Marengo

by T E Crowdy

  Neipperg’s description of the attack indicates the Austrians believed Desaix was nothing more than a rearguard come to protect the withdrawal of the French army. However, when faced with the attack, Neipperg said the Austrians were gripped by ‘indecision, a stupefaction, I may even say a general panic’. He described Kellermann’s charge as ‘more imprudent than bold’, but agreed this threw the infantry into disorder and caused the cavalry to flee at full gallop. Indeed, if the appearance of the Ninth had caused hesitation, the arrival of Guénand’s formidable brigade in the centre must have startled the Austrians. When Kellermann’s heavies fell upon the Austrians, it was the last of a series of consecutive blows.

  As previously stated, at the point that Boudet’s division unmasked itself, the 9th Liechtenstein Dragoon Regiment (approximately 1,000 sabres strong) deployed from the main road onto the fields to the left of Saint-Julien and Lattermann. Almost every Austrian account blames this cavalry for failing in the face of the French counter-attack. Radetzky wrote of his frustration that the Austrian cavalry had remained motionless during the preliminary fighting and Marmont’s bombardment:

  MAP 16: Kellermann’s charge – Approx. 5.30 pm

  (French) 1 – Desaix with 9th Light Infantry; 2 – Kellermann’s brigade (with Champeaux’s dragoons); 3 – Guénand’s brigade; 4 – 72nd Line (Monnier); 5 – Victor’s corps (rallying); 6 – Horse Guard; 7 – Lannes’ Corps; 8 – Monnier’s division; 9 – Foot Guard; 10 – Rivaud.

  (Austrians) A – IR 47 Franz Kinsky; B – Lattermann’s grenadiers; C – IR 11 Wallis (St-Julien); D – Weidenfeld’s grenadiers; E – 9th Liechtenstein Dragoons; F – Kaim (retreating); G – Ott’s corps.

  ‘None of the cavalry generals had the audacity to turn and to take this battery. During this stagnation the enemy made a cavalry charge on ours and, will you believe it? This renowned cavalry, the mainstay of the monarchy, shamefully fled and carried along our brave infantry while throwing disorder and terror everywhere. Several infantry generals offered to put themselves at the head of the cavalry, but everything was in vain; this misfortune caused us the absolute loss of the battle.’

  Zach’s account, as relayed by Faverges, also expresses frustration at the lack of support from the cavalry. Typically for Zach, his rather academic analysis identifies a systemic failing in the training of Austrian cavalry, blaming the timidity of the horses rather than any tactical faults. Faverges writes:

  ‘Zach ran up to the head of the Liechtenstein Dragoons; the dragoons turned their bridles. Zach led them back once, twice; he wanted to be killed. “We had,” he told me, still under the impression of this terrible moment, “we had on the battlefield the result of the instruction which we give to the men and to the horses in peacetime. All the bravery of the riders will frankly not make the horses approach in war an infantry which they have been trained to be afraid of and to avoid in the training camps. The battle of Marengo was lost because we had taught too much contradance to the horses.” That is what Zach told me.’

  Stutterheim’s account also follows a similar narrative:

  ‘The commanders of each dragoon regiment were unable to deploy their troops and come to the aid of the infantry in distress. Still in the process of deploying, they were overturned by Kellermann’s far weaker force and put to flight. General Zach is sure that as soon as they saw the French cavalry, which moreover initially stopped short and certainly did not appear to want to attack ours, who were superior to them, the 9th Liechtenstein Light Dragoons immediately turned about and carried away the other regiment with them. It was later disbanded.’

  Certainly we see the 9th Liechtenstein Dragoons singled out for particular criticism. What does not quite add up is the number of accounts of Austrian cavalry attacks on Boudet’s troops, in particular the 9th Light. Boudet’s account has the following to say about the Austrian cavalry:

  ‘This corps of grenadiers was supported by a very strong cavalry which extended beyond the wings of my first brigade; their resistance was very stubborn; but the valour of the 9th Light rendered it null, and a fortunate charge by our cavalry crowned this attack … On several occasions, the enemy cavalry attempted to turn and to surround the 9th Light; but it was received so as to be discouraged.’

