I doubt if our great Emperor dated his first dispatch 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 neighborhood, arranged parties for riding and shooting, and, in fact, treated me in all respects like a much valued 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, that 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 [pg 343] the river, toward 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; besides, that 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 black cock, 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 ardor 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 any thing 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 XIV's court, were a Gramont, a Guise, a Rochefoucauld, or a Tavanne more certain of his favorable 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 unsoldier-like 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 dispatch that I ought to have sent off before I left, I hastily apologized 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 toward 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 corn-fields, 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 toward 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.