Chapter Eight

On the day when war was declared between Germany and France Mata Hari was in Berlin. She lunched at the famous Adlon with her friend, the chief of the secret police, and since the hotel was the favourite resort of high officials, who now became popular idols in the enthusiasm of war, Mata basked in the reflected glory of her illustrious protector. The excited throng, hungering for a sight of their national heroes, surged about the famous restaurant to catch a glimpse of the leaders who happened to be eating there that day. Every minute saw the waiting crowd increase in size and the cheering swell in volume. When the time came for Mata Hari to emerge the crowd was in its best humour and gave Herr von Jagow, the prominent police officer, a rousing reception as he departed with the lady on his arm. But not all the population of the capital crowded into the street before the Adlon. Other, not less enthusiastic, groups paraded the streets singing songs of war. For once the active restraint of the Berlin police was relaxed, they took holiday. So did their chief. In an official car he made a tour of the excited city 98for the amusement of his companion, whom he proudly exposed to the populace, and, incidentally, to the foreign agents, who did not miss this indiscretion.

Shortly after this occurrence Abteilung III began to have an uneasy suspicion that all was not well with their organization in Britain. For years the English people had grumbled in impotent anger against an indifferent police who permitted German agents to work unmolested in that country. Responsible officials received complaints of audacious spies with an airy disregard which amounted to a cynical indifference for the safety of the realm, much to the indignation of certain well-meaning people who missed no opportunity to draw attention to the alarming danger accompanying this apparent neglect. It was notorious that there was a considerable body of active spies operating with impunity in England. Yet as the first anxious days went by the Berlin authorities became aware of a paralyzing lethargy which had descended upon their agents. There was an absence of information relating to the mobilization of British troops and their departure for France. It had been taken for granted that the invasion of Belgium would cause these troops to be landed at one of the northern channel ports and would be 99attended with considerable risk if the right wing of the invading army moved expeditiously enough. The places of the anticipated landing were watched carefully without any sign of the expected enemy. As he approached these ports von Kluck threw out a cavalry corps to check any advance from that direction, but no sooner had his cavalry got into movement than the main German advance came up against a surprising enemy—British troops.

The Germans had guessed wrong.

Modern miracles in military strategy are frequently no more than the logical deductions from fragments of information furnished by spies, filtered through the special knowledge of the Intelligence officers and supplied to the high command for guidance. In this case the German Intelligence service did not have any secret source of supply to assist in the performance of miracles. Their long-established source had, in fact, miraculously dried up through the totally unexpected intervention of the notoriously complacent London police.

During the night which succeeded Sir Edward Grey’s announcement of Britain’s intention to support her engagements to the extent of going to war, Scotland Yard had been fingering over its files, furbishing up its memories, and visiting its 100German acquaintances. Some time previously, when the Emperor William had last visited Buckingham Palace, he was accompanied by certain high officials, one of whom left the Palace to visit a barber in an obscure district. The mere fact that an important German official should make this strange visit puzzled the police because there is little in common between Buckingham Palace and the Caledonian Road. The statesman’s host proved to be a barber called Ernst, technically an Englishman by birth, but German by parentage. The police watched the barber very carefully for some time and found that he was the German Foreign Office’s “letter-box.” That is to say, he received from Berlin a bundle of letters with English stamps already affixed, which he distributed among various post offices in the city. These letters were instructions to spies.

Incidentally, Ernst was paid £1 (or $5) a month for his services.

Through this discovery the British authorities were able to ascertain all the spies employed by the Foreign Office, work out the cipher used, and read all the instructions. When the time for action arrived all the British police had to do was to visit the addresses of these agents and put them under lock and key. One, and one only, escaped. The entire 101system of German espionage in England was in eclipse.

Suppose a similar coup had been achieved in France!

