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.
The Magyar seemed to read what was passing in my mind, for he nodded significantly, and touching his cap in token of respect, said it was the young Archduchess Maria Louisa, who, with one or two of her ladies, enjoyed the cool of the evening on the river. This was the very same princess for whose likeness I was so eager, and of whom I never could obtain the slightest tidings. With what an interest that barque became invested from that moment! I had more than suspected, I had divined, the reasons of General Marmont’s commission to me, and could picture to myself the great destiny that in all likelihood awaited her who now, in sickly dalliance, moved her hand in the stream, and scattered the sparkling drops in merry mood over her companions. Twice or thrice a head of light-brown hair peeped from beneath the folds of the awning, and I wondered within myself if it were on that same brow that the greatest diadem of Europe was to sit.
So intent was I on these fancies, so full of the thousand speculations that grew out of them, that I paid no attention to what was passing, and never noticed an object on which the Hungarian’s eyes were bent in earnest contemplation. A quick gesture and a sudden exclamation from the man soon attracted me, and I beheld, about a quarter of a mile off, an enormous timber raft descending the stream at headlong speed. That the great mass had become unmanageable, and was carried along by the impetuosity of the current, was plain enough, not only from the zigzag course it took, but from the wild cries and frantic gestures of the men on board. Though visible to us from the eminence on which we stood, a bend of the stream still concealed it from those in the boat. To apprise them of their danger, we shouted with all our might, gesticulating at the same time, and motioning to them to put in to shore. It was all in vain; the roar of the river, which here is almost a torrent, drowned our voices, and the little boat still held her place in the middle of the stream. Already the huge mass was to be seen emerging from behind a wooden promontory of the riverside, and now their destruction seemed inevitable. Without waiting to reach the path, I spurred my horse down the steep descent, and, half falling and half plunging, gained the bank. To all seeming now they heard me, for I saw the curtain of the awning suddenly move, and a boatman’s red cap peer from beneath it. I screamed and shouted with all my might, and called out ‘The raft—the raft!’ till my throat felt bursting. For some seconds the progress of the great mass seemed delayed, probably by having become entangled with the trees along the shore; but now, borne along by its immense weight, it swung round the angle of the bank, and came majestically on, a long, white wave marking its course as it breasted the water.
They see it! they see it! Oh, good heavens! are they paralysed with terror, for the boatman never moves! A wild shriek rises above the roar of the current, and yet they do nothing. What prayers and cries of entreaty, what wild imprecations I uttered, I know not; but I am sure that reason had already left me, and nothing remained in its place except the mad impulse to save them, or perish. There was then so much of calculation in my mind that I could balance the chances of breasting the stream on horseback, or alone; and this done, I spurred my animal over the bank into the Danube. A horse is a noble swimmer when he has courage, and a Hungarian horse rarely fails in this quality.
Heading towards the opposite shore, the gallant beast cleared his track through the strong current, snorting madly, and seeming to plunge at times against the rushing waters. I never turned my eyes from the skiff all this time, and now could see the reason of what had seemed their apathy. The anchor had become entangled, fouled among some rocks or weeds of the river, and the boatman’s efforts to lift it were all in vain. I screamed and yelled to the man to cut the rope, but my cries were unheard, for he bent over the gunwale, and tugged and tore with all his might. I was more than fifty yards higher up the stream, and rapidly gaining the calmer water under shore, when I tried to turn my horse’s head down the current; but the instinct of safety rebelled against all control, and the animal made straight for the bank. There was, then, but one chance left, and, taking my sabre in my mouth, I sprang from his back into the stream. In all the terrible excitement of that dreadful moment I clung to one firm purpose. The current would surely carry the boat into safety, if once free; I had no room for any thought but this. The great trees along shore, the great fortress, the very clouds overhead, seemed to fly past me, as I was swept along; but I never lost sight of my purpose. And now almost within my grasp, I see the boat and the three figures, who are bending down over one that seems to have fainted. With my last effort, I cry again to cut the rope, but his knife has broken at the handle! I touch the side of the skiff, I grasp the gunwale with one hand, and seizing my sabre in the other, I make one desperate cut. The boat swings round to the current—the boatman’s oars are out—they are saved. My ‘thank God!’ is like the cry of a drowning man—for I know no more.