[Footnote 17: References as before. The memoirs of Bourrienne
are a publisher's enterprise, valuable in many places when
controlled by other authorities: but for this period they are
untrustworthy, as are those of Marbot. The memoirs of
Antommarchi have little value except as he corroborates more
authentic statements by others. Roederer's works are
specially valuable for this period. Further, see Hueffer:
Quellen zu 1799-1800; Sargent: Campaign of Marengo, Relation
de Neipperg; Vivenot: Thugut, Clerfayt und Wurmser; Fournier:
Skizzen; Du Casse: Negociations de Luneville; Bowman:
Preliminary Stages of Peace of Amiens; Pajol: Kleber, sa vie,
sa correspondance.]
MARENGO
Surrender of Genoa -- Bonaparte's Strategy -- Politics at Milan
-- His Over-confidence -- The Chosen Battle-field -- Victor at
Marengo -- The French Overpowered -- Defeat Retrieved -- Desaix
and Kleber -- A Pattern Campaign -- Plots in Paris -- France
Conquered in Italy -- Significance of Marengo -- Bonaparte
Returns to Paris -- His Bid for Peace -- Austria Disavows the
Negotiations -- Conferences at Luneville -- Hostilities Renewed.
The news of all these movements reached Melas at Turin, where, with
the ordinary perspicacity of a good army general, he had expected the
battle. With Suchet to the westward on the Var, and Bonaparte in
front, his situation was critical. His first intention was to advance
by Vercelli, and fall on Bonaparte's rear; but learning how great the
force was which had crossed the St. Gotthard, he chose as a
rallying-point for his army the town, of Alessandria, the situation of
which amid lowlands and sluggish streams resembles that of Mantua, and
made it in those days of short range and weak projectiles a powerful
fortress. It was his daring intention to break through the French
center. Meantime Massena, having conducted the defense of Genoa with
heroism and persistency until the last, had been forced to open
negotiations for surrender. He was embittered, charging that he was
both deserted and sacrificed: a glance at the map will show how
utterly impossible it would have been for the French forces from the
north to have crossed and recrossed the Apennines for his relief, and
moreover the strategic moves did not and could not foresee the
ill-advised Austrian tenacity in the siege of Genoa, at a time when
Melas's necessity required every man within reach to rally at
Alessandria as swiftly as possible. Could the French general have held
out for three days longer, Ott would have been compelled to raise the
siege in order to release his own troops for the greater struggle soon
to take place. As it was, the terms offered were the best possible,
and on June fourth the French marched out with eight thousand men
under no conditions, leaving the scene by water, however, instead of
joining Suchet to strengthen the army at once: a move which Bonaparte
savagely condemned in his latter days. On the sixth Ott left with his
army for the Austrian rendezvous. Had he renounced the capture of
Genoa, he might have joined the force of Melas with his army unharmed.
The sequel showed that some one had made a serious mistake; and that
some one was not the French commander-in-chief.
Simultaneously Bonaparte was directing from Milan the slow passage of
the great river at three points between Piacenza and Pavia, and
bringing in from all around the scattered companies which had been
clearing the country in various skirmishes. He left a fortified camp
at Stradella and five available bridges over the Po, in case he should
be beaten and compelled to retreat. On the eighth one of Melas's
couriers to Vienna was captured, and his despatches, which told of the
disaster at Genoa, also put the First Consul in full possession of
his antagonist's movements and plans. The French and Austrians began
their advance about the same time; the former, however, in closer
formation and less widely separated from one another. Ott and Lannes
met at Casteggio, near Montebello. Bonaparte's orders were to destroy,
if possible, the first Austrian column which appeared, "as it must of
necessity be weak." In the first struggle the French, who were much
inferior in numbers, were worsted; but reinforcements coming up
quickly under Victor, their rout was speedily turned into victory, and
the enemy was driven back upon the Scrivia, with the loss of four
thousand men.
