Maurice Tiernay, Soldier of Fortune

‘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.

‘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!’

CHAPTER LII. KOMORN FORTY TEARS AGO

I doubt if our great Emperor dated his first despatch from Schönbrunn with a prouder sense of elevation than did I write ‘Komorn’ at the top of my first letter to Marshal Marmont, detailing, as I had been directed, every incident of my reception. I will not pretend to say that my communication might be regarded as a model for diplomatic correspondence; but, having since that period seen something of the lucubrations of great envoys and plenipos, I am only astonished at my unconscious imitation of their style – blending, as I did, the objects of my mission with every little personal incident, and making each trivial circumstance bear upon the fortune of my embassy.

I narrated my morning interview with Prince Metternich, whose courteous but haughty politeness was not a whit shaken by the calamitous position of his country, and who wished to treat the great events of the campaign as among the transient reverses which war deals out, on this side to-day, on that to-morrow. I told that my confidence in the impregnable character of Kuffstein only raised a smile, for it had already been surrendered to the Tyrolese; and I summed up my political conjectures by suggesting that there was enough of calm confidence in the Minister’s manner to induce me to suspect that they were calculating on the support of the northern powers, and had not given up the cause for lost. I knew for certain that a Russian courier had arrived and departed since my own coming; and although the greatest secrecy had attended the event, I ascertained the fact, that he had come from St. Petersburg, and was returning to Moscow, where the Emperor Alexander then was. Perhaps I was a little piqued – I am afraid I was – at the indifference manifested at my own presence, and the little, or indeed no, importance, attached to my prolonged stay. For when I informed Count Stadion that I should await some tidings from Vienna before returning thither, he very politely expressed his pleasure at the prospect of my company, and proposed that we should have some partridge-shooting, for which the country along the Danube is famous. The younger brother of this Minister, Count Ernest Stadion, and a young Hungarian magnate, Palakzi, were my constant companions. They were both about my own age, but had only joined the army that same spring, and were most devoted admirers of one who had already won his epaulettes as a colonel in the French service. They showed me every object of interest and curiosity in the neighbourhood, arranged parties for riding and shooting, and, in fact, treated me in all respects like a much-valaed guest – well repaid, as it seemed, by those stories of war and battlefields which my own life and memory supplied.

My improved health was already noticed by all, when Metternich sent me a most polite message, stating, that if my services at Vienna could be dispensed with for a while longer, it was hoped I would continue to reside where I had derived such benefit, and breathe the cheering breezes of Hungary for the remainder of the autumn.

It was full eight-and-twenty years later that I accidentally learned to what curious circumstance I owed this invitation. It chanced that the young archduchess, who was ill during the siege, was lingering in a slow convalescence, and to amuse the tedious hours of her sick couch, Madame Palakzi, the mother of my young friend, was accustomed to recount some of the stories which I, in the course of the morning, happened to relate to her son. So guardedly was all this contrived and carried on, that it was not, as I have said, for nearly thirty years after that I knew of it; and then, the secret was told me by the chief personage herself, the Grand-Duchess of Parma.

