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diff --git a/38219.txt b/38219.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..67eba03 --- /dev/null +++ b/38219.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16154 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A General Introduction to Psychoanalysis, by +Sigmund Freud + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A General Introduction to Psychoanalysis + +Author: Sigmund Freud + +Translator: G. Stanley Hall + +Release Date: December 4, 2011 [EBook #38219] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GENERAL INTRODUCTION *** + + + + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images available at The Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: SCHWIND, _The Dream of the Prisoner_ + +See page 109 for analysis] + + + + +A General Introduction +to +Psychoanalysis + +BY +PROF. SIGMUND FREUD, LL.D. + +AUTHORIZED TRANSLATION +WITH A PREFACE + +BY +G. STANLEY HALL +PRESIDENT, CLARK UNIVERSITY + +HORACE LIVERIGHT +PUBLISHER NEW YORK + +Published, 1920, by +HORACE LIVERIGHT, INC. + +_Printed in the United States of America_ + +COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY EDWARD L. BERNAYS + + + + +PREFACE + + +Few, especially in this country, realize that while Freudian themes have +rarely found a place on the programs of the American Psychological +Association, they have attracted great and growing attention and found +frequent elaboration by students of literature, history, biography, +sociology, morals and aesthetics, anthropology, education, and religion. +They have given the world a new conception of both infancy and +adolescence, and shed much new light upon characterology; given us a new +and clearer view of sleep, dreams, reveries, and revealed hitherto +unknown mental mechanisms common to normal and pathological states and +processes, showing that the law of causation extends to the most +incoherent acts and even verbigerations in insanity; gone far to clear +up the _terra incognita_ of hysteria; taught us to recognize morbid +symptoms, often neurotic and psychotic in their germ; revealed the +operations of the primitive mind so overlaid and repressed that we had +almost lost sight of them; fashioned and used the key of symbolism to +unlock many mysticisms of the past; and in addition to all this, +affected thousands of cures, established a new prophylaxis, and +suggested new tests for character, disposition, and ability, in all +combining the practical and theoretic to a degree salutary as it is +rare. + +These twenty-eight lectures to laymen are elementary and almost +conversational. Freud sets forth with a frankness almost startling the +difficulties and limitations of psychoanalysis, and also describes its +main methods and results as only a master and originator of a new school +of thought can do. These discourses are at the same time simple and +almost confidential, and they trace and sum up the results of thirty +years of devoted and painstaking research. While they are not at all +controversial, we incidentally see in a clearer light the distinctions +between the master and some of his distinguished pupils. A text like +this is the most opportune and will naturally more or less supersede all +other introductions to the general subject of psychoanalysis. It +presents the author in a new light, as an effective and successful +popularizer, and is certain to be welcomed not only by the large and +growing number of students of psychoanalysis in this country but by the +yet larger number of those who wish to begin its study here and +elsewhere. + +The impartial student of Sigmund Freud need not agree with all his +conclusions, and indeed, like the present writer, may be unable to make +sex so all-dominating a factor in the psychic life of the past and +present as Freud deems it to be, to recognize the fact that he is the +most original and creative mind in psychology of our generation. Despite +the frightful handicap of the _odium sexicum_, far more formidable today +than the _odium theologicum_, involving as it has done for him lack of +academic recognition and even more or less social ostracism, his views +have attracted and inspired a brilliant group of minds not only in +psychiatry but in many other fields, who have altogether given the world +of culture more new and pregnant _appercus_ than those which have come +from any other source within the wide domain of humanism. + +A former student and disciple of Wundt, who recognizes to the full his +inestimable services to our science, cannot avoid making certain +comparisons. Wundt has had for decades the prestige of a most +advantageous academic chair. He founded the first laboratory for +experimental psychology, which attracted many of the most gifted and +mature students from all lands. By his development of the doctrine of +apperception he took psychology forever beyond the old associationism +which had ceased to be fruitful. He also established the independence of +psychology from physiology, and by his encyclopedic and always thronged +lectures, to say nothing of his more or less esoteric seminary, he +materially advanced every branch of mental science and extended its +influence over the whole wide domain of folklore, mores, language, and +primitive religion. His best texts will long constitute a thesaurus +which every psychologist must know. + +Again, like Freud, he inspired students who went beyond him (the +Wurzburgers and introspectionists) whose method and results he could not +follow. His limitations have grown more and more manifest. He has little +use for the unconscious or the abnormal, and for the most part he has +lived and wrought in a preevolutionary age and always and everywhere +underestimated the genetic standpoint. He never transcends the +conventional limits in dealing, as he so rarely does, with sex. Nor does +he contribute much likely to be of permanent value in any part of the +wide domain of affectivity. We cannot forbear to express the hope that +Freud will not repeat Wundt's error in making too abrupt a break with +his more advanced pupils like Adler or the Zurich group. It is rather +precisely just the topics that Wundt neglects that Freud makes his chief +corner-stones, viz., the unconscious, the abnormal, sex, and affectivity +generally, with many genetic, especially ontogenetic, but also +phylogenetic factors. The Wundtian influence has been great in the past, +while Freud has a great present and a yet greater future. + +In one thing Freud agrees with the introspectionists, viz., in +deliberately neglecting the "physiological factor" and building on +purely psychological foundations, although for Freud psychology is +mainly unconscious, while for the introspectionists it is pure +consciousness. Neither he nor his disciples have yet recognized the aid +proffered them by students of the autonomic system or by the +distinctions between the epicritic and protopathic functions and organs +of the cerebrum, although these will doubtless come to have their due +place as we know more of the nature and processes of the unconscious +mind. + +If psychologists of the normal have hitherto been too little disposed to +recognize the precious contributions to psychology made by the cruel +experiments of Nature in mental diseases, we think that the +psychoanalysts, who work predominantly in this field, have been somewhat +too ready to apply their findings to the operations of the normal mind; +but we are optomistic enough to believe that in the end both these +errors will vanish and that in the great synthesis of the future that +now seems to impend our science will be made vastly richer and deeper on +the theoretical side and also far more practical than it has ever been +before. + +G. STANLEY HALL. + +Clark University, +April, 1920. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PART ONE + +_The Psychology of Errors_ + +PAGE + +PREFACE G. Stanley Hall V + +LECTURE + +I. INTRODUCTION 1 + +II. THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ERRORS 10 + +III. THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ERRORS--(_Continued_) 23 + +IV. THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ERRORS--(_Conclusion_) 41 + + +PART TWO + +_The Dream_ + +V. DIFFICULTIES AND PRELIMINARY APPROACH 63 + +VI. HYPOTHESIS AND TECHNIQUE OF INTERPRETATION 78 + +VII. MANIFEST DREAM CONTENT AND LATENT DREAM THOUGHT 90 + +VIII. DREAMS OF CHILDHOOD 101 + +IX. THE DREAM CENSOR 110 + +X. SYMBOLISM IN THE DREAM 122 + +XI. THE DREAM-WORK 141 + +XII. ANALYSES OF SAMPLE DREAMS 153 + +XIII. ARCHAIC REMNANTS AND INFANTILISM IN THE DREAM 167 + +XIV. WISH FULFILLMENT 180 + +XV. DOUBTFUL POINTS AND CRITICISM 194 + + +PART THREE + +_General Theory of the Neuroses_ + +XVI. PSYCHOANALYSIS AND PSYCHIATRY 209 + +XVII. THE MEANING OF THE SYMPTOMS 221 + +XVIII. TRAUMATIC FIXATION--THE UNCONSCIOUS 236 + +XIX. RESISTANCE AND SUPPRESSION 248 + +XX. THE SEXUAL LIFE OF MAN 262 + +XXI. DEVELOPMENT OF THE LIBIDO AND SEXUAL ORGANIZATIONS 277 + +XXII. THEORIES OF DEVELOPMENT AND REGRESSION--ETIOLOGY 294 + +XXIII. THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE SYMPTOMS 311 + +XXIV. ORDINARY NERVOUSNESS 328 + +XXV. FEAR AND ANXIETY 340 + +XXVI. THE LIBIDO THEORY AND NARCISM 356 + +XXVII. TRANSFERENCE 372 + +XXVIII. ANALYTICAL THERAPY 388 + +INDEX 403 + + + + +PART I + +THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ERRORS + + + + +FIRST LECTURE + +INTRODUCTION + + +I do not know how familiar some of you may be, either from your reading +or from hearsay, with psychoanalysis. But, in keeping with the title of +these lectures--_A General Introduction to Psychoanalysis_--I am obliged +to proceed as though you knew nothing about this subject, and stood in +need of preliminary instruction. + +To be sure, this much I may presume that you do know, namely, that +psychoanalysis is a method of treating nervous patients medically. And +just at this point I can give you an example to illustrate how the +procedure in this field is precisely the reverse of that which is the +rule in medicine. Usually when we introduce a patient to a medical +technique which is strange to him we minimize its difficulties and give +him confident promises concerning the result of the treatment. When, +however, we undertake psychoanalytic treatment with a neurotic patient +we proceed differently. We hold before him the difficulties of the +method, its length, the exertions and the sacrifices which it will cost +him; and, as to the result, we tell him that we make no definite +promises, that the result depends on his conduct, on his understanding, +on his adaptability, on his perseverance. We have, of course, excellent +motives for conduct which seems so perverse, and into which you will +perhaps gain insight at a later point in these lectures. + +Do not be offended, therefore, if, for the present, I treat you as I +treat these neurotic patients. Frankly, I shall dissuade you from coming +to hear me a second time. With this intention I shall show what +imperfections are necessarily involved in the teaching of psychoanalysis +and what difficulties stand in the way of gaining a personal judgment. I +shall show you how the whole trend of your previous training and all +your accustomed mental habits must unavoidably have made you opponents +of psychoanalysis, and how much you must overcome in yourselves in +order to master this instinctive opposition. Of course I cannot predict +how much psychoanalytic understanding you will gain from my lectures, +but I can promise this, that by listening to them you will not learn how +to undertake a psychoanalytic treatment or how to carry one to +completion. Furthermore, should I find anyone among you who does not +feel satisfied with a cursory acquaintance with psychoanalysis, but who +would like to enter into a more enduring relationship with it, I shall +not only dissuade him, but I shall actually warn him against it. As +things now stand, a person would, by such a choice of profession, ruin +his every chance of success at a university, and if he goes out into the +world as a practicing physician, he will find himself in a society which +does not understand his aims, which regards him with suspicion and +hostility, and which turns loose upon him all the malicious spirits +which lurk within it. + +However, there are always enough individuals who are interested in +anything which may be added to the sum total of knowledge, despite such +inconveniences. Should there be any of this type among you, and should +they ignore my dissuasion and return to the next of these lectures, they +will be welcome. But all of you have the right to know what these +difficulties of psychoanalysis are to which I have alluded. + +First of all, we encounter the difficulties inherent in the teaching and +exposition of psychoanalysis. In your medical instruction you have been +accustomed to visual demonstration. You see the anatomical specimen, the +precipitate in the chemical reaction, the contraction of the muscle as +the result of the stimulation of its nerves. Later the patient is +presented to your senses; the symptoms of his malady, the products of +the pathological processes, in many cases even the cause of the disease +is shown in isolated state. In the surgical department you are made to +witness the steps by which one brings relief to the patient, and are +permitted to attempt to practice them. Even in psychiatry, the +demonstration affords you, by the patient's changed facial play, his +manner of speech and his behavior, a wealth of observations which leave +far-reaching impressions. Thus the medical teacher preponderantly plays +the role of a guide and instructor who accompanies you through a museum +in which you contract an immediate relationship to the exhibits, and in +which you believe yourself to have been convinced through your own +observation of the existence of the new things you see. + +Unfortunately, everything is different in psychoanalysis. In +psychoanalysis nothing occurs but the interchange of words between the +patient and the physician. The patient talks, tells of his past +experiences and present impressions, complains, confesses his wishes and +emotions. The physician listens, tries to direct the thought processes +of the patient, reminds him of things, forces his attention into certain +channels, gives him explanations and observes the reactions of +understanding or denial which he calls forth in the patient. The +uneducated relatives of our patients--persons who are impressed only by +the visible and tangible, preferably by such procedure as one sees in +the moving picture theatres--never miss an opportunity of voicing their +scepticism as to how one can "do anything for the malady through mere +talk." Such thinking, of course, is as shortsighted as it is +inconsistent. For these are the very persons who know with such +certainty that the patients "merely imagine" their symptoms. Words were +originally magic, and the word retains much of its old magical power +even to-day. With words one man can make another blessed, or drive him +to despair; by words the teacher transfers his knowledge to the pupil; +by words the speaker sweeps his audience with him and determines its +judgments and decisions. Words call forth effects and are the universal +means of influencing human beings. Therefore let us not underestimate +the use of words in psychotherapy, and let us be satisfied if we may be +auditors of the words which are exchanged between the analyst and his +patient. + +But even that is impossible. The conversation of which the +psychoanalytic treatment consists brooks no auditor, it cannot be +demonstrated. One can, of course, present a neurasthenic or hysteric to +the students in a psychiatric lecture. He tells of his complaints and +symptoms, but of nothing else. The communications which are necessary +for the analysis are made only under the conditions of a special +affective relationship to the physician; the patient would become dumb +as soon as he became aware of a single impartial witness. For these +communications concern the most intimate part of his psychic life, +everything which as a socially independent person he must conceal from +others; these communications deal with everything which, as a harmonious +personality, he will not admit even to himself. + +You cannot, therefore, "listen in" on a psychoanalytic treatment. You +can only hear of it. You will get to know psychoanalysis, in the +strictest sense of the word, only by hearsay. Such instruction even at +second hand, will place you in quite an unusual position for forming a +judgment. For it is obvious that everything depends on the faith you are +able to put in the instructor. + +Imagine that you are not attending a psychiatric, but an historical +lecture, and that the lecturer is telling you about the life and martial +deeds of Alexander the Great. What would be your reasons for believing +in the authenticity of his statements? At first sight, the condition of +affairs seems even more unfavorable than in the case of psychoanalysis, +for the history professor was as little a participant in Alexander's +campaigns as you were; the psychoanalyst at least tells you of things in +connection with which he himself has played some role. But then the +question turns on this--what set of facts can the historian marshal in +support of his position? He can refer you to the accounts of ancient +authors, who were either contemporaries themselves, or who were at least +closer to the events in question; that is, he will refer you to the +books of Diodor, Plutarch, Arrian, etc. He can place before you pictures +of the preserved coins and statues of the king and can pass down your +rows a photograph of the Pompeiian mosaics of the battle of Issos. Yet, +strictly speaking, all these documents prove only that previous +generations already believed in Alexander's existence and in the reality +of his deeds, and your criticism might begin anew at this point. You +will then find that not everything recounted of Alexander is credible, +or capable of proof in detail; yet even then I cannot believe that you +will leave the lecture hall a disbeliever in the reality of Alexander +the Great. Your decision will be determined chiefly by two +considerations; firstly, that the lecturer has no conceivable motive for +presenting as truth something which he does not himself believe to be +true, and secondly, that all available histories present the events in +approximately the same manner. If you then proceed to the verification +of the older sources, you will consider the same data, the possible +motives of the writers and the consistency of the various parts of the +evidence. The result of the examination will surely be convincing in the +case of Alexander. It will probably turn out differently when applied +to individuals like Moses and Nimrod. But what doubts you might raise +against the credibility of the psychoanalytic reporter you will see +plainly enough upon a later occasion. + +At this point you have a right to raise the question, "If there is no +such thing as objective verification of psychoanalysis, and no +possibility of demonstrating it, how can one possibly learn +psychoanalysis and convince himself of the truth of its claims?" The +fact is, the study is not easy and there are not many persons who have +learned psychoanalysis thoroughly; but nevertheless, there is a feasible +way. Psychoanalysis is learned, first of all, from a study of one's +self, through the study of one's own personality. This is not quite what +is ordinarily called self-observation, but, at a pinch, one can sum it +up thus. There is a whole series of very common and universally known +psychic phenomena, which, after some instruction in the technique of +psychoanalysis, one can make the subject matter of analysis in one's +self. By so doing one obtains the desired conviction of the reality of +the occurrences which psychoanalysis describes and of the correctness of +its fundamental conception. To be sure, there are definite limits +imposed on progress by this method. One gets much further if one allows +himself to be analyzed by a competent analyst, observes the effect of +the analysis on his own ego, and at the same time makes use of the +opportunity to become familiar with the finer details of the technique +of procedure. This excellent method is, of course, only practicable for +one person, never for an entire class. + +There is a second difficulty in your relation to psychoanalysis for +which I cannot hold the science itself responsible, but for which I must +ask you to take the responsibility upon yourselves, ladies and +gentlemen, at least in so far as you have hitherto pursued medical +studies. Your previous training has given your mental activity a +definite bent which leads you far away from psychoanalysis. You have +been trained to reduce the functions of an organism and its disorders +anatomically, to explain them in terms of chemistry and physics and to +conceive them biologically, but no portion of your interest has been +directed to the psychic life, in which, after all, the activity of this +wonderfully complex organism culminates. For this reason psychological +thinking has remained strange to you and you have accustomed yourselves +to regard it with suspicion, to deny it the character of the scientific, +to leave it to the laymen, poets, natural philosophers and mystics. Such +a delimitation is surely harmful to your medical activity, for the +patient will, as is usual in all human relationships, confront you first +of all with his psychic facade; and I am afraid your penalty will be +this, that you will be forced to relinquish a portion of the therapeutic +influence to which you aspire, to those lay physicians, nature-cure +fakers and mystics whom you despise. + +I am not overlooking the excuse, whose existence one must admit, for +this deficiency in your previous training. There is no philosophical +science of therapy which could be made practicable for your medical +purpose. Neither speculative philosophy nor descriptive psychology nor +that so-called experimental psychology which allies itself with the +physiology of the sense organs as it is taught in the schools, is in a +position to teach you anything useful concerning the relation between +the physical and the psychical or to put into your hand the key to the +understanding of a possible disorder of the psychic functions. Within +the field of medicine, psychiatry does, it is true, occupy itself with +the description of the observed psychic disorders and with their +grouping into clinical symptom-pictures; but in their better hours the +psychiatrists themselves doubt whether their purely descriptive account +deserves the name of a science. The symptoms which constitute these +clinical pictures are known neither in their origin, in their mechanism, +nor in their mutual relationship. There are either no discoverable +corresponding changes of the anatomical organ of the soul, or else the +changes are of such a nature as to yield no enlightenment. Such psychic +disturbances are open to therapeutic influence only when they can be +identified as secondary phenomena of an otherwise organic affection. + +Here is the gap which psychoanalysis aims to fill. It prepares to give +psychiatry the omitted psychological foundation, it hopes to reveal the +common basis from which, as a starting point, constant correlation of +bodily and psychic disturbances becomes comprehensible. To this end, it +must divorce itself from every anatomical, chemical or physiological +supposition which is alien to it. It must work throughout with purely +psychological therapeutic concepts, and just for that reason I fear +that it will at first seem strange to you. + +I will not make you, your previous training, or your mental bias share +the guilt of the next difficulty. With two of its assertions, +psychoanalysis offends the whole world and draws aversion upon itself. +One of these assertions offends an intellectual prejudice, the other an +aesthetic-moral one. Let us not think too lightly of these prejudices; +they are powerful things, remnants of useful, even necessary, +developments of mankind. They are retained through powerful affects, and +the battle against them is a hard one. + +The first of these displeasing assertions of psychoanalysis is this, +that the psychic processes are in themselves unconscious, and that those +which are conscious are merely isolated acts and parts of the total +psychic life. Recollect that we are, on the contrary, accustomed to +identify the psychic with the conscious. Consciousness actually means +for us the distinguishing characteristic of the psychic life, and +psychology is the science of the content of consciousness. Indeed, so +obvious does this identification seem to us that we consider its +slightest contradiction obvious nonsense, and yet psychoanalysis cannot +avoid raising this contradiction; it cannot accept the identity of the +conscious with the psychic. Its definition of the psychic affirms that +they are processes of the nature of feeling, thinking, willing; and it +must assert that there is such a thing as unconscious thinking and +unconscious willing. But with this assertion psychoanalysis has +alienated, to start with, the sympathy of all friends of sober science, +and has laid itself open to the suspicion of being a fantastic mystery +study which would build in darkness and fish in murky waters. You, +however, ladies and gentlemen, naturally cannot as yet understand what +justification I have for stigmatizing as a prejudice so abstract a +phrase as this one, that "the psychic is consciousness." You cannot know +what evaluation can have led to the denial of the unconscious, if such a +thing really exists, and what advantage may have resulted from this +denial. It sounds like a mere argument over words whether one shall say +that the psychic coincides with the conscious or whether one shall +extend it beyond that, and yet I can assure you that by the acceptance +of unconscious processes you have paved the way for a decisively new +orientation in the world and in science. + +Just as little can you guess how intimate a connection this initial +boldness of psychoanalysis has with the one which follows. The next +assertion which psychoanalysis proclaims as one of its discoveries, +affirms that those instinctive impulses which one can only call sexual +in the narrower as well as in the wider sense, play an uncommonly large +role in the causation of nervous and mental diseases, and that those +impulses are a causation which has never been adequately appreciated. +Nay, indeed, psychoanalysis claims that these same sexual impulses have +made contributions whose value cannot be overestimated to the highest +cultural, artistic and social achievements of the human mind. + +According to my experience, the aversion to this conclusion of +psychoanalysis is the most significant source of the opposition which it +encounters. Would you like to know how we explain this fact? We believe +that civilization was forged by the driving force of vital necessity, at +the cost of instinct-satisfaction, and that the process is to a large +extent constantly repeated anew, since each individual who newly enters +the human community repeats the sacrifices of his instinct-satisfaction +for the sake of the common good. Among the instinctive forces thus +utilized, the sexual impulses play a significant role. They are thereby +sublimated, i.e., they are diverted from their sexual goals and directed +to ends socially higher and no longer sexual. But this result is +unstable. The sexual instincts are poorly tamed. Each individual who +wishes to ally himself with the achievements of civilization is exposed +to the danger of having his sexual instincts rebel against this +sublimation. Society can conceive of no more serious menace to its +civilization than would arise through the satisfying of the sexual +instincts by their redirection toward their original goals. Society, +therefore, does not relish being reminded of this ticklish spot in its +origin; it has no interest in having the strength of the sexual +instincts recognized and the meaning of the sexual life to the +individual clearly delineated. On the contrary, society has taken the +course of diverting attention from this whole field. This is the reason +why society will not tolerate the above-mentioned results of +psychoanalytic research, and would prefer to brand it as aesthetically +offensive and morally objectionable or dangerous. Since, however, one +cannot attack an ostensibly objective result of scientific inquiry with +such objections, the criticism must be translated to an intellectual +level if it is to be voiced. But it is a predisposition of human nature +to consider an unpleasant idea untrue, and then it is easy to find +arguments against it. Society thus brands what is unpleasant as untrue, +denying the conclusions of psychoanalysis with logical and pertinent +arguments. These arguments originate from affective sources, however, +and society holds to these prejudices against all attempts at +refutation. + +However, we may claim, ladies and gentlemen, that we have followed no +bias of any sort in making any of these contested statements. We merely +wished to state facts which we believe to have been discovered by +toilsome labor. And we now claim the right unconditionally to reject the +interference in scientific research of any such practical +considerations, even before we have investigated whether the +apprehension which these considerations are meant to instil are +justified or not. + +These, therefore, are but a few of the difficulties which stand in the +way of your occupation with psychoanalysis. They are perhaps more than +enough for a beginning. If you can overcome their deterrent impression, +we shall continue. + + + + +SECOND LECTURE + +THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ERRORS + + +We begin with an investigation, not with hypotheses. To this end we +choose certain phenomena which are very frequent, very familiar and very +little heeded, and which have nothing to do with the pathological, +inasmuch as they can be observed in every normal person. I refer to the +errors which an individual commits--as for example, errors of speech in +which he wishes to say something and uses the wrong word; or those which +happen to him in writing, and which he may or may not notice; or the +case of misreading, in which one reads in the print or writing something +different from what is actually there. A similar phenomenon occurs in +those cases of mishearing what is said to one, where there is no +question of an organic disturbance of the auditory function. Another +series of such occurrences is based on forgetfulness--but on a +forgetfulness which is not permanent, but temporary, as for instance +when one cannot think of a name which one knows and always recognizes; +or when one forgets to carry out a project at the proper time but which +one remembers again later, and therefore has only forgotten for a +certain interval. In a third class this characteristic of transience is +lacking, as for example in mislaying things so that they cannot be found +again, or in the analogous case of losing things. Here we are dealing +with a kind of forgetfulness to which one reacts differently from the +other cases, a forgetfulness at which one is surprised and annoyed, +instead of considering it comprehensible. Allied with these phenomena is +that of erroneous ideas--in which the element of transience is again +prominent, inasmuch as for a while one believes something which, before +and after that time, one knows to be untrue--and a number of similar +phenomena of different designations. + +These are all occurrences whose inner connection is expressed in the +use of the same prefix of designation.[1] They are almost all +unimportant, generally temporary and without much significance in the +life of the individual. It is only rarely that one of them, such as the +phenomenon of losing things, attains to a certain practical importance. +For that reason also they do not attract much attention, they arouse +only weak affects. + +It is, therefore, to these phenomena that I would now direct your +attention. But you will object, with annoyance: "There are so many +sublime riddles in the external world, just as there are in the narrower +world of the psychic life, and so many wonders in the field of psychic +disturbances which demand and deserve elucidation, that it really seems +frivolous to waste labor and interest on such trifles. If you can +explain to us how an individual with sound eyes and ears can, in broad +daylight, see and hear things that do not exist, or why another +individual suddenly believes himself persecuted by those whom up to that +time he loved best, or defend, with the most ingenious arguments, +delusions which must seem nonsense to any child, then we will be willing +to consider psychoanalysis seriously. But if psychoanalysis can do +nothing better than to occupy us with the question of why a speaker used +the wrong word, or why a housekeeper mislaid her keys, or such trifles, +then we know something better to do with our time and interest." + +My reply is: "Patience, ladies and gentlemen. I think your criticism is +not on the right track. It is true that psychoanalysis cannot boast that +it has never occupied itself with trifles. On the contrary, the objects +of its observations are generally those simple occurrences which the +other sciences have thrown aside as much too insignificant, the waste +products of the phenomenal world. But are you not confounding, in your +criticism, the sublimity of the problems with the conspicuousness of +their manifestations? Are there not very important things which under +certain circumstances, and at certain times, can betray themselves only +by very faint signs? I could easily cite a great many instances of this +kind. From what vague signs, for instance, do the young gentlemen of +this audience conclude that they have won the favor of a lady? Do you +await an explicit declaration, an ardent embrace, or does not a glance, +scarcely perceptible to others, a fleeting gesture, the prolonging of a +hand-shake by one second, suffice? And if you are a criminal lawyer, and +engaged in the investigation of a murder, do you actually expect the +murderer to leave his photograph and address on the scene of the crime, +or would you, of necessity, content yourself with fainter and less +certain traces of that individual? Therefore, let us not undervalue +small signs; perhaps by means of them we will succeed in getting on the +track of greater things. I agree with you that the larger problems of +the world and of science have the first claim on our interest. But it is +generally of little avail to form the definite resolution to devote +oneself to the investigation of this or that problem. Often one does not +know in which direction to take the next step. In scientific research it +is more fruitful to attempt what happens to be before one at the moment +and for whose investigation there is a discoverable method. If one does +that thoroughly without prejudice or predisposition, one may, with good +fortune, and by virtue of the connection which links each thing to every +other (hence also the small to the great) discover even from such modest +research a point of approach to the study of the big problems." + +Thus would I answer, in order to secure your attention for the +consideration of these apparently insignificant errors made by normal +people. At this point, we will question a stranger to psychoanalysis and +ask him how he explains these occurrences. + +His first answer is sure to be, "Oh, they are not worth an explanation; +they are merely slight accidents." What does he mean by this? Does he +mean to assert that there are any occurrences so insignificant that they +fall out of the causal sequence of things, or that they might just as +well be something different from what they are? If any one thus denies +the determination of natural phenomena at one such point, he has +vitiated the entire scientific viewpoint. One can then point out to him +how much more consistent is the religious point of view, when it +explicitly asserts that "No sparrow falls from the roof without God's +special wish." I imagine our friend will not be willing to follow his +first answer to its logical conclusion; he will interrupt and say that +if he were to study these things he would probably find an explanation +for them. He will say that this is a case of slight functional +disturbance, of an inaccurate psychic act whose causal factors can be +outlined. A man who otherwise speaks correctly may make a slip of the +tongue--when he is slightly ill or fatigued; when he is excited; when +his attention is concentrated on something else. It is easy to prove +these statements. Slips of the tongue do really occur with special +frequency when one is tired, when one has a headache or when one is +indisposed. Forgetting proper names is a very frequent occurrence under +these circumstances. Many persons even recognize the imminence of an +indisposition by the inability to recall proper names. Often also one +mixes up words or objects during excitement, one picks up the wrong +things; and the forgetting of projects, as well as the doing of any +number of other unintentional acts, becomes conspicuous when one is +distracted; in other words, when one's attention is concentrated on +other things. A familiar instance of such distraction is the professor +in _Fliegende Blaetter_, who takes the wrong hat because he is thinking +of the problems which he wishes to treat in his next book. Each of us +knows from experience some examples of how one can forget projects which +one has planned and promises which one has made, because an experience +has intervened which has preoccupied one deeply. + +This seems both comprehensible and irrefutable. It is perhaps not very +interesting, not as we expected it to be. But let us consider this +explanation of errors. The conditions which have been cited as necessary +for the occurrence of these phenomena are not all identical. Illness and +disorders of circulation afford a physiological basis. Excitement, +fatigue and distraction are conditions of a different sort, which one +could designate as psycho-physiological. About these latter it is easy +to theorize. Fatigue, as well as distraction, and perhaps also general +excitement, cause a scattering of the attention which can result in the +act in progress not receiving sufficient attention. This act can then be +more easily interrupted than usual, and may be inexactly carried out. A +slight illness, or a change in the distribution of blood in the central +organ of the nervous system, can have the same effect, inasmuch as it +influences the determining factor, the distribution of attention, in a +similar way. In all cases, therefore, it is a question of the effects of +a distraction of the attention, caused either by organic or psychic +factors. + +But this does not seem to yield much of interest for our psychoanalytic +investigation. We might even feel tempted to give up the subject. To be +sure, when we look more closely we find that not everything squares +with this attention theory of psychological errors, or that at any rate +not everything can be directly deduced from it. We find that such errors +and such forgetting occur even when people are not fatigued, distracted +or excited, but are in every way in their normal state; unless, in +consequence of these errors, one were to attribute to them an excitement +which they themselves do not acknowledge. Nor is the mechanism so simple +that the success of an act is assured by an intensification of the +attention bestowed upon it, and endangered by its diminution. There are +many acts which one performs in a purely automatic way and with very +little attention, but which are yet carried out quite successfully. The +pedestrian who scarcely knows where he is going, nevertheless keeps to +the right road and stops at his destination without having gone astray. +At least, this is the rule. The practiced pianist touches the right keys +without thinking of them. He may, of course, also make an occasional +mistake, but if automatic playing increased the likelihood of errors, it +would be just the virtuoso whose playing has, through practice, become +most automatic, who would be the most exposed to this danger. Yet we +see, on the contrary, that many acts are most successfully carried out +when they are not the objects of particularly concentrated attention, +and that the mistakes occur just at the point where one is most anxious +to be accurate--where a distraction of the necessary attention is +therefore surely least permissible. One could then say that this is the +effect of the "excitement," but we do not understand why the excitement +does not intensify the concentration of attention on the goal that is so +much desired. If in an important speech or discussion anyone says the +opposite of what he means, then that can hardly be explained according +to the psycho-physiological or the attention theories. + +There are also many other small phenomena accompanying these errors, +which are not understood and which have not been rendered comprehensible +to us by these explanations. For instance, when one has temporarily +forgotten a name, one is annoyed, one is determined to recall it and is +unable to give up the attempt. Why is it that despite his annoyance the +individual cannot succeed, as he wishes, in directing his attention to +the word which is "on the tip of his tongue," and which he instantly +recognizes when it is pronounced to him? Or, to take another example, +there are cases in which the errors multiply, link themselves together, +substitute for each other. The first time one forgets an appointment; +the next time, after having made a special resolution not to forget it, +one discovers that one has made a mistake in the day or hour. Or one +tries by devious means to remember a forgotten word, and in the course +of so doing loses track of a second name which would have been of use in +finding the first. If one then pursues this second name, a third gets +lost, and so on. It is notorious that the same thing can happen in the +case of misprints, which are of course to be considered as errors of the +typesetter. A stubborn error of this sort is said to have crept into a +Social-Democratic paper, where, in the account of a certain festivity +was printed, "Among those present was His Highness, the Clown Prince." +The next day a correction was attempted. The paper apologized and said, +"The sentence should, of course, have read 'The Clown Prince.'" One +likes to attribute these occurrences to the printer's devil, to the +goblin of the typesetting machine, and the like--figurative expressions +which at least go beyond a psycho-physiological theory of the misprint. + +I do not know if you are acquainted with the fact that one can provoke +slips of the tongue, can call them forth by suggestion, as it were. An +anecdote will serve to illustrate this. Once when a novice on the stage +was entrusted with the important role in _The Maid of Orleans_ of +announcing to the King, "Connetable sheathes his sword," the star played +the joke of repeating to the frightened beginner during the rehearsal, +instead of the text, the following, "Comfortable sends back his +steed,"[2] and he attained his end. In the performance the unfortunate +actor actually made his debut with this distorted announcement; even +after he had been amply warned against so doing, or perhaps just for +that reason. + +These little characteristics of errors are not exactly illuminated by +the theory of diverted attention. But that does not necessarily prove +the whole theory wrong. There is perhaps something missing, a complement +by the addition of which the theory would be made completely +satisfactory. But many of the errors themselves can be regarded from +another aspect. + +Let us select slips of the tongue, as best suited to our purposes. We +might equally well choose slips of the pen or of reading. But at this +point, we must make clear to ourselves the fact that so far we have +inquired only as to when and under what conditions one's tongue slips, +and have received an answer on this point only. One can, however, direct +one's interest elsewhere and ask why one makes just this particular slip +and no other; one can consider what the slip results in. You must +realize that as long as one does not answer this question--does not +explain the effect produced by the slip--the phenomenon in its +psychological aspect remains an accident, even if its physiological +explanation has been found. When it happens that I commit a slip of the +tongue, I could obviously make any one of an infinite number of slips, +and in place of the one right word say any one of a thousand others, +make innumerable distortions of the right word. Now, is there anything +which forces upon me in a specific instance just this one special slip +out of all those which are possible, or does that remain accidental and +arbitrary, and can nothing rational be found in answer to this question? + +Two authors, Meringer and Mayer (a philologist and a psychiatrist) did +indeed in 1895 make the attempt to approach the problem of slips of the +tongue from this side. They collected examples and first treated them +from a purely descriptive standpoint. That, of course, does not yet +furnish any explanation, but may open the way to one. They +differentiated the distortions which the intended phrase suffered +through the slip, into: interchanges of positions of words, interchanges +of parts of words, perseverations, compoundings and substitutions. I +will give you examples of these authors' main categories. It is a case +of interchange of the first sort if someone says "the Milo of Venus" +instead of "the Venus of Milo." An example of the second type of +interchange, "I had a blush of rood to the head" instead of "rush of +blood"; a perseveration would be the familiar misplaced toast, "I ask +you to join me in hiccoughing the health of our chief."[3] These three +forms of slips are not very frequent. You will find those cases much +more frequent in which the slip results from a drawing together or +compounding of syllables; for example, a gentleman on the street +addresses a lady with the words, "If you will allow me, madame, I should +be very glad to _inscort_ you."[4] In the compounded word there is +obviously besides the word "escort," also the word "insult" (and +parenthetically we may remark that the young man will not find much +favor with the lady). As an example of the substitution, Meringer and +Mayer cite the following: "A man says, 'I put the specimens in the +letterbox,' instead of 'in the hot-bed,' and the like."[5] + +The explanation which the two authors attempt to formulate on the basis +of this collection of examples is peculiarly inadequate. They hold that +the sounds and syllables of words have different values, and that the +production and perception of more highly valued syllables can interfere +with those of lower values. They obviously base this conclusion on the +cases of fore-sounding and perseveration which are not at all frequent; +in other cases of slips of the tongue the question of such sound +priorities, if any exist, does not enter at all. The most frequent cases +of slips of the tongue are those in which instead of a certain word one +says another which resembles it; and one may consider this resemblance +sufficient explanation. For example, a professor says in his initial +lecture, "I am not _inclined_ to evaluate the merits of my +predecessor."[6] Or another professor says, "In the case of the female +genital, despite many _temptations_ ... I mean many attempts ... +etc."[7] + +The most common, and also the most conspicuous form of slips of the +tongue, however, is that of saying the exact opposite of what one meant +to say. In such cases, one goes far afield from the problem of sound +relations and resemblance effects, and can cite, instead of these, the +fact that opposites have an obviously close relationship to each other, +and have particularly close relations in the psychology of association. +There are historical examples of this sort. A president of our House of +Representatives once opened the assembly with the words, "Gentlemen, I +declare a quorum present, and herewith declare the assembly _closed_." + +Similar, in its trickiness, to the relation of opposites is the effect +of any other facile association which may under certain circumstances +arise most inopportunely. Thus, for instance, there is the story which +relates that on the occasion of a festivity in honor of the marriage of +a child of H. Helmholtz with a child of the well-known discoverer and +captain of industry, W. Siemon, the famous physiologist Dubois-Reymond +was asked to speak. He concluded his undoubtedly sparkling toast with +the words, "Success to the new firm--Siemens and--Halski!" That, of +course, was the name of the well-known old firm. The association of the +two names must have been about as easy for a native of Berlin as "Weber +and Fields" to an American. + +Thus we must add to the sound relations and word resemblances the +influence of word associations. But that is not all. In a series of +cases, an explanation of the observed slip is unsuccessful unless we +take into account what phrase had been said or even thought previously. +This again makes it a case of perseveration of the sort stressed by +Meringer, but of a longer duration. I must admit, I am on the whole of +the impression that we are further than ever from an explanation of +slips of the tongue! + +However, I hope I am not wrong when I say that during the above +investigation of these examples of slips of the tongue, we have all +obtained a new impression on which it will be of value to dwell. We +sought the general conditions under which slips of the tongue occur, and +then the influences which determine the kind of distortion resulting +from the slip, but we have in no way yet considered the effect of the +slip of the tongue in itself, without regard to its origin. And if we +should decide to do so we must finally have the courage to assert, "In +some of the examples cited, the product of the slip also makes sense." +What do we mean by "it makes sense"? It means, I think, that the product +of the slip has itself a right to be considered as a valid psychic act +which also has its purpose, as a manifestation having content and +meaning. Hitherto we have always spoken of errors, but now it seems as +if sometimes the error itself were quite a normal act, except that it +has thrust itself into the place of some other expected or intended act. + +In isolated cases this valid meaning seems obvious and unmistakable. +When the president with his opening words closes the session of the +House of Representatives, instead of opening it, we are inclined to +consider this error meaningful by reason of our knowledge of the +circumstances under which the slip occurred. He expects no good of the +assembly, and would be glad if he could terminate it immediately. The +pointing out of this meaning, the interpretation of this error, gives us +no difficulty. Or a lady, pretending to admire, says to another, "I am +sure you must have messed up this charming hat yourself."[8] No +scientific quibbles in the world can keep us from discovering in this +slip the idea "this hat is a mess." Or a lady who is known for her +energetic disposition, relates, "My husband asked the doctor to what +diet he should keep. But the doctor said he didn't need any diet, he +should eat and drink whatever _I_ want." This slip of tongue is quite an +unmistakable expression of a consistent purpose. + +Ladies and gentlemen, if it should turn out that not only a few cases of +slips of the tongue and of errors in general, but the larger part of +them, have a meaning, then this meaning of errors of which we have +hitherto made no mention, will unavoidably become of the greatest +interest to us and will, with justice, force all other points of view +into the background. We could then ignore all physiological and +psycho-physiological conditions and devote ourselves to the purely +psychological investigations of the sense, that is, the meaning, the +purpose of these errors. To this end therefore we will not fail, +shortly, to study a more extensive compilation of material. + +But before we undertake this task, I should like to invite you to follow +another line of thought with me. It has repeatedly happened that a poet +has made use of slips of the tongue or some other error as a means of +poetic presentation. This fact in itself must prove to us that he +considers the error, the slip of the tongue for instance, as meaningful; +for he creates it on purpose, and it is not a case of the poet +committing an accidental slip of the pen and then letting his pen-slip +stand as a tongue-slip of his character. He wants to make something +clear to us by this slip of the tongue, and we may examine what it is, +whether he wishes to indicate by this that the person in question is +distracted or fatigued. Of course, we do not wish to exaggerate the +importance of the fact that the poet did make use of a slip to express +his meaning. It could nevertheless really be a psychic accident, or +meaningful only in very rare cases, and the poet would still retain the +right to infuse it with meaning through his setting. As to their poetic +use, however, it would not be surprising if we should glean more +information concerning slips of the tongue from the poet than from the +philologist or the psychiatrist. + +Such an example of a slip of the tongue occurs in _Wallenstein_ +(_Piccolomini_, Act 1, Scene 5). In the previous scene, Max Piccolomini +has most passionately sided with the Herzog, and dilated ardently on the +blessings of peace which disclosed themselves to him during the trip on +which he accompanied Wallenstein's daughter to the camp. He leaves his +father and the courtier, Questenberg, plunged in deepest consternation. +And then the fifth scene continues: + + Q. + + 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 opened mine, + And I see more than pleases me. + + Q. + + What is it? + + OCTAVIO. + + A curse on this journey! + + Q. + + But why so? What is it? + + OCTAVIO. + + Come, come along, friend! I must follow up + The ominous track immediately. Mine eyes + Are opened now, and I must use them. Come! + + (_Draws Q. on with him._) + + Q. + + What now? Where go you then? + + OCTAVIO. + + (_Hastily._) To _her_ herself + + Q. + + To-- + + OCTAVIO. + + (_Interrupting him and correcting himself._) + + To the duke. Come, let us go--. + +Octavio meant to say, "To him, to the lord," but his tongue slips and +through his words "_to her_" he betrays to us, at least, the fact that +he had quite clearly recognized the influence which makes the young war +hero dream of peace. + +A still more impressive example was found by O. Rank in Shakespeare. It +occurs in the _Merchant of Venice_, in the famous scene in which the +fortunate suitor makes his choice among the three caskets; and perhaps I +can do no better than to read to you here Rank's short account of the +incident: + +"A slip of the tongue which occurs in Shakespeare's _Merchant of +Venice_, Act III, Scene II, is exceedingly delicate in its poetic +motivation and technically brilliant in its handling. Like the slip in +_Wallenstein_ quoted by Freud (_Psychopathology of Everyday Life_, 2d +ed., p. 48), it shows that the poets well know the meaning of these +errors and assume their comprehensibility to the audience. Portia, who +by her father's wish has been bound to the choice of a husband by lot, +has so far escaped all her unfavored suitors through the fortunes of +chance. Since she has finally found in Bassanio the suitor to whom she +is attached, she fears that he, too, will choose the wrong casket. She +would like to tell him that even in that event he may rest assured of +her love, but is prevented from so doing by her oath. In this inner +conflict the poet makes her say to the welcome suitor: + + PORTIA: + + 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 had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes. + They have o'erlook'd 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. + +Just that, therefore, which she meant merely to indicate faintly to him +or really to conceal from him entirely, namely that even before the +choice of the lot she was his and loved him, this the poet--with +admirable psychological delicacy of feeling--makes apparent by her slip; +and is able, by this artistic device, to quiet the unbearable +uncertainty of the lover, as well as the equal suspense of the audience +as to the issue of the choice." + +Notice, at the end, how subtly Portia reconciles the two declarations +which are contained in the slip, how she resolves the contradiction +between them and finally still manages to keep her promise: + + "* * * but if mine, then yours, + And so all yours." + +Another thinker, alien to the field of medicine, accidentally disclosed +the meaning of errors by an observation which has anticipated our +attempts at explanation. You all know the clever satires of Lichtenberg +(1742-1749), of which Goethe said, "Where he jokes, there lurks a +problem concealed." Not infrequently the joke also brings to light the +solution of the problem. Lichtenberg mentions in his jokes and satiric +comments the remark that he always read "Agamemnon" for "angenommen,"[9] +so intently had he read Homer. Herein is really contained the whole +theory of misreadings. + +At the next session we will see whether we can agree with the poets in +their conception of the meaning of psychological errors. + + + + +THIRD LECTURE + +THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ERRORS--(_Continued_) + + +At the last session we conceived the idea of considering the error, not +in its relation to the intended act which it distorted, but by itself +alone, and we received the impression that in isolated instances it +seems to betray a meaning of its own. We declared that if this fact +could be established on a larger scale, then the meaning of the error +itself would soon come to interest us more than an investigation of the +circumstances under which the error occurs. + +Let us agree once more on what we understand by the "meaning" of a +psychic process. A psychic process is nothing more than the purpose +which it serves and the position which it holds in a psychic sequence. +We can also substitute the word "purpose" or "intention" for "meaning" +in most of our investigations. Was it then only a deceptive appearance +or a poetic exaggeration of the importance of an error which made us +believe that we recognized a purpose in it? + +Let us adhere faithfully to the illustrative example of slips of the +tongue and let us examine a larger number of such observations. We then +find whole categories of cases in which the intention, the meaning of +the slip itself, is clearly manifest. This is the case above all in +those examples in which one says the opposite of what one intended. The +president said, in his opening address, "I declare the meeting closed." +His intention is certainly not ambiguous. The meaning and purpose of his +slip is that he wants to terminate the meeting. One might point the +conclusion with the remark "he said so himself." We have only taken him +at his word. Do not interrupt me at this point by remarking that this is +not possible, that we know he did not want to terminate the meeting but +to open it, and that he himself, whom we have just recognized as the +best judge of his intention, will affirm that he meant to open it. In so +doing you forget that we have agreed to consider the error entirely by +itself. Its relation to the intention which it distorts is to be +discussed later. Otherwise you convict yourself of an error in logic by +which you smoothly conjure away the problem under discussion; or "beg +the question," as it is called in English. + +In other cases in which the speaker has not said the exact opposite of +what he intended, the slip may nevertheless express an antithetical +meaning. "I am not _inclined_ to appreciate the merits of my +predecessor." "_Inclined_" is not the opposite of "_in a position to_," +but it is an open betrayal of intent in sharpest contradiction to the +attempt to cope gracefully with the situation which the speaker is +supposed to meet. + +In still other cases the slip simply adds a second meaning to the one +intended. The sentence then sounds like a contradiction, an +abbreviation, a condensation of several sentences. Thus the lady of +energetic disposition, "He may eat and drink whatever _I_ please." The +real meaning of this abbreviation is as though the lady had said, "He +may eat and drink whatever he pleases. But what does it matter what _he_ +pleases! It is _I_ who do the pleasing." Slips of the tongue often give +the impression of such an abbreviation. For example, the anatomy +professor, after his lecture on the human nostril, asks whether the +class has thoroughly understood, and after a unanimous answer in the +affirmative, goes on to say: "I can hardly believe that is so, since the +people who understand the human nostril can, even in a city of millions, +be counted on _one finger_--I mean, on the fingers of one hand." The +abbreviated sentence here also has its meaning: it expresses the idea +that there is only one person who thoroughly understands the subject. + +In contrast to these groups of cases are those in which the error does +not itself express its meaning, in which the slip of the tongue does not +in itself convey anything intelligible; cases, therefore, which are in +sharpest opposition to our expectations. If anyone, through a slip of +the tongue, distorts a proper name, or puts together an unusual +combination of syllables, then this very common occurrence seems already +to have decided in the negative the question of whether all errors +contain a meaning. Yet closer inspection of these examples discloses the +fact that an understanding of such a distortion is easily possible, +indeed, that the difference between these unintelligible cases and the +previous comprehensible ones is not so very great. + +A man who was asked how his horse was, answered, "Oh, it may _stake_--it +may take another month." When asked what he really meant to say, he +explained that he had been thinking that it was a _sorry_ business and +the coming together of "_take_" and "_sorry_" gave rise to "_stake_." +(Meringer and Mayer.) + +Another man was telling of some incidents to which he had objected, and +went on, "and then certain facts were _re-filed_." Upon being +questioned, he explained that he meant to stigmatize these facts as +"_filthy_." "_Revealed_" and "_filthy_" together produced the peculiar +"_re-filled_." (Meringer and Mayer.) + +You will recall the case of the young man who wished to "_inscort_" an +unknown lady. We took the liberty of resolving this word construction +into the two words "_escort_" and "_insult_," and felt convinced of this +interpretation without demanding proof of it. You see from these +examples that even slips can be explained through the concurrence, the +interference, of two speeches of different intentions. The difference +arises only from the fact that in the one type of slip the intended +speech completely crowds out the other, as happens in those slips where +the opposite is said, while in the other type the intended speech must +rest content with so distorting or modifying the other as to result in +mixtures which seem more or less intelligible in themselves. + +We believe that we have now grasped the secret of a large number of +slips of the tongue. If we keep this explanation in mind we will be able +to understand still other hitherto mysterious groups. In the case of the +distortion of names, for instance, we cannot assume that it is always an +instance of competition between two similar, yet different names. Still, +the second intention is not difficult to guess. The distorting of names +occurs frequently enough not as a slip of the tongue, but as an attempt +to give the name an ill-sounding or debasing character. It is a familiar +device or trick of insult, which persons of culture early learned to do +without, though they do not give it up readily. They often clothe it in +the form of a joke, though, to be sure, the joke is of a very low order. +Just to cite a gross and ugly example of such a distortion of a name, I +mention the fact that the name of the President of the French Republic, +_Poincare_, has been at times, lately, transformed into +"_Schweinskarre_." It is therefore easy to assume that there is also +such an intention to insult in the case of other slips of the tongue +which result in the distortion of a name. In consequence of our +adherence to this conception, similar explanations force themselves upon +us, in the case of slips of the tongue whose effect is comical or +absurd. "I call upon you to _hiccough_ the health of our chief."[10] +Here the solemn atmosphere is unexpectedly disturbed by the introduction +of a word that awakens an unpleasant image; and from the prototype of +certain expressions of insult and offense we cannot but suppose that +there is an intention striving for expression which is in sharp contrast +to the ostensible respect, and which could be expressed about as +follows, "You needn't believe this. I'm not really in earnest. I don't +give a whoop for the fellow--etc." A similar trick which passes for a +slip of the tongue is that which transforms a harmless word into one +which is indecent and obscene.[11] + +We know that many persons have this tendency of intentionally making +harmless words obscene for the sake of a certain lascivious pleasure it +gives them. It passes as wit, and we always have to ask about a person +of whom we hear such a thing, whether he intended it as a joke or +whether it occurred as a slip of the tongue. + +Well, here we have solved the riddle of errors with relatively little +trouble! They are not accidents, but valid psychic acts. They have their +meaning; they arise through the collaboration--or better, the mutual +interference--of two different intentions. I can well understand that at +this point you want to swamp me with a deluge of questions and doubts to +be answered and resolved before we can rejoice over this first result of +our labors. I truly do not wish to push you to premature conclusions. +Let us dispassionately weigh each thing in turn, one after the other. + +What would you like to say? Whether I think this explanation is valid +for all cases of slips of the tongue or only for a certain number? +Whether one can extend this same conception to all the many other +errors--to mis-reading, slips of the pen, forgetting, picking up the +wrong object, mislaying things, etc? In the face of the psychic nature +of errors, what meaning is left to the factors of fatigue, excitement, +absent-mindedness and distraction of attention? Moreover, it is easy to +see that of the two competing meanings in an error, one is always +public, but the other not always. But what does one do in order to guess +the latter? And when one believes one has guessed it, how does one go +about proving that it is not merely a probable meaning, but that it is +the only correct meaning? Is there anything else you wish to ask? If +not, then I will continue. I would remind you of the fact that we really +are not much concerned with the errors themselves, but we wanted only to +learn something of value to psychoanalysis from their study. Therefore, +I put the question: What are these purposes or tendencies which can thus +interfere with others, and what relation is there between the +interfering tendencies and those interfered with? Thus our labor really +begins anew, after the explanation of the problem. + +Now, is this the explanation of all tongue slips? I am very much +inclined to think so and for this reason, that as often as one +investigates a case of a slip of the tongue, it reduces itself to this +type of explanation. But on the other hand, one cannot prove that a slip +of the tongue cannot occur without this mechanism. It may be so; for our +purposes it is a matter of theoretical indifference, since the +conclusions which we wish to draw by way of an introduction to +psychoanalysis remain untouched, even if only a minority of the cases of +tongue slips come within our conception, which is surely not the case. I +shall anticipate the next question, of whether or not we may extend to +other types of errors what we have gleaned from slips of the tongue, and +answer it in the affirmative. You will convince yourselves of that +conclusion when we turn our attention to the investigation of examples +of pen slips, picking up wrong objects, etc. I would advise you, +however, for technical reasons, to postpone this task until we shall +have investigated the tongue slip itself more thoroughly. + +The question of what meaning those factors which have been placed in the +foreground by some authors,--namely, the factors of circulatory +disturbances, fatigue, excitement, absent-mindedness, the theory of the +distraction of attention--the question of what meaning those factors can +now have for us if we accept the above described psychic mechanism of +tongue slips, deserves a more detailed answer. You will note that we do +not deny these factors. In fact, it is not very often that +psychoanalysis denies anything which is asserted on the other side. As a +rule psychoanalysis merely adds something to such assertions and +occasionally it does happen that what had hitherto been overlooked, and +was newly added by psychoanalysis, is just the essential thing. The +influence on the occurrence of tongue slips of such physiological +predispositions as result from slight illness, circulatory disturbances +and conditions of fatigue, should be acknowledged without more ado. +Daily personal experience can convince you of that. But how little is +explained by such an admission! Above all, they are not necessary +conditions of the errors. Slips of the tongue are just as possible when +one is in perfect health and normal condition. Bodily factors, +therefore, have only the value of acting by way of facilitation and +encouragement to the peculiar psychic mechanism of a slip of the tongue. + +To illustrate this relationship, I once used a simile which I will now +repeat because I know of no better one as substitute. Let us suppose +that some dark night I go past a lonely spot and am there assaulted by a +rascal who takes my watch and purse; and then, since I did not see the +face of the robber clearly, I make my complaint at the nearest police +station in the following words: "Loneliness and darkness have just +robbed me of my valuables." The police commissioner could then say to +me: "You seem to hold an unjustifiably extreme mechanistic conception. +Let us rather state the case as follows: Under cover of darkness, and +favored by the loneliness, an unknown robber seized your valuables. The +essential task in your case seems to me to be to discover the robber. +Perhaps we can then take his booty from him again." + +Such psycho-physiological moments as excitement, absent-mindedness and +distracted attention, are obviously of small assistance to us for the +purpose of explanation. They are mere phrases, screens behind which we +will not be deterred from looking. The question is rather what in such +cases has caused the excitement, the particular diversion of attention. +The influence of syllable sounds, word resemblances and the customary +associations which words arouse should also be recognized as having +significance. They facilitate the tongue slip by pointing the path which +it can take. But if I have a path before me, does that fact as a matter +of course determine that I will follow it? After all, I must have a +stimulus to make me decide for it, and, in addition, a force which +carries me forward on this path. These sound and word relationships +therefore serve also only to facilitate the tongue slip, just as the +bodily dispositions facilitate them; they cannot give the explanation +for the word itself. Just consider, for example, the fact that in an +enormously large number of cases, my lecturing is not disturbed by the +fact that the words which I use recall others by their sound +resemblance, that they are intimately associated with their opposites, +or arouse common associations. We might add here the observation of the +philosopher Wundt, that slips of the tongue occur when, in consequence +of bodily fatigue, the tendency to association gains the upper hand over +the intended speech. This would sound very plausible if it were not +contradicted by experiences which proved that from one series of cases +of tongue-slips bodily stimuli were absent, and from another, the +association stimuli were absent. + +However, your next question is one of particular interest to me, namely: +in what way can one establish the existence of the two mutually +antagonistic tendencies? You probably do not suspect how significant +this question is. It is true, is it not, that one of the two tendencies, +the tendency which suffers the interference, is always unmistakable? The +person who commits the error is aware of it and acknowledges it. It is +the other tendency, what we call the interfering tendency, which causes +doubt and hesitation. Now we have already learned, and you have surely +not forgotten, that these tendencies are, in a series of cases, equally +plain. That is indicated by the effect of the slip, if only we have the +courage to let this effect be valid in itself. The president who said +the opposite of what he meant to say made it clear that he wanted to +open the meeting, but equally clear that he would also have liked to +terminate it. Here the meaning is so plain that there is nothing left to +be interpreted. But the other cases in which the interfering tendency +merely distorts the original, without bringing itself to full +expression--how can one guess the interfering meaning from the +distortion? + +By a very sure and simple method, in the first series of cases, namely, +by the same method by which one establishes the existence of the +meaning interfered with. The latter is immediately supplied by the +speaker, who instantly adds the originally intended expression. "It may +_stake_--no, it may _take_ another month." Now we likewise ask him to +express the interfering meaning; we ask him: "Now, why did you first say +_stake_?" He answers, "I meant to say--'This is a _sorry_ business.'" +And in the other case of the tongue slip--_re-filed_--the subject also +affirms that he meant to say "It is a _fil-thy_ business," but then +moderated his expression and turned it into something else. Thus the +discovery of the interfering meaning was here as successful as the +discovery of the one interfered with. Nor did I unintentionally select +as examples cases which were neither related nor explained by me or by a +supporter of my theories. Yet a certain investigation was necessary in +both cases in order to obtain the solution. One had to ask the speaker +why he made this slip, what he had to say about it. Otherwise he might +perhaps have passed it by without seeking to explain it. When +questioned, however, he furnished the explanation by means of the first +thing that came to his mind. And now you see, ladies and gentlemen, that +this slight investigation and its consequence are already a +psychoanalysis, and the prototype of every psychoanalytic investigation +which we shall conduct more extensively at a later time. + +Now, am I unduly suspicious if I suspect that at the same moment in +which psychoanalysis emerges before you, your resistance to +psychoanalysis also raises its head? Are you not anxious to raise the +objection that the information given by the subject we questioned, and +who committed the slip, is not proof sufficient? He naturally has the +desire, you say, to meet the challenge, to explain the slip, and hence +he says the first thing he can think of if it seems relevant. But that, +you say, is no proof that this is really the way the slip happened. It +might be so, but it might just as well be otherwise, you say. Something +else might have occurred to him which might have fitted the case just as +well and better. + +It is remarkable how little respect, at bottom, you have for a psychic +fact! Imagine that someone has decided to undertake the chemical +analysis of a certain substance, and has secured a sample of the +substance, of a certain weight--so and so many milligrams. From this +weighed sample certain definite conclusions can be drawn. Do you think +it would ever occur to a chemist to discredit these conclusions by the +argument that the isolated substance might have had some other weight? +Everyone yields to the fact that it was just this weight and no other, +and confidently builds his further conclusions upon that fact. But when +you are confronted by the psychic fact that the subject, when +questioned, had a certain idea, you will not accept that as valid, but +say some other idea might just as easily have occurred to him! The +trouble is that you believe in the illusion of psychic freedom and will +not give it up. I regret that on this point I find myself in complete +opposition to your views. + +Now you will relinquish this point only to take up your resistance at +another place. You will continue, "We understand that it is the peculiar +technique of psychoanalysis that the solution of its problems is +discovered by the analyzed subject himself. Let us take another example, +that in which the speaker calls upon the assembly 'to _hiccough_ the +health of their chief.' The interfering idea in this case, you say, is +the insult. It is that which is the antagonist of the expression of +conferring an honor. But that is mere interpretation on your part, based +on observations extraneous to the slip. If in this case you question the +originator of the slip, he will not affirm that he intended an insult, +on the contrary, he will deny it energetically. Why do you not give up +your unverifiable interpretation in the face of this plain objection?" + +Yes, this time you struck a hard problem. I can imagine the unknown +speaker. He is probably an assistant to the guest of honor, perhaps +already a minor official, a young man with the brightest prospects. I +will press him as to whether he did not after all feel conscious of +something which may have worked in opposition to the demand that he do +honor to the chief. What a fine success I'll have! He becomes impatient +and suddenly bursts out on me, "Look here, you'd better stop this +cross-examination, or I'll get unpleasant. Why, you'll spoil my whole +career with your suspicions. I simply said '_auf_-gestossen' instead of +'_an_-gestossen,' because I'd already said '_auf_' twice in the same +sentence. It's the thing that Meringer calls a perservation, and there's +no other meaning that you can twist out of it. Do you understand me? +That's all." H'm, this is a surprising reaction, a really energetic +denial. I see that there is nothing more to be obtained from the young +man, but I also remark to myself that he betrays a strong personal +interest in having his slip mean nothing. Perhaps you, too, agree that +it is not right for him immediately to become so rude over a purely +theoretical investigation, but, you will conclude, he really must know +what he did and did not mean to say. + +Really? Perhaps that's open to question nevertheless. + +But now you think you have me. "So that is your technique," I hear you +say. "When the person who has committed a slip gives an explanation +which fits your theory, then you declare him the final authority on the +subject. 