The short week in Milan, from June second onward, was a fine
exhibition of Bonaparte's concentrated energy. There were a triumphal
entry, most impressive, a series of eloquent bulletins, soul-stirring
and illuminating, and a political reorganization of the Cisalpine
Republic, object-lesson to France of what she had to expect. The
horrors of Austrian rule were exhibited and execrated. What else could
be expected from the kings of Europe? As to religion, the people want
their worship, let the priests perform the desired rites. From Genoa,
when it fell into French hands, as it did within a few days, the
proclamation went forth announcing the policy of the Consulate. In the
exercise of its power the government would completely restore the
Roman Catholic cult, first because religion is essential to and in
man, second because that of Rome is the best form, and lends itself
best to democratic republican institutions. What had already happened
in France was sufficient evidence that the First Consul would arrange
matters with the new Pope, and recognize him, irregular as his
election had been.
[Illustration: Map of the Marengo Campaign.]
Melas was still west of Alessandria, at a distance of two days'
march. Bonaparte, after leaving Milan for headquarters, remained in
the rear, gathering and ordering the advancing army, but giving no
sign, by a personal appearance on the front, until all was in
readiness, of where the decision would be taken. It was a maxim ever
on his lips to prepare for a decisive action by bringing in every
available man; no one could tell when the result might turn on the
presence of a few men more or less. In this instance he was apparently
untrue to his own principle; for no less than twenty-three thousand
men had been sent so far out of reach--some to cut off all chance of
Austrian escape to the north, east, and south, and some for various
other purposes--that he now had only thirty-four thousand men
available. His over-confidence was in a sense justified by the enemy's
mistakes, but it came near to costing dearly. It went so far that
Loison, with six thousand soldiers more, was left behind at Piacenza.
By the twelfth Melas had joined Ott at Alessandria, which, in view of
Bonaparte's grand strategy, was inevitable. Desaix, in obedience to
the urgent summons he had received from the First Consul, had finally
reached the French headquarters at Stradella on the eleventh, and was
immediately put in command of one of the three corps, his colleagues
being Victor and Lannes.
The flat land about Tortona and Alessandria is watered by two small
rivers, the Scrivia and the Bormida, which flow parallel to each other
northward toward the Po. Irrigating canals and minor tributary
streams, all bordered by pollard willows and other low trees, separate
the fields, which are themselves planted with orchards, or yield rich
crops of cereals. It was customary for Bonaparte to select an open
plain for his battles, if possible. He could then, without fear of
being hampered, use his favorite arm, the artillery, which he
frequently massed with terrible effect on the wings, while his
effective cavalry were sent in repeated onsets to break his enemy's
center, and deliver the opposing ranks in broken masses to the
musket-fire and bayonet charge of his infantry. Such fields were, of
course, numerous between Tortona on the Scrivia and Alessandria on the
Tanaro just west of its confluence with the Bormida. The best was near
the great highway which, coming from the east, connects these two
towns, and goes on, due westward, by Asti to Turin. Two roads of
importance lead southerly, one from each town, to Novi, where they
unite, and then proceed to Genoa. On the northern side of the triangle
thus formed, and only three miles eastward from Alessandria, lies the
hamlet of Marengo, where Victor was posted on June thirteenth,
awaiting the attack of Melas when he should sally from the fortress.
Lannes was about three miles behind at San Giuliano. Desaix had been
sent southward toward Novi, lest Melas should swerve in that direction
to try a flank movement. Bonaparte, with the consular guard,--a picked
corps of twelve hundred trusted veterans which he had developed from
that formed for personal protection in his first Italian
campaign,--stood at Tortona. He could hardly trust himself to believe
that the Austrians would be bold enough to make a direct attack, and
had therefore disposed his troops in this scattered way.
