The victories of the Archduke Charles on the Rhine, and his high credit with the soldiery, seemed to point him out as the commander falling most naturally to be employed against the young general of the French republic, who, like a gifted hero of romance, had borne down successively all opponents who had presented themselves in the field. The opinions of Europe were suspended concerning the probable issue of the contest. Both generals were young, ambitious, enthusiastic in the military profession, and warmly beloved by their soldiers. The exploits of both had filled the trumpet of Fame; and although Buonaparte's success had been less uninterrupted, yet it could not be denied, that if the Archduke's plans were not equally brilliant and original with those of his great adversary, they were just and sound, and had been attended repeatedly with great results, and by the defeat of such men as Moreau and Jourdan. But there were two particulars in which the Austrian prince fell far short of Napoleon,—first, in that ready, decided, and vigorous confidence, which seizes the favourable instant for the execution of plans resolved upon,—and, secondly, in having the disadvantage to be subjected, notwithstanding his high rank, to the interference of the Aulic Council; who, sitting at Vienna, and ignorant of the changes and vicissitudes of the campaign, were yet, by the ancient and jealous laws of the Austrian empire, entitled to control his opinion, and prescribe beforehand the motions of the armies, while the generals, intrusted with the execution of their schemes, had often no choice left but that of adherence to their instructions, however emerging circumstances might require a deviation.[264]

But although the encounter betwixt these two distinguished young generals be highly interesting, our space will not permit us to detail the campaigns of Austria at the same length as those of Italy. The latter formed the commencement of Buonaparte's military career, and at no subsequent period of his life did he achieve the same wondrous victories against such immense odds, or with such comparatively inadequate means. It was also necessary, in the outset of his military history, to show, in minute detail, the character of his tactics, and illustrate that spirit of energetic concentration, which, neglecting the extremities of an extended line of operations, combined his whole strength, like a bold and skilful fencer, for one thrust at a vital part, which, if successful, must needs be fatal. The astonishing rapidity of his movements, the audacious vivacity of his attack, having been so often described in individual cases, may now be passed over with general allusions; nor will we embarrass ourselves and our readers with minute details of positions, or encumber our pages with the names of obscure villages, unless when there is some battle calling for a particular narrative, either from its importance or its singularity.

By the direction of the Aulic Council, the Archduke Charles had taken up his position at Friuli, where it had been settled that the sixth Austrian army, designed to act against Buonaparte for the defence of the Italo-German frontier, should be assembled. This position was strangely preferred to the Tyrol, where the Archduke could have formed a junction ten days sooner with an additional force of forty thousand men from the army of the Rhine, marching to reinforce his own troops,—men accustomed to fight and conquer under their leader's eye; whilst those with whom he occupied Friuli, and the line of the Piave, belonged to the hapless Imperial forces, which, under Beaulieu, Wurmser, and Alvinzi, had never encountered Buonaparte without incurring some notable defeat.

While the Archduke was yet expecting those reinforcements which were to form the strength of his army, his active adversary had been joined by more than twenty thousand men, sent from the French armies on the Rhine, and which gave him at the moment a numerical superiority over the Austrian general. Instead, therefore, of waiting, as on former occasions, until the Imperialists should commence the war by descending into Italy, Napoleon resolved to anticipate the march of the succours expected by the Archduke, drive him from his position on the Italian frontiers, and follow him into Germany, even up to the walls of Vienna. No scheme appeared too bold for the general's imagination to form, or his genius to render practicable; and his soldiers, with the view before them of plunging into the midst of an immense empire, and placing chains of mountains betwixt them and every possibility of reinforcement or communication, were so confident in the talents of their leader, as to follow him under the most undoubting expectation of victory. The Directory had induced Buonaparte to expect a co-operation by a similar advance on the part of the armies of the Rhine, as had been attempted in the former campaign.

Buonaparte took the field in the beginning of March, advancing from Bassano.[265] The Austrians had an army of observation under Lusignan on the bank of the Piave, but their principal force was stationed upon the Tagliamento, a river whose course is nearly thirty miles more to the eastward, though collateral with the Piave. The plains on the Tagliamento afforded facilities to the Archduke to employ the noble cavalry who have always been the boast of the Austrian army; and to dislodge him from the strong country which he occupied, and which covered the road that penetrates between the mountains and the Adriatic, and forms the mode of communication in that quarter betwixt Vienna and Italy, through Carinthia, it was not only necessary that he should be pressed in front—a service which Buonaparte took upon himself—but also that a French division, occupying the mountains on the Prince's right, should precipitate his retreat, by maintaining the perpetual threat of turning him on that wing. With this view, Massena had Buonaparte's orders, which he executed with equal skill and gallantry. He crossed the Piave about the eleventh March, and ascending that river, directed his course into the mountains towards Belluno, driving before him Lusignan's little corps of observation, and finally compelling his rear-guard, to the number of five hundred men, to surrender.

