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Chapter LXXI
~ Alasdair Gray, Lanark
The city stretched to the horizon, black and forbidding. The gloom of the lengthening nights that came at the turn of every year was settling in amongst the city's inhabitants as they mainly opted to stay within the confines of their own homes, safe from the night and those who dwelled outside. Blackouts were alien to the city, a modern, industrial capital that had been used to electric light for a generation. Even during the First World War amidst the advent of aerial bombing of cities there hadn't been blackouts.
Berlin was not quite pitch black but where the lights remained, they often did not offer much hope
Only once before had modern Berlin endured such dark nights, when a general strike had left the German capital without electricity. It was the same now. In 1920 the strike had successfully brought down the right-wing militarists who had installed themselves in power, now the Einheitsfront of Communists, Socialists, and Trade Unionists hoped that history would repeat itself. Their enemies however, were confident they had learnt their lessons. They had been planning this ever since the last putsch had failed, after all.
It was perhaps for this reason that Kurt Von Schleicher had installed generators within the Reichstag.
The new Chancellor's office was a testament to Prussian efficiency and grandeur. Von Schleicher couldn't help but feel the historians of the future already remarking on how it was a fitting testament to the Chancellor who would remould Germany in his own image amongst the black, minimalist furniture and the portrait of Otto Von Bismarck that drew the eye whenever one stood in his presence. The man who unified Germany and the man who saved her. The latter gazing upon the former with divine inspiration whilst the great man nodded and smiled at his protege. It might make a stunning piece of art itself one day.
The portrait had adorned President Hindenburg's office until very recently but with the President now taking a well earned rest over the events of the past few weeks, Von Schleicher was certain he wouldn't mind it finding a new home. Hindenburg would be on his way out soon, a constitutional necessity meant that if the President retiring it would be the Chancellor who would have to relinquish control to the Crown Prince after order had finally been restored. Order would be restored but restoring the German Empire wasn't necessarily of the greatest priority once the dust had settled.
Von Schleicher had many tasks to accomplish but one burned at his energies more than any other. The Trae Unions turning against had been factored into his plans as a possibility but it was still a disappointment, he had genuinely hoped that those he had built relations with over the previous years could be brought on side into creating his new Germany, perhaps there was still time for them to see sense. For now though, their allies were the Communists and as such their strike had to be broken by force before it descended into full on civil war. He was a Bismarck, not a Kapp, after all and he would not blink.
His allies, on the other hand...
Von Schleicher had no doubt the presumptive Emperor would have no need for a portrait of Bismarck. More fitting would be one of his father, the one whom Bismarck could never tame. Von Schleicher would make sure that mistake would never be made again.
The Crown Prince was an idealist at heart, for all of his manouevering the Hohenzollern heir ultimately saw himself as having been delivered to Germany's aid via divine providence and that gave Von Schleicher an edge over him. Such men could be relied upon to never truly have both their feet on the ground as they looked up at the heavens. The correct reassurances could make them malleable to all sorts of influence that they would be blind to whilst being led to believe their own destiny was being reaffirmed. The Crown Prince would reign as a titular monarch, but the real power would be his. The new constitution he was drafting would ensure that, so long as the Wilhelm not-quite-the-third could be kept in the dark until his own Volkisch Bund deputies could force it through the neutured Reichstag.
It was for this reason that Von Schleicher shuddered when an aide announced that the Crown Prince had arrived to check the progress of his prospective Chancellor. Von Schleicher had aliented many people in his past, but he always satisfied himsef that such individuals only came to this conclusion about him after they'd already outlived their usefulness. The man was keen to get his hands on his birthright, Von Schleicher could understand that, but as a man who had had to climb the ladder from military obscurity to major statesman, he could not abide the Crown Prince's impatience.
Such wasn't all that surprising for a man whose life had been spent surrounded by wealth and privilege, patience was a virtue for the lower orders. Paegentry, on the other hand, was entirely within such a person's nature. His potential for disruption at this critical moment was vast however, and as such both had to be tolerated.
The Crown Prince had taken to wearing the uniform of the Prussian Hussars ever since Von Schleicher had become Chancellor, the culmination of a takeover they had planned for six years. For the Crown Prince's part, the uniform was likely to emphasise the nature of the emergency and the role of the military in dealing with it but it made the man look like he had just returned from an Opera. Just returned from starring in an opera, more specifically. The man towered over Von Schleicher with the aid of his busby hat adorned with the traditional skull and crossbones but the Chancellor bowed in deference all the same.
"I have come, Von Schleicher, to get your thoughts on this news of Hindenburg. I have confidence in you as my Chancellor but I must know how this will affect our plans." The Crown Prince's tone was concerned rather than irritable but even when impatient the royal could uphold a casual reserve built up by the assurances that he would get what he wanted eventually. It had its limits though.