But Melas, though slow and old-fashioned, was intrepid, and the
Austrians were daring fighters. On the morning of the fourteenth he
began to cross the Bormida, and as his van drove the French outposts
to Marengo, he was able to deploy east of the stream. Victor received
orders to hold the village at any cost, in order to gain time for
concentrating the scattered French columns to the right and left of
his position, which was to be the center. On a level battle-field the
solid brick or stone walls of a village, of a churchyard, or of great
farm-courts like those of Lombardy, afford the most desirable shelter,
and oftentimes, as at Marengo, Aspern, and even Waterloo, the loss or
gain of such a position turns the tide of battle; for an army equipped
with flint-lock muskets and small unrifled field-pieces, though
victorious in the open, dares not leave a considerable portion of
their enemy thus ensconced in the rear. Hence the ever-recurring and
enormous importance of farmsteads and hamlets in the Napoleonic
battle-fields. Lannes was to deploy on the right, and Murat was sent
with his cavalry in part to support the forming line, and in part to
prevent a flank movement along the slow, willow-bordered current of
the Bormida. If Desaix could come up in time, he would form the left;
in the mean time the younger Kellermann was stationed with his
dragoons to guard Victor's open flank.
The first attacks of the Austrians were repulsed, but with loss and
difficulty. At ten in the morning Ott came up, and attacked Lannes's
flank. The fighting grew ever hotter and more desperate, and the news
from Desaix was that it would be four in the afternoon before he could
arrive. Bonaparte called in his small reserve, under Monnier, to
strengthen Lannes; but it was of no avail. By midday the French were
driven out of Marengo, their front was broken, and their columns were
in full retreat to the eastward toward San Giuliano. The First Consul
was in despair, and as a last resource sent in eight hundred of the
consular guard. For the first hour of the afternoon the retreat was
stayed. But the French were soon outflanked on their left by Austrian
cavalry, and again began to withdraw. Bonaparte sat by the roadside,
and, swishing his riding-whip, called to the flying men to stand and
wait for the reserve, a body of troops which did not exist. Seven
thousand soldiers--a fifth of his entire available force--had, it is
estimated, already fallen. Desaix was not yet within reach. Melas
believed he had won the day. Perhaps if the weight of seventy years,
and a slight wound, had left the Austrian commander personally less
exhausted, he would, in spite of having long endured the heat,
fatigue, and dust, have carried his victorious columns onward until he
had utterly scattered his enemy. As it was, he deputed the final
discomfiture of the disorganized yet slowly, stubbornly retreating
Frenchmen to Zach, his chief of staff, and returned to Alessandria.
His command, ordered in single main column, followed directly on,
while Ott, with a minor one, deviated toward the left to seek a
parallel line of pursuit.
At this juncture, about five in the afternoon, Desaix appeared at the
head of his hurrying line. In an instant Bonaparte had despatched
riders in every direction, who were instructed to declare that "the
French line is forming again." The discouraged men who were still in
the ranks took fresh courage, many stragglers were gathered in, and
the line was really formed once more. Marmont even collected a battery
of eighteen guns, and Kellermann, with the brigade of dragoons which
had so long covered Victor's left flank, suddenly reappeared in good
condition on Desaix's right. In a moment all was changed. Desaix and
Kellermann threw themselves with fury on the head and left of the main
Austrian column. The first half was soon in confusion; six thousand
men laid down their arms. The second half was demoralized, and took to
flight. Their officers rallied the flying lines with difficulty, but
sufficiently to hold a bridge over the Bormida until Ott had joined
the retreat and safely passed. Before dark a portion of Melas's army,
about twenty thousand of the thirty he had collected at Alessandria,
were all behind the stream, and the French were again in full
possession of Marengo. But the gallant Desaix had perished in the
moment of victory. "Of all the generals of the Revolution," said
Napoleon to Gourgaud, "I only know Hoche and Desaix who could have
gone further." Of the latter he said, during the voyage to St. Helena,
that he was the best general he had ever known.
There were, however, two others he might have recalled. It is true
that among all the purely French generals of the republic and the
Directory, the name of Hoche, so prematurely cut off by death, stands
highest. But there was another of similar renown: second only to his
is that of Kleber. The latter, recognizing the desperate situation of
the French colony in Egypt, early in the year 1800 concluded with Sir
Sidney Smith, at El Arish, a treaty for honorable withdrawal. But
there was delay in accepting it at London, and no preparations to
fulfil the terms were made. In the interval Kleber, alarmed by the
gathering force of Turkish troops, turned on the Turkish pasha--who
now stood at Heliopolis with seventy thousand men--with the sadly
diminished army of twelve thousand French, and on March twentieth,
1800, in the most amazing fight ever seen by an Egyptian sun, swept
the horde out of existence. It was his admirable administration during
the ensuing months which, together with the achievements of its
scholars, gave all the luster to the ill-starred expedition which was
ever shed upon it. On the very day on which, at Marengo, Desaix
received in his heart the fatal ball, Kleber fell a victim to the
dagger of a Mohammedan fanatic. The French humiliation in Egypt was
completed a year later by the surrender of his successor, Menou.
