I SAT up all night listening to the soldiers’ stories of war and
campaigning. Some had served with Soult’s army in the Asturias; some
made part of Davout’s corps in the north of Europe; one had just
returned from Friedland, and amused us with describing the celebrated
conference at Tilsit, where he had been a sentinel on the river-side,
and presented arms to the two emperors as they passed. It will seem
strange, but it is a fact, that this slight incident attracted towards
him a greater share of his comrades’ admiration than was accorded to
those who had seen half the battlefields of modern war.
He described the dress, the air, the general bearing of the emperors,
remarking that although Alexander was taller, and handsomer, and even
more soldierlike than our own emperor, there was a something of
calm dignity and conscious majesty in Napoleon that made him appear
immeasurably the superior. Alexander wore the uniform of the Russian
guard, one of the most splendid it is possible to conceive. The only
thing simple about him was his sword, which was a plain sabre with a
tarnished gilt scabbard, and a very dirty sword-knot; and yet every
moment he used to look down at it and handle it with great apparent
admiration; ‘and well might he,’ added the soldier--‘Napoleon had given
it to him but the day before.’
To listen even to such meagre details as these was to light up again in
my heart the fire that was only smouldering, and that no life of peasant
labour or obscurity could ever extinguish. My companions quickly saw the
interest I took in their narratives, and certainly did their utmost to
feed the passion--now with some sketch of a Spanish marauding party,
as full of adventure as a romance; now with a description of northern
warfare, where artillery thundered on the ice, and men fought behind
intrenchments of deep snow.
From the North Sea to the Adriatic, all Europe was now in arms. Great
armies were marching in every direction--some along the deep valley of
the Danube, others from the rich plains of Poland and Silesia; some were
passing the Alps into Italy, and some again were pouring down for the
Tyrol ‘Jochs,’ to defend the rocky passes of their native land against
the invader. Patriotism and glory, the spirit of chivalry and conquest,
all were abroad, and his must indeed have been a cold heart which could
find within it no response to the stirring sounds around. To the
intense feeling of shame which I at first felt at my own life of obscure
inactivity, there now succeeded a feverish desire to be somewhere and
do something to dispel this worse than lethargy. I had not resolution
to tell my comrades that I had served--I felt reluctant to speak of
a career so abortive and unsuccessful; and yet I blushed at the
half-pitying expressions they bestowed upon my life of inglorious
adventure.
‘You risk life and limb here in these pine forests, and hazard existence
for a bear or a chamois goat,’ cried one, ‘and half the peril in real
war would perhaps make you a _chef d escadron_ or even a general.’
‘Ay,’ said another, ‘we serve in an army where crowns are military
distinctions, and the epaulette is only the first step to a kingdom.’
‘True,’ broke in a third, ‘Napoleon has changed the whole world,
and made soldiering the only trade worth following. Masséna was a
drummer-boy within my own memory, and see him now! Ney was not born
to great wealth and honours. Junot never could learn his trade as a
cobbler, and for want of better has become a general of division.’
‘Yes; and,’ said I, following out the theme, ‘under that wooden roof
yonder, through that little diamond-paned window the vine is trained
across, a greater than any of the last three first saw the light. It was
there Kléber, the conqueror of Egypt, was born.’
‘Honour to the brave dead!’ said the soldiers from their places around
the fire, and carrying their hands to the salute. ‘We’ll fire a salvo to
him to-morrow before we set out!’ said the corporal. ‘And so Kléber
was born there!’ said he, resuming his place, and staring with admiring
interest at the dark outline of the old house, as it stood out against
the starry and cloudless sky.
It was somewhat of a delicate task for me to prevent my companions
offering their tribute of respect, but which the old peasant would have
received with little gratitude, seeing that he had never yet forgiven
the country nor the service for the loss of his son. With some
management I accomplished this duty, however, promising my services at
the same time to be their guide through the Bregenzerwald, and not to
part with them till I had seen them safely into Bavaria.
Had it not been for my thorough acquaintance with the Tyroler dialect,
and all the usages of Tyrol life, their march would have been one
of great peril, for already the old hatred against their Bavarian
oppressors was beginning to stir the land, and Austrian agents were
traversing the mountain districts in every direction, to call forth that
patriotic ardour which, ill-requited as it has been, has more than once
come to the rescue of Austria.
