About two months afterwards, on a warm evening of summer, I entered
Vienna in a litter, along with some twelve hundred other wounded men,
escorted by a regiment of cuirassiers. I was weak and unable to walk.
The fever of my wound had reduced me to a skeleton; but I was consoled
for everything by knowing that I was a captain on the Emperor’s own
staff, and decorated by himself with the Cross of ‘the Legion.’ Nor
were these my only distinctions, for my name had been included among
the lists of the _officiers délite_--a new institution of the Emperor,
enjoying considerable privileges and increase of pay.
To this latter elevation, too, I owed my handsome quarters in the
‘Raab’ Palace at Vienna, and the sentry at my door, like that of a
field-officer. Fortune, indeed, began to smile upon me, and never are
her flatteries more welcome than in the first hours of returning health,
after a long sickness. I was visited by the first men of the army;
marshals and generals figured among the names of my intimates, and
invitations flowed in upon me from all that were distinguished by rank
and station.
Vienna, at that period, presented few features of a city occupied by an
enemy. The guards, it is true, on all arsenals and forts, were French,
and the gates were held by them; but there was no interruption to the
course of trade and commerce. The theatres were open every night, and
balls and receptions went on with only redoubled frequency. Unlike his
policy towards Russia, Napoleon abstained from all that might humiliate
the Austrians. Every possible concession was made to their natural
tastes and feelings, and officers of all ranks in the French army were
strictly enjoined to observe a conduct of conciliation and civility
on every occasion of intercourse with the citizens. Few general orders
could be more palatable to Frenchmen, and they set about the task of
cultivating the good esteem of the Viennese with a most honest desire
for success. Accident, too, aided their efforts not a little; for it
chanced that a short time before the battle of Aspern, the city had been
garrisoned by Croat and Wallachian regiments, whose officers, scarcely
half civilised, and with all the brutal ferocity of barbarian tribes,
were most favourably supplanted by Frenchmen in the best of possible
tempers with themselves and the world.
It might be argued, that the Austrians would have shown more patriotism
in holding themselves aloof, and avoiding all interchange of civilities
with their conquerors. Perhaps, too, this line of conduct would have
prevailed to a greater extent, had not those in high places set an
opposite example. But so it was; and in the hope of obtaining more
favourable treatment in their last extremity, the princes of the
Imperial House, and the highest nobles of the land, freely accepted the
invitations of our marshals, and as freely received them at their own
tables.
There was something of pride, too, in the way these great families
continued to keep up the splendour of their households--large retinues
of servants and gorgeous equipages--when the very empire itself was
crumbling to pieces. And to the costly expenditure of that fevered
interval may be dated the ruin of some of the richest of the Austrian
nobility. To maintain a corresponding style, and to receive the proud
guests with suitable magnificence, enormous ‘allowances’ were made to
the French generals; while in striking contrast to all the splendour,
the Emperor Napoleon lived at Schönbrunn with a most simple household
and restricted retinue.
‘Berthier’s’ Palace, in the ‘Graben,’ was, by its superior magnificence,
the recognised centre of French society; and thither flocked every
evening all that was most distinguished in rank of both nations. Motives
of policy, or at least the terrible pressure of necessity, filled these
salons with the highest personages of the empire; while as it accepting,
as inevitable, the glorious ascendency of Napoleon, many of the French
_émigré_ families emerged from their retirement to pay their court to
the favoured lieutenants of Napoleon. Marmont, who was highly connected
with the French aristocracy, gave no slight aid to this movement, and,
it was currently believed at the time, was secretly intrusted by the
Emperor with the task of accomplishing what in modern phrase is styled,
a ‘fusion.’
The real source of all these flattering attentions on the Austrian side,
however, was the well-founded dread of the partition of the empire--a
plan over which Napoleon was then hourly in deliberation, and to the
non-accomplishment of which he ascribed, in the days of his last exile,
all the calamities of his fall. Be this as it may, few thoughts of
the graver interests at stake disturbed the pleasure we felt in the
luxurious life of that delightful city; nor can I, through the whole
of a long and varied career, call to mind any period of more unmixed
enjoyment.
