on's
new victory came to re-awaken terror and paralyse revolt. The conqueror
judged it best to accept for the present the resubmission, however
forced, of a party too powerful to be put down by examples. The Cardinal
Mattei, Archbishop of Ferrara, being brought into his presence, uttered
the single word _peccavi_: the victor was contented with ordering him a
penance of seven days' fasting and prayer in a monastery: but he had no
intention to forget these occurrences whenever another day of reckoning
with the Pope should come.

While he was occupied with restoring quiet in the country, Austria, ever
constant in adversity, hastened to place 20,000 fresh troops under the
orders of Wurmser; and the brave veteran, whose heart nothing could
chill, prepared himself to make one effort more to relieve Mantua, and
drive the French out of Lombardy. His army was now, as before, greatly
the superior in numbers; and though the bearing of his troops was more
modest, their gallantry remained unimpaired. Once more the old general
divided his army; and once more he was destined to see it shattered in
detail.

He marched from Trent towards Mantua, through the defiles of the Brenta,
at the head of 30,000; leaving 20,000 under Davidowich at Roveredo, to
cover the Tyrol. Buonaparte instantly detected the error of his
opponent. He suffered him to advance unmolested as far as Bassano, and
the moment he was there, and consequently completely separated from
Davidowich and his rear, drew together a strong force, and darted on
Roveredo, by marches such as seemed credible only after they had been
accomplished.

The battle of Roveredo (Sept. 4) is one of Napoleon's most illustrious
days. The enemy had a strongly entrenched camp in front of the town; and
behind it, in case of misfortune, Calliano, with its castle seated on a
precipice over the Adige, where that river flows between enormous rocks
and mountains, appeared to offer an impregnable retreat. Nothing could
withstand the ardour of the French. The Austrians, though they defended
the entrenched camp with their usual obstinacy, were forced to give way
by the impetuosity of Dubois and his hussars. Dubois fell, mortally
wounded, in the moment of his glory: he waved his sabre, cheering his
men onwards with his last breath. "I die," said he, "for the
Republic;--only let me hear, ere life leaves me, that the victory is
ours." The French horse, thus animated, pursued the Germans, who were
driven,