The way in which Stieber, as body-servant to Jules Favre, was able to
assist in the negotiations for the surrender of Paris in 1870 has
already been detailed, and this forms a fair sample of what can be done
in the way of diplomatic espionage, as distinctly apart from the gaining
of purely military information or details of a definite naval character.
But it is only one instance; the spy in the employ of the German
Foreign Office is capable of making himself useful in many ways, and
into this class of work also the influence of women enters to a very
large extent.
The woman spy of fiction, though not absolutely a myth, is very rare
indeed. The siren of beauty and wit, mysterious as she is fascinating,
makes a very pretty picture for a sensational melodrama; but it must be
fairly obvious, on reflection, that she would defeat her own ends by the
very mystery that is popularly supposed to surround her. Further,
diplomats entrusted with confidential and delicate tasks are hard-headed
men of the world, capable of seeing through the wiles of such dames of
mystery as the fiction-writer would have us believe in, existing in the
highest society and able to subjugate a man by a glance. A story has
recently been told to the effect that one of these charming
adventuresses was able to spoil the work of no less a person than a
Russian Ambassador, the said Ambassador being a man of mature years and
such judgment as one would expect in the holder of the power that he
represented. The spy alleged that the lady in question was able by her
charms to throw the Ambassador entirely off his guard, so that his
mission was spoiled and he incurred imperial displeasure and lost his
post.
It is a pretty story, and would pass well as an effort of imagination;
the only trouble is that the alleged confessions of the spy include this
pretty story as truth, which it most distinctly is not. The affairs of
nations are not conducted in such a manner as this, for there is
sufficient wisdom in the various Courts of Europe to recognise the
existence of all dangers, and to impose on their representatives such
safeguards as shall neutralise the attempts that may be made at spoiling
treaties and sowing discord by means of pretty women and susceptible
men. The reason for the telling of such stories lies in their being
extremely plausible, extremely attractive, and extremely saleable.
Real diplomatic spying is a much more sordid and much meaner business
than the fiction-writer places before his or her readers. It consists
in listening at doors, reading and replacing letters, and tricks of the
kind which would be perfectly obvious if the person spying were not so
thoroughly trustworthy--to outside appearance. The diplomatic spy may
be a servant, a military attache, a courier in the ostensible service of
a Government--he may be anything, but always he is a supremely
trustworthy person, one who has no need to conceal the fact that he is
highly intelligent and well fitted for his post, whatever that may be.
His reputation among the people with whom he is brought in contact may
be and usually is a matter of years' standing, for only the absolute
assurance of his honesty enables him to carry on his work.
It is the recognised duty of all ambassadors, military and naval
attaches, and consuls, to collect information in any possible way, and
to pay for it, and it may be guessed that their staff of informers is a
large one. Further, under the heading of diplomatic spies must be
included the internal espionage of Germany, by means of which all the
various members of the Royal Family at Berlin are kept under
surveillance and reported on. Potsdam neglects nothing in this way, as
the Memoirs of Louise of Saxony prove beyond dispute.
Some time ago the head official of the system of internal espionage in
Germany was exposed at the height of his success, and thus an idea of
the actual working and extent of the system was rendered obtainable.
The person in question, Colonel Baron von Tausch, established on his own
account a _bureau d'espionage_, and carried his investigations to such a
point that the Minister of Foreign Affairs, after having made
representations to the Kaiser, took action against Von Tausch for libel
and conspiracy.
From evidence made public at the trial it appeared that Von Tausch, who
wished to obtain information for his master with regard to the
nationalist movement in Prussian Poland, had ordered Baron von Luetzow
to win the affections of the daughter of a Polish noble who was in the
front of the nationalist movement, and, by this means, to gain the
confidence of the girl's father. Luetzow complied, won the heart of the
girl and the confidence of her father, and then returned to Berlin,
leaving the girl behind. This was one instance of the methods used to
obtain information.
Correspondence, produced in court, introduced into the case the name of
Count Philip zu Eulenberg, sometime German Ambassador at Vienna.
Eulenberg, one of the boy-friends of the Kaiser, developed into a moral
degenerate, and the whole of the Berlin Court--at least, all that part
of it which had the best interests of the Kaiser and the Empire at
heart--deplored the retention of Eulenberg in the imperial favour. In
1907 Eulenberg's degeneracy was exposed by Maximilian Harden, editor of
_Die Zukunft_, who was prosecuted for his audacity in attacking one of
the Emperor's friends, and forced the prosecution to withdraw by stating
that he had enough correspondence in his possession to ruin the
reputations of members of the Imperial family and half the officers of
the Imperial Guards.
