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Autobiographical note 59 страница




 

A good example of this kind of self-betrayal, which did not lead to serious consequences, is reported by Tausk (1917) under the title of ‘The Faith of our Fathers’. ‘As my fiancée was a Christian’, Herr A. related, ‘and was unwilling to adopt the Jewish faith, I myself was obliged to be converted from Judaism to Christianity so that we could marry. I did not change my religion without some internal resistance, but I felt it was justified by the purpose behind it, the more so because it involved abandoning no more than an outward adherence to Judaism, not a religious conviction (which I had never had). Notwithstanding this, I always continued later on to acknowledge the fact of my being a Jew, and few of my acquaintances know I am baptized. I have two sons by this marriage, who were given Christian baptism. When the boys were sufficiently old they were told of their Jewish background, so as to prevent them from being influenced by anti-semitic views at their school and from turning against their father for such a superfluous reason. Some years ago I and my children, who were then at their primary school, were staying with the family of a teacher at the summer resort in D. One day while we were sitting at tea with our otherwise friendly hosts, the lady of the house, who had no inkling of her summer guests’ Jewish ancestry, launched some very sharp attacks on the Jews. I ought to have made a bold declaration of the facts in order to set my sons the example of "having the courage of one’s convictions", but I was afraid of the unpleasant exchanges that usually follow an avowal of this sort. Besides, I was alarmed at the possibility of having to leave the good lodgings we had found and of thus spoiling my own and my children’s in any case limited holiday period, should our hosts’ behaviour towards us take an unfriendly turn because of the fact that we were Jews. As however I had reason to expect that my sons, in their candid and ingenuous way, would betray the momentous truth if they heard any more of the conversation, I tried to get them to leave the company by sending them into the garden. I said: "Go into the garden, Juden ", quickly correcting it to "Jungen ". In this way I enabled the "courage of my convictions" to be expressed in a parapraxis. The others did not in fact draw any conclusions from my slip of the tongue, since they attached no significance to it; but I was obliged to learn the lesson that the "faith of our fathers" cannot be disavowed with impunity if one is a son and has sons of one’s own.’

 

The effect produced by the following slip of the tongue, which I would not report had not the magistrate himself made a note of it for this collection during the court proceedings, is anything but innocent:

A soldier charged with housebreaking stated in evidence: ‘Up to now I’ve not been discharged from military Diebsstellung;¹ so at the moment I’m still in the army.’

 

¹ [He meant to say ‘Dienststellung’, ‘service’, literally ‘service position '. Instead he said ‘Diebsstellung’, which would mean literally ‘thief position’.]

 

A slip of the tongue has a more cheering effect during psycho-analytic work, when it serves as a means of providing the doctor with a confirmation that may be very welcome to him if he is engaged in a dispute with the patient. I once had to interpret a patient’s dream in which the name ‘Jauner’ occurred. The dreamer knew someone of that name, but it was impossible to discover the reason for his appearing in the context of the dream; I therefore ventured to suggest that it might be merely because of his name, which sounds like the term of abuse ‘Gauner’. My patient hastily and vigorously contested this; but in doing so he made a slip of the tongue which confirmed my guess, since he confused the same letters once more. His answer was: ‘That seems to me too jewagt.’¹ When I had drawn his attention to his slip, he accepted my interpretation.

 

If one of the parties involved in a serious argument makes a slip of the tongue which reverses the meaning of what he intended to say, it immediately puts him at a disadvantage with his opponent, who seldom fails to make the most of his improved position.

This makes it clear that people give slips of the tongue and other parapraxes the same interpretation that I advocate in this book, even if they do not endorse theoretically the view I put forward, and even if they are disinclined, so far as it applies to themselves, to renounce the convenience that goes along with tolerating parapraxes. The amusement and derision which such oral slips are certain to evoke at the crucial moment can be taken as evidence against what purports to be the generally accepted convention that a mistake in speaking is a lapsus linguae and of no psychological significance. It was no less a person than the German Imperial Chancellor Prince Bülow who protested on these lines in an effort to save the situation, when the wording of his speech in defence of his Emperor (in November, 1907) was given the opposite meaning by a slip of the tongue. ‘As for the present, the new epoch of the Emperor Wilhelm II, I can only repeat what I said a year ago, namely that it would be unfair and unjust to speak of a coterie of responsible advisors round our Emperor...’ (loud cries of ‘irresponsible’) ‘... irresponsible advisors. Forgive the lapsus linguae.’ (Laughter.)

