2. Helmuth uses the English word here.
3. Helmuth was arrested on January 19, 1944; see Editors’ Introduction.
FREYA TO HELMUTH JAMES, DECEMBER 26–29, 1944
Kreisau, Tuesday evening, Christmas
My dear love, Christmas is now coming to an end. I wonder how it was where you are! I have such a clear idea of how I wish it were for you. I’m wondering whether you really stayed in bed until this morning, whether you had tranquil, peaceful, grateful, Christmassy feelings, whether your thoughts were close to us and our peaceful hubbub! Quite apart from thinking about our personal fate, I have often been dismayed, these days, as I ponder the difference between the terrible war in the west and the spirit of the Christmas holiday at our home. Here it’s utterly peaceful—so far! For the children, these were two ideal Christmas days. Little Konrad thought so too last night when he was tired and happy and came out with: “It was a beautiful day this morning!” Both days full of sun and cold and the evenings full of playing children. Even Romai [Reichwein] couldn’t stay away. I think she and her children are quite content in the Schloss, even though it is really not easy for them on a practical level up there.1 But when I go up there and see the pictures hanging on all the walls, with an evergreen branch tucked behind them, pictures of this lively, spirited, nimble man, always ready to spring into action, feelings of fury, heartache, and pain keep rising up within me, yes, even fury—a rare emotion for me, and certainly a false one. Oh, my Jäm, what lies ahead for you, and for us! There’s only one thing to be said about this and we know what that is!
Friday—My dear, I’m here again! How have you been, my love? I felt far too carefree during all these days. I don’t like that. I didn’t think of your death at all; I was incapable of taking it in, I had a certainty within me, although it barely reached a conscious level, that you would live; it wasn’t conscious hoping—not at all—but this strange certainty. Don’t think I have faith in that certainty; quite the contrary, I’m afraid of it, but throughout the Christmas days it was present. And then the all-important vigilance is missing; inner wakefulness is so important to me, and I’m not able to achieve it in Kreisau as well as I would deem right and agreeable.—I wasn’t able to slaughter the pig because the butcher is busy with his own matters between Christmas and New Year’s. He is now booked until Jan. 19th. I set things up with him for that date. If necessary I can also have it killed at short notice and it can die without me. There was no other way of arranging this. It already weighs four hundredweights, and all the others have already done their slaughtering, but in terms of my stocks I’m in no rush.
Marion [Yorck] is doing well. It’s truly lovely and very gratifying to see, because it’s not just outward composure but something of substance; in Romai’s case, it’s merely composure. And Marion isn’t quite herself either; she is in far better hands. She is more like a vessel, and that is very nice. She is not at all destroyed, and consequently the continuity is secured. Nowhere is there a rupture. That is a miracle!
So, my love, soon I can set off. Now I’m knitting another thumb on my gloves, since I don’t have any more woolen gloves. They’re all torn.
I’m sending you a tender embrace. May God keep on protecting you! That is my greatest wish! P.
1. After Rosemarie Reichwein’s apartment in Berlin was destroyed in August 1943, she and her four children lived in the Schloss and, beginning in the spring of 1945, lived with the Moltkes in the Berghaus until both families left Kreisau after the end of the war.
HELMUTH JAMES TO FREYA, DECEMBER 29–30, 1944
Tegel, 29 Dec 44
My dear, even though now isn’t my writing time, I’m so pleased about your detailed news and your visit and the treasures you’ve sent me again, and the clear winter day is making the cell bright, so I don’t need light, and the window is open because it’s so mild outside that I can afford to open it, and I have to try out the new pens, and the manger, the star, and angel are looking at me so encouragingly—you’ll admit that these are compelling reasons to write to you although I’ve just now, right after our meal, finished putting away your treasures. My dear love, whatever may await me “over there,” I’m still so grateful to have been here to experience these days and hence your entire Christmas. That is a great treasure, one I’ll be storing in my treasure trove. Here I have such a nice amount of time to be quite deliberately pleased, whereas when I was on the outside, I could also be pleased but at the same time I always had something else to do.—So, I’ll continue this evening.
