My Life With Goering 0851270042, 9780851270043

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My Life With Goering EMMY GOERING

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1972 David Bruce & Watson LONDON

THE PLATES facing page A resplendant Goering greets the man with whom he had linked hjs destiny. Herman Goering with Rudolf Hess, and, behind them, von Ribbentrop during their trial at Nuremberg, 1945. An unusual study of Goering as the Nazi apologist, seen here at the microphone before the Nazis assumed power. Goering being offered congratulations by the man, a former N.C.O., who had drilled him as a young cadet. Frau Goering watches as her daughter Edda adds a postscript to a letter written to Herman Goering while he awaits sentence at Nuremberg. Goering the hunter welcomes von Blomberg to a shoot at Karinhall. Von Blomberg was subsequently deposed.

Emmy Goering appearing as a witness at the Nuremben! trials on behalf of former Secretary of State Paul Koemd.

T�e end of a tortuous story. Goering has committed . SU1c1de shortly before the hour fixed for his execution.

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Chapter

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It was August 31, 1939. We were all having breakfast together. The curtains on the windows were almost completely drawn. My husband was fond of the view from Karinhall over the lake but on that morning it was not aesthetic thoughts which occupied his mind. His head slightly lowered, he was quietly stirring his coffee. Neither of us dared to speak to him. Even Gilly, my husband's house-keeper for fifteen years, was walking on tip-toe as she served us - my sister, Hermann's niece, Hermann and myself. Mucki, our little lion cub, lying in one corner of the roo� waited for a word from his master. As a rule Hermann spent the beginning of each day alone with him : he was not used to such a large audience. Breakfast time was one of my husband's favourite occasions. He usually breakfasted quietly while the rest of the house still slept. After he had read the most important telegrams which had come in during the night, he listened to two or three gramophone records._ He particularly liked \Vagner and Richard Strauss. Then hi! working day began. I usually saw him only at about eight o'clock when he left for the Chancellery in an open car to meet Adolf Hitler . But on this morning everything was different. We all felt a strange feeling of solidarity a need to be too-ether like a farnilv over which a heavy threat was hanging. We were all thinking about the war, without daring to speak of it, hoping for a reassuring word from Hennann. But he also remained silent. Whe n the moment came for his departure I accompanied him to the car. He took my hand and pressed it hard and said in a _ serious voice, 'Just pray that I can bring peace to us all.' The car left the gates of Karinhall just after 8 o'cl ock. For the next six hours I told myself that Hermann had not )

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2 abandoned all hope. I knew that he was in touch with the BriflS11 . d ustna . list Dah.lerus in Government through the S wed.1sh m an attempt to prevent the catastrophe. On two occasions in th e p ast few days Dahlerus had been in London. I did not know whether these last-minute efforts had still any chance of success. All I had was the desperate hope that things would turn out for the best' and the war which I so hated might be avoided. When my husband returned he was like a different man. lie was pale as he sat down and took his head in his hands. 'I have tried everything,' he told me, 'absolutely everything. But it's done now. We have got war. It is going to be appalling, more terrible than we can yet imagine.' I followed him into his study. He sat down at his great table and once again took his heavy head in his hands. He looked at me and said in a toneless voice, 'Now it is too late. There is nothing more that can be tried.' Much later on he became a little more talkative. 'They don't take us seriously,' he declared. 'They don't believe in the power of our Wehrmacht and our Luftwaffe. It's Lipsky who is the cause of it all.' Lipsk")' v.ras the Polish Ambassador in Berlin. In his reports to Warsaw he openly expressed his contempt for our military forces. My husband knew this. After watching a military review some years previously, Lipsky had written that our tanks and guns and so on were made of papier mache and intended only for parades to impress the foreign diplomats. Hermann was convinced that because of this report our enemies must believe that we were bluffing and that it was impossible to take us seriously. But my husband did not attribute the entire responsibility for these mistakes to foreigners alone. In his opinion, our Foreign M.inister had also committed grave errors. Poland herself did not constitute any real danger and it was Britain which at all costs must be kept out of any conflict. 'You know how Adolf Hitler has always sought peace with England. Everything was arranged in Munich a year ago. But since then the Wilhelmstrasse has handled Chamberlain completely wrongly. He is a gentleman but the Foreign Ministry do not know how to treat him. They did not even send a private aeroplane so that we could meet him o.tld talk things over again.' Hermann was both furious and profoundly discouraged. He did