"There is no need for worry your excellency. I advised Hindenburg that this would be the best course of action, because it is." Von Schleicher attempted to go on but the Crown Prince sighed warily even as he remained upright.
"You love to explain, man! But I do not appreciate being spoken down so often. You convinced me that I would have to accept Hindenburg standing in as regent, an affront to my family which has ruled Prussia for four centuries, even if it was only to be for a brief term. I accepted the wisdom of your advice but now you tell me that is not necessary, indeed it's preferable that it does not happen? This is all very embarrassing."
"I apologise for any embarrassment caused Excellency, but this situation-" he motioned to the blackened city behind him, "requires a more direct approach. The enemies of Germany have been exposed in their treacherous conspiracy but until it is fully snuffed out we cannot bother ourselves with constitutional niceties."
"Niceties." The word seemed to hang on the Crown Prince's lips as he interrupted Von Schleicher once more. "You considered it prescient to remove Hindenburg though, leaving yourself Head of Government and Head of State until he can be replaced."
Von Schleicher looked down at his desk and tried not to make a show of the fact he'd just bitten his lip. There was too much distrust in the air, reminding him more of the time he'd stared down the barrel of Hitler's gun in the Ruhr rather than the sweet nothings the heir to the German throne could usually be placated with.
"Beyond your divine right, Hindenburg was the only leader for this country but his health is not what it once was. You are ready to replace him now Excellency, and you have the momentum behind you now, but the framework doesn't exist. Constructing the Third Reich as we see fit requires a man who is loyal to you alone and is in his prime. Hindenburg doesn't help us in that regard any longer. He's an eighty two year old man who has sworn an oath to the Republic and is now surplus to our requirements. I, however, fit that criteria."
"Goering would as well" The Crown Prince remarked rhetorically, Von Schleicher chose to ignore the bait but it caught him off guard all the same.
"I assure you, you will be named Emperor soon enough but for now the name will have to wait." Von Schleicher gulped, realising he'd mispoke even as the Crown Prince's eyes narrowed. The affable posture was gone altogether now but replacing the impatience was something uncharacteristic of the royal, a sort of petulant smirk."
"I fear, Von Schleicher, that we may have underestimated one another."
The two men smiled at each other, a feeble act of composure, before either could speak an aide chapped hurriedly on the office door.
"Chancellor, er, and Your Excellency, there is a situation, the-"
"Ah, good, let the troops know my men mean them no harm, this is all for the Chancellor's benefit." The aide looked puzzedly to Von Schleicher, who despite his own confusion simply nodded. The Crown Prince threw open the doors of the office balcony, beckoning the noise of stomping boots and singing from outside. Shadows were dancing on the walls of the blacked out city.
"They're here to support their Head of State" he shouted, as he beckoned Von Schleicher to join him outside
Marching torches appeared as columns of blackshirts marched forward, singing their anthem; the Volksstimme. Amidst the river of flame, rhythmic marching and the unified chant Von Schleicher could only observe that the Crown Prince's taste for the theatrical was not restricted to the uniform. He focused on keeping himself composed, it seemed the few Reichswehr troops observing from the ground were attempting to do the same.
Von Schleicher felt confident that the blackshirts wouldn't do anything stupid with their leader by his side just as he was confident that the Reichswehr would put them down if necessary. The Volkisch Bund might have styled their anthem on their Italian brethern as they had done with their uniforms but this was Germany and he would not allow their leader to become another Mussolini. There could only can be one Duce after all.
The assembled blackshirts continued to sing triumphantly, chanting their anthem's refrain one last time-
-before silence engulfed them in unison.
The thousands of faces looked up at their Emperor with adoration, and to their Chancellor with indifference. Before the torchlight gave way to thousands of fascist salutes.
And amidst the heat and the glow, Von Schleicher refused to blink.
---
----
The photomontage is Father and Son by John Heartfield
It would be remiss of me not to mention that Alasdair Gray passed away recently, Lanark is a fantastic read and I'd strongly urge everyone to give it a go.
“Who did the council fight?"
"It split in two and fought itself."
"That's suicide!"
"No, ordinary behaviour. The efficient half eats the less efficient half and grows stronger. War is just a violent way of doing what half the people do calmly in peacetime: using the other half for food, heat, machinery and sexual pleasure. Man is the pie that bakes and eats himself, and the recipe is separation."
"It split in two and fought itself."
"That's suicide!"
