of November, 1796, and the
middle of January, 1797, there was a marked change in Bonaparte's
character and conduct. After Arcola he appeared as a man very
different from the novice he had been before Montenotte. Twice his
fortunes had hung by a single hair, having been rescued by the
desperate bravery of Rampon and his soldiers at Monte Legino, and
again by Augereau's daring at Lonato; twice he had barely escaped
being a prisoner, once at Valeggio, once at Lonato; twice his life had
been spared in the heat of battle as if by a miracle, once at Lodi,
once again at Arcola. These facts had apparently left a deep
impression on his mind, for they were turned to the best account in
making good a new step in social advancement. So far he had been as
adventurous as the greatest daredevil among the subalterns, staking
his life in every new venture; hereafter he seemed to appreciate his
own value, and to calculate not only the imperiling of his life, but
the intimacy of his conversation, with nice adaptation to some great
result. Gradually and informally a kind of body-guard was organized,
which, as the idea grew familiar, was skilfully developed into a
picked corps, the best officers and finest soldiers being made to feel
honored in its membership. The constant attendance of such men
necessarily secluded the general-in-chief from those colleagues who
had hitherto been familiar comrades. Something in the nature of formal
etiquette once established, it was easy to extend its rules and
confirm them. The generals were thus separated further and further
from their superior, and before the new year they had insensibly
adopted habits of address which displayed a high outward respect, and
virtually terminated all comradeship with one who had so recently been
merely the first among equals. Bonaparte's innate tendency to command
was under such circumstances hardened into a habit of imperious
dictation. In view of what had been accomplished, it would have been
impossible, even for the most stubborn democrat, to check the process.
Not one of Bonaparte's principles had failed to secure triumphant
vindication.

In later years Napoleon himself believed, and subsequent criticism has
confirmed his opinion, that the Italian campaign, taken as a whole,
was his greatest. The revolution of any public system, social,
political, or military, is always a gigantic task. It was nothing less
than this which Bonaparte had wrought, not in one, but in all