Andrew Fowler
How the French Emperor’s reconciliation with the Catholic Church Serves as a Model for Lapsed Catholics.
Napoleon Bonaparte’s fall from grace was complete.
On Oct. 15, 1815, after nearly ten weeks at sea on the HMS Northumberland, the former French emperor arrived as a political prisoner at St. Helena, a small British colony in the mid-Atlantic nearly 1,200 miles west of Africa. Only months before he had escaped his first exile in Elba, galvanized the French army and reclaimed his title as emperor, and marched against Europeans nations — known as the Seventh Coalition — before suffering his greatest defeat at the Battle of Waterloo (June 18, 1815).
This time, however, there would be no escape. The man who defined an age, and revered as one of history’s most consequential and studied military strategists, had been reduced to living a depressed existence under house arrest and constant surveillance.
To occupy his time, he dictated memoirs like the Memorial de St. Helene (which became an international bestseller), read on a variety of subject matters, and even gardened. But he also took a particular interest in philosophy and religion. The latter was striking because Napoleon had not only been exiled from his home, France, but excommunicated from his spiritual home, the Catholic Church.
As a boy, he was raised in a divided household: his father was “a man of the Enlightenment, scornful of popular religion,” while his mother was a devout Catholic. At thirteen, however, he “found [his] faith attacked” after he “began to reason” — thus becoming lapsed. From then on, Napoleon indulged himself in Enlightenment philosophy, particularly the writings of Jean-Jacques Rousseau.
Nevertheless, once claiming power, Napoleon tolerated all established religions, like Judaism and Islam, to an extent — at least when compared to his Jacobin predecessors during the French Revolution. He even “considered Catholicism as the form of worship most favorable to the maintenance of order and the true tranquility of the moral world.”
In short, he was confident “God had created the universe, but he did not believe that he interfered in human affairs,” according to William Doyle, professor emeritus at The University of Bristol. Religion, in his estimation, served a practical purpose: a means to preserving social order.
However, Napoleon had a “fractious relationship” with the Church. As historian Andrew Roberts states in Napoleon: A Life, the French leader had been a “nominal Catholic in life who made war on one pope and imprisoned another,” the latter which led to his excommunication in July 1809. He even enshrined an “Imperial catechism” that French children recited, which proclaimed Christians owed fidelity to him because Jesus Christ “taught us what we owe to our sovereign.” Conversely, after the French Revolution suppressed the Church’s influence, confiscated its property, and martyred numerous faithful during The Reign of Terror, the French emperor largely restored the religion’s standing and practice through the Concordat of 1801.
Yet on St. Helena — named after the mother of Constantine the Great, the Roman emperor who “made Christianity the main religion of Rome” — he once again wrestled with the faith of his youth, becoming more intrigued and vocal in his spiritual affirmations.
On June 8, 1816, nearing a year in exile, he purportedly stated, “Everything proclaims the existence of a God; that is beyond doubt,” with the caveat “but all our religions are clearly the off-spring of men.” He further insisted his doubts of reconciling with the Church, saying, “A man can swear to nothing that he will do in his last moments; yet undoubtedly my belief is that I shall die without a confessor.”
More than merely asserting God’s existence, Napoleon allegedly defended Christ’s divinity — or at least his uniqueness in world history. During a conversation with Gen. Henri Gatien Bertrand, the former French emperor reportedly said:
“I know men, and I tell you that Jesus Christ is not a man. Superficial minds see a resemblance between Christ and the founders of empires, and the gods of other religions. That resemblance does not exist. There is between Christianity and whatever other religion the distance of infinity.”
Seeking improved treatment from the British on St. Helena, Napoleon even renewed a dialogue with Pope Pius VII, whom he imprisoned, which had been the impetus for his excommunication. The pope, however, did not dismiss Napoleon’s appeals. Quite the contrary: Pius VII was “only sovereign to intercede publicly for more leniency” of the former French emperor who he sparred with years before. He displayed a fatherly tenderness toward Napoleon calling him “son.”
Indeed, Napoleon pleaded for a chaplain from Pius VII, which was granted. By September 1819, two Corsican priests — one named Abbé Angelo Paolo Vignali — arrived at St. Helena. According to Adam Zamoyski’s Napoleon: The Man Behind the Myth, the priests regularly celebrated Mass every Sunday in a dining room Napoleon converted into a chapel. He not only attended but avidly read the Bible.
On April 21 1821, as his stomach cancer worsened, Napoleon recognized he was near death. In response, he made preparations, expressing a need to officially reconcile with the Church: “I was born in the Catholic faith, I wish to carry out the duties it imposes and to receive the consolation it gives.” Even his will explicitly suggests this desire, saying, “I die in the Apostolical Roman religion, in the bosom of which I was born more than fifty years since.”
Though he once proclaimed he would die without a confessor, Napoleon received extreme unction — or known as the Anointing of the Sick — from Abbé Vignali in early May. On May 5, Napoleon died at 51 years old; while lying-in-state, a crucifix was placed on his chest.
In life, Napoleon lost his faith. He waged brutal wars on the European continent. He publicly confronted the Church. He was not holy by any stretch. But like St. Dismas on Good Friday or the Prodigal Son, he appeared to sincerely turn back to God — humbling himself, once one of the world’s mightiest rulers, to receive the sacraments.
His apostasy and eventual reconciliation with the Church serves as a model for lapsed Catholics entwined in the modern age’s Moralistic Therapeutic Deism (i.e., spiritual but not religious). Despite many living without the sacraments, there are hopeful signs for a spiritual renewal: the rise of spiritually unaffiliated (“nones”) has hit a statistical ceiling; Generation Z, mostly young men, are driving a religious resurgence; religion has gained more influence in society; and the Catholic Church has seen boosts in baptisms and Mass attendance.
In the end, by entrusting himself to the Holy Spirit’s grace, Napoleon possibly won his greatest battle: that for his soul. He rendered to God what is God’s, proving victorious in the spiritual warfare against agnosticism, deism, and even despair. His complicated life demonstrates no matter how far we have lapsed — or even attack the Church — there is hope, before taking our last breath, to return and reconcile.
Source: https://www.realclearreligion.org/articles/2025/06/17/napoleons_final_battle_1117031.html
