Contributions to the neue freie presse 5 страница

3 ‘April 11th. This morning Hans came into our room again and was sent away, as he always has been for the last few days.

‘Later on, he began: "Daddy, I thought something: I was in the bath,¹ and the plumber came and unscrewed it.² Then he took a bigger borer and stuck it into my stomach."

Hans’s father translated this phantasy as follows: ‘"I was in bed with Mummy. Then Daddy came and drove me away. With his big penis he pushed me out of my place by Mummy."'

Let us suspend our judgement for the present.

‘He went on to relate a second idea that he had had: "We were travelling in the train to Gmunden. In the station we put on our clothes; but we couldn’t get it done in time, and the train carried us on."

‘Later on, I asked: "Have you ever seen a horse doing lumf?"

‘Hans: "Yes, very often."

‘I: "Does it make a loud row when it does lumf?"

‘Hans: "Yes."

‘I: "What does the row remind you of?"

‘Hans: "Like when lumf falls into the chamber."

‘The bus-horse that falls down and makes a row with its feet is no doubt - a lumf falling and making a noise. His fear of defaecation and his fear of heavily loaded carts is equivalent to the fear of a heavily loaded stomach.’

In this roundabout way Hans’s father was beginning to get a glimmering of the true state of affairs.

¹ ‘Hans’s mother gives him his bath.’

² ‘To take it away to be repaired.’

4 ‘April 11th. At luncheon Hans said: "If only we had a bath at Gmunden, so that I didn’t have to go to the public baths!" It is a fact that at Gmunden he was always taken to the neighbouring public baths to be given a hot bath - a proceeding against which he used to protest with passionate tears. And in Vienna, too, he always screams if he is made to sit or lie in the big bath. He must be given his bath kneeling or standing.’

Hans was now beginning to bring fuel to the analysis in the shape of spontaneous utterances of his own. This remark of his established the connection between his two last phantasies - that of the plumber who unscrewed the bath and that of the unsuccessful journey to Gmunden. His father had correctly inferred from the latter that Hans had some aversion to Gmunden. This, by the way, is another good reminder of the fact that what emerges from the unconscious is to be understood in the light not of what goes before but of what comes after.

‘I asked him whether he was afraid, and if so of what.

‘Hans: "Because of falling in."

‘I: "But why were you never afraid when you had your bath in the little bath?"

‘Hans: "Why, I sat in that one. I couldn’t lie down in it, it was too small."

‘I: "When you went in a boat at Gmunden weren’t you afraid of falling into the water?"

‘Hans: "No, because I held on, so I couldn’t fall in. It’s only in the big bath that I’m afraid of falling in."

‘I: "But Mummy baths you in it. Are you afraid of Mummy dropping you in the water?"

‘Hans: "I’m afraid of her letting go and my head going in."

‘I: "But you know Mummy’s fond of you and won’t let go of you."

‘Hans: "I only just thought it."

‘I: "Why?"

‘Hans: "I don’t know at all."

‘I: "Perhaps it was because you’d been naughty and thought she didn’t love you any more?"

‘Hans: "Yes."

‘I: "When you were watching Mummy giving Hanna her bath, perhaps you wished she would let go of her so that Hanna should fall in?"

‘Hans: "Yes."'

Hans’s father, we cannot help thinking, had made a very good guess.5 ‘April 12th. As we were coming back from Lainz in a second-class carriage, Hans looked at the black leather upholstery of the seats, and said: "Ugh! that makes me spit! Black drawers and black horses make me spit too, because I have to do lumf."

‘I: "Perhaps you saw something of Mummy’s that was black, and it frightened you?"

‘Hans: "Yes."

‘I: "Well, what was it?"

‘Hans: "I don’t know. A black blouse or black stockings."

‘I: "Perhaps it was black hair near her widdler, when you were curious and looked."

‘Hans (defending himself): "But I didn’t see her widdler."

‘Another time, he was frightened once more at a cart driving out of the yard gates opposite. "Don’t the gates look like a behind?" I asked.

