Letter from Sándor Ferenczi to Sigmund Freud, January 27, 1920

Budapest, January 27, 1920

Dear Professor, By way of Lajos I received your letter of the 21st. From its mood, as well as from the communications of (happily arrived) Elma, I gather what, incidentally, I could imagine even without this, how gripped you are by the death of our friend Toni. From a distance such events take on more and more of a shadowy quality. I still can't imagine Toni any differently than seemingly healthy, intellectually alert, the way I last saw him in the sanatorium, and I have again and again forcibly to make myself aware that he is lost forever. Our friendship solidified more and more in the last few months—it was looking as though I had succeeded—(a rarity at my age)—in gaining a friend in the most beautiful sense of the word. Now, this hope also disappeared, just like all the beautiful dreams connected with his ability.—

January 30, 1920

Frau Kata1 and Lajos did not inform me of the death of your dear Sophie.2 You can imagine my consternation when the terrible news was read to me from the Neue Freie Presse. Two days have already passed since I know this, and I still seem to myself to be dumb and paralyzed when I am supposed to write down even a word of consolation or sympathy. I treasured and loved your Sophie, often had an almost paternal affection for her, and was pleased about the always similar—sounding news about her courage and ability. One can't bear to think that you must also be experiencing that.

Please, if you are at all able, at least reassure me about the fact that your strength of spirit is also a match for this misfortune.

Yours,

Ferenczi