Last Letters
Page 11
I’ve been wanting to describe the details of my daily routine to you. The times of day are guesswork, because I don’t have a watch: The first time I wake up is at about 1 o’clock at night and then I read hymns aloud, mostly some particular group, one after the other, until I feel sleepy again. Then I wake up once and for all at about 5:30 and reflect, think about you, the little sons, and I enjoy that until 6:30. Then, when the others are waking up, I read the hymns in the “morning” section. Then I get up and do what I can, pour myself some water, do 100 squats, and things of that nature. At about 7:10 I’m unlocked, which is to say unchained, and wash and clean up and eat breakfast. That takes me to 8 or 8:30, depending on what I have planned. Then I write to you or do something else until 9:15, when I’m shackled again. After that I walk back and forth until 9:30 and recite Psalms to myself. Then we go out and are back in at 10:10. I spend the whole morning, from 10–11:45, reciting Bible passages, to which I’ve now added Psalms 111, 118, and 139, and I recite Romans 8. In the mornings the newspaper is delivered,2 and if I read it, I won’t finish my reciting. At 11:45 our shackles are removed again, and then there’s always some tidying left to catch up on. At 12 the food arrives. At 1 we’re shackled again, and this time has to be used for things that would be better done with two hands, such as writing, reading with looking things up, and activities of that sort. At 1 I finish reciting my Bible passages, maybe start a hymn as well, then sit down atop my table, the bolster behind my back, a blanket under me, and your lovely blanket around me, my feet on the chair, and read. From time to time, once or twice a week, I read through my notes about my statements. On the other days, I systematically read the hymnal, write notes for myself in the Bible and hymnal. By the way, when I’m sitting, I definitely start by reading several chapters from the Old Testament before the Psalms, from the New Testament after the Psalms, from the Gospels and the Epistles. That’s how the afternoon always begins. At 4 our shackles are taken off again; then I keep on reading if I have nothing else to do, at 5:30 there’s supper, and at 6 we have to be ready for bed and the shackles go on. Then I read the hymns for evening worship, and if I’m in good shape, I ponder things, and if I’m not, I read the hymns or Psalms until I’m sleepy, punctuated by thoughts of you, my love, and go to sleep early. That is the day. So far it has never really been long enough.
So, my love, I’ve been shackled since the fifth line of this page, and now we’re getting ready to go out. Farewell, my love, full of gratitude for the great blessing of these weeks, full of confidence that He will guide things in the way that is best for us, full of confidence, full of prayers that He may watch over you and hold His hand over you, and watch over us and hold His hand over us. Jäm.
1. Farewell letters to those close to him. Of the four letters one for Sister Ida Hübner (see Appendix: Additional Documents) and one for Freya’s mother, Ada Deichmann, survive. A third was for Harald Poelchau; the addressee of the fourth cannot be discerned.
2. They were permitted only the Nazi publication Völkischer Beobachter.
FREYA TO HELMUTH JAMES, OCTOBER 26, 1944
Thursday afternoon
My dear love, today is the day that I can reply right away to what I get from you when I’m at the friends’ house. I love that. It won’t be much longer until I head out on my highly cherished path. This afternoon I typed many short things, including the passage from the book of Wisdom, which, once again, I liked so much. I also typed the excerpt from Freisler’s speech,1 and when I take in these confused and diabolical contents, I can’t believe that this could go well for you. What a world, what an outlook, where is all this leading, quite apart from what happens to us!?—Tomorrow morning at 11 I’ll be at Steengracht’s. His wife will be here as well. That is useful, because I can’t make much headway with Dieter [von Mirbach]. I suspect he’s not ready for a commitment. Maybe that’s wrong.
—I have now received all the lovely letters and of those to the others I’ve read only the one to Sister Ida [Hübner] so far. I find it quite lovely and comforting for her. Isn’t it strange that since yesterday I have also once again started to regard your death as the far more likely outcome! This feeling became clearly palpable to me yesterday, to the point that I felt the need to call to you again to embrace this outlook, because it is without question a blessing to be able to die with such awareness and say goodbye with such awareness, and we mustn’t, my dearest, let this opportunity to see and live it fully slip away from us by hoping against hope, and we’re not letting it slip away, but that is exactly what I have to keep thinking and saying. My dear, how wonderful that I had grown onto you,2 how wonderful, how comforting. My dear love, how I enjoy your still being here, that I still stand hand in hand with you, that you’re still there, that I can write to you and your dear eyes roam over my words, your dear eyes. Oh, Jäm, help me if I have to remain alone. I have to stay really and truly alone in order to keep you. But maybe the solitary path ahead of me won’t be so long. Who knows! The only thing that matters is the readiness to accept what God has given us. May He grant us—us both—the strength we need, may He make us small and Himself large within us, and then all this will work out. Good night, my dear love! Sleep well. I embrace you, and I am and will forever remain your P.