"No, ordinary behaviour. The efficient half eats the less efficient half and grows stronger. War is just a violent way of doing what half the people do calmly in peacetime: using the other half for food, heat, machinery and sexual pleasure. Man is the pie that bakes and eats himself, and the recipe is separation."
~ Alasdair Gray, Lanark
The city stretched to the horizon, black and forbidding. The gloom of the lengthening nights that came at the turn of every year was settling in amongst the city's inhabitants as they mainly opted to stay within the confines of their own homes, safe from the night and those who dwelled outside. Blackouts were alien to the city, a modern, industrial capital that had been used to electric light for a generation. Even during the First World War amidst the advent of aerial bombing of cities there hadn't been blackouts.
Berlin was not quite pitch black but where the lights remained, they often did not offer much hope
Only once before had modern Berlin endured such dark nights, when a general strike had left the German capital without electricity. It was the same now. In 1920 the strike had successfully brought down the right-wing militarists who had installed themselves in power, now the Einheitsfront of Communists, Socialists, and Trade Unionists hoped that history would repeat itself. Their enemies however, were confident they had learnt their lessons. They had been planning this ever since the last putsch had failed, after all.
It was perhaps for this reason that Kurt Von Schleicher had installed generators within the Reichstag.
The new Chancellor's office was a testament to Prussian efficiency and grandeur. Von Schleicher couldn't help but feel the historians of the future already remarking on how it was a fitting testament to the Chancellor who would remould Germany in his own image amongst the black, minimalist furniture and the portrait of Otto Von Bismarck that drew the eye whenever one stood in his presence. The man who unified Germany and the man who saved her. The latter gazing upon the former with divine inspiration whilst the great man nodded and smiled at his protege. It might make a stunning piece of art itself one day.
The portrait had adorned President Hindenburg's office until very recently but with the President now taking a well earned rest over the events of the past few weeks, Von Schleicher was certain he wouldn't mind it finding a new home. Hindenburg would be on his way out soon, a constitutional necessity meant that if the President retiring it would be the Chancellor who would have to relinquish control to the Crown Prince after order had finally been restored. Order would be restored but restoring the German Empire wasn't necessarily of the greatest priority once the dust had settled.
Von Schleicher had many tasks to accomplish but one burned at his energies more than any other. The Trae Unions turning against had been factored into his plans as a possibility but it was still a disappointment, he had genuinely hoped that those he had built relations with over the previous years could be brought on side into creating his new Germany, perhaps there was still time for them to see sense. For now though, their allies were the Communists and as such their strike had to be broken by force before it descended into full on civil war. He was a Bismarck, not a Kapp, after all and he would not blink.
His allies, on the other hand...
Von Schleicher had no doubt the presumptive Emperor would have no need for a portrait of Bismarck. More fitting would be one of his father, the one whom Bismarck could never tame. Von Schleicher would make sure that mistake would never be made again.
The Crown Prince was an idealist at heart, for all of his manouevering the Hohenzollern heir ultimately saw himself as having been delivered to Germany's aid via divine providence and that gave Von Schleicher an edge over him. Such men could be relied upon to never truly have both their feet on the ground as they looked up at the heavens. The correct reassurances could make them malleable to all sorts of influence that they would be blind to whilst being led to believe their own destiny was being reaffirmed. The Crown Prince would reign as a titular monarch, but the real power would be his. The new constitution he was drafting would ensure that, so long as the Wilhelm not-quite-the-third could be kept in the dark until his own Volkisch Bund deputies could force it through the neutured Reichstag.
It was for this reason that Von Schleicher shuddered when an aide announced that the Crown Prince had arrived to check the progress of his prospective Chancellor. Von Schleicher had aliented many people in his past, but he always satisfied himsef that such individuals only came to this conclusion about him after they'd already outlived their usefulness. The man was keen to get his hands on his birthright, Von Schleicher could understand that, but as a man who had had to climb the ladder from military obscurity to major statesman, he could not abide the Crown Prince's impatience.
Such wasn't all that surprising for a man whose life had been spent surrounded by wealth and privilege, patience was a virtue for the lower orders. Paegentry, on the other hand, was entirely within such a person's nature. His potential for disruption at this critical moment was vast however, and as such both had to be tolerated.
The Crown Prince had taken to wearing the uniform of the Prussian Hussars ever since Von Schleicher had become Chancellor, the culmination of a takeover they had planned for six years. For the Crown Prince's part, the uniform was likely to emphasise the nature of the emergency and the role of the military in dealing with it but it made the man look like he had just returned from an Opera. Just returned from starring in an opera, more specifically. The man towered over Von Schleicher with the aid of his busby hat adorned with the traditional skull and crossbones but the Chancellor bowed in deference all the same.
