The Camp-fires of Napoleon. Henry Clay Watson
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,” commented the burly Guide.
“By the way, Jacques,” said Bessieres, “it seems to be getting colder as the night advances. Put on a little more of that wood. Its bad enough fuel, though, for it smokes abominably.”
Jacques was the burly Guide previously alluded to. He obeyed the order of his commander.
“The men outside ought to have plenty of provision to console them amid their sufferings on such a night. They will scarcely dare to sleep,” said Lemarois.
“I saw our general out among them a short time ago,” replied Bessieres. “A few sympathetic words from him will do more than any amount of provision.”
“That’s a fact,” said the grim veteran who sat next to the commander of the Guides. “They know that he feels for them, and that he would help them if he could. See there at St. George, an outpost of Mantua, where there was a necessity for constant vigilance, to prevent Provera from surprising us, and relieving Wurmser. The general visiting one of the outposts at night, found a sentinel lying at the foot of a tree, where he had fallen fast asleep from exhaustion. He took the soldier’s musket and walked backwards and forwards on sentry for more than half an hour. Suddenly the soldier started up, and was terrified at seeing General Bonaparte on duty; he expected nothing less than death. But the general spoke kindly to him, told him that after his great fatigues, he wanted sleep; but cautioned him against chosing such a time. That is the way for a general to make heroes out of soldiers. That sentinel would have risked his life at any time to give victory to General Bonaparte.”
“Bonaparte is every inch of a general, a soldier and a man,” said Bessieres.
“Some miserable judges wish to set up this young Archduke Charles as a rival to our general,” said Lemarois. “Why, this battle of Tarwis, in which he had every thing in his favor, proves that he is not by a great deal, up to the measure of Massena.”
“Have you heard the full particulars of the struggle at this pass?” inquired Bessieres. “Battles come so rapidly, that it is difficult to gain a complete knowledge of them.”
“I was present when an officer of Massena’s division who participated in the fight communicated the intelligence,” replied Lemarois. “While we were advancing to Gradisca, General Massena pressed forward, reached this pass, and made himself master of it without much difficulty. The division of Bayalitsch, proceeding across the sources of the Izonzo to anticipate Massena at the pass, would therefore find the outlet closed. The Archduke Charles, foreseeing this result, left the rest of his army on the Friule and Carniola road, with orders to come and rejoin him behind the Alps at Klagenfurt; he then himself made the utmost haste to Villach, where numerous detachments were coming up from the Rhine, to make a fresh attack on the pass, to drive Massena from it, and to re-open the road for Bayalitsch’s division. Bonaparte, on his side, left Bernadotte’s division to pursue the divisions that were retreating into Carniola, and with Guyeux’s and Serrurier’s divisions, proceeded to harass the Bayalitsch division in its rear, in its passage through the valley of the Izonzo. Prince Charles, after rallying behind the Alps the wrecks of Lusignan and Orksay, who had lost the pass, reinforced them with six thousand grenadiers, the finest and bravest soldiers in the imperial service, and again attacked the pass, where Massena had left scarcely a detachment.