The reader will probably not complain if, passing over the manifold
adventures and hair-breadth ‘scapes of my little party, I come to our
arrival at Ingoldstadt, where the headquarters of General Vandamme were
stationed. It was just as the recall was beating that we rode into the
town, where, although nearly eight thousand men were assembled, our
somewhat singular cavalcade attracted no small share of notice. Fresh
rations for ‘man and beast’ slung around our very ragged clothing, and
four Austrian grenadiers tied by a cord, wrist to wrist, as prisoners
behind us, we presented, it must be owned, a far more picturesque than
soldierlike party.
Accepting all the attentions bestowed upon us in the most flattering
sense, and affecting not to perceive the ridicule we were exciting on
every hand, I rode up to the état-major and dismounted. I had obtained
from ‘my prisoners’ what I deemed a very important secret, and was
resolved to make the most of it by asking for an immediate audience of
the general.
‘I am the _officier d ordonnance_,’ said a young lieutenant of dragoons,
stepping forward; ‘any communications you have to make must be addressed
to me.’
‘I have taken four prisoners, Monsieur le lieutenant,’ said I, ‘and
would wish to inform General Vandamme on certain matters they have
revealed to me.’
‘Are you in the service?’ asked he, with a glance at my incongruous
equipment.
‘I have served, sir,’ was my reply.
‘In what army of brigands was it, then?’ said he, laughing, ‘for,
assuredly, you do not recall to my recollection any European force that
I know of.’
‘I may find leisure and inclination to give you the fullest information
on this point at another moment, sir; for the present, my business is
more pressing. Can I see General Vandamme?’
‘Of course you cannot, my worthy fellow! If you had served, as you say
you have, you could scarcely have made so absurd a request. A French
general of division does not give audience to every tatterdemalion who
picks up a prisoner on the highroad.’
‘It is exactly because I have served that I do make the request,’ said I
stoutly.
‘How so, pray?’ asked he, staring at me.
‘Because I know well how often young staff-officers, in their
self-sufficiency, overlook the most important points, and, from the
humble character of their informants, frequently despise what their
superiors, had they known it, would have largely profited by. And, even
if I did not know this fact, I have the memory of another one scarcely
less striking, which was, that General Masséna himself admitted me to
an audience when my appearance was not a whit more imposing than at
present.’
‘You knew General Masséna, then? Where was it, may I ask?’
‘In Genoa, during the siege.’
‘And what regiment have you served in?’
‘The Ninth Hussars.’
‘Quite enough, my good fellow. The Ninth were on the Sambre while that
siege was going on,’ said he, laughing sarcastically.
‘I never said that my regiment was at Genoa. I only asserted that _I_
was,’ was my calm reply, for I was anxious to prolong the conversation,
seeing that directly over our heads, on a balcony, a number of officers
had just come out to smoke their cigars after dinner, amongst whom I
recognised two or three in the uniform of generals.
‘And now for your name; let us have that,’ said he, seating himself, as
if for a lengthy cross-examination.
I stole a quick glance overhead, and seeing that two of the officers
were eagerly listening to our colloquy, said aloud--
‘I’ll tell you no more, sir. You have already heard quite enough to
know what my business is. I didn’t come here to relate my life and
adventures.’
‘I say, Lestocque,’ cried a large, burly man, from above, ‘have you
picked up Robinson Crusoe, there?’
‘He’s far more like the man Friday, _mon général_,’ said the young
lieutenant, laughing, ‘although even a savage might have more deference
for his superiors.’
‘What does he want, then?’ asked the other.
‘An audience of yourself, _mon général_--nothing less.’
‘Have you told him how I am accustomed to reward people who occupy my
time on false pretences, Lestocque?’ said the general, with a grin.
‘Does he know that the “Salle de Police” first, and the “Prévôt”
afterwards, comprise my gratitude?’
‘He presumes to say, sir, that he knows General Masséna,’ said the
lieutenant.
