And with that, my love, we are back again with ancient wisdom. And so I can only pray that I am truly, “whether I live therefore, or die,” the Lord’s. J.
1. The edition of the Bible that was customary in the Third Reich, which did not include the Old Testament.
HELMUTH JAMES TO FREYA, UNDATED, DECEMBER 1944
My love, this isn’t very good, but I wanted you to know how it looks here before I move out. In order to make sure you recognize the objects, I’ll tell you: The circle is the lamp; your star is hanging underneath it, exactly at eye level, below that your manger and your angel to the right of it, then farther to the right the hymnal, to the left of the candle the inkwell, and on the far left, the open Bible.—Despite the amateurish quality of the sketch, I’m happy with it, and I won’t make a second attempt, because I’m sure that your loving eyes will recognize that although it’s “cell-like,” it’s still endearing and not forlorn. And that’s exactly what I was aiming to convey. You have to accept the table’s crooked and uneven legs, etc., etc. The star is exactly at eye level when I’m sitting, and I gaze at it steadfastly when the need arises. It’s quite an important prop.
Helmuth’s sketch of his Christmas table in an undated letter to Freya from late December 1944
FREYA TO HELMUTH JAMES, DECEMBER 24–25, 1944
Kreisau, 24 Dec 44
My dear, the day has come to an end. My thoughts have flown to you a thousand times, and they found you every one of those times. I hope it went the way I wished, that you were calm and content and secure, as was my heart’s desire. Oh, my Jäm, it wasn’t a hard day, for I felt you so close to us, so close that I wasn’t even wistful. It was a happy day, because I was always and forever filled with gratitude that you are still there and your life is so connected with us, filled with gratitude for—you know what for! But it was also happy in view of the two beaming boys. The only truly sad part was that I enjoyed it and you couldn’t get a look at this lovely scene. It was a day for the two of them, through and through, and now that it’s evening, I am happy to be able to reflect peacefully, and probably won’t report every detail I’d like to tell you at this point: that remains for tomorrow. This day should not come to an end for us without my having written you a word of love, my beloved heart. Your loving thoughts have surely kept me from having to spend this evening in a state of agitation. I was able to finish up everything quite nicely, though I spent part of two nights on it as well, but this way I had a very peaceful day today, with many thoughts of you. Now I want to carry them on a bit further, taking your lovely gift and the gift from the friends into bed with me and celebrating a bit more.—Now it’s the 25th, just after 7. I’ve been awake for only half an hour and spent it pleasantly, enjoying your present, thinking of you, of all our friends, reading our three chapters and feeling close to you. I had a good long sleep. For once, both boys are still sleeping off their happy exhaustion. My love, I’ll first tell you about yesterday: In the morning I had to carry around the presents in the farmyard, and I took both sons along. The sun was shining over a very cold morning and it was incredibly slippery. Both boys are not only well but look positively glowing. The November crisis is over, the sharp frost and sun are good for them. Little Konrad, whom Maria [Schanda]—she came the night after my arrival, as I wrote via the People’s Court—and I have been pushing a bit hard, marched along bravely, Casparchen played skittles, ran, hopped, both with their red-rimmed pointed caps and Konrad already wearing your coat with the lining. Casparchen abandoned us near the Schloss by the Peile,1 where it was quite alluring. Then I kept on going, just with Konrad. This year I gave Zimmer and Kaiser each a pair of old boots from Papi, and Störcher as well, and all three were simply overjoyed. I also took in the reaction of the gift-giving at Sister Ida [Hübner]’s and found that they afforded real pleasure, which I hadn’t been expecting at all. More than anything, though, I talked about you, for a long time and in great detail, and communicated your best regards to everyone, and they all gave a cordial response, full of sympathy, concern, and varying degrees of outrage, but always with a great deal of devotion to you, which was so spontaneous that I found it sincere and pass it along to you without embellishment, totally objectively. You know that I’ve always been skeptical about “people’s” devotion. But I have to say that I experienced a natural, unpretentious, neighborly feeling of friendship, which made me very glad for our sake, but especially for yours. I went ahead and said that I’m quite worried about your future, and also mentioned Reichwein, who hadn’t done much either, and who was very popular around here. So I was kept quite