Though nothing could better have chimed in with my plans than this request, yet, in reality, the secret object of my mission appeared just as remote as on the first day of my arrival. My acquaintances were limited to some half-dozen gentlemen-in-waiting, and about an equal number of young officers of the staff, with whom I dined, rode, hunted, and shot – never seeing a single member of the Imperial family, nor, stranger still, one lady of the household. In what Turkish seclusion they lived! when they ventured out for air and exercise, and where, were questions that never ceased to torture me. It was true that all my own excursions had been on the left bank of the river, towards which side the apartment I occupied looked; but I could scarcely suppose that the right presented much attraction, since it appeared to be an impenetrable forest of oak; moreover, the bridge which formerly connected it with the island of Komorn had been cut off during the war. Of course, this was a theme on which I could not dare to touch; and as the reserve of my companions was never broken regarding it, I was obliged to be satisfied with my own guesses on the subject. I had been about two months at Komorn when I was invited to join a shooting-party on the north bank of the river at a place called Ercacs, or, as the Hungarians pronounce it, Ercacsh, celebrated for the blackcock, or the auerhahn, one of the finest birds of the east of Europe. All my companions had been promising me great things, when the season for the sport should begin, and I was equally anxious to display my skill as a marksman. The scenery, too, was represented as surpassingly fine, and I looked forward to the expedition, which was to occupy a week, with much interest. One circumstance alone damped the ardour of my enjoyment: for some time back exercise on horseback had become painful to me, and some of those evil consequences which my doctor had speculated on, such as exfoliation of the bone, seemed now threatening me. Up to this the inconvenience had gone no further than an occasional sharp pang after a hard day’s ride, or a dull uneasy feeling which prevented my sleeping soundly at night. I hoped, however, by time, that these would subside, and the natural strength of my constitution carry me safely over every mischance. I was ashamed to speak of these symptoms to my companions, lest they should imagine that I was only screening myself from the fatigues of which they so freely partook; and so I continued, day after day, the same habit of severe exercise; while feverish nights, and a failing appetite, made me hourly weaker. My spirits never flagged, and perhaps in this way damaged me seriously, supplying a false energy long after real strength had begun to give way. The world, indeed, ‘went so well’ with me in all other respects, that I felt it would have been the blackest ingratitude against Fortune to have given way to anything like discontent or repining. It was true, I was far from being a solitary instance of a colonel at my age; there were several such in the army, and one or two even younger; but they were unexceptionably men of family influence, descendants of the ancient nobility of France, for whose chivalric names and titles the Emperor had conceived the greatest respect; and never, in all the pomp of Louis the Fourteenth’s Court, were a Gramont, a Guise, a Rochefoucauld, or a Tavanne more certain of his favourable notice. Now, I was utterly devoid of all such pretensions; my claims to gentle blood, such as they were, derived from another land, and I might even regard myself as the maker of my own fortune.

How little thought did I bestow on my wound, as I mounted my horse on that mellow day of autumn! How indifferent was I to the pang that shot through me as I touched the flank with my leg! Our road led through a thick forest, but over a surface of level sward, along which we galloped in all the buoyancy of youth and high spirits. An occasional trunk lay across our way, and these we cleared at a leap – a feat which I well saw my Hungarian friends were somewhat surprised to perceive gave me no trouble whatever. My old habits of the riding-school had made me a perfect horseman; and rather vain of my accomplishment I rode at the highest fences I could find. In one of these exploits an acute pang shot through me, and I felt as if something had given way in my leg. The pain for some minutes was so intense that I could with difficulty keep the saddle, and even when it had partially subsided the suffering was very great.

To continue my journey in this agony was impossible; and yet I was reluctant to confess that I was overcome by pain. Such an acknowledgment seemed unsoldierlike and unworthy, and I determined not to give way. It was no use; the suffering brought on a sickly faintness that completely overcame me. I had nothing for it but to turn back; so, suddenly affecting to recollect a despatch that I ought to have sent off before I left, I hastily apologised to my companions, and with many promises to overtake them by evening, I returned to Komorn.

A Magyar groom accompanied me to act as my guide; and, attended by this man, I slowly retraced my steps towards the fortress, so slowly, indeed, that it was within an hour of sunset as we gained the crest of the little ridge, from which Komorn might be seen, and the course of the Danube as it wound for miles through the plain.

It is always a grand and imposing scene, one of those vast Hungarian plains, with waving woods and golden cornfields, bounded by the horizon on every side, and marked by those immense villages of twelve or even twenty thousand inhabitants. Trees, rivers, plains, even the dwellings of the people, are on a scale with which nothing in the Old World can vie. But even with this great landscape before me, I was more struck by a small object which caught my eye as I looked towards the fortress. It was a little boat, covered with an awning, and anchored in the middle of the stream, and from which I could hear the sound of a voice, singing to the accompaniment of a guitar. There was a stern and solemn quietude in the scene; the dark fortress, the darker river, the deep woods casting their shadows on the water, all presented a strange contrast to that girlish voice and tinkling melody, so light-hearted and so free.