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But the orders had been given and although he n t want this war. : s the seco nd most important man in the Reich he could do no :ore. To be sure , he believed in victory, but he seemed to realise the world. what was waiting for . At the beginning of the evenmg we took a walk in the woods around Karinhall. The day had been oppressive and every step was an effort. We walked in silence for some time and then Hermann took me by the arm and said, 'Who knows? Perhaps this is the last time we shall ever take a walk like this.' J reflected on his words. I understood that from now on nothing was going to be as it had been before. But, alas, one sometimes imagines events without realising all their consequences. On that evening the future rose up for me like a high wall, sinister and threatening. The war had not yet come. The stars were still shining above a world which believed in peace. Both of us deep in our thoughts, we came to a stop mechanically. One question tormented me and I did not dare to ask it. It was the question which millions of people would be asking on the following morning : 'How long will it last?' It came to my lips almost in spite of myself. Hermann did not reply immediately. 'Two years, five years, seven years - I don't know.' 'So long?' 'It's impossible to say. It would be short if Poland was alone, but England and France are supporting her and they will fight to the end : no one can say how long it will last.' I thought of our army - not of the shining uniforms or the powerful tanks but of all those young anonymous faces which had passed us at countless parades and also of those whom I knew, the members of the Luftwaffe. Hermann seemed to read my thoughts. 'I do not believe,' he said, 'that an air force alone can decide the result of a war. The last word is always with the army.' It was dark when we went back to the house. Hermann, I felt, was crushed by the weight of his responsibilities. I had never seen him so depressed and I sought to distract him. 'Shall we have a film this evening?' We had had a private cinema in Karinhall and some new films. Often, when Hermann came home around midnight worn out by a strenuous day, he would relax by watching a film. But this time he shook his head.

4'Then let us go and see little Edda once more,' I suggested. Hermann never went to bed without kissing our daughter Edda good night. But this time he shook his head ag� in. . 'Whatever is going to become of my dear little girl? he asked. We went up to my room. Cranach's 'Madonna and Child' hung on the wall near my desk. It had been given to our daughter by the city of Cologne for her christening. The Mayor of Cologne had been Konrad Adenauer whom Hitler had sent into retirement with an annual pension of 43,000 marks which he had obtained thank� to my husband. I remember that Hermann had said at the time, "¥hat a pity - we could use men like Adenauer. It is deplorable that he should be in the opposite camp. But I am glad that I was able to do him that service.' Hermann studied the picture for some time and said, 'It's beautiful, isn't it?' I nodded. He plunged back into his thoughts then turned towards me and in a low voice touched with emotion he said, 'From now on there is going to be no more beauty, no more happiness, no more joy.' I understood how desperate he felt. He had always tried to protect me from the shocks of life. And I who had so often let him believe that I wanted to be protected, realised now how dark our future was. That night millions of people did not close their eyes - as was, of course, the case with us. We occupied two separate rooms connected by a sliding door. I saw Hermann's bedside light burning all night long. I heard him tossing and turning. Finally I joined him and we talked far into the night Next morning he left the house without saying a word, to attend the first 'situation conference' of Adolf Hitler - the first of the war. I occupied myself with the household. I summoned our butler and asked him about the state of our supplies. He went away to find out and soon came back with an air of consternation. 'Except for what we need for to-day,' he said, 'we have only got two or three packets of biscuits and a little fruit.' How could we get the things which we needed? During the morning I had telephoned to my usual shop for toilet preparations to order some soap. The sales girl was sorry but she could not supply

