THE “LITTLE BARON”
Cormier’s departure did not for a single moment interrupt the fiery
activity of Baron d’Auerweck, nor his co-operation in the most
audacious enterprises of the agents of Princes and of the Princes
themselves. He lost, it is true, a mentor whose advice was always
worthy of attention, and who had guided him up to the present time with
a certain amount of success; but the ingenious fellow was by no means
at the end of his resources. The life which he had led for the past
five years was one which exactly suited him. A practically never-ending
list might be drawn up of acquaintances made in the course of his
continual comings and goings, of encounters in this army of emissaries
serving the counter-Revolution, and of particularly prosperous seasons.
Besides the d’Antraigues, the Fauche-Borels, and the Dutheils, there
was a regular army of subordinates, bustling about Europe as though it
were a vast anthill.
Amongst them d’Auerweck could not fail to be prominent, and he was
soon marked as a clever and resourceful agent. His sojourn in Hamburg
also continued to arouse curiosity and observation on the part of the
representatives of the Directoire. They recognized now that he was
employed and paid by England. “He serves her with an activity worthy
of the Republican Government,” Reinhard wrote to Talleyrand; and it
was well known that Peltier’s former collaborator, always an energetic
journalist, assisted in editing the _Spectateur du Nord_.
An unlooked-for opportunity to exploit his talent soon offered itself
to d’Auerweck.
The Deputies of the ten states, which at that time formed the Empire,
had been brought together by the congress which opened at Rastadt on
December 9, 1797, and for eighteen months there was an extraordinary
amount of visits to and departures from the little town in Baden.
The presence of Bonaparte, who had arrived some days before the
commencement of the conference in an eight-horse coach, with a
magnificent escort, and welcomed throughout his journey as the victor
of Arcole, increased the solemnity and scope of the negotiations. All
the diplomatists, with their advisers, their secretaries, and their
clerks, crowded anxiously round him. Agents from all the European
Powers came to pick up greedily any scraps of information, and to
try to worm out any secrets that might exist. Rastadt was full to
overflowing of spies and plotters, and the name of this quiet, peaceful
city, hitherto so undisturbed, was in every one’s mouth.
From Hamburg the “little Baron” followed attentively the first
proceedings of the Congress through the medium of the newspapers, but
the sedentary life which he was leading began to worry him. In vain
he wrote out all day long never-ending political treatises, crammed
with learned notes on the European situation, wove the most fantastic
systems, and drew up “a plan for the partition of France, which he
proposed to a certain M. du Nicolay;” all this was not sufficient
for him. D’Auerweck was on friendly terms with the Secretary of the
French Legation, Lemaître by name (who, by the way, had no scruples
about spying on him some years later, and informed against him without
a blush), and, giving full play “to his romantic imagination and to
his taste for sensational enterprises,” he one day submitted to his
confidant a scheme to “kidnap the Minister, Reinhard, and carry him off
to London; his attendants were to be made intoxicated, his coachman to
be bribed, ten English sailors to be hidden on the banks of the Elbe!”
At the back of these schemes of mystery there figured a certain “Swiss
and Genevan Agency,” which at the proper time would, he declared,
generously reimburse them for all their expenditure. But, for all these
foolish imaginings, d’Auerweck displayed a knowledge of the world and
a sound judgment which struck all those who came in contact with him,
and it was certain that with strong and firm guidance he was capable
of doing much good and useful work. In the winter of 1798 we are told
that “he left Hamburg secretly” for an unknown destination. Lemaître
believed that he had buried himself “in the depths of Silesia,” but
he had no real knowledge of his man. For, as a matter of course,
d’Auerweck was bound to be attracted to such a centre of affairs as
Rastadt then was, in order to make the most profitable use of his
ingenuity, seeing that, according to report, the British Government,
which was making use of his services, in fear of being kept in the dark
as to what was going on, had begged him “to go and exercise his wits in
another place.”
He made Baden his headquarters, for the proximity of Rastadt, and his
intimacy with the de Gelb family, which has already been mentioned,
led him to prefer Baden to the actual field of battle, at which place
he must have come under suspicion as an old English agent. One of the
Austrian envoys at the Congress was Count Lehrbach; and d’Auerweck
managed to get into relations with him, and even to be allowed to do
secretarial work for him, on the strength of the connection which he
declared he had possessed with Minister Thugut during the early days of
the Revolution and the confidence which had lately been reposed in him.
He had reason to hope that with the help of his ability and his gift
of languages he would soon be able to secure active employment. And,
indeed, it was in this way that d’Auerweck succeeded in re-establishing
himself at once, to his great satisfaction, as an active agent, with
a footing in the highest places, ferreting out the secrets of the
Ambassadors, and carrying on an underhand correspondence openly. His
intention was, doubtless, to return to Austria as soon as the Congress
was over, by the help of Count Lehrbach, and there to regain the
goodwill of his former patron, the Minister Thugut.
But the sanguinary drama which brought the Conference to such an abrupt
conclusion completely spoiled his plans and undid his most brilliant
combinations. We can realize the universal feeling of consternation
throughout the whole of Europe which was caused by the news that on the
evening of April 28, 1799, the French Ministers, Bonnier, Roberjot,
and Debry, who had just made up their minds to betake themselves
to Strasburg, along with their families, their servants, and their
records--a party filling eight carriages--had been openly attacked
as they were leaving Rastadt by Barbaczy’s Hussars; that the two
first-mentioned gentlemen had been dragged from their carriages and
treacherously murdered, and that the third, Debry, had alone escaped by
a miracle. Even if the outrage of Rastadt was “neither the cause nor
the pretext of the war of 1799,” its consequences were, nevertheless,
very serious.
One of these consequences, and not the least important, was that
Bonaparte’s police, magnificently reorganized by Fouché, redoubled
its shepherding of _émigrés_ and agents of the Princes, who swarmed
in the country-side between Basle, the general headquarters of the
spies, and Mayence. Once an arrest took place, the accused was certain
to be suspected of having had a hand in the assassination of the
plenipotentiaries, and if by any bad luck he was unable to deny having
been present in the district, he found it a very difficult task to
escape from the serious results of this accusation.
