The double life of Munich’s ‘good German’ – and would-be Hitler killer – Adam von Trott zu Solz

On June 7, 1939, the British prime minister Neville Chamberlain met with a German diplomat named Adam von Trott zu Solz – a young, intelligent idealist and Oxford Rhodes Scholar. Sent by the German Foreign Office, Trott came to England on a double mission. Officially, to sound out British attitudes towards the Hitler-led Germany – eight months after appeasement at the Munich Agreement, three months before the declaration of war. Unofficially, Trott was attempting to lobby British officials into taking a firmer stance.

The plan had been thought up by Ernst von Weizs?cker, a naval officer turned diplomat, and others in the German Foreign Office. If Britain removed its guarantee to Poland, which promised to take action if the Nazis invaded, the Poles might reassess their situation and relinquish disputed territories back to German rule; in return, Germany might relinquish its grip over Czechoslovakia while retaining the Sudetenland. The aim was also to buy time for dissidents within the German military, who had been ready to depose Hitler back in 1938.

Trott, through his friendship with Lord and Lady Astor, spent a weekend at the Cliveden estate and first presented the idea, dressed up as diplomatic political chitchat, at a dinner attended by Lord Lothian, Sir Thomas Inskip, and Lord Halifax. Another attendee, William Douglas Home, called Trott “as passionate an anti-Nazi as he was patriot”.

It was through Lord Halifax that Trott managed to meet with Chamberlain just days later. As far as Chamberlain was concerned, Germany should make the effort to improve relations. “It was for Herr Hitler to undo the mischief he had done,” said Chamberlain. The prime minister would rather go to war than see another nation destroyed by the Nazis. Trott told friends that Chamberlain was polite but “ice cold”. Chamberlain, he said, “seemed a bit tired” and hadn’t quite grasped Trott’s point.

The meeting is the basis for a key scene in the new Netflix film, Munich: The Edge of War, based on a novel by Robert Harris. In a fictionalised account of the Munich Agreement, which reframes Chamberlain’s appeasement, Trott is the inspiration for one of the main characters, Paul von Hartmann (Jannis Niew?hner) – a German who is at first emboldened by the rise of Hitler and restoration of German pride. He learns the truth about Hitler’s intentions and conspires with an English diplomat to bring the Nazis down.

The real Adam von Trott opposed Nazism from the start, though, as a central figure in the German resistance, he has been accused – like other conservative opponents to the Nazis – of sharing the ambitions for German power and territories. He was also suspected of being a Nazi spy – the result of leading a double life.

Five years after his meeting with Chamberlain, Adam von Trott was dead, hanged for his role in the July 20, 1944 attempt to assassinate Hitler – commonly known as Operation Valkyrie. Trott is one of five Germans named on the war memorial at Balliol College, Oxford.

Adam von Trott was born on August 9, 1909. His father was the Prussian Minister of Culture and Education and his mother came from an aristocratic Silesian family. She was also a descendent of John Jay, the first Chief Justice of the United States.

Trott studied at Munich University and the University of G?ttingen, and in 1929 spent Hilary term at Mansfield College, Oxford. He became friends with AL Rowse, the historian and author. Rowse professed a platonic admiration and attraction. He described Trott in his book, All Souls and Appeasement: “[An] immensely lofty forehead, deep-violet eyes, nobility and sadness in the expression even when young, infinitely sensitive and understanding.”

A rift later developed between them over Trott’s belief in the work of German philosopher, Hegel. Trott, said Rowse, was “deeply German”. The friendship between the pair is the loose inspiration for the central Anglo-German relationship in Munich: The Edge of War – Chamberlain’s secretary, Hugh (George MacKay) and German Foreign Ministry translator, Paul.

Trott returned to Germany to study law, then became one of the first Germans since the Great War to be awarded a Rhodes Scholarship. He returned to Oxford in 1931, this time at Balliol College, where he read Modern Greats: Politics, Philosophy and Economics. He made influential friends, including David Astor, son of Lord and Lady Astor of Cliveden set, and later the editor of The Observer.

“My great aunt, Shiela Grant Duff, knew him very well at Oxford,” says David Boyle, historian and author of Munich 1938. “She wrote to him often. They were even engaged at one stage.” They later fell out. The fear of war “froze all hearts” wrote Duff in a 1982 memoir about their relationship, The Parting of Ways.

Another friend, Charles Collins, recalled Trott’s reaction to learning that Hitler had ascended to German Chancellor in January 1933: “He knew at once that a terrible disaster had befallen his country; it was a future in which a bitter struggle would be needed to achieve even the smallest result; that many of his friends and acquaintances were at once in personal danger.” David Astor recalled that Trott’s demeanour was “gloom” – that he feared Hitler would make Germany hated again, as it had been during WWI.

Unlike other German students at Oxford, Trott spoke out against Nazism and argued with others. Friends didn’t understand how he could be opposed to Hitler and be a firm German nationalist at once. “Instead of going to America, like he thought he might, he ended up going back to Germany,” says David Boyle. “He came to believe that Hitler had to be stopped.” He knew that covert resistance was the only way. He would only join the Nazi party unless forced to do so for the greater good. But he admitted that returning to Germany had caused a “damaging distrust” among his Oxford pals.

Back in Germany, he trained as an Assessor in Law and – according to David Astor – “quietly sought allies in Germany able and willing to attempt political opposition. He reached the conclusion that no political action was yet possible.” He was awarded a Rhodes Trust grant in 1937 – personally signed off by Lord Lothian – and visited the US and China. An enthusiastic Sinophile, Trott hoped that ancient wisdom and spirituality from the Far East could answer the Western world’s problems.

