The adventures of Heine
I have often said that there is something grossly immoral about the
profession of journalism. These men who live on the woes of others,
who batten on the miseries of the world, must of necessity be dead to
all kindly impulse and to the gentler emotions. They must be sceptical
of all that is good, and have immeasurable faith in the wickedness of
human nature. They must have neither reverence for the great ones of
the earth nor charity for the sins of the weak.
My experience of journalists and of English journalists particularly,
had been with a Mister Haynes, who behaved with the greatest treachery
toward me, insinuated himself into my office under false colours, for
was he not an officer of the English Intelligence Department, and has
he not, as I have reason to believe, the blood of two high-spirited
German youths upon his gory hands?
In the autumn of 1916, I learnt that Berlin was sending to me a
Swedish gentleman named Heigl, and I was ordered to follow his
instructions and to give him all the assistance which lay in my power.
I have a constitutional objection to the intrusion of outsiders and
more especially to amateur intelligence officers who, in my
experience, have never failed to bungle any task to which they set
their hands, so I cannot say that I viewed with any enthusiasm the
coming of Mr. Heigl, fraught as it would be, and as I knew, with
additional risks for myself and possibly the disorganization of the
perfect system which I had with such labour established.
Mr. Heigl proved to be a very pleasant gentleman, a merchant of
Stockholm, a short man with an untidy grey beard, well dressed and
having the appearance of prosperity. In fact, as I learnt, he was a
gentleman of considerable wealth, and though not well born, even in a
Swedish sense, he was a _persona grata_ with the leaders of the
Conservative Party in Sweden and was frequently consulted by his
Government on all matters affecting trade.
Amongst other things he was the proprietor of a weekly newspaper
published in Stockholm. All this he told me within the first hour of
our meeting; in fact, on the way up from an East Coast port to whither
I had gone to meet him.
“You must understand, sir,” he said with great affability, which I
need hardly tell you I returned, since he was the trusted agent of my
beloved country and was, moreover, a man who might be able to put a
few things in my way. One never knows when one requires the help of a
man of this description or, as we say in Germany, “Don’t refuse the
carter the tyre, one day the wheel may be yours.”
To resume the record of our conversation.
“You understand, sir,” he said, “that I am a citizen of a neutral
state and, therefore, I can take no active part in any propaganda
designed to assist Germany.”
“That is understood, excellent sir,” I replied, “and, believe me, I
will not embarrass you to the smallest extent by requesting your
assistance.”
He inclined his head graciously.
“There are certain people in Berlin whom I have recently had the
pleasure of meeting. They are anxious that in this great world war the
German view shall not be entirely lost sight of.”
It was my turn to nod.
“The English press is not exactly friendly or inclined even to print
the German point of view, save to ridicule it.”
“The English, or British press, my dear sir,” I said warmly, “is a
Government press. Every evening, as is well known, the Government send
every newspaper the outlines of the leading article which they will
write. So cunningly contrived are those leaders, that in some of them
they criticize the Government, and nobody outside the office would
realize that all those articles are written by a special band of
writers who work day and night in Downing Street.”
He seemed interested at this news which was well known to me and to
many of my friends.
“But I interrupted you,” I said, “pray forgive me.”
“In Berlin,” Mr. Heigl went on, “it is thought that an excellent
opportunity exists either for founding or for purchasing a newspaper.
It is understood that the _Post-Herald_ is for sale.”
“That is so,” I said nodding. I did not know it before, but I took his
word for it. We Germans can never be caught napping.
“The price that is asked,” Mr. Heigl went on, consulting a little
note-book which he drew from his waistcoat pocket, “is £100,000, that
is to say, two million marks. It is a paper which has had a great deal
of influence in the past but seems to have fallen away gradually until
it has got into very low water indeed. We believe that if we found the
right man and spent a little money the paper could be revived to its
former prestige.”
“Of that I am convinced,” I said, “and it is a view which I have often
thought of advancing to Berlin. Believe me, Mr. Heigl, I have not
neglected the press. There is scarcely a newspaper man in Fleet Street
whom I do not know. I can tell you their circulations, the family
history of their editors, the names and records of their principal
correspondents.”
He interrupted me with a little gesture.
“I am delighted to hear this,” he said, “I had no idea that you had
taken the matter up. In fact, they thought that you were unacquainted
with the personnel of the newspapers.”
I smiled a little bitterly.
“Wilhelmstrasse is sometimes a little unjust,” I said, quietly and
sadly.
“Now, what would you say the circulation of the _Post-Herald_ was?”
asked Mr. Heigl.
It was an unfortunate and tactless question to ask at the moment, but
I replied with readiness.
“I cannot tell you until I have consulted my books. There are so many
newspapers in London and one cannot possibly keep their circulations
in one’s head.”