The correspondence produced at Von Tausch's trial was chiefly noteworthy
for a letter addressed by the chief of the secret police to Eulenberg,
in which the former claimed that he had successfully accomplished
espionage work which, he hoped, would have the effect of mining the
Foreign Minister for good. Shortly after, as evidence showed, Eulenberg
sent to Von Tausch the ribbon of a high Austrian Order which had been
presented by the Austrian Government, evidently as recognition of
services performed in connection with the German Foreign Minister.
Numerous scandals were brought to light, all proving that no trick or
subterfuge had been too low for Von Tausch's stooping. It was shown,
for instance, that Prince Egon Hohenlohe, as bad a character as
Eulenberg, had conceived a dislike for one of the chamberlains employed
in the establishment of the Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. He therefore set
Von Tausch to work at ferreting out this man's humble antecedents, which
were then published anonymously in various German papers. The result
was a public scandal, and the unfortunate man had to resign his post in
consequence.
Various other people had discovered that Von Tausch was equal to
practically any task of spying with which they cared to entrust him,
and, as each one rewarded his efforts with some kind of decoration in
addition to more substantial payment, he appeared in court loaded with
insignia of various Orders. Naturally, his appearance as defendant in a
libel case caused consternation in Berlin, for there was no telling
where the revelations concerning his doings would end. Eventually the
matter was brought to the notice of the Kaiser himself, and, when the
intolerable pride of Wilhelm is taken into account, it is easy to
understand that he took all possible steps to prevent further
revelations concerning the internal espionage maintained on his Court
and relatives from coming to light. Von Tausch was, in the first place,
under the orders of the Kaiser himself, and, were more revelations to be
made, there was no telling how much of the servant's doings would be
attributed to orders from the master. Conviction was impossible, for
Von Tausch knew too much to permit of his being made the enemy of the
Imperial Court by imprisonment, or in fact by any punishment. Still,
after dismissal from the bar of the ordinary tribunal, he was tried as a
Bavarian before a court of honour, and was adjudged to have been guilty
of conduct so unbecoming to one in his position as to render him unfit
for further service. As a man unfit to associate with gentlemen, he was
expelled from the service in disgrace.
But Wilhelm remembered his faithful servant after the court of honour
had finished with him. Von Tausch was retired into private life with
the honours of a diplomatic servant on the retired list; that is to say,
he was at liberty to enjoy his very adequate pension, together with such
fortune as he had contrived to amass during his term of service as chief
of the secret police.
Von Tausch is typical of the German service of internal espionage; there
is nothing romantic about his work, nothing that is worthy of memory or
that shows him in other than a detestable light--and yet the German
Courts are constantly under such supervision as he maintained, and with
the full concurrence and encouragement of Wilhelm, who believes in
vigilance at the cost of honour and of everything that normal men hold
as compatible with honour. The private diary of Louise of Saxony has
details of the pettiness and meanness of these agents of discord and
destroyers of confidence among the highest personages of German Courts.
"The King's spy," says the diary, "constituted herself post office of
Villa Foschwitz--a duty appertaining to her rank, and I wager that she
works the black cabinet to perfection. [_Cabinet noir_. The
secret-service headquarters of the German post office.] Of course, I am
now careful in all that I write, and advise my friends to be. The spy
planted in my household has been permitted to see much of the innocent
correspondence passing between me and Leopold. She has reported that I
have turned over a new leaf. Result: my debts have been paid. Further
result: a gracious letter from the King's House Marshal praising me for
the good influence I am exercising over Leopold. Truly, the world wants
to be deceived."
Another extract states: "Caught the Tisch stealing one of my letters.
Happily there was nothing incriminating in it, though addressed to
Ferdinand--just the letter the Crown Princess would write to a Privy
Councillor. But the petty theft indicates that she suspects. Prince
George, I am told, receives a report from her every day."
The note of the diary emphasises the littleness of life that permits of
the existence of such a system as this, a perpetual sowing of discord by
means of the repetition of tittle-tattle which can have no real bearing
on affairs of moment. The lady designated "Tisch," by the way, was but
a clumsy exponent of her art, for, discovering that her royal mistress
kept a diary, she reported the fact to Frederick, Louise's husband, who
taxed his wife with the existence of the diary and its indiscretions.