30 Dec 44
The evening calm has set in, and since I’m hoping for a means of transportation tomorrow, I’ll want to write in peace now.
I’m glad the pig is so fat, or so heavy, at any rate. The 19th is of course a risky day, but as of the 8th every day is, and it’s better to have a day at the end of the week, like the 19th, because you can safely leave on Thursday if I’m not taken away, for then there’s nothing until Monday, whereas surprises are always possible at the beginning of the week. Well, we’ll just have to wait it out for now. The race between the pig and me is thus not yet, as I assumed, decided in favor (?) of the pig, which presumably shares completely my opinion about death: that 4 hundredweights is not a sufficient reason.
I’m enclosing the warrant.1 I made a copy for myself, but thought that the original might possibly be useful for you even though it doesn’t have an official stamp. You just have to store it safely, because it is generally considered “Secret Reich Business,” the most highly classified material for the civil authorities.
First I’ll tell you that I wanted to speak to the doctor yesterday and relayed the message to him that the main thing I hoped for was for him to issue me a medical certificate so I could sit during the hearing, because standing would be absolutely out of the question.—My condition is such that I feel nothing when I’m sitting and very little when I’m lying, and my pain is basically quite minimal, but walking and standing just won’t work. After three rounds, which amount to about 100 yards, I have to sit down.—We might consider whether we can use that to get a postponement or rescheduling of the trial.
My love, I get the feeling that in the last two letters I’ve painted too rosy a picture of the way things stand. I definitely want to correct that. If someone were to ask me today how I see the trial unfolding, I would say without reservation: death sentence. We need to stick to that, right? But I do admit that on a purely human level, I figure the chances are higher than 1 percent today, not much higher but higher nonetheless. Of course I’m going on the assumption that Steltzer’s statements can be interpreted to mean that I cannot be held liable and that there are no other snags I’m unaware of caused by, let us say, Husen, or because König is captured, or something of that sort. I’m now working primarily on the Goerdeler complex, because Hercher considers it the worst part, but if I get the feeling that at least Hercher sees the light, then I have to turn back to the Kreisau issues, because that’s where I personally see the danger of defeatism as the most challenging. That is why time is important and every day we gain is precious, so we have to at least try to capitalize on my sciatica. If we come down on the list of relatively urgent matters, we’re sure to gain another one month to six weeks.—Because you surely couldn’t get anything done yesterday or today unless you talked to Haus, you have quite a week ahead of you, particularly if it is our turn at the beginning of the week after next.
My dear love, I’ll write again tomorrow, and I’ll be celebrating New Year’s with the old branch and what’s left of the candle tomorrow at 5:30 as well, that is, the close of the year plus the post-Christmas days. And then the new year begins.—I’ll write tomorrow; now I don’t want to append more new thoughts—that is, old ones—to the letter, which has taken a very different turn. Those thoughts can be left for tomorrow.
Good night, my love, sleep well. May the Lord watch over you and us, He to whom we already owe so much gratitude. J.
Your People’s Court letter dated
December 7th arrived.
1. See Appendix: Additional Documents.
FREYA TO HELMUTH JAMES, DECEMBER 30–31, 1944
Saturday evening
My dear love, I’m at the friends’ house. They’re also writing, to my right and my left, at the round table where we once ate together. I’m sitting on the little sofa under the lamp in my usual seat. My love, I don’t know a thing about Jeremiah, Isaiah, Ezekiel, and Jonah! But as time goes on, you’ll fill me in. It has certainly impressed me that you regard these men as so important. Isn’t wisdom so timeless only because human afflictions, despondency, worries, and torments essentially always remain the same and these men found the way to cope with them, a way that is unchanging? But I can’t, and shouldn’t, pass judgment on that and for the time being will listen to it with amazement.