'He says so himself!' But if what he says does not fit into +your scheme, then you suddenly assert that what he says does not count, +that one need not believe him." + +Yet that is certainly true. I can give you a similar case in which the +procedure is apparently just as monstrous. When a defendant confesses to +a deed, the judge believes his confession. But if he denies it, the +judge does not believe him. Were it otherwise, there would be no way to +administer the law, and despite occasional miscarriages you must +acknowledge the value of this system. + +Well, are you then the judge, and is the person who committed the slip a +defendant before you? Is a slip of the tongue a crime? + +Perhaps we need not even decline this comparison. But just see to what +far-reaching differences we have come by penetrating somewhat into the +seemingly harmless problems of the psychology of errors, differences +which at this stage we do not at all know how to reconcile. I offer you +a preliminary compromise on the basis of the analogy of the judge and +the defendant. You will grant me that the meaning of an error admits of +no doubt when the subject under analysis acknowledges it himself. I in +turn will admit that a direct proof for the suspected meaning cannot be +obtained if the subject denies us the information; and, of course, that +is also the case when the subject is not present to give us the +information. We are, then, as in the case of the legal procedure, +dependent on circumstances which make a decision at one time seem more, +and at another time, less probable to us. At law, one has to declare a +defendant guilty on circumstantial evidence for practical reasons. We +see no such necessity; but neither are we forced to forego the use of +these circumstances. It would be a mistake to believe that a science +consists of nothing but conclusively proved theorems, and any such +demand would be unjust. Only a person with a mania for authority, a +person who must replace his religious catechism with some other, even +though it be scientific, would make such a demand. Science has but few +apodeictic precepts in its catechism; it consists chiefly of assertions +which it has developed to certain degrees of probability. It is actually +a symptom of scientific thinking if one is content with these +approximations of certainty and is able to carry on constructive work +despite the lack of the final confirmation. + +But where do we get the facts for our interpretations, the circumstances +for our proof, when the further remarks of the subject under analysis do +not themselves elucidate the meaning of the error? From many sources. +First of all, from the analogy with phenomena extraneous to the +psychology of errors; as, for example, when we assert that the +distortion of a name as a slip of the tongue has the same insulting +significance as an intentional name distortion. We get them also from +the psychic situation in which the error occurred, from our knowledge of +the character of the person who committed the error, from the +impressions which that person received before making the error, and to +which he may possibly have reacted with this error. As a rule, what +happens is that we find the meaning of the error according to general +principles. It is then only a conjecture, a suggestion as to what the +meaning may be, and we then obtain our proof from examination of the +psychic situation. Sometimes, too, it happens that we have to wait for +subsequent developments, which have announced themselves, as it were, +through the error, in order to find our conjecture verified. + +I cannot easily give you proof of this if I have to limit myself to the +field of tongue slips, although even here there are a few good examples. +The young man who wished to "_inscort_" the lady is certainly shy; the +lady whose husband may eat and drink whatever _she_ wants I know to be +one of those energetic women who know how to rule in the home. Or take +the following case: At a general meeting of the Concordia Club, a young +member delivers a vehement speech in opposition, in the course of which +he addresses the officers of the society as: "Fellow committee +lenders." We will conjecture that some conflicting idea militated in him +against his opposition, an idea which was in some way based on a +connection with money lending. As a matter of fact, we learn from our +informant that the speaker was in constant money difficulties, and had +attempted to raise a loan. As a conflicting idea, therefore, we may +safely interpolate the idea, "Be more moderate in your opposition, these +are the same people who are to grant you the loan." + +But I can give you a wide selection of such circumstantial proof if I +delve into the wide field of other kinds of error. + +If anyone forgets an otherwise familiar proper name, or has difficulty +in retaining it in his memory despite all efforts, then the conclusion +lies close at hand, that he has something against the bearer of this +name and does not like to think of him. Consider in this connection the +following revelation of the psychic situation in which this error +occurs: + +"A Mr. Y. fell in love, without reciprocation, with a lady who soon +after married a Mr. X. In spite of the fact that Mr. Y. has known Mr. X. +a long time, and even has business relations with him, he forgets his +name over and over again, so that he found it necessary on several +occasions to ask other people the man's name when he wanted to write to +Mr. X."[12] + +Mr. Y. obviously does not want to have his fortunate rival in mind under +any condition. "Let him never be thought of." + +Another example: A lady makes inquiries at her doctor's concerning a +mutual acquaintance, but speaks of her by her maiden name. She has +forgotten her married name. She admits that she was much displeased by +the marriage, and could not stand this friend's husband.[13] + +Later we shall have much to say in other relations about the matter of +forgetting names. At present we are predominantly interested in the +psychic situation in which the lapse of memory occurs. + +The forgetting of projects can quite commonly be traced to an +antagonistic current which does not wish to carry out the project. We +psychoanalysts are not alone in holding this view, but this is the +general conception to which all persons subscribe the daily affairs, and +which they first deny in theory. The patron who makes apologies to his +protege, saying that he has forgotten his requests, has not squared +himself with his protege. The protege immediately thinks: "There's +nothing to that; he did promise but he really doesn't want to do it." +Hence, daily life also proscribes forgetting, in certain connections, +and the difference between the popular and the psychoanalytic conception +of these errors appears to be removed. Imagine a housekeeper who +receives her guest with the words: "What, you come to-day? Why, I had +totally forgotten that I had invited you for to-day"; or the young man +who might tell his sweetheart that he had forgotten to keep the +rendezvous which they planned. He is sure not to admit it, it were +better for him to invent the most improbable excuses on the spur of the +moment, hindrances which prevented him from coming at that time, and +which made it impossible for him to communicate the situation to her. We +all know that in military matters the excuse of having forgotten +something is useless, that it protects one from no punishment; and we +must consider this attitude justified. Here we suddenly find everyone +agreed that a certain error is significant, and everyone agrees what its +meaning is. Why are they not consistent enough to extend this insight to +the other errors, and fully to acknowledge them? Of course, there is +also an answer to this. + +If the meaning of this forgetting of projects leaves room for so little +doubt among laymen, you will be less surprised to find that poets make +use of these errors in the same sense. Those of you who have seen or +read Shaw's _Caesar and Cleopatra_ will recall that Caesar, when +departing in the last scene, is pursued by the idea that there was +something more he intended to do, but that he had forgotten it. Finally +he discovers what it is: to take leave of Cleopatra. This small device +of the author is meant to ascribe to the great Caesar a superiority +which he did not possess, and to which he did not at all aspire. You can +learn from historical sources that Caesar had Cleopatra follow him to +Rome, and that she was staying there with her little Caesarion when +Caesar was murdered, whereupon she fled the city. + +The cases of forgetting projects are as a rule so clear that they are of +little use for our purpose, i.e., discovering in the psychic situation +circumstantial evidence of the meaning of the error. Let us, therefore, +turn to a particularly ambiguous and untransparent error, that of losing +and mislaying objects. That we ourselves should have a purpose in losing +an object, an accident frequently so painful, will certainly seem +incredible to you. But there are many instances similar to the +following: A young man loses the pencil which he had liked very much. +The day before he had received a letter from his brother-in-law, which +concluded with the words, "For the present I have neither the +inclination nor the time to be a party to your frivolity and your +idleness."[14] It so happened that the pencil had been a present from +this brother-in-law. Without this coincidence we could not, of course, +assert that the loss involved any intention to get rid of the gift. +Similar cases are numerous. Persons lose objects when they have fallen +out with the donors, and no longer wish to be reminded of them. Or +again, objects may be lost if one no longer likes the things themselves, +and wants to supply oneself with a pretext for substituting other and +better things in their stead. Letting a thing fall and break naturally +shows the same intention toward that object. Can one consider it +accidental when a school child just before his birthday loses, ruins or +breaks his belongings, for example his school bag or his watch? + +He who has frequently experienced the annoyance of not being able to +find something which he has himself put away, will also be unwilling to +believe there was any intent behind the loss. And yet the examples are +not at all rare in which the attendant circumstances of the mislaying +point to a tendency temporarily or permanently to get rid of the object. +Perhaps the most beautiful example of this sort is the following: A +young man tells me: "A few years ago a misunderstanding arose in my +married life. I felt my wife was too cool and even though I willingly +acknowledged her excellent qualities, we lived without any tenderness +between us. One day she brought me a book which she had thought might +interest me. I thanked her for this attention, promised to read the +book, put it in a handy place, and couldn't find it again. Several +months passed thus, during which I occasionally remembered this mislaid +book and tried in vain to find it. About half a year later my beloved +mother, who lived at a distance from us, fell ill. My wife left the +house in order to nurse her mother-in-law. The condition of the patient +became serious, and gave my wife an opportunity of showing her best +side. One evening I came home filled with enthusiasm and gratitude +toward my wife. I approached my writing desk, opened a certain drawer +with no definite intention but as if with somnambulistic certainty, and +the first thing I found is the book so long mislaid." + +With the cessation of the motive, the inability to find the mislaid +object also came to an end. + +Ladies and gentlemen, I could increase this collection of examples +indefinitely. But I do not wish to do so here. In my _Psychopathology of +Everyday Life_ (first published in 1901), you will find only too many +instances for the study of errors.[15] + +All these examples demonstrate the same thing repeatedly: namely, they +make it seem probable that errors have a meaning, and show how one may +guess or establish that meaning from the attendant circumstances. I +limit myself to-day because we have confined ourselves to the purpose of +profiting in the preparation for psychoanalysis from the study of these +phenomena. I must, however, still go into two additional groups of +observations, into the accumulated and combined errors and into the +confirmation of our interpretations by means of subsequent developments. + +The accumulated and combined errors are surely the fine flower of their +species. If we were interested only in proving that errors may have a +meaning, we would limit ourselves to the accumulated and combined errors +in the first place, for here the meaning is unmistakable, even to the +dullest intelligence, and can force conviction upon the most critical +judgment. The accumulation of manifestations betrays a stubbornness such +as could never come about by accident, but which fits closely the idea +of design. Finally, the interchange of certain kinds of error with each +other shows us what is the important and essential element of the error, +not its form or the means of which it avails itself, but the purpose +which it serves and which is to be achieved by the most various paths. +Thus I will give you a case of repeated forgetting. Jones recounts that +he once allowed a letter to lie on his writing desk several days for +reasons quite unknown. Finally he made up his mind to mail it; but it +was returned from the dead letter office, for he had forgotten to +address it. After he had addressed it he took it to the post office, but +this time without a stamp. At this point he finally had to admit to +himself his aversion against sending the letter at all. + +In another case a mistake is combined with mislaying an object. A lady +is traveling to Rome with her brother-in-law, a famous artist. The +visitor is much feted by the Germans living in Rome, and receives as a +gift, among other things, a gold medal of ancient origin. The lady is +vexed by the fact that her brother-in-law does not sufficiently +appreciate the beautiful object. After she leaves her sister and reaches +her home, she discovers when unpacking that she has brought with +her--how, she does not know--the medal. She immediately informs her +brother-in-law of this fact by letter, and gives him notice that she +will send the medal back to Rome the next day. But on the following day, +the medal has been so cleverly mislaid that it can neither be found nor +sent, and at this point it begins to dawn upon the lady that her +"absent-mindedness" means, namely, that she wants to keep the object for +herself.[16] + +I have already given you an example of a combination of forgetfulness +and error in which someone first forgot a rendezvous and then, with the +firm intention of not forgetting it a second time, appeared at the wrong +hour. A quite analogous case was told me from his own experience, by a +friend who pursues literary interests in addition to his scientific +ones. He said: "A few years ago I accepted the election to the board of +a certain literary society, because I hoped that the society could at +some time be of use to me in helping obtain the production of my drama, +and, despite my lack of interest, I took part in the meetings every +Friday. A few months ago I received the assurance of a production in the +theatre in F., and since that time it happens regularly that I forget +the meetings of that society. When I read your article on these things, +I was ashamed of my forgetfulness, reproached myself with the meanness +of staying away now that I no longer need these people and determined to +be sure not to forget next Friday. I kept reminding myself of this +resolution until I carried it out and stood before the door of the +meeting room. To my astonishment, it was closed, the meeting was already +over; for I had mistaken the day. It was already Saturday." + +It would be tempting enough to collect similar observations, but I will +go no further; I will let you glance instead upon those cases in which +our interpretation has to wait for its proof upon future developments. + +The chief condition of these cases is conceivably that the existing +psychic situation is unknown to us or inaccessible to our inquiries. At +that time our interpretation has only the value of a conjecture to which +we ourselves do not wish to grant too much weight. Later, however, +something happens which shows us how justified was our interpretation +even at that time. I was once the guest of a young married couple and +heard the young wife laughingly tell of a recent experience, of how on +the day after her return from her honeymoon she had hunted up her +unmarried sister again in order to go shopping with her, as in former +times, while her husband went to his business. Suddenly she noticed a +gentleman on the other side of the street, and she nudged her sister, +saying, "Why look, there goes Mr. K." She had forgotten that this +gentleman was her husband of some weeks' standing. I shuddered at this +tale but did not dare to draw the inference. The little anecdote did not +occur to me again until a year later, after this marriage had come to a +most unhappy end. + +A. Maeder tells of a lady who, the day before her wedding, forgot to try +on her wedding dress and to the despair of the dressmaker only +remembered it later in the evening. He adds in connection with this +forgetfulness the fact that she divorced her husband soon after. I know +a lady now divorced from her husband, who, in managing her fortune, +frequently signed documents with her maiden name, and this many years +before she really resumed it. I know of other women who lost their +wedding rings on their honeymoon and also know that the course of the +marriage gave a meaning to this accident. And now one more striking +example with a better termination. It is said that the marriage of a +famous German chemist did not take place because he forgot the hour of +the wedding, and instead of going to the church went to the laboratory. +He was wise enough to rest satisfied with this one attempt, and died +unmarried at a ripe old age. + +Perhaps the idea has also come to you that in these cases mistakes have +taken the place of the _Omina_ or omens of the ancients. Some of the +_Omina_ really were nothing more than mistakes; for example, when a +person stumbled or fell down. Others, to be sure, bore the +characteristics of objective occurrences rather than that of subjective +acts. But you would not believe how difficult it sometimes is to decide +in a specific instance whether the act belongs to the one or the other +group. It so frequently knows how to masquerade as a passive experience. + +Everyone of us who can look back over a longer or shorter life +experience will probably say that he might have spared himself many +disappointments and painful surprises if he had found the courage and +decision to interpret as omens the little mistakes which he made in his +intercourse with people, and to consider them as indications of the +intentions which were still being kept secret. As a rule, one does not +dare do this. One would feel as though he were again becoming +superstitious via a detour through science. But not all omens come true, +and you will understand from our theories that they need not all come +true. + + + + +FOURTH LECTURE + +THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ERRORS--(_Conclusion_) + + +We may certainly put it down as the conclusion of our labors up to this +point that errors have a meaning, and we may make this conclusion the +basis of our further investigations. Let me stress the fact once more +that we do not assert--and for our purposes need not assert--that every +single mistake which occurs is meaningful, although I consider that +probable. It will suffice us if we prove the presence of such a meaning +with relative frequency in the various forms of errors. These various +forms, by the way, behave differently in this respect. In the cases of +tongue slips, pen slips, etc., the occurrences may take place on a +purely physiological basis. In the group based on forgetfulness +(forgetting names or projects, mislaying objects, etc.) I cannot believe +in such a basis. There does very probably exist a type of case in which +the loss of objects should be recognized as unintentional. Of the +mistakes which occur in daily life, only a certain portion can in any +way be brought within our conception. You must keep this limitation in +mind when we start henceforth from the assumption that mistakes are +psychic acts and arise through the mutual interference of two +intentions. + +Herein we have the first result of psychoanalysis. Psychology hitherto +knew nothing of the occurrence of such interferences and the possibility +that they might have such manifestations as a consequence. We have +widened the province of the world of psychic phenomena quite +considerably, and have brought into the province of psychology phenomena +which formerly were not attributed to it. + +Let us tarry a moment longer over the assertion that errors are psychic +acts. Does such an assertion contain more than the former declaration +that they have a meaning? I do not believe so. On the contrary, it is +rather more indefinite and open to greater misunderstanding. Everything +which can be observed about the psychic life will on occasion be +designated as a psychic phenomenon. But it will depend on whether the +specific psychic manifestations resulted directly from bodily, organic, +material influences, in which case their investigation will not fall +within the province of psychology, or whether it was more immediately +the result of other psychic occurrences back of which, somewhere, the +series of organic influences then begins. We have the latter condition +of affairs before us when we designate a phenomenon as a psychic +manifestation, and for that reason it is more expedient to put our +assertion in this form: the phenomena are meaningful; they have a +meaning. By "meaning" we understand significance, purpose, tendency and +position in a sequence of psychic relations. + +There are a number of other occurrences which are very closely related +to errors, but which this particular name no longer fits. We call them +_accidental and symptomatic_ acts. They also have the appearance of +being unmotivated, the appearance of insignificance and unimportance, +but in addition, and more plainly, of superfluity. They are +differentiated from errors by the absence of another intention with +which they collide and by which they are disturbed. On the other side +they pass over without a definite boundary line into the gestures and +movements which we count among expressions of the emotions. Among these +accidental acts belong all those apparently playful, apparently +purposeless performances in connection with our clothing, parts of our +body, objects within reach, as well as the omission of such +performances, and the melodies which we hum to ourselves. I venture the +assertion that all these phenomena are meaningful and capable of +interpretation in the same way as are the errors, that they are small +manifestations of other more important psychic processes, valid psychic +acts. But I do not intend to linger over this new enlargement of the +province of psychic phenomena, but rather to return to the topic of +errors, in the consideration of which the important psychoanalytic +inquiries can be worked out with far greater clarity. + +The most interesting questions which we formulated while considering +errors, and which we have not yet answered, are, I presume, the +following: We said that the errors are the result of the mutual +interference of two different intentions, of which the one can be called +the intention interfered with, and the other the interfering intention. +The intentions interfered with give rise to no further questions, but +concerning the others we want to know, firstly, what kind of intentions +are these which arise as disturbers of others, and secondly, in what +proportions are the interfering related to the interfered? + +Will you permit me again to take the slip of the tongue as +representative of the whole species and allow me to answer the second +question before the first? + +The interfering intention in the tongue slip may stand in a significant +relation to the intention interfered with, and then the former contains +a contradiction of the latter, correcting or supplementing it. Or, to +take a less intelligible and more interesting case, the interfering +intention has nothing to do with the intention interfered with. + +Proofs for the first of the two relations we can find without trouble in +the examples which we already know and in others similar to those. In +almost all cases of tongue slips where one says the contrary of what he +intended, where the interfering intention expresses the antithesis of +the intention interfered with, the error is the presentation of the +conflict between two irreconcilable strivings. "I declare the meeting +opened, but would rather have it closed," is the meaning of the +president's slip. A political paper which has been accused of +corruptibility, defends itself in an article meant to reach a climax in +the words: "Our readers will testify that we have always interceded for +the good of all in the most _disinterested_ manner." But the editor who +had been entrusted with the composition of the defence, wrote, "in the +most _interested_ manner." That is, he thinks "To be sure, I have to +write this way, but I know better." A representative of the people who +urges that the Kaiser should be told the truth "_rueckhaltlos_," hears an +inner voice which is frightened by his boldness, and which through a +slip changes the "_rueckhaltlos_" into "_rueckgratlos_."[17] + +In the examples familiar to you, which give the impression of +contraction and abbreviation, it is a question of a correction, an +addition or continuation by which the second tendency manifests itself +together with the first. "Things were revealed, but better say it right +out, they were _filthy_, therefore, things were _refiled_."[18] "The +people who understand this topic can be counted on the _fingers of one +hand_, but no, there is really only _one_ who understands it; therefore, +counted _on one finger_." Or, "My husband may eat and drink whatever +_he_ wants. But you know very well that _I_ don't permit him to want +anything; therefore he may eat and drink whatever _I want_." In all +these cases, therefore, the slip arises from the content of the +intention itself, or is connected with it. + +The other type of relationship between the two interfering intentions +seems strange. If the interfering intention has nothing to do with the +content of the one interfered with, where then does it come from and how +does it happen to make itself manifest as interference just at that +point? The observation which alone can furnish an answer here, +recognizes the fact that the interference originates in a thought +process which has just previously occupied the person in question and +which then has that after-effect, irrespective of whether it has already +found expression in speech or not. It is therefore really to be +designated as perseveration, but not necessarily as the perseveration of +spoken words. Here also there is no lack of an associative connection +between the interfering and the interfered with, yet it is not given in +the content, but artificially restored, often by means of forced +connecting links. + +Here is a simple example of this, which I myself observed. In our +beautiful Dolomites, I meet two Viennese ladies who are gotten up as +tourists. I accompany them a short distance and we discuss the +pleasures, but also the difficulties of the tourist's mode of life. One +lady admits this way of spending the day entails much discomfort. "It is +true," she says, "that it is not at all pleasant, when one has tramped +all day in the sun, and waist and shirt are soaked through." At this +point in this sentence she suddenly has to overcome a slight hesitancy. +Then she continues: "But then, when one gets _nach Hose_, and can +change...."[19] We did not analyze this slip, but I am sure you can +easily understand it. The lady wanted to make the enumeration more +complete and to say, "Waist, shirt and drawers." From motives of +propriety, the mention of the drawers (Hose) was suppressed, but in the +next sentence of quite independent content the unuttered word came to +light as a distortion of the similar word, house (Hause). + +Now we can turn at last to the long delayed main question, namely, what +kind of intentions are these which get themselves expressed in an +unusual way as interferences of others, intentions within whose great +variety we wish nevertheless to find what is common to them all! If we +examine a series of them to this end, we will soon find that they divide +themselves into three groups. In the first group belong the cases in +which the interfering tendency is known to the speaker, and which, +moreover, was felt by him before the slip. Thus, in the case of the slip +"_refilled_," the speaker not only admits that he agreed with the +judgment "_filthy_," on the incidents in question, but also that he had +the intention (which he later abandoned) of giving it verbal expression. +A second group is made up of those cases in which the interfering +tendency is immediately recognized by the subject as his own, but in +which he is ignorant of the fact that the interfering tendency was +active in him just before the slip. He therefore accepts our +interpretation, yet remains to a certain extent surprised by it. +Examples of this situation can perhaps more easily be found among errors +other than slips of the tongue. In a third group the interpretation of +the interfering intention is energetically denied by the speaker. He not +only denies that the interfering tendency was active in him before the +slip, but he wants to assert that it was at all times completely alien +to him. Will you recall the example of "hiccough," and the absolutely +impolite disavowal which I received at the hands of this speaker by my +disclosure of the interfering intention. You know that so far we have no +unity in our conception of these cases. I pay no attention to the +toastmaster's disavowal and hold fast to my interpretation; while you, I +am sure, are yet under the influence of his repudiation and are +considering whether one ought not to forego the interpretation of such +slips, and let them pass as purely physiological acts, incapable of +further analysis. I can imagine what it is that frightens you off. My +interpretation draws the conclusion that intentions of which he himself +knows nothing may manifest themselves in a speaker, and that I can +deduce them from the circumstances. You hesitate before so novel a +conclusion and one so full of consequences. I understand that, and +sympathize with you to that extent. But let us make one thing clear: if +you want consistently to carry through the conception of errors which +you have derived from so many examples, you must decide to accept the +above conclusion, even though it be unpleasant. If you cannot do so, you +must give up that understanding of errors which you have so recently +won. + +Let us tarry a while over the point which unites the three groups, which +is common to the three mechanisms of tongue slips. Fortunately, that is +unmistakable. In the first two groups the interfering tendency is +recognized by the speaker; in the first there is the additional fact +that it showed itself immediately before the slip. In both cases, +however, _it was suppressed. The speaker had made up his mind not to +convert the interfering tendency into speech and then the slip of the +tongue occurred; that is to say, the suppressed tendency obtains +expression against the speaker's will, in that it changes the expression +of the intention which he permits, mixes itself with it or actually puts +itself in its place._ This is, then, the mechanism of the tongue slip. + +From my point of view, I can also best harmonize the processes of the +third group with the mechanism here described. I need only assume that +these three groups are differentiated by the different degrees of +effectiveness attending the suppression of an intention. In the first +group, the intention is present and makes itself perceptible before the +utterance of the speaker; not until then does it suffer the suppression +for which it indemnifies itself in the slip. In the second group the +suppression extends farther. The intention is no longer perceptible +before the subject speaks. It is remarkable that the interfering +intention is in no way deterred by this from taking part in the +causation of the slip. Through this fact, however, the explanation of +the procedure in the third group is simplified for us. I shall be so +bold as to assume that in the error a tendency can manifest itself which +has been suppressed for even a longer time, perhaps a very long time, +which does not become perceptible and which, therefore, cannot be +directly denied by the speaker. But leave the problem of the third +group; from the observation of the other cases, you most draw the +conclusion that _the suppression of the existing intention to say +something is the indispensable condition of the occurrence of a slip_. + +We may now claim that we have made further progress in understanding +errors. We know not only that they are psychic acts, in which we can +recognize meaning and purpose, and that they arise through the mutual +interference of two different intentions, but, in addition, we know that +one of these intentions must have undergone a certain suppression in +order to be able to manifest itself through interference with the other. +The interfering intention must itself first be interfered with before it +can become interfering. Naturally, a complete explanation of the +phenomena which we call errors is not attained to by this. We +immediately see further questions arising, and suspect in general that +there will be more occasions for new questions as we progress further. +We might, for example, ask why the matter does not proceed much more +simply. If there is an existing purpose to suppress a certain tendency +instead of giving it expression, then this suppression should be so +successful that nothing at all of the latter comes to light; or it could +even fail, so that the suppressed tendency attains to full expression. +But errors are compromise formations. They mean some success and some +failure for each of the two purposes. The endangered intention is +neither completely suppressed nor does it, without regard to individual +cases, come through wholly intact. We can imagine that special +conditions must be existent for the occurrence of such interference or +compromise formations, but then we cannot even conjecture what sort they +may be. Nor do I believe that we can uncover these unknown circumstances +through further penetration into the study of errors. Rather will it be +necessary thoroughly to examine other obscure fields of psychic life. +Only the analogies which we there encounter can give us the courage to +draw those assumptions which are requisite to a more fundamental +elucidation of errors. And one thing more. Even working with small +signs, as we have constantly been in the habit of doing in this +province, brings its dangers with it. There is a mental disease, +combined paranoia, in which the utilization of such small signs is +practiced without restriction and I naturally would not wish to give it +as my opinion that these conclusions, built up on this basis, are +correct throughout. We can be protected from such dangers only by the +broad basis of our observations, by the repetition of similar +impressions from the most varied fields of psychic life. + +We will therefore leave the analysis of errors here. But may I remind +you of one thing more: keep in mind, as a prototype, the manner in which +we have treated these phenomena. You can see from these examples what +the purposes of our psychology are. We do not wish merely to describe +the phenomena and to classify them, but to comprehend them as signs of a +play of forces in the psychic, as expressions of tendencies striving to +an end, tendencies which work together or against one another. We seek a +dynamic conception of psychic phenomena. The perceived phenomena must, +in our conception, give way to those strivings whose existence is only +assumed. + +Hence we will not go deeper into the problem of errors, but we can still +undertake an expedition through the length of this field, in which we +will reencounter things familiar to us, and will come upon the tracks of +some that are new. In so doing we will keep to the division which we +made in the beginning of our study, of the three groups of tongue slips, +with the related forms of pen slips, misreadings, mishearings, +forgetfulness with its subdivisions according to the forgotten object +(proper names, foreign words, projects, impressions), and the other +faults of mistaking, mislaying and losing objects. Errors, in so far as +they come into our consideration, are grouped in part with +forgetfulness, in part with mistakes. + +We have already spoken in such detail of tongue slips, and yet there are +still several points to be added. Linked with tongue slips are smaller +effective phenomena which are not entirely without interest. No one +likes to make a slip of the tongue; often one fails to hear his own +slip, though never that of another. Tongue slips are in a certain sense +infectious; it is not at all easy to discuss tongue slips without +falling into slips of the tongue oneself. The most trifling forms of +tongue slips are just the ones which have no particular illumination to +throw on the hidden psychic processes, but are nevertheless not +difficult to penetrate in their motivation. If, for example, anyone +pronounces a long vowel as a short, in consequence of an interference no +matter how motivated, he will for that reason soon after lengthen a +short vowel and commit a new slip in compensation for the earlier one. +The same thing occurs when one has pronounced a double vowel unclearly +and hastily; for example, an "eu" or an "oi" as "ei." The speaker tries +to correct it by changing a subsequent "ei" or "eu" to "oi." In this +conduct the determining factor seems to be a certain consideration for +the hearer, who is not to think that it is immaterial to the speaker how +he treats his mother tongue. The second, compensating distortion +actually has the purpose of making the hearer conscious of the first, +and of assuring him that it also did not escape the speaker. The most +frequent and most trifling cases of slips consist in the contractions +and foresoundings which show themselves in inconspicuous parts of +speech. One's tongue slips in a longer speech to such an extent that the +last word of the intended speech is said too soon. That gives the +impression of a certain impatience to be finished with the sentence and +gives proof in general of a certain resistance to communicating this +sentence or speech as a whole. Thus we come to borderline cases in which +the differences between the psychoanalytic and the common physiological +conception of tongue slips are blended. We assume that in these cases +there is a tendency which interferes with the intention of the speech. +But it can only announce that it is present, and not what its own +intention is. The interference which it occasions then follows some +sound influences or associative relationship, and may be considered as a +distraction of attention from the intended speech. But neither this +disturbance of attention nor the associative tendency which has been +activated, strikes the essence of the process. This hints, however, at +the existence of an intention which interferes with the purposed speech, +an intention whose nature cannot (as is possible in all the more +pronounced cases of tongue slips) this time be guessed from its effects. + +Slips of the pen, to which I now turn, are in agreement with those of +the tongue to the extent that we need expect to gain no new points of +view from them. Perhaps we will be content with a small gleaning. Those +very common little slips of the pen--contractions, anticipations of +later words, particularly of the last words--again point to a general +distaste for writing, and to an impatience to be done; the pronounced +effects of pen slips permit the nature and purpose of the interfering +tendency to be recognized. One knows in general that if one finds a +slip of the pen in a letter everything was not as usual with the writer. +What was the matter one cannot always establish. The pen slip is +frequently as little noticed by the person who makes it as the tongue +slip. The following observation is striking: There are some persons who +have the habit of always rereading a letter they have written before +sending it. Others do not do so. But if the latter make an exception and +reread the letter, they always have the opportunity of finding and +correcting a conspicuous pen slip. How can that be explained? This looks +as if these persons knew that they had made a slip of the pen while +writing the letter. Shall we really believe that such is the case? + +There is an interesting problem linked with the practical significance +of the pen slip. You may recall the case of the murderer H., who made a +practice of obtaining cultures of the most dangerous disease germs from +scientific institutions, by pretending to be a bacteriologist, and who +used these cultures to get his close relatives out of the way in this +most modern fashion. This man once complained to the authorities of such +an institution about the ineffectiveness of the culture which had been +sent to him, but committed a pen slip and instead of the words, "in my +attempts on mice and guinea pigs," was plainly written, "in my attempts +on people."[20] This slip even attracted the attention of the doctors at +the institution, but so far as I know, they drew no conclusion from it. +Now what do you think? Might not the doctors better have accepted the +slip as a confession and instituted an investigation through which the +murderer's handiwork would have been blocked in time? In this case was +not ignorance of our conception of errors to blame for an omission of +practical importance? Well, I am inclined to think that such a slip +would surely seem very suspicious to me, but a fact of great importance +stands in the way of its utilization as a confession. The thing is not +so simple. The pen slip is surely an indication, but by itself it would +not have been sufficient to instigate an investigation. That the man is +preoccupied with the thought of infecting human beings, the slip +certainly does betray, but it does not make it possible to decide +whether this thought has the value of a clear plan of injury or merely +of a phantasy having no practical consequence. It is even possible that +the person who made such a slip will deny this phantasy with the best +subjective justification and will reject it as something entirely alien +to him. Later, when we give our attention to the difference between +psychic and material reality, you will understand these possibilities +even better. Yet this is again a case in which an error later attained +unsuspected significance. + +In misreading, we encounter a psychic situation which is clearly +differentiated from that of the tongue slips or pen slips. The one of +the two rival tendencies is here replaced by a sensory stimulus and +perhaps for that reason is less resistant. What one is reading is not a +production of one's own psychic activity, as is something which one +intends to write. In a large majority of cases, therefore, the +misreading consists in a complete substitution. One substitutes another +word for the word to be read, and there need be no connection in meaning +between the text and the product of the misreading. In general, the slip +is based upon a word resemblance. Lichtenberg's example of reading +"_Agamemnon_" for "_angenommen_"[21] is the best of this group. If one +wishes to discover the interfering tendency which causes the misreading, +one may completely ignore the misread text and can begin the analytic +investigation with the two questions: What is the first idea that occurs +in free association to the product of the misreading, and, in what +situation did the misreading occur? Now and then a knowledge of the +latter suffices by itself to explain the misreading. Take, for example, +the individual who, distressed by certain needs, wanders about in a +strange city and reads the word "_Closethaus_" on a large sign on the +first floor of a house. He has just time to be surprised at the fact +that the sign has been nailed so high up when he discovers that, +accurately observed, the sign reads "_Corset-haus_." In other cases the +misreadings which are independent of the text require a penetrating +analysis which cannot be accomplished without practice and confidence in +the psychoanalytic technique. But generally it is not a matter of much +difficulty to obtain the elucidation of a misreading. The substituted +word, as in the example, "_Agamemnon_," betrays without more ado the +thought sequence from which the interference results. In war times, for +instance, it is very common for one to read into everything which +contains a similar word structure, the names of the cities, generals and +military expressions which are constantly buzzing around us. In this +way, whatever interests and preoccupies one puts itself in the place of +that which is foreign or uninteresting. The after-effects of thoughts +blur the new perceptions. + +There are other types of misreadings, in which the text itself arouses +the disturbing tendency, by means of which it is then most often changed +into its opposite. One reads something which is undesired; analysis then +convinces one that an intensive wish to reject what has been read should +be made responsible for the alteration. + +In the first mentioned and more frequent cases of misreading, two +factors are neglected to which we gave an important role in the +mechanism of errors: the conflict of two tendencies and the suppression +of one which then indemnifies itself by producing the error. Not that +anything like the opposite occurs in misreading, but the importunity of +the idea content which leads to misreading is nevertheless much more +conspicuous than the suppression to which the latter may previously have +been subjected. Just these two factors are most tangibly apparent in the +various situations of errors of forgetfulness. + +Forgetting plans is actually uniform in meaning; its interpretation is, +as we have heard, not denied even by the layman. The tendency +interfering with the plan is always an antithetical intention, an +unwillingness concerning which we need only discover why it does not +come to expression in a different and less disguised manner. But the +existence of this unwillingness is not to be doubted. Sometimes it is +possible even to guess something of the motives which make it necessary +for this unwillingness to disguise itself, and it always achieves its +purpose by the error resulting from the concealment, while its rejection +would be certain were it to present itself as open contradiction. If an +important change in the psychic situation occurs between the formulation +of the plan and its execution, in consequence of which the execution of +the plan does not come into question, then the fact that the plan was +forgotten is no longer in the class of errors. One is no longer +surprised at it, and one understands that it would have been superfluous +to have remembered the plan; it was then permanently or temporarily +effaced. Forgetting a plan can be called an error only when we have no +reason to believe there was such an interruption. + +The cases of forgetting plans are in general so uniform and transparent +that they do not interest us in our investigation. There are two points, +however, from which we can learn something new. We have said that +forgetting, that is, the non-execution of a plan, points to an antipathy +toward it. This certainly holds, but, according to the results of our +investigations, the antipathy may be of two sorts, direct and indirect. +What is meant by the latter can best be explained by one or two +examples. If a patron forgets to say a good word for his protege to a +third person, it may be because the patron is not really very much +interested in the protege, therefore, has no great inclination to +commend him. It is, at any rate, in this sense that the protege will +construe his patron's forgetfulness. But the matter may be more +complicated. The patron's antipathy to the execution of the plan may +originate in another quarter and fasten upon quite a different point. It +need not have anything to do with the protege, but may be directed +toward the third person to whom the good word was to have been said. +Thus, you see what doubts here confront the practical application of our +interpretation. The protege, despite a correct interpretation of the +forgetfulness, stands in danger of becoming too suspicious, and of doing +his patron a grave injustice. Or, if an individual forgets a rendezvous +which he has made, and which he had resolved to keep, the most frequent +basis will certainly be the direct aversion to encountering this person. +But analysis might here supply the information that the interfering +intention was not directed against that person, but against the place in +which they were to have met, and which was avoided because of a painful +memory associated with it. Or, if one forgets to mail a letter, the +counter-intention may be directed against the content of that letter, +yet this does not in any way exclude the possibility that the letter is +harmless in itself, and only subject to the counter-intention because +something about it reminds the writer of another letter written +previously, which, in fact, did afford a basis for the antipathy. One +can say in such a case that the antipathy has here transferred itself +from that former letter where it was justified to the present one in +which it really has no meaning. Thus you see that one must always +exercise restraint and caution in the application of interpretations, +even though the interpretations are justified. That which is +psychologically equivalent may nevertheless in practice be very +ambiguous. + +Phenomena such as these will seem very unusual to you. Perhaps you are +inclined to assume that the "indirect" antipathy is enough to +characterize the incident as pathological. Yet I can assure you that it +also occurs in a normal and healthy setting. I am in no way willing to +admit the unreliability of our analytic interpretation. After all, the +above-discussed ambiguity of plan-forgetting exists only so long as we +have not attempted an analysis of the case, and are interpreting it only +on the basis of our general suppositions. When we analyze the person in +question, we discover with sufficient certainty in each case whether or +not it is a direct antipathy, or what its origin is otherwise. + +A second point is the following: when we find in a large majority of +cases that the forgetting of a plan goes back to an antipathy, we gain +courage to extend this solution to another series of cases in which the +analyzed person does not confirm, but denies, the antipathy which we +inferred. Take as an example the exceedingly frequent incidents of +forgetting to return books which one has borrowed, or forgetting to pay +one's bills or debts. We will be so bold as to accuse the individual in +question of intending to keep the books and not to pay the debts, while +he will deny such an intention but will not be in a position to give us +any other explanation of his conduct. Thereupon we insist that he has +the intention, only he knows nothing about it; all we need for our +inference is to have the intention betray itself through the effect of +the forgetfulness. The subject may then repeat that he had merely +forgotten it. You now recognize the situation as one in which we once +before found ourselves. If we wish to be consistent in our +interpretation, an interpretation which has been proved as manifold as +it is justified, we will be unavoidably forced to the conclusion that +there are tendencies in a human being which can become effective without +his being conscious of them. By so doing, however, we place ourselves in +opposition to all the views which prevail in daily life and in +psychology. + +Forgetting proper names and foreign names as well as foreign words can +be traced in the same manner to a counter-intention which aims either +directly or indirectly at the name in question. I have already given you +an example of such direct antipathy. The indirect causation, however, is +particularly frequent and generally necessitates careful analysis for +its determination. Thus, for example, in war times which force us to +sacrifice so many of our former inclinations, the ability to recall +proper names also suffers severely in consequence of the most peculiar +connections. A short time ago it happened that I could not reproduce the +name of that harmless Moravian city of Bisenz, and analysis showed that +no direct dislike was to blame, but rather the sound resemblance to the +name of the Bisenzi palace in Orrieto, in which I used to wish I might +live. As a motive for the antagonism to remembering the name, we here +encounter for the first time a principle which will later disclose to us +its whole tremendous significance in the causation of neurotic symptoms, +viz., the aversion on the part of the memory to remembering anything +which is connected with unpleasant experience and which would revive +this unpleasantness by a reproduction. This intention of avoiding +unpleasantness in recollections of other psychic acts, the psychic +flight from unpleasantness, we may recognize as the ultimate effective +motive not only for the forgetting of names, but also for many other +errors, such as omissions of action, etc. + +Forgetting names does, however, seem to be especially facilitated +psycho-physiologically and therefore also occurs in cases in which the +interference of an unpleasantness-motive cannot be established. If +anyone once has a tendency to forget names, you can establish by +analytical investigation that he not only loses names because he himself +does not like them, or because they remind him of something he does not +like, but also because the same name in his mind belongs to another +chain of associations, with which he has more intimate relations. The +name is anchored there, as it were, and denied to the other associations +activated at the moment. If you will recall the tricks of mnemonic +technique you will ascertain with some surprise that one forgets names +in consequence of the same associations which one otherwise purposely +forms in order to save them from being forgotten. The most conspicuous +example of this is afforded by proper names of persons, which +conceivably enough must have very different psychic values for different +people. For example, take a first name, such as Theodore. To one of you +it will mean nothing special, to another it means the name of his +father, brother, friend, or his own name. Analytic experience will then +show you that the first person is not in danger of forgetting that a +certain stranger bears this name, while the latter will be constantly +inclined to withhold from the stranger this name which seems reserved +for intimate relationships. Let us now assume that this associative +inhibition can come into contact with the operation of the +unpleasantness-principle, and in addition with an indirect mechanism, +and you will be in a position to form a correct picture of the +complexity of causation of this temporary name-forgetting. An adequate +analysis that does justice to the facts, however, will completely +disclose these complications. + +Forgetting impressions and experiences shows the working of the tendency +to keep unpleasantness from recollection much more clearly and +conclusively than does the forgetting of names. It does not, of course, +belong in its entirety to the category of errors, but only in so far as +it seems to us conspicuous and unjustified, measured by the measuring +stick of our accustomed conception--thus, for example, where the +forgetfulness strikes fresh or important impressions or impressions +whose loss tears a hole in the otherwise well-remembered sequence. Why +and how it is in general that we forget, particularly why and how we +forget experiences which have surely left the deepest impressions, such +as the incidents of our first years of childhood, is quite a different +problem, in which the defense against unpleasant associations plays a +certain role but is far from explaining everything. That unpleasant +impressions are easily forgotten is an indubitable fact. Various +psychologists have observed it, and the great Darwin was so struck by it +that he made the "golden rule" for himself of writing down with +particular care observations which seemed unfavorable to his theory, +since he had convinced himself that they were just the ones which would +not stick in his memory. + +Those who hear for the first time of this principle of defense against +unpleasant recollections by means of forgetting, seldom fail to raise +the objection that they, on the contrary, have had the experience that +just the painful is hard to forget, inasmuch as it always comes back to +mind to torture the person against his will--as, for example, the +recollection of an insult or humiliation. This fact is also correct, but +the objection is not valid. It is important that one begin betimes to +reckon with the fact that the psychic life is the arena of the struggles +and exercises of antagonistic tendencies, or, to express it in +non-dynamic terminology, that it consists of contradictions and paired +antagonisms. Information concerning one specific tendency is of no avail +for the exclusion of its opposite; there is room for both of them. It +depends only on how the opposites react upon each other, what effects +will proceed from the one and what from the other. + +Losing and mislaying objects is of especial interest to us because of +the ambiguity and the multiplicity of tendencies in whose services the +errors may act. The common element in all cases is this, that one wished +to lose something. The reasons and purposes thereof vary. One loses an +object when it has become damaged, when one intends to replace it with a +better one, when one has ceased to like it, when it came from a person +whose relations to one have become strained, or when it was obtained +under circumstances of which one no longer wishes to think. The same +purpose may be served by letting the object fall, be damaged or broken. +In the life of society it is said to have been found that unwelcome and +illegitimate children are much more often frail than those born in +wedlock. To reach this result we do not need the coarse technique of the +so-called angel-maker. A certain remissness in the care of the child is +said to suffice amply. In the preservation of objects, the case might +easily be the same as with the children. + +But things may be singled out for loss without their having forfeited +any of their value, namely, when there exists the intention to sacrifice +something to fate in order to ward off some other dreaded loss. Such +exorcisings of fate are, according to the findings of analysis, still +very frequent among us; therefore, the loss of things is often a +voluntary sacrifice. In the same way losing may serve the purposes of +obstinacy or self-punishment. In short, the more distant motivation of +the tendency to get rid of a thing oneself by means of losing it is not +overlooked. + +Mistakes, like other errors, are often used to fulfill wishes which one +ought to deny oneself. The purpose is thus masked as fortunate +accident; for instance, one of our friends once took the train to make a +call in the suburbs, despite the clearest antipathy to so doing, and +then, in changing cars, made the mistake of getting into the train which +took him back to the city. Or, if on a trip one absolutely wants to make +a longer stay at a half-way station, one is apt to overlook or miss +certain connections, so that he is forced to make the desired +interruption to the trip. Or, as once happened to a patient of mine whom +I had forbidden to call up his fiancee on the telephone, "by mistake" +and "absent-mindedly" he asked for a wrong number when he wanted to +telephone to me, so that he was suddenly connected with the lady. A +pretty example and one of practical significance in making a direct +mistake is the observation of an engineer at a preliminary hearing in a +damage suit: + +"Some time ago I worked with several colleagues in the laboratory of a +high school on a series of complicated elasticity experiments, a piece +of work which we had undertaken voluntarily but which began to take more +time than we had expected. One day as I went into the laboratory with my +colleague F., the latter remarked how unpleasant it was to him to lose +so much time that day, since he had so much to do at home. I could not +help agreeing with him, and remarked half jokingly, alluding to an +incident of the previous week: 'Let's hope that the machine gives out +again so that we can stop work and go home early.' + +"In the division of labor it happened that F. was given the regulation +of the valve of the press, that is to say, he was, by means of a +cautious opening of the valve, to let the liquid pressure from the +accumulator flow slowly into the cylinder of the hydraulic press. The +man who was directing the job stood by the manometer (pressure gauge) +and when the right pressure had been reached called out in a loud voice: +'Stop.' At this command F. seized the valve and turned with all his +might--to the left! (All valves, without exception, close to the right.) +Thereby the whole pressure of the accumulator suddenly became effective +in the press, a strain for which the connecting pipes are not designed, +so that a connecting pipe immediately burst--quite a harmless defect, +but one which nevertheless forced us to drop work for the day and go +home. + +"It is characteristic, by the way, that some time afterward when we were +discussing this occurrence, my friend F. had no recollection whatever +of my remark, which I could recall with certainty." + +From this point you may reach the conjecture that it is not harmless +accident which makes the hands of your domestics such dangerous enemies +to your household property. But you can also raise the question whether +it is always an accident when one damages himself and exposes his own +person to danger. There are interests the value of which you will +presently be able to test by means of the analysis of observations. + +Ladies and gentlemen, this is far from being all that might be said +about errors. There is indeed much left to investigate and to discuss. +But I am satisfied if, from our investigations to date, your previous +views are somewhat shaken and if you have acquired a certain degree of +liberality in the acceptance of new ones. For the rest, I must content +myself with leaving you face to face with an unclear condition of +affairs. We cannot prove all our axioms by the study of errors and, +indeed, are by no means solely dependent on this material. The great +value of errors for our purpose lies in the fact that they are very +frequent phenomena that can easily be observed on oneself and the +occurrence of which do not require a pathological condition. I should +like to mention just one more of your unanswered questions before +concluding: "If, as we have seen in many examples, people come so close +to understanding errors and so often act as though they penetrated their +meaning, how is it possible that they can so generally consider them +accidental, senseless and meaningless, and can so energetically oppose +their psychoanalytic elucidation?" + +You are right; that is conspicuous and demands an explanation. I shall +not give this explanation to you, however, but shall guide you slowly to +the connecting links from which the explanation will force itself upon +you without any aid from me. + + + + +II + +THE DREAM + + + + +FIFTH LECTURE + +THE DREAM + +_Difficulties and Preliminary Approach_ + + +One day the discovery was made that the disease symptoms of certain +nervous patients have a meaning.[22] Thereupon the psychoanalytic method +of therapy was founded. In this treatment it happened that the patients +also presented dreams in place of their symptoms. Herewith originated +the conjecture that these dreams also have a meaning. + +We will not, however, pursue this historical path, but enter upon the +opposite one. We wish to discover the meaning of dreams as preparation +for the study of the neuroses. This inversion is justified, for the +study of dreams is not only the best preparation for that of the +neuroses, but the dream itself is also a neurotic symptom, and in fact +one which possesses for us the incalculable advantage of occurring in +all normals. Indeed, if all human beings were well and would dream, we +could gain from their dreams almost all the insight to which the study +of the neuroses has led. + +Thus it is that the dream becomes the object of psychoanalytic +research--again an ordinary, little-considered phenomenon, apparently of +no practical value, like the errors with which, indeed, it shares the +character of occurring in normals. But otherwise the conditions are +rather less favorable for our work. Errors had been neglected only by +science, which had paid little attention to them; but at least it was no +disgrace to occupy one's self with them. People said there are indeed +more important things, but perhaps something may come of it. +Preoccupation with the dream, however, is not merely impractical and +superfluous, but actually ignominious; it carries the odium of the +unscientific, awakens the suspicion of a personal leaning towards +mysticism. The idea of a physician busying himself with dreams when even +in neuropathology and psychiatry there are matters so much more +serious--tumors the size of apples which incapacitate the organ of the +psyche, hemorrhages, and chronic inflammations in which one can +demonstrate changes in the tissues under the microscope! No, the dream +is much too trifling an object, and unworthy of Science. + +And besides, it is a condition which in itself defies all the +requirements of exact research--in dream investigation one is not even +sure of one's object. A delusion, for example, presents itself in clear +and definite outlines. "I am the Emperor of China," says the patient +aloud. But the dream? It generally cannot be related at all. If anyone +relates a dream, has he any guarantee that he has told it correctly, and +not changed it during the telling, or invented an addition which was +forced by the indefiniteness of his recollection? Most dreams cannot be +remembered at all, are forgotten except for small fragments. And upon +the interpretation of such material shall a scientific psychology or +method of treatment for patients be based? + +A certain excess in judgment may make us suspicious. The objections to +the dream as an object of research obviously go too far. The question of +insignificance we have already had to deal with in discussing errors. We +said to ourselves that important matters may manifest themselves through +small signs. As concerns the indefiniteness of the dream, it is after +all a characteristic like any other. One cannot prescribe the +characteristics of an object. Moreover, there are clear and definite +dreams. And there are other objects of psychiatric research which suffer +from the same trait of indefiniteness, e.g., many compulsion ideas, with +which even respectable and esteemed psychiatrists have occupied +themselves. I might recall the last case which occurred in my practice. +The patient introduced himself to me with the words, "I have a certain +feeling as though I had harmed or had wished to harm some living +thing--a child?--no, more probably a dog--perhaps pushed it off a +bridge--or something else." We can overcome to some degree the +difficulty of uncertain recollection in the dream if we determine that +exactly what the dreamer tells us is to be taken as his dream, without +regard to anything which he has forgotten or may have changed in +recollection. And finally, one cannot make so general an assertion as +that the dream is an unimportant thing. We know from our own experience +that the mood in which one wakes up after a dream may continue +throughout the whole day. Cases have been observed by physicians in +which a psychosis begins with a dream and holds to a delusion which +originated in it. It is related of historical personages that they drew +their inspiration for important deeds from dreams. So we may ask whence +comes the contempt of scientific circles for the dream? + +I think it is the reaction to their over-estimation in former times. +Reconstruction of the past is notoriously difficult, but this much we +may assume with certainty--if you will permit me the jest--that our +ancestors of 3000 years ago and more, dreamed much in the way we do. As +far as we know, all ancient peoples attached great importance to dreams +and considered them of practical value. They drew omens for the future +from dreams, sought premonitions in them. In those days, to the Greeks +and all Orientals, a campaign without dream interpreters must have been +as impossible as a campaign without an aviation scout to-day. When +Alexander the Great undertook his campaign of conquests, the most famous +dream interpreters were in attendance. The city of Tyrus, which was then +still situated on an island, put up so fierce a resistance that +Alexander considered the idea of raising the siege. Then he dreamed one +night of a satyr dancing as if in triumph; and when he laid his dream +before his interpreters he received the information that the victory +over the city had been announced to him. He ordered the attack and took +Tyrus. Among the Etruscans and the Romans other methods of discovering +the future were in use, but the interpretation of dreams was practical +and esteemed during the entire Hellenic-Roman period. Of the literature +dealing with the topic at least the chief work has been preserved to us, +namely, the book of Artemidoros of Daldis, who is supposed to have lived +during the lifetime of the Emperor Hadrian. How it happened subsequently +that the art of dream interpretation was lost and the dream fell into +discredit, I cannot tell you. Enlightenment cannot have had much part in +it, for the Dark Ages faithfully preserved things far more absurd than +the ancient dream interpretation. The fact is, the interest in dreams +gradually deteriorated into superstition, and could assert itself only +among the ignorant. The latest misuse of dream interpretation in our day +still tries to discover in dreams the numbers which are going to be +drawn in the small lottery. On the other hand, the exact science of +to-day has repeatedly dealt with dreams, but always only with the +purpose of applying its physiological theories to the dream. By +physicians, of course, the dream was considered as a non-psychic act, as +the manifestation of somatic irritations in the psychic life. Binz +(1876) pronounced the dream "a bodily process, in all cases useless, in +many actually pathological, above which the world-soul and immortality +are raised as high as the blue ether over the weed-grown sands of the +lowest plain." Maury compared it with the irregular twitchings of St. +Vitus' Dance in contrast to the co-ordinated movements of the normal +person. An old comparison makes the content of the dream analogous to +the tones which the "ten fingers of a musically illiterate person would +bring forth if they ran over the keys of the instrument." + +Interpretation means finding a hidden meaning. There can be no question +of interpretation in such an estimation of the dream process. Look up +the description of the dream in Wundt, Jodl and other newer +philosophers. You will find an enumeration of the deviations of dream +life from waking thought, in a sense disparaging to the dream. The +description points out the disintegration of association, the suspension +of the critical faculty, the elimination of all knowledge, and other +signs of diminished activity. The only valuable contribution to the +knowledge of the dream which we owe to exact science pertains to the +influence of bodily stimuli, operative during sleep, on the content of +the dream. There are two thick volumes of experimental researches on +dreams by the recently deceased Norwegian author, J. Mourly Vold, +(translated into German in 1910 and 1912), which deal almost solely with +the consequences of changes in the position of the limbs. They are +recommended as the prototype of exact dream research. Now can you +imagine what exact science would say if it discovered that we wish to +attempt to find the meaning of dreams? It may be it has already said it, +but we will not allow ourselves to be frightened off. If errors can have +a meaning, the dream can, too, and errors in many cases have a meaning +which has escaped exact science. Let us confess to sharing the prejudice +of the ancients and the common people, and let us follow in the +footsteps of the ancient dream interpreters. + +First of all, we must orient ourselves in our task, and take a bird's +eye view of our field. What is a dream? It is difficult to say in one +sentence. But we do not want to attempt any definition where a reference +to the material with which everyone is familiar suffices. Yet we ought +to select the essential element of the dream. How can that be found? +There are such monstrous differences within the boundary which encloses +our province, differences in every direction. The essential thing will +very probably be that which we can show to be common to all dreams. + +Well, the first thing which is common to all dreams is that we are +asleep during their occurrence. The dream is apparently the psychic life +during sleep, which has certain resemblances to that of the waking +condition, and on the other hand is distinguished from it by important +differences. That was noted even in Aristotle's definition. Perhaps +there are other connections obtaining between the dream and sleep. One +can be awakened by a dream, one frequently has a dream when he wakes +spontaneously or is forcibly awakened from sleep. The dream then seems +to be an intermediate condition between sleeping and waking. Thus we are +referred to the problem of sleep. What, then, is sleep? + +That is a physiological or biological problem concerning which there is +still much controversy. We can form no decision on the point, but I +think we may attempt a psychological characterization of sleep. Sleep is +a condition in which I wish to have nothing to do with the external +world, and have withdrawn my interest from it. I put myself to sleep by +withdrawing myself from the external world and by holding off its +stimuli. I also go to sleep when I am fatigued by the external world. +Thus, by going to sleep, I say to the external world, "Leave me in +peace, for I wish to sleep." Conversely, the child says, "I won't go to +bed yet, I am not tired, I want to have some more fun." The biological +intention of sleep thus seems to be recuperation; its psychological +character, the suspension of interest in the external world. Our +relation to the world into which we came so unwillingly, seems to +include the fact that we cannot endure it without interruption. For this +reason we revert from time to time to the pre-natal existence, that is, +to the intra-uterine existence. At least we create for ourselves +conditions quite similar to those obtaining at that time--warmth, +darkness and the absence of stimuli. Some of us even roll ourselves +into tight packages and assume in sleep a posture very similar to the +intra-uterine posture. It seems as if the world did not wholly possess +us adults, it has only two-thirds of our life, we are still one-third +unborn. Each awakening in the morning is then like a new birth. We also +speak of the condition after sleep with the words, "I feel as though I +had been born anew," by which we probably form a very erroneous idea of +the general feeling of the newly born. It may be assumed that the +latter, on the contrary, feel very uncomfortable. We also speak of birth +as "seeing the light of day." If that be sleep, then the dream is not on +its program at all, rather it seems an unwelcome addition. We think, +too, that dreamless sleep is the best and only normal sleep. There +should be no psychic activity in sleep; if the psyche stirs, then just +to that extent have we failed to reduplicate the foetal condition; +remainders of psychic activity could not be completely avoided. These +remainders are the dream. Then it really does seem that the dream need +have no meaning. It was different in the case of errors; they were +activities of the waking state. But when I am asleep, have quite +suspended psychic activity and have suppressed all but certain of its +remainders, then it is by no means inevitable that these remainders have +a meaning. In fact, I cannot make use of this meaning, in view of the +fact that the rest of my psyche is asleep. This must, of course, be a +question only of twitching, like spasmodic reactions, a question only of +psychic phenomena such as follow directly upon somatic stimulation. The +dream, therefore, appears to be the sleep-disturbing remnant of the +psychic activity of waking life, and we may make the resolution promptly +to abandon a theme which is so ill-adapted to psychoanalysis. + +However, even if the dream is superfluous, it exists nevertheless and we +may try to give an account of its existence. Why does not the psyche go +to sleep? Probably because there is something which gives it no rest. +Stimuli act upon the psyche, and it must react to them. The dream, +therefore, is the way in which the psyche reacts to the stimuli acting +upon it in the sleeping condition. We note here a point of approach to +the understanding of the dream. We can now search through different +dreams to discover what are the stimuli which seek to disturb the sleep +and which are reacted to with dreams. Thus far we might be said to have +discovered the first common element. + +Are there other common elements? Yes, it is undeniable that there are, +but they are much more difficult to grasp and describe. The psychic +processes of sleep, for example, have a very different character from +those of waking. One experiences many things in the dream, and believes +in them, while one really has experienced nothing but perhaps the one +disturbing stimulus. One experiences them predominantly in visual +images; feelings may also be interspersed in the dream as well as +thoughts; the other senses may also have experiences, but after all the +dream experiences are predominantly pictures. A part of the difficulty +of dream telling comes from the fact that we have to transpose these +pictures into words. "I could draw it," the dreamer says frequently, +"but I don't know how to say it." That is not really a case of +diminished psychic activity, like that of the feeble-minded in +comparison with the highly gifted; it is something qualitatively +different, but it is difficult to say wherein the difference lies. G. T. +Fechner once hazarded the conjecture that the scene in which dreams are +played is a different one from that of the waking perceptual life. To be +sure, we do not understand this, do not know what we are to think of it, +but the impression of strangeness which most dreams make upon us does +really bear this out. The comparison of the dream activity with the +effects of a hand untrained in music also fails at this point. The +piano, at least, will surely answer with the same tones, even if not +with melodies, as soon as by accident one brushes its keys. Let us keep +this second common element of all dreams carefully in mind, even though +it be not understood. + +Are there still further traits in common? I find none, and see only +differences everywhere, differences indeed in the apparent length as +well as the definiteness of the activities, participation of effects, +durability, etc. All this really is not what we might expect of a +compulsion-driven, irresistible, convulsive defense against a stimulus. +As concerns the dimensions of dreams, there are very short ones which +contain only one picture or a few, one thought--yes, even one word +only--, others which are uncommonly rich in content, seem to dramatize +whole novels and to last very long. There are dreams which are as plain +as an experience itself, so plain that we do not recognize them as +dreams for a long time after waking; others which are indescribably +weak, shadowy and vague; indeed in one and the same dream, the +overemphasized and the scarcely comprehensible, indefinite parts may +alternate with each other. Dreams may be quite meaningful or at least +coherent, yes, even witty, fantastically beautiful. Others, again, are +confused, as if feeble-minded, absurd, often actually mad. There are +dreams which leave us quite cold, others in which all the effects come +to expression--pain deep enough for tears, fear strong enough to waken +us, astonishment, delight, etc. Dreams are generally quickly forgotten +upon waking, or they may hold over a day to such an extent as to be +faintly and incompletely remembered in the evening. Others, for example, +the dreams of childhood, are so well preserved that they stay in the +memory thirty years later, like fresh experiences. Dreams, like +individuals, may appear a single time, and never again, or they may +repeat themselves unchanged in the same person, or with small +variations. In short, this nightly psychic activity can avail itself of +an enormous repertoire, can indeed compass everything which the psychic +accomplishes by day, but yet the two are not the same. + +One might try to give an account of this many-sidedness of the dream by +assuming that it corresponds to different intermediate stages between +sleeping and waking, different degrees of incomplete sleep. Yes, but in +that case as the psyche nears the waking state, the conviction that it +is a dream ought to increase along with the value, content and +distinctiveness of the dream product, and it would not happen that +immediately beside a distinct and sensible dream fragment a senseless +and indistinct one would occur, to be followed again by a goodly piece +of work. Surely the psyche could not change its degree of somnolence so +quickly. This explanation thus avails us nothing; at any rate, it cannot +be accepted offhand. + +Let us, for the present, give up the idea of finding the meaning of the +dream and try instead to clear a path to a better understanding of the +dream by means of the elements common to all dreams. From the relation +of dreams to the sleeping condition, we concluded that the dream is the +reaction to a sleep-disturbing stimulus. As we have heard, this is the +only point upon which exact experimental psychology can come to our +assistance; it gives us the information that stimuli applied during +sleep appear in the dream. There have been many such investigations +carried out, including that of the above mentioned Mourly Vold. Indeed, +each of us must at some time have been in a position to confirm this +conclusion by means of occasional personal observations. I shall choose +certain older experiments for presentation. Maury had such experiments +made on his own person. He was allowed to smell cologne while dreaming. +He dreamed that he was in Cairo in the shop of Johann Marina Farina, and +therewith were linked further extravagant adventures. Or, he was +slightly pinched in the nape of the neck; he dreamed of having a mustard +plaster applied, and of a doctor who had treated him in childhood. Or, a +drop of water was poured on his forehead. He was then in Italy, +perspired profusely, and drank the white wine of Orvieto. + +What strikes us about these experimentally induced dreams we may perhaps +be able to comprehend still more clearly in another series of stimulated +dreams. Three dreams have been recounted by a witty observer, +Hildebrand, all of them reactions to the sound of the alarm clock: + +"I go walking one spring morning and saunter through the green fields to +a neighboring village. There I see the inhabitants in gala attire, their +hymn books under their arms, going church-ward in great numbers. To be +sure, this is Sunday, and the early morning service will soon begin. I +decide to attend, but since I am somewhat overheated, decide to cool off +in the cemetery surrounding the church. While I am there reading several +inscriptions, I hear the bell ringer ascend the tower, and now see the +little village church bell which is to give the signal for the beginning +of the service. The bell hangs a good bit longer, then it begins to +swing, and suddenly its strokes sound clear and penetrating, so clear +and penetrating that they make an end of--my sleep. The bell-strokes, +however, come from my alarm clock. + +"A second combination. It is a clear winter day. The streets are piled +high with snow. I agree to go on a sleighing party, but must wait a long +time before the announcement comes that the sleigh is at the door. Then +follow the preparations for getting in--the fur coat is put on, the +footwarmer dragged forth--and finally I am seated in my place. But the +departure is still delayed until the reins give the waiting horses the +tangible signal. Now they pull; the vigorously shaken bells begin their +familiar Janizary music so powerfully that instantly the spider web of +the dream is torn. Again it is nothing but the shrill tone of the alarm +clock. + +"And still a third example. I see a kitchen maid walking along the +corridor to the dining room with some dozens of plates piled high. The +pillar of porcelain in her arms seems to me in danger of losing its +balance. 