“The Spark of Great Ambition”
(1796)
“Soldiers! you are ill-fed and almost naked; the Government owes you
much, but can do nothing for you. Your patience, your courage, do you
honour, but bring you neither advantage nor glory. I am about to lead
you into the most fertile plains of the world. Rich provinces, great
cities will be in your power. There you will find honour, and fame, and
wealth. Soldiers of the Army of Italy, will you be found wanting in
courage?”
Thus Napoleon addressed the half-starved and dejected legions who
had been struggling for two years on the Maritime Alps against the
Austrians and Sardinians in an apparently impossible attempt to gain
a footing in Northern Italy. The army was little more than a mob
of malcontents, lacking even the common necessaries of life. Forty
thousand outcasts, if you will, undisciplined, many of them without
boots, more of them in tatters, all of them with scarcely a ray of
hope; soldiers in name rather than in reality. Brave men and heroes
there were, order and subordination there were not. To introduce
cohesion and discipline into these unruly forces was the almost
superhuman task Napoleon had undertaken.
He arrived at Nice, the headquarters of the Army of Italy, on the
26th March 1796; he began to investigate the conditions of his problem
the same day, issuing the above General Orders twenty-four hours
afterwards. His allies were the mountains which separated him from
his enemies; the Mediterranean which faced him was the highroad of
the English squadron. A concerted effort on the part of the land and
the maritime forces would most assuredly catch him like a rat in a
trap. Fortunately the Austrians and Sardinians were suspicious of each
other, their dispositions were faulty and not always in concert, and
their forces were scattered over a long line of territory, defending
the passes across the mountains. The officers viewed the Directory’s
choice of a commander with suspicion. If Schérer, a veteran over
seventy years of age, had not been able to lead them to victory, what
could be expected of this fledgling? They reckoned without their host.
Genius knows no age and takes no count of birthdays. Napoleon’s amazing
fertility of resource, his astounding energy and thorough grip of the
situation, gradually overcame their opposition whether acknowledged
or only felt. Masséna, Augereau, Sérurier, Cervoni, La Harpe, and
Rampon, to mention some of the more important, joined loyal hands with
Napoleon’s own chosen men, Murat, Berthier, Duroc, Marmont, and the
fear-nothing Junot. We shall find many of these names occurring again
and again, as the story develops and the career of the Master General
expands. Few, if any, individuals succeed unaided, least of all the
soldier and the statesman. Napoleon early recognised that the so-called
self-made man is very rarely entitled to the credit implied in the
name. He fostered the ambitions of his colleagues, but saw to it that
he was the chief gainer by them.
After having provided so far as was possible for the creature comforts
of the troops and raised their drooping spirits by his enthusiasm and
the promise of good things to come, the commander prepared to strike
a quick and decisive blow at his enemies. The armies of the King of
Sardinia and Piedmont and of the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire were
not united in one large body, but separated by more than thirty miles.
The central idea of this arrangement was that in case of necessity each
could fall back on the capital of the country they were defending,
the Austrians on Milan and the Sardinians on Turin. The wiser way,
as Viscount Wolseley points out, would have been to concentrate at a
place commanding both cities, in the valley of the Eastern Bormida, for
instance. Napoleon saw the folly of the plan, and determined to force
his way between the two armies and fight them separately. “United,”
as he said, “the two forces would have been superior to the French
army: separated, they were lost.” Napoleon hurried troops along the
rut-wrinkled road to Voltri, within easy march of Genoa, to give the
impression that the latter place was about to be attacked. Meantime,
however, he and the main body encamped at the foot of the mountains,
above Savona. After strongly fortifying the pass of Montenotte, the
Austrians occupying a ridge above the village of that name, he prepared
to attack, and on the 12th April took the enemy completely by surprise.
The onset was deadly, the result certain. Masséna bore the brunt of
the fight, the commander contenting himself with the highly important
duty of preventing the enemy from reaching their Sardinian allies. The
Imperialists were driven from the field with a loss of 700 dead and
wounded. “My title of nobility,” said Napoleon, “dates from the battle
of Montenotte.” Another Austrian defeat took place at Millesimo on the
following day, and they were also ousted from the village of Dego, upon
which they had fallen back, on the 14th.
Early on the morning of the 15th, an Austrian division, unaware of
the disaster which had overtaken their comrades, seized Dego. Had
not Napoleon acted with great promptitude, they might possibly have
retrieved the defeat of the previous day. While Masséna and La Harpe
bravely disputed the ground, Napoleon brought up reinforcements with
an energy which alone saved the occasion. Having shattered this army,
the Commander-in-chief turned his attention to the Sardinians at Ceva,
under Colli, and at first met with a rebuff. Hoping to catch Napoleon
in a trap, the enemy’s camp was hastily broken up and the army marched
off to occupy what the General fondly imagined were stronger positions.