 

¹ [In vulgar speech, particularly in North Germany, ‘g’ at the beginning of a word is often pronounced like the German ‘i’ (English ‘y’) instead of like the hard English ‘g’.]4

 

In this case, as a result of the accumulation of negatives, Prince Bülow’s sentence was somewhat obscure; sympathy for the speaker and consideration for his difficult position prevented this slip from being put to any further use against him. A year later another speaker in the same place was not so fortunate. He wished to appeal for a demonstration with no reserves in support of the Emperor, and in doing so was warned by a bad slip of the tongue that other emotions were to be found within his loyal breast. ‘Lattmann (German National Party): On the question of the Address our position is based on the standing orders of the Reichstag. According to them the Reichstag is entitled to tender such an address to the Emperor. It is our belief that the united thoughts and wishes of the German people are bent on achieving a united demonstration in this matter as well, and if we can do so in a form that takes the Emperor’s feelings fully into account, then we should do so spinelessly as well.’ (Loud laughter which continued for some minutes.) ‘Gentlemen, I should have said not "rückgratlos" but "rückhaltlos "' (laughter), ‘and at this difficult time even our Emperor accepts a manifestation by the people - one made without reserve - such as we should like to see.’

 

The Vorwärts of November 12, 1908, did not miss the opportunity of pointing to the psychological significance of this slip of the tongue: ‘Probably never before in any parliament has a member, through an involuntary self-accusation, characterized his own attitude and that of the parliamentary majority towards the Emperor so exactly as did the anti-Semitic Lattmann, when, speaking with solemn emotion on the second day of the debate, he slipped into an admission that he and his friends wished to express their opinion to the Emperor spinelessly. Loud laughter from all sides drowned the remaining words of this unhappy man, who thought it necessary explicitly to stammer out by way of apology that he really meant "unreservedly".’

 

I will add a further instance, in which the slip of the tongue assumed the positively uncanny characteristics of a prophecy. Early in 1923 there was a great stir in the world of finance when the very young banker X. - probably one of the newest of the ‘nouveaux riches’ in W., and at any rate the richest and youngest - obtained possession, after a short struggle, of a majority of the shares of the -- Bank; and as a further consequence, a remarkable General Meeting took place at which the old directors of the bank, financiers of the old type, were not re-elected, and young X. became president of the bank. In the valedictory speech which the managing director Dr. Y. went on to deliver in honour of the old president, who had not been re-elected, a number of the audience noticed a distressing slip of the tongue which occurred again and again. He continually spoke of the expiring president instead of the outgoing president. As it turned out, the old president who was not re-elected died a few days after this meeting. He was, however, over eighty years old! (From Storfer.)

 

A good example of a slip of the tongue whose purpose is not so much to betray the speaker as to give the listener in the theatre his bearings, is to be found in Wallenstein (Piccolomini, Act I, Scene 5); and it shows us that the dramatist, who here availed himself of this device, was familiar with the mechanism and meaning of slips of the tongue. In the preceding scene Max Piccolomini has ardently espoused the Duke’s cause, and has been passionately describing the blessings of peace, of which he has become aware on the course of a journey while escorting Wallenstein’s daughter to the camp. As he leaves the stage, his father and Questenberg, the emissary from the court, are plunged in consternation. Scene 5 continues:

 

QUESTENBERG Alas, alas! and stands it so?

What friend! and do we let him go away

In this delusion - let him go away?

Not call him back immediately, not open

His eyes upon the spot?

OCTAVIO (recovering himself out of a deep study)

He has now open’d mine,

And I see more than pleases me.

 

QUEST. What is it?

OCT. Curse on this journey!

