The victory of Marengo was the crowning glory of a campaign unsurpassed
in the annals of war, as regards the display of daring genius and
profound combination. It was a stroke which changed the face of affairs
in Europe, and raised the conqueror to the imperial height of his
ambition.
The immense plain of Marengo extends between the Scrivia and the
Bormida. In this place, the Po retreats from the Appenine, and leaves a
vast space, across which the Bormida and the Tanaro roll their waters,
now become less rapid, till meeting near Alessandria, they flow on
together into the bed of the Po. The road, leading along the foot of the
Appenines to Tortona, departs from it abreast of this place, turns to
the right, passes the Scrivia, and opens into a vast plain. The stream
it crosses at a first village, called San Giuliano, runs forward to a
second, named Marengo, and at length crosses the Bormida, and terminates
at the celebrated fortress of Alessandria.
On the 13th of June, 1800, that army which had surmounted the crags and
snows of the Alps, debouched into the plain. Here Bonaparte expected to
find the Austrians; but his cavalry scoured the plain without finding a
single corps, and the First Consul then concluded that Melas had
escaped. He then ordered the wise and valiant Desaix, who had joined him
a few days previous, to march upon Rivolta and Novi with a single
division, that of Boudet, in order to check Melas, if he had gone from
Alessandria to Genoa. But the division of Monnier, which was Desaix’s
second, he retained at head-quarters. Victor was left at the town of
Marengo, with two divisions; Lannes, the indomitable Lannes, fresh from
the glorious field of Montebello, was left with one division on the
plain, and Murat, with his cavalry, was retained at the side of the
general-in-chief, with the splendid Consular Guard.
But the First Consul had been deceived. Melas had not escaped; he
expected to fight at Marengo, and had adopted measures to advance upon
the French army.
The French, marching from Placentia and the Scrivia, would first come
upon San Giuliano, and afterward, at three quarters of a league farther,
upon Marengo, which almost touches the Bormida, and forms the principal
outlet which the Austrian army had to conquer, in order to issue from
Alessandria. Between San Giuliano and Marengo extends, in a right line,
the road which was to be disputed; and on each side, wide spreads the
plain covered with fields of wheat and vineyards. Below Marengo, to the
right of the French, and left of the Austrians, lay Castel-Ceriolo, a
large borough, through which General Ott intended to pass, in order to
turn the corps of General Victor, stationed in Marengo. It was,
therefore, upon Marengo that the principal attack of the Austrians would
be directed, as this village commanded the entrance of the plain.
At day-break, the Austrian army passed the two bridges of the Bormida.
But its movement was slow, because it had but one bridge-head, from
which to debouch. O’Reilly passed first, and encountered the division of
Gardanne, which General Victor, after having occupied Marengo, had led
forward. This division was formed only of the 101st and 44th
demi-brigades. O’Reilly, supported by a numerous artillery, and with
double the force of his opponent, compelled him to fall back, and shut
himself up in Marengo. Fortunately, he did not throw himself into the
place after him, but waited till the centre, under General Haddick,
should come to his support. The slowness of their march across the
defile formed by the bridges, cost the Austrians two or three hours. At
length Generals Haddick and Kaim deployed their forces in the rear of
O’Reilly, and General Ott passed the same bridges on his way to
Castel-Ceriolo.
Thus commenced the great battle of Marengo. The advance, under Gardanne,
was obliged to fall back upon Victor. Victor held his position during
two hours against the enormous force opposed to him. He was obliged to
vacate Marengo, but retook it; and this occurred twice or thrice.
