Last Letters

by Helmuth Caspar von Moltke

  1. Martin Stier, the head of the district court.

  2. Hans Lukaschek was also a member of the Kreisau Circle and survived the war.

  3. Erwin Planck, a son of the famous physicist Max Planck, had been in custody since July 1944 and was sentenced to death on October 23, 1944. Frau Planck is Nelly Planck, his wife. His father had tried to get him pardoned by writing letters to Hitler and Himmler petitioning for his release, but he was executed on January 23, 1945.

  4. Shortly before an air raid.

  5. Freya’s reply to Helmuth’s suggestion about taking Communion together in his letter of November 27, 1944.

  6. Councillor Thiele.

  7. He was an Ortsgruppenleiter, the head of the Nazi party in the locality, a powerful position.

  HELMUTH JAMES TO FREYA, NOVEMBER 28, 1944

  Tegel, 28 Nov 44

  My dear, how happy I am about the permit for the face-to-face meeting. I hadn’t dared to hope for one. It would be very nice if afterward we could take Communion with Poelchau, but it’s lovely in any case.—Once again I have a couple of minor details that have occurred to me: 1. If you (we) keep Kreisau, something has to happen to honor Carl Bernd [von Moltke]’s memory.1 I had always thought of placing a big boulder at the corner of the new family plot and inserting a plate with a view over the valley rather than of the path. Or putting a plate into the low stone wall near Mami. 2. I’d like to ask you to bring a new pad; this one will still last for a little while, but if I continue writing so diligently, I may need another one later after all. 3. Every day I read 3 chapters from the Gospels and am now, that is, as of yesterday, at Matthew 19–21, just where you were yesterday. So today it’ll be 22–24. Since you’re also at this place, I thought maybe we could keep reading together, and wanted to tell you that.

  Everything you write, my dear love, is so dear and restorative, and gives me a feeling of comfort. I only hope you’ll be able to keep your balance through all the possible adversities. It is a grace that has been given to you—no, to us—and for which we must ask anew with each passing day.—Poor Frau Lukaschek. Yes, if you have time, try to help her. Maybe sometime she’ll be able to find out what Lukaschek said about me. I didn’t say anything that could incriminate him, other than that I talked to him about factual questions regarding self-governance and church and state, and that when he asked me in 1942 who Herr Goerdeler was, I advised him not to see him. But I’m afraid that he has recently been dragged into the matter in some way.

  Yes, my love, all of you need to talk about whether we should be working on a postponement of the trial. I’m not really capable of judging that. One thing is certain: The war situation is precarious again and the later our turn comes, the more it can help us as an argument. But human eyes cannot gain insight into this question because an enemy advance over the Rhine might lead to hurried sentencing of all pending cases, and I only have any sort of chance if time is devoted to me: as a rule of thumb, I will have to be hanged. This entire discussion is a bit awkward for me, and it makes me see how I really have changed somewhat. I see too clearly that these are all matters of lesser account, that I am in God’s hands and live and die in Him. But discuss the question. The primary human feeling is that time can be precious because the enemy quite obviously wants to break through now, and will do everything in their power to achieve this. If the Allies do break through somewhere, everything can go quite quickly.

  My love, I’m not going to keep on writing, because I hope you’ll come, and then we will comprehend with our eyes whatever I could still say now. I’m hoping for that. Farewell, my very beloved heart, embrace your children when you see them, and say hello to everyone. J.

  1. His brother Carl Bernhard had been killed in action on December 30, 1941. The memorial was supposed to be close to the grave of their mother.

  FREYA TO HELMUTH JAMES, NOVEMBER 29, 1944

  Wednesday evening and afternoon

  My dear love, I am still full of what we experienced together this morning.1 It was very beautiful for me—it was purely beautiful, not sad. The truth of the matter, my love, is that I’m incapable of saying anything about it. I’m different from the way I was before, yet I don’t know why. Since I’ve known that we would be able to experience this together, I’ve kept thinking it over and especially this morning have been gathering my thoughts only for this. I was harboring a great fear that in spite of it all I might not be worthy, but then I saw clear as day; in memory of the death of Christ, in the willingness to recognize his path as the only true path to God, and through His intermediation and His help to accept for ourselves whatever He has decided for us, most particularly, however, to allow ourselves to be united through Him.2 I was fully ready for that, and when the time came was unable to think of all that anymore and felt only our great willingness: what a gift, my love, to be able to kneel next to you and be able to receive this from the hand of our friend. My dearest, I can’t say as yet what has taken place within me and what will grow within me. I felt as though I, too, had crosses on my forehead. Poelchau did it so beautifully and lovingly. He knows so well what goes on in our hearts between the Sunday before Advent and Advent itself. It wasn’t about your death at all; it was about our two lives. We have had our union sealed beyond death, and come what may, this seal will always remain with us. Did you also read the three chapters 25, 26, and 273 this morning, the ones that suited our celebration so beautifully? I’m very happy to keep reading the three chapters with you. That really pleases me. I also read the little catechism.4 My love, I’m sitting here, my heart brimming over, and I can tell you only about my love and the certainty that we are sheltered for all that may come.—You know, of course, that it was wonderful to be with you earlier. I didn’t have a feeling of limited time at all, right from the outset. I feel as though we spent a good long time together, and this togetherness was nothing out of the ordinary but rather a familiar state. Often your presence is so strong and concrete that I don’t feel the separation at all. This is why our parting wasn’t so painful for me, because you weren’t taken away from me. My dear, that is the precious fruit of these weeks: I now know for certain that we are inextricably linked. At first I had to keep reminding myself of that, but now it is an integral part of me. Just like you, I keep being unnerved by the richness of these past weeks, including this day, at a depth I have yet to plumb.

