Steiber did not stop at learning the secrets of the army and navy. His spies even went to Versailles and were to be found in public and semi-public institutions everywhere. They consisted of both men and women. If one went into a restaurant the waiter who attended to his wants was likely to be a German spy. If a Frenchwoman—possibly the wife of an army or naval officer—went to her dressmaker’s she was fitted by a female who probably was on the payroll of Doctor Steiber. At one time, it is hinted, there were five thousand Prussian spies working on French territory. Never was a country so overrun by the secret agents of a foreign power.
Finally, in the latter part of 1869, Steiber completed his work and started back to Berlin. And all this time the complacent French Emperor and the credulous French people, were in ignorance of how they had been betrayed by the thousands of foreign visitors. Steiber, Zernicki and Kalten carried several large trunks with them—trunks that were zealously guarded by day and by night. These trunks contained plans of all sorts and reports that had been returned by the myriads of spies under the Chief of the Prussian Secret Service. Suppose these trunks had been captured and confiscated by the French police? Suppose Steiber and his emissaries had been arrested while they were still on French territory? Is it too much to say that it would have changed the course of history?
Steiber on his return to Berlin went direct to the home of the Chancellor. He found him, as before, resting after one of those meals for which he was famous. It seemed very familiar, the broad shoulders, thick neck, grisly mustache, bushy eyebrows and grim, determined look. He greeted his agent with a playful manner and bade him tell all he knew. That consumed some time, for it must be remembered that Steiber and his corps of assistants had spent more than two years in France. It is true that much of the information had been sent as fast as it was collected, but Bismarck wanted direct, first-hand news from his trusted servant.
And while he talked the Chancellor smoked one cigar after another and occasionally tossed bits of meat to the dogs that were constantly by his side. After the interview Steiber received another medal to add to the collection he had already acquired. And then Berlin, so to speak, having set the stage, calmly awaited the course of events.
The climax came quicker than was anticipated. Napoleon demanded that the King of Prussia should bind himself by an autograph letter never to support Prince Leopold as a candidate for the Spanish crown. Bismarck, confident in his power, and fortified by the knowledge that he had of the French unpreparedness, calmly refused to lay the request before the monarch.
This was an intolerable slight from one who was regarded as a subordinate. A few days after this the French Ambassador chanced to meet the King in a public walk at Ems, and there and then asked him to give the desired promise. King William refused, with indignation, to transact business under such circumstances and later notified the Ambassador that he would not be given an audience at the royal palace.
Napoleon regarded this as the insult direct, and as a consequence of the incident war was declared between the two countries. The people, of course, were unfamiliar with real conditions. They did not know that their country had been infested with foreign spies and that they were utterly unprepared for war. They were angered at the apparent slight that had been put upon the French nation and they were filled with a burning patriotism. In no time the streets of Paris were filled with but one cry:
“On to Berlin!”
Napoleon, heading a hastily mobilized army, marched north and camped at Metz, whence he proposed crossing the Rhine into Germany. But the Germans, instead of waiting for this, invaded France, hurrying directly toward Paris. The scorn and indignation of the people was intense. Marshal McMahon fought bravely, but was driven back, and Marshal Bazaine, after a struggle, was driven within the fortifications at Metz. Everything had come about as the Germans anticipated. A large part of the French army was shut up in a trap, while the remainder struggled for existence.
On the eve of the first of September, 1870, the King of Prussia arrived at Versailles and took up his lodgings in the palace belonging to the Duc de Persigny. And with him was Doctor Steiber, gloating and continually washing his hands in invisible water. Was not all of this his work? Had he not spied out the land? Had he not invaded France before the army arrived? In a word, was not this conquest of the army but a confirmation of his victory of espionage? He was more boastful than ever and his big ears and big nose were everywhere in evidence.