Napoleon now ordered Lannes to advance to the support of Victor; but
after a long and obstinate contest, the cavalry of Elsnitz suddenly
appeared upon the right of Lannes, and both lines were compelled to
retreat. The Austrians had fought the battle admirably. The infantry had
opened an attack on every point of the French line, while the cavalry
debouched across the bridge which the French had failed to destroy, and
assailed the right of their army with such fury and rapidity, that it
was thrown into complete disorder. The attack was successful every
where; the centre of the French was penetrated, the left routed, and
another desperate charge of the cavalry would have terminated the
battle. The order for this, however, was not given; but the retreating
French were still in the utmost peril. Napoleon had been collecting
reserves between Garafolo and Marengo, and now sent orders for his army
to retreat towards these reserves, and rally round his guard, which he
stationed in the rear of the village of Marengo, and placed himself at
their head. The soldiers could all see the First Consul, with his staff,
surrounded by the two hundred grenadiers of the guard, in the midst of
the immense plain. The sight revived their hopes. The right wing, under
Lannes, quickly rallied; the centre, reinforced by the scattered troops
of the left, recovered its strength; the left wing no longer existed;
its scattered remains fled in disorder, pursued by the Austrians. The
battle continued to rage, and was obstinately disputed; but the main
body of the French army, which still remained in order of battle, was
continually, though very slowly, retreating, The First Consul had now
dispatched his aid-de-camp, Bruyere, to Desaix, with an urgent message
to hasten to the field of battle. Desaix, on his part, had been arrested
in his march upon Novi, by the repeated discharges of distant artillery:
he had in consequence made a halt, and dispatched Savary, then his
aid-de-camp, with a body of fifty horse, to gallop with all possible
haste to Novi, and ascertain the state of affairs there, according to
the orders of the First Consul, while he kept his division fresh and
ready for action. Savary found all quiet at Novi; and returning to
Desaix, after the lapse of about two hours, with this intelligence, was
next sent to the First Consul. He spurred his horse across the country,
in the direction of the fire and smoke, and fortunately met Bruyere, who
was taking the same short cut to find Desaix. Giving him the necessary
directions, Savary hastened to the First Consul. He found him in the
midst of his guard, who stood their ground, on the field of battle;
forming a solid body in the face of the enemy’s fire, the dismounted
grenadiers stationed in front, and the place of each man who fell being
instantly supplied from the ranks behind. Maps were spread open before
Napoleon: he was planning the movement which decided the action. Savary
made his report, and told him of Desaix’s position. “At what hour did
you leave him?” said the First Consul, pulling out his watch. Having
been informed, he continued, “Well, he cannot be far off; go, and tell
him to form in that direction (pointing with his hand to a particular
spot:) let him quit the main road, and make way for all those wounded
men, who would only embarrass him, and perhaps draw his own soldiers
after them.” It was now three o’clock in the afternoon.
The aged Melas, believing the victory his own, had retired from the
field, and left General Zach in command. At this critical moment, the
division of Desaix appeared upon the plain. Outstripping the troops,
this glorious lieutenant galloped up to the First Consul. He said the
battle was lost, but there was yet time to gain another. Bonaparte
immediately set about availing himself of the resources brought up by
his beloved general.
Desaix’s three demi-brigades were formed in front of San-Giuliano, a
little way to the right of the main road. The 30th deployed in line, the
9th and 59th in close column, on the wings of the former. A slight
undulation of ground concealed them from the enemy. On the right,
rallying and somewhat recovered, were the shattered relics of
Chambarlhac’s and Gardanne’s divisions under General Victor. To their
right, in the plain, Lannes, whose retreat had been stopped; next to him
the Consular Guard, and next again to that, Carra Saint-Cyr, who had
maintained himself as near as possible to Castel-Ceriolo. In this
position the army formed a long oblique line, from San-Giuliano to
Castel-Ceriolo. In an interval between Desaix and Lannes, but somewhat
more in the rear, was stationed Kellerman, with his cavalry. A battery
of twelve pieces, the sole remains of the whole artillery of the army,
was spread out in front of Desaix’s line.
These dispositions made, the First Consul passed on horseback along the
lines of his soldiers, speaking to several corps. “My friends,” said he
to them, “you have retreated far enough; recollect that I am in the
habit of sleeping on the field of battle.” After having re-animated his
troops, who were re-assured by the arrival of their reserves, and
burning to avenge the events of the morning, he gave the signal. The
charge was beaten along the whole length of the lines.
The Austrians, who were rather in order of march than of battle, kept
the high road. The column directed by M. de Zach came first; a little
behind it came the centre, half deployed on the plain and facing Lannes.
