I have no fear of death and I believe that I will be holding on to all of you in some form or another, and I have a creaturely fear of dying, and it pains me that I will not see you and the little sons again with these eyes of mine. I feel that I have had so much in this life that I have no right to make any more demands, but I don’t feel as though I’m the harvest calling for the reaper. I believe that I have described my inner state as well as I can. I would probably gain control over this creaturely fear and the pain of parting if I were to resign myself to this fate. But I feel obliged to fight against it, and to do so, I have to sustain my will to live, no matter what the adverse consequences. I hope to be able to clarify all this by the time I am killed.
My love, these past eight months have not been a loss for us. The two of us have likely become somewhat different people. I have reaped a bountiful harvest, I have discovered my bond with you in the deepest depths and on the highest heights, I have also loved our little sons more dearly than ever before, I have learned to give thanks and have learned to say, “Thy will be done.” The Lord is calling home a different man from the one He put to the test on January 19.4 I hope, no, I believe that He will forgive my many trespasses and that, in Him, I shall find you again, along with those who have gone before us. And in my best moments, I’m sometimes able to be glad that I can take this step so deliberately.
So, my love, that is enough talk about death. I can see your future life very clearly before me. For a long time I’ve been asking the Lord daily to comfort you if He should call me to Him, so that you may remain a whole person. And never have I felt His affirming answer to my prayer with such confidence. Any details are so unimportant by comparison. Just as my last request will be to ask for His mercy, my next-to-last will be for you, and I’m certain He will grant what I ask.
I’ll stop here, my love. I don’t know whether I’ll be able to write you again. I regard every letter I now write as the last one, and you won’t find much that is new in them. I’ll give back the old letters of yours that I still have, and will keep only your birthday letter5 and Casparchen’s first letter to me with the five little flowers. Those will be my last provisions. The verse in Mami’s eulogy applies to both of us: “For whether we live, we live unto the Lord; and whether we die, we die unto the Lord: whether we live therefore, or die, we are the Lord’s.”6 J.
1. The letter of September 29, 1944.
2. Lionel Curtis, Julian Frisby, and Anna Petronella van Heerden were close friends of the Moltkes in Great Britain and South Africa.
3. Helmuth had adamantly distanced himself from the stance and political viewpoints of Goerdeler, so he could not disavow his knowledge of Goerdeler in the interrogations.
4. On January 19, 1944, Helmuth was arrested.
5. Freya’s birthday letter, dated March 8, 1944, is published in German in Helmuth James von Moltke, Im Land der Gottlosen: Tagebuch und Briefe aus der Haft 1944/45, edited by Günter Brakelmann (Munich: C. H. Beck, 2009).
6. Romans 14:8.
FREYA TO HELMUTH JAMES, OCTOBER 4, 1944
Wednesday evening
My dear, my Jäm, I have already shed many happy and sad tears over your farewell letter. I’ve already read the letter often, and the tears came again and again. I have taken every word and brought it deep within me, and from there the words keep rising back up. Every word is a testament to us and forms a part of our life, every word comes from you and forms a part of me. My dear, what happiness! I actually have nothing to add to the words you write; I understand them all and find that I’m suffused with them. I also understand your thoughts on death, and am grateful from the bottom of my soul that all that had been weighing on you so heavily on Monday has been lifted from you. How it must have tormented you. Yes, I, too, have learned to give thanks, and I, too, have learned to say, “Thy will be done.” That is the very thing. It began to grow within me quite some time ago. I know that it had already filled me back when we buried Hans-Adolf [von Moltke] at the church in Bresa.1 You sat next to me, and I was grateful, yet prepared to take the cross upon myself if it came to that. It has continued to grow, and now all my pleas dissolve into “Thy will be done”—though not my plea that God may help you, guide you, and strengthen you. Oh, my Jäm, I am such a novice in matters of prayer, yet hope to lend help to you with this prayer. But if I pray for you to remain on this earth—which means everything to me, my so beloved heart—my words keep turning into “Thy will be done.” I took all that with me yesterday as I left here to go home, commending it to God from the bottom of my heart, then I fell asleep and woke up knowing that it was right to fight for your life even if it was to no avail, to leave nothing undone, to do everything in my power. I just feel as though I’m bungling everything I undertake, but I know what you mean, and I’ll try not to hope while continuing to act. But when it comes right down to it, my beloved, the two of us are calm and strong and united, and so I can say: I am doing well. I am so grateful that I can live so close by, because I am always near you. That’s why I’m so happy to be in Berlin, not because of the physical proximity, but rather because I am alone so often here—even in the city—and then I am always close to you. In Kreisau I get far too little peace and quiet from others or from myself, and here I’m always running around, yet I’m constantly at your side, because no one is disturbing me. Even so, I would like to spend these weeks with you in great intimacy and closeness so that they knit us together even more closely and strengthen our bond. My Jäm, pray for me that I never have to lose this feeling. Then I won’t be alone and solitary, though I’ll surely always love solitude so that I can feel you. I may not know everything, but I do know quite firmly that we are together in God’s hands, and that everything will grow properly for us out of that certainty.—Yesterday I was thinking about Communion; I didn’t know whether I would be able to take it, but now I think I can. I have read the passages and will do it. I don’t yet know when and how, but I wanted to tell you that.
