Napoleon: A Sketch of His Life, Character, Struggles, and Achievements

by Thomas E. Watson

When Napoleon arrived, between midnight and day, he looked down from the heights, and there below, peacefully snoring and bathed in moonlight, were the confident Austrians—five divisions strong. Leaving them to slumber, he spent the balance of the wintry night getting ready for the battle that would come with the day. As morning broke, the Austrians attacked the French right at St. Mark, and the contest soon raged along the whole line as far as Caprino, where the French left was driven. Berthier and Masséna restored order, and repulsed every charge. Strongly posted on the heights, the French had all the advantage. Alvinczy found it impossible to use his cavalry or artillery with effect, and many of his troops could not be brought into action. In relative position, Napoleon held the place of Meade at Gettysburg, and Alvinczy that of Lee. Perhaps Napoleon was even better intrenched than Meade, and Alvinczy less able to bring his forces up the heights than Lee. The result was what it was almost bound to be—the Austrians were routed with terrible loss, and fled in disorder. So great was the panic that a young French officer, René, in command of fifty men at a village on Lake Garda, successfully “bluffed” and captured a retreating body of fifteen hundred Austrians. Joubert and Murat pursued vigorously, and in two days they took thirteen thousand prisoners. It was not till the battle of Rivoli had raged for three hours that Alvinczy realized that he was attempting the foolhardy feat of storming the main French army, posted by Napoleon himself, in almost impregnable positions.

Leaving Joubert and Murat to follow up the victory, Napoleon went at full speed to head off Provera. That gallant officer had fought his way against Augereau and Guieu, and had reached the suburb of St. George, before Mantua, with six thousand men. He had lost the remainder on the way—some twelve thousand. Throughout the day of January 15, 1797, he was held in check by Sérurier. Next morning the battle was renewed; but Napoleon had arrived. Provera attacked the French in front; Wurmser in the rear. Sérurier threw Wurmser back into Mantua; and Victor, who had come with Napoleon, vanquished Provera so completely that he laid down his arms. This action is known as that of La Favorita (the name of a country-seat of the Dukes of Mantua near by), and threw into the hands of the French six thousand prisoners, including the Vienna volunteers and many cannon. One of the trophies was the banner embroidered by the Empress of Austria.

A few days later Mantua capitulated, and the last stronghold of the Austrians in Italy was in the hands of the French.

Critics who understand all the mysteries of Napoleon’s character say that there was not a trace of chivalry or generosity in him. Yet at Mantua he, a young soldier, would not stay to gloat over the humiliation of the veteran Wurmser. He praised that old man by word and by letter, he granted him liberal terms, and he left the older Sérurier to receive Wurmser’s sword. Was not this delicate, even chivalrous to Wurmser? Was it not even more generous to Sérurier? Mr. Lanfrey hints “No”; but Wurmser thought “Yes,” for he warmly expressed his admiration for Napoleon; and out of gratitude warned him, while he was at Bologna, of a plot the papal party had made to poison him—a warning which probably saved his life.

The Pope, believing that Napoleon could not possibly escape final defeat at the hands of Austria, had broken their friendly compact. A crusade had been preached against the French, sacred processions paraded, and miracles worked. The bones of martyrs bled, images of the Virgin wept. Heaven was outspoken on the side of Rome beyond all doubt. Aroused by these means, the peasants flocked to the standard of the Pope; and an army, formidable in numbers, had been raised.

Leaving Sérurier to receive the capitulation of Mantua, Napoleon hastened to Bologna, and organized a force of French, Italians, and Poles to operate against the papal troops. Despatching the greater part of his little army to Ancona, he advanced with about three thousand men into the States of the Church. Cardinal Busca with an army of mercenaries, fanatical peasants, and miscellaneous Italian recruits was intrenched on the banks of the Senio to dispute its passage. The French came marching up in the afternoon of a pleasant spring day; and the Cardinal, with a solicitude which did honor to his conscience, sent a messenger, under flag of truce, to notify Napoleon that if he continued to advance, he would be fired upon. Greeting this as the joke of the campaign, the French became hilarious; but Napoleon gravely returned a polite answer to the Cardinal, informing him that as the French had been marching all day, were tired, and did not wish to be shot at, they would stop. Accordingly, camp was struck for the night. Before morning, Lannes had taken the cavalry, crossed the river above, and got in the Cardinal’s rear. Day broke, and there was some fighting. In a short while the Cardinal fled, and the greater part of his motley army were prisoners. Advancing on Faenza, which had closed its gates and manned its ramparts, the French battered their way in with cannon, and routed the defenders. Napoleon’s policy with the Pope was not that of the Directory; it was his own, and it was subtle and far-sighted. Prisoners were kindly treated and released. Cardinals and influential priests were caressed. Papal officers recently captured were visited, soothed by conciliatory speech, assured that the French were liberators and desired only the welfare of a regenerated Italy—redeemed from papal thraldom and rusty feudalism. For the first time modern Italians heard a great man outlining the future of a united Italy.

At Loretto were found the relics which made that place one of the holiest of shrines. The very house in which Mary, the mother of Jesus, had received the visit of Gabriel was at Loretto. Had you asked how came it there, the answer would have been that the angels carried it from Nazareth to Dalmatia to keep the Saracens from getting it. From Dalmatia the angels, for reasons equally good, had carried it to Loretto. Within this holy hut was a wooden image of Mary, old, blackened, crudely carved. The angels had carved it. In times of clerical distress this image of Mary was seen to shed tears. As there had been quite an access of clerical woe recently, in consequence of Napoleon’s brutal disregard of papal armies led by priests with crucifixes in their hands, the wooden Virgin had been weeping profusely.

Napoleon had doubtless familiarized himself with the methods by which pagan priests had kept up their stupendous impostures, and he had a curiosity to see the old wooden doll which was worshipped by latter-day pagans at Loretto. He found a string of glass beads so arranged that they fell, one after another, from the inside, athwart the Virgin’s eyes, and as she was kept at some distance from the devotees, and behind a glass case, the optical illusion was complete. Napoleon exposed the trick, and imprisoned the priests who had caused the recent tears to flow.

To add to the sanctity of the shrine at Loretto, there was a porringer which had belonged to the Holy Family, and a bed-quilt which had belonged to Mary, the mother of Jesus. Thousands of devout Catholics prostrated themselves every year before these relics, and countless were the rich offerings to the shrine.

Napoleon took from the church pretty much all the treasure which the priests had not carried off; and the wooden Madonna was sent to Paris. In 1802 he restored it to the Pope, and it was put back in its old place in the Virgin’s hut.