1. On October 21, 1944, Freisler gave a speech about the jurisdiction of the People’s Court. Freya copied excerpts for Helmuth.
2. Refers to Helmuth’s dream of the Siamese twins; see his letter of October 26, 1944.
HELMUTH JAMES TO FREYA, OCTOBER 27, 1944 [UNDATED, BUT FOUND UNDERNEATH FREYA’S LETTER OF OCTOBER 26, 1944]
I’m eating mountains of honey; last night in particular I ate up a whole spoonful of honey, when my throat was very scratchy. The honey is so much my Pim’s own product, no butcher, no creamery intervening.
Freisler’s presentation is interesting, but it eliminates any last doubts. It is clear as day in many parts, and is targeted directly at me.
HELMUTH JAMES TO FREYA, OCTOBER 28, 1944
October 27 and 28, 1944 Tegel, 28 Oct 44
My dear love, I want to spend a bit of time on a quick chat with you. It’s the afternoon and we don’t have shackles on because we’re supposed to be scouring, and I’ve already done that. I assume you went home this morning so you could celebrate Casparchen’s birthday. I guess that means you’re now on the train somewhere between Liegnitz and Kreisau, although I have no sense of what time it is, because it’s raining and so dark that the light’s been on the whole day.
I really felt like talking to you because I was sad. There was no reason at all. But living this way, between death and life, is exhausting. Once you’re finally totally ready and prepared to die, you can’t make a permanent state out of it. Unfortunately that doesn’t work; the flesh doesn’t play along. So you bounce back to life, maybe only a little, you build a house of cards and then, when you notice it, you tear it down again, and the flesh doesn’t take well to that. It’s also an instance of practice not making perfect; it always remains unpleasant to the exact same degree. That’s how it is today all over again; then two nasty air raids during the night—always so close that you hear those big chunks hurtling down and the windows shaking during the explosion—then darkness and rain. The Old Adam just isn’t willing.
It’s especially difficult these days because I’m working on my defense and then have to summon up within me confidence that I’ll be able to mount a successful defense, and that results in an unpleasant split in a center layer of my consciousness. On the top, my powers of reason say: “Nonsense”; the center says: “God can help, and my attitude isn’t so wrong,” and at the same time: “Maintain your readiness for death or else you’ll undergo spiritual crises.” And deepest down is this: “For whether we live, we live unto the Lord; and whether we die, we die unto the Lord: whether we live therefore, or die, we are the Lord’s.” And unfortunately, this deepest layer doesn’t always hold sway over the two higher ones. October 28, 1944
So, now I’ve laid it
all out for you, and that has already made things a little bit better. You know, my major sin is black ingratitude. Not only for my life as a whole—no, it’s for the day-to-day things. What marvelous weeks I have behind me; I have been given so very much. And then I act as though it would be a misfortune for it to stop. I’m certainly not entitled to more! Instead of humbly accepting every new fortunate day, I tremble with worry about whether there will be another one. Why should I actually—from my standpoint—go on living even one more day: I have enjoyed more true happiness and, most of all, love than anyone else I know. Why should the happiness of these past weeks go on for even a single day more: Who else has enjoyed this?—As far as I can see, there is only one reason for me to need to go on living: in order to get my share of chastisements.
My love, I’m writing this to you in part so that you can pray for me to learn humility and gratitude and that God’s grace is with me throughout the ups and downs of these days and I never lose sight of the firm foundation.—And that you pay careful attention to this with the little sons: Humility differs from modesty, and gratitude needs to be a permanent condition. By the way, I think Casparchen will have that.
When I look back upon these years, I find the image of the sower a fitting one. The seeds are scattered, and I’m certain that they will sprout someday, because no thought is lost in God. We cannot know whether an earthly connection will be apparent, whether our death will mean something. Maybe it will, among other things. It would be good, as that would accelerate everything. Of all the agricultural figures, the sower is the most fortunate, because he is full of hope, and no hail, no storm, no drought has yet come to curtail his hope; everything is possible. That is part of what makes sowing so wonderful.
