Napoleon was again the master of Germany; and Austria, like the rest of the country, had to bow humbly to his imperious will. The "first soldier of Aspern," brave Prince John of Lichtenstein, was sent to Napoleon's headquarters at Znaim to request an armistice and the opening of peace negotiations. Napoleon, whose armies were exhausted, whose attention, besides, was absorbed by the war in Spain, and who had found out at his late battles what resistance was now beginning to be made in Germany, granted the request, consented to a cessation of hostilities, and that the envoys of France and Austria should agree upon terms of peace.
These negotiations had already been carried on for months, and no conclusion had yet been arrived at. Vienna was still a French city, and the Viennese had to submit to the rule of a new governor, and to the galling yoke imposed on them by a foreign police, who kept a close surveillance over every action—nay, every expression and look. They had to bow to stern necessity, and to celebrate Napoleon's birthday, the 15th of August, by festivities and an illumination, as though it were the birthday of their own sovereign.
Napoleon was still residing at Schönbrunn, at the palace which Maria Theresa had built, and where she had signed the marriage-contract of her daughter Marie Antoinette with the Dauphin of France. Marie Antoinette had been guillotined, and the heir of the Revolution and of the French crown was dwelling at her mother's palace.
Every morning the French Emperor reviewed his guards in the large palace-yard, and thousands of the inhabitants of Vienna hastened regularly to Schönbrunn in order to see him and witness the parade. These morning reviews had become a favorite public amusement, and, when listening to the music of the French bands, and beholding the emperor (in his gray coat, with his broad brow covered with the three-cornered hat) gallop down the ranks of his troops, followed by the brilliant staff of his marshals and generals, amid shouts of "Vive l'Empereur" the kind-hearted citizen sometimes forgot that it was their enemy who was displaying his power, and rejoicing in his ambition; instead of cursing, they admired him and his veterans, whose scars were the signs of many a victory.
Napoleon was but too well aware of the influence which these parades were exerting on the minds of the people; he knew the fascination which his person produced not only on his soldiers, but the public generally, and he wished to profit by it, in order to conquer the civilians after conquering their army. Every one, therefore, had free access, and the subtle invader had always a kind glance and an affable smile with which to win their hearts.
On the 13th of October, as usual, a parade was to be held; and the road leading to Vienna was early covered with carriages, horsemen, and pedestrians, hastening to Schönbrunn. Among those hurrying along the high-road was a man of whom no one took any notice, with whom no one was conversing, and who, while all around were laughing, and speaking of the parade, was pursuing his way in grave silence. His youthful countenance was sad and pale; long, light hair was waving round his oval face. His eyes seemed on fire, and his thin, half-parted lips were quivering as though he were a prey to intense emotion. He was wrapped in a large black cloak reaching nearly to his feet; a small black velvet cap covered his head. This strange figure looked like an apparition in the midst of the chatting crowd, the elegant carriages, and dashing horsemen. All were too busily engaged with themselves, with the review, which was to be particularly brilliant, and with the emperor, who was not only to be present, but to command the troops.
A few persons referred also to the hopes entertained of a speedy conclusion of peace, and regretted that they had not yet been fulfilled, while others conversed stealthily about the victories of the Tyrolese, and of noble and brave Andrew Hofer, who, with his faithful mountaineers, still dared to resist the French conqueror. The young man listened gravely and silently to all this conversation.
It was yet early when he reached the palace; for the Viennese were anxious to get good places, and to be as near the emperor as possible, and therefore they had set out several hours before the parade was to commence.
The young man glanced with an evident air of disappointment over the large, unoccupied space which lay before him, and on which as yet not a man of the imperial guard was to be seen. "Will there be no parade to-day?" he asked a corpulent citizen of Vienna, who was standing at his side.
"Certainly, sir, there will be one," said the citizen, with a self-important air. "But it is very early yet, and an hour may elapse before the emperor makes his appearance."