My dear, what you said about December 28 of last year is true. The only part you forgot is that we went to Asta [Wendland]’s home to sleep and slept together in Wend [Wendland]’s big bed and you didn’t leave until the next morning. I brought you to the train, we had to wait quite a long time for the train from Vienna, and walked back and forth. I can still see you ahead of me as the train started up and you were waving—as always, my love—and I saw you off feeling composed and calm. That’s how it was. Soon afterward you wrote to me that your future prospects for coming to Kreisau were quite dim, and that we would have to cling to the past. Oh, my dear, dear love, if only you were permitted to find your way back! I don’t even dare say that.
My love, I haven’t gotten around to doing anything since I’ve been here. Yesterday I spent all my time sitting here. After eating, I slept, but was still sleepy afterward. Frau von Truchsess came for supper with the youngest Bonhoeffer’s1 very nice chubby fiancée, who is related to Dietz von Truchsess and looks after him here on a regular basis. That was a very nice supper. We talked about all kinds of fascinating things, and I really liked her as I had before. Do you like him too? Is he also so unpretentious and straightforward? At the same time, she has a great deal of charm and verve and an intelligence that comes from the heart. I’m quite humbled in her presence, but I’m content to be humbled. The warden seems to be quite taken with the couple, as they spoke for sixty-five minutes! I don’t think we’ve ever had more than forty-five, but I never look at the clock. For the Truchsesses, Maria von Wedemeyer (the fiancée in question) also does this.2 But the time we spend together always seems long to me, not short. Does it seem that way to you too? The Truchsess case is milder, of course, but even apart from that, I hope with all my heart for everyone to have a “long” time.
Sunday, still in bed: my dear love, I went to bed shivering and with a sore throat and woke up feeling well and happy after a long and delightful night. Yes, I woke up again exceptionally happy and grateful: the whole richness of my life—of our lives—was instantly and fully clear to me, your closeness and our great feeling of being sheltered. So I was able to begin the final day of this year in a lovely, gratefully peaceful frame of mind—with you, and firmly in God’s hands. My love, may He give you the power, strength, and peace to endure everything that lies ahead for you with His help. I’m quite confident of all that. The year 1945 will be even more difficult for us than 1944, but our strides have become far more confident because we are less supported merely by ourselves as we take them. While anxiety, fear, suffering, despair, and death rule the world, we fortunate ones know whose hand can help us through it all. So I’m heading into 1945 with you feeling full of hope, not full of concrete hope but with an indefinably contented and grateful feeling of confidence that knows nothing of what may be your imminent death. How odd! As a result, for us the beginning of the new year unquestionably falls under the heading: “Watch and pray”! How wonderful that I can be with the friends, that is, with you. Quite close, quite close! We are both likely to be sleeping as the year 1945 begins. Regardless of whether we live or die in it, we will stay together, yet we are not ours but the Lord’s. He must help us put the realization within us into practice. May God watch over you and us. I embrace you, my dear love, and am and will remain your P.
1. Dietrich Bonhoeffer. He was imprisoned in Tegel for nearly eighteen months, looked after by his fiancée, Maria von Wedemeyer. He was executed in the last days of the war.