Fortune stood by me in everything. Marshal Marmont required as the head
of his état-major an officer who could speak and write German, and,
if possible, who understood the Tyrol dialect. I was selected for the
appointment; but then there arose a difficulty. The etiquette of the
service demanded that the _chef d état-major_ should be at least a
lieutenant-colonel, and I was but a captain.
‘No matter,’ said he; ‘you are _officier délite_, which always gives
brevet rank, and so one step more will place you where we want you. Come
with me to Schônbrunn to-night, and I’ll try and arrange it.’
I was still very weak, and unable for any fatigue, as I accompanied
the marshal to the quaint old palace which, at about a league from the
capital, formed the headquarters of the Emperor. Up to this time I had
never been presented to Napoleon, and had formed to myself the most
gorgeous notions of the state and splendour that should surround such
majesty. Guess then my astonishment, and, need I own, disappointment, as
we drove up a straight avenue, very sparingly lighted, and descended at
a large door, where a lieutenant’s guard was stationed. It was customary
for the marshals and generals of division to present themselves each
evening at Schönbrunn, from six to nine o’clock, and we found that eight
or ten carriages were already in waiting when we arrived. An officer of
the household recognised the marshal as he alighted, and as we mounted
the stairs whispered a few words hurriedly in his ear, of which I only
caught one, ‘Komorn,’ the name of the Hungarian fortress on the Danube
where the Imperial family of Vienna and the cabinet had sought refuge.
‘_Diantre!_’ exclaimed Marmont--‘bad news! My dear Tiernay, we have
fallen on an unlucky moment to ask a favour! The despatches from
Komorn are, it would seem, unsatisfactory. The Tyrol is far from quiet.
Kuffstein, I think that’s the name, or some such place, is attacked by a
large force, and likely to fall into their hands from assault.’
‘That can scarcely be, sir,’ said I, interrupting; ‘I know Kuffstein
well I was two years a prisoner there; and, except by famine, the
fortress is inaccessible.’
‘What! are you certain of this?’ cried he eagerly; ‘is there not one
side on which escalade is possible?’
‘Quite impracticable on every quarter, believe me, sir. A hundred men of
the line and twenty gunners might hold Kuffstein against the world.’
You hear what he says, Lefebvre,’ said Marmont to the officer; ‘I think
I might venture to bring him up?’ The other shook his head doubtfully,
and said nothing. ‘Well, announce me, then,’ said the marshal; ‘and,
Tiernay, do you throw yourself on one of those sofas there, and wait for
me.’
I did as I was bade, and, partly from the unusual fatigue, and in part
from the warmth of a summer evening, soon fell off into a heavy sleep. I
was suddenly awakened by a voice saying, ‘Come along, captain, be quick,
your name has been called twice!’ I sprang up and looked about me,
without the very vaguest notion of where I was. ‘Where to? Where am I
going?’ asked I, in my confusion. ‘Follow that gentleman,’ was the brief
reply; and so I did, in the same dreamy state that a sleep-walker might
have done. Some confused impression that I was in attendance on General
Marmont was all that I could collect, when I found myself standing in
a great room densely crowded with officers of rank. Though gathered
in groups and knots chatting, there was, from time to time, a sort of
movement in the mass that seemed communicated by some single impulse;
and then all would remain watchful and attentive for some seconds,
their eyes turned in the direction of a large door at the end of the
apartment. At last this was thrown suddenly open, and a number of
persons entered, at whose appearance every tongue was hushed, and the
very slightest gesture subdued. The crowd meanwhile fell back, forming
a species of circle round the room, in front of which this newly entered
group walked. I cannot now remember what struggling efforts I made to
collect my faculties, and think where I was then standing; but if a
thunderbolt had struck the ground before me, it could not have given
me a more terrific shock than that I felt on seeing the Emperor himself
address the general officer beside me.
