Maurice Tiernay, Soldier of Fortune

‘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.

CHAPTER L. THE MARCH ON VIENNA

All General Masséna’s wise counsels, and my own steady resolves to profit by them, were so far thrown away, that, on our arrival at Abensberg, we found that the Emperor had left it four hours before, and pushed on to Ebersfield, a village about five leagues to the eastward. A despatch, however, awaited Masséna, telling him to push forward with Oudinot’s corps to Neustadt, and, with his own division, which comprised the whole French right, to manoeuvre so as to menace the archduke’s base upon the Iser.

Let my reader not fear that I am about to inflict on him a story of the great campaign itself, nor compel him to seek refuge in a map from the terrible array of hard names of towns and villages for which that district is famous. It is enough for my purpose that I recall to his memory the striking fact, that when the French sought victory by turning and defeating the Austrian left, the Austrians were exactly in march to execute a similar movement on the French left wing. Napoleon, however, gave the first ‘check,’ and ‘mated’ his adversary ere he could open his game. By the almost lightning speed of his manouvres, he moved forward from Ratisbon with the great bulk of his army; and at the very time that the archduke believed him to be awaiting battle around that city, he was far on his march to Landshut.

General Masséna was taking a hurried cup of coffee, and dictating a few lines to his secretary, when a dragoon officer galloped into the town with a second despatch, which, whatever its contents, must needs have been momentous, for in a few minutes the drums were beating and trumpets sounding, and all the stirring signs of an immediate movement visible. It was yet an hour before daybreak, and dark as midnight; torches, however, blazed everywhere, and by their flaring light the artillery trains and waggons drove through the narrow street of the village, shaking the frail old houses with their rude trot. Even in a retreating army, I have scarcely witnessed such a spectacle of uproar, confusion, and chaos; but still, in less than an hour the troops had all defiled from the town, the advanced guard was already some miles on its way, and, except a small escort of lancers before the little inn where the general still remained, there was not a soldier to be seen. It may seem absurd to say it, but I must confess that my eagerness to know what was ‘going on’ in front was divided by a feeling of painful uneasiness at my ridiculous dress, and the shame I experienced at the glances bestowed on me by the soldiers of the escort. It was no time, however, to speak of myself or attend to my own fortunes, and I loitered about the court of the inn wondering if, in the midst of such stirring events, the general would chance to remember me. If I had but a frock and a shako, thought I, I could make my way. It is this confounded velvet jacket and this absurd and tapering hat will be my ruin. If I were to charge a battery, I’d only look like a merry-andrew after all; men will not respect what is only laughable. Perhaps after all, thought I, it matters little; doubtless Masséna has forgotten me, and I shall be left behind like a broken limber. At one time I blamed myself for not pushing on with some detachment – at another I half resolved to put a bold face on it, and present myself before the general; and between regrets for the past and doubts for the future, I at last worked myself up to a state of anxiety little short of fever.

While I walked to and fro in this distracted mood, I perceived, by the bustle within-doors, that the general was about to depart; at the same time several dismounted dragoons appeared leading saddle-horses, tightening girths, and adjusting curb-chains – all tokens of a start. While I looked on these preparations, I heard the clatter of a horse’s hoofs close behind, and the spluttering noise of a struggle. I turned and saw it was the general himself, who had just mounted his charger, but before catching his right stirrup the horse had plunged, and was dragging the orderly across the court by the bridle. Seeing, in an instant, that the soldier’s effort to hold on was only depriving General Masséna of all command of the horse, who must probably have fallen on his flank, I jumped forward, caught the stirrup, and slipped it over the general’s foot, and then, with a sharp blow on the soldier’s wrist, compelled him to relax his grasp. So suddenly were the two movements effected, that in less time than I take to relate it, all was over, and the general, who, for a heavy man, was a good rider, was fast seated in his saddle. I had now no time, however, to bestow on him, for the dragoon, stung by the insult of a blow, and from a peasant, as he deemed it, rushed at me with his sabre.

‘Halte-là!, cried Masséna in a voice of thunder; ‘it was that country fellow saved me from a broken bone, which your infernal awkwardness might have given me. Throw him a couple of florins for me,’ cried he to his aide-de-camp, who just rode in; ‘and do you, sir, join your ranks; I must look for another orderly.’

