You do not currently have permission to view the full text for this document. Please sign in to an account with an active subscription or contact support.
321F
Csorbató
21 August 1917
Dear Friend,
What you supposed has happened. Once the bad weather had been overcome, a splendid, enjoyable summer happened to set in, undeservedly delightful holidays, which my wife and daughter have also been enjoying as they have seldom enjoyed holidays before. The Hungarians are unmannerly and noisy but obliging and hospitable; friendship and loyalty are taking the form of generosity, with the result that we are able to wallow in the abundance of bread, butter, sausages, eggs, and cigars, rather like the chief of a primitive tribe. The catering of the hotel alone would not have been able to do so much, though in present circumstances it does not deserve to be criticized. I am even able to indulge in my passion for hunting for mushrooms in the forests here. I have done no work, but have been able for hours and for whole half days to forget the wretched state of the world; in addition, during this period my three warriors have been away from the front. Shortly before our departure my sister's only son, a boy of 20, was killed in the Italian theatre of war.
Sachs stayed with us here for three weeks, Ferenczi for about a fortnight. Both wives, respectively wives-to-be,1 were also very close by. Rank came here once for a visit, over the mountains from Cracow. Eitingon was also here for a day and thanked us for his welcome with a colossal food parcel. He looks very well, has become stouter, is bored with respect to scientific matters but delighted about his wife's occupation2; he is probably with her now in Karlsbad. A few days later they were expecting my daughter,3 who had travelled to an estate in the Hungarian plains to visit Ferenczi's family in Miskolcz,4 and I have no doubt that they fed her very well.
No news scientifically. Heller has received a good fee for the Dutch translation (of the Lectures).5 You know that I now need money, and nothing so urgently as money, for my family. Binswanger has sent me part of the manuscript of his book,