The Archduke Charles, in the meantime, continued to maintain his position on the Tagliamento, and the French approached the right bank, with Napoleon at their head, determined apparently to force a passage. Artillery and sharpshooters were disposed in such a manner as to render this a very hazardous attempt, while two beautiful lines of cavalry were drawn up, prepared to charge any troops who might make their way to the left bank, while they were yet in the confusion of landing.

A very simple stratagem disconcerted this fair display of resistance. After a distant cannonade, and some skirmishing, the French army drew off, as if despairing to force their passage, moved to the rear, and took up apparently their bivouac for the night. The Archduke was deceived. He imagined that the French, who had marched all the preceding night, were fatigued, and he also withdrew from the bank of the river to his camp. But two hours afterwards, when all seemed profoundly quiet, the French army suddenly got under arms, and, forming in two lines, marched rapidly to the side of the river, ere the astonished Austrians were able to make the same dispositions as formerly for defence. Arrived on the margin, the first line instantly broke up into columns, which, throwing themselves boldly into the stream, protected on the flanks by the cavalry, passed through and attained the opposite bank.[266] They were repeatedly charged by the Austrian cavalry, but it was too late—they had gotten their footing, and kept it. The Archduke attempted to turn their flank, but was prevented by the second line of the French, and by their reserve of cavalry. He was compelled to retreat, leaving prisoners and cannon in the hands of the enemy. Such was the first disastrous meeting between the Archduke Charles and his future relative.[267]

The Austrian prince had the farther misfortune to learn, that Massena had, at the first sound of the cannonade, pushed across the Tagliamento, higher up than his line of defence, and destroying what troops he found before him, had occupied the passes of the Julian Alps at the sources of that river, and thus interposed himself between the imperial right wing and the nearest communication with Vienna. Sensible of the importance of this obstacle, the Archduke hastened, if possible, to remove it. He brought up a fine column of grenadiers from the Rhine, which had just arrived at Klagenfurt, in his rear, and joining them to other troops, attacked Massena with the utmost fury, venturing his own person like a private soldier, and once or twice narrowly escaping being made prisoner. It was in vain—all in vain. He charged successively and repeatedly, even with the reserve of the grenadiers, but no exertion could change the fortune of the day.[268]

Still the Archduke hoped to derive assistance from the natural or artificial defences of the strong country through which he was thus retreating, and in doing so was involuntarily introducing Buonaparte, after he should have surmounted the border frontier into the most fertile provinces of his brother's empire. The Lisonzo, usually a deep and furious torrent, closed in by a chain of impassable mountains, seemed to oppose an insurmountable barrier to his daring pursuers. But nature, as well as events, fought against the Austrians. The stream, reduced by frost, was fordable in several places. The river thus passed, the town of Gradisca, which had been covered with field-works to protect the line of the Lisonzo, was surprised and carried by storm, and its garrison of two thousand five hundred men made prisoners, by the divisions of Bernadotte and Serrurier.

Pushed in every direction, the Austrians sustained every day additional and more severe losses. The strong fort of Chiusa-Veneta was occupied by Massena, who continued his active and indefatigable operations on the right of the retreating army. This success caused the envelopement, and dispersion or surrender, of a whole division of Austrians, five thousand of whom remained prisoners, while their baggage, cannon, colours, and all that constituted them an army, fell into the hands of the French. Four generals were made prisoners on this occasion; and many of the mountaineers of Carniola and Croatia, who had joined the Austrian army from their natural love of war, seeing that success appeared to have abandoned the imperial cause, became despondent, broke up their corps, and retired as stragglers to their villages.

Buonaparte availed himself of their loss of courage, and had recourse to proclamations, a species of arms which he valued himself as much upon using to advantage, as he did upon his military fame. He assured them that the French did not come into their country to innovate on their rights, religious customs, and manners. He exhorted them not to meddle in a war with which they had no concern, but encouraged them to afford assistance and furnish supplies to the French army, in payment of which he proposed to assign the public taxes which they had been in the habit of paying to the Emperor.[269] His proposal seems to have reconciled the Carinthians to the presence of the French, or, more properly speaking, they submitted to the military exactions which they had no means of resisting.[270] In the meanwhile, the French took possession of Trieste and Fiume, the only seaports belonging to Austria, where they seized much English merchandise, which was always a welcome prize, and of the quicksilver mines of Idria, where they found a valuable deposit of that mineral.

Napoleon repaired the fortifications of Klagenfurt, and converted it into a respectable place of arms, where he established his headquarters. In a space of scarce twenty days, he had defeated the Austrians in ten combats, in the course of which Prince Charles had lost at least one-fourth of his army. The French had surmounted the southern chain of the Julian Alps; the northern line could, it was supposed, offer no obstacle sufficient to stop their irresistible general; and the Archduke, the pride and hope of the Austrian armies, had retired behind the river Mehur, and seemed to be totally without the means of covering Vienna.