I cannot pretend to have enjoyed many opportunities of royal notice. At
the time I speak of, such distinction was altogether unknown to me; but
even when most highly favoured in that respect, I have never been able
to divest myself of a most crushing feeling of my inferiority--a sense
at once so humiliating and painful, that I longed to be away and out
of a presence where I might dare to look at him who addressed me,
and venture on something beyond mere replies to interrogatories. This
situation, good reader, with your courtly breeding and _aplomb_ to boot,
is never totally free of constraint; but imagine what it can be when,
instead of standing in the faint sunshine of a royal smile, you find
yourself cowering under the stern and relentless look of anger, and that
anger an emperor’s.
This was precisely my predicament, for in my confusion I had not noticed
how, as the Emperor drew near to any individual to converse, the others,
at either side, immediately retired out of hearing, preserving an air of
obedient attention, but without in any way obtruding themselves on the
royal notice. The consequence was, that as his Majesty stood to talk
with Marshal Oudinot, I maintained my place, never perceiving my
awkwardness till I saw that I made one of three figures isolated in the
floor of the chamber. To say that I had rather have stood in face of an
enemy’s battery, is no exaggeration. I’d have walked up to a gun with
a stouter heart than I felt at this terrible moment; and yet there was
something in that sidelong glance of angry meaning that actually nailed
me to the spot, and I could not have fallen back to save my life. There
were, I afterwards learned, no end of signals and telegraphic notices
to me from the officers-in-waiting. Gestures and indications for my
guidance abounded, but I saw none of them. I had drawn myself up in an
attitude of parade stiffness--neither looked right nor left--and waited
as a criminal might have waited for the fall of the axe that was to end
his sufferings for ever.
That the Emperor remained something like two hours and a half in
conversation with the marshal, I should have been quite ready to verify
on oath; but the simple fact was, that the interview occupied under four
minutes, and then General Oudinot backed out of the presence, leaving me
alone in front of his Majesty.
The silence of the chamber was quite dreadful, as, with his hands
clasped behind his back, and his head slightly thrown forward, the
Emperor stared steadily at me. I am more than half ashamed of the
confession, but, what between the effect of long illness and suffering,
the length of time I had been standing, and the emotion I experienced,
I felt myself growing dizzy, and a sickly faintness began to creep over
me, and, but for the support of my sabre, I should actually have fallen.
‘You seem weak; you had better sit down,’ said the Emperor, in a soft
and mild voice.
[Illustration: 606]
‘Yes, sire, I have not quite recovered yet,’ muttered I indistinctly;
but before I could well finish the sentence, Marmont was beside the
Emperor, and speaking rapidly to him.
‘Ah, indeed!’ cried Napoleon, tapping his snuff-box, and smiling. ‘This
is Tiernay, then. _Parbleu!_ we have heard something of you before.’
Marmont still continued to talk on; and I heard the words, Rhine, Genoa,
and Kuffstein distinctly fall from him. The Emperor smiled twice, and
nodded his head slowly, as if assenting to what was said.
‘But his wound?’ said Napoleon doubtingly. ‘He says that your Majesty
cured him when the doctor despaired,’ said Marmont. ‘I’m sure, sire, he
has equal faith in what you still could do for him.’
‘Well, sir,’ said the Emperor, addressing me, ‘if all I hear of you be
correct, you carry a stouter heart before the enemy than you seem to
wear here. Your name is high in Marshal Masséna’s list; and General
Marmont desires to have your services on his staff. I make no objection;
you shall have your grade.’
I bowed without speaking; indeed, I could not have uttered a word, even
if it had been my duty.
‘They have extracted the ball, I hope?’ said the Emperor to me, and
pointing to my thigh.
‘It never lodged, sire; it was a round shot,’ said I. ‘_Diable!_ a round
shot! You’re a lucky fellow, Colonel Tiernay,’ said he, laying a stress
on the title--‘a very lucky fellow.’
‘I shall ever think so, sire, since your Majesty has said it,’ was my
answer.
‘I was not a lieutenant-colonel at your age,’ resumed Napoleon; ‘nor
were you either, Marmont. You see, sir, that we live in better times--at
least, in times when merit is better rewarded.’ And with this he passed
on; and Marmont, slipping my arm within his own, led me away, down
the great stair, through crowds of attendant orderlies and groups
of servants. At last we reached our carriage, and in half an hour
re-entered Vienna, my heart wild with excitement, and burning with
zealous ardour to do something for the service of the Emperor.