‘I am right glad to have been in the way, general,’ said I, springing forward, and touching my hat.

‘What, Tiernay – this you?’ cried he. ‘How is this? have I forgotten you all this time? What’s to be done now? You ought to have gone on with the rest, monsieur. You should have volunteered with some corps, eh?’

‘I hoped to have been attached to yourself, general. I thought I could perhaps have made myself useful.’

‘Yes, yes, very true; so you might, I’ve no doubt; but my staff is full – I ‘ve no vacancy. What’s to be done now? Lestocque, have we any spare cattle?’

‘Yes, general; we’ve your own eight horses, and two of Gambronne’s.’

‘Ah, poor fellow, he ‘ll not want them more. I suppose Tiernay may as well take one of them, at least.’

‘There’s an undress uniform, too, of Cambronne’s would fit Monsieur de Tiernay,’ said the officer, who, I saw, had no fancy for my motley costume alongside of him.

‘Oh, Tiernay doesn’t care for that; he’s too old a soldier to bestow a thought upon the colour of his jacket,’ said Masséna.

‘Pardon me, general, but it is exactly one of my weaknesses; and I feel that until I get rid of these trappings I shall never feel myself a soldier.’

‘I thought you had been made of other stuff,’ muttered the general, ‘and particularly since there’s like to be little love-making in the present campaign.’ And with that he rode forward, leaving me to follow when I could.

‘These are Cambronne’s keys,’ said Lestocque, ‘and you’ll find enough for your present wants in the saddlebags. Take the grey, he’s the better horse, and come up with us as fast as you can.’

I saw that I had forfeited something of General Masséna’s good opinion by my dandyism; but I was consoled in a measure for the loss, as I saw the price at which I bought the forfeiture. The young officer, who had fallen three days before, and was a nephew of the General Gambronne, was a lieutenant in Murat’s celebrated corps, the Lancers of ‘Berg,’ whose uniform was the handsomest in the French army. Even the undress scarlet frock and small silver helmet were more splendid than many full parade uniforms; and as I attired myself in these brilliant trappings, I secretly vowed that the Austrians should see them in some conspicuous position ere a month was over. If I had but one sigh for the poor fellow to whose galanterie I succeeded, I had many a smile for myself as I passed and repassed before the glass, adjusting a belt, or training an aigrette to fall more gracefully. While thus occupied, I felt something heavy clink against my leg, and opening the sabretache, discovered a purse containing upwards of forty golden Napoleons and some silver. It was a singular way to succeed to a ‘heritage’ I thought, but, with the firm resolve to make honest restitution, I replaced the money where I found it, and descended the stairs, my sabre jingling and my spurs clanking, to the infinite admiration of the hostess and her handmaiden, who looked on my transformation as a veritable piece of magic.

I’m sure Napoleon himself had not framed one-half as many plans for that campaign as I did while I rode along. By a close study of the map, and the aid of all the oral information in my power, I had at length obtained a tolerably accurate notion of the country; and I saw, or I thought I saw, at least, half-a-dozen distinct ways of annihilating the Austrians. I have often since felt shame, even to myself, at the effrontery with which I discussed the great manoeuvres going forward, and the unblushing coolness with which I proffered my opinions and my criticisms; and I really believe that General Masséna tolerated my boldness rather for the amusement it afforded him than from any other cause.

‘Well, Tiernay,’ said he, as a fresh order reached him, with the most pressing injunction to hurry forward, ‘we are to move at once on Moosburg – what does that portend?’

‘Sharp work, general,’ replied I, not noticing the sly malice of the question; the Austrians are there in force.’

‘So your grenadiers say so?’ asked he sarcastically.

‘Nor general; but as the base of the operations is the Iser, they must needs guard all the bridges over the river, as well as protect the highroad to Vienna by Landshut.’

‘But you forget that Landshut is a good eight leagues from that!’ said he, with a laugh.

‘They’ll have to fall back there, nevertheless,’ said I coolly, ‘or they suffer themselves to be cut off from their own centre.’

‘Would you believe it,’ whispered Masséna to a colonel at his side, ‘the fellow has just guessed our intended movement?’