busy, my love. After we ate, the children went to sleep. Even Casparchen went willingly, if for no other reason than to kill time, the terrible time! They both slept like a log, and Maria and I had lots to do. You know that all my thoughts were with you after 2, while I was decorating the tree. Oh, my love! I was picturing it so clearly! My dear love. We have a gorgeous tree. If only you could see it! It’s graceful, and now that we’ve raised it up a bit with books, it goes all the way to the top of the mirror, it’s quite, quite well proportioned, quite, quite slender, quite full, quite charming. Not only are tinsel and white candles hanging on it but also a good many of the tiniest red-cheeked apples that you, my love, always eat these days. That looks gorgeous and is so truly from Kreisau. The evening before, I had grown desperate at the thought that your old train set might be nothing but a wreck now, in spite of all the repairs, but we set it up little by little, and of course it turned out that it is wonderful in so many respects, including that every so often the locomotive manages to go backward without cars in tow. The cars can just be pushed along—more about that in a moment. But we had a very lovely and very devout celebration. First we sang “Ihr Kinderlein . . .”2 That was especially nice, for contrary to my expectations, and totally in line with yours, Konrad sang the first stanza quite correctly and enthusiastically along with everyone. Both boys were sitting on the little bench from Cologne wearing white shirts and neckties—even Konrad insisted on that. The candlelit Advent wreath was between them and me. Then they sat next to each other and sang: Casparchen was loud and boyish, Konrad a bit behind him but full of enthusiasm. It was such a beautiful sight, and my heart went out to you, because I would so have wanted to treat you, you, you, my love, to all this. They are truly such dear little boys! Then Ulla [Oldenbourg] read aloud, you know how lovely that was, and Konrad climbed onto my lap. Then we sang “Stille Nacht”3 and Casparchen, uninhibitedly and quite fluently, and with an endearing look on his face—he would have loved to keep his hands in his pockets—recited “Brich an du schönes Morgenlicht.”4 Then we sang “Oh du fröhliche,”5 and I left them while they sang “Kinderlein” and “Vom Himmel hoch”6 again. Then the door opened and happiness set in.
My heart was still and grateful and remained that way, near to yours. We have every reason to feel like that. I read your gift, I read the beautiful verse with the picture of the friends. How lovely of them that they first had it in your cell. Yes, it’s actually your verse, but for that very reason it’s mine, too. This is exactly what makes me so happy: that your verse can be mine as well. But now, in addition, I am collecting the outward riches of Kreisau without you, and I would so like to convey to you the love and comfort of home, the splendor of Christmas, everything that has made our years past so wonderful, and I’m sad that you can’t see it in your cell, otherwise I’m nothing but grateful.—Now, my love, I’m going to get dressed and keep on writing as soon as I can, because there’s still a great deal to tell, and you’ll be pleased, but at least the most important things have been said.—It’ll soon be 12, when Carl Viggo [von Moltke] and his wife want to come, and they’ll leave by 1:30. They plan to pass along this letter then. I cleaned up, had breakfast, played with Casparchen, and visited Ulla. We had a long talk there about you, Mami, and our faith once I was able to read your letter aloud to her, which evidently made her very happy. My love, it is in fact a very beautiful letter. It has everything in it, it�
��s a lovely, clear picture of you in your difficult situation and how well you are sheltered in spite of it all. Ulla had read it two times already, and I only gave it to her yesterday.—I have to tell you about Casparchen: his first cry of joy about the train set! Followed by “You can even slow it down!” (You can hardly do anything else with the locomotive.) Then, today, when he was asked what was the nicest of all: “The train set!” It is unrivaled! “The railcars run better than the locomotive.” Remarks like these help you gauge the objective quality of the gift. But he spends the whole day sitting on the floor and working on his tracks and fiddling around with the little old cars, onto which the wheelwright mounted new roofs.—So, now Carl Viggo is here, and we’ve had a very good meal, and I had everyone drink a toast to you. That doesn’t accomplish anything, but they mustn’t forget for even a second that you’re here, you belong here, decide things here, and remain here: you and what you represent. We were sitting there, your little sons and I, and you were right there with us! I’ll stop now, and will soon write the next letter about Sister Ida and everything else.
