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Vienna, May 20, 1900
IX., Berggasse 19
Dear Wilhelm,
Naturally I shall never mention the North Sea again if you are on such bad terms with it; I had no inkling. I wished it were the Mediterranean, but it will be what you want, if only it can be. Now comes the dead period of which I am afraid — that is, in which I am afraid of myself. Yesterday the fourth patient said good-bye on the most cordial terms, in excellent shape, with Böcklin's Selected Paintings as a parting present.1 This case gave me the greatest satisfaction and is perhaps complete. So things have gone well this year. I have finally conquered. But what am I going to do now? I still have three and a half persons — that is, sessions — a day. Not enough toys for the whale.2 Woe is me when I am bored. All sorts of things can go wrong. I cannot work. I am permeated with laziness; the kind of work I have been doing from October until now is very unlike that which leads to writing, and very unfavorable to it. I have not started the little dream pamphlet for Löwenfeld. I do not even stick to my allotriis [hobbies] but alternate between chess, art history, and prehistory; nothing is permitted to continue for very long. I would like to disappear for a few weeks to someplace where nothing like science exists — that is, apart from the congress with you. If only I had money or a travel companion for Italy!
My brother-in-law seems to have succumbed to a heart ailment of unknown origin, possibly connected with a latent kidney problem. He was an uncommonly handsome, large, and strong man, who is said never to have been ill before. He was born in Zwittau in Moravia and went to America thirteen years ago. I have met his family; they are poor but capable and good people. They will do their best to provide for the widow and the child. There will be something left for us to do as well.
I was afraid that you too might come to Vienna at Whitsun, because my eldest brother from Manchester wrote that he will visit us during this time