"I have come, Von Schleicher, to get your thoughts on this news of Hindenburg. I have confidence in you as my Chancellor but I must know how this will affect our plans." The Crown Prince's tone was concerned rather than irritable but even when impatient the royal could uphold a casual reserve built up by the assurances that he would get what he wanted eventually. It had its limits though.
"There is no need for worry your excellency. I advised Hindenburg that this would be the best course of action, because it is." Von Schleicher attempted to go on but the Crown Prince sighed warily even as he remained upright.
"You love to explain, man! But I do not appreciate being spoken down so often. You convinced me that I would have to accept Hindenburg standing in as regent, an affront to my family which has ruled Prussia for four centuries, even if it was only to be for a brief term. I accepted the wisdom of your advice but now you tell me that is not necessary, indeed it's preferable that it does not happen? This is all very embarrassing."
"I apologise for any embarrassment caused Excellency, but this situation-" he motioned to the blackened city behind him, "requires a more direct approach. The enemies of Germany have been exposed in their treacherous conspiracy but until it is fully snuffed out we cannot bother ourselves with constitutional niceties."
"Niceties." The word seemed to hang on the Crown Prince's lips as he interrupted Von Schleicher once more. "You considered it prescient to remove Hindenburg though, leaving yourself Head of Government and Head of State until he can be replaced."
Von Schleicher looked down at his desk and tried not to make a show of the fact he'd just bitten his lip. There was too much distrust in the air, reminding him more of the time he'd stared down the barrel of Hitler's gun in the Ruhr rather than the sweet nothings the heir to the German throne could usually be placated with.
"Beyond your divine right, Hindenburg was the only leader for this country but his health is not what it once was. You are ready to replace him now Excellency, and you have the momentum behind you now, but the framework doesn't exist. Constructing the Third Reich as we see fit requires a man who is loyal to you alone and is in his prime. Hindenburg doesn't help us in that regard any longer. He's an eighty two year old man who has sworn an oath to the Republic and is now surplus to our requirements. I, however, fit that criteria."
"Goering would as well" The Crown Prince remarked rhetorically, Von Schleicher chose to ignore the bait but it caught him off guard all the same.
"I assure you, you will be named Emperor soon enough but for now the name will have to wait." Von Schleicher gulped, realising he'd mispoke even as the Crown Prince's eyes narrowed. The affable posture was gone altogether now but replacing the impatience was something uncharacteristic of the royal, a sort of petulant smirk."
"I fear, Von Schleicher, that we may have underestimated one another."
The two men smiled at each other, a feeble act of composure, before either could speak an aide chapped hurriedly on the office door.
"Chancellor, er, and Your Excellency, there is a situation, the-"
"Ah, good, let the troops know my men mean them no harm, this is all for the Chancellor's benefit." The aide looked puzzedly to Von Schleicher, who despite his own confusion simply nodded. The Crown Prince threw open the doors of the office balcony, beckoning the noise of stomping boots and singing from outside. Shadows were dancing on the walls of the blacked out city.
"They're here to support their Head of State" he shouted, as he beckoned Von Schleicher to join him outside
Marching torches appeared as columns of blackshirts marched forward, singing their anthem; the Volksstimme. Amidst the river of flame, rhythmic marching and the unified chant Von Schleicher could only observe that the Crown Prince's taste for the theatrical was not restricted to the uniform. He focused on keeping himself composed, it seemed the few Reichswehr troops observing from the ground were attempting to do the same.
Von Schleicher felt confident that the blackshirts wouldn't do anything stupid with their leader by his side just as he was confident that the Reichswehr would put them down if necessary. The Volkisch Bund might have styled their anthem on their Italian brethern as they had done with their uniforms but this was Germany and he would not allow their leader to become another Mussolini. There could only can be one Duce after all.
The assembled blackshirts continued to sing triumphantly, chanting their anthem's refrain one last time-
Volksdeutsche, volksdeutsche
Es klirrt die Sklavenkette heute noch im Land.
Es kommt der Tag, da sie zerbricht,
Feige Knechte sind wir nicht!
Es klirrt die Sklavenkette heute noch im Land.
Es kommt der Tag, da sie zerbricht,
Feige Knechte sind wir nicht!
-before silence engulfed them in unison.
The thousands of faces looked up at their Emperor with adoration, and to their Chancellor with indifference. Before the torchlight gave way to thousands of fascist salutes.
And amidst the heat and the glow, Von Schleicher refused to blink.
---
The photomontage is Father and Son by John Heartfield
It would be remiss of me not to mention that Alasdair Gray passed away recently, Lanark is a fantastic read and I'd strongly urge everyone to give it a go.
- The Red
- Word Count: 2k