‘He: "And the horses are the lumfs!" Since then, whenever he sees a cart driving out, he says: "Look, there’s a ‘lumfy’ coming!" This form of the word ("lumfy") is quite a new one to him; it sounds like a term of endearment. My sister-in-law always calls her child "Wumfy".

‘On April 13th he saw a piece of liver in the soup and exclaimed: "Ugh! A lumf!" Meat croquettes, too, he eats with evident reluctance, because their form and colour remind him of lumf.

‘In the evening my wife told me that Hans had been out on the balcony and had said: "I thought to myself Hanna was on the balcony and fell down off it." I had once or twice told him to be careful that Hanna did not get too near the balustrade when she was out on the balcony; for the railing was designed in the most unpractical way (by a metal-worker of the Secessionist movement) and had big gaps in it which I had to have filled in with wire netting. Hans’s repressed wish was very transparent. His mother asked him if he would rather Hanna were not there, to which he said "Yes".

‘April 14th. The theme of Hanna is uppermost. As you may remember from earlier records, Hans felt a strong aversion to the new-born baby that robbed him of a part of his parents’ love. This dislike has not entirely disappeared and is only partly overcompensated by an exaggerated affection.¹ He has already several times expressed a wish that the stork should bring no more babies and that we should pay him money not to bring any more "out of the big box" where babies are. (Compare his fear of furniture-vans. Does not a bus look like a big box?) Hanna screams such a lot, he says, and that’s a nuisance to him.

¹ The ‘Hanna’ theme immediately succeeded the ‘lumf’ theme, and the explanation of this at length begins to dawn upon us: Hanna was a lumf herself - babies were lumfs.6

‘Once he suddenly said: "Can you remember when Hanna came? She lay beside Mummy in bed, so nice and good." (His praise rang suspiciously hollow.)

‘And then as regards downstairs, outside the house. There is again great progress to be reported. Even drays cause him less alarm. Once he called out, almost with joy: "Here comes a horse with something black on its mouth!" And I was at last able to establish the fact that it was a horse with a leather muzzle. But Hans was not in the least afraid of this horse.

‘Once he knocked on the pavement with his stick and said: "I say, is there a man underneath? - some one buried? - or is that only in the cemetery?" So he is occupied not only with the riddle of life but with the riddle of death.

‘When we got indoors again I saw a box standing in the front hall, and Hans said: "Hanna travelled with us to Gmunden in a box like that. Whenever we travelled to Gmunden she travelled with us in the box. You don’t believe me again? Really, Daddy. Do believe me. We got a big box and it was full of babies; they sat in the bath." (A small bath had been packed inside the box.) "I put them in it. Really and truly. I can remember quite well."¹

‘I: "What can you remember?"

‘Hans: "That Hanna travelled in the box; because I haven’t forgotten about it. My word of honour!"

‘I: "But last year Hanna travelled with us in the railway carriage."

‘Hans: "But before that she always travelled with us in the box."

¹ Hans was now going off into a phantasy. As we can see, a box and a bath have the same meaning for him: they both represent the space which contains the babies. We must bear in mind Hans’s repeated assurances on this point.

‘I: "Didn’t Mummy have the box?"

‘Hans: "Yes. Mummy had it."

‘I: "Where?"

‘Hans: "At home in the attic."

‘I: "Perhaps she carried it about with her?"¹

‘Hans: "No. And when we travel to Gmunden this time Hanna’ll travel in the box again."

‘I: "And how did she get out of the box, then?"

‘Hans: "She was taken out."

‘I: "By Mummy?"

‘Hans: "Mummy and me. Then we got into the carriage, and Hanna rode on the horse, and the coachman said ‘Gee-up’. The coachman sat up in front. Were you there too? Mummy knows all about it. Mummy doesn’t know; she’s forgotten about it already, but don’t tell her anything!"

‘I made him repeat the whole of this.

‘Hans: "Then Hanna got out."

‘I: "Why, she couldn’t walk at all then."

‘Hans: "Well then, we lifted her down."

‘I: "But how could she have sat on the horse? She couldn’t sit up at all last year."