There were, however, circumstances less favourable to the French, which require to be stated. When the campaign commenced, the French general Joubert was posted with his division in the gorge of the Tyrol above Trent, upon the same river Levisa, the line of which had been lost and won during the preceding winter. He was opposed by the Austrian generals Kerpen and Laudon, who, besides some regular regiments, had collected around them a number of the Tyrolese militia, who among their own mountains were at least equally formidable. They remained watching each other during the earlier part of the campaign; but the gaining of the battle of the Tagliamento was the signal for Joubert to commence the offensive. His directions were to push his way through the Tyrol to Brixen, at which place Napoleon expected he might hear news of the advance of the French armies from the Rhine, to co-operate in the march upon Vienna. But the Directory, fearing perhaps to trust nearly the whole force of the Republic in the hands of a general so successful and so ambitious as Napoleon, had not fulfilled their promises in this respect. The army of Moreau had not as yet crossed the Rhine.

Joubert, thus disappointed of his promised object, began to find himself in an embarrassing situation. The whole country was in insurrection around him, and a retreat in the line by which he had advanced, might have exposed him to great loss, if not to destruction. He determined, therefore, to elude the enemy, and by descending the river Drave, to achieve a junction with his commander-in-chief Napoleon. He accomplished his difficult march by breaking down the bridges behind him, and thus arresting the progress of the enemy; but it was with difficulty, and not without loss, that he effected his proposed union, and his retreat from the Tyrol gave infinite spirits not only to the martial Tyrolese, but to all the favourers of Austria in the North of Italy. The Austrian general Laudon sallied from the Tyrol at the head of a considerable force, and compelled the slender body of French under Balland, to shut themselves up in garrisons; and their opponents were for the moment again lords of a part of Lombardy. They also re-occupied Trieste and Fiume, which Buonaparte had not been able sufficiently to garrison; so that the rear of the French army seemed to be endangered.[271]

The Venetians, at this crisis, fatally for their ancient republic, if indeed its doom had not, as is most likely, been long before sealed, received with eager ears the accounts, exaggerated as they were by rumour, that the French were driven from the Tyrol, and the Austrians about to descend the Adige, and resume their ancient empire in Italy. The Senate were aware that neither their government nor their persons were acceptable to the French general, and that they had offended him irreconcilably by declining the intimate alliance and contribution of troops which he had demanded. He had parted from them with such menaces as were not easily to be misunderstood. They believed, if his vengeance might not be instant, it was only the more sure; and conceiving him now deeply engaged in Germany, and surrounded by the Austrian levies en masse from the warlike countries of Hungary and Croatia, they imagined that throwing their own weight into the scale at so opportune a moment, must weigh it down for ever. To chastise their insurgent subjects of Bergamo and Brescia, was an additional temptation.

Their mode of making war savoured of the ancient vindictive temper ascribed to their countrymen. An insurrection was secretly organized through all the territories which Venice still possessed on the mainland, and broke out, like the celebrated Sicilian vespers, in blood and massacre. In Verona they assassinated more than a hundred Frenchmen, many of them sick soldiers in the hospitals[272]—an abominable cruelty which could not fail to bring a curse on their undertaking. Fioravante, a Venetian general, marched at the head of a body of Sclavonians to besiege the forts of Verona, into which the remaining French had made their retreat, and where they defended themselves. Laudon made his appearance with his Austrians and Tyrolese, and it seemed as if the fortunes of Buonaparte had at length found a check.

But the awakening from this pleasing dream was equally sudden and dreadful. News arrived that preliminaries of peace had been agreed upon, and an armistice signed between France and Austria. Laudon, therefore, and the auxiliaries on whom the Venetians had so much relied, retired from Verona. The Lombards sent an army to the assistance of the French. The Sclavonians, under Fioravante, after fighting vigorously, were compelled to surrender. The insurgent towns of Vicenza, Treviso, and Padua, were again occupied by the Republicans. Rumour proclaimed the terrible return of Napoleon and his army, and the ill-advised Senate of Venice were lost in stupor, and scarce had sense left to decide betwixt unreserved submission and hopeless defence.

It was one of the most artful rules in Buonaparte's policy, that when he had his enemy at decided advantage, by some point having been attained which seemed to give a complete turn to the campaign in his favour, he seldom failed to offer peace, and peace upon conditions much more favourable than perhaps the opposite party expected. By doing this, he secured such immediate and undisputed fruits of his victory, as the treaty of peace contained; and he was sure of means to prosecute farther advantages at some future opportunity. He obtained, moreover, the character of generosity; and, in the present instance, he avoided the great danger of urging to bay so formidable a power as Austria, whose despair might be capable of the most formidable efforts.

With this purpose, and assuming for the first time that disregard for the usual ceremonial of courts, and etiquette of politics, which he afterwards seemed to have pleasure in displaying, he wrote a letter in person to the Archduke Charles on the subject of peace.