My love, you write that I shouldn’t go by your wishes. It will be hard to get it right, but what’s certain is that your spirit will have to stay alive in all that I decide, because your spirit belongs to me, because it is a part of me. For me and for our little sons. I will always be guided by your thoughts. I will gauge my decisions by your wishes, but I will grow old and will change, and your wishes may be expressed in different ways within me, which is why I have to carry you within me and live with you, but that can work only with God’s help and His will. My Jäm, I know that, and I also know that He is my comforter. It makes me very happy that Mami’s epitaph unites us so beautifully. The fact that it can bring us together so wonderfully, if you have to depart from your life, is a great source of happiness.
Tomorrow I’ll go to see Neuhaus. Steengracht wanted a letter that I wrote although I didn’t think it was a well-written one. I also have to discuss something else with Harald [Poelchau] and I’d like to know your response.2 I get the feeling that I’m ruining everything for us. My dear, I have to stop now. My dear, my dear love. I think of you full of tender love. I am and will forever remain your P.
1. Hans-Adolf von Moltke, who died while he was the German ambassador in Spain, was buried after a state ceremony in Breslau on March 31, 1943, in Gross-Bresa (now called Brzezina) in Silesia.
2. The subject was apparently Freya’s plan to go to the chief of the Gestapo, Heinrich Müller; see Freya’s letter of October 8–9, 1944.
HELMUTH JAMES TO FREYA, OCTOBER 6, 1944
Tegel, 6 Oct 1944
My dear, I keep reading your letters with great happiness, during the day and at night when I’m awake. After all, we go to bed at 6 and are out of bed again at 7, because they handcuff us at 6 and remove the handcuffs at 7, so there are always periods when we’re awake during the night. Since we sleep only with the lights on, these can be very valuable hours. You needn’t worry about the handcuffs. People get totally used to them and become quite adroit with the handcuffs on. We simply reserve any activities that
require free hands for the hour (or hour and a half) that we’re unshackled: mornings, lunchtime, and evenings: 7–8:30, 11:30–1, 4–5:30. Also, the guards are very friendly, and if we have a plausible reason—such as needing to mop up—they don’t handcuff us between noon and the evening, since they find the process troublesome and distasteful.
My love, when I think about the situation carefully, I find that the past few months, and particularly this last week, have actually been the time of our most intimate togetherness. You have been inside me more than ever before, and you have also known more about me than ever before, so your old complaint about this point doesn’t apply to this moment. In any case, that is an odd and very gratifying outcome of this misfortune. And then, we are even more strongly connected on high than ever before. So let us hope that any blows that may come our way similarly carry blessings within them.
What a blessing Poelchau is for us. We cannot thank him enough. I hope you know that he is always bringing me supplies, and that you’ll compensate him for it. I have no qualms about accepting everything, because it pleases me, and because I think that it may help me to tolerate being shouted at without losing my composure. My diet of honey rolls, bacon, eggs, and sugar is a boon and is certainly doing its part to keep me cheerful. I eat mountains of these treasures, my love, only in the hope that you can replenish them, and in the expectation that this will take just a few more days anyway.
I was also happy about the coat and other clothing,1 but even more about the feeling that you and I were under the same roof, only 100 meters apart. I find your presence in Berlin so pleasing that you might say I actually feel at home. Just stay, if you can.
Until I see you again, my dear beloved heart, God willing, in this world, or else in the hereafter. Stay whole and unbowed, even when I’m no longer here. I ask the Lord to preserve your feeling that I’m with you and supporting you, no, not your feeling, your certainty. Take pleasure in your little sons, keep them safe, and be a blessing for them and others. Send them all my regards. They are all in my heart, especially the poor Sister.2 May the Lord protect all of you. J.—Do you like the picture of little Casparchen with the currant smudge?3
1. Clothing was exchanged in one of two prison areas: either the “waiting room” (see Freya’s letter of October 11, 1944) or “downstairs” (see Helmuth’s letter of October 12, 1944).
