Last Letters
Page 22
1. Helmuth and Freya frequently used the family expression pümpeln to denote snoozing.
2. The regional National Guard, to which all men between the ages of sixteen and sixty had to report beginning in October 1944.
3. They were in fact her grandchildren, both parents having been killed by bombs.
4. “Down below” refers to the Schloss, which is downhill from the Berghaus.
HELMUTH JAMES TO FREYA, DECEMBER 5, 1944
Tegel, 5 Dec 44
My dear, Hercher was here on Saturday, and I was able to skim the seventeen-page indictment. If at all possible, I have to get it back as quickly as possible, ideally a copy I can keep, because there’s so much utter nonsense in it—saying that I wanted to supplant Goerdeler with Beck and take Goerdeler’s place—that I simply cannot remember it all. My love, the indictment is astonishing: the charge is utterly false. There is no talk of serious knowledge of Goerdeler in my case—apart from a single conversation—and almost none in the case of the others. There is no mention of preparatory actions for July 20th; in my case they’ve actually given up even the possibility of high treason, and only defeatism remains. The following must be noted in that regard: a. Defeatism, if it is presumed to be a proven fact, is also sufficient. b. The truth of the matter is not so very important to Freisler. c. If it starts out with “unrestrained defeatist” and “fierce opponent of National Socialism,” then that is sufficient. d. In the end, they can introduce new facts during the trial, at least in support of the two addenda. So: there are no grounds whatsoever for hope on a human level. But, my love, we need to identify this process as a sign that God hears us; it would be a vain lack of faith not to do so.
Just now your letter arrived, but I want to read it later because I’m full of things I want to ask of you, things I want to get off my mind.
Right now I basically need only butter (+ salt), anything else is an extra; I still have enough sausage in particular.
Clothing: I need to ask for two shirts, handkerchiefs, warm long underwear, maybe one pair of pajamas.
Dix: please Examine the letter to Himmler.
My draft for a statement: Is something like this better at the beginning or the end? Attack on the indictment or composed counterstatement? Is what I said about the war situation enough for me to come out from under the charge of defeatism?
Information from Haubach and Steltzer is important, but the women should not be running over there.
It’s important to find out, if at all possible, how much more time we have. But Brigitte [Gerstenmaier] can do that.
Hercher: If at all possible, I would like to have a copy of the indictment next time. Think about how to tell him that.
If time is running short, he should send the copy of my written defense for the record if it is not there.
New consultation soon.
Haubach: Perhaps his confession refers only to Knowledge of government formation Goerdeler in June ’44.
Knowledge of illegal trade union organization and not to Kreisau.
Air-raid warning. I hope nothing happens to you. Poelchau is in the building. I always pack everything away at times like this, but since it takes so long, I’ll now write on my knees and pack it away only when it comes close again.
It would be good if Lukaschek could clarify what he said about me.
I’d like to have my baptismal and confirmation verses.1 The pastor’s wife can track them down.
My dear, I just read your letter during the breaks in the alarm. A very lovely little letter. Thank you, my love. Since Poelchau will be here momentarily, I’ll add just a word: Advent was very nice for me; the candle burned nicely, my thoughts were with you, and I whistled Christmas songs; here and there I also sang a little verse.—Unfortunately I’m quite stiff, I’m having particular trouble standing and can barely walk; I always slump forward. Today my whole chest is painful as well. At the same time, when I’m resting the pain is much better than before. If I should still be here on Friday, I want to see whether the doctor will put me in the sick bay so I can stay in bed for two days and sweat. So although it doesn’t bother me at all, it would be quite detrimental for the trial.
My love, I’ll stop now, because a nasty guard has just taken over at the station. Farewell, my dear, be well. Keep praying for your husband and keep loving him. J.