‘Hans: "Oh yes, she sat up all right, and called out ‘Gee-up’, and whipped with her whip - ‘Gee-up! Gee-up!’ - the whip I used to have. The horse hadn’t any stirrups, but Hanna rode it. I’m not joking, you know, Daddy."'

What can be the meaning of the boy’s obstinate persistence in all this nonsense? Oh no, it was no nonsense: it was parody, it was Hans’s revenge upon his father. It was as much as to say: ‘If you really expect me to believe that the stork brought Hanna in October, when even in the summer, while we were travelling to Gmunden, I’d noticed how big Mother’s stomach was, - then I expect you to believe my lies.’ What can be the meaning of the assertion that even the summer before the last Hanna had travelled with them to Gmunden ‘in the box’, except that he knew about his mother’s pregnancy? His holding out the prospect of a repetition of this journey in the box in each successive year exemplifies a common way in which unconscious thoughts from the past emerge into consciousness; or it may have special reasons and express his dread of seeing a similar pregnancy repeated on their next summer holiday. We now see, moreover, what the circumstances were that had made him take a dislike to the journey to Gmunden, as his second phantasy had indicated.

¹ The box was of course the womb. (Hans’s father was trying to let him know that he understood this.) And the same is true of the caskets in which so many of the heroes of mythology were exposed, from the time of King Sargon of Agade onwards. - [Added 1923:] Cf. Rank’s study, Der Mythus von der Geburt des Helden, 1909.8

‘Later on, I asked him how Hanna had actually come into his mother’s bed after she was born.’

This gave Hans a chance of letting himself go and fairly ‘stuffing’ his father.

‘Hans: "Hanna just came. Frau Kraus" (the midwife) "put her in the bed. She couldn’t walk, of course. But the stork carried her in his beak. Of course she couldn’t walk." (He went on without a pause.) "The stork came up the stairs up to the landing, and then he knocked and everybody was asleep, and he had the right key and unlocked the door and put Hanna in your¹ bed, and Mummy was asleep - no, the stork put her in her bed. It was the middle of the night, and then the stork put her in the bed very quietly, he didn’t trample about at all, and then he took his hat and went away again. No, he hadn’t got a hat."

‘I: "Who took his hat? The doctor, perhaps?"

‘Hans: "Then the stork went away; he went home, and then he rang at the door, and every one in the house stopped sleeping. But don’t tell this to Mummy or Tini" (the cook). "It’s a secret."

‘I: "Are you fond of Hanna?"

¹ Ironical, of course. Like his subsequent request that none of the secret should be betrayed to his mother.9

‘Hans: "Oh yes, very fond."

‘I: "Would you rather that Hanna weren’t alive or that she were?"

‘Hans: "I’d rather she weren’t alive."

‘I: "Why?"

‘Hans: "At any rate she wouldn’t scream so, and I can’t bear her screaming."

‘I: "Why, you scream yourself."

‘Hans: "But Hanna screams too."

‘I: "Why can’t you bear it?"

‘Hans: "Because she screams so loud."

‘I: "Why, she doesn’t scream at all."

‘Hans: "When she’s whacked on her bare bottom, then she screams."

‘I: "Have you ever whacked her?"

‘Hans: "When Mummy whacks her on her bottom, then she screams."

‘I: "And you don’t like that?"

‘Hans: "No.... Why? Because she makes such a row with her screaming."

‘I: "If you’d rather she weren’t alive, you can’t be fond of her at all."

‘Hans (assenting): "H’m, well."

‘I: "That was why you thought when Mummy was giving her her bath, if only she’d let go, Hanna would fall into the water..."

‘Hans (taking me up): "... and die."

‘I: "And then you’d be alone with Mummy. A good boy doesn’t wish that sort of thing, though."

‘Hans: "But he may THINK it."

‘I: "But that isn’t good."

‘Hans: "If he thinks it, it IS good all the same, because you can write it to the Professor."¹

¹ Well done, little Hans! I could wish for no better understanding of psycho-analysis from any grown-up.

‘Later on I said to him: "You know, when Hanna gets bigger and can talk, you’ll be fonder of her."

‘Hans: "Oh no. I am fond of her. In the autumn, when she’s big, I shall go with her to the Stadtpark quite alone, and explain everything to her."