‘_Diable!_ He knows me, does he say--he knows me? Who is he--what is
he?’ said a voice I well remembered; and at the same instant the brown,
dark visage of General Masséna peered over the balcony.
‘He’s a countryman of yours, Masséna,’ said Vandamme, laughing. ‘Eh, are
you not a Piémontais?’
Up to this moment I had stood silently listening to the dialogue around
me, without the slightest apparent sign of noticing it. Now, however,
as I was directly addressed, I drew myself up to a soldierlike attitude,
and replied--
‘No, sir. I am more a Frenchman than General Vandamme, at least.’
‘Send that fellow here; send him up, Lestocque, and have a corporal’s
party ready for duty,’ cried the general, as he threw the end of his
cigar into the street, and walked hastily away.
It was not the first time in my life that my tongue had brought peril on
my head; but I ascended the stairs with a firm step, and if not with a
light, at least with a resolute, heart, seeing how wonderfully little
I had to lose, and that few men had a smaller stake in existence than
myself.
The voices were loud, and in tones of anger, as I stepped out upon the
terrace.
‘So we are acquaintances, it would appear, my friend?’ said Masséna, as
he stared fixedly at me.
‘If General Masséna cannot recall the occasion of our meeting,’ said I
proudly, ‘I ‘ll scarcely remind him of it.’
‘Come, come,’ said Vandamme angrily, ‘I must deal with this _gaillard_
myself. Are you a French soldier?’
‘I was, sir---an officer of cavalry.’
‘And were you broke? did you desert? or what was it?’ cried he
impatiently.
‘I kept better company than I believe is considered safe in these days,
and was accidentally admitted to the acquaintance of the Prince de
Condé----’
‘That’s it!’ said Vandamme, with a long whistle; ‘that’s the mischief,
then. You are a Vendéan?’
‘No, sir; I was never a Royalist, although, as I have said, exposed to
the very society whose fascinations might have made me one.’
‘Your name is Tiernay, monsieur, or I mistake much?* said a
smart-looking young man in civilian dress.
I bowed in assent, without expressing any sentiment of either fear or
anxiety.
‘I can vouch for the perfect accuracy of that gentleman’s narrative,’
said Monsieur de Bourrienne, for I now saw it was himself. ‘You may
possibly remember a visitor----’
‘At the Temple,’ said I, interrupting him. ‘I recollect you perfectly,
sir, and thank you for this recognition.’
Monsieur de Bourrienne, however, did not pay much attention to my
gratitude, but proceeded, in a few hurried words, to give some account
of me to the bystanders.
‘Well, it must be owned that he looks devilish unlike an officer of
hussars,’ said Masséna, as he laughed, and made others laugh, at my
strange equipment.
‘And yet you saw me in a worse plight, general,’ said I coolly.
‘How so--where was that?’ cried he.
‘It will be a sore wound to my pride, general,’ said I slowly, ‘if I
must refresh your memory.’
‘You were not at Valenciennes,’ said he, musing. ‘No, no; that was
before your day. Were you on the Meuse, then? No. Nor in Spain? I’ve
always had hussars in my division, but I confess I do not remember all
the officers.’
‘Will Genoa not give the clue, sir?’ said I, glancing at him a keen
look.
‘Least of all,’ cried he. ‘The cavalry were with Soult. I had nothing
beyond an escort in the town.’
‘So there’s no help for it,’ said I, with a sigh. ‘Do you remember a
half-drowned wretch that was laid down at your feet in the Annunziata
Church one morning during the siege?’
‘A fellow who had made his escape from the English fleet, and swam
ashore? What I are you---- By Jove! so it is, the very same. Give me
your hand, my brave fellow. I’ve often thought of you, and wondered what
had befallen you. You joined that unlucky attack on Monte Faccio; and
we had warm work ourselves on hand the day after. I say, Vandamme,
the first news I had of our columns crossing the Alps were from this
officer--for officer he was, and shall be again, if I live to command a
French division.’
