The two-storey villa "Remy", located in the suburbs of Paris, keeps many secrets. She will keep them forever. Her legendary mistress, who was shot on October 15, 1917 near Paris, took with her to her grave the answer to the question of whether Mata Hari was guilty for many years.
The first legend shows the Parisian dancer Mata Hari as a super spy who gave out important military secrets to German intelligence related to the military operations of the First World War. At Villa Remi, not only balls and orgies were held, but secret meetings were also arranged. In one of the back rooms Mata Hari welcomed both the officers of the German General Staff and diplomats from France.
Who is Mata Hari? Who did she play the main game with? The mansion, surrounded by a lush garden, was a wonderful place for orgies and for spying. This part of the city was not of interest to the police and special services. The provincial street Windsor breathed with peacefulness and philistine way of life. It has not yet been built up with large houses, shops and coffee houses.
Writer and journalist Mark Aldanov, who emigrated from Kiev immediately after the revolution, wrote about Remi in the early 1930s as follows: “I visited the house of Mata Hari. In the old criminal novels of Mongepen, Gaboriau, in various "Secrets of the Pink House", such mysterious villas are described. The similarity is absolute, down to the narrow spiral staircases connecting the first floor with the second. Perhaps, apart from convenience, it was the romance of this mansion that attracted Mata Hari's attention - after all, it was romance that killed her.
Many legends have many counter-legends. One of these counter-legends portrays the mistress of "Remi" as a martyr and a loser, a victim of a devilish intrigue. The famous Parisian actress, jealous of the dancer for her husband, insidiously accused her rival of espionage. The miscarriage of justice ended in execution on 15 October.
• According to some rumors, the intriguer had long repented to the Pope and died in terrible remorse. But rumors remain just rumors. Mata Hari's fate, adorned with legends and omissions, has been covered in the French media for decades. Famous surnames were mentioned, high officials were scourged, compromising evidence was poured from the parliamentary rostrum. The same Mark Aldanov, having studied many archival documents, does not consider Mata Hari an innocent sheep. The spy was not betrayed by the jealous artist, but by the Eiffel Tower.
“Mata Hari was a very intelligent and gifted woman with an unusual temperament, who eagerly loved life, eagerly loved postures and effects, eccentric to the point of hysteria and painfully deceitful. In Paris, Vienna, Berlin, all kinds of people went crazy for her. They say that among her lovers were generals, officials, one of the highest officials of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, an academician, minister of war, princes and grand dukes. They even talk about two monarchs. The combination of all this promised a lot; but from him did not in the least follow the need to commit a serious crime.
The circumstances under which Mata Hari became a spy are known only to German intelligence. We're entering the realm of speculation here.
Promotional video:
The success of the dancer Mata Hari in Paris, where artistic fame is usually created or consolidated, gave her the opportunity to tour throughout Europe. She performed in Vienna, Berlin, Amsterdam, Rome, Monte Carlo. She was paid not badly by the standards of the time. Mata Hari received an average of about 200 gold francs per exit. She performed often and, as a result, could live well on her own earnings.
• The owner of a coffee shop on Windsor Street near Mata Hari's house remembered her well. She said that this house was always besieged by creditors. 1914 - the dancer, leaving Paris, literally fled from them: she carefully concealed her departure and left home at night. There are similar indications in printed sources. She, as you can see, has repeatedly passed from great luxury to almost poverty.
Her apartment was not very luxurious - the same one where the orgies took place. This can now be seen from the size of the rooms, from the bathroom, and from various little things. Mata Hari made a lot of money dancing, she was generously paid by wealthy patrons, she was paid by German intelligence. Where could the money go? They say she played cards."
So what could have pushed Mata Hari down the path that ended near the Vincennes test site? Maybe the very romance of espionage, alluring secret meetings, foreign policy intrigues, double life. The dancer lived with nerves, bare feelings, violent imagination. It seemed that she was spinning her own life like a tabloid biopic. Many believe that Mata Hari was recruited before the war. Even the year (1914) was named, but this fact was not documented. In the German intelligence network, the dancer passed under the pseudonym "N-21". The letter "H" indicated an old agent working in France. Later, already with the beginning of the war, the AF code appeared.
1914, summer - a few weeks before the war, the dancer arrived in Germany. Her biographer Geimans claimed that Mata Hari was already "fully aware of Germany's military plans." One could argue with this opinion: why would the German General Staff devote a middle-class paid agent to its military intentions? And Emperor Wilhelm himself could only suspect about the beginning of the war in August. Knowing about the imminent start of the war, Mata Hari, most likely, would prefer not to leave her native Paris.
