A complete and authentic account of this week of confused fighting has never been written. The archives of Vienna have not as yet yielded up all their secrets; and the reputations of so many French officers were over-clouded by this prolonged mêlée as to render even the victors' accounts vague and inconsistent. The aim of historians everywhere to give a clear and vivid account, and the desire of Napoleonic enthusiasts to represent their hero as always thinking clearly and acting decisively, have fused trusty ores and worthless slag into an alloy which has passed for true metal. But no student of Napoleon's "Correspondence," of the "Memoirs" of Marmont, and of the recitals of Augereau, Dumas, Landrieux, Verdier, Despinois and others, can hope wholly to unravel the complications arising from the almost continuous conflicts that extended over a dozen leagues of hilly country. War is not always dramatic, however much the readers of campaigns may yearn after thrilling narratives. In regard to this third act of the Italian campaign, all that can safely be said is that Bonaparte's intuition to raise the siege of Mantua, in order that he might defeat in detail the relieving armies, bears the imprint of genius: but the execution of this difficult movement was unequal, even at times halting; and the French army was rescued from its difficulties only by the grand fighting qualities of the rank and file, and by the Austrian blunders, which outnumbered those of the republican generals.
Neither were the results of the Castiglione cycle of battles quite so brilliant as have been represented. Würmser and Quasdanovich lost in all 17,000 men, it is true: but the former had re-garrisoned and re-victualled Mantua, besides capturing all the French siege-train. Bonaparte's primary aim had been to reduce Mantua, so that he might be free to sweep through Tyrol, join hands with Moreau, and overpower the white-coats in Bavaria. The aim of the Aulic Council and Würmser had been to relieve Mantua and restore the Hapsburg rule over Lombardy. Neither side had succeeded. But the Austrians could at least point to some successes; and, above all, Mantua was in a better state of defence than when the French first approached its walls: and while Mantua was intact, Bonaparte was held to the valley of the Mincio, and could not deal those lightning blows on the Inn and the Danube which he ever regarded as the climax of the campaign. Viewed on its material side, his position was no better than it was before Würmser's incursion into the plains of Venetia.[62]
With true Hapsburg tenacity, Francis determined on further efforts for the relief of Mantua. Apart from the promptings of dynastic pride, his reasons for thus obstinately struggling against Alpine gorges, Italian sentiment, and Bonaparte's genius, are wellnigh inscrutable; and military writers have generally condemned this waste of resources on the Brenta, which, if hurled against the French on the Rhine, would have compelled the withdrawal of Bonaparte from Italy for the defence of Lorraine. But the pride of the Emperor Francis brooked no surrender of his Italian possessions, and again Würmser was spurred on from Vienna to another invasion of Venetia. It would be tedious to give an account of Würmser's second attempt, which belongs rather to the domain of political fatuity than that of military history. Colonel Graham states that the Austrian rank and file laughed at their generals, and bitterly complained that they were being led to the shambles, while the officers almost openly exclaimed: "We must make peace, for we don't know how to make war." This was again apparent. Bonaparte forestalled their attack. Their divided forces fell an easy prey to Masséna, who at Bassano cut Würmser's force to pieces and sent the débris flying down the valley of the Brenta. Losing most of their artillery, and separated in two chief bands, the Imperialists seemed doomed to surrender: but Würmser, doubling on his pursuers, made a dash westwards, finally cutting his way to Mantua. There again he vainly endeavoured to make a stand. He was driven from his positions in front of St. Georges and La Favorita, and was shut up in the town itself. This addition to the numbers of the garrison was no increase to its strength; for the fortress, though well provisioned for an ordinary garrison, could not support a prolonged blockade, and the fevers of the early autumn soon began to decimate troops worn out by forced marches and unable to endure the miasma ascending from the marshes of the Mincio.
The French also were wearied by their exertions in the fierce heats of September. Murmurs were heard in the ranks and at the mess tables that Bonaparte's reports of these exploits were tinged by favouritism and by undue severity against those whose fortune had been less conspicuous than their merits. One of these misunderstandings was of some importance. Masséna, whose services had been brilliant at Bassano but less felicitous since the crossing of the Adige, reproached Bonaparte for denying praise to the most deserving and lavishing it on men who had come in opportunely to reap the labours of others. His written protest, urged with the old republican frankness, only served further to cloud over the relations between them, which, since Lonato, had not been cordial.[63] Even thus early in his career Bonaparte gained the reputation of desiring brilliant and entire success, and of visiting with his displeasure men who, from whatever cause, did not wrest from Fortune her utmost favours. That was his own mental attitude towards the fickle goddess. After entering Milan he cynically remarked to Marmont: "Fortune is a woman; and the more she does for me, the more I will require of her." Suggestive words, which explain at once the splendour of his rise and the rapidity of his fall.
