1796-1797
After a honeymoon of ten days Napoleon returned to work. Assuming
command of the army of Italy, he said: "I am at last in business for
myself. Keep your eyes on me, Bourrienne, and you'll wear blue
goggles. You'll have to, you'll be so dazzled. We will set off at
once for Italy. The army is in wretched shape. It lacks shoes,
clothes, food. It lacks everything. I don't think it even has
sense. If it had it would strike for lower wages."
"Lower wages?" queried Bourrienne. "You mean higher, don't you?"
"Not I," said Bonaparte. "They couldn't collect higher wages, but if
their pay was reduced they might get it once in a while. We can
change all this, however, by invading Italy. Italy has all things to
burn, from statuary to Leghorn hats. In three months we shall be at
Milan. There we can at least provide ourselves with fine collections
of oil-paintings. Meantime let the army feed on hope and wrap
themselves in meditation. It's poor stuff, but there's plenty of it,
and it's cheap. On holidays give the poor fellows extra rations, and
if hope does not sustain them, cheer them up with promises of drink.
Tell them when we get to Italy they can drink in the scenery in
unstinted measure, and meanwhile keep the band playing merrily.
There's nothing like music to drive away hunger. I understand that
the lamented king's appetite was seriously affected by the
Marseillaise."
To his soldiers he spoke with equal vigor.
"Soldiers," he said, "sartorially speaking, you are a poor lot; but
France does not want a tailor-made army at this juncture. We are not
about to go on dress parade, but into grim-visaged war, and the
patches on your trousers, if you present a bold front to the enemy,
need never be seen. You are also hungry, but so am I. I have had no
breakfast for four hours. The Republic owes you much; but money is
scarce, and you must whistle for your pay. The emigres have gone
abroad with all the circulating medium they could lay their hands on,
and the Government has much difficulty in maintaining the gold
reserve. For my part, I prefer fighting for glory to whistling for
money. Fighting is the better profession. You are men. Leave
whistling to boys. Follow me into Italy, where there are fertile
plains--plains from whose pregnant soil the olive springs at the rate
of a million bottles a year, plains through whose lovely lengths
there flow rivers of Chianti. Follow me to Italy, where there are
opulent towns with clothing-stores on every block, and churches
galore, with their poor-boxes bursting with gold. Soldiers, can you
resist the alluring prospect?"
"Vive l'Empereur!" cried the army, with one voice.
Napoleon frowned.
"Soldiers!" he cried, "Remember this: you are making history;
therefore, pray be accurate. I am not yet Emperor, and you are
guilty of an anachronism of a most embarrassing sort. Some men make
history in a warm room with pen and ink, aided by guide-books and
collections of anecdotes. Leave anachronisms and inaccuracies to
them. For ourselves, we must carve it out with our swords and
cannon; we must rubricate our pages with our gore, and punctuate our
periods with our bayonets. Let it not be said by future ages that we
held our responsibilities lightly and were careless of facts, and to
that end don't refer to me as Emperor until you are more familiar
with dates. When we have finished with Italy I'll take you to the
land where dates grow. Meanwhile, restez tranquille, as they say in
French, and breathe all the air you want. France can afford you that
in unstinted measure."
"Vive Bonaparte!" cried the army, taking the rebuke in good part.
"Now you're shouting," said Napoleon, with a smile. "You're a good
army, and if you stick by me you'll wear diamonds."
"We have forgotten one thing," said Barras a few days later, on the
eve of Napoleon's departure. "We haven't any casus belli."
"What's that?" said Napoleon, who had been so busy with his
preparations that he had forgotten most of his Greek and Latin.
"Cause for war," said Barras. "Where were you educated? If you are
going to fight the Italians you've got to have some principle to
fight for."
"That's precisely what we are going to fight for," said Napoleon.
"We're a bankrupt people. We're going to get some principal to set
us up in business. We may be able to float some bonds in Venice."
"True," returned Barras; "but that, after all, is mere highway
robbery."
"Well, all I've got to say," retorted Napoleon, with a sneer--"all
I've got to say is that if your Directory can't find something in the
attitude of Italy towards the Republic to take offence at, the sooner
it goes out of business the better. I'll leave that question
entirely to you fellows at Paris. I can't do everything. You look
after the casus, and I'll take care of the belli."
This plan was adopted. The Directory, after discussing various
causes for action, finally decided that an attack on Italy was
necessary for three reasons. First, because the alliance between the
kings of Sardinia and Austria was a menace to the Republic, and must
therefore be broken. Second, the Austrians were too near the Rhine
for France's comfort, and must be diverted before they had drunk all
the wine of the country, of which the French were very fond; and,
third, His Holiness the Pope had taken little interest in the now
infidel France, and must therefore be humiliated. These were the
reasons for the war settled upon by the government, and as they were
as satisfactory to Napoleon as any others, he gave the order which
set the army of Italy in motion.