Nothing but the most fortuitous circumstances prevented the German spy system in France from failing as completely as did their British system. Only a stroke of fortune which they had no right to expect saved them. The Second Bureau of the War Department, which is the nerve centre of the army and responsible for counter-espionage in France, followed the example of their Allies and drew up a list of undesirable aliens, which was presented to the civil police for action. The Minister of the Interior, who was head of the civil police, refused to have these potential and actual spies arrested.

It has been asserted repeatedly that this Minister (M. Malvy) was one of Mata Hari’s victims. He has been charged with criminal co-operation in her defence and was actually exiled because of his neglect of the most elementary precautions at a moment of national crisis. Let us hasten to say that we do not attribute any treacherous intention to the Minister. He shared with another Minister (Messimy, at the War Department) the extraordinary distinction of possessing a name which began 102with M and ended with Y, and it has been said that letters bearing the signature of MY which were found in Mata Hari’s apartment formed part of the evidence wrongfully attributed to prove his guilt. This is wrong. At Mata Hari’s trial some letters were read which left no doubt about the writer; it was Messimy, and the mention of his unpopular name was received with unconcealed glee among the younger officers who had little cause to like him. It may further be added that these letters contained nothing which could have condemned anyone except, probably, in a breach-of-promise action. Having exculpated M. Malvy of any criminal relation with the spy, we cannot, however, entirely discharge him of all responsibility for aiding her.

If Mata Hari never was the accepted mistress of M. Malvy, there was a very well-founded suspicion that Mlle. Nery Beryll was, and the two women were intimate friends. It was through this intimacy that Mata Hari was able to secure privileges which secured for her the reputation of the most dangerous spy discovered during the war. But she must not be charged with having prevented the arrest of the undesirables at the beginning of the war. Credit for that accomplishment belongs to Almeyreda. Had M. Malvy ever taken the trouble 103to arrange the names on this sinister list in alphabetical order, he would have found that of his friend Almeyreda at the head. Yet this man actually persuaded the Minister that it would be bad policy to arrest these foreigners because it would cause a panic in France. It was a piece of superb effrontery and saved the entire German spy system operating in France. It was a piece of good fortune which must have created exquisite delight in Berlin, but for the unhappy Second Bureau it was only a foretaste of the intense difficulties under which they had to work until the entire Ministry of obstruction was cleared out.

The position of these spies appeared to be founded upon such an intricate web of intrigue, involving men of the highest position, that, after this good opening, to expose one or two agents would mean the almost inconceivable participation of public functionaries in an anti-national conspiracy. It is not suggested that all those who subsequently suffered prosecution—men like Caillaux, Humbert, and Malvy—were actually in the pay of the German authorities or were actually aware that they were tools of the Berliners. But if their acts were not criminal in the accepted sense of the word, their ready acceptance of friendship with less innocent people like Almeyreda and Bolo, their 104indifference to treacherous intrigue, and their rejection of advice from the secret police, rendered them not unworthy of the active hatred of those who placed power in their hands. When it is recalled that, forty years before, Germany had placed the Prussian Baroness von Kaula in a position where she gained the confidence of the War Minister in Paris, the least that might have been expected of contemporary French statesmen was to guard against a repetition of the betrayal.

Even with their agents so well placed that an exposure would have resulted in a revelation of political shallowness and corruption which would have shaken the French nation to its very foundations, the German secret service had not entirely covered the field of their activities. There was an urgent need for current military information to supplement the work of the terrorists and defeatists, and Mata Hari was the spy best qualified to obtain it.

It never was an easy matter for neutrals to pass from one belligerent country to another during the war. Harassed police agents at the frontiers and ports of entry suspected everyone, demanding absolute proof from all travellers that their journey was of a wholly innocent nature. To elude the vigilance of these officials the German secret 105service had organized a highly efficient forgery department whose duty it was to produce at short notice all the necessary proofs of identity required to enable a neutral to circulate freely among the nations at war. In Mata Hari’s case no forged papers were necessary. She was a neutral, a distinguished dancer of established reputation with many influential friends who were able to smooth over many difficulties which beset the less fortunate traveller. But even so a very good reason had to be furnished for her desire to visit Paris, so to the French representatives in Holland she offered the plausible excuse that she wished to dispose of her property at Neuilly. This satisfied them when the application was supported by the head of the Dutch Cabinet and by powerful French officials, and Mata Hari was granted the papers necessary for her journey to Paris.

