Les écrits d'Etty Hillesum. Journaux et lettres 1941-1943 (The writings of Etty Hillesum. Diaries and letters 1941-1943. Complete edition). Paris: Seuil, 2008, 1081 p.
[Tuesday,] June 2 [1942]. 6 o'clock in the evening.
In the years to come, it will be our pride and our victory, that every mortal blow that was intended to be dealt to us has turned into its opposite and has only increased our strength and promoted our evolution. –
And no matter how many moments of sadness and loneliness it may cause you, who knows how beneficial this temporary isolation may be to you, and what fruitful written contact may result from it? And for the rest?
You may be back here as early as next week, but that doesn't change what was just said, what matters in the end is a state of mind.
p. 544
[Friday, July 3, 1942]
I used to think I had to produce a certain number of deep thoughts a day, and now I happen to be an infertile wasteland, but spread out under a low, peaceful sky. And that is better. I defy myself today of this profusion of gushing thoughts, I prefer to be from time to time in fallow land and in waiting. A lot has been going on inside me these past few days, but it has all crystallized around one idea. Our end, our probably dismal end, which is already taking shape in the little things of everyday life, I have looked it in the face and made room for it in my sense of life, without it being diminished. I am neither bitter nor revolted, I have triumphed over my despondency, and I ignore resignation. I continue to progress from day to day without any more hindrance than before, even considering the prospect of our annihilation. I will no longer adorn myself with beautiful formulas that always lead to misunderstanding: I have settled my accounts with life, nothing can happen to me anymore, besides, it is not about me personally, it does not matter who dies, me or someone else, the important thing is that we die. This is what I often say around me, but it doesn't make much sense and it doesn't make clear what I mean - and basically it doesn't matter. When I say: "I have settled my accounts with life", I mean: The possibility of death is integrated into my life; to look death in the face and to accept this death, this annihilation, any form of annihilation, as an integral part of life, is to enlarge this life. On the other hand, sacrificing a piece of this life to death, out of fear of death and refusal to accept it, is the best way for most people, because they are afraid of it and do not accept it, to keep only a poor little piece of mutilated life, barely deserving the name of life. This may seem almost paradoxical: by excluding death from one's life, one deprives oneself of a complete life, and by welcoming it, one broadens and enriches one's life.
This is my first confrontation with death. I have never really known how to deal with death. I am a total virgin when it comes to death. I have never seen a dead person. It's incredible: in this world of millions of dead bodies, at 28 years old I have never seen a dead person! I have often asked myself: what is my position in front of death? But I never thought about it seriously, there was no time to think about it. And now death is here in real size, imposing itself for the first time and yet an old acquaintance, inseparable from life and that one must accept. It is so simple. No need for deep considerations. Death is there all of a sudden, big and simple and natural, entering my life almost without a sound. It now has its place and I know it is inseparable from life. It's 10 o'clock in the evening and I didn't do much today, I was obsessed by these feet covered with blisters in the hot city and by all the little vexations; I had to suffer in unison, I had to assume all that. I had a crisis of discouragement and uncertainty. So I went to his house. He had a headache and was worried about it, because everything always works perfectly in this big powerful body. I lay in his arms for a while, he was so gentle, so tender, almost melancholy.
I believe that a new era is beginning in our lives. Even more serious, even more intense, and we will do well to focus on the essential. Every day strips you of a bit of mediocrity. "We are preparing our extermination, it's clear, let's not delude ourselves." Tomorrow night I will fall asleep in Dicky's bed; S. sleeps downstairs and will wake me up in the morning. All this is still possible. And the help we can give each other to get through this time - all of that is bound to grow again. As for getting married or not getting married, what to do, we will see. Everything is growing, again and again, even if it all seems meaningless. And now I'm going to sleep. –
p. 646-647
[Sunday, July 5, 1942] 10 o'clock in the evening.
We must not prepare ourselves for either the Miracle or the Annihilation. Both are present as extreme eventualities, but neither one nor the other should require us totally. What matters are the thousand daily emergencies. Last night we were talking about the work camps. I said, "I have no illusions, I know that I will die after three days, because my body is worthless." Werner thought the same thing about himself. But Liesl said, "I don't know, but I have a feeling I'll still make it." I understand this feeling very well, I had it myself before. A feeling of strength, of an indestructible spring. I have not lost it, in principle it is still there. But you shouldn't take it in a too materialistic sense either. It is not a question of knowing if this body deprived of training will hold the shock, it is relatively unimportant; even if one must know a terrible death, the essential force consists in feeling deep down, until the end, that the life has a direction, that it is beautiful, that one realized all its virtualities during an existence which was good, such as it was. No, I can't express it like that, I always fall back on the same words.
p. 660
Monday morning [July 6, 1942], 11 am.