"How shall we go, General?" asked Augereau, one of his subordinates.
"Over the Alps?"
"Not this time," returned Napoleon. "It is too cold. The army has
no ear-tabs. We'll skirt the Alps, and maybe the skirt will make
them warmer."
This the army proceeded at once to do, and within a month the first
object of the war was accomplished.
The Sardinian king was crushed, and the army found itself in
possession of food, drink, and clothes to a surfeit. Bonaparte's
pride at his success was great but not over-weening.
"Soldiers!" he cried, "you have done well. So have I. Hannibal
crossed the Alps. We didn't; but we got here just the same. You
have provided yourselves with food and clothes, and declared a
dividend for the Treasury of France which will enable the Directory
to buy itself a new hat through which to address the people. You
have reason to be proud of yourselves. Pat yourselves on your backs
with my compliments, but remember one thing. Our tickets are to
Milan, and no stop-overs are allowed. Therefore, do not as yet relax
your efforts. Milan is an imperial city. The guide-books tell us
that its cathedral is a beauty, the place is full of pictures, and
the opera-house finished in 1779 is the largest in the world. It can
be done in two days, and the hotels are good. Can you, therefore,
sleep here?"
"No, no!" cried the army.
"Then," cried Napoleon, tightening his reins and lifting his horse on
to its hind-legs and holding his sword aloft, "A Milan!"
"How like a statue he looks," said Lannes, admiringly.
"Yes," replied Augereau, "you'd think he was solid brass."
The Austrian troops were now concentrated behind the Po, but Napoleon
soon outgeneralled their leaders, drove them back to the Adda, and
himself pushed on to the Bridge of Lodi, which connected the east and
west branches of that river.
"When I set out for the P. O. P. E.," said Napoleon, "I'm not going
to stop halfway and turn back at the P. O. We've got the Austrians
over the Adda, and that's just where we want them. I had a dream
once about the Bridge of Lodi, and it's coming true now or never.
We'll take a few of our long divisions, cross the Adda, and subtract
a few fractions of the remainder now left the Austrians. This will
destroy their enthusiasm, and Milan will be ours."
The words were prophetic, for on the 10th of May the French did
precisely what their commander had said they would do, and on the
fourteenth day of May the victorious French entered Milan, the
wealthy capital of Lombardy.
"Curious fact," said Napoleon. "In times of peace if a man needs a
tonic you give him iron, and it builds him up; but in war if you give
the troops iron it bowls 'em down. Look at those Austrians; they've
got nervous prostration of the worst sort."
"They got too much iron," said Lannes.
"Too much tonic is worse than none. A man can stand ten or twenty
grains of iron, but forty pounds is rather upsetting."
"True," acquiesced Napoleon. "Well, it was a great fight, and I have
only one regret. I do wish you'd had a Kodak to take a few snap-
shots of me at that Bridge of Lodi. I'd like to send some home to
the family. It would have reminded brother Joseph of old times to
see me dashing over that bridge, prodding its planks with my heels
until it fairly creaked with pain. It would have made a good
frontispiece for Bourrienne's book too. And now, my dear Lannes,
what shall we do with ourselves for the next five days? Get out your
Baedecker and let us see this imperial city of the Lombards."
"There's one matter we must arrange first," said Augereau; "we
haven't any stable accommodations to speak of."
"What's the matter with the stalls at the opera-house?" suggested
Napoleon. "As I told the troops the other day, it's the biggest
theatre in the world. You ought to be able to stable the horses
there and lodge the men in the boxes."
"The horses would look well sitting in orchestra chairs, wouldn't
they?" said Augereau. "It's not feasible. As for the boxes, they're
mostly held by subscribers."
"Then stable them in the picture-galleries," said the general. "It
will be good discipline."
"The people will call that sacrilege," returned Augereau.
"Not if we remove the pictures," said Bonaparte. "We'll send the
pictures to Paris."
Accordingly this was done, and the galleries of France were thereby
much enriched. We mention these details at length, because Napoleon
has been severely criticised for thus impoverishing Italy, as well as
for his so-called contempt of art--a criticism which, in the face of
this accurate version, must fall to the ground. The pictures were
sent by him to Paris merely to preserve them, and, as he himself
said, a propos of the famous Da Vinci, beneath which horses and men
alike were quartered: "I'd have sent that too, but to do it I'd have
had to send the whole chapel or scrape the picture off the wall.
These Italians should rather thank than condemn me for leaving it
where it was. Mine was not an army of destruction, but a Salvation
Army of the highest type."
"You made mighty few converts for a Salvation Army," said Talleyrand,
to whom this remark was addressed.