Defeat awaited them, however, at the hands of Sérurier and Dommartin,
who came up with the Sardinians and forced them to fly towards Turin,
their base of supplies. The town of Mondovi fell to the French, Marmont
captured Cherasco. As a result of these operations, Savoy and Nice were
ceded to France and the Austro-Sardinian alliance came to an abrupt
end. The important fortresses of Coni, Tortona, and Alessandria were
surrendered to the French and others were demolished. These strategic
positions have been called “the keys of the Alps,” and were necessary
to the success of Napoleon’s next operations. The Commissioners who
represented Sardinia would not willingly grant demands which they held
to be extortionate and which left but two fortified places worthy of
consideration to the dismembered State. Napoleon told them that it was
for him to make conditions. “Listen to the laws which I impose upon you
in the name of the Government of my country,” he added, “or to-morrow
my batteries are erected, and Turin is in flames.” Arguments which can
be backed by deeds are unanswerable. Parma, also on the losing side,
likewise sued for peace, the arrangement being that she should furnish
specie and supplies for the French army. Napoleon during the course of
his negotiations made use of a striking phrase which explains another
of the secrets of his success. “It may happen to me to lose battles,”
he remarked, “but no one shall ever see me lose minutes either by
over-confidence or by sloth.”
Having concluded his diplomatic measures, the General was now ready to
turn his attention to his remaining enemy. Before doing so he thought
it well to make a further appeal to the patriotic instincts of his
troops. Triumphant as never before, they were nevertheless beginning to
weary of the ceaseless marching and fighting:
“Soldiers! you have gained in fifteen days six victories, taken
twenty-one standards, fifty-five pieces of cannon, many strong places,
and conquered the richest part of Piedmont. You have made fifteen
thousand prisoners, and killed or wounded ten thousand men. Hitherto
you have fought on barren rocks, illustrious, indeed, by your courage,
but of no avail to your country. Now you rival by your services the
Armies of Holland and of the Rhine. You were utterly destitute; you
have supplied all your wants. You have gained battles without cannon;
passed rivers without bridges; made forced marches without shoes;
bivouacked without bread! The phalanxes of the Republic--the soldiers
of liberty--were alone capable of such sacrifices. But, soldiers, you
have accomplished nothing while anything remains to be done. Neither
Turin nor Milan is in your hands; the ashes of the conqueror of Tarquin
are still trampled on by the assassins of Basseville! I am told that
there are some among you whose courage is failing, who would rather
return to the summits of the Alps and the Appenines. No--I cannot
believe it. The conquerors of Montenotte, of Millesimo, of Dego, of
Mondovi burn to carry still further the glories of the French name!
But, ere I lead you to conquest, there is one condition you must
promise to fulfil; that is, to protect the people whom you liberate,
and to repress all acts of lawless violence. Without this, you would
not be the deliverers, but the scourge of nations. Invested with the
national authority, strong in justice and law, I shall not hesitate to
enforce the requisitions of humanity and of honour. I will not suffer
robbers to sully your laurels. Pillagers shall be shot without mercy.
“People of Italy! the French army advances to break your chains. The
French people are the friends of all nations. In them you may confide.
Your property, your religion, your customs shall be respected. We will
only make war as generous foes. Our sole quarrel is with the tyrants
who enslave you!”
Without losing unnecessary time, Napoleon entered Piacenza, crossed the
river Po on a hastily-constructed bridge of boats in face of a hostile
force, and prepared to take the village of Fombio. Here some 5,000
Austrian infantry and cavalry were prepared to make a stand. The place
literally bristled with artillery, even the churches were fortified;
but the French routed the enemy, and the Imperialists were forced to
retire.
Behind the swiftly-flowing Adda a strong rear-guard was posted, and
on the 10th May Napoleon appeared at Lodi, on the opposite bank. A
narrow bridge, some 200 yards in length and thirty feet wide, was the
only means of crossing the turbulent stream. At first the Austrians
tried to hold the structure, then attempted to break it down, but the
steady fire of the French prevented them from doing so. To cross to
the opposite bank was absolutely essential for a decisive action, and
Napoleon gave orders that a column of picked men should be sent to
seize the bridge. He was told that such an attempt could not possibly
succeed. “Impossible!” he is asserted to have cried, “that word is not
French!” He started the column. It meant certain death to many, but in
warfare men are simply fighting machines controlled by the human dynamo
at their head. The troops pressed forward. Those in front fell like
leaves in autumn, as the shots from the opposite shore ploughed their
ranks. Some of the most daring reached the middle of the bridge only
to sink in a lifeless heap under the murderous hail. A retreat seemed
inevitable, the bravest wavered.
Napoleon, quick to notice the slightest sign of weakness, again urged
his troops forward. Lannes, Masséna, and Berthier, threw themselves
into the thick of the fight, and shortly afterwards the bridge was
carried. The rest was comparatively easy. The Austrian cannon were
taken, the infantry which covered them was forced to give way, and the
Imperialists again retreated, leaving 300 dead and wounded. It was in
very truth a hard-fought field, for the victors lost a greater number
of men. Had they been able to follow the retreating army, the triumph
would have been complete. Napoleon declared that “it was not till
after the terrible passage of the Bridge of Lodi that the idea flashed
across my mind that I might become a decisive actor in the political
arena. Then arose, for the first time, the spark of great ambition.” It
was after this battle that the soldiers nicknamed Napoleon “the little
corporal.” Sebottendorf, who commanded the defeated troops, bent his
steps towards Mantua, to which Beaulieu, his superior officer, was also
making his way.