The Camp-fires of Napoleon
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The Turks amounted to nearly eighteen thousand infantry. These were not the miserable Fellahs who had composed the infantry of the Mamelukes; but brave janizaries, carrying a musket without bayonet, slinging it at their back after firing, and rushing pistol and sword in hand upon the enemy. They had a numerous and well-served artillery, and were under the direction of English officers. They had no cavalry, for they had not brought more than three hundred horses; but they expected Murad Bey, who was to leave Upper Egypt, proceed along the desert, cross the oasis, and throw himself into Aboukir with two or three thousand Mamelukes.
When Bonaparte was informed of the particulars of the landing, he left Cairo instantly, and made from that city to Alexandria one of those extraordinary marches of which he had given so many instances in Italy. He took with him the divisions of Lannes, Bon, and Murat. He had ordered Desaix to evacuate Upper Egypt, and Kleber and Regnier, who were in the Delta, to bring themselves nearer Aboukir. He had chosen the point of Birket, midway between Alexandria and Aboukir, in order to concentrate his forces thither, and to manœuvre according to circumstances. He was very fearful lest an English army had landed with the Turks.
Murad Bey, according to the plan settled with Mustapha Pacha, had tried a descent into Lower Egypt; but being met and beaten by Murat, he had been obliged to regain the desert. There was now nothing left but the Turkish army to fight, destitute as it was of cavalry, but yet encamped behind intrenchments, and disposed to stand its ground there with its usual pertinacity. Bonaparte, after inspecting Alexandria and the admirable works executed by Colonel Cretin, and after reprimanding Marmont, his lieutenant, who had not dared to attack the Turks at the moment of landing, left Alexandria on the 6th Thermidor, (July 24th.) Next day, the 7th, he was at the entrance of the peninsula. His plan was to inclose the Turkish army by intrenchments, and to await the arrival of all his divisions, for all he had with him were no more than the divisions of Lannes, Bon, and Murat, about six thousand men. But on observing the arrangements made by the Turks, he altered his intentions, and resolved to attack them immediately, hoping to inclose them in the village of Aboukir, and to overwhelm them with bombs and howitzers.
The Turks occupied the furthest end of the peninsula, which is very narrow. They were covered by two lines of intrenchments. Half a league in advance of the village of Aboukir, where their camp was, they had occupied two round sand-hills, supported the one on the sea, the other on Lake Madieh, and thus forming their right and left. In the centre of these two hillocks was a village, which they had likewise kept. They had one thousand men on the hillock to the right, two thousand on the hillock to the left, and three or four thousand men in the village. Such was their first line. The second was at the village of Aboukir itself. It consisted of the redoubt constructed by the French, and was connected with the sea by two trenches. It was there that they had stationed their principal camp and the bulk of their forces.
Bonaparte made his arrangements with his usual promptitude and decision. He ordered General Destaing, with some battalions, to march to the hill on the left, where one thousand Turks were posted; Lannes to march to that on the right, where the two thousand others were; and Murat, who was at the centre, to make the cavalry file on the rear of the two hillocks. These arrangements were executed with great precision. Destaing marched to the hillock on the left, and boldly climbed it; Murat contrived to get at its rear with a troop of cavalry. The Turks, when they saw this, abandoned their post, fell in with the cavalry, which cut them in pieces, and drove them into the sea, into which they chose rather to throw themselves than to surrender. The same operation was executed on the right. Lannes attacked the two thousand Mamelukes, Murat got at their rear; and they were in like manner cut to pieces and driven into the sea. Destaing and Lannes then moved towards the centre, formed by a village, and attacked it in front. The Turks there defended themselves bravely, relying upon assistance from the second line. A column in fact was detached from the camp of Aboukir; but Murat, who had already filed upon the rear of the village, cut this column in pieces, and drove it back into Aboukir. Destaing’s infantry and that of Lannes entered the village at the charge step, driving the Turks out of it, who were dispersed in all directions, and who obstinately refusing to surrender, had no other retreat than the sea, wherein they were drowned.