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me with any without ration cards. How was I going to get the food which we needed to meet our social obligations? My husband held conferences every day with his Luftwaffe officers: on the following day there would be forty of them for luncheon! Since I grew up in Hamburg I have always remembered the scenes which so impressed me as a child, of the great ships there, with their holds piled high with supplies. These ships, now im­ mobilised in the harbour, must, I thought, be still filled with food­ stuffs. I telephoned my husband in Berlin and suggested that we sent a chauffeur to Hamburg to bring us back some provisions from these ships. He agreed at once and added, 'Telephone Adolf Hitler too. He probably also needs some things.' I did as he had said, and Hitler also sent someone to Hamburg. Once again I thought that Hitler needed a woman, and not only to look after his house. A family man tackles the problems of existence in a more humane way. I shall have occasion later to re­ turn to that theme. The day after the declaration of war we received a visit at Karinhall from the British Ambassador, Sir Neville Henderson, who was about to return to England. He was a tall, good-looking man, typically English, with a sense of humour, with whom one could speak freely. One day he said something to me which was very curious for a diplomat : 'I always feel that I never meet Adolf Hitler except at un­ favourable moments. I always find him in a bad humour. I must admit that I can't stand that man. But that is just between our­ selves. I know you won't tell anybody.' I tell this story now but if Sir Neville were still alive today he perhaps would have no objection. He was always welcome at Karinhall. One day he said to me, 'I wish I had not to deal with anybody in Germany except your husband. One can talk so openly with him. He always remains calm, intelligent and logical. I also like him. He is a real personality and in my opinion he is the only right man for Germany.' On this last visit his good spirits had not deserted him. He walke d with my husband for more than an hour in the grounds of Karin hall. 'Don't you dare to blow up my house in England with your Luftwaffe,> he joked.

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'And don't you dare to let British bombs fall on Karinhall , , replied my husband. The.c;e were jokes which concealed a mutual esteem and a tacit promise to spare one another. I was sitting near an open win dow and I could hear distinctly whole phrases of the conversation. I clearly heard Sir Neville Henderson say : 'Lipsky told me bluntly, "I have no intention of intervening in favour of peace. If war breaks out it will mean a revolution in Gennany within three days and Poland can march in ' '. Before leaving Sir Neville took my hand, shook it wannly and assured m� 'Wbat a pleasure it would have been to have remained outv,rardly friendly with you and your husband. You may be sure that I will always be inwardly so.' Then he dropped his eyes and added: 'In any case I have not got much longer to live in this ·wretched world - and probably that is all for the best.' Those words hurt me. But I remained silent, not wanting to offer him any, banal words of consolation. I knew that he was suffering from an incurable illnes.s. Perhaps it was the knowledge of his imminet end that ca.used him to express himself in such a detached way on the events which were shaking the world. Madame Andre Franc;ois-Ponc;et, wife of the French Ambassa­ dor, of whom I was very fond, gave Edda a doll on the day after the declaration of war. The gesture seemed to me to signify that she was not our enemy. I remembered with a smile a story which her husband had told me during one of Hitler's receptions. It was at the time of the Saar plebiscite when the population had to vote for France or Gennany. He told me, 'My little boy went all round the embassy sitting on his potty and shouting "Deutsch bleibt die Saar" !' From now on, all the same, both Monsieur Frarn;ois-Porn;et and Sir Neville Henderson were in the ca.mp of our enemies. That was a strange thought indeed for me as mistress of Karinhall. They had been among our most welcome guests, like my comrades from the theatre, like Udet, like the other friends of my husband, and now we were going to have to fight one another. Like millions of people in Germany, Britain and France, I could never get used to the idea of war. I had never paid any par­ ticular attention to politics. I was an actress and Hermann some­ times said to me jokingly, 'You talk like a liberal newspaper which I ought to have banned.'

7 Truly during those first days I certainly felt no heroism but only those same feelings of dark anxiety which laid so heavily on all other women. On the fourth day, when I saw Hermann wearing his uniform and ready to go to the front, I thought, just like millions of other women, 'My God, how will this all end - all this which began so happily with our first meeting.' All wives in such a situation no doubt remember at a moment like that the time when they first met their husband. As for me, I remembered W eimar.