The next morning I removed to General Marmont’s quarters, and for the
first time put on the golden aigrette of _chef de état-major_, not a
little to the astonishment of all who saw the ‘boy colonel,’ as, half
in sarcasm, half in praise, they styled me. From an early hour of the
morning till the time of a late dinner, I was incessantly occupied. The
staff duties were excessively severe, and the number of letters to be
read and replied to almost beyond belief. The war had again assumed
something of importance in the Tyrol. Hofer and Spechbacher were at the
head of considerable forces, which in the fastnesses of their native
mountains were more than a match for any regular soldiery. The news
from Spain was gloomy: England was already threatening her long-planned
attack on the Scheldt. Whatever real importance might attach to these
movements, the Austrian cabinet made them the pretext for demanding more
favourable conditions; and Metternich was emboldened to go so far as to
ask for the restoration of the Empire in all its former integrity.
These negotiations between the two cabinets at the time assumed the most
singular form which probably was ever adopted in such intercourse--all
the disagreeable intelligences and disastrous tidings being communicated
from one side to the other with the mock politeness of friendly
relations. As, for instance, the Austrian cabinet would forward an
extract from one of Hofer’s descriptions of a victory; to which the
French would reply by a bulletin of Eugène Beauharnais, or, as Napoleon
on one occasion did, by a copy of a letter from the Emperor Alexander,
filled with expressions of friendship, and professing the most perfect
confidence in his ‘brother of France.’ So far was this petty and most
contemptible warfare carried, that every little gossip and every passing
story was pressed into the service, and if not directly addressed to the
cabinet, at least conveyed to its knowledge by some indirect channel.
It is probable I should have forgotten this curious feature of the time,
if not impressed on my memory by personal circumstances too important
to be easily obliterated from memory. An Austrian officer arrived one
morning from Komorn, with an account of the defeat of Lefebvre’s force
before Schenatz, and of a great victory gained by Hofer and Spechbacher
over the French and Bavarians. Two thousand prisoners were said to have
been taken, and the French driven across the Inn, and in full retreat on
Kuffstein. Now, as I had been confined at Kuffstein, and could speak
of its impregnable character from actual observation, I was immediately
sent off with despatches, about some indifferent matter, to the cabinet,
with injunctions to speak freely about the fortress, and declare that
we were perfectly confident of its security. I may mention incidentally,
and as showing the real character of my mission, that a secret despatch
from Lefebvre had already reached Vienna, in which he declared that he
should be compelled to evacuate the Tyrol, and fall back into Bavaria.
‘I have provided you with introductions that will secure your friendly
reception,’ said Marmont to me. ‘The replies to these despatches
will require some days, during which you will have time to make many
acquaintances about the Court, and, if practicable, to effect a very
delicate object.’
This, after considerable injunctions as to secrecy, and so forth, was no
less than to obtain a miniature, or a copy of a miniature, of the young
archduchess, who had been so dangerously ill during the siege of Vienna,
and whom report represented as exceedingly handsome. A good-looking
young fellow, a colonel, of two or three-and-twenty, with unlimited
bribery, if needed, at command, should find little difficulty in the
mission; at least, so Marmont assured me; and from his enthusiasm on the
subject, I saw, or fancied I saw, that he would have had no objection to
be employed in the service himself. For while professing how absurd
it was to offer any advice or suggestion on such a subject to one like
myself, he entered into details, and sketched out a plan of campaign,
that might well have made a chapter of _Gil Blas_. It would possibly
happen, he reminded me, that the Austrian Court would grow suspectful of
me, and not exactly feel at ease were my stay prolonged beyond a day
or two; in which case it was left entirely to my ingenuity to devise
reasons for my remaining; and I was at liberty to despatch couriers for
instructions, and await replies, to any extent I thought requisite. In
fact, I had a species of general commission to press into the service
whatever resources could forward the object of my mission, success being
the only point not to be dispensed with.
‘Take a week, if you like--a month, if you must, Tiernay,’ said he to me
at parting; ‘but, above all, no failure! mind that--no failure!’