The head of the German secret service provided her with 30,000 marks (at that time $7,500) for her expenses. Unfortunately, this financial transaction was made known to the English Intelligence Department, who passed on their information to the Second Bureau in Paris as soon as it was known that the French capital was her destination. At a later date Mata Hari had an uneasy moment when she was taxed with receiving this payment and 106asked for an explanation. She treated her questioner with disdain and the question with a lack of gravity which only equalled her want of modesty.

“It is true that I received 30,000 marks from my friend who is head of the espionage department but it was not the salary of a spy. It was the price of my favours, for I was his mistress.”

“Yes, we know of your intimate relations with the officer,” was the unfeeling retort, “but he must have been unusually generous to treat you so liberally.”

“Thirty thousand marks generous! That was my usual price. My lovers never offered me less.”

Decidedly Mata Hari had her moments of pride, but there was a time when she had to admit that the same officer paid for the same services with only half the amount.

As we have said, no sooner did Mata Hari arrive in London en route for Paris than the English warned their French allies of the spy’s journey. It might be asked why they did not arrest her, knowing that she was a highly dangerous spy going into a friendly country to practise her treacherous calling.

The explanation is simple. A spy enjoys the customary privilege of being innocent until there is material proof of guilt. No one accused of spying 107can be punished by a court of law without the production of conclusive orthodox evidence, because, in the case of a foreigner, or more particularly of a neutral, the national representatives make energetic efforts to release them, so that in principle the freedom of movement of their nationals will not be restricted. Circumstantial evidence is worthless.

Substantial evidence was made more than ever necessary during the war, when German spies adopted the ruse of pleading guilty to secondary offences, such as smuggling, in order to avoid the major charge of spying, which might involve a death sentence. In the case of Mata Hari there was no direct evidence. She was known as a police “stool pigeon,” not as an active agent either collecting or transmitting information, and for that reason the special branch of Scotland Yard was powerless to prevent her from proceeding on her journey. They could only hope that her liberty might induce her to make some false move which would betray either the mission she had been sent on or some of her fellow spies with whom she would come in contact. Their hopes were not realized, but for the moment she was courteously treated in order to prevent arousing any presentiment of the danger she was running, or any suggestion 108that the English authorities knew of her work.

Immediately she was installed in Paris, Mata Hari began to extend her circle of friends.

There was still the faithful band of old followers to whom she had awarded her favours in the past and could be of use to her yet on occasion. Among these were the permanent head of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, who had been her first lover in Paris and who retained an ardent passion for her to the bitter end, and General Messimy, the amiable if not too brilliant old soldier who held the important post of War Minister. These men and the sycophants who invariably hover about the presence of persons of influence would serve to provide her with a rich field from which to extract information as well as personal gain.

It was her liaison with the first mentioned of these officials that permitted Mata Hari to perform a feat which would enhance the joy and gratification of the most successful secret agent. Some of her reports to the espionage chiefs in Holland were written on the official notepaper of the Minister of Foreign Affairs, sure proof of her successful penetration into these exclusive official circles. But if these, and other, leaders of opinion 109were never judged to have been rather more than usually indiscreet, if no actual guilt was proved against them, surely Mata Hari’s close intimacy with these men enabled her to benefit from the confidence of their subordinates, who, human nature being what it is, must have occasionally been coaxed or persuaded to reveal confidential knowledge to a woman who could predispose their chiefs in their favour.