The news of the beginning of the war found Mata Hari at a table in a Berlin restaurant in the company of the head of the city police. The spy explained this unusual neighborhood simply: “In Germany, the police have the right to censor theatrical costumes. They found me too naked. The prefect came to examine me. There we met."
Six months later, the dancer returned to France with a new reconnaissance mission. But the agent's professional happiness did not last long. The first information about the N-21 agent was received by the British intelligence "Intelligence Service" from its Madrid agent. Soon, French counterintelligence officers took up Mata Hari. Round-the-clock surveillance was established behind her mansion, all postage was monitored, meetings, receptions, intimate scenes were photographed …
“I read her intercepted letters,” the commandant told Lada. - Most of them were addressed to the captain who had served at the front for a long time. All of them were subjected to the most thorough research, tested in our laboratories using various chemical reagents. There was nothing in them, absolutely nothing that could entail something other than vague suspicions. The hero of many of Mata Hari's letters was the captain, with whom she simply fell in love. The honest army officer did not even know about the secret life of Mata Hari. The Parisian dancer dreamed of marriage, family and children, but the dream did not go further.
• A month later, the dancer noticed the zeal of counterintelligence. She didn't panic. Maybe she took the surveillance for a simple check that everyone who came from abroad was subjected to. But when the secret surveillance dragged on, Mata Hari decided to retaliate. She came to see the commandant Lad. The visit was casual. The initiative of the date was, as it were, a counter: not that Lada called her, not that she was trying to get an appointment.
The conversation began with a flirtatious complaint.
“Some people are watching me,” the beauty frowned playfully. “They watch me day and night.
- What are you, mademoiselle, - the commandant clearly supported the game. - Your fans are hunting you. And only your beauty is to blame.
Women's intuition caught the falsity. But the guest didn’t show it and said that she was going for treatment in Vittel, which was located in the front line. Lada, without losing his courtesy and smile, immediately signed the pass. An air camp was based near Vittel, created for bombing the enemy and carefully camouflaged in a dense forest. A narrow circle of people knew about the camp, into which Mata Hari somehow fell. Only behind the beautiful spy the door slammed shut when Lada immediately contacted intelligence.
No sooner had Mata Hari got on the train than secret officers were introduced into Vittel's hotels under the guise of lackeys. The base agent, legendary as an officer-pilot, was assigned to hit the dancer.
Mata Hari stayed at a hotel and visited a local restaurant on the first evening. She immediately spotted a handsome captain in Air Force uniform who looked timidly in her direction. The woman sipped her cocktail tastefully and gazed absently out of the street-lit window. At the end of the evening, the officer sat down at the table with the dancer and offered to meet her.
Mata Hari generously introduced herself, chatted with the captain, then, complaining of a headache, said goodbye and left the hall.
Every day she nodded affably to the pilot, at times flirted with him, but never showed any interest in him. The spy conscientiously completed a course of wellness massage and water procedures, walked in full view of the garden and spoke to almost no one. Counterintelligence was very puzzled. Returning a few days later to Paris, the dancer again wanted to see the commandant Lada. Moreover, for no particular reason. The meeting took place in the same cheerful, unobtrusive tone. Mata Hari, without ceasing to make eyes, suddenly declared:
- I need money so much. And that kind of money …
- Why do you need money, honey? - Lada was sincerely surprised. - After all, you already have everything. Excuse my curiosity, how much do you need to make you feel more comfortable?
- A million.
- A million of what: francs or, sorry, marks?
- Of course, francs.
- And you expect to receive this amount legally?
- Sure. And right away.
The dancer and Lada laughed merrily. The conversation did not lose its playful tone. The commandant leaned back in his chair, lit a cigarette, and, dreamily throwing his eyes to the ceiling, said:
- Now such money can be obtained only by rendering an invaluable service to a friend or foe. Now, if you, dear, penetrated the headquarters of our high command, the Germans, believe me, would give you twice as much.
- It is easier for me to get into the enemy headquarters than into our valiant and impregnable.
- You are a true patriot of France, Mademoiselle. But in men's games, a woman is powerless.
Mata Hari, warmed up by champagne and a cheerful conversation with a friendly Lada, burst into laughter. Suddenly she said:
- How to say how to say. The man rules the world, and the woman rules the man. Not only ours, but also enemy officers are greedy for French women.