General Marmont suddenly unmasked his twelve pieces of cannon. A heavy
discharge of grape-shot fell upon the head of the column, which was
completely taken by surprise, and suspecting nothing less than further
resistance, for they thought the French decidedly on their retreat. They
had not yet recovered from their surprise, when Desaix put the 9th light
infantry in movement. “Go and inform the First Consul,” said he, to his
aid-de-camp, Savary, “that I am charging, and that I must be supported
by the cavalry.” Desaix, on horseback, charged in person at the head of
his demi-brigade. He led it over the slight inequality of ground which
concealed him from the view of the Austrians, and made them aware of his
presence by a discharge of musketry at point blank distance. The
Austrians poured in an answering volley; and Desaix fell on the instant,
pierced by a bullet in the breast. “Conceal my death,” said he to
General Boudet, who was his chief of division, for it might, he thought,
produce a panic among his men. Useless precaution of the young hero. He
was seen to fall, and his soldiers, like those of Turenne, clamorously
demanded to be led forward to avenge the death of their leader. The 9th
light infantry, which on that day gained for itself the title of “_The
Incomparable_,” a distinction which it bore to the conclusion of the
war; the 9th light infantry, after pouring its fire upon the enemy,
formed in column, and fell upon the deep mass of the Austrians. At the
sight, the two first regiments that led the march, surprised and
confounded, fell back in disorder upon the second line, and disappeared
amidst its ranks. Lattermann’s column of grenadiers were now at the
head, and received the shock as chosen troops might be expected to
receive it. They were firm. The struggle extended to the two sides of
the main road. The 9th light infantry was supported to the right by
Victor’s troops, which had rallied; to the left, by the 30th and 59th
demi-brigades of Boudet’s division, which followed the movement.
Lattermann’s grenadiers were defending themselves stoutly, though hard
pressed, when suddenly a storm burst on their heads. General Kellermann,
who, at the instance of Desaix, had received orders to charge, set off
at full gallop, and passing between Lannes and Desaix, placed part of
his squadron _en potence_ to make head against the Austrian cavalry,
whom he saw before him, and then, with the remainder, threw himself on
the flank of the column of grenadiers, already assailed in front by
Boudet’s infantry. By this charge, which was executed with extraordinary
vigor, the column was cut in two. Kellermann’s dragoons sabred it to the
right and left, till, pressed on every side, the unfortunate grenadiers
threw down their arms. Two thousand of them surrendered themselves
prisoners. At their head, General Zach himself was compelled to give up
his sword, and in this manner the Austrians were deprived of any leader
until the battle ended. But Kellermann did not stop here; he dashed on
the dragoons of Lichtenstein and broke them! These recoiled in disorder
on the centre of the Austrians, as it was forming in the plain, in front
of Lannes, and there caused some confusion. At this moment Lannes
advanced, pressed vigorously on the Austrians’ centre, which was shaken,
while the grenadiers of the Consular Guard and of Carra Saint-Cyr again
bore down upon Castel-Ceriolo, from which they were not far distant.
Along the whole line from San-Giuliano to Castel-Ceriolo, the French had
now resumed the offensive; they marched forward, drunk with joy and
enthusiasm, at seeing the victory again returning to their hands.
Surprise and discouragement had passed to the side of the Austrians.
From the Giuliano to Castel-Ceriolo, the oblique line of the French
advancing at charging pace, pushed the enemy back, and compelled them to
strive to escape by way of the bridges over the Bormida.
The slaughter of the Austrians was dreadful. Their army was thus thrown
into the utmost confusion in a moment; and the victory, which had seemed
quite secure to them at three o’clock, was completely won by the French
at six. The pursuit continued far into the night, the mixed deaths and
mangling upon the dark bridges being one confused and crowded horror;
while the whole of the Austrians who had remained on the left bank were
taken prisoners, or driven with headlong devastation into the Bormida.
The waters ran a deep red with the blood of horses and of men, and
presented in some parts a clotted surface of their mangled remains.
Several entire battalions surrendered at discretion, and General Zach
and all his staff were made prisoners.
The greater part of the French army encamped on the field of battle.
It was now about seven o’clock in the evening. The storm of conflict was
hushed; but the ghastly burden of the field was revealed in all its
horror by the glare of the watch-fires, and the light of the moon. The
mangled dead were lying in heaps where the struggle had been most
desperate; and the Bormida was a river of blood. Near the village of San
Giuliano, a single officer could be seen walking among the bodies of the
slain, leading his horse. For some time it seemed as if his search would
be vain. Many of the bodies had been completely stripped by the enemy,
and their features were mangled so that it was almost impossible to
recognise them. Suddenly, however, Savary halted. In the midst of a
circle of bodies, was stretched the manly form of Desaix, which the
aid-de-camp recognised by the long, flowing hair which fell upon the
neck, and the noble expression of the countenance, which had not altered
in the agonies of death. The young man knelt down and wept over that
form, like a child; for he had learned to look up to the heroic general
as a father. He loved Desaix with that noble devotion which only the
highest qualities can excite, and which is so admirable as to make us
proud of our human nature. Savary gave free vent to his grief, and then,
wrapping his cloak around the body, he lifted it upon his horse, and
slowly returned with it to head-quarters. As he passed the watch-fires,
the troops, who were in the highest spirits in consequence of the
unexpected victory, recognised the body of Desaix, ceased their talk,
and respectfully uncovered. At length, Savary brought his melancholy
burden to the head-quarters of General Bonaparte, at Torre-di-Garofolo.
