University of Virginia Library

16. CHAPTER XVI.
AN ARMY IN THE ALPS.

“Qui vive?” was the sudden and sharp demand
of a sentinel who, at the entrance of a
rough gorge, held his position as one of the
long line of picquet guards—the outposts of a
French army, occupying all the passes of the
Alps which sloped toward the fertile plains of
Lombardy. This was the grand body of troops,
in three divisions, destined to become widely
known as “The Army of Italy,” now under
conduct of General Bonaparte, who had been
despatched by the Directory of France to assume
the chief command.

“Qui vive?” was thus demanded by the diminutive
Gallic sentinel of a man who had just
abruptly presented himself within musket-range,
apparently climbing from a narrow and precipitous
footpath intersecting the main defile. The
individual addressed responded by advancing a
few paces, and holding out his hands to show
that he was unarmed, save only with a common
hunter's staff.

“Amico!”

“Advance with the word!”

The last order was not replied to so readily as
the first, for the reason that it seemed unintelligible
to the Italian hunter—for such he appeared
to be—who now stood plainly revealed amid the
brownish twilight that pervaded the mountain
passes. Nevertheless, the new comer continued
to advance, until the sentinel, apprehending
treachery, brought his musket to a level, and
was about to press the trigger—in which event
no further parley would have been ours to
chronicle,—but at this moment the measured
tramp of men was heard in the gorge, and a squad
of the relief guard suddenly approached on its
round to place the sunset watch. The sentinel
seeing himself in presence of an officer, recovered
his arms for the salute, and then pointing
to the intruding Italian, who had halted and was
leaning upon his staff, said to the corporal:

“Whether you fellow means mischief, I know
not; but he would have eaten a leaden supper
in a trice, but for your coming. I was on the
point of firing—”

“To alarm the whole line, petit Jacques!” replied
the corporal. “Better is it, comrade, to
deal quietly with these fellows, or we shall have
such a devil's nest at our backs as will make the
return to France as difficult as our march thus
far.”

“Faith, the `Little Corporal' has no intention
of returning by this route, moitre Pierre. Are
we not to cross the Rhine, and bivouac in Vienna,
and St. Genevieve only knows what else,
without a biscuit in knapsack, or a sou in
pocket!” returned the soldier, who, small as
were his physical dimensions, was yet a big-stomached

fellow, who already began to show
symptoms of the vieux groguard, or grumbler, a
character which, in after times, the emperor
made for himself a source of much amusement.

“Well, no more now, petit Jacques. Fall in,
and let us be moving. And thou, fellow,” continued
the corporal, turning to the hunter, who
had been silently regarding the group, and addressing
him in the Savoyard patois, which is
generally well understood throughout the Alps,
“What is thy business? Wouldst join the
grand army? Methinks a goodly youth as you
appear, must want excitement, and—”

“I desire no better than to cast my lot with
such brave men,” replied the hunter. “The
French know how to take care of themselves
without kings, like my own countrymen, the
Swiss, and I hope the Italians will soon learn
the lesson!”

“Bravo!—well said, my Swiss comrade; and
as you are willing to join the grand army which
is to give liberty to all nations, and make all of
us rich as lords, be so good as to fall in at once,
and we shall shortly be as firm friends, I doubt
not, as if we had made the campaign together.
March!”

So saying the corporal led the way along the
gorge, and the “Little Jacques,” as the sentinel
was called who had been relieved, found himself,
a moment afterwards, marching side by
side with the hunter, at whose breast he had so
lately pointed a deadly weapon. Such a different
sequel was this to what would have been
presented, had not the relief guard come at the
nick of time to save the stranger's body from a
musket ball.

The sun was just setting as the corporal, after
disposing of his fresh guard, and filling their
places with the relieved sentinels, marched his
new recruit into the rough quarters, which, hastily
constructed of huts formed of such materials as the
neighborhood afforded, relieved by a few officers'
tents much the worse for previous Alpine
campaigns, stretched along the base of a shelving
hill, commanding a view of the barren
plains and valleys. This was the rear division
of the army's right wing, under command of
General La Harpe, comprising the outer detachments
and extreme picquets of the line of march.

Arrived at the guardhouse, which was also occupied
as a couture, or military store, whence a
bright-eyed vivandiere dispensed such commodities
to her customers as the rapid progress of
the troops, and the total lack of government
supplies, rendered of great demand as well as
price, the hunter recruit, chaperoned by Maitre
Pierre, found himself in presence of the officer
of the watch.