QUEST. But why so? What is it?

OCT. Come, come along, friend! I must follow up

The ominous track immediately. Mine eyes

Are open’d now, and I must use them. Come!

(Draws Q. on with him)

QUEST What now? Where go you then?

 

OCT. To her herself.

QUEST. To -

OCT. (correcting himself) To the Duke. Come let us go.

 

The small slip of saying ‘to her’ instead of ‘to him’ is meant to reveal to us that the father has seen through his son’s motive for espousing the Duke’s cause, while the courtier complains that he is ‘talking absolute riddles’ to him.6

 

Another example in which a dramatist makes use of a slip of the tongue has been discovered by Otto Rank (1910) in Shakespeare. I quote Rank’s account:

‘A slip of the tongue occurs in Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice (Act III, Scene 2), which is from the dramatic point of view extremely subtly motivated and which is put to brilliant technical use. Like the slip in Wallenstein to which Freud has drawn attention, it shows that dramatists have a clear understanding of the mechanism and meaning of this kind of parapraxis and assume that the same is true of their audience. Portia, who by her father’s will has been bound to the choice of a husband by lot, has so far escaped all her unwelcome suitors by a fortunate chance. Having at last found in Bassanio the suitor who is to her liking, she has cause to fear that he too will choose the wrong casket. She would very much like to tell him that even so he could rest assured of her love; but she is prevented by her vow. In this internal conflict the poet makes her say to the suitor she favours:

 

I pray you tarry; pause a day or two,

Before you hazard: for, in choosing wrong,

I lose your company; therefore, forbear a while:

There’s something tells me (but it is not love)

I would not lose you...

 

... I could teach you

How to choose right, but then I am forsworn;

So will I never be; so may you miss me;

But if you do you’ll make me wish a sin,

That I have been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes,

 

They have o’erlooked me, and divided me;

One half of me is yours, the other half yours, -

Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours,

And so all yours.

 

‘The thing of which she wanted to give him only a very subtle hint, because she should really have concealed it from him altogether, namely, that even before he made his choice she was wholly his and loved him - it is precisely this that the poet, with a wonderful psychological sensitivity, causes to break through openly in her slip of the tongue; and by this artistic device he succeeds in relieving both the lover’s unbearable uncertainty and the suspense of the sympathetic audience over the outcome of his choice.

 

In view of the interest that is lent to our theory of slips of the tongue by support of this nature from great writers, I feel justified in citing a third such instance which has been reported by Ernest Jones (1911b, 496):

‘In a recently published article Otto Rank drew our attention to a pretty instance of how Shakespeare caused one of his characters, Portia, to make a slip of the tongue which revealed her secret thoughts to an attentive member of the audience. I propose to relate a similar example from The Egoist, the masterpiece of the greatest English novelist, George Meredith. The plot of the novel is, shortly, as follows: Sir Willoughby Patterne, an aristocrat greatly admired by his circle, becomes engaged to a Miss Constantia Durham. She discovers in him an intense egoism, which he skilfully conceals from the world, and to escape the marriage she elopes with a Captain Oxford. Some years later Patterne becomes engaged to a Miss Clara Middleton, and most of the book is taken up with a detailed description of the conflict that arises in her mind on also discovering his egoism. External circumstances, and her conception of honour, hold her to her pledge, while he becomes more and more distasteful in her eyes. She partly confides in his cousin and secretary, Vernon Whitford, the man whom she ultimately marries; but from loyalty to Patterne and other motives he stands aloof.

 

‘In a soliloquy about her sorrow Clara speaks as follows: "‘If some noble gentleman could see me as I am and not disdain to aid me! Oh! to be caught out of this prison of thorns and brambles. I cannot tear my own way out. I am a coward. A beckoning of a finger would change me, I believe. I could fly bleeding and through hootings to a comrade... Constantia met a soldier. Perhaps she prayed and her prayer was answered. She did ill. But, oh, how I love her for it! His name was Harry Oxford... She did not waver, she cut the links, she signed herself over. Oh, brave girl, what do you think of me? But I have no Harry Whitford; I am alone...’ The sudden consciousness that she had put another name for Oxford struck her a buffet, drowning her in crimson."

