In sober fact, of course, the result was another disappointment for Bonaparte, for once again Beaulieu had evaded his clutches and made good his escape, but the spirit and courage shown by the officers and men of the Army of Italy during this bitter struggle have earned “The Bridge of Lodi” a special place in the mystique of the French army. It was at Lodi that Bonaparte finally earned the confidence and loyalty of his men, who nicknamed him thereafter “Le Petit Caporal” in recognition of his personal courage, determination and example. The event was also significant in crystallizing Napoleon’s ambition. “It was only on the evening of Lodi,” he recorded a long time later, “that I believed myself a superior man, and that the ambition came to me of executing the great things which so far had been occupying my thoughts only as a fantastic dream.”9 On another occasion, at St. Helena, he wrote: “Then was struck the first spark of high ambition,” and a few days after the Battle of Lodi he confided to Marmont, “They [the Directory] have seen nothing yet…. In our days no one has conceived anything great; it is for me to set the example.”10
That very evening, however, a dispatch from Paris reached headquarters, and its contents were anything but pleasing to General Bonaparte. Anxious to secure as much loot as possible to prop the staggering French economy, the Directors indicated that they intended to split the command of the Army of Italy between Bonaparte and Kellermann, sending the former to terrorize the Pope—the most implacable ideological foe of the Revolution and its principles—while the latter held the Po valley. No doubt one motive behind this idea was jealousy of the young general’s success—he was to be cut down to size—but both personally and militarily the plan was anathema to him. His reaction was prompt and to the point. “Kellermann will command the army as well as I,” he wrote, “for no one is more convinced than I am that the victories are due to the courage and audacity of the men; but I believe that to unite Kellermann and myself in Italy is to lose all. I cannot serve willingly with a man who believes himself to be the first general in Europe; and, besides, I believe that one bad general is better than two good ones. War, like government, is a matter of tact.”11 The young commander clearly already grasped the great principle he later enunciated at St. Helena: “Unity of command is the most important thing in war.” To divide an army still faced by an undefeated foe, likely to receive large reinforcements in the near future, was clearly to court destruction. But on the other hand, to write in this vein to the Directory was to run the risk of dismissal. However, the Corsican had made a neat calculation of the odds; his masters would never dare to disgrace the man who, alone of all their generals, was currently bringing victory to French arms, and he cynically drove home the point by despatching a further large convoy of plunder to the Directory. They soon climbed down. “Immortal glory to the conqueror of Lodi,” they wrote on 21st May, “your plan is the only one to follow…. the Directory has carefully considered and decided in favor of the affirmative.”12 His military achievements were already well on the way to securing Bonaparte a degree of political independence, and he made the most of his advantage to bleed Kellermann’s army of 10,000 reinforcements for the Army of Italy. The “Hero of Valmy” gave way with a good grace and even sent his son to serve on the prodigy’s staff.
Five days after the Battle of Lodi, and one month and two days since the opening of the campaign, Bonaparte entered Milan to a hero’s welcome. Massena had occupied the city without opposition two days earlier, as Beaulieu had drawn off toward Mantua, leaving only a small garrison in command of the castello. The wealthy citizens hailed the French as deliverers from the Austrian yoke, and although this popular acclaim was destined to be short-lived, it afforded the French time to reorganize and rest. The general did everything in his power to identify himself and his army with the incipient cause of Italian nationalism, but in this he was not very successful. The official depredations of the French commissaries led by the rapacious Saliceti, and the bare-faced looting indulged in by every soldier up to the rank of divisional commander, soon exhausted the fund of Milanese goodwill, and relations rapidly became strained. Two million livres were exacted from the citizens, and further large sums from the Dukes of Parma and Modena in the form of compulsory contributions. These funds provided the general with the means of paying off as much as half the pay arrears of the army in hard cash—a unique event in the annals of the Army of Italy and a welcome change from the practically worthless assignats of the French Government. “When I saw 60 francs, I thought myself rich,”13 reminisced one officer. “It was the first time since 1793 that we received cash,” stated a Captain Roguet of the 32nd infantry. Bonaparte took what steps he could to limit the looting, but as his generals were blatantly making fortunes and convoys of art treasures and other valuables set out on the road for Paris nearly every week, it was practically impossible to convince the soldiery of the error of their ways. This brief and unusual period of leisure came abruptly to an end on May 21, when a new dispatch from Paris brought the welcome news of a confirmed peace with Piedmont.