So sudden had been the outbreak of this war, and so little aware were
the peasantry of the frontier of either its object or aim, that we
frequently passed recruits for both armies on their way to headquarters
on the same day--honest Bavarians, who were trudging along the road with
pack on their shoulders, and not knowing, nor indeed much caring, on
which side they were to combat. My French comrades scorned to report
themselves to any German officer, and pushed on vigorously in the hope
of meeting with a French regiment. I had now conducted my little party
to Immenstadt, at the foot of the Bavarian Alps, and, having completed
my compact, was about to bid them good-bye.
We were seated around our bivouac fire for the last time, as we deemed
it, and pledging each other in a parting glass, when suddenly our
attention was attracted to a bright red tongue of flame that suddenly
darted up from one of the Alpine summits above our head. Another and
another followed, till at length every mountain-peak for miles and miles
away displayed a great signal-fire! Little knew we that behind that
giant range of mountains, from the icy crags of the Glockner, and from
the snowy summit of the Orteler itself, similar fires were summoning all
Tyrol to the combat, while every valley resounded with the war-cry of
‘God and the Emperor!’ We were still in busy conjecture what all this
might portend, when a small party of mounted men rode past us at a
trot. They carried carbines slung over their peasant frocks, and showed
unmistakably enough that they were some newly-raised and scarcely
disciplined force. After proceeding about a hundred yards beyond us,
they halted, and drew up across the road, unslinging their pieces as if
to prepare for action.
‘Look at those fellows, yonder,’ said the old corporal, as he puffed
his pipe calmly and deliberately; ‘they mean mischief, or I ‘m much
mistaken. Speak to them, Tiernay; you know their jargon.’
I accordingly arose and advanced towards them, touching my hat in salute
as I went forward. They did not give me much time, however, to open
negotiations, for scarcely had I uttered a word, when bang went a
shot close beside me; another followed; and then a whole volley was
discharged, but with such haste and ill direction that not a ball struck
me. Before I could take advantage of this piece of good fortune to renew
my advances, a bullet whizzed by my head, and down went the left-hand
horse of the file, at first on his knees, and then, with a wild plunge
into the air, he fell, stone-dead, on the road, the rider beneath him.
As for the rest, throwing off carbines, and cartouch-boxes, they sprang
from their horses, and took to the mountains with a speed that showed
how far more they were at home amidst rocks and heather than when seated
on the saddle. My comrades lost no time in coming up; but while three of
them kept the fugitives in sight, covering them all the time with their
muskets, the others secured the cattle, as in amazement and terror they
stood around the dead horse.
Although the peasant had received no other injuries than a heavy fall
and his own fears inflicted, he was overcome with terror, and so certain
of death that he would do nothing but mumble his prayers, totally deaf
to all the efforts I made to restore his courage. ‘That comes of putting
a man out of his natural bent,’ said the old corporal. ‘On his native
mountains, and with his rifle, that fellow would be brave enough; but
making a dragoon of him is like turning a Cossack into a foot-soldier.
One thing is clear enough, we’ve no time to throw away here; these
peasants will soon alarm the village in our rear, so that we had better
mount and press forward.’
‘But in what direction?’ cried another; ‘who knows if we shall not be
rushing into worse danger?’
‘Tiernay must look to that,’ interposed a third. ‘It’s clear he can’t
leave us now; his retreat is cut off, at all events.’
‘That’s the very point I was thinking of, lads,’ said I. ‘The
beacon-fires show that “the Tyrol is up”; and safely as I have journeyed
hither, I know well I dare not venture to retrace my road; I ‘d be shot
in the first Dorf I entered. On one condition, then, I’ll join you; and
short of that, however, I’ll take my own path, come what may of it.’
‘What’s the condition, then?’ cried three or four together.
‘That you give me the full and absolute command of this party, and
pledge your honour, as French soldiers, to obey me in everything, till
the day we arrive at the headquarters of a French corps.’
‘What, obey a Pekin! take the _mot d’ordre_ from a civilian that never
handled a firelock!’ shouted three or four in derision.
