large. They
valued a commander more for bravery of the bull-dog type than for any
powers of reasoning and subtle combination. These, it is true,
Bonaparte had already shown. He now enchanted the soldiery by dealing
a straight sharp blow. It had a magical effect on their minds. On the
evening of that day the French soldiers, with antique republican
_camaraderie_, saluted their commander as _le petit caporal_ for his
personal bravery in the fray, and this endearing phrase helped to
immortalize the affair of the bridge of Lodi.[47] It shot a thrill of
exultation through France. With pardonable exaggeration, men told how
he charged at the head of the column, and, with Lannes, was the first
to reach the opposite side; and later generations have figured him
charging before his tall grenadiers--a feat that was actually
performed by Lannes, Berthier, Masséna, Cervoni, and Dallemagne. It
was all one. Bonaparte alone was the hero of the day. He reigned
supreme in the hearts of the soldiers, and he saw the importance of
this conquest. At St. Helena he confessed to Montholon that it was the
victory of Lodi which fanned his ambition into a steady flame.
A desire of stimulating popular enthusiasm throughout Italy impelled
the young victor to turn away from his real objective, the fortress of
Mantua, to the political capital of Lombardy. The people of Milan
hailed their French liberators with enthusiasm: they rained flowers on
the bronzed soldiers of liberty, and pointed to their tattered
uniforms and worn-out shoes as proofs of their triumphant energy:
above all, they gazed with admiration, not unmixed with awe, at the
thin pale features of the young commander, whose plain attire bespoke
a Spartan activity, whose ardent gaze and decisive gestures proclaimed
a born leader of men. Forthwith he arranged for the investment of the
citadel where eighteen hundred Austrians held out: he then received
the chief men of the city with easy Italian grace; and in the evening
he gave a sumptuous ball, at which all the dignity, wealth, and beauty
of the old Lombard capital shone resplendent. For a brief space all
went well between the Lombards and their liberators. He received with
flattering distinction the chief artists and men of letters, and also
sought to quicken the activity of the University of Pavia. Political
clubs and newspapers multiplied throughout Lombardy; and actors,
authors, and editors joined in a pæan of courtly or fawning praise, to
the new Scipio, Cæsar, Hannibal, and Jupiter.
There were other reasons why the Lombards should worship the young
victor. Apart from the admiration which a gifted race ever feels for
so fascinating a combination of youthful grace with intellectual power
and martial prowess, they believed that this Italian hero would call
the people to political activity, perchance even to national
independence. For this their most ardent spirits had sighed,
conspired, or fought during the eighty-three years of the Austrian
occupation. Ever since the troublous times of Dante there had been
prophetic souls who caught the vision of a new Italy, healed of her
countless schisms, purified from her social degradations, and uniting
the prowess of her ancient life with the gentler arts of the present
for the perfection of her own powers and for the welfare of mankind.
The gleam of this vision had shone forth even amidst the thunder claps
of the French Revolution; and now that the storm had burst over the
plains of Lombardy, ecstatic youths seemed to see the vision embodied
in the person of Bonaparte himself. At the first news of the success
at Lodi the national colours were donned as cockades, or waved
defiance from balconies and steeples to the Austrian garrisons. All
truly Italian hearts believed that the French victories heralded the
dawn of political freedom not only for Lombardy, but for the whole
peninsula.
Bonaparte's first actions increased these hopes. He abolished the
Austrian machinery of government, excepting the Council of State, and
approved the formation of provisional municipal councils and of a
National Guard. At the same time, he wrote guardedly to the Directors
at Paris, asking whether they proposed to organize Lombardy as a
republic, as it was much more ripe for this form of government than
Piedmont. Further than this he could not go; but at a later date he
did much to redeem his first promises to the people of Northern Italy.
The fair prospect was soon overclouded by the financial measures urged
on the young commander from Paris, measures which were disastrous to
the Lombards and degrading to the liberators themselves. The Directors
had recently bidden him to press hard on the Milanese, and levy large
contributions in money, provisions, and objects of art, seeing that
they did not intend to keep this country.[48] Bonaparte accordingly
issued a proclamation (May 19th), imposing on Lombardy the sum of
twenty million francs, remarking that it was a very light sum for so
fertile a country. Only two days before he had in a letter to the
Directors described it as exhausted by five years of war. As for the
assertion that the army needed this sum, it may be compared with his
private notification to the Directory, three days after his
proclamation, that they might speedily count on six to eight millions
of the Lombard contribution, as lying ready at their disposal, "it
being over and above what the army requires." This is the first
definite suggestion by Bonaparte of that system of bleeding conquered
lands for the benefit of the French Exchequer, which enabled him
speedily to gain power over the Directors. Thenceforth they began to
connive at his diplomatic irregularities, and even to urge on his
expeditions into wealthy districts, provided that the spoils went to
Paris; while the conqueror, on his part, was able tacitly to assume
that tone of authority with which the briber treats the bribed.[49]
The exaction of this large sum, and of various requisites for the
army, as well as the "extraction" of works of art for the benefit of
French museums, at once aroused the bitterest feelings. The loss of
priceless treasures, such as the manuscript of Virgil which had
belonged to Petrarch, and the masterpieces of Raphael and Leonardo da
Vinci, might perhaps have been borne: it concerned only the cultured
few, and their effervescence was soon quelled by patrols of French
cavalry. Far different was it with the peasants between Milan and
Pavia. Drained by the white-coats, they now refused to be bled for the
benefit of the blue-coats of France. They rushed to arms. The city of
Pavia defied the attack of a French column until cannon battered in
its gates. Then the republicans rushed in, massacred all the armed men
for some hours, and glutted their lust and rapacity. By order of
Bonaparte, the members of the municipal council were condemned to
execution; but a delay occurred before this ferocious order was
carried out, and it was subsequently mitigated. Two hundred hostages
were, however, sent away into France as a guarantee for the good
behaviour of the unfortunate city: whereupon the chief announced to
the Directory that this would serve as a useful lesson to the peoples
of Italy.