Moreau, therefore, was now the solitary able survivor of Revolutionary
traditions in warfare.
[Illustration: MARENGO 14 June, 1800.]
[Illustration: MARENGO 14 June 1800.
_A distance of about three and a half miles separates the field of the
morning battle at Marengo from the field of the evening battle near
San Giuliano; the Austrians retreated across the Bormida to
Alessandria; the French bivouacked near Marengo._]
Exactly a month after the passage of the St. Bernard had begun, the
Austrians opened negotiations, and their general agreed to evacuate
all northern Italy, with its strong places, as far as the river
Mincio. The only Italian lands to be left in Austrian occupation were
Tuscany and Ancona. The strategical lesson which Bonaparte drew from
the victory at Marengo is often repeated by writers on military
science; namely, that the art of war is the art of combinations. His
detractors claim the honors of the day for Desaix and Kellermann. The
judgment of posterity must be that of his contemporary critics. To
plan is already to manoeuver; but in war, as elsewhere, to will is one
thing, to do is another. A successful battle disorganizes an opposing
army, but successful strategy entirely destroys its power. When will
and deed accompany each other the result is conclusive. The victory at
Marengo was such a decision. Bonaparte the army commander lost it;
Bonaparte the general-in-chief won it, exactly as it was. But even if
Desaix had not appeared, success would have been gained elsewhere. The
road to Stradella was open, the French connections were unbroken.
Although such later explanations have little value, Napoleon was
probably right when he said to Gourgaud: The French army was in an
abnormal position with its rear toward Mantua and Austria. Its only
line of retreat was by the left bank of the Po, and to leave that line
of communication without defense was not permissible. In an ordinary
position all the detachments should be drawn in for battle. Here this
was impossible without losing all the advantage of the (p.~183)
campaign. Had we been defeated, this fault would have been no
reproach, though properly enough the loss of the battle would have
been attributed to it; in that case the strength of the positions held
by the troops would have been manifest, since to it the army would
have owed its safety, together with the chance to await reinforcements
from Switzerland and France, and to reassemble at Mentz, for thus we
could have maintained ourselves on the left bank of the Po, while
Melas could hope only to withdraw to Mantua and take his normal
position. This was Napoleon's commentary at the close of his life:
likewise he had declared, as Antommarchi asserts, that he would have
crossed the Po on one of his five bridges covered by his batteries,
would have combined his first division with those he had left behind,
and then would have attacked and destroyed each successive Austrian
corps as it crossed the stream in pursuit. In any case Marengo was the
pattern of an offensive campaign organized, not to win battles and
spare the lives of soldiers, but to destroy an enemy. In a just cause
this policy is great and humane; in an unjust cause any warfare is
butchery. To assert, as many do, that Marengo was superb, but
unpatriotic, is simply to renounce the cause in which it was fought.
As to the strategy of the campaign, the final judgment must be that of
Napoleon himself: To be a good general you must know mathematics; that
serves in a thousand circumstances to clarify your ideas. Perhaps I
owe my success to my mathematical ideas: a general should never make
pictures, this is the worst of all. Because a partizan has captured a
position, you need not think the whole army was there; my great
talent, my chief distinction, is to see clear in everything, it is
even the style of my eloquence to see beneath all its appearances the
root of the question. It is the perpendicular, shorter than the
oblique. The great art of battle is during the action to change the
line of operations: my own idea, entirely new. That made me the victor
at Marengo: the enemy moved against my line of operations to cut it; I
had changed it and he then found himself cut off.
