Tip: To save a shortcut to an article to your desktop…
PEP-Web Tip of the Day
The way you save a shortcut to an article on your desktop depends on what internet browser (and device) you are using.
For the complete list of tips, see PEP-Web Tips on the PEP-Web support page.
Freud, S. (1882). Letter from Sigmund Freud to Martha Bernays, July 16, 1882. Letters of Sigmund Freud 1873-1939, 15-17.
Freud, S. (1882). Letter from Sigmund Freud to Martha Bernays, July 16, 1882. Letters of Sigmund Freud 1873-1939, 15-17
Letter from Sigmund Freud to Martha Bernays, July 16, 1882
Tetschen,1 Sunday, 8 o'clock
July 16, 1882
My sweet little bride
If you only knew how lovely it is here and how incomparably more lovely it would be with you! The Elbe flows by, still a modest little river, showing me the way to you, to you. High mountains, some overgrown, some bare in strange formation, nice little houses which do not look as though they were meant to be lived in but to be put up and knocked down as in a game of bricks, all in a row along the river, a few proud buildings gazing down from the mountain slopes as though they had nothing to do with the rest. One of them all by itself on a hill, a castle or a monastery or something like that-it's really all the same to me. On the left lies Bodenbach, on the right Tetschen and between them two bridges, one for the railway and the other for “vagrant scholars” on their way to their sweethearts. On the second bridge I had to pay a toll of two kreutzer, but this I did willingly; I was glad I had not broken a leg.2 I have been telling such an awful lot of lies lately. I crossed the bridge to Tetschen because in Bodenbach there was no coffeehouse from which I could write to you. It turns out that I have to stay here till 2 A.M. and won't reach Hamburg until 2:30 P.M. on Tuesday and don't know if I can see you even on Tuesday, and I am completely roasted or grilled-no, not completely done, only half, like an English roast beef. But to return to Bodenbach. There is a kind of holy Sunday stillness over everything and the bells are ringing, I don't quite know why, and the streets are so clean, the people so polite, the old ones looking as I have always expected Christian Fürchtegott Gellert to look and the young ones so modest, as if nowadays they themselves lived in fear of God.
[This is a summary or excerpt from the full text of the book or article. The full text of the document is available to subscribers.]