When the London authorities obligingly “signalled” the approaching arrival of Mata Hari in Paris, she was taken under the closest surveillance of the Second Bureau; but the strictest scrutiny of her actions and correspondence failed to reveal any material evidence of her complicity in espionage. Certainly she was known to have friends among some of the women who also were known to act as carriers for their lovers employed in the German secret service in Spain and Switzerland, but it was found on most reliable authority that she was completely ignorant of this employment. It was only a similarity of social tastes which brought them together. Not only did Mata Hari resume her former standards of depraved morality which she called her pleasures, but she sank to lower depths of degradation than ever before.

Paris was throughout the war the Mecca of 110many a sorry pilgrimage for those who had faced the inferno of the advanced posts with its horror of death and mutilation, its filth and abomination, its monastic deprivations from the soft and endearing charms of gentle companions. It is futile to blame these men, whose eyes still carried the reflection of death, for their excesses. To be deprived of their womenfolk was one of the severest strains to which they were exposed; the loss of their charming restraints caused many a decent and healthy-minded man to seek gratification for the feeling of unbounded relief which Paris leave afforded in the smiles and enchantments of that mocking, laughing cherubim of hell. Who shall blame them? Did not St. Anthony try to solve the problem in his own way? And no one credits him with achieving any great happiness through his solution.

Mata Hari knew that in the dens of iniquity to which these foreign officers, and French officers, too, released from rigorous discipline and nervous strain, sought a temporary oblivion from their restraints, much valuable information could be obtained if one shared in the task of brightening the few days of leave and profited by the moments of intoxicated relaxation. The author of the standard work on the prostitution in Paris during the war 111mentions having encountered Mata Hari in several popular brothels frequented by soldiers on leave. In their efforts to purify her character some ardent admirers have protested against unguarded use of this statement because the medical man who makes it omits to mention whether she visited the establishments as a client or as an employee. Although we fail to appreciate the fine difference between the status of the two characters, let us say at once that we believe she went in the more dignified (if that is the word) character of client, frequenting the places for the express purpose of extracting from drunken soldiers information they would have sacrificed their tongues to have retained.

However, it is fairly certain that her visits were not without personal recompense and that she carried her worship of the god Siva into these hells, because the official investigator received several jealous complaints from other habitués of these houses that Mata Hari got more than her share of their trade. “The Hindu is a perfect devil,” they angrily declared. At this time she was making other, more severe calls upon the assistance of Siva, the god of evil.

The information of Allied military affairs she gleaned did not all come from this tainted source. In point of fact, much of the material so gathered 112was inclined to be very deceiving unless substantiated, because the wild rumours which circulated where large groups of people were congregated only confused the issue, and in matters of military policy the officers who came down from the front line were the worst possible judges. But the circles round her Ministerial friends furnished the correctives. It can be acknowledged that whatever material Mata Hari collected, trustworthy or not, and dispatched to her chiefs in Holland, remained her own and their secret for many a month. The exasperating feature of her activities, from a counter-espionage point of view, was that they defied detection. The Second Bureau had cleverly introduced some of its ablest agents into the intimacy of her private life without being able to surprise her secret. They were convinced of her guilt, yet unable to expose it. And Heaven alone knows she was not idle.

Having obtained admission to France under the pretext of selling her Neuilly property, she could not afford to neglect this duty without arousing suspicion of her real mission. An amusing story arises from this task of selling her possessions, which shows that she still enjoyed making people’s flesh creep with stories of her savage nature. Among her most cherished possessions in the villa 113was a valuable collection of Dresden china which had been accumulated through the efforts of various lovers to emulate each other in their generosity. As a collection it was of considerable interest, but as a readily realizable asset it was comparatively worthless, since no one was wishful to acquire such fragile property when Fokkers were destroying cathedrals of more substantial construction. Again her official friends came to her aid. There were the national collections with funds for the acquisition of such treasures.

Accordingly, Mata Hari was given an appointment with the curator of one of these institutions, a scholarly, cultured gentleman whose thoughts were remote from deeds of destruction. She explained the urgent need for disposing of her possessions so that she might return to Holland, and regretfully told how she had been compelled to part with things which were a part of her life. She had even been compelled to sell her stable, and this is a very significant fact, since ownership of a private carriage in those days was as much the hallmark of success as possession of a Rolls-Royce or a Hispano is to the light lady of today.