  My dear, here’s how my day went: When you were gone, Poelchau told me I should eat at Dorothee [Poelchau]’s and meet him at about 2 for the visit with Dix. I did that because here I could be alone and compose myself. I wasn’t distraught but full of tears, actually tears of gratitude, but I am as incapable of describing them as I am of describing my state of mind as a whole. My visit to Dix wasn’t really successful. Poelchau can give you his shrewder assessment of it. He clearly saw the supra-Moltke possibilities in the project but didn’t know how to tackle it. He considered the letter you’re planning to send to Himmler not bad in principle: But of course the form will make the crucial difference. Then we turned around together and I stayed here again. Now it’s the evening, and I’ll go see Carl Dietrich [von Trotha] when the letter is finished. I’ll pack there tomorrow morning and come to Tegel again, where I left my gloves. There I can probably then pick up another letter from you, which I’d like to take along with me on the trip. Poelchau thinks that I ought to travel at noon because that’s less exhausting. So that’s how I’ll do it. Even though two dear little sons are awaiting me, I’ll tear myself away with difficulty from being near to you. I would rather stay, but it is right and necessary for me to go. We are close regardless, and even though the little sons are rightly in second place and don’t need me all that much, it’s only right for me to be with them for the first of Advent. We agree on that. The days with you were once again very beautiful, very precious ones. I feel blessed for our future life together: I feel very rich. I embrace you in tender love. I am and will forever remain your P.

  1. Taking Communion together.

 
2. This sentence is fragmentary in the original German as well.

  3. Matthew 25–27 with the description of the Last Supper.

  4. Martin Luther’s introduction to the Christian faith.

  HELMUTH JAMES TO FREYA, NOVEMBER 29–30, 1944

  Tegel, 29 Nov 44

  My dear, I don’t want to let this day end without having spoken another little word with you. My love, our farewell ceremony—for that is what it was, and it will remain so even if you should come again—has given us a new element of richness, a new treasure to take along as we head toward what God has intended for us. Now that we have had more time, we are again a bit better equipped to endure anything that may be inflicted on us. The bond we have formed, a bond that ties us together even beyond this time, indeed, beyond all time, has received an outward seal, although the word “outward” is actually wrong on the face of it: it is meant only in the sense of a seal that can be clasped and grasped. My love, we will take it along on our path, which will remain our communal one—a communion—even if we can no longer see each other with these eyes, hear each other with these ears, and touch each other with these hands. We’ll go where He leads and sends us. Take a look at the twenty-first chapter of the Gospel of John, verses 18–23.1

  I sat here in the dark for another hour and thought about the riches we share, filled only with happiness and gratitude. Our time together is of course a good part of that feeling, which was eclipsed only by the celebration. You look well, my love, and so wonderfully free of grief. I sometimes think about how difficult everything would be if I left behind a grief-stricken wife and might already see the traces of grief on her. Sorrow is good, grief is bad. Maybe something else new will occur to you in fourteen days that you’ll need to talk to me about, and maybe I’ll still be alive then. I don’t dare to hope, but I do hope that you will try, in any case, and maybe you’ll be able to overpower Herr Thiele.

  My love, I asked Poelchau to give me a candle and a holder. On Sunday at 5:30, when I go to bed, I’ll unscrew my bulb, because at that time there are no patrols, and light the candle, because all of you will probably be singing at that time, and then I can sing along with you;2 although I’ll be whistling for the most part. By the way, it occurs to me that I’ve yet to give you a description of my current cell.

  bucket = toilet

  clothes closet and two open shelves for washing utensils and dishes

  lamp

  table 80–50 cm

  chair with backrest

  water pitcher

  folding bed 1.95 x 1 m quite good

  my suitcase

  Helmuth’s sketch of his prison cell in his letter to Freya from November 29–30, 1944

  The window, which used to be very good, maybe 75 cm, has been replaced by a plywood board with a small 20 x 20 little window. The window begins at 2 meters up, the cell is about 2.75 high. When I lie in bed, this is what I see:

  That’s where the candle should go.

  Enough for today, my dear; just one more thing: Make an appointment with Dix for next week; by that time I’ll have developed something new. I embrace you, my love, and the little sons too, as the one joined to you.

  30 Nov 44

  Good morning, my love. Since early this morning, I’ve been thinking about you so much, and with such intensity; after a good night in which my pains have eased a bit, this morning the pain of parting loomed large once again. It does not matter, my dear, and it is only a sign of the value of what I possess; I had anticipated it and am telling you about it only for the sake of completeness. It wasn’t even a pit of depression, just the pain of parting.