Masséna embraced me affectionately, as he said this; and then turning to
the others, said--
‘Gentlemen, you see before you the man you have often heard me speak
of--a young officer of hussars, who, in the hope of rescuing a division
of the French army, at that time shut up in a besieged city, performed
one of the most gallant exploits on record. Within a week after he led a
storming-party against a mountain fortress; and I don’t care if he
lived in the intimacy of every Bourbon prince, from the Count D’Artois
downwards, he’s a good Frenchman, and a brave soldier. Bourrienne,
you’re starting for headquarters? Well, it is not at such a moment as
this you can bear these matters in mind, but don’t forget my friend
Tiernay; depend upon it, he’ll do you no discredit. The Emperor knows
well both how to employ and how to reward such men as him.’
I heard these flattering speeches like one in a delicious dream. To
stand in the midst of a distinguished group, while Masséna thus spoke
of me, seemed too much for reality, for praise had indeed become a rare
accident to me; but from such a quarter it was less eulogy than fame.
How hard was it to persuade myself that I was awake, as I found myself
seated at the table, with a crowd of officers, pledging the toasts they
gave, and drinking bumpers in friendly recognition with all around me.
Such was the curiosity to hear my story, that numbers of others crowded
into the room, which gradually assumed the appearance of a theatre.
There was scarcely an incident to which I referred, that some one or
other of those present could not vouch for; and whether I alluded to my
earlier adventures in the Black Forest, or the expedition of Humbert, or
to the latter scenes of my life, I met corroboration from one quarter or
another. Away as I was from Paris and its influences, in the midst of my
comrades, I never hesitated to relate the whole of my acquaintance with
Fouché--a part of my narrative which, I must own, amused them more than
all the rest. In the midst of all these intoxicating praises, and of a
degree of wonder that might have turned wiser heads, I never forgot that
I was in possession of what seemed to myself at least a very important
military fact--no less than the mistaken movement of an Austrian
general, who had marched his division so far to the southward as to
leave an interval of several miles between himself and the main body of
the Imperial forces. This fact I had obtained from the grenadiers I had
made prisoners, and who were stragglers from the corps I alluded to.
The movement in question was doubtless intended to menace the right
flank of our army, but every soldier of Napoleon well knew that so
long as he could pierce the enemy’s centre such flank attacks were
ineffectual, the question being already decided before they could be
undertaken.
My intelligence, important as it appeared to myself, struck the two
generals as of even greater moment; and Masséna, who had arrived only a
few hours before from his own division to confer with Vandamme, resolved
to take me with him at once to headquarters.
‘You are quite certain of what you assert, Tiernay?’ said he; ‘doubtful
information, or a mere surmise, will not do with him before whom you
will be summoned. You must be clear on every point, and brief--remember
that--not a word more than is absolutely necessary.’
I repeated that I had taken the utmost precautions to assure myself of
the truth of the men’s statement, and had ridden several leagues between
the Austrian left and the left centre. The prisoners themselves
could prove that they had marched from early morning till late in the
afternoon without coming up with a single Austrian post.
The next question was to equip me with a uniform--but what should it be?
I was not attached to any corps, nor had I any real rank in the
army. Massena hesitated about appointing me on his own staff without
authority, nor could he advise me to assume the dress of my old
regiment. Time was pressing, and it was decided--I own to my great
discomfiture--that I should continue to wear my Tyroler costume till my
restoration to my former rank was fully established.
I was well tired, having already ridden thirteen leagues of a bad road,
when I was obliged to mount once more, and accompany General Massena in
his return to headquarters. A good supper, and some excellent Bordeaux,
and, better than either, a light heart, gave me abundant energy; and
after the first three or four miles of the way I felt as if I was equal
to any fatigue.
As we rode along, the general repeated all his cautions to me in the
event of my being summoned to give information at headquarters--the
importance of all my replies being short, accurate, and to the purpose;
and, above all, the avoidance of anything like an opinion or expression
of my own judgment on passing events. I promised faithfully to observe
all his counsels, and not bring discredit on his patronage.