- Oh … And do you have examples?
- Of course, the commandant. I even had an ardent lover at the German rate - supplier W. But this semblance of a name will tell you nothing.
Lada shrugged apologetically and changed the subject. He did not even suspect the existence of some U. But the French intelligence, to which he detailed the essence of the conversation, was shocked. Supplier W was considered a high-profile agent and specialized in recruiting on the French side. For the dancer, the meeting with Lada was a failure. The commandant recalled: "This name flew out from her like a bullet, and this bullet killed the unfortunate woman."
French counterintelligence immediately takes the potential agent for processing. However, this was not a recruitment: the spy did not know about her failure and received only a government assignment. She was offered to go to Spain, then to Belgium, take an agent training course and enter the disposal of the local residence. The dancer readily agreed. The commandant of Ladu came to say goodbye to her the day before departure. He hugged Mata Hari in a fatherly way, kissed his forehead and said tenderly:
“Never play double games, mademoiselle. You need to choose one of the two fronts, and quickly. Otherwise, you will certainly lose.
The spy stared at Lada, puzzled, then laughed and pointedly stated that she was born under the sign of Zifi and that her star emblem was a snake. The girl did not explain this allegory.
• French intelligence obtained the code, according to which information was sent from a German agent in Spain to the headquarters of Hindenburg. As soon as the dancer arrived in Madrid, the Eiffel Tower, which specialized in radio intercepts, detected and decoded a report from Madrid: “Agent N-21 has arrived in Madrid. He managed to enter the French service. He asks for instructions and money. He reports the following information about the deployment of French regiments … He also indicates that statesman N is in close relations with a foreign princess …"
The reply telegram from the German General Staff sounded like this: “Order the N-21 agent to return to France and continue working. Receive a check from Kremer for 5,000 francs Contouar d'Escont."
What was the information from the dancer? At the trial, Mata Hari was accused that her espionage craft helped to sink 17 Allied troop transports, destroy no less Allied divisions and thwart the 1916 offensive. During the trial, the super-spy denied such an intelligence scale, claiming that the role was grossly exaggerated.
The commandant of Ladoux is convinced that the information about the location of the French units is not entirely accurate and secondary, and as for the romance of Mr. N with the princess, this was not of particular value to German intelligence.
In early February 1917 Mata Hari returned to Paris. She never had time to stay at the Eliza Palace Hotel. In the lobby of the hotel, three men in civilian clothes approached her, showed police tokens and offered to go to the 2nd Bureau of Surté (French security service). The dancer was taken to one of the rooms, where two foreign intelligence officers were already sitting. One of them got up to meet her and said coldly:
- Hello, N-21. Where, when and by whom were you recruited by German intelligence?
Mata Hari staggered back and turned white as a sheet:
- I do not understand what you are talking about …
The investigation lasted almost six months. During this time, the aged spy lawyer, formally appointed by the council of the estate, by any means sought the application of Article 27 of the Criminal Code. This article could not only cross out the death sentence, but also ensure the regime of detention.
- She's pregnant! - said the 75-year-old defender, which indescribably surprised the military court. - I am personally pregnant. THIS happened between us two weeks ago, when I was visiting her in a prison cell. We have no right to execute a pregnant woman.
The entire defense system at the trial looked, to put it mildly, unconvincing. Yes, Mata Hari received 30,000 marks from the German intelligence officer, but she received the money from the hands of her lover, not a scout. “All my lovers paid me no less,” the dancer declared defiantly. - I'm worth such sums. And the fact that the money was sent by telegraph from headquarters to Madrid can be explained by the simple desire of the German officers to enjoy themselves at the expense of the state."
In the middle of the summer of 1917, the traitor and spy Mata Hari was sentenced to death by firing squad. There were no serious reasons for cassation or presidential pardon.
On death row, the prisoner continues to play the role of the Hindu femme fatale, but this game was already nearing the end. She dances the famous dance of Shiva, the god of love and death, with which she once conquered all of Paris from the stage. She dances in a crude prison robe, grimacing and giggling desperately. From this terrible dance, breathing death, the frost went over the skin.
In the early morning of October 15, 1917, the cell door opened and Mata Hari was awakened by three people. “Take courage, mademoiselle,” they told her in the most common way. "The time has come for the atonement for sins." The prisoner yawned sleepily and sat up on the bed:
- So early? At dawn? What are your manners?