“Well, Maitre Pierre, what hast thou there?
A spy, doubtless.”

“No, mon capitaine! but a brave Swiss hunter
lad, who is anxious to join our regiment.”

“Ah!” responded the officer. “Have a care,
Maitre Pierre, that no plan is on foot among
these wily mountaineers, who are in league with
the Austrians, as thou well knowest.—Now,
my good fellow,” continued the captain, addressing
the recruit, “art thou honest in thy wish to
win glory with the grand army of the Republic?”

“Try me!” laconically returned the hunter.

“What is thy name?”

“I am called Valentine.”

“Hast thou no other?”

“Certainly one is sufficient to be shot by!”
returned the hunter.

“Ah! then thou desirest to be shot, comrade?”

“I shall not take much trouble to dodge a
bullet!” answered the recruit.

“Very well, we shall try thee before long.
So march off with Maitre Pierre, who will take
good care that thou art gratified, for I doubt not
bullets will be plenty enough ere morning.”

Maitre Pierre saluted his officer, and conducted
his new recruit, whom the reader has doubtless
recognized as the son of Monna Barbara, to
his own rude quarters, where the addition of a
ragged uniform coat and tri-colored cockade
speedily transformed him into one of “les
braves” who constituted the company of which
Maitre Pierre was a corporal, as well as schoolmaster;
after which Valentine was introduced
to his new associates, and then assigned his
resting place for the night.

Many and conflicting thoughts occupied the
young hunter's mind during the sleepless hours
of his first military night, until the quick beat of
the reveille startled him from his rough couch.
Maitre Pierre was soon at his side, when, answering
the summons, he hastily joined the
group of soldiers who obeyed the first tap, and
the corporal manifested his satisfaction at his
recruit's promptitude by an encouraging slap
upon the shoulder.

“Ah, we shall make a soldier of thee, young
comrade. Fall in, and I will presently give thee
a lesson, mon ami!”

Though the reveille had awakened from their
quarters all the rank and file of the division;
though it yet lacked an hour of daybreak, deep
gloom still shrouded the camp, broken only by
the glimmering line of bivouac fires, extending
far on every side, where ridges and shelves of
rock denoted the flanks and rear of that great
military monster, whose limbs wound through
the northern passes, while its head and iron now
threatened the panic-stricken valleys of Italy.
The watch-fires illumining the heights which
they crested, threw into bold relief the figures
of sentinels surrounding them.

Maitre Pierre, as soon as the muster was over,
began to occupy himself in bestowing upon Valentine,
by the light of the watch-fire, a few short
lessons of the manual, interspersed with sage
advice upon the proper execution of military duties,
and assurances of the absolute certainty that
all good soldiers in the Republic's army would
in time not only be corporals and sergeants, but
even captains, generals and marshals of France.

“For be it known to you, comrade, that the
`Little Corporal,' as well as our young general,
(mousquet sur l'epoule!—that is right, mon ami), is
none of your haughty old blunderheads (closer
to your shoulder, my comrade), like yonder Austrian,
Beaulieu (support your musket in that
manner), who has been showing his heels for a
week past, but a true son of the people, is General
Bonaparte, that takes snuff with Maitre
Pierre as readily as with Commissioner Salicetti,
(present your fusil, mon ami—that will do very
well, mon ami.”)

“And who is Commissioner Salieetti?”

“O, nobody at all when mon petit corporal is
by. (Present arms!) To be sure, he is the
commissioner who orders all our supplies, which
we never get; but then le petit corporal is the
general, and the Republic must not be without a
general, though we can do very well without
commissioners in the enemy's country. The
Republic, comrade, depends upon its generals
you must know. (Hold up your head, comrade.)
Moreover, our general is always victorious,
and so (shoulder musket!) is a great favorite
with the Directory.”

“And with the army, likewise.”

“Not a man of us but what would die for our
little general. Look ye, comrade, when we go
into line for battle to morrow, you will see a
splendid officer riding up and down, with a
white plume, and hear all the regiments shouting,
`vive Murat! ”

“And who is Murat?”

“Certainly you are to be pardoned for your
ignorance, because you have just joined the
grand army; but I will tell you what Murat
was, comrade. He was a soldier in the ranks
like yourself, and is now a general, promoted
by le petit corporal. But, n'importe, there are
others; but I am forgetting our lessons. Stand
firm, comrade!—raise your fusil! Peste! There,
that will do.”

