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.