1. See Freya’s letter of December 15–16, 1944.
FREYA TO HELMUTH JAMES, DECEMBER 5–6, 1944
Tuesday afternoon
My dearest, how awful it must have been for you again this morning. There were so many planes. My poor husband! Were you shackled? Was it very agonizing for you, or did you feel too sheltered in His lap, my love? I was with Dorothee [Poelchau] and thinking of you and hoping that you didn’t find it too agonizing. For us it wasn’t much of anything. We just heard the many, many planes, and we actually thought that the prison1 had been spared. The steeples looked unscathed and peaceful when we viewed the situation from the roof. However, Borsig got badly damaged once again,2 although to a far lesser extent than “Argus.”3 My love, how horrified I was when Dorothee told me that the prison had been hit hard again.—Wednesday. I’m sitting and waiting for Gissel to take the things off my hands. Brigitte [Gerstenmaier] is sitting next to me: she has permission for a face-to-face meeting, for the second time, like me. It’s crowded here today, so the atmosphere is not as good as it might otherwise be. My love, I’m sitting quite close to you, and you don’t know it yet. Poelchau is also coming afterward and when he does come, he’ll get this little letter. I’m not very far along yet with my various tasks. I’ll be speaking to Dix at 2:30. Haubach’s case has advanced pretty far, but I have to meet with Fräulein Schellhase about it again. The alarm has made everything grind to a virtual halt.—Now Gissel has come back down, and I have the good news that you’re doing better, my love! How glad I am, but I’ll still get the medication from Poelchau’s friend, the physician, as well as pain pills and stimulants. Then you can see whether or not you need all that. Brigitte just went to see the warden, and I shook hands with Eugen [Gerstenmaier] in the hallway. I’m waiting for her, and maybe I can leave the letter for Poelchau here then. So I’m still near you, my dear love, and once again, you don’t know it!—My Jäm, did you read the first chapter of Luke yesterday as well? It makes me happy every day that we do this together! When do you always read it?—My love, I’m afraid I have to go, otherwise I won’t get very far. I hope I’ll be able to write in peace again. It’s not yet certain whether I can sleep at the friends’ home, because Brigitte may be coming in the evening. Farewell, my dearest, I’m sending you a tender embrace and feel close to you in every way. I am and will remain P.; I’m yours completely.
Tegel prison: Cell Block C in 1969
1. Tegel prison.
2. Borsigwerke in Tegel, which was involved in armaments production, was largely destroyed during the war.
3. Apparent reference to Argus Motorenwerke, also an arms factory with forced laborers, as a satellite concentration camp in Reinickendorf.
HELMUTH JAMES TO FREYA, DECEMBER 6, 1944 [UNDERNEATH FREYA’S LETTER OF DECEMBER 5–6, 1944]
Today I’m on Luke 4–6. I usually read after eating my meal. I had a very nice talk with Poelchau about the problem of “unbelief,” which was of great help to me. I hope you’re able to convince Hercher that I have to speak to him again soon. Please go over the question once again of whether and, as the case may be, how the trial can be postponed past Christmas. With Poelchau, of course, not with Hercher. Maybe Frau Reisert can help with that. I’m feeling better, but I have to be very
[The note breaks off here.]
HELMUTH JAMES TO FREYA, DECEMBER 5, 1944
Tegel, 5 Dec 44
My dear, the warden was just here and ordered me to be unshackled on account of my rheumatism, as per my request. He wants to talk it over again tomorrow with the chief Reich prosecutor,1 and I hope he doesn’t object. In any case I now have the gift of the evenings, because I can
now go to bed when I want to and so I want to use this additional time to write you, my love, in peace and quiet.
At my best moments I now feel like a little heap of iron filings lying on a smooth surface and being moved about by a magnet. Then everything is easy: whether I see myself, in my mind’s eye, heading to the gallows, handcuffed behind my back, or I picture myself making my way from the train station to the Berghaus, the two options seem equally merciful to me, even though my flesh wants only the second option. But if I wish to pray, everything gets complicated: if I ask only for my life, it feels like presumption and a lack of surrender to God’s will on my part, and if I also ask for mercy for the path to the gallows and for my entry into His kingdom, that strikes me, according to the signs He has given me, as a lack of faith and impermissible and wrong. “Too complicated a person,” Herr Müller would say. Is that truly too complicated? Am I lacking in simplicity and humility? That question has tormented me in the extreme this afternoon: not an unpleasant sort of torment but just in the way that something of this sort has to torment one.—If I think, “He wants to keep me alive” and “so you have to pray,” I tell myself, that’s your flesh talking; if I think, “I commend myself into His hands just as readily at the gallows,” I say, that’s unbelief. My love, you surely do that a lot better than I, so do pray for me; help your weak husband. The line “For whether we live, we live unto the Lord; and whether we die, we die unto the Lord,”2 which is spiritually and intellectually satisfying as well as simple, is in reality very difficult, if you don’t have the humility, acquiescence, and simplicity that are so sorely needed. “Sell all that thou hast, and distribute unto the poor . . . and come, follow me”3 applies just as much to all spiritual gifts as to material things. Parting with those is sure to be even more difficult than relinquishing material objects, and it is possible only through God’s grace.
I’ve already written you that my first day of Advent was nice. Never have I been as prepared for it as I was this time. But during the day, I sometimes quite happily look at the branch. It’s certainly lovely, it’s from Kreisau, and it adorns my cell magnificently, and yet it’s so wonderfully spare. It so beautifully, so harmoniously expresses the all-embracing simplicity, beside which any magnificence and glory of the world amount to nothing. And in precisely this way it expresses the tremendous abundance that is bestowed upon us. Also, when I look at the branch, I see you amidst all the children. I’m so delighted, of course, that Casparchen thinks of me in such a moving way. I find everything you tell me about the little sons so beautiful. Let’s just hope that Casparchen stays healthy over Christmas.—My love, it’ll be very close to Christmas if I’m killed now, and I tremble at the thought that in this case you won’t yet have processed my death at all. If the proceedings aren’t over by then, or if I’m sentenced to death and not yet executed, it will actually be even worse. Brace yourself, my love: “Sorrows crushing soul and body / Do the heathens know alone— / Resting in Christ’s blessed light, / Fears she not the earthly night.”4 I hope you will be capable of this, for the many children do have the right to a merry Christmas even if their fathers have just been killed.
