Last Letters

by Helmuth Caspar von Moltke

  Now I’ll keep on writing my defense statement because I want to get it done today and then finish a new copy for the attorney at the beginning of the week. I would, however, very much like to see him, the attorney, ahead of the trial. Farewell, my love, I embrace you, may the Lord watch over you and the little sons and keep you in His blessed light. J.

  HELMUTH JAMES TO FREYA, NOVEMBER 12–13, 1944

  Tegel, 12 Nov 44

  My dear, no, I’m not depressed at all. I hope you saw that I had already warned you about reacting to a return of depression.

  My written defense will be sent off tomorrow, and I assume it will get to Schulze by Wednesday or Thursday at the latest. I think you ought to go to see Schulze again at that time on behalf of Carl Viggo [von Moltke] and ask whether he can find out if Carl Viggo can get to see Freisler. Maybe while you’re there, you can get some sense of whether the written defense has made some sort of impression yet.—And please make sure to hand in Carl Viggo’s letter to Müller in the outer office; do it yourself, but not until Friday, so that the written defense will be there as well.

  Have you found out from Steengracht whether Kaltenbrunner has his own man at the trial or has to rely on news from Lange and associates? . . .

  No, my Pim, you have it harder than I: the turmoil, the stress, the inevitable hope, the disappointment about people, the joy about people—all of that is far more stressful than staying in a cell. When you are misled into getting your hopes up, and the problem springs from within you, you wind up chastening yourself. Being on the outside, you have it harder, which is why you have also had it harder than Marion [Yorck], Clarita [von Trott zu Solz],1 etc. But you’ll also be richly rewarded for it. We shouldn’t ever compare ourselves with others, because what really counts isn’t how hard people have it but rather the relation of weight to the capacity for bearing it.

  My dear love, I am full of happiness as I think about tomorrow. How wonderful it will be to see you. The question of whether it’ll be the last time is totally unimportant. For years now, I have always left you feeling that I won’t see you again; that is nothing new to me. Every time I’ve left Kreisau I’ve felt the same way. I’m happy when you’re here, and I’m happy when you’ve been here, because then I can add a new image to my treasure album. In August and through early September, my broadsheet of Pim pictures spanned Grundlsee to the Fürstenberg train station, then it extended to include the courtyard in Tegel, and starting tomorrow it will extend again to Tegel prison, Building I. God willing, He will continue to add something more—not that we have any actual right to it—and we can be grateful in any case.

  I basically don’t have anything else to say, my love. Today I feel like a rock, and as soft as the most exquisite down. As long as the Lord sustains this frame of mind for me, I’ll be untouchable for Herr Schulze, Herr Freisler, and the executioner, and I am receptive and filled with gratitude for every ray of sunshine, for every friendly thought, for the jingling of the keys in the lock when Poelchau comes, for a letter from Pim, and for Pim’s presence. Look at how rich I am, immeasurably rich.

  Farewell, my love, sleep well. J.

  13 Nov, morning

  My love, how delighted I am about this day. Such good fortune is being bestowed on us once again.

  Since I assume that the director2 will be coming shortly to pick up my letter to Müller and the People’s Court, just a word about something that occurred to me during the night. I would direct the letter to the SS Reich Leader [Heinrich Himmler], without delay, and write something along the following lines:

  On behalf of the Moltke family I am enclosing a petition for clemency for my nephew Helmuth James von Moltke to the Führer, and request that you, SS Reich Leader, endorse this petition to the Führer.

  If I am directing this request to you even though I know that you were already willing to show consideration for the name Moltke,3 it is for the following reasons:

  The Moltke family is a very close-knit family that has always felt like a single entity, a single clan, whose center was the Kreisau estate, which belongs to my nephew. The family as a whole has done great things for the Reich, not only in the past but in recent years has also committed its most brilliant member of the older generation to serve the Greater German Reich as the ambassador in Warsaw and Madrid.4 In this war all the men in the family who were fit for military service have been soldiers: one was decorated with the Knight’s Cross,5 a brother of my nephew was killed in action.6

  The proceedings at the People’s Court and, as we have been told, the death sentence that is the expected outcome will deal a heavy blow to the entire family and all its members. Carrying out the death sentence would, however, make this blemish on the family take on an irremediable, irreversible character. The family therefore requests that it be protected from such an action and that the death penalty not be carried out on its now guilty member so that he can later be given the opportunity to be granted amnesty and not die in dishonor.