Full of tender love, I am and will remain your P.
1. The local river.
2. “O, Come, Little Children.”
3. “Silent Night.”
4. “Break Out, O Beautiful Light of Morning.”
5. “O Joyful.”
6. “From Heaven on High.”
HELMUTH JAMES TO FREYA, DECEMBER 27–28, 1944
Tegel, 27 Dec 44
My dear, during the days I spent in bed1 I may have thought of you and your little sons even more than usual, because I sometimes spent long periods of time lying around in bed, which I ordinarily never do. So I traced your goings-on, thinking about whether your bed or the Christmas room had the greater appeal for the little sons on the morning of the 25th, if you all went outside, if you had nice weather, etc. I was happily occupied the whole time. Now I’m quite eager for news.
I’ve been mulling over the path that God’s grace has been leading us along since Sept. 28. The many proofs of His presence, His benevolence, His love, which He has let us feel; how He has shown us that He can hold us and carry us even in the misfortune of my death, even in the contemplation of this misfortune, how by means of an abundance of individual small “chance” occurrences He made it possible for us to gradually construct a defense from the utterly hopeless and futile facts of the case, a defense that as long as I can maintain and make convincing the contention, which is in fact a correct one, that all the news came from the police and the Abwehr, offers us for the first time a chance even from a human standpoint. All this is a miracle, and we have to accept it gratefully. If only I didn’t have the two wild theologians,2 who are always trying to talk me into believing that they’ve caught a glimpse of God’s cards and therefore know how the game turns out. Other than that, they are very dear to me, but they’re unbearable in this respect.
My love, we have to count on having time only until the 6th, and because the week begins with the 2nd, you have very little time to fit in your many tasks. Maybe we’ll get more time, but for now we don’t know. It strikes me that the most important issue is Dix and the exact line of argument, then Haus; everything else won’t come until relatively far into the distance, although I’d also like to have Freisler’s documents, though just a selection, only what is relatively germane. See what you can do to deal with all that. The best thing would be for Herr Thiele or his boss to delay the trial once more. Might my sciatica be an argument?
Want to know something that’s making me especially happy? That the sun is now shining and I can always sit without an electric light in the afternoon for one or two hours. This continuous bad electric light is hideous, particularly as it’s on at night as well. On Dec 21 I marked the position of the sun at 3 in the afternoon and I’m delighted to see that the sun is already visibly below the mark, meaning that it remains higher in the sky.
28 Dec 44
There’s nothing new, my love, apart from my loving you so very much; that continues to be new for me every day. I’m especially eager for news from home. You know, one year ago today is when I last left home. Or was it on the 27th? We headed into town at 3 to the home of the district administrator for tea, and from there to Breslau, where we had a look at Casparchen,3 and then I left. At the moment I have a level of confidence—which I myself find scary—that one day I will find my way back again, and I’m only waiting for something to put a damper on it. It’s so hard to stay in the proper equilibrium; to achieve that, you’d have to pray the whole day, and then it’s also a question of grace. Do help me, too, my dear, I need it badly. J.
