Marengo

by T E Crowdy

  So the bulletin was written, and with that it appears fatigue finally overcame the First Consul. At 2.00 am, General Dupont entered his quarters to give Bonaparte an account of the positions taken up by the army that night. Here is how he found the man who had just enjoyed the greatest victory of the age:

  ‘He slumbered in an old leather armchair. The fragments of the most modest of meals was placed next to him, on an unrefined table, and it is in this poor cubbyhole that he enjoyed the charms of the most important, most surprising, most compete victory by its results, and which, in the morning of the same day, he would have found hard to believe.’21

  Chapter 16

  The Convention of Alessandria

  What must Melas have felt watching the debris of his army fleeing back across the Bormida? What must he have felt when told of Zach’s capture? Surprise? Anger? A sense of relief? Whatever rest Melas managed to snatch that night could not have been much comfort to the man, already badly bruised by the falls from his horse in the battle. His army was in a state of chaos and somehow, inexplicably, they had thrown away one of the greatest victories ever won by a Habsburg army. He was furious at Zach in particular.1 The chief of staff was cursed and referred to in ‘words of abuse’. Several senior officers, Radetzky prime among them, went so far as to accuse Zach of deliberately allowing himself to be captured when things turned in favour of the French.2 Neipperg dismissed this, concluding Zach had been captured because he was poorly mounted on a bad horse.3

  Regardless of this, everyone agreed Zach was liable for the defeat and for not properly communicating his plans to his subordinates on the general staff, in particular his deputy, de Best. Radetzky severely reproached Zach’s handling of the campaign, blaming the politician ‘Thugut and his cherished Zach’ for the disaster.4 Rather than wasting time in Turin, Radetzky complained, Zach should have attacked the French before they broke out from the Alps. Ott could have advanced up from Genoa via Casale and joined forces, and Bonaparte’s army would have been blockaded in the mountains unable to gain provisions. This strategic failure was the result, he believed, of a ‘brave and respectable army’ being placed in the hands of a man whose only talents were a ‘profound scholastic erudition and a ridiculous pedantry’; one who was, moreover, ‘scheming, mean, rampant and who has no other resources in himself at the most critical moment other than the blackest and the most hideous deceit’.

  Most agreed they should never have attempted to fight the battle at all. The senior officers had wanted to cross the Po at Casale, but had been overruled on Zach’s advice. This had been a critical mistake. Even if they had driven Bonaparte beyond the Scrivia the night before, they would still have to fight the French in the defiles of Casteggio and Stradella. If they managed this, they would have to fight their way across the Po at Piacenza. All the while, the French would be falling back on their line of march, picking up reinforcements along the way.

  Having determined to give battle, why had Zach squandered so many troops on ‘false marches’? Not privy to Zach’s labyrinthine deception strategy, his subordinates queried, if the object was to gain the Scrivia, why had Ott been directed to march on Sale? Why had O’Reilly been detached to the south-east? Why were battalions detached to Casale? Why hadn’t the army been concentrated? Why had Hohenzollern been left at Genoa? Why hadn’t the garrisons of the smaller fortresses been summoned? In total, 25,000 men had sat idle on their hands while the fate of the war was played out. Imagine the result if Hohenzollern had arrived late in the day, not Desaix.

  As for the battle itself, they could not believe Zach did not know about the difficult ground in front of Marengo and the Fontanone ditch. Neipperg complained that plans of the countryside had been drawn up and that the army had manoeuvred over this ground almost continually for a year. It was ‘impossible’ for Zach not to realize that bridging equipment would be required to cross the Fonantone, but this same equipment was stuck with the army’s baggage in the rear. The delay in bringing this equipment forward had been fatal.