Low as he spoke, my quick ears caught the words, and my heart thumped with delight as I heard them. This was the Emperor’s strategy – Masséna was to fall impetuously on the enemy’s left at Moosburg, and drive them to a retreat on Landshut; when, at the moment of the confusion and disorder, they were to be attacked by Napoleon himself, with a vastly superior force. The game opened even sooner than expected, and a few minutes after the conversation I have reported, our tirailleurs were exchanging shots with the enemy. These sounds, however, were soon drowned in the louder din of artillery, which thundered away at both sides till nightfall. It was a strange species of engagement, for we continued to march on the entire time, the enemy as steadily retiring before us, while the incessant cannonade never ceased.

Although frequently sent to the front with orders, I saw nothing of the Austrians; a low line of bluish smoke towards the horizon, now and then flashing into flame, denoted their position, and as we were about as invisible to them, a less exciting kind of warfare would be difficult to conceive. Neither was the destruction important; many of the Austrian shot were buried in the deep clay in our front; and considering the time, and the number of pieces in action, our loss was insignificant. Soldiers, if they be not the trained veterans of a hundred battles, grow very impatient in this kind of operation; they cannot conceive why they are not led forward, and wonder at the over caution of the general. Ours were mostly young levies, and were consequently very profuse of their comments and complaints.

‘Have patience, my brave boys,’ said an old sergeant to some of the grumblers; ‘I’ve seen some service, and I never saw a battle open this way that there wasn’t plenty of fighting ere it was over.’

A long, low range of hills bounds the plain to the west of Moosburg, and on these, as night closed, our bivouac fires were lighted, some of them extending to nearly half a mile to the left of our real position, and giving the Austrians the impression that our force was stationed in that direction. A thin drizzly rain, cold enough to be sleet, was falling; and as the ground had been greatly cut up by the passage of artillery and cavalry, a less comfortable spot to bivouac in could not be imagined. It was difficult, too, to obtain wood for our fires, and our prospects for the dark hours were scarcely brilliant. The soldiers grumbled loudly at being obliged to sit and cook their messes at the murky flame of damp straw, while the fires at our left blazed away gaily without one to profit by them. Frenchmen, however, are rarely ill-humoured in face of the enemy, and their complaints assumed all the sarcastic drollery which they so well understand; and even over their half-dressed supper they were beginning to grow merry, when staff-officers were seen traversing the lines at full speed in all directions.

‘We are attacked – the Austrians are upon us!’ cried two or three soldiers, snatching up their muskets.

‘No, no, friend,’ replied a veteran, ‘it’s the other way – we are going at them.’

This was the true reading of the problem. Orders were sent to every brigade to form in close column of attack – artillery and cavalry to advance under their cover, and ready to deploy at a moment’s notice.

Moosburg lay something short of two miles from us, having the Iser in front, over which was a wooden bridge, protected by a strong flanking battery. The river was not passable, nor had we any means of transporting artillery across it; so that to this spot our main attack was at once directed. Had the Austrian general, Heller, who was second in command to the Archduke Louis, either cut off the bridge, or taken effectual measures to oppose its passage, the great events of the campaign might have assumed a very different feature. It is said, however, that an entire Austrian brigade was encamped near Freising, and that the communication was left open to save them.

Still it must be owned that the Imperialists took few precautions for their safety; for, deceived by our line of watch-fires, the pickets extended but a short distance into the plain; and when attacked by our light cavalry, many of them were cut off at once; and of those who fell back, several traversed the bridge, with their pursuers at their heels. Such was the impetuosity of the French attack, that although the most positive orders had been given by Masséna that not more than three guns and their caissons should traverse the bridge together, and even these at a walk, seven or eight were seen passing at the same instant, and all at a gallop, making the old framework so to rock and tremble, that it seemed ready to come to pieces. As often happens, the hardihood proved our safety. The Austrians counting upon our slow transit, only opened a heavy fire after several of our pieces had crossed, and were already in a position to reply to them. Their defence, if somewhat late, was a most gallant one, and the gunners continued to fire on our advancing columns till we captured the block-house and sabred the men at their guns. Meanwhile the Imperial Cuirassiers, twelve hundred strong, made a succession of furious charges upon us, driving our light cavalry away before them, and for a brief space making the fortune of the day almost doubtful. It soon appeared, however, that these brave fellows were merely covering the retreat of the main body, who in all haste were falling back on the villages of Furth and Arth. Some squadrons of Kellermann’s heavy cavalry gave time for our light artillery to open their fire, and the Austrian ranks were rent open with terrific loss.