Leaving the body in charge of some soldiers, he entered the old mansion,
which had been selected for head-quarters, and was ushered into the
presence of the First Consul. Bonaparte was seated amidst his principal
officers, talking over the thrilling incidents of the day, and
complimenting those who had particularly distinguished themselves, and
there was scarcely one who did not bear sanguine marks of the fight.
“Your business, sir?” said Bonaparte, as Savary appeared.
“Your excellency, I have found the body of General Desaix, and brought
it here to await your orders.”
“Ah! Desaix!” interrupted Bonaparte in a tone full of sad feeling. He
then appeared to indulge in mournful reflection, and there was a silence
of a few minutes. He then continued, “This victory would have been,
indeed, glorious, could I this evening embrace Desaix. I was going to
make him a minister of war. I would have made him a prince, had I been
able. As mild and modest in manners as he was firm and heroic in battle,
he deserves a monument from France. You, and Rapp, are faithful aids.”
“General Desaix was our father,” said Savary.
“I will take you both for my aids.”
This Savary was afterwards Duke of Rovigo. He was faithful to Napoleon
to the end, and General Rapp deserves the same praise.
The First Consul now gave directions to Savary as to the immediate
disposal of the body of Desaix. He designed that it should be embalmed
as soon as possible, and placed in a fitting sarcophagus. Having
received full and accurate directions, Savary retired.
“Most of you will recollect the critical position of affairs when Desaix
arrived on the field,” said the First Consul. “His coming was a happy
thought. You all know the worth of his opinion. You drew around him and
informed him of the events of the day. Yet most of you advised a
retreat. I demurred, and asked the counsel of General Desaix. He cast
his eye over the field, and then, taking out his watch and looking at
the hour, replied, ‘Yes, the battle is completely lost; but it is only
three o’clock. There is yet time to gain another.’ These words
encouraged me, and I immediately ordered those movements which gave us
the victory. What is the loss of the enemy, according to your estimate,
M. de Bourrienne?”
“In my opinion, they have lost about one-third of their army, which,
before the battle, consisted of about twenty-eight thousand men. Besides
that, General Haddick is killed, and a large number of their best
generals are disabled by severe wounds. General Zach is a prisoner,”
replied the secretary.
“Aye; then they have paid a portion of their debt,” said Bonaparte.
“But,” said Victor, “our staff has suffered also; Generals Mainomy,
Rivaud, Mahler, and Champeaux are wounded, and it is believed that
Champeaux has received his mortal stroke.”
“We have lost about one-fourth of the army, estimating it at
twenty-eight thousand men,” observed Bourrienne.
“But we have gained a great victory, and the Austrians are completely
prostrated,” said Bonaparte, quickly. “Let us now talk of our triumph.
Little Kellermann made a fine charge—he did it just at the right time—we
owe him much; see what trifles decide these affairs!”
Just then, General Kellermann, a young-looking man, of short stature and
rather thin, but possessing a manly countenance, entered the room.
Strange to say, the First Consul immediately changed his tone. As the
gallant young general, whose charge had decided the day, approached the
table at which Bonaparte was writing, he said, coldly, “You made a
pretty good charge,” and as a set off to this coldness, he turned to
Bessieres, who commanded the horse grenadiers of the guard, and said to
him audibly, “Bessieres, the guard has covered itself with glory.”
Kellermann bit his lips, and his eyes flashed; but in spite of reports
to the contrary, he said nothing, and soon after retired from the room.
The reason of the treatment extended to him by the First Consul has
never been developed. It certainly does no credit to the
general-in-chief. Kellermann had charged with about five hundred heavy
cavalry. It was this handful of brave men who had cut in two the
Austrian column. The guard made no charge till night-fall. Yet
Kellermann was never raised to the rank of marshal.