My love, I, too, hope that we will bid each other farewell in full awareness of this life, and that we won’t spoil this precious thing for ourselves by clinging to false hope: but we must always remain vigilant that the train doesn’t leave the station, you might say, while we happen to be looking elsewhere. I’m now fully back in a parting frame of mind, thinking about your and your sons’ future lives. Sometimes I focus on the great moment of death; I tremble at the thought that creaturely fear will overpower me then, that, you might say, I will miss out on this moment that is all about keeping the faith. How very weak we are! Only grace can help us keep the faith and see the Redeemer. Poelchau would probably chuckle at that and call it pure romanticizing; he would say that it all happens quite soberly and that one is so little in control of oneself and one’s senses that nothing whatsoever can be of help. Well, I’ll have to wait and see.
I’ll quickly jot down a few hymnal verses I’m working on and learning: 208, 5 + 6 [and] 222, 7–12.1 And now I’ll stop. I hope all of you have a lovely birthday celebration. I thank you, my love, because I’m now quite consoled. J.
1. Verses that focus on death and the afterlife.
FREYA TO HELMUTH JAMES, OCTOBER 28, 1944
Saturday noon
My dear love, my train will now leave from the Schlesischer Bahnhof. But that doesn’t matter at all; I’m not going until 5, and even then only as far as Liegnitz and I’ll see where I can lay my head down so that I can really be home early tomorrow morning. I had to wait at Steengracht’s for too long; he was working, I waited for forty-five minutes, and I had no more time. But the advantage is that I can write to you, tell you once again about the great, warm love I’m trying to surround you with. I am struck by my closeness to you innumerable times every day; the way I belong together with you is an exhilarating feeling I experience over and over: your being anchored next to and above me! It was a rushed week, though not a frantic one, and I wasn’t able to sit and consider and read and contemplate often, yet I lived quite close to you. Of course, the delightfulness and beauty of these weeks is defined largely by the peace I am experiencing. My Jäm, I’m quite certain that you have to die, that your path has to lead to death, just as 1 + 1 = 2, and still I know quite as certainly that you can be saved and more of our life together on earth can be granted to us—not will but can—because it’s not inevitably the case that 1 + 1 = 2. I don’t know whether after the ups and downs of the past few weeks I am now hoping for too much after all, I really don’t know what’s happening inside me, but I’m not despondent, I don’t cry so much anymore, I’m quite calm and feel—and now I’m going back to the beginning again—my great love. You can’t imagine how happy the Siamese twin keeps making me.—My Jäm, think of us and your beaming Casparchen on Monday at 11, and at 4 lots of children will be coming to eat cake!! My love, my dear, I’m sending you a tender embrace. Live in peace and tranquillity, and surround yourself with love. I am and will forever remain your P.
HELMUTH JAMES TO FREYA, OCTOBER 30–31, 1944
30 Oct 44
My dear,
1. So, on Wednesday morning I’m going to ask to be brought in for a dictation session so I can dictate my written defense, which means that I can be brought in on Thursday afternoon at the earliest. Let’s see how that turns out.
2. The question of how to set aside my own confession of guilt is very much on my mind. It’s a complication. But if a defense involving my prior knowledge should come through at all, we’ll get past this lesser obstacle as well. Time, good advice, and a rationale are vitally important.
3. Müller had suggested submitting a petition for clemency to the Führer. Question: a. Couldn’t Carl Viggo [von Moltke] bring up this question with Freisler? Rationale: Family, name, disgrace of all family members, a death sentence that is carried out represents an irreparable stain on the entire family, whereas a death sentence that is not carried out, with later arrangements made on the occasion of a general amnesty, or a verdict that grants freedom or an act of mercy allows for a reparatio. Carl Viggo can do a good job of representing this family interest, while you can’t, because he’s close enough, yet distant enough. In all this, of course, the relinquishing of Kreisau. b. If Freisler doesn’t want to—which I assume—couldn’t this sort of petition for clemency go by way of Bürkner–Keitel with or without Freisler’s approval?
31 Oct 44
My love, I spent the hours before and after 10 and from 4 to 6 immersed in very tender thoughts about all of you, especially about Casparchen. I’ll bet he was overjoyed and hopped about like a flea. Then, at night, when we were awakened by two alarms that were harmless by our standards, I looked for you on the train. I hope your trip went well, and now you may already be with the friends. I just wanted to tell you that my soul is where I prefer to have it: way down deep, but on bedrock. If only I could keep it there; the ups and downs are always draining. For the trial, though, I’ll also need a strong boost, but preferably in a different layer of myself, because the line of defense we’ve now chosen is difficult to hold to in many spots, and will require every bit of strength, perseverance, and constant ideas and improvisations. I’ll need to pray for that, and I’m also placing my hopes in Ulla [Oldenbourg]. Let her know if you find out when the trial is.