  The decision to ‘sacrifice’ the Kaiser and Karaczay dragoons in the Fontanone early on in the battle was also criticized. Neipperg believed the cavalry never recovered from being attacked by Kellermann as it attempted to reform on the other side of the ditch. If the cavalry had been kept fresh until the army advanced onto the plain, perhaps things would have been different? The decision to detach Nimptsch with fourteen squadrons to Cantalupo on the Acqui‑Alessandria road to observe Suchet and Massena was also criticized. This elite cavalry was in very good condition. Its appearance on the field in the afternoon could have been decisive. Other than Zach, most blame was laid at the door of the cavalry. Firstly, Radetzky wondered, why hadn’t the cavalry simply charged Marmont’s battery from the flank? Why had these same troopers then turned and fled the field, causing panic everywhere their mad stampede took them?

  As the casualty reports came in, everyone began to realize the scale of the defeat the day before. As Radetzky put it: ‘After two campaigns of fatigue, pain, and suffering; having sacrificed brave men, we found ourselves almost without the means to defend our Hereditary Lands.’ The casualty returns were frightful by any measure of the imagination. Hadik was dying. Lattermann, Vogelsang, Bellegarde, de Brie, Lamarseille and Gottesheim had been wounded and were in no state to serve. Zach was in enemy hands. In addition, twenty-six senior and 300 subaltern officers had been killed, wounded or captured. The army had lost 9,069 men and 1,493 horses:5

  In terms of materiel, they had left a dozen cannon on the battlefield and one howitzer. More were in the Bormida, stuck in the mud. In the camping area in front of the bridgehead, the army was in a state of ‘indescribable confusion’. Stutterheim compared the army to a ‘Tartar’ camp, with thousands of men flung out on the ground where they fell; and he complained about the panic caused by false alarms from random musket shots and shouts through the night.

  At first light on Sunday 15 June, Melas held a council of war with Field Marshal Lieutenants Kaim, Ott and Schellenberg. As the senior staff officer, de Best stood in for Zach. Radetzky was also present, along with the other senior aides. As usual Melas said very little, but left the talking to Radetzky and de Best. In their discussions, four realistic options emerged. The first was to make a second attack on Bonaparte. However, with losses of over 9,000 men and so many battalions without officers, with the French again in possession of the ‘Marengo ditch’ and the route to Mantua barred by French troops at Piacenza, this option was quickly discounted. The next option was the escape route via Valenza or Casale, over the Po and beyond Milan; or thirdly, they could make a run for Genoa. The fourth option was different altogether. The three options thus far discussed all raised the risk of the army being totally destroyed. Despite the mauling it had suffered on 14 June, it was still a considerable army. Would it not be better to negotiate with Bonaparte and to return this army and its equipment and baggage to the Hereditary Lands?

  The last three options were hotly debated. The option of crossing the Po at Casale or Valenza had been the preferred course of many to fighting the battle. However, it is believed the odds of them reaching safety with their artillery and baggage intact were now as low as 10:1. Marching on Genoa had been suggested by Major Nugent, and the scheme certainly had its merits. Melas would reunite with Hohenzollern troops and be able to receive supplies and reinforcements from Lord Keith’s ships. However, to keep ahead of the French, it would mean abandoning the baggage and artillery. Deliberating on this, FML Ott said: ‘As for the baggage, I do not care much about it. I will gladly sacrifice what I have to the good of the state.’

  Kaim responded with an angry outburst which silenced Ott: ‘Yes, and what do you have with you? A little victuals wagon with a pair of old nags? If I had nothing else with me, the French could take everything at the manger; but I’ve got my whole fortune with me, and that’s not so easily shaken out of the sleeve.’6

  At one point de Best raised a completely different idea, as suggested t
o him by Neipperg: an invasion of France through the Mont Cenis Pass. By Neipperg’s own admission, this was an imprudent idea and Neipperg later confessed that ‘through a combination of circumstances’ he had ‘lost his head’ at this moment. However:

  ‘Absurd as my reasoning was, I believed that if we should absolutely pass through a dishonourable capitulation, it would certainly have been more honourable to conclude it at the gates of Lyons than at Alessandria. Perhaps our rapid movements towards the frontiers of France would have given a completely different turn to our affairs.’7

  Melas listened to de Best and then jumped out of his chair with uncharacteristic energy, asking why he had not put such a madman under arrest?8