‘I have served, and with distinction, too, my lads,’ said I calmly; ‘and
if I have not handled a firelock, it is because I wielded a sabre, as an
officer of hussars. It is not here, nor now, that I am going to tell
why I wear the epaulette no longer. I’ll render account of that to my
superiors and yours! If you reject my offer (and I don’t press you to
accept it), let us at least part good friends. As for me, I can take
care of myself.’ As I said this, I slung over my shoulder the cross-belt
and carbine of one of the fugitives, and selecting a strongly built,
short-legged black horse as my mount, I adjusted the saddle, and sprang
on his back.
‘That was done like an old hussar, anyhow,’ said a soldier, who had
been a cavalry man, ‘and I ‘ll follow you, whatever the rest may do.’ He
mounted as he spoke, and saluted as if on duty. Slight as the incident
was, its effect was magical. Old habits of discipline revived at the
first signal of obedience, and the corporal having made his men fall in,
came up to my side for orders.
‘Select the best of these horses,’ said I, ‘and let us press forward
at once. We are about eighteen miles from the village of Wangheim; by
halting a short distance outside of it, I can enter alone, and learn
something about the state of the country, and the nearest French post.
The cattle are all fresh, and we can easily reach the village before
daybreak.’
Three of my little ‘command’ were tolerable horsemen, two of them having
served in the artillery train, and the third being the dragoon I have
alluded to. I accordingly threw out a couple of these as an advanced
picket, keeping the last as my aide-de-camp at my side. The remainder
formed the rear, with orders, if attacked, to dismount at once, and fire
over the saddle, leaving myself and the others to manoeuvre as cavalry.
This was the only way to give confidence to those soldiers, who in the
ranks would have marched up to a battery, but on horseback were totally
devoid of self-reliance. Meanwhile I imparted such instructions in
equitation as I could, my own old experience as a riding-master well
enabling me to select the most necessary and least difficult of a
horseman’s duties. Except the old corporal, all were very creditable
pupils; but he, possibly deeming it a point of honour not to discredit
his old career, rejected everything like teaching, and openly protested
that, save to run away from a victorious enemy, or follow a beaten one,
he saw no use in cavalry.
Nothing could be in better temper, however, nor more amicable than our
discourses on this head; and as I let drop, from time to time, little
hints of my services on the Rhine and in Italy, I gradually perceived
that I grew higher in the esteem of my companions, so that ere we rode a
dozen miles together, their confidence in me became complete.
In return for all their anecdotes of ‘blood and field,’ I told them
several stories of my own life, and, at least, convinced them that if
they had not chanced upon the very luckiest of mankind, they had, at
least, fallen upon one who had seen enough of casualties not to be
easily baffled, and who felt in every difficulty a self-confidence that
no amount of discomfiture could ever entirely obliterate. No soldier
can vie with a Frenchman in tempering respect with familiarity; so
that while preserving towards me all the freedom of the comrade, they
recognised in every detail of duty the necessity of prompt obedience,
and followed every command I gave with implicit submission.
It was thus we rode along, till in the distance I saw the spire of a
village church, and recognised what I knew to be Dorf Wangheim. It was
yet an hour before sunrise, and all was tranquil around. I gave the word
to trot, and after about forty minutes’ sharp riding, we gained a small
pine wood, which skirted the village. Here I dismounted my party, and
prepared to make my entry alone into the Dorf, carefully arranging my
costume for that purpose, sticking a large bouquet of wild flowers in my
hat, and assuming as much as I could of the Tyrol look and lounge in my
gait. I shortened my stirrups, also, to a most awkward and inconvenient
length, and gripped my reins into a heap in my hand.