  We are requesting a decision of this nature, which would be made not as a show of mercy for the family member who has incurred guilt but rather in order to soften the blow that an entire clan would feel.

  Another idea: If it turns out not to be possible to endorse the petition now, it is requested that an opportunity be provided to revive it after the verdict, once these indeterminate questions have been clarified.

  1. The wives of those involved in the plot were excluded from any communication and learned about their husbands’ executions only after the fact.

  2. Kurth, the warden of the prison.

  3. See Editors’ Introduction.

  4. Hans-Adolf von Moltke was the ambassador in Warsaw from 1934 to 1939 and the ambassador in Madrid from January to March 1943.

  5. Johannes Helmuth von Moltke.

  6. Helmuth’s brother Carl Bernhard.

  HELMUTH JAMES TO FREYA, NOVEMBER 13, 1944

  Tegel, 13 Nov 44

  My dear love, what a wonderful half hour we enjoyed. I feel a bit richer, safer, happier again. I was so glad to see that you looked well, and how lovely your little foal1 turned out. My love, we have slid just past melancholy a few times, and I enjoyed even that because it gave us a way of feeling the lava under and within us, which we wouldn’t have noticed without these dangerous moments. My love, how grateful, grateful, grateful we must be once again that this good fortune has been bestowed on us. And, my love, have you noticed that we have no need to worry, secure in the knowledge that we will always go together on our seemingly separate paths, you with me into eternity, and I to the warmth of you, on the path you continue to follow in life. I’m writing that without providing any alternative because I want us to build on this basis and not lose ourselves in picturing a life together. But we want to believe with all our might, my love, believe that the Lord can preserve me. We have not only a right to do so but a duty, because everything is based on this belief. Luke 17:20, for instance. We must not believe that God wishes to rescue me; so we need to pray to Him, and, depending on His resolution, He may hear our prayers. Yet we have to believe, and not doubt for a moment, that He can rescue me. Have I written you about hymn 230, 2? “Your spirit is never bound to human laws of reason and good intentions. Your sword can sever and undo the knot of doubt, according to your penchant. You tear the strongest bonds in two; whatever resists cannot come through; a word can break the strictest view; then you’ll move ahead anew.” The certainty that if I die, He wanted it to be so, and if He wanted it to be so, it was for the best, for you and for me, is grounded in the firm belief that for God, wishing and achieving are one and the same thing. Why? How can that be? What would have happened otherwise? These are questions that we are not entitled to ask. We read in hymn 178, verse 6, “And should you see no further trail, faith will prevail.” You know it too, my love; I’m writing this not to instruct you but rather to affirm you, especially if you should think you can’t see the proper path ahead. If the Lord calls me to Him in ten or fourteen days, anyone
can easily see that it may be, and even from a human standpoint quite likely is, for the best. But in your case it is so much harder to see how this could be for the best. My love, fasten the rope you use to steer you across the stream to two stakes: “gratitude” behind you, and “faith” in front of you, and somehow or other you’ll make it across the stream. And if you ram in the two stakes quite firmly, you ought to be able to laugh at the waves, no matter how high they may rise.

  It’s so lucky that you are so at home on Afrikanische Str.2 Farewell, my love, I’ll stop now, and I have to wage a little battle with Satan, nothing too bad, just a bit. I’m sending you an embrace. J.

  1. Presumably an article of clothing.

  2. The Poelchaus lived at Afrikanische Strasse 140 in Berlin-Wedding.

  HELMUTH JAMES TO FREYA, NOVEMBER 14, 1944

  Tegel, 14 Nov 44

  My dear, last night I waged a terrible battle with Satan, and only the glow of your visit yesterday was there as a laurel wreath to reward me at the end of every struggle, and then I fell asleep again and again, filled with such tender thoughts of you that I was almost able to bless the struggles, which, in my weariness, conjured up the image of my Pim, so beautiful to look at, red, kindly, soft, beloved in her little gray foal.

  The battle was about the issue of clemency, and eventually I came to the conclusion that the petition is bad and the path we have taken is wrong. I’m saying that so brutally, my love, because I think you can take it exactly as well as I can. The Lord has ordained this, and who knows whether it isn’t for the best. The mistake is partly mine, partly Carl Viggo [von Moltke]’s. I want to pick it apart because we have to try to fix it.