A few months after this stirring event, Baron d’Auerweck, tired of
such a stormy existence, and seeing, perhaps, a shadow of the sword
of Damocles hanging over his head, determined himself to break away
from this life of agitation, and to settle down with a wife. During
the last days of the year 1799 he was married at Baden to Mademoiselle
Fanny de Gelb, a native of Strasburg, whose father had lately served
under Condé; she also had a brother who was an officer in the army of
the Princes. But, in spite of a pension which the mother, Madame de
Gelb, was paid by England on account of her dead husband’s services,
the available resources of the future establishment were very meagre
indeed, for the “little Baron” had not learned to practise economy
while rushing about Europe; so, as soon as the marriage had been
celebrated, the turn of the wheel of fortune forced the young wife
to leave the Grand Duchy of Baden and to wander from town to town in
Germany and Austria.
They travelled first to Munich and then to Nuremburg, but d’Auerweck’s
plans were to establish himself in Austria close to all his belongings.
He had the fond hope of obtaining employment from Minister Thugut,
to whom he reintroduced himself. But he experienced a bitter
disappointment, for on his first attempt to submit to his Excellency
the greater part of his last work (in which he had embodied, as the
result of desperate toil, his views on the present political situation,
the outcome of his conversations with the representatives of the
different European states, his reflections and his forecast of events)
d’Auerweck found himself unceremoniously dismissed. Thugut flatly
refused, if the story is to be believed, to have anything further to
do with a man who was still suspected of being an English emissary.
Consequently he was obliged to abandon his idea of establishing himself
in Austria, and to hunt for other means of existence, more particularly
as Madame d’Auerweck had just presented him with his first child at
Nuremburg. He turned his steps once again in the direction of the Grand
Duchy, and after successive visits to Friburg, Basle, and Baden, he
decided to make his home in Schutterwald, a village on the outskirts
of the town of Offenburg. There he determined to lead the life of a
simple, honest citizen, and renting a very humble peasant’s cottage,
he installed his wife and his mother-in-law therein. He himself set to
work on the cultivation of his garden, devoting his spare moments to
writing, so as not to lose the knack, the sequel to his _Philosophical
and Historical Reflections_.
He soon got to know his neighbours and all the inhabitants of the
country very well. He was considered to be a quiet, unenterprising
man, “with a positive dislike for politics, although loquacious and
vain.” It was impossible to find out anything about his past life, for
the prudent Baron considered it inadvisable to talk of this subject,
but he was always looked upon “as an argumentative man, who wanted to
know all that was going on, whether in reference to agriculture, to
thrift, or to politics.” In spite of the apparent tranquillity in which
he was allowed to remain, d’Auerweck followed with a certain amount
of anxiety all the events which were happening not far from him, on
the frontier of the Rhine. Troops were continually passing to and fro
in this district; the French were close at hand, and their arrival at
Offenburg inspired a feeling of vague unrest in him, although he never
recognized, to tell the truth, the danger which threatened him. He had
taken the precaution to destroy, before coming to Switzerland, his vast
collection of papers: all that mass of correspondence which had been
accumulating for the last few years, those reports and instructions,
all of which constituted a very compromising record. At last, after a
residence of some months, to make matters safe, he contrived, thanks to
his marriage, to be enrolled as a freeman of the Grand Duchy; for it
seemed to him that as a subject of Baden he would be relieved of all
further cause of alarm.
But all d’Auerweck’s fears were reawakened by the much-talked-of news
of the Duc d’Enghien’s arrest on March 15, 1804, and by the details of
how the Prince had been captured openly in the jurisdiction of Baden,
at Ettenheim, that is to say, only a short distance from Offenburg. He
absented himself for some days from Schutterwald, so the story goes,
and took himself to the mountains.
Just at the same time there arrived at the offices of the Ministry of
Police in Paris a succession of memoranda, mostly anonymous, referring
to Baron d’Auerweck, and to his presence in the neighbourhood of the
Rhine.
Some of them came from Lemaître, Reinhard’s former secretary at
Hamburg. Many of them, inexact and inaccurate as they were with regard
to the details of the alleged facts, agreed on this point, viz. that
the individual “was one of those men, who are so powerful for good
or bad, that the security of every Government requires complete
information as to their resting-places and their doings.” Then followed
a medley of gossiping insinuations, the precise import of which it was
difficult to discover.
“I shall never forget,” said one, “that, when d’Auerweck left Hamburg
two months before the assassination of the French Ministers in order
to take up his quarters only three leagues away from Rastadt, he
said: ‘_I am about to undertake an operation which will make a great
sensation, and which will render great service to the cause of the
Coalition_.’”
“Now supervenes a whole year, during which his doings and his
whereabouts are most carefully concealed,” wrote another; “however,
I am certain that he is acting and working pertinaciously against
the interests of France. I have heard him make this remark: ‘_We
shall take some time doing it, but at last we shall conquer you_.’” A
third added: “His tranquillity and his silence are but masks for his
activity, and I, for one, could never be persuaded that he has all of
a sudden ceased to correspond with _Lord Grenville_ in London, with
the _Count de Romanzof_, with a certain _Nicolai_ in St. Petersburg,
with _Prince Belmonte_, with the _Chevalier de Saint-Andre_, with
_Roger de Damas_ in Italy, with _Dumoustier_, who is, I believe, a
Hohenlohe Prince in Berlin, and directly with the Count de Lille.”
Finally, d’Auerweck, according to the same report, “complaisantly
displayed a spot in the shape of the fleur-de-lys, inside his
fist, declaring that ‘this is a sign of descent; it is a mark of
predestination; I of all men am bound to devote myself and assist in
the return of the Bourbons!’”
It would be a fatal mistake to believe that these fairy tales, all
vague and absurd as they often were, remained lost and forgotten in
the despatch-boxes of the Ministry of Police. The region, near as
it was to Rastadt, where d’Auerweck was reported to have made his
appearance, was a valuable and important indication, which of itself
was sufficient to make the man an object for watchful suspicion. The
ominous nature of the times must, of course, be remembered. Fouché, who
had just been restored to favour, and had been placed for the second
time at the head of the Ministry of Police, was anxious to prove his
zeal afresh, to please the Emperor and to deserve his confidence, while
his mind was still troubled by the execution of the Duc d’Enghien, by
the exploits of Georges Cadoudal, and by the discovery of the English
Agency at Bordeaux, which were all fitting reasons for attracting
the Minister’s attention and for exciting his curiosity. So, when on
October 11, 1804, his Excellency decided to make further searching
investigations into d’Auerweck’s case, and gave precise orders to the
prefects of the frontier departments of the Grand Duchy, it is doubtful
whether he was careful to note in his charge the principal reasons for
attaching suspicion upon the Baron, viz. those which had to do with the
assassination of the plenipotentiaries at Rastadt.