  Dubois’ 1839 history of the 9th Light states the third battalion of this half-brigade was forced to form square at one point. We also find among this unit’s bravery citations a number of situations where the light infantrymen fought against cavalry. For example:

  ‘JACQUES, sergeant. Being at the head of the skirmishers, and having been charged by the enemy’s cavalry, whose object was to fall upon the battalion, he dismounted several cavaliers, and contained the rest.

  ‘MACQUART, sergeant. At the head of a picket of six men, he showed great firmness, resisting successfully a charge of twelve enemy cavalry.

  ‘BENOIST, sergeant. Detached as a skirmisher, and charged by two Austrian cavaliers, he dismounted one, and made the other prisoner.

  ‘MAHUT, corporal of grenadiers. Seeing an officer of dragoons on the point of falling into enemy hands, he killed one of the Austrians, put the others to flight, and received a gunshot when he seized the horse of the cavalier whom he had killed.

  ‘CAMUS, carabinier. Dismounted two horsemen whom he took prisoners.

  ‘SALLIOR, carabinier. Detached as a skirmisher and charged by two Austrian cavalrymen, he killed one and dismounted the other.

  ‘VINOT, chasseur. He detached as a skirmisher, and, assailed by two Austrian cavaliers and a Hungarian grenadier, dismounted one of the cavaliers, forced the other to retire, and with a bayonet thrust put the grenadier out of action.

  ‘LAMBERT, chasseur. Detached as a skirmisher, and charged by two Austrian cavalrymen, he killed one and dismounted the other.

  ‘PIESSEVAUX, chasseur. Detached as a skirmisher, and attacked by two Hungarian horsemen, he put one out of action, and forced the other to retire. Charged almost at the same moment by six Austrian cavalrymen, who gave him several sabre cuts and left him for dead, he arose, as soon as they had abandoned him, ran to the grenadier whom he had put to flight, struck him, and brought him back as a prisoner.’

  These citations for ‘muskets of honour’ indicate Austrian cavalry was active quite early in the attack, while the Ninth had its skirmishers deployed to slow the advance of the Austrian column. It is unlikely these troopers belonged to the 9th Liechtenstein Dragoons, but from other units which had followed the main column on the road, for example those of Pelatti’s brigade.

  In the wake of Kellermann’s charge, Zach and Saint-Julien were both captured. In the latter case, Saint-Julien was lucky. In the confused aftermath of the charge, he was rescued by 22–year-old Corporal Atmann of the 4th Karacsay Dragoons, who rode among the crowd of French infantry and scooped him up to take him back to safety, for which he was later rewarded with the Gold Bravery medal. Zach was not so lucky. Radetzky elaborates on the circumstances of the chief of staff ’s capture:

  [A]bout 3‑400 horse chasseurs [sic] jumped out from their rearguard, which had just arrived and the grenadiers, previously positioned in the middle, but now marching at the front in four battalions, fell into such a panic at the sight of them, that they threw away their guns and fled in disorder. The two light dragoon regiments [9th Liechtenstein and 3rd Erzherzog Johann Light Dragoons], seized by the same panic, likewise fled and so the panic spread, until everyone was running. Zach, I and some staff officers were located in front of a ditch filled with water to the side the road. Zach remained frozen to the spot, but I and the officers jumped over the ditch, followed by some shots from the pursuing horse chasseurs, but Zach was captured.’26

  Having so loudly boasted about his success, Zach ultimately failed in both his predictions; namely to carry San Giuliano with a bayonet charge or to be killed in the battle in the event of a defeat. With his capture, Zach must have had a terrible feeling that his enemies in headquarters would now blame him for the catastrophe unfolding around him
. In fact some would even claim he deliberately allowed himself to be captured. Led away towards Torre Garofoli, there was nothing more he could do.

  One question about Desaix’s counter-attack remains. Kellermann expressly said the 9th Light were in retreat when he charged; Marmont also says he saw men to the left of the road running before the grenadiers. What did they see? The logical answer is quite simple. Ahead of the 9th Light were several hundred of its skirmishers. Seeing themselves about to be overtaken by the grenadiers on one side, and their comrades on the other, the skirmishers must have run to clear the front of the unit. Some would have run through the intervals of the battalions, but some must have run near the road in the direction of the guns of the Consular Guard. Were these the disordered men Marmont saw?