Chapter

2

The fi rst time that I met Hermann Goering he covered me with stones and mud. Our company was travelling in an open motor coach from \,Veimar to Kochberg to give a special performance on the ancient estate of Baron von Stein of a play which had been written by his wife. It was a private performance for a party of specially-invited guests, among whom were Goering and his former wife Karin. A car travelling at high speed passed our motor coach. The road was bad and a veritable shower of stones and mud bespattered us. \\7e did not recognise Hermann Goering but we did not make any exactly flattering remarks about the occupant of the car. Late that evening Hermann was introduced to me after the show. I can not say that on that evening he made any profound impression on me. But his wife fascinated me. Sitting on a bench in the park during the interval she looked ill, but there emanated from her a charm which I could not resist. I would have liked to have chatted with her but I did not have time because we had to repeat the performance for a second time since the theatre held only forty people at a sitting. So I had to go back to the stage. I afterwards regretted very much that I had not had a chance to hear Karin's voice at least once. I still have today her picture in my home and I often feel it is that of a sister. I was not to see Hermann again until a year later, in the spring of 1932. I had then already been on the stage for twenty years, eight of them in the Weimar National Theatre, where I played roles of romantic and society women. A new life had begun for me there. Before that, in Stuttgart, I had been divorced from my first husband. But even today we still remain good friends, I am happy to say. My regained freedom was that which one has in a provincial town. I lived in three furnished rooms. My landlady was the sort that can be easily

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jrnagined. Masculine visitors were strictly forbidden, though, frankly, that did not worry me very much. I was far more annoyed by my landlad y's prohibition on my taking a bath every day: she . !aim ed that it wore out the bath c I had few other worries. It was a happy time. I was very fond of Weimar. I got on very well with my colleagues, both male and D female. We had a remarkable director, r Franz Ulbrich, who . kept the theatre on a �igh level I �ehearsed n�arly every morning. I lunched with my f nend Herma m a charm mg restaurant; then we used to take coffee at the Kaiser cafe, which was also a typical Gennan confectioner's shop. There were four tables in one corner outside the main room and we were almost always there alone. We devoured the newspapers from the big cities; not the front page articles ��t the fea�re pages. We �ere in�erested ?nly in the theatrical crit1c1sms and m what was going on m the big theatres. As a rule nobody came to disturb our reading. But one April day a dozen men came in. 'They must be some sort of politicians' said Herma, and pointed out to me one man with a little moustache. I had alrea dy seen his photograph in the papers but I knew nothing about his political tendencies nor why people talked so much about him. It was Adolf Hitler. I felt that there was not enough room in the cafe for him, his companions and ourselves and so I got up with my friend to leave. One of the men whom we had met at Kochberg came towards us and introduced Adolf Hitler. Noticing that we were about to leave, Hitler said 'I know you are from the National Theatre. I would be terribly sorry to drive you out. Please do me the great pleasure of staying and telling me about your work.' We agreed to stay on a little longer. Hermann Goering did not accompany Hitler on that day. Some weeks later, on a morning when I did not have any rehearsal, the fine Spring sunshine made me go for a stroll in the Weimar park. All the benches in the park were occupied by young men. I had never seen so many idle people. Two of them had a stick and were tracing designs in the sand. I sat near them and listened to them talking. They were unemployed. It was through them that I learned for the first time how great the poverty was at that time in Germany. For some years I had lived only for the theatre. I rehearsed fro m the beginning of the morning until the middle of the after­ noon, then I went home to study my parts, try on dresses and so on.

JO I was back in the theatre and I seldom got 1 At seven o'clock · · ion,r · · I l1ad 1·1ttl e time to listen to talk . before midnight. Thus again . a l)Out . 1s theatre \ The orld events. of follow as own an � � politics or to d ed m absorb 1t letely as comp I as are w as. many actresses The conversation of the two young. men made a stron g 1111h , pression on me. 'Now you see. w at s gomg. on around you , , 1 said to myself, 'without y?ur having the least 1d�a about it! And not only in Weimar but m all Gennany as well. J felt very disturbed. I went and sat down a little way a way and began to think. Suddenly somebody spoke to me. 'What's the matter, Madam? You look very depress ed.' I raised my eyes and with some astonishment I rec ognised Adolf Hitler. He sat down beside me and I confided in hi m the reason for my preoccupation. His large dark blue eyes took 011 a fanatical light. 'I can set your mind at rest,' he said gravely. 'In a very short time now we, the National Socialists, will be in power. We shall need only three or four years and then there will not be a single un­ employed man in Germany.' 'No more unemployed,' I thought to myself, 'but that would be splendid.' He was silent for a while, thinking. Then he added 'And what should please you in particular, Madam,' he continued, 'is that there will be a real artistic rebirth in the theatre.' I wondered what he could be referring to, for the theatre was extremely well-developed in Germany at that period. But the meeting did not fail to impress me as did also the seriousness and obvious sincerity of Hitler. I went home feeling greatly relieved. That was Hitler in private life in those early days when he was very willing to meet people and talk to them. Later I was to com­ pare him with the Hitler of the war years - and how different those two Hitlers were ! Some days later he spoke in our theatre. I had never attended a political meeting but I wanted to hear this one. But as there was not a single seat left in the hall, I had to go and stand in the wings from where I could hear only scraps of the speakers' phrases, and could not form any real impression of them. Hermann Goering must have followed Hitler to Weimar be­ cause, several days later, he came to the Kaiser cafe with his friend Paul Korner. I remembered having seen them both at Kochberg