 

‘The fact that both men’s names end in "ford" evidently renders the confounding of them more easy, and would by many be regarded as an adequate cause for this, but the real underlying motive for it is plainly indicated by the author. In another passage the same lapsus occurs, and is followed by the spontaneous hesitation and sudden change of subject that one is familiar with in psycho-analysis and in Jung’s association experiments when a half-conscious complex is touched. Sir Willoughby patronisingly says of Whitford: "‘False alarm. The resolution to do anything unaccustomed is quite beyond poor old Vernon.’" Clara replies: "‘But if Mr Oxford - Whitford,... your swans, coming sailing up the lake, how beautiful they look when they are indignant! I was going to ask you, surely men witnessing a marked admiration for someone else will naturally be discouraged?’ Sir Willoughby stiffened with sudden enlightenment."

 

‘In still another passage, Clara by another lapsus betrays her secret wish that she was on a more intimate footing with Vernon Whitford. Speaking to a boy friend, she says: "‘Tell Mr. Vernon - tell Mr. Whitford.’"'¹

 

¹ [Footnote added 1920:] Other instances of slips of the tongue which the writer intends to be taken as having a meaning and usually as being self-revealing can be found in Shakespeare’s Richard II (Act II, Scene 2), and in Schiller’s Don Carlos (Act. II, Scene 8; a slip made by Princess Eboli). There would doubtless be no difficulty in extending this list.

 

The view of slips of the tongue which is advocated here can meet the test even in the most trivial examples. I have repeatedly been able to show that the most insignificant and obvious errors in speaking have their meaning and can be explained in the same way as the more striking instances. A woman patient who was acting entirely against my wishes in planning a short trip to Budapest, but who was determined to have her own way, justified herself by telling me that she was going for only three days; but she made a slip of the tongue and actually said ‘only three weeks’. She was betraying the fact that, to spite me, she would rather spend three weeks than three days there in the company which I considered unsuitable for her. - One evening I wanted to excuse myself for not having fetched my wife home from the theatre, and said: ‘I was at the theatre at ten past ten.’ I was corrected: ‘You mean ten to ten.’ Of course I meant ten to ten. After ten o’clock would have been no excuse. I had been told that the theatre bills said the performance ended before ten. When I reached the theatre I found the entrance-hall in darkness and the theatre empty. The performance had in fact ended earlier and my wife had not waited for me. When I looked at the clock it was only five to ten. But I decided to make my case out more favourable when I got home and to say it had been ten to ten. Unfortunately, my slip of the tongue spoilt my plan and revealed my disingenuousness, by making me confess more than there was to confess.

 

This leads on to those speech-disturbances which cannot any longer be described as slips of the tongue because what they affect is not the individual word but the rhythm and execution of a whole speech: disturbances like, for instance, stammering and stuttering caused by embarrassment. But here too, as in the former cases, it is a question of an internal conflict, which is betrayed to us by the disturbance in speech. I really do not think that anyone would make a slip of the tongue in an audience with his Sovereign, in a serious declaration of love of in defending his honour and name before a jury - in short, on all those occasions in which a person is heart and soul engaged. Even in forming an appreciation of an author’s style we are permitted and accustomed to apply the same elucidatory principle which we cannot dispense with in tracing the origins of individual mistakes in speech. A clear and unambiguous manner of writing shows us that here the author is at one with himself; where we find a forced and involved expression which (to use an apt phrase) is aimed at more than one target, we may recognize the intervention of an insufficiently worked-out, complicating thought, or we may hear the stifled voice of the author’s self-criticism.¹

 

Since this book first appeared friends and colleagues who speak other languages have begun to turn their attention to slips of the tongue which they have been able to observe in countries where their language is spoken. As was to be expected they have found that the laws governing parapraxes are independent of the linguistic material; and they have made the same interpretations that have been exemplified here in instances coming from speakers of the German language. Of countless examples I include only one:

 

Brill (1909) reports of himself: ‘A friend described to me a nervous patient and wished to know whether I could benefit him. I remarked: "I believe that in time I could remove all his symptoms by psycho-analysis because it is a durable case" - wishing to say "curable"!’