It was thus I rode into Wangheim, saluting the people as I passed up the
street, and with the short dry greeting of ‘Tag,’ and a nod as brief,
playing Tyroler to the top of my bent. The ‘Syndicus,’ or the ruler of
the village, lived in a good-sized house in the ‘Platz,’ which, being
market-day, was crowded with people, although the articles for sale
appeared to include little variety, almost every one leading a calf by a
straw rope, the rest of the population contenting themselves with a wild
turkey, or sometimes two, which, held under the arms, added the most
singular element to the general concert of human voices around. Little
stalls for rustic jewellery and artificial flowers, the latter in great
request, ran along the sides of the square, with here and there a booth
where skins and furs were displayed--more, however, as it appeared, to
give pleasure to a group of sturdy Jagers, who stood around, recognising
the track of their own bullets, than from any hope of sale. In fact, the
business of the day was dull, and an experienced eye would have seen at
a glance that turkeys were ‘heavy,’ and calves ‘looking down.’ No wonder
that it should be so, the interest of the scene being concentrated on a
little knot of some twenty youths, who, with tickets containing a number
in their hats, stood before the syndic’s door. They were fine-looking,
stalwart, straight fellows, and became admirably the manly costume
of their native mountains; but their countenances were not without an
expression of sadness, the reflection, as I soon saw, of the sadder
faces around them. For so they stood, mothers, sisters, and sweethearts,
their tearful eyes turned on the little band. It puzzled me not a
little at first to see these evidences of a conscription in a land where
hitherto the population had answered the call to arms by a levy _en
masse_, while the air of depression and sadness seemed also strange in
those who gloried in the excitement of war. The first few sentences I
overheard revealed the mystery. Wangheim was Bavarian; although strictly
a Tyrol village, and Austrian Tyrol, too, it had been included within
the Bavarian frontier, and the orders had arrived from Munich at the
Syndicate to furnish a certain number of men by a certain day. This was
terrible tidings; for although they did not as yet know that the war
was against Austria, they had heard that the troops were for foreign
service, and not for the defence of home and country, the only cause
which a Tyroler deems worthy of battle. As I listened, I gathered
that the most complete ignorance prevailed as to the service or the
destination to which they were intended. The Bavarians had merely issued
their mandates to the various villages of the border, and neither sent
emissaries nor officers to carry them out. Having seen how the ‘land
lay,’ I pushed my way through the crowd, into the hall of the Syndicate,
and by dint of a strong will and stout shoulder, at length gained the
audience-chamber, where, seated behind an elevated bench, the great man
was dispensing justice. I advanced boldly, and demanded an immediate
audience in private, stating that my business was most pressing, and not
admitting of delay. The syndic consulted for a second or two with his
clerk, and retired, beckoning me to follow.
‘You’re not a Tyroler,’ said he to me, the moment we were alone.
‘That is easy to see, Herr Syndicus,’ replied I. ‘I’m an officer of
the staff, in disguise, sent to make a hasty inspection of the frontier
villages, and report upon the state of feeling that prevails amongst
them, and how they stand affected towards the cause of Bavaria.’
‘And what have you found, sir?’ said he, with native caution; for
a Bavarian Tyroler has the quality in a perfection that neither a
Scotchman nor a Russian can pretend to.
‘That you are all Austrian at heart,’ said I, determined to dash at
him with a frankness that I knew he could not resist. ‘There’s not
a Bavarian amongst you. I have made the whole tour of the
Vorarlberg--through the Bregenzer-wald, down the valley of the Lech, by
Immenstadt, and Wangheim--and it’s all the same. I have heard nothing
but the old cry of “Gott und der Kaiser!”’
‘Indeed!’ said he, with an accent beautifully balanced between sorrow
and astonishment.
‘Even the men in authority, the syndics, like yourself, have frankly
told me how difficult it is to preserve allegiance to a Government by
whom they have been so harshly treated. ‘I’m sure I have the “grain
question,” as they call it, and the “Freiwechsel” with South Tyrol,
off by heart,’ said I, laughing. ‘However, my business lies in another
quarter. I have seen enough to show me that save the outcasts from home
and family, that class so rare in the Tyrol, that men call adventurers,
we need look for no willing recruits here; and you’ll stare when I say
that I ‘m glad of it--heartily glad of it.’
The syndic did, indeed, stare, but he never ventured a word in reply.
‘I’ll tell you why, then, Herr Syndicus. With a man like yourself one
can afford to be open-hearted. Wangheim, Luttrich, Kempenfeld, and all
the other villages at the foot of these mountains, were never other than
Austrian. Diplomatists and map-makers coloured them pale blue, but
they were black and yellow underneath; and what’s more to the purpose,
Austrian they must become again. When the real object of this war is
known, all Tyrol will declare for the House of Hapsburg. We begin to
perceive this ourselves, and to dread the misfortunes and calamities
that must fall upon you and the other frontier towns by this divided
allegiance; for when you have sent off your available youth to the
Bavarians, down will come Austria to revenge itself upon your undefended
towns and villages.’