His communications with France at last secured, Bonaparte lost no time in issuing marching orders. Leaving a force of 5,000 men to besiege the citadel, which continued to hold out, the 30,000 men of the main army left Milan on the 22nd to seek Beaulieu once more. The Austrian general, with 28,000 men under command, was now occupying a strong position behind the River Mincio, his flanks comfortably protected by the waters of Lake Garda to the North and the Po to the South. Once again, however, Beaulieu had fallen into the error of trying to guard all possible crossings over the Mincio, and in consequence his over-extended army was without a reserve. Bonaparte was confident of his ability to break through the Austrian center at Borghetto, aided by a feint toward Peschiera, which would appear to threaten the enemy’s communications with the Tyrol, always a sensitive area, and thus drive the enemy away from Mantua.
However, before his men could come to grips with Beaulieu, disturbing tidings reached headquarters from both Milan and Pavia. Emboldened by the departure of the main French army, the citizens of both towns had revolted, and the French garrison of Pavia had actually surrendered the citadel. Within two days Bonaparte was back in Milan at the head of 1,500 picked troops under Lannes, Marmont and Murat, but there he found General Despinois in firm control of the local situation. Pressing on to Pavia, the troops stormed the gates and were permitted to sack the town without restraint for several hours. Many innocent townsfolk died in the process, but Bonaparte was determined to teach the whole of North Italy a lesson it would not forget in a hurry. At the same time, he ordered the execution of the hapless French officer who had surrendered the citadel. In similar vein, Lannes meted out rough justice to the village of Binasco, burning the houses and shooting all the men.
In the meantime, the main campaign continued under Berthier’s direction as the divisions moved steadily on the Mincio, but by the 28th Bonaparte was back with the army at Brescia and preparing to move onto Venetian soil. The next act of the campaign was thus enacted by the two armies on neutral territory.
Two days later the bridge at Borghetto was successfully stormed by the grenadiers, and Beaulieu’s scattered forces had no alternative but to fall back once again over the Adige. During the last stages of this operation, a revealing if small incident took place which illustrates the outdated tactical concepts of the Austrian army. Colonel Thomas Graham of the 90th Foot, attached as a British observer to the Austrian staff for the whole campaign, recorded it as follows: “Some French sharpshooters, concealed by the bushes at the edge of the river … kept up a very constant and annoying fire on the fine regiment of Kehl (three battalions) … which were very absurdly drawn up on the top of a dyke forming the great road on the left bank of the river, occasionally making discharges to drive away their invisible enemies. By stepping back six or eight yards, and lying down on the reverse bank of the dyke, not a shot from the enemy could have told; whereas a loss of nearly 150 men killed and wounded was the consequence of this stupid bravado;
as if the honor of such a regiment under such circumstances could be affected by the men being placed in a position of security.”14 During the ensuing days the French had it much their own way.
However, the period was not without its excitements; at one moment on 1st June, Bonaparte was almost captured by the scouts of Sebettondorf’s division who surprised him in the village of Vallegio;* the general had to escape over several garden walls wearing only one boot before he found safety. This experience persuaded Bonaparte to strengthen his personal escort, and led to the formation of the Guides, a special unit of veterans whose chief duty was to protect the person of the commander in chief; in due course this escort, at first a couple of hundred strong commanded by Captain Bessières, was to form the nucleus for the famous Régiment des Chasseurs-à-Cheval of the Imperial Guard.
