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.’