Last Letters by Helmuth Caspar von Moltke & Freya von Moltke

Author:Helmuth Caspar von Moltke & Freya von Moltke
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: New York Review Books
Published: 2019-09-16T16:00:00+00:00

1. Freya refers obliquely to the idea, which Helmuth had probably discussed with Poelchau, to attempt to break out of the prison in the chaos of a bomb attack and go underground.

2. The wife of Helmuth’s former law partner, Friedrich Carl Sarre.

3. Goerdeler tried to evade capture following the July 20 bomb-plot failure and was found when a price was put on his head.

4. Helmuth was six feet five inches tall.

FREYA TO HELMUTH JAMES, DECEMBER 8, 1944

Friday noon

My love, I’m so relieved that you’re now unshackled; it must really help your poor body relax, especially during the night.—You’re quite right about the gifts of the spirit. We are absolutely in the ranks of the rich and so we have a very tough time of it.—I also liked the meagerness of the evergreen branch.—I’m now filled with hope that you won’t have the trial before Christmas. Who would have thought that possible in early October!

Of course you’re fearful about the trial, my dear. I shudder to think what that means for you and what the day will take out of you, but, my Jäm, I know that you can ride it out with God’s help; I don’t even know myself what “ride it out” might mean in this case, but the day will reveal that. I recently read a sermon by Gollwitzer, a friend of Poelchau, and found in it, essentially, the idea that if you fear someone, that person becomes the master of the fearing individual. Too bad I can’t find the text right now. I found it quite illuminating and encouraging. But the very idea that Freisler is your master is absolutely out of the question!—Now Poelchau has gone as well.—By the way, I, like you, find everything having to do with the approaching trial quite daunting and sad, but, my love, we must let ourselves be borne along and believe and know that we’re not alone. But we tremble at our own weakness, oh, my love.—I don’t think that Prinz-Albrecht-Str. will be especially horrible; Poelchau doesn’t think so either.

Just like you, I was afraid that it was just smoke and mirrors about the trial, but I don’t think that’s the case. Yes, if only it would take quite a long time!—I would be distraught if I voluntarily deprived you of the tiniest little bit. Bacon and sausage are all still from the old pig; the new one is already waiting to be slaughtered.1 A small number of the young chickens are already laying eggs, so I have eggs. The chickens had to be dead before the December 4 count.2 My household ate a good ten chickens. They eat their fill and the cooking is good and solid; there’s no place for luxury. You’ve been eating my butter for close to a year, and that is a source of my happiness; don’t spoil it for me. I was quite sad when I had so much butter to eat in Sept. I sometimes eat butter here, most of the time, in fact, at the expense of the household, I can’t do anything about that.

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