During the few weeks of comparative inaction which ensued, the affairs of Italy claimed his attention. The prospect of an Austrian re-conquest had caused no less concern to the friends of liberty in the peninsula than joy to the reactionary coteries of the old sovereigns. At Rome and Naples threats against the French were whispered or openly vaunted. The signature of the treaties of peace was delayed, and the fulminations of the Vatican were prepared against the sacrilegious spoilers. After the Austrian war-cloud had melted away, the time had come to punish prophets of evil. The Duke of Modena was charged with allowing a convoy to pass from his State to the garrison of Mantua, and with neglecting to pay the utterly impossible fine to which Bonaparte had condemned him. The men of Reggio and Modena were also encouraged to throw off his yoke and to confide in the French. Those of Reggio succeeded; but in the city of Modena itself the ducal troops repressed the rising. Bonaparte accordingly asked the advice of the Directory; but his resolution was already formed. Two days after seeking their counsel, he took the decisive step of declaring Modena and Reggio to be under the protection of France. This act formed an exceedingly important departure in the history of France as well as in that of Italy. Hitherto the Directory had succeeded in keeping Bonaparte from active intervention in affairs of high policy. In particular, it had enjoined on him the greatest prudence with regard to the liberated lands of Italy, so as not to involve France in prolonged intervention in the peninsula, or commit her to a war à outrance with the Hapsburgs; and its warnings were now urged with all the greater emphasis because news had recently reached Paris of a serious disaster to the French arms in Germany. But while the Directors counselled prudence, Bonaparte forced their hand by declaring the Duchy of Modena to be under the protection of France; and when their discreet missive reached him, he expressed to them his regret that it had come too late. By that time (October 24th) he had virtually founded a new State, for whose security French honour was deeply pledged. This implied the continuance of the French occupation of Northern Italy and therefore a prolongation of Bonaparte's command.
It was not the Duchy of Modena alone which felt the invigorating influence of democracy and nationality. The Papal cities of Bologna and Ferrara had broken away from the Papal sway, and now sent deputies to meet the champions of liberty at Modena and found a free commonwealth. There amidst great enthusiasm was held the first truly representative Italian assembly that had met for many generations; and a levy of 2,800 volunteers, styled the Italian legion, was decreed. Bonaparte visited these towns, stimulated their energy, and bade the turbulent beware of his vengeance, which would be like that of "the exterminating angel." In a brief space these districts were formed into the Cispadane Republic, destined soon to be merged into a yet larger creation. A new life breathed from Modena and Bologna into Central Italy. The young republic forthwith abolished all feudal laws, decreed civic equality, and ordered the convocation at Bologna of a popularly elected Assembly for the Christmas following. These events mark the first stage in the beginning of that grand movement, Il Risorgimento, which after long delays was finally consummated in 1870.
This period of Bonaparte's career may well be lingered over by those who value his invigorating influence on Italian life more highly than his military triumphs. At this epoch he was still the champion of the best principles of the Revolution; he had overthrown Austrian domination in the peninsula, and had shaken to their base domestic tyrannies worse than that of the Hapsburgs. His triumphs were as yet untarnished. If we except the plundering of the liberated and conquered lands, an act for which the Directory was primarily responsible, nothing was at this time lacking to the full orb of his glory. An envoy bore him the welcome news that the English, wearied by the intractable Corsicans, had evacuated the island of his birth; and he forthwith arranged for the return of many of the exiles who had been faithful to the French Republic. Among these was Salicetti, who now returned for a time to his old insular sphere; while his former protégé was winning a world-wide fame. Then, turning to the affairs of Central Italy, the young commander showed his diplomatic talents to be not a whit inferior to his genius for war. One instance of this must here suffice. He besought the Pope, who had broken off the lingering negotiations with France, not to bring on his people the horrors of war.[64] The beauty of this appeal, as also of a somewhat earlier appeal to the Emperor Francis at Vienna, is, however, considerably marred by other items which now stand revealed in Bonaparte's instructive correspondence. After hearing of the French defeats in Germany, he knew that the Directors could spare him very few of the 25,000 troops whom he demanded as reinforcements.
He was also aware that the Pope, incensed at his recent losses in money and lands, was seeking to revivify the First Coalition. The pacific precepts addressed by the young Corsican to the Papacy must therefore be viewed in the light of merely mundane events and of his secret advice to the French agent at Rome: "The great thing is to gain time…. Finally, the game really is for us to throw the ball from one to the other, so as to deceive this old fox."[65]
From these diplomatic amenities the general was forced to turn to the hazards of war. Gauging Bonaparte's missive at its true worth, the Emperor determined to re-conquer Italy, an enterprise that seemed well within his powers. In the month of October victory had crowned the efforts of his troops in Germany. At Würzburg the Archduke Charles had completely beaten Jourdan, and had thrown both his army and that of Moreau back on the Rhine. Animated by reviving hopes, the Imperialists now assembled some 60,000 strong. Alvintzy, a veteran of sixty years, renowned for his bravery, but possessing little strategic ability, was in command of some 35,000 men in the district of Friuli, north of Trieste, covering that seaport from a threatened French attack. With this large force he was to advance due west, towards the River Brenta, while Davidovich, marching through Tyrol by the valley of the Adige, was to meet him with the remainder near Verona. As Jomini has observed, the Austrians gave themselves infinite trouble and encountered grave risks in order to compass a junction of forces which they might quietly have effected at the outset. Despite all Bonaparte's lessons, the Aulic Council still clung to its old plan of enveloping the foe and seeking to bewilder them by attacks delivered from different sides. Possibly also they were emboldened by the comparative smallness of Bonaparte's numbers to repeat this hazardous manoeuvre.
The French could muster little more than 40,000 men; and of these at least 8,000 were needed opposite Mantua.