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Vienna, November 9, 1918
IX., Berggasse 19
Dear friend,
A card which arrived today from Emden informs us that Jones lost his young wife in an appendicitis operation at the beginning of October.1 Poor
fellow, Emden adds. We don't even have the possibility of expressing our condolences directly to him.
Two days ago I sent you a draft of a statute for the administration of the endowment, which has since been transferred to me in the amount of 250 million crowns. I now await your suggestions for amendment, as well as those of the others.
We have now been cut off from three children, Martin, Ernst, and Sophie. We only have cause to worry about the first, about whose fate and where-abouts we haven't a clue. So much is now going on in the world that one doesn't know about. What one does know about is strange enough. Would you have thought a republican uprising in Munich2 conceivable?
I expect there will begin to be a frightful dawning in Germany. Much worse than with you or with us. Think about the abominable tension of these four and a half years and the terrible disappointment that is now suddenly releasing this pressure. Moreover, resistance will take place there, bloody resistance. Wilhelm is an incurable Romantic fool. He is miscalculating the revolution just as he did the war. He dosn't know that the age of chivalry ended with Don Quixote.
Don't let the fate of Hungary get to you; it will probably lead to a healing of that talented and powerful nation. I could only feel great relief at the downfall of old Austria. Unfortunately, I am not German-Austrian or pan-German either.
All our own intentions must naturally now be put off. Now that we have the wine, we are missing the cup.3 Perhaps we will get it soon. Is it true that all the war neurotics suddenly became healthy, except for one? What will Oppenheim say to that?
Rank went to Cracow Monday evening, Sachs to Switzerland. Both lost without a trace, naturally! Give my cordial greetings to Frau Gisela, write soon.