Chapter 1287: Franz II's Cowardice
In the Holy Roman Emperor's temporary palace, the Austrian high officials all bowed their heads in silence.
Everyone knew the tide had turned, but no one wanted to be the first to suggest surrender.
The young man behind Cobentzel suddenly leaned forward and asked, "Your Highness, how many troops do we have left?"
Archduke Charles glared fiercely at Metternich and said coldly, "Including the troops withdrawn from Vienna and soldiers continuously gathering from the front, we can muster at least 50,000 men before the French army arrives."
Indeed, half a month ago, after receiving his warning, Franz had not even considered strengthening Vienna's defenses, instead immediately deciding to flee the capital.
Under his orders, General Lauer led the Vienna garrison in a diversionary attack against Gérard's army, which had been left to besiege Vienna.
As Gérard had only 20,000 soldiers, he had to temporarily ease his surveillance on other areas to deal with Lauer. Franz II seized this opportunity to successfully escape from Vienna's northwest via the "Forest Wall"—a hilly region several tens of kilometers wide, dense with trees.
Metternich immediately shrank back behind Cobentzel. He knew Archduke Charles didn't actually have 50,000 troops, but that number was already small enough.
Sure enough, Franz II's expression grew tense. He first looked at his younger brother, then his gaze finally fell on General Lauer: "What chances do you think we have of holding Pressburg?"
Franz II now noticed that the commanders of the British and Russian allies hadn't come to Pressburg. He was about to ask when he heard Cobentzel say, "I will immediately travel to Saint Petersburg to request aid from His Imperial Majesty the Tsar, but Kutuzov's army is currently en route to Zrenjanin."
Franz II suddenly froze. Zrenjanin was southeast of Pressburg; this clearly indicated a retreat toward Russia. By the time Cobentzel returned from Saint Petersburg, he himself would probably have been driven into Hungary by the French army.
The great hall was silent for a full five or six minutes before Little Cobenzl, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, finally broke the silence: "Your Majesty, the British envoy sent word this morning, saying they could use the situation in North America to help us obtain favorable armistice conditions."
Count Spielmann, the Minister of the Interior, hastily continued, "We need time to regroup our army, and before then, we might as well first conduct armistice negotiations with France..."
The other ministers expressed their agreement one after another.
Seeing this, Archduke Charles could only turn and leave in a fit of anger.
...
June 30, 1799.
Representatives from France and Austria began armistice negotiations at Schönbrunn Palace in Vienna.
Unlike previous times, the guards standing outside Schönbrunn Palace were now French soldiers, dressed in white military uniforms and carrying 1798 model rifles.
"No, you are mistaken," Little Cobenzl declared, trying to adopt a tough stance as he addressed Talleyrand. "Our country has not completely failed. His Imperial Majesty will lead 100,000 loyal soldiers to defend Pressburg. France will fall into an endless quagmire of war!"
Talleyrand ignored him, simply tossing the drafted armistice agreement in front of him. "You know," he said calmly, "if Her Majesty the Queen hadn't considered her familial affection for His Imperial Majesty Franz II, General Soult would have already besieged Pressburg. Oh, by the way, a friend of mine told me that Pressburg's army has only 40,000 men."
Anxiety appeared in Little Cobenzl's eyes, because the number the French had cited was correct. In fact, Pressburg not only lacked sufficient troops, but it didn't even have many cannons—the Austrian army had abandoned most of its heavy weapons during the previous retreat.
Just then, Sir Wickham, the British Special Envoy behind him, said loudly, "Archbishop Talleyrand, with all due respect, if your esteemed country hopes to retain its Louisiana colony, then you need to withdraw from Austrian territory."
Little Cobenzl, as if grasping at a lifeline, hastily added, "War reparations must also be lowered further. Our country can accept at most 20 million florins. Furthermore, we cannot pay reparations to Baden or Venice."
Talleyrand had just stated France's armistice conditions, the second of which was that Austria had to pay reparations of 70 million, 6 million, and 9 million florins to France, Baden, and Venice, respectively.
Of course, Venice no longer even had a government, so their reparations were being collected by France on their behalf. Hmm, a total of 85 million florins, which amounted to 210 million francs.
Talleyrand frowned and, following the Crown Prince's instructions, shook his head. "Our country does not care at all about the safety of the North American colonies. My answer to the demands you just mentioned is 'impossible'."
Without waiting for the Austrian Foreign Minister to say anything further, he rose and left the table. "That's that. If the armistice agreement hasn't been signed in three days, General Soult will continue to advance eastward."
...
Eastern Atlantic Ocean, Bay of Biscay.
The French fourth-rate battleship "Long-handled Hammer" sailed swiftly through the waves, its sails billowing.
It had evaded approaching British fleets several times along the way and, after 66 days, finally arrived in European waters.
On the foredeck, Baron Léotard, Assistant Governor of Saint Louisianna, felt the refreshing sea breeze and said to the Major military officer beside him, "By the way, have you heard? His Royal Highness the Crown Prince sent General Soult to launch a surprise attack on the Ore Mountains, and it's said he occupied it in just a few days."
The Major showed a playful smile. "Where did you get that news? From my professional perspective, even if over 100,000 troops were besieging it, it would be impossible to breach the Ore Mountain Fortress within a few days."
"Er, I heard it from a merchant when we resupplied in the Azores," Baron Léotard said, waving his hand. "But no matter how you look at it, our army still holds an absolute advantage, doesn't it?"
"Indeed so," the Major nodded, then began to focus on tasting his wine.
Baron Léotard had no choice but to continue the conversation. "You said last time that Lieutenant Colonel Bonaparte originally wanted to annihilate all American forces?"
"That's right, I was right beside him then." The officer became more talkative as he spoke of the battle. "It was only later, when the Governor sent someone to deliver His Royal Highness the Crown Prince's order, that the commander finally told the natives to stop."
"Ahem," Léotard coughed lightly, reminding him, "You shouldn't use that word."
"Oh, my apologies. It's 'indigenous people'."
The Assistant Governor asked again, "Did you have confidence when the war first started?"
"Confidence?" The Major shook his head. "Of course not. Anyone with only 2,000 soldiers—nearly half of whom were useless Spaniards—and several thousand natives would find it hard to believe they could defeat 7,000 American militia."
He suddenly showed a look of yearning. "But the commander achieved it. When he ordered the entire army to retreat then, we all thought he was a cowardly good-for-nothing..."
Léotard knew he was about to recount the story of fighting alongside Lieutenant Colonel Bonaparte again, but he didn't interrupt him. During days drifting at sea, it was enough to just have someone to talk to, even if it was about a topic he'd heard dozens of times.
Comments