It was some time before the required information could be obtained,
and though the first inquiries about d’Auerweck made by Desportes,
the prefect of the Upper Rhine, added little in the way of news, they
agreed, nevertheless, in certifying that the Baron lived very quietly
in the outskirts of Offenburg--
“that he there devoted himself entirely to his agricultural
occupations, and that the kind of life he led did not foster any
suspicion that he kept up his old campaigns of intrigue.”
Six months later, Desportes, in returning to the subject, showed
himself more positive than ever, for he affirmed--
“that no active correspondence can be traced to d’Auerweck, and that
he saw scarcely any one. He is a man of a caustic and critical turn
of mind, who often lets himself go in conversation without reflection
in his anxiety to talk brilliantly. A point which is particularly
reassuring about him is that he is without credit, without fortune,
and of no personal account, and that if he wanted to mix himself up
afresh in intrigues he would choose some other place than Offenburg,
where there are now only three _émigrés_, the youngest of whom is
seventy-seven years of age.”
But, in spite of these very positive statements, the Minister preserved
his attitude of mistrust, which was strengthened by the arrival of
fresh notes, in which the same denunciations of the “little Baron” were
repeated. He was described as being “restless by inclination, violently
fanatical in all his opinions, and longing to make himself notorious
by some startling act.” But his position was made worse by the
information which was received, that in the autumn of 1805 d’Auerweck
had absented himself from home for several days, frightened, no doubt,
by the proximity of the French armies, which were dotted about on the
banks of the Rhine. How could this sudden flight be accounted for? And
his alarm at the sight of the Emperor’s soldiers at close quarters?
Such conduct struck Fouché as being very suspicious. He ordered a
supplementary inquiry, and this time he did not content himself with
the information afforded by the prefect of the Upper Rhine, but let
loose one of his best bloodhounds on his scent. At the time, two years
ago, when preparations were being made for the kidnapping of the Duc
d’Enghien and for watching his residence at Ettenheim, recourse was
had to the services of the Commissary of Police, Popp by name, who was
stationed at Strasburg. In this frontier town near Basle an active and
intelligent man was needed, who could maintain a constant watch on the
underhand practices of the Royalist agents. Commissary Popp seemed to
be made for the job. His handling of the Duc d’Enghien’s affairs earned
the approval of Napoleon; and Fouché, since his reinstatement in the
Ministry, recognized in him a clever and expert functionary, on whom
he could always count.
This was the man who was charged with the task of spying on d’Auerweck,
and throughout the whole of 1806 Popp was hard at work on this mission.
His original authentications differed very little from what Desportes
had written, and there was nothing to prove that the Baron had in any
way departed from his passive attitude.
“I have not discovered,” wrote Popp on April 22, 1806, “that he is
in correspondence with the English agitation, or that he shows any
inclination to excite and embitter people’s tempers. I believe that
he, like many others, is more to be pitied than to be feared.”
Some weeks later Popp managed to loosen the tongue of an ecclesiastic,
a dweller in those parts, and from him he got information about the
business and movements of the Baron. “He is quite absorbed in rural
economy, which is his chief thought to all appearances,” he reported
to Fouché; but then, stung to the quick by the repeated orders of
his chief (who never ceased from impressing upon him the necessity
for the closest watch on d’Auerweck’s traffickings), Popp, impatient
for an opportunity to prove his zeal, began to magnify his words by
introducing subtle insinuations.
By this time d’Auerweck had come to the conclusion that his stay at
Schutterwald was too uncomfortable, and having heard of a bit of land
at a reasonable price in Elgersweier, which was not far from Offenburg,
indeed about the same distance from the town, he made up his mind to
take shelter there and to build a little house, which would be his own
property. The question was asked how could he, whom every one looked
upon as a penniless man, obtain the funds required to complete this
bargain? Without doubt he borrowed from his mother-in-law, Madame de
Gelb, who had always lived with him, and whose modest income was so
pleasantly augmented by the pension which she received from the English
Government. And so, in the middle of the summer of 1806, the “little
Baron” transported his penates to Elgersweier, where he settled his
belongings very comfortably. By this time two other sons, Armand and
Louis, had been added to the one born at Munich, and shortly after
arriving at the new home Madame d’Auerweck gave birth to a daughter,
who was named Adelaide.
Commissary Popp knew all about these happenings, and his supervision
never slackened for an instant. Encouraged by his success in arranging
the preliminaries for the affair at Ettenheim, he was perfectly
prepared to repeat the operation. With this in view, he began to
show the Minister, in ambiguous language at first, his very good and
sufficient reasons for desiring d’Auerweck’s presence in France. If
necessary, he urged, we could easily get permission from the Grand Duke
of Baden to arrest him in his own home. This suggestion was expressed
very cautiously at first, but was soon made more explicit, although
there was not the slightest shadow of an excuse for such violence, for
all his statements “agreed in demonstrating the perfectly peaceful
nature of the “little Baron’s” existence.
“It would be advisable to make certain of his person,” wrote Popp,
“and my opinion will always be the same if certain difficulties with
the House of Austria happen to be renewed; for d’Auerweck, posted as a
sentinel on the opposite bank, and doubtless possessing friends on our
side, would be one of the very first bearers of information about our
military position and political topography.”
About the same time, Bourrienne, one of Minister Reinhard’s successors
at Hamburg, arrested an _émigré_ who had lately landed from London, and
who was supposed to be in possession of important secrets. This was the
Viscount de Butler, Cormier’s half-brother, who, after having “worked,”
as we have seen, for the Royalist Committee in London, now found
himself stranded in Hamburg in the greatest misery. It was decided
to send him to Paris, as he offered to give up certain documents.
He was imprisoned in the Temple, and there questioned by Desmarets,
who extracted from him all kinds of information with regard to his
missions. Naturally, Butler related all he knew about d’Auerweck, how
he had made his acquaintance, and what sort of terms he was on with
Dutheil and with Lord Grenville. As his answers proved satisfactory he
was sent back to Hamburg, where Bourrienne continued to make use of him
for many years.
Finally, to complete the bad luck, the police were warned of a certain
Sieur de Gelb, a former officer in the army of the Princes, whose
behaviour had been discovered to be very mysterious, and who paid
frequent visits to the frontier. Now, this _émigré_ was no other than
Baron d’Auerweck’s brother-in-law.
