It was no different with his impressions of theatrical presentations or films: he could describe a scene he had watched in Vienna as a young man down to the last detail. He would mention the names of actors and recall how the critics had treated them. I have asked myself very often how a human mind can have retained so many facts and impressions. It is confirmed that from his youth onwards Hitler had the gift of an unusual memory, but his secret was that he trained and expanded it every day. He said that when he was reading he tried to grasp the essence of a thing and fix it in his mind. It was his practice or method during the tea hours and when chatting at the hearth over a subject he had been reading about to repeat it several times in order to anchor it more firmly in his memory.
Hitler seemed able to follow a conversation in English or French if it was not spoken too quickly but explained: ‘I have not made the effort to be fluent in a foreign language because in talks with foreigners every word counts. While my interpreter translates, I gain time to think of new, appropriate ways to phrase a thing.’
Despite the effort Hitler made to surprise people with his rich trove of knowledge, and to show them his superiority, he made sure he never let them know the sources of this knowledge. He was expert at convincing his listeners that everything he said was the result of his own deliberations and critical thinking. He could recite pages and pages of books and so give the impression that his ideas had evolved from his own comprehension. Nearly everybody with whom I discussed it was convinced that Hitler was a profound thinker, and a wonderfully sharp, analytical spirit. Once I began working for him, I wanted to get the thing straight. One day Hitler launched into a philosophical dissertation on one of his favourite themes. To my astonishment I realised that he was reciting a page from Schopenhauer which I had just finished reading myself. Summoning all my courage I drew the fact to his attention. Hitler, taken a little aback, threw me a glance and then explained in fatherly tones: ‘Do not forget, my child, that all knowledge comes from others and that every person only contributes a minute piece to the whole.’
In the same convincing manner Hitler spoke about famous men, foreign countries, about cities, buildings and theatrical plays without actually knowing or having seen them. The confident and decisive manner of expressing himself, and the clear dialectic with which he formulated his thoughts, must have convinced his listeners that he actually knew all this from his own experience; one was forced to draw the conclusion that everything he described in his narratives with such astonishing precision he had thought through or experienced personally. One day he delivered a damning criticism of a theatrical presentation which I knew he had not seen. I therefore asked him how he could judge the director and performers if he had not been present. He answered: ‘You are right, but Fräulein Braun was there and told me everything.’
Back in the Staircase Room I would wait on standby until a valet shouted through the wing door: ‘The chief is asking you to come for dictation!’ Therefore up and follow the valet. He would open the door to the library and shut it as he withdrew, hanging a notice on the latch: ‘Do not disturb.’ As a rule Hitler would be standing at or bent over his desk, working on the punch lines for a speech, for example. Often he would appear not to notice my presence. Before the dictation I would not exist for him, and I doubt whether he saw me as a person when I was at my typist’s desk.
A while would pass in silence. Then he would close in on the typewriter and begin to dictate calmly and with expansive gestures. Gradually getting into his stride he would speak faster. Without pause one sentence would then follow another while he strolled around the room. Occasionally he would halt, lost in thought, before Lenbach’s portrait of Bismarck, gathering himself as it were before resuming his wandering. His word flow would be stemmed again as he paused before the commode, lifting up to admire one of the small bronze figurines. After staring at it for some time, he would replace it.
If he touched upon Bolshevism in his speech, emotion would take possession of him. His voice often skipped over bits. That also happened if he mentioned Churchill or Roosevelt. Then his choice of words would not be so fussy. For my part if he mentioned the ‘whisky-guzzler’ (Churchill) or the ‘bloodhound’ (Stalin) too often, I would simply omit some of the references. Interestingly enough, when reading through the draft he would never notice these cuts, a sign of how worked up he had been. In these situations his voice would increase to maximum volume, over-pitch so to speak, and he would make lively gesticulations with his hands. His face would become florid and the anger would shine in his eyes. He would stand rooted to the spot as though confronting the particular enemy he was imagining. During the dictation I often found my heart racing as Hitler’s excitement spilled over me. It would certainly have been easier to have taken this dictation in shorthand but Hitler did not want this. Apparently he felt himself as if on wings when he heard the rhythmic chatter of the typewriter keys. Besides, he had before his eyes the written record of what he had just said. During the dictation he spoke no private words.
These dictations were as a rule speeches for the Reichstag, for meetings, Party rallies, at opening ceremonies for car, artistic, farming or technical exhibitions, for foundation-stone laying ceremonies, opening ceremonies for completed stretches of autobahn, for the New Year reception of diplomats and so forth. Also letters to foreign heads of state such as Mussolini, Antonescu (Romania), Horthy (Hungary), Inönü (Turkey) and Mannerheim (Finland) were dictated. He dictated private letters only when protocol demanded it, to thank somebody or offer condolences. He would send birthday greetings to Frau Goebbels, Frau Göring, Frau Ley, Winifred Wagner and others on handwritten white cards bearing his name in gold lettering below the eagle and swastika in the top left corner.
Dictating into the typewriter required extreme concentration. One had to follow his sense, and apply some intuition, for fragments of his sentences were often lost. He would start off by speaking none too clearly and his voice often echoed as he strolled the large room. Additionally the typewriter had its own mechanical noise. In those days of course there were no electronic machines. As Hitler would never be seen wearing spectacles in public, typewriters were later manufactured with 12-mm characters so that he could read the script in public without glasses. The ‘Silenta’ brand machines had the advantage of typing quietly but the keys tended to tangle if one typed over a certain speed. Since Hitler did not◦– or did not want to◦– notice this and kept on dictating, this was naturally very unsettling for the typist and often made her very nervous. One became anxious that while unscrambling the keys a sentence might be missed and the text would not flow. This would result in bated breath while watching Hitler correcting the draft afterwards.
When the dictation was finished, Hitler would occasionally sit at his writing desk, put on his gold-rimmed spectacles, take up the fountain pen from the old-fashioned black penholder and start changing words, striking some out, inserting new ones, and all scrawled in his Fraktur style. From time to time he would look up and say: ‘Look here, child, see if you can read this!’ When I assured him that I could, his voice would sound a little disappointed: ‘Yes, you can read it better than I can!’
Correcting the draft was a labour which never ended. After every assault on it the modified version had to be retyped. More than once I had to run to his car to hand over the last pages. At that time there was still the personal contact with him. Once when giving him some pages before he left for the Reichstag I asked him not to speak so loud because the microphone distorted his voice if the volume was too great. In 1937◦– 8 Hitler would receive that kind of advice without demur. Every secretary had ‘her time’ when she would be favoured by him over a longish period. On one occasion I did not like the way he had phrased something. When I dared mention it, he looked at me, neither angry nor offended, and said: ‘You are the only person I allow to correct me!’ I was so astonished, perhaps also disbelieving, that I forgot to thank him.