  In 1828, Kellermann claimed the 9th Light Infantry was unable to withstand the shock of the grenadiers. He wrote of the half-brigade: ‘It stops, staggers, retires hastily, and draws the line with it.’ This accusation met from an angry response by Savary:

  ‘Took to flight! This is the first time I read such an assertion. Undoubtedly I have no right to give it a positive denial, since it is vouched by General Kellermann, and I was engaged in conveying to him the First Consul’s orders at the moment when the flight is alleged to have occurred. But from the point where he was stationed with his troop, neither of us could discover Desaix’s division. He therefore makes so grave an assertion upon nothing more than hearsay. I may then be allowed to doubt its accuracy.

  ‘The first line of General Desaix consisted of the 9th Light Regiment, one of the most formidable in the army, which was commanded by Colonel La Bassée, who is still alive. This regiment, and its chief, were wont to affix their names to every field of battle upon which they had to contend. They were never known to hesitate at the sight of danger; and I can attest that, as I was proceeding after Kellermann’s charge, to overtake the division which was debouching, upon the left of San Giuliano, I beheld at the head of the column the 9th Light Regiment, which certainly bore no resemblance to a regiment just broken in.

  ‘This accusation is rendered still more improbable by another circumstance. The First Consul was fully aware of all the occurrences of the day. The reports could not have left him in ignorance of those acts of weakness or of courage which had marked the vicissitudes of the battle. Nevertheless, he congratulated the 9th Light Regiment upon its conduct, and assigned to it the title of the incomparable regiment. Now, it is a fact of general notoriety that, however well disposed to distribute praises, he was never lavish of them.’27

  As will be seen, at the end of the battle, Berthier declared the performance of the Ninth to be ‘incomparable’. Boudet was equally full of praise, saying:

  ‘It is absolutely to the bearing and to acts of valour of this corps that such marked advantages were achieved on the left and above all the capture of the artillery and prisoners. The cavalry has equally contributed with much timeliness and courage.’

  The cost of this success was extremely high. Accurate casualty returns for the French are notoriously difficult to find, but the 1839 history of the Ninth records one-third of its number were killed or wounded in the fighting – between 600‑700 men. This is comparable with half-brigades which had been engaged since the morning.

  A final word here on Desaix, whose body now lay among the dead light infantrymen. Having relayed Desaix’s request to Kellermann, Savary returned to the Ninth. When he arrived, the Ninth’s commander, Chief of Brigade Mathieu Labassée, told him Desaix was dead. Savary was distraught and went looking for the body of his mentor so it would not be condemned to an unmarked mass grave. The ground was littered with the dead, and, as was the custom at the time, the dead were immediately stripped. Immediately after being killed, a sergeant of the Ninth took Desaix’s coat. He first asked Adjutant-Major Pierre Barrois if he could keep it; after all, he said, Desaix had no further use for the garment.28 The body was then stripped, except for the shirt, which was bloodstained and fouled by gore. Savary eventually found Desaix’s body ‘not two hundred yards’ from where he had last spoken with him.29 He recognized Desaix’s corpse because of his long, loosely tied hair and the battle scars on his tanned face. He tried to mop up the blood with his handkerchief, but there was too much. Savary then thought to remove Desaix’s heart so it might be embalmed and returned to his family, but the organ had been destroyed by the fateful ball, which had exited through his right shoulder blade. Savary instead attempted to cut a lock of the general’s hair, but this became soiled by the blood on Savary’s handkerchief. The body was wrapped in a horse blanket and led away to the rear by a young hussar. News of Desaix’s death soon reached the ears of the First Consul. He was left numb by the shock. With the battle still raging, and victory by no means certain, Bonaparte did not have time to mourn. He simply said: ‘Why am I not allowed to weep?’

  Chapter 15

  Victory

  Melas had taken his time to leave the battlefield, speaking to wounded men who had been collected around Marengo to have their wounds dressed before being evacuated by cart to Alessandria. Eventually the commander-in-chief rode off to his quarters and a well-earned rest. Cavour, a curious Piedmontese observer of the battle, was near to him at the time and noticed the early evening sky began clouding over, making it seem prematurely dark. He was surprised when they saw several carts full of French prisoners rather than Austrian wounded. Exhausted, they had pleaded to be transported and the drivers had consented. One never can tell how much truth there is in these things, but Petit claimed the church bells of Alessandria were rung in celebration of the Austrian victory and that the priests of that city ‘manifested a baseness and cruelty’ to the French prisoners, and even ‘exhibited poniards’ to threaten them.