I could see he was a little impressed, and later he asked:
“Can you suggest a man to act as go-between? Neither you nor I can buy
the paper, but if we could only get hold of a good substantial fellow,
a bit of a crank preferably, we could easily hide ourselves behind a
bank and a lawyer and complete the sale.”
I knitted my brows and compressed my lips. “For the moment I cannot,”
I said. “This is much too important a matter to be settled off-hand.”
To tell the truth, gentle reader, since my making the acquaintance of
Mister Haynes, I had steered clear of journalists, and the only one I
knew well enough to speak to was an old gentleman in a top hat who
used to stand at the corner of Salisbury Square, and borrow
half-crowns from me. Even his name I did not know, but I felt with my
usual good fortune and perseverance, I should not be long in finding
the right kind of man.
It would not be true to say that I did not understand the British
press, or that I had not given it a great deal of thought. In my
humble way I have been a contributor to English journalism, and my
letters, signed “True Patriot,” “Mother of Six,” and other _noms de
guerre_, have appeared in newspapers of almost every colour.
The British newspaper is remarkable for its stupidity and ignorance. I
do not think that even the best friends of English journalism will
dispute this fact.
_It is a fact which I cannot too clearly emphasize, that there is not
a single London newspaper edited by a professor. Only two of the
London editors have an educational degree, and none has been in the
army or the navy._
I then proceeded like a good general, to examine the ground. The
_Post-Herald_ is an old-fashioned Whig newspaper which had fallen on
evil times, due to the fact that it was owned by a family all of whom
took something out of its coffers, and none of whom put any brains
into its management. With true German thoroughness, I discovered that
it was deeply in debt to paper manufacturers, and to a syndicate of
printing-machine makers.
This poverty-stricken rag, without two penny pieces to rub against one
another, had the temerity, the audacity, to attack “unscrupulous
Germany.” I confess when I opened the sheet and read the scathing and
vulgar abuse of our truly great kulturland, I was filled with
righteous anger. But business is business. The Fatherland has need of
thee, _Post-Herald_. Thy columns shall yet scintillate with sarcasm,
not directed toward the genius of Germany, but toward the vile and
frivolous men who have dared the wrath of Michael! Thy readers from
these dull pages shall imbibe the principles which have made Prussia
feared, aye, and hated the world over. Deutschland shall be vindicated
in triumphant and very clever articles written by professors of
learning and translated by English hack writers.
My spirits rose and my heart glowed within me at the thought that I,
Heine, should pull the strings and direct in the heart of this great
and sinister city a policy which should still further enhance my
beloved land.
_Deutschland über alles._ Also, I thought there might be some
commission on the purchase, for these things can be arranged. The
first thing to do was to find a go-between, a man who could be
implicitly trusted, and I began to ransack my mind for a likely
person. To put one of the known English pacifists in control would be
to give the show away, and to upset the apple-cart, to employ two
English idioms.
Collingrey was the man! It came to me in a flash of inspiration. He
was a member of Parliament and hard up, having an extravagant wife and
other obligations which my good German modesty prevents my describing.
He had been a failure as a barrister, and a failure as a member of
Parliament. He might have held a position in the Government but for
certain disclosures which came to light in the matrimonial suit in
which he became involved.
During the war most of his questions and speeches in Parliament had
been directed against Italy--our perfidious ally! There never was a
man who so hated the Italian Government as he, and with good reason,
for Mr. Collingrey, a year before the war started, had invested all
his fortune in the purchase of two pictures by that master, Leonardo
di Vinci. The Italian Government had prohibited the export of the
pictures and when on top of this a lawsuit was started, which involved
the ownership of these works of art, Collingrey got neither the
pictures he had bought nor the money he had spent.
He had stood to make a fortune, having resold these gems to the
American millionaire, Tilzer. The lawsuit dragged on, and Collingrey
had declared that the Italian Government was putting every obstacle in
the way of a settlement, and as the English Government refused to give
him any assistance, he was doubly incensed.
He was, therefore, a bitter man, and never lost an opportunity of
embarrassing the Government. His articles appeared regularly in those
journals which we had subsidized--very few, alas!--in this country. He
had a reputation for honesty, was a brilliant writer and a clever
debater.
The thing was to secure his co-operation, and to convey to him, with
as much delicacy as possible, the policy which he would be called upon
to support.
I have before me the draft of instructions which I received from
Berlin at a subsequent date, and I cannot do better than print these:
1. The editor will adopt a conciliatory attitude toward Germany and
German War Aims. It is not necessary that the German point of view
should be urged, since this would defeat the object aimed at. The
Germans may even be attacked, though no uncomplimentary reference to
the Great General Staff, to the Kaiser, or to any member of the German
royal family must be permitted.
2. It is permissible to condemn air-raids or U-boat sinkings in a
decorous and serious manner, but at the same time a note should be
appended to the effect that whilst these things are unfortunate, the
English have largely themselves to blame for failing at the beginning