Helmuth James / Freya von Moltke

Anyone holding these farewell letters is amazed, more than anything else. 600 pages, carefully released by the family - a miracle? How otherwise would it be possible in the autumn of 1944 for Moltke, a 38-year-old lawyer awaiting trial and execution in Tegel prison in Berlin, his hands bound, to write private letters to his 34-year-old wife every day, with details on his defence in court and on his appeal? How was it that nobody intercepted them? (…) The correspondence came about as a result of a fortunate constellation, in the midst of all the violent death. Perhaps that is why the tone of deep gratitude and humility that so much pervades these letters from a mortuary chamber is so moving. The writers are aware that their situation is unique. (…) This correspondence is unparalleled. Two people are writing for their lives while handing themselves over, in the name of God, to impending death. Each letter might be the last, the day of death is deferred. These are letters that deal with what is humanly possible. You read them breathlessly, although you know the final outcome: Moltke is executed. This couple’s story is reminiscent of Jesus’ last night before his crucifixion, and he says to her, “Do not forget the Garden of Gethsemane!”.

Elisabeth von Thadden: „Als bliebe ich am Leben“
© Die ZEIT, 13 January 2011