All these stories, cleverly made the most of and carefully improved
upon, served to greatly excite the curiosity of the Minister of
Police, all the more as the Royalists were showing much increased
activity in many places. To add to the effect, Normandy became the
theatre of several audacious surprises, such as coaches being robbed,
convoys plundered, and attacks on the high road, many of which were
the handiwork of the inhabitants of the castle of Tournebut, led by
the Viscount d’Aché and the famous Chevalier. Besides, the Emperor was
waging war in Prussia at the head of his armies, a thousand leagues
from Paris, and in his absence the conspirators’ audacity redoubled;
but he did not lose sight of them, and from his distant camps he kept
so closely in touch with all that was happening in France that he
compelled Fouché’s incessant vigilance. An event which took place next
year, when war with Germany broke out afresh, clearly demonstrated
once more the danger of attracting for too long the attention of his
Excellency the Minister of Police.
One evening, in the month of June, 1807, a policeman on his rounds
noticed in one of the squares in the town of Cassel a young man
behaving very strangely, and speechifying in the middle of a crowd. He
drew near, and ascertained that the individual, who was very excited,
was pouring forth a stream of insults and threats against Napoleon,
whom he went so far as to call “a good-for-nothing scamp.” This
was quite enough to decide the representative of public order upon
arresting the silly fellow. He was taken off to the police station
and questioned. He stated that his name was Jean-Rodolphe Bourcard,
“formerly a ribbon manufacturer,” aged twenty-three years, and that he
was a native of Basle, in Switzerland. In the course of his examination
it was discovered that he had arrived the same day from Hamburg, and
that he was full of some very suspicious projects. His story caused him
to be suspected, and a report was promptly drawn up for transmission
to Paris. Cassel was destined before very long to become the capital
of the new kingdom of Westphalia, created for Jerome Bonaparte, and
the police supervision of _émigrés_ was exercised as strictly there as
in every other part of France. While waiting for orders a search was
made in the lodging-house whence the prisoner had come. Nothing much
was found in his scanty luggage; some papers, one of which was “a plan
and a description of the battle of Austerlitz,” and besides this two
or three apparently mysterious notes. One of them contained the words:
“_Must see Louis--without Louis nothing can be done_.” Everything was
minutely collected together, and some days later Bourcard was sent off
for a compulsory visit to Paris.
He was put in the Temple, and, although it was easy to see from his
talk and his strange behaviour that he was a madman, subject to fits
of violence, Fouché could not make up his mind to let him go. The
examination of his record and the papers which were found in his
possession had suddenly given the Minister an ingenious idea. Who could
this _Louis_ be who was obviously connected with Bourcard? Certainly a
Royalist spy, since the man of Basle had just come from Hamburg, the
headquarters of these people. And the Record Office of the Ministry
contained many notes referring to a “well-known agent of England and
of Austria,” Baron Louis d’Auerweck of Steilengels, who was known to
be living on the banks of the Rhine. There was no room for doubt: this
person “had assumed the name of Louis in the various missions which he
had undertaken.” Was not this the man who was denoted by Bourcard’s
note?
Fouché was fascinated by this solution, and, anxious to have it
verified, he seized upon the unhoped-for opportunity which had
presented itself. And that was why an order was sent from Paris on
July 17, 1807, to immediately effect the arrest of the “little Baron.”
It would, however, have been impolitic and almost impossible to make
use of the same violent measures which had been employed in the Duc d’
Enghien’s case. Besides, Massias, the French Chargé d’Affaires at the
Grand Duke of Baden’s court at Carlsruhe, when he received Fouché’s
letter, considered it necessary, in order to carry out his chiefs
commands, to obtain the Grand Duke’s permission and assistance before
moving in the matter.
“But,” he wrote to Fouché, “my seven years’ experience had firmly
convinced me that, if I ask for this person’s arrest by the ordinary
process of an official letter, he will be warned and will manage to
make his escape, so I think I should set off the same day for Baden,
where the Baron de Gemmingen, the Cabinet Minister, is now staying
with his Royal Highness, for I have on several occasions received
proofs of his kindly disposition towards me.”
Massias was not mistaken; his application to the Sovereign of Baden
met with immediate and complete success. For the latter, who knew
none of the details of the case--not even that d’Auerweck was his
own subject--and did not want to offend the Emperor, listened to his
representatives petition, and the same day issued orders, from his
palace of La Favorite in the outskirts of Baden, to M. Molitor, the
Grand Ducal Commissary, to act in concert with Massias, and with the
help of the police of Baden to arrest Baron d’Auerweck. For Massias
had pointed out that if the order were sent in the first place to
the bailiff of Offenburg, “where d’Auerweck must have formed many
friendships,” there were a thousand reasons for fearing that the latter
would receive warning, “for he is a vigilant man and is on his guard.”
At Elgersweier no one had the slightest inkling of the impending
danger. The “little Baron” had just returned from one of those
expeditions which the police were watching so carefully, and had gone
in to see his wife, who had lately given birth to her fourth child. For
d’Auerweck had settled down a short time before in his new home, and
was perfectly content to enjoy the peaceful existence, which allowed
him to move about and finish his _Historical Notes on Hugues Capet_,
and his _Dissertation upon the Secularization of Germany under French
Methods_.
So it can be imagined what a crushing blow was dealt him when
Commissary Molitor and his assistants appeared at Elgersweier
unexpectedly on the evening of July 23, 1807. We can picture the
“little Baron’s” agitation, his distorted face, as he went himself to
admit the police officers; his wife’s despair; the house rummaged from
cellar to garret; the cries of the children woken up by the hubbub;
Madame de Gelb’s indignation; and then the setting forth, in the midst
of the police, of the unhappy head of the family, in spite of his
useless protestations, and the broken-hearted family, overwhelmed by
stupefaction, in their ravished home.
The prisoner soon recovered his presence of mind, and at Offenburg,
where he was taken, he set to work to prepare his defence to the best
of his ability, and he soon drew up a justificatory document, which
was designed to confound his accusers. At the same time--luckily for
d’Auerweck--the Grand Duke found out that it was one of his subjects
who was concerned, and he withdrew the authority for arrest which he
had given, and issued orders to keep the Baron and his papers for
his disposal. The preliminary examination of these documents plainly
demonstrated the flimsy nature of the charge, and that there was no
justification for the outrage which had been committed.
The day after the fateful event, Madame de Gelb went to La Favorite,
and, throwing herself at her Sovereign’s feet, implored him to protect
her son-in-law. She described the falsity of the charges brought
against him, the distress of the mother and of the four children. The
Grand Duke could not but be touched by this petition, although he was
anxious not to displease M. Fouché.