11 all who they were. I hid myself be hind my b t I did not know at b u r Fremde rblatt' thinking that they would certainly I arge 'Ham urge h'l . d. ·1 e my fnen ,. . d arnve not reCogn ise me · M eanw 'Herm a,' I whispered to her, 1s that Goebbe ls or Goermg?' 'Go ering, of course . You met him at Kochberg.' Hermann came towa rds us and asked permission to sit at our After the exchange of a few sentences I said table with his friend. le ve, to go for a walk. tha t my friend and I must � 'May we come with you. So all four of us strolled in the park for nearly two hours. For theatre, my parts and every­ the first time in my life I forgot the thing else. I listened to Hermann Goeri�g �th a pleasure which I could not dissimulate. He spoke �f his wife, who had recently died, with so much love and genum e sadness that my esteem for him grew with every word. I was all the more moved because I myself had recently lost my mother to whom I was greatly attached. The two men accompanied us back to the theatr e, where we had an evening rehearsal. 'You know,' I said to Herma, 'I am really very happy to have met, after so many years, a man whom I like so much. I feel as though I had known him a long time although we have talked for only two hours.' Herma was slightly disconcerted. Although we had been friends for several years, she had never heard me talk like this before. She asked me outright, 'Could you be in love with that man?' I said happily, 'Perhaps,' - without realising how much his personality had already captivated me. And thus I found a happiness which even today I am infinitely grateful to have experienced in such a complete way. At first nothing happened at all. I heard no more of Hermann Goering for a long time - or at least it seemed a long time to me. At last, after a fortnight, I received a telegram from Capri. He was still thinking of me, would soon be in Weimar again and wanted to m eet me . A few days later as soon as he had crossed the fro ntier he telephoned to me to make sure that I was in Weimar and not P1aymg · m some other town. We arranged to meet. He was due to make a speech in Weimar - as was proclaimed by posters ll over_ the town. The theatre was to be closed on that evening :ut I did not go to his meeting.

12 Hennann Goering the man had made such a strong impressio n on me that I was afraid that I might see him destroyed by Goering the politician. After his meeting I joined him at the Goldene Adler, the restaurant at which I usually lunched. He came accompan ied b'" Paul Korner. who had been a close friend since the first world ,�. Henna �e with me. It was a thrilling evening. I felt that my life ,;as about to be transfonned; I only felt sorry for my friend. I felt a� though I was behaving like a young girl - which I certainly no longer was. I changed my dress three times : the first o ne seemed to me too dressy, the second one too simple and I finally decided on a skirt ·with a blouse. I found out only later on that this --as the one thing that Hennann detested. But he can hardly have noticed it because he was just as affected himself, as he told me later. He walked back alone "'�th me to my door and left me. The walk was not long - but it decided the rest of my future life. 'When I went to Berlin for the first time, Goering was giving a great reception. His Berlin residence was furnished in very good taste in a style which reflected his personality though it was rather above his financial situation. A large part of his possessions and his income had been swallowed up, he told me, in libel actions, for he never spared his adversaries in political life. He was really an extraordinary man, whose voice could make crowds enthusiastic. He v.ras gifted with an iron will and fought for the ideas of Adolf Hitler with all his heart, without ever sparing himself in any way. He was an exemplary officer, upright with eyes of steel. Yet at the same time he was also capable of lamenting the death of his former wife with a love and tenderness which one would not have thought to be in his nature. He had devoted one whole room in his home to the memory of Karin. It was slightly uncanny, set out as in a museum. There was her harmonium as well as hundreds of other small objects which belonged to her. Her beautiful eyes looked down from in­ numerable frames on every wall. Wreaths still lay here and there in the room as though the funeral was due to take place next day. The recent death of my mother made me understand very well such a cult, for I, too, wanted only to be surrounded by pictures of her. It was about this time that Josef Goebbels described Hermann as 'a soldier with the heart of a child.' There was much truth in that opinion, but it did not express