“However,” she added with a sigh of regret, “I could not think of my dear pony Vichna falling 114into strange hands. This morning I killed him myself, thrusting a golden stiletto into his heart.”

Still, the times were trying for a lady with such expensive tastes. So many former friends had been compelled to leave Paris to serve with their regiments, others no longer gave the voluptuous entertainments which were out of place in a society which was stricken with grief over personal losses and national danger. The very rooms where she had previously lounged in indolent languor were filled with the groans of wounded men. The cost of living was rising, too, so there remained no alternative but a new and wealthy companion who would be responsible for maintaining her in the style she desired. There was always the old friend in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and, through him, a considerable number of minor diplomatists who might be depended on for discreet entertainment. But a wealthy protector had to be found somewhere.

Major Massard tells of one candidate who had acquired great wealth in profits arising from trading in war materials. He aspired to a reputation as a boulevardier, but had not achieved his ambition, through lack of a mistress sufficiently notorious and beautiful to match his great possessions. This man cast admiring glances in Mata Hari’s 115direction because she had the reputation of being the most extravagant woman in Paris and therefore designed to do him credit as a man of position and riches. As her own glance was ever charged with warm promises, the affair progressed so favourably that the infatuated man gave a splendid dinner in one of the most delightful and correspondingly expensive restaurants in the Bois, which had all the air of a wedding feast. The festivity was marked by all the luxury and ostentatious display of a wealthy man proudly displaying his conquest before his and her friends, and all went happily until the maître d’hôtel offered a box of expensive cigars to the host. With a gesture of disdain he waved them aside as worthy of the more delicate palates of his refined guests.

“I am provided with some excellent cigars,” he said, drawing a case of five-cent Bocks from his pocket, “and they do not cost so much.”

Mata Hari’s disapproval was unconcealed. She was heard to remark to her other neighbour at the table:

“That crack smells of herring. The stingy old devil! I could never enter into relations with a creature like that.”

The man was the gainer, however, for the abrupt rupture of their friendship spared him from suspicion 116of complicity in her intrigues which fell upon all her acquaintances of this time. The incident is characteristic of the luxury-saturated existence she loved and further supports her frequent assertions that she hated mean people and stingy actions. This was her excuse for the profligacy she habitually practised and for the showers of gold (provided by her generous male companions) which flowed from her. A freedom of giving, however ill-calculated it might be, passed with her for generosity and earned for her the affection of domestics, who benefited from her liberal bounty, and fulsome flattery from among her numerous worshippers.

At last the weary business of selling her property was satisfactorily completed and there was no further reason why she should not return to Holland, but she found a reason to prolong her stay that increased the alarm of the Second Bureau, which would gladly have seen her depart. Mata Hari announced that she had enrolled in the Red Cross and was instructed to report for duty at the hospital in Vittel, a town in the zone of the Chemin des Dames. There were excellent reasons why a suspected person should not be permitted to go there and the Second Bureau were resolved to do 117their utmost to prevent the journey. A glance at the military situation will explain this.

After the offensive in Artois in May and June of 1915 in which the advance had been faster than was planned, it was decided to profit by the lessons learned and to plan an extensive allied offensive in Champagne with a simultaneous attack in Artois. In order that the preparation for this great offensive might be masked French activity was transferred during the summer to the Vosges and the Argonne with the hope that the enemy might not learn where the actual attack was to be delivered.

