The men of the Revolution had cut loose from eighteenth century methods of warfare by rising en masse and putting the personal element into the scale. But it was reserved for Napoleon to substitute a new method for the old. From Nice to Leoben he showed the world what modern war can do. He made himself independent of magazines, as Frederick had done but rarely. With a smaller army he always had more men at the point of contact. This was Napoleon’s strongest point. He divined what his enemy would do, not from his tent but from the saddle, seeing with his own eyes and weighing all he saw and heard. He was every day and all day long in motion; he rode unheard-of distances. He relied on no one but himself, as, with his comparatively small army, he could well do; and correctly seeing and therefore correctly gauging circumstances, he had the courage to act upon his facts. He sought battle as the result of every manœuvre. The weight of his intellect and his character were equally thrown into all he did. And his abnormal ambition drove him to abnormal energy. In this his first campaign and in one year, with moderate forces, he had advanced from Nice to within eighty miles of Vienna, and had wrung a peace from astonished Austria.
Napoleon next undertook the Egyptian campaign. His ambition had grown with success. But matters in France were not in a condition of which he could personally avail, and he believed he could increase his reputation and power by conquests in the East. His imagination was boundless. Perhaps no great soldier can be free from imagination, or its complement, enthusiasm. Napoleon had it to excess, and in many respects it helped him in his hazardous undertakings. At this time he dreamed himself another Alexander conquering the Eastern world, thence to return, as Alexander did not, with hordes of soldiers disciplined by himself and fanatically attached to his person, to subjugate all Europe to his will. The narration of this campaign of sixteen months may be made to sound brilliant; its result was miscarriage. It is full of splendid achievements and marred but by one mishap,—the siege of Acre. But the total result of the campaign was failure to France, though gain to Napoleon, who won renown, and, abandoning his army when the campaign closed, returned to Paris at a season more suited to his advancement. Napoleon’s military conduct in this campaign shows the same marvellous energy, the same power of adapting means to end, of keeping all his extraordinary measures secret, the better to impose on the enemy by their sudden development, the same power over men. But the discipline of the army was disgraceful. The plundering which always accompanied Napoleon’s movements—for, unlike Gustavus and Frederick, he believed in allowing the soldier freedom beyond bounds if only he would march and fight—was excessive. The health of the army was bad; its deprivations so great that suicide was common to avoid suffering which was worse. And yet Napoleon, by his unequalled management, kept this army available as a tool, and an excellent one.
Napoleon now became First Consul. The campaign of 1800 was initiated by the celebrated crossing of the Alps. This feat, of itself, can no more be compared, as it has been, to Hannibal’s great achievement, nor indeed to Alexander’s crossing the Paropamisus, than a Pullman excursion to Salt Lake City can be likened to Albert Sidney Johnston’s terrible march across the Plains in 1857. Napoleon’s crossing was merely an incident deftly woven into a splendid plan of campaign. From Switzerland, a geographical salient held by them, the French could debouch at will into Italy or Germany. Mélas, the Austrian general in Italy, had his eyes fixed upon Masséna in Genoa. A large reserve army was collected by Napoleon in France, while Moreau pushed toward the Danube. Mélas naturally expected that the French would issue from Provence, and kept his outlook towards that point. When Napoleon actually descended from the Great St. Bernard upon his rear, he was as badly startled as compromised. This splendid piece of strategy was followed up with Napoleon’s usual restless push, and culminated in the battle of Marengo. This was at first a distinct Austrian victory, but good countenance, Mélas’ neglect to pursue his gain, and Napoleon’s ability to rally and hold his troops until absent Dessaix could rejoin him, turned it into an overwhelming Austrian defeat. And Napoleon, by the direction given to his mass, had so placed Mélas that defeat meant ruin. He was glad to accept an armistice on Napoleon’s own terms.
MARENGO CAMPAIGN
This superb campaign had lasted but a month, and had been characterized by the utmost dash and clearness of perception. Again Napoleon’s one mass projected on one properly chosen line had accomplished wonders.
Napoleon once said to Jomini, “The secret of war lies in the secret of communications. Keep your own and attack your enemy’s in such a way that a lost battle may not harm you, a battle won may ruin your adversary. Seize your enemy’s communications and then march to battle.” Napoleon’s success came from study of the situation. His art was founded on an intimate knowledge of all the facts, coupled with such reasoning power as enabled him to gauge correctly what his enemy was apt to do. Without the art the study would be useless. But the art could not exist apart from study.
After Marengo there were five years of peace. These and the four years between Wagram and the Russian campaign were the only two periods of rest from war in Napoleon’s career. Succeeding this came the memorable Austerlitz campaign. Napoleon had had for some months three of his best officers in Germany studying up topography, roads, bridges, towns, in the Black Forest region and toward the Tyrol and Bohemia. To thus make himself familiar with the status was his uniform habit.
Ulm-Austerlitz Campaign