“I am transported with delight,” Massias said to Councillor Gemmingen,
“at having so successfully executed the commands of the Minister of
Police, for they were not easy of accomplishment;” and he added, in
order to appease the Grand Duke’s fears and regrets, “This affair
seems to have taken a turn, which is very fortunate for the prisoner;
and I have already advised his Excellency the Minister about it. You
can assure his Royal Highness that I will do my very best to finish
off the case in a way that shall be agreeable to both Governments.”
But such a result seemed very unlikely, for it would have required very
strong compulsion to make Fouché renounce his plan, more especially
now that the arrest was an accomplished fact. It seemed absolutely
necessary to him to extradite d’Auerweck and to fetch him to Paris;
and he had already, by August 5, warned the Prefect of the department
of Mont Tonnerre and Moncey, the Inspector-General of Police, to be in
readiness “to take charge of and to escort Lord d’Auerweck.”
It was just at this time that Commissary Popp, whose assistance had
not been utilized as much as he hoped it would be, began to be worried
by the silence which was observed as far as he was concerned, and he
entreated his Minister not to allow the Baron to slip out of his hands.
“It was very distasteful to have to make this arrest,” he said, “and
it was only effected because it was necessary; and you can guess how
carefully, under these circumstances, we have examined his papers,
which it was of supreme importance to lay our hands upon.”
However, these papers, which Popp so confidently reckoned would expose
the Baron’s intrigues, were found to consist only of purely private
correspondence, altogether wanting in political interest; besides the
historical works undertaken by d’Auerweck, the search of his house had
only brought to light some insignificant letters, amongst which were
“a bundle of love letters which d’Auerweck had exchanged with a young
_émigrée_ now settled in London. It appears that this entanglement did
not meet with the approval of the young lady’s uncle, the girl having
lost her parents when she was fifteen years of age.”
The Grand Duke, having heard these particulars, was all the more
unwilling to hand over his unfortunate subject to Fouché and his
myrmidons. He was convinced “of his perfect innocence.” Therefore the
Baron de Dalberg, his Ambassador in Paris, was charged “to urge His
Excellency, Minister Fouché, most forcibly to cease from troubling
these persons, who were very sincerely to be pitied.” But he only
encountered the most obstinate resistance. Fouché had received the
plea of exculpation, which d’Auerweck had drawn up two days after his
arrest, but he decided it was insufficient, “because it only touched
lightly on many of the principal details of his intrigues, and it did
not refer at all to his doings before 1800,” and in the margin of the
sheet he recorded his sentiments in a kind of cross-examination.
“With whom had he had dealings since his second journey to Paris?
Where did he lodge? To whom in London had he written? Did he not hide
himself in a house in the Rue Basse-du-Rempart?
“What commission had he been charged with at Rastadt? Had he not made
this extraordinary remark to some one before he left Hamburg: ‘_I am
going to Rastadt; you will soon hear of a great event, in which I
shall have had a hand_’”?
And Fouché went on to allude to the Baron’s hurried flight at the time
when the French troops were drawing near.
“Why did you fly at the time of the commencement of hostilities? You
are not a Frenchman? If you had not intrigued against France, or even
if you had ceased to intrigue, why did you leave your wife because
our troops were about to arrive, since you were a German and settled
in Germany on the territory of a Prince, who is on good terms with
this same France? But we have reason to believe that you were still
carrying on your intrigues. We have reason to think that you came
secretly to Paris five or six months ago. You were seen in the Rue
de Richelieu. Further, we have reason to think that, stationed as
you were on our frontier, you were perilously inclined by your long
experience as a spy to continue to spy on us, and that you did not
confine yourself to a correspondence with our enemies, but actually
controlled men of the class of those whom you directed at Rastadt
according to your own acknowledgment.”
Such were the complaints formulated by the Minister, and they were
sufficient, it must be admitted, to convince him of the importance
of his capture. Even if the Baron’s past life since 1800 could be
voluntarily ignored--although this past life could not fail to arouse
a host of just suspicions--there still remained his complicity in
the drama of Rastadt, and also the coincidence--though not a very
convincing one--of Bourcard’s arrest with the Baron’s presence on the
banks of the Rhine. So Fouché, in his reply to Baron de Dalberg, who
had begged him to comply with his requests, wished to show that he had
made up his mind.
“You understand, monsieur, from what has passed,” he wrote on August
29, “that Baron d’Auerweck cannot be set free, and that it is
necessary to convey him to Paris in order to give his explanation
of the fresh and singular information which has been received about
him. Your Excellency may rest assured that his examination will be
conducted with perfect impartiality, such as he may desire, and that
he will obtain the fullest justice, if he can clear himself.”
The unfortunate Baron had now been kicking his heels for more than a
month in the jail at Offenburg, where he was kept under observation
day and night by a sentinel. The heat was intense, and d’Auerweck,
suffering as he was from an internal complaint, which made his
detention all the harder to bear, cursed his bad luck. He reproached
his Sovereign in picturesque language with having allowed him to be
imprisoned without any proof of crime upon “knavish accusations,” him--
“a citizen, a man of valour, whose honour no man doubts; whose
fair dealing every one confides in; who is not ashamed to show his
love of religion, and whose life is by no means a useless one; who
has sufficient brains to have principles, and sufficient heart to
sacrifice himself for his principles when they demand it; whose head
and heart are in harmony; who has taken no part in political events
except according to his oath and his duty; who, in short, has for the
past five years lived as a peasant in a little house, which he had
built himself, there tending his garden and rearing his children.”
The Grand Duke, touched by the truth of these reproaches, did his
best to avoid granting Fouché’s demand. He believed he had hit upon
an expedient when he proposed to the Minister to send the prisoner
only as far as Strasburg, where the French Justiciary could examine
him comfortably. But Fouché showed himself unmanageable, so fifteen
days later the Grand Duke, tired of the struggle, and with the excuse
of “the ties of friendship and the peculiar harmony which existed
with the French Court,” at last consented to the extradition of Baron
D’Auerweck, although--
“His Highness considered that he had the right to expect to be spared
the unpleasantness of having to hand over to a foreign jurisdiction
one of his subjects, against whom there did not exist any properly
established suspicions, and whose papers furnished no proof against
him.”
Once again the wrathful spectre of Napoleon, ready to crush the man who
opposed his will, had succeeded in triumphing over everything which
could be hoped for from justice and good laws.
