Last Letters

by Helmuth Caspar von Moltke

  I’m sitting and chatting with my beloved husband, with my Jäm, whom I love so much. Yesterday, when I went into the slit trench1 at the Trothas’, Carl Dietrich [von Trotha], who was still quite far away, turned his head in a way that reminded me of you for a fraction of a second. The knowledge of every little movement you make and the loving intimacy and familiarity pierced my heart with a wistful and aching feeling of joy. I hope it will continue to do so in twenty or forty years, should my senses for perceiving such things still be intact at that point. I often picture you coming through the door or toward me, you walking next to me, and often you go across the field next to me; I see your face putting up with my onslaughts. Then I’m always very happy. Oh, the flood of big and little memories.—I was blissful, really overjoyed about Eugen’s and your outing to the light bath.2 I hope that will be kept up! How very delightful. What a splendid life we have had together! How is that possible!

  Yesterday, when I was talking to Kreisau, I made a point of telling Ulla [Oldenbourg] via Asta [Wendland] that she should really keep it up3 and Asta should give her precise reports. So you can rest assured that she will stick with it. Both boys (Casparchen said he was doing “very well!!!” He sounded as if he’d added three exclamation points) said “dream about Pa” at the end, little Konrad, too, seemingly of his own accord.

  Once again I’m reading your dear consoling letter,4 which I love so much. No, there is definitely no danger of my having too much composure, but it is very unpleasant when I have to fight off my tears terribly at Steengracht’s door while needing to discuss something quite concrete with him at once, and that is where the notion of composure is helpful. No, you didn’t write pharisaically in the slightest; it was very affectionate and full of understanding. Yesterday afternoon I talked to Marion [Yorck] about the connection. She has what I hope to gain for myself: The knowledge that Peter [Yorck] is alive, lives on, still belongs with her, and she has the feeling that he is beckoning and calling to her, although she has quite a positive outlook on life. That is all truly so nice in her case, and it couldn’t be nicer, because there is no rupture at all; things simply go on in a different manner, and she has simply discovered her consciousness of a new dimension. But all of us human beings have a facility for that! It is our task to let ourselves be found by God, to have this dependency and belonging grow and live within us. I firmly believe that! You do too, my dear love.

  May God watch over you, my love. Many people are thinking of you and are praying to God for you, many love you, many are hoping for you, but I, who for this reason am happy forever, belong to you, am yours, and may God help me always to remain so. I’m sending you a tender embrace. P.

  1. Deep covered trenches that served as makeshift protection from the fragments of high-explosive bombs.

  2. Mittelstädt had brought Helmuth and Eugen to the light bath together, but he was then forbidden to do so. See Helmuth’s letter of January 15, 1945, in Helmuth James and Freya von Moltke, Abschiedsbriefe Gefängnis Tegel: September 1944–January 1945 (Munich: C. H. Beck, 2011), 508.

  3. That is, praying for Helmuth.

  4. See Helmuth’s letter of January 12–13, 1945.

  HELMUTH JAMES TO FREYA, JANUARY 16, 1945

  16 Jan 45

  My dear love, how nice it was to see you and to see that you’re doing well on the whole. All this is simply far worse for you than it is for me. Just don’t let it trouble you.—And you also wrote me a very beautiful letter that showed me that the shock is wearing off.

  I find your conversation with Herr Franke quite remarkable. Maybe you’ll be able to bore a hole in these walls after all. In any case, here’s what I find: Whether or not I die, you have attained a level of negotiating skills over the past few months that will always be of great benefit to you in the times ahead. You surely see that many things are easier than one might think, if they’re just approached calmly and head-on. That will give you a good firm sense of security, because if you can negotiate about your husband’s life with all these enemies, you’ll find some way to cope with all the other problems too.

  [The letter breaks off here.]

