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War having finally broken out, the Government, of course, did not relax its hold on the Press. The early days brought a fine crop of fantastic inventions. The utmost was done to heighten the people’s illusions. The semi-official telegrams declared that England would remain true to its time-honoured principle of making money out of other people’s difficulties and abstain from taking part. This was at a time when Germany had already sown mines in English waters, arrested every English sailor in Germany, and cut the Jamaica cable. Japan was said to be about to conclude an alliance with Germany. A Frenchman was alleged to have poisoned wells in Alsace-Lorraine. While the Government invented the absurd story of a French aeroplane having been seen over Nuremberg before the war broke out, they quite concealed the fact that in the early days of the war French aeroplanes really did visit Coblenz. My authority is a priest who nearly lost his life from the shrapnel of the German air defences. The Government did not even spare its own citizens. A circumstantial report appeared in all the newspapers to the effect that the innkeeper Nicolai, of Cochem, and his son had been put to death for trying to blow up a railway tunnel on the Moselle. The affair created a sensation, because Nicolai was known far and wide for the excellence of his wines. The report was allowed to run for some time, and then the public were told that there had indeed been some charge of the sort against Nicolai, but upon investigation it had been withdrawn. And if you ask why a simple private citizen should be libelled in this way, the answer is easy—it was to heighten the prevailing spy-fever by suggesting that spies were to be found everywhere, in the least likely places.

SPIES

For from the beginning the Government began a merciless campaign against foreign spies, and let it be known that the whole country was swarming with French and Russian agents in disguise. The mob was given to understand that they had practically a free hand in dealing with any of these agents they should meet. A frenzied spy-mania sprang up and no Frenchman or Russian was safe in the streets. In a certain hospital at Bonn twenty foreigners were being treated at the same time as a result of the injuries inflicted by the mob. In Cologne, at a particular street corner, fifty men were mobbed in one day. I myself saw one such scene. An unfortunate Russian had been recognized in the street, and the police had come up just in time to save his life and were trying to get him to the police-station. The people all the while surged round from every direction, brandishing their sticks and uttering that peculiar mob-yell which is more blood-curdling to listen to than the howl of a pack of wolves. It is true that by such methods a certain number of spies were detected; but a far larger number of innocent persons suffered, and those mostly Germans. The mob thought a spy would be likely to try and disguise himself by putting on some sort of uniform, so they set upon anybody in official dress whose looks did not please them. One friend of ours, who was wearing an old Landsturm uniform, from which some buttons were missing, was three times hauled by the mob to the police-station. Another friend was a nurse, wearing the regulation cap and veil, and she was taken so often to the police-station that at last the officer lost all patience and drove the mob forth with such curses as only a German can swear. The priest who told me about the air-raid on Coblenz, in addition to nearly being killed by stray shrapnel, was attacked by hooligans, and but for the timely arrival of the police would have been robbed of all he possessed. The most amusing case (from a non-German point of view) was that of a member of the Reichstag on his way to the historic session at the Royal Palace on August 4. He was a little stout man with a peaked imperial beard, and he was wearing some sort of unfamiliar Court uniform that looked more French than German. The mob set upon him, threw him to the ground, and by the time the police intervened had all but kicked him to death.

I may add two stories of how real spies were detected—and this owing to the neglect of the merest trifle. The bridge over the Rhine at Bonn is very carefully watched, and every vehicle must be accompanied across by a soldier. A motor-car was once being thus conveyed, with two officers in it, when something unfamiliar about them attracted the attention of the guard. He looked at them more closely, and discovered that with the uniform of the artillery they were wearing the spiked helmets of the infantry. (Artillery helmets end in a ball.) He had the car stopped, and it transpired that the two men were officers in the French Army on a special mission to the interior of Germany. They were tried and shot the same day.

The other instance is of an oversight equally trivial. A lady was travelling in the train from Aix-la-Chapelle to Cologne, when her attention was caught by the label of a London tailor sewn in another lady’s jacket which was dangling from the rack. The owner of the jacket was continually running into the next compartment to have a talk with a wounded officer, whose arm was in a sling. “She was like a nervous rabbit,” my informant said. When the train pulled up in Cologne station a detachment of soldiers was waiting on the platform, and they at once arrested the wounded officer. He was an English spy, and his bandages were full of maps and other incriminating documents. (The names of all persons in uniform who board a train are registered, and by the time they reach their destination it is known whether they are bona fide travellers or not. A telegram does the rest.) It was obvious that the wearer of the English jacket was also a spy working together with the man who had been arrested. At first the German lady could not bring herself to give information which must inevitably cost the life of a woman. She hesitated a long time, but in the end duty to the Vaterland prevailed, and she told the authorities. Meanwhile, however, the Englishwoman had left the station and was speeding away in a taxi. But the soldiers rushed out and sounded a peculiar signal, at which every vehicle within hearing is bound to stop and wait further orders. The Englishwoman had not got far enough away, she was arrested, and she, no doubt, suffered the extreme penalty.