  I’m enclosing the draft of a letter to Himmler; it’d be best to discuss it next week with Dix. I don’t know what’s smarter, to do nothing or to actively oppose the goad of “scorn.” In any case, this basic question has to be settled before we say how to construct the letter. But I’d like to make this problem a topic for discussion.

  1. Jesus to Peter: “another shall gird thee, and carry thee whither thou wouldest not . . . Follow me.”

  2. Sunday was the first of Advent.

  FREYA TO HELMUTH JAMES, DECEMBER 4, 1944

  Monday evening

  My dear, I’m writing on the first sheet of the pad I’ll be bringing you. I hope, my dear love, it will get safely into your hands and you will be the one writing on it. I was so carefree during those days in Kreisau, and now I wonder, doubly anxious and uneasy, how I will find everything tomorrow. How glad I am to be close to you again. My heart is full of love, my Jäm! I’m writing this in the writing chamber of the Reichshof Hotel in Liegnitz. I’d actually intended to be at Asta [Wendland]’s now, but I missed the connection in Königszelt and had to ride straight through. I left Kreisau by 7:30 in quite a hurry and would very much have liked to stay two hours longer, but as a result I now have a good deal of leisure time in this writing chamber, which I had already discovered on the trip to Kreisau, when I missed my connection and didn’t arrive until 2:30 at night. The moon was shining brightly when I got there. Arriving is now always difficult for me because it’s not worth anything to me without you, and yet it was so beautiful, and this beauty caused me pain as I came to the moonlit path from the train station. But I forced myself to change the subject, and took off my things and went to see the gently sleeping little sons. Casparchen woke up full of love and was touchingly delighted, little Konrad was having a good snooze.1 I then did the same in my own treasured bed. Asta was still in the house. In the morning both little boys came in, and we cuddled and read quite contentedly until Asta came and sat down with us. On Sunday at lunch, I said to them, while we were still eating at 1:30—the meal actually lasted until 10 minutes to 2—“Now Pa thinks we’re already finished eating.” “And,” said Casparchen, “he’s thinking about how I can eat with you today.” When the telephone rang during the day on Saturday, when he was doing his homework next to me and I was sitting at my desk, he said—and I already knew what he was going to say when he began to speak—“How nice it would be if that was Papa and he said he was out of prison and would be with us tomorrow!” Oh, my Jäm! I’m so happy that he loves you so truly, all of his own accord, unprompted by me, and so much. The little one speaks about you quite often, because he knows that I travel to see you and that those are eggs for Pa, he says all on his own, but he doesn’t really know you.

  I saw Zeumer only briefly in the courtyard on Friday. He’s still busy with his beets and hasn’t spread the fertilizer yet, but he was in high spirits. On the 6th he’s celebrating his silver wedding anniversary.

  On Saturday I made gingerbread while Frau Pick gutted nine young chickens! Afterward I also made paper angels for the singing children. It was a lot of fun for me, but I hadn’t expected it to be such a success. You’ll get one too. I made nine, and the funny part was that they all had different expressions on their faces. It was truly delightful to see them all next to one another.

  On Sunday morning we celebrated as usual. Soon we’ll know “Break forth, O beauteous heavenly light, / And usher in the morning.” After breakfast I went out with both sons. The sun was shining and Kreisau was wintry but lovely. Then we went to see the Schmolkes. Our two sons happily headed off to the pond while I visited with the poor careworn Schmolkes. They both look so sad and so old. When I’m with people who are faring as poorly as they are, I’m almost glad that we aren’t having an easy time of it either. I couldn’t say anything in the face of so much pain. The two living sons were there, and I eventually talked to them about the national militia,2 etc., while their poor parents sat there impassively, looking so sad. Then I retrieved our little sons, who were quite happily armed with cattails, and we went home to eat. There was a princely meal, chicken with the wonderful endives that grew so abundantly this year. Then Konrad went to sleep and Casparchen went outside to play noisily with the papers looted from Zeumer, and I started my preparations for Advent. We have quite a lovely wreath made of evergreens this year. Fräulein Hirsch brought them all the w
ay from Ludwigsdorf and said we didn’t have evergreens anywhere near here. Is that true? I don’t know where they might be, but that’s no reason not to think they’re there. Aunt Leno [Hülsen] and her children3 and the grieving Reichweins all wanted to come so that you, my beloved heart, would find us at the Berghaus. We sang in the big living room, where we had lots of candle stubs. First we sang with the piano from about 5 to 5:30. That was the best kind of singing as far as I was concerned, because I only had to think of you and not keep the children in line. So I sang and felt everything we have experienced during these precious weeks. At 5:30, Aunt Leno and her children left, to keep on singing for Aunt Ete [von Trotha] down below,4 then we sang with you, my love, without a piano. Casparchen was absolutely thrilled that it was almost as if you were there. It was so beautiful that way! Was it that way for you too, my dear love, or were you homesick and sad? This question was very much on my mind. I so wish you weren’t sad.—My Jäm, I have to get to the train! What a shame. I’m not even close to finished. All the important things still need to be said, but I have to go now!