  1. The approach. In my opinion, Keitel will not submit it. I would stay in touch with Erika [von Moltke] about that, and she should contact Bürkner for precise information. I think it’s better for Keitel not to submit it. If he does, everything will have to work according to the current plan, and we need to leave the outcome to God. But I do ask you to say this to Bürkner: If Keitel doesn’t submit it himself, but instead wants to pass it along to either the minister of justice or to Himmler, then he, Bürkner, should bring back the petition. In this case, we would pursue this approach directly. This wish regarding the approach is mine.

  2. The contents:

  a. I cannot appear in it at all, because the petition for clemency has to proceed on the assumption that I’m guilty and deserve to die. No earlier merits, no mitigating factors. Himmler and the minister of justice know about those and they are worthless.

  b. There is only one argument: We are one of the major families in the country, and if the family unanimously—in writing—stands with me, the following argument can be made: Because of the family’s closeness, with this one man the others are implicated as well, and together they can point to such great accomplishments that these merit clemency.

  Make an entirely new petition with Dix tomorrow and discuss in detail with him how it ought to be presented.

  My love, I’ve now subdued Satan, and my only concern is for you. Subdue him. I first thought I would spare you by keeping silent; but then, if in the middle of next week Bürkner happened to tell you that Keitel had rejected the submission, you would have fallen into a pit in a very different way. Just fight your way through. God’s will shall be done, and if He chooses these paths, He has His reasons. J.

  FREYA TO HELMUTH JAMES, NOVEMBER 14, 1944

  Tuesday morning

  My dear love, it was such happiness, such sheer happiness, to see you. Oh, my Jäm, how beautiful it was. This beautiful time is sparkling within me. You looked so well, so good, so right, the way you have to look, just like my Jäm, just like always. I was familiar with everything and saw this with delight and saw that everything was well wrought and well appointed from within. It really was as beautiful as could be, my love, and I know that you were content as well. My Jäm, there is no question that we are as one and united, but it was so palpable that God is prepared to stand by us, now and in the future. He is truly with us. He has also helped us—helped me, in any case—to achieve this beautiful state. For while I was on my way to you, I suddenly became afraid of what my heart might do, until I recalled a beautiful passage I had read on Sunday here at the friends’ house: 1 John 4:18.1 Do read it. From that moment on, I was no longer afraid, and then, after waiting so long at first, I got to be with you surprisingly quickly, and I felt nothing but happiness, even though I certainly bore in my heart the possibility that I would have to part with you in this world. My dear Jäm, my dear love, my beloved, my husband, we have to bear it in our hearts as well. I say it again and again. I saw that you do, but I do too. That’s the way it should be, and you said, quite beautifully, that we mustn’t hope but believe. My Jäm, the many precious words you’ve given me to go on these weeks were all confirmed, illuminated, and irradiated yesterday by the beloved sight of you. Yes, you are like a rock and like the most delicate downy feathers. How eager I am to pray for it to stay this way, for your faith to stay strong. I can’t, I simply can’t have any doubt that it will stay as it is and that God will help you. But there is nothing I would rather do than pray for it to be so. My Jäm, my Jäm, how beautiful it was and how grateful I am. I’d often told myself that it wasn’t the least bit necessary for us to see each other, but seeing you was actually such an exhilarating confirmation of everything we have learned and lived through and experienced. You looked exactly the way that I hold you securely in my heart, and everything was just the way I know and love from the bottom of my heart, so dearly, so tenderly. Afterward it occurred to me that I wasn’t just watching your mouth on its own; I was so filled with the entirety of you, I saw only the entirety, all of which was in your eyes and brow. I had no need to find out how dearly I love it all—I knew that—and so it was nothing but a deeply gratifying confirmation, a generous gift. My Jäm, yes, we are as one, and God does not want death to split us apart. I know this for certain, and will be able to carry this knowledge through any sorrow, any pain, and any tears throughout my life, down to the end of my days, so I’m sometimes truly confident and joyful and know what does and doesn’t count, know the poles before and behind me. You wrote so much and so beautifully in your last letters to me. Go ahead and be quite chatty. That is my good fortune and reward. But our time together also proved that we are in complete accord in our very foundation and that this needn’t be elaborated in words!