My dear love, the relative security of the fourteen days is over, and now we’re back in a period that makes us feel, more strongly than ever, that every word could be the last one. So be it. No matter how repetitive it may get, we don’t want to be deprived of the precious opportunity to keep saying to each other “till I see you again, till I find you again, till I’m never separated from you again.” That is a treasure that encompasses more for us than happiness on earth; it has become a means of revelation, and should remain so. My dear love, may the Lord watch over us both; may He preserve both of us in His mercy “both in this world and in the other,”1 and, if this should be the last word: May He hold His hand protectively over you and the little sons and send you His Comforter. J.
1. From the Lutheran hymn “Abide Among Us with Thy Grace.”
FREYA TO HELMUTH JAMES, OCTOBER 30, 1944
Monday evening
My dear, any moment now I’ll be leaving with Hans [Deichmann] to come to you. Once again, as on each of t
he past Mondays, I am full of longing and eagerness to see how I will find you, my love, my dear. Tomorrow I also have to go to see Schulze, of course, and I’m dreading what I’ll find out there. I’m dreading the end of these weeks, my love. They’ve offered so many treasures and have spoiled me in many ways, my dear. God willing, they have also strengthened us. The odd thing is that here in Kreisau the notion that you have to die just can’t take hold. Here I live together with you too much in all kinds of practical matters, here I simply cannot believe that you should no longer be living here with me as part of this world. In any case, that’s how it was once more for these two days. I haven’t done much, my love, because I had a cold and was taking care of myself.—But today was the birthday, and we enjoyed it to the fullest. It was a great party! Casparchen was already quite excited yesterday, quite fidgety and beside himself, and today things started up in the boys’ bedroom at 5:45 in the morning. The highlight was the afternoon, with all the children, but in the morning there were little garlands and flowers and buns, and, at 11 on the dot, the birthday cake and table with the presents. It was very full. From us a book and slippers and socks; from Asta [Wendland] the highlight: an old alarm clock that still works; from Carl [Deichmann] a charming case with a fountain pen, pencils and crayons, eraser, and everything the heart can desire. Then there were all sorts of games and pictures, etc., so that it looked quite bountiful, and your letter was in the middle, surrounded by little flowers. He was very pleased. We ate early, at 11:45, with Hans-Viggo [von Hülsen];1 there was thick soup and apple strudel and we clinked glasses with strawberry juice. Then the young gentlemen headed off to school and I went to the farmyard.—Just after 3 I was home again, and then it was high time to prepare for the party, because when Casparchen came home just after 2, he brought Hans-Viggo, Clem, and Rita along with him, and by about 3 there was infernal noise and the height of bliss in the living room. Until snack time they played one round of Air Raid Alarm after another. When snack time arrived, the hullabaloo came to a halt and yielded to a purposeful silence, for they were utterly absorbed in the business of working on countless pieces of cake. There were eleven of us, and Ulla [Oldenbourg], Asta, Hans, and every so often I, too, sat at the lower end of the extended table. Casparchen held court in my usual seat, crowned with flowers around his plate, flanked by tall burning candles, and asked for Hans-Viggo and Dietel to sit next to him. They all ate up a storm! Tarts, poppy-seed cake, apple pie, weak tea, milk, and sugar. Casparchen was beaming. There were all kinds of flowers in the garden, and his little garland was made up of the last zinnias and snapdragons, and mainly marigolds. In the center of the table was a vase with the last lovely bright red geraniums. When they had eaten their fill, the mob jumped back into action, and we had fun with musical chairs, Hit the Pot, Old Maid, Blind Man’s Bluff, and more things of that nature. There was infernal noise and utter fulfillment, until I threw them out at a quarter to seven. Casparchen enjoyed it immensely. Little Konrad, the only younger boy, ran around somewhat apart from the others, but contentedly. He was essentially playing by himself, but he talked about Casparchen’s birthday quite a lot. Casparchen just about made it into bed, exhausted and unprotesting, while Konrad still felt like talking. I listened at the door to him say that now—This is where the train came, and I won’t get to that until tomorrow, my dear love, because I’m already at the friends’ house. With love, your P.