'Take care!' I warn her. 'The whole load will fall to the +ground.' Naturally, the inevitable retort follows: one is used to that, +etc., and I still continue to follow the passing figure with +apprehensive glances. Sure enough, at the threshold she stumbles--the +brittle dishes fall and rattle and crash over the floor in a thousand +pieces. But--the endless racket is not, as I soon notice, a real +rattling, but really a ringing and with this ringing, as the awakened +subject now realizes, the alarm has performed its duty." + +These dreams are very pretty, quite meaningful, not at all incoherent, +as dreams usually are. We will not object to them on that score. That +which is common to them all is that the situation terminates each time +in a noise, which one recognizes upon waking up as the sound of the +alarm. Thus we see here how a dream originates, but also discover +something else. The dream does not recognize the alarm--indeed the alarm +does not appear in the dream--the dream replaces the alarm sound with +another, it interprets the stimulus which interrupts the sleep, but +interprets it each time in a different way. Why? There is no answer to +this question, it seems to be something arbitrary. But to understand the +dream means to be able to say why it has chosen just this sound and no +other for the interpretation of the alarm-clock stimulus. In quite +analogous fashion, we must raise the objection to the Maury experiment +that we see well enough that the stimulus appears in the dream, but that +we do not discover why it appears in just this form; and that the form +taken by the dream does not seem to follow from the nature of the +sleep-disturbing stimulus. Moreover, in the Maury experiments a mass of +other dream material links itself to the direct stimulus product; as, +for example, the extravagant adventures in the cologne dream, for which +one can give no account. + +Now I shall ask you to consider the fact that the waking dreams offer by +far the best chances for determining the influence of external +sleep-disturbing stimuli. In most of the other cases it will be more +difficult. One does not wake up in all dreams, and in the morning, when +one remembers the dream of the night, how can one discover the +disturbing stimulus which was perhaps in operation at night? I did +succeed once in subsequently establishing such a sound stimulus, though +naturally only in consequence of special circumstances. I woke up one +morning in a place in the Tyrolese Mountains, with the certainty that I +had dreamt the Pope had died. I could not explain the dream, but then my +wife asked me: "Did you hear the terrible bell ringing that broke out +early this morning from all the churches and chapels?" No, I had heard +nothing, my sleep is a sound one, but thanks to this information I +understood my dream. How often may such stimuli incite the sleeper to +dream without his knowing of them afterward? Perhaps often, perhaps +infrequently; when the stimulus can no longer be traced, one cannot be +convinced of its existence. Even without this fact we have given up +evaluating the sleep disturbing stimuli, since we know that they can +explain only a little bit of the dream, and not the whole dream +reaction. + +But we need not give up this whole theory for that reason. In fact, it +can be extended. It is clearly immaterial through what cause the sleep +was disturbed and the psyche incited to dream. If the sensory stimulus +is not always externally induced, it may be instead a stimulus +proceeding from the internal organs, a so-called somatic stimulus. This +conjecture is obvious, and it corresponds to the most popular conception +of the origin of dreams. Dreams come from the stomach, one often hears +it said. Unfortunately it may be assumed here again that the cases are +frequent in which the somatic stimulus which operated during the night +can no longer be traced after waking, and has thus become unverifiable. +But let us not overlook the fact that many recognized experiences +testify to the derivation of dreams from the somatic stimulus. It is in +general indubitable that the condition of the internal organs can +influence the dream. The relation of many a dream content to a +distention of the bladder or to an excited condition of the genital +organs, is so clear that it cannot be mistaken. From these transparent +cases one can proceed to others in which, from the content of the dream, +at least a justifiable conjecture may be made that such somatic stimuli +have been operative, inasmuch as there is something in this content +which may be conceived as elaboration, representation, interpretation +of the stimuli. The dream investigator Schirmer (1861) insisted with +particular emphasis on the derivation of the dream from organic stimuli, +and cited several splendid examples in proof. For example, in a dream he +sees "two rows of beautiful boys with blonde hair and delicate +complexions stand opposite each other in preparation for a fight, fall +upon each other, seize each other, take up the old position again, and +repeat the whole performance;" here the interpretation of these rows of +boys as teeth is plausible in itself, and it seems to become convincing +when after this scene the dreamer "pulls a long tooth out of his jaws." +The interpretation of "long, narrow, winding corridors" as intestinal +stimuli, seems sound and confirms Schirmer's assertion that the dream +above all seeks to represent the stimulus-producing organ by means of +objects resembling it. + +Thus we must be prepared to admit that the internal stimuli may play the +same role in the dream as the external. Unfortunately, their evaluation +is subject to the same difficulties as those we have already +encountered. In a large number of cases the interpretation of the +stimuli as somatic remains uncertain and undemonstrable. Not all dreams, +but only a certain portion of them, arouse the suspicion that an +internal organic stimulus was concerned in their causation. And finally, +the internal stimuli will be as little able as the external sensory +stimuli to explain any more of the dream than pertains to the direct +reaction to the stimuli. The origin, therefore, of the rest of the dream +remains obscure. + +Let us, however, notice a peculiarity of dream life which becomes +apparent in the study of these effects of stimuli. The dream does not +simply reproduce the stimulus, but it elaborates it, it plays upon it, +places it in a sequence of relationships, replaces it with something +else. That is a side of dream activity which must interest us because it +may lead us closer to the nature of the dream. If one does something +under stimulation, then this stimulation need not exhaust the act. +Shakespeare's _Macbeth_, for example, is a drama created on the occasion +of the coronation of the King who for the first time wore upon his head +the crown symbolizing the union of three countries. But does this +historical occasion cover the content of the drama, does it explain its +greatness and its riddle? Perhaps the external and internal stimuli, +acting upon the sleeper, are only the incitors of the dream, of whose +nature nothing is betrayed to us from our knowledge of that fact. + +The other element common to dreams, their psychic peculiarity, is on the +one hand hard to comprehend, and on the other hand offers no point for +further investigation. In dreams we perceive a thing for the most part +in visual forms. Can the stimuli furnish a solution for this fact? Is it +actually the stimulus which we experience? Why, then, is the experience +visual when optic stimulation incited the dream only in the rarest +cases? Or can it be proved, when we dream speeches, that during sleep a +conversation or sounds resembling it reached our ear? This possibility I +venture decisively to reject. + +If, from the common elements of dreams, we get no further, then let us +see what we can do with their differences. Dreams are often senseless, +blurred, absurd; but there are some that are meaningful, sober, +sensible. Let us see if the latter, the sensible dreams, can give some +information concerning the senseless ones. I will give you the most +recent sensible dream which was told me, the dream of a young man: "I +was promenading in Kaertner Street, met Mr. X. there, whom I accompanied +for a bit, and then I went to a restaurant. Two ladies and a gentleman +seated themselves at my table. I was annoyed at this at first, and would +not look at them. Then I did look, and found that they were quite +pretty." The dreamer adds that the evening before the dream he had +really been in Kaertner Street, which is his usual route, and that he had +met Mr. X. there. The other portion of the dream is no direct +reminiscence, but bears a certain resemblance to a previous experience. +Or another meaningful dream, that of a lady. "Her husband asks, 'Doesn't +the piano need tuning?' She: 'It is not worth while; it has to be newly +lined.'" This dream reproduces without much alteration a conversation +which took place the day before between herself and her husband. What +can we learn from these two sober dreams? Nothing but that you find them +to be reproductions of daily life or ideas connected therewith. This +would at least be something if it could be stated of all dreams. There +is no question, however, that this applies to only a minority of dreams. +In most dreams there is no sign of any connection with the previous day, +and no light is thereby cast on the senseless and absurd dream. We know +only that we have struck a new problem. We wish to know not only what it +is that the dream says, but when, as in our examples, the dream speaks +plainly, we also wish to know why and wherefore this recent experience +is repeated in the dream. + +I believe you are as tired as I am of continuing attempts like these. We +see, after all, that the greatest interest in a problem is inadequate if +one does not know a path which will lead to a solution. Up to this point +we have not found this path. Experimental psychology gave us nothing but +a few very valuable pieces of information concerning the meaning of +stimuli as dream incitors. We need expect nothing from philosophy except +that lately it has taken haughtily to pointing out to us the +intellectual inferiority of our object. Let us not apply to the occult +sciences for help. History and popular tradition tell us that the dream +is meaningful and significant; it sees into the future. Yet that is hard +to accept and surely not demonstrable. Thus our first efforts end in +entire helplessness. + +Unexpectedly we get a hint from a quarter toward which we have not yet +looked. Colloquial usage--which after all is not an accidental thing but +the remnant of ancient knowledge, though it should not be made use of +without caution--our speech, that is to say, recognizes something which +curiously enough it calls "day dreaming." Day dreams are phantasies. +They are very common phenomena, again observable in the normal as well +as in the sick, and access to their study is open to everyone in his own +person. The most conspicuous feature about these phantastic productions +is that they have received the name "day dreams," for they share neither +of the two common elements of dreams. Their name contradicts the +relation to the sleeping condition, and as regards the second common +element, one does not experience or hallucinate anything, one only +imagines it. One knows that it is a phantasy, that one is not seeing but +thinking the thing. These day dreams appear in the period before +puberty, often as early as the last years of childhood, continue into +the years of maturity, are then either given up or retained through +life. The content of these phantasies is dominated by very transparent +motives. They are scenes and events in which the egoistic, ambitious and +power-seeking desires of the individual find satisfaction. With young +men the ambition phantasies generally prevail; in women, the erotic, +since they have banked their ambition on success in love. But often +enough the erotic desire appears in the background with men too; all the +heroic deeds and incidents are after all meant only to win the +admiration and favor of women. Otherwise these day dreams are very +manifold and undergo changing fates. They are either, each in turn, +abandoned after a short time and replaced by a new one, or they are +retained, spun out into long stories, and adapted to changes in daily +circumstances. They move with the time, so to speak, and receive from it +a "time mark" which testifies to the influence of the new situation. +They are the raw material of poetic production, for out of his day +dreams the poet, with certain transformations, disguises and omissions, +makes the situations which he puts into his novels, romances and dramas. +The hero of the day dreams, however, is always the individual himself, +either directly or by means of a transparent identification with +another. + +Perhaps day dreams bear this name because of the similarity of their +relation to reality, in order to indicate that their content is as +little to be taken for real as that of dreams. Perhaps, however, this +identity of names does nevertheless rest on a characteristic of the +dream which is still unknown to us, perhaps even one of those +characteristics which we are seeking. It is possible, on the other hand, +that we are wrong in trying to read a meaning into this similarity of +designation. Yet that can only be cleared up later. + + + + +SIXTH LECTURE + +THE DREAM + +_Hypothesis and Technique of Interpretation_ + + +We must find a new path, a new method, in order to proceed with the +investigation of the dream. I shall now make an obvious suggestion. Let +us assume as a hypothesis for everything which follows, that _the dream +is not a somatic but a psychic phenomenon_. You appreciate the +significance of that statement, but what justification have we for +making it? None; but that alone need not deter us from making it. The +matter stands thus: If the dream is a somatic phenomenon, it does not +concern us. It can be of interest to us only on the supposition that it +is a _psychic_ phenomenon. Let us therefore work upon that assumption in +order to see what comes of it. The result of our labor will determine +whether we are to hold to this assumption and whether we may, in fact, +consider it in turn a result. What is it that we really wish to achieve, +to what end are we working? It is what one usually seeks to attain in +the sciences, an understanding of phenomena, the creation of +relationships between them, and ultimately, if possible, the extension +of our control over them. + +Let us then proceed with the work on the assumption that the dream is a +psychic phenomenon. This makes it an achievement and expression of the +dreamer, but one that tells us nothing, one that we do not understand. +What do you do when I make a statement you do not understand? You ask +for an explanation, do you not? Why may we not do the same thing here, +_ask the dreamer to give us the meaning of his dream_? + +If you will remember, we were in this same situation once before. It was +when we were investigating errors, a case of a slip of the tongue. +Someone said: "_Da sind dinge zum vorschwein gekommen_," whereupon we +asked--no, luckily, not we, but others, persons in no way associated +with psychoanalysis--these persons asked him what he meant by this +unintelligible talk. He immediately answered that he had intended to say +"_Das waren schweinereien_," but that he had suppressed this intention, +in favor of the other, more gentle "_Da sind dinge zum vorschein +gekommen_."[23] I explained to you at the time that this inquiry was +typical of every psychoanalytical investigation, and now you understand +that psychoanalysis follows the technique, as far as possible, of having +the subjects themselves discover the solutions of their riddles. The +dreamer himself, then, is to tell us the meaning of his dream. + +It is common knowledge, however, that this is not such an easy matter +with dreams. In the case of slips, our method worked in a number of +cases, but we encountered some where the subject did not wish to say +anything--in fact, indignantly rejected the answer that we suggested. +Instances of the first method are entirely lacking in the case of +dreams; the dreamer always says he knows nothing. He cannot deny our +interpretation, for we have none. Shall we then give up the attempt? +Since he knows nothing and we know nothing and a third person surely +knows nothing, it looks as though there were no possibility of +discovering anything. If you wish, discontinue the investigation. But if +you are of another mind, you can accompany me on the way. For I assure +you, it is very possible, in fact, probable, that the dreamer does know +what his dream means, but does _not know that he knows, and therefore +believes he does not know_. + +You will point out to me that I am again making an assumption, the +second in this short discourse, and that I am greatly reducing the +credibility of my claim. On the assumption that the dream is a psychic +phenomenon, on the further assumption that there are unconscious things +in man which he knows without knowing that he knows, etc.--we need only +realize clearly the intrinsic improbability of each of these two +assumptions, and we shall calmly turn our attention from the conclusions +to be derived from such premises. + +Yet, ladies and gentlemen, I have not invited you here to delude you or +to conceal anything from you. I did, indeed, announce a _General +Introduction to Psychoanalysis_, but I did not intend the title to +convey that I was an oracle, who would show you a finished product with +all the difficulties carefully concealed, all the gaps filled in and all +the doubts glossed over, so that you might peacefully believe you had +learned something new. No, precisely because you are beginners, I wanted +to show you our science as it is, with all its hills and pitfalls, +demands and considerations. For I know that it is the same in all +sciences, and must be so in their beginnings particularly. I know, too, +that teaching as a rule endeavors to hide these difficulties and these +incompletely developed phases from the student. But that will not do in +psychoanalysis. I have, as a matter of fact, made two assumptions, one +within the other, and he who finds the whole too troublesome and too +uncertain or is accustomed to greater security or more elegant +derivations, need go no further with us. What I mean is, he should leave +psychological problems entirely alone, for it must be apprehended that +he will not find the sure and safe way he is prepared to go, +traversable. Then, too, it is superfluous for a science that has +something to offer to plead for auditors and adherents. Its results must +create its atmosphere, and it must then bide its time until these have +attracted attention to themselves. + +I would warn those of you, however, who care to continue, that my two +assumptions are not of equal worth. The first, that the dream is a +psychic phenomenon, is the assumption we wish to prove by the results of +our work. The other has already been proved in another field, and I take +the liberty only of transferring it from that field to our problem. + +Where, in what field of observation shall we seek the proof that there +is in man a knowledge of which he is not conscious, as we here wish to +assume in the case of the dreamer? That would be a remarkable, a +surprising fact, one which would change our understanding of the psychic +life, and which would have no need to hide itself. To name it would be +to destroy it, and yet it pretends to be something real, a contradiction +in terms. Nor does it hide itself. It is no result of the fact itself +that we are ignorant of its existence and have not troubled sufficiently +about it. That is just as little our fault as the fact that all these +psychological problems are condemned by persons who have kept away from +all observations and experiments which are decisive in this respect. + +The proof appeared in the field of hypnotic phenomena. When, in the year +1889, I was a witness to the extraordinarily enlightening demonstrations +of Siebault and Bernheim in Nancy, I witnessed also the following +experiment: If one placed a man in the somnambulistic state, allowed him +to have all manner of hallucinatory experience, and then woke him up, it +appeared in the first instance that he knew nothing about what had +happened during his hypnotic sleep. Bernheim then directly invited him +to relate what had happened to him during the hypnosis. He maintained he +was unable to recall anything. But Bernheim insisted, he persisted, he +assured him he did know, that he must recall, and, incredible though it +may seem, the man wavered, began to rack his memory, recalled in a +shadowy way first one of the suggested experiences, then another; the +recollection became more and more complete and finally was brought forth +without a gap. The fact that he had this knowledge finally, and that he +had had no experiences from any other source in the meantime, permits +the conclusion that he knew of these recollections in the beginning. +They were merely inaccessible, he did not know that he knew them; he +believed he did not know them. This is exactly what we suspect in the +dreamer. + +I trust you are taken by surprise by the establishment of this fact, and +that you will ask me why I did not refer to this proof before in the +case of the slips, where we credited the man who made a mistake in +speech with intentions he knew nothing about and which he denied. "If a +person believes he knows nothing concerning experiences, the memory of +which, however, he retains," you might say, "it is no longer so +improbable that there are also other psychic experiences within him of +whose existence he is ignorant. This argument would have impressed us +and advanced us in the understanding of errors." To be sure, I might +then have referred to this but I reserved it for another place, where it +was more necessary. Errors have in a measure explained themselves, have, +in part, furnished us with the warning that we must assume the existence +of psychic processes of which we know nothing, for the sake of the +connection of the phenomena. In dreams we are compelled to look to other +sources for explanations; and besides, I count on the fact that you will +permit the inference I draw from hypnotism more readily in this +instance. The condition in which we make mistakes most seem to you to +be the normal one. It has no similarity to the hypnotic. On the other +hand, there is a clear relationship between the hypnotic state and +sleep, which is the essential condition of dreams. Hypnotism is known as +artificial sleep; we say to the person whom we hypnotize, "Sleep," and +the suggestions which we throw out are comparable to the dreams of +natural sleep. The psychical conditions are in both cases really +analogous. In natural sleep we withdraw our attention from the entire +outside world; in the hypnotic, on the other hand, from the whole world +with the exception of the one person who has hypnotized us, with whom we +remain in touch. Furthermore, the so-called nurse's sleep in which the +nurse remains in touch with the child, and can be waked only by him, is +a normal counterpart of hypnotism. The transference of one of the +conditions of hypnotism to natural sleep does not appear to be such a +daring proceeding. The inferential assumption that there is also present +in the case of the dreamer a knowledge of his dream, a knowledge which +is so inaccessible that he does not believe it himself, does not seem to +be made out of whole cloth. Let us note that at this point there appears +a third approach to the study of the dream; from the sleep-disturbing +stimuli, from the day-dreams, and now in addition, from the suggested +dreams of the hypnotic state. + +Now we return, perhaps with increased faith, to our problem. Apparently +it is very probable that the dreamer knows of his dream; the question +is, how to make it possible for him to discover this knowledge, and to +impart it to us? We do not demand that he give us the meaning of his +dream at once, but he will be able to discover its origin, the thought +and sphere of interest from which it springs. In the case of the errors, +you will remember, the man was asked how he happened to use the wrong +word, "_vorschwein_," and his next idea gave us the explanation. Our +dream technique is very simple, an imitation of this example. We again +ask how the subject happened to have the dream, and his next statement +is again to be taken as an explanation. We disregard the distinction +whether the dreamer believes or does not believe he knows, and treat +both cases in the same way. + +This technique is very simple indeed, but I am afraid it will arouse +your sharpest opposition. You will say, "a new assumption. The third! +And the most improbable of all! If I ask the dreamer what he considers +the explanation of his dream to be, his very next association is to be +the desired explanation? But it may be he thinks of nothing at all, or +his next thought may be anything at all. We cannot understand upon what +we can base such anticipation. This, really, is putting too much faith +in a situation where a slightly more critical attitude would be more +suitable. Furthermore, a dream is not an isolated error, but consists of +many elements. To which idea should we pin our faith?" + +You are right in all the non-essentials. A dream must indeed be +distinguished from a word slip, even in the number of its elements. The +technique is compelled to consider this very carefully. Let me suggest +that we separate the dream into its elements, and carry on the +investigation of each element separately; then the analogy to the +word-slip is again set up. You are also correct when you say that in +answer to the separate dream elements no association may occur to the +dreamer. There are cases in which we accept this answer, and later you +will hear what those cases are. They are, oddly enough, cases in which +we ourselves may have certain associations. But in general we shall +contradict the dreamer when he maintains he has no associations. We +shall insist that he must have some association and--we shall be +justified. He will bring forth some association, any one, it makes no +difference to us. He will be especially facile with certain information +which might be designated as historical. He will say, "that is something +that happened yesterday" (as in the two "prosaic" dreams with which we +are acquainted); or, "that reminds me of something that happened +recently," and in this manner we shall notice that the act of +associating the dreams with recent impressions is much more frequent +than we had at first supposed. Finally, the dreamer will remember +occurrences more remote from the dream, and ultimately even events in +the far past. + +But in the essential matters you are mistaken. If you believe that we +assume arbitrarily that the dreamer's next association will disclose +just what we are seeking, or must lead to it, that on the contrary the +association is just as likely to be entirely inconsequential, and +without any connection with what we are seeking, and that it is an +example of my unbounded optimism to expect anything else, then you are +greatly mistaken. I have already taken the liberty of pointing out that +in each one of you there is a deep-rooted belief in psychic freedom and +volition, a belief which is absolutely unscientific, and which must +capitulate before the claims of a determinism that controls even the +psychic life. I beg of you to accept it as a fact that only this one +association will occur to the person questioned. But I do not put one +belief in opposition to another. It can be proved that the association, +which the subject produces, is not voluntary, is not indeterminable, not +unconnected with what we seek. Indeed, I discovered long ago--without, +however, laying too much stress on the discovery--that even experimental +psychology has brought forth this evidence. + +I ask you to give your particular attention to the significance of this +subject. If I invite a person to tell me what occurs to him in relation +to some certain element of his dream I am asking him to abandon himself +to free association, _controlled by a given premise_. This demands a +special delimitation of the attention, quite different from cogitation, +in fact, exclusive of cogitation. Many persons put themselves into such +a state easily; others show an extraordinarily high degree of +clumsiness. There is a higher level of free association again, where I +omit this original premise and designate only the manner of the +association, e.g., rule that the subject freely give a proper name or a +number. Such an association would be more voluntary, more +indeterminable, than the one called forth by our technique. But it can +be shown that it is strongly determined each time by an important inner +mental set which, at the moment at which it is active, is unknown to us, +just as unknown as the disturbing tendencies in the case of errors and +the provocative tendencies in the case of accidental occurrences. + +I, and many others after me, have again and again instigated such +investigations for names and numbers which occur to the subject without +any restraint, and have published some results. The method is the +following: Proceeding from the disclosed names, we awaken continuous +associations which then are no longer entirely free, but rather are +limited as are the associations to the dream elements, and this is true +until the impulse is exhausted. By that time, however, the motivation +and significance of the free name associations is explained. The +investigations always yield the same results, the information often +covers a wealth of material and necessitates lengthy elaboration. The +associations to freely appearing numbers are perhaps the most +significant. They follow one another so quickly and approach a hidden +goal with such inconceivable certainty, that it is really startling. I +want to give you an example of such a name analysis, one that, happily, +involves very little material. + +In the course of my treatment of a young man, I referred to this subject +and mentioned the fact that despite the apparent volition it is +impossible to have a name occur which does not appear to be limited by +the immediate conditions, the peculiarities of the subject, and the +momentary situation. He was doubtful, and I proposed that he make such +an attempt immediately. I know he has especially numerous relations of +every sort with women and girls, and so am of the opinion that he will +have an unusually wide choice if he happens to think of a woman's name. +He agrees. To my astonishment, and perhaps even more to his, no +avalanche of women's names descends upon my head, but he is silent for a +time, and then admits that a single name has occurred to him--and no +other: _Albino_. How extraordinary, but what associations have you with +this name? How many albinoes do you know? Strangely enough, he knew no +albinoes, and there were no further associations with the name. One +might conclude the analysis had proved a failure; but no--it was already +complete; no further association was necessary. The man himself had +unusually light coloring. In our talks during the cure I had frequently +called him an albino in fun. We were at the time occupied in determining +the feminine characteristics of his nature. He himself was the Albino, +who at that moment was to him the most interesting feminine person. + +In like manner, melodies, which come for no reason, show themselves +conditioned by and associated with a train of thought which has a right +to occupy one, yet of whose activity one is unconscious. It is easily +demonstrable that the attraction to the melody is associated with the +text, or its origin. But I must take the precaution not to include in +this assertion really musical people, with whom, as it happens, I have +had no experience. In their cases the musical meaning of the melody may +have occasioned its occurrence. More often the first reason holds. I +know of a young man who for a time was actually haunted by the really +charming melody of the song of Paris, from _The Beautiful Helen_, until +the analysis brought to his attention the fact that at that time his +interest was divided between an Ida and a Helen. + +If then the entirely unrestrained associations are conditioned in such a +manner and are arranged in a distinct order, we are justified in +concluding that associations with a single condition, that of an +original premise, or starting point, may be conditioned to no less +degree. The investigation does in fact show that aside from the +conditioning which we have established by the premise, a second farther +dependence is recognizable upon powerful affective thoughts, upon cycles +of interest and complexes of whose influence we are ignorant, therefore +unconscious at the time. + +Associations of this character have been the subject matter of very +enlightening experimental investigations, which have played a noteworthy +role in the history of psychoanalysis. The Wundt school proposed the +so-called association-experiment, wherein the subject is given the task +of answering in the quickest possible time, with any desired reaction, +to a given stimulus-word. It is then possible to study the interval of +time that elapses between the stimulus and the reaction, the nature of +the answer given as reaction, the possible mistake in a subsequent +repetition of the same attempt, and similar matters. The Zurich School +under the leadership of Bleuler and Jung, gave the explanation of the +reactions following the association-experiment, by asking the subject to +explain a given reaction by means of further associations, in the cases +where there was anything extraordinary in the reaction. It then became +apparent that these extraordinary reactions were most sharply determined +by the complexes of the subject. In this matter Bleuler and Jung built +the first bridge from experimental psychology to psychoanalysis. + +Thus instructed, you will be able to say, "We recognize now that free +associations are predetermined, not voluntary, as we had believed. We +admit this also as regards the associations connected with the elements +of the dream, but that is not what we are concerned with. You maintain +that the associations to the dream element are determined by the unknown +psychic background of this very element. We do not think that this is a +proven fact. We expect, to be sure, that the association to the dream +element will clearly show itself through one of the complexes of the +dreamer, but what good is that to us? That does not lead us to +understand the dream, but rather, as in the case of the +association-experiment, to a knowledge of the so-called complexes. What +have these to do with the dream?" + +You are right, but you overlook one point, in fact, the very point +because of which I did not choose the association-experiment as the +starting point for this exposition. In this experiment the one +determinate of the reaction, viz., the stimulus word, is voluntarily +chosen. The reaction is then an intermediary between this stimulus word +and the recently aroused complex of the subject. In the dream the +stimulus word is replaced by something that itself has its origin in the +psychic life of the dreamer, in sources unknown to him, hence very +likely itself a product of the complex. It is not an altogether +fantastic hypothesis, then, that the more remote associations, even +those that are connected with the dream element, are determined by no +other complex than the one which determines the dream element itself, +and will lead to the disclosure of the complex. + +Let me show you by another case that the situation is really as we +expect it to be. Forgetting proper names is really a splendid example +for the case of dream analysis; only here there is present in one person +what in the dream interpretation is divided between two persons. Though +I have forgotten a name temporarily I still retain the certainty that I +know the name; that certainty which we could acquire for the dreamer +only by way of the Bernheim experiment. The forgotten name, however, is +not accessible. Cogitation, no matter how strenuous, does not help. +Experience soon tells me that. But I am able each time to find one or +more substitute names for the forgotten name. If such a substitute name +occurs to me spontaneously then the correspondence between this +situation and that of the dream analysis first becomes evident. Nor is +the dream element the real thing, but only a substitute for something +else, for what particular thing I do not know, but am to discover by +means of the dream analysis. The difference lies only in this, that in +forgetting a name I recognize the substitute automatically as +unsuitable, while in the dream element we must acquire this +interpretation with great labor. When a name is forgotten, too, there +is a way to go from the substitute to the unknown reality, to arrive at +the forgotten name. If I centre my attention on the substitute name and +allow further associations to accumulate, I arrive in a more or less +roundabout way at the forgotten name, and discover that the spontaneous +substitute names, together with those called up by me, have a certain +connection with the forgotten name, were conditioned by it. + +I want to show you an analysis of this type. One day I noticed that I +could not recall the name of the little country in the Riviera of which +Monte Carlo is the capital. It is very annoying, but it is true. I steep +myself in all my knowledge about this country, think of Prince Albert, +of the house of Lusignan, of his marriages, his preference for deep-sea +study, and anything else I can think of, but to no avail. So I give up +the thinking, and in place of the lost name allow substitute names to +suggest themselves. They come quickly--Monte Carlo itself, then +Piedmont, Albania, Montevideo, Colico. Albania is the first to attract +my attention, it is replaced by Montenegro, probably because of the +contrast between black and white. Then I see that four of these +substitutes contain the same syllable _mon_. I suddenly have the +forgotten word, and cry aloud, "_Monaco_." The substitutes really +originated in the forgotten word, the four first from the first +syllable, the last brings back the sequence of syllables and the entire +final syllable. In addition, I am also able easily to discover what it +was that took the name from my memory for a time. Monaco is also the +Italian name of Munich; this latter town exerted the inhibiting +influence. + +The example is pretty enough, but too simple. In other cases we must add +to the first substitute names a long line of associations, and then the +analogy to the dream interpretation becomes clearer. I have also had +such experiences. Once when a stranger invited me to drink Italian wine +with him, it so happened in the hostelry that he forgot the name of the +wine he had intended to order just because he had retained a most +pleasant memory of it. Out of a profusion of dissimilar substitute +associations which came to him in the place of the forgotten name, I was +able to conclude that the memory of some one named Hedwig had deprived +him of the name of the wine, and he actually confirmed not only that he +had first tasted this wine in the company of a Hedwig, but he also, as +a result of this declaration, recollected the name again. He was at the +time happily married, and this Hedwig belonged to former times, not now +recalled with pleasure. + +What is possible in forgetting names must work also in dream +interpretation, viz., making the withheld actuality accessible by means +of substitutions and through connecting associations. As exemplified by +name-forgetting, we may conclude that in the case of the associations to +the dream element they will be determined as well by the dream element +as by its unknown essential. Accordingly, we have advanced a few steps +in the formulation of our dream technique. + + + + +SEVENTH LECTURE + +THE DREAM + +_Manifest Dream Content and Latent Dream Thought_ + + +We have not studied the problem of errors in vain. Thanks to our efforts +in this field, under the conditions known to you, we have evolved two +different things, a conception of the elements of the dream and a +technique for dream interpretation. The conception of the dream element +goes to show something unreal, a substitute for something else, unknown +to the dreamer, similar to the tendency of errors, a substitute for +something the dreamer knows but cannot approach. We hope to transfer the +same conception to the whole dream, which consists of just such +elements. Our method consists of calling up, by means of free +associations, other substitute formations in addition to these elements, +from which we divine what is hidden. + +Let me ask you to permit a slight change in our nomenclature which will +greatly increase the flexibility of our vocabulary. Instead of hidden, +unapproachable, unreal, let us give a truer description and say +inaccessible or unknown to the consciousness of the dreamer. By this we +mean only what the connection with the lost word or with the interfering +intention of the error can suggest to you, namely, unconscious _for the +time being_. Naturally in contrast to this we may term _conscious_ the +elements of the dream itself and the substitute formations just gained +by association. As yet there is absolutely no theoretical construction +implied in this nomenclature. The use of the word unconscious as a +suitable and intelligible descriptive epithet is above criticism. + +If we transfer our conception from a single element to the entire dream, +we find that the dream as a whole is a distorted substitute for +something else, something unconscious. To discover this unconscious +thing is the task of dream interpretation. From this, three important +rules, which we must observe in the work of dream interpretation, are +straightway derived: + +1. What the dream seems to say, whether it be sensible or absurd, clear +or confused is not our concern, since it can under no condition be that +unconscious content we are seeking. Later we shall have to observe an +obvious limitation of this rule. 2. The awakening of substitute +formations for each element shall be the sole object of our work. We +shall not reflect on these, test their suitability or trouble how far +they lead away from the element of the dream. 3. We shall wait until the +hidden unconscious we are seeking appears of itself, as the missing word +_Monaco_ in the experiment which we have described. + +Now we can understand, too, how unimportant it is how much, how little, +above all, how accurately or how indifferently the dream is remembered. +For the dream which is remembered is not the real one, but a distorted +substitute, which is to help us approach the real dream by awakening +other substitute formations and by making the unconscious in the dream +conscious. Therefore if our recollection of the dream was faulty, it has +simply brought about a further distortion of this substitute, a +distortion which cannot, however, be unmotivated. + +One can interpret one's own dreams as well as those of others. One +learns even more from these, for the process yields more proof. If we +try this, we observe that something impedes the work. Haphazard ideas +arise, but we do not let them have their way. Tendencies to test and to +choose make themselves felt. As an idea occurs, we say to ourselves "No, +that does not fit, that does not belong here"; of a second "that is too +senseless"; of a third, "this is entirely beside the point"; and one can +easily observe how the ideas are stifled and suppressed by these +objections, even before they have become entirely clear. On the one +hand, therefore, too much importance is attached to the dream elements +themselves; on the other, the result of free association is vitiated by +the process of selection. If you are not interpreting the dream alone, +if you allow someone else to interpret it for you, you will soon +discover another motive which induces you to make this forbidden choice. +At times you say to yourself, "No, this idea is too unpleasant, I either +will not or cannot divulge this." + +Clearly these objections are a menace to the success of our work. We +must guard against them, in our own case by the firm resolve not to give +way to them; and in the interpretation of the dreams of others by making +the hard and fast rule for them, never to omit any idea from their +account, even if one of the following four objections should arise: that +is, if it should seem too unimportant, absurd, too irrelevant or too +embarrassing to relate. The dreamer promises to obey this rule, but it +is annoying to see how poorly he keeps his promise at times. At first we +account for this by supposing that in spite of the authoritative +assurance which has been given to the dreamer, he is not impressed with +the importance of free association, and plan perhaps to win his +theoretic approval by giving him papers to read or by sending him to +lectures which are to make him a disciple of our views concerning free +association. But we are deterred from such blunders by the observation +that, in one's own case, where convictions may certainly be trusted, the +same critical objections arise against certain ideas, and can only be +suppressed subsequently, upon second thought, as it were. + +Instead of becoming vexed at the disobedience of the dreamer, these +experiences can be turned to account in teaching something new, +something which is the more important the less we are prepared for it. +We understand that the task of interpreting dreams is carried on against +a certain _resistance_ which manifests itself by these critical +objections. This resistance is independent of the theoretical conviction +of the dreamer. Even more is apparent. We discover that such a critical +objection is never justified. On the contrary, those ideas which we are +so anxious to suppress, prove _without exception_ to be the most +important, the most decisive, in the search for the unconscious. It is +even a mark of distinction if an idea is accompanied by such an +objection. + +This resistance is something entirely new, a phenomenon which we have +found as a result of our hypotheses although it was not originally +included in them. We are not too pleasantly surprised by this new factor +in our problem. We suspect that it will not make our work any easier. It +might even tempt us to abandon our entire work in connection with the +dream. Such an unimportant thing as the dream and in addition such +difficulties instead of a smooth technique! But from another point of +view, these same difficulties may prove fascinating, and suggest that +the work is worth the trouble. Whenever we try to penetrate to the +hidden unconscious, starting out from the substitute which the dream +element represents, we meet with resistance. Hence, we are justified in +supposing that something of weight must be hidden behind the substitute. +What other reason could there be for the difficulties which are +maintained for purposes of concealment? If a child does not want to open +his clenched fist, he is certainly hiding something he ought not to +have. + +Just as soon as we bring the dynamic representation of resistance into +our consideration of the case, we must realize that this factor is +something quantitatively variable. There may be greater or lesser +resistances and we are prepared to see these differences in the course +of our work. We may perhaps connect this with another experience found +in the work of dream interpretation. For sometimes only one or two ideas +serve to carry us from the dream element to its unconscious aspect, +while at other times long chains of associations and the suppression of +many critical objections are necessary. We shall note that these +variations are connected with the variable force of resistance. This +observation is probably correct. If resistance is slight, then the +substitute is not far removed from the unconscious, but strong +resistance carries with it a great distortion of the unconscious and in +addition a long journey back to it. + +Perhaps the time has come to take a dream and try out our method to see +if our faith in it shall be confirmed. But which dream shall we choose? +You cannot imagine how hard it is for me to decide, and at this point I +cannot explain the source of the difficulty. Of course, there must be +dreams which, as a whole, have suffered slight distortion, and it would +be best to start with one of these. But which dreams are the least +distorted? Those which are sensible and not confused, of which I have +already given you two examples? This would be a gross misunderstanding. +Testing shows that these dreams have suffered by distortion to an +exceptionally high degree. But if I take the first best dream, +regardless of certain necessary conditions, you would probably be very +much disappointed. Perhaps we should have to note such an abundance of +ideas in connection with single elements of dream that it would be +absolutely impossible to review the work in perspective. If we write the +dream out and confront it with the written account of all the ideas +which arise in connection with it, these may easily amount to a +reiteration of the text of the dream. It would therefore seem most +practical to choose for analysis several short dreams of which each one +can at least reveal or confirm something. This is what we shall decide +upon, provided experience should not point out where we shall really +find slightly distorted dreams. + +But I know of another way to simplify matters, one which, moreover, lies +in our path. Instead of attempting the interpretation of entire dreams, +we shall limit ourselves to single dream elements and by observing a +series of examples we shall see how these are explained by the +application of our method. + +1. A lady relates that as a child she often dreamt "_that God had a +pointed paper hat on his head_." How do you expect to understand that +without the help of the dreamer? Why, it sounds quite absurd. It is no +longer absurd when the lady testifies that as a child she was frequently +made to wear such a hat at the table, because she could not help +stealing glances at the plates of her brothers and sisters to see if one +of them had gotten more than she. The hat was therefore supposed to act +as a sort of blinder. This explanation was moreover historic, and given +without the least difficulty. The meaning of this fragment and of the +whole brief dream, is clear with the help of a further idea of the +dreamer. "Since I had heard that God was all-knowing and all-seeing," +she said, "the dream can only mean that I know everything and see +everything just as God does, even when they try to prevent me." This +example is perhaps too simple. + +2. A sceptical patient has a longer dream, in which certain people +happen to tell her about my book concerning laughter and praise it +highly. Then something is mentioned about a certain "_'canal,' perhaps +another book in which 'canal' occurs, or something else with the word +'canal' ... she doesn't know ... it is all confused_." + +Now you will be inclined to think that the element "canal" will evade +interpretation because it is so vague. You are right as to the supposed +difficulty, but it is not difficult because it is vague, but rather it +is vague for a different reason, the same reason which also makes the +interpretation difficult. The dreamer can think of nothing concerning +the word canal, I naturally can think of nothing. A little while later, +as a matter of fact on the next day, she tells me that something +occurred to her that _may perhaps_ be related to it, a joke that she has +heard. On a ship between Dover and Calais a well-known author is +conversing with an Englishman, who quoted the following proverb in a +certain connection: "_Du sublime au ridicule, il n'y a qu'un pas_."[24] +The author answers, "_Oui, le pas de Calais_,"[25] with which he wishes +to say that he finds France sublime and England ridiculous. But the +"_Pas de Calais_" is really a canal, namely, the English Channel. Do I +think that this idea has anything to do with the dream? Certainly, I +believe that it really gives the solution to the puzzling dream +fragments. Or can you doubt that this joke was already present in the +dream, as the unconscious factor of the element, "canal." Can you take +it for granted that it was subsequently added to it? The idea testifies +to the scepticism which is concealed behind her obtrusive admiration, +and the resistance is probably the common reason for both phenomena, for +the fact that the idea came so hesitatingly and that the decisive +element of the dream turned out to be so vague. Kindly observe at this +point the relation of the dream element to its unconscious factor. It is +like a small part of the unconscious, like an allusion to it; through +its isolation it became quite unintelligible. + +3. A patient dreams, in the course of a longer dream: "_Around a table +of peculiar shape several members of his family are sitting, etc._" In +connection with this table, it occurs to him that he saw such a piece of +furniture during a visit to a certain family. Then his thoughts +continue: In this family a peculiar relation had existed between father +and son, and soon he adds to this that as a matter of fact the same +relation exists between himself and his father. The table is therefore +taken up into the dream to designate this parallel. + +This dreamer had for a long time been familiar with the claims of dream +interpretation. Otherwise he might have taken exception to the fact that +so trivial a detail as the shape of a table should be taken as the +basis of the investigation. As a matter of fact we judge nothing in the +dream as accidental or indifferent, and we expect to reach our +conclusion by the explanation of just such trivial and unmotivated +details. Perhaps you will be surprised that the dream work should arouse +the thought "we are in exactly the same position as they are," just by +the choice of the table. But even this becomes clear when you learn that +the name of the family in question is _Tischler_. By permitting his own +family to sit at such a table, he intends to express that they too are +_Tischler_. Please note how, in relating such a dream interpretation, +one must of necessity become indiscreet. Here you have arrived at one of +the difficulties in the choice of examples that I indicated before. I +could easily have substituted another example for this one, but would +probably have avoided this indiscretion at the cost of committing +another one in its place. + +The time has come to introduce two new terms, which we could have used +long ago. We shall call that which the dream relates, the manifest +content of the dream; that which is hidden, which we can only reach by +the analysis of ideas we shall call latent dream thoughts. We may now +consider the connection between the manifest dream content and the +latent dream thoughts as they are revealed in these examples. Many +different connections can exist. In examples 1 and 2 the manifest +content is also a constituent part of the latent thought, but only a +very small part of it. A small piece of a great composite psychic +structure in the unconscious dream thought has penetrated into the +manifest dream, like a fragment of it, or in other cases, like an +allusion to it, like a catchword or an abbreviation in the telegraphic +code. The interpretation must mould this fragment, or indication, into a +whole, as was done most successfully in example 2. One sort of +distortion of which the dream mechanism consists is therefore +substitution by means of a fragment or an allusion. In the third, +moreover, we must recognize another relation which we shall see more +clearly and distinctly expressed in the following examples: + +4. The dreamer "_pulls a certain woman of his acquaintance from behind a +bed_." He finds the meaning of this dream element himself by his first +association. It means: This woman "has a pull" with him.[26] + +5. Another man dreams that "_his brother is in a closet_." The first +association substitutes _clothes-press_ for closet, and the second gives +the meaning: his brother is _close-pressed_ for money.[27] + +6. The dreamer "_climbs a mountain from the top of which he has an +extraordinarily distant view_." This sounds quite sensible; perhaps +there is nothing about it that needs interpretation, and it is simply +necessary to find out which reminiscence this dream touches upon and why +it was recalled. But you are mistaken; it is evident that this dream +requires interpretation as well as any other which is confused. For no +previous mountain climbing of his own occurs to the dreamer, but he +remembers that an acquaintance of his is publishing a "_Rundschau_," +which deals with our relation to the furthermost parts of the earth. The +latent dream thought is therefore in this case an identification of the +dreamer with the "_Rundschauer_." + +Here you find a new type of connection between the manifest content and +the latent dream element. The former is not so much a distortion of the +latter as a representation of it, a plastic concrete perversion that is +based on the sound of the word. However, it is for this very reason +again a distortion, for we have long ago forgotten from which concrete +picture the word has arisen, and therefore do not recognize it by the +image which is substituted for it. If you consider that the manifest +dream consists most often of visual images, and less frequently of +thoughts and words, you can imagine that a very particular significance +in dream formation is attached to this sort of relation. You can also +see that in this manner it becomes possible to create substitute +formations for a great number of abstract thoughts in the manifest +dream, substitutions that serve the purpose of further concealment all +the same. This is the technique of our picture puzzle. What the origin +is of the semblance of wit which accompanies such representations is a +particular question which we need not touch upon at this time. + +A fourth type of relation between the manifest and the latent dream +cannot be dealt with until its cue in the technique has been given. Even +then I shall not have given you a complete enumeration, but it will be +sufficient for our purpose. + +Have you the courage to venture upon the interpretation of an entire +dream? Let us see if we are well enough equipped for this undertaking. +Of course, I shall not choose one of the most obscure, but one +nevertheless that shows in clear outline the general characteristics of +a dream. + +A young woman who has been married for many years dreams: "_She is +sitting in the theatre with her husband; one side of the orchestra is +entirely unoccupied. Her husband tells her that Elise L. and her +bridegroom had also wished to come, but had only been able to procure +poor seats, three for_ 1 _Fl.,_ 50 _Kr. and those of course they could +not take. She thinks this is no misfortune for them._" + +The first thing that the dreamer has to testify is that the occasion for +the dream is touched upon in its manifest content. Her husband had +really told her that Elise L., an acquaintance of about her age, had +become engaged. The dream is the reaction to this news. We already know +that in the case of many dreams it is easy to trace such a cause to the +preceding day, and that the dreamer often gives these deductions without +any difficulty. The dreamer also places at our disposal further +information for other parts of the manifest dream content. Whence the +detail that one side of the orchestra is unoccupied? It is an allusion +to an actual occurrence of the previous week. She had made up her mind +to go to a certain performance and had procured tickets in advance, so +much in advance that she had been forced to pay a preference tax.