Just a few days ago I was thinking, "The worst thing for me will be to be deprived of paper and pencil to take stock from time to time - for me this is an absolute necessity, otherwise in the long run something will burst inside me and destroy me from within." Today I have a certainty: when you start to give up your demands and desires, you can also give up everything. I learned this in the space of a few days.
I may be able to stay here another month before this breach of regulations is discovered. I will put my papers in order; every day I say goodbye. The real farewell will then be only a small external confirmation of what will have been accomplished in me from day to day.
I am in a peculiar mood. Is it really me who writes here with such peace and maturity, and will I be understood if I say that I feel surprisingly happy, not with an exalted or forced happiness, but simply happy, because I feel sweetness and confidence growing in me day by day? Because the disturbing, threatening, overwhelming facts that assail me do not produce in me any effect of stupor? Because I persist in envisioning and living my life in all the clarity and sharpness of its contours. Because nothing is disturbed in my way of thinking and feeling. Because I am able to endure and assume everything and the awareness of all the good that has existed in life, in my life, far from being repressed by everything else, permeates me every day a little more. I hardly dare to continue writing; it's strange, it seems that I am almost too far removed from everything that, for most people, produces a real dullness. The day I know, the day I know with certainty that I shall die the following week, I shall be able to spend my last days at my desk studying in peace, without it being an escape, for I know now that life and death are united to each other in a deeply meaningful bond; no, it will be a mere slip, even if the end, in its outward form, should be gloomy or excruciating. - We have much to endure. We are going to be impoverished and, if this development continues, to become a miserable mass, and already our strength is declining daily, not only through the wear and tear of anxiety and uncertainty, but through such little annoyances as being forbidden to enter stores and being obliged to make long journeys on foot - which is already exhausting for many people I know. On all sides, the signs of our annihilation are looming, and soon the circle will be closed on us, making it impossible for those who would like to help to do so. There are still many ways out, but they will be closed one by one.
p. 662-663
July 7 [1942], 8 o'clock in the evening.
And now I leave behind rumors and realities to read and study, all evening. I wonder how I am made: none of the worries and anxieties of the day stick to me, here at my desk I feel "virgin" like a newborn baby and totally receptive to study, as if nothing was happening in the world. Everything has fallen away from me perfectly without leaving a trace and I feel more "receptive" than ever. Next week, it is likely that all Dutch people will pass the medical examination. I am ready to accept everything, any place on earth where it pleases God to send me, and to testify through all situations and until death to the beauty and meaning of this life: if it has become what it is, it is not God's doing, but ours. We have been given all the possibilities of accessing all the paradises, but we have not yet learned to exploit these possibilities. It seems that every moment more and more burdens fall from my shoulders, that all the borders separating men and peoples today are disappearing before me, it seems at times that life has become transparent to me, and the human heart as well; I see, I see and I understand more and more things, I feel a growing inner peace and I have a trust in God that was so great at the beginning that I was almost afraid of it, but that is becoming more and more a part of myself. And now back to work.
p. 669
September 16, 3 o'clock in the afternoon, Wednesday.
There is thus only a carnal envelope on this so known bed. Oh, that cretonne blanket! To tell the truth, I don't feel the need to go there again. Everything happens somewhere inside me, there are vast highlands without time or borders, and everything happens there. And here I am again, walking these few streets. As I have often taken them, and often with him, immersed in an always fruitful and fascinating dialogue. And as I will often take them again, wherever I am in the world, while criss-crossing the high interior plateaus where my real life takes place. Is it expected of me to put on a sad face or a face of circumstance? But I am not sad! I would like to join hands and say, "My children, I am full of happiness and gratitude, I find life so beautiful and so rich in meaning." But yes, beautiful and rich in meaning, right now as I stand at the bedside of my dead friend - who died far too young - and prepare to be deported any day now to parts unknown. God, I am so grateful for everything.
I will continue to live with that part of the dead that has eternal life, and I will bring back to life that which, among the living, is already dead: thus there will be only life, a great universal life, my God.
p. 718