“The general, Murat, rose from the ranks,
you say?”

“It is true, and not he only; but you will see
Duroc, and Lannes, and many more—all were
soldiers like us, my comrade. So you see the
Republic, thanks to our good general, knows
how to reward her sons. (Right face!) Diable!
what is that?”

The corporal's last exclamation was elicited
by a sharp report of musketry, which at this
moment broke upon the stillness of the morning
air, apparently proceeding from a line of outposts,
forming one of the flanks of the encamped
division. The ominous signal was succeeded
almost immediately by a general stir in the quarters.
Maitre Pierre no longer thought of his
lesson or reeruit, but ran at once toward the
guardhouse, whence presently issued the quick
tap of a drum, as the tombour major appeared,
hurrying to his post. Officers, full armed, started
suddenly into view, and groups of soldiers
who had been stretched at length in the huts, or
dispersed around the bivouaes, rushed hastily
into line as the renewed summons of the reveille
rolled its quick beat upon their ears. In ten
minutes the camp was roused, the troops drawn
up in columns, and the officers, at the head of
their respective detachments, awaited with anxiety
some signal from the quarter whence the noise
of firing had proceeded.

Valentine, hurrying with other soldiers, found
a place in the company to which he had been
assigned, and with shouldered fusil, and head
erect, according to Maitre Pierre's directions,
stood in silence amid his new comrades, all
watching earnestly the countenances of their
immediate officers, who took position with
drawn swords before the line, and all listening
with hushed breath for the marching beat of the
drums or shrill summons of the trumpet.

The young hunter's face, though very pallid
in the light of the watch-fires, wore yet a determined
expression. The excitement of impending
conflict could not but cause his veins to

throb with quicker pulse, and though the despairing
thought of hopeless banishment from
Val d'Orazio, and the belief that he had lost the
affections of Bianca, weighed upon his spirit
and crushed its natural buoyancy, still his heart
leaped at the reflection that in the approaching
battle he might distinguish himself, perhaps, as
Maitre Pierre had said, win the notice of that
strange commander, whose eagle eye could discover
merit when hidden in the humblest sphere.
“I may yet return with an honored name,” murmured
Valentine, half audibly, as the dark
memory of his misfortune began to brighten beneath
the light of arising hope. “In the combat
let me seek my destiny, whatever it may
be!”

Suddenly, breaking heavily upon the air, amid
the sharper sound of the distant musket firing,
the boom of a cannon echoed through the surrounding
hills. Then another discharge, and
another; then the loud blare of a trumpet, followed
by the instantaneous rattle of a dozen
drums; and Valentine heard a tramp of horses
near the bivouac. The next instant a group of
officers appeared, followed irregularly by a regiment
of riflemen, who, clambering up the rocks,
crowded toward the line of troops which were
drawn up on the rear guard of La Harpe's
division.

“These devils of Austrians are attacking us in
the rear!” cried the foremost officer, suddenly
reining in his steed opposite the spot which Valentine
occupied in line. “Massena's troops
have given way at Dego, and the Sardinians are
reinforced at D'Aui! The whole army will be
forced into conflict!”

“And Dego retaken by the Austrian army!
Shame!” cried another officer. “Col. Lannes,
we must drive those fellows back, or the general
will never forgive us!”

“General Lanusse, it is for you to lead—we
follow!” answered the brave Lannes, then about
to win permanently the favor of the commander
who had raised him from the ranks. “Do we
await the general's orders, or shall we proceed
at once to the centre?”

“We await nothing!—we engage at once!
Forward!” cried Lanusse, in reply, as he drew
his sword, and waved it in the gleam of the
watch-lights. A murmur, which soon broke out
into a shout, running through the extended line,
attested the effect of the officer's speech upon
his troops; and ere it subsided, a new group
suddenly appeared, as if emerging from the
earth, and the prolonged cry of the extended
line of sentinels reached at the same moment
the marshalled division, acquainting them that
the commander-in-chief was on the spot.

Napoleon was at this period but just turned of
twenty-six years, and his youthful appearance presented
a strong contrast to the weather beaten
looks of most of the officers around, many of
whom had served through all the republican
campaigns; but in the countenances of all, as
they became aware of the general's presence,
there was visible in a moment an expression of
enthusiastic respect. Simultaneously every officer
lifted his chapeau, and a spontaneous shout
broke from the soldiers' lips as they recognized
their leader, and passed the news of his arrival
through the extended line. Napoleon's eye ran
hurriedly along the ranks, seeming to take in at
one glance the entire disposition of forces, and
then in a quick tone, he exclaimed:

“Ah, you are ready!”