2. In Tegel, Maria von Wedemeyer also looked after Baron Dietrich von Truchsess.
Helmuth and Freya in Grundlsee, Austria, 1931 with Eugenie Schwarzwald
Freya and Helmuth on their wedding day, 1931, with Freya’s mother, Ada Deichmann, and Helmuth’s mother, Dorothy von Moltke
Drawing of Helmuth James by M. Schneefuß, 1930
Freya on the steps of the Berghaus in Kreisau
Helmuth in South Africa, 1937
Helmuth on the train
Freya with her son Konrad, speaking to Frau Rose in Kreisau, December 1944
Helmuth and Freya in England with Lionel Curtis
Helmuth and Freya on the steps of the Berghaus with Helmuth’s siblings Jowo and Asta in the background, the American journalist Edgar Mowrer in front, 1933
Harald Poelchau (1949); as prison chaplain at Tegel, Poelchau smuggled each of these letters into and out of Helmuth’s cell, risking his own life in the process
Freya reading a newspaper
Helmuth at the People’s Court
Helmuth at the People’s Court conferring with his attorney
Helmuth at the People’s Court
Helmuth at the People’s Court
Helmuth at the People’s Court
Helmuth at the People’s Court
Freya after her move to the United States in the 1960s
Freya at her house in Vermont, during the 1980s
Freya with her two sons, Caspar (l) and Konrad (r), 1959
Aerial view of the New Kreisau / Krzyzowa
The Berghaus today in the New Kreisau / Krzyzowa
HELMUTH JAMES TO FREYA, DECEMBER 31, 1944–JANUARY 1, 1945
Tegel, 31 Dec 44
My dear, this is the final evening of a year that has been so momentous for us, that will stand out from our lives with great radiance, whether we live or die, because it gave the two of us the gift of something that I hope we will never lose: a solid faith. It has certainly been the most important year of my life, and when I consider that it passed under circumstances that are commonly regarded as an ordeal, I ask in amazement: Where is the ordeal? I had three days in this year that were harder for me than anything has ever been: March 24,1 October 10,2 and November 13.3 But afterward I always saw that it was the price that had to be paid for surmounting a new stage, and besides, these days had nothing to do with the imprisonment or with the uncertainty surrounding what lay ahead. No, my love, I can’t complain about the year, nor can I regard your fate this year as bad, although it was worse than mine, because you had to live in a state of constant uncertainty. Truly we can only look back on 1944 with gratitude.
Whatever comes now is in God’s hands, and we will accept it joyfully and confidently from these hands, even if it should turn out to be my death in a matter of days. In this case, my love, I will leave you feeling that the past few months have so well equipped you to bear up under this, even under this, that no misfortune will befall you. And in order to accustom you to my beloved Isaiah, I want to tell you what the Lord promised through him in 46:4: “And even to your old age I am he; and even to hoar hairs will I carry you: I have made, and I will bear; even I will carry, and will deliver you.” Let us pray, my love, that He gives us the ability to lift ourselves up, to be carried and delivered, and whether it is at the gallows in Plötzensee or in the cellar of Prinz-Albrecht-Str., in the uncertainty that may be your fate, and in a wild band of soldiers and a burning Berghaus.
Since Christmas, the close proximity of my death, which I’d actually been feeling on a constant basis since July 20th, is no longer there. I don’t know quite what to make of that. I’m not entirely happy about that, because I have the feeling that it stems from a weakness of
the flesh that is fed up with “watch and pray.” But there is no doubt that my inner disposition has undergone a transformation. I can’t see any reason for that on an intellectual level, and I certainly expect to be put to death next week; but there is an enormous difference between the “expecting to” and the palpable presence of death.
Now I’ll get back to Isaiah. No, Isaiah did not express anything about the human condition, nor did he find solutions for human afflictions. Isaiah has something altogether different in mind, namely God’s will with the world. Job speaks about human afflictions and surmounting them by means of faith, as does Jeremiah to a degree, but the greatest of the prophets, Isaiah, is not interested in the hardships humans face, because he is reporting about God. The man is too elevated above human woes, at least when he speaks as a prophet. I greatly prefer Daniel and Solomon and the Psalms to Isaiah, because I’m simply a little blade of grass eagerly seeking and obtaining solace and help. I’m no hero. However, I see the greatness of Isaiah beckoning, just as a blade of grass in the valley looks over at the peaks of the Himalayas in the sad realization that a blade of grass can’t grow in those regions.
Well, that would truly be a letter for Herr Freisler. I wonder if he’d understand it. He would be obliged to have me killed if he didn’t understand it, and all the more so if he did.
Last Letters Page 30