‘As I was beginning to give him some further enlightenment, he interrupted me, probably with the intention of explaining to me that it was not so wicked of him to wish that Hanna was dead.

‘Hans: "You know, all the same, she’d been alive a long time even before she was here. When she was with the stork she was alive too."

‘I: "No. Perhaps she wasn’t with the stork after all."

‘Hans: "Who brought her, then? The stork had got her."

‘I: "Where did he bring her from, then?"

‘Hans: "Oh - from him."

‘I: "Where had he got her, then?"

‘Hans: "In the box; in the stork-box."

‘I: "Well, and what does the box look like?"

‘Hans: "Red. Painted red." (Blood?)

‘I: "Who told you that?"

‘Hans: "Mummy... I thought it to myself... it’s in the book."

‘I: "In what book?"

‘Hans: "In the picture-book." (I made him fetch his first picture-book. In it was a picture of a stork’s nest with storks, on a red chimney. This was the box. Curiously enough, on the same page there was also a picture of a horse being shod. Hans had transferred the babies into the box, as they were not to be seen in the nest.)

‘I: "And what did the stork do with her?"

‘Hans: "Then the stork brought Hanna here. In his beak. You know, the stork that’s at Schönbrunn, and that bit the umbrella." (A reminiscence of an episode at Schönbrunn.)

‘I: "Did you see how the stork brought Hanna?"

‘Hans: ‘Why, I was still asleep, you know. A stork can never bring a little girl or a little boy in the morning."

‘I: "Why?"

‘Hans: "He can’t. A stork can’t do it. Do you know why: So that people shan’t see. And then, all at once, in the morning, there’s a little girl there."¹

‘I: "But, all the same, you were curious at the time to know how the stork did it?"

‘Hans: "Oh yes."

‘I: "What did Hanna look like when she came?"

‘Hans (hypocritically): "All white and lovely. So pretty"

‘I: "But when you saw her the first time you didn’t like her."

‘Hans: "Oh, I did; very much!"

‘I: "You were surprised that she was so small, though."

‘Hans: "Yes."

‘I: "How small was she?"

‘Hans: "Like a baby stork."

‘I: "Like what else? Like a lumf, perhaps?"

‘Hans: "Oh no. A lumf’s much bigger... a bit smaller than Hanna, really."'

I had predicted to his father that it would be possible to trace back Hans’s phobia to thoughts and wishes occasioned by the birth of his baby sister. But I had omitted to point out that according to the sexual theory of children a baby is a ‘lumf’, so that Hans’s path would lie through the excremental complex. It was owing to this neglect on my part that the progress of the case became temporarily obscured. Now that the matter had been cleared up, Hans’s father attempted to examine the boy a second time upon this important point.

¹ There is no need to find fault with Hans’s inconsistencies. In the previous conversation his disbelief in the stork had emerged from his unconscious and had been coupled with the exasperation he felt against his father for making so many mysteries. But he had now become calmer and was answering his father’s questions with official thoughts in which he had worked out glosses upon the many difficulties involved in the stork hypothesis.2 The next day, ‘I got Hans to repeat what he had told me yesterday. He said: "Hanna travelled to Gmunden in the big box, and Mummy travelled in the railway carriage, and Hanna travelled in the luggage train with the box; and then when we got to Gmunden Mummy and I lifted Hanna out and put her on the horse. The coachman sat up in front, and Hanna had the old whip" (the whip he had last year) "and whipped the horse and kept on saying ‘Gee-up’, and it was such fun, and the coachman whipped too. -The coachman didn’t whip at all, because Hanna had the whip. -The coachman had the reins - Hanna had the reins too." (On each occasion we drove in a carriage from the station to the house. Hans was here trying to reconcile fact and fancy.) "At Gmunden we lifted Hanna down from the horse, and she walked up the steps by herself." (Last year, when Hanna was at Gmunden, she was eight months old. The year before that - and Hans’s phantasy evidently related to that time his mother had been five months gone with child when we arrived at Gmunden.)

‘I: "Last year Hanna was there."