[28] +When she arrived at the theatre, she saw how needless had been her +anxiety, for _one side of the orchestra was almost empty_. She could +have bought the tickets on the day of the performance itself. Her +husband would not stop teasing her about her excessive haste. Whence the +1 Fl. 50 Kr.? From a very different connection that has nothing to do +with the former, but which also alludes to an occurrence of the previous +day. Her sister-in-law had received 150 florins as a present from her +husband, and knew no better, the poor goose, than to hasten to the +jeweler and spend the money on a piece of jewelry. Whence the number 3? +She can think of nothing in connection with this unless one stresses the +association that the bride, Elise L., is only three months younger than +she herself, who has been married for almost ten years. And the +absurdity of buying three tickets for two people? She says nothing of +this, and indeed denies all further associations or information. + +But she has given us so much material in her few associations, that it +becomes possible to derive the latent dream thought from it. It must +strike us that in her remarks concerning the dream, time elements which +constitute a common element in the various parts of this material appear +at several points. She attended to the tickets _too soon_, took them +_too hastily_, so that she had to pay more than usual for them; her +sister-in-law likewise _hastened_ to carry her money to the jeweler's to +buy a piece of jewelry, just as if she might _miss_ it. Let us add to +the expressions "_too early_," "_precipitately_," which are emphasized +so strongly, the occasion for the dream, namely, that her friend only +three months younger than herself had even now gotten a good husband, +and the criticism expressed in the condemnation of her sister-in-law, +that it was _foolish_ to hurry so. Then the following construction of +the latent dream thought, for which the manifest dream is a badly +distorted substitute, comes to us almost spontaneously: + +"How _foolish_ it was of me to hurry so in marrying! Elise's example +shows me that I could have gotten a husband later too." (The +precipitateness is represented by her own behavior in buying the +tickets, and that of her sister-in-law in purchasing jewelry. Going to +the theatre was substituted for getting married. This appears to have +been the main thought; and perhaps we may continue, though with less +certainty, because the analysis in these parts is not supported by +statements of the dreamer.) "And I would have gotten 100 times as much +for my money." (150 Fl. is 100 times as much as 1 Fl. 50 Kr.). If we +might substitute the dowry for the money, then it would mean that one +buys a husband with a dowry; the jewelry as well as the poor seats would +represent the husband. It would be even more desirable if the fragment +"3 seats" had something to do with a husband. But our understanding does +not penetrate so far. We have only guessed that the dream expresses her +_disparagement_ of her own husband, and her regret at having _married so +early_. + +It is my opinion that we are more surprised and confused than satisfied +by the result of this first dream interpretation. We are swamped by more +impressions than we can master. We see that the teachings of dream +interpretation are not easily exhausted. Let us hasten to select those +points that we recognize as giving us new, sound insight. + +In the first place, it is remarkable that in the latent thought the main +emphasis falls on the element of haste; in the manifest dream there is +absolutely no mention of this to be found. Without the analysis we +should not have had any idea that this element was of any importance at +all. So it seems possible that just the main thing, the central point of +the unconscious thoughts, may be absent in the manifest dream. Because +of this, the original impression in the dream must of necessity be +entirely changed. Secondly: In the dream there is a senseless +combination, 3 for 1 Fl. 50 Kr.; in the dream thought we divine the +sentence, "It was senseless (to marry so early)." Can one deny that this +thought, "It was senseless," was represented in the manifest dream by +the introduction of an absurd element? Thirdly: Comparison will show +that the relation between the manifest and latent elements is not +simple, certainly not of such a sort that a manifest element is always +substituted for the latent. There must rather be a quantitative +relationship between the two groups, according to which a manifest +element may represent several latent ones, or a latent element +represented by several manifest elements. + +Much that is surprising might also be said of the sense of the dream and +the dreamer's reaction to it. She acknowledges the interpretation but +wonders at it. She did not know that she disparaged her husband so, and +she did not know why she should disparage him to such a degree. There is +still much that is incomprehensible. I really believe that we are not +yet fully equipped for dream interpretation, and that we must first +receive further instruction and preparation. + + + + +EIGHTH LECTURE + +THE DREAM + +_Dreams of Childhood_ + + +We think we have advanced too rapidly. Let us go back a little. Before +our last attempt to overcome the difficulties of dream distortion +through our technique, we had decided that it would be best to avoid +them by limiting ourselves only to those dreams in which distortion is +either entirely absent or of trifling importance, if there are such. But +here again we digress from the history of the evolution of our +knowledge, for as a matter of fact we become aware of dreams entirely +free of distortion only after the consistent application of our method +of interpretation and after complete analysis of the distorted dream. + +The dreams we are looking for are found in children. They are short, +clear, coherent, easy to understand, unambiguous, and yet unquestionable +dreams. But do not think that all children's dreams are like this. Dream +distortion makes its appearance very early in childhood, and dreams of +children from five to eight years of age have been recorded that showed +all the characteristics of later dreams. But if you will limit +yourselves to the age beginning with conscious psychic activity, up to +the fourth or fifth year, you will discover a series of dreams that are +of a so-called infantile character. In a later period of childhood you +will be able to find some dreams of this nature occasionally. Even among +adults, dreams that closely resemble the typically infantile ones occur +under certain conditions. + +From these children's dreams we gain information concerning the nature +of dreams with great ease and certainty, and we hope it will prove +decisive and of universal application. + +1. For the understanding of these dreams we need no analysis, no +technical methods. We need not question the child that is giving an +account of his dream. But one must add to this a story taken from the +life of the child. An experience of the previous day will always explain +the dream to us. The dream is a sleep-reaction of psychic life upon +these experiences of the day. + +We shall now consider a few examples so that we may base our further +deductions upon them. + +_a_). A boy of 22 months is to present a basket of cherries as a +birthday gift. He plainly does so very unwillingly, although they +promise him that he will get some of them himself. The next morning he +relates as his dream, "_Hermann eat all cherries_." + +_b_). A little girl of three and a quarter years makes her first trip +across a lake. At the landing she does not want to leave the boat and +cries bitterly. The time of the trip seems to her to have passed +entirely too rapidly. The next morning she says, "_Last night I rode on +the lake_." We may add the supplementary fact that this trip lasted +longer. + +_c_). A boy of five and a quarter years is taken on an excursion into +the Escherntal near Hallstatt. He had heard that Hallstatt lay at the +foot of the Dachstein, and had shown great interest in this mountain. +From his home in Aussee there was a beautiful view of the Dachstein, and +with a telescope one could discern the Simonyhuette upon it. The child +had tried again and again to see it through the telescope, with what +result no one knew. He started on the excursion in a joyously expectant +mood. Whenever a new mountain came in sight the boy asked, "Is that the +Dachstein?" The oftener this question was answered in the negative, the +more moody he became; later he became entirely silent and would not take +part in a small climb to a waterfall. They thought he was overtired, but +the next morning, he said quite happily, "_Last night I dreamed that we +were in the Simonyhuette_." It was with this expectation, therefore, that +he had taken part in the excursion. The only detail he gave was one he +had heard before, "you had to climb steps for six hours." + +These three dreams will suffice for all the information we desire. + +2. We see that children's dreams are not meaningless; they are +_intelligible, significant, psychic acts_. You will recall what I +represented to you as the medical opinion concerning the dream, the +simile of untrained fingers wandering aimlessly over the keys of the +piano. You cannot fail to see how decidedly these dreams of childhood +are opposed to this conception. But it would be strange indeed if the +child brought forth complete psychic products in sleep, while the adult +in the same condition contents himself with spasmodic reactions. Indeed, +we have every reason to attribute the more normal and deeper sleep to +the child. + +3. Dream distortion is lacking in these dreams, therefore they need no +interpretation. The manifest and latent dreams are merged. _Dream +distortion is therefore not inherent in the dream._ I may assume that +this relieves you of a great burden. But upon closer consideration we +shall have to admit of a tiny bit of distortion, a certain +differentiation between manifest dream content and latent dream thought, +even in these dreams. + +4. The child's dream is a reaction to an experience of the day, which +has left behind it a regret, a longing or an unfulfilled desire. _The +dream brings about the direct unconcealed fulfillment of this wish._ Now +recall our discussions concerning the importance of the role of external +or internal bodily stimuli as disturbers of sleep, or as dream +producers. We learned definite facts about this, but could only explain +a very small number of dreams in this way. In these children's dreams +nothing points to the influence of such somatic stimuli; we cannot be +mistaken, for the dreams are entirely intelligible and easy to survey. +But we need not give up the theory of physical causation entirely on +this account. We can only ask why at the outset we forgot that besides +the physical stimuli there are also psychic sleep-disturbing stimuli. +For we know that it is these stimuli that commonly cause the disturbed +sleep of adults by preventing them from producing the ideal condition of +sleep, the withdrawal of interest from the world. The dreamer does not +wish to interrupt his life, but would rather continue his work with the +things that occupy him, and for this reason he does not sleep. The +unfulfilled wish, to which he reacts by means of the dream, is the +psychic sleep-disturbing stimulus for the child. + +5. From this point we easily arrive at an explanation of the function of +the dream. The dream, as a reaction to the psychic stimulus, must have +the value of a release of this stimulus which results in its elimination +and in the continuation of sleep. We do not know how this release is +made possible by the dream, but we note that _the dream is not a +disturber of sleep_, as calumny says, _but a guardian of sleep, whose +duty it is to quell disturbances_. It is true, we think we would have +slept better if we had not dreamt, but here we are wrong; as a matter of +fact, we would not have slept at all without the help of the dream. That +we have slept so soundly is due to the dream alone. It could not help +disturbing us slightly, just as the night watchman often cannot avoid +making a little noise while he drives away the rioters who would awaken +us with their noise. + +6. One main characteristic of the dream is that a wish is its source, +and that the content of the dream is the gratification of this wish. +Another equally constant feature is that the dream does not merely +express a thought, but also represents the fulfillment of this wish in +the form of a hallucinatory experience. "_I should like to travel on the +lake_," says the wish that excites the dream; the dream itself has as +its content "_I travel on the lake_." One distinction between the latent +and manifest dream, a distortion of the latent dream thought, therefore +remains even in the case of these simple children's dreams, namely, _the +translation of the thought into experience_. In the interpretation of +the dream it is of utmost importance that this change be traced back. If +this should prove to be an extremely common characteristic of the dream, +then the above mentioned dream fragment, "_I see my brother in a +closet_" could not be translated, "_My brother is close-pressed_," but +rather, "I wish that my brother were close-pressed, _my brother should +be close-pressed_." Of the two universal characteristics of the dream we +have cited, the second plainly has greater prospects of unconditional +acknowledgment than the first. Only extensive investigation can +ascertain that the cause of the dream must always be a wish, and cannot +also be an anxiety, a plan or a reproach; but this does not alter the +other characteristic, that the dream does not simply reproduce the +stimulus but by experiencing it anew, as it were, removes, expells and +settles it. + +7. In connection with these characteristics of the dream we can again +resume the comparison between the dream and the error. In the case of +the latter we distinguish an interfering tendency and one interfered +with, and the error is the compromise between the two. The dream fits +into the same scheme. The tendency interfered with, in this case, can +be no other than that of sleep. For the interfering tendency we +substitute the psychic stimulus, the wish which strives for its +fulfillment, let us say, for thus far we are not familiar with any other +sleep-disturbing psychic stimulus. In this instance also the dream is +the result of compromise. We sleep, and yet we experience the removal of +a wish; we gratify the wish, but at the same time continue to sleep. +Both are partly carried out and partly given up. + +8. You will remember that we once hoped to gain access to the +understanding of the dream problem by the fact that certain very +transparent phantasy formations are called _day dreams_. Now these day +dreams are actual wish fulfillments, fulfillments of ambitious or erotic +wishes with which we are familiar; but they are conscious, and though +vividly imagined, they are never hallucinatory experiences. In this +instance, therefore, the less firmly established of the two main +characteristics of the dream holds, while the other proves itself +entirely dependent upon the condition of sleep and impossible to the +waking state. In colloquial usage, therefore, there is a presentment of +the fact that the fulfillment of a wish is a main characteristic of the +dream. Furthermore, if the experience in the dream is a transformed +representation only made possible by the condition of sleep--in other +words, a sort of nocturnal day dream--then we can readily understand +that the occurrence of phantasy formations can release the nocturnal +stimulus and bring satisfaction. For day dreaming is an activity closely +bound up in gratification and is, indeed, pursued only for this reason. + +Not only this but other colloquial usages also express the same feeling. +Well-known proverbs say, "The pig dreams of acorns, the goose of maize," +or ask, "Of what does the hen dream? Of millet." So the proverb descends +even lower than we do, from the child to the animal, and maintains that +the content of a dream is the satisfaction of a need. Many turns of +speech seem to point to the same thing--"dreamlike beauty," "I should +never have dreamed of that," "in my wildest dreams I hadn't imagined +that." This is open partisanship on the part of colloquial usage. For +there are also dreams of fear and dreams of embarrassing or indifferent +content, but they have not been drawn into common usage. It is true that +common usage recognizes "bad" dreams, but still the dream plainly +connotates to it only the beautiful wish fulfillment. There is indeed +no proverb that tells us that the pig or the goose dreams of being +slaughtered. + +Of course it is unbelievable that the wish-fulfillment characteristic +has not been noted by writers on the dream. Indeed, this was very often +the case, but none of them thought of acknowledging this characteristic +as universal and of making it the basis of an explanation of the dream. +We can easily imagine what may have deterred them and shall discuss it +subsequently. + +See what an abundance of information we have gained, with almost no +effort, from the consideration of children's dreams--the function of the +dream as a guardian of sleep; its origin from two rival tendencies, of +which the one, the longing for sleep, remains constant, while the other +tries to satisfy a psychic stimulus; the proof that the dream is a +significant psychic act; its two main characteristics: wish fulfillment +and hallucinatory experience. And we were almost able to forget that we +are engaged in psychoanalysis. Aside from its connection with errors our +work has no specific connotation. Any psychologist, who is entirely +ignorant of the claims of psychoanalysis, could have given this +explanation of children's dreams. Why has no one done so? + +If there were only infantile dreams, our problem would be solved, our +task accomplished, and that without questioning the dreamer, or +approaching the unconscious, and without taking free association into +consideration. The continuation of our task plainly lies in this +direction. We have already repeatedly had the experience that +characteristics that at first seemed universally true, have subsequently +held good only for a certain kind and for a certain number of dreams. It +is therefore for us to decide whether the common characteristics which +we have gathered from children's dreams can be applied universally, +whether they also hold for those dreams that are not transparent, whose +manifest content shows no connection with wishes left over from the +previous day. We think that these dreams have undergone considerable +distortion and for this reason are not to be judged superficially. We +also suspect that for the explanation of this distortion we shall need +the psychoanalytic method which we could dispense with in the +understanding of children's dreams. + +There is at any rate a class of dreams that are undistorted, and, just +like children's dreams, are easily recognizable as wish fulfillments. It +is those that are called up throughout life by the imperative needs of +the body--hunger, thirst, sexual desire--hence wish fulfillments in +reaction to internal physical stimuli. For this reason, I have noted the +dream of a young girl, that consisted of a menu following her name (Anna +F......, strawberry, huckleberry, egg-dish, pap), as a reaction to an +enforced day of fasting on account of a spoiled stomach, which was +directly traceable to the eating of the fruits twice mentioned in the +dream. At the same time, the grandmother, whose age added to that of her +grandchild would make a full seventy, had to go without food for a day +on account of kidney-trouble, and dreamed the same night that she had +been invited out and that the finest tid-bits had been set before her. +Observations with prisoners who are allowed to go hungry, or with people +who suffer privations on travels or expeditions, show that under these +conditions the dreams regularly deal with the satisfaction of these +needs. Otto Nordenskjold, in his book _Antarctic_ (1904), testifies to +the same thing concerning his crew, who were ice-bound with him during +the winter (Vol. 1, page 336). "Very significant in determining the +trend of our inmost thoughts were our dreams, which were never more +vivid and numerous than just at this time. Even those of our comrades +who ordinarily dreamed but seldom, now had long stories to tell, when in +the morning we exchanged our latest experiences in that realm of +phantasy. All of them dealt with that outside world that now was so far +away from us, but often they fitted into our present condition. Food and +drink were most often the pivots about which our dreams revolved. One of +us, who excelled in going to great dinners in his sleep, was most happy +whenever he could tell us in the morning that he attended a dinner of +three courses; another one dreamed of tobacco, whole mountains of +tobacco; still another dreamed of a ship that came along on the open +sea, under full sail. One other dream deserves mention: The postman +comes with the mail and gives a long explanation of why it is so late; +he had delivered it to the wrong address and only after great trouble on +his part had succeeded in getting it back. Of course one occupies +himself with even more impossible things in sleep, but in nearly all the +dreams that I myself dreamed or heard tell of, the lack of phantasy was +quite striking. It would surely be of great psychological interest if +all these dreams were recorded. It is easy to understand how we longed +for sleep, since it could offer us everything for which each one of us +felt the most burning desire." I quote further from Du Prel. "Mungo +Park, who during a trip in Africa was almost exhausted, dreamed without +interruption of the fertile valleys and fields of his home. Trenck, +tortured by hunger in the redoubt at Magdeburg, likewise saw himself +surrounded by wonderful meals, and George Back, who took part in +Franklin's first expedition, dreamed regularly and consistently of +luxurious meals when, as a result of terrible privations, he was nearly +dead of hunger." + +A man who feels great thirst at night after enjoying highly seasoned +food for supper, often dreams that he is drinking. It is of course +impossible to satisfy a rather strong desire for food or drink by means +of the dream; from such a dream one awakes thirsty and must now drink +real water. The effect of the dream is in this case practically +trifling, but it is none the less clear that it was called up for the +purpose of maintaining the sleep in spite of the urgent impulse to awake +and to act. Dreams of satisfaction often overcome needs of a lesser +intensity. + +In a like manner, under the influence of sexual stimuli, the dream +brings about satisfaction that shows noteworthy peculiarities. As a +result of the characteristic of the sexual urge which makes it somewhat +less dependent upon its object than hunger and thirst, satisfaction in a +dream of pollution may be an actual one, and as a result of difficulties +to be mentioned later in connection with the object, it happens +especially often that the actual satisfaction is connected with confused +or distorted dream content. This peculiarity of the dream of pollution, +as O. Rank has observed, makes it a fruitful subject to pursue in the +study of dream distortion. Moreover, all dreams of desire of adults +usually contain something besides satisfaction, something that has its +origin in the sources of the purely psychic stimuli, and which requires +interpretation to render it intelligible. + +Moreover we shall not maintain that the wish-fulfillment dreams of the +infantile kind occur in adults only as reactions to the known imperative +desires. We also know of short clear dreams of this sort under the +influence of dominating situations that arise from unquestionably +psychic sources. As, for example, in dreams of impatience, whenever a +person has made preparations for a journey, for a theatrical +performance, for a lecture or for a visit, and now dreams of the +anticipated fulfillment of his expectations, and so arrives at his goal +the night before the actual experience, in the theatre or in +conversation with his host. Or the well-named dreams of comfort, when a +person who likes to prolong his sleep, dreams that he is already up, is +washing himself, or is already in school, while as a matter of fact he +continues sleeping, hence would rather get up in a dream than in +reality. The desire for sleep which we have recognized as a regular part +of the dream structure becomes intense in these dreams and appears in +them as the actual shaping force of the dream. The wish for sleep +properly takes its place beside other great physical desires. + +At this point I refer you to a picture by Schwind, from the Schack +Gallery in Munich, so that you may see how rightly the artist has +conceived the origin of a dream from a dominating situation. It is the +_Dream of a Prisoner_,[29] which can have no other subject than his +release. It is a very neat stroke that the release should be effected +through the window, for the ray of light that awakens the prisoner comes +through the same window. The gnomes standing one above the other +probably represent the successive positions which he himself had to take +in climbing to the height of the window, and I do not think I am +mistaken or that I attribute too much preconcerted design to the artist, +by noting that the uppermost of the gnomes, who is filing the grating +(and so does what the prisoner would like to do) has the features of the +prisoner. + +In all other dreams except those of children and those of the infantile +type, distortion, as we have said, blocks our way. At the outset we +cannot ascertain whether they are also wish fulfillments, as we suspect; +from their manifest content we cannot determine from what psychic +stimulus they derive their origin, and we cannot prove that they also +are occupied in doing away with the stimulus and in satisfying it. They +must probably be interpreted, that is, translated; their distortion must +be annulled; their manifest content replaced by their latent thought +before we can judge whether what we have found in children's dreams may +claim a universal application for all dreams. + + + + +NINTH LECTURE + +THE DREAM + +_The Dream Censor_ + + +We have learned to know the origin, nature and function of the dream +from the study of children's dreams. _Dreams are the removal of +sleep-disturbing psychic stimuli by way of hallucinated satisfaction._ +Of adults' dreams, to be sure, we could explain only one group, what we +characterized as dreams of an infantile type. As to the others we know +nothing as yet, nor do we understand them. For the present, however, we +have obtained a result whose significance we do not wish to +under-estimate. Every time a dream is completely comprehensible to us, +it proves to be an hallucinated wish-fulfillment. This coincidence +cannot be accidental, nor is it an unimportant matter. + +We conclude, on the basis of various considerations and by analogy to +the conception of mistakes, that another type of dream is a distorted +substitute for an unknown content and that it must first be led back to +that content. Our next task is the investigation and the understanding +of this dream distortion. + +Dream distortion is the thing which makes the dream seem strange and +incomprehensible to us. We want to know several things about it; +firstly, whence it comes, its dynamics; secondly, what it does; and +finally, how it does it. We can say at this point that dream distortion +is the product of the dream work, that is, of the mental functioning of +which the dream itself is the conscious symptom. Let us describe the +dream work and trace it back to the forces which work upon it. + +And now I shall ask you to listen to the following dream. It was +recorded by a lady of our profession, and according to her, originated +with a highly cultivated and respected lady of advanced age. No analysis +of this dream was made. Our informant remarks that to a psychoanalyst +it needs no interpretation. The dreamer herself did not interpret it, +but she judged and condemned it as if she understood its interpretation. +For she said concerning it: "That a woman of fifty should dream such +abominable, stupid stuff--a woman who has no other thought, day and +night, than to care for her child!" + +And now follows the dreams of the "_services of love_." "She goes into +Military Hospital No. 1, and says to the sentry at the gate, that she +must speak to the chief physician ... (she mentions a name which is not +familiar to her), as she wants to offer her service to the hospital. She +stresses the word 'service,' so love services. Since she is an old lady +he lets her pass after some hesitation. But instead of reaching the +chief physician, she finds herself in a large somber room in which there +are many officers and army doctors sitting and standing around a long +table. She turns with her proposal to a staff doctor who, after a few +words, soon understands her. The words of her speech in the dream are, +'I and numerous other women and girls of Vienna are ready for the +soldiers, troops, and officers, without distinction....' Here in the +dream follows a murmuring. That the idea is, however, correctly +understood by those present she sees from the semi-embarrassed, somewhat +malicious expressions of the officers. The lady then continues, 'I know +that our decision sounds strange, but we are in bitter earnest. The +soldier in the field is not asked either whether or not he wants to +die.' A moment of painful silence follows. The staff doctor puts his arm +around her waist and says, 'Madame, let us assume that it really came to +that ...' (murmurs). She withdraws from his arm with the thought, 'They +are all alike!' and answers, 'My heavens, I am an old woman, and perhaps +will never be confronted with that situation; one consideration, +moreover, must be kept in mind: the consideration of age, which prevents +an older woman from ... with a very young boy ... (murmurs) ... that +would be horrible.' The staff doctor, 'I understand perfectly.' Several +officers, among them one who had paid court to her in her youth, laugh +loudly, and the lady asks to be conducted to the chief physician, whom +she knows, so that everything may be arranged. At this she realizes with +great dismay that she does not know his name. The staff officer, +nevertheless, very politely and respectfully shows her the way to the +second story, up a very narrow winding iron stairway which leads to the +upper story directly from the door of the room. In going up she hears an +officer say, 'That is a tremendous decision irrespective of whether a +woman is young or old; all honor to her!' + +"With the feeling that she is merely doing her duty, she goes up an +endless staircase." + +This dream she repeats twice in the course of a few weeks, with--as the +lady notices--quite insignificant and very senseless changes. + +This dream corresponds in its structure to a day dream. It has few gaps, +and many of its individual points might have been elucidated as to +content through inquiry, which, as you know, was omitted. The +conspicuous and interesting point for us, however, is that the dream +shows several gaps, gaps not of recollection, but of original content. +In three places the content is apparently obliterated, the speeches in +which these gaps occur are interrupted by murmurs. Since we have +performed no analysis, we have, strictly speaking, also no right to make +any assertion about the meaning of the dream. Yet there are intimations +given from which something may be concluded. For example, the phrase +"services of love," and above all the bits of speech which immediately +precede the murmurs, demand a completion which can have but one meaning. +If we interpolate these, then the phantasy yields as its content the +idea that the dreamer is ready, as an act of patriotic duty, to offer +her person for the satisfaction of the erotic desires of the army, +officers as well as troops. That certainly is exceedingly shocking, it +is an impudent libidinous phantasy, but--it does not occur in the dream +at all. Just at the point where consistency would demand this +confession, there is a vague murmur in the manifest dream, something is +lost or suppressed. + +I hope you will recognize the inevitability of the conclusion that it is +the shocking character of these places in the dream that was the motive +for their suppression. Yet where do you find a parallel for this state +of affairs? In these times you need not seek far. Take up any political +paper and you will find that the text is obliterated here and there, and +that in its place shimmers the white of the paper. You know that that is +the work of the newspaper censor. In these blank spaces something was +printed which was not to the liking of the censorship authorities, and +for that reason it was crossed out. You think that it is a pity, that it +probably was the most interesting part, it was "the best part." + +In other places the censorship did not touch the completed sentence. The +author foresaw what parts might be expected to meet with the objection +of the censor, and for that reason he softened them by way of +prevention, modified them slightly, or contented himself with innuendo +and allusion to what really wanted to flow from his pen. Thus the sheet, +it is true, has no blank spaces, but from certain circumlocutions and +obscurities of expression you will be able to guess that thoughts of the +censorship were the restraining motive. + +Now let us keep to this parallel. We say that the omitted dream +speeches, which were disguised by a murmuring, were also sacrifices to a +censorship. We actually speak of a _dream censor_ to which we may +ascribe a contributing part in the dream distortion. Wherever there are +gaps in the manifest dream, it is the fault of the dream censor. Indeed, +we should go further, and recognize each time as a manifestation of the +dream censor, those places at which a dream element is especially faint, +indefinitely and doubtfully recalled among other, more clearly +delineated portions. But it is only rarely that this censorship +manifests itself so undisguisedly, so naively one may say, as in the +example of the dream of the "services of love." Far more frequently the +censorship manifests itself according to the second type, through the +production of weakenings, innuendoes, allusions instead of direct +truthfulness. + +For a third type of dream censorship I know of no parallel in the +practice of newspaper censorship, yet it is just this type that I can +demonstrate by the only dream example which we have so far analyzed. You +will remember the dream of the "three bad theatre tickets for one florin +and a half." In the latent thoughts of this dream, the element +"_precipitately, too soon_," stood in the foreground. It means: "It was +foolish to marry so _early_, it was also foolish to buy theatre tickets +so _early_, it was ridiculous of the sister-in-law to spend her money so +_hastily_, merely to buy an ornament." Nothing of this central element +of the dream thought was evident in the manifest dream. In the latter, +going to the theatre and getting the tickets were shoved into the +foreground. Through this displacement of the emphasis, this regrouping +of the elements of the content, the manifest dream becomes so dissimilar +from the latent dream thoughts that no one would suspect the latter +behind the former. This displacement of emphasis is a favorite device of +the dream distortion and gives the dream that strangeness which makes +the dreamer himself unwilling to recognize it as his own production. + +Omission, modification, regrouping of the material, these, then, are the +effects of the dream censor and the devices of dream distortion. The +dream censorship itself is the author, or one of the authors, of the +dream distortion whose investigation now occupies us. Modification and +rearrangement we are already accustomed to summarize as _displacement_. + +After these remarks concerning the effects of the dream censor, let us +now turn to their dynamics. I hope you will not consider the expression +too anthropomorphically, and picture the dream censor as a severe little +manikin who lives in a little brain chamber and there performs his +duties; nor should you attempt to localize him too much, to think of a +brain center from which his censoring influence emanates, and which +would cease with the injury or extirpation of this center. For the +present, the term "dream censor" is no more than a very convenient +phrase for a dynamic relationship. This phrase does not prevent us from +asking by what tendencies such influence is exerted and upon which +tendencies it works; nor will we be surprised to discover that we have +already encountered the dream censor before, perhaps without recognizing +him. + +For such was actually the case. You will remember that we had a +surprising experience when we began to apply our technique of free +association. We then began to feel that some sort of a resistance +blocked our efforts to proceed from the dream element to the unconscious +element for which the former is the substitute. This resistance, we +said, may be of varying strength, enormous at one time, quite negligible +at another. In the latter case we need cross only a few intermediate +steps in our work of interpretation. But when the resistance is strong, +then we must go through a long chain of associations, are taken far +afield and must overcome all the difficulties which present themselves +as critical objections to the association technique. What we met with in +the work of interpretation, we must now bring into the dream work as +the dream censor. The resistance to interpretation is nothing but the +objectivation of the dream censor. The latter proves to us that the +force of the censor has not spent itself in causing the dream +distortion, has not since been extinguished, but that this censorship +continues as a permanent institution with the purpose of preserving the +distortion. Moreover, just as in the interpretation the strength of the +resistance varied with each element, so also the distortion produced by +the censor in the same dream is of varying magnitude for each element. +If one compares the manifest with the latent dream one sees that certain +isolated latent elements have been practically eliminated, others more +or less modified, and still others left unchanged, indeed, have perhaps +been taken over into the dream content with additional strength. + +But we wanted to discover what purposes the censorship serves and +against which tendencies it acts. This question, which is fundamental to +the understanding of the dream, indeed perhaps to human life, is easily +answered if we look over a series of those dreams which have been +analyzed. The tendencies which the censorship exercises are those which +are recognized by the waking judgment of the dreamer, those with which +he feels himself in harmony. You may rest assured that when you reject +an accurate interpretation of a dream of your own, you do so with the +same motives with which the dream censor works, the motives with which +it produces the dream distortion and makes the interpretation necessary. +Recall the dream of our fifty-year old lady. Without having interpreted +it, she considers her dream abominable, would have been still more +outraged if our informant had told her anything about the indubitable +meaning; and it is just on account of this condemnation that the +shocking spots in her dream were replaced by a murmur. + +The tendencies, however, against which the dream censor directs itself, +must now be described from the standpoint of this instance. One can say +only that these tendencies are of an objectionable nature throughout, +that they are shocking from an ethical, aesthetic and social point of +view, that they are things one does not dare even to think, or thinks of +only with abhorrence. These censored wishes which have attained to a +distorted expression in the dream, are above all expressions of a +boundless, reckless egoism. And indeed, the personal ego occurs in +every dream to play the major part in each of them, even if it can +successfully disguise itself in the manifest content. This _sacro +egoismo_ of the dream is surely not unconnected with the sleep-inducing +cessation of psychic activity which consists, it should be noted, in the +withdrawal of interest from the entire external world. + +The ego which has been freed of all ethical restraints feels itself in +accord with all the demands of the sexual striving, with those demands +which have long since been condemned by our aesthetic rearing, demands +of such a character that they resist all our moral demands for +restraint. The pleasure-striving--the libido, as we term it--chooses its +objects without inhibitions, and indeed, prefers those that are +forbidden. It chooses not only the wife of another, but, above all, +those incestuous objects declared sacred by the agreement of +mankind--the mother and sister in the man's case, the father and brother +in the woman's. Even the dream of our fifty-year old lady is an +incestuous one, its libido unmistakably directed toward her son. Desires +which we believe to be far from human nature show themselves strong +enough to arouse dreams. Hate, too, expends itself without restraint. +Revenge and murderous wishes toward those standing closest to the +dreamer are not unusual, toward those best beloved in daily life, toward +parents, brothers and sisters, toward one's spouse and one's own +children. These censored wishes seem to arise from a veritable hell; no +censorship seems too harsh to be applied against their waking +interpretation. + +But do not reproach the dream itself for this evil content. You will +not, I am sure, forget that the dream is charged with the harmless, +indeed the useful function of guarding sleep from disturbance. This evil +content, then, does not lie in the nature of the dream. You know also +that there are dreams which can be recognized as the satisfaction of +justified wishes and urgent bodily needs. These, to be sure, undergo no +dream distortion. They need none. They can satisfy their function +without offending the ethical and aesthetic tendencies of the ego. And +will you also keep in mind the fact that the amount of dream distortion +is proportional to two factors. On the one hand, the worse the +censorable wish, the greater the distortion; on the other hand, however, +the stricter the censor himself is at any particular time the greater +the distortion will be also. A young, strictly reared and prudish girl +will, by reason of those factors, disfigure with an inexorable +censorship those dream impulses which we physicians, for example, and +which the dreamer herself ten years later, would recognize as +permissible, harmless, libidinous desires. + +Besides, we are far from being at the point where we can allow ourselves +to be shocked by the results of our work of interpretation. I think we +are not yet quite adept at it; and above all there lies upon us the +obligation to secure it against certain attacks. It is not at all +difficult to "find a hitch" in it. Our dream interpretations were made +on the hypotheses we accepted a little while ago, that the dream has +some meaning, that from the hypnotic to the normal sleep one may carry +over the idea of the existence at such times of an unconscious psychic +activity, and that all associations are predetermined. If we had come to +plausible results on the basis of these hypotheses, we would have been +justified in concluding that the hypotheses were correct. But what is to +be done when the results are what I have just pictured them to be? Then +it surely is natural to say, "These results are impossible, foolish, at +least very improbable, hence there must have been something wrong with +the hypotheses. Either the dream is no psychic phenomenon after all, or +there is no such thing as unconscious mental activity in the normal +condition, or our technique has a gap in it somewhere. Is that not a +simpler and more satisfying conclusion than the abominations which we +pretend to have disclosed on the basis of our suppositions?" + +Both, I answer. It is a simpler as well as a more satisfying conclusion, +but not necessarily more correct for that reason. Let us take our time, +the matter is not yet ripe for judgment. Above all we can strengthen the +criticism against our dream interpretation still further. That its +conclusions are so unpleasant and unpalatable is perhaps of secondary +importance. A stronger argument is the fact that the dreamers to whom we +ascribe such wish-tendencies from the interpretation of their dreams +reject the interpretations most emphatically, and with good reason. +"What," says the one, "you want to prove to me by this dream that I +begrudged the sums which I spent for my sister's trousseau and my +brother's education? But indeed that can't be so. Why I work only for my +sister, I have no interest in life but to fulfill my duties toward her, +as being the oldest child, I promised our blessed mother I would." Or a +woman says of her dream, "You mean to say that I wish my husband were +dead! Why, that is simply revolting, nonsense. It isn't only that we +have the happiest possible married life, you probably won't believe me +when I tell you so, but his death would deprive me of everything else +that I own in the world." Or another will tell us, "You mean that I have +sensual desires toward my sister? That is ridiculous. I am not in the +least fond of her. We don't get along and I haven't exchanged a word +with her in years." We might perhaps ignore this sort of thing if the +dreamers did not confirm or deny the tendencies ascribed to them; we +could say that they are matters which the dreamers do not know about +themselves. But that the dreamers should feel the exact opposite of the +ascribed wish, and should be able to prove to us the dominance of the +opposite tendency--this fact must finally disconcert us. Is it not time +to lay aside the whole work of the dream interpretation as something +whose results reduce it to absurdity? + +By no means; this stronger argument breaks down when we attack it +critically. Assuming that there are unconscious tendencies in the +psychic life, nothing is proved by the ability of the subject to show +that their opposites dominate his conscious life. Perhaps there is room +in the psychic life even for antithetical tendencies, for contradictions +which exist side by side, yes, possibly it is just the dominance of the +one impulse which is the necessary condition for the unconsciousness of +its opposite. The first two objections raised against our work hold +merely that the results of dream interpretation are not simple, and very +unpleasant. In answer to the first of these, one may say that for all +your enthusiasm for the simple solution, you cannot thereby solve a +single dream problem. To do so you must make up your mind to accept the +fact of complicated relationships. And to the second of these objections +one may say that you are obviously wrong to use a preference or a +dislike as the basis for a scientific judgment. What difference does it +make if the results of the dream interpretation seem unpleasant, even +embarrassing and disgusting to you? "That doesn't prevent them from +existing," as I used to hear my teacher Charcot say in similar cases, +when I was a young doctor. One must be humble, one must keep personal +preferences and antipathies in the background, if one wishes to +discover the realities of the world. If a physicist can prove to you +that the organic life of this planet must, within a short period of +time, become completely extinct, do you also venture to say to him, +"That cannot be so. This prospect is too unpleasant." On the contrary, +you will be silent until another physicist proves some error in the +assumptions or calculations of the first. If you reject the unpleasant, +you are repeating the mechanism of dream construction instead of +understanding and mastering it. + +Perhaps you will promise to overlook the repulsive character of the +censored dream-wishes, and will take refuge in the argument that it is +improbable, after all, that so wide a field be given over to the evil in +the constitution of man. But does your own experience justify you in +saying that? I will not discuss the question of how you may estimate +yourselves, but have you found so much good will among your superiors +and rivals, so much chivalry among your enemies, so little envy in their +company, that you feel yourselves in duty bound to enter a protest +against the part played by the evil of egoism in human nature? Are you +ignorant of how uncontrolled and undependable the average human being is +in all the affairs of sex life? Or do you not know that all the +immoralities and excesses of which we dream nightly are crimes committed +daily by waking persons? What else does psychoanalysis do here but +confirm the old saying of Plato, that the good people are those who +content themselves with dreaming what the others, the bad people, really +do? + +And now turn your attention from the individual case to the great war +devastating Europe. Think of the amount of brutality, the cruelty and +the lies allowed to spread over the civilized world. Do you really +believe that a handful of conscienceless egoists and corruptionists +could have succeeded in setting free all these evil spirits, if the +millions of followers did not share in the guilt? Do you dare under +these circumstances to break a lance for the absence of evil from the +psychic constitution of mankind? + +You will reproach me with judging the war one-sidedly, you will say that +it has also brought forth all that is most beautiful and noble in +mankind, its heroic courage, its self-sacrifice, its social feeling. +Certainly, but do not at this point allow yourselves to become guilty of +the injustice which has so often been perpetrated against +psychoanalysis, of reproaching it with denying one thing because it was +asserting another. It is not our intention to deny the noble strivings +of human nature, nor have we ever done anything to deprecate their +value. On the contrary, I show you not only the censored evil +dream-wishes, but also the censor which suppresses them and renders them +unrecognizable. We dwell on the evil in mankind with greater emphasis +only because others deny it, a method whereby the psychic life of +mankind does not become better, but merely incomprehensible. When, +however, we give up this one-sided ethical estimate, we shall surely be +able to find a more accurate formula for the relationship of the evil to +the good in human nature. + +And thus the matter stands. We need not give up the conclusions to which +our labors in dream interpretation lead us even though we must consider +those conclusions strange. Perhaps we can approach their understanding +later by another path. For the present, let us repeat: dream distortion +is a consequence of the censorship practised by accredited tendencies of +the ego against those wish-impulses that are in any way shocking, +impulses which stir in us nightly during sleep. Why these wish-impulses +come just at night, and whence they come--these are questions which will +bear considerable investigation. + +It would be a mistake, however, to omit to mention, with fitting +emphasis, another result of these investigations. The dream wishes which +try to disturb our sleep are not known to us, in fact we learn of them +first through the dream interpretation. Therefore, they may be described +as "at that time" unconscious in the sense above defined. But we can go +beyond this and say that they are more than merely "at that time" +unconscious. The dreamer to be sure denies their validity, as we have +seen in so many cases, even after he has learned of their existence by +means of the interpretation. The situation is then repeated which we +first encountered in the interpretation of the tongue slip "hiccough" +where the toastmaster was outraged and assured us that neither then nor +ever before had he been conscious of disrespectful impulse toward his +chief. This is repeated with every interpretation of a markedly +distorted dream, and for that reason attains a significance for our +conception. We are now prepared to conclude that there are processes and +tendencies in the psychic life of which one knows nothing at all, has +known nothing for some time, might, in fact, perhaps never have known +anything. The unconscious thus receives a new meaning for us; the idea +of "at present" or "at a specific time" disappears from its conception, +for it can also mean _permanently_ unconscious, not merely _latent at +the time_. Obviously we shall have to learn more of this at another +session. + + + + +TENTH LECTURE + +THE DREAM + +_Symbolism in the Dream_ + + +We have discovered that the distortion of dreams, a disturbing element +in our work of understanding them, is the result of a censorious +activity which is directed against the unacceptable of the unconscious +wish-impulses. But, of course, we have not maintained that censorship is +the only factor which is to blame for the dream distortion, and we may +actually make the discovery in a further study of the dream that other +items play a part in this result. That is, even if the dream censorship +were eliminated we might not be in a position to understand the dreams; +the actual dream still might not be identical with the latent dream +thought. + +This other item which makes the dream unintelligible, this new addition +to dream distortion, we discover by considering a gap in our technique. +I have already admitted that for certain elements of the dream, no +associations really occur to the person being analyzed. This does not +happen so often as the dreamers maintain; in many cases the association +can be forced by persistence. But still there are certain instances in +which no association is forthcoming, or if forced does not furnish what +we expected. When this happens in the course of a psychoanalytic +treatment, then a particular meaning may be attached thereto, with which +we have nothing to do here. It also occurs, however, in the +interpretation of the dreams of a normal person or in interpreting one's +own dreams. Once a person is convinced that in these cases no amount of +forcing of associations will avail, he will finally make the discovery +that the unwished-for contingency occurs regularly in certain dream +elements, and he will begin to recognize a new order of things there, +where at first he believed he had come across a peculiar exception to +our technique. + +In this way we are tempted to interpret these silent dream elements +ourselves, to undertake their translation by the means at hand. The fact +that every time we trust to this substitution we obtain a satisfactory +meaning is forced upon us; until we resolve upon this decision the dream +remains meaningless, its continuity is broken. The accumulation of many +similar cases tends to give the necessary certainty to our first timid +attempts. + +I am expounding all this in rather a schematic manner, but this is +permissible for purposes of instruction, and I am not trying to +misstate, but only to simplify matters. + +In this manner we derive constant translations for a whole series of +dream elements just as constant translations are found in our popular +dream books for all the things we dream. But do not forget that in our +association technique we never discover constant substitutes for the +dream elements. + +You will say at once that this road to interpretation appears far more +uncertain and open to objection than the former methods of free +association. But a further fact is to be taken into consideration. After +one has gathered a sufficient number of such constant substitutes +empirically, he will say that of his own knowledge he should actually +have denied that these items of dream interpretation could really be +understood without the associations of the dreamer. The facts that force +us to recognize their meaning will appear in the second half of our +analysis. + +We call such a constant relationship between a dream element and its +interpretation _symbolic_. The dream element is itself a _symbol_ of the +unconscious dream thought. You will remember that previously, when we +were investigating the relationship between dream elements and their +actuality, I drew three distinctions, viz., that of the part of the +whole, that of the allusion, and that of the imagery. I then announced +that there was a fourth, but did not name it. This fourth is the +symbolic relationship here introduced. Very interesting discussions +center about this, and we will now consider them before we express our +own particular observations on symbolism. Symbolism is perhaps the most +noteworthy chapter of dream study. + +In the first place, since symbols are permanent or constant +translations, they realize, in a certain measure, the ideal of ancient +as well as popular dream interpretation, an ideal which by means of our +technique we had left behind. They permit us in certain cases to +interpret a dream without questioning the dreamer who, aside from this, +has no explanation for the symbol. If the interpreter is acquainted with +the customary dream symbols and, in addition, with the dreamer himself, +the conditions under which the latter lives and the impressions he +received before having the dream, it is often possible to interpret a +dream without further information--to translate it "right off the bat." +Such a trick flatters the interpreter and impresses the dreamer; it +stands out as a pleasurable incident in the usual arduous course of +cross-examining the dreamer. But do not be misled. It is not our +function to perform tricks. Interpretation based on a knowledge of +symbols is not a technique that can replace the associative technique, +or even compare with it. It is a supplement to the associative +technique, and furnishes the latter merely with transplanted, usable +results. But as regards familiarity with the dreamer's psychic +situation, you must consider the fact that you are not limited to +interpreting the dreams of acquaintances; that as a rule you are not +acquainted with the daily occurrences which act as the stimuli for the +dreams, and that the associations of the subject furnish you with a +knowledge of that very thing we call the psychic situation. + +Furthermore, it is very extraordinary, particularly in view of +circumstances to be mentioned later, that the most vehement opposition +has been voiced against the existence of the symbolic relationship +between the dream and the unconscious. Even persons of judgment and +position, who have otherwise made great progress in psychoanalysis, have +discontinued their support at this point. This is the more remarkable +since, in the first place, symbolism is neither peculiar to the dream +nor characteristic of it, and since in the second place, symbolism in +the dream was not discovered through psychoanalysis, although the latter +is not poor otherwise in making startling discoveries. The discoverer of +dream symbolism, if we insist on a discovery in modern times, was the +philosopher K. A. Scherner (1861). Psychoanalysis affirmed Scherner's +discovery and modified it considerably. + +Now you will want to know something of the nature of dream symbolism, +and to hear some examples. I shall gladly impart to you what I know, but +I admit that our knowledge is not so complete as we could desire it to +be. + +The nature of the symbol relationship is a comparison, but not any +desired comparison. One suspects a special prerequisite for this +comparison, but is unable to say what it is. Not everything to which we +are able to compare an object or an occurrence occurs in the dream as +its symbol; on the other hand, the dream does not symbolize anything we +may choose, but only specific elements of the dream thought. There are +limitations on both sides. It must be admitted that the idea of the +symbol cannot be sharply delimited at all times--it mingles with the +substitution, dramatization, etc., even approaches the allusion. In one +series of symbols the basic comparison is apparent to the senses. On the +other hand, there are other symbols which raise the question of where +the similarity, the "something intermediate" of this suspected +comparison is to be sought. We may discover it by more careful +consideration, or it may remain hidden to us. Furthermore, it is +extraordinary, if the symbol is a comparison, that this comparison is +not revealed by the association, that the dreamer is not acquainted with +the comparison, that he makes use of it without knowing of its +existence. Indeed, the dreamer does not even care to admit the validity +of this comparison when it is pointed out to him. So you see, a symbolic +relationship is a comparison of a very special kind, the origin of which +is not yet clearly understood by us. Perhaps later we may find +references to this unknown factor. + +The number of things that find symbolic representation in the dream is +not great--the human body as a whole, parents, children, brothers and +sisters, birth, death, nakedness and a few others. The only typical, +that is, regular representation of the human person as a whole is in the +form of a _house_, as was recognized by Scherner who, indeed, wished to +credit this symbol with an overwhelming significance which it does not +deserve. It occurs in dreams that a person, now lustful, now frightened, +climbs down the fronts of houses. Those with entirely smooth walls are +men; but those which are provided with projections and balconies to +which one can hold on, are women. Parents appear in the dream as _king_ +and _queen_, or other persons highly respected. The dream in this +instance is very pious. It treats children, and brothers and sisters, +less tenderly; they are symbolized as _little animals_ or _vermin_. +Birth is almost regularly represented by some reference to _water_; +either one plunges into the water or climbs out of it, or rescues +someone from the water, or is himself rescued from it, i.e., there is a +mother-relation to the person. Death is replaced in the dream by _taking +a journey, riding in a train_; _being dead, by various darksome, timid +suggestions_; _nakedness, by clothes_ and _uniforms_. You see here how +the lines between symbolic and suggestive representation merge one into +another. + +In contrast to the paucity of this enumeration, it is a striking fact +that the objects and subject matter of another sphere are represented by +an extraordinarily rich symbolism. This is the sphere of the sexual +life, the genitals, the sex processes and sexual intercourse. The great +majority of symbols in the dream are sex symbols. A remarkable +disproportion results from this fact. The designated subject matters are +few, their symbols extraordinarily profuse, so that each of these +objects can be expressed by any number of symbols of almost equal value. +In the interpretation something is disclosed that arouses universal +objection. The symbol interpretations, in contrast to the many-sidedness +of the dream representations, are very monotonous--this displeases all +who deal with them; but what is one to do? + +Since this is the first time in these lectures that we speak of the +sexual life, I must tell you the manner in which I intend to handle this +theme. Psychoanalysis sees no reason for hiding matters or treating them +by innuendo, finds no necessity of being ashamed of dealing with this +important subject, believes it is proper and decent to call everything +by its correct name, and hopes most effectively in this manner to ward +off disturbing or salacious thoughts. The fact that I am talking before +a mixed audience can make no difference on this point. Just as there is +no special knowledge either for the Delphic oracle or for flappers, so +the ladies present among you have, by their appearance in this lecture +hall, made it clear that they wish to be considered on the same basis as +the men. + +The dream has a number of representations for the male genital that may +be called symbolic, and in which the similarity of the comparison is, +for the most part, very enlightening. In the first place, the holy +figure 3 is a symbolical substitute for the entire male genital. The +more conspicuous and more interesting part of the genital to both sexes, +the male organ, has symbolical substitute in objects of like form, those +which are long and upright, such as _sticks_, _umbrellas_, _poles_, +_trees_, etc. It is also symbolized by objects that have the +characteristic, in common with it, of penetration into the body and +consequent injury, hence pointed _weapons_ of every type, _knives_, +_daggers_, _lances_, _swords_, and in the same manner _firearms_, +_guns_, _pistols_ and the _revolver_, which is so suitable because of +its shape. In the troubled dream of the young girl, pursuit by a man +with a knife or a firearm plays a big role. This, probably the most +frequent dream symbolism, is easily translatable. Easily comprehensible, +too, is the substitution for the male member of objects out of which +water flows: _faucets_, _water cans_, _fountains_, as well as its +representation by other objects that have the power of elongation, such +as _hanging lamps_, _collapsible pencils_, etc. That _pencils_, +_quills_, _nail files_, _hammers_ and other _instruments_ are +undoubtedly male symbols is a fact connected with a conception of the +organ, which likewise is not far to seek. + +The extraordinary characteristic of the member of being able to raise +itself against the force of gravity, one of the phenomena of erection, +leads to symbolic representations by _balloons_, _aeroplanes_, and more +recently, _Zeppelins_. The dream has another far more expressive way of +symbolizing erection. It makes the sex organ the essential part of the +whole person and pictures the person himself as _flying_. Do not feel +disturbed because the dreams of flying, often so beautiful, and which we +all have had, must be interpreted as dreams of general sexual +excitement, as erection dreams. P. Federn, among the psychoanalytical +students, has confirmed this interpretation beyond any doubt, and even +Mourly Vold, much praised for his sobriety, who carried on his dream +experiments with artificial positions of the arms and legs, and who was +really opposed to psychoanalysis--perhaps knew nothing about +psychoanalysis--has come to the same conclusion as a result of his +research. It is no objection to this conclusion that women may have the +same dreams of flying. Remember that our dreams act as wish-fulfillments, +and that the wish to be a man is often present in women, consciously or +unconsciously. And the fact that it is possible for a woman to realize +this wish by the same sensation as a man does, will not mislead anyone +acquainted with anatomy. There is a small organ in the genitals of a +woman similar to that of the male, and this small organ, the clitoris, +even in childhood, and in the years before sexual intercourse, plays +the same role as does the large organ of the male. + +To the less comprehensible male sex-symbols belong certain _reptiles_ +and _fish_, notably the famous symbol of the _snake_. Why _hats_ and +_cloaks_ should have been turned to the same use is certainly difficult +to discover, but their symbolic meaning leaves no room for doubt. And +finally the question may be raised whether possibly the substitution of +some other member as a representation for the male organ may not be +regarded as symbolic. I believe that one is forced to this conclusion by +the context and by the female counterparts. + +The female genital is symbolically represented by all those objects +which share its peculiarity of enclosing a space capable of being filled +by something--viz., by _pits_, _caves_, and _hollows_, by _pitchers_ and +_bottles_, by _boxes_ and _trunks_, _jars_, _cases_, _pockets_, etc. The +_ship_, too, belongs in this category. Many symbols represent the womb +of the mother rather than the female genital, as _wardrobes_, _stoves_, +and primarily a _room_. The room-symbolism is related to the +house-symbol, _doors_ and _entrances_ again become symbolic of the +genital opening. But materials, too, are symbols of the woman--_wood_, +_paper_, and objects that are made of these materials, such as _tables_ +and _books_. Of animals, at least the _snail_ and _mussel_ are +unmistakably recognizable as symbols for the female; of parts of the +body the _mouth_ takes the place of the genital opening, while +_churches_ and _chapels_ are structural symbolisms. As you see, all of +these symbols are not equally comprehensible. + +The breasts must be included in the genitals, and like the larger +hemispheres of the female body are represented by _apples_, _peaches_ +and _fruits_ in general. The pubic hair growth of both sexes appears in +the dream as _woods_ and _bushes_. The complicated topography of the +female genitals accounts for the fact that they are often represented as +scenes with _cliffs_, _woods_ and _water_, while the imposing mechanism +of the male sex apparatus leads to the use of all manner of very +complicated _machinery_, difficult to describe. + +A noteworthy symbol of the female genital is also the _jewel-casket_; +_jewels_ and _treasure_ are also representatives of the beloved person +in the dream; _sweets_ frequently occur as representatives of sexual +delights. The satisfaction in one's own genital is suggested by all +types of _play_, in which may be included _piano-playing_. Exquisite +symbolic representations of _onanism_ are _sliding_ and _coasting_ as +well as _tearing off a branch_. A particularly remarkable dream symbol +is that of having _one's_ _teeth fall out_, or _having them pulled_. +Certainly its most immediate interpretation is castration as a +punishment for onanism. Special representations for the relations of the +sexes are less numerous in the dream than we might have expected from +the foregoing. Rhythmic activities, such as _dancing_, _riding_ and +_climbing_ may be mentioned, also harrowing experiences, such as _being +run over_. One may include certain _manual activities_, and, of course, +_being threatened with weapons_. + +You must not imagine that either the use or the translation of these +symbols is entirely simple. All manner of unexpected things are +continually happening. For example, it seems hardly believable that in +these symbolic representations the sex differences are not always +sharply distinguished. Many symbols represent a genital in general, +regardless of whether male or female, e.g., the _little child_, the +_small son_ or _daughter_. It sometimes occurs that a predominantly male +symbol is used for a female genital, or vice versa. This is not +understood until one has acquired an insight into the development of the +sexual representations of mankind. In many instances this double meaning +of symbols may be only apparent; the most striking of the symbols, such +as _weapons_, _pockets_ and _boxes_ are excluded from this bisexual +usage. + +I should now like to give a summary, from the point of view of the +symbols rather than of the thing represented, of the field out of which +the sex symbols are for the most part taken, and then to make a few +remarks about the symbols which have points in common that are not +understood. An obscure symbol of this type is the _hat_, perhaps +headdress on the whole, and is usually employed as a male +representation, though at times as a female. In the same way the _cloak_ +represents a man, perhaps not always the genital aspect. You are at +liberty to ask, why? The _cravat_, which is suspended and is not worn by +women, is an unmistakable male symbol. _White laundry_, all _linen_, in +fact, is female. _Dresses_, _uniforms_ are, as we have already seen, +substitutes for nakedness, for body-formation; the _shoe_ or _slipper_ +is a female genital. _Tables_ and _wood_ have already been mentioned as +puzzling but undoubtedly female symbols. _Ladders_, _ascents_, _steps_ +in relation to their mounting, are certainly symbols of sexual +intercourse. On closer consideration we see that they have the rhythm of +walking as a common characteristic; perhaps, too, the heightening of +excitement and the shortening of the breath, the higher one mounts. + +We have already spoken of _natural scenery_ as a representation of the +female genitals. _Mountains_ and _cliffs_ are symbols of the male organ; +the _garden_ a frequent symbol of the female genitals. _Fruit_ does not +stand for the child, but for the breasts. _Wild animals_ signify +sensually aroused persons, or further, base impulses, passions. +_Blossoms_ and _flowers_ represent the female genitals, or more +particularly, virginity. Do not forget that the blossoms are really the +genitals of the plants. + +We already know the _room_ as a symbol. The representation may be +extended in that the windows, entrances and exits of the room take on +the meaning of the body openings. Whether the room is _open_ or _closed_ +is a part of this symbolism, and the _key_ that opens it is an +unmistakable male symbol. + +This is the material of dream symbolism. It is not complete and might be +deepened as well as extended. But I am of the opinion it will seem more +than enough to you, perhaps will make you reluctant. You will ask, "Do I +really live in the midst of sex symbols? Are all the objects that +surround me, all the clothes I put on, all the things that I touch, +always sex symbols, and nothing else?" There really are sufficient +grounds for such questions, and the first is, "Where, in fact, are we to +find the meaning of these dream symbols if the dreamer himself can give +no information concerning them, or at best can give only incomplete +information?" + +My answer is: "From many widely different sources, from fairy tales and +myths, jokes and farces, from folklore, that is, the knowledge of the +customs, usages, sayings and songs of peoples, from the poetic and +vulgar language. Everywhere we find the same symbolism and in many of +these instances we understand them without further information. If we +follow up each of these sources separately we shall find so many +parallels to the dream symbolism that we must believe in the correctness +of our interpretations." + +The human body, we have said, is, according to Scherner, frequently +symbolized in the dream by the house. Continuing this representation, +the windows, doors and entrances are the entrances into the body +cavities, the facades are smooth or provided with balconies and +projections to which to hold. The same symbolism is to be found in our +daily speech when we greet a good friend as "_old house_" or when we say +of someone, "We'll hit him in the _belfry_," or maintain of another that +he's not quite right in the _upper story_. In anatomy the body openings +are sometimes called the _body-portals_. + +The fact that we meet our parents in the dream as imperial or royal +persons is at first surprising. But it has its parallel in the fairy +tale. Doesn't it begin to dawn upon us that the many fairy tales which +begin "Once upon a time there was a _king_ and a _queen_" intend nothing +else than, "Once there was a _father_ and a _mother_?" In our families +we refer to our children as _princes_, the eldest as the _crown-prince_. +The king usually calls himself the _father of the country_. We playfully +designate little children as _worms_, and say, sympathetically, "_poor +little worm_." + +Let us return to the symbolism of the house. When we use the projections +of the house to hold ourselves on to in the dream, are we not reminded +of the familiar colloquialism about persons with well-developed breasts: +"She has something to _hold onto_"? The folk express this in still +another way when it says, "there's lots of _wood in front of her +house_"; as though it wished to come to the aid of our interpretation +that wood is a feminine, maternal symbol. + +In addition to wood there are others. We might not understand how this +material has come to be a substitute for the maternal, the feminine. +Here our comparison of languages may be helpful. The German word _Holz_ +(wood) is said to be from the same stem as the Greek word, nle, +which means stuff, raw material. This is an example of the case, not +entirely unusual, where a general word for material finally is +exclusively used for some special material. There is an island in the +ocean, known by the name of Madeira. The Portuguese gave it this name at +the time of its discovery because it was at that time entirely covered +with forests, for in the language of the Portuguese, Madeira means +_wood_. You will recognize, however, that Madeira, is nothing else than +the slightly changed Latin word _materia_ which again has the general +meaning of _material_ Material is derived from _mater_, mother. The +material out of which something is made, is at the same time its +mother-part. In the symbolic use of wood for woman, mother, this ancient +conception still lives. + +Birth is regularly expressed in dreams by some connection with water; +one plunges into the water, or comes out of the water, which means one +gives birth to, or is born. Now let us not forget that this symbol may +refer in two ways to the truths of evolutionary history. Not alone have +all land-mammals, including the ancestors of man, developed out of water +animals--this is the ultimate fact--but every single mammal, every human +being, lived the first part of his existence in the water--namely, lived +in the body of his mother as an embryo in the amniotic fluid and came +out of the water at the time of his birth. I do not wish to maintain +that the dreamer knows this, on the contrary I hold that he does not +have to know. The dreamer very likely knows some things because of the +fact that he was told about them in his childhood, and for that very +reason I maintain that this knowledge has played no part in the +construction of his symbols. He was told in childhood that the stork +brought him--but where did it get him? Out of a lake, out of the +well--again, out of the water. One of my patients to whom such +information had been given, a little count, disappeared for a whole +afternoon. Finally he was discovered lying at the edge of the palace +lake, his little face bent above the water and earnestly peering into it +to see if he could not see the little children at the bottom. + +In the myths of the birth of the hero, which O. Rank submitted to +comparative examination,--the oldest is that of King Sargon of Agade, +about 2800 B.C.--exposure in the water and rescue from water play a +predominating role. Rank has recognized that these are representations +of birth, analogous to those customary in dreams. When a person in his +dream rescues another from the water, the latter becomes his mother, or +just plainly mother; in the myth a person who rescues a child out of the +water professes herself as the real mother of the child. In a well-known +joke the intelligent Jewish boy is asked who was the mother of Moses. He +answered without hesitation, the Princess. But no, he is told, she only +took him out of the water. "That's what _she says_," is his reply, and +thereby he shows that he has found the correct interpretation of the +myth. + +Leaving on a trip represents death in the dream. Likewise it is the +custom in the nursery when a child asks where someone who has died, and +whom he misses, may be, to say to him that the absent one has taken a +trip. Again I should like to deny the truth of the belief that the dream +symbol originates in this evasion used for the benefit of children. The +poet makes use of the same symbol when he speaks of the Hereafter as +"that undiscovered bourne from which no _traveler_ returns." Even in +everyday speech it is customary to refer to the last journey. Every +person acquainted with ancient rite knows how seriously, for example, +the Egyptians considered the portrayal of a journey to the land of the +dead. There still exist many copies of the "death book" which was given +to the mummy for this journey as a sort of Baedeker. Since the burial +places have been separated from the living quarters, the last journey of +the dead person has become a reality. + +In the same manner the genital symbolism is just as little peculiar to +the dream alone. Every one of you has perhaps at some time or other been +so unkind as to call some woman an "_old casket_" without perhaps being +aware that he was using a genital symbol. In the New Testament one may +read "Woman is a weak _vessel_." The Holy Scriptures of the Jews, so +nearly poetic in their style, are filled with sex-symbolic expressions +which have not always been correctly understood, and the true +construction of which, in the _Song of Songs_, for example, has led to +many misunderstandings. In the later Hebraic literature the +representation of woman as a house, the door taking the place of the sex +opening, is very widespread. The man complains, for instance, when he +discovers a lack of virginity, that he has found _the door open_. The +symbol of the table for woman is also known to this literature. The +woman says of her husband, "I set the table for him, _but he upset it_." +Lame children are supposed to result from the fact that the man has +_overturned the table_. I take these examples from a work by L. Levy of +Bruenn, _The Sexual Symbolism of the Bible and the Talmud_. + +That ships, too, represent women in dreams is a belief derived from the +etymologists, who maintain "ship" was originally the name of an earthen +vessel and is the same word as _Schaff_ (to create). The Greek myth of +Periander of Corinth and his wife Melissa is proof that the stove or +oven is a woman, and a womb. When, according to Herodotus, the tyrant +entreated the shade of his beloved wife, whom, however, he had murdered +in a fit of jealousy, for some sign of its identity, the deceased +identified herself by the reminder that he, _Periander_, _had thrust his +bread into a cold oven_, as a disguise for an occurrence that could have +been known to no other person. In the _Anthropophyteia_ published by F. +S. Krauss, an indispensable source book for everything that has to do +with the sex life of nations, we read that in a certain German region it +is commonly said of a woman who has just been delivered of a child, +"_Her oven has caved in_." The making of a fire and everything connected +therewith is filled through and through with sex symbolism. The flame is +always the male genital, the fireplace, the hearth, is the womb of the +woman. + +If you have often wondered why it is that landscapes are so often used +to represent the female genitals in the dream, then let the mythologist +teach you the role Mother Earth has played in the symbolisms and cults +of ancient times. You may be tempted to say that a room represents a +woman in the dream because of the German colloquialism which uses the +term _Frauenzimmer_ instead of _Frau_, in other words, it substitutes +for the human person the idea of that room that is set aside for her +exclusive use. In like manner we speak of the _Sublime Porte_, and mean +the Sultan and his government; furthermore, the name of the ancient +Egyptian ruler, Pharaoh, means nothing other than "great court room." +(In the ancient Orient the court yards between the double gates of the +town were the gathering places of the people, in the same manner as the +market place was in the classical world.) What I mean is, this +derivation is far too superficial. It seems more probable to me that the +room, as the space surrounding man, came to be the symbol of woman. We +have seen that the house is used in such a representation; from +mythology and poetry we may take the _city_, _fortress_, _palace_, +_citadel_, as further symbols of woman. The question may easily be +decided by the dreams of those persons who do not speak German and do +not understand it. In the last few years my patients have been +predominantly foreign-language speaking, and I think I can recall that +in their dreams as well the room represents woman, even where they had +no analogous usages in their languages. There are still other signs +which show that the symbolization is not limited by the bounds of +language, a fact that even the old dream investigator, Schubert (1862) +maintained. Since none of my dreamers were totally ignorant of German I +must leave this differentiation to those psychoanalysts who can gather +examples in other lands where the people speak but one language. + +Among the symbol-representations of the male genital there is scarcely +one that does not recur in jokes or in vulgar or poetical usage, +especially among the old classical poets. Not alone do those symbols +commonly met with in dreams appeal here, but also new ones, e.g., the +working materials of various performances, foremost of which is the +incantation. Furthermore, we approach in the symbolic representation of +the male a very extended and much discussed province, which we shall +avoid for economic reasons. I should like to make a few remarks, +however, about one of the unclassified symbols--the figure 3. Whether or +not this figure derives its holiness from its symbolic meaning may +remain undecided. But it appears certain that many objects which occur +in nature as three-part things derive their use as coats-of-arms and +emblems from such symbolic meaning, e.g., the clover, likewise the +three-part French lily, (fleur-de-lys), and the extraordinary +coats-of-arms of two such widely separated islands as Sicily and the +Isle of Man, where the Triskeles (three partly bended knees, emerging +from a central point) are merely said to be the portrayal in a different +form of the male genitals. Copies of the male member were used in +antiquity as the most powerful charms (_Apotropaea_) against evil +influences, and this is connected with the fact that the lucky amulets +of our own time may one and all be recognized as genital or sex-symbols. +Let us study such a collection, worn in the form of little silver +pendants: the four-leaf clover, a pig, a mushroom, a horse-shoe, a +ladder, a chimney-sweep. The four-leaf clover, it seems, has usurped the +place of the three-leaf clover, which is really more suitable as a +symbol; the pig is an ancient symbol of fertility; the mushroom is an +unquestionable penis symbol--there are mushrooms that derive their +systematic names from their unmistakable similarity to the male member +(Phallus impudicus); the horseshoe recalls the contour of the female +genital opening; and the chimney sweep who carries a ladder belongs in +this company because he carries on that trade with which the +sex-intercourse is vulgarly compared (_cf._ the _Anthropophyteia_). We +have already become acquainted with his ladder as a sex symbol in the +dream; the German usage is helpful here, it shows us how the verb "to +mount"[30] is made use of in an exquisite sexual sense. We use the +expressions "_to run after women_," which literally translated would be +"_to climb after women_," and "_an old climber_."