  FREYA TO HELMUTH JAMES, JANUARY 17–18, 1945

  Wednesday evening

  My dearest, I’m tired, but my soul is doing well. Today things were not especially encouraging, but I’m quite content and have sailed through steadily—not that I can take credit for this achievement, and you do know who provides this for us. I hope that it’s that way for you, too, although in a quite different manner. My thoughts found you so, found you to be at peace, the way you were when you sat across from me yesterday. My love, being with you yesterday was especially wonderful. I had been looking forward to it with great joy, and this joy was even surpassed. It was lovely, intimate, tender, close, and natural, and not the least bit sad. I was already so glad that I was able to come with sheer joy. I could see so wonderfully how you were doing on the inside, it was so gratifying to feel everything that joins us together so naturally. Then it was in fact two meetings, because of the air-raid alarm, and at least we added two little kisses. Everything was quite uplifting.—Yes, I want to keep telling you about the day. The first thing I did today, before 9, was to deliver the letters. I was cold when I got up. I wasn’t feeling bad inside, but I didn’t wake up full of energy and ready to leap into action; it felt as though my bed was and would remain the most wonderful place of all to stay put in, I couldn’t make myself start in on my daily tasks, and then I had a look at the daily Scripture readings, and I found Psalm 46:5–6, which suited me quite well and lifted my spirits.1 I went to the People’s Court with the letter to you and met up with Schulze on the stairs to the commuter train; I went into the Foreign Office and saw Dieter [von Mirbach] and put the letter to Steengracht in his hands; I went to the Schlesischer Bahnhof and mailed the copy to Uncle Peter [von Moltke]. I went to Prinz-Albrecht-Str. and handed the letter to Himmler to the section commander. Müller still wasn’t back; I was told I should ask again on Friday/Sat. Then I went to see Hercher, who assured me that he couldn’t write any letter to the Gestapo, because you had been at liberty to try to defend yourself with your arguments. Evidently Lange merely said, “The police did not know anything.” Not: “Moltke shouldn’t defend himself this way.” He would have steered clear of a statement like that, Hercher told me. He did understand quite well that a letter of this kind would facilitate things, but it wasn’t true and he wouldn’t be able to write it. Then he read my letter to Himmler and let out a big shout at the sentence he crossed out, claiming that it’s not true! You were convicted for your own high treason; the deliberations of state administrators for territories that might be occupied, and possibly for the entire Reich, the consideration that the National Socialist government could then be gone as a result of the force of the enemy, the discussion of the unified trade union movement, the considerations about the map, that was all high treason and it says so in the verdict. If I were to leave that in, it would be considered false and achieve the opposite effect. I also discussed with him whether I could somehow convey the fact that you hadn’t wanted to do anything to the Führer, but that requires too complicated an explanation, which, in my view, is completely unsuitable for Himmler. So we’ll take out that sentence. I took back the letter from the Prinz-Albrecht-Str., rewrote it in Lichterfelde, gave a new version of it to Steengracht with a comment about the first letter to him as well, and went to the Schlesischer Bahnhof a second time. But that was not until the afternoon. In Lichterfelde I typed, ate, packed, and made telephone calls. I learned that Carl Viggo [von Moltke] had to go to the front at short notice, so he won’t be able to come anymore. When I got back to the Prinz-Albrecht-Str., the section commander had arrived. I again had my doubts as to whether he’d been away at all. In any case, he will see me at 3 o’clock tomorrow afternoon. Tomorrow morning I’ll go with Carl Dietrich [von Trotha] to see Herr Prost at the Ministry of Justice. Then I will have done pretty much everything I can. I don’t know what else I’ll
be able to accomplish. I feel the inadequacy of all my steps, yet I get the sense that there is no one who could do it better. I sometimes get a fleeting image of how it would be if Jowo [von Moltke] were in and you were out, but then you wouldn’t be who you are. What a wonderful advocate you would be! With Jowo the good will is definitely still there, but he does not know the facts and can act only when given instructions. I don’t suffer from the responsibility because I am too firmly convinced of the certainty of divine providence, which may require that you die despite and surely not because of my poor attempts and, furthermore, because there is no one who can do it better far and wide! But my efforts certainly strike me as pitiful, and I’m anything but proud when I return here after a day like this. There you are on the inside, my love, and your pipsqueak is bumbling around on the outside, bumbling about a matter that goes to her very core and making every effort, but all’s she’s doing is bumbling. Still, I’m not despairing about it; I am quite secure and sheltered very close to you, and hope and pray that it can remain so, and soon the activity will also come to a halt because there will be nothing left to undertake, and then our case will take a path on which we no longer have any influence, and is surely the path that God wants for us. The whole thing is still weighing heavily on Hercher’s mind. He thought I should arrange to speak with Thierack, saying the outcome would also depend on him, and he had the feeling that the sentence would no longer be carried out, a different wind is blowing, or a different course is being steered. That was the way he felt, for after he had described your high treason to me so emphatically, I said it made no sense at all to do anything whatsoever. He didn’t think that was the case.

  This evening, while I was arranging my schedule for tomorrow, Carl Dietrich told me that Kreisau placed an order and the butcher canceled. Something about yeast was mentioned, so I actually think that those at home hadn’t baked any bread for the sausage and canceled the butcher for that reason. Be that as it may, the pig has to go on living for now, and your old, real Helmuth-style question as to who will win the race, my dear, dear, good love, the pig or you, is as yet undecided. How can you even say or think something like that, Herr Hercher and the prison warden would say. In any case, I’m in no hurry to go home tomorrow afternoon. I definitely won’t do it before Friday morning. I’m going to wait to find out what happens.

  Thursday morning

  I can write for a little while longer, and I would always like to say something, especially this: What should I do from this point on? How long can I go on sitting with you or do I need to go to Kreisau? Like you, I have to act as though you will go on living. Write to let me know what you are comfortable with and how you picture things. You know where I most like to be.