Turning to Lannes, who seemed suffering from fatigue, the First Consul
said,
“You ought to be fatigued, General Lannes. Never were witnessed efforts
of bravery beyond those you have shown this day. I saw you, with your
four demi-brigades. The enemy poured a storm of grape from eighty pieces
of artillery upon your troops; yet you protracted your retreating fight
three-quarters of a league for two whole hours. Every battle adds to the
glory of the hero of Montebello.”
Lannes was pleased at receiving praise from Bonaparte, who was the god
of his idolatry. Yet it was nothing more than his due. A short time
previous, he had defeated the Austrians at Montebello, in a long,
bloody, hand-to-hand struggle, against greatly superior numbers, and yet
he had almost surpassed the achievements of that desperate fight, when,
to use his own terrific expression, “the bones were cracking in his
division like hail upon a sky-light,” by his unparalleled retreat at
Marengo.
“I knew that so long as I maintained the right,” said Lannes, “the army
preserved a sure line of retreat by Sale towards the banks of the Po. I
compelled the Austrians to fight, and lose a man for every inch of
ground. I blew up the caissons I could not bring off.”
It was late when the generals retired to their respective quarters, to
sleep upon the laurels of Marengo. Even then the cavalry which had
pursued the enemy had not all returned. The vanquished were allowed no
repose. The First Consul slept but little that night. He knew that he
should hear from the enemy, the next morning, and sat up, with his
secretary Bourrienne, to fix upon the precise terms he should grant. He
was not mistaken. The watch-fires of the victorious French had not been
long extinguished, before Prince Lichtenstein, bearing a flag of truce,
reached head-quarters. Negotiations for a capitulation were commenced,
and the convention of Alessandria was signed on the 15th of June.
It was agreed, in the first place, that there should be a suspension of
arms in Italy, until such time as an answer should be received from
Vienna. Should the convention be accepted, the Austrians were free to
retire, with the honors of war, beyond the line of the Mincio. They
bound themselves, in withdrawing, to restore to the French all the
strongholds which they occupied. The castles of Tortona, Alessandria,
Milan, Arona, and Placentia, were to be surrendered between the 16th and
20th of June—27th Prairial, and 1st of Messidor—the castles of Ceva and
Savona, the strongholds of Coni and Genoa, between the 16th and the
24th, and the fort of Urbia, on the 26th of June. The Austrian army was
to be divided into three columns, which were to withdraw one after the
other, and proportionally to the delivery of the strongholds. The
immense military stores accumulated by M. de Melas, in Italy, were to be
divided into two parts; the artillery of the Italian foundries was
granted to the French army; the artillery of the Austrian foundries to
the imperial army. The Imperialists, after having evacuated Lombardy as
far as the Mincio, were to fall back behind the following line:—the
Mincio, La Fossa, Maestra, the left bank of the Po, from Borgo-Forte to
the mouth of that river, on the Adriatic. Peschiera and Mantua were to
remain in possession of the Austrian army. It was stated, without
explanation, that the detachment of this army, then actually in Tuscany,
should continue to occupy that province. There could be no allusion
made, in this capitulation, to the States of the Pope, or those of the
King of Naples, because these potentates were strangers to the affairs
of upper Italy. Should this convention not receive the emperor’s
ratification, ten days’ notice was to be given of the resumption of
hostilities. In the meantime, no detachment on the one side or the
other, should be sent into Germany.
It is said that the First Consul was strongly affected at the sight of
the field of Marengo, on which so many brave men had fallen. Under the
influence of these feelings he wrote a remarkable letter to the Emperor
of Austria.
“It is on the field of battle,” said he to him, “amid the sufferings of
a multitude of wounded, and surrounded by fifteen thousand corpses, that
I beseech your majesty to listen to the voice of humanity, and not to
suffer two brave nations to cut each other’s throats for interests not
their own. It is my part to press this on your majesty, being upon the
very theatre of war. Your majesty’s heart cannot feel it so keenly as
does mine.”
He then argued with peculiar eloquence for the cause of peace, and
fortunately the conqueror of Marengo could contend with much grace for
the restoration of tranquillity. He conquered the peace, and returned to
Paris, to receive the homage of an admiring populace, who were now
willing to concede to him the imperial crown.
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