The Camp-fires of Napoleon. Henry Clay Watson
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Название: The Camp-fires of Napoleon

Автор: Henry Clay Watson

Издательство: Public Domain

Жанр: Зарубежная классика

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СКАЧАТЬ The Austrian army was almost annihilated. Lusignan was taken. The infantry which had advanced from the mountains, was flying over the rugged declivities. The principal column was pent up on the bank of the river, while the subordinate division of Wukassovich was an idle spectator of the disaster, separated by the Adige from the field of battle. The French general had had several horses killed under him, and had received several slight wounds, but in spite of his constant activity and exposure, he was still ready to follow up his victory immediately. The battle of La Favorita ensued, in which the army of Provera was annihilated. In three days, twenty-three thousand men were captured. Massena’s troops had marched and fought four days and nights, without any considerable intermission. The intrepid general himself, afterwards received the title of Duke of Rivoli. Mantua was at the feet of Bonaparte, and Italy was won.

      THE CAMP-FIRE ON THE ALPS

      Although Bonaparte had performed amazing, and, in some respects, unparalleled, exploits in Italy, there was a general disposition among both Frenchmen and foreigners to set up inferior commanders as his rivals. Now it was Moreau, then Massena; then Hoche, and then the young Archduke Charles, of Austria. The last mentioned had attained a high reputation by a campaign in which he triumphed over Generals Moreau and Jourdan, but his valor and skill, although great, were overrated, as Bonaparte and Massena soon rendered evident.

      The Archduke took command of the Austrian army of Italy, and on the 6th of February, 1797, advanced his head-quarter to Innspruck. During that month, his engineers visited the passes of the Julien and Noric Alps, which it had been designed to fortify. Napoleon, having about fifty-three thousand troops under his command, resolved to astonish his enemy by a rapid and daring march upon the passes of the Alps before they could be fortified. He formed the plan of a campaign, the great object of which was the Austrian capital, Vienna, and the execution was as prompt as the conception was bold. The Tagliamento was passed, and the enemy completely defeated; the passes of the Alps were carried, after a tremendous struggle. Joubert beat the Austrians in the Tyrol, the Archduke’s reputation was reduced to its proper dimensions, and Vienna trembled, having no means of resisting the all-conquering Bonaparte. Tarwis is the loftiest pass of the Noric Alps. It is above the clouds and is generally covered with snow and ice, which give it a desolate and terrible aspect. It overlooks Germany and Dalmatia. At this point the roads leading to Italy and Trieste separate; the road to Italy running west, and that leading to Trieste running south. At this place, Bonaparte fixed his head-quarters, shortly after the pass had been captured by the indomitable Massena. It was the last day of March. The weather was intensely cold, and and the body of troops accompanying the French general suffered severely. Bonaparte and his aids were snugly quartered in the rude chalets, which are the only habitations upon the height of Tarwis. The soldiers were grouped amid a cordon of fires, the fuel for which they had brought from a great distance below, with a vast amount of labor and difficulty. Yet they shivered beside the crackling blaze. It was a wild and startling scene. The night was cloudy—the wind, keen and furious. The red glare of the fires was reflected by walls of ice and blood-stained snow. As the soldiers wrapped themselves in their blankets, crept as close to the fires as they could get, and conversed with a French attempt at gaiety, they were surprised to see their beloved general, accompanied by Berthier and Duroc, come out of a chalet, to examine their condition, and speak a word of cheer.

      “A freezing time, men; but it will be hot enough soon,” he remarked to a group of veterans.

      “The cold is more terrible than the Austrians, general,” said one of them, with an attempt at a laugh.

      “But it cannot conquer the conquerors of Italy,” replied Bonaparte. Thus he went among the brave men who followed his standard, and thus he communicated his own spirit to all with whom he came in contact. After traversing the whole ground occupied by the troops, the French general returned to his quarters to repose.

      Beneath a kind of shed in the rear of the chalet, several of the Guides were seated round a cheerful fire, smoking pipes and conversing of the recent actions and their thrilling incidents. Among them were Bessieres and Lemarois. The wall of the chalet, which formed the rear of the shed, served to keep off the fury of the wind, so that this place was comfortable, compared with the position of the soldiers. Besides, the hearts of these veterans had been gladdened with abundance of good eating at the chalet, and satisfaction was evident in their faces. The manly face of Bessieres, wore that expression of calm circumspection, which it never lost in the thickest of battle.

      “The passage of the Tagliamento,” said this brave leader, “will take rank with any similar exploit, recorded in history.”

      “It must be acknowledged that the archduke had posted his forces in an admirable style,” said young Lemarois. “His artillery covered the level shingle of the river, and his fine cavalry, deployed on the wings, so as to be brought rapidly into service, was an admirable disposition.”

      “Yes,” said Bessieres, “but as usual, the character of the manœuvres which defeated the Austrians throws all their dispositions into insignificance. Was there ever a general so fertile of stratagem as Bonaparte? See how quickly he determined upon a plan to diminish the vigilance of the enemy! An immense number of men might have been lost if he had attempted the passage of the river as soon as he reached its banks. But he valued the lives of his soldiers too much, to throw them away, when a simple stratagem could save them. The Austrians naturally supposed that after marching all night, he wanted rest, and when the general ordered us to halt and begin to partake of our soup, they were completely deceived. How the archduke must have opened his eyes, when he saw us get suddenly in motion at noon!”

      “The disposition of our forces was so admirable that it made some of our own skilful officers open their eyes,” said Lemarois. “Look at it! Guyeux’s division on the left, and Bernadotte’s on the right, by which arrangement the troops of Italy and the soldiers of the Rhine were brought into a noble rivalry. Then battalions of grenadiers were formed. At the head of each division was placed the light infantry, ready to disperse as sharp-shooters, then the grenadiers who were to charge, and the dragoons who were to support them. Each demi-brigade had its first battalions, deployed in line, and the two others arranged in close column on the wings of the first. The cavalry hovered on the wings. A finer disposition could not have been made.”

      “Crossing the river was a glorious scene!” said Bessieres. “The light infantry covered the bank with a cloud of sharp-shooters. Then the grenadiers entered the water. ‘Soldiers of the Rhine!’ exclaimed Bernadotte, ‘the army of Italy has its eyes upon you.’ Each division displayed the utmost bravery in the charge; we can make no distinction between them.”

      “No, indeed,” observed a grim-visaged Guide, who sat next to Bessieres. “Our soldiers called the troops of the Rhine the contingent, and treated them with the greatest contempt before the battle. A number of sabre cuts were exchanged on account of this raillery. But the contingent proved themselves worthy of any army at Tagliamento. They drove the Austrians before them like a flock of sheep.”

      “All acted in a manner worthy of France,” said Lemarois. “The archduke was routed and the line of the Tagliamento cleared in a remarkably short time.”

      “What is the name of that general of cavalry who was captured?” inquired one of the Guides—a burly fellow, with a good-humored cast of countenance.

      “I forget his name,” replied Bessieres; “but I cannot forget that he is a brave man, and that he fought with a courage and resolution which put most of his countrymen to shame.

      “To be just, however,” observed Lemarois, “there are many gallant officers in the Austrian army. It is not their fault if they have not a Bonaparte to bring victory to their standard. They have a large number of hearts following their flag, as intrepid as old Wurmser. But strange to say, they have never had a first class general.

      “That’s about the truth of the matter,” СКАЧАТЬ