On September 22 Commissary Molitor took d’Auerweck out of the prison of
Offenburg and brought him to Strasburg to hand him over to the French
police. In order to preserve precedent and to save his face, the Grand
Duke had ordered his councillor to announce that--
“although His Royal Highness, in his particular condescension, had
allowed his subject Auerweck to be extradited so as to facilitate the
information and accusations which were brought against him this was
done in full confidence that he would be treated as considerately as
possible, and that he would not be subjected to any unpleasant or
harsh treatment in consideration of the peculiar circumstances of his
case.”
But what M. Fouché’s instructions were was well known, and no one had
any misconception on the subject, least of all the Grand Duke. The
pitiful letter which Madame d’Auerweck sent to him next day, and in
which she appealed to his kind heart and his pity, must certainly have
aroused some feeling of remorse.
After a stay of forty-eight hours in Strasburg, d’Auerweck started on
his journey on September 25. In the post-chaise which carried him were
a junior officer and a policeman, charged with his care. After crossing
the Vosges, they travelled by way of Nancy and Chalons, and reached
Epernay on the 28th; in a few hours they would arrive in Paris. Taking
advantage of a short halt in the inn, the Baron hurriedly scribbled the
following note, which was intended to reassure his family:--
“I have arrived here, my good and tender friend, as well in health as
I could hope to be, and much less tired than I feared. I write these
few words to you to calm your mind, and to beg you again to take care
of yourself. To-morrow, by eight o’clock in the morning, we shall
be in Paris, whence, as I hope, I shall be able to write to you. I
embrace you, and beg you to kiss Charles, Louis, Armand, and your
mother for me.
“May God guard you.
“Epernai, 28th September.”
The post-chaise entered Paris in the morning of the 29th, and passed
along the quays till it stopped in front of the general office of the
Minister of Police, where the prisoner had to be delivered. Where
would they take him? For certain to the Temple tower, where at this
time political prisoners were kept. And there it was that d’Auerweck
was conducted and locked up. The order in the gaol-book directed that
he should be placed in solitary confinement until further notice. It
was now the Baron’s turn to enter the gloomy dungeon, which he had so
often, twelve years before, gazed at curiously from afar. It was his
fate, like his “big friend” Cormier, to closely inspect this building,
the name of which evoked such reminiscences of mystery.
Six days were allowed him in which to prepare, without disturbance, his
reply to the questions which were to be put to him. On October 5, 1807,
a commissary, sent by the Minister of Police, came to see him and to
hear what he had to say. A curious thing was that the same proceeding
which was employed with Cormier at the time of his imprisonment was
renewed for d’Auerweck’s benefit; no reference whatever was made
to the whole period antecedent to 1800. Whatever might have been
d’Auerweck’s conduct during the Revolution and under the Directoire,
what his actions were, in what direction he went and came, who were his
friends, all these points were held of no importance by his Excellency
M. Fouché, and by Desmarets, who was on special duty in connection
with the case. What they were most concerned with was to find out the
object of d’Auerweck’s frequent absences during the last few years, and
to extort a confession from him of his participation in the murder of
the plenipotentiaries of Rastadt. They came to the point without any
concealment, but d’Auerweck was on his guard. He flatly denied that
he had paid a visit to Paris in the months of April and May, as was
alleged.
“I did not travel at all in France, and I have not been in Paris since
the year when the Directoire was installed. I can furnish the clearest
proofs of this fact. I was warned two years ago that the French police
were watching me, and that they accused me of a number of intrigues,
the greater part of which I had nothing whatever to do with, for I
declare most solemnly that since the July or September of 1799 I have
taken no part in any matter against France. I challenge the world to
allege a single proceeding of mine, or a single line, against the
interests of the French Government. The person who warned me that
the French were watching me was the late Abbe Desmares, who lived in
Offenburg; the warning was conveyed in an anonymous letter, to which
he never owned up, but which I am convinced came from him.”
As regards his sudden flight from Baden at the time of the approach of
the French armies, the Baron explained that it was due to his desire
to appease the fears of his mother-in-law, Madame de Gelb. Besides,
they had only to question the authorities of Rothenburg, of Ulm, and of
Nuremberg, and to obtain from them the counterfoils of his passports,
in order to find an absolute confirmation of his statements. Then
there was the question of his connection with Bourcard. What could
the accused reply to that? Was it not at Ulm itself that he had met
“Monsieur Bourcard, the father, who was an official from the Canton of
Basle?” D’Auerweck’s answer was ready:--
“I have not spent more than twenty-four hours in Ulm. I had my dinner
and supper there. The Austrian army had not at that time been forced
back upon the town, which was being fortified. I only saw three
officers at the _table d’hôte_, two of them Croatians and one German
captain. I had no kind of business with any one. The man called
Bourcard, a Swiss official, is quite unknown to me.”
All his denials were very precise--and they were easily to be verified
by the means he had suggested--so that there was now very little left
of the terrible evidence which weighed so heavily upon the “little
Baron,” or of “the crime of conspiracy against the security of the
State,” with which he was charged. The slight clue, indicated by
Bourcard’s arrest, but damaged by the papers seized at Elgersweier,
was completely destroyed when the latter was declared to be mentally
afflicted. In short, the tragic adventure which had overtaken
d’Auerweck seemed to have been the result of the most vexatious
misunderstanding; at least, that is what his cross-examiner expressed
to him when he left him.
“You can now consider your case to be finished, and you can see
how it is possible to find one’s self compromised by unfortunate
coincidences, _without any one being to blame_.”
Encouraged by this assurance, the Baron suffered patiently in spite
of the passing of much time. He knew that he was not forgotten at the
Grand Duke’s Court. Dalberg, the Ambassador, had already managed to
convey to him some money, with which to defray the first expense of his
visit to the Temple, and yonder, at Elgersweier, Madame d’Auerweck was
in receipt of assistance from Carlsruhe; for, as a matter of fact, the
mother, grandmother, and children, robbed as they were of the head of
the family, had been suddenly plunged into the most terrible state of
want.
The poor woman, in spite of her condition, desired only one thing: to
obtain a passport so as to be able to get to Paris. With this object
she overwhelmed the Ambassador of Baden with letters, in which she also
implored him to help to set her husband free.
“I know that he is innocent, your Excellency,” she continually wrote
to him, “and if your Excellency wants any more proofs of my husband’s
peaceful habits, I will rout out all the available evidence to prove
it. My husband can only benefit by the search ... and I am sure that
your Excellency has pity for my terrible plight and that of my poor
little children.”
Dalberg ended by getting annoyed with these letters.
“I receive frequent epistles from Madame d’Auerweck,” he wrote to
Carlsruhe; “but this _wifely impatience_ is waste of time, because I
can do nothing as long as the presence of the prisoner is necessary
for the conduct of the case.”