“And impatient, mon general!” responded
Lanusse.

“Forward at once! The Austrians have
blundered on good luck, it seems, and regained
the ground which Massena yesterday took from
them. It is necessary that we fight the battle
over again. You, Lanusse, will advance!—and
mon ami Lannes will accompany me. In twenty
minutes we must cross the Bormida!”

Lanusse saluted his commander, and in a
moment more was at his post, marshalling the
head of the column, which was the usual form
in which the different divisions of the army
commenced an attack. In ten minutes, around
the flickering watch-fires, marking where the
soldiers had bivouacked, there remained only
stragglers of the camp, suttlers and others, who
tarried for various purposes behind the line of
march.

Meanwhile the daybreak revealed, in its gray
light, one of those forced advances so common
in the after tacties of Bonaparte, but which in
this early campaign were novel and extremely
arduous to the troops. The constrained march
of an army in all situations involves great hard-ships,
but in an Alpine country it was hazardous
as well as difficult. Often the most dangerous
defiles and abrupt passes, suspended as it were
over unfathomable gulfs, were to be carried in
the face of an opposing army, flanked and surmounted
by fortified positions on well-nigh inaccessible
heights, and threatening ambuscades in
ravines and sheltered gulleys. Sometimes it became

necessary that a halt of the rear columns
should be made, in order to assault a castle or
entrenchment on either side of the route, in
which case the men were hurried forward with
renewed alacrity to engage, defeat and disperse
some force which disputed its progress. Thus
the head of the army, consisting of riflemen and
other light troops, and the cavalry, which latter,
in all possible circumstances accompanied the
general's staff, were obliged to abandon everything
that might retard their celerity, dispensing
during a long march with provisions, stores, and
camp equipage, and only retaining the arms and
ammunition necessary to render their unexpected
attack of an enemy successful.

The columnar onset of Napoleon's active force
was ever like a thunderbolt in the suddenness of
its appearance and tremendous effects. It was
precipitated, as it were, by his mighty will, upon
the precise position which he wished to shake or
annihilate, and seldom failed, so minute and unfailing
was the mathematical calculation of this
wonderful commander, to produce the entire and
positive result intended. Whether swooping
from the Cal di Tende, as in his earlier Alpine
campaign, or surrounding and defeating three
armies in detail at the first great battle won in
his own person at Monte Nolte, or executing in
after life the terrible encounters of Marengo,
Austerlitz and Borodino, Napoleon, in the
words of one of his biographers, was always
“like lightning in the eyes of his enemies.”
Everything gave way before the tremendous
impetus of his uncompromising will, which, like
necessity itself, seemed to overawe even apparent
impossibilities.

It often happened that while the van of the
French army, after undergoing the fatigues of
an excessively forced march, found itself in
presence of a foe, and was ordered at once to
the engagement, the rear was closely occupied
in storming a fortified place, which it had been
left to carry and dismantle; and just at the moment
when the latter's arduous effort was successful,
and the wearied troops resting a moment
from their fatigues, an order came back from
headquarters, commanding instant and rapid advance
or detour, in order to strike some exposed
position of the enemy's forces, or co-operate
with the centre or van.

The advance of troops under such abrupt orders
was fully displayed in the movement which,
under the commander-in-chief's own direction,
now took place towards the village of Dego.
This village, taken from the Austro-SArdinian
troops on the day previous, had been surprised
during the night by a detached force of the enemy,
who in their turn gained possession of the
town, driving out the French garrison, and cutting
off the valley of the Bormida from communication
with the French passes. Thus the rear
and van of the French army were separated
from the centre, and if time were allowed to the
defenders of the country to effect a junction of
all their forces, the hitherto triumphal march of
the Republic's young general might be unexpectedly
stayed, perhaps turned back upon the
mountains. Consequently the present was a
juncture calling for Napoleon's promptitude and
boldness, and his decisive will speedily diffused
its influence throughout the division, every man
of which soon became imbued with the determined
daring of the commander-in-chief. In
this manner the column of attack rapidly descended
the slopes and rough gorges of the hills,
to precipitate itself upon the entrenchments of
Dego, dashing through the swollen waters of
the Bormida, which horse and infantry where
half compelled to swim rather than wade. The
Austrians awaited with confidence the assault.