  You also know that wherever I am, my life and my being are aligned with you. So if you should die without my knowledge, I am with you nonetheless.

  Harald [Poelchau] is going! I’m your P.

  1. Psalm 46:6: “God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved: God shall help her, and that right early.”

  HELMUTH JAMES TO FREYA, JANUARY 17–18, 1945

  Tegel, 17 Jan 45

  My dear, there’s nothing new to report about me. My thoughts are always with you on your exhausting errands and trying to keep you warm, to help you cope with the disappointments and difficulties, to stand by you. My dear love, what an undertaking for you! How will you withstand all that? This morning I was quite content, but after eating there came a wave of gray, because I had definitely counted on going with Eugen [Gerstenmaier] for irradiation, but Mittelstädt didn’t come. It’s totally meaningless, but it does show how important it is never to expect anything, never to wait for anything. I’m annoyed at making such a rookie mistake. It then occurred to me that you might be able to do something to ensure that Eugen stays here as long as I’m here, seeing as his presence is of course a great help to me. And if Eggensberger in the Reich Ministry of Justice is a decent human being, perhaps he can do it. But look into this only if you can do it on the side, because you’ll certainly need your strength for other things. Unfortunately Claus has been ill for two weeks. That is too bad, particularly as his nice substitute is not here either today. I hope he’s not ill as well, because today’s team is actually not so pleasant.

  But this gray mood is ebbing. It wasn’t very bad, and if I’d been more careful with my discipline it needn’t have happened at all. And I am writing to my dearest so as to dive quickly back into the gleaming light. If you should go to Kreisau—and that depends on whether you reach Müller today or tomorrow—bring me a new pad, because I’ll be finished with this one this week; if you don’t go, maybe you can get me some other paper.—My love, the radiance of your visit yesterday and of the beautiful letter are still lighting me up through and through. My dear, we belong together, so closely, so completely, that I absolutely cannot imagine your ever not finding me within you, just as I am certain that I will take you with me when I am called away. My dear, you truly don’t need to worry about me. I believe that I am now so prepared to die that if God doesn’t wish to subject me to any new ordeals, that walk to the gallows is no longer a major thing for me. All this is far worse for you, and you’re the one who must now be cared for and warmed, not me. I’ve thought of one more concrete thing: When you next speak with the Reich Ministry of Justice, that is, with Herr Franke (?), you can suggest to him that he has me come in myself, since the Gestapo is simply not questioning me about these topics.—My love, I don’t have anything else to

  18 Jan 45

  My dear, I was interrupted there when they put my handcuffs back on, and then I didn’t want to keep on writing. Or maybe it was something else? Instead I wrote the letter to Zeumer and the one to Hans-Heini [Rittberg]. You’ll get the duplicates along with this if I have them ready in time, and the originals will go out on Sunday. I didn’t mention Penke in the letter to Hans-Heini. I thought there was enough in it already, and he ought to mend fences with you1 before he is asked to mediate with someone like Penke. Incidentally, you won’t need much advice at first, because as far as the estate is concerned, it will develop along fairly predictable lines, and you’ll have to make the major decisions about remaining and going, keeping the cattle or no longer holding on to them, on your own; no one can be of much help; it’s also less a question of how it should be decided than whether it will be possible to hold sway. And even Penke can’t help you with that.

  I’m doing well, my dear. I slept quite a bit, probably from 7 on, and didn’t wake up until shortly before the alarm rang, which must have been about 5:30. My soul is safe and secure, way down deep; only the surface is ruffled from time to time, but not so much on my account, because I truly feel as though nothing could happen to me. I have only two difficulties: The first is that I have to keep cautioning myself not to waver in the belief that my life can yet be saved. I have no right to just let myself fall into this, and that’s my recurrent tendency.—My second main concern, though, is my Pim. My thoughts keep flying tenderly to her, but always with the feeling: How will she fare? How will she get through that? The situation is now the opposite from the way it was before the trial: Now I have to strive to lend strength to my Pim, as well as I can; unfortunately I can’t do it as well as my dear. Oh, how often I find myself thinking: Now she is going to Prinz-Albrecht-Str. and Müller isn’t willing to meet with her, or is unfriendly to her, or Steengracht is not available, etc. I know, after all, how such things are; they always go worse than one thinks, with my loved one’s lifeblood hanging in the balance, and she has no husband with whom she can let the gentlemen of Verona2 flow. Oh, my love, what have I burdened you with. Just take good care of yourself. Your husband is of no interest at the moment; he’s just an object, and you are far more important. Take it easy. In the interest of conserving your strength, you might do well with a short stay in Kreisau, it seems to me. But I don’t mean to tell you what to do. If being in Kreisau constantly makes you feel that you’re missing crucial things, Kreisau won’t be o
f any help to you. Oh, my love, if only I could give you better support!