This composition affects that abrupt laconic severity of style, which cuts short argument, by laying down general maxims of philosophy of a trite character, and breaks through the usual laboured periphrastic introductions with which ordinary politicians preface their proposals, when desirous of entering upon a treaty. "It is the part of a brave soldier," he said, "to make war, but to wish for peace. The present strife has lasted six years. Have we not yet slain enough of men, and sufficiently outraged humanity? Peace is demanded on all sides. Europe at large has laid down the arms assumed against the French Republic. Your nation remains alone in hostility, and yet blood flows faster than ever. This sixth campaign has commenced under ominous circumstances.—End how it will, some thousands of men more will be slain on either side; and at length, after all, we must come to an agreement, for every thing must have an end at last, even the angry passions of men. The Executive Directory made known to the Emperor their desire to put a period to the war which desolates both countries, but the intervention of the Court of London opposed it. Is there then no means of coming to an understanding, and must we continue to cut each other's throats for the interests or passions of a nation, herself a stranger to the miseries of war? You, the general-in-chief, who approach by birth so near to the crown, and are above all those petty passions which agitate ministers, and the members of government, will you resolve to be the benefactor of mankind, and the true saviour of Germany? Do not suppose that I mean by that expression to intimate, that it is impossible for you to defend yourself by force of arms; but under the supposition, that fortune were to become favourable to you, Germany would be equally exposed to ravage. With respect to my own feelings, general, if this proposition should be the means of saving one single man's life, I should prefer a civic crown so merited, to the melancholy glory attending military success."

The whole tone of the letter is ingeniously calculated to give the proposition the character of moderation, and at the same time to avoid the appearance of too ready an advance towards his object. The Archduke, after a space of two days, returned this brief answer, in which he stripped Buonaparte's proposal of its gilding, and treated it upon the footing of an ordinary proposal for a treaty of peace, made by a party, who finds it convenient for his interest:—"Unquestionably, sir, in making war, and in following the road prescribed by honour and duty, I desire as much as you the attainment of peace for the happiness of the people, and of humanity. Considering, however, that in the situation which I hold, it is no part of my business to inquire into and determine the quarrel of the belligerent powers; and that I am not furnished on the part of the Emperor with any plenipotentiary powers for treating, you will excuse me, general, if I do not enter into negotiation with you touching a matter of the highest importance, but which does not lie within my department. Whatever shall happen, either respecting the future chances of the war, or the prospect of peace, I request you to be equally convinced of my distinguished esteem."[273]

The Archduke would willingly have made some advantage of this proposal by obtaining an armistice of five hours, sufficient to enable him to form a junction with the corps of Kerpen, which, having left the Tyrol to come to the assistance of the commander-in-chief, was now within a short distance. But Buonaparte took care not to permit himself to be hampered by any such ill-timed engagement, and, after some sharp fighting, in which the French, as usual, were successful, he was able to interpose such a force as to prevent the junction taking place.

Two encounters followed at Neumark and at Unzmark—both gave rise to fresh disasters, and the continued retreat of the Archduke Charles and the Imperial army. The French general then pressed forward on the road to Vienna, through mountain-passes and defiles, which could not have been opened otherwise than by turning them on the flank. But these natural fastnesses were no longer defences. Judenburg, the capital of Upper Styria, was abandoned to the French without a blow, and shortly after Buonaparte entered Gratz, the principal town of Lower Styria, with the same facility.

The Archduke now totally changed his plan of warfare. He no longer disputed the ground foot by foot, but began to retreat by hasty marches towards Vienna, determined to collect the last and utmost strength which the extensive states of the Emperor could supply, and fight for the existence, it might be, of his brother's throne, under the walls of his capital. However perilous this resolution might appear, it was worthy of the high-spirited prince by whom it was adopted; and there were reasons, perhaps, besides those arising from soldierly pride and princely dignity, which seemed to recommend it.

The army with which the enterprising French general was now about to debouche from the mountains, and enter the very centre of Germany, had suffered considerably since the commencement of the campaign, not only by the sword, but by severity of weather, and the excessive fatigue which they endured in executing the rapid marches, by which their leader succeeded in securing victory; and the French armies on the Rhine had not, as the plan of the campaign dictated, made any movement in advance corresponding with the march of Buonaparte.

Nor, in the country which they were about to enter with diminished forces, could Buonaparte trust to the influence of the same moral feeling in the people invaded, which had paved the way to so many victories on the Rhine. The citizens of Austria, though living under a despotic government, are little sensible of its severities, and are sincerely attached to the Emperor, whose personal habits incline him to live with his people without much form, and mix in public amusements, or appear in the public walks, like a father in the midst of his family. The nobility were as ready as in former times to bring out their vassals, and a general knowledge of discipline is familiar to the German peasant as a part of his education. Hungary possessed still the high spirited race of barons and cavaliers, who, in their great convocation in 1740, rose at once, and drawing their sabres, joined in the celebrated exclamation, "Moriamur pro regenostro, Maria Teresa!" The Tyrol was in possession of its own warlike inhabitants, all in arms, and so far successful, as to have driven Joubert out of their mountains. Trieste and Fiume were retaken in the rear of the French army. Buonaparte had no line of communication when separated from Italy, and no means of obtaining supplies, but from a country which would probably be soon in insurrection in his rear, as well as on his flanks. A battle lost, when there was neither support, reserve, nor place of arms nearer than Klagenfurt, would have been annihilation. To add to these considerations, it was now known that the Venetian republic had assumed a formidable and hostile aspect in Italy; by which, joined to a natural explosion of feeling, religious and national, the French cause was considerably endangered in that country. There were so many favourers of the old system, together with the general influence of the Catholic clergy, that it seemed not unlikely this insurrection might spread fast and far. Italy, in that case, would have been no effectual place of refuge to Buonaparte or his army. The Archduke enumerated all these advantages to the Cabinet of Vienna, and exhorted them to stand the last cast of the bloody die.