[31] In French, where +"_step_" is "_la marche_" we find that the analogous expression for a +man about town is "_un vieux marcheur_." It is apparently not unknown in +this connection that the sexual intercourse of many of the larger +animals requires a mounting, _a climbing upon_ the female. + +The tearing off of a branch as the symbolic representation of onanism is +not alone in keeping with the vulgar representation of the fact of +onanism, but has far-reaching mythological parallels. Especially +noteworthy, however, is the representation of onanism, or rather the +punishment therefor, castration, by the falling out or pulling out of +teeth, because there is a parallel in folk-lore which is probably known +to the fewest dreamers. It does not seem at all questionable to me that +the practice of circumcision common among so many peoples is an +equivalent and a substitute for castration. And now we are informed that +in Australia certain primitive tribes practice circumcision as a rite of +puberty (the ceremony in honor of the boy's coming of age), while +others, living quite near, have substituted for this act the striking +out of a tooth. + +I end my exposition with these examples. They are only examples. We know +more about these matters, and you may well imagine how much richer and +how much more interesting such a collection would appear if made, not by +amateurs like ourselves, but by real experts in mythology, anthropology, +philology and folk-lore. We are compelled to draw a few conclusions +which cannot be exhaustive, but which give us much food for thought. + +In the first place, we are faced by the fact that the dreamer has at his +disposal a symbolic means of expression of which he is unconscious +while awake, and does not recognize when he sees. That is as remarkable +as if you should make the discovery that your chambermaid understands +Sanskrit, although you know she was born in a Bohemian village and never +learned the language. It is not easy to harmonize this fact with our +psychological views. We can only say that the dreamer's knowledge of +symbolism is unconscious, that it is a part of his unconscious mental +life. We make no progress with this assumption. Until now it was only +necessary to admit of unconscious impulses, those about which one knew +nothing, either for a period of time or at all times. But now we deal +with something more; indeed, with unknown knowledge, with thought +relationships, comparisons between unlike objects which lead to this, +that one constant may be substituted for another. These comparisons are +not made anew each time, but they lie ready, they are complete for all +time. That is to be concluded from the fact of their agreement in +different persons, agreement despite differences in language. + +But whence comes the knowledge of these symbol-relationships? The usages +of language cover only a small part of them. The dreamer is for the most +part unacquainted with the numerous parallels from other sources; we +ourselves must first laboriously gather them together. + +Secondly, these symbolic representations are peculiar neither to the +dreamer nor to the dream work by means of which they become expressed. +We have learned that mythology and fairy-tales make use of the same +symbolism, as well as do the people in their sayings and songs, the +ordinary language of every day, and poetic phantasy. The field of +symbolism is an extraordinarily large one, and dream symbolism is but a +small part thereof. It is not even expedient to approach the whole +problem from the dream side. Many of the symbols that are used in other +places do not occur in the dream at all, or at best only very seldom. +Many of the dream symbols are to be found in other fields only very +rarely, as you have seen. One gets the impression that he is here +confronted with an ancient but no longer existent method of expression, +of which various phases, however, continue in different fields, one +here, one there, a third, perhaps in a slightly altered form, in several +fields. I am reminded of the phantasy of an interesting mental +defective, who had imagined a fundamental language, of which all these +symbolic representations were the remains. + +Thirdly, you must have noticed that symbolism in these other fields is +by no means sex symbolism solely, while in the dream the symbols are +used almost entirely to express sexual objects and processes. Nor is +this easily explained. Is it possible that symbols originally sexual in +their meaning later came to have other uses, and that this was the +reason perhaps for the weakening of the symbolic representation to one +of another nature? These questions are admittedly unanswerable if one +has dealt only with dream-symbolism. One can only adhere to the +supposition that there is an especially intimate connection between true +symbols and things sexual. + +An important indication of this has been given us recently. A +philologist, H. Sperber (Upsala) who works independently of +psychoanalysis, advanced the theory that sexual needs have played the +largest part in the origin and development of languages. The first +sounds served as means of communication, and called the sexual partner; +the further development of the roots of speech accompanied the +performance of the primitive man's work. This work was communal and +progressed to the accompaniment of rhythmically repeated word sounds. In +that way a sexual interest was transferred to the work. The primitive +man made work acceptable at the same time that he used it as an +equivalent and substitute for sex-activity. The word thus called forth +by the common labor had two meanings, designating the sex-act as well as +the equivalent labor-activity. In time the word became disassociated +from its sexual significance and became fixed on this work. Generations +later the same thing happened to a new word that once had sexual +significance and came to be used for a new type of work. In this manner +a number of word-roots were formed, all of sexual origin, and all of +which had lost their sexual significance. If the description sketched +here approximates the truth, it opens up the possibility for an +understanding of the dream symbolism. We can understand how it is that +in the dream, which preserves something of these most ancient +conditions, there are so extraordinarily many symbols for the sexual, +and why, in general, weapons and implements always stand for the male, +materials and things manufactured, for the female. Symbolic +relationships would be the remnants of the old word-identity; things +which once were called by the same names as the genitals can now appear +in the dream as symbols for them. + +From our parallels to dream symbolization you may also learn to +appreciate what is the character of psychoanalysis which makes it a +subject of general interest, which is true of neither psychology nor +psychiatry. Psychoanalytic work connects with so many other scientific +subjects, the investigation of which promises the most pertinent +discoveries, with mythology, with folk-lore, with racial psychology and +with religion. You will understand how a journal can have grown on +psychoanalytic soil, the sole purpose of which is the furtherance of +these relationships. This is the _Imago_ founded in 1912 and edited by +Hanns Sachs and Otto Rank. In all of these relations, psychoanalysis is +first and foremost the giving, less often the receiving, part. Indeed it +derives benefit from the fact that its unusual teachings are +substantiated by their recurrence in other fields, but on the whole it +is psychoanalysis that provides the technical procedure and the point of +view, the use of which will prove fruitful in those other fields. The +psychic life of the human individual provides us, upon psychoanalytic +investigation, with explanations with which we are able to solve many +riddles in the life of humanity, or at least show these riddles in their +proper light. + +Furthermore, I have not even told you under what conditions we are able +to get the deepest insight into that suppositious "fundamental +language," or from which field we gain the most information. So long as +you do not know this you cannot appreciate the entire significance of +the subject. This field is the neurotic, its materials, the symptoms and +other expressions of the nervous patient, for the explanation and +treatment of which psychoanalysis was devised. + +My fourth point of view returns to our premise and connects up with our +prescribed course. We said, even if there were no such thing as dream +censorship, the dream would still be hard to understand, for we would +then be confronted with the task of translating the symbol-language of +the dream into the thought of our waking hours. Symbolism is a second +and independent item of dream distortion, in addition to dream +censorship. It is not a far cry to suppose that it is convenient for +the dream censorship to make use of symbolism since both lead to the +same end, to making the dream strange and incomprehensible. + +Whether or not in the further study of the dream we shall hit upon a new +item that influences dream distortion, remains to be seen. I should not +like to leave the subject of dream symbolism without once more touching +upon the curious fact that it arouses such strong opposition in the case +of educated persons, in spite of the fact that symbolism in myth, +religion, art and speech is undoubtedly so prevalent. Is not this again +because of its relationship to sexuality? + + + + +ELEVENTH LECTURE + +THE DREAM + + +_The Dream-Work_ + +If you have mastered dream censorship and symbolic representation, you +are, to be sure, not yet adept in dream distortion, but you are +nevertheless in a position to understand most dreams. For this you +employ two mutually supplementary methods, call up the associations of +the dreamer until you have penetrated from the substitute to the actual, +and from your own knowledge supply the meaning for the symbol. Later we +shall discuss certain uncertainties which show themselves in this +process. + +We are now in a position to resume work which we attempted, with very +insufficient means at an earlier stage, when we studied the relation +between the manifest dream elements and their latent actualities, and in +so doing established four such main relationships: that of a part of the +whole, that of approach or allusion, the symbolic relationship and +plastic word representation. We shall now attempt the same on a larger +scale, by comparing the manifest dream content as a whole, with the +latent dream which we found by interpretation. + +I hope you will never again confuse these two. If you have achieved +this, you have probably accomplished more in the understanding of the +dream than the majority of the readers of my _Interpretation of Dreams_. +Let me remind you once more that this process, which changes the latent +into the manifest dream, is called _dream-work_. Work which proceeds in +the opposite direction, from the manifest dream to the latent, is our +_work of interpretation_. The work of interpretation attempts to undo +the dream-work. Infantile dreams that are recognized as evident wish +fulfillments nevertheless have undergone some dream-work, namely, the +transformation of the wish into reality, and generally, too, of thoughts +into visual pictures. Here we need no interpretation, but only a +retracing of these transformations. Whatever dream-work has been added +to other dreams, we call _dream distortion_, and this can be annulled by +our work of interpretation. + +The comparison of many dream interpretations has rendered it possible +for me to give you a coherent representation of what the dream-work does +with the material of the latent dream. I beg of you, however, not to +expect to understand too much of this. It is a piece of description that +should be listened to with calm attention. + +The first process of the dream-work is _condensation_. By this we +understand that the manifest dream has a smaller content than the latent +one, that is, it is a sort of abbreviated translation of the latter. +Condensation may occasionally be absent, but as a rule it is present, +often to a very high degree. The opposite is never true, that is, it +never occurs that the manifest dream is more extensive in scope and +content than the latent. Condensation occurs in the following ways: 1. +Certain latent elements are entirely omitted; 2. only a fragment of the +many complexes of the latent dream is carried over into the manifest +dream; 3. latent elements that have something in common are collected +for the manifest dream and are fused into a whole. + +If you wish, you may reserve the term "condensation" for this last +process alone. Its effects are particularly easy to demonstrate. From +your own dreams you will doubtless recall the fusion of several persons +into one. Such a compound person probably looks like A., is dressed like +B., does something that one remembers of C., but in spite of this one is +conscious that he is really D. By means of this compound formation +something common to all four people is especially emphasized. One can +make a compound formation of events and of places in the same way as of +people, provided always that the single events and localities have +something in common which the latent dream emphasizes. It is a sort of +new and fleeting concept of formation, with the common element as its +kernel. This jumble of details that has been fused together regularly +results in a vague indistinct picture, as though you had taken several +pictures on the same film. + +The shaping of such compound formations must be of great importance to +the dream-work, for we can prove, (by the choice of a verbal expression +for a thought, for instance) that the common elements mentioned above +are purposely manufactured where they originally do not exist. We have +already become acquainted with such condensation and compound +formations; they played an important part in the origin of certain cases +of slips of the tongue. You recall the young man who wished to _inscort_ +a woman. Furthermore, there are jokes whose technique may be traced to +such a condensation. But entirely aside from this, one may maintain that +this appearance of something quite unknown in the dream finds its +counterpart in many of the creations of our imagination which fuse +together component parts that do not belong together in experience, as +for example the centaurs, and the fabulous animals of old mythology or +of Boecklin's pictures. For creative imagination can invent nothing new +whatsoever, it can only put together certain details normally alien to +one another. The peculiar thing, however, about the procedure of the +dream-work is the following: The material at the disposal of the +dream-work consists of thoughts, thoughts which may be offensive and +unacceptable, but which are nevertheless correctly formed and expressed. +These thoughts are transformed into something else by the dream-work, +and it is remarkable and incomprehensible that this translation, this +rendering, as it were, into another script or language, employs the +methods of condensation and combination. For a translation usually +strives to respect the discriminations expressed in the text, and to +differentiate similar things. The dream-work, on the contrary, tries to +fuse two different thoughts by looking, just as the joke does, for an +ambiguous word which shall act as a connecting link between the two +thoughts. One need not attempt to understand this feature of the case at +once, but it may become significant for the conception of the +dream-work. + +Although condensation renders the dream opaque, one does not get the +impression that it is an effect of dream censorship. One prefers to +trace it back to mechanical or economic conditions; but censorship +undoubtedly has a share in the process. + +The results of condensation may be quite extraordinary. With its help, +it becomes possible at times to collect quite unrelated latent thought +processes into one manifest dream, so that one can arrive at an +apparently adequate interpretation, and at the same time conceive a +possible further interpretation. + +The consequence of condensation for the relation between latent and +manifest dreams is the fact that no simple relations can exist between +the elements of the one and the other. A manifest element corresponds +simultaneously to several latent ones, and vice versa, a latent element +may partake of several manifest ones, an interlacing, as it were. In the +interpretation of the dream it also becomes evident that the +associations to a single element do not necessarily follow one another +in orderly sequence. Often we must wait until the entire dream is +interpreted. + +Dream-work therefore accomplishes a very unusual sort of transcription +of dream thoughts, not a translation word for word, or sign for sign, +not a selection according to a set rule, as if all the consonants of a +word were given and the vowels omitted; nor is it what we might call +substitution, namely, the choice of one element to take the place of +several others. It is something very different and much more +complicated. + +The second process of the dream-work is _displacement_. Fortunately we +are already prepared for this, since we know that it is entirely the +work of dream censorship. The two evidences of this are firstly, that a +latent element is not replaced by one of its constituent parts but by +something further removed from it, that is, by a sort of allusion; +secondly, that the psychic accent is transferred from an important +element to another that is unimportant, so that the dream centers +elsewhere and seems strange. + +Substitution by allusion is known to our conscious thinking also, but +with a difference. In conscious thinking the allusion must be easily +intelligible, and the substitute must bear a relation to the actual +content. Jokes, too, often make use of allusion; they let the condition +of content associations slide and replace it by unusual external +associations, such as resemblances in sound, ambiguity of words, etc. +They retain, however, the condition of intelligibility; the joke would +lose all its effect if the allusion could not be traced back to the +actual without any effort whatsoever. The allusion of displacement has +freed itself of both these limitations. Its connection with the element +which it replaces is most external and remote, is unintelligible for +this reason, and if it is retraced, its interpretation gives the +impression of an unsuccessful joke or of a forced, far-fetched +explanation. For the dream censor has only then accomplished its +purpose, when it has made the path of return from the allusion to the +original undiscoverable. + +The displacement of emphasis is unheard of as a means of expressing +thoughts. In conscious thinking we occasionally admit it to gain a comic +effect. I can probably give you an idea of the confusion which this +produces by reminding you of the story of the blacksmith who had +committed a capital crime. The court decided that the penalty for the +crime must be paid, but since he was the only blacksmith in the village +and therefore indispensable, while there were three tailors, one of the +latter was hung in his stead. + +The third process of the dream-work is the most interesting from a +psychological point of view. It consists of the _translation_ of +thoughts into visual images. Let us bear in mind that by no means all +dream thoughts undergo this translation; many of them retain their form +and appear in the manifest dream also as thought or consciousness; +moreover, visual images are not the only form into which thoughts are +translated. They are, however, the foundation of the dream fabric; this +part of the dream work is, as we already know, the second most constant, +and for single dream elements we have already learned to know "plastic +word representation." + +It is evident that this process is not simple. In order to get an idea +of its difficulties you must pretend that you have undertaken the task +of replacing a political editorial in a newspaper by a series of +illustrations, that you have suffered an atavistic return from the use +of the alphabet to ideographic writing. Whatever persons or concrete +events occur in this article you will be able to replace easily by +pictures, perhaps to your advantage, but you will meet with difficulties +in the representation of all abstract words and all parts of speech +denoting thought relationships, such as particles, conjunctions, etc. +With the abstract words you could use all sorts of artifices. You will, +for instance, try to change the text of the article into different words +which may sound unusual, but whose components will be more concrete and +more adapted to representation. You will then recall that most abstract +words were concrete before their meaning paled, and will therefore go +back to the original concrete significance of these words as often as +possible, and so you will be glad to learn that you can represent the +"possession" of an object by the actual physical straddling of it.[32] +The dream work does the same thing. Under such circumstances you can +hardly demand accuracy of representation. You will also have to allow +the dream-work to replace an element that is as hard to depict as for +instance, broken faith, by another kind of rupture, a broken leg.[33] In +this way you will be able to smooth away to some extent the crudity of +imagery when the latter is endeavoring to replace word expression. + +In the representation of parts of speech that denote thought relations, +such as _because_, _therefore_, _but_, etc., you have no such aids; +these constituent parts of the text will therefore be lost in your +translation into images. In the same way, the dream-work resolves the +content of the dream thought into its raw material of objects and +activities. You may be satisfied if the possibility is vouchsafed you to +suggest certain relations, not representable in themselves, in a more +detailed elaboration of the image. In quite the same way the dream-work +succeeds in expressing much of the content of the latent dream thought +in the formal peculiarities of the manifest dream, in its clearness or +vagueness, in its division into several parts, etc. The number of +fragmentary dreams into which the dream is divided corresponds as a rule +to the number of main themes, of thought sequences in the latent dream; +a short preliminary dream often stands as an introduction or a +motivation to the complementary dream which follows; a subordinate +clause in dream thought is represented in the manifest dream as an +interpolated change of scene, etc. The form of the dream is itself, +therefore, by no means without significance and challenges +interpretation. Different dreams of the same night often have the same +meaning, and testify to an increasing effort to control a stimulus of +growing urgency. In a single dream a particularly troublesome element +may be represented by "duplicates," that is, by numerous symbols. + +By continually comparing dream thought with the manifest dream that +replaces it, we learn all sorts of things for which we were not +prepared, as for instance, the fact that even the nonsense and absurdity +of the dream have meaning. Yes, on this point the opposition between the +medical and psychoanalytic conception of the dream reaches a climax not +previously achieved. According to the former, the dream is senseless +because the dreaming psychic activity has lost all power of critical +judgment; according to our theory, on the other hand, the dream becomes +senseless, whenever a critical judgment, contained in the dream thought, +wishes to express the opinion: "It is nonsense." The dream which you all +know, about the visit to the theatre (three tickets 1 Fl. 50 Kr.) is a +good example of this. The opinion expressed here is: "It was _nonsense_ +to marry so early." + +In the same way, we discover in interpretation what is the significance +of the doubts and uncertainties so often expressed by the dreamer as to +whether a certain element really occurred in the dream; whether it was +this or something else. As a rule these doubts and uncertainties +correspond to nothing in the latent dream thought; they are occasioned +throughout by the working of the dream censor and are equivalent to an +unsuccessful attempt at suppression. + +One of the most surprising discoveries is the manner in which the +dream-work deals with those things which are opposed to one another in +the latent dream. We already know that agreements in the latent material +are expressed in the manifest dream by condensations. Now oppositions +are treated in exactly the same way as agreements and are, with special +preference, expressed by the same manifest element. An element in a +manifest dream, capable of having an opposite, may therefore represent +itself as well as its opposite, or may do both simultaneously; only the +context can determine which translation is to be chosen. It must follow +from this that the particle "no" cannot be represented in the dream, at +least not unambiguously. + +The development of languages furnishes us with a welcome analogy for +this surprising behavior on the part of the dream work. Many scholars +who do research work in languages have maintained that in the oldest +languages opposites--such as strong, weak; light, dark; big, +little--were expressed by the same root word. (_The Contradictory Sense +of Primitive Words._) In old Egyptian, _ken_ originally meant both +strong and weak. In conversation, misunderstanding in the use of such +ambiguous words was avoided by the tone of voice and by accompanying +gestures, in writing by the addition of so-called determinatives, that +is, by a picture that was itself not meant to be expressed. Accordingly, +if ken meant strong, the picture of an erect little man was placed after +the alphabetical signs, if _ken_, _weak_, was meant, the picture of a +cowering man followed. Only later, by slight modifications of the +original word, were two designations developed for the opposites which +it denoted. In this way, from _ken_ meaning both strong and weak, there +was derived a _ken_, strong, and a _ken_, weak. It is said that not only +the most primitive languages in their last developmental stage, but also +the more recent ones, even the living tongues of to-day have retained +abundant remains of this primitive opposite meaning. Let me give you a +few illustrations of this taken from C. Abel (1884). + +In Latin there are still such words of double meaning: + +_altus_--high, deep, and _sacer_, sacred, accursed. + +As examples of modifications of the same root, I cite: + +_clamare_--to scream, _clam_--quiet, still, secret; + +_siccus_--dry, _succus_--juice. + +And from the German: + +_Stimme_--voice, _stumm_--dumb. + +The comparison of related tongues yields a wealth of examples: + +English: _lock_; German: _Loch_--hole, _Luecke_--gap. + +English: _cleave_; German: _kleben_--to stick, to adhere. + +The English _without_, is to-day used to mean "not with"; that "with" +had the connotation of deprivation as well as that of apportioning, is +apparent from the compounds: _withdraw_, _withhold_. The German +_wieder_, again, closely resembles this. + +Another peculiarity of dream-work finds it prototype in the development +of language. It occurred in ancient Egyptian as well as in other later +languages that the sequence of sounds of the words was transposed to +denote the same fundamental idea. The following are examples from +English and German: + +_Topf_--_pot_; _boat_--_tub_; _hurry_--_Ruhe_ (rest, quiet). + +_Balken_ (beam)--_Kloben_ (mallet)--_club_. + +From the Latin and the German: + +_capere_ (to seize)--_packen_ (to seize, to grasp). + +Inversions such as occur here in the single word are effected in a very +different way by the dream-work. We already know the inversion of the +sense, substitution by the opposite. Besides there are inversions of +situations, of relations between two people, and so in dreams we are in +a sort of topsy-turvy world. In a dream it is frequently the rabbit that +shoots the hunter. Further inversion occurs in the sequence of events, +so that in the dream the cause is placed after the effect. It is like a +performance in a third-rate theatre, where the hero falls before the +shot which kills him is fired from the wings. Or there are dreams in +which the whole sequence of the elements is inverted, so that in the +interpretation one must take the last first, and the first last, in +order to obtain a meaning. You will recall from our study of dream +symbolism that to go or fall into the water means the same as to come +out of it, namely, to give birth to, or to be born, and that mounting +stairs or a ladder means the same as going down. The advantage that +dream distortions may gain from such freedom of representation, is +unmistakable. + +These features of the dream-work may be called _archaic_. They are +connected with ancient systems of expression, ancient languages and +literatures, and involve the same difficulties which we shall deal with +later in a critical connection. + +Now for some other aspects of the matter. In the dream-work it is +plainly a question of translating the latent thoughts, expressed in +words, into psychic images, in the main, of a visual kind. Now our +thoughts were developed from such psychic images; their first material +and the steps which led up to them were psychic impressions, or to be +more exact, the memory images of these psychic impressions. Only later +were words attached to these and then combined into thoughts. The +dream-work therefore puts the thoughts through a _regressive_ treatment, +that is, one that retraces the steps in their development. In this +regression, all that has been added to the thoughts as a new +contribution in the course of the development of the memory pictures +must fall away. + +This, then, is the dream-work. In view of the processes that we have +discovered about it, our interest in the manifest dream was forced into +the background. I shall, however, devote a few remarks to the latter, +since it is after all the only thing that is positively known to us. + +It is natural that the manifest dream should lose its importance for us. +It must be a matter of indifference to us whether it is well composed or +resolved into a series of disconnected single images. Even when its +exterior seems to be significant, we know that it has been developed by +means of dream distortion and may have as little organic connection with +the inner content of the dream as the facade of an Italian church has +with its structure and ground plan. At other times this facade of the +dream, too, has its significance, in that it reproduces with little or +no distortion an important part of the latent dream thought. But we +cannot know this before we have put the dream through a process of +interpretation and reached a decision as to what amount of distortion +has taken place. A similar doubt prevails when two elements in the dream +seem to have been brought into close relations to one another. This may +be a valuable hint, suggesting that we may join together those manifest +thoughts which correspond to the elements in the latent dream; yet at +other times we are convinced that what belongs together in thought has +been torn apart in the dream. + +As a general rule we must refrain from trying to explain one part of the +manifest dream by another, as if the dream were coherently conceived and +pragmatically represented. At the most it is comparable to a Breccian +stone, produced by the fusion of various minerals in such a way that the +markings it shows are entirely different from those of the original +mineral constituents. There is actually a part of the dream-work, the +so-called _secondary treatment_, whose function it is to develop +something unified, something approximately coherent from the final +products of the dream-work. In so doing the material is often arranged +in an entirely misleading sense and insertions are made wherever it +seems necessary. + +On the other hand, we must not over-estimate the dream-work, nor +attribute too much to it. The processes which we have enumerated tell +the full tale of its functioning; beyond condensing, displacing, +representing plastically, and then subjecting the whole to a secondary +treatment, it can do nothing. Whatever of judgment, of criticism, of +surprise, and of deduction are to be found in the dream are not products +of the dream-work and are only very seldom signs of afterthoughts about +the dream, but are generally parts of the latent dream thought, which +have passed over into the manifest dream, more or less modified and +adapted to the context. In the matter of composing speeches, the +dream-work can also do nothing. Except for a few examples, the speeches +in the dream are imitations and combinations of speeches heard or made +by oneself during the day, and which have been introduced into the +latent thought, either as material or as stimuli for the dream. Neither +can the dream pose problems; when these are found in the dream, they are +in the main combinations of numbers, semblances of examples that are +quite absurd or merely copies of problems in the latent dream thought. +Under these conditions it is not surprising that the interest which has +attached itself to the dream-work is soon deflected from it to the +latent dream thoughts which are revealed in more or less distorted form +in the manifest dream. It is not justifiable, however, to have this +change go so far that in a theoretical consideration one regularly +substitutes the latent dream thought for the dream itself, and +maintains of the latter what can hold only for the former. It is odd +that the results of psychoanalysis should be misused for such an +exchange. "Dream" can mean nothing but the result of the dream-work, +that is, the _form_ into which the latent dream thoughts have been +translated by the dream-work. + +Dream-work is a process of a very peculiar sort, the like of which has +hitherto not been discovered in psychic life. These condensations, +displacements, regressive translations of thoughts into pictures, are +new discoveries which richly repay our efforts in the field of +psychoanalysis. You will realize from the parallel to the dream-work, +what connections psychoanalytic studies will reveal with other fields, +especially with the development of speech and thought. You can only +surmise the further significance of these connections when you hear that +the mechanism of the dream structure is the model for the origin of +neurotic symptoms. + +I know too that we cannot as yet estimate the entire contribution that +this work has made to psychology. We shall only indicate the new proofs +that have been given of the existence of unconscious psychic acts--for +such are the latent dream thoughts--and the unexpectedly wide approach +to the understanding of the unconscious psychic life that dream +interpretation opens up to us. + +The time has probably come, however, to illustrate separately, by +various little examples of dreams, the connected facts for which you +have been prepared. + + + + +TWELFTH LECTURE + +THE DREAM + +_Analysis of Sample Dreams_ + + +I hope you will not be disappointed if I again lay before you excerpts +from dream analyses instead of inviting you to participate in the +interpretation of a beautiful long dream. You will say that after so +much preparation you ought to have this right, and that after the +successful interpretation of so many thousands of dreams it should long +ago have become possible to assemble a collection of excellent dream +samples with which we could demonstrate all our assertions concerning +dream-work and dream thoughts. Yes, but the difficulties which stand in +the way of the fulfillment of your wish are too many. + +First of all, I must confess to you that no one practices dream +interpretation as his main occupation. When does one interpret dreams? +Occasionally one can occupy himself with the dream of some friend, +without any special purpose, or else he may work with his own dreams for +a time in order to school himself in psychoanalytic method; most often, +however, one deals with the dreams of nervous individuals who are +undergoing analytic treatment. These latter dreams are excellent +material, and in no way inferior to those of normal persons, but one is +forced by the technique of the treatment to subordinate dream analysis +to therapeutic aims and to pass over a large number of dreams after +having derived something from them that is of use in the treatment. Many +dreams we meet with during the treatment are, as a matter of fact, +impossible of complete analysis. Since they spring from the total mass +of psychic material which is still unknown to us, their understanding +becomes possible only after the completion of the cure. Besides, to tell +you such dreams would necessitate the disclosure of all the secrets +concerning a neurosis. That will not do for us, since we have taken the +dream as preparation for the study of the neuroses. + +I know you would gladly leave this material, and would prefer to hear +the dreams of healthy persons, or your own dreams explained. But that is +impossible because of the content of these dreams. One can expose +neither himself, nor another whose confidence he has won, so +inconsiderately as would result from a thorough interpretation of his +dreams--which, as you already know, refer to the most intimate things of +his personality. In addition to this difficulty, caused by the nature of +the material, there is another that must be considered when +communicating a dream. You know the dream seems strange even to the +dreamer himself, let alone to one who does not know the dreamer. Our +literature is not poor in good and detailed dream analyses. I myself +have published some in connection with case histories. Perhaps the best +example of a dream interpretation is the one published by O. Rank, being +two related dreams of a young girl, covering about two pages of print, +the analysis covering seventy-six pages. I would need about a whole +semester in order to take you through such a task. If we select a longer +or more markedly distorted dream, we have to make so many explanations, +we must make use of so many free associations and recollections, must go +into so many bypaths, that a lecture on the subject would be entirely +unsatisfactory and inconclusive. So I must ask you to be content with +what is more easily obtained, with the recital of small bits of dreams +of neurotic persons, in which we may be able to recognize this or that +isolated fact. Dream symbols are the most easily demonstrable, and after +them, certain peculiarities of regressive dream representations.[34] I +shall tell you why I considered each of the following dreams worthy of +communication. + +1. A dream, consisting of only two brief pictures: "_The dreamer's uncle +is smoking a cigarette, although it is Saturday. A woman caresses him as +though he were her child._" + +In commenting on the first picture, the dreamer (a Jew) remarks that his +uncle is a pious man who never did, and never would do, anything so +sinful as smoking on the Sabbath. As to the woman of the second picture, +he has no free associations other than his mother. These two pictures or +thoughts should obviously be brought into connection with each other, +but how? Since he expressly rules out the reality of his uncle's action, +then it is natural to interpolate an "if." "_If_ my uncle, that pious +man, should smoke a cigarette on Saturday, then I could also permit my +mother's caresses." This obviously means that the mother's caresses are +prohibited, in the same manner as is smoking on Saturday, to a pious +Jew. You will recall, I told you that all relations between the dream +thoughts disappear in the dream-work, that these relations are broken up +into their raw material, and that it is the task of interpretation to +re-interpolate the omitted connections. + +2. Through my publications on dreams I have become, in certain respects, +the public consultant on matters pertaining to dreams, and for many +years I have been receiving communications from the most varied sources, +in which dreams are related to me or presented to me for my judgment. I +am of course grateful to all those persons who include with the story of +the dream, enough material to make an interpretation possible, or who +give such an interpretation themselves. It is in this category that the +following dream belongs, the dream of a Munich physician in the year +1910. I select it because it goes to show how impossible of +understanding a dream generally is before the dreamer has given us what +information he has about it. I suspect that at bottom you consider the +ideal dream interpretation that in which one simply inserts the meaning +of the symbols, and would like to lay aside the technique of free +association to the dream elements. I wish to disabuse your minds of this +harmful error. + +"On July 13, 1910, toward morning, I dreamed _that I was bicycling down +a street in Tuebingen, when a brown Dachshund tore after me and caught me +by the heel. A bit further on I get off, seat myself on a step, and +begin to beat the beast, which has clenched its teeth tight._ (_I feel +no discomfort from the biting or the whole scene._) _Two elderly ladies +are sitting opposite me and watching me with grins on their faces. Then +I wake up and, as so often happens to me, the whole dream becomes +perfectly clear to me in this moment of transition to the waking +state._" + +Symbols are of little use in this case. The dreamer, however, informs +us, "I lately fell in love with a girl, just from seeing her on the +street, but had no means of becoming acquainted with her. The most +pleasant means might have been the Dachshund, since I am a great lover +of animals, and also felt that the girl was in sympathy with this +characteristic." He also adds that he repeatedly interfered in the +fights of scuffling dogs with great dexterity and frequently to the +great amazement of the spectators. Thus we learn that the girl, who +pleased him, was always accompanied by this particular dog. This girl, +however, was disregarded in the manifest dream, and there remained only +the dog which he associates with her. Perhaps the elderly ladies who +simpered at him took the place of the girl. The remainder of what he +tells us is not enough to explain this point. Riding a bicycle in the +dream is a direct repetition of the remembered situation. He had never +met the girl with the dog except when he was on his bicycle. + +3. When anyone has lost a loved one, he produces dreams of a special +sort for a long time afterward, dreams in which the knowledge of death +enters into the most remarkable compromises with the desire to have the +deceased alive again. At one time the deceased is dead and yet continues +to live on because he does not know that he is dead, and would die +completely only if he knew it; at another time he is half dead and half +alive, and each of these conditions has its particular signs. One cannot +simply label these dreams nonsense, for to come to life again is no more +impossible in the dream than, for example, it is in the fairy story, in +which it occurs as a very frequent fate. As far as I have been able to +analyze such dreams, I have always found them to be capable of a +sensible solution, but that the pious wish to recall the deceased to +life goes about expressing itself by the oddest methods. Let me tell you +such a dream, which seems queer and senseless enough, and analysis of +which will show you many of the points for which you have been prepared +by our theoretical discussions. The dream is that of a man who had lost +his father many years previously. + +"_Father is dead, but has been exhumed and looks badly. He goes on +living, and the dreamer does everything to prevent him from noticing +that fact._" Then the dream goes on to other things, apparently +irrelevant. + +The father is dead, that we know. That he was exhumed is not really +true, nor is the truth of the rest of the dream important. But the +dreamer tells us that when he came back from his father's funeral, one +of his teeth began to ache. He wanted to treat this tooth according to +the Jewish precept, "If thy tooth offend thee, pluck it out," and betook +himself to the dentist. But the latter said, "One does not simply pull a +tooth out, one must have patience with it. I shall inject something to +kill the nerve. Come again in three days and then I will take it out." + +"This 'taking it out'," says the dreamer suddenly, "is the exhuming." + +Is the dreamer right? It does not correspond exactly, only +approximately, for the tooth is not taken out, but something that has +died off is taken out of it. But after our other experiences we are +probably safe in believing that the dream work is capable of such +inaccuracies. It appears that the dreamer condensed, fused into one, his +dead father and the tooth that was killed but retained. No wonder then, +that in the manifest dream something senseless results, for it is +impossible for everything that is said of the tooth to fit the father. +What is it that serves as something intermediate between tooth and +father and makes this condensation possible? + +This interpretation must be correct, however, for the dreamer says that +he is acquainted with the saying that when one dreams of losing a tooth +it means that one is going to lose a member of his family. + +We know that this popular interpretation is incorrect, or at least is +correct only in a scurrilous sense. For that reason it is all the more +surprising to find this theme thus touched upon in the background of +other portions of the dream content. + +Without any further urging, the dreamer now begins to tell of his +father's illness and death as well as of his relations with him. The +father was sick a long time, and his care and treatment cost him, the +son, much money. And yet it was never too much for him, he never grew +impatient, never wished it might end soon. He boasts of his true Jewish +piety toward his father, of rigid adherence to the Jewish precepts. But +are you not struck by a contradiction in the thoughts of the dream? He +had identified tooth with father. As to the tooth he wanted to follow +the Jewish precept that carries out its own judgment, "pull it out if it +causes pain and annoyance." He had also been anxious to follow the +precept of the law with regard to his father, which in this case, +however, tells him to disregard trouble and expense, to take all the +burdens upon himself and to let no hostile intent arise toward the +object which causes the pain. Would not the agreement be far more +compelling if he had really developed feelings toward his father similar +to those about his sick tooth; that is, had he wished that a speedy +death should put an end to that superfluous, painful and expensive +existence? + +I do not doubt that this was really his attitude toward his father +during the latter's extended illness, and that his boastful assurances +of filial piety were intended to distract his attention from these +recollections. Under such circumstances, the death-wish directed toward +the parent generally becomes active, and disguises itself in phrases of +sympathetic consideration such as, "It would really be a blessed release +for him." But note well that we have here overcome an obstacle in the +latent dream thoughts themselves. The first part of these thoughts was +surely unconscious only temporarily, that is to say, during the +dream-work, while the inimical feelings toward the father might have +been permanently unconscious, dating perhaps from childhood, +occasionally slipping into consciousness, shyly and in disguise, during +his father's illness. We can assert this with even greater certainty of +other latent thoughts which have made unmistakable contributions to the +dream content. To be sure, none of these inimical feelings toward the +father can be discovered in the dream. But when we search a childhood +history for the root of such enmity toward the father, we recollect that +fear of the father arises because the latter, even in the earliest +years, opposes the boy's sex activities, just as he is ordinarily forced +to oppose them again, after puberty, for social motives. This relation +to the father applies also to our dreamer; there had been mixed with his +love for him much respect and fear, having its source in early sex +intimidation. + +From the onanism complex we can now explain the other parts of the +manifest dream. "_He looks badly_" does, to be sure, allude to another +remark of the dentist, that it looks badly to have a tooth missing in +that place; but at the same time it refers to the "looking badly" by +which the young man betrayed, or feared to betray, his excessive sexual +activity during puberty. It was not without lightening his own heart +that the dreamer transposed the bad looks from himself to his father in +the manifest content, an inversion of the dream work with which you are +familiar. "_He goes on living since then_," disguises itself with the +wish to have him alive again as well as with the promise of the dentist +that the tooth will be preserved. A very subtle phrase, however, is the +following: "The dreamer does everything _to prevent him_ (_the father_) +_from noticing the fact_," a phrase calculated to lead us to conclude +that he is dead. Yet the only meaningful conclusion is again drawn from +the onanism complex, where it is a matter of course for the young man to +do everything in order to hide his sex life from his father. Remember, +in conclusion, that we were constantly forced to interpret the so-called +tooth-ache dreams as dreams dealing with the subject of onanism and the +punishment that is feared. + +You now see how this incomprehensible dream came into being, by the +creation of a remarkable and misleading condensation, by the fact that +all the ideas emerge from the midst of the latent thought process, and +by the creation of ambiguous substitute formations for the most hidden +and, at the time, most remote of these thoughts. + +4. We have tried repeatedly to understand those prosaic and banal dreams +which have nothing foolish or repulsive about them, but which cause us +to ask: "Why do we dream such unimportant stuff?" So I shall give you a +new example of this kind, three dreams belonging together, all of which +were dreamed in the same night by a young woman. + +(_a_). "_She it going through the hall of her house and strikes her head +against the low-hanging chandelier, so that her head bleeds._" + +She has no reminiscence to contribute, nothing that really happened. The +information she gives leads in quite another direction. "You know how +badly my hair is falling out. Mother said to me yesterday, 'My child, if +it goes on like this, you will have a head like the cheek of a +buttock.'" Thus the head here stands for the other part of the body. We +can understand the chandelier symbolically without other help; all +objects that can be lengthened are symbols of the male organ. Thus the +dream deals with a bleeding at the lower end of the body, which results +from its collision with the male organ. This might still be ambiguous; +her further associations show that it has to do with her belief that +menstrual bleeding results from sexual intercourse with a man, a bit of +sexual theory believed by many immature girls. + +(_b_). "_She sees a deep hole in the vineyard which she knows was made +by pulling out a tree._" Herewith her remark that "_she misses the +tree_." She means that she did not see the tree in the dream, but the +same phrase serves to express another thought which symbolic +interpretation makes completely certain. The dream deals with another +bit of the infantile sex theory, namely, with the belief that girls +originally had the same genitals as boys and that the later conformation +resulted from castration (pulling out of a tree). + +(_c_). "_She is standing in front of the drawer of her writing table, +with which she is so familiar that she knows immediately if anybody has +been through it._" The writing-table drawer, like every drawer, chest, +or box, stands for the female genital. She knows that one can recognize +from the genital the signs of sexual intercourse (and, as she thinks, +even of any contact at all) and she has long been afraid of such a +conviction. I believe that the accent in all these dreams is to be laid +upon the idea of _knowing_. She is reminded of the time of her childish +sexual investigations, the results of which made her quite proud at the +time. + +5. Again a little bit of symbolism. But this time I must first describe +the psychic situation in a short preface. A man who spent the night with +a woman describes his partner as one of those motherly natures whose +desire for a child irresistibly breaks through during intercourse. The +circumstances of their meeting, however, necessitated a precaution +whereby the fertilizing discharge of semen is kept away from the womb. +Upon awaking after this night, the woman tells the following dream: + +"_An officer with a red cap follows her on the street. She flees from +him, runs up the staircase, and he follows after her. Breathlessly she +reaches her apartment and slams and locks the door behind her. He +remains outside and as she looks through a peephole she sees him sitting +outside on a bench and weeping._" + +You undoubtedly recognize in the pursuit by an officer with a red cap, +and the breathless stair climbing, the representation of the sexual act. +The fact that the dreamer locks herself in against the pursuer may serve +as an example of that inversion which is so frequently used in dreams, +for in reality it was the man who withdrew before the completion of the +act. In the same way her grief has been transposed to the partner, it is +he who weeps in the dream, whereby the discharge of the semen is also +indicated. + +You must surely have heard that in psychoanalysis it is always +maintained that all dreams have a sexual meaning. Now you yourselves are +in a position to form a judgment as to the incorrectness of this +reproach. You have become acquainted with the wish-fulfillment dreams, +which deal with the satisfying of the plainest needs, of hunger, of +thirst, of longing for freedom, the dreams of convenience and of +impatience and likewise the purely covetous and egoistic dreams. But +that the markedly distorted dreams preponderantly--though again not +exclusively--give expression to sex wishes, is a fact you may certainly +keep in mind as one of the results of psychoanalytical research. + +6. I have a special motive for piling up examples of the use of symbols +in dreams. At our first meeting I complained of how hard it is, when +lecturing on psychoanalysis, to demonstrate the facts in order to awaken +conviction; and you very probably have come to agree with me since then. +But the various assertions of psychoanalysis are so closely linked that +one's conviction can easily extend from one point to a larger part of +the whole. We might say of psychoanalysis that if we give it our little +finger it promptly demands the whole hand. Anyone who was convinced by +the explanation of errors can no longer logically disbelieve in all the +rest of psychoanalysis. A second equally accessible point of approach is +furnished by dream symbolism. I shall give you a dream, already +published, of a peasant woman, whose husband is a watchman and who has +certainly never heard anything about dream symbolism and psychoanalysis. +You may then judge for yourselves whether its explanation with the help +of sex symbols can be called arbitrary and forced. + +"_Then someone broke into her house and she called in fright for a +watchman. But the latter had gone companionably into a church together +with two 'beauties.' A number of steps led up to the church. Behind the +church was a hill, and on its crest a thick forest. The watchman was +fitted out with a helmet, gorget and a cloak. He had a full brown beard. +The two were going along peacefully with the watchman, had sack-like +aprons bound around their hips. There was a path from the church to the +hill. This was overgrown on both sides with grass and underbrush that +kept getting thicker and that became a regular forest on the crest of +the hill._" + +You will recognize the symbols without any difficulty. The male genital +is represented by a trinity of persons, the female by a landscape with a +chapel, hill and forest. Again you encounter steps as the symbol of the +sexual act. That which is called a hill in the dream has the same name +in anatomy, namely, _mons veneris_, the mount of Venus. + +7. I have another dream which can be solved by means of inserting +symbols, a dream that is remarkable and convincing because the dreamer +himself translated all the symbols, even though he had had no +preliminary knowledge of dream interpretation. This situation is very +unusual and the conditions essential to its occurrence are not clearly +known. + +"_He is going for a walk with his father in some place which must be the +Prater_,[35] _for one can see the rotunda and before it a smaller +building to which is anchored a captive balloon, which, however, seems +fairly slack. His father asks him what all that is for; he wonders at it +himself but explains it to his father. Then they come to a courtyard in +which there lies spread out a big sheet of metal. His father wants to +break off a big piece of it for himself but first looks about him to see +if anyone might see him. He says to him that all he needs to do is to +tell the inspector and then he can take some without more ado. There are +steps leading from this courtyard down into a pit, the walls of which +are upholstered with some soft material rather like a leather arm chair. +At the end of this pit is a longish platform and then a new pit +begins...._" + +The dreamer himself interprets as follows: "The rotunda is my genital, +the balloon in front of it is my penis, of whose slackness I have been +complaining." Thus one may translate in more detail, that the rotunda is +the posterior--a part of the body which the child regularly considers as +part of the genital--while the smaller building before it is the +scrotum. In the dream his father asks him what all that is for; that is +to say, he asks the object and function of the genitals. It is easy to +turn this situation around so that the dreamer is the one who does the +asking. Since no such questioning of the father ever took place in real +life, we must think of the thought of this dream as a wish or consider +it in the light of a supposition, "If I had asked father for sexual +enlightenment." We will find the continuation of this idea in another +place shortly. + +The courtyard, in which the sheet metal lies spread out, is not to be +considered primarily as symbolical but refers to the father's place of +business. For reasons of discretion I have substituted the "sheet metal" +for another material with which the father deals, without changing +anything in the literal wording of the dream. The dreamer entered his +father's business and took great offense at the rather dubious practices +upon which the profits depended to a large extent. For this reason the +continuation of the above idea of the dream might be expressed as "if I +had asked him, he would only have deceived me as he deceives his +customers." The dreamer himself gives us the second meaning of "breaking +off the metal," which serves to represent the commercial dishonesty. He +says it means masturbation. Not only have we long since become familiar +with this symbol, but the fact also is in agreement. The secrecy of +masturbation is expressed by means of its opposite--"It can be safely +done openly." Again our expectations are fulfilled by the fact that +masturbatory activity is referred to as the father's, just as the +questioning was in the first scene of the dream. Upon being questioned +he immediately gives the interpretation of the pit as the vagina on +account of the soft upholstering of its walls. I will add arbitrarily +that the "going down" like the more usual "going up" is meant to +describe the sexual intercourse in the vagina. + +Such details as the fact that the first pit ends in a platform and then +a new one begins, he explains himself as having been taken from his own +history. He practiced intercourse for a while, then gave it up on +account of inhibitions, and now hopes to be able to resume it as a +result of the treatment. + +8. The two following dreams are those of a foreigner, of very polygamous +tendencies, and I give them to you as proof for the claim that one's ego +appears in every dream, even in those in which it is disguised in the +manifest content. The trunks in the dream are a symbol for woman. + +(_a_). "_He is to take a trip, his luggage is placed on a carriage to +be taken to the station, and there are many trunks piled up, among which +are two big black ones like sample trunks. He says, consolingly, to +someone, 'Well, they are only going as far as the station with us.'_" + +In reality he does travel with a great deal of luggage, but he also +brings many tales of women with him when he comes for treatment. The two +black trunks stand for two dark women who play the chief part in his +life at present. One of them wanted to travel to Vienna after him, but +he telegraphed her not to, upon my advice. + +(_b_). A scene at the customs house: "_A fellow traveler opens his trunk +and says indifferently while puffing a cigarette, 'There's nothing in +here.' The customs official seems to believe him but delves into the +trunk once more and finds something particularly forbidden. The traveler +then says resignedly, 'Well, there's no help for it.'_" + +He himself is the traveler, I the customs official. Though otherwise +very frank in his confessions, he has on this occasion tried to conceal +from me a new relationship which he had struck up with a lady whom he +was justified in believing that I knew. The painful situation of being +convicted of this is transposed into a strange person so that he himself +apparently is not present in the dream. + +9. The following is an example of a symbol which I have not yet +mentioned: + +"_He meets his sister in company with two friends who are themselves +sisters. He extends his hand to both of them but not to his sister._" + +This is no allusion to a real occurrence. His thoughts instead lead him +back to a time when his observations made him wonder why a girl's +breasts develop so late. The two sisters, therefore, are the breasts. He +would have liked to touch them if only it had not been his sister. + +10. Let me add an example of a symbol of death in a dream: + +"_He is walking with two persons whose name he knows but has forgotten. +By the time he is awake, over a very high, steep iron bridge. Suddenly +the two people are gone and he sees a ghostly man with a cap, and clad +in white. He asks this man whether he is the telegraph messenger.... No. +Or is he a coachman? No. Then he goes on,_" and even in the dream he is +in great fear. After waking he continues the dream by a phantasy in +which the iron bridge suddenly breaks, and he plunges into the abyss. + +When the dreamer emphasizes the fact that certain individuals in a dream +are unknown, that he has forgotten their names, they are generally +persons standing in very close relationship to the dreamer. This dreamer +has two sisters; if it be true, as his dream indicates, that he wished +these two dead, then it would only be justice if the fear of death fell +upon him for so doing. In connection with the telegraph messenger he +remarks that such people always bring bad news. Judged by his uniform he +might also have been the lamp-lighter, who, however, also extinguishes +the lamps--in other words, as the spirit of death extinguishes the flame +of life. The coachman reminds him of Uhland's poem of King Karl's ocean +voyage and also of a dangerous lake trip with two companions in which he +played the role of the king in the poem. In connection with the iron +bridge he remembers a recent accident and the stupid saying "Life is a +suspension bridge." + +11. The following may serve as another example of the representation of +death in a dream: "_An unknown man leaves a black bordered visiting card +for him._" + +12. The following dream will interest you for several reasons, though it +is one arising from a neurotic condition among other things: + +"_He is traveling in a train. The train stops in an open field. He +thinks it means that there is going to be an accident, that he must save +himself, and he goes through all the compartments of the train and +strikes dead everyone whom he meets, conductors, engine drivers, etc._" + +In connection with this he tells a story that one of his friends told +him. An insane man was being transported in a private compartment in a +certain place in Italy, but through some mistake another traveler was +put in the same compartment. The insane man murdered his fellow +passenger. Thus he identifies himself with this insane person and bases +his right so to do upon a compulsive idea which was then torturing him, +namely, he must "do away with all persons who knew of his failings." But +then he himself finds a better motivation which gave rise to the dream. +The day before, in the theatre, he again saw the girl whom he had +expected to marry but whom he had left because she had given him cause +for jealousy. With a capacity for intense jealousy such as he has, he +would really be insane if he married. In other words, he considers her +so untrustworthy that out of jealousy he would have to strike dead all +the persons who stood in his way. Going through a series of rooms, of +compartments in this case, we have already learned to recognize as the +symbol of marriage (the opposite of monogamy). + +In connection with the train stopping in the open country and his fear +of an accident, he tells the following: Once, when he was traveling in a +train and it came to a sudden stop outside of a station, a young lady in +the compartment remarked that perhaps there was going to be a collision, +and that in that case the best precaution would be to pull one's legs +up. But this "legs up" had also played a role in the many walks and +excursions into the open which he had taken with the girl in that happy +period in their first love. Thus it is a new argument for the idea that +he would have to be crazy in order to marry her now. But from my +knowledge of the situation I can assume with certainty that the wish to +be as crazy as that nevertheless exists in him. + + + + +THIRTEENTH LECTURE + +THE DREAM + +_Archaic Remnants and Infantilism in the Dream_ + + +Let us revert to our conclusion that the dream-work, under the influence +of the dream censorship, transforms the latent dream thoughts into some +other form of expression. The latent thoughts are no other than the +conscious thoughts known to us in our waking hours; the new mode of +expression is incomprehensible to us because of its many-sided features. +We have said it extends back to conditions of our intellectual +development which we have long progressed beyond, to the language of +pictures, the symbol-representations, perhaps to those conditions which +were in force before the development of our language of thought. So we +called the mode of expression of the dream-work the archaic or +regressive. + +You may conclude that as a result of the deeper study of the dream-work +we gain valuable information about the rather unknown beginnings of our +intellectual development. I trust this will be true, but this work has +not, up to the present time, been undertaken. The antiquity into which +the dream-work carries us back is of a double aspect, firstly, the +individual antiquity, childhood; and, secondly (in so far as every +individual in his childhood lives over again in some more or less +abbreviated manner the entire development of the human race), also this +antiquity, the philogenetic. That we shall be able to differentiate +which part of the latent psychic proceeding has its source in the +individual, and which part in the philogenetic antiquity is not +improbable. In this connection it appears to me, for example, that the +symbolic relations which the individual has never learned are ground for +the belief that they should be regarded as a philogenetic inheritance. + +However, this is not the only archaic characteristic of the dream. You +probably all know from your own experiences the peculiar amnesia, that +is, loss of memory, concerning childhood. I mean the fact that the first +years, to the fifth, sixth or eighth, have not left the same traces in +our memory as have later experiences. One meets with individual persons, +to be sure, who can boast of a continuous memory from the very beginning +to the present day, but the other condition, that of a gap in the +memory, is far more frequent. I believe we have not laid enough stress +on this fact. The child is able to speak well at the age of two, it soon +shows that it can become adjusted to the most complicated psychic +situations, and makes remarks which years later are retold to it, but +which it has itself entirely forgotten. Besides, the memory in the early +years is more facile, because it is less burdened than in later years. +Nor is there any reason for considering the memory-function as a +particularly high or difficult psychic performance; in fact, the +contrary is true, and you can find a good memory in persons who stand +very low intellectually. + +As a second peculiarity closely related to the first, I must point out +that certain well-preserved memories, for the most part formatively +experienced, stand forth in this memory-void which surrounds the first +years of childhood and do not justify this hypothesis. Our memory deals +selectively with its later materials, with impressions which come to us +in later life. It retains the important and discards the unimportant. +This is not true of the retained childhood memories. They do not bespeak +necessarily important experiences of childhood, not even such as from +the viewpoint of the child need appear of importance. They are often so +banal and intrinsically so meaningless that we ask ourselves in wonder +why just these details have escaped being forgotten. I once endeavored +to approach the riddle of childhood amnesia and the interrupted memory +remnants with the help of analysis, and I arrived at the conclusion that +in the case of the child, too, only the important has remained in the +memory, except that by means of the process of condensation already +known to you, and especially by means of distortion, the important is +represented in the memory by something that appears unimportant. For +this reason I have called these childhood memories "disguise-memories," +memories used to conceal; by means of careful analysis one is able to +develop out of them everything that is forgotten. + +In psychoanalytic treatment we are regularly called upon to fill out the +infantile memory gaps, and in so far as the cure is to any degree +successful, we are able again to bring to light the content of the +childhood years thus clouded in forgetfulness. These impressions have +never really been forgotten, they have only been inaccessible, latent, +have belonged to the unconscious. But sometimes they bob up out of the +unconscious spontaneously, and, as a matter of fact, this is what +happens in dreams. It is apparent that the dream life knows how to find +the entrance to these latent, infantile experiences. Beautiful examples +of this occur in literature, and I myself can present such an example. I +once dreamed in a certain connection of a person who must have performed +some service for me, and whom I clearly saw. He was a one-eyed man, +short in stature, stout, his head deeply sunk into his neck. I concluded +from the content that he was a physician. Luckily I was able to ask my +mother, who was still living, how the physician in my birth-place, which +I left when I was three years old, looked, and I learned from her that +he had one eye, was short and stout, with his head sunk into his neck, +and also learned at what forgotten mishap he had been of service to me. +This control over the forgotten material of childhood years is, then, a +further archaic tendency of the dream. + +The same information may be made use of in another of the puzzles that +have presented themselves to us. You will recall how astonished people +were when we came to the conclusion that the stimuli which gave rise to +dreams were extremely bad and licentious sexual desires which have made +dream-censorship and dream-distortion necessary. After we have +interpreted such a dream for the dreamer and he, in the most favorable +circumstances does not attack the interpretation itself, he almost +always asks the question whence such a wish comes, since it seems +foreign to him and he feels conscious of just the opposite sensations. +We need not hesitate to point out this origin. These evil wish-impulses +have their origin in the past, often in a past which is not too far +away. It can be shown that at one time they were known and conscious, +even if they no longer are so. The woman, whose dream is interpreted to +mean that she would like to see her seventeen-year old daughter dead, +discovers under our guidance that she in fact at one time entertained +this wish. The child is the fruit of an unhappy marriage, which early +ended in a separation. Once, while the child was still in the womb, and +after a tense scene with her husband, she beat her body with her fists +in a fit of anger, in order to kill the child. How many mothers who +to-day love their children tenderly, perhaps too tenderly, received them +unwillingly, and at the time wished that the life within them would not +develop further; indeed, translated this wish into various actions, +happily harmless. The later death-wish against some loved one, which +seems so strange, also has its origin in early phases of the +relationship to that person. + +The father, the interpretation of whose dream shows that he wishes for +the death of his eldest and favorite child, must be reminded of the fact +that at one time this wish was no stranger to him. While the child was +still a suckling, this man, who was unhappy in his choice of a wife, +often thought that if the little being that meant nothing to him would +die, he would again be free, and would make better use of his freedom. A +like origin may be found for a large number of similar hate impulses; +they are recollections of something that belonged to the past, were once +conscious and played their parts in the psychic life. You will wish to +conclude therefrom that such wishes and such dreams cannot occur if such +changes in the relationship to a person have not taken place; if such +relationship was always of the same character. I am ready to admit this, +only wish to warn you that you are to take into consideration not the +exact terms of the dream, but the meaning thereof according to its +interpretation. It may happen that the manifest dream of the death of +some loved person has only made use of some frightful mask, that it +really means something entirely different, or that the loved person +serves as a concealing substitute for some other. + +But the same circumstances will call forth another, more difficult +question. You say: "Granted this death wish was present at some time or +other, and is substantiated by memory, yet this is no explanation. It is +long outlived, to-day it can be present only in the unconscious and as +an empty, emotionless memory, but not as a strong impulse. Why should it +be recalled by the dream at all!" This question is justified. The +attempt to answer it would lead us far afield and necessitate taking up +a position in one of the most important points of dream study. But I +must remain within the bounds of our discussion and practice restraint. +Prepare yourselves for the temporary abstention. Let us be satisfied +with the circumstantial proof that this outlived wish can be shown to +act as a dream stimulator and let us continue the investigation to see +whether or not other evil wishes admit of the same derivation out of the +past. + +Let us continue with the removal or death-wish which most frequently can +be traced back to the unbounded egoism of the dreamer. Such a wish can +very often be shown to be the inciting cause of the dream. As often as +someone has been in our way in life--and how often must this happen in +the complicated relationships of life--the dream is ready to do away +with him, be he father, mother, brother, sister, spouse, etc. We have +wondered sufficiently over this evil tendency of human nature, and +certainly were not predisposed to accept the authenticity of this result +of dream interpretation without question. After it has once been +suggested to us to seek the origin of such wishes in the past, we +disclose immediately the period of the individual past in which such +egoism and such wish-impulses, even as directed against those closest to +the dreamer, are no longer strangers. It is just in these first years of +childhood which later are hidden by amnesia, that this egoism frequently +shows itself in most extreme form, and from which regular but clear +tendencies thereto, or real remnants thereof, show themselves. For the +child loves itself first, and later learns to love others, to sacrifice +something of its ego for another. Even those persons whom the child +seems to love from the very beginning, it loves at the outset because it +has need of them, cannot do without them, in others words, out of +egoistical motives. Not until later does the love impulse become +independent of egoism. _In brief, egoism has taught the child to love._ + +In this connection it is instructive to compare the child's regard for +his brothers and sisters with that which he has for his parents. The +little child does not necessarily love his brothers and sisters, often, +obviously, he does not love them at all. There is no doubt that in them +he hates his rivals and it is known how frequently this attitude +continues for many years until maturity, and even beyond, without +interruption. Often enough this attitude is superseded by a more tender +feeling, or rather let us say glossed over, but the hostile feeling +appears regularly to have been the earlier. It is most noticeable in +children of from two and one-half to four or five years of age, when a +new little brother or sister arrives. The latter is usually received in +a far from friendly manner. Expressions such as "I don't want him! Let +the stork take him away again," are very usual. Subsequently every +opportunity is made use of to disparage the new arrival, and even +attempts to do him bodily harm, direct attacks, are not unheard of. If +the difference in age is less, the child learns of the existence of the +rival with intense psychic activity, and accommodates himself to the new +situation. If the difference in age is greater, the new child may awaken +certain sympathies as an interesting object, as a sort of living doll, +and if the difference is eight years or more, motherly impulses, +especially in the case of girls, may come into play. But to be truthful, +when we disclose in a dream the wish for the death of a mother or sister +we need seldom find it puzzling and may trace its origin easily to early +childhood, often enough, also, to the propinquity of later years. + +Probably no nurseries are free from mighty conflicts among the +inhabitants. The motives are rivalry for the love of the parents, +articles owned in common, the room itself. The hostile impulses are +called forth by older as well as younger brothers and sisters. I believe +it was Bernard Shaw who said: "If there is anyone who hates a young +English lady more than does her mother, it is her elder sister." There +is something about this saying, however, that arouses our antipathy. We +can, at a pinch, understand hatred of brothers and sisters, and rivalry +among them, but how may feelings of hatred force their way into the +relationship between daughter and mother, parents and children? + +This relationship is without doubt the more favorable, even when looked +at from the viewpoint of the child. This is in accord with our +expectation; we find it much more offensive for love between parents and +children to be lacking than for love between brothers and sisters. We +have, so to speak, made something holy in the first instance which in +the other case we permitted to remain profane. But daily observation can +show us how frequently the feelings between parents and their grown +children fail to come up to the ideal established by society, how much +enmity exists and would find expression did not accumulations of piety +and of tender impulse hold them back. The motives for this are +everywhere known and disclose a tendency to separate those of the same +sex, daughter from mother, father from son. The daughter finds in her +mother the authority that hems in her will and that is entrusted with +the task of causing her to carry out the abstention from sexual liberty +which society demands; in certain cases also she is the rival who +objects to being displaced. The same type of thing occurs in a more +glaring manner between father and son. To the son the father is the +embodiment of every social restriction, borne with such great +opposition; the father bars the way to freedom of will, to early sexual +satisfaction, and where there is family property held in common, to the +enjoyment thereof. Impatient waiting for the death of the father grows +to heights approximating tragedy in the case of a successor to the +throne. Less strained is the relationship between father and daughter, +mother and son. The latter affords the purest examples of an unalterable +tenderness, in no way disturbed by egoistical considerations. + +Why do I speak of these things, so banal and so well known? Because +there is an unmistakable disposition to deny their significance in life, +and to set forth the ideal demanded by society as a fulfilled thing much +oftener than it really is fulfilled. But it is preferable for psychology +to speak the truth, rather than that this task should be left to the +cynic. In any event, this denial refers only to actual life. The arts of +narrative and dramatic poetry are still free to make use of the motives +that result from a disturbance of this ideal. + +It is not to be wondered at that in the case of a large number of people +the dream discloses the wish for the removal of the parents, especially +the parent of the same sex. We may conclude that it is also present +during waking hours, and that it becomes conscious even at times when it +is able to mask