Political clubs and newspapers multiplied throughout Lombardy; and actors, authors, and editors joined in a paean of courtly or fawning praise, to the new Scipio, Caesar, Hannibal, and Jupiter.
There were other reasons why the Lombards should worship the young victor.

Apart from the admiration which a gifted race ever feels for so fascinating a combination of youthful grace with intellectual power and martial prowess, they believed that this Italian hero would call the people to political activity, perchance even to national independence.

For this their most ardent spirits had sighed, conspired, or fought during the eighty-three years of the Austrian occupation.

Ever since the troublous times of Dante there had been prophetic souls who caught the vision of a new Italy, healed of her countless schisms, purified from her social degradations, and uniting the prowess of her ancient life with the gentler arts of the present for the perfection of her own powers and for the welfare of mankind.
The gleam of this vision had shone forth even amidst the thunder claps of the French Revolution; and now that the storm had burst over the plains of Lombardy, ecstatic youths seemed to see the vision embodied in the person of Bonaparte himself.

At the first news of the success at Lodi the national colours were donned as cockades, or waved defiance from balconies and steeples to the Austrian garrisons.