Throughout his absence from Paris, Bonaparte's mind was almost as much
absorbed in home as in foreign affairs. His correspondence, packed as
it is with details, gives only a faint idea of the multiplicity of his
cares in regard to his family, the army, and the nation. The capital
was full of conspiracies, machinations, complots, and intrigues: it
could not be otherwise, and he felt it. There were the British and the
Chouans combining to rekindle the flames of civil war, and rid the
earth of the man who would not restore the Bourbons. The Institute was
embroiled over the restoration of the Fructidorians it had expelled.
There was Fouche to be cajoled and bribed with promises, if only the
police would repress the cabals forming everywhere like mushrooms.
There were Bernadotte and all the touchy generals, aspirants to power,
who must be flattered and soothed. There were the newspapers to be
inspired and fed by a carefully organized news bureau. There was
Josephine clamoring for money, and his brothers to be appeased. There
were the consuls to be guided and the wheels of government to be kept
oiled. All these matters received his attention.
But in spite of such comprehensive care, things went wrong. On June
nineteenth Cadoudal wrote to Grenville that everything was arranged,
insurrection would break out in the west and south: the royalists were
certain of success if only the sixty men selected should remove the
"personage" from the scene. Fouche warned his chief that the baser
radicals, a group composed of red Jacobins and disgruntled half-pay
soldiery, had despatched an agent to dog his footsteps. The purpose
may be imagined. Royalists and anarchists considered the First Consul
vermin. Talleyrand was carrying water on both shoulders: the insiders
of the administration styled him and Sieyes with their adherents the
Orleanist party, scheming to put some member of that line on an
ineffectual throne as a creature of the other monarchies. Lucien and
the Bonaparte family began to discuss heredity and talk of a
succession in the Consulate as in a kingdom. They gathered many
adherents: Orleanists and Bonapartists alike counted on the
possibility of the First Consul's death, either by assassination or in
battle, on the still higher probability of his defeat. Death and
defeat they considered were for him synonymous, all the plotters of
every sort and condition forming plans to share in the contingent
legacy of his overthrow. Victory alone could save the First Consul and
his personal rule: to conquer in Italy was to reign supreme in France.
The plain folk seem never to have doubted for a moment, and their
instinct was true.
Heretofore we have seen in Bonaparte the general and the politician
commingled, with the former preponderating; now we have carefully to
distinguish not one but almost two men in the First Consul, as
afterward in the Emperor--the statesman and the general. The former is
henceforward always prominent, always in evidence; the latter often
hides himself, and does his great work, in the service of the former.
The conflict at Marengo was the first of the statesman's four decisive
battles, and he knew it. It gave him the undisputed mastery of France.
There never was a fight more carefully explained to a nation, both at
the time and subsequently, than this one. There was real danger that
the temporary check might obscure in the common mind the true
greatness of the main conception and its execution. To prevent such a
mishap was essential. In the form of bulletins, of inspired articles
in the obsequious press, in conversations, by hints, innuendos, and
every other known channel, such reports were put in circulation as
insured the full value of a great success to the chief magistrate of
France. Combined with the victories of Moreau, it restored the
finances of the country; for that general, who had in the interval
occupied Munich, levied forty millions of francs in a lump on South
Germany, while Piedmont and the reorganized Ligurian and Cisalpine
republics were now each to pay monthly tribute amounting annually to a
similar sum.
Leaving Massena to command the Army of Italy, the First Consul
hastened to Milan, where he tarried only long enough to despatch a
peace commissioner to Vienna. He then hurried on to Paris. The public
had not at first understood that the chief magistrate would so
daringly violate the constitution. When his intention to assume
military command became clear, there was no audible discontent; the
only effect was to create a coterie about Talleyrand which discussed
the consequences if the daring adventurer were to be killed. While
deliberating whether Carnot or Lafayette should be the coming man,
their session was indefinitely adjourned by receipt of the news and by
the speedy return of Bonaparte. His journey through the provinces was
a continuous ovation; every town had its triumphal arch. By his
command the reception which Paris gave to the man whom victory was
fast making her idol was ostentatiously kept within moderate limits,
but on the evening of his return--July third, 1800--the entire city
burst into one great illumination. Every one was talking of Hannibal
and the Alps, of the army climbing like chamois and toiling like oxen,
of the hospice of St. Bernard with its devoted brothers and their
sagacious dogs, of precipices and avalanches, and of the climax to all
these toils in the plains of Italy, not forgetting the touching loss
of the gallant and handsome Desaix.
