Between this Austrian admission and the Austrian denial the substantial difference is not great. Reading between Cobentzel’s lines, one sees that the brutal young soldier ran over Austria’s delicate old diplomat just as he had been running over a lot of Austria’s delicate old generals.
The next day after this violent scene, the treaty of Campo Formio was signed. By its terms Austria ceded Lombardy, Belgium, and the German principalities on the Rhine. It recognized the Italian republic; the Cisalpine, composed of Lombardy, Modena, Ferrara; the Romagna, Mantua, Massa-e-Carrara; the Venetian territory, west of the Adige and the Valtelline. It also recognized the Ligurian republic, recently formed by Napoleon out of Genoa and its states. France kept the Ionian Isles, and the Venetian factories opposite on the mainland. To Austria was given the Italian lands eastward from the Adige. Within this concession was embraced the venerable city of Venice.
In the treaty of Campo Formio, Napoleon insisted that Austria should liberate the prisoner of Olmutz, Lafayette, who had been lying in a dungeon since 1793.
To regulate the redistribution of German territory, made necessary by the treaty, a congress was to be convened at Rastadt. It may as well be stated in this place that the congress met, remained in session a long while, and could not reach an agreement. Napoleon having gone to Egypt, Austria renewed the war, broke up the congress, and murdered the French envoys.
The Directors were strongly opposed to the terms of the Campo Formio treaty, but they were powerless. Napoleon disregarded their positive instructions, relying for his support upon the enthusiasm with which the French would hail peace. His calculations proved correct. The nation at large welcomed the treaty as gladly as they had done his victories. It seemed the final triumph and permanent establishment of the new order. Against so strong a current in Bonaparte’s favor, the Directory did not venture to steer.
Setting out for Paris, November 17, 1797, Napoleon passed through a portion of Switzerland, where he was encouraging the democratic movement which led to the formation of the Helvetian republic. At Geneva and Lausanne he was given popular and most hearty ovations. He put in appearance at Rastadt, where the congress was in session, and remained just long enough to exchange ratifications of the Campo Formio treaty with Cobentzel; and to hector, insult, and drive away Count Fersen, the old friend of Marie Antoinette. Count Fersen had come as Swedish envoy; and to Napoleon his presence seemed improper, as perhaps it was.
CHAPTER XV
Military critics agree that the Italian campaign was a masterpiece; and many say that Napoleon himself never surpassed it. At no other time was he perhaps quite the man he was at that early period. He had his spurs to win, his fame to establish. Ambition, the thirst for glory, his youth, his intense activity of mind and body, the stimulus of deadly peril, formed a combination which did not quite exist again. To the last a tremendous worker, he probably never was on the rack quite as he was in this campaign. In Italy he did all the planning, and saw to all the execution. He marched with his troops night and day, fair weather and foul. He shared the dangers like a common soldier, pointing cannon, leading charges, checking retreat, taking great risks in reconnoitring. He went without food, sleep, or shelter for days at a time. Horses dropped under him, some from wounds, some from fatigue. He marched all night before the battle of Rivoli, directed his forces during the battle, galloped himself to bring up support at critical points; and then, at two or three in the afternoon, when Alvinczy was beaten, he set out to the relief of Sérurier, marched again all night, and again directed a battle—that of La Favorita. This was but one instance; there were dozens of others, some even more remarkable. For Napoleon never seemed to tire: mind and body were like a machine. He was thin, looked sickly, and indeed suffered from the skin disease caught from the dead cannoneer at Toulon; but his muscles were of steel, his endurance phenomenal, his vitality inexhaustible. The impression he made upon one close observer at this period was condensed in the words, “the little tiger.”
