Bonaparte's Imperious Spirit.
Bonaparte's Transformation -- Military Genius -- Powers and
Principles -- Theory and Conduct -- Political Activity --
Purposes for Italy -- Private Correspondence -- Treatment of
the Italian Powers -- Antagonism to the Directory -- The
Task Before Him -- Masked Dictator.
[Sidenote: 1796.]
During the two months between the middle of November, 1796, and the
middle of January, 1797, there was a marked change in Bonaparte's
character and conduct. After Arcola he appeared as a man very
different from the novice he had been before Montenotte. Twice his
fortunes had hung by a single hair, having been rescued by the
desperate bravery of Rampon and his soldiers at Monte Legino, and
again by Augereau's daring at Lonato; twice he had barely escaped
being a prisoner, once at Valeggio, once at Lonato; twice his life had
been spared in the heat of battle as if by a miracle, once at Lodi,
once again at Arcola. These facts had apparently left a deep
impression on his mind, for they were turned to the best account in
making good a new step in social advancement. So far he had been as
adventurous as the greatest daredevil among the subalterns, staking
his life in every new venture; hereafter he seemed to appreciate his
own value, and to calculate not only the imperiling of his life, but
the intimacy of his conversation, with nice adaptation to some great
result. Gradually and informally a kind of body-guard was organized,
which, as the idea grew familiar, was skilfully developed into a
picked corps, the best officers and finest soldiers being made to feel
honored in its membership. The constant attendance of such men
necessarily secluded the general-in-chief from those colleagues who
had hitherto been familiar comrades. Something in the nature of formal
etiquette once established, it was easy to extend its rules and
confirm them. The generals were thus separated further and further
from their superior, and before the new year they had insensibly
adopted habits of address which displayed a high outward respect, and
virtually terminated all comradeship with one who had so recently been
merely the first among equals. Bonaparte's innate tendency to command
was under such circumstances hardened into a habit of imperious
dictation. In view of what had been accomplished, it would have been
impossible, even for the most stubborn democrat, to check the process.
Not one of Bonaparte's principles had failed to secure triumphant
vindication.
In later years Napoleon himself believed, and subsequent criticism has
confirmed his opinion, that the Italian campaign, taken as a whole,
was his greatest. The revolution of any public system, social,
political, or military, is always a gigantic task. It was nothing less
than this which Bonaparte had wrought, not in one, but in all three
spheres, during the summer and autumn of 1796. The changes, like those
of most revolutions, were changes of emphasis and degree in the
application of principles already divined. "Divide and conquer" was an
old maxim; it was a novelty to see it applied in warfare and politics
as Bonaparte applied it in Italy. It has been remarked that the
essential difference between Napoleon and Frederick the Great was that
the latter had not ten thousand men a month to kill. The notion that
war should be short and terrible had, indeed, been clear to the great
Prussian; Carnot and the times afforded the opportunity for its
conclusive demonstration by the genius of the greater Corsican.
Concentration of besiegers to breach the walls of a town was nothing
new; but the triumphant application of the same principle to an
opposing line of troops, though well known to Julius Cæsar, had been
forgotten, and its revival was Napoleon's masterpiece. The martinets
of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries had so exaggerated the
formalities of war that the relation of armies to the fighting-ground
had been little studied and well-nigh forgotten; the use of the map
and the compass, the study of reliefs and profiles in topography,
produced in Bonaparte's hands results that seemed to duller minds
nothing short of miraculous. One of these was to oppose the old-school
rigid formation of troops by any formation more or less open and
irregular according to circumstances, but always the kind best suited
to the character of the seat of war. The first two days at Arcola were
the triumphant vindication of this concept. Finally, there was a
fascination for the French soldiers in the primitive savagery of their
general, which, though partly concealed, and somewhat held in by
training, nevertheless was willing that the spoils of their conquest
should be devoted to making the victorious contestants opulent; which
scorned the limitations of human powers in himself and them, and thus
accomplished feats of strength and stratagem which gratified to
satiety that love for the uncommon, the ideal, and the great which is
inherent in the spirit of their nation. In the successful combination
and evolution of all these elements there was a grandeur which
Bonaparte and every soldier of his army appreciated at its full value.