itself behind another motive, as in the case of the +dreamer's sympathy for his father's unnecessary sufferings in example 3. +It is seldom that the enmity alone controls the relationship; much more +often it recedes behind more tender impulses, by which it is suppressed, +and must wait until a dream isolates it. That which the dream shows us +in enlarged form as a result of such isolation, shrinks together again +after it has been properly docketed in its relation to life as a result +of our interpretation (H. Sachs). But we also find this dream wish in +places where it has no connection with life, and where the adult, in his +waking hours, would never recognize it. The reason for this is that the +deepest and most uniform motive for becoming unfriendly, especially +between persons of the same sex, has already made its influence felt in +earliest childhood. + +I mean the love rivalry, with the especial emphasis of the sex +character. The son, even as a small child, begins to develop an especial +tenderness for his mother, whom he considers as his own property, and +feels his father to be a rival who puts into question his individual +possession; and in the same manner the little daughter sees in her +mother a person who is a disturbing element in her tender relationship +with her father, and who occupies a position that she could very well +fill herself. One learns from these observations to what early years +these ideas extend back--ideas which we designate as the +_Oedipus-complex_, because this myth realizes with a very slightly +weakened effect the two extreme wishes which grow out of the situation +of the son--to kill his father and take his mother to wife. I do not +wish to maintain that the Oedipus-complex covers entirely the relation +of the child to its parents; this relation can be much more complicated. +Furthermore, the Oedipus-complex is more or less well-developed; it may +even experience a reversal, but it is a customary and very important +factor in the psychic life of the child; and one tends rather to +underestimate than to overestimate its influence and the developments +which may follow from it. In addition, children frequently react to the +Oedipus-idea through stimulation by the parents, who in the placing of +their affection are often led by sex-differences, so that the father +prefers the daughter, the mother the son; or again, where the marital +affection has cooled, and this love is substituted for the outworn love. + +One cannot maintain that the world was very grateful to psychoanalytic +research for its discovery of the Oedipus-complex. On the contrary, it +called forth the strongest resistance on the part of adults; and persons +who had neglected to take part in denying this proscribed or tabooed +feeling-relationship later made good the omission by taking all value +from the complex through false interpretations. According to my +unchanged conviction there is nothing to deny and nothing to make more +palatable. One should accept the fact, recognized by the Greek myth +itself, as inevitable destiny. On the other hand, it is interesting that +this Oedipus-complex, cast out of life, was yielded up to poetry and +given the freest play. O. Rank has shown in a careful study how this +very Oedipus-complex has supplied dramatic literature with a large +number of motives in unending variations, derivations and disguises, +also in distorted forms such as we recognize to be the work of a censor. +We may also ascribe this Oedipus-complex to those dreamers who were so +fortunate as to escape in later life these conflicts with their parents, +and intimately associated therewith we find what we call the _castration +complex_, the reaction to sexual intimidation or restriction, ascribed +to the father, of early infantile sexuality. + +By applying our former researches to the study of the psychic life of +the child, we may expect to find that the origin of other forbidden +dream-wishes, of excessive sexual impulses, may be explained in the same +manner. Thus we are moved to study the development of sex-life in the +child also, and we discover the following from a number of sources: In +the first place, it is a mistake to deny that the child has a sexual +life, and to take it for granted that sexuality commences with the +ripening of the genitals at the time of puberty. On the contrary--the +child has from the very beginning a sexual life rich in content and +differing in numerous respects from that which is later considered +normal. What we call "perverse" in the life of the adult, differs from +the normal in the following respects: first, in disregard for the +dividing line of species (the gulf between man and animal); second, +being insensible to the conventional feeling of disgust; third, the +incest-limitation (being prohibited from seeking sexual satisfaction +with near blood-relations); fourth, homosexuality, and fifth, +transferring the role of the genitals to other organs and other parts of +the body. None of these limitations exist in the beginning, but are +gradually built up in the course of development and education. The +little child is free from them. He knows no unbridgable chasm between +man and animal; the arrogance with which man distinguishes himself from +the animal is a later acquisition. In the beginning he is not disgusted +at the sight of excrement, but slowly learns to be so disgusted under +the pressure of education; he lays no special stress on the difference +between the sexes, rather accredits to both the same genital formation; +he directs his earliest sexual desires and his curiosity toward those +persons closest to him, and who are dear to him for various reasons--his +parents, brothers and sisters, nurses; and finally, you may observe in +him that which later breaks through again, raised now to a love +attraction, viz., that he does not expect pleasure from his sexual +organs alone, but that many other parts of the body portray the same +sensitiveness, are the media of analogous sensations, and are able to +play the role of the genitals. The child may, then, be called +"polymorphus perverse," and if he makes but slight use of all these +impulses, it is, on the one hand, because of their lesser intensity as +compared to later life, and on the other hand, because the bringing up +of the child immediately and energetically suppresses all his sexual +expressions. This suppression continues in theory, so to say, since the +grown-ups are careful to control part of the childish sex-expressions, +and to disguise another part by misrepresenting its sexual nature until +they can deny the whole business. These are often the same persons who +discourse violently against all the sexual faults of the child and then +at the writing table defend the sexual purity of the same children. +Where children are left to themselves or are under the influence of +corruption, they often are capable of really conspicuous performances of +perverse sexual activity. To be sure, the grown-ups are right in looking +upon these things as "childish performances," as "play," for the child +is not to be judged as mature and answerable either before the bar of +custom or before the law, but these things do exist, they have their +significance as indications of innate characteristics as well as causes +and furtherances of later developments, they give us an insight into +childhood sex-life and thereby into the sex life of man. When we +rediscover in the background of our distorted dreams all these perverse +wish-impulses, it means only that the dream has in this field traveled +back to the infantile condition. + +Especially noteworthy among these forbidden wishes are those of incest, +i.e., those directed towards sexual intercourse with parents and +brothers and sisters. You know what antipathy society feels toward such +intercourse, or at least pretends to feel, and what weight is laid on +the prohibitions directed against it. The most monstrous efforts have +been made to explain this fear of incest. Some have believed that it is +due to evolutionary foresight on the part of nature, which is +psychically represented by this prohibition, because inbreeding would +deteriorate the race-character; others maintained that because of having +lived together since early childhood the sexual desire is diverted from +the persons under consideration. In both cases, furthermore, the +incest-avoidance would be automatically assured, and it would be +difficult to understand the need of strict prohibitions, which rather +point to the presence of a strong desire. Psychoanalytic research has +incontrovertibly shown that the incestuous love choice is rather the +first and most customary choice, and that not until later is there any +resistance, the source of which probably is to be found in the +individual psychology. + +Let us sum up what our plunge into child psychology has given us toward +the understanding of the dream. We found not only that the materials of +forgotten childhood experiences are accessible to the dream, but we saw +also that the psychic life of children, with all its peculiarities, its +egoism, its incestuous love-choice, etc., continues, for the purposes of +the dream, in the unconscious, and that the dream nightly leads us back +to this infantile stage. Thus it becomes more certain _that the +unconscious in our psychic life is the infantile_. The estranging +impression that there is so much evil in man, begins to weaken. This +frightful evil is simply the original, primitive, infantile side of +psychic life, which we may find in action in children, which we overlook +partly because of the slightness of its dimensions, partly because it is +lightly considered, since we demand no ethical heights of the child. +Since the dream regresses to this stage, it seems to have made apparent +the evil that lies in us. But it is only a deceptive appearance by which +we have allowed ourselves to be frightened. We are not so evil as we +might suspect from the interpretation of dreams. + +If the evil impulses of the dream are merely infantilism, a return to +the beginnings of our ethical development, since the dream simply makes +children of us again in thinking and in feeling, we need not be ashamed +of these evil dreams if we are reasonable. But being reasonable is only +a part of psychic life. Many things are taking place there that are not +reasonable, and so it happens that we are ashamed of such dreams, and +unreasonably. We turn them over to the dream-censorship, are ashamed and +angry if one of these dreams has in some unusual manner succeeded in +penetrating into consciousness in an undistorted form, so that we must +recognize it--in fact, we are at times just as ashamed of the distorted +dream as we would be if we understood it. Just think of the scandalized +opinion of the fine old lady about her uninterpreted dream of "services +of love." The problem is not yet solved, and it is still possible that +upon further study of the evil in the dream we shall come to some other +decision and arrive at another valuation of human nature. + +As a result of the whole investigation we grasp two facts, which, +however, disclose only the beginnings of new riddles, new doubts. First: +the regression of dream-work is not only formal, it is also of greater +import. It not only translates our thoughts into a primitive form of +expression, but it reawakens the peculiarities of our primitive psychic +life, the ancient predominance of the ego, the earliest impulses of our +sexual life, even our old intellectual property, if we may consider the +symbolic relations as such. And second: We must accredit all these +infantilisms which once were governing, and solely governing, to the +unconscious, about which our ideas now change and are broadened. +Unconscious is no longer a name for what is at that time latent, the +unconscious is an especial psychic realm with wish-impulses of its own, +with its own method of expression and with a psychic mechanism peculiar +to itself, all of which ordinarily are not in force. But the latent +dream-thoughts, which we have solved by means of the dream-interpretation, +are not of this realm. They are much more nearly the same as any we may +have thought in our waking hours. Still they are unconscious; how does +one solve this contradiction? We begin to see that a distinction must be +made. Something that originates in our conscious life, and that shares +its characteristics--we call it the day-remnants--combines in the +dream-fabrication with something else out of the realm of the +unconscious. Between these two parts the dream-work completes itself. +The influencing of the day-remnants by the unconscious necessitates +regression. This is the deepest insight into the nature of the dream +that we are able to attain without having searched through further +psychic realms. The time will soon come, however, when we shall clothe +the unconscious character of the latent dream-thought with another name, +which shall differentiate it from the unconscious out of the realm of +the infantile. + +We may, to be sure, propound the question: what forces the psychological +activity during sleep to such regression? Why do not the sleep +disturbing psychic stimuli do the job without it? And if they must, +because of the dream censorship, disguise themselves through old forms +of expression which are no longer comprehensible, what is the use of +giving new life to old, long-outgrown psychic stimuli, wishes and +character types, that is, why the material regression in addition to the +formal? The only satisfactory answer would be this, that only in this +manner can a dream be built up, that dynamically the dream-stimulus can +be satisfied only in this way. But for the time being we have no right +to give such an answer. + + + + +FOURTEENTH LECTURE + +THE DREAM + +_Wish Fulfillment_ + + +May I bring to your attention once more the ground we have already +covered? How, when we met with dream distortion in the application of +our technique, we decided to leave it alone for the time being, and set +out to obtain decisive information about the nature of the dream by way +of infantile dreams? How, then, armed with the results of this +investigation, we attacked dream distortion directly and, I trust, in +some measure overcame it? But we must remind ourselves that the results +we found along the one way and along the other do not fit together as +well as might be. It is now our task to put these two results together +and balance them against one another. + +From both sources we have seen that the dream-work consists essentially +in the transposition of thoughts into an hallucinatory experience. How +that can take place is puzzling enough, but it is a problem of general +psychology with which we shall not busy ourselves here. We have learned +from the dreams of children that the purpose of the dream-work is the +satisfaction of one of the sleep-disturbing psychic stimuli by means of +a wish fulfillment. We were unable to make a similar statement +concerning distorted dreams, until we knew how to interpret them. But +from the very beginning we expected to be able to bring the distorted +dreams under the same viewpoint as the infantile. The earliest +fulfillment of this expectation led us to believe that as a matter of +fact all dreams are the dreams of children and that they all work with +infantile materials, through childish psychic stimuli and mechanics. +Since we consider that we have conquered dream-distortion, we must +continue the investigation to see whether our hypothesis of +wish-fulfillment holds good for distorted dreams also. + +We very recently subjected a number of dreams to interpretation, but +left wish-fulfillment entirely out of consideration. I am convinced that +the question again and again occurred to you: "What about +wish-fulfillment, which ostensibly is the goal of dream-work?" This +question is important. It was, in fact, the question of our lay-critics. +As you know, humanity has an instinctive antagonism toward intellectual +novelties. The expression of such a novelty should immediately be +reduced to its narrowest limits, if possible, comprised in a commonplace +phrase. Wish-fulfillment has become that phrase for the new +dream-science. The layman asks: "Where is the wish-fulfillment?" +Immediately, upon having heard that the dream is supposed to be a +wish-fulfillment, and indeed, by the very asking of the question, he +answers it with a denial. He is at once reminded of countless +dream-experiences of his own, where his aversion to the dream was +enormous, so that the proposition of psychoanalytic dream-science seems +very improbable to him. It is a simple matter to answer the layman that +wish-fulfillment cannot be apparent in distorted dreams, but must be +sought out, so that it is not recognized until the dream is interpreted. +We know, too, that the wishes in these distorted dreams are prohibited +wishes, are wishes rejected by the censor and that their existence lit +the very cause of the dream distortion and the reason for the intrusion +of the dream censor. But it is hard to convince the lay-critic that one +may not seek the wish-fulfillment in the dream before the dream has been +interpreted. This is continually forgotten. His sceptical attitude +toward the theory of wish-fulfillment is really nothing more than a +consequence of dream-censorship, a substitute and a result of the denial +of this censored dream-wish. + +To be sure, even we shall find it necessary to explain to ourselves why +there are so many dreams of painful content, and especially dreams of +fear. We see here, for the first time, the problem of the affects in the +dream, a problem worthy of separate investigation, but which +unfortunately cannot be considered here. If the dream is a +wish-fulfillment, painful experiences ought to be impossible in the +dream; in that the lay-critics apparently are right. But three +complications, not thought of by them, must be taken into consideration. + +First: It may be that the dream work has not been successful in creating +a wish-fulfillment, so that a part of the painful effect of the +dream-thought is left over for the manifest dream. Analysis should then +show that these thoughts were far more painful even than the dream which +was built out of them. This much may be proved in each instance. We +admit, then, that the dream work has not achieved its purpose any more +than the drink-dream due to the thirst-stimulus has achieved its purpose +of satisfying the thirst. One remains thirsty, and must wake up in order +to drink. But it was a real dream, it sacrificed nothing of its nature. +We must say: "Although strength be lacking, let us praise the will to +do." The clearly recognizable intention, at least, remains praiseworthy. +Such cases of miscarriage are not unusual. A contributory cause is this, +that it is so much more difficult for the dream work to change affect +into content in its own sense; the affects often show great resistance, +and thus it happens that the dream work has worked the painful content +of the dream-thoughts over into a wish-fulfillment, while the painful +affect continues in its unaltered form. Hence in dreams of this type the +affect does not fit the content at all, and our critics may say the +dream is so little a wish-fulfillment that a harmless content may be +experienced as painful. In answer to this unintelligible remark we say +that the wish-fulfillment tendency in the dream-work appears most +prominent, because isolated, in just such dreams. The error is due to +the fact that he who does not know neurotics imagines the connection +between content and affect as all too intimate, and cannot, therefore, +grasp the fact that a content may be altered without any corresponding +change in the accompanying affect-expression. + +A second, far more important and more extensive consideration, equally +disregarded by the layman, is the following: A wish-fulfillment +certainly must bring pleasure--but to whom? Naturally, to him who has +the wish. But we know from the dreamer that he stands in a very special +relationship to his wishes. He casts them aside, censors them, he will +have none of them. Their fulfillment gives him no pleasure, but only the +opposite. Experience then shows that this opposite, which must still be +explained, appears in the form of fear. The dreamer in his relation to +his dream-wishes can be compared only to a combination of two persons +bound together by some strong common quality. Instead of further +explanations I shall give you a well-known fairy tale, in which you will +again find the relationships I have mentioned. A good fairy promises a +poor couple, husband and wife, to fulfill their first three wishes. They +are overjoyed, and determine to choose their three wishes with great +care. But the woman allows herself to be led astray by the odor of +cooking sausages emanating from the next cottage, and wishes she had a +couple of such sausages. Presto! they are there. This is the first +wish-fulfillment. Now the husband becomes angry, and in his bitterness +wishes that the sausages might hang from the end of her nose. This, too, +is accomplished, and the sausages cannot be removed from their new +location. So this is the second wish-fulfillment, but the wish is that +of the husband. The wife is very uncomfortable because of the +fulfillment of this wish. You know how the fairy tale continues. Since +both husband and wife are fundamentally one, the third wish must be that +the sausages be removed from the nose of the wife. We could make use of +this fairy tale any number of times in various connections; here it +serves only as an illustration of the possibility that the +wish-fulfillment for the one personality may lead to an aversion on the +part of the other, if the two do not agree with one another. + +It will not be difficult now to come to a better understanding of the +anxiety-dream. We shall make one more observation, then we shall come to +a conclusion to which many things lead. The observation is that the +anxiety dreams often have a content which is entirely free from +distortion and in which the censorship is, so to speak, eluded. The +anxiety dream is ofttimes an undisguised wish-fulfillment, not, to be +sure, of an accepted, but of a discarded wish. The anxiety development +has stepped into the place of the censorship. While one may assert of +the infantile dream that it is the obvious fulfillment of a wish that +has gained admittance, and of the distorted dream that it is the +disguised fulfillment of a suppressed wish, he must say of the anxiety +dream that the only suitable formula is this, that it is the obvious +fulfillment of a suppressed wish. Anxiety is the mark which shows that +the suppressed wish showed itself stronger than the censorship, that it +put through its wish-fulfillment despite the censorship, or was about to +put it through. We understand that what is wish-fulfillment for the +suppressed wish is for us, who are on the side of the dream-censor, only +a painful sensation and a cause for antagonism. The anxiety which +occurs in dreams is, if you wish, anxiety because of the strength of +these otherwise suppressed wishes. Why this antagonism arises in the +form of anxiety cannot be discovered from a study of the dream alone; +one must obviously study anxiety from other sources. + +What holds true for the undistorted anxiety dream we may assume to be +true also of those dreams which have undergone partial distortion, and +of the other dreams of aversion whose painful impressions very probably +denote approximations of anxiety. The anxiety dream is usually also a +dream that causes waking; we habitually interrupt sleep before the +suppressed wish of the dream has accomplished its entire fulfillment in +opposition to the censorship. In this case the execution of the dream is +unsuccessful, but this does not change its nature. We have likened the +dream to the night watchman or sleep-defender who wishes to protect our +sleep from being disturbed. The night watchman, too, sometimes wakes the +sleeper when he feels himself too weak to drive away the disturbance or +danger all by himself. Yet we are often able to remain asleep, even when +the dream begins to become suspicious, and begins to assume the form of +anxiety. We say to ourselves in our sleep: "It's only a dream," and we +sleep on. + +When does it happen that the dream-wish is in a position to overpower +this censorship? The conditions for this may be just as easily furnished +by the dream-wish as by the dream-censorship. The wish may, for unknown +reasons, become irresistible; but one gets the impression that more +frequently the attitude of the dream censorship is to blame for this +disarrangement in the relations of the forces. We have already heard +that the censorship works with varying intensity in each single +instance, that it handles each element with a different degree of +strictness; now we should like to add the proposition that it is an +extremely variable thing and does not exert equal force on every +occasion against the same objectionable element. If on occasion the +censorship feels itself powerless with respect to a dream-wish which +threatens to over-ride it, then, instead of distortion, it makes use of +the final means at its disposal, it destroys the sleep condition by the +development of anxiety. + +And now it occurs to us that we know absolutely nothing yet as to why +these evil, depraved wishes are aroused just at night, in order that +they may disturb our sleep. The answer can only be an assumption which +is based on the nature of the condition of sleep. During the day the +heavy pressure of a censorship weighs upon these wishes, making it +impossible, as a rule, for them to express themselves in any manner. At +night, evidently, this censorship is withdrawn for the benefit of the +single sleep-wish, in the same manner as are all the other interests of +psychic life, or at least placed in a position of very minor importance. +The forbidden wishes must thank this noctural deposition of the censor +for being able to raise their heads again. There are nervous persons +troubled with insomnia who admit that their sleeplessness was in the +beginning voluntary. They did not trust themselves to fall asleep, +because they were afraid of their dreams, that is, of the results due to +a slackening of the censorship. So you can readily see that this +withdrawal of the censor does not in itself signify rank carelessness. +Sleep weakens our power to move; our evil intentions, even if they do +begin to stir, can accomplish nothing but a dream, which for practical +purposes is harmless, and the highly sensible remark of the sleepers, a +night-time remark indeed, but not a part of the dream life, "it is only +a dream," is reminiscent of this quieting circumstance. So let us grant +this, and sleep on. + +If, thirdly, you recall the concept that the dreamer, struggling against +his wishes, is to be compared to a summation of two separate persons, in +some manner closely connected, you will be able to grasp the further +possibility of how a thing which is highly unpleasant, namely, +punishment, may be accomplished by wish-fulfillment. Here again the +fairy tale of the three wishes can be of service to us: the sausages on +the plate are the direct wish-fulfillment of the first person, the +woman; the sausages at the end of her nose are the wish-fulfillment of +the second person, the husband, but at the same time the punishment for +the stupid wish of the woman. Among the neurotics we find again the +motivation of the third wish, which remains in fairy tales only. There +are many such punishment-tendencies in the psychic life of man; they are +very powerful, and we may make them responsible for some of our painful +dreams. Perhaps you now say that at this rate, not very much of the +famed wish-fulfillment is left. But upon closer view you will admit +that you are wrong. In contrast to the many-sided to be discussed, of +what the dream might be--and, according to numerous authors, is--the +solution (wish-fulfillment, anxiety-fulfillment, punishment-fulfillment) +is indeed very restricted. That is why anxiety is the direct antithesis +of the wish, why antitheses are so closely allied in association and why +they occur together in the unconscious, as we have heard; and that is +why punishment, too, is a wish-fulfillment of the other, the censoring +person. + +On the whole, then, I have made no concessions to your protestation +against the theory of wish-fulfillment. We are bound, however, to +establish wish-fulfillment in every dream no matter how distorted, and +we certainly do not wish to withdraw from this task. Let us go back to +the dream, already interpreted, of the three bad theatre tickets for 1 +Fl. 50 Kr. from which we have already learned so much. I hope you still +remember it. A lady who tells her husband during the day that her friend +Elise, only three months younger than herself, has become engaged, +dreams she is in the theatre with her husband. Half the parquet is +empty. Her husband says, "Elise and her fiance wanted to go to the +theatre, too, but couldn't because they could get only poor seats, three +for one gulden and a half." She was of the opinion that that wasn't so +unfortunate. We discovered that the dream-thought originated in her +discontent at having married too soon, and the fact that she was +dissatisfied with her husband. We may be curious as to the manner in +which these thoughts have been worked over into a wish-fulfillment, and +where their traces may be found in the manifest content. Now we know +that the element "too soon, premature" is eliminated from the dream by +the censor. The empty parquet is a reference to it. The puzzling "three +for 1 Fl. 50 Kr." is now, with the help of symbolism which we have since +learned, more understandable.[36] The "3" really means a husband, and +the manifest element is easy to translate: to buy a husband for her +dowry ("I could have bought one ten times better for my dowry"). The +marriage is obviously replaced by going into the theatre. "Buying the +tickets too soon" directly takes the place of the premature marriage. +This substitution is the work of the wish-fulfillment. Our dreamer was +not always so dissatisfied with her early marriage as she was on the day +she received news of the engagement of her friend. At the time she was +proud of her marriage and felt herself more favored than her friend. +Naive girls have frequently confided to their friends after their +engagement that soon they, too, will be able to go to all the plays +hitherto forbidden, and see everything. The desire to see plays, the +curiosity that makes its appearance here, was certainly in the beginning +directed towards sex matters, the sex-life, especially the sex-life of +the parents, and then became a strong motive which impelled the girl to +an early marriage. In this way the visit to the theatre becomes an +obvious representative substitute for being married. In the momentary +annoyance at her early marriage she recalls the time when the early +marriage was a wish-fulfillment for her, because she had satisfied her +curiosity; and she now replaces the marriage, guided by the old +wish-impulse, with the going to the theatre. + +We may say that we have not sought out the simplest example as proof of +a hidden wish-fulfillment. We would have to proceed in analogous manner +with other distorted dreams. I cannot do that for you, and simply wish +to express the conviction that it will be successful everywhere. But I +wish to continue along this theoretical line. Experience has taught me +that it is one of the most dangerous phases of the entire dream science, +and that many contradictions and misunderstandings are connected +therewith. Besides, you are perhaps still under the impression that I +have retracted a part of my declaration, in that I said that the dream +is a fulfilled wish or its opposite, an actualized anxiety or +punishment, and you will think this is the opportunity to compel further +reservations of me. I have also heard complaints that I am too abrupt +about things which appear evident to me, and that for that reason I do +not present the thing convincingly enough. + +If a person has gone thus far with us in dream-interpretation, and +accepted everything that has been offered, it is not unusual for him to +call a halt at wish-fulfillment, and say, "Granted that in every +instance the dream has a meaning, and that this meaning can be disclosed +by psychoanalytic technique, why must this dream, despite all evidence +to the contrary, always be forced into the formula of wish-fulfillment? +Why might not the meaning of this nocturnal thought be as many-sided as +thought is by day; why may not the dream in one case express a fulfilled +wish, in another, as you yourself say, the opposite thereof, an +actualized anxiety; or why may it not correspond to a resolution, a +warning, a reflection with its pro's and con's, a reproach, a goad to +conscience, an attempt to prepare oneself for a contemplated +performance, etc? Why always nothing more than a wish, or at best, its +opposite?" + +One might maintain that a difference of opinion on these points is of no +great importance, so long as we are at one otherwise. We might say that +it is enough to have discovered the meaning of the dream, and the way to +recognize it; that it is a matter of no importance, if we have too +narrowly limited this meaning. But this is not so. A misunderstanding of +this point strikes at the nature of our knowledge of the dream, and +endangers its worth for the understanding of neuroses. Then, too, that +method of approach which is esteemed in the business world as genteel is +out of place in scientific endeavors, and harmful. + +My first answer to the question why the dream may not be many-sided in +its meaning is the usual one in such instances: I do not know why it +should not be so. I would not be opposed to such a state of affairs. As +far as I am concerned, it could well be true. Only one small matter +prevents this broader and more comfortable explanation of the +dream--namely, that as a matter of fact it isn't so. My second answer +emphasizes the fact that the assumption that the dream corresponds to +numerous forms of thought and intellectual operations is no stranger to +me. In a story about a sick person I once reported a dream that occurred +three nights running and then stopped, and I explained this suppression +by saying that the dream corresponded to a resolution which had no +reason to recur after having been carried out. More recently I published +a dream which corresponded to a confession. How is it possible for me to +contradict myself, and maintain that the dream is always only a +fulfilled wish? + +I do that, because I do not wish to admit a stupid misunderstanding +which might cost us the fruits of all our labors with regard to the +dream, a misunderstanding which confuses the dream with the latent +dream-thought and affirms of the dream something that applies +specifically and solely to the latter. For it is entirely correct that +the dream can represent, and be replaced by all those things we +enumerated: a resolution, a warning, reflection, preparation, an attempt +to solve a problem, etc. But if you look closely, you will recognize +that all these things are true only of the latent dream thoughts, which +have been changed about in the dream. You learn from the interpretation +of the dreams that the person's unconscious thinking is occupied with +such resolutions, preparations, reflections, etc., out of which the +dream-work then builds the dream. If you are not at the time interested +in the dream-work, but are very much interested in the unconscious +thought-work of man, you eliminate the dream-work, and say of the dream, +for all practical purposes quite correctly, that it corresponds to a +warning, a resolution, etc. This often happens in psychoanalytic +activity. People endeavor for the most part only to destroy the dream +form, and to substitute in its place in the sequence the latent thoughts +out of which the dream was made. + +Thus we learn, from the appreciation of the latent dream-thoughts, that +all the highly complicated psychic acts we have enumerated can go on +unconsciously, a result as wonderful as it is confusing. + +But to return, you are right only if you admit that you have made use of +an abbreviated form of speech, and if you do not believe that you must +connect the many-sidedness we have mentioned with the essence of the +dream. When you speak of the dream you must mean either the manifest +dream, i.e., the product of the dream-work, or at most the dream-work +itself--that psychic occurrence which forms the manifest dream out of +the latent dream thought. Any other use of the word is a confusion of +concept that can only cause trouble. If your assertions refer to the +latent thoughts back of the dream, say so, and do not cloud the problem +of the dream by using such a faulty means of expression. The latent +dream thoughts are the material which the dream-work remolds into the +manifest dream. Why do you insist upon confusing the material with the +work that makes use of it? Are you any better off than those who knew +only the product of this work, and could explain neither where it came +from nor how it was produced? + +The only essential thing in the dream is the dream-work that has had +its influence upon the thought-material. We have no right to disregard +it theoretically even if, in certain practical situations, we may fail +to take it into account. Analytic observation, too, shows that the +dream-work never limits itself to translating these thoughts in the +archaic or regressive mode of expression known to you. Rather it +regularly adds something which does not belong to the latent thoughts of +waking, but which is the essential motive of dream-formation. This +indispensable ingredient is at the same time the unconscious wish, for +the fulfillment of which the dream content is rebuilt. The dream may be +any conceivable thing, if you take into account only the thoughts +represented by it, warning, resolution, preparation, etc.; it is also +always the fulfillment of an unknown wish, and it is this only if you +look upon it as the result of the dream-work. A dream is never itself a +resolution, a warning, and no more--but always a resolution, etc., +translated into an archaic form of expression with the help of the +unconscious wish, and changed about for the purpose of fulfilling this +wish. The one characteristic, wish-fulfillment, is constant; the other +may vary; it may itself be a wish at times, so that the dream, with the +aid of an unconscious wish, presents as fulfilled a latent wish out of +waking hours. + +I understand all this very well, but I do not know whether or not I +shall be successful in making you understand it as well. I have +difficulties, too, in proving it to you. This cannot be done without, on +the one hand, careful analysis of many dreams, and on the other hand +this most difficult and most important point of our conception of the +dream cannot be set forth convincingly without reference to things to +follow. Can you, in fact, believe that taking into consideration the +intimate relationship of all things, one is able to penetrate deeply +into the nature of one thing without having carefully considered other +things of a very similar nature? Since we know nothing as yet about the +closest relatives of the dream, neurotic symptoms, we must once again +content ourselves with what has already been accomplished. I want to +explain one more example to you, and propose a new viewpoint. + +Let us again take up that dream to which we have several times recurred, +the dream of the three theatre tickets for 1 Fl. 50 Kr. I can assure you +that I took this example quite unpremeditatedly at first. You are +acquainted with the latent dream thoughts: annoyance, upon hearing that +her friend had just now become engaged, at the thought that she herself +had hurried so to be married; contempt for her husband; the idea that +she might have had a better one had she waited. We also know the wish, +which made a dream out of these thoughts--it is "curiosity to see," +being permitted to go to the theatre, very likely a derivation from the +old curiosity finally to know just what happens when one is married. +This curiosity, as is well known, regularly directs itself in the case +of children to the sex-life of the parents. It is an impulse of +childhood, and in so far as it persists later, an impulse whose roots +reach back into the infantile. But that day's news played no part in +awaking the curiosity, it awoke only annoyance and regret. This wish +impulse did not have anything to do immediately with the latent dream +thoughts, and we could fit the result of the dream interpretation into +the analysis without considering the wish impulse at all. But then, the +annoyance itself was not capable of producing the dream; a dream could +not be derived from the thought: "It was stupid to marry so soon," +except by reviving the old wish finally to see what happens when one is +married. The wish then formed the dream content, in that it replaced +marriage by going to the theatre, and gave it the form of an earlier +wish-fulfillment: "so now I may go to the theatre and see all the +forbidden things, and you may not. I am married and you must wait." In +such a manner the present situation was transposed into its opposite, an +old triumph put into the place of the recent defeat. Added thereto was a +satisfied curiosity amalgamated with a satisfied egoistic sense of +rivalry. This satisfaction determines the manifest dream content in +which she really is sitting in the theatre, and her friend was unable to +get tickets. Those bits of dream content are affixed to this +satisfaction situation as unfitting and inexplicable modifications, +behind which the latent dream thoughts still hide. Dream interpretation +must take into consideration everything that serves toward the +representation of the wish-fulfillment and must reconstruct from these +suggestions the painful latent dream-thought. + +The observation I now wish to make is for the purpose of drawing your +attention to the latent, dream thoughts, now pushed to the fore. I beg +of you not to forget first, that the dreamer is unconscious of them, +second, they are entirely logical and continuous, so that they may be +understood as a comprehensible reaction to the dream occasion, third, +that they may have the value of any desired psychic impulse or +intellectual operation. I shall now designate these thoughts more +forcibly than before as "day-remnants"; the dreamer may acknowledge them +or not. I now separate day-remnants and latent dream thoughts in +accordance with our previous usage of calling everything that we +discover in interpreting the dream "latent dream thoughts," while the +day-remnants are only a part of the latent dream thoughts. Then our +conception goes to show that something additional has been added to the +day-remnants, something which also belonged to the unconscious, a strong +but suppressed wish impulse, and it is this alone that has made possible +the dream fabrication. The influence of this wish impulse on the +day-remnants creates the further participation of the latent dream +thoughts, thoughts which no longer appear rational and understandable in +relation to waking life. + +In explaining the relationship of the day-remnants to the unconscious +wish I have made use of a comparison which I can only repeat here. Every +undertaking requires a capitalist, who defrays the expenses, and an +entrepreneur, who has the idea and understands how to carry it out. The +role of the capitalist in the dream fabrication is always played by the +unconscious wish; it dispenses the psychic energy for dream-building. +The actual worker is the day-remnant, which determines how the +expenditure is to be made. Now the capitalist may himself have the idea +and the particularized knowledge, or the entrepreneur may have the +capital. This simplifies the practical situation, but makes its +theoretical comprehension more difficult. In economics we always +distinguish between the capitalist and the entrepreneur aspect in a +single person, and thus we reconstruct the fundamental situation which +was the point of departure for our comparison. In dream-fabrication the +same variations occur. I shall leave their further development to you. + +We can go no further here, for you have probably long been disturbed by +a reflection which deserves to be heard. Are the day-remnants, you ask, +really unconscious in the same sense as the unconscious wish which is +essential to making them suitable for the dream? You discern correctly. +Here lies the salient point of the whole affair. They are not +unconscious in the same sense. The dream wish belongs to a different +unconsciousness, that which we have recognized as of infantile origin, +fitted out with special mechanisms. It is entirely appropriate to +separate these two types of unconsciousness and give them different +designations. But let us rather wait until we have become acquainted +with the field of neurotic symptoms. If people say one unconsciousness +is fantastic, what will they say when we acknowledge that we arrived at +our conclusions by using two kinds of unconsciousness? + +Let us stop here. Once more you have heard something incomplete; but is +there not hope in the thought that this science has a continuation which +will be brought to light either by ourselves or by those to follow? And +have not we ourselves discovered a sufficient number of new and +surprising things? + + + + +FIFTEENTH LECTURE + +THE DREAM + +_Doubtful Points and Criticism_ + + +Let us not leave the subject of dreams before we have touched upon the +most common doubts and uncertainties which have arisen in connection +with the new ideas and conceptions we have discussed up to this point. +The more attentive members of the audience probably have already +accumulated some material bearing upon this. + +1. You may have received the impression that the results of our work of +interpretation of the dream have left so much that is uncertain, despite +our close adherence to technique, that a true translation of the +manifest dream into the latent dream thoughts is thereby rendered +impossible. In support of this you will point out that in the first +place, one never knows whether a specific element of the dream is to be +taken literally or symbolically, since those elements which are used +symbolically do not, because of that fact, cease to be themselves. But +if one has no objective standard by which to decide this, the +interpretation is, as to this point, left to the discretion of the dream +interpreter. Moreover, because of the way in which the dream work +combines opposites, it is always uncertain whether a specific dream +element is to be taken in the positive or the negative sense, whether it +is to be understood as itself or as its opposite. Hence this is another +opportunity for the exercise of the interpreter's discretion. In the +third place, in consequence of the frequency with which every sort of +inversion is practised in the dream, the dream interpreter is at liberty +to assume such an inversion at any point of the dream he pleases. And +finally you will say, you have heard that one is seldom sure that the +interpretation which is found is the only possible one. There is danger +of overlooking a thoroughly admissible second interpretation of the +same dream. Under these circumstances, you will conclude there is a +scope left for the discretion of the interpreter, the breadth of which +seems incompatible with the objective accuracy of the results. Or you +may also conclude that the fault does not rest with the dream but that +the inadequacies of our dream interpretation result from errors in our +conceptions and hypotheses. + +All your material is irreproachable, but I do not believe that it +justifies your conclusions in two directions, namely, that dream +interpretation as we practice it is sacrificed to arbitrariness and that +the deficiency of our results makes the justification of our method +doubtful. If you will substitute for the arbitrariness of the +interpreter, his skill, his experience, his comprehension, I agree with +you. We shall surely not be able to dispense with some such personal +factor, particularly not in difficult tasks of dream interpretation. But +this same state of affairs exists also in other scientific occupations. +There is no way in which to make sure that one man will not wield a +technique less well, or utilize it more fully, than another. What might, +for example, impress you as arbitrariness in the interpretation of +symbols, is compensated for by the fact that as a rule the connection of +the dream thoughts among themselves, the connection of the dream with +the life of the dreamer, and the whole psychic situation in which the +dream occurs, chooses just one of the possible interpretations advanced +and rejects the others as useless for its purposes. The conclusion drawn +from the inadequacies of dream interpretation, that our hypotheses are +wrong, is weakened by an observation which shows that the ambiguity and +indefiniteness of the dream is rather characteristic and necessarily to +be expected. + +Recollect that we said that the dream work translates the dream thoughts +into primitive expressions analogous to picture writing. All these +primitive systems of expression are, however, subject to such +indefiniteness and ambiguities, but it does not follow that we are +justified in doubting their usefulness. You know that the fusion of +opposites by the dream-work is analogous to the so-called "antithetical +meaning of primitive words," in the oldest languages. The philologist, +R. Abel (1884), whom we have to thank for this point of view, admonishes +us not to believe that the meaning of the communication which one +person made to another when using such ambiguous words was necessarily +unclear. Tone and gesture used in connection with the words would have +left no room for doubt as to which of the two opposites the speaker +intended to communicate. In writing, where gesture is lacking, it was +replaced by a supplementary picture sign not intended to be spoken, as +for example by the picture of a little man squatting lazily or standing +erect, according to whether the ambiguous hieroglyphic was to mean +"weak" or "strong." It was in this way that one avoided any +misunderstanding despite the ambiguity of the sounds and signs. + +We recognize in the ancient systems of expression, e.g., the writings of +those oldest languages, a number of uncertainties which we would not +tolerate in our present-day writings. Thus in many Semitic writings only +the consonants of words are indicated. The reader had to supply the +omitted vowels according to his knowledge and the context. Hieroglyphic +writing does not proceed in exactly this way, but quite similarly, and +that is why the pronunciation of old Egyptian has remained unknown to +us. The holy writings of the Egyptians contain still other +uncertainties. For example, it is left to the discretion of the writer +whether or not he shall arrange the pictures from right to left or from +left to right. To be able to read we have to follow the rule that we +must depend upon the faces of the figures, birds, and the like. The +writer, however, could also arrange the picture signs in vertical rows, +and in inscriptions on small objects he was guided by considerations of +beauty and proportion further to change the order of the signs. Probably +the most confusing feature of hieroglyphic writing is to be found in the +fact that there is no space between words. The pictures stretch over the +page at uniform distances from one another, and generally one does not +know whether a sign belongs to what has gone before or is the beginning +of a new word. Persian cuneiform writing, on the other hand, makes use +of an oblique wedge sign to separate the words. + +The Chinese tongue and script is exceedingly old, but still used by four +hundred million people. Please do not think I understand anything about +it. I have only informed myself concerning it because I hoped to find +analogies to the indefinite aspects of the dream. Nor was I +disappointed. The Chinese language is filled with so many vagaries that +it strikes terror into our hearts. It consists, as is well known, of a +number of syllable sounds which are spoken singly or are combined in +twos. One of the chief dialects has about four hundred such sounds. Now +since the vocabulary of this dialect is estimated at about four thousand +words, it follows that every sound has on an average of ten different +meanings, some less but others, consequently, more. Hence there are a +great number of ways of avoiding a multiplicity of meaning, since one +cannot guess from the context alone which of the ten meanings of the +syllable sound the speaker intended to convey to the hearer. Among them +are the combining of two sounds into a compounded word and the use of +four different "tones" with which to utter these syllables. For our +purposes of comparison, it is still more interesting to note that this +language has practically no grammar. It is impossible to say of a +one-syllable word whether it is a noun, a verb, or an adjective, and we +find none of those changes in the forms of the words by means of which +we might recognize sex, number, ending, tense or mood. The language, +therefore, might be said to consist of raw material, much in the same +manner as our thought language is broken up by the dream work into its +raw materials when the expressions of relationship are left out. In the +Chinese, in all cases of vagueness the decision is left to the +understanding of the hearer, who is guided by the context. I have +secured an example of a Chinese saying which, literally translated, +reads: "Little to be seen, much to wonder at." That is not difficult to +understand. It may mean, "The less a man has seen, the more he finds to +wonder at," or, "There is much to admire for the man who has seen +little." Naturally, there is no need to choose between these two +translations, which differ only in grammar. Despite these uncertainties, +we are assured, the Chinese language is an extraordinarily excellent +medium for the expression of thought. Vagueness does not, therefore, +necessarily lead to ambiguity. + +Now we must certainly admit that the condition of affairs is far less +favorable in the expression-system of the dream than in these ancient +languages and writings. For, after all, these latter are really designed +for communication, that is to say, they were always intended to be +understood, no matter in what way and with what aids. But it is just +this characteristic which the dream lacks. The dream does not want to +tell anyone anything, it is no vehicle of communication, it is, on the +contrary, constructed so as not to be understood. For that reason we +must not be surprised or misled if we should discover that a number of +the ambiguities and vagaries of the dream do not permit of +determination. As the one specific gain of our comparison, we have only +the realization that such uncertainties as people tried to make use of +in objecting to the validity of our dream interpretation, are rather the +invariable characteristic of all primitive systems of expression. + +How far the dream can really be understood can be determined only by +practice and experience. My opinion is, that that is very far indeed, +and the comparison of results which correctly trained analysts have +gathered confirms my view. The lay public, even that part of the lay +public which is interested in science, likes, in the face of the +difficulties and uncertainties of a scientific task, to make what I +consider an unjust show of its superior scepticism. Perhaps not all of +you are acquainted with the fact that a similar situation arose in the +history of the deciphering of the Babylonian-Assyrian inscriptions. +There was a period then when public opinion went far in declaring the +decipherors of cuneiform writing to be visionaries and the whole +research a "fraud." But in the year 1857 the Royal Asiatic Society made +a decisive test. It challenged the four most distinguished decipherors +of cuneiform writing, Rawlinson, Hincks, Fox Talbot and Oppert, each to +send to it in a sealed envelope his independent translation of a newly +discovered inscription, and the Society was then able to testify, after +having made a comparison of the four readings, that their agreement was +sufficiently marked to justify confidence in what already had been +accomplished, and faith in further progress. At this the mockery of the +learned lay world gradually came to an end and the confidence in the +reading of cuneiform documents has grown appreciably since then. + +2. A second series of objections is firmly grounded in the impression +from which you too probably are not free, that a number of the solutions +of dream interpretations which we find it necessary to make seem forced, +artificial, far-fetched, in other words, violent or even comical or +jocose. These comments are so frequent that I shall choose at random the +latest example which has come to my attention. Recently, in free +Switzerland, the director of a boarding-school was relieved of his +position on account of his active interest in psychoanalysis. He raised +objections and a Berne newspaper made public the judgment of the school +authorities. I quote from that article some sentences which apply to +psychoanalysis: "Moreover, we are surprised at the many far-fetched and +artificial examples as found in the aforementioned book of Dr. Pfister +of Zurich.... Thus, it certainly is a cause of surprise when the +director of a boarding-school so uncritically accepts all these +assertions and apparent proofs." These observations are offered as the +decisions of "one who judges calmly." I rather think this calm is +"artificial." Let us examine these remarks more closely in the hope that +a little reflection and knowledge of the subject can be no detriment to +calm judgment. + +It is positively refreshing to see how quickly and unerringly some +individuals can judge a delicate question of abstruse psychology by +first impressions. The interpretations seem to them far-fetched and +forced, they do not please them, so the interpretations are wrong and +the whole business of interpretation amounts to nothing. No fleeting +thought ever brushes the other possibility, that these interpretations +must appear as they are for good reasons, which would give rise to the +further question of what these good reasons might be. + +The content thus judged generally relates to the results of +displacement, with which you have become acquainted as the strongest +device of the dream censor. It is with the help of displacements that +the dream censor creates substitute-formations which we have designated +as allusions. But they are allusions which are not easily recognized as +such, and from which it is not easy to find one's way back to the +original and which are connected with this original by means of the +strangest, most unusual, most superficial associations. In all of these +cases, however, it is a question of matters which are to be hidden, +which were intended for concealment; this is what the dream censor aims +to do. We must not expect to find a thing that has been concealed in its +accustomed place in the spot where it belongs. In this respect the +Commissions for the Surveillance of Frontiers now in office are more +cunning than the Swiss school authorities. In their search for documents +and maps they are not content to search through portfolios and letter +cases but they also take into account the possibility that spies and +smugglers might carry such severely proscribed articles in the most +concealed parts of their clothing, where they certainly do not belong, +as for example between the double soles of their boots. If the concealed +objects are found in such a place, they certainly are very far-fetched, +but nevertheless they have been "fetched." + +If we recognize that the most remote, the most extraordinary +associations between the latent dream element and its manifest +substitute are possible, associations appearing ofttimes comical, +ofttimes witty, we follow in so doing a wealth of experience derived +from examples whose solutions we have, as a rule, not found ourselves. +Often it is not possible to give such interpretations from our own +examples. No sane person could guess the requisite association. The +dreamer either gives us the translation with one stroke by means of his +immediate association--he can do this, for this substitute formation was +created by his mind--or he provides us with so much material that the +solution no longer demands any special astuteness but forces itself upon +us as inevitable. If the dreamer does not help us in either of these two +ways, then indeed the manifest element in question remains forever +incomprehensible to us. Allow me to give you one more such example of +recent occurrence. One of my patients lost her father during the time +that she was undergoing treatment. Since then she has made use of every +opportunity to bring him back to life in her dreams. In one of her +dreams her father appears in a certain connection, of no further +importance here, and says, "_It is a quarter past eleven, it is half +past eleven, it is quarter of twelve_." All she can think of in +connection with this curious incident is the recollection that her +father liked to see his grown-up children appear punctually at the +general meal hour. That very thing probably had some connection with the +dream element, but permitted of no conclusion as to its source. Judging +from the situation of the treatment at that time, there was a justified +suspicion that a carefully suppressed critical rebellion against her +loved and respected father played its part in this dream. Continuing her +associations, and apparently far afield from topics relevant to the +dream, the dreamer relates that yesterday many things of a +psychological nature had been discussed in her presence, and that a +relative made the remark: "The cave man (_Urmensch_) continues to live +in all of us." Now we think we understand. That gave her an excellent +opportunity of picturing her father as continuing to live. So in the +dream she made of him a clockman (_Uhrmensch_) by having him announce +the quarter-hours at noon time. + +You may not be able to disregard the similarity which this examples +bears to a pun, and it really has happened frequently that the dreamer's +pun is attributed to the interpreter. There are still other examples in +which it is not at all easy to decide whether one is dealing with a joke +or a dream. But you will recall that the same doubt confronted us when +we were dealing with slips of the tongue. A man tells us a dream of his, +that his uncle, while they were sitting in the latter's _auto_mobile, +gave him a kiss. He very quickly supplies the interpretation himself. It +means "_auto_-eroticism," (a term taken from the study of the libido, or +love impulse, and designating satisfaction of that impulse without an +external object). Did this man permit himself to make fun of us and give +out as a dream a pun that occurred to him? I do not believe so; he +really dreamed it. Whence comes the astounding similarity? This question +at one time led me quite a ways from my path, by making it necessary for +me to make a thorough investigation of the problem of humor itself. By +so doing I came to the conclusion that the origin of wit lies in a +foreconscious train of thought which is left for a moment to unconscious +manipulation, from which it then emerges as a joke. Under the influence +of the unconscious it experiences the workings of the mechanisms there +in force, namely, of condensation and displacement, that is, of the same +processes which we found active in the dream work, and it is to this +agreement that we are to ascribe the similarity between wit and the +dream, wherever it occurs. The unintentional "dream joke" has, however, +none of the pleasure-giving quality of the ordinary joke. Why that is +so, greater penetration into the study of wit may teach you. The "dream +joke" seems a poor joke to us, it does not make us laugh, it leaves us +cold. + +Here we are also following in the footsteps of ancient dream +interpretation, which has left us, in addition to much that is useless, +many a good example of dream interpretation we ourselves cannot +surpass. I am now going to tell you a dream of historical importance +which Plutarch and Artemidorus of Daldis both tell concerning Alexander +the Great, with certain variations. When the King was engaged in +besieging the city of Tyre (322 B.C.), which was being stubbornly +defended, he once dreamed that he saw a dancing satyr. Aristandros, his +dream interpreter, who accompanied the army, interpreted this dream for +him by making of the word _Satyros_, [Greek] sa Turos, "Thine is +Tyre," and thus promising him a triumph over the city. Alexander allowed +himself to be influenced by this interpretation to continue the siege, +and finally captured Tyre. The interpretation, which seems artificial +enough, was without doubt the correct one. + +3. I can imagine that it will make a special impression on you to hear +that objections to our conception of the dream have been raised also by +persons who, as psychoanalysts, have themselves been interested in the +interpretation of dreams. It would have been too extraordinary if so +pregnant an opportunity for new errors had remained unutilized, and +thus, owing to comprehensible confusions and unjustified +generalizations, there have been assertions made which, in point of +incorrectness are not far behind the medical conception of dreams. One +of these you already know. It is the declaration that the dream is +occupied with the dreamer's attempts at adaptation to his present +environment, and attempts to solve future problems, in other words, that +the dream follows a "prospective tendency" (A. Maeder). We have already +shown that this assertion is based upon a confusion of the dream with +the latent thoughts of the dream, that as a premise it overlooks the +existence of the dream-work. In characterizing that psychic activity +which is unconscious and to which the latent thoughts of the dream +belong, the above assertion is no novelty, nor is it exhaustive, for +this unconscious psychic activity occupies itself with many other things +besides preparation for the future. A much worse confusion seems to +underlie the assurance that back of every dream one finds the +"death-clause," or death-wish. I am not quite certain what this formula +is meant to indicate, but I suppose that back of it is a confusion of +the dream with the whole personality of the dreamer. + +An unjustified generalization, based on few good examples, is the +pronouncement that every dream permits of two interpretations, one such +as we have explained, the so-called psychoanalytic, and another, the +so-called anagogical or mystical, which ignores the instinctive impulses +and aims at a representation of the higher psychic functions (V. +Silberer). There are such dreams, but you will try in vain to extend +this conception to even a majority of the dreams. But after everything +you have heard, the statement will seem very incomprehensible that all +dreams can be interpreted bisexually, that is, as the concurrence of two +tendencies which may be designated as male and female (A. Adler). To be +sure, there are a few such dreams, and you may learn later that these +are built up in the manner of certain hysterical symptoms. I mention all +these newly discovered general characteristics of the dream in order to +warn you against them or at least in order not to leave you in doubt as +to how I judge them. + +4. At one time the objective value of dream research was called into +question by the observation that patients undergoing analysis +accommodate the content of their dreams to the favorite theories of +their physicians, so that some dream predominantly of sexual impulses, +others of the desire for power and still others even of rebirth (W. +Stekel). The weight of this observation is diminished by the +consideration that people dreamed before there was such a thing as a +psychoanalytic treatment to influence their dreams, and that those who +are now undergoing treatment were also in the habit of dreaming before +the treatment was commenced. The meaning of this novel discovery can +soon be recognized as a matter of course and as of no consequence for +the theory of the dream. Those day-remnants which give rise to the dream +are the overflow from the strong interest of the waking life. If the +remarks of the physician and the stimuli which he gives have become +significant to the patient under analysis, then they become a part of +the day's remnants, can serve as psychic stimuli for the formation of a +dream along with other, emotionally-charged, unsolved interests of the +day, and operate much as do the somatic stimuli which act upon the +sleeper during his sleep. Just like these other incitors of the dream, +the sequence of ideas which the physician sets in motion may appear in +the manifest content, or may be traced in the latent content of the +dream. Indeed, we know that one can produce dreams experimentally, or to +speak more accurately, one can insert into the dream a part of the +dream material. Thus the analyst in influencing his patients, merely +plays the role of an experimenter in the manner of Mourly Vold, who +places the limbs of his subjects in certain positions. + +One can often influence the dreamer as to the _subject-matter_ of his +dream, but one can never influence _what he will dream_ about it. The +mechanism of the dream-work and the unconscious wish that is hidden in +the dream are beyond the reach of all foreign influences. We already +realized, when we evaluated the dreams caused by bodily stimuli, that +the peculiarity and self-sufficiency of the dream life shows itself in +the reaction with which the dream retorts to the bodily or physical +stimuli which are presented. The statement here discussed, which aims to +throw doubt upon the objectivity of dream research, is again based on a +confusion--this time of the whole dream with the dream material. + +This much, ladies and gentlemen, I wanted to tell you concerning the +problems of the dream. You will suspect that I have omitted a great +deal, and have yourselves discovered that I had to be inconclusive on +almost all points. But that is due to the relation which the phenomena +of the dream have to those of the neuroses. We studied the dream by way +of introduction to the study of the neuroses, and that was surely more +correct than the reverse would have been. But just as the dream prepares +us for the understanding of the neuroses, so in turn the correct +evaluation of the dream can only be gained after a knowledge of neurotic +phenomena has been won. + +I do not know what you will think about this, but I must assure you that +I do not regret having taken so much of your interest and of your +available time for the problems of the dream. There is no other field in +which one can so quickly become convinced of the correctness of the +assertions by which psychoanalysis stands or falls. It will take the +strenuous labor of many months, even years, to show that the symptoms in +a case of neurotic break-down have their meaning, serve a purpose, and +result from the fortunes of the patient. On the other hand, the efforts +of a few hours suffice in proving the same content in a dream product +which at first seems incomprehensibly confused, and thereby to confirm +all the hypotheses of psychoanalysis, the unconsciousness of psychic +processes, the special mechanism which they follow, and the motive +forces which manifest themselves in them. And if we associate the +thorough analogy in the construction of the dream and the neurotic +symptom with the rapidity of transformation which makes of the dreamer +an alert and reasonable individual, we gain the certainty that the +neurosis also is based only on a change in the balance of the forces of +psychic life. + + + + +III + +GENERAL THEORY OF THE NEUROSES + + + + +SIXTEENTH LECTURE + +GENERAL THEORY OF THE NEUROSES + +_Psychoanalysis and Psychiatry_ + + +I am very glad to welcome you back to continue our discussions. I last +lectured to you on the psychoanalytic treatment of errors and of the +dream. To-day I should like to introduce you to an understanding of +neurotic phenomena, which, as you soon will discover, have much in +common with both of those topics. But I shall tell you in advance that I +cannot leave you to take the same attitude toward me that you had +before. At that time I was anxious to take no step without complete +reference to your judgment. I discussed much with you, I listened to +your objections, in short, I deferred to you and to your "normal common +sense." That is no longer possible, and for a very simple reason. As +phenomena, the dream and errors were not strange to you. One might say +that you had as much experience as I, or that you could easily acquire +as much. But neuroses are foreign to you; since you are not doctors +yourselves you have had access to them only through what I have told +you. Of what use is the best judgment if it is not supported by +familiarity with the material in question? + +Do not, however, understand this as an announcement of dogmatic lectures +which demand your unconditional belief. That would be a gross +misunderstanding. I do not wish to convince you. I am out to stimulate +your interest and shake your prejudices. If, in consequence of not +knowing the facts, you are not in a position to judge, neither should +you believe nor condemn. Listen and allow yourselves to be influenced by +what I tell you. One cannot be so easily convinced; at least if he comes +by convictions without effort, they soon prove to be valueless and +unable to hold their own. He only has a right to conviction who has +handled the same material for many years and who in so doing has gone +through the same new and surprising experiences again and again. Why, in +matters of intellect these lightning conversions, these momentary +repulsions? Do you not feel that a _coup de foudre_, that love at first +sight, originates in quite a different field, namely, in that of the +emotions? We do not even demand that our patients should become +convinced of and predisposed to psychoanalysis. When they do, they seem +suspicious to us. The attitude we prefer in them is one of benevolent +scepticism. Will you not also try to let the psychoanalytic conception +develop in your mind beside the popular or "psychiatric"? They will +influence each other, mutually measure their strength, and some day work +themselves into a decision on your part. + +On the other hand, you must not think for a moment that what I present +to you as the psychoanalytic conception is a purely speculative system. +Indeed, it is a sum total of experiences and observations, either their +direct expression or their elaboration. Whether this elaboration is done +adequately and whether the method is justifiable will be tested in the +further progress of the science. After two and a half decades, now that +I am fairly advanced in years, I may say that it was particularly +difficult, intensive and all-absorbing work which yielded these +observations. I have often had the impression that our opponents were +unwilling to take into consideration this objective origin of our +statements, as if they thought it were only a question of subjective +ideas arising haphazard, ideas to which another may oppose his every +passing whim. This antagonistic behavior is not entirely comprehensible +to me. Perhaps the physician's habit of steering clear of his neurotic +patients and listening so very casually to what they have to say allows +him to lose sight of the possibility of deriving anything valuable from +his patients' communications, and therefore, of making penetrating +observations on them. I take this opportunity of promising you that I +shall carry on little controversy in the course of my lectures, least of +all with individual controversialists. I have never been able to +convince myself of the truth of the saying that controversy is the +father of all things. I believe that it comes down to us from the Greek +sophist philosophy and errs as does the latter through the overvaluation +of dialectics. To me, on the contrary, it seems as if the so-called +scientific criticism were on the whole unfruitful, quite apart from the +fact that it is almost always carried on in a most personal spirit. For +my part, up to a few years ago, I could even boast that I had entered +into a regular scientific dispute with only one scholar (Lowenfeld, of +Munich). The end of this was that we became friends and have remained +friends to this day. But I did not repeat this attempt for a long time, +because I was not certain that the outcome would be the same. + +Now you will surely judge that so to reject the discussion of literature +must evidence stubborness, a very special obtuseness against objections, +or, as the kindly colloquialisms of science have it, "a complete +personal bias." In answer, I would say that should you attain to a +conviction by such hard labor, you would thereby derive a certain right +to sustain it with some tenacity. Furthermore, I should like to +emphasize the fact that I have modified my views on certain important +points in the course of my researches, changed them and replaced them by +new ones, and that I naturally made a public statement of that fact each +time. What has been the result of this frankness? Some paid no attention +at all to my self-corrections and even to-day criticize me for +assertions which have long since ceased to have the same meaning for me. +Others reproach me for just this deviation, and on account of it declare +me unreliable. For is anyone who has changed his opinions several times +still trustworthy; is not his latest assertion, as well, open to error? +At the same time he who holds unswervingly to what he has once said, or +cannot be made to give it up quickly enough, is called stubborn and +biased. In the face of these contradictory criticisms, what else can one +do but be himself and act according to his own dictates? That is what I +have decided to do, and I will not allow myself to be restrained from +modifying and adapting my theories as the progress of my experience +demands. In the basic ideas I have hitherto found nothing to change, and +I hope that such will continue to be the case. + +Now I shall present to you the psychoanalytic conception of neurotic +manifestations. The natural thing for me to do is to connect them to the +phenomena we have previously treated, for the sake of their analogy as +well as their contrast. I will select as symptomatic an act of frequent +occurrence in my office hour. Of course, the analyst cannot do much for +those who seek him in his medical capacity, and lay the woes of a +lifetime before him in fifteen minutes. His deeper knowledge makes it +difficult for him to deliver a snap decision as do other +physicians--"There is