The French exploited their success at Borghetto with skilful rapidity, Augereau advancing on Peschiera, and Sérurier on Castel Nuovo, and thence toward Mantua, while Massena seized Verona. These operations compelled Beaulieu to retreat up the shores of Lake Garda with the bulk of his army to protect his communications, but a detachment of 4,500 men, cut off from the main body, were in due course driven into the fortress of Mantua, now isolated. Dispersal of effort had once more caused Austrian defeat, faced as they were by the superior speed of movement and concentration of the Army of Italy. Within the next seven days, the French troops consolidated their control over the vital area controlling the southern approaches to the Alpine Passes, while General Beaulieu fell back through Roveredo to Trent, and the first siege of Mantua was soon under way.
This success marks the conclusion of the second phase of the Italian Campaign. The whole of the Lombard Plain and the area of the Quadrilateral, with the notable exception of Mantua itself, were now under French control, but the victory was by no means complete. The Austrian army had not yet been forced to fight a major battle, and for all Bonaparte’s determination and skill Beaulieu had only lost a series of comparatively minor rear-guard actions. As the historian Adlow described the position: “Beaulieu was not driven out of Lombardy; it would be more appropriate to say that he was frightened out.”15 The French found themselves in a distinctly awkward position; an Austrian attempt to recover Lombardy was certain to materialize in the not so distant future, for the failure of the French Rhine offensive to begin on time meant that considerable enemy reinforcements were already being transferred to the Italian front. Moreover, the French lines of communication were now extended over a great distance; the inhabitants of the Milanese had already demonstrated their hostility to their new masters, and at this moment Tortona, Pozzolo and Arquarta revolted. By no means the least important point was the problem of Mantua itself, a most imposing fortress surrounded by inundations and protected by no less than 316 guns and a garrison of 12,000 men. Bonaparte had somehow to devise a scheme to balance these problems, and this meant that for the first time since the opening of the campaign the Army of Italy would be compelled to go over to the defensive.
In the months that followed, the Army of Italy was to find it difficult to maintain control over the conquered area and at the same time to cover the siege of Mantua as one Austrian army after another made repeated efforts to break through to relieve the garrison. General Bonaparte’s qualities in an offensive capacity had been adequately proved; now his ability to sustain a strategic defensive against superior enemy forces was to be severely tested.
Not to be confused with the Piedmontese town of the same name, which figured prominently in the first phase of the campaign.
8
THE ACHIEVEMENT IN PERIL—MANTUA
Two months of active campaigning had done little to improve the outward appearance of the Army of Italy. An Italian priest wrote an interesting description of the troops’ appearance shortly after the capture of Pavia: “The clothes of officers and men are torn and threadbare…. They have neither tents nor baggage. They have no proper uniform; some wear pantaloons, others breeches; these wear boots, those shoes; you see some with waistcoats, or wearing the first clothes they have got hold of. The coat is blue with a red collar…. As head dress I have seen some with a hat, but most have a leather casque with an aigrette in soft skin, or a horsetail.” The troops’ fighting record, however, had already belied these tattered appearances. The priest was amazed “that these men, dying of hunger, generally small, weak, worn out by fatigue and privation, without clothes or shoes—men that one would take for the dregs of a wretched population—should have conquered the Austrian army, which has everything in abundance, food, clothes, guns, magazines of all sorts, and is composed of veterans of great height, robust, and inured to war.”16 That this was the case is a fitting tribute to the Army of Italy and the determination and skill of its young commander.
Bonaparte, however, had little time to savor the fruits of victory. A mere six weeks would see a reinforced Austrian army marching against him, and in the meantime there were many pressing calls upon his time. First of all, the rebellious rear areas had to be made safe. Bonaparte in person led a force back to Tortona, and Lannes marched on Pozzolo and Arquarta, leaving desolation in their wake to serve as a reminder of the folly of revolting against the French Republic. Genoa, believed to be implicated in these risings, received a stern visit from Murat, who forced the Senate to dismiss the governor of Gavi and expel certain Neapolitan functionaries suspected of conspiring against French interests.
