Winter of the World

After Wels, Hitler spoke again. This time his tone was quite different. Lloyd realized that in his earlier speech the Chancellor had only been warming up. His voice was louder now, his phrases more intemperate, his tone full of contempt. He used his right arm constantly to make aggressive gestures – pointing, hammering, clenching his fist, putting his hand on his heart, and sweeping the air in a gesture that seemed to brush all opposition aside. Every impassioned phrase was cheered uproariously by his supporters. Every sentence expressed the same emotion: a savage, all-consuming, murderous rage.

Hitler was also confident. He claimed he had not needed to propose the Enabling Act. ‘We appeal in this hour to the German Reichstag to grant us something we would have taken anyway!’ he jeered.

Heinrich looked worried, and left the box. A minute later Lloyd saw him on the floor of the auditorium, whispering in his father’s ear.

When he returned to the box he looked stricken.

Lloyd said: ‘Have you got your written assurances?’

Heinrich could not meet Lloyd’s eye. ‘The document is being typed up,’ he replied.

Hitler finished by scorning the Social Democrats. He did not want their votes. ‘Germany shall be free,’ he screamed. ‘But not through you!’

The leaders of the other parties spoke briefly. Every one appeared crushed. Prelate Kaas said the Centre Party would support the bill. The rest followed suit. Everyone but the Social Democrats was in favour.

The result of the vote was announced, and the Nazis cheered wildly.

Lloyd was awestruck. He had seen naked power brutally wielded, and it was an ugly sight.

He left the box without speaking to Heinrich.

He found Walter in the entrance lobby, weeping. He was using a large white handkerchief to wipe his face, but the tears kept coming. Lloyd had not seen men cry like that except at funerals.

Lloyd did not know what to say or do.

‘My life has been a failure,’ Walter said. ‘This is the end of all hope. German democracy is dead.’

(vii)

Saturday 1 April was Boycott Jew Day. Lloyd and Ethel walked around Berlin, staring in incredulity, Ethel making notes for her book. The Star of David was crudely daubed on the windows of Jewish-owned shops. Brownshirts stood at the doors of Jewish-owned department stores, intimidating people who wanted to go in. Jewish lawyers and doctors were picketed. Lloyd happened to see a couple of Brownshirts stopping patients going in to see the von Ulrichs’ family physician, Dr Rothmann, but then a hard-handed coal-heaver with a sprained ankle told the Brownshirts to fuck off out of it, and they went in search of easier prey. ‘How can people be so mean to each other?’ Ethel said.

Lloyd was thinking of the stepfather he loved. Bernie Leckwith was Jewish. If Fascism came to Britain, Bernie would be the target of this kind of hatred. The thought made Lloyd shudder.

A sort of wake was held at Bistro Robert that evening. Apparently no one had organized it, but by eight o’clock the place was full of Social Democrats, Maud’s journalistic colleagues, and Robert’s theatrical friends. The more optimistic among them said that liberty had merely gone into hibernation for the duration of the economic slump, and one day it would awaken. The rest just mourned.

Lloyd drank little. He did not enjoy the effect of alcohol on his brain. It blurred his thinking. He was asking himself what German left-wingers could have done to prevent this catastrophe, and he did not have an answer.

Maud told them about Ada’s baby, Kurt. ‘She’s brought him home from the hospital, and he seems to be happy enough for now. But his brain is damaged and he will never be normal. When he’s older he will have to live in an institution, poor mite.’

Lloyd had heard how the baby had been delivered by eleven-year-old Carla. That little girl had grit.

Commissar Thomas Macke arrived at half past nine, wearing his Brownshirt uniform.

Last time he was here, Robert had treated him as a figure of fun, but Lloyd had sensed the menace of the man. He looked foolish, with the little moustache in the middle of his fat face, but there was a glint of cruelty in his eyes that made Lloyd nervous.

Robert had refused to sell the restaurant. What did Macke want now?

Macke stood in the middle of the dining area and shouted: ‘This restaurant is being used to promote degenerate behaviour!’

The patrons went quiet, wondering what this was about.

Macke raised a finger in a gesture that meant You’d better listen! Lloyd felt there was something horribly familiar about the action, and realized that Macke was mimicking Hitler.

Macke said: ‘Homosexuality is incompatible with the masculine character of the German nation!’

Lloyd frowned. Was he saying that Robert was queer?

Jörg came into the restaurant from the kitchen, wearing his tall chef’s hat. He stood by the door, glaring at Macke.

Lloyd was struck by a shocking thought. Maybe Robert was queer.