13 Goering. There were many onality of. Hermann . the whole pers . 1y. I d1scovered progressive which him in es ualiti r e h ot 0� that evening in his home I found in him the generous and right word for everybody in whatever cir­ charming host, with the plenty of people in his hoi:ne. cumstance. And there were His hou se reminded me of that of my parents m Hamburg. We also always had guests and we children more or less grew up among them. But Her:mann Goering was not a_ Hanseatic mer­ chant. In his home thmgs were more unconventional, and good­ fellowship without vulgarity was the rule. But I was surprised to find that the men did not call each other by their Christian names - did not use the familiar German ,du'. After all, they were all fellow-conspirators, exposed to the same dangers like soldiers in a war. But I never heard Adolf Hitler say 'du' to anyone. From that first evening I remember particularly Prince Philip of Hesse, his brother Prince Christopher and his ravishing wife, Princess Sophie. Hermann was extremely fond of all three. Princess Sophie talked to me about the difficult years which she had had as a relative of the Greek Royal Family, and she added, 'I wonder what will become of my young brother?' Since then her young brother has become the Duke of Edinburgh, the husband of Queen Elizabeth of England. In 1960 I happened to be standing outside the Hotel Vier Jahreszeiten in Munich, where a crowd had gathered to see the Duke of Edinburgh, who is particularly well-liked in Germany and who had come to visit his sister. I remembered that remark of thirty years before - and I reflected that Destiny had not treated him unkindly! Prince Philip of Hesse became one of our most frequent guests. Both Hermann and I always appreciated his presence. My husband did not seek the company of aristocrats out of a desire for social climbing. He was by nature a German conserva­ tive. The revolution in the street did not suffice for him. He sought to breathe into the National Socialist movement a little of the spirit of the old monarchy and a little of the Prussian spirit. As a _ oldier he could � be daring but as a political man he retained the ideals for which the young generatio n had entered the war in 1914. From the first I was for him a woman whom he had to protect and he deliberately kept me away from his political life. We never spoke

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a long time to disco ver of this at our first meetings and it took me . e I mad thm ct gs easy respe that In felt. and ght thou y what he reall : an actress and a for him. J was in fact just what he saw me as woman. J needed a great effort to interest myself in any pol itical subject and I was delighted when he preferred_ to �llc to me abo ut the theatre books, paintings and human relat1onsh1ps. To-da;, however, I think that was a mistake. Perhaps I oug ht to have concerned myself more with Hermann's decisions and actions. Perhaps I should have taken over a little of the burden of his responsibilities. But the thought never occurred to me that my husband could possibly represent anything inhuman or unworthy. Adolf Hitler made an appearance on that particular evening. He was sincerely pleased to see me again and we spoke about our fim meetings in the confectioner's shop and in the park. He seemed in an excellent humour and was very gay. How he changed as time went on ! Meeting him in private one did not suspect the political tension which he was undergoing in the year before his accession to power. His eyes had no fanatical or daemonic gleam. He attracted more attention than an ordinary man because a strange intensity emanat-ed from everything he said or did. But one could not say he seemed obse.ssed. He knew what he wanted and felt certain of attaining it. He was permeated by what was expected of his per­ sonality and his conviction that he would save Germany. Yet at that period I certainly never thought that the day would come when I would cease saying 'Herr Hitler' and have to call him 'Mein Fuehrer'. But it did. A brief stay in Berlin followed that reception. My departure was the occasion of a curious scene. Hermann took me to the station. He held my hand in his until the train began to move, did not let it go and ran alongside the train. Then, suddenly making up his mind, he jumped on the running-board of the train and, on that cold April day, travelled with me to Weimar, without a hat or coat. The first time that Goering saw me at the Weimar National Jb_eatre I was playing the role of Clarchen in Egmont. He arrived a little late. When he entered his box I was speaking on the stage to my mother. . . 'Ah ·I ' I was saymg, 'I ask myself only if he loves me - and 1s there any question that he loves me?'