In the mean time, the Baron, by way of killing time, drew up a
second justificatory memorandum, which must doubtless have staggered
Desmarets. In it he exposed all the hiatus in his cross-examination,
and the absence of any proof against him. Why was it that he was not
set at liberty, now that the falsity of the accusations brought against
him had been so completely demonstrated? For he had just heard that
the Minister of Police had received a very detailed report, which
proved his residence, in succession, in the Grand Duchy of Baden from
1798 to 1800, in Offenburg from 1802 to 1803, and in Schutterwald up
to September, 1806; it mentioned his journey to Rothenburg and to
Nuremberg in 1805, and declared that--
“wherever the said d’Auerweck had lived, he had always conducted
himself peacefully and with decency, and had never meddled in
politics; that, on the contrary, he had always been occupied with
building, agriculture, botany, and rural economy, which had been
partly proved by many of the papers found upon him at the time of his
arrest.”
So M. Desmarets and his master were in possession of an unquestionable
justification of the Baron’s protests. It was, indeed, inconceivable
that they would continue to keep him in confinement, and, what is
worse, without putting any fresh questions to him.
However, early in the month of March, 1808--and d’Auerweck had now
been nearly seven months in the Temple--Baron de Dalberg was informed
that Fouché’s intervention was not enough by itself, and that a pardon
for the prisoner had been submitted to the Emperor, who was about to
leave Paris for a campaign in Spain, but he had refused to sign it.
The situation became serious. Dalberg fully recognized the difficulty
which he would experience in delivering the unfortunate Baron from
prison; for he was looked upon as “an English Agent,” and, as such,
infinitely more an object of suspicion than if he had been an emissary
of any other Power. The hatred of England was then at its height, and
Napoleon’s sentiment was that an English spy deserved to be taken care
of, and, indeed, well taken care of. D’Auerweck could not deny that he
had at one time been in the service of the hated nation; for all that,
he laid claim to being a subject of Baden.
The weeks rolled by, and d’Auerweck began to despair. He had, perhaps,
a momentary glimmer of hope that his deliverance was at hand, when he
became aware of an unexpected confusion and tumult in the Temple. What
had happened? Was Paris once more agitated by a change of Government?
Had the Emperor met with defeat? Alas! It was nothing of the kind.
But Napoleon had ordered the Temple tower to be demolished, and the
seventeen prisoners who were kept there had to be carted off to another
lodging. They were taken to Vincennes, and d’Auerweck’s faint hope
was blighted. He was more miserable than ever, and, as soon as he had
settled down in his new quarters, despatched a vehement protest to
Desmarets.
“What is the reason, in the name of God, that I find myself dragged
from one place to another six months after the arrival of written
statements which ought to have proved my innocence? If my character
had again been blackened by spite, at least give me the opportunity
of fixing the lie. I cannot think that any one in this world has ever
been placed in a more unhappy case than I. My eyesight is impaired,
my health ruined, and my wits are worn out. I can only think of my
unfortunate children, ruined and deprived of every necessity, and this
in the case of a man who is absolutely innocent of all wrong-doing.”
It never once occurred to him that his rigorous imprisonment might be
due to some indiscretion connected with his past and with his conduct
in 1795, or with the part which he had taken in the “Temple affair.”
Why should these old times, which were wrapped in a mist of obscurity,
be remembered? And, besides, there was no reason for suspecting
anything of the kind.
Neither the Grand Duke nor his Ambassador in Paris relaxed in any
degree their efforts to help the Baron, and a voluminous correspondence
was carried on between Paris and the Court at Baden about him during
the following years; but, to all Dalberg’s demands, Fouché replied that
no one denied Baron d’Auerweck’s “perfect loyalty;” the matter depended
on the Emperor’s will, and he refused to pass any final order. In order
to soften Madame d’Auerweck’s affliction--for she never left them
alone--supplies were regularly sent to the prisoner at Vincennes, and
he was assured that his family were not being neglected or in want.
“My detention is the outcome of a lengthy series of slanderous
informations,” the Baron declared over and over again, “which has been
woven and pieced together, more or less cleverly, but the falseness of
which has already been demonstrated to those who have been bribed to
utter it.”
He was then informed that yet another accusation had been added to the
former charges against him: an accusation of having published in the
_Moniteur_, in 1799, certain letters dated from Naples, which were
insulting to the First Consul: Now, the _Journal Politique de l’Europe_
had at once, in the name of d’Auerweck, given the lie direct to these
statements. But what had he to say for himself?
“You know perfectly well, monsieur, that for the last two years, less
ten or twelve days, I have only heard the voice of the Government
through the medium of the bolts which have been shot in my face.”
In this way three years slipped by, in the course of which Madame
d’Auerweck (who, by the way, does not appear to have led a very
virtuous life in her husband’s absence) never stopped pestering the
Ambassador of Baden in Paris with her entreaties; de Ferrette, who,
on his arrival in France, had succeeded Baron de Dalberg, took up the
unfortunate Baron’s case, and determined to bring it to a conclusion.
So as to increase the authority of his demands, he managed to interest
the Minister of the King of Bavaria on d’Auerweck’s behalf, and the
two combined to present a very urgent memorandum, in the summer of
1810, to the Minister of Police. This was not Fouché, for he had been
degraded for the second time, and his post was occupied by Savary, the
Duc de Rovigo. The two Ministers made their application to the latter.
“Yesterday, at this unpleasant ball,” Ferrette wrote on July 2, “I
importuned the Duke of Rovigo to let Lord Auerweck out from Vincennes;
this was just before the Emperor arrived. He said to me: ‘His case is
not unpardonable, but you may rest assured that we are not keeping him
locked up like this without very good reasons. You must wait.’”
At last, on October 16, Savary presented to Napoleon the
anxiously-looked-for report, which advised the prisoner’s discharge.
To every one’s astonishment, the Emperor only made the following
observation: _Better keep him until universal peace is declared_. There
was nothing to be done but to submit to this merciless imprisonment,
and to accept the explanation which was given, viz. that d’Auerweck was
“a bold intriguer, who was to be found everywhere: sometimes in the
interests of Austria, sometimes in England’s.”