The military side of Bonaparte's genius is ordinarily considered the
strongest. Judged by what is easily visible in the way of immediate
consequences and permanent results, this appears to be true; and yet
it was only one of many sides. Next in importance, if not equal to it,
was his activity in politics and diplomacy. It is easy to call names,
to stigmatize the peoples of Italy, all the nations even of western
Europe, as corrupt and enervated, to laugh at their politics as
antiquated, and to brand their rulers as incapable fools. An ordinary
man can, by the assistance of the knowledge, education, and insight
acquired by the experience of his race through an additional century,
turn and show how commonplace was the person who toppled over such an
old rotten structure. This is the method of Napoleon's detractors,
except when, in addition, they first magnify his wickedness, and then
further distort the proportion by viewing his fine powers through the
other end of the glass. We all know how easy great things are when
once they have been accomplished, how simple the key to a mystery when
once it has been revealed. Morally considered, Bonaparte was a child
of nature, born to a mean estate, buffeted by a cruel and remorseless
society, driven in youth to every shift for self-preservation,
compelled to fight an unregenerate world with its own weapons. He had
not been changed in the flash of a gun. Elevation to reputation and
power did not diminish the duplicity of his character; on the
contrary, it possibly intensified it. Certainly the fierce light which
began to beat upon him brought it into greater prominence. Truth,
honor, unselfishness are theoretically the virtues of all philosophy;
practically they are the virtues of Christian men in Christian
society. Where should the scion of a Corsican stock, ignorant of moral
or religious sentiment, thrown into the atmosphere and surroundings of
the French Revolution, learn to practise them?
Such considerations are indispensable in the observation of
Bonaparte's progress as a politician. His first settlement with the
various peoples of central Italy was, as he had declared, only
provisional. The uncertain status created by it was momentarily not
unwelcome to the Directory. Their policy was to destroy existing
institutions, and leave order to evolve itself from the chaos as best
it could. Doctrinaires as they were, they meant to destroy absolute
monarchy in Italy, as everywhere else, if possible, and then to stop,
leaving the liberated peoples to their own devices. Some fondly
believed that out of anarchy would arise, in accordance with "the law
of nature," a pure democracy; while others had the same faith that the
result would be constitutional monarchy. Moreover, things appear
simpler in the perspective of distance than they do near at hand. The
sincerity of Bonaparte's republicanism was like the sincerity of his
conduct--an affair of time and place, a consistency with conditions
and not with abstractions. He knew the Italian mob, and faithfully
described it in his letters as dull, ignorant, and unreliable, without
preparation or fitness for self-government. He was willing to
establish the forms of constitutional administration; but in spite of
hearty support from many disciples of the Revolution, he found those
forms likely, if not certain, to crumble under their own weight, and
was convinced that the real sovereignty must for years to come reside
in a strong protectorate of some kind. It appeared to him a necessity
of war that these peoples should relieve the destitution of the French
treasury and army, a necessity of circumstances that France should be
restored to vigor and health by laying tribute on their treasures of
art and science, as on those of all the world, and a necessity of
political science that artificial boundaries should be destroyed, as
they had been in France, to produce the homogeneity of condition
essential to national or administrative unity.
The Italians themselves understood neither the policy of the French
executive nor that of their conqueror. The transitional position in
which the latter had left them produced great uneasiness. The
terrified local authorities asked nothing better than to be left as
they were, with a view to profiting by the event, whatever it might
be. After every Austrian success there were numerous local revolts,
which the French garrison commanders suppressed with severity.
Provisional governments soon come to the end of their usefulness, and
the enemies of France began to take advantage of the disorder in order
to undo what had been done. The English, for example, had seized Porto
Ferrajo in place of Leghorn; the Pope had gone further, and, in spite
of the armistice, was assembling an army for the recovery of Bologna,
Ferrara, and his other lost legations. Thus it happened that in the
intervals of the most laborious military operations, a political
activity, both comprehensive and feverish, kept pace in Bonaparte's
mind with that which was needed to regulate his campaigning.
At the very outset there was developed an antagonism between the
notions of the Directory and Bonaparte's interests. The latter
observed all the forms of consulting his superiors, but acted without
the slightest reference to their instructions, often even before they
could receive his despatches. Both he and they knew the weakness of
the French government, and the inherent absurdity of the situation.
The story of French conquest in Italy might be told exactly as if the
invading general were acting solely on his own responsibility. In his
proclamations to the Italians was one language; in his letters to the
executive, another; in a few confidential family communications, still
another; in his own heart, the same old idea of using each day as it
came to advance his own fortunes. As far as he had any love of
country, it was expended on France, and what we may call his
principles were conceptions derived from the Revolution; but somehow
the best interests of France and the safety of revolutionary doctrine
were every day more involved in the pacification of Italy, in the
humiliation of Austria, and in the supremacy of the army. There was
only one man who could secure all three; could give consistency to the
flaccid and visionary policy of the Directory; could repress the
frightful robberies of its civil agents in Italy; could with any show
of reason humble Italy with one hand, and then with the other rouse
her to wholesome energy; could enrich and glorify France while
crushing out, as no royal dynasty had ever been able to do, the
haughty rivalry of the Hapsburgs.