Already four or five thousand had perished in this manner. The first line was carried; Bonaparte’s object was accomplished, and now, inclosing the Turks in Aboukir, he could bombard them while waiting for the arrival of Kleber and Regnier. But he desired to make the most of his success, and to complete his victory that very moment. After giving his troops a little breathing time, he marched upon the second line. The division under Lanusse, which had been left as a reserve, supported Lannes and Destaing. The redoubt which covered Aboukir was difficult to carry; it had within it nine or ten thousand Turks. On the right, a trench joined it to the sea; on the left, another trench brought it further out; but was not continued quite to Lake Madieh. The open space was occupied by the enemy, and swept by the fire of numerous gun-boats. Bonaparte, having accustomed his soldiers to defy the most formidable obstacles, sent them upon the enemy’s position. His divisions of infantry marched upon the front and the right of the redoubt. The cavalry, concealed in a wood of palm-trees, had to make the attack on the left, and then to cross, under the fire of the gun-boats, the open space between the redoubt and Lake Madieh. The charge was made; Lannes and Destaing urged forward their brave infantry. The 32d marched with their pieces on their arms towards the intrenchments, and the 18th got at the rear of the intrenchments on the extreme right. The enemy, without waiting for them, advanced to meet them. They fought hand to hand. The Turkish soldiers, having fired their pieces and their two pistols, drew their flashing sabres. They endeavored to grasp the bayonets, but received them in their flanks before they could lay hold of them. Thus a great slaughter took place in the intrenchments. The 18th was on the point of getting into the redoubt, when a tremendous fire of artillery repulsed it, and sent it back to the foot of the works. The gallant Leturcq fell gloriously, by desiring to be the last to retire; Fugieres lost an arm. Murat on his part had advanced with his cavalry, with a view to clear the space between the fire of the redoubt and Lake Madieh. Several times he had dashed forward, and had turned back the enemy; but taken between the two fires of the redoubt, and that of the gun-boats, he had been obliged to fall back on the rear. Some of his horse-soldiers had advanced to the ditches of the redoubt. The efforts of so many brave fellows appeared likely to be entirely unavailable. Bonaparte looked coolly on this carnage, waiting for a favorable moment to return to the charge. Fortunately the Turks, as they usually did, quitted the intrenchments for the purpose of cutting off the heads of the slain. Bonaparte seized this opportunity, launched forth two battalions, one of the 22d, the other of the 69th, which marched upon the intrenchments and carried them. On the right, the 18th also took advantage of this opportunity, and entered the redoubt. Murat, on his side, ordered a fresh charge. One of his divisions of cavalry traversed that most exposed space between the intrenchments and the lake, and made his way into the village of Aboukir. The Turks, affrighted, fled on all sides, and a horrible slaughter of them ensued. They were pressed by the point of the bayonet and driven into the sea. Murat, at the head of his heroes, penetrated into the camp of Mustapha Pacha. The latter, in a fit of despair, snatched up a pistol and fired it at Murat, whom he wounded slightly. Murat struck off two of his fingers and sent him prisoner to Bonaparte. Such of the Turks as were not killed or drowned retired into the fort of Aboukir.1
The proud army of the Turks was thus completely overwhelmed, as if it had been entirely buried by an avalanche. No wonder that the enthusiastic Kleber, after witnessing the manœuvres that gained this splendid victory, clasped Bonaparte in his arms, and exclaimed, “General, you are as great as the world itself.”
It was the second night after the battle. The army was encamped upon the field. Bonaparte was alone in his tent. That day he had contrived to obtain from Sir Sidney Smith a file of papers from Europe, from which he eagerly sought information as to the condition and prospects of France. He had dismissed all his officers, and now, as they were either carousing in their tents, or wandering among the camp-fires of the troops, he sat in his tent to obtain that information which was destined to lead to such great and decisive plans. See him, as he sits there, with his eyes keenly fixed upon the papers, and an occasional smile lighting up his features of bronze! He learns the calamities which have visited the armies of France, and then the smile is turned to a terrible frown, and he exclaims, passionately,
“The imbeciles! the imbeciles! Why was I not there?”