The syndic apparently had thought of all these things exactly with the
same conclusions, for he shook his head gravely, and uttered a low,
faint sigh.
‘I’m so convinced of what I tell you,’ said I, ‘that no sooner have I
conducted to headquarters the force I have under my command----’
‘You have a force, then, actually under your orders?’ cried he,
starting.
‘The advanced guard is picketed in yonder pine wood, if you have
any curiosity to inspect them; you’ll find them a little disorderly,
perhaps, like all newly-raised levies, but I hope not discreditable
allies for the great army.’
The syndic protested his sense of the favour, but begged to take all
their good qualities on trust.
I then went on to assure him that I should recommend the Government to
permit the range of frontier towns to preserve a complete neutrality;
by scarcely any possibility could the war come to their doors; and that
there was neither sound policy nor humanity in sending them to seek it
elsewhere. I will not stop to recount all the arguments I employed to
enforce my opinions, nor how learnedly I discussed every question
of European politics. The syndic was amazed at the vast range of my
acquirements, and could not help confessing it.
My interview ended by persuading him not to send on his levies of men
till he had received further instructions from Munich; to supply my
advanced guards with the rations and allowances intended for the others;
and lastly, to advance me the sum of one hundred and seventy crown
thalers, on the express pledge that the main body of my ‘marauders,’
as I took opportunity to style them, should take the road by Kempen and
Durcheim, and not touch on the village of Wangheim at all.
When discussing this last point, I declared to the syndic that he was
depriving himself of a very imposing sight; that the men, whatever might
be said of them in point of character, were a fine-looking, daring set
of rascals, neither respecting laws nor fearing punishment, and that our
band, for a newly-formed one, was by no means contemptible. He resisted
all these seducing prospects, and counted down his dollars with the air
of a man who felt he had made a good bargain. I gave him a receipt in
all form, and signed Maurice Tiernay at the foot of it as stoutly as
though I had the _Grand Livre de France_ at my back.
Let not the reader rashly condemn me for this fault, nor still more
rashly conclude that I acted with a heartless and unprincipled spirit
in this transaction. I own that a species of Jesuistry suggested the
scheme, and that while providing for the exigencies of my own comrades,
I satisfied my conscience by rendering a good service in return. The
course of war, as I suspected it would, did sweep past this portion
of the Bavarian Tyrol without inflicting any heavy loss. Such of the
peasantry as joined the army fought under Austrian banners, and Wangheim
and the other border villages had not to pay the bloody penalty of a
divided allegiance. I may add, too, for conscience’ sake, that while
travelling this way many years after, I stopped a day at Wangheim to
point out its picturesque scenery to a fair friend who accompanied me.
The village inn was kept by an old, venerable-looking man, who also
discharged the functions of _Vorsteher_--the title Syndicus was
abolished. He was, although a little cold and reserved at first, very
communicative after a while, and full of stories of the old campaigns
of France and Austria; amongst which he related one of a certain set of
French freebooters that once passed through Wangheim, the captain having
actually breakfasted with himself, and persuaded him to advance a loan
of nigh two hundred thalers on the faith of the Bavarian Government.
‘He was a good-looking, dashing sort of fellow,’ said he, ‘that could
sing French love-songs to the piano and jodle _Tyroler Lieder_ for the
women. My daughter took a great fancy to him, and wore his sword-knot
for many a day after, till we found that he had cheated and betrayed us.
Even then, however, I don’t think she gave him up, though she did
not speak of him as before. This is the fellow’s writing,’ added he,
producing a much-worn and much-crumpled scrap of paper from his old
pocket-book, ‘and there’s his name. I have never been able to make out
clearly whether it was Thierray or Iierray.’
‘I know something about him,’ said I, ‘and, with your permission, will
keep the document and pay the debt. Your daughter is alive still?’
‘Ay, and married, too, at Bruck, ten miles from this.’
‘Well, if she has thrown away the old sword-knot, tell her to accept
this one in memory of the French captain, who was not, at least, an
ungrateful rogue’; and I detached from my sabre the rich gold tassel and
cord which I wore as a general officer.
This little incident I may be pardoned for interpolating from a portion
of my life of which I do not intend to speak further, as with the career
of the Soldier of Fortune I mean to close these memoirs of Maurice
Tiernay.