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Vienna, December 21, 1924
IX., Berggasse 19
Dear friend,
You will certainly have received Rank's letter.1 What do you say about it? It was a satisfaction and a relief to me when he arrived one evening all
broken up, in order to—confess, in the process of awakening from a condition that one can summarize hardly any other way than psychiatrically. Since then he has been almost completely free, once again his old self, or better than he was. What he opened up to me was a tragedy, which very easily could have had an equivalent outcome. I don't have the right to give you all the explanations that I have obtained myself. Perhaps he will do that himself one day. Until then, it wouldn't surprise me if a piece of distrust remained in all of you. I, who know everything, have completely overcome it.
We also talked about theory, and he showed himself accessible to all objections. Naturally, self-criticism won't be very easy for him.
He wants to make good, if possible, everything he started in America, where he intends to go after New Year's. That also won't be so easy.
You will agree with me: all tolerance for the sick one and sympathy for the convalescent. I can only repeat, it is a very strange turn of events.
Too bad that the meeting in Vienna, as long as he is here, had to be canceled. But I am happy that in these fifteen years I had not awarded my trust to someone who was unworthy of it, and that I am on the whole really blameless. Kind regards for the Christmas season.
Yours,
Freud