‘Hans: "Last year she drove in the carriage; but the year before that, when she was living with us..."

‘I: "Was she with us already then?"

‘Hans: "Yes. You were always there; you used always to go in the boat with me, and Anna was our servant."

‘I: "But that wasn’t last year. Hanna wasn’t alive then."

‘Hans: "Yes, she was alive then. Even while she was still travelling in the box she could run about and she could say ‘Anna’." (She has only been able to do so for the last four months.)

‘I: "But she wasn’t with us at all then."

‘Hans: "Oh yes, she was; she was with the stork."

‘I: "How old is she, then?"

‘Hans: "She’ll be two years old in the autumn. Hanna was there, you know she was."

‘I: "And when was she with the stork in the stork-box?"

‘Hans: "A long time before she travelled in the box, a very long time."

‘I: "How long has Hanna been able to walk, then? When she was at Gmunden she couldn’t walk yet."

‘Hans: "Not last year; but other times she could."

‘I: "But Hanna’s only been at Gmunden once."

‘Hans: "No. She’s been twice. Yes, that’s it. I can remember quite well. Ask Mummy, she’ll tell you soon enough."

‘I: "It’s not true, all the same."

‘Hans: "Yes, it is true. When she was at Gmunden the first time she could walk and ride, and later on she had to be carried. -No. It was only later on that she rode, and last year she had to be carried."

‘I: "But it’s only quite a short time that she’s been walking. At Gmunden she couldn’t walk."

‘Hans: "Yes. Just you write it down. I can remember quite well. -Why are you laughing?"

‘I: "Because you’re a fraud; because you know quite well that Hanna’s only been at Gmunden once."

‘Hans: "No, that isn’t true. The first time she rode on the horse... and the second time..." (He showed signs of evident uncertainty.)

‘I: "Perhaps the horse was Mummy?"

‘Hans: "No, a real horse in a fly."

‘I: "But we used always to have a carriage with two horses."

‘Hans: "Well, then, it was a carriage and pair."4

‘I: "What did Hanna eat inside the box?"

‘Hans: "They put in bread-and-butter for her, and herring, and radishes" (the sort of thing we used to have for supper at Gmunden), "and as Hanna went along she buttered her bread-and-butter and ate fifty meals."

‘I: "Didn’t Hanna scream?"

‘Hans: "No."

‘I: "What did she do, then?"

‘Hans: "Sat quite still inside."

‘I: "Didn’t she push about?"

‘Hans: "No, she kept on eating all the time and didn’t stir once. She drank up two big mugs of coffee - by the morning it was all gone, and she left the bits behind in the box, the leaves of the two radishes and a knife for cutting the radishes. She gobbled everything up like a hare: one minute and it was all finished. It was a joke. Hanna and I really travelled together in the box; I slept the whole night in the box." (We did in fact, two years ago, make the journey to Gmunden by night.) "And Mummy travelled in the railway carriage. And we kept on eating all the time when we were driving in the carriage, too; it was jolly. - She didn’t ride on a horse at all..." (he now became undecided, for he knew that we had driven with two horses) "... she sat in the carriage. Yes, that’s how it was, but Hanna and I drove quite by ourselves... Mummy rode on the horse, and Karoline" (our maid last year) "on the other... I say, what I’m telling you isn’t a bit true."

‘I: "What isn’t true?"

‘Hans: "None of it is. I say, let’s put Hanna and me in the box¹ and I’II widdle into the box. I’II just widdle into my knickers; I don’t care a bit; there’s nothing at all shameful in it. I say, that isn’t a joke, you know; but it’s great fun, though."

¹ ‘The box standing in the front hall which we had taken to Gmunden as luggage.’5

‘Then he told me the story of how the stork came - the same story as yesterday, except that he left out the part about the stork taking his hat when he went away.

‘I: "Where did the stork keep his latch-key?"

‘Hans: "In his pocket."

‘I: "And where’s the stork’s pocket?"

‘Hans: "In his beak."

‘I: "It’s in his beak! I’ve never seen a stork yet with a key in his beak."