Thereupon Louise turned upon the Tisch, and informed her that, since she
was planted in the royal household for the purpose of playing the
serpent, she must confine her work to reporting on comings and goings,
on external conduct, so far as Louise herself was concerned.
In every royal household of the Empire similar spies are placed, and in
every government office as well. Every government office is kept open
in Berlin at all hours of the day and night, and, when the Emperor
wishes to assure himself that all is working as he would have it, he
rings up the particular office from which he requires assurances of
efficiency. Or, by means of one of the many telephones that are at the
disposal of the War Lord at all hours, he turns out a garrison at the
dead of night, in order to be certain that there is full watchfulness
and efficiency there. The idea of being always on the alert, always
prepared, is at the root of these tricks, and the secret service for
internal espionage is maintained for the same purpose--that the people
of the Empire and their rulers may be always ready against "the day."
An instance of indirect diplomatic espionage is afforded by the
publication of one of the plans for the invasion of England, drawn up by
Baron von Edelsheim, a few years ago. Edelsheim proposed to turn into
England a force of about two hundred to three hundred thousand men,
commanded by officers who have _a perfect knowledge of the country_. He
says: "The preparation for landing operations must be furthered in time
of peace to such an extent that in time of war we may feel sure of
having the advantage of surprising the enemy by our celerity in
mobilising and transporting our troops. The troops which are to be
mobilised must be determined in time of peace, their transport by
railway, their harbours of embarkation, and the preparations for
embarkation, must be prepared in order to ensure the greatest possible
celerity. The aim of our operations must be kept entirely secret, and
attempts should be made to deceive the enemy, at least with regard to
the purpose for which the first operations are undertaken."
Now, the publication of such a paragraph as this, with the certainty of
its being translated and republished in English, could serve no useful
German purpose on the face of it. Edelsheim was no theoriser speaking
without Imperial sanction, or devising a plan apart from the plans of
the Junker party. He stated the obvious, and moreover stated an obvious
thing which on the face of it was not a wise one for the Junker party to
confess, for, if absolute secrecy were an essential, then the very
declaration that such a thing as invasion of England was remotely
contemplated was against the spirit of the plan. The publication of the
paragraph, we may rest assured, was not decided on without good reason,
and Edelsheim must rank as a diplomat rather than as a diplomatic spy,
for the act comes scarcely under the heading of espionage, widely as
that term must be interpreted in the case of the German secret service.
As for the diplomatic spy abroad, he is to be found--but not to be
recognised--in official circles. It is extremely doubtful whether his
pay comes out of the 780,000 pounds set apart annually by Germany for
secret-service purposes, for the pay of such men as are employed in
hunting out the secrets of foreign diplomatic circles is necessarily
extremely high. With regard to the work itself, very little is known.
In the other branches of the German secret-service failures are usually
conspicuous by their appearances in police-courts and criminal trials;
but this disability seldom enters into the life of the diplomatic spy.
In the first place, being a man specially selected from among the ranks
of naval and military spies, the diplomatic spy seldom makes mistakes--
seldom, that is, in comparison with members of the other two branches,
who also are remarkably careful to avoid errors of judgment;
consequently, there are very few chances of detecting diplomatic spies
through their failures. In the second place, diplomatic spies, by
reason of the nature of their work, do not come into the criminal courts
when they make mistakes and get caught--the nature of their work
precludes this possibility, for usually their tasks do not involve any
infringement of the penal code as this refers to the spy and his work.
Again, diplomatic spies are so highly placed, and so thoroughly trusted,
that to bring on them the punishment of normal criminals would cause too
much outcry and scandal; their work is neutralised as far as possible by
systems of counter-espionage, and in case of one being detected he
simply ceases to be employed by his own Government, which disowns all
responsibility for his acts.
These things render details of the work of diplomatic spies almost
impossible to obtain. Several books have been published, purporting to
detail the work of diplomatic agents, but their contents may be
discounted as far as accuracy goes; they make good reading as fiction,
and that is all they are, for the most part. If in any stories detailed
in them the writers have told the truth, it may be considered a matter
of accident. One case, which may be regarded as authentic, is narrated
by Von Blowitz, but it is dated so far back that all the participators
in the incident are dead, and it may be said as a whole that the world
grows wiser as it grows older, so that the case of which Von Blowitz
speaks is no guide to the doings of to-day. Further, that particular
case concerns a woman spy, of which class more anon.