I have tried, in writing here, not to speak with too much awe of myself
and my doings. But now I crave your indulgence for a moment to call
your attention to a very serious aspect of the affair. This plot of
mine that seemed to fail, Werner Horn's attempt against the bridge at
Vanceboro, the talk of German wireless stations in the woods of Maine,
all the rumors of invasions of Canada planned by German reservists in
the United States, were not so harmless and fruitless as they seemed.
They served to stir up talk. They were meant to stir up talk and create
the belief that some men of German descent, living in America, were
less American in their loyalty than they were German.
Who made that talk? The German press agencies, under Franz von Papen.
And why? To set all German-Americans apart from their neighbors by
rendering their loyalty suspicious; to band all German-Americans
together for self-protection, and so to dyke Germany from the rising
tide of world-wide disapproval. It was the most coolly calculated
betrayal I have ever come in contact with.
But it was not my part to register disapproval, as the film directors
say. I came back to New York, reported to Capt. von Papen and received
instructions to go to Germany, on the Bridgeman Taylor passport, and
report in Berlin to Department III. B of the General Staff. Oct. 8,
1914, I sailed for Italy, carrying a letter of introduction from Capt.
von Papen recommending me to the German Consul General at Genoa. He
also gave me $200 to pay for my passage.
After the abandonment, at the last moment, of the plot to blow up the
locks of the Welland Canal with dynamite paid for by Capt. Franz von
Papen, at the time German Military Attaché at Washington, I sailed from
New York for Genoa, Italy, whence the German Consul General sent me
on to the Prussian Consulate in Munich. From there I went to Berlin,
arriving Oct. 17, 1914. By order, I reported to the General Staff,
Department III., B, to the Foreign Office and to the Colonial Office,
being questioned at each place regarding my impressions of affairs on
the North American Continent.
Then I was ordered to report in person to the Emperor, which I did
at Coblentz, and was questioned in great detail about the state of
affairs in Mexico. After being granted an opportunity to visit both the
western and eastern fronts, I was sent back to Berlin and given the
choice of going to Turkey or going back to Mexico. I chose Mexico, and
accordingly was sent to England, via Holland, traveling on the American
passport issued to Bridgeman Henry Taylor.
I arrived in London Nov. 4, 1914. England was then in the first and
most feverish stages of the German-spy-phobia which followed the
outbreak of the war, and for four days I thoroughly enjoyed the
sensation of tickling the Lion's whiskers, so to speak. Then the Lion
suddenly clapped a paw down and I was caught under it.
Nov. 8, 1914, I had gone down to the Horse Guards to watch guard
mounting. A crowd had assembled for the spectacular ceremony. In
the press a boy stepped heavily on my foot. I had a corn there, it
happened, and promptly cursed him in round Mexican fashion, though in
English. Recollecting where I was, I was feeling in my pocket for a
penny to salve his feelings, when out of the crowd I saw a face turned
steadily toward me.
I knew the man at once. He was the friend of a very celebrated Russian
dancer, and I had once been instrumental in exposing him, in Germany,
as a Russian agent. And he assuredly knew my face as well as I knew
his. I forgot the penny I was going to give the boy.
What should I do? The man had recognized me and would undoubtedly
report his discovery to the proper quarter. But they would have
no further proof of anything against me. According to the papers
in my pocket-book I was a Mexican officer returning from leave of
absence. True, I was traveling on a false passport. But why not?
Constitutionalist Mexico had no officials to issue passports just then,
and German names on passports were not convenient. Such a deception
might have been practised innocently enough, if I could only make the
English believe that I was not in German pay and was not in England as
a spy.
In a parliamentary White Paper (Miscellaneous No. 13, Series of 1916),
you can find this statement:
"Horst von der Goltz arrived in England from Holland on the 4th of
November, 1914. He offered information upon projected air raids,
the source where the _Emden_ derived her information as to British
shipping and how the _Leipzig_ was obtaining her coal supplies. He
offered to go back to Germany to obtain the information, and all he
asked for in the first instance was his traveling expenses."
This is how it happened. In that brief moment of cogitation in front
of the Horse Guards, I saw that my one safe method was audacity and
directness, my only hope to tell some sort of a story before my accuser
could tell his. So I went direct to Downing Street and the Foreign
Office, which was walking into the Lion's jaws with a vengeance. I
asked for Mr. Campbell of the Secret Intelligence Department and told
him I wished to enter his service. What, he asked, did I claim to
have information about? Zeppelin raids, I told him, that being the
least harmful subject I could think of, in case my "traitorous" offer
should ever come to German ears. No topic was more closely guarded, so
I knew I could trust Berlin to realize I was bluffing when I claimed
any knowledge of it. Also, it was a topic which vastly interested the
English.
The bluff went through to this extent: It left the British authorities
thoroughly at sea. My apparent good intent, combined with my Mexican
commission and American passport, provided them with a puzzle which
would take a good long time solving. The only provable charge they
could bring against me was that of being an alien enemy who had failed
to register.