But the terror, grief, and confusion, natural in a great metropolis, whose peace for the first time for so many years was alarmed with the approach of the unconquered and apparently fated general, who having defeated and destroyed five of their choicest armies, was now driving under its walls the remnants of the last, though commanded by that prince whom they regarded as the hope and flower of Austrian warfare, opposed this daring resolution. The alarm was general, beginning with the court itself; and the most valuable property and treasure were packed up to be carried into Hungary, where the royal family determined to take refuge. It is worthy of mention, that among the fugitives of the Imperial House was the Archduchess Maria Louisa, then between five and six years old, whom our imagination may conceive agitated by every species of childish terror derived from the approach of the victorious general on whom she was, at a future and similar crisis, destined to bestow her hand.

The cries of the wealthy burghers were of course for peace. The enemy were within fourteen or fifteen days' march of their walls; nor had the city (perhaps fortunately) any fortifications, which in the modern state of war could have made it defensible even for a day. They were, moreover, seconded by a party in the Cabinet; and, in short, whether it chanced for good or for evil, the selfish principle of those who had much to lose, and were timid in proportion, predominated against that, which desired at all risks the continuance of a determined and obstinate defence. It required many lessons to convince both sovereign and people, that it is better to put all on the hazard—better even to lose all, than to sanction the being pillaged at different times, and by degrees, under pretence of friendship and amity. A bow which is forcibly strained back will regain its natural position; but if supple enough to yield of itself to the counter direction, it will never recover its elasticity.

The affairs, however, of the Austrians were in such a condition, that it could hardly be said whether the party who declared for peace, to obtain some respite from the distresses of the country, or those who wished to continue war with the chances of success which we have indicated, advised the least embarrassing course. The Court of Vienna finally adopted the alternative of treaty, and that of Leoben was set on foot.

Generals Bellegarde and Merfield, on the part of the Emperor, presented themselves at the headquarters of Buonaparte, 13th April, 1797, and announced the desire of their sovereign for peace. Buonaparte granted a suspension of arms, to endure for five days only; which was afterwards extended, when the probability of the definitive treaty of peace was evident.

It is affirmed, that in the whole discussions respecting this most important armistice, Napoleon—as a conqueror, whose victories had been in a certain degree his own, whose army had been supported and paid from the resources of the country which he conquered, who had received reinforcements from France only late and reluctantly, and who had recruited his army by new levies among the republicanized Italians—maintained an appearance of independence of the Government of France. He had, even at this period, assumed a freedom of thought and action, the tenth part of the suspicion attached to which would have cost the most popular general his head in the times of Danton and Robespierre. But, though acquired slowly, and in counteraction to the once overpowering, and still powerful, democratic influence, the authority of Buonaparte was great; and, indeed, the power which a conquering general attains, by means of his successes, in the bosom of his soldiers, becomes soon formidable to any species of government, where the soldier is not intimately interested in the liberties of the subject.

Yet it must not be supposed that Napoleon exhibited publicly any of that spirit of independence which the Directory appear to have dreaded, and which, according to the opinion which he himself intimates, seems to have delayed the promised co-operation, which was to be afforded by the eastern armies on the banks of the Rhine. Far from testifying such a feeling, his assertion of the rights of the Republic was decidedly striking, of which the following is a remarkable instance. The Austrian commissioner, in hopes to gain some credit for the admission, had stated in the preliminary articles of the convention, as a concession of consequence, that his Imperial Majesty acknowledged the French Government in its present state. "Strike out that condition," said Buonaparte sternly, "the French Republic is like the sun in heaven. The misfortune lies with those who are so blind as to be ignorant of the existence of either."[274] It was gallantly spoken; but how strange to reflect, that the same individual, in three or four years afterwards, was able to place an extinguisher on one of those suns, without even an eclipse being the consequence.[275]

It is remarkable also, that while asserting to foreigners this supreme dignity of the French Republic, Buonaparte should have departed so far from the respect he owed its rulers. The preliminaries of peace were proposed for signature on the 18th April. But General Clarke, to whom the Directory had committed full powers to act in the matter, was still at Turin. He was understood to be the full confidant of his masters, and to have instructions to watch the motions of Buonaparte, nay, to place him under arrest, should he see cause to doubt his fealty to the French Government. Napoleon, nevertheless, did not hesitate to tender his individual signature and warrantry, and these were readily admitted by the Austrian plenipotentiaries;—an ominous sign of the declension of the powers of the Directory, considering that a military general, without the support even of the commissioners from the government, or proconsuls, as they were called, was regarded as sufficient to ratify a treaty of such consequence. No doubt seems to have been entertained that he had the power to perform what he had guaranteed; and the part which he acted was the more remarkable, considering the high commission of General Clarke.[276]