Trott called into German embassies to avoid potential suspicion that he was a British intelligence agent. “This, however, was taken by watchful British Intelligence officers as conclusive evidence that he was working for the Nazis, a view they never changed,” wrote Astor.

While in China he met General Alexander von Falkenhausen, who later supported the plot against Hitler. One account, detailed by historian Hsi-Huey Liang, says that Trott suggested to Falkenhausen that he should shoot Hitler during an inspection tour of Czech underground bunkers in October 1938.

“Falkenhausen, however, refused, calling it an act incompatible with soldierly honour,” wrote Liang. Giles MacDonogh’s book on Trott, A Good German, describes a different version: that one of the young soldiers made the suggestion, to which Falkenhausen said he’d prefer to give Hitler two minutes to decide: be shot or commit suicide.

Trott felt the effects of the deteriorating Anglo-German relations when he returned to England. He found “a severe frostiness which I have not met with before”. He first made contact with the German Foreign Office – the Ausw?rtiges Amt – through Walther Hewel, a diplomat and personal friend of the Führer’s. According to Giles MacDonogh, Hewel had “the reputation of being civilised by Nazi standards”. Trott was offered a position as secretary.

Also there was Ernst von Weizs?cker, a non-Nazi member of the Ausw?rtiges Amt. As described by MacDonogh, Weizs?cker attempted to prevent the impending war by scrambling Hitler’s instructions and advising foreign diplomats on how best to deal with him.

In 1939, Trott made several trips back to England to lobby British officials and his friends – which included his meeting with the Astors and Chamberlain while on his double mission for both the Ausw?rtiges Amt and resistance.

Back in Germany he prepared a report of the proposals and reception – a Nazi-fied account that was intended for the eyes of top Party members. Hitler only saw a shortened version of it. Some Brits saw him as an appeaser. “I think the feeling about him was suspicion at the time,” says David Boyle. “They didn’t understand why they were willing to denounce their own government.”

He revealed his double mission to one college friend, Maurice Bowra, who asked what would become of recently claimed territories, such as the Sudetenland. Trott explained they’d need to keep the support of right-wing Germans. Bowra decided that Trott was “really on the side of the Nazis” and showed him the door.

Trott went to the US on a similar mission. Bowra wrote to an influential friend in Washington, warning him about Trott. Just as in Britain, the trip started well but descended into failure and suspicion. Trott found himself being followed by the FBI. “From his clash with Bowra, if not before, Trott was surrounded by whisperings alleging him to be a ‘spy’ or a ‘Nazi agent,’” wrote German historian Joachim Fest. “He himself seemed to encourage these reproaches.”

In 1940 Trott married Clarita Tiefenbacher, whom he’d first met in China. Shorty after getting married he officially entered the Foreign Service, and joined the Party – the best means of battling the Nazis. He even wore the Nazi badge in the office. He was constantly under suspicion in Germany, too.

Trott became a prominent member of the Kreisau Circle, a group of intellectuals, aristocrats, Christians, and socialists who opposed Nazis. Trott was key in maintaining contact between resistance groups. Using his position in the foreign office as a cover, he travelled regularly to Sweden, Switzerland, and Italy – he tried to make connections between the Allies and resistance, passed messages, and liaised with anti-Nazis on both the left and the right. The efforts took their toll – he became gaunt, broken, and physically depleted. He confessed to one friend that he was “bitterly disappointed, shattered even” by the futility of their efforts.

“The British government didn’t really play ball,” says David Boyle. “They started insisting at that stage on unconditional surrender. Von Trott was let down by the British.”

There were multiple attempts on Hitler’s life, though the best-known effort occured on July 20, 1944, when Claus von Stauffenberg hid a bomb in a briefcase and took into to a conference at the Wolf’s Lair HQ.

In the days before, Trott had attended meetings, some at Stauffenberg’s apartment, to lay out the plan of action. Trott offered advice on how to make peace with the West after Hitler was dead. He wrote a letter to his wife, which she partly destroyed but memorised. He wrote: “The reason I have written to you so little in the last few days is not that I have too little but too much to tell you. During the next weeks and perhaps for longer, you may not hear from me at all.”

The plot failed. The briefcase was moved and a table leg shielded Hitler from the blast. He escaped with tattered trousers. Trott was arrested five days later. In the meantime, he’d refused offers to escape the country so that he wouldn’t endanger his wife and two daughters.

What he didn’t know is that his two daughters had been seized by the Nazis as part of the repercussions – aged just two and nine months, they were sent away and their names changed.

The Gestapo actually knew very little about Trott. The main evidence against him was his friendship with Stauffenberg. There were suggestions to keep him alive, as his knowledge might be useful. Hitler threw a tantrum at the suggestion. Trott was executed on August 26 – hanged from an iron hook on Hitler’s orders. “Terrible to think how he came by his end,” wrote AL Rowse. “That head upon a butcher’s meat-hook in Plotzensee prison.”

The British later estimated that almost 5,000 were executed in response to the July 20 plot. Lord Elton, who was chairman Rhodes trustees, wrote a letter after Trott’s execution, describing how he’d previously heard that Trott had “thrown in his lot with the Nazis” but later learned he’d be playing a double game all along.

“He was a charming man of distinguished family,” wrote Lord Elton, “and his latter history seems to make it certain that he was on the right side, though at one time it seemed a little dubious.”

Munich: The Edge of War in on Netflix now