It was considered that the French defensive system had been so perfected that the garrisons of quieter sectors could be reduced to a minimum, with a corresponding increase in the available reserves. New divisions had been formed and the troops intended for the attack were given methodical training. The situation looked favourable for the attainment of great objectives, which were to relieve the pressure on the eastern front and to effect a complete rupture of the German line so as to outflank it on the left, to the north of Rheims. The more optimistic officers of Joffre’s staff believed that the powerful reinforcements and the increase 118in heavy artillery would furnish the French with the means of disengaging the entire western front, an object that was not unattainable at that stage of the war. With such optimism prevailing at army headquarters it was not surprising that the darkening of the national spirit should be lightened by a gleam of hope which peered wanly through the surrounding gloom. The attack was to be launched toward the end of September.

One of the three zones for the attack was in front of Vittel, so that all the bustling activity of preparation must go surging eastward through the small town which was the location of several stationary units such as hospitals and air squadrons. The little town would be bursting with the portents of an offensive. There is no element in military strategy so conducive to success as surprise. The Lord may be on the side of the big battalions, but if the weaker opponent is warned of his enemy’s intentions the advantages of numbers are offset by the state of preparedness he will encounter.

Before air-photography of positions had become a science with recognized symbols for the concentration of troops and material, a military commander had to depend upon one small gift—the secret of entry into another man’s mind to discover 119what was passing there. The greatest general the world has ever known owed his success to this power of guessing correctly what the enemy was going to do. Many can guess, but few guess right, and in a military sense it has been observed that the best guessers, including Napoleon, were those who had the best Intelligence service to furnish them with the inspiration for their guess. In the case of Mata Hari’s visit to Vittel, the men of the Second Bureau were convinced that she was seeking information concerning the approaching offensive, because, since Joffre had contrived to keep much of his preparation from the Parisian gossip, there was no alternative but to investigate it on the spot. Yet the utmost vigilance failed to reveal any act which could support their conviction. Further, general opinion was all against them.

Mata Hari made no secret of her intention to visit Vittel. She had met an old acquaintance in Paris, a Russian nobleman who is today a well-known resident in the city, and he had informed her that a mutual friend had received wounds which had resulted in the loss of his sight. This unfortunate victim of war was a Captain Marov, an officer of the Russian contingent serving on the western front; he was at the time a patient in hospital at Vittel. Without any hesitation Mata Hari 120announced her intention of going to the stricken man’s side to console and comfort him with her ministrations.

Had she quietly made use of the influence of her Ministerial friends to slip unostentatiously away from Paris, it is possible that she could have eluded the vigilance of the Second Bureau for some time, but, woman-like, she had to make a ceremony of her renunciation of the flesh-pots of the modern Babylon and celebrate it in a series of merry farewell parties. In spite of all their researches the counter-espionage agents were compelled to admit that her story of acquaintance with Captain Marov was correct and that it had been of such an intimate character that her desire to devote herself to the consolation of the unfortunate officer was plausible. The only flaw in the story was her statement that she was proceeding as an official nurse, for enquiry revealed that the Red Cross had not even been approached with the offer of her services.

Nevertheless, the hazard of having an agent of the enemy in the forward area during preparations for an offensive was prodigious, and the Second Bureau felt justified in trying to prevent the journey.

Authorization for a visit to the district of Vittel could only be obtained from the offices of the Interior 121and Foreign Affairs. But how could the counter-espionage agents tell the two men who were prepared to facilitate Mata Hari’s journey that their friend was a dangerous spy, when there was no shred of evidence to support the contention? M. Malvy and the head of the Foreign Office might be willing to concede that she was quite capable of committing any folly in broad daylight, but they would reject the suggestion that she was capable of even a petty villainy in the shadow. But, argued the Second Bureau officials, our own nationals who reside in the army zone are denied the privilege of leaving their homes without written consent from the local police, who are qualified from knowledge of their affairs to judge whether the journey is justifiable. No visitor is admitted to these closed areas without an official pass, which is issued only after the most careful investigation. Why, then, award to neutrals, even friendly neutrals, a privilege which is denied citizens whose patriotism is above all suspicion? In substance Mata Hari’s Ministerial friends replied:

“The restriction of personal liberty within the army zone is a measure which we can enforce upon our own nationals because of their common interest in the safety of their country, but, from the point of view of general policy, we do not feel 122justified in recommending a similar course against neutrals whose friendship we desire to promote and thus establish good relations abroad. Further, a general rule closing the forward areas to neutrals would inflict great hardships in individual cases, and that we desire to avoid. Such a ruling, for example, would prevent the charming and spiritual Mata Hari, the prominent young Dutch artiste, from undertaking the highly meritorious mission she proposes to perform for the benefit of one of our wounded heroes.”

