Among all of the world’s famous impostors it is doubtful if any could hold a candle to Monsieur de Meinau. Monsieur did not always have such a dignified name. Originally, it will be recalled, he was an Alsatian smuggler and had the plain every-day appellation of Schulmeister. But as Napoleon’s chief spy his rise to fame and fortune was both sure and sudden. He was lavishly rewarded by the Man of Destiny. Indeed, his appointment as Chief of Police of Vienna was a fortune in itself and a fair return for the services he had rendered, and the dangers he had braved as the secret agent of Napoleon.
But Napoleon was not yet satisfied. He wished to be the King of Kings and to reconstruct Germany, Italy and the Netherlands. His ambition was to rule over an empire that should be encircled and guarded by a belt of dependent thrones. In pursuance of this policy he seized Naples and made his brother Joseph its king. After that he converted the Republic of the Netherlands into a monarchy, and placed his brother Louis at its head with the title of the King of Holland.
In the meantime he needed more information concerning the power and the plans of those who were opposed to his designs. At this stage of events he once more sent for his trusted spy, Schulmeister. He had made him Monsieur de Meinau, with both the title and the estates that went with it. But the new Monsieur knew his imperial patron well enough to understand that he could not rest on his laurels. With Napoleon incessant activity was the price of favor.
As the result of the interview with the Emperor Monsieur left Vienna with letters of introduction to the Austrian officers at Oedenburg. This was in west Hungary, about thirty-seven miles from the Austrian capitol. Here he learned that the Archduke Charles and Ferdinand had combined forces the day before and were preparing for a united attack on the French troops. This information was exceedingly important and he never rested until he had forwarded it to Napoleon.
After that he felt entitled to a little relaxation and he joined the Austrian officers in the gayeties of camp life. He had been hospitably received on his arrival and now was royally entertained by his new found friends. His scarred forehead and his severe military manner impressed them. Add to this the fact that he was supposed to have undergone great privations and dangers as an officer of the Austrian Secret Service and it will not be difficult to understand why the soldiers insisted upon placing a halo of romance around his head. A dinner was given in his honor and on this occasion the rascal actually entertained his hosts with stories of some of his thrilling adventures in the service of the Fatherland. His methods were simple enough. He related real exploits, merely picturing himself as an Austrian secret agent instead of a spy of Napoleon. His narratives were received with applause and manifestations of delight.
The Austrians had been at Oedenburg for some time and the pleasures of camp life were beginning to affect the discipline of the men. Schulmeister, or rather Monsieur de Meinau, was ordinarily a person of abstemious habits, but he could be a jolly good fellow when the occasion demanded it, and this, you may be sure, was one of the occasions. The flowing bowl was passed around so often that it was in grave danger of flowing over. The more wine the officers drank the greater became their affection for the spy. They literally threw themselves around his neck, which was quite a generous thing to do when we consider that under the military customs of the time they would have been justified in placing a rope around that same neck. But there was one man at the banqueting board who was a death’s head at the feast. Lieutenant Bernstein looked and felt unhappy. He did not share the confidence of his comrades in Monsieur de Meinau. In fact, he frankly regarded him as a fraud. So he sat there eating little and drinking less and wondering how he could bring the spy to grief.
His opportunity came sooner than he expected. Monsieur de Meinau, having reduced his hosts to a state of semi-intoxication, hastened out to send further information to Napoleon. With his usual cleverness he had established a chain of communication between Oedenburg and Vienna. He had his own sub-spies within and without the lines of the enemy, and thus had a method of forwarding his dispatches which would have been envied by modern news associations in times of war. But on this one occasion he reckoned without his host—or at least this particular host. Bernstein was at his very heels, and when he saw him pass the slips of paper into the hands of a confederate, felt that it was time for some one to interfere. Consequently when Monsieur de Meinau returned to the banqueting board Bernstein pointed an accusing finger in his direction and exclaimed:
“I denounce that man as a spy!”
There was a loud shout of laughter at this and the man nearest to him punched the accuser in the ribs.
“Why, old man, there’s nothing startling in that. We know that he is a spy.”