 

¹ [Footnote added 1910:]

Ce qu’on conçoit bien

S’announce clairement

Et les mots pour le dire

Arrivent aisément.

 

[What is well thought out

 

Presents itself with clarity,

And the words to express it

Come easily.]

Boileau: Art poétique.0

 

In conclusion, for the benefit of readers who are prepared to make a certain effort and to whom psycho-analysis is not unfamiliar, I will add an example which will enable them to form some picture of the mental depths into which the pursuit even of a slip of the tongue can lead. It has been reported by Jekels (1913).

‘On December 11, a lady of my acquaintance addressed me (in Polish) in a somewhat challenging and overbearing manner, as follows: "Why did I say to-day that I have twelve fingers?" At my request she gave an account of the scene in which the remark was made. She had got ready to go out with her daughter to pay a visit, and had asked her daughter - a case of dementia praecox then in remission - to change her blouse; and this she in fact did, in the adjoining room. On re-entering, the daughter found her mother busy cleaning her nails, and the following conversation ensued:

 

‘Daughter: "There! I’m ready now and you’re not!"

‘Mother: "Yes, but you have only one blouse and I have twelve nails."

‘Daughter: "What?"

‘Mother (impatiently): "Well, of course I have; after all, I have twelve fingers."

‘A colleague who heard the story at the same time as I did asked what occurred to her in connection with twelve. She answered equally quickly and definitely: "Twelve means nothing to me - it is not the date of anything (of importance).

 

‘To finger she gave the following association after a little hesitation: "Some of my husband’s family were born with six fingers on their feet (Polish has no specific word for ‘toe’). When our children were born they were immediately examined to see if they had six fingers." For external reasons the analysis was not continued that evening.

‘Next morning, December 12, the lady visited me and told me with visible excitement: "What do you suppose has happened? For about the last twenty years I have been sending congratulations to my husband’s elderly uncle on his birthday which is to-day, and I have always written him a letter on the 11th. This time I forgot about it and had to send a telegram just now."

 

‘I myself remembered, and I reminded the lady, how positive she had been the evening before in dismissing my colleague’s question about the number twelve - which was in fact very well fitted to remind her of the birthday - by remarking that the twelfth was not a date of importance to her.

‘She then admitted that this uncle of her husband’s was a wealthy man from whom she had in fact always expected to inherit something, quite especially in her present straitened financial circumstances. Thus, for instance, it was he, or rather his death, that had immediately sprung to her mind a few days before when an acquaintance of hers had predicted from cards that she would receive a large sum of money. It flashed through her mind at once that the uncle was the only person from whom money could possibly come to her or her children; and this same scene also instantly reminded her of the fact that this uncle’s wife had once promised to remember the lady’s children in her will. But in the meanwhile she had died intestate; had she perhaps given her husband appropriate instructions?

 

‘The death-wish against the uncle must clearly have emerged with very great intensity, for she said to the friend who made the prophecy: "You encourage people to make away with others." In the four or five days that elapsed between the prophecy and the uncle’s birthday she was constantly looking at the obituary columns in the newspapers from the town where the uncle lived. Not surprisingly, therefore, in view of the intensity of her wish for his death, the event and the date of the birthday he was about to celebrate were so strongly suppressed that not only was a resolution which had been carried out for years forgotten in consequence, but even my colleague’s question failed to bring them to consciousness.

 

‘In the slip "twelve fingers" the suppressed "twelve" had broken through and had helped to determine the parapraxis. I say "helped to determine", for the striking association to "finger" leads us to suspect the existence of some further motivations. It also explains why the "twelve" had falsified precisely this most innocent phrase, "ten fingers". The association ran: "Some members of my husband’s family were born with six fingers on their feet." Six toes are a sign of a particular abnormality. Thus six fingers mean one abnormal child and twelve fingers two abnormal children. And that was really the fact in this case. The lady had married at a very early age; and the only legacy left her by her husband, a highly eccentric and abnormal person who took his own life shortly after their marriage, were two children whom the doctors repeatedly pronounced to be abnormal and victims of a grave hereditary taint derived from their father. The elder daughter recently returned home after a severe catatonic attack; soon afterwards, the younger daughter, now at the age of puberty, also fell ill from a serious neurosis.