Actually, the prospect of the trial does scare me. I can’t deny that at all. Whenever I get word that it could come any day now, I get a bit startled. I see the end of our dear, intimate, tangible union, and I see Prinz-Albrecht-Str. with the horrors it may entail, and I see the trial on which my life depends. And every time it takes new effort on my part to realize that these are all accidentalia, and everything essential is written in the Holy Bible. We are simply weak human beings, appallingly weak.—Most of the time an evil thing turns out to be far less terrible once it arrives than the image we had of it. If I go there with a serene soul and with faith in God, it will work out.
My love, I don’t want to take with me the card you gave me. I’m leaving it in the hymnal. I’ll soon also give all your letters and the photos of the children to Poelchau. People shouldn’t be in a position to find out anything about me, and the very idea that your card could wind up in the files of the chief Reich prosecutor is ghastly for me. When Poelchau recently asked the executioner how he was doing, he said: We had ten figures again. If I’m to be hanged, I want to be a figure too, and nothing else. I am carrying all of you, my love and the little sons, in my heart, and I don’t need you to be anywhere else.
But you, my love, I commend into God’s hands. J.
1. Ernst Lautz.
2. Romans 14:8.
3. Luke 18:22.
4. Verse 4 of hymn “Wearily My Spirit Sinketh.”
FREYA TO HELMUTH JAMES, DECEMBER 6, 19441
Berlin, 6 Dec 44
My dear, today is St. Nicholas Day. He’s bringing something for you too, my dear! First and foremost, though, you’ll find two pieces of candy from Casparchen wrapped in a little piece of paper, which he made a point of sending you.
How is your back? Please give me all the details! I’m in touch with a doctor.
With the gingerbreads there’s dried fruit, all of it from home, of course.
They’re saying the trial is scheduled for the 20th/21st. Hercher, however, seemed to know nothing about it.
My dear, I’m not bringing anything else special, apart from my love, but that love is grand and blazing and tender.
1. Letter with the exchange of laundry.
HELMUTH JAMES TO FREYA, DECEMBER 6, 1944 [UNDERNEATH THE LETTER WITH THE LAUNDRY EXCHANGE FROM FREYA, DATED DECEMBER 6, 1944]
My dear, today substantially better and no real discomfort anymore; I hope it’ll now get better. Most important, hardly any pain except when I make awkward movements and uncomfortable only when walking upright.
I’ll give back the pajamas and handkerchief again in case I am moved. I won’t need either until next Wednesday.
Otherwise everything is the same as always. J.
HELMUTH JAMES TO FREYA, DECEMBER 6–7, 1944
Tegel, 6 Dec 44
My love, two things have occurred to me: Kleist, a fellow prisoner, was released today. You may have heard from him that Herr Claus, my head guard, is very nice to me. Talk to Poelchau about whether you can, or should, get him a few peas.1
The other matter is more important. If I were you, I wouldn’t go to see Frau Kleinert. It seems to me that the right way is for Poelchau to suggest to Fraulein Hapig, by way of Frau Kleinert’s brother and possibly by way of a Catholic clergyman in Schweidnitz, if Hapig should have a good connection there, to circulate a legend about me2 along the following lines: He has absolutely nothing to do with the events of July 20th, but did do something to bring about an accommodation between the denominations and was particularly close friends with many Catholic clergymen. That has been a thorn in the side of the Gestapo, which is why they want to use the opportunity presented by the actions of July 20th and take liberties with the facts to get Moltke out of the way. By the way, that’s actually not so very far from the truth. But give some more thought to what’s best to say. Under no circumstances can you be seen to be part of this action, not even by Hapig; she needs instead to draw on her wellspring of knowledge. This kind of support from the Catholics in the area would also assure you the support of Krebs and similar people and have a beneficial effect, particularly in a preventive sense regarding my conviction in the framework of the July 20th plot; and I truly have nothing to do with that. If one were to put the bustling Hapig on it and make it clear to her that this can be very important for your standing in the area and can offset the disadvantage of my execution in this respect, it should work out.
7 Dec 44
Good morning, my love. I hope nothing has happened to Afrikanische Str. tonight. Well, I’ll hear about it in the course of the day. It wasn’t as bad here as on Tuesday: I saw only one bomb, that is, the trail of fire it left behind, heard two in the air, and a total of about three or four explosions were close enough to make the building rattle. By our standards, that’s not bad, and we’re always afraid anyhow as soon as we notice t
hat they’ve chosen this area. As long as the intense noise continues, I can’t get past that feeling. I generally recite something aloud to calm myself. But it’s very quickly forgotten.