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Vienna, July 7, 1898
IX., Berggasse 19
Dear Wilhelm,
Here it is. It was difficult for me to make up my mind to let it out of my hands. Personal intimacy would not have been a sufficient reason; it also took our intellectual honesty to each other. It completely follows the dictates of the unconscious, on the well-known principle of Itzig, the Sunday rider. “Itzig, where are you going?” “Do I know? Ask the horse.” I did not start a single paragraph knowing where I would end up. It is of course not written for the reader; after the first two pages I gave up any attempt at stylization. On the other hand, I do of course believe in the conclusions. I do not yet have the slightest idea what form the content will finally take.
I am now living in comfortable laziness and am harvesting some of the fruits of familiarity with the hysterical things. Everything is becoming easy and transparent. On Sunday and Monday, as a consultant, I saw the battlefield of Königgrätz from a distance. I am not going to Aussee yet. At last they are all well down there. For once I am free from pain; when I am well, I am terribly lazy.
I did not do well with [finding for you] the photograph of Archduke Franz Ferdinand. It does not exist in profile; he probably has none — deformation. The only consolation is that a clear family resemblance to old Este is out of the question. He is obliged to carry the title of Este because the inheritance of certain Hapsburgs, who once sat in Este as a parallel branch, devolved on him; and he will divest himself of the title with the inheritance as soon as he becomes emperor and thereby also head of the family. Otherwise he is the emperor's eldest nephew. If this genealogical information is not