1. Helmuth kept to his bed from the 23rd to the 27th in order to rest his aching leg.
2. Alfred Delp and Eugen Gerstenmaier.
3. Caspar spent Christmas 1943 in a hospital in Breslau.
HELMUTH JAMES TO FREYA, DECEMBER 28, 1944
Tegel, 28 Dec 44
My dear, as a result of the many letters, briefs, and drafts I’ve had to produce, most of them in multiple copies, in short, as a result of the substantial production this December, my pad is running out of paper again, and I have to be sparing with it until I get a new one from you. That’s why you’re receiving this half sheet of paper today.—Your splendid letter about the 24th arrived today. It all made me very happy, especially, of course, your description of the little sons. I’m so glad that you appear not to have discovered any new things to be concerned about in Kreisau, and that—and this is the most important thing—everyone was healthy. Things are now improving and illnesses aren’t as nasty. Nice that Maria [Schanda] was there, otherwise the group of you would have been quite small, and she is a big help. But I have yet to receive the letter via the People’s Court; in fact, I haven’t heard anything through them since November 22. You need to tell them that I asked you at our face-to-face meeting why you don’t write anymore, otherwise this may be a trap, even though I don’t really think that’s the case in a civilian institution. Which reminds me—although this doesn’t belong here—how pleasant it is to be in a penitentiary. The atmosphere still gives off a whiff of justice, and you don’t get the frightening feeling that there could be traps, informers, wiretapping devices everywhere, sudden interrogations at impossible hours of the night, etc. I truly had it good in Ravensbrück, but I prefer it here and would feel that way even without Poelchau.
—I’m also happy that everything was nice and bountiful again. What might Christmas ’45 be like? The store of reserves has to run out at some point, after all. Of course, even relatively measly presents grow more and more precious as the general impoverishment increases, and by next year your whole suitcase of old shoes may be a gold mine. —I’m also glad to learn that you spoke with Ulla [Oldenbourg] in depth, which I find quite important; I’m eager to hear what she thinks.
For me, a strange year is coming to an end. I actually spent it among people who were being prepared for a violent death, and many of them have since suffered that death: Kiep, Frl. v. Thadden, Langbehn, Hassell, Peter [Yorck], Schwerin, Schulenburg, Popitz (?),1 Maass, Leuschner, Wirmer, and surely ten or eleven concentration camp inmates. I’ve lived in a building with all these people, shared in their destiny, listened as they were taken away for interrogations or when they were carted off once and for all, spoke with almost all of them about their cases, and saw how they coped with everything. And here in Tegel about ten, I think, from my group have already been executed. Death has become such a steady companion during the entire year. And though at first I got awfully upset when “Emil” was summoned for a “walk around the camp,” these violent killings have become such an everyday occurrence that I’ve accepted the disappearance of individual men with sorrow, yet like a natural phenomenon. And now, I tell myself, it’s my turn. Can I accept it like a natural phenomenon in my own case as well? That’s the frame of mind in which I came here; actually I only thought the detour via the People’s Court was a nuisance, and if anyone had told me that death senten
ces could also be imposed at the request of the accused by means of an order of summary punishment and be carried out at once, I would have made that request in late September. That’s how caught up I was in the atmosphere that it would not be right to make any fuss2 about dying by execution. And where am I now? The landscape is simply unrecognizable. Now I most definitely do not want to die; there’s no doubt about it. This constant work on the arguments to prevent that outcome has stirred up a powerful will in me to get around this thing.
So this year, which I have spent in close and familiar, I’d even venture to say intimate, proximity with death, is now coming to an end in a spirit of resistance that is far more resolute than it was even on January 19.3
I now sometimes think—as I haven’t for months—about how it would all be if I were to remain alive, and I wonder whether I would forget everything again or whether one actually retains a realistic relationship to death and thus to eternity from this period. I’m coming to the conclusion that the flesh and blood would do everything possible to suppress this knowledge again, thus requiring a constant battle to hold on to the fruits of this period. We are a wretched species, without a doubt, but we generally don’t have the slightest idea how wretched we are. Now I also know why Paul and Isaiah, Jeremiah and David and Solomon, Moses and the evangelists will never be obsolete: they were simply not as wretched; they had a stature that is unattainable for us, even for people like Goethe, and indeed even for Luther. We will never fully understand what these men underwent and came to know. Good night, my love, may the Lord watch over you and us. J.
1. Johannes Popitz was not executed until February 2, 1945, in Plötzensee.
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