The articles in the treaty of Leoben remained long secret; the cause of which appears to have been, that the high contracting parties were not willing comparisons should be made between the preliminaries as they were originally settled, and the strange and violent altercations which occurred in the definitive treaty of Campo Formio. These two treaties of pacification differed, the one from the other, in relation to the degree and manner how a meditated partition of the territory of Venice, of the Cisalpine republic, and other smaller powers was to be accomplished, for the mutual benefit of France and Austria. It is melancholy to observe, but it is nevertheless an important truth, that there is no moment during which independent states of the second class have more occasion to be alarmed for their security, than when more powerful nations in their vicinity are about to conclude peace. It is so easy to accommodate these differences of the strong at the expense of such weaker states, as, if they are injured, have neither the power of making their complaints heard, nor of defending themselves by force, that, in the iron age in which it has been our fate to live, the injustice of such an arrangement has never been considered as offering any counterpoise to its great convenience, whatever the law of nations might teach to the contrary.

It is unnecessary to enter upon the subject of the preliminaries of Leoben, until we notice the treaty of Campo Formio, under which they were finally modified, and by which they were adjusted and controlled. It may be, however, the moment to state, that Buonaparte was considerably blamed, by the Directory and others, for stopping short in the career of conquest, and allowing the House of Austria terms which left her still formidable to France, when, said the censors, it would have cost him but another victory to blot the most constant and powerful enemy of the French Republic out of the map of Europe; or, at least, to confine her to her hereditary states in Germany. To such criticism he replied, in a despatch to the Directory from Leoben, during the progress of the treaty: "If, at the commencement of these Italian campaigns, I had made a point of going to Turin, I should never have passed the Po—had I insisted prematurely on advancing to Rome, I could never have secured Milan—and now, had I made an indispensable object of reaching Vienna, I might have destroyed the Republic."[277]

Such was his able and judicious defence of a conduct, which, by stopping short of some ultimate and extreme point apparently within his grasp, extracted every advantage from fear, which despair perhaps might not have yielded him, if the enemy had been driven to extremity. And it is remarkable, that the catastrophe of Napoleon himself was a corollary of the doctrine which he now laid down; for, had he not insisted upon penetrating to Moscow, there is no judging how much longer he might have held the empire of France.

The contents of the treaty of Leoben, so far as they were announced to the representatives of the French nation by the Directory, only made known, as part of the preliminaries, that the cession of the Belgic provinces, and of such a boundary as France might choose to demand upon the Rhine, had been admitted by Austria; and that she had consented to recognise a single republic in Italy, to be composed out of those which had been provisionally established. But shortly afterwards it transpired, that Mantua, the subject of so much and such bloody contest, and the very citadel of Italy, as had appeared from the events of these sanguinary campaigns, was to be resigned to Austria, from whose tenacious grasp it had been wrenched with so much difficulty. This measure was unpopular; and it will be found that Buonaparte had the ingenuity, in the definitive treaty of peace, to substitute an indemnification, which he ought not to have given, and which was certainly the last which the Austrians should have accepted.

It was now the time for Venice to tremble. She had declared against the French in their absence; her vindictive population had murdered many of them; the resentment of the French soldiers was excited to the utmost, and the Venetians had no right to reckon upon the forbearance of their general. The treaty of Leoben left the Senate of that ancient state absolutely without support; nay, as they afterwards learned, Austria, after pleading their cause for a certain time, had ended by stipulating for a share of their spoils, which had been assigned to her by a secret article of the treaty. The doom of the oligarchy was pronounced ere Buonaparte had yet traversed the Noric and Julian Alps, for the purpose of enforcing it. By a letter to the doge, dated from the capital of Upper Styria, Napoleon, bitterly upbraiding the Senate for requiting his generosity with treachery and ingratitude, demanded that they should return by his aide-de-camp who bore the letter, their instant choice betwixt war and peace, and allowing them only four-and-twenty hours to disperse their insurgent peasantry, and submit to his clemency.[278]