To return from this digression. The German Government worked on the feelings of the people, not only through the spy mania, but in all sorts of crooked and underhand ways. It was given out that Rhineland was going to be invaded by the French through Belgium, and that in this flat country the French would have an easy time. For the first week or two of the war people in Rhineland were distinctly nervous. Learned professors used to discuss what would happen if the French came to Bonn, whether any one would be left alive, or any building would survive their fury. It seems ridiculous, when one looks back upon it, but it all served the purpose of the Government very well. It directed the rage of the people against the foreign enemy and away from their own rulers, and it heightened the “Kriegsstimmung.” In time the Government could play upon the people just as they liked. I remember once that reports appeared in the Dutch papers that 600 men a day were joining Kitchener’s Army in London, and 2000 a day in the whole of England. The German newspapers reported that only 600 men from the whole of London had joined, and from all England only 2000. (This was in September.) The people were immensely relieved, they thought that England was already sorry she had joined in the war, and would only put up a half-hearted fight. I was spending the evening with acquaintances when the news arrived, and a bottle of wine was immediately fetched up from the cellar to celebrate it. In this connection I need scarcely refer to the speech of John Burns that was specially forged, except to say that some German books still refer to it as that “much-disputed” speech, and then proceed to quote large extracts from it.

SIR EDWARD GREY

Especial pains were taken to vilify Sir Edward Grey. A story appeared in the Cologne Gazette that at a dinner-party in July, 1914, Sir Edward Grey had been speaking of the troubled political situation in England, and had finished up, “Only a war can save us now.” Another story was that at the critical moment in the negotiations he had telegraphed to Petrograd the one word “Now.” Russia had immediately mobilized, and so made war inevitable. Or another method of attack was employed. It was put about that Grey was only a nincompoop, a weak man, the tool of others cleverer than himself, and the real villain of the piece was Nicholson. It was my favourite joke to ask the Germans who this Nicholson was. Grey was the best-hated man in Germany. The curses heaped on his head, however, only used to amuse me, specially as they always pronounced his name to rhyme with “cry.”

LIES

Extraordinary care was taken to write up the navy. Germany’s honour was felt to be especially concerned here, and defeat was doubly bitter, because it came from the hands of Britain. I was in Kiel during the war, and heard a great deal about the magnificent espionage system of England. I was informed that the English Admiralty knew beforehand down to the smallest unit what ships composed the German Fleet that fought at Dogger Bank. Their spies watched the Kiel Canal and managed to convey the news to the English Admiralty before the ships were well out to sea. While at Kiel they had few illusions as to England’s naval strength, it was different in the country at large. Reverses were never admitted, and the German people thought that their fleet really never had been defeated. Heligoland Bight, Dogger Bank, and even the Falkland Islands were thought to be glorious victories. It is true that no German ships survived the battle of the Falkland Islands; but a report appeared in all the German papers saying that the English had already been completely beaten in this battle when the Japanese appeared, and it was they who polished off Von Spee. Losses were concealed in the most ridiculous way. The Friedrich Carl sank in full view of the Russians, and its loss was announced in their official bulletins. Yet the German Government never let their own people know of it. This policy of secrecy was carried too far, and sometimes irritated the fleet. Once a cruiser was badly injured in the Baltic, but she managed to make her way to Kiel, steering backwards, and all the time dodging submarines and mines. It was a superb piece of seamanship. The Government never said a word about it, for the simple reason that they did not want the public to know how strong the enemy was in the Baltic. But the men concerned were inclined to grumble, because they felt the public did not honour them as they deserved. There is a great deal more I could say on this subject, but what I know I learned under conditions that make it impossible for me to break silence. Enough to say that the tactics of the Government were successful. The confidence of the nation in the German Fleet—and also of many neutrals—remained unbounded. A favourite saying among the German soldiers was, “We overrated many things, but the English Navy most of all; it has done nothing.”