He perused the accounts of the overthrow of the French armies in Italy and Germany; he saw that all that he had gained for France, had been lost; he knew that these disasters would not have occurred if he had retained a European command; and he felt more strongly than ever that he was destined to retrieve the condition of affairs, to bind victory once more to the tri-color standard. Perhaps, also, his mind perceived the opportunity for gratifying the aspirations of a selfish ambition, and that this perception caused the frown to melt once more into a smile—a smile of triumph. He saw that the disasters attending the French arms had rendered the Directory unpopular, and that power was within the reach of any bold, decisive man, who would dare to attempt the overthrow of that government; and he had faith enough in himself to decide that he was the very man for the crisis. Long he read, and long he pondered. Cæsar deliberated upon the banks of the Rubicon. At length he started up. The die was cast. He would return to France and strike for the supreme authority. Having once decided upon his movements, no man could have taken his measures with more promptitude. He resolved to sail secretly for Europe. He wrote a dispatch to Admiral Gantheaume, directing him to get the Muiron and Carrere frigates ready for sea. He determined that as Kleber was very popular with the army, that general should be left in command. There could be no doubt of Klebers vigor, activity and skill. Bonaparte then sat down, and, with astonishing rapidity and precision, drew up a long list of instructions for the new commander-in-chief. He then sent word to Berthier, Lannes, Murat, Andreossy, Marmont, Berthollet, and Monge, that he wished to see them in his tent. It was late. But they came, without exception, at his summons. Kleber and Menou were then at Cairo, or they, also, would have been invited to this important conference. In a few words, Bonaparte communicated his sudden resolution to those officers he had assembled around him. They were surprised, but when he told them that he wished them to go with him, they were glad; for in spite of the glory achieved in Egypt, they were anxious to return to France. Berthier had been suffering for some time from depression of spirits, owing to a long standing matrimonial engagement; and he fairly leaped from his seat when he heard of the intention of the general-in-chief. Monge, that circumspect votary of science, hinted that there was the greatest danger of the whole party being captured by the English cruisers, which were exceedingly vigilant in the Mediterranean. The only reply was the brief and emphatic “I must incur the risk.” The officers cast significant glances at each other, but it was extremely doubtful if they fathomed his designs.
“I have received ill news from Europe, my friends,” said Bonaparte, toning over his papers, and seemingly attending to several matters at once. “The Austrians and Muscovites have gained the superiority. That which we won with so much toil has been lost, and France is threatened with the invasion of her territory. We are wanted in Europe, and in spite of winds, waves, and English cruisers, we must go thither.”
Soon afterwards the conference was broken up, and the general-in-chief was again alone in his tent—nay, not alone, for the images of ambition were fast crowding around him, and they were companions whom he valued more than the ordinary human realities of the camp. And there this all-daring, all-achieving soldier sat till the peep of day, perfecting his plans, the ultimate reach of which was a throne above thrones; for it was his habit of mind never to form a design which did not extend to the farthest point. In war, it was the conquest of a world at which he aimed; in politics, consul nor king could satisfy the cravings of his soul—he would be an emperor. Doubtless, his Rubicon was at Aboukir, and there the die was cast which determined him to be master of France.
CAMP-FIRE IN THE VALLEY OF AOSTA
We are now to behold Bonaparte as First Consul of France—as the successful rival of the Carthagenian Hannibal in the prodigious exploit of leading an army over the lofty and wintry Alps—and as the conqueror of his old enemies the Austrians.
The time was May, 1800. At Paris, Bonaparte had formed the plan of the most astonishing of his campaigns, with a precision so wonderful that it pointed to the very spot on which the decisive battle should be fought. While the intrepid Massena defended Genoa with unwearied energy, and Moreau engaged the attention of the Austrians on the line of the Danube, the First Consul had created a third army, caused the passes of the Alps to be explored, determined to take that of the Great St. Bernard, and achieved the passage as far as the vale of Aosta, where an unexpected obstacle was found in the fortress of Bard.