Junot, introduced into the Senate, made the threats of his master ring in the astounded ears of the members, and by the blunt and rough manner of a soldier, who had risen from the ranks, added to the dismay of the trembling nobles. The Senate returned a humble apology to Buonaparte, and despatched agents to deprecate his wrath. These envoys were doomed to experience one of those scenes of violence which were in some degree natural to this extraordinary man, but to which in certain cases he seems to have designedly given way, in order to strike consternation into those whom he addressed. "Are the prisoners at liberty?" he said, with a stern voice, and without replying to the humble greetings of the terrified envoys. They answered with hesitation that they had liberated the French, the Polish, and the Brescians, who had been made captive in the insurrectionary war. "I will have them all—all!" exclaimed Buonaparte—"all who are in prison on account of their political sentiments. I will go myself to destroy your dungeons on the Bridge of Tears—opinions shall be free—I will have no Inquisition. If all the prisoners are not set at instant liberty, the English envoy dismissed, the people disarmed, I declare instant war. I might have gone to Vienna if I had listed—I have concluded a peace with the Emperor—I have eighty thousand men, twenty gun-boats—I will hear of no Inquisition, and no Senate either—I will dictate the law to you—I will prove an Attila to Venice. If you cannot disarm your population, I will do it in your stead—your government is antiquated—it must crumble to pieces."[279]

While Buonaparte, in these disjointed yet significant threats, stood before the deputies like the Argantes of Italy's heroic poet, and gave them the choice of peace and war with the air of a superior being, capable at once to dictate their fate, he had not yet heard of the massacre of Verona, or of the batteries of a Venetian fort on the Lido having fired upon a French vessel, which had run into the port to escape the pursuit of two armed Austrian ships. The vessel was alleged to have been sunk, and the master and some of the crew to have been killed. The news of these fresh aggressions did not fail to aggravate his indignation to the highest pitch. The terrified deputies ventured to touch with delicacy on the subject of pecuniary atonement. Buonaparte's answer was worthy of a Roman. "If you could proffer me," he said, "the treasures of Peru—if you could strew the whole district with gold, it could not atone for the French blood which has been treacherously spilt."[280]

Accordingly, on the 3d of May, Buonaparte declared war against Venice, and ordered the French minister to leave the city; the French troops, and those of the new Italian republics, were at the same time commanded to advance, and to destroy in their progress, wherever they found it displayed, the winged Lion of Saint Mark, the ancient emblem of Venetian sovereignty. The declaration is dated at Palma Nova.[281]

It had been already acted upon by the French who were on the Venetian frontier, and by La Hotze, a remarkable character, who was then at the head of the army of the Italian republics of the new model, and the forces of the towns of Brescia and Bergamo, which aspired to the same independence. This commander was of Swiss extraction; an excellent young officer, and at that time enamoured of liberty on the French system, though he afterwards saw so much reason to change his opinions, that he lost his life, as we may have occasion to mention, fighting under the Austrian banners.

The terrified Senate of Venice proved unworthy descendants of the Zenos, Dandolos, and Morosinis, as the defenders of Christendom, and the proud opposers of Papal oppression. The best resource they could imagine to themselves, was to employ at Paris those golden means of intercession which Buonaparte had so sturdily rejected. Napoleon assures us, that they found favour by means of these weighty arguments. The Directory, moved, we are informed, by the motives of ten millions of French francs, transmitted from Venice in bills of exchange, sent to the general of Italy orders to spare the ancient senate and aristocracy. But the account of the transaction, with the manner in which the remittances were distributed, fell into the hands of Napoleon, by despatches intercepted at Milan. The members of the French Government, whom these documents would have convicted of peculation and bribery, were compelled to be silent; and Buonaparte, availing himself of some chicanery as to certain legal solemnities, took it on him totally to disregard the orders he had received.

The Senate of Venice, rather stupified than stimulated by the excess of their danger, were holding on the 30th April, a sort of privy council in the apartments of the doge, when a letter from the commandant of their flotilla informed them, that the French were erecting fortifications on the low grounds contiguous to the lagoons or shallow channels which divide from the main-land and from each other the little isles on which the amphibious mistress of the Adriatic holds her foundation; and proposing, in the blunt style of a gallant sailor, to batter them to pieces about their ears before the works could be completed.[282] Indeed, nothing would have been more easy than to defend the lagoons against an enemy, who, notwithstanding Napoleon's bravado, had not even a single boat. But the proposal, had it been made to an abbess and a convent of nuns, could scarce have appeared more extraordinary than it did to these degenerate nobles. Yet the sense of shame prevailed; and though trembling for the consequences of the order which they issued, the Senate directed that the admiral should proceed to action.[283] Immediately after the order was received, their deliberations were interrupted by the thunder of the cannon on either side—the Venetian gun-boats pouring their fire on the van of the French army, which had begun to arrive at Fusini.

To interrupt these ominous sounds, two plenipotentiaries were despatched to make intercession with the French general; and, to prevent delay, the doge himself undertook to report the result.

The Grand Council was convoked on the 1st of May, when the doge, pale in countenance, and disconcerted in demeanour, proposed, as the only means of safety, the admission of some democratic modifications into their forms, under the direction of General Buonaparte; or, in other words, to lay their institutions at the feet of the conqueror, to be remodelled at his pleasure. Of six hundred and nineteen patricians, only twenty-one dissented from a vote which inferred the absolute surrender of their constitution. The conditions to be agreed on were, indeed, declared subject to the revision of the Council; but this, in the circumstances, could only be considered as a clause intended to save appearances. The surrender must have been regarded as unconditional and total.[284]

Amidst the dejection and confusion which possessed the Government, some able intriguer (the secretary, it was said, of the French ambassador at Venice, whose principal had been recalled) contrived to induce the Venetian Government to commit an act of absolute suicide, so as to spare Buonaparte the trouble and small degree of scandal which might attach to totally destroying the existence of the republic.