  My Jäm, I slept at the friends’ house again. I didn’t get here from Nikolassee2 until late. Wilhelm [von Moltke] didn’t come home until shortly before 7, and I couldn’t really pull what we wanted out of him3 in just five minutes. He has grown incredibly old and diminished. I was quite shaken by the sight of him. They had all visibly aged. Karin and Heini Rittberg also came by soon after. Four days ago, he became a lieutenant colonel at the age of thirty. Just looking at him tells you that he might well have a brilliant career ahead of him. He is clever and cold, a fervent soldier, no clear-cut character, and utterly undeveloped on the human level. His wife is far ahead of him in this arena, though, she’s the way a woman ought to be. He would surely never do anything whatsoever for us. He claimed that he had consciously steered clear of everything, that his precarious position required him to steer clear of everything. I have the impression that his sympathies lie with the SS. He clearly liked your letter to the SS Reich Leader the best by far. I don’t know whether your petition to the Führer makes any sense because the Führer has anyone killed who has the remotest connection to July 20th. It is uncertain whether he’ll discover that this isn’t the case with you.

  Poelchau has to leave in a moment, so I’ll say farewell, my love. I love you very much and I’m full of gratitude and keenly aware of the words by which the two of us live. I am and will remain your P.

  1. 1 John 4:18: “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love.”

  2. The Berlin residence of Wilhelm von Moltke
.

  3. His signature for the petition for clemency. Helmuth and Freya used pro-Nazi relatives to appeal for clemency.

  HELMUTH JAMES TO FREYA, NOVEMBER 14, 1944

  Tegel, 14 Nov 44

  My dear love, Poelchau had to go, but he’ll come back again, and since I’ve always turned my struggles into a letter to my beloved, I’ll go ahead and start one. Maybe it isn’t time yet and the letter certainly won’t get finished.

  You can see that your proud rock has split apart once more and has again spent some time in hell. One thing is certain: If I were to spend several more months in this situation, I’d know hell better than I know Kreisau, for I’ve discovered that each time you penetrate hell more deeply than the time before. This time I was driven by my haughtiness, my lack of humility, and if Satan didn’t appear to me last night, complete with tail and talons, it is only because the light in my cell stays on at night. Your beautiful, precious, magnificent, invigorating visit, this splendor, which seemed, once again, to sum up my entire life, had made a center layer within me keenly aware once more that such a conscious parting from life is simply not an act of reason, a mere formality, but a cut into the living flesh. The flesh’s yearning for life was accompanied by insight into the hopelessness of my situation in regard to the flesh, and my thoughts ran to the petition for clemency and what I had written about that, and from then on I suddenly felt dependent on Hitler and Keitel and Bürkner and Müller and Himmler, and poof, I had fallen from the hand of God, or that is how I felt. I have learned quite a bit in the past few weeks, recited Psalms and songs and biblical passages, and as an old hand, so to speak, I always knew precisely what was needed next, and then there was Psalm 139, then the redemptive penitential prayer, and then the opening words of the sacrament of the Holy Communion, and now, I said to myself, I ought to be at peace, and I stood before the good Lord feeling so certain about my request: Now I’ve done everything, now hand over that peace of Yours. And this haughtiness, this very routine of fighting off the devil, was my pitfall; things kept going lower and lower, and the good Lord had no intention of doing as I wished but instead had me tortured by the devil, so much so that October 10 (?) was a celebration by comparison.1 I realized that my routine—all I had learned about these questions—was the scourge. If, at the time, Psalm 139 could pull me out, I now knew it too well, and all the resources failed for the very reason that I didn’t receive them with a simple heart but instead “used” them. And in my haughtiness I was not able to find simplicity. I was so haughty, my love, that you might say I was proud of my suffering, and told myself: How few people in all of Germany are capable of such suffering. I was unable to retain my faith, so I returned to gratitude, and then the image of my beloved looking so lovely in the little gray foal came to me, and I fell asleep gratefully. But I soon woke up again, and the whole thing started all over. Suddenly I was alone with my fear of being hanged—something that is downright antiquated—and alone with the devil, who cast doubt on things that had seemed utterly fixed and absolute during the tribulations I faced in October.