nothing wrong with you"--and to give the advice, +"Go to a watering-place for a while." One of our colleagues, in answer +to the question as to what he did with his office patients, said, +shrugging his shoulders, that he simply "fines them so many kronen for +their mischief-making." So it will not surprise you to hear that even in +the case of very busy analysts, the hours for consultation are not very +crowded. I have had the ordinary door between my waiting room and my +office doubled and strengthened by a covering of felt. The purpose of +this little arrangement cannot be doubted. Now it happens over and over +again that people who are admitted from my waiting room omit to close +the door behind them; in fact, they almost always leave both doors open. +As soon as I have noticed this I insist rather gruffly that he or she go +back in order to rectify the omission, even though it be an elegant +gentleman or a lady in all her finery. This gives an impression of +misapplied pedantry. I have, in fact, occasionally discredited myself by +such a demand, since the individual concerned was one of those who +cannot touch even a door knob, and prefer as well to have their +attendants spared this contact. But most frequently I was right, for he +who conducts himself in this way, and leaves the door from the waiting +room into the physician's consultation room open, belongs to the rabble +and deserves to be received inhospitably. Do not, I beg you, defend him +until you have heard what follows. For the fact is that this negligence +of the patient's only occurs when he has been alone in the waiting room +and so leaves an empty room behind him, never when others, strangers, +have been waiting with him. If that latter is the case, he knows very +well that it is in his interest not to be listened to while he is +talking to the physician, and never omits to close both the doors with +care. + +This omission of the patient's is so predetermined that it becomes +neither accidental nor meaningless, indeed, not even unimportant, for, +as we shall see, it throws light upon the relation of this patient to +the physician. He is one of the great number of those who seek +authority, who want to be dazzled, intimidated. Perhaps he had inquired +by telephone as to what time he had best call, he had prepared himself +to come on a crowd of suppliants somewhat like those in front of a +branch milk station. He now enters an empty waiting room which is, +moreover, most modestly furnished, and he is disappointed. He must +demand reparation from the physician for the wasted respect that he had +tendered him, and so he omits to close the door between the reception +room and the office. By this, he means to say to the physician: "Oh, +well, there is no one here anyway, and probably no one will come as long +as I am here." He would also be quite unmannerly and supercilious during +the consultation if his presumption were not at once restrained by a +sharp reminder. + +You will find nothing in the analysis of this little symptomatic act +which was not previously known to you. That is to say, it asserts that +this act is not accidental, but has a motive, a meaning, a purpose, that +it has its assignable connections psychologically, and that it serves as +a small indication of a more important psychological process. But above +all it implies that the process thus intimated is not known to the +consciousness of the individual in whom it takes place, for none of the +patients who left the two doors open would have admitted that they meant +by this omission to show me their contempt. Some could probably recall a +slight sense of disappointment at entering an empty waiting room, but +the connection between this impression and the symptomatic act which +followed--of these, his consciousness was surely not aware. + +Now let us place, side by side with this small analysis of a symptomatic +act, an observation on a pathological case. I choose one which is fresh +in my mind and which can also be described with relative brevity. A +certain measure of minuteness of detail is unavoidable in any such +account. + +A young officer, home on a short leave of absence, asked me to see his +mother-in-law who, in spite of the happiest circumstances, was +embittering her own and her people's existence by a senseless idea. I am +introduced to a well preserved lady of fifty-three with pleasant, simple +manners, who gives the following account without any hesitation: She is +most happily married and lives in the country with her husband, who +operates a large factory. She cannot say enough for the kind +thoughtfulness of her husband. They had married for love thirty years +ago, and since then there had never been a shadow, a quarrel or cause +for jealousy. Now, even though her two children are well married, the +husband and father does not yet want to retire, from a feeling of duty. +A year ago there happened the incredible thing, incomprehensible to +herself as well. She gave complete credence to an anonymous letter which +accused her excellent husband of having an affair with a young girl--and +since then her happiness is destroyed. The more detailed circumstances +were somewhat as follows: She had a chambermaid with whom she had +perhaps too often discussed intimate matters. This girl pursued another +young woman with positively malicious enmity because the latter had +progressed so much further in life, despite the fact that she was of no +better origin. Instead of going into domestic service, the girl had +obtained a business training, had entered the factory and in consequence +of the short-handedness due to the drafting of the clerks into the army +had advanced to a good position. She now lives in the factory itself, +meets all the gentlemen socially, and is even addressed as "Miss." The +girl who had remained behind in life was of course ready to speak all +possible evil of her one-time schoolmate. One day our patient and her +chambermaid were talking of an old gentleman who had been visiting at +the house, and of whom it was known that he did not live with his wife, +but kept another woman as his mistress. She does not know how it +happened that she suddenly remarked, "That would be the most awful thing +that could happen to me, if I should ever hear that my good husband also +had a mistress." The next day she received an anonymous letter through +the mail which, in a disguised handwriting, carried this very +communication which she had conjured up. She concluded--it seems +justifiably--that the letter was the handiwork of her malignant +chambermaid, for the letter named as the husband's mistress the +self-same woman whom the maid persecuted with her hatred. Our patient, +in spite of the fact that she immediately saw through the intrigue and +had seen enough in her town to know how little credence such cowardly +denunciations deserve, was nevertheless at once prostrated by the +letter. She became dreadfully excited and promptly sent for her husband +in order to heap the bitterest reproaches upon him. Her husband +laughingly denied the accusation and did the best that could be done. He +called in the family physician, who was as well the doctor in attendance +at the factory, and the latter added his efforts to quiet the unhappy +woman. Their further procedure was also entirely reasonable. The +chambermaid was dismissed, but the pretended rival was not. Since then, +the patient claims she has repeatedly so far calmed herself as no longer +to believe the contents of the anonymous letter, but this relief was +neither thoroughgoing nor lasting. It was enough to hear the name of the +young lady spoken or to meet her on the street in order to precipitate a +new attack of suspicion, pain and reproach. + +This, now, is the case history of this good woman. It does not need much +psychiatric experience to understand that her portrayal of her own case +was, if anything, rather too mild in contrast to other nervous patients. +The picture, we say, was dissimulated; in reality she had never overcome +her belief in the accusation of the anonymous letter. + +Now what position does a psychiatrist take toward such a case? We +already know what he would do in the case of the symptomatic act of the +patient who does not close the doors to the waiting room. He declares it +an accident without psychological interest, with which he need not +concern himself. But this attitude cannot be maintained toward the +pathological case of the jealous woman. The symptomatic act seems no +great matter, but the symptom itself claims attention by reason of its +gravity. It is bound up with intense subjective suffering while +objectively it threatens to break up a home; therefore its claim to +psychiatric interest cannot be put aside. The first endeavor of the +psychiatrist is to characterize the symptom by some distinctive feature. +The idea with which this woman torments herself cannot in itself be +called nonsensical, for it does happen that elderly married men have +affairs with young girls. But there is something else about it that is +nonsensical and incredible. The patient has no reason beyond the +declaration in the anonymous letter to believe that her tender and +faithful husband belongs to this sort of married men, otherwise not +uncommon. She knows that this letter in itself carries no proof; she can +satisfactorily explain its origin; therefore she ought to be able to +persuade herself that she has no reason to be jealous. Indeed she does +this, but in spite of it she suffers every bit as much as she would if +she acknowledged this jealousy as fully justified. We are agreed to call +ideas of this sort, which are inaccessible to arguments based on logic +or on facts, "_obsessions_." Thus the good lady suffers from an +"_obsession of jealousy_" that is surely a distinctive characterization +for this pathological case. + +Having reached this first certainty, our psychiatric interest will have +become aroused. If we cannot do away with a delusion by taking reality +into account, it can hardly have arisen from reality. But the delusion, +what is its origin? There are delusions of the most widely varied +content. Why is it that in our case the content should be jealousy? In +what types of persons are obsessions liable to occur, and, in +particular, obsessions of jealousy? We would like to turn to the +psychiatrist with such questions, but here he leaves us in the lurch. +There is only one of our queries which he heeds. He will examine the +family history of this woman and _perhaps_ will give us the answer: "The +people who develop obsessions are those in whose families similar and +other psychic disturbances have repeatedly occurred." In other words, if +this lady develops an obsession she does so because she was predisposed +to it by reason of her heredity. That is certainly something, but is it +all that we want to know? Is it all that was effective in causing this +breakdown? Shall we be content to assume that it is immaterial, +accidental and inexplicable why the obsession of jealousy develops +rather than any other? And may we also accept this sentence about the +dominance of the influence of heredity in its negative meaning, that is, +that no matter what experiences came to this human being she was +predestined to develop some kind of obsession? You will want to know why +scientific psychiatry will give no further explanation. And I reply, "He +is a rascal who gives more than he owns." The psychiatrist does not know +of any path that leads him further in the explanation of such a case. He +must content himself with the diagnosis and a prognosis which, despite a +wealth of experience, is uncertain. + +Yet, can psychoanalysis do more at this point? Indeed yes! I hope to +show you that even in so inaccessible a case as this it can discover +something which makes the further understanding possible. May I ask you +first to note the apparently insignificant fact that the patient +actually provoked the anonymous letter which now supports her delusion. +The day before, she announces to the intriguing chambermaid that if her +husband were to have an affair with a young girl it would be the worst +misfortune that could befall her. By so doing she really gave the maid +the idea of sending her the anonymous letter. The obsession thus attains +a certain independence from the letter; it existed in the patient +beforehand--perhaps as a dread; or was it a wish? Consider, moreover, +these additional details yielded by an analysis of only two hours. The +patient was indeed most helpful when, after telling her story, she was +urged to communicate her further thoughts, ideas and recollections. She +declared that nothing came to her mind, that she had already told +everything. After two hours the undertaking had really to be given up +because she announced that she already felt cured and was sure that the +morbid idea would not return. Of course, she said this because of this +resistance and her fear of continuing the analysis. In these two hours, +however, she had let fall certain remarks which made possible definite +interpretation, indeed made it incontestable; and this interpretation +throws a clear light on the origin of her obsession of jealousy. Namely, +she herself was very much infatuated with a certain young man, the very +same son-in-law upon whose urging she had come to consult me +professionally. She knew nothing of this infatuation, or at least only a +very little. Because of the existing relationship, it was very easy for +this infatuation to masquerade under the guise of harmless tenderness. +With all our further experience it is not difficult to feel our way +toward an understanding of the psychic life of this honest woman and +good mother. Such an infatuation, a monstrous, impossible thing, could +not be allowed to become conscious. But it continued to exist and +unconsciously exerted a heavy pressure. Something had to happen, some +sort of relief had to be found and the mechanism of displacement which +so constantly takes part in the origin of obsessional jealousy offered +the most immediate mitigation. If not only she, old woman that she was, +was in love with a young man but if also her old husband had an affair +with a young girl, then she would be freed from the voice of her +conscience which accused her of infidelity. The phantasy of her +husband's infidelity was thus like a cooling salve on her burning wound. +Of her own love she never became conscious, but the reflection of it, +which would bring her such advantages, now became compulsive, +obsessional and conscious. Naturally all arguments directed against the +obsession were of no avail since they were directed only to the +reflection, and not to the original force to which it owed its strength +and which, unimpeachable, lay buried in the unconscious. + +Let us now piece together these fragments to see what a short and +impeded psychoanalysis can nevertheless contribute to the understanding +of this case. It is assumed of course that our inquiries were carefully +conducted, a point which I cannot at this place submit to your judgment. +In the first place, the obsession becomes no longer nonsensical nor +incomprehensible, it is full of meaning, well motivated and an integral +part of the patient's emotional experience. Secondly, it is a necessary +reaction toward an unconscious psychological process, revealed in other +ways, and it is to this very circumstance that it owes its obsessional +nature, that is, its resistance to arguments based on logic or fact. In +itself the obsession is something wished for, a kind of consolation. +Finally, the experiences underlying the condition are such as +unmistakably determine an obsession of jealousy and no other. You will +also recognize the part played by the two important analogies in the +analysis of the symptomatic act with reference to its meaning and intent +and also to its relation to an unconscious factor in the situation. + +Naturally, we have not yet answered all the questions which may be put +on the basis of this case. Rather the case bristles with further +problems of a kind which we have not yet been able to solve in any way, +and of others which could not be solved because of the disadvantage of +the circumstances under which we were working. For example: why is this +happily married woman open to an infatuation for her son-in-law, and why +does the relief which could have been obtained in other ways come to her +by way of this mirror-image, this projection of her own condition upon +her husband? I trust you will not think that it is idle and wanton to +open such problems. Already we have much material at our disposal for +their possible solution. This woman is in that critical age when her +sexual needs undergo a sudden and unwelcome exaggeration. This might in +itself be sufficient. In addition, her good and faithful mate may for +many years have been lacking in that sufficient sexual capacity which +the well-preserved woman needs for her satisfaction. We have learned by +experience to know that those very men whose faithfulness is thus placed +beyond a doubt are most gentle in their treatment of their wives and +unusually forbearing toward their nervous complaints. Furthermore, the +fact that it was just the young husband of a daughter who became the +object of her abnormal infatuation is by no means insignificant. A +strong erotic attachment to the daughter, which in the last analysis +leads back to the mother's sexual constitution, will often find a way to +live on under such a disguise. May I perhaps remind you in this +connection that the relationship between mother and son-in-law has +seemed particularly delicate since all time and is one which among +primitive peoples gave rise to very powerful taboos and avoidances.[37] +It often transgresses our cultural standards positively as well as +negatively. I cannot tell you of course which of these three factors +were at work in our case; whether two of them only, or whether all of +them cooperated, for as you know I did not have the opportunity to +continue the analysis beyond two hours. + +I realize at this point, ladies and gentlemen, that I have been speaking +entirely of things for which your understanding was not prepared. I did +this in order to carry through the comparison of psychiatry and +psychoanalysis. May I now ask one thing of you? Have you noticed any +contradiction between them? Psychiatry does not apply the technical +methods of psychoanalysis, and neglects to look for any significance in +the content of the obsession. Instead of first seeking out more specific +and immediate causes, psychiatry refers us to the very general and +remote source--heredity. But does this imply a contradiction, a conflict +between them? Do they not rather supplement one another? For does the +hereditary factor deny the significance of the experience, is it not +rather true that both operate together in the most effective way? You +must admit that there is nothing in the nature of psychiatric work which +must repudiate psychoanalytic research. Therefore, it is the +psychiatrists who oppose psychoanalysis, not psychiatry itself. +Psychoanalysis stands in about the same relation to psychiatry as does +histology to anatomy. The one studies the outer forms of organs, the +other the closer structure of tissues and cells. A contradiction between +two types of study, where one simplifies the other, is not easily +conceivable. You know that anatomy to-day forms the basis of scientific +medicine, but there was a time when the dissection of human corpses to +learn the inner structure of the body was as much frowned upon as the +practice of psychoanalysis, which seeks to ascertain the inner workings +of the human soul, seems proscribed to-day. And presumably a not too +distant time will bring us to the realization that a psychiatry which +aspires to scientific depth is not possible without a real knowledge of +the deeper unconscious processes in the psychic life. + +Perhaps this much-attacked psychoanalysis has now found some friends +among you who are anxious to see it justify itself as well from another +aspect, namely, the therapeutic side. You know that the therapy of +psychiatry has hitherto not been able to influence obsessions. Can +psychoanalysis perhaps do so, thanks to its insight into the mechanism +of these symptoms? No, ladies and gentlemen, it cannot; for the present +at least it is just as powerless in the face of these maladies as every +other therapy. We can understand what it was that happened within the +patient, but we have no means of making the patient himself understand +this. In fact, I told you that I could not extend the analysis of the +obsession beyond the first steps. Would you therefore assert that +analysis is objectionable in such cases because it remains without +result? I think not. We have the right, indeed we have the duty to +pursue scientific research without regard to an immediate practical +effect. Some day, though we do not know when or where, every little +scrap of knowledge will have been translated into skill, even into +therapeutic skill. If psychoanalysis were as unsuccessful in all other +forms of nervous and psychological disease as it is in the case of the +obsession, it would nevertheless remain fully justified as an +irreplaceable method of scientific research. It is true that we would +then not be in a position to practice it, for the human subjects from +which we must learn, live and will in their own right; they must have +motives of their own in order to assist in the work, but they would deny +themselves to us. Therefore let me conclude this session by telling you +that there are comprehensive groups of nervous diseases concerning which +our better understanding has actually been translated into therapeutic +power; moreover, that in disturbances which are most difficult to reach +we can under certain conditions secure results which are second to none +in the field of internal therapeutics. + + + + +SEVENTEENTH LECTURE + +GENERAL THEORY OF THE NEUROSES + +_The Meaning of the Symptoms_ + + +In the last lecture I explained to you that clinical psychiatry concerns +itself very little with the form under which the symptoms appear or with +the burden they carry, but that it is precisely here that psychoanalysis +steps in and shows that the symptom carries a meaning and is connected +with the experience of the patient. The meaning of neurotic symptoms was +first discovered by J. Breuer in the study and felicitous cure of a case +of hysteria which has since become famous (1880-82). It is true that P. +Janet independently reached the same result; literary priority must in +fact be accorded to the French scholar, since Breuer published his +observations more than a decade later (1893-95) during his period of +collaboration with me. On the whole it may be of small importance to us +who is responsible for this discovery, for you know that every discovery +is made more than once, that none is made all at once, and that success +is not meted out according to deserts. America is not named after +Columbus. Before Breuer and Janet, the great psychiatrist Leuret +expressed the opinion that even for the deliria of the insane, if we +only understood how to interpret them, a meaning could be found. I +confess that for a considerable period of time I was willing to estimate +very highly the credit due to P. Janet in the explanation of neurotic +symptoms, because he saw in them the expression of subconscious ideas +(_idees inconscientes_) with which the patients were obsessed. But since +then Janet has expressed himself most conservatively, as though he +wanted to confess that the term "subconscious" had been for him nothing +more than a mode of speech, a shift, "_une facon de parler_," by the use +of which he had nothing definite in mind. I now no longer understand +Janet's discussions, but I believe that he has needlessly deprived +himself of high credit. + +The neurotic symptoms then have their meaning just like errors and the +dream, and like these they are related to the lives of the persons in +whom they appear. The importance of this insight into the nature of the +symptom can best be brought home to you by way of examples. That it is +borne out always and in all cases, I can only assert, not prove. He who +gathers his own experience will be convinced of it. For certain reasons, +however, I shall draw my instances not from hysteria, but from another +fundamentally related and very curious neurosis concerning which I wish +to say a few introductory words to you. This so-called compulsion +neurosis is not so popular as the widely known hysteria; it is, if I may +use the expression, not so noisily ostentatious, behaves more as a +private concern of the patient, renounces bodily manifestations almost +entirely and creates all its symptoms psychologically. Compulsion +neurosis and hysteria are those forms of neurotic disease by the study +of which psychoanalysis has been built up, and in whose treatment as +well the therapy celebrates its triumphs. Of these the compulsion +neurosis, which does not take that mysterious leap from the psychic to +the physical, has through psychoanalytic research become more intimately +comprehensible and transparent to us than hysteria, and we have come to +understand that it reveals far more vividly certain extreme +characteristics of the neuroses. + +The chief manifestations of compulsion neurosis are these: the patient +is occupied by thoughts that in reality do not interest him, is moved by +impulses that appear alien to him, and is impelled to actions which, to +be sure, afford him no pleasure, but the performance of which he cannot +possibly resist. The thoughts may be absurd in themselves or thoroughly +indifferent to the individual, often they are absolutely childish and in +all cases they are the result of strained thinking, which exhausts the +patient, who surrenders himself to them most unwillingly. Against his +will he is forced to brood and speculate as though it were a matter of +life or death to him. The impulses, which the patient feels within +himself, may also give a childish or ridiculous impression, but for the +most part they bear the terrifying aspect of temptations to fearful +crimes, so that the patient not only denies them, but flees from them in +horror and protects himself from actual execution of his desires through +inhibitory renunciations and restrictions upon his personal liberty. As +a matter of fact he never, not a single time, carries any of these +impulses into effect; the result is always that his evasion and +precaution triumph. The patient really carries out only very harmless +trivial acts, so-called compulsive acts, for the most part repetitions +and ceremonious additions to the occupations of every-day life, through +which its necessary performances--going to bed, washing, dressing, +walking--become long-winded problems of almost insuperable difficulty. +The abnormal ideas, impulses and actions are in nowise equally potent in +individual forms and cases of compulsion neurosis; it is the rule, +rather, that one or the other of these manifestations is the dominating +factor and gives the name to the disease; that all these forms, however, +have a great deal in common is quite undeniable. + +Surely this means violent suffering. I believe that the wildest +psychiatric phantasy could not have succeeded in deriving anything +comparable, and if one did not actually see it every day, one could +hardly bring oneself to believe it. Do not think, however, that you give +the patient any help when you coax him to divert himself, to put aside +these stupid ideas and to set himself to something useful in the place +of his whimsical occupations. This is just what he would like of his own +accord, for he possesses all his senses, shares your opinion of his +compulsion symptoms, in fact volunteers it quite readily. But he cannot +do otherwise; whatever activities actually are released under compulsion +neurosis are carried along by a driving energy, such as is probably +never met with in normal psychic life. He has only one remedy--to +transfer and change. In place of one stupid idea he can think of a +somewhat milder absurdity, he can proceed from one precaution and +prohibition to another, or carry through another ceremonial. He may +shift, but he cannot annul the compulsion. One of the chief +characteristics of the sickness is the instability of the symptoms; they +can be shifted very far from their original form. It is moreover +striking that the contrasts present in all psychological experience are +so very sharply drawn in this condition. In addition to the compulsion +of positive and negative content, an intellectual doubt makes itself +felt that gradually attacks the most ordinary and assured certainties. +All these things merge into steadily increasing uncertainty, lack of +energy, curtailment of personal liberty, despite the fact that the +patient suffering from compulsion neurosis is originally a most +energetic character, often of extraordinary obstinacy, as a rule +intellectually gifted above the average. For the most part he has +attained a desirable stage of ethical development, is overconscientious +and more than usually correct. You can imagine that it takes no +inconsiderable piece of work to find one's way through this maze of +contradictory characteristics and symptoms. Indeed, for the present our +only object is to understand and to interpret some symptoms of this +disease. + +Perhaps in reference to our previous discussions, you would like to know +the position of present-day psychiatry to the problems of the compulsion +neurosis. This is covered in a very slim chapter. Psychiatry gives names +to the various forms of compulsion, but says nothing further concerning +them. Instead it emphasizes the fact that those who show these symptoms +are degenerates. That yields slight satisfaction, it is an ethical +judgment, a condemnation rather than an explanation. We are led to +suppose that it is in the unsound that all these peculiarities may be +found. Now we do believe that persons who develop such symptoms must +differ fundamentally from other people. But we would like to ask, are +they more "degenerate" than other nervous patients, those suffering, for +instance, from hysteria or other diseases of the mind? The +characterization is obviously too general. One may even doubt whether it +is at all justified, when one learns that such symptoms occur in +excellent men and women of especially great and universally recognized +ability. In general we glean very little intimate knowledge of the great +men who serve us as models. This is due both to their own discretion and +to the lying propensities of their biographers. Sometimes, however, a +man is a fanatic disciple of truth, such as Emile Zola, and then we hear +from him the strange compulsion habits from which he suffered all his +life.[38] + +Psychiatry has resorted to the expedient of speaking of "superior +degenerates." Very well--but through psychoanalysis we have learned that +these peculiar compulsion symptoms may be permanently removed just like +any other disease of normal persons. I myself have frequently succeeded +in doing this. + +I will give you two examples only of the analysis of compulsion +symptoms, one, an old observation, which cannot be replaced by anything +more complete, and one a recent study. I am limiting myself to such a +small number because in an account of this nature it is necessary to be +very explicit and to enter into every detail. + +A lady about thirty years old suffered from the most severe compulsions. +I might indeed have helped her if caprice of fortune had not destroyed +my work--perhaps I will yet have occasion to tell you about it. In the +course of each day the patient often executed, among others, the +following strange compulsive act. She ran from her room into an +adjoining one, placed herself in a definite spot beside a table which +stood in the middle of the room, rang for her maid, gave her a trivial +errand to do, or dismissed her without more ado, and then ran back +again. This was certainly not a severe symptom of disease, but it still +deserved to arouse curiosity. Its explanation was found, absolutely +without any assistance on the part of the physician, in the very +simplest way, a way to which no one can take exception. I hardly know +how I alone could have guessed the meaning of this compulsive act, or +have found any suggestion toward its interpretation. As often as I had +asked the patient: "Why do you do this? Of what use is it?" she had +answered, "I don't know." But one day after I had succeeded in +surmounting a grave ethical doubt of hers she suddenly saw the light and +related the history of the compulsive act. More than ten years prior she +had married a man far older than herself, who had proved impotent on the +bridal night. Countless times during the night he had run from his room +to hers to repeat the attempt, but each time without success. In the +morning he said angrily: "It is enough to make one ashamed before the +maid who does the beds," and took a bottle of red ink that happened to +be in the room, and poured its contents on the sheet, but not on the +place where such a stain would have been justifiable. At first I did not +understand the connection between this reminiscence and the compulsive +act in question, for the only agreement I could find between them was in +the running from one room into another,--possibly also in the appearance +of the maid. Then the patient led me to the table in the second room and +let me discover a large spot on the cover. She explained also that she +placed herself at the table in such a way that the maid could not miss +seeing the stain. Now it was no longer possible to doubt the intimate +relation of the scene after her bridal night and her present compulsive +act, but there were still a number of things to be learned about it. + +In the first place, it is obvious that the patient identifies herself +with her husband, she is acting his part in her imitation of his running +from one room into the other. We must then admit--if she holds to this +role--that she replaces the bed and sheet by table and cover. This may +seem arbitrary, but we have not studied dream symbolism in vain. In +dreams also a table which must be interpreted as a bed, is frequently +seen. "Bed and board" together represent married life, one may therefore +easily be used to represent the other. + +The evidence that the compulsive act carries meaning would thus be +plain; it appears as a representation, a repetition of the original +significant scene. However, we are not forced to stop at this semblance +of a solution; when we examine more closely the relation between these +two people, we shall probably be enlightened concerning something of +wider importance, namely, the purpose of the compulsive act. The nucleus +of this purpose is evidently the summoning of the maid; to her she +wishes to show the stain and refute her husband's remark: "It is enough +to shame one before the maid." He--whose part she is playing--therefore +feels no shame before the maid, hence the stain must be in the right +place. So we see that she has not merely repeated the scene, rather she +has amplified it, corrected it and "turned it to the good." Thereby, +however, she also corrects something else,--the thing which was so +embarrassing that night and necessitated the use of the red +ink--impotence. The compulsive act then says: "No, it is not true, he +did not have to be ashamed before the maid, he was not impotent." After +the manner of a dream she represents the fulfillment of this wish in an +overt action, she is ruled by the desire to help her husband over that +unfortunate incident. + +Everything else that I could tell you about this case supports this clue +more specifically; all that we otherwise know about her tends to +strengthen this interpretation of a compulsive act incomprehensible in +itself. For years the woman has lived separated from her husband and is +struggling with the intention to obtain a legal divorce. But she is by +no means free from him; she forces herself to remain faithful to him, +she retires from the world to avoid temptation; in her imagination she +excuses and idealizes him. The deepest secret of her malady is that by +means of it she shields her husband from malicious gossip, justifies her +separation from him, and renders possible for him a comfortable separate +life. Thus the analysis of a harmless compulsive act leads to the very +heart of this case and at the same time reveals no inconsiderable +portion of the secret of the compulsion neurosis in general. I shall be +glad to have you dwell upon this instance, as it combines conditions +that one can scarcely demand in other cases. The interpretation of the +symptoms was discovered by the patient herself in one flash, without the +suggestion or interference of the analyst. It came about by the +reference to an experience, which did not, as is usually the case, +belong to the half-forgotten period of childhood, but to the mature life +of the patient, in whose memory it had remained unobliterated. All the +objections which critics ordinarily offer to our interpretation of +symptoms fail in this case. Of course, we are not always so fortunate. + +And one thing more! Have you not observed how this insignificant +compulsive act initiated us into the intimate life of the invalid? A +woman can scarcely relate anything more intimate than the story of her +bridal night, and is it without further significance that we just +happened to come on the intimacies of her sexual life? It might of +course be the result of the selection I have made in this instance. Let +us not judge too quickly and turn our attention to the second instance, +one of an entirely different kind, a sample of a frequently occurring +variety, namely, the sleep ritual. + +A nineteen-year old, well-developed, gifted girl, an only child, who was +superior to her parents in education and intellectual activity, had been +wild and mischievous in her childhood, but has become very nervous +during the last years without any apparent outward cause. She is +especially irritable with her mother, always discontented, depressed, +has a tendency toward indecision and doubt, and is finally forced to +confess that she can no longer walk alone on public squares or wide +thoroughfares. We shall not consider at length her complicated +condition, which requires at least two diagnoses--agoraphobia and +compulsion neurosis. We will dwell only upon the fact that this girl has +also developed a sleep ritual, under which she allows her parents to +suffer much discomfort. In a certain sense, we may say that every +normal person has a sleep ritual, in other words that he insists on +certain conditions, the absence of which hinders him from falling +asleep; he has created certain observances by which he bridges the +transition from waking to sleeping and these he repeats every evening in +the same manner. But everything that the healthy person demands in order +to obtain sleep is easily understandable and, above all, when external +conditions necessitate a change, he adapts himself easily and without +loss of time. But the pathological ritual is rigid, it persists by +virtue of the greatest sacrifices, it also masks itself with a +reasonable justification and seems, in the light of superficial +observation, to differ from the normal only by exaggerated pedantry. But +under closer observation we notice that the mask is transparent, for the +ritual covers intentions that go far beyond this reasonable +justification, and other intentions as well that are in direct +contradiction to this reasonable justification. Our patient cites as the +motive of her nightly precautions that she must have quiet in order to +sleep; therefore she excludes all sources of noise. To accomplish this, +she does two things: the large clock in her room is stopped, all other +clocks are removed; not even the wrist watch on her night-table is +suffered to remain. Flowerpots and vases are placed on her desk so that +they cannot fall down during the night, and in breaking disturb her +sleep. She knows that these precautions are scarcely justifiable for the +sake of quiet; the ticking of the small watch could not be heard even if +it should remain on the night-table, and moreover we all know that the +regular ticking of a clock is conducive to sleep rather than disturbing. +She does admit that there is not the least probability that flowerpots +and vases left in place might of their own accord fall and break during +the night. She drops the pretense of quiet for the other practice of +this sleep ritual. She seems on the contrary to release a source of +disturbing noises by the demand that the door between her own room and +that of her parents remain half open, and she insures this condition by +placing various objects in front of the open door. The most important +observances concern the bed itself. The large pillow at the head of the +bed may not touch the wooden back of the bed. The small pillow for her +head must lie on the large pillow to form a rhomb; she then places her +head exactly upon the diagonal of the rhomb. Before covering herself, +the featherbed must be shaken so that its foot end becomes quite flat, +but she never omits to press this down and redistribute the thickness. + +Allow me to pass over the other trivial incidents of this ritual; they +would teach us nothing new and cause too great digression from our +purpose. Do not overlook, however, the fact that all this does not run +its course quite smoothly. Everything is pervaded by the anxiety that +things have not been done properly; they must be examined, repeated. Her +doubts seize first on one, then on another precaution, and the result is +that one or two hours elapse during which the girl cannot and the +intimidated parents dare not sleep. + +These torments were not so easily analyzed as the compulsive act of our +former patient. In the working out of the interpretations I had to hint +and suggest to the girl, and was met on her part either by positive +denial or mocking doubt. This first reaction of denial, however, was +followed by a time when she occupied herself of her own accord with the +possibilities that had been suggested, noted the associations they +called out, produced reminiscences, and established connections, until +through her own efforts she had reached and accepted all +interpretations. In so far as she did this, she desisted as well from +the performance of her compulsive rules, and even before the treatment +had ended she had given up the entire ritual. You must also know that +the nature of present-day analysis by no means enables us to follow out +each individual symptom until its meaning becomes clear. Rather it is +necessary to abandon a given theme again and again, yet with the +certainty that we will be led back to it in some other connection. The +interpretation of the symptoms in this case, which I am about to give +you, is a synthesis of results, which, with the interruptions of other +work, needed weeks and months for their compilation. + +Our patient gradually learns to understand that she has banished clocks +and watches from her room during the night because the clock is the +symbol of the female genital. The clock, which we have learned to +interpret as a symbol for other things also, receives this role of the +genital organ through its relation to periodic occurrences at equal +intervals. A woman may for instance be found to boast that her +menstruation is as regular as clockwork. The special fear of our +patient, however, was that the ticking of the clock would disturb her +in her sleep. The ticking of the clock may be compared to the throbbing +of the clitoris during sexual excitement. Frequently she had actually +been awakened by this painful sensation and now this fear of an erection +of the clitoris caused her to remove all ticking clocks during the +night. Flowerpots and vases are, as are all vessels, also female +symbols. The precaution, therefore, that they should not fall and break +at night, was not without meaning. We know the widespread custom of +breaking a plate or dish when an engagement is celebrated. The fragment +of which each guest possesses himself symbolizes his renunciation of his +claim to the bride, a renunciation which we may assume as based on the +monogamous marriage law. Furthermore, to this part of her ceremonial our +patient adds a reminiscence and several associations. As a child she had +slipped once and fallen with a bowl of glass or clay, had cut her +finger, and bled violently. As she grew up and learned the facts of +sexual intercourse, she developed the fear that she might not bleed +during her bridal night and so not prove to be a virgin. Her precaution +against the breaking of vases was a rejection of the entire virginity +complex, including the bleeding connected with the first cohabitation. +She rejected both the fear to bleed and the contradictory fear not to +bleed. Indeed her precautions had very little to do with a prevention of +noise. + +One day she guessed the central idea of her ceremonial, when she +suddenly understood her rule not to let the pillow come in contact with +the bed. The pillows always had seemed a woman to her, the erect back of +the bed a man. By means of magic, we may say, she wished to keep apart +man and wife; it was her parents she wished to separate, so to prevent +their marital intercourse. She had sought to attain the same end by more +direct methods in earlier years, before the institution of her +ceremonial. She had simulated fear or exploited a genuine timidity in +order to keep open the door between the parents' bedroom and the +nursery. This demand had been retained in her present ceremonial. Thus +she had gained the opportunity of overhearing her parents, a proceeding +which at one time subjected her to months of sleeplessness. Not content +with this disturbance to her parents, she was at that time occasionally +able to gain her point and sleep between father and mother in their +very bed. Then "pillow" and "wooden wall" could really not come in +contact. Finally when she became so big that her presence between the +parents could not longer be borne comfortably, she consciously simulated +fear and actually succeeded in changing places with her mother and +taking her place at her father's side. This situation was undoubtedly +the starting point for the phantasies, whose after-effects made +themselves felt in her ritual. + +If a pillow represented a woman, then the shaking of the featherbed till +all the feathers were lumped at one end, rounding it into a prominence, +must have its meaning also. It meant the impregnation of the wife; the +ceremonial, however, never failed to provide for the annulment, of this +pregnancy by the flattening down of the feathers. Indeed, for years our +patient had feared that the intercourse between her parents might result +in another child which would be her rival. Now, where the large pillow +represents a woman, the mother, then the small pillow could be nothing +but the daughter. Why did this pillow have to be placed so as to form a +rhomb; and why did the girl's head have to rest exactly upon the +diagonal? It was easy to remind the patient that the rhomb on all walls +is the rune used to represent the open female genital. She herself then +played the part of the man, the father, and her head took the place of +the male organ. (Cf. the symbol of beheading to represent castration.) + +Wild ideas, you will say, to run riot in the head of a virgin girl. I +admit it, but do not forget that I have not created these ideas but +merely interpreted them. A sleep ritual of this kind is itself very +strange, and you cannot deny the correspondence between the ritual and +the phantasies that yielded us the interpretation. For my part I am most +anxious that you observe in this connection that no single phantasy was +projected in the ceremonial, but a number of them had to be +integrated,--they must have their nodal points somewhere in space. +Observe also that the observance of the ritual reproduce the sexual +desire now positively, now negatively, and serve in part as their +rejection, again as their representation. + +It would be possible to make a better analysis of this ritual by +relating it to other symptoms of the patient. But we cannot digress in +that direction. Let the suggestion suffice that the girl is subject to +an erotic attachment to her father, the beginning of which goes back to +her earliest childhood. That perhaps is the reason for her unfriendly +attitude toward her mother. Also we cannot escape the fact that the +analysis of this symptom again points to the sexual life of the patient. +The more we penetrate to the meaning and purpose of neurotic symptoms, +the less surprising will this seem to us. + +By means of two selected illustrations I have demonstrated to you that +neurotic symptoms carry just as much meaning as do errors and the dream, +and that they are intimately connected with the experience of the +patient. Can I expect you to believe this vitally significant statement +on the strength of two examples? No. But can you expect me to cite +further illustrations until you declare yourself convinced? That too is +impossible, since considering the explicitness with which I treat each +individual case, I would require a five-hour full semester course for +the explanation of this one point in the theory of the neuroses. I must +content myself then with having given you one proof for my assertion and +refer you for the rest to the literature of the subject, above all to +the classical interpretation of symptoms in Breuer's first case +(hysteria) as well as to the striking clarification of obscure symptoms +in the so-called dementia praecox by C. G. Jung, dating from the time +when this scholar was still content to be a mere psychoanalyst--and did +not yet want to be a prophet; and to all the articles that have +subsequently appeared in our periodicals. It is precisely investigations +of this sort which are plentiful. Psychoanalysts have felt themselves so +much attracted by the analysis, interpretation and translation of +neurotic symptoms, that by contrast they seem temporarily to have +neglected other problems of neurosis. + +Whoever among you takes the trouble to look into the matter will +undoubtedly be deeply impressed by the wealth of evidential material. +But he will also encounter difficulties. We have learned that the +meaning of a symptom is found in its relation to the experience of the +patient. The more highly individualized the symptom is, the sooner we +may hope to establish these relations. Therefore the task resolves +itself specifically into the discovery for every nonsensical idea and +useless action of a past situation wherein the idea had been justified +and the action purposeful. A perfect example for this kind of symptom is +the compulsive act of our patient who ran to the table and rang for the +maid. But there are symptoms of a very different nature which are by no +means rare. They must be called typical symptoms of the disease, for +they are approximately alike in all cases, in which the individual +differences disappear or shrivel to such an extent that it is difficult +to connect them with the specific experiences of the patient and to +relate them to the particular situations of his past. Let us again +direct our attention to the compulsion neurosis. The sleep ritual of our +second patient is already quite typical, but bears enough individual +features to render possible what may be called an _historic_ +interpretation. But all compulsive patients tend to repeat, to isolate +their actions from others and to subject them to a rhythmic sequence. +Most of them wash too much. Agoraphobia (topophobia, fear of spaces), a +malady which is no longer grouped with the compulsion neurosis, but is +now called anxiety hysteria, invariably shows the same pathological +picture; it repeats with exhausting monotony the same feature, the +patient's fear of closed spaces, of large open squares, of long +stretched streets and parkways, and their feeling of safety when +acquaintances accompany them, when a carriage drives after them, etc. On +this identical groundwork, however, the individual differences between +the patients are superimposed--moods one might almost call them, which +are sharply contrasted in the various cases. The one fears only narrow +streets, the other only wide ones, the one can go out walking only when +there are few people abroad, the other when there are many. Hysteria +also, aside from its wealth of individual features, has a superfluity of +common typical symptoms that appear to resist any facile historical +methods of tracing them. But do not let us forget that it is by these +typical symptoms that we get our bearings in reaching a diagnosis. When, +in one case of hysteria we have finally traced back a typical symptom to +an experience or a series of similar experiences, for instance followed +back an hysterical vomiting to its origin in a succession of disgust +impressions, another case of vomiting will confuse us by revealing an +entirely different chain of experiences, seemingly just as effective. It +seems almost as though hysterical patients must vomit for some reason as +yet unknown, and that the historic factors, revealed by analysis, are +chance pretexts, seized on as opportunity best offered to serve the +purposes of a deeper need. + +Thus we soon reach the discouraging conclusion that although we can +satisfactorily explain the individual neurotic symptom by relating it to +an experience, our science fails us when it comes to the typical +symptoms that occur far more frequently. In addition, remember that I am +not going into all the detailed difficulties which come up in the course +of resolutely hunting down an historic interpretation of the symptom. I +have no intention of doing this, for though I want to keep nothing from +you, and so paint everything in its true colors, I still do not wish to +confuse and discourage you at the very outset of our studies. It is true +that we have only begun to understand the interpretation of symptoms, +but we wish to hold fast to the results we have achieved, and struggle +forward step by step toward the mastery of the still unintelligible +data. I therefore try to cheer you with the thought that a fundamental +between the two kinds of symptoms can scarcely be assumed. Since the +individual symptoms are so obviously dependent upon the experience of +the patient, there is a possibility that the typical symptoms revert to +an experience that is in itself typical and common to all humanity. +Other regularly recurring features of neurosis, such as the repetition +and doubt of the compulsion neurosis, may be universal reactions which +are forced upon the patient by the very nature of the abnormal change. +In short, we have no reason to be prematurely discouraged; we shall see +what our further results will yield. + +We meet a very similar difficulty in the theory of dreams, which in our +previous discussion of the dream I could not go into. The manifest +content of dreams is most profuse and individually varied, and I have +shown very explicitly what analysis may glean from this content. But +side by side with these dreams there are others which may also be termed +"typical" and which occur similarly in all people. These are dreams of +identical content which offer the same difficulties for their +interpretation as the typical symptom. They are the dreams of falling, +flying, floating, swimming, of being hemmed in, of nakedness, and +various other anxiety dreams that yield first one and then another +interpretation for the different patients, without resulting in an +explanation of their monotonous and typical recurrence. In the matter +of these dreams also, we see a fundamental groundwork enriched by +individual additions. Probably they as well can be fitted into the +theory of dream life, built up on the basis of other dreams,--not +however by straining the point, but by the gradual broadening of our +views. + + + + +EIGHTEENTH LECTURE + +GENERAL THEORY OF THE NEUROSES + +_Traumatic Fixation--The Unconscious_ + + +I said last time that we would not continue our work from the standpoint +of our doubts, but on the basis of our results. We have not even touched +upon two of the most interesting conclusions, derived equally from the +same two sample analyses. + +In the first place, both patients give us the impression of being +_fixated_ upon some very definite part of their past; they are unable to +free themselves therefrom, and have therefore come to be completely +estranged both from the present and the future. They are now isolated in +their ailment, just as in earlier days people withdrew into monasteries +there to carry along the burden of their unhappy fates. In the case of +the first patient, it is her marriage with her husband, really +abandoned, that has determined her lot. By means of her symptoms she +continues to deal with her husband; we have learned to understand those +voices which plead his case, which excuse him, exalt him, lament his +loss. Although she is young and might be coveted by other men, she has +seized upon all manner of real and imaginary (magic) precautions to +safeguard her virtue for him. She will not appear before strangers, she +neglects her personal appearance; furthermore, she cannot bring herself +to get up readily from any chair on which she has been seated. She +refuses to give her signature, and finally, since she is motivated by +her desire not to let anyone have anything of hers, she is unable to +give presents. + +In the case of the second patient, the young girl, it is an erotic +attachment for her father that had established itself in the years prior +to puberty, which plays the same role in her life. She also has arrived +at the conclusion that she may not marry so long as she is sick. We may +suspect she became ill in order that she need not marry, and that she +might stay with her father. + +It is impossible to evade the question of how, in what manner, and +driven by what motives, an individual may come by such a remarkable and +unprofitable attitude toward life. Granted of course that this bearing +is a general characteristic of neurosis, and not a special peculiarity +of these two cases, it is nevertheless a general trait in every neurosis +of very great importance in practice. Breuer's first hysterical patient +was fixated in the same manner upon the time when she nursed her very +sick father. In spite of her recuperation she has, in certain respects, +since that time, been done with life; although she remained healthy and +able, she did not enter on the normal life of women. In every one of our +patients we may see, by the use of analysis, that in his +disease-symptoms and their results he has gone back again into a +definite period of his past. In the majority of cases he even chooses a +very early phase of his life, sometime a childhood phase, indeed, +laughable as it may appear, a phase of his very suckling existence. + +The closest analogies to these conditions of our neurotics are furnished +by the types of sickness which the war has just now made so +frequent--the so-called traumatic neuroses. Even before the war there +were such cases after railroad collisions and other frightful +occurrences which endangered life. The traumatic neuroses are, +fundamentally, not the same as the spontaneous neuroses which we have +been analysing and treating; moreover, we have not yet succeeded in +bringing them within our hypotheses, and I hope to be able to make clear +to you wherein this limitation lies. Yet on one point we may emphasize +the existence of a complete agreement between the two forms. The +traumatic neuroses show clear indications that they are grounded in a +fixation upon the moment of the traumatic disaster. In their dreams +these patients regularly live over the traumatic situation; where there +are attacks of an hysterical type, which permit of an analysis, we learn +that the attack approximates a complete transposition into this +situation. It is as if these patients had not yet gotten through with +the traumatic situation, as if it were actually before them as a task +which was not yet mastered. We take this view of the matter in all +seriousness; it shows the way to an _economic_ view of psychic +occurrences. For the expression "traumatic" has no other than an +economic meaning, and the disturbance permanently attacks the +management of available energy. The traumatic experience is one which, +in a very short space of time, is able to increase the strength of a +given stimulus so enormously that its assimilation, or rather its +elaboration, can no longer be effected by normal means. + +This analogy tempts us to classify as traumatic those experiences as +well upon which our neurotics appear to be fixated. Thus the possibility +is held out to us of having found a simple determining factor for the +neurosis. It would then be comparable to a traumatic disease, and would +arise from the inability to meet an overpowering emotional experience. +As a matter of fact this reads like the first formula, by which Breuer +and I, in 1893-1895, accounted theoretically for our new observations. A +case such as that of our first patient, the young woman separated from +her husband, is very well explained by this conception. She was not able +to get over the unfeasibility of her marriage, and has not been able to +extricate herself from this trauma. But our very next, that of the girl +attached to her father, shows us that the formula is not sufficiently +comprehensive. On the one hand, such baby love of a little girl for her +father is so usual, and so often outlived that the designation +"traumatic" would carry no significance; on the other hand, the history +of the patient teaches us that this first erotic fixation apparently +passed by harmlessly at the time, and did not again appear until many +years later in the symptoms of the compulsion neurosis. We see +complications before us, the existence of a greater wealth of +determining factors in the disease, but we also suspect that the +traumatic viewpoint will not have to be given up as wrong; rather it +will have to subordinate itself when it is fitted into a different +context. + +Here again we must leave the road we have been traveling. For the time +being, it leads us no further and we have many other things to find out +before we can go on again. But before we leave this subject let us note +that the fixation on some particular phase of the past has bearings +which extend far beyond the neurosis. Every neurosis contains such a +fixation, but every fixation does not lead to a neurosis, nor fall into +the same class with neuroses, nor even set the conditions for the +development of a neurosis. Mourning is a type of emotional fixation on a +theory of the past, which also brings with it the most complete +alienation from the present and the future. But mourning is sharply +distinguished from neuroses that may be designated as pathological forms +of mourning. + +It also happens that men are brought to complete deadlock by a traumatic +experience that has so completely shaken the foundations on which they +have built their lives that they give up all interest in the present and +future, and become completely absorbed in their retrospections; but +these unhappy persons are not necessarily neurotic. We must not +overestimate this one feature as a diagnostic for a neurosis, no matter +how invariable and potent it may be. + +Now let us turn to the second conclusion of our analysis, which however +we will hardly need to limit subsequently. We have spoken of the +senseless compulsive activities of our first patient, and what intimate +memories she disclosed as belonging to them; later we also investigated +the connection between experience and symptom and thus discovered the +purpose hidden behind the compulsive activity. But we have entirely +omitted one factor that deserves our whole attention. As long as the +patient kept repeating the compulsive activity she did not know that it +was in any way related with the experience in question. The connection +between the two was hidden from her, she truthfully answered that she +did not know what compelled her to do this. Once, suddenly, under the +influence of the cure, she hit upon the connection and was able to tell +it to us. But still she did not know of the end in the service of which +she performed the compulsive activities, the purpose to correct a +painful part of the past and to place the husband, still loved by her, +upon a higher level. It took quite a long time and a great deal of +trouble for her to grasp and admit to me that such a motive alone could +have been the motive force of the compulsive activity. + +The relation between the scene after the unhappy bridal night and the +tender motive of the patient yield what we have called the meaning of +the compulsive activity. But both the "whence" and the "why" remained +hidden from her as long as she continued to carry out the compulsive +act. Psychological processes had been going on within her for which the +compulsive act found an expression. She could, in a normal frame of +mind, observe their effect, but none of the psychological antecedents +of her action had come to the knowledge of her consciousness. She had +acted in just the same manner as a hypnotized person to whom Bernheim +had given the injunction that five minutes after his awakening in the +ward he was to open an umbrella, and he had carried out this order on +awakening, but could give no motive for his so doing. We have exactly +such facts in mind when we speak of the existence of _unconscious +psychological processes_. Let anyone in the world account for these +facts in a more correct scientific manner, and we will gladly withdraw +completely our assumption of unconscious psychological processes. Until +then, however, we shall continue to use this assumption, and when anyone +wants to bring forward the objection that the unconscious can have no +reality for science and is a mere makeshift, (_une facon de parler_), we +must simply shrug our shoulders and reject his incomprehensible +statement resignedly. A strange unreality which can call out such real +and palpable effects as a compulsion symptom! + +In our second patient we meet with fundamentally the same thing. She had +created a decree which she must follow: the pillow must not touch the +head of the bed; yet she does not know how it originated, what its +meaning is, nor to what motive it owes the source of its power. It is +immaterial whether she looks upon it with indifference or struggles +against it, storms against it, determines to overcome it. She must +nevertheless follow it and carry out its ordinance, though she asks +herself, in vain, why. One must admit that these symptoms of compulsion +neurosis offer the clearest evidence for a special sphere of +psychological activity, cut off from the rest. What else could be back +of these images and impulses, which appear from one knows not where, +which have such great resistance to all the influences of an otherwise +normal psychic life; which give the patient himself the impression that +here are super-powerful guests from another world, immortals mixing in +the affairs of mortals. Neurotic symptoms lead unmistakably to a +conviction of the existence of an unconscious psychology, and for that +very reason clinical psychiatry, which recognizes only a conscious +psychology, has no explanation other than that they are present as +indications of a particular kind of degeneration. To be sure, the +compulsive images and impulses are not themselves unconscious--no more +so than the carrying out of the compulsive-acts escapes conscious +observation. They would not have been symptoms had they not penetrated +through into consciousness. But their psychological antecedents as +disclosed by the analysis, the associations into which we place them by +our interpretations, are unconscious, at least until we have made them +known to the patient during the course of the analysis. + +Consider now, in addition, that the facts established in our two cases +are confirmed in all the symptoms of all neurotic diseases, that always +and everywhere the meaning of the symptoms is unknown to the sufferer, +that analysis shows without fail that these symptoms are derivatives of +unconscious experiences which can, under various favorable conditions, +become conscious. You will understand then that in psychoanalysis we +cannot do without this unconscious psyche, and are accustomed to deal +with it as with something tangible. Perhaps you will also be able to +understand how those who know the unconscious only as an idea, who have +never analyzed, never interpreted dreams, or never translated neurotic +symptoms into meaning and purpose, are most ill-suited to pass an +opinion on this subject. Let us express our point of view once more. Our +ability to give meaning to neurotic symptoms by means of analytic +interpretation is an irrefutable indication of the existence of +unconscious psychological processes--or, if you prefer, an irrefutable +proof of the necessity for their assumption. + +But that is not all. Thanks to a second discovery of Breuer's, for which +he alone deserves credit and which appears to me to be even more +far-reaching, we are able to learn still more concerning the +relationship between the unconscious and the neurotic symptom. Not alone +is the meaning of the symptoms invariably hidden in the unconscious; but +the very existence of the symptom is conditioned by its relation to this +unconscious. You will soon understand me. With Breuer I maintain the +following: Every time we hit upon a symptom we may conclude that the +patient cherishes definite unconscious experiences which withhold the +meaning of the symptoms. Vice versa, in order that the symptoms may come +into being, it is also essential that this meaning be unconscious. +Symptoms are not built up out of conscious experiences; as soon as the +unconscious processes in question become conscious, the symptom +disappears. You will at once recognize here the approach to our therapy, +a way to make symptoms disappear. It was by these means that Breuer +actually achieved the recovery of his patient, that is, freed her of her +symptoms; he found a technique for bringing into her consciousness the +unconscious experiences that carried the meaning of her symptoms, and +the symptoms disappeared. + +This discovery of Breuer's was not the result of a speculation, but of a +felicitous observation made possible by the cooperation of the patient. +You should therefore not trouble yourself to find things you already +know to which you can compare these occurrences, rather you should +recognize herein a new fundamental fact which in itself is capable of +much wider application. Toward this further end permit me to go over +this ground again in a different way. + +The symptom develops as a substitution for something else that has +remained suppressed. Certain psychological experiences should normally +have become so far elaborated that consciousness would have attained +knowledge of them. This did not take place, however, but out of these +interrupted and disturbed processes, imprisoned in the unconscious, the +symptom arose. That is to say, something in the nature of an interchange +had been effected; as often as therapeutic measures are successful in +again reversing this transposition, psychoanalytic therapy solves the +problem of the neurotic symptom. + +Accordingly, Breuer's discovery still remains the foundation of +psychoanalytic therapy. The assertion that the symptoms disappear when +one has made their unconscious connections conscious, has been borne out +by all subsequent research, although the most extraordinary and +unexpected complications have been met with in its practical execution. +Our therapy does its work by means of changing the unconscious into the +conscious, and is effective only in so far as it has the opportunity of +bringing about this transformation. + +Now we shall make a hasty digression so that you do not by any chance +imagine that this therapeutic work is too easy. From all we have learned +so far, the neurosis would appear as the result of a sort of ignorance, +the incognizance of psychological processes that we should know of. We +would thus very closely approximate the well-known Socratic teachings, +according to which evil itself is the result of ignorance. Now the +experienced physician will, as a rule, discover fairly readily what +psychic impulses in his several patients have remained unconscious. +Accordingly it would seem easy for him to cure the patient by imparting +this knowledge to him and freeing him of his ignorance. At least the +part played by the unconscious meaning of the symptoms could easily be +discovered in this manner, and it would only be in dealing with the +relationship of the symptoms to the experiences of the patient that the +physician would be handicapped. In the face of these experiences, of +course, he is the ignorant one of the two, for he did not go through +these experiences, and must wait until the patient remembers them and +tells them to him. But in many cases this difficulty could be readily +overcome. One can question the relatives of the patient concerning these +experiences, and they will often be in a position to point out those +that carry any traumatic significance; they may even be able to inform +the analyst of experiences of which the patient knows nothing because +they occurred in the very early years of his life. By a combination of +such means it would seem that the pathogenic ignorance of the patient +could be cleared up in a short time and without much trouble. + +If only that were all! We have made discoveries for which we were at +first unprepared. Knowing and knowing is not always the same thing; +there are various kinds of knowing that are psychologically by no means +comparable. "_Il y a fagots et fagots_,"[39] as Moliere says. The +knowledge of the physician is not the same as that of the patient and +cannot bring about the same results. The physician can gain no results +by transferring his knowledge to the patient in so many words. This is +perhaps putting it incorrectly, for though the transference does not +result in dissolving the symptoms, it does set the analysis in motion, +and calls out an energetic denial, the first sign usually that this has +taken place. The patient has learned something that he did not know up +to that time, the meaning of his symptoms, and yet he knows it as little +as before. So we discover there is more than one kind of ignorance. It +will require a deepening of our psychological insight to make clear to +us wherein the difference lies. But our assertion nevertheless remains +true that the symptoms disappear with the knowledge of their meaning. +For there is only one limiting condition; the knowledge must be founded +on an inner change in the patient which can be attained only through +psychic labors directed toward a definite end. We have here been +confronted by problems which will soon lead us to the elaboration of a +dynamics of symptom formation. + +I must stop to ask you whether this is not all too vague and too +complicated? Do I not confuse you by so often retracting my words and +restricting them, spinning out trains of thought and then rejecting +them? I should be sorry if this were the case. However, I strongly +dislike simplification at the expense of truth, and am not averse to +having you receive the full impression of how many-sided and complicated +the subject is. I also think that there is no harm done if I say more on +every point than you can at the moment make use of. I know that every +hearer and reader arranges what is offered him in his own thoughts, +shortens it, simplifies it and extracts what he wishes to retain. Within +a given measure it is true that the more we begin with the more we have +left. Let me hope that, despite all the by-play, you have clearly +grasped the essential parts of my remarks, those about the meaning of +symptoms, about the unconscious, and the relation between the two. You +probably have also understood that our further efforts are to take two +directions: first, the clinical problem--to discover how persons become +sick, how they later on accomplish a neurotic adaptation toward life; +secondly, a problem of psychic dynamics, the evolution of the neurotic +symptoms themselves from the prerequisites of the neuroses. We will +undoubtedly somewhere come on a point of contact for these two problems. + +I do not wish to go any further to-day, but since our time is not yet up +I intend to call your attention to another characteristic of our two +analyses, namely, the memory gaps or amnesias, whose full appreciation +will be possible later. You have heard that it is possible to express +the object of psychoanalytic treatment in a formula: all pathogenic +unconscious experience must be transposed into consciousness. You will +perhaps be surprised to learn that this formula can be replaced by +another: all the memory gaps of the patient must be filled out, his +amnesias must be abolished. Practically this amounts to the same thing. +Therefore an important role in the development of his symptoms must be +accredited to the amnesias of the neurotic. The analysis of our first +case, however, will hardly justify this valuation of the amnesia. The +patient has not forgotten the scene from which the compulsion act +derives--on the contrary, she remembers it vividly, nor is there any +other forgotten factor which comes into play in the development of these +symptoms. Less clear, but entirely analogous, is the situation in the +case of our second patient, the girl with the compulsive ritual. She, +too, has not really forgotten the behavior of her early years, the fact +that she insisted that the door between her bedroom and that of her +parents be kept open, and that she banished her mother out of her place +in her parents' bed. She recalls all this very clearly, although +hesitatingly and unwillingly. Only one factor stands out strikingly in +our first case, that though the patient carries out her compulsive act +innumerable times, she is not once reminded of its similarity with the +experience after the bridal-night; nor was this memory even suggested +when by direct questions she was asked to search for its motivation. The +same is true of the girl, for in her case not only her ritual, but the +situation which provoked it, is repeated identically night after night. +In neither case is there any actual amnesia, no lapse of memory, but an +association is broken off which should have called out a reproduction, a +revival in the memory. Such a disturbance is enough to bring on a +compulsion neurosis. Hysteria, however, shows a different picture, for +it is usually characterized by most grandiose amnesias. As a rule, in +the analysis of each hysterical symptom, one is led back to a whole +chain of impressions which, upon their recovery, are expressly +designated as forgotten up to the moment. On the one hand this chain +extends back to the earliest years of life, so that the hysterical +amnesias may be regarded as the direct continuation of