Napoleon had massed troops at the point of danger, but had trusted to Berthier the direction of their movements. This officer had bungled matters so badly that the different divisions were widely scattered; and the troops, conscious that something was wrong, were becoming demoralized. Summoned by the signal telegraph, Napoleon made all haste to headquarters. He found the army so ill-posted that he said to Berthier, “If I did not know you to be true to me, I should suspect that you were a traitor.”
The Archduke Charles, commanding the Austrians, had seen his advantage clearly, and was hastening to throw himself between the separate divisions of the French, to beat them in detail. He commenced his campaign well, and it appeared certain that he would crush the corps of Davoust before it could be supported. But the Archduke was almost superstitiously afraid of Napoleon, and no sooner did he learn that the Emperor was now in command of the French than the Austrians seemed paralyzed. Time was given for Masséna and Davoust to support each other, the one having been ordered to fall back while the other moved forward. Calculating to the hour when these two wings could support the centre, the great soldier fell upon his enemy. The risk was great; for should his two lieutenants fail to come up, all would be lost. But Davoust and Masséna were not Grouchys: they came, and the campaign was saved. Never was Napoleon greater in plan and execution than in 1809; not even in the Italian campaign did he work harder. For a week he was almost constantly in the saddle, never having time to undress. But in that week he wrought utter confusion among his enemies, and saved his empire. At Abensberg, at Landshut, at Eckmühl, at Ratisbonne, he struck the Austrians blow after blow, and shattered their army, killing and wounding thirty thousand men, capturing an equal number, and taking vast spoil in guns, ammunition, stores, war material of all sorts. The Archduke drew off his broken army on Bohemia; Napoleon marched upon Vienna, which fell May 12, 1809. The royal family fled to Hungary; the French Emperor, quartered at the palace of Schönbrunn, made preparations to cross the Danube. There were no bridges this time for Lannes and Murat to win by stratagem; the river rolled broad and deep between French and Austrians; bridges would have to be built, and the French put across in face of an army ready to dispute the passage.
Had not victory declared for Napoleon, promptly and emphatically at the opening of the campaign, his ruin would have come in 1809 as it did in 1814. The national spirit was declaring against him in Germany, as it had done in Spain. Prussia was honeycombed with patriotic secret societies, pledged against him; and in anticipation of Austrian success, the young Duke of Brunswick and Colonel Schill had raised the standard of revolt. The decisive victory of the French at Eckmühl alone prevented this abortive effort at a national uprising from being a success. In the Tyrol, also, the people, intensely Catholic and opposed to the reforms Bavaria had introduced, rose against the Napoleonic power, and failed only because the French had been so prompt in scattering the strength of Austria.
In the crisis, Napoleon’s ally, Russia, had shown little zeal. She sent a very small army where she had promised a large one; and a general of their army wrote to the Austrian commander that he hoped they would soon be acting in concert. Napoleon forwarded this letter to Alexander, who contented himself with the recall of the writer. But for the heroic conduct of Poniatowski and the Poles, it seems that the Austrian army would have succeeded in wresting the Grand Duchy of Warsaw from Saxony.
But Napoleon’s triumphs at the opening of the campaign changed the aspect of affairs all around. Austrian armies had to be called in from Warsaw, from Italy, from Bohemia, to concentrate and oppose Napoleon on the Danube.
Choosing a position below Vienna, where the large island of Lobau divides the stream into two unequal channels, the French threw bridges across, and on May 20 commenced passing over, taking possession of the villages of Aspern and Essling, almost without opposition. Next day the Archduke Charles made a furious attack, first on Aspern, then on Essling also. The struggle was very bloody. Only a portion of the French had passed the river; the Austrians outnumbered them heavily; and, realizing this vast advantage, pushed it with splendid energy. Aspern was taken and retaken time after time; and when night put an end to the carnage, the French held only a portion of the smouldering ruins. Next day the battle was renewed, the French army still cut in two by the Danube. The corps of Davoust had not passed, and the Austrians were doing their utmost to break the bridges, which a sudden rise in the river already threatened to carry away.
So strong had been the efforts of the enemy to carry Aspern on their right, that Napoleon guessed they had weakened their centre too much. He therefore massed heavy columns against it, and began to drive it back. At this moment came the dreaded message,—“The bridges are gone!”
He might have pressed on and beaten his foe, but Napoleon thought the risk too great. His columns halted, their fire slackened, and the orders to retire were given. The wondering Austrians took fresh courage, and followed the retiring French with terrible effect. Masséna must hold Aspern, Lannes Essling, until the Emperor could get the army back to the island of Lobau. Aspern was everything; it must be held at all hazards.
“Hold your position! It is a question of saving the army—the bridges are gone!” So ran the despatch, and the grim soldier who held Genoa while Napoleon planned Marengo, now held Aspern while his Emperor prepared for Wagram.
Poor Lannes! Brave, unselfish, plain-spoken, leonine Lannes! Here his long march was to end. The same year that Madame Letitia in Corsica had begun to rock the cradle of Napoleon, the wife of an humble dyer in Gascony had begun to nurse the babe who became the Roland of Bonaparte’s army. He had little education, no influential friends; but when the Revolution began to sound its tocsin and beat its drum, the Gascon lad went forth to the wars. From 1791, when he volunteered as grenadier, he had served without pause and with unsurpassed courage. Augereau made him colonel for bravery in the Pyrenees; and Napoleon made him general for brilliant service in Italy. He followed his chief to Egypt, and was shot through the neck at Acre. On the famous Sunday of Brumaire he aided in Napoleon’s seizure of supreme power, and at Montebello fought the prelude to Marengo. He had loved Caroline Bonaparte, whom Murat won; and had Lannes instead of Murat been the imperial brother-in-law, much disaster might have been averted. Raised in rank, made marshal of the Empire, and Duke of Montebello, he was the same intrepid, ever growing, ever loyal soldier. Great at Austerlitz, great at Jena, great at Friedland, he was greater yet at Saragossa where he overcame a resistance which challenged the wonder of the world.