On the 9th of May, as the committee of the Great Council were in close deliberation with the doge, two strangers intruded upon those councils, which heretofore—such was the jealous severity of the oligarchy—were like those of supernatural beings; those who looked on them died. But now, affliction, confusion, and fear, had withdrawn the guards from these secret and mysterious chambers and laid open to the intrusion of strangers those stern haunts of a suspicious oligarchy, where, in other days, an official or lictor of the Government might have been punished with death even for too loud a foot-fall, far more for the fatal crime of having heard more than was designed to come to his knowledge. All this was now ended; and without check or rebuke the two strangers were permitted to communicate with the Senate by writing. Their advice, which had the terms of a command, was, to anticipate the intended reforms of the French—to dissolve the present Government—throw open their prisons—disband their Sclavonian soldiers—plant the tree of liberty on the place of Saint Mark, and to take other popular measures of the same nature, the least of which, proposed but a few months before, would have been a signal of death to the individual who had dared to hint at it.[285]

An English satirist has told us a story of a man persuaded by an eloquent friend, to hang himself, in order to preserve his life. The story of the fall of Venice vindicates the boldness of the satire. It does not appear that Buonaparte could have gone farther; nay, it seems unlikely he would have gone so far, as was now recommended.

As the friendly advisers had hinted that the utmost speed was necessary, the committee scarce interposed an interval of three days, between receiving the advice and recommending it to the Great Council; and began in the meanwhile to anticipate the destruction of their government and surrender of their city, by dismantling their fleet and disbanding their soldiers.

At length, the Great Council assembled on the 12th of May. The doge had commenced a pathetic discourse on the extremities to which the country was reduced, when an irregular discharge of fire-arms took place under the very windows of the council-house. All started up in confusion. Some supposed the Sclavonians were plundering the citizens; some that the lower orders had risen on the nobility; others, that the French had entered Venice, and were proceeding to sack and pillage it. The terrified and timid counsellors did not wait to inquire what was the real cause of the disturbance, but hurried forward, like sheep, in the path which had been indicated to them. They hastened to despoil their ancient government of all authority, to sign in a manner its sentence of civil death—added every thing which could render the sacrifice more agreeable to Buonaparte—and separated in confusion, but under the impression that they had taken the best measure in their power for quelling the tumult, by meeting the wishes of the predominant party. But this was by no means the case. On the contrary, they had the misfortune to find that the insurrection, of which the firing was the signal, was directed not against the aristocrats, but against those who proposed the surrender of the national independence. Armed bands shouted, "Long live Saint Mark, and perish foreign domination!" Others indeed there were, who displayed in opposition three-coloured banners, with the war-cry of "Liberty for ever!" The disbanded and mutinous soldiers mixed among these hostile groups, and threatened the town with fire and pillage.[286]

Amid this horrible confusion, and while the parties were firing on each other, a provisional government was hastily named. Boats were despatched to bring three thousand French soldiers into the city. These took possession of the place of Saint Mark,[287] while some of the inhabitants shouted; but the greater part, who were probably not the less sensible of the execrable tyranny of the old aristocracy, saw it fall in mournful silence, because there fell along with the ancient institutions of their country, however little some of these were to be regretted, the honour and independence of the state itself.

The terms which the French granted, or rather imposed, appeared sufficiently moderate, so far as they were made public. They announced, that the foreign troops would remain so long, and no longer, than might be necessary to protect the peace of Venice[288]—they undertook to guarantee the public debt, and the payment of the pensions allowed to the impoverished gentry. They required, indeed, the continuance of the prosecution against the commander of that fort of Luco who had fired on the French vessel; but all other offenders were pardoned, and Buonaparte afterwards suffered even this affair to pass into oblivion; which excited doubt whether the transaction had ever been so serious as had been alleged.

Five secret and less palatable articles attended these avowed conditions. One provided for the various exchanges of territory which had been already settled at the Venetian expense betwixt Austria and France. The second and third stipulated the payment of three millions of francs in specie, and as many in naval stores. Another prescribed the cession of three ships of war, and of two frigates, armed and equipped. A fifth ratified the exaction, in the usual style of French cupidity, of twenty pictures and five hundred manuscripts.[289]

It will be seen hereafter what advantages the Venetians purchased by all these unconscionable conditions. At the moment, they understood that the stipulations were to imply a guarantee of the independent existence of their country as a democratical state. In the meanwhile, the necessity for raising the supplies to gratify the rapacity of the French, obliged the provisional government to have recourse to forced loans; and in this manner they inhospitably plundered the Duke of Modena (who had fled to Venice for refuge when Buonaparte first entered Lombardy) of his remaining treasure, amounting to one hundred and ninety thousand sequins.