The people in civilian clothes looked at each other in confusion: they were clearly not used to such pre-execution statements. The dancer threw on her robe, put on her shoes and looked questioningly at the guests. One of them reached into his pocket:
- A cigarette?
- Dont need it, thanks.
- Would you like a drink?
- Not. Wait … I would love a glass of grog.
A man in civilian clothes makes a sign to someone in the doorway with his hand and turns again with a question to the condemned woman:
- Do you have any messages for the authorities?
- I do not have. And if she did, she wouldn't.
The civilian clerk nodded in understanding and asked her to change into the outfit he had brought. The guests went out delicately, and the prison doctor entered the cell. He inquired about his health and watches as Mata Hari changes clothes. Pastor enters. When he appears, the woman says:
“I don’t want to pray, I don’t want to forgive the French. However, I don't care. Life is nothing, and death is also nothing. Die, sleep, dream … What does it matter now? Is it all the same: today or tomorrow, in your bed or somewhere on a walk? All this is deception.
The pastor patiently shuffles at the door and again offers to confess. They no longer listen to him, and after a few minutes he left. The pastor was replaced by a lawyer who happily informed his client about his new trick for justice. In response, Mata Hari gives him three letters - for the dignitary, for the daughter and for the captain's lover:
- Take the letters. And don't mix it up, for God's sake.
There is an escort of five cars at the prison gate. Sentenced to death, together with the pastor and sisters, she sits in the second and goes through the streets of sleepy Paris to the place of execution - in Vincennes. A hearse with a black coffin has already been prepared at the test site near the post. A dozen meters from the post, 12 soldiers with carbines are bored.
• In the late 1960s, international journalist Leonid Kolosov accidentally met in Rome with a participant in the execution. The aged Gaston Rocher recalled that October morning with obvious reluctance. The former soldier of the commandant's platoon squeezed out memories for a long time, until finally the scene of the shooting loomed.
… The dawn had not yet broken, but they were already standing, shivering from the cold wind. The soldiers did not know who would be shot, and were involuntarily worried when they saw a tall woman in a long dress, in a wide-brimmed hat with a black veil. The victim got out of the car, helped the pastor out, walked up to the line and said:
- No need to blindfold.
Each of the executioners secretly hoped that it was in the barrel of his carbine that there was a blank cartridge. So that the soldier's conscience did not suffer too much, the firing squad was given an already loaded weapon and was informed that one of the chambers contained a cartridge without a bullet. A prison priest minced beside the woman and muttered soul-saving prayers under his breath.
No one told the condemned woman where to stand. The dancer herself chose a place for herself in front of the armed line, as if she had entered the stage for the last time, while at such a distance, which was required by the instructions. An officer came up and held out a black bandage.
- Is it so necessary? The woman raised her black eyebrows in surprise.
The officer was a little confused and began to nervously fiddle with the bandage. He didn’t know what to say, and looked inquiringly at the lawyer who stood on the left among the small group. The lawyer came up and quietly asked:
"Is it really so necessary, monsieur?"
“If Madame doesn’t want to,” the officer replied, “there will be no bandage. We don't really care.
Another officer came up with a rope in his hands. The lawyer grimaced defiantly:
“I doubt my client would want to take a bullet with her hands tied.
Soon they all moved away from the condemned to death. Many turned away. She stood straight and looked at the young soldiers. The first command sounded. The drum beat. The volley did not work: the shots crackled out of order. Mata Hari slowly sank to her knees, froze, then fell forward on her face to the ground. The prison doctor ran up, put his hand on the cervical artery and shouted to the lieutenant:
“Your soldiers shoot poorly, mon cher. Only three bullets in the body. Fortunately, one hit right in the heart.
The soldier was taken away from the prison yard. The lieutenant examined the witnesses to the execution and asked loudly:
- Who wants to get the body executed?
The question had to be repeated. All were silent. The lawyer threw up his hands in sorrow …
Fifty-odd years later, Gaston Rocher recalled:
- To this day I cannot forget the surprised face of this woman in front of the muzzle of my carbine, although more than half a century has passed. But at that moment I convinced myself that, having fulfilled the order, I had destroyed the snake in female form. But it didn’t calm me down. It was then that the decision came to re-analyze the available facts, to collect new information …
I have spent more than half of my life on this and a lot of money. Now I am firmly convinced that Mata Hari was innocent and her execution was nothing more than a villainous murder, which was provoked by German intelligence.
A. Kuchinski