/5 The people of Weimar naturally knew of my friendship with Hermann, so there were broad smiles on many faces in the audience. We met as often as we could. Hermann made some very dangerous night trips in his car between Berlin and Weimar. I sometimes used to take the train for Berlin immediately after the performance and I did not go back until the following afternoon, just in time to get to the theatre. In those weeks and months I was certainly burning the candle at both ends. But the time we spent together seemed all too short. We did not waste them in talking about politics, Adolf Hitler or the Party. Hermann said only that nothing could any longer prevent the victory of the movement. I rejoiced at his confidence. A woman in love thinks only of her partner's succ�, and it is of little im­ portance to her how he obtains it. It is enough for her to see that the man she loves is happy.

Chapter 3

In the afternoon of January 29, 1933, Hermann Goering went to Hitler to announce proudly to him that he was finally to be appointed Chancellor. 'This v.a-5 certainlv.' wrote Goebbels afterwards, 'the finest hour he had been smoothing the diplomatic in Goering·s life. For and political way for the Fuhrer by exhausting negotiations. His pruden� his strong nerves and above all his force of character and his loyalty to Hitler were sincere, strong and admirable; he never hesitated for a moment. He went his way ardent and strong, an un­ shakeabh· devoted shield-bearer to the Fuhrer ! ' I was not myself an eye witness of these final events before the taking-over of power. I was playing in Weimar on that even­ ing of January 29. Hermann telephoned to me at the end of the afternoon and said: 'It's all fixed. Adolf Hitler will be Chancellor tomorrow. You absolutely must come to Berlin. I'll send you a car.' �'ben the car arrived in Weimar the situation had already changed again in Berlin. Schleicher was preparing a revolt : the Wehnnacht was to be mobilised against Hitler. While I was on the way, Hermann was moving heaven and earth to remove this last obstacle, as he told me on my arrival It was night and his guests were just leaving. We were both of us dead tired and we did not speak about the morrow. Hermann simply told me : 'Go and take some flowers to Hitler early tomorrow morning. He would certainly be pleased.' The flowers which I bought next morning in the Kaiserhof were the last ones to be had - all the rest had been sold out for Hitle�s appointment. Hitler's adjutant took me to him. He was standm g near the window, grave and silent, seemingly detached _ from his surroundings and dumbfounded. Slowly he turned towards me and took the flowers with an

;,�rs

17

alm ost festive gesture. His adjutants had put all the other flowers which had arriv ed into vases in a neighbouring room without showing them to him. 'These are my first flowers,' he said, 'and you are the first woman to congratulate me. I am especially happy.' There was a silence. I understood that he needed to be alone. As I went towards the door I heard him say 'Yes, I need for a little while to be alone with myself.' I saw Hermann again briefly at mid-day. 'What a wonderful moment it is,' he exclaimed, 'when one knows that one has at last succeeded.' He showed no delirious joy, no boisterous enthusiasm: his feelings were all working inside him. I understood that now Hitler was Chancellor, Hermann would definitely lead a life of politics. But I was not sure that I should feel glad about this. I wondered whether, if I had realised the situation to which he would eventually come, I might not have taken another road? But there was really only one answer: 'I love him.' Hermann spoke to me of the great torchlight parade that evening. Of course I ought to see it. For that reason he had re­ served a room for me at the Hotel Kaiserhof from which I could see everything. However, he did not seem very sure of the sentiments of the crowds. He handed me a revolver with the remarks : 'Here, take this, in case anything happens.' I had never held a gun in my life and his gesture did not exactly reassure me. I was more frightened of the revolver than of the dangers from which it was supposed to protect me. Terrified, I slipped it into my muff and passed it on a few minutes later to my maid Cilly who accompanied me to the Kaiserhof. I stayed alone until the evening. I saw the new Cabinet for the first time about five o'clock. At Hitler's side there was no longer Captain Goering but the Minister of the Interior of the Third Reich. In the distance one could hear the sing ing of the Storm Troopers as they assembled for the torch­ light procession. It was a prodigious spectacle. Marshal von Hinden­ burg stood at a window of the former Chancellery. 'If I had known that the people wanted Hitler so badly I would have let him be Chancellor sooner,' he said, so I was told later. Hitler, with Hermann and a few of his other collaborators, st00d at a window of the new Chancellery where, fron1 now on, ' tlle h'1story of Germany would be mad . e