The valley of Aosta is traversed by a river which receives all the waters of the St. Bernard, and carries them into the Po, under the name of Dora-Baltea. As it approaches Bard, the valley narrows; the road lying between the base of the mountains and the bed of the river becomes gradually more contracted, until at length, a rock, which seems to have fallen from the neighboring crags into the middle of the valley, almost entirely blocks it. The river then runs on one side of the rock, and the road proceeds on the other. This road lined with houses composes all the town of Bard. On the top of the rock stands a fort, impregnable by its position, though ill-constructed, which sweeps with its fire, on the right, the whole course of the Dora-Baltea, and on the left, the long street forming the little town of Bard. Drawbridges close the entrance and the outlet of this single street. A garrison, small in number, but well commanded, occupied this fort.
The brave and persevering Lannes commanded the advanced division of the French. He was not a man to be easily stopped. He immediately put forward a few companies of grenadiers, who broke down the drawbridge, and, in the face of a sweeping fire, entered Bard. The commandant of the fort then poured a storm of shot and shell upon the town, but was soon induced to cease, by a feeling of compassion for the inhabitants. Lannes stationed his division out of the town and under cover; but it was impossible to pass the materiel of the army under the fire of the fort. He then reported to General Berthier, who, coming up, was dismayed at the unexpected obstacle. General Marescot, the skilful engineer of the army, was then brought forward.
He examined the fort, and declared it nearly impregnable, not on account of its construction, which was indifferent, but from its position, which was entirely isolated. The escarpment of the rock did not admit escalading, and the walls, though not covered by an embankment, could not be battered in breach, as there was no possibility of establishing a battery in a position suitable for breaching them. Nevertheless, it was possible, by strength of arm, to hoist a few guns of small calibre to the top of the neighboring heights. Berthier gave orders to this end. The soldiers, who were used to the most difficult undertakings, went to work eagerly to hoist up two four-pounders, and even two eight-pounders. These they in fact succeeded in elevating to the mountain of Albaredo, which overlooks the rock and fort of Bard; and a plunging fire, suddenly opened, greatly surprised the garrison, which, nevertheless, did not lose courage, but replied, and soon dismounted one of the guns, which were of too feeble a calibre to be useful.
Marescot declared that there was no hope of taking the fort, and that some other means must be devised for overcoming this obstruction. Berthier, in great alarm, instantly counter-ordered all the columns as they successively came up; suspended the march of the men and the artillery all along the line, in order to prevent them from involving themselves further, should it be necessary, after all, to retreat. An instant panic circulated to the rear, and all the men thought themselves arrested in this glorious enterprise. Berthier sent courier after courier to the First Consul, to inform him of this unexpected disappointment.
The latter tarried still at Martigny, not meaning to pass over the St. Bernard, until he had seen, with his own eyes, the last of the artillery sent forward. But this announcement of an obstacle, considered insurmountable at first, made a terrible impression on him; but he recovered quickly, and refused positively to admit the possibility of a retreat. Nothing in the world should reduce him to such an extremity. He thought that, if one of the loftiest mountains in the world had failed to arrest his progress, a secondary rock could not be capable of vanquishing his courage and his genius. The fort, said he to himself, might be taken by bold courage; if it could not be taken, it still could be turned. Besides, if the infantry and the cavalry could pass by it, with but a few four-pounders, they could then proceed to Ivrea at the mouth of the gorge, and wait until their heavy guns could follow them. And if the heavy guns could not pass by the obstacle which had arisen; and if, in order to get any, that of the enemy must be taken, the French infantry were brave and numerous enough to assail the Austrians and take their cannon. Moreover, he studied his maps again and again, questioned a number of Italian officers; and learning from these that many other roads led from Aosta to the neighboring valleys, he wrote letter after letter to Berthier, forbidding him to stop the progress of the army, and pointing out to him, with wonderful precision, what reconnoissances should be made around the fort of Bard. He would not allow himself to see any serious danger, except from the arrival of a hostile corps, shutting up the debouch of Ivrea; he instructed Berthier to send Lannes as far as Ivrea, by the path of Albaredo, and make him take a stronger position there, which should be safe from the Austrian artillery and cavalry. When Lannes guards the entrance of the valley, added the First Consul, whatever may happen, it is of little consequence, the only result may be a loss of time. We have enough provisions to subsist ourselves awhile, and one way or other we shall succeed in avoiding or overcoming the obstacles which now delay us.