  Of all the options available, a negotiated settlement appeared the most prudent. If the army was destroyed in a new attack, it would leave Austria exposed. No troops could be spared from the German front, so Vienna would be open to a French advance through Italy, as had occurred in 1797. The greatest responsibility was to protect the Hereditary Lands, and the safest means of returning the army intact was through negotiation. Melas had done the honourable thing in fighting on 14 June, but now the situation called for a different approach. However, at first no one really wanted to admit this, and so the council reached an impasse. A compromise was required, and this came in the suggestion that ‘time gained was everything gained’. It was agreed they would ask Bonaparte for a forty-eight-hour ceasefire in which to bury the dead. During the ceasefire, Melas could consider his options more deeply and see what events arose. Neipperg spoke excellent French, so was sent to parley with French forward posts and to arrange for emissaries to be sent to the First Consul. Meanwhile, the commander of the citadel of Alessandria, General Major Skal, was chosen as the negotiator, accompanied by Major Torres. The pair were jokingly referred to as ‘Thugut’s Benjamins’ by de Best – the name Benjamin meaning ‘right-hand son’ in Hebrew.

  On the way to the bridgehead, this group passed the French émigré Crossard. Having spent the night in a house caring for the wounded Vogelsang, Crossard had gone outside to observe a spate of firing between the rival forward posts. Seeing Torres, Crossard asked if there was any news. ‘Leave me,’ Torres replied impatiently. ‘The commander-in-chief has sent me to Bonaparte’s headquarters to make some proposals.’ Crossard ran back inside the house to tell Vogelsang that Melas was attempting to negotiate with the French.

  A short while later, the Austrian party came in view of the French pickets. There was some firing, but Neipperg ordered the Austrian outposts to cease fire and rode forward under a flag of truce. General Gardanne was summoned, and Neipperg explained how Melas wished to send two officers to recommend a forty-eight-hour armistice. Gardanne was initially sceptical, but Neipperg said his opinion changed when he saw the look of resignation on the faces of Skal and Torres. Gardanne foresaw the Austrians had come not to dictate terms, ‘but to receive them’. He consented and had the emissaries escorted to Bonaparte’s headquarters, in the meantime agreeing a ceasefire would remain in place until the emissaries returned.

  As the two Austrians rode towards Torre Garofoli, the French army was reforming and preparing for further fighting. Boudet had the 30th Line take a position on the reverse of the Fontanone to enfilade the main road. More troops were sent up towards Castelceriolo, where part of Ott’s column was still roaming around. The sight of Austrian officers coming to negotiate raised everyone’s morale because it indicated there would be an end to the fighting. In Boudet’s division, the soldiers made use of the temporary truce to replenish their ammunition from discarded Austrian cartridge pouches. New flints were found and handed round. Meat and bread were also distributed so the men could make soup, and a ration of brandy was issued as well. There was a major problem with regard to the hundreds of corpses, as Adjutant-General Dalton records:

  ‘The division finds itself camped on the battlefield, and among the dead: it has neither pickaxes nor shovels to be able to bury them. Soon the place will no longer be bearable. The air already smells of mephitis.’

  Horse Grenadier Petit woke up to an empty stomach. He led his horse to the great farm complex at Torre Garofoli to see if anyone there had anything to eat. As he entered into the courtyard he was met with a terrible sight: thousands upon thousands of men were packed into every space available while they waited to go under the surgeon’s knives and saws. Austrian and French soldiers lay compacted together, uttering a near constant moan; those undergoing the butchery that passed for surgery cursed their tormentors with every oath imaginable. Petit began to recognize the faces of some of his comrades among those imploring him for food and water. He soon forgot his own wants and spent the next few hours fulfilling the role of medical orderly. All the time more and more wounded were brought in, along with prisoners that had been taken in the night. A major battle like Marengo was far beyond the resources of the medical services of the era.