Afterwards, as though to find an excuse for this prolonged detention,
the Baron was brought in contact with one of those persons who are
known as _Moutons_; his line of action was to get on friendly terms
with the prisoner, and to try to get him to talk, the result of these
conversations being handed on to the police. A man called Rivoire was
chosen for this purpose. He was formerly a naval officer, but had been
arrested and imprisoned for conspiracy; he escaped, but was caught and
put in prison for the fourth or fifth time. The “Chevalier de Rivoire”
was at the end of his resources, and hoped to obtain a remission of his
sentence by spying on his companions in misfortune. It was impressed
on him that he must specially pump Baron d’Auerweck on the subject of
the Rastadt assassination. The two reports, which he sent to Desmarets
during the year 1811, give a rather amusing account of the success of
his enterprise: a success, of course, skilfully exaggerated.
“D’Auerweck is very suspicious when one begins to put questions to
him, so I adopted the ruse of contradicting him and of only grudgingly
giving in to him. Then, after having started him in the right
direction, if I resign myself to listening patiently, he obligingly
begins to overwhelm me with confidences, both false and true, and with
all the rubbish which his conceit and his insatiate garrulity inspire
in him.... He boasted of having rendered the most important services
to the English, both on the Continent and in their own country, where
he had exposed and baffled many plots, and had been the cause of the
arrest and punishment of many French agents.... When we began to talk
about the Rastadt affair, he at first repeated the story which had
been manufactured in order to divert suspicion from the real culprits.
“_Rivoire_: ‘Only children will believe such a fairy tale.’
“_D’Auerweck_ (laughing): ‘That’s true; but we must always tell it,
and by dint of many repetitions they will begin to believe it. The
matter concerns other people’s interests. I only left Austria when I
saw that its Government was fatally weak; so much so that it has to be
treated like a spoilt child that does not want to take its medicine.
Besides myself, there are not more than two people who are acquainted
with the correct details of this affair.’
“Seeing that he had said too much, he then, like a fool, began to
retract, saying, ‘Besides, I was attached to a certain Prince’s
Minister, who was not there with reason, and I was perfectly neutral
in all that happened.’”
Rivoire concluded by saying, “D’Auerweck was the leader, or one of the
leaders, in this crime, which was committed at the instigation of the
English Government; and he forthwith went off to give his report; and
he was at this time in London, travelling _viâ_ France.”
These fresh accusations, however flimsy their foundation, were not
neglected, and succeeded in so increasing the gravity of the Baron’s
case that his durance was prolonged indefinitely. At the same time
they served to maintain the harshness of his imprisonment. Using
the Ambassador of Baden in Paris as the go-between, d’Auerweck, who
declared himself to be seriously ill, had begged that he might for the
time being be sent to a private hospital, where he could be attended
to. But they questioned whether his illness was only a pretext, and
that he was plotting some plan of escape. Accordingly the Minister of
Police refused his request.
“The reasons for the detention of this prisoner,” the Duke of Rovigo
declared to his colleague of Foreign Affairs, “do not admit of his
being transferred to a private hospital. But I have just given the
adequate order that the doctor, whose business it is to attend the
invalids in the prison of Vincennes, should visit this prisoner as
often as his state of health may require it.”
On May 31, 1812, d’Auerweck was told that no instructions as to his
fate had been given, so, bearing his troubles patiently, he sent a
fresh request, couched in the following humorous style, to Desmarets:--
“The regular annual announcement that I am still to be kept in the
dungeon of Vincennes was made to me yesterday; will you at least have
the condescension to pass an order that it may not be in this celler,
in which I have lived for three and a half months.”
Two more years passed before the tribulations of d’Auerweck were
completed. But in 1814, when the now victorious Allied Armies drew
close to Paris, it was decided to send the inmates of the prison
of Vincennes to Saumur. How d’Auerweck must have prayed for his
countrymen’s speedy arrival, and that this second change of residence
might be the prelude to his deliverance!
He had not been two months at Saumur when he heard a rumour that the
Allies had entered Paris on March 31. He was not forgotten in his
dungeon, for three days later the Grand Duke urgently demanded that
his subject might be given back to him, “one of the many victims
of the reign which has just come to an end;” and the next day the
Minister replied that the order to set the Baron at liberty had been
issued three days ago. April 16 was a day never to be forgotten by
d’Auerweck and his companions. They were overcome with emotion, as can
be guessed from the following lines, written by Baron de Kolli, the
most extraordinary adventurer of the Imperial epoch. This person had
been confined for four years at Vincennes on account of an attempt to
deliver King Ferdinand VII. from Valençay, and at Vincennes he no doubt
met our Hungarian. The two of them could exchange their impressions
as captives by the good pleasure of the Emperor, both imprisoned
without trial, and condemned to an endless captivity, thanks to regular
_lettres-de-cachet_ dug up for this occasion only.
“I will try, though in vain, to describe this scene, which will be for
ever engraven upon my heart,” Kolli relates. “In the intoxication of
happiness and in tears, each one throws himself upon any one he meets,
and clasps him in his arms; there are forty persons, all strangers to
each other, and in a second they are united by the bonds of the most
tender friendship. As we emerge from our tombs, the townsmen press
around us, and, undismayed by the sight of our miserable state, drag
us to the bosoms of their families. In a single day we pass from want
to opulence.”
Those who witnessed d’Auerweck’s return to Elgersweier, prematurely
aged as he was by these seven years of misfortune, could hardly
recognize in him the talkative and active man of former days. They all
had a vivid recollection of that night in the month of July, 1807, when
trouble hurled itself upon this family.
However, in spite of confinement and the want of fresh air, the Barons
health was not as severely injured as one might have imagined. He lived
on in his village for fourteen years, and delightedly took up again the
old tasks of an agriculturist, a botanist, and a husbandman.... In his
leisure hours he related episodes of his strange past to his family
and his neighbours, and, when bragging got the upper hand of him, he
recalled the happy time when he had been raised by Fortune to the post
of “Ambassador to his Majesty the King of Great Britain!”
He left Elgersweier in 1828 to return to Offenburg, where he had
formerly resided, and there he died two years later, on June 8,
1830. Three of his children survived him. Charles, the eldest, had a
distinguished military career; as general in the army of Baden, he was
governor of the fortified town of Germersheim. Adelaide d’Auerweck
lived to be a very old woman, as she only died in 1881, at Munich.
Finally, Armand d’Auerweck left four children, one of whom, Ferdinand,
emigrated to America, where he is still living.
The descendants of the “little Baron” cherish the memory of this life,
so rich in incidents, so extravagant, and so surprising; but the part
which he played in the Temple adventure at the time of the great
Revolution would have been for ever hidden had not an unforeseen chance
served to connect him with one of the threads of this astonishing
intrigue, which attracted so much curious attention.