These instructions having been sent to Berthier, he addressed his last orders to General Moncey, who should debouch by the St. Gothard; to General Chabran, who should come down by the Little St. Bernard, directly in front of the fort of Bard; and then, at last, resolved to cross the Alps in person. Before he set forth, he received news from the Var, informing him that on the 14th of May—the 24th of Floreal—the Baron de Melas was still at Nice. As it was now the 20th of May, it could not reasonably be supposed, that the Austrian general, in the space of six days, could have marched from Nice to Ivrea. It was then on the 20th of May, before daylight, that he set out to pass the defile. His aid-de-camp Duroc, and his secretary Bourrienne, accompanied him.
Behold him now ascending the rugged and difficult St. Bernard, the rocks and precipices around him, and above, the towering summits of perpetual snow! He is mounted on a mule, conducted by a young, hardy mountaineer. The grey great coat, which he always wore during his campaigns of sleepless activity, is buttoned closely around him. His cheeks are fuller than when we saw him in Egypt; but he has the same pale, olive complexion, the same firm-set mouth, the same steady, piercing eyes, and the same air of constant thought. Occasionally he turns to address a remark to Duroc or Bourrienne; and he has many questions to ask of those officers he meets upon the road. But, strange to say, he converses the longest with that simple-hearted mountaineer who leads his mule. The young guide unrolls his little catalogue of troubles, to which the First Consul listens as he would to a pastoral romance. The great man learns that the mountaineer is much grieved, because, for want of a little money, he is unable to marry one of the maidens of the valley who has won his heart. Thus proceeding, the party at length arrived at the monastery of St. Bernard, where the benevolent monks displayed much pleasure at seeing the illustrious general. He alighted; but before he partook of any refreshment, he wrote a brief note, which he handed to his guide, and told him to give it without delay to the administrator of the army, who had remained on the other side of the St. Bernard. In the evening, when the young mountaineer reached St. Pierre, he learned how great a person he had conducted, and also that the First Consul had given him a house and a field, as the means of marrying the girl of his heart. A delightful pastoral episode in the great warrior’s stormy career.
Bonaparte halted a short time with the monks, thanked them for the care shown to his troops, made them a noble gift, and then pursued his route. The descent of St. Bernard was made very rapidly, the First Consul descending on a sledge, which glided down the glacier with almost fearful swiftness. The party arrived the same evening at Etroubles. The following morning, having spent some time in examining the park of artillery and the provisions, he started for Aosta and Bard.
The night of the 23d of May was clear, bright and cold, in the valley of Aosta. Just beyond the town of Bard—a long, narrow line of old, picturesque houses—were encamped the troops of Lannes’s division, the line of the encampment being indicated by the watch-fires. In front of the large tent which had been erected as the quarters of the First Consul, stood Bonaparte, Berthier, Marescot, Lannes, Duroc, and Bourrienne. Marescot stood next to the illustrious commander-in-chief, who was examining the fort and its surroundings with a glass.
“The report was perfectly correct; that is a serious obstacle,” said the First Consul. “But I have no doubt that we, who surmounted the difficulties of the St. Bernard, will conquer this rocky position, either by taking or turning it.”
“The only hope of capturing the fort, is by an escalade, on the outer ramparts, as you will perceive,” remarked Marescot.
“True, we can place a battery on the heights of Albaredo; but that will produce but little effect,” replied Bonaparte.
“The fire of the fort sweeps the whole course of the river, and that long street of the town,” observed Berthier.
“We have made reconnoissances to the left, along the sinuous flanks of the Albaredo mountain, and found a path, which through vast dangers, more terrible than those of the St. Bernard, rejoins the great road below the fort at St. Donaz,” said Marescot.
“Can it be made practicable for infantry, cavalry, and a few light guns?” quickly inquired Bonaparte.
“I think it can. With about fifteen hundred workmen, it could soon be greatly altered,” replied Marescot.
“Enough; you shall have the workmen, and the infantry, cavalry, and four-pounders shall be sent by that road,” said the First Consul, decisively.
“The artillery horses may be sent by the same road, and the only remaining difficulty will be to get the heavy guns along beyond this fort,” remarked Duroc.