But even yet all was not lost. If they arrived too late to save the King, there was still the Dauphin, “to whom every one should look.” In a few days the Baron d’Auerweck would be in Paris, and they would know exactly how much they might still hope for.
“A Transylvanian nobleman,” was the description Peltier had given when writing about this new collaborator.[37] The epithet, although most attractive—suggestive as it was of that land of great forests all wildness and mystery—was not perfectly exact. The family of Auerweck, though perhaps of Hungarian origin, had established itself at Vienna, where the father of our Baron died as a captain in the Austrian service. His wife—whose maiden-name had been Scheltheim—had borne him four children, two boys and two girls. The two latter were married and settled in Austria. The elder son, who was born at Vienna about 1766, was named Louis (Aloys) Gonzago; he added to his family name that of an estate, Steilenfels, and the title of Baron—so that the whole thing, when given out with the proper magniloquence, was quite effective.
“By the particular favour of Marie-Thérèse,” Louis d’Auerweck entered very young the Military Academy of Neustadt, near Vienna. On leaving it, he spent four years in a Hungarian regiment, the “Renfosary;” but garrison-life bored him, and, independent and ambitious, he longed to shake off the yoke of militarism which hampered him in his schemes.
Unfortunately, we have only his own record of his younger days,[38] and it is matter for regret that no more trustworthy information is to be had. For very curious and interesting is the life of this adventurer, who was undeniably intelligent and clever, but who was also an intriguer and a braggart; who knew French well, and therefore posed as a finished diplomatist, with pretentions to philosophy and literature; who, in a word, was filled with a sense of his own importance, and fatally addicted to “playing to the gallery.” Some quotations from his writings will give a better idea of him than any description.
Hardly has he left Austria—his reason for doing so we shall learn from himself—than he sets off on a sort of educational tour, beginning at Constantinople and going on to the Mediterranean. He visits, one after the other, Greece, Malta, Sicily, Spain, the South of France; he even goes so far as Chambéry and Lyons. An opportunity turns up, and off he sets for Paris.
“The innovations made by Joseph II., such as the introduction of the Register and military conscription, caused him to be employed as an engineer, and as a member of the administrative body formed to carry out these different schemes. His independent character instantly displayed itself in a sphere where it was no longer repressed by that duty of blind obedience which is the very being of the Army. He could now venture to have an opinion and to express it, he could criticise the root-idea on the form of an enterprise by displaying its difficulties or foretelling its non-success (forecasts, moreover, which time has proved to be sound); he could speak of the violation of national justice, of a legitimate resistance to arbitrary power. His experiences under fire, his activity, and his oratorical talent gave him a position among the malcontents which he had not sought in any way. In consequence, he ventured on something more than mere speaking and writing. His travels, his qualities, his independent and decided character have won for him friendships and acquaintanceships which have given him the advantage of never finding himself out of place in any important centre of affairs. To this he owes that knowledge of the hereditary prejudices and the sudden caprices of Cabinets, which when joined to an equal knowledge of the character of their chiefs, ministers, constitutes diplomacy. To assiduous study he attributes that understanding of the true interests of Governments, and of their respective powers, which constitutes international politics.”
Such was the personage to whom Lady Atkyns and Peltier entrusted their enterprise. If they looked after him carefully, granted him only a limited discretion, and took the fullest advantage of his intelligence and his talents, they would probably make something of the Hungarian nobleman. This was not the Baron’s first visit to Paris; he knew the capital well. He had come there at the beginning of the Revolution, in 1789, and, if we are to believe his own account, “he saw the results of all these horrors, but was merely laughed at. If all mankind could have been armed against the Revolution, he would have armed them!” Moreover, he had kept up many connections in Paris. By his own account, the Austrian Minister, Thugut, whom he had formerly met at Naples, had taken him into his confidence. In short, his friends in London could not have made a better choice, as he wrote from Amiens to Peltier on the receipt of his proposal.
“I start for Paris at full speed at five o’clock to-morrow morning. I need not tell you that from this moment I shall devote myself to the business of which you have spoken to me, nor need I add that this devotion is entirely disinterested. If I had not already proved those two things to you, I should not be the man you require. But, just because I feel that I have the head and the heart necessary for your enterprise, I tell you frankly that it can only be carried out at great expense. The business of getting information—which is only a preparatory measure—is made difficult, if not impossible, unless a considerable sum of money can be spent.... I believe myself authorized to speak to you in this way, because I have the advantage—rare enough amongst men—of being above suspicion with regard to my own interests.”[39]
On Wednesday, December 19, d’Auerweck entered Paris, and put up at a hotel in the Rue Coq-Héron, where he gave his name as Scheltheim. He instantly set to work to get the letters he had brought with him delivered at their addresses, and to make certain of the co-operation which was essential to him. But there was a disappointment in store; Goguelat, upon whom so much depended, was away from Paris, and, as it happened, in London. It was necessary to act without him, and this was no easy matter. The excitement caused by the trial of the King enforced upon the plotters a redoubled caution. D’Auerweck got uneasy when he found no letters coming from Peltier in answer to his own. He went more frequently to Versailles, and to Saint-Germain, and kept on begging for funds. On December 25, the day before M. de Sèze was to present the King’s defence to the Convention, d’Auerweck wrote to Peltier—
“The persons (you know whom I mean) do not care to arrive here before Thursday, which is very natural, for there is all sorts of talk as to what may happen to-morrow.... You promised me to write by each post; but there can be no doubt that you forgot me on Tuesday, the 18th, for otherwise I must have had your letters by this time. One thing I cannot tell you too often: it is that I consider it essential to take to you in person any documents that I may be able to procure.”[40]