The hour for display was past, the time for solid achievement had
arrived. First, if possible, the peace so ardently desired must be
secured. In a letter from Milan to the Emperor Francis, explaining why
it was Austria's interest to abandon England, and become the friend of
France, on the old terms of Campo Formio, Bonaparte wrote: "Let us
give peace and quiet to the present generation. If future generations
are foolish enough to fight, very well; they will learn after a few
years of warfare how to grow wise and live in peace." But Austria,
having just bargained for a new subsidy from the apparently
inexhaustible coffers of England, could not consider a separate peace,
and the cabinet sent an agent with very limited powers to see whether
France might not be brought to make some concessions which would be
useful toward a general pacification. The personage chosen was one of
those who seem by accident to enter now and then the solemn councils
of history in order to enliven their gravity by blunders and mock
heroism. The Count of St. Julien, an Austrian diplomatist attached
after the fall of Genoa to the army, had been chosen by Bonaparte to
carry his proposition for a general armistice to Vienna. It was he who
was sent back to Milan with an Austrian counter-proposition, accepting
the armistice, but suggesting clearer definition of the terms on which
peace was to be negotiated than could be found in the treaty of Campo
Formio, a document which intervening circumstances and new engagements
had rendered impossible of execution.
The luckless diplomat, finding in Milan that Bonaparte was already in
Paris, transcended his instructions, and followed. Arrived on the
banks of the Seine, he was welcomed with ostentatious heartiness, and
intrusted to the wiles of Talleyrand, who intended so to use his
victim as to convince the French people that peace was within easy
reach since they had a living plenipotentiary among them. Accepting
the French minister's large interpretation of his powers, the
flattered ignoramus made his first misstep, and began negotiations.
Within a week he had actually signed preliminaries the execution of
which would have definitely sundered Austria and England. When St.
Julien reached Vienna, in August, Thugut was infuriated, and passed
sleepless nights at the mere thought of a formal negotiation having
taken place without the knowledge of Great Britain, his master's ally
and indispensable support. In order to undo the mischief as far as
possible, an account of the facts was promptly sent to England,
Talleyrand's preliminaries were utterly rejected, and St. Julien
himself was disavowed and imprisoned.
The Austrian strength was nearly worn out, but new troops were raised.
The Archduke John, still a mere boy, but with talents vaunted as
superior to those of the Archduke Charles, was put in Kray's place.
Melas was removed to make way for Bellegarde, a younger but less able
man. The former had eighty thousand men and a reserve under Klenau;
General Iller, with thirty thousand, was in the Tyrol; and Bellegarde
was on the Mincio, with ninety thousand. The tried and skilful Cobenzl
was sent to reopen negotiations. Joseph Bonaparte was appointed French
plenipotentiary to meet him. Their conferences were held chiefly at
Luneville, a frontier town southeast of Nancy. The prolongation of the
armistice necessary for these arrangements was bought by the cession
of three fortresses to Moreau, and was the more easily secured
because Bonaparte, though furious at his failure to secure peace in
consequence of Marengo, still felt that peace was imperative. Soon
afterward court intrigue at Vienna overthrew Thugut, and Cobenzl was
forced to betray the inherent weakness of his position. In order to
conceal Austria's exhaustion, he had been instructed to make a bold
demand for an English associate, and to plead urgency for a general
peace; but he secretly gave Talleyrand to understand that sufficient
concession in Italy would secure a separate peace with Austria.
Bonaparte had no intention either of suing for peace with England, or
of granting more than he had originally offered to Austria. Finally,
in November, he determined to renew hostilities, declaring that the
state of the nation and Austria's procrastination justified the
prosecution of the war. Joseph Bonaparte and the Austrian
plenipotentiary continued their parleyings at Luneville, but the
armistice was ended.