The German Spy System from Within

by Anonymous

The nature of the work undertaken by spies of the higher orders places them, at times, in possession of a good deal of information which, should the spies choose to use it improperly, becomes a danger to the German Government. This is not good for the spies concerned; in some cases they are trusted too far—for even such an organisation as the German secret service can make mistakes at times—and then they vanish. One case was that of an ex-service officer on the Russian frontier, who, unfortunately for him, fell in love with a Russian lady, and found that his duty was not so strong as his love: it was ascertained that not only was he lax in his espionage, but that he was actually making his work of benefit to the Russian service rather than to his own people. A noted duellist was sent to the spot, with orders to challenge the recreant spy—and as a result the spy was killed.

The instance is not an isolated one, and in some cases the headquarters at Berlin, realising that a man or woman knows enough to be dangerous, deliberately betrays the person concerned to the authorities of some other Power, with a view to removing dangerous evidence, by means of imprisonment, until such time as the evidence shall be no longer dangerous. Such a case, undoubtedly, was that of the man Graves, whose arrest was largely due to a wrongly addressed letter sent to him from his headquarters—or at the instigation of his headquarters. The system pursued at the German headquarters is such that mistakes are not made by accident, but, if they occur, there is a definite purpose behind them. Graves knew too much, and suffered for it; he was a clever man and a good spy—but there were others equally good, and, since he had come to know more than the heads of the German secret service thought fit, he was removed, by being imprisoned in an English prison, to a point where his knowledge was no longer available for his own use.

It may be urged that, in view of the nature of the work involved in espionage duty, it would be hard to find people to undertake that duty, at least, to the extent alleged in the case of the German Empire and its secret service. Such a contention as this, however, proves ignorance of the German, and especially of the Prussian character and way of viewing moral problems. In this connection it is worthy of note that Herr Richter, the leader of the Opposition in the Reichstag, once raised a protest with regard to “the more than doubtful morality of the individuals employed” in the police service of the country; that is, the persons employed in secret police work. In reply, the Minister for the Interior, Von Puttkamer, stated that “it is the right and duty of the State to employ special and extraordinary methods, and even if that honest and estimable functionary, Police-Councillor Rumpff, has employed the methods of which he is accused, in order to secure for the State the benefits of useful intelligence, I here publicly express to him my satisfaction and thanks.”

The methods to which Herr Richter took exception included the suborning of high officials in magisterial, political, and industrial circles, more especially by the temptations afforded by the keeping of such disorderly houses as the woman Krausz made infamously notorious; the engaging, as secret agents, court officials, Reichstag deputies and their wives, and all who could in any way help on the business of information without regard to the moral or social degeneracy that might be brought about by these “honest and estimable” methods. Since the responsible Ministers of the country countenance rank immorality and vice in the search for information, it follows inevitably that the life of the nation as a whole is lowered in tone by the existence of the spy system; things that, to people of normal view-point appear detestable, become things that all may do without shame. Here in England a spy is given his real value—he is looked on as no true man: in Germany, on the other hand, the business of a spy is as honourable as any other; the outlook of the nation has become perverted by the system that Stieber set in working—Stieber himself was Germany’s greatest enemy, but the country has not yet realised this. And, with this perverted morality, this condoning of evil for the sake of the good that may accrue, there is no lack of material from which to fashion spies. The German Empire has become not only commercialised, but debased; the German view of solemn treaties, and the German justification of broken oaths on the ground of expediency, are typical of the German view-point in all things. Nothing is dishonourable, except to be found out, is a fairly accurate way of expressing the German view-point as regards rules for the conduct of life.

With this much understood, it is easy to understand that, in dealing with a German—with any German—one is dealing with a potential spy, for the whole nation is subject to espionage and attuned to it, regarding it as a part of daily life. From money-lender and social hanger-on down to workman and loafer, spies may be made out of all grades of the social scale, and are made. Through the medium of a workman spy, the plans of the Lebel rifle were in German hands before ever one of the rifles in question was handed out for the use of French troops. At the other end of the scale is Von Puttkamer, Minister of the Interior, sanctioning anything and all things, irrespective of the harm they may do to the moral nature of the German race, so long as “information” is obtained. The taint is in the race, so permeating all classes that neither man nor woman can be regarded as free of it. The actual word “spy” is capable of various interpretations, and the real and acknowledged spies of the German system, numerous though they are, do not form nearly as large a total as the people who help the espionage system to maintain its efficiency.

The spy par excellence is one who has in him or in her a decidedly criminal instinct. Men and women of this class make the best spies, from the point of view of their employers; and by reason of this the German system, since Stieber passed out from it, has been more effective in the elucidation of details than of large essentials—something is missing from the moral pervert who makes the best spy, or it may be that there is no longer at the head of the secret-service organisation such a genius as Stieber, who could make his small creatures accomplish large designs. Stieber, Zerniki—one may choose out half a dozen or so of names just as in criminal records one may choose out the names of Peace and Crippen, or even of the Borgias, as capable of great things in crime. But the spies of later days in the German secret service have not been put to great uses, or the temper of the British people would not have been misunderstood to the extent that led to Ireland being looked on as “a revolting province,” or the colonies of Britain as only waiting for a chance to escape from British rule. The general work of the spy seems to have degenerated along with the nation that founded the system, down to petty ends and inconsequent results; we have seen, in this present war, that the occupation of Brussels was carried through without a hitch owing to the machine-like perfection of the German spy system—there was cause for congratulation, from a German point of view. But we have seen none of the great coups that made the campaign of 1870 as great a triumph for Stieber as for Bismarck and his royal master.

The anti-espionage system of British secret service is worthy of note in connection with the decline of the German system of espionage. In this connection the Scotsman report of the trial of Graves bears quotation, more especially the deposition of Inspector Trench, who described the effects found on Graves at the time of his arrest.

“The prisoner, on being arrested at his hotel, had in his possession a doctor’s book, apparently empty. This was found, on inspection, to contain two leaves stuck together. In the middle were sentences and figures—a code which had been subsequently deciphered by a process of subtraction from the A.B.C. code.

“He also had... cartridge cases of the latest Army pattern. The code-notes contained phrases like ‘clearing practice,’ ‘have lowered defending nets,’ ‘land fortifications are manned,’ etc.”

Further, Graves had lived in Edinburgh as “a medical student taking his last degree in science,” but had not been near any hospital, and had used the paper and envelopes of a well-known English firm for his correspondence, in order to avoid inspection of his letters by the post office.