Masséna was ordered up the Piave, to attack a separate division under Lusignan, while Napoleon moved against the Archduke on the Tagliamento. By forced marches, the French reached the river before they were expected (March 16, 1797). Making as if they meant to force a passage, they opened upon the Austrians, who awaited them upon the other side, and gave them a soldierly reception. Then, as if he had suddenly changed his mind and meant to bivouac there, Napoleon drew back his troops, and preparations for a meal were made. The Archduke, deceived by this, drew off also, and returned to his tent. Suddenly the French sprang to arms, and dashed for the fords. Bernadotte’s division led, and before the Austrians could get into line, the French were safely over, and prepared for action. The Austrians fought, and fought well; but they were outnumbered, as they had been outgeneralled, and they were beaten, losing prisoners and cannon. Masséna, equally successful, had defeated and captured Lusignan, and was nearing the Pass of Tarvis, which leads into Germany from the Italian side. The Archduke hurried to the defence of this vital point, gathering in all his forces as he went. Taking position in front of the pass, he awaited Masséna. By forced marches that intrepid soldier, “the pet child of victory,” came up, battle was joined, and desperately contested. Masséna won; and the road to Vienna was cleared. The Archduke fell back to Villachi; Masséna waited at Tarvis, hoping to capture an Austrian division which was advancing to the pass, pursued by General Guieu. Not till the Austrians reached Tarvis did they perceive that they were enclosed, front and rear. Demoralized, they surrendered after feeble resistance.
Bernadotte and Sérurier took Gradisca and its garrison, after the former had sacrificed several hundred men in reckless assault upon the ramparts.
On March 28, 1797, Napoleon, with the main body of his army, passed into Corinthia by the Col de Tarvis. Pressing on, he reached Klagenfurth, from which he wrote to the retreating Archduke a letter suggesting peace, March 31, 1797. In reply, the Austrian commander stated that he had no authority to treat. The French continued a vigorous advance, and near Newmarket the Archduke, having received four battalions of the long-expected reënforcements, stood and fought. He was beaten with a loss of three thousand men. He then asked for an armistice, which was refused. Napoleon would treat for peace, but a truce he would not grant. At Unzmark the Archduke was again worsted, and his retreat became almost a rout. On April 2, 1797, the advance guard of Napoleon was at Leoben, and the hills of Vienna were in sight from the outposts. Then came officers to ask a suspension of arms to treat for peace; and the preliminaries of Leoben, after some delays, were signed.
Many reasons have been suggested for Napoleon’s course in tendering peace when he was apparently carrying all before him. It is said that he became alarmed at non-coöperation of the armies of the Rhine; again, that he was discouraged by Joubert’s want of success in the Tyrol; again, that he feared insurrection in his rear. Whatever the motive, it is difficult to avoid the conclusion that he made a huge mistake. The French on the Rhine had moved. Desaix was driving one Austrian army through the Black Forest; Hoche had beaten and was about to surround the other. Austria’s situation was desperate, and Vienna must have fallen. There are those who suggest that Napoleon hastened to suspend the war to deprive rival generals, Hoche especially, of a share in his glory. This is far-fetched, to say the least of it. Month after month he had done all in his power to get those rival generals to move. To the Directory he sent appeals, one after another, to order the Rhine armies to cross and coöperate. He even sent money from his own army chest; and for fear the funds might lodge somewhere in Paris, he sent them directly to the Rhine.
Bourrienne is not an authority friendly to Napoleon, and yet Bourrienne states that when Napoleon, after the truce, received the despatches announcing the progress of Desaix and Hoche, he was almost beside himself with chagrin. He even wanted to break the armistice, and his generals had to remonstrate. This testimony would seem to conclusively prove that Napoleon offered peace because he had lost hope in the coöperation which had been promised him, and which was necessary to his triumph. Singly he was not able to hold disaffected Italy down, guard a long line of communications, and overthrow the Austrian Empire. The preliminaries of Leoben and the treaty of Campo Formio will always be subject of debate. The part which Venice was made to play—that of victim to the perfidy of Napoleon and the greed of Austria—aroused pity and indignation then, and has not ceased to be a favorite pivot for Napoleonic denunciation. Austria was very anxious to hold Lombardy. Napoleon was determined to hold both Lombardy and Belgium. Venice was coldly thrown to Austria as compensation, because it was easier to seize upon decrepit Venetia than to meet another effort of the great Empire whose courage and resources seemed inexhaustible. Perhaps a clearer case of political hard-heartedness had not been seen since Russia, Prussia, and Austria cut up Poland and devoured it.
But after this has been said, let the other side of the picture be viewed. Venice had undertaken to maintain neutrality, and had not maintained it. She had allowed both belligerents to take her towns, use her fortresses, eat her supplies, and pocket her money. Trying to please both, she pleased neither; and they united to despoil her.
Again, there was the quarrel between the city of Venice and the Venetian territories on the mainland. Venice had its Golden Book in which were written the names of her nobles. Aristocrats on the mainland craved the writing of their names in this Golden Book, and were refused that bliss; hence heartburnings, which were referred to Napoleon. He advised the Venetian Senate to write the names in the book, and the Senate refused. Venice had long been governed by a few families, and these few had the customary obstinacy and prejudice of a caste. They treated Venetia simply as a fief—an estate belonging to the nobles.
Again, republican leaven had been at work throughout Venetia, and Napoleon had advised the Senate to remodel its mediæval institutions. Other states in Italy were yielding to the trend of the times, and Venice should do likewise. The Senate refused, until its consent came too late to avert its doom.
Again, Napoleon had warned Venice that she was too weak to maintain neutrality, and had advised her to make an alliance with France. She had refused.
Again, as Napoleon was about to set out to join his army for the invasion of Germany, he warned Venice to make no trouble in his rear. Things he might forgive were he in Italy, would be unpardonable if done while he was in Germany. Venetia could not, or would not, profit by this warning. While Napoleon was in Germany, tumults arose in the Venetian states, and the French in considerable numbers were massacred. At Verona the outbreak was particularly savage, three hundred of the French have been butchered, including the sick in the hospitals. To leave nothing undone which could be done to give Napoleon the excuses he wanted, a French vessel, which, chased by two Austrian cruisers, had taken refuge in the harbor at Venice, was ordered to leave (according to the law of the port), and when she refused, was fired upon. Her commander and others were killed, and some horrible details aggravated the offence.