18

I had no evil presentiment on that evening, but I also did not feel any delirious enthusiasm. I was delighted at Hermann's sue.. cess: he and his friends had achieved a goal which they had set themselves. With such a man as Hennann nothing bad can surely happen, I thought, all will go well. Shortly after I went back to his house. I heard on the radio the final phrases of his speech of January 31, 1933: Bread an ,

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46

I to act One day Gustav Griindgens asked me if �ould lilce _ thmg which I h ad with him in Faust in Hamburg. It was some wanted to do for a long tme. My mother, whom I loved above y everything else and who had seen me in nearl all my parts, had never seen me as Margareta and had always wanted to. But she died before she could do so. So I had never wanted to play this part in my own home town. I explained all this to G�stav Griindgens, who understood immediately. He suggested replacing Faust by Konzert, and I agreed. My father, who was nearly eighty, came to see me from a box. It was the first time be had been present at a play in which I was appearing. He was very grateful to fate for having made this last pleasure possible for him, and I shared his happiness. The Berlin season opened with Minna von Bannhelm. Gustav Griindgens directed it and I played Minna. These were among the best rehearsals of my life. I would never have believed that a director could give so much help to an actress. He was a real friend to me, with a warm and natural humanity. The night of the first perfor­ mance I realised how much I owed to him for having helped me to develop such talent as I had. The first night was an enormous success and when I sought to express my gratitude to Griindgens he dismissed my words with a phrase. 'Nonsense,' he said. 'One can put somebody into the saddle but after that it's up to them to ride alone.' I had reached the summit of ambition for any actress m Germany. The name of Emmy Sonnemann had star billing m Berlin. When I should abandon my name I would also have to abandon the theatre. Another life was beginning - the life of Emmy Goering. The world of Emmy Sonnemann seemed to lie on another planet. Emmy Goering ... at that time it was not very easy for me to get used to that name. Yet to-day I feel as though I never had any other.

Chapter 8

In order to be together we often had to steal time from our daily programme. Hermann worked from the morning until late in the evening. The theatre absorbed all my time. When at last we did manage to have a quiet evening together Hermann would say to me: 'Talk to me about yourself. I want to know all about your youth and the rest of your life.' I wondered what I could tell him because I had never been particularly affected by the great upheavals of the times and had never taken any active part in historic events. I was the youngest of five children of a typical Hamburg business man's family. The fact that my father owned a chocolate factory seemed to me in those days the luckiest thing in the world. My decision to go on the stage was probably the greatest sensation which occurred in our family. Until my marriage to Hermann my whole life was dominated by this career. The theatre is a world with laws of its own and the people who inhabit it live in their own way, quite outside both politics and world events. To play in The Brigands, with Moissi in the part of Frank Moor and myself as Amalie; to play Desdemona to Wegner's Othello, or Margareta to the Mephisto of Gustav Griindgens; or to play Marie Stuart on the radio with Frau Korner as Elizabeth and myself in the title role interested me much more than all the politics in the world. Hut then I began to tell about my past and it all came back to me again as clearly as though I had only just lived through it. I was about twelve when my mother took me to the theatre for the first time, and this was one of the greatest events of my childhood. MY parents had a weekly subscription to the Hamburg theatre. On that particular evening my father was not able to go, for some reason or other, and I went in his place. That evening was to affect my whole life. We had usually gone to see fairy tales at Christmas time and they were wonderful; but this was something quite

48 different and ver y special. They were playing The Merchant of T ·enia. I fell imtantly under its chain1 and identified myself com­ pletely with thf:' actors, shating their feelin�s. In the trial scene I firrnh· beliew