‘Hans; "How else could he have got in? How did the stork come in at the door, then? No, it isn’t true; I just made a mistake. The stork rang at the front door and some one let him in."

‘I: "And how did he ring?"

‘Hans: "He rang the bell."

‘I: "How did he do that?"

‘Hans: "He took his beak and pressed on it with his beak."

‘I: "And did he shut the door again?"

‘Hans: "No, a maid shut it. She was up already, you see, and opened the door for him and shut it."

‘I: "Where does the stork live!"

‘Hans: "Where? In the box where he keeps the little girls. At Schönbrunn, perhaps."

‘I: "I’ve never seen a box at Schönbrunn."

‘Hans: "It must be farther off, then. -Do you know how the stork opens the box? He takes his beak - the box has got a key, too - he takes his beak, lifts up one’ ‘ (i.e. one-half of the beak) "and unlocks it like this." (He demonstrated the process on the lock of the writing-table.) "There’s a handle on it too."

‘I: "Isn’t a little girl like that too heavy for him?"

‘Hans: "Oh no."

‘I: "I say, doesn’t a bus look like a stork-box?"

‘Hans: "Yes,"

‘I: "And a furniture-waggon?"

‘Hans: "And a scallywaggon" ("scallywag" - a term of abuse for naughty children) "too."6 ‘April 17th. Yesterday Hans carried out his long-premeditated scheme of going across into the courtyard opposite. He would not do it to-day, as there was a cart standing at the loading dock exactly opposite the entrance gates. "When a cart stands there," he said to me, "I’m afraid I shall tease the horses and they’ll fall down and make a row with their feet."

‘I: "How does one tease horses!"

‘Hans: "When you’re cross with them you tease them, and when you shout ‘Gee-up’."¹

‘I: "Have you ever teased horses?"

‘Hans: "Yes, quite often. I’m afraid I shall do it, but I don’t really."

‘I: "Did you ever tease horses at Gmunden?"

‘Hans: "No."

‘I: "But you like teasing them?"

‘Hans: "Oh yes, very much."

‘I: "Would you like to whip them?"

‘Hans: "Yes."

‘I: "Would you like to beat the horses as Mummy beats Hanna? You like that too, you know."

‘Hans: "It doesn’t do the horses any harm when they’re beaten." (I said this to him once to mitigate his fear of seeing horses whipped.) "Once I really did it. Once I had the whip, and whipped the horse, and it fell down and made a row with its feet."

‘I: "When?"

‘Hans: "At Gmunden."

‘I: "A real horse? Harnessed to a cart?"

‘Hans: "It wasn’t in the cart."

¹ ‘Hans has often been very much terrified when drivers beat their horses and shout "Gee-up".’

‘I: "Where was it, then?"

‘Hans: "I just held it so that it shouldn’t run away." (Of course, all this sounded most improbable.)

‘I: "Where was that?"

‘Hans: "Near the trough."

‘I: "Who let you? Had the coachman left the horse standing there?"

‘Hans: "It was just a horse from the stables."

‘I: "How did it get to the trough?"

‘Hans: "I took it there."

‘I: "Where from? Out of the stables?"

‘Hans: "I took it out because I wanted to beat it."

‘I: "Was there no one in the stables?"

‘Hans: "Oh yes, Loisl." (The coachman at Gmunden.)

‘I: "Did he let you?"

‘Hans: "I talked nicely to him, and he said I might do it."

‘I: "What did you say to him?"

‘Hans: "Could I take the horse and whip it and shout at it. And he said ‘Yes’."

‘I: "Did you whip it a lot?"

‘Hans: "What I’ve told you isn’t the least true."

‘I: "How much of it’s true?"

‘Hans: "None of it’s true; I only told it you for fun."

‘I: "You never took a horse out of the stables?"

‘Hans: "Oh no."

‘I: "But you wanted to."

‘Hans: "Oh yes, wanted to. I’ve thought it to myself."

‘I: "At Gmunden?"

‘Hans: "No, only here. I thought it in the morning when I was quite undressed; no, in the morning in bed."

‘I: "Why did you never tell me about it?"

‘Hans: "I didn’t think of it."

Дата добавления: 2014-12-23