Chapter Six.
Diplomatic Espionage.
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 attaché, 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 attachés, 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.