  Coignet also visited Torre Garrofoli. Before joining the army he had sold horses to the Guard, and he wanted to visit them. His reflections echo those of Petit:

  ‘Passing through the courtyard, a heart-rending spectacle was offered to us. The wounded of the Guard were there stretched out on the straw, and amputations were made. Everywhere shouts! I left with a sorry heart. In the plain, it was still worse. We saw the battlefield covered with soldiers, Austrians and French, who picked up the dead, dragged them along with the straps of their muskets and piled them. Soldiers and horses were all put together in the same heap, and burned to protect us from the plague. As for the corpses too far from the others, we contented ourselves with throwing a little earth on them.’

  Many of the generals began writing their battle reports that morning. Rivaud’s brigade had suffered enormous losses defending Marengo in the morning battle:

  ‘The battalions of the 43rd and the 3rd [Battalion] of the 96th, which have acted before my eyes, have conducted themselves very well in this affair. The four battalion commanders were wounded, 45 other officers and 700 non-commissioned officers and soldiers were killed or injured. When I have received the details of what has happened during the rest of the day, I will give a more detailed report, in which I shall make known the names of the braves who have particularly distinguished themselves and who deserve promotion.’9

  He later added a postscript to this report which confirmed the six battalions of his brigade had lost eighty-two officers killed or wounded and 1,900 non-commissioned officers and soldiers – a casualty rate of over 50 per cent. Watrin also counted his losses:

  ‘The division, according to the reports of the commanding officers, had 13 officers killed, 83 wounded and nearly 2,000 men killed, wounded or taken. It suffered a lot from enemy fire.’

  Watrin’s thoughts were clouded while writing this report, because he had learned his brother, Lucien, had been killed in the battle while charging at the head of the 22nd Line.

  Victor put his total losses at ‘more than 3,000’. Among these were around sixty officers, many of whom had been killed. Lannes put his total loses at ‘around 1,800 men wounded or taken by the enemy; but the number of prisoners is very small. 14 officers were killed and 83 wounded; around 300 non-commissioned officers and soldiers were killed.’ Among the senior officers wounded can be found generals Malher, Mainoni and Citizen Valhubert, chief of brigade of the 28th. Monnier reported up to 800 men missing at roll call, although more were still coming back in from the battlefield all the time. Boudet was silent on his losses; but they were significant. Lauriston estimated the losses at 600‑700 killed, 2,000 wounded and 1,500 prisoners (Berthier’s 1805 account later admitted 1,100 killed, 3,600 wounded and 900 prisoners).

  As the cost of battle was counted, some were concerned that their conduct would be called into question. Brigadier General Duvignau would be castigated by Murat for missing the battle ‘under the pretext of illness’. Chief of Brigade de France of the 12th Chasseurs was concerned he too would come under scrutiny – after all, his regiment had been s
urprised by Austrian horsemen while the officers were taking a nap after lunch. Called to report to the First Consul, he was naturally concerned, as described in the memoirs of Aubry:

  ‘Our regiment had suffered greatly at Marengo; it had been detached on the left wing, and had to deal with a numerous cavalry. Therefore, in spite of its good countenance, it had lost many prisoners. Our colonel, obliged the next day to appear before the First Consul, thought he was done for, and feared a severe remonstrance. What was his surprise when Bonaparte, on the contrary, gave him a magnificent reception, complimented him, congratulated him on the services rendered by his regiment, bravely heading against superior forces, and maintaining by his fine conduct a cavalry which could have changed the luck of the battle!’10

  Clearly Bonaparte was in a generous mood, but as ever there was some truth in the praise. Duvignau’s brigade had unwittingly tied up a massive force of Austrian cavalry and kept them busy enough not to take part in the battle. Bonaparte also met with Zach at Torre Garofoli and had a long interview. Zach was well treated, but was held in a room and prevented from looking out of the window by a guard. Stutterheim claimed the French had in fact spent the night preparing to retreat beyond the Scrivia, and this is what Zach was prevented from seeing, but this seems unlikely. If anything, the carts seen heading eastwards by the Tortona garrison were carrying French wounded. Speaking of being attacked, Bonaparte allegedly told Zach: ‘I did not expect this. In truth it was amazing, especially after losing Marengo the day before.’11 This remark at least must have assured Zach he had not been openly betrayed by the spy, Gioelli.