In one sense this was correct. It gave the Italians a true insight
into French methods; and painful emotions thrilled the peoples of the
peninsula when they realized at what a price their liberation was to
be effected. Yet it is unfair to lay the chief blame on Bonaparte for
the pillage of Lombardy. His actions were only a development of
existing revolutionary customs; but never had these demoralizing
measures been so thoroughly enforced as in the present system of
liberation and blackmail. Lombardy was ransacked with an almost Vandal
rapacity. Bonaparte desired little for himself. His aim ever was power
rather than wealth. Riches he valued only as a means to political
supremacy. But he took care to place the Directors and all his
influential officers deeply in his debt. To the five _soi-disant_
rulers of France he sent one hundred horses, the finest that could be
found in Lombardy, to replace "the poor creatures which now draw your
carriages";[50] to his officers his indulgence was passive, but
usually effective. Marmont states that Bonaparte once reproached him
for his scrupulousness in returning the whole of a certain sum which
he had been commissioned to recover. "At that time," says Marmont, "we
still retained a flower of delicacy on these subjects." This Alpine
gentian was soon to fade in the heats of the plains. Some generals
made large fortunes, eminently so Masséna, first in plunder as in the
fray. And yet the commander, who was so lenient to his generals,
filled his letters to the Directory with complaints about the cloud of
French commissioners, dealers, and other civilian harpies who battened
on the spoil of Lombardy. It seems impossible to avoid the conclusion
that this indulgence towards the soldiers and severity towards
civilians was the result of a fixed determination to link indissolubly
to his fortunes the generals and rank and file. The contrast in his
behaviour was often startling. Some of the civilians he imprisoned:
others he desired to shoot; but as the hardiest robbers had generally
made to themselves friends of the military mammon of unrighteousness,
they escaped with a fine ridiculously out of proportion to their
actual gains.[51]
The Dukes of Parma and Modena were also mulcted. The former of these,
owing to his relationship with the Spanish Bourbons, with whom the
Directory desired to remain on friendly terms, was subjected to the
fine of merely two million francs and twenty masterpieces of art,
these last to be selected by French commissioners from the galleries
of the duchy; but the Duke of Modena, who had assisted the Austrian
arms, purchased his pardon by an indemnity of ten million francs, and
by the cession of twenty pictures, the chief artistic treasures of his
States.[52] As Bonaparte naïvely stated to the Directors, the duke had
no fortresses or guns; consequently these could not be demanded from
him.
From this degrading work Bonaparte strove to wean his soldiers by
recalling them to their nobler work of carrying on the enfranchisement
of Italy. In a proclamation (May 20th) which even now stirs the blood
like a trumpet call, he bade his soldiers remember that, though much
had been done, a far greater task yet awaited them. Posterity must not
reproach them for having found their Capua in Lombardy. Rome was to be
freed: the Eternal City was to renew her youth and show again the
virtues of her ancient worthies, Brutus and Scipio. Then France would
give a glorious peace to Europe; then their fellow-citizens would say
of each champion of liberty as he returned to his hearth: "He was of
the Army of Italy." By such stirring words did he entwine with the
love of liberty that passion for military glory which was destined to
strangle the Republic.
Meanwhile the Austrians had retired behind the banks of the Mincio and
the walls of its guardian fortress, Mantua. Their position was one of
great strength. The river, which carries off the surplus waters of
Lake Garda, joins the River Po after a course of some thirty miles.
Along with the tongue-like cavity occupied by its parent lake, the
river forms the chief inner barrier to all invaders of Italy. From
the earliest times down to those of the two Napoleons, the banks of
the Mincio have witnessed many of the contests which have decided the
fortunes of the peninsula. On its lower course, where the river widens
out into a semicircular lagoon flanked by marshes and backwaters, is
the historic town of Mantua. For this position, if we may trust the
picturesque lines of Mantua's noblest son,[53] the three earliest
races of Northern Italy had striven; and when the power of imperial
Rome was waning, the fierce Attila pitched his camp on the banks of
the Mincio, and there received the pontiff Leo, whose prayers and
dignity averted the threatening torrent of the Scythian horse.
It was by this stream, famed in war as in song, that the Imperialists
now halted their shattered forces, awaiting reinforcements from Tyrol.