The successes of the army were written up in much the same way. For instance, the winter battle at the Masurian Lakes was so announced as to appear three battles instead of one. First, part of the results were announced, then more, and then finally a complete account was given, but this was done in such a way that the people believed that three victories had been gained; and, as a matter of fact, the houses in Bonn were beflagged three times. One habit of the Germans is interesting to note at this particular moment. Whenever the Russians retreated, systematically destroying everything as they went, the German General Staff held up holy hands of horror. The Kaiser sent a special telegram about the “terrible but beautiful” sight of the ring of burning villages round Warsaw. The Germans forgot to say that these villages consisted for the most part of wooden huts, easily rebuilt, and that not much of beauty or value was destroyed. It is interesting to note, too, just now, what measures of revenge the Germans took. Once in retreat the Russians were unable to bring away their stores of bread, so, in order to make them unfit for human food, they drenched them with petroleum. Hindenburg comes along, and is informed of it. “How thoughtful of the Russians!” he exclaimed. “We’ll give it to their prisoners to eat.” Which was done, with the result that many of them died. When the day of reckoning comes, and the criminals are brought before the bar, Hindenburg must not be forgotten. He is an East Prussian, and has conducted the war with a cruelty possible only to one of his race.

GERMAN PRINCES

The most impudent forgeries in the German papers are the speeches attributed to the Kaiser. The utmost has been done to enhance his position in the eyes of the world and of his own subjects. When the war broke out, tradition demanded that he should address the Berlin crowd from the balcony of his palace. The German papers report him as having told the crowds to go home and pray. But the correspondent of the Nieuwe Rotterdamsche Courant wrote that the Kaiser said nothing of the sort, and that his speech was full of the most “drastic expressions.” The Kaiser and his family were presented to the people in a cloud of lies. When the Germans bombarded Scarborough, it was put about that Prince Henry (the Kaiser’s brother) had been very much against it, the idea being to insist on the chivalry of his nature. But he is a Prussian of the Prussians, a very Hindenburg of the sea. Allied papers have been inclined lately to jeer at the Kaiser, because none of his sons have fallen in action. This is a little unfair. One son at least has been wounded. Prince Eitel Fritz has gained the admiration of all his men by his desperate bravery. An N.C.O., who has fought under him, told me he seemed to seek death. Another N.C.O., who had been in the thick of it at Verdun, told me the Crown Prince was popular as a soldier, and had the knack of getting the most out of his men. The other German Princes have, on the whole, shown themselves worthy of their great positions, and have been an inspiration to their men. The Prince of Schaumburg-Lippe, of the Bonn Hussars, was renowned as a daring patrol-rider. These things I know from soldiers themselves, not from newspapers trying to write up the cause of absolutism. The Kaiser’s family has not had an altogether easy time of it during the war. Many are known to be English in their sympathies, and it was even said to be fashionable in Court circles to speak German with an English accent. A sister of the Kaiser lives at Bonn, and for an unfortunate remark she made she had to undergo the rebuke of plebeians. At the beginning of the war there was a great rush of Bonn women to be nurses. They adopted a most unbecoming uniform, the veil in particular being a monstrous black thing that reminded you of a funeral mute. The Princess said they ought to have a prettier veil, “like those they have in England.” The reply was priceless. She was informed, “We are all good Germans here, your Royal Highness.”

THE CENSORSHIP

In one direction the censorship exercised a healthy influence. When war broke out, the German hatred of the enemy found the coarsest and most disgusting expression. For instance, the Bonner Zeitung (a newspaper written by the professors for the professors of the University), reporting the shooting of a Russian lady for espionage, added: “And now the carrion of her carcase is rotting in its well-deserved grave.” (I disdain to render the original more exactly.) Picture-postcards and flysheets were issued in thousands, in which all the resources of the filthiest imagination in Europe were employed to vilify the enemy. But one day they disappeared like magic from the shop-windows, and the newspapers took on a cleaner tone. After the news of the destruction of Louvain came, the papers were inclined to exult and glorify the deed. But a sign from the Government was enough to keep their enthusiasm within bounds. It is the habit to laugh at the Germans for their slavish press, but I am certain they would not have held out so long as they have done under any other system. Only in England is it possible for the populace to be daily fed with wild stories of the incompetence, stupidity, or treachery of the Government, and yet to continue to prosecute the war with undiminished vigour.