To Mary Mellon
My dear Mrs. Mellon, Bollingen, 7 January 1941
Since days I feel the necessity to write to you. Several times you appeared to me quite vividly.
I know I still owe you a letter in response to yours which you wrote in October.
I had a pretty miserable time then. I did not feel well, and the term brought me, besides the lectures, a mountain of practical work.
My summer vacation was full of work too, and not so long as usual.
Moreover that damnable war against England and the destruction of France was more than one could bear.
I had to feel with England all the time as if I had to support her at least morally.
The devastation of London hurt me as if it were my own country.
I had to wait for my winter vacation to write letters.
I have answered Mr. Mellon’s letter right away though, because I felt it was immediately needed. I thank you for the beautiful camellia, which we got in time.
It was really touching that you thought of us at Christmas time.
Your plans for the refuge and the hortus conclusus are really exciting.
I can understand that the architect goes crazy when you tackle his unconscious so ruthlessly. But I am grateful to you that you have created something in America.
I really long to see. It is something that is not only in the mind but also in earth and stone.
This thought gives me a feeling of peace and restfulness, something I can look forward to, beyond the abomination of war and the Nietzschean insanity of Germany.
Be careful when you tread on the tiger’s tail that is the American unconscious.
Yours is a formidable task. The thing above all is steadfastness in the whirlpool of our actual world.
It is now a question whether we can really hold the treasures of culture and defend them against the overwhelming onslaught of the powers of darkness.
With us everything is as if frozen. People are still moving about and trains are running as usual. But automobiles have almost vanished from the streets.
Food is still plentiful but everything costs more, though not yet badly.
Our army concentrates in the mountains, to hold the position as long as possible.
But the lower country will have to be sacrificed in case of war. It would be sheer madness to attack Switzerland, but the Germans are mad.
Recently we had some bombs on Zurich near the main station and several houses destroyed and a few people killed and wounded. But the bombs were British.
Those Canadians are not yet up to the mark in European geography.
Nobody minds, because all our sympathies are on the British side and we enjoy the Italian defeats. The news one gets from Germany is most contradictory.
A German, well informed, told me that about 90% are against the regime.
A Swiss from Berlin told me that the workmen openly criticized Hitler and called him a liar. Mussolini is most unpopular and the mood of the people is unsatisfactory.
The young people in Germany, however, are still full of illusions, although the mood in the army has considerably dropped since England could not be overrun.
People from Paris told me that the Germans are unlikely to succeed in the administration of the conquered countries since they are lacking in sufficient numbers of qualified people.
Peculiarly enough, Germany seems to suffer from an increasing lack of labor, and less from food scarcity.
Frau Frobe succeeded in bringing over my paper on the Trinity, one of the fruits of this summer.
I don’t dare to send you my recent paper “Das gottliche Kind,” which I produced together with Prof. Kerenyi, for fear it could get lost.
Parcels are still unsafe and, God knows, after a while communications cease altogether.
Perhaps we will get under German domination. In that case I certainly would be silenced, which I should not mind, provided that I have still my books and a roof over my head.
But I do hope to see you again. Every good wish to you! Y
C.G. Jung [Letters Volume 1, Page 289-291]