  Around this time, Adjutant-General Dampierre was finally captured at Cascina Bianca. Two-thirds of his men were casualties and they were out of ammunition. When they had stopped firing, a prince serving in the Nauendorf Hussars rode up to the Frenchmen and invited them to surrender, promising the officers they could keep their swords. Dampierre consented, but had no sooner done so than a mob of hussars descended on him, took his sabre and pulled off an epaulette ‘like thieves’. The Austrian officer hit his men with the flat of his sword and drove them off, but the articles were not recovered. Dampierre and his men were marched off towards Alessandria. In his absence, French troops would later pillage his baggage.

  Meanwhile, the wounded General Soult had been lying in his bed quite cheerfully, hoping victory would go to his compatriots. An old Austrian surgeon-major walked into his room to check on him.

  ‘Well doctor, how is the affair going?’ inquired Soult.

  ‘Ah general, what a battle! We do not know where to put our wounded; we have more than 5,000 up until now and, although the battle has finished, at this moment they are still arriving by hundreds. Our brave General Hadik is in that number, several other generals and a quantity of officers. Your loss is also very considerable.’

  ‘But to which side goes the victory?’

  ‘To ours, General, and that is the only consolation for the price it has cost us.’ Soult was unconvinced: ‘Are you sure, Doctor?’

  ‘Without a doubt, General Melas is coming back and did you hear his staff just pass by in the street?’

  Soult realized he had just heard the sound of horses going by, so perhaps the doctor was telling the truth. All the time, though, he could hear a number of guns in the distance. The doctor had claimed that the battle was over, so Soult quizzed him on this.

  ‘It can only be the French rearguard that General Zach is pursuing.’

  Soult listened again; the sound seemed to be coming closer:

  ‘If there is a rearguard engaged, it would seem to be yours?’

  This time the doctor listened more carefully. It was true; the guns were coming nearer. A look of concern came over the doctor’s face; he left the room hurriedly.

  In the wake of Desaix’s attack, prisoners were rounded up
and led to the rear by the cavalry. Soldiers laid claim to the guns they had seized in the hope of reward. Ranks were redressed and the French began the pursuit of the fleeing Austrians. Rallying behind Desaix’s troops were the soldiers of Victor and Lannes. Suddenly aware of the reversal of fortune in the battle, there appears to have been a sense of eagerness to regain the initiative. Anyone who witnessed the French army at 4.00 pm would have scarcely believed this was the same body of men two hours later. Petit describes the moment the order for a general advance was given:

  ‘What was now to happen had been foreseen – was calculated upon; the battalions burnt with impatience; the drummer’s eye fixed upon the drum-major’s cane, waits for the signal; the trumpeter, with his arm raised up prepared his breath. The signal is given: the terrible pas de charge is heard. All the corps are put in motion at once; the mettlesome fire of the French, like a torrent, carries everything away with it that opposes its passage.’

  Coignet summed the moment up nicely in his usual colourful manner: ‘The charge rang out everywhere. Each of us turned round and ran forward. We did not shout any more, we roared!’

  The aide de camp Lejeune had returned to Berthier’s side after delivering his message to Desaix. With the Austrians in full flight, he witnessed many harrowing scenes about him. Amid all the horror, his attention was drawn to one particularly poor wretch of an Austrian officer who was writhing in agony on the floor. Lejeune went over to this man and dismounted, looking to see if he could offer any assistance. The Austrian officer had been shot through the lower torso by a cannonball, but had not been killed outright. The officer begged Lejeune to kill him and finish the job. Lejeune could not bring himself to do this in cold blood. He did, however, offer the man his pistol to perform the terrible deed. The man sat forwards and put the pistol in his mouth. Lejeune turned his head and shielded his face with his hand as the Austrian pulled the trigger and blew his brains out. Happier moments were to come though. Young Georges Amptil, a conscript from the 30th Line, came running towards the commanding general’s entourage. He was holding aloft the flag that he had captured and wanted to present it to Berthier. Lejeune led the conscript forwards and introduced him to Berthier. It was a symbol of the triumphs being made all over the field by Republican troops.1 Up until this point, Bonaparte had viewed the proceedings with great anxiety. However, as the advance began the nearby band of the 6th Light Infantry struck up an impromptu performance which the band master aptly named ‘An Air to Victory’.2