 

‘The fact that the children’s abnormality is here linked with the death-wish against the uncle, and is condensed with this far more strongly suppressed and psychically more powerful element, enables us to assume the existence of a second determinant for the slip of the tongue, namely a death-wish against abnormal children.

‘But the special significance of twelve as a death wish is already indicated by the fact that the uncle’s birthday was very intimately associated in the lady’s mind with the idea of his death. For her husband had taken his life on the 13th - one day, that is, after the uncle’s birthday; and the uncle’s wife had said to the young widow: "Yesterday he was sending his congratulations, so full of warmth and kindness - and to-day...!"

 

‘I may add that the lady had real enough reasons as well for wishing her children dead; for they brought her no pleasure at all, only grief and severe restrictions on her independence, and she had for their sake renounced all the happiness that love might have brought her. On this occasion she had in fact gone to exceptional lengths to avoid putting the daughter with whom she was going to pay the visit in a bad mood; and it may be imagined what demands this makes on anyone’s patience and self-denial where the case is one of dementia praecox, and how many angry impulses have to be suppressed in the process.

 

‘The meaning of the parapraxis would accordingly be:

‘"The uncle shall die, these abnormal children shall die (the whole of this abnormal family, as it were), and I will get their money."

‘This parapraxis bears, in my view, several indications of an unusual structure:

‘(a) Two determinants were present in it, condensed in a single element.

‘(b) The presence of the two determinants was reflected in the doubling of the slip of the tongue (twelve nails, twelve fingers).

 

‘(c) It is a striking point that one of the meanings of "twelve", viz., the twelve fingers which expressed the children’s abnormality, stood for an indirect form of representation; the psychical abnormality was here represented by the physical abnormality, and the highest part of the body by the lowest.’ 3

 

CHAPTER VI MISREADINGS AND SLIPS OF THE PEN

 

When we come to mistakes in reading and writing, we find that our general approach and our observations in regard to mistakes in speaking hold good here too - not surprisingly, in view of the close kinship between these functions. I shall confine myself here to reporting a few carefully analysed examples, and shall make no attempt to cover every aspect of the phenomena.

 

(A) MISREADINGS

 

(1) I was sitting in a café, turning over the pages of a copy of the Leipziger Illustrierte (which I was holding up at an angle), when I read the following legend under a picture that stretched across the page: ‘A Wedding Celebration in the Odysee.’ It caught my attention; in surprise I took hold of the paper in the proper way and then corrected my error: ‘A Wedding Celebration on the Ostee.’ How did I come to make this absurd mistake in reading? My thoughts at once turned to a book by Ruths (1898), Experimentaluntersuchungen über Musikphantome..., which had occupied me a good deal recently since it trenches on the psychological problems that I have been concerned with. The author promised that he would shortly be bringing out a book to be called ‘Analysis and Principles of Dream Phenomena’. Seeing that I have just published an Interpretation of Dreams it is not surprising that I should await this book with the keenest interest. In Ruths’ work on music phantoms I found at the beginning of the list of contents an announcement of a detailed inductive proof that the ancient Greek myths and legends have their main source of origin in phantoms of sleep and music, in the phenomena of dreams and also in deliria. Thereupon I at once plunged into the text to find out whether he also realized that the scene in which Odysseus appears before Nausicaä was derived from the common dream of being naked. A friend had drawn my attention to the fine passage in Gottfried Keller’s Der Grüne Heinrich which explains this episode in the Odyssey as an objective representation of the dreams of a sailor wandering far from home; and I had pointed out the connection with exhibitionist dreams of being naked.¹ I found nothing on the subject in Ruths’ book. In this instance it is obvious that my thoughts were occupied with questions of priority.




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