2. Ida Hübner, the district nurse in Kreisau village and a confidante, from an order based in Frankenstein in Silesia.
3. Helmuth had enclosed a photograph of Caspar that had been among his possessions.
HELMUTH JAMES TO FREYA, OCTOBER 8, 1944
Tegel, 8 Oct 44
My dear, it’s Sunday at noon. How are things at home? Did your little sons come visit you in bed? At any rate, that’s where I looked for you all at 6:30 this morning when the wake-up bell rang.—Everything you wrote greatly interested me, of course. Now it’s of the utmost importance for me to figure out my own line of defense. I’ve made a brief outline and would welcome an opinion from someone versed in criminal law. But apart from the criminal-law angle, I’d also welcome tactical advice: When can one speak? Can one present an uninterrupted narrative, or is it best just to stick to answering questions? How are new facts accepted? Can one present requests for evidence to be admitted, provided that the witnesses in question are being held in local prisons and can be brought in within thirty minutes or an hour? Or is one limited to what was discussed in the preliminary proceedings? Which of the official public defenders are good and which would advocate on behalf of the accused? Of course that’s important only if choosing one’s own legal counsel isn’t permitted.—What is the current definition of high treason and of defeatism? As regards the latter, what is the role of subversive intent? In both cases, what is the role of subjective elements if they are more favorable to the defendant than the objective facts? Or does the question of intentionality come into play only if the objective facts of the case aren’t sufficient?—As you see, a big array of questions. You’ll also see that I’m devoting serious thought to the legal side of my case, although I know full well that in the end, all this has nothing to do with jurisprudence. But especially if I’m assigned an apathetic public defender, it’s important for me to know at least something about the standard procedures or the prevailing categories at the People’s Court.1
I assume, my dear, that you will come again tomorrow. Some 75 percent of our people were taken away last night;2 I don’t know who yet, because the damage from the bombings has so far kept us from having our walk today. But I do get the feeling that they’ve left only about twenty men here, those who are next in line for their hearings, and that the rest were transferred to a camp. Of course I much prefer to stay here, but this does seem to indicate that things will now go quickly. Neuhaus didn’t have me brought in, which doesn’t necessarily mean anything, though; he might have wanted to limit his interrogation of me to clearing up some matters without asking me about issues that have any direct bearing on my case.
My love, just to make sure I always keep you up to date, in case I suddenly get called up, I wanted to tell you that I have now memorized the 32nd and the 111th Psalms, as well as the beginning of Jeremiah 3, the rest of John 14 and 1 John 19 through to the end. The last of these has really helped me, as you surely know. I’m going to keep on memorizing, because I assume that once I’m sentenced and have to wait it out, I’m unlikely to have anything with me, so I want to be as fully equipped as possible.—Incidentally, Psalm 118 (especially verses 17 and 18)3 has been helpful to me.
Here’s one more thing that might help you as you think things over, though perhaps only in a negative way, since I find that positive thoughts about immortality are not possible. Herr Kant4 has helped me grasp with absolute certainty that all thinking in this world occurs within the concepts of time and space, and that neither of these can apply to any kind of otherworldly existence. At death, we step outside the coordinate system of time and space, so—to put it in mundane terms—we might arrive on the other side “simultaneously” even if you live another sixty years, and I would not have to wait for you in spite of it all. You can find hints of this insight in many biblical passages, for example, Psalm 90:4 and John 1:15. And in one passage Christ says [marginal note: John 8:58] that he has seen Abraham or David. This implies that a mind that can think only in terms of space and time simply cannot envision the hereafter.
So, my love, enough for today; it’s the afternoon, and it is an odd feeling to see the evening approaching, an evening when the messenger may come with the indictment, and to say to oneself: Tomorrow at this time I may already be dead. People really ought to say that to themselves always, but they don’t unless they’re forced to, as I am now. Farewell, my love, may God watch over you and your little sons and us. J.
1. The Volksgerichtshof, often abbreviated as VGH in the original German.
2. Sixty-one of the eighty prisoners were transported back to the Lehrter Strasse Gestapo prison; they had been brought to Tegel from this prison because of damage from bombs.