In the meantime, the problem of reducing Mantua took up a great deal of the commander in chief’s attention. Confronted by the fortress, the impetus of the French offensive died away. The impregnability of the stronghold lay in the three lakes that protected its northern and eastern sides, and in the fever-ridden marshes that sealed it off from the south and west. To these were added a complex series of fortifications protected by a number of imposing outworks, the most important being the citadel and Fort St. Georges commanding the Legnano road. An attempt to storm the city by a coup-de-main on May 31 failed, and by June 3, Mantua was fully besieged by Sérurier and Augereau assisted by Dallemagne, Lannes and General Kilmaine of the cavalry. On the same day a force of grenadiers succeeded in capturing the St. Georges suburb, an event which seemed to presage a rapid conclusion to the siege. A long series of interruptions were, however, to delay the capitulation of Mantua for more than eight months.
The first of these diversions occurred almost immediately. Mindful of the Directory’s desire for the discomfiture of the Holy Father and the looting of the Vatican treasury, Bonaparte almost immediately drew away General Augereau and his division, leaving Sérurier with a depleted force to continue the blockade. In the following weeks Bonaparte, Augereau and Vaubois threw the Papal States and Tuscany into an uproar, and after a sanguinary brush at Fort Urban near Bologna, Pius VI appealed for an armistice on June 23. This was granted in return for French occupation of Ancona and the payment of a huge indemnity, which included a number of masterpieces from the Vatican galleries. Deserted by the Holy Father, Tuscany gave little further trouble; Florence and Ferrara opened their gates, and a force under General Vaubois occupied Leghorn toward the end of the month, depriving the Royal Navy of a useful Mediterranean base. In addition to specie and art treasures, the raiding columns gathered large cannon from Fort Urban and the cities of Tuscany to form a siege train for Sérurier’s blockade of Mantua, but first the guns were sent to Milan to enforce the capitulation of the castello where the Austrian garrison duly surrendered on June 29—the same day that Madame Bonaparte, the beautiful and wilful Josephine, arrived in the city for several months’ sojourn with her husband.
Late eighteenth-century map of the defenses of Mantua
The raids to the south successfully accomplished, the French forces reconcentrated around Mantua, where they were soon joined by Bonaparte and the siege artillery. As intelligence reports were now giving definite indications of an impending Austrian offensive from the Tyrol, the French commander attempted to take Mantua by another assault on July 17.
But this miscarried owing to a sudden drop in the water levels, which stranded Murat with one of the vital assaulting parties halfway over the lower lake. It was now clear that a formal siege would be required to reduce the fortress, for the governor, Count Canto d’Irles, scornfully rejected all summons to surrender on terms. The heavy guns were dragged into their prepared emplacements and the cannonade opened, but Bonaparte was soon looking apprehensively over his shoulder toward Lake Garda. On July 29 he instructed Sérurier, left in charge of the siege, to prepare for a retreat to the north, and on the 31st the order became operative. A total of 179 guns had to be abandoned; several were buried and a few were spiked, but the majority fell into Austrian hands. In this fashion the first siege of Mantua came to an unfortunate end with the loss of the laboriously gathered siege train. The abandonment of the siege was a hard decision for Bonaparte, but if he was to beat off the impending Austrian onslaught not a man of the Army of Italy could be spared. Quitting their trenches, Sérurier’s division retreated west toward Marcaria on the River Oglio.
The forces of Austrian retribution were drawing close. The Alsatian cavalry general, Count Würmser, whom Colonel Graham describes as “a veteran of high reputation as a commander of a small corps, such as an advance guard,” had been detached with 25,000 men from the Rhine on June 18 and sent to take command of the outwitted Beaulieu’s forces in the Tyrol. By the last week in June an amalgamated force, perhaps 50,000 strong, was assembled around Trent, but it was not until several days later that the advance through the passes could be undertaken. The reason for this delay was the disorganization and low morale of Beaulieu’s regiments. Graham recorded “the almost incredible fact that about 400 different officers … were found in Trent, having, like the Croats, abandoned their corps during the preceding part of the campaign.”17 Not surprisingly the behavior of the rank and file was often equally abysmal. Graham describes one incident when a number of French prisoners of war were systematically deprived of the clothes they stood up in; one officer “was positively stripped to the skin, and came up to the headquarters to complain without any covering whatever but a tattered greatcoat that some of the Austrian soldiers had given him to cover his nakedness.”
The Campaigns of Napoleon Page 15