Thus, if Mata Hari’s Ministerial friends committed no overt act of treachery, it is obvious that their generosity could be applied to dangerous abuse by an unscrupulous woman.

Confronted by such a policy, there appeared little that the officers of the Second Bureau could do but sit on the quays and spit misanthropically into the Seine while waiting for the worst to happen. They could not deny that the supposed spy was making considerable self-sacrifice (a virtue of which she had never been accused) in forfeiting her elegant surroundings in order to live under macabre conditions that were a fit scene for a Dantean inferno. Besides, there was her love, and while philosophy can explain many things, there are 123some beyond her pitch, one of which is a woman’s love and the way of it.

Mata Hari had innumerable casual love-affairs, but did she ever achieve the ideal bond, that human weakness that ennobles its victims? Her friends contend that she did and point triumphantly to this incident at Vittel as convincing proof. Mata Hari later told her judges:

“While staying at Vittel I devoted myself to a poor Russian officer who had lost his sight. It was my intention to abandon my life of debauchery and to consecrate myself to the care of this unhappy man whom I loved sincerely. He was the only man whom I ever sincerely loved.”

Her friends point to the sacrifice she was making, a sacrifice which inspired an extraordinary sympathy among those who had imagined that her selfish soul was swallowed up in frivolity and debauchery. Her life had given no suggestion that she was capable of such devotion. Hers was not the beauty that bloomed for one man, but for the multitude; she fed not on the love of an individual, but on the adulation of many until Marov reappeared in her life. The Second Bureau officers were the only people who placed an uncharitable interpretation upon her action. They said that the 124woman who wishes to be all things to all men cannot be everything to one.

As for Captain Marov’s views on the matter, we have been told by those who pretend to know his thoughts that he is a brother in a Spanish monastery where he remembers in his daily office to pray for the soul of Mata Hari and gives thanks for the sacrificial love of the wronged woman who gave up her gay and voluptuous life in Paris to brighten his dark days. To Marov she was a fellow creature touched with divinity through the possession of angelic qualities. A man who has suffered as he has done is entitled to cherish all his visions of former happiness; only the churlish would dispute his right to that solace for the enlightenment of a life that must be spent in physical darkness. There has been no suggestion that this innocent victim of the war was aware of his companion’s employment.

There is no more gratifying sight to the moralist than a penitent renouncing wrong. Let us make the best of it. Mata Hari had been the recipient of every luxury her wealthy lovers could devise in emulation as the price of her favours. Marov was not a wealthy man and, therefore, could offer no inducement which appealed to her luxurious senses; he could not even maintain his lover in average comfort had it been available in Vittel. 125His impoverishment is advanced in palliation of Mata Hari’s subsequent conduct when she found it necessary to provide herself with funds in order to maintain herself and furnish delicacies to the patient who looked to her for comfort.

Her method was characteristic. Marov’s situation was such that she could not spend her entire day at his side, and the resources of bomb-riven Vittel were poor in the extreme for a woman of her tastes. No one who has not endured it can picture the drab misery, the pitiless discomfort, the utter stagnation of life in those overcrowded villages just behind the lines. Social intercourse, already hampered by regulations, was swamped beneath military requirements. For entertainment during her leisure, then, Mata Hari turned to the officers who were stationed in the neighbourhood and to those, still more numerous, who were passing through the town. The military activity was such that the French army appeared to have begun an involved game of general post, so that there were new faces in the town each day. For all and sundry, Mata Hari had a ready welcome that was characterized by an entire absence of modest reticences; she accepted as lovers any officers whom her fickle fancy chanced to alight 126on. In extenuation of this prostitution it is urged that she was forced to sell her body in order to procure funds to supplement Captain Marov’s meagre hospital fare.