These would pass down the valley of the Adige, and in the last part of
their march would cross the lands of the Venetian Republic. For this
action there was a long-established right of way, which did not
involve a breach of the neutrality of Venice. But, as some of the
Austrian troops had straggled on to the Venetian territory south of
Brescia, the French commander had no hesitation in openly violating
Venetian neutrality by the occupation of that town (May 26th).
Augereau's division was also ordered to push on towards the west shore
of Lake Garda, and there collect boats as if a crossing were intended.
Seeing this, the Austrians seized the small Venetian fortress of
Peschiera, which commands the exit of the Mincio from the lake, and
Venetian neutrality was thenceforth wholly disregarded.
By adroit moves on the borders of the lake, Bonaparte now sought to
make Beaulieu nervous about his communications with Tyrol through the
river valley of the Adige; he completely succeeded: seeking to guard
the important positions on that river between Rivoli and Roveredo,
Beaulieu so weakened his forces on the Mincio, that at Borghetto and
Valeggio he had only two battalions and ten squadrons of horse, or
about two thousand men. Lannes' grenadiers, therefore, had little
difficulty in forcing a passage on May 30th, whereupon Beaulieu
withdrew to the upper Adige, highly satisfied with himself for having
victualled the fortress of Mantua so that it could withstand a long
siege. This was, practically, his sole achievement in the campaign.
Outnumbered, outgeneralled, bankrupt in health as in reputation, he
soon resigned his command, but not before he had given signs of
"downright dotage."[54] He had, however, achieved immortality: his
incapacity threw into brilliant relief the genius of his young
antagonist, and therefore appreciably affected the fortunes of Italy
and of Europe.
Bonaparte now despatched Masséna's division northwards, to coop up the
Austrians in the narrow valley of the upper Adige, while other
regiments began to close in on Mantua. The peculiarities of the ground
favoured its investment. The semicircular lagoon which guards Mantua
on the north, and the marshes on the south side, render an assault
very difficult; but they also limit the range of ground over which
sorties can be made, thereby lightening the work of the besiegers; and
during part of the blockade Napoleon left fewer than five thousand men
for this purpose. It was clear, however, that the reduction of Mantua
would be a tedious undertaking, such as Bonaparte's daring and
enterprising genius could ill brook, and that his cherished design of
marching northwards to effect a junction with Moreau on the Danube was
impossible. Having only 40,400 men with him at midsummer, he had
barely enough to hold the line of the Adige, to blockade Mantua, and
to keep open his communications with France.
At the command of the Directory he turned southward against feebler
foes. The relations between the Papal States and the French Republic
had been hostile since the assassination of the French envoy,
Basseville, at Rome, in the early days of 1793; but the Pope, Pius
VI., had confined himself to anathemas against the revolutionists and
prayers for the success of the First Coalition.
This conduct now drew upon him a sharp blow. French troops crossed the
Po and seized Bologna, whereupon the terrified cardinals signed an
armistice with the republican commander, agreeing to close all their
States to the English, and to admit a French garrison to the port of
Ancona. The Pope also consented to yield up "one hundred pictures,
busts, vases, or statues, as the French Commissioners shall determine,
among which shall especially be included the bronze bust of Junius
Brutus and the marble bust of Marcus Brutus, together with five
hundred manuscripts." He was also constrained to pay 15,500,000
francs, besides animals and goods such as the French agents should
requisition for their army, exclusive of the money and materials drawn
from the districts of Bologna and Ferrara. The grand total, in money,
and in kind, raised from the Papal States in this profitable raid, was
reckoned by Bonaparte himself as 34,700,000 francs,[55] or about;
£1,400,000--a liberal assessment for the life of a single envoy and
the _bruta fulmina_ of the Vatican.
Equally lucrative was a dash into Tuscany. As the Grand Duke of this
fertile land had allowed English cruisers and merchants certain
privileges at Leghorn, this was taken as a departure from the
neutrality which he ostensibly maintained since the signature of a
treaty of peace with France in 1795. A column of the republicans now
swiftly approached Leghorn and seized much valuable property from
British merchants. Yet the invaders failed to secure the richest of
the hoped-for plunder; for about forty English merchantmen sheered off
from shore as the troops neared the seaport, and an English frigate,
swooping down, carried off two French vessels almost under the eyes of
Bonaparte himself. This last outrage gave, it is true, a slight
excuse for the levying of requisitions in Leghorn and its environs;
yet, according to the memoir-writer, Miot de Melito, this unprincipled
action must be attributed not to Bonaparte, but to the urgent needs of
the French treasury and the personal greed of some of the Directors.
Possibly also the French commissioners and agents, who levied
blackmail or selected pictures, may have had some share in the shaping
of the Directorial policy: at least, it is certain that some of them,
notably Salicetti, amassed a large fortune from the plunder of
Leghorn. In order to calm the resentment of the Grand Duke, Bonaparte
paid a brief visit to Florence. He was received in respectful silence
as he rode through the streets where his ancestors had schemed for the
Ghibelline cause. By a deft mingling of courtesy and firmness the new
conqueror imposed his will on the Government of Florence, and then
sped northward to press on the siege of Mantua.
* * * * *