"That's where you are wrong," said Napoleon. "I made angels of
innumerable Austrians, and converted quite a deal of Italian into
French territory."
It was hardly to be doubted that Napoleon's successes would arouse
jealousies in Paris, and the Directory, fearing the hold the
victorious general was acquiring upon the people, took steps to limit
his powers. Bonaparte instantly resigned his command and threatened
to return to Paris, which so frightened the government that they
refused to accept his resignation.
From this time on for nearly a year Napoleon's career was a
succession of victories. He invaded the Papal States, and acquired
millions of francs and hundreds of pictures. He chastised all who
opposed his sway, and, after pursuing the Austrians as far as Leoben,
within sight of Vienna, he humbled the haughty Emperor Joseph.
"I'll recognize your Republic," said the Emperor at last, finding
that there was nothing else to be done.
"Thanks," said Napoleon--"I thought you would; but I don't know
whether the Republic will recognize you. She doesn't even know you
by sight."
"Is that all you want?" asked the Emperor, anxiously.
"For the present, yes. Some day I may come back for something else,"
returned Napoleon, significantly. "And, by-the-way, when you are
sending your card to the French people just enclose a small
remittance of a few million francs, not necessarily for publication,
but as a guarantee of good faith. Don't send all you've got, but
just enough. You may want to marry off one of your daughters some
day, and it will be well to save something for her dowry."
It was in little acts of this nature that Napoleon showed his
wonderful foresight. One would almost incline to believe from this
particular incident that Bonaparte foresaw the Marie-Louise episode
in his future career.
The Austrians humbled, Napoleon turned his attention to Venice.
Venice had been behaving in a most exasperating fashion, and the
conqueror felt that the time had come to take the proud City of the
Sea in hand.
"If the Venetians have any brains," said he to Bourrienne, who joined
him about this time, secretly representing, it is said, a newspaper-
syndicate service, "they'll put on all the sail they've got and take
their old city out to sea. They're in for the worst ducking they
ever got."
"I'm afraid you'll find them hard to get at," said Bourrienne. "That
lagoon is a wet place."
"Oh, as for that," said Bonaparte, "a little water will do the army
good. We've been fighting so hard it's been months since they've had
a good tubbing, and a swim won't hurt them. Send Lannes here." In a
few minutes Lannes entered Bonaparte's tent.
"Lannes, we're off for Venice. Provide the army with overshoes, and
have our luggage checked through," said Bonaparte.
"Yes, General."
"Can Augereau swim?"
"I don't know, General."
"Well, find out, and if he can't we'll get him a balloon."
Thus, taking every precaution for the comfort of his men and the
safety of his officers, Napoleon set out. Venice, hearing of his
approach, was filled with consternation, and endeavored to temporize.
The Doges offered millions if Bonaparte would turn his attention to
others, to which Napoleon made this spirited reply: "Venetians, tell
the Doges, with my compliments, that I am coming. The wealth of the
Indies couldn't change my mind. They offer me stocks and bonds;
well, I believe their stocks and bonds to be as badly watered as
their haughty city, and I'll have none of them. I'll bring my stocks
with me, and your Doges will sit in them. I'll bring my bonds, and
your nobles shall put them on and make them clank. You've been
drowning Frenchmen every chance you've had. It will now be my
pleasing duty to make you do a little gurgling on your own account.
You'll find out for the first time in your lives what it is to be in
the swim. Put on your bathing-suits and prepare for the avenger.
The lions of St. Marc must lick the dust."
"We have no dust, General," said one of the messengers.
"Then you'd better get some," retorted Napoleon, "for you will have
to come down with it to the tune of millions."
True to his promise, Napoleon appeared at the lagoon on the 31st of
May, and the hitherto haughty Venice fell with a splash that could be
heard for miles, first having sent five ships of war, 3,000,000
francs, as many more in naval stores, twenty of her best pictures,
the bronze horses of the famous church, five hundred manuscripts, and
one apology to the French Republic as the terms of peace. The bronze
horses were subsequently returned, but what became of the manuscripts
we do not know. They probably would have been returned also--a large
portion of them, at least--if postage-stamps had been enclosed. This
is mere theory, of course; but it is rendered reasonable by the fact
that this is the usual fate of most manuscripts; nor is there any
record of their having been published in the Moniteur, the only
periodical which the French government was printing at that time.
As for Bonaparte, it was as balm to his soul to humble the haughty
Doges, whose attitude towards him had always been characterized by a
superciliousness which filled him with resentment.
"It did me good," he said, many years after, with a laugh, "to see
those Doges swimming up and down the Grand Canal in their state
robes, trying to look dignified, while I stood on the sidewalk and
asked them why they didn't come in out of the wet."