These purposes made Bonaparte the most gentle and conciliatory of men
in some directions; in others they developed and hardened his
imperiousness. His correspondence mirrors both his mildness and his
arbitrariness. His letters to the Directory abound in praise of his
officers and men, accompanied by demands for the promotion of those
who had performed distinguished services. Writing to General Clarke on
November nineteenth, 1796, from Verona, he says, in words full of
pathos: "Your nephew Elliot was killed on the battle-field of Arcola.
This youth had made himself familiar with arms; several times he had
marched at the head of columns; he would one day have been an
estimable officer. He died with glory, in the face of the foe; he did
not suffer for a moment. What reasonable man would not envy such a
death? Who is he that in the vicissitudes of life would not agree to
leave in such a way a world so often worthy of contempt? What one of
us has not a hundred times regretted that he could not thus be
withdrawn from the powerful effects of calumny, of envy, and of all
the hateful passions that seem almost entirely to control human
conduct?" Perhaps these few words to the widow of one of his late
officers are even finer: "Muiron died at my side on the late
battle-field of Arcola. You have lost a husband that was dear to you;
I, a friend to whom I have long been attached: but the country loses
more than us both in the death of an officer distinguished no less by
his talents than by his rare courage. If I can be of service in
anything to you or his child, I pray you count altogether upon me."
That was all; but it was enough. With the ripening of character, and
under the responsibilities of life, an individual style had come at
last. It is martial and terse almost to affectation, defying
translation, and perfectly reflecting the character of its writer.
But the hours when the general-in-chief was war-worn, weary, tender,
and subject to human regrets like other men, were not those which he
revealed to the world. He was peremptory, and sometimes even peevish,
with the French executive after he had them in his hand; with Italy he
assumed a parental rôle, meting out chastisement and reward as best
suited his purpose. A definite treaty of peace had been made with
Sardinia, and that power, though weak and maimed, was going its own
way. The Transpadane Republic, which he had begun to organize as soon
as he entered Milan, was carefully cherished and guided in its
artificial existence; but the people, whether or not they were fit,
had no chance to exercise any real independence under the shadow of
such a power. It was, moreover, not the power of France; for, by
special order of Bonaparte, the civil agents of the Directory were
subordinated to the military commanders, ostensibly because the former
were so rapacious. Lombardy in this way became his very own. Rome had
made the armistice of Bologna merely to gain time, and in the hope of
eventual disaster to French arms. A pretext for the resumption of
hostilities was easily found by her in a foolish command, issued from
Paris, that the Pope should at length recognize as regular those of
the clergy who had sworn allegiance to the successive constitutions
adopted under the republic, and withdraw all his proclamations against
those who had observed their oaths and conformed. The Pontiff, relying
on the final success of Austria, had virtually broken off
negotiations. Bonaparte informed the French agent in Rome that he must
do anything to gain time, anything to deceive the "old fox"; in a
favorable moment he expected to pounce upon Rome, and avenge the
national honor. During the interval Naples also had become refractory;
refusing a tribute demanded by the Directory, she was not only
collecting soldiers, like the Pope, but actually had some regiments in
marching order. Venice, asserting her neutrality, was growing more and
more bitter at the constant violations of her territory. Mantua was
still a defiant fortress, and in this crisis nothing was left but to
revive French credit where the peoples were best disposed and their
old rulers weakest.
Accordingly, Bonaparte went through the form of consulting the
Directory as to a plan of procedure, and then, without waiting for an
answer from them, and without the consent of those most deeply
interested, broke the armistice with Modena on the pretext that five
hundred thousand francs of ransom money were yet unpaid, and drove the
duke from his throne. This duchy was the nucleus about which was to be
constituted the Cispadane Republic: in conjunction with its
inhabitants, those of Reggio, Bologna, and Ferrara were invited to
form a free government under that name. There had at least been a
pretext for erecting the Milanese into the Transpadane Republic--that
of driving an invader from its soil. This time there was no pretext of
that kind, and the Directory opposed so bold an act regarding these
lands, being uneasy about public opinion in regard to it. They hoped
the war would soon be ended, and were verging to the opinion that
their armies must before long leave the Italians to their own devices.