The stage was admirably set for an orgy of riotous licentiousness. Incoming troops, aware of the significance of their movement, recognized that tomorrow would find them in the line, exposed to the abomination of trench life in winter, while here a charming hostess was spreading out for their delight such pleasures as might be their last earthly revel. The lust of these men who were turning their backs on all that was natural, refreshing, and pleasant in their lives to face unmitigated misery, was only equalled by the trench-weary veterans whom they relieved. These men grasped greedily at the first opportunity to savour joys after weeks of deprivation in the front lines.

Most favoured of all her companions were the airmen from neighbouring squadrons, those young heroes who sported with death in many forms and who enjoyed a species of dark exaltation in the mortuary horror of their tasks; these were singled out for special favour, and as a class airmen have never been distinguished for restraint. Many of the young pilots were permitted to share her intimacy and cheer her loneliness with their stories, 127for which she rewarded them with wine-scented kisses and the bliss of intoxication.

The ever-watchful agents of the counter-espionage service missed none of this. Her voluminous correspondence was carefully examined without revealing anything but the most innocent communications between friends who tried to beguile her self-imposed exile. The monotonous regularity of her life was only interrupted by an occasional visit to Paris in the interest of her patient. So unprofitable were the watches of these patient officers that they were forced to wonder whether they were not labouring under a misapprehension in endeavouring to convict this woman of intelligence with the enemy. Spying in the forward area was an entirely different matter to doing the same kind of work under concealment of life in a crowded city where the indifferent civilians had not the same motives of self-preservation in watching for and suspecting any possible betrayers.

So passed the months of July and August to an increasing crescendo of bustle and excitement as the troops prepared for the approach of zero day for the great offensive. All might go well if only the increased activity in the Vosges and the Argonne had succeeded in concealing from the enemy the time and the locale of the real assault. It was 128the duty of the counter-espionage agents to ensure that no tidings of the forthcoming attack were communicated to the expectant enemy and they relaxed nothing of their effort. Finally all was ready.

Shortly after mid-day on September 25th the infantry attack in Artois was launched. The surprise was as complete as could be expected after such elaborate preparation. The German barrage was laid down too late and the subsequent confusion prevented the artillery from supporting the infantry. The German reserves for the defence of Vimy Ridge were not available. Nothing but the mud held back the impetuous French. For three days the surprised German command experienced acute anxiety.

Further south the attack experienced greater difficulty. The resistance was greater than had been anticipated because, when the attack was planned the defensive force consisted of 90 battalions; when it was launched this force has been increased to 192 battalions. But the heavy artillery preparation ensured a certain amount of success in several localities. Ground was gained in the advanced positions but the results were far from the high hopes raised by the optimistic staff who had forged this powerful weapon which was to open the way to the enemy’s rear positions.

129In several places the German front line still held its ground in spite of the overwhelming force directed against it and a week later the entire second position remained intact. When a general order closed the operations the French had lost 80,000 killed and 100,000 wounded.

Heavy as were these losses and inconsiderable the gain nothing but the paralysis of the German high command was responsible for omitting to furnish the means of making the former heavier and the latter less. As early as August 15th the place and time of attack was known to the lower commands, as was shown by an order of General von Ditfurth. The means taken to encounter it have been described by one German authority, General Feyler, as a “hotch potch” in which units were split up and sent to different localities, thus losing their esprit de corps.

The main objects were far from being accomplished. The eastern front had not been relieved of pressure and Vouziers, the local objective, was still far distant. To admit that the army had been betrayed was too damaging a confession to make after raising such high hopes. But that it had been betrayed was now a known fact. Yet the betrayer was inviolate.

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