3. Psalm 118:17–18: “I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord. The Lord hath chastened me sore: but he hath not given me over unto death.”
4. During his imprisonment at the Ravensbrück concentration camp, Helmuth had spent a good deal of time studying Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason.
FREYA TO HELMUTH JAMES, OCTOBER 8–9, 1944
Kreisau, Sunday
My dear love, here I am, sitting at my desk in Kreisau, where since yesterday my eyes have been looking over so much that’s very dear and familiar to you, and thought only about how glad I would be to have you see it. Yesterday was a mild, gently hued autumn day. After lunch I made the rounds with Zeumer,1 but as I spoke to him about you and had to describe the gravity of the situation, too many tears ran for me to be able to enjoy it properly amid all that splendor of home, which belongs to you so much, and thus belongs to us. We weren’t in Wierischau,2 but we went every
where else. We were threshing wet beet seed and digging up potatoes, but we also went out to Kreisau, where no work was going on. The sun was shining and Kreisau lay sweetly and cozily in the valley, the Great Owl mountain appeared far away and high up and the Zobten peak3 so soft, the foliage on the shrubs beginning to change color. When we were up there, Casparchen was with us, sitting on my lap, but I could think only of you, full of love and longing, and it all hurt. At the same time I felt as though I had to soak it all up inside me, all that beauty, so that I could describe its sweet charms to you even if it causes you pain; that way you’ll be able to feel how beautiful it was. Oh, my love, I will always, always see myself walking across the fields at your side. Where was my hand, where did it always want to go? How beautiful that was. But I don’t want just to look toward the past; I want to love you, my love, I want to be able to keep on loving you always, even if I have to remain alone.—While I was on the train, I was unsettled by the news that Friday’s air raid happened quite close to you. That must have been quite an ordeal at the very least, or wasn’t it? Later I found two nice pieces of news for you in the mail. Mother Rademacher had news from Susi [Rademacher], by way of Sweden. She saw Willo [von Moltke] in the capital4 during the summer. She says he’s working in the South, and wants to stay there, and that he looked “quite well” and “seemed to be quite content with his architectural work.” It’s so nice to have a sign of life at long last. The other news came from Jowo [von Moltke]. It would interest you to know that Curtis had been informed about your whereabouts.5 What might be going on inside you, my dear! How might you be doing, my beloved Jäm. I want to be near you, it’s what I plead for, and indeed am.—Monday evening: I’m now at Poelchau’s, at the desk I love so much. Here I have such peace and quiet for writing. Yes, what Poelchau is doing for us goes beyond any possibility to thank him adequately. I hope he senses that and finds it fulfilling. And I accept everything he offers, because I sometimes get the feeling when I’m here that I’ve spoken to you in person—that’s how much detail he provides, and besides that, the two of them6 surround me with love, friendship, and caring, and I’d like to sit here forever. Everything you’re eating, my love, comes from Kreisau, of course, except for the rolls. I recently brought along a great many things, and did so today as well, not just for you. I let them freely dispose of them as they see fit, but everything you have gotten so far was grown in Kreisau. It comes with the Poelchaus’ love as well as mine, and for the eggs, Frau Rose’s too; as she said with deep feeling yesterday, “At least this way he’ll get something too.” And Sister Ida [Hübner] said, “Give our best regards to the count,” then voiced her dismay about your situation, as you were the person they had all invariably turned to. The mood around here, my love, is unmistakable.—My love, I now have your little letter of the 6th in my hands once again, and it fills me with happiness. I got it as soon as I arrived here from the 7:30 train and was once again given such a warm welcome. Yes, I am very close to you, and that is why I find even this time to be lovely in many ways, lovelier than ever before. I’m so intensely close to you. Yes, I know quite a lot about you as well, but looking back I have no complaints that things were different before. My Jäm, I often didn’t know what you were thinking, but I was always very close to you, much closer, I think, than you knew. I do know quite a bit about you and always did, which is why I’ve totally forgotten that I ever had a complaint, because thinking isn’t the least bit interesting compared with the feeling of closeness that arose within me so clearly in July 1929,7 a feeling that has continued and will endure. How wonderful it is that you like my presence here, as I do. Yesterday I felt within me all this impatience to be back here, and I’m so happy to be sitting here, close to you. On Thursday I can bring your warm suit and other things of that sort and be filled with happiness, just like you, at the thought of our closeness. If things should go badly, my love, I will certainly fight for the possibility of seeing you again, even though I don’t have much hope for that either.
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