The conduct of their general pointed, however, in the opposite
direction; he forced the native liberals of the district to take the
necessary steps toward organizing the new state so rapidly that the
Directory found itself compelled to yield. It is possible, but not
likely, that, as has been charged, Bonaparte really intended to bring
about what actually happened, the continued dependence on the French
republic of a lot of artificial governments. The uninterrupted
meddling of France in the affairs of the Italians destroyed in the end
all her influence, and made them hate her dominion, which masqueraded
as liberalism, even more than they had hated the open but mild tyranny
of those royal scions of foreign stocks recently dismissed from their
thrones. During these months there is in Bonaparte's correspondence a
somewhat theatrical iteration of devotion to France and republican
principles, but his first care was for his army and the success of his
campaign. He behaved as any general solicitous for the strength of his
positions on foreign soil would have done, his ruses taking the form
of constantly repeating the political shibboleths then used in France.
Soon afterward Naples made her peace; an insurrection in Corsica
against English rule enabled France to seize that island once more;
and Genoa entered into a formal alliance with the Directory.
How important these circumstances were comparatively can only be
understood by considering the fiascoes of the Directory elsewhere. No
wonder they groveled before Bonaparte, while pocketing his millions
and saving their face at home and abroad by reason of his victories,
and his alone. They had two great schemes to annihilate British power:
one, to invade Ireland, close all the North Sea ports to British
commerce, and finally to descend on British shores with an
irresistible host of the French democracy. Subsequent events of
Napoleon's life must be judged in full view of the dead earnestness
with which the Directory cherished this plan. But it was versatile
likewise and had a second alternative, to foment rebellions in Persia,
Turkey, and Egypt, overrun the latter country, and menace India. This
second scheme influenced Bonaparte's career more deeply than the
other, both were parts of traditional French policy and cherished by
the French public as the great lines for expanding French renown and
French influence. Both must be reckoned with by any suitor of France.
For the Irish expedition Hoche was available; in his vain efforts for
success he undermined his health and in his untimely death removed one
possible rival of Bonaparte. The directors had Holland, but they could
not win Prussia further than the stipulations made in 1795 at Basel,
so their scheme of embargo rested in futile abeyance. They exhibited
considerable activity in building a fleet, and the King of Spain, in
spite of Godoy's opposition, accepted the title of a French admiral.
By the treaty of San Ildefonso an offensive alliance against Great
Britain was concluded, her commerce to be excluded from Portugal;
Louisiana and Florida going to France. All the clauses except this
last were nugatory because of Spanish weakness, but Bonaparte put in
the plea for compensation to the Spanish Bourbons by some grant of
Italian territory to the house of Parma. As we have elsewhere
indicated, their attack on Austria in central Europe was a failure,
Jourdan having been soundly beaten at Würzburg. There was no road open
to Vienna except through Italy. Their negotiations with the papacy
failed utterly; only a victorious warrior could overcome its powerful
scruples, which in the aggregate prevented the hearty adhesion of
French Roman Catholics to the republican system. Of necessity their
conceptions of Italian destiny must yield to his, which were widely
different from theirs.
Before such conditions other interests sink into atrophy;
thenceforward, for example, there appears in Bonaparte's nature no
trace of the Corsican patriot. The one faint spark of remaining
interest seems to have been extinguished in an order that Pozzo di
Borgo and his friends, if they had not escaped, should be brought to
judgment. His other measures with reference to the once loved island
were as calculating and dispassionate as any he took concerning the
most indifferent principality of the mainland, and even extended to
enunciating the principle that no Corsican should be employed in
Corsica. It is a citizen not of Corsica, nor of France even, but of
Europe, who on October second demands peace from the Emperor in a
threat that if it is not yielded on favorable terms, Triest and the
Adriatic will be seized. At the same time the Directory received from
him another reminder of its position, which likewise indicates an
interesting development of his own policy. "Diminish the number of
your enemies. The influence of Rome is incalculable; it was ill
advised to break with that power; it gives the advantage to her. If I
had been consulted, I would have delayed the negotiations with Rome as
with Genoa and Venice. Whenever your general in Italy is not the pivot
of everything, you run great risks. This language will not be
attributed to ambition; I have but too many honors, and my health is
so broken that I believe I must ask you for a successor. I can no
longer mount a horse; I have nothing left but courage, which is not
enough in a post like this." Before this masked dictator were two
tasks as difficult in their way as any even he would ever undertake,
each calling for the exercise of faculties antipodal in quality, but
quite as fine as any in the human mind. Mantua was yet to be captured;
Rome and the Pope were to be handled so as to render the highest
service to himself, to France, and to Europe. In both these labors he
meant to be strengthened and yet unhampered. The habit of compliance
was now strong upon the Directory, and they continued to yield as
before.