the infantile +amnesias, which hides the beginnings of our psychic life from those of +us who are normal. On the other hand, we discover with surprise that the +most recent experiences of the patient are blurred by these losses of +memory--that especially the provocations which favored or brought on the +illness are, if not entirely wiped out by the amnesia, at least +partially obliterated. Without fail important details have disappeared +from the general picture of such a recent memory, or are placed by false +memories. Indeed it happens almost regularly that just before the +completion of an analysis, certain memories of recent experiences +suddenly come to light. They had been held back all this time, and had +left noticeable gaps in the context. + +We have pointed out that such a crippling of the ability to recall is +characteristic of hysteria. In hysteria symptomatic conditions also +arise (hysterical attacks) which need leave no trace in the memory. If +these things do not occur in compulsion-neuroses, you are justified in +concluding that these amnesias exhibit psychological characteristics of +the hysterical change, and not a general trait of the neuroses. The +significance of this difference will be more closely limited by the +following observations. We have combined two things as the meaning of a +symptom, its "whence," on the one hand, and its "whither" or "why," on +the other. By these we mean to indicate the impressions and experiences +whence the symptom arises, and the purpose the symptom serves. The +"whence" of a symptom is traced back to impressions which have come from +without, which have therefore necessarily been conscious at some time, +but which may have sunk into the unconscious--that is, have been +forgotten. The "why" of the symptom, its tendency, is in every case an +endopsychic process, developed from within, which may or may not have +become conscious at first, but could just as readily never have entered +consciousness at all and have been unconscious from its inception. It +is, after all, not so very significant that, as happens in the +hysterias, amnesia has covered over the "whence" of the symptom, the +experience upon which it is based; for it is the "why," the tendency of +the symptom, which establishes its dependence on the unconscious, and +indeed no less so in the compulsion neuroses than in hysteria. In both +cases the "why" may have been unconscious from the very first. + +By thus bringing into prominence the unconscious in psychic life, we +have raised the most evil spirits of criticism against psychoanalysis. +Do not be surprised at this, and do not believe that the opposition is +directed only against the difficulties offered by the conception of the +unconscious or against the relative inaccessibility of the experiences +which represent it. I believe it comes from another source. Humanity, in +the course of time, has had to endure from the hands of science two +great outrages against its naive self-love. The first was when humanity +discovered that our earth was not the center of the universe, but only +a tiny speck in a world-system hardly conceivable in its magnitude. This +is associated in our minds with the name "Copernicus," although +Alexandrian science had taught much the same thing. The second occurred +when biological research robbed man of his apparent superiority under +special creation, and rebuked him with his descent from the animal +kingdom, and his ineradicable animal nature. This re-valuation, under +the influence of Charles Darwin, Wallace and their predecessors, was not +accomplished without the most violent opposition of their +contemporaries. But the third and most irritating insult is flung at the +human mania of greatness by present-day psychological research, which +wants to prove to the "I" that it is not even master in its own home, +but is dependent upon the most scanty information concerning all that +goes on unconsciously in its psychic life. We psychoanalysts were +neither the first, nor the only ones to announce this admonition to look +within ourselves. It appears that we are fated to represent it most +insistently and to confirm it by means of empirical data which are of +importance to every single person. This is the reason for the widespread +revolt against our science, the omission of all considerations of +academic urbanity, and emancipation of the opposition from all +restraints of impartial logic. We were compelled to disturb the peace of +the world, in addition, in another manner, of which you will soon come +to know. + + + + +NINETEENTH LECTURE + +GENERAL THEORY OF THE NEUROSES + +_Resistance and Suppression_ + + +In order to progress in our understanding of the neuroses, we need new +experiences and we are about to obtain two. Both are very remarkable and +were at the time of their discovery, very surprising. You are, of +course, prepared for both from our discussions of the past semester. + +In the first place: When we undertake to cure a patient, to free him +from the symptoms of his malady, he confronts us with a vigorous, +tenacious resistance that lasts during the whole time of the treatment. +That is so peculiar a fact that we cannot expect much credence for it. +The best thing is not to mention this fact to the patient's relatives, +for they never think of it otherwise than as a subterfuge on our part in +order to excuse the length or the failure of our treatment. The patient, +moreover, produces all the phenomena of this resistance without even +recognizing it as such; it is always a great advance to have brought him +to the point of understanding this conception and reckoning with it. +Just consider, this patient suffers from his symptoms and causes those +about him to suffer with him. He is willing, moreover, to take upon +himself so many sacrifices of time, money, effort and self-denial in +order to be freed. And yet he struggles, in the very interests of his +malady, against one who would help him. How improbable this assertion +must sound! And yet it is so, and if we are reproached with its +improbability, we need only answer that this fact is not without its +analogies. Whoever goes to a dentist with an unbearable toothache may +very well find himself thrusting away the dentist's arm when the man +makes for his sick tooth with a pair of pincers. + +The resistance which the patient shows is highly varied, exceedingly +subtle, often difficult to recognize, Protean-like in its manifold +changes of form. It means that the doctor must become suspicious and be +constantly on his guard against the patient. In psychoanalytic therapy +we make use, as you know, of that technique which is already familiar to +you from the interpretation of dreams. We tell the patient that without +further reflection he should put himself into a condition of calm +self-observation and that he must then communicate whatever results this +introspection gives him--feelings, thoughts, reminiscences, in the order +in which they appear to his mind. At the same time, we warn him +expressly against yielding to any motive which would induce him to +choose or exclude any of his thoughts as they arise, in whatever way the +motive may be couched and however it may excuse him from telling us the +thought: "that is too unpleasant," or "too indiscreet" for him to tell; +or "it is too unimportant," or "it does not belong here," "it is +nonsensical." We impress upon him the fact that he must skim only across +the surface of his consciousness and must drop the last vestige of a +critical attitude toward that which he finds. We finally inform him that +the result of the treatment and above all its length is dependent on the +conscientiousness with which he follows this basic rule of the analytic +technique. We know, in fact, from the technique of interpreting dreams, +that of all the random notions which may occur, those against which such +doubts are raised are invariably the ones to yield the material which +leads to the uncovering of the unconscious. + +The first reaction we call out by laying down this basic technical rule +is that the patient directs his entire resistance against it. The +patient tries in every way to escape its requirements. First he will +declare that he cannot think of anything, then, that so much comes to +his mind that it is impossible to seize on anything definite. Then we +discover with no slight displeasure that he has yielded to this or that +critical objection, for he betrays himself by the long pauses which he +allows to occur in his speaking. He then confesses that he really cannot +bring himself to this, that he is ashamed to; he prefers to let this +motive get the upper hand over his promise. He may say that he did think +of something but that it concerns someone else and is for that reason +exempt. Or he says that what he just thought of is really too trivial, +too stupid and too foolish. I surely could not have meant that he should +take such thoughts into account. Thus it goes on, with untold +variations, in the face of which we continually reiterate that "telling +everything" really means telling everything. + +One can scarcely find a patient who does not make the attempt to reserve +some province for himself against the intrusion of the analysis. One +patient, whom I must reckon among the most highly intelligent, thus +concealed an intimate love relation for weeks; and when he was asked to +explain this infringement of our inviolable rule, he defended his action +with the argument that he considered this one thing was his private +affair. Naturally, analytic treatment cannot countenance such right of +sanctuary. One might as well try in a city like Vienna to allow an +exception to be made of great public squares like the Hohe Markt or the +Stephans Platz and say that no one should be arrested in those +places--and then attempt to round up some particular wrong-doer. He will +be found nowhere but in those sanctuaries. I once brought myself around +to permit such an exception in the case of a man on whose capacity for +work a great deal depended, and who was bound by his oath of service, +which forbade him to tell anyone of certain things. To be sure, he was +satisfied with the results--but not I; I resolved never to repeat such +an attempt under these conditions. + +Compulsion neurotics are exceedingly adept at making this technical rule +almost useless by bringing to bear all their over-conscientiousness and +their doubts upon it. Patients suffering from anxiety-hysteria sometimes +succeed in reducing it to absurdity by producing only notions so remote +from the thing sought for that analysis is quite unprofitable. But it is +not my intention to go into the way in which these technical +difficulties may be met. It is enough to know that finally, by means of +resolution and perseverance, we do succeed in wresting a certain amount +of obedience from the patient toward this basic rule of the technique; +the resistance then makes itself felt in other ways. It appears in the +form of an intellectual resistance, battles by means of arguments, and +makes use of all difficulties and improbabilities which a normal yet +uninstructed thinking is bound to find in the theory of analysis. Then +we hear from one voice alone the same criticisms and objections which +thunder about us in mighty chorus in the scientific literature. +Therefore the critics who shout to us from outside cannot tell us +anything new. It is a veritable tempest in a teapot. Still the patient +can be argued with, he is anxious to persuade us to instruct him, to +teach him, to lead him to the literature, so that he may continue +working things out for himself. He is very ready to become an adherent +of psychoanalysis on condition that analysis spare him personally. But +we recognize this curiosity as a resistance, as a diversion from our +special objects, and we meet it accordingly. In those patients who +suffer from compulsion neuroses, we must expect the resistance to +display special tactics. They frequently allow the analysis to take its +way, so that it may succeed in throwing more and more light on the +problems of the case, but we finally begin to wonder how it is that this +clearing up brings with it no practical progress, no diminution of the +symptom. Then we may discover that the resistance has entrenched itself +in the doubts of the compulsion neurosis itself and in this position is +able successfully to resist our efforts. The patient has said something +like this to himself: "This is all very nice and interesting. And I +would be glad to continue it. It would affect my malady considerably if +it were true. But I don't believe that it is true and as long as I don't +believe it, it has nothing to do with my sickness." And so it may go on +for a long time until one finally has shaken this position itself; it is +then that the decisive battle takes place. + +The intellectual resistances are not the worst, one can always get ahead +of them. But the patient can also put up resistances, within the limits +of the analysis, whose conquest belongs to the most difficult tasks of +our technique. Instead of recalling, he actually goes again through the +attitudes and emotions of his previous life which, by means of the +so-called "transference," can be utilized as resistances to the +physician and the treatment. If the patient is a man, he takes this +material as a rule from his relations to his father, in whose place he +now puts the physician, and in so doing constructs a resistance out of +his struggle for independence of person and opinion; out of his ambition +to equal or to excel his father; out of his unwillingness to assume the +burden of gratitude a second time in his life. For long times at a +stretch one receives the impression that the patient desires to put the +physician in the wrong and to let him feel his helplessness by +triumphing over him, and that this desire has completely replaced his +better intention of making an end to his sickness. Women are adepts at +exploiting, for the purposes of the resistance, a tender, erotically +tinged transference to the physician. When this leaning attains a +certain intensity, all interest for the actual situation of the +treatment is lost, together with every sense of the responsibility which +was assumed by undertaking it. The never-failing jealousy as well as the +embitterment over the inevitable repudiation, however gently effected, +all must serve to spoil the personal understanding between patient and +physician and thus to throw out one of the most powerful propelling +forces of the analysis. + +Resistances of this sort must not be narrow-mindedly condemned. They +contain so much of the most important material of the patient's past and +reproduce it in such a convincing manner, that they become of the +greatest aid to the analysis, if a skillful technique is able to turn +them in the right direction. It is only remarkable that this material is +at first always in the service of the resistance, for which it serves as +a barrier against the treatment. One can also say that here are traits +of character, adjustments of the ego which were mobilized in order to +defeat the attempted change. We are thus able to learn how these traits +arose under the conditions of the neurosis, as a reaction to its +demands, and to see features more clearly in this character which could +otherwise not have shown up so clearly or at least not to this extent, +and which one may therefore designate as latent. You must also not get +the impression that we see an unforeseen endangering of the analytic +influence in the appearance of these resistances. On the contrary, we +know that these resistances must come to light; we are dissatisfied only +when we do not provoke them in their full strength and so make them +plain to the patient Indeed, we at last understand that overcoming these +resistances is the essential achievement of analysis and is that portion +of the work which alone assures us that we have accomplished something +with the patient. + +You must also take into account the fact that any accidental occurrences +which arise during the treatment will be made use of by the patient as a +disturbance--every diverting incident, every statement about analysis +from an inimical authority in his circle, any chance illness or any +organic affection which complicates the neurosis; indeed, he even uses +every improvement of his condition as a motive for abating his efforts. +You will then have gained an approximate, though still an incomplete +picture of the forms and devices of the resistance which must be met +and overcome in the course of every analysis. I have given this point +such detailed consideration because I am about to inform you that our +dynamic conception of the neurosis is based on this experience with the +resistance of neurotic patients against the banishment of their +symptoms. Breuer and I both originally practiced psycho-therapy by means +of hypnosis. Breuer's first patient was treated throughout under a +condition of hypnotic suggestibility, and I at first followed his +example. I admit that my work at that time progressed easily and +agreeably and also took much less time. But the results were capricious +and not permanent; therefore I finally gave up hypnotism. Then only did +I realize that no insight into the forces which produce these diseases +was possible as long as one used hypnotism. The condition of hypnosis +could prevent the physician from realizing the existence of a +resistance. Hypnosis drives back the resistance and frees a certain +field for the work of analysis, but similarly to the doubt in the +compulsion neurosis, in so doing it clogs the boundaries of this field +till they become impenetrable. That is why I can say that true +psychoanalysis began when the help of hypnotism was renounced. + +But if the establishment of the resistance thus becomes a matter of such +importance, then surely we must give our caution full rein, and follow +up any doubts as to whether we are not all too ready in our assumption +of their existence. Perhaps there really are neurotic cases in which +associations appear for other reasons, perhaps the arguments against our +hypothesis really deserve more consideration and we are unjustified in +conveniently rejecting all intellectual criticisms of analysis as a +resistance. Indeed, ladies and gentlemen, but our judgment was by no +means readily arrived at. We had opportunity to observe every critical +patient from the first sign of the resistance till after its +disappearance. In the course of the treatment, the resistance is +moreover constantly changing in intensity. It is always on the increase +as we approach a new theme, is strongest at the height of its +elaboration, and dies down again when this theme has been abandoned. +Furthermore, unless we have made some unusual and awkward technical +error, we never have to deal with the full measure of resistance of +which the patient is capable. We could therefore convince ourselves that +the same man took up and discarded his critical attitude innumerable +times in the course of the analysis. Whenever we are on the point of +bringing before his consciousness some piece of unconscious material +which is especially painful to him, then he is critical in the extreme. +Even though he had previously understood and accepted a great deal, +nevertheless all record of these gains seems now to have been wiped out. +He may, in his desire to resist at any cost, present a picture of +veritable emotional feeblemindedness. If one succeeds in helping him to +overcome this new resistance, then he regains his insight and his +understanding. Thus his criticism is not an independent function to be +respected as such; it plays the role of handy-man to his emotional +attitude and is guided by his resistance. If something displeases him, +he can defend himself against it very ingeniously and appear most +critical. But if something strikes his fancy, then he may show himself +easily convinced. Perhaps none of us are very different, and the patient +under analysis shows this dependence of the intellect on the emotional +life so plainly only because, under the analysis, he is so hard pressed. + +In what way shall we now account for the observation that the patient so +energetically resists our attempts to rid him of his symptoms and to +make his psychic processes function in a normal way? We tell ourselves +that we have here come up against strong forces which oppose any change +in the condition; furthermore, that these forces must be identical with +those which originally brought about the condition. Some process must +have been functional in the building up of these symptoms, a process +which we can now reconstruct by means of our experiences in solving the +meaning of the symptoms. We already know from Breuer's observations that +the existence of a symptom presupposes that some psychic process was not +carried to its normal conclusion, so that it could not become conscious. +The symptom is the substitute for that which did not take place. Now we +know where the forces whose existence we suspect must operate. Some +violent antagonism must have been aroused to prevent the psychic process +in question from reaching consciousness, and it therefore remained +unconscious. As an unconscious thought it had the power to create a +symptom. The same struggle during the analytic treatment opposes anew +the efforts to carry this unconscious thought over into consciousness. +This process we felt as a resistance. That pathogenic process which is +made evident to us through the resistance, we will name _repression_. + +We are now ready to obtain a more definite idea of this process of +repression. It is the preliminary condition for the formation of +symptoms; it is also a thing for which we have no parallel. If we take +as prototype an impulse, a psychological process which is striving to +convert itself into action, we know that it may succumb before a +rejection, which we call "repudiation" or "condemnation." In the course +of this struggle, the energy which the impulse had at its disposal was +withdrawn from it, it becomes powerless; yet it may subsist in the form +of a memory. The whole process of decision occurs with the full +knowledge of the ego. The state of affairs is very different if we +imagine that this same impulse has been subjected to repression. In that +case, it would retain its energy and there would be no memory of it +left; in addition, the process of repression would be carried out +without the knowledge of the ego. Through this comparison, however, we +have come no nearer understanding the nature of repression. + +I now go into the theoretical ideas which alone have shown themselves +useful in making the conception of repression more definite. It is above +all necessary that we progress from a purely descriptive meaning of the +word "unconscious" to its more systematic meaning; that is, we come to a +point where we must call the consciousness or unconsciousness of a +psychic process only one of its attributes, an attribute which is, +moreover, not necessarily unequivocal. If such a process remained +unconscious, then this separation from consciousness is perhaps only an +indication of the fate to which it has submitted and not this fate +itself. To bring this home to us more vividly, let us assume that every +psychological process--with one exception, which I will go into +later--first exists in an unconscious state or phase and only goes over +from this into a conscious phase, much as a photographic picture is +first a negative and then becomes a picture by being printed. But not +every negative need become a positive, and just as little is it +necessary that every unconscious psychological process should be changed +into a conscious one. We find it advantageous to express ourselves as +follows: Any particular process belongs in the first place to the +psychological system of the unconscious; from this system it can under +certain conditions go over into the system of the conscious. The crudest +conception of these systems is the one which is most convenient for us, +namely, a representation in space. We will compare the system of the +unconscious to a large ante-chamber, in which the psychic impulses rub +elbows with one another, as separate beings. There opens out of this +ante-chamber another, a smaller room, a sort of parlor, which +consciousness occupies. But on the threshold between the two rooms there +stands a watchman; he passes on the individual psychic impulses, censors +them, and will not let them into the parlor if they do not meet with his +approval. You see at once that it makes little difference whether the +watchman brushes a single impulse away from the threshold, or whether he +drives it out again after it has already entered the parlor. It is a +question here only of the extent of his watchfulness, and the timeliness +of his judgment. Still working with this simile, we proceed to a further +elaboration of our nomenclature. The impulses in the ante-chamber of the +unconscious cannot be seen by the conscious, which is in the other room; +therefore for the time being they must remain unconscious. When they +have succeeded in pressing forward to the threshold, and have been sent +back by the watchman, then they are unsuitable for consciousness and we +call them _suppressed_. Those impulses, however, which the watchman has +permitted to cross the threshold have not necessarily become conscious; +for this can happen only if they have been successful in attracting to +themselves the glance of the conscious. We therefore justifiably call +this second room the system of the _fore-conscious_. In this way the +process of becoming conscious retains its purely descriptive sense. +Suppression then, for any individual impulse, consists in not being able +to get past the watchman from the system of the unconscious to that of +the fore-conscious. The watchman himself is long since known to us; we +have met him as the resistance which opposed us when we attempted to +release the suppression through analytic treatment. + +Now I know you will say that these conceptions are as crude as they are +fantastic, and not at all permissible in a scientific discussion. I know +they are crude--indeed, we even know that they are incorrect, and if we +are not very much mistaken we have a better substitute for them in +readiness. Whether they will continue then to appear so fantastic to you +I do not know. For the time being, they are useful conceptions, similar +to the manikin _Ampere_ who swims in the stream of the electric current. +In so far as they are helpful in the understanding of our observation, +they are by no means to be despised. I should like to assure you that +these crude assumptions go far in approximating the actual +situation--the two rooms, the watchman on the threshold between the two, +and consciousness at the end of the second room in the role of an +onlooker. I should also like to hear you admit that our +designations--_unconscious_, _fore-conscious_, and _conscious_ are much +less likely to arouse prejudice, and are easier to justify than others +that have been used or suggested--such as _sub-conscious_, +_inter-conscious_, _between-conscious_, etc. + +This becomes all the more important to me if you should warn me that +this arrangement of the psychic apparatus, such as I have assumed in the +explanation of neurotic symptoms, must be generally applicable and must +hold for normal functioning as well. In that, of course, you are right. +We cannot follow this up at present, but our interest in the psychology +of the development of the symptom must be enormously increased if +through the study of pathological conditions we have the prospect of +finding a key to the normal psychic occurrences which have been so well +concealed. + +You will probably recognize what it is that supports our assumptions +concerning these two systems and their relation to consciousness. The +watchman between the unconscious and the fore-conscious is none other +than the censor under whose control we found the manifest dream to +obtain its form. The residue of the day's experiences, which we found +were the stimuli which set off the dream, are fore-conscious materials +which at night, during sleep, had come under the influence of +unconscious and suppressed wishes. Borne along by the energy of the +wish, these stimuli were able to build the latent dream. Under the +control of the unconscious system this material was worked over, went +through an elaboration and displacement such as the normal psychic life +or, better said, the fore-conscious system, either does not know at all +or tolerates only exceptionally. In our eyes the characteristics of each +of the two systems were betrayed by this difference in their +functioning. The dependent relation between the fore-conscious and the +conscious was to us only an indication that it must belong to one of the +two systems. The dream is by no means a pathological phenomenon; it may +appear in every healthy person under the conditions of sleep. Any +assumption as to the structure of the psychic apparatus which covers the +development of both the dream and the neurotic symptom has also an +undeniable claim to be taken into consideration in any theory of normal +psychic life. + +So much, then, for suppression. It is, however, only a prerequisite for +the evolution of the symptom. We know that the symptom serves as a +substitute for a process kept back by suppression. Yet it is no simple +matter to bridge this gap between the suppression and the evolution of +the substitute. We have first to answer several questions on other +aspects of the problem concerning the suppression and its +substantiation: What kind of psychological stimuli are at the basis of +the suppression; by what forces is it achieved; for what motives? On +these matters we have only one insight that we can go by. We learned in +the investigation of resistance that it grows out of the forces of the +"I," in other words from obvious and latent traits of character. It must +be from the same traits also that suppression derived support; at least +they played a part in its development. All further knowledge is still +withheld from us. + +A second observation, for which I have already prepared, will help us +further at this point. By means of analysis we can assign one very +general purpose to the neurotic symptom. This is of course nothing new +to you. I have already shown it to you in the two cases of neuroses. +But, to be sure, what is the significance of two cases! You have the +right to demand that it be shown to you innumerable times. But I am +unable to do this. Here again your own experience must step in, or your +belief, which may in this matter rely upon the unanimous account of all +psychoanalysts. + +You will remember that in these two cases, whose symptoms we subjected +to searching investigation, the analysis introduced us to the most +intimate sexual life of these patients. In the first case, moreover, we +could identify with unusual clearness the purpose or tendency of the +symptoms under investigation. Perhaps in the second case it was +slightly covered by another factor--one we will consider later. Now, the +same thing that we saw in these two examples we would see in all other +cases that we subjected to analysis. Each time, through analysis, we +would be introduced to the sexual wishes and experiences of the patient, +and every time we would have to conclude that their symptoms served the +same purpose. This purpose shows itself to be the satisfaction of sexual +wishes; the symptoms serve as a sexual satisfaction for the patient, +they are a substitute for such satisfactions as they miss in reality. + +Recall the compulsive act of our first patient. The woman longs for her +intensely beloved husband, with whom she cannot share her life because +of his shortcoming and weaknesses. She feels she must remain true to +him, she can give his place to no one else. Her compulsive symptom +affords her that for which she pines, ennobles her husband, denies and +corrects his weaknesses,--above all, his impotence. This symptom is +fundamentally a wish-fulfillment, exactly as is a dream; moreover, it is +what a dream not always is, an erotic wish-fulfillment. In the case of +our second patient you can see that one of the component purposes of her +ceremonial was the prevention of the intercourse of her parents or the +hindrance of the creation of a new child thereby. You have perhaps also +guessed that essentially she strove to put herself in the place of her +mother. Here again we find the removal of disturbances to sexual +satisfaction and the fulfillment of personal sexual wishes. We shall +soon turn to the complications of whose existence we have given you +several indications. + +I do not want to make reservations as to the universal applicability of +these declarations later on, and therefore I wish to call to your +attention the fact that everything that I say here about suppression, +symptom-development and symptom-interpretation has been learned from +three types of neuroses--anxiety-hysteria, conversion-hysteria, and +compulsion-neuroses--and for the time being is relevant to these forms +only. These three conditions, which we are in the habit of combining +into one group under the name of "_transference neuroses_," also limit +the field open to psychoanalytic therapy. The other neuroses have not +been nearly so well studied by psychoanalysis,--in one group, in fact, +the impossibility of therapeutic influence has been the reason for the +neglect. But you must not forget that psychoanalysis is still a very +young science, that it demands much time and care in preparation for it, +that not long ago it was still in the cradle, so to speak. Yet at all +points we are about to penetrate into the understanding of those other +conditions which are not transference neuroses. I hope I shall still be +able to speak to you of the developments that our assumptions and +results have undergone by being correlated with this new material, and +to show you that these further studies have not led to contradictions +but rather to the production of still greater uniformity. Granted that +everything, then, that has been said here, holds good for the three +transference neuroses, allow me to add a new bit of information to the +evaluation of its symptoms. A comparative investigation into the causes +of the disease discloses a result that may be confined into the formula: +in some way or other these patients fell ill through _self-denial_ when +reality withheld from them the satisfaction of their sexual wishes. You +recognize how excellently well these two results are found to agree. The +symptoms must be understood, then, as a substitute satisfaction for that +which is missed in life. + +To be sure, there are all kinds of objections possible to the +declaration that neurotic symptoms are substitutes for sexual +satisfaction. I shall still go into two of them today. If you yourself +have analytically examined a fairly large number of neurotics you will +perhaps gravely inform me that in one class of cases this is not at all +applicable, the symptoms appear rather to have the opposite purpose, to +exclude sexual satisfaction, or discontinue it. I shall not deny the +correctness of your interpretation. The psychoanalytic content has a +habit of being more complicated than we should like to have it. Had it +been so simple, perhaps we should have had no need for psychoanalysis to +bring it to light. As a matter of fact, some of the traits of the +ceremonial of our second patient may be recognized as of this ascetic +nature, inimical to sexual satisfaction; for example, the fact that she +removes the clocks, which have the magic qualities of preventing nightly +erections, or that she tries to prevent the falling and breaking of +vessels, which symbolizes a protection of her virginity. In other cases +of bed-ceremonials which I was able to analyze, this negative character +was far more evident; the ceremonial might consist throughout of +protective regulations against sexual recollections and temptations. On +the other hand, we have often discovered in psychoanalysis that +opposites do not mean contradictions. We might extend our assertion and +say the symptoms purpose either a sexual satisfaction or a guard against +it; that in hysteria the positive wish-fulfillment takes precedence, +while in the compulsion neuroses the negative, ascetic characteristics +have the ascendancy. We have not yet been able to speak of that aspect +of the mechanism of the symptoms, their two-sidedness, or polarity, +which enables them to serve this double purpose, both the sexual +satisfaction and its opposite. The symptoms are, as we shall see, +compromise results, arising from the integration of two opposed +tendencies; they represent not only the suppressed force but also the +suppressing factor, which was originally potent in bringing about the +negation. The result may then favor either one side or the other, but +seldom is one of the influences entirely lacking. In cases of hysteria, +the meeting of the two purposes in the same symptom is most often +achieved. In compulsion-neuroses, the two parts often become distinct; +the symptom then has a double meaning, it consists of two actions, one +following the other, one releasing the other. It will not be so easy to +put aside a further misgiving. If you should look over a large number of +symptom-interpretations, you would probably judge offhand that the +conception of a sexual substitute-satisfaction has been stretched to its +utmost limits in these cases. You will not hesitate to emphasize that +these symptoms offer nothing in the way of actual satisfaction, that +often enough they are limited to giving fresh life to sensations or +phantasies from some sexual complex. Further, you will declare that the +apparent sexual satisfaction so often shows a childish and unworthy +character, perhaps approximates an act of onanism, or is reminiscent of +filthy naughtiness, habits that are already forbidden and broken in +childhood. Finally, you will express your surprise that one should +designate as a sexual satisfaction appetites which can only be described +as horrible or ghastly, even unnatural. As to these last points, we +shall come to no agreement until we have submitted man's sexual life to +a thorough investigation, and thus ascertained what one is justified in +calling sexual. + + + + +TWENTIETH LECTURE + +GENERAL THEORY OF THE NEUROSES + +_The Sexual Life of Man_ + + +One might think we could take for granted what we are to understand by +the term "sexual." Of course, the sexual is the indecent, which we must +not talk about. I have been told that the pupils of a famous +psychiatrist once took the trouble to convince their teacher that the +symptoms of hysteria very frequently represent sexual matters. With this +intention they took him to the bedside of a woman suffering from +hysteria, whose attacks were unmistakable imitations of the act of +delivery. He, however, threw aside their suggestion with the remark, "a +delivery is nothing sexual." Assuredly, a delivery need not under all +circumstances be indecent. + +I see that you take it amiss that I jest about such serious matters. But +this is not altogether a jest. In all seriousness, it is not altogether +easy to define the concept "sexual." Perhaps the only accurate +definition would be everything that is connected with the difference +between the two sexes; but this you may find too general and too +colorless. If you emphasize the sexual act as the central factor, you +might say that everything is sexual which seeks to obtain sensual +excitement from the body and especially from the sexual organs of the +opposite sex, and which aims toward the union of the genitals and the +performance of the sexual act. But then you are really very close to the +comparison of sexual and indecent, and the act of delivery is not +sexual. But if you think of the function of reproduction as the nucleus +of sexuality you are in danger of excluding a number of things that do +not aim at reproduction but are certainly sexual, such as onanism or +even kissing. But we are prepared to realize that attempts at definition +always lead to difficulties; let us give up the attempt to achieve the +unusual in our particular case. We may suspect that in the development +of the concept "sexual" something occurred which resulted in a false +disguise. On the whole, we are quite well oriented as to what people +call sexual. + +The inclusion of the following factors in our concept "sexual" amply +suffices for all practical purposes in ordinary life: the contrast +between the sexes, the attainment of sexual excitement, the function of +reproduction, the characteristic of an indecency that must be kept +concealed. But this is no longer satisfactory to science. For through +careful examinations, rendered possible only by the sacrifices and the +unselfishness of the subjects, we have come in contact with groups of +human beings whose sexual life deviates strikingly from the average. One +group among them, the "perverse," have, as it were, crossed off the +difference between the sexes from their program. Only the same sex can +arouse their sexual desires; the other sex, even the sexual parts, no +longer serve as objects for their sexual desires, and in extreme cases, +become a subject for disgust. They have to that extent, of course, +foregone any participation in reproduction. We call such persons +homosexual or inverted. Often, though not always, they are men and women +of high physical, intellectual and ethical development, who are affected +only with this one portentous abnormality. Through their scientific +leaders they proclaim themselves to be a special species of mankind, "a +third sex," which shares equal rights with the two other sexes. Perhaps +we shall have occasion to examine their claims critically. Of course +they are not, as they would like to claim, the "elect" of humanity, but +comprise just as many worthless second-rate individuals as those who +possess a different sexual organization. + +At any rate, this type among the perverse seek to achieve the same ends +with the object of their desires as do normal people. But in the same +group there exists a long succession of abnormal individuals whose +sexual activities are more and more alien to what seems desirable to the +sensible person. In their manifold strangeness they seem comparable only +to the grotesque freaks that P. Breughel painted as the temptation of +Saint Anthony, or the forgotten gods and believers that G. Flaubert +pictures in the long procession that passes before his pious penitent. +This ill-assorted array fairly clamors for orderly classification if it +is not to bewilder our senses. We first divide them, on the one hand, +into those whose sexual object has changed, as is the case with +homosexualists, and, on the other, those whose sexual aim has changed. +Those of the first group have dispensed with the mutual union of the +genital organs, and have, as one of the partners of the act, replaced +the genitals by another organ or part of the body; they have thus +overcome both the short-comings of organic structure and the usual +disgust involved. There are others of this group who still retain the +genitals as their object, but not by virtue of their sexual function; +they participate for anatomic reasons or rather by reason of their +proximity. By means of these individuals we realize that the functions +of excretion, which in the education of the child are hushed away as +indecent, still remain capable of drawing complete sexual interest on +themselves. There are still others who have relinquished the genitals +entirely as an objective, have raised another part of the body to serve +as the goal of their desire; the woman's breast, the foot, the tress of +hair. There are also the fetishists, to whom the body part means +nothing, who are gratified by a garment, a piece of white linen, a shoe. +And finally there are persons who seek the whole object but with certain +peculiar or horrible demands: even those who covet a defenseless corpse +for instance, which they themselves must criminally compel to satisfy +their desire. But enough of these horrors. + +Foremost in the second grouping are those perverted ones who have placed +as the end of their sexual desire performances normally introductory or +preparatory to it. They satisfy their desire by their eyes and hands. +They watch or attempt to watch the other individual in his most intimate +doings, or uncover those portions of their own bodies which they should +conceal in the vague expectation of being rewarded by a similar +procedure on the other person's part. Here also belong the enigmatic +sadists, whose affectionate strivings know no other goal than to cause +their object pain and agony, varying all the way from humiliating +suggestions to the harshest physical ill-treatment. As if to balance the +scale, we have on the other hand the masochists, whose sole satisfaction +consists in suffering every variety of humiliation and torture, symbolic +and real, at the hands of the beloved one. There are still others who +combine and confuse a number of these abnormal conditions. Moreover, in +both these groups there are those who seek sexual satisfaction in +reality, and others who are content merely to imagine such +gratification, who need no actual object at all, but can supplant it by +their own fantastic creations. + +There can be not the least doubt that the sexual activities of these +individuals are actually found in the absurdities, caprices and horrors +that we have examined. Not only do they themselves conceive them as +adequate substitutes, but we must recognize that they take the same +place in their lives that normal sex gratification occupies in ours, and +for which they bring the same sacrifices, often incommensurate with +their ends. It is perfectly possible to trace along broad lines as well +as in detail in what way these abnormalities follow the normal procedure +and how they diverge from it. You will also find the characteristic of +indecency which belongs to the sexual act in these vagaries, only that +it is therein magnified to the disreputable. + +Ladies and gentlemen, what attitude are we to assume to these unusual +varieties of sex gratification? Nothing at all is achieved by the mere +expression of indignation and personal disgust and by the assurance that +we do not share these lusts. That is not our concern. We have here a +field of observation like any other. Moreover, the evasion that these +persons are merely rarities, curiosities, is easily refuted. On the +contrary, we are dealing with very frequent and widespread phenomena. +If, however, we are told that we must not permit them to influence our +views on sexual life, since they are all aberrations of the sexual +instinct, we must meet this with a serious answer. If we fail to +understand these abnormal manifestations of sexuality and are unable to +relate them to the normal sexual life, then we cannot understand normal +sexuality. It is, in short, our unavoidable task to account +theoretically for all the potentialities of the perversions we have gone +over and to explain their relation to the so-called normal sexuality. + +A penetrating insight due to Ivan Bloch and two new experimental results +will help us in this task. Bloch takes exception to the point of view +which sees in a perversion a "sign of degeneration"; he proves that such +deviations from the aim of the sexual instinct, such loose relations to +the object of sexuality, have occurred at all times, among the most +primitive and the most highly civilized peoples, and have occasionally +achieved toleration and general recognition. The two experimental +results were obtained in the course of psychoanalytic investigations of +neurotics; they will undoubtedly exert a decided influence on our +conceptions of sexual perversion. + +We have stated that the neurotic symptoms are substitutions for sexual +satisfactions, and I have given you to understand that the proof of this +assertion by means of the analysis of symptoms encounters many +difficulties. For this statement is only justifiable if, under the term +"sexual satisfactions," we include the so-called perverse sexual ends, +since with surprising frequency we find symptoms which can be +interpreted only in the light of their activity. The claim of rareness +made by the homosexualists or the inverted immediately collapses when we +learn that in the case of no single neurotic do we fail to obtain +evidence of homosexual tendencies, and that in a considerable number of +symptoms we find the expression of this latent inversion. Those who call +themselves homosexualists are the conscious and manifest inverts, but +their number is as nothing before the latent homosexualists. We are +forced to regard the desire for an object of one's own sex as a +universal aberration of erotic life and to cede increasing importance to +it. Of course the differences between manifest homosexuality and the +normal attitude are not thus erased; their practical importance +persists, but their theoretic value is greatly decreased. Paranoia, a +disturbance which cannot be counted among the transference-neuroses, +must in fact be assumed as arising regularly from the attempt to ward +off powerful homosexual tendencies. Perhaps you will recall that one of +our patients under her compulsive symptoms acted the part of a man, +namely that of her own estranged husband; the production of such +symptoms, impersonating the actions of men, is very common to neurotic +women. Though this cannot be ascribed directly to homosexuality, it is +certainly concerned with its prerequisites. + +You are probably acquainted with the fact that the neurosis of hysteria +may manifest its symptoms in all organic systems and may therefore +disturb all functions. Analysis shows that in these symptoms there are +expressed all those tendencies termed perverse, which seek to represent +the genitals through other organs. These organs behave as substitute +genitals; through the study of hysteric symptoms we have come to the +conclusion that aside from their functional activities, the organs of +the body have a sexual significance, and that the performance of their +functions is disturbed if the sexual factor claims too much attention. +Countless sensations and innervations, which appear as symptoms of +hysteria, in organs apparently not concerned with sexuality, are thus +discovered as bound up with the fulfillment of perverse sexual desires +through the transference of sex instincts to other organs. These +symptoms bring home to us the extent to which the organs used in the +consumption of food and in excretion may become the bearers of sexual +excitement. We see repeated here the same picture which the perversions +have openly and unmistakably lain before us; in hysteria, however, we +must make the detour of interpreting symptoms, and in this case the +perverse sexual tendencies must be ascribed not to the conscious but to +the unconscious life of the individual. + +Among the many symptoms manifested in compulsion neurosis, the most +important are those produced by too powerful sadistic tendencies, i.e., +sexual tendencies with perverted aim. These symptoms, in accordance with +the structure of compulsion neurosis, serve primarily as a rejection of +these desires, or they express a struggle between satisfaction and +rejection. In this struggle, the satisfaction is never excessively +curtailed; it achieves its results in the patient's behavior in a +roundabout way, by preference turning against his own person in +self-inflicted torture. Other forms of neurosis, characterized by +intensive worry, are the expression of an exaggerated sexualization of +acts that are ordinarily only preparatory to sexual satisfactions; such +are the desires to see, to touch, to investigate. Here is thus explained +the great importance of the fear of contact and also of the compulsion +to wash. An unbelievably large portion of compulsion acts may, in the +form of disguised repetitions and modifications, be traced back to +onanism, admittedly the only uniform action which accompanies the most +varied flights of the sexual imagination. + +It would cost me very little effort to interweave far more closely the +relation between perversion and neurosis, but I believe that what I have +said is sufficient for our purposes. We must avoid the error of +overestimating the frequency and intensity of perverse inclinations in +the light of these interpretations of symptoms. You have heard that a +neurosis may develop from the denial of normal sexual satisfactions. +Through this actual denial the need is forced into the abnormal paths +of sex excitement. You will later obtain a better insight into the way +this happens. You certainly understand, that through such "_collateral_" +hindrance, the perverse tendencies must become more powerful than they +would have been if no actual obstacle had been put in the way of a +normal sexual satisfaction. As a matter of fact, a similar influence may +be recognized in manifest perversions. In many cases, they are provoked +or motivated by the fact that too great difficulties stand in the way of +normal sexual satisfactions, owing to temporary circumstances or to the +permanent institutions of society. In other cases, to be sure, the +perverse tendencies are entirely independent of such conditions; they +are, as it were, the normal kind of sexual life for the individual in +question. + +Perhaps you are momentarily under the impression that we have confused +rather than clarified the relation between normal and perverse +sexuality. But keep in mind this consideration. If it is true that a +hindrance or withholding of normal sexual satisfaction will bring out +perverse tendencies in persons who have not previously shown them, we +must assume that these persons must have harbored tendencies akin to +perversities--or, if you will, perversities in latent form. This brings +us to the second experimental conclusion of which I spoke, namely, that +psychoanalytic investigation found it necessary to concern itself with +the sexual life of the child, since, in the analysis of symptoms, +reminiscences and ideas reverted to the early years of childhood. +Whatever we revealed in this manner was corroborated point by point +through the direct observation of children. The result was the +recognition that all inclinations to perversion have their origin in +childhood, that children have tendencies toward them all and practice +them in a measure corresponding to their immaturity. Perverse sexuality, +in brief, is nothing more than magnified infantile sexuality divided +into its separate tendencies. + +Now you will certainly see these perversions in another light and no +longer ignore their relation to the sexual life of man, at the cost, I +do not doubt, of surprises and incongruities painful to your emotions. +At first you will undoubtedly be disposed to deny everything--the fact +that children have something which may be termed sexual life, the truth +of our observations and the justification of our claim to see in the +behavior of children any relation to what is condemned in later years +as perversity. Permit me first to explain to you the cause of your +reluctance and then to present to you the sum of our observations. It is +biologically improbable, even absurd, to assume that children have no +sexual life--sexual excitements, desires, and some sort of +satisfaction--but that they develop it suddenly between the ages of +twelve and fourteen. This would be just as improbable from the viewpoint +of biology as to say that they were not born with genitals but developed +them only in the period of puberty. The new factor which becomes active +in them at the time is the function of reproduction, which avails itself +for its own purposes of all the physical and psychic material already +present. You commit the error of confusing sexuality with reproduction +and thereby block the road to the understanding of sexuality, and of +perversions and neuroses as well. This error is a prejudice. Oddly +enough its source is the fact that you yourselves were children, and as +children succumbed to the influence of education. One of the most +important educational tasks which society must assume is the control, +the restriction of the sexual instinct when it breaks forth as an +impulse toward reproduction; it must be subdued to an individual will +that is identical with the mandates of society. In its own interests, +accordingly, society would postpone full development until the child has +reached a certain stage of intellectual maturity, for education +practically ceases with the complete emergence of the sexual impulse. +Otherwise the instinct would burst all bounds and the work of culture, +achieved with such difficulty, would be shattered. The task of +restraining this sexuality is never easy; it succeeds here too poorly +and there too well. The motivating force of human society is +fundamentally economic; since there is not sufficient nourishment to +support its members without work on their part, the number of these +members must be limited and their energies diverted from sexual activity +to labor. Here, again, we have the eternal struggle for life that has +persisted from prehistoric times to the present. + +Experience must have shown educators that the task of guiding the sexual +will of the new generation can be solved only by influencing the early +sexual life of the child, the period preparatory to puberty, not by +awaiting the storm of puberty. With this intention almost all infantile +sex activities are forbidden to the child or made distasteful to him; +the ideal goal has been to render the life of the child asexual. In the +course of time it has really come to be considered asexual, and this +point of view has actually been proclaimed by science. In order not to +contradict our belief and intentions, we ignore the sexual activity of +the child--no slight thing, at that--or are content to interpret it +differently. The child is supposed to be pure and innocent, and whoever +says otherwise may be condemned as a shameless blasphemer of the tender +and sacred feelings of humanity. + +The children are the only ones who do not join in carrying out these +conventions, who assert their animal rights, who prove again and again +that the road to purity is still before them. It is strange that those +who deny the sexuality of children, do not therefore slacken in their +educational efforts but rather punish severely the manifestations of the +very thing they maintain does not exist, and call it "childish +naughtiness." Theoretically it is highly interesting to observe that the +period of life which offers most striking evidence against the biased +conception of asexual childhood, is the time up to five or six years of +age; after that everything is enveloped by a veil of amnesia, which is +rent apart only by thorough scientific investigation; it may previously +have given way partially in certain forms of dreams. + +Now I shall present to you what is most easily recognizable in the +sexual life of the child. At first, for the sake of convenience let me +explain to you the conception of the libido. Libido, analogous to +hunger, is the force through which the instinct, here the sex instinct +(as in the case of hunger it is the instinct to eat) expresses itself. +Other conceptions, such as sexual excitement and satisfaction, require +no elucidation. You will easily see that interpretation plays the +greatest part in disclosing the sexuality of the suckling; in fact you +will probably cite this as an objection. These interpretations proceed +from a foundation of analytic investigation that trace backwards from a +given symptom. The suckling reveals the first sexual impulses in +connection with other functions necessary for life. His chief interest, +as you know, is directed toward the taking in of food; when it has +fallen asleep at its mother's breast, fully satisfied, it bears the +expression of blissful content that will come back again in later life +after the experience of the sexual orgasm. That of course would be too +slight evidence to form the basis of a conclusion. But we observe that +the suckling wishes to repeat the act of taking in food without actually +demanding more food; he is therefore no longer urged by hunger. We say +he is sucking, and the fact that after this he again falls asleep with a +blissful expression shows us that the act of sucking in itself has +yielded him satisfaction. As you know, he speedily arranges matters so +that he cannot fall asleep without sucking. Dr. Lindner, an old +pediatrist in Budapest, was the first one to ascertain the sexual nature +of this procedure. Persons attending to the child, who surely make no +pretensions to a theoretic attitude, seem to judge sucking in a similar +manner. They do not doubt that it serves a pleasurable satisfaction, +term it naughty, and force the child to relinquish it against his will, +and if he will not do so of his own accord, through painful measures. +And so we learn that the suckling performs actions that have no object +save the obtaining of a sensual gratification. We believe that this +gratification is first experienced during the taking in of food, but +that he speedily learns to separate it from this condition. The +gratification can only be attributed to the excitation of the mouth and +lips, hence we call these parts of the body _erogenous zones_ and the +pleasure derived from sucking, _sexual_. Probably we shall have to +discuss the justification of this name. + +If the suckling could express himself, he would probably recognize the +act of sucking at his mother's breast as the most important thing in +life. He is not so far wrong, for in this one act he satisfies two great +needs of life. With no small degree of surprise we learn through +psychoanalysis how much of the physical significance of this act is +retained through life. The sucking at the mother's breast becomes the +term of departure for all of sexual life, the unattained ideal of later +sex gratification, to which the imagination often reverts in times of +need. The mother's breast is the first object for the sexual instinct; I +can scarcely bring home to you how significant this object is for +centering on the sexual object in later life, what profound influence it +exerts upon the most remote domains of psychic life through evolution +and substitution. The suckling, however, soon relinquishes it and fills +its place by a part of his own body. The child sucks his thumb or his +own tongue. Thereby he renders himself independent of the consent of the +outer world in obtaining his sensual satisfactions, and moreover +increases the excitement by including a second zone of his body. The +erogenous zones are not equally satisfactory; it is therefore an +important experience when, as Dr. Lindner puts it, the child while +touching his own body discovers the especially excitable genitals, and +so finds the way from sucking to onanism. + +Through the evaluation of sucking we become acquainted with two decisive +characteristics of infantile sexuality. It arises in connection with the +satisfaction of great organic needs and behaves _auto-erotically_, that +is to say, it seeks and finds it objects on its own body. What is most +clearly discernible during the taking in of food is partially repeated +during excretion. We conclude that the nursling experiences pleasure +during the excretion of urine and the contents of the intestine and that +he soon strives to arrange these acts in a way to secure the greatest +possible amount of satisfaction by the corresponding excitement of the +erogenous membrane zones. Lou Andreas, with her delicate perceptions, +has shown how at this point the outer world first intervenes as a +hindrance, hostile to the child's desire for satisfaction--the first +vague suggestion of outer and inner conflicts. He may not let his +excretions pass from him at a moment agreeable to him, but only when +other persons set the time. To induce him to renounce these sources of +satisfaction, everything relating to these functions is declared +indecent and must be concealed. Here, for the first time, he is to +exchange pleasure for social dignity. His own relation to his excretions +is originally quite different. He experiences no disgust toward his +faeces, values them as a part of his body from which he does not part +lightly, for he uses them as the first "present" he can give to persons +he esteems particularly. Even after education has succeeded in +alienating him from these tendencies, he transfers the evaluation of the +faeces to the "present" and to "money." On the other hand, he appears to +regard his achievements in urination with especial pride. + +I know that you have been wanting to interrupt me for a long time and to +cry: "Enough of these monstrosities! Excretion a source of sexual +gratification that even the suckling exploits! Faeces a valuable +substance! The anus a sort of genital! We do not believe it, but we +understand why children's physicians and pedagogues have decidedly +rejected psychoanalysis and its results." No, you have merely forgotten +that it was my intention to present to you infantile sexuality in +connection with the facts of sexual perversion. Why should you not know +that in the case of many grown-ups, homosexuals as well as +heterosexuals, the locus of intercourse is transferred from the normal +to a more remote portion of the body. And that there are many +individuals who confess to a pleasurable sensation of no slight degree +in the emptying of the bowels during their entire lives! Children +themselves will confirm their interest in the act of defecation and the +pleasure in watching the defecation of another, when they are a few +years older and capable of giving expression to their feelings. Of +course, if these children have previously been systematically +intimidated, they will understand all too well the wisdom of preserving +silence on the subject. As for the other things that you do not wish to +believe, let me refer you to the results of analysis and the direct +observation of children, and you will realize that it is difficult not +to see these things or to see them in a different light. I do not even +object to making the relation between child-sexuality and sexual +perversion quite obvious to you. It is really only natural; if the child +has sexual life at all, it must necessarily be perverse, because aside +from a few hazy illusions, the child does not know how sexuality gives +rise to reproduction. The common characteristic of all perversions, on +the other hand, is that they have abandoned reproduction as their aim. +We term sexual activity perverse when it has renounced the aim of +reproduction and follows the pursuit of pleasure as an independent goal. +And so you realize that the turning point in the development of sexual +life lies in its subjugation to the purpose of reproduction. Everything +this side of the turning point, everything that has given up this +purpose and serves the pursuit of pleasure alone, must carry the term +"perverse" and as such be regarded with contempt. + +Permit me, therefore, to continue with my brief presentation of +infantile sexuality. What I have told you about two organic systems I +could supplement by a discussion of all the others. The sexual life of +the child exhausts itself in the exercise of a series of partial +instincts which seek, independently of one another, to gain satisfaction +from his own body or from an external object. Among these organs the +genitals speedily predominate. There are persons who continue the +pursuit of satisfaction by means of their own genitals, without the aid +of another genital or object, uninterruptedly from the onanism of the +suckling to the onanism of necessity which arises in puberty, and even +indefinitely beyond that. The theme of onanism alone would occupy us for +a long period of time; it offers material for diverse observations. + +In spite of my inclination to shorten the theme, I must tell you +something about the sexual curiosity of children. It is most +characteristic for child sexuality and significant for the study of +neurotic symptoms. The sexual curiosity of children begins very early, +sometimes before the third year. It is not connected with the +differences of sexes, which means nothing to the child, since the boy, +at any rate, ascribes the same male genital to both sexes. When the boy +first discovers the primary sexual structure of the female, he tries at +first to deny the evidence of his senses, for he cannot conceive a human +being who lacks the part of his body that is of such importance to him. +Later he is terrified at the possibility revealed to him and he feels +the influence of all the former threats, occasioned by his intensive +preoccupation with his little organ. He becomes subject to the +domination of the castration complex, the formation of which plays an +important part in the development of his character, provided he remains +healthy; of his neurosis, if he becomes diseased; of his resistance, if +he is treated analytically. We know that the little girl feels injured +on account of her lack of a large, visible penis, envies the boy his +possession, and primarily from this motive desires to be a man. This +wish manifests itself subsequently in neurosis, arising from some +failure in her role as a woman. During childhood, the clitoris of the +girl is the equivalent of the penis; it is especially excitable, the +zone where auto-erotic satisfaction is achieved. In the transition to +womanhood it is most important that the sensations of the clitoris are +completely transferred at the right time to the entrance of the vagina. +In cases of so-called sexual anesthesia of women the clitoris has +obstinately retained its excitability. + +The sexual interest of children generally turns first to the mystery of +birth--the same problem that is the basis of the questions asked by the +sphinx of Thebes. This curiosity is for the most part aroused by the +selfish fear of the arrival of a new child. The answer which the +nursery has ready for the child, that the stork brings children, is +doubted far more frequently than we imagine, even by very young +children. The feeling that he has been cheated out of the truth by +grown-ups, contributes greatly to the child's sense of solitude and to +his independent development. But the child is not capable of solving +this problem unaided. His undeveloped sexual constitution restricts his +ability to understand. At first he assumes that children are produced by +a special substance in one's food and does not know that only women can +bear children. Later he learns of this limitation and relinquishes the +derivation of children from food--a supposition retained in the +fairy-tale. The growing child soon notices that the father plays some +part in reproduction, but what it is he cannot guess. If, by chance, he +is witness of a sexual act, he sees in it an attempt to subjugate, a +scuffle, the sadistic miscomprehension of coitus; he does not however +relate this act immediately to the evolution of the child. When he +discovers traces of blood on the bedsheets or on the clothing of his +mother, he considers them the proof of an injury inflicted by the +father. During the latter part of childhood, he imagines that the sexual +organ of the man plays an important part in the evolution of children, +but can ascribe only the function of urination to that part of his body. + +From the very outset children unite in believing that the birth of the +child takes place through the anus; that the child therefore appears as +a ball of faeces. After anal interests have been proven valueless, he +abandons this theory and assumes that the navel opens or that the region +between the two breasts is the birthplace of the child. In this way the +curious child approaches the knowledge of sexual facts, which, clouded +by his ignorance, he often fails to see. In the years prior to puberty +he generally receives an incomplete, disparaging explanation which often +causes traumatic consequences. + +You have probably heard that the conception "sexual" is unduly expanded +by psychoanalysis in order that it may maintain the hypothesis that all +neuroses are due to sexual causes and that the meaning of the symptoms +is sexual. You are now in a position to judge whether or not this +expansion is unjustifiable. We have expanded the conception sexual only +to include the sexual life of children and of perverse persons. That is +to say, we have reestablished its proper boundaries. Outside of +psychoanalysis sexuality means only a very limited thing: normal sexual +life in the service of reproduction. + + + + +TWENTY-FIRST LECTURE + +GENERAL THEORY OF THE NEUROSES + +_Development of the Libido and Sexual Organizations_ + + +I am under the impression that I did not succeed in convincing you of +the significance of perversions for our conception of sexuality. I +should therefore like to clarify and add as much as I can. + +It was not only perversions that necessitated an alteration of our +conception of sexuality, which aroused such vehement contradiction. The +study of infantile sexuality did a great deal more along that line, and +its close correspondence to the perversions became decisive for us. But +the origin of the expressions of infantile sexuality, unmistakable as +they are in later years of childhood, seem to be lost in obscurity. +Those who disregard the history of evolution and analytic coherence, +will dispute the potency of the sexual factor and will infer the agency +of generalized forces. Do not forget that as yet we have no generally +acknowledged criterion for identifying the sexual nature of an +occurrence, unless we assume that we can find it in a relation to the +functions of reproduction, and this we must reject as too narrow. The +biological criteria, such as the periodicities of twenty-three and +twenty-eight days, suggested by W. Fliess, are by no means established; +the specific chemical nature which we can possibly assume for sexual +occurrences is still to be discovered. The sexual perversions of adults, +on the other hand, are tangible and unambiguous. As their generally +accepted nomenclature shows, they are undoubtedly sexual in character; +whether we designate them as signs of degeneration, or otherwise, no one +has yet had the courage to place them outside the phenomena of sex. They +alone justify the assertion that sexuality and reproduction are not +coincident, for it is clear that all of them disavow the goal of +reproduction. + +This brings me to an interesting parallel. While "conscious" and +"psychic" were generally considered to be identical, we had to make an +essay to widen our conception of the "psychic" to recognize as psychic +something that was not conscious. Analogously, when "sexual" and +"related to reproduction" (or, in shorter form, "genital") has been +generally considered identical, psychoanalysis must admit as "sexual" +such things as are not "genital," things which have nothing to do with +reproduction. It is only a formal analogy, but it does not lack a deeper +basis. + +But if the existence of sexual perversions is such a compelling +argument, why has it not long ago had its effect, and settled the +question? I really am unable to say. It appears to be because the sexual +perversions are subject to a peculiar ban that extends even into theory, +and stands in the way of their scientific appreciation. It seems as if +no one could forget that they are not only revolting, but even +unnatural, dangerous; as if they had a seductive influence and that at +bottom one had to stifle a secret envy of those who enjoyed them. As the +count who passes judgment in the famous Tannhauser parody admits: + + "And in the mount of Venus, his honor slipped his mind, + It's odd that never happens to people of our kind." + +Truthfully speaking, the perverts are rather poor devils who atone most +bitterly for the satisfaction they attain with such difficulty. + +What makes the perverse activity unmistakably sexual, despite all the +strangeness of its object, is that the act in perverse satisfaction most +frequently is accompanied by a complete orgasm, and by an ejaculation of +the genital product. Of course, this is only true in the case of adults; +with children orgasms and genital excretions are hardly possible; they +are replaced by rudiments which, again, are not recognized as truly +sexual. + +In order to complete the appreciation of sexual perversions, I have +something to add. Condemned as they are, sharply as they are contrasted +with the normal sexual activity, simple observation shows that rarely is +normal sex-life entirely free from one or another of the perverse +traits. Even the kiss can be claimed to be perverse, for it consists in +the union of two erogenous mouth zones in place of the respective +genitals. But no one outlaws it as perverse, it is, on the contrary, +admitted in theatrical performances as a modified suggestion of the +sexual act. This very kissing may easily become a complete perversion +if it results in such intensity that it is immediately followed by an +emission and orgasm--a thing that is not at all unusual. Further, we can +learn that handling and gazing upon the object becomes an essential +prerequisite to sexual pleasure; that some, in the height of sexual +excitation, pinch and bite, that the greatest excitation is not always +called forth in lovers by the genitals, but rather by other parts of the +body, and so forth. There is no sense in considering persons with single +traits of this kind abnormal, and counting them among the perverts. +Rather, we recognize more and more clearly that the essential nature of +perversion does not consist in overstepping the sexual aim, nor in a +substitution for the genitals, not even in the variety of objects, but +simply in the exclusiveness with which these deviations are carried out +and by means of which the sexual act that serves reproduction is pushed +aside. When the perverse activities serve to prepare or heighten the +normal sexual act, they are really no longer perversions. To be sure, +the chasm between normal and perverse sexuality is practically bridged +by such facts. The natural result is that normal sexuality takes its +origin from something existing prior to it, since certain components of +this material are thrown out and others are combined in order to make +them subject to a new aim--that of reproduction. + +Before we make use of our knowledge of perversions to concentrate anew +and with clearer perspective on the study of infantile sexuality, I must +call your attention to an important difference between the two. Perverse +sexuality is as a rule extraordinarily centralized, its whole action is +directed toward one, usually an isolated, goal. A partial instinct has +the upper hand. It is either the only one that can be demonstrated or it +has subjected the others to its purposes. In this respect there is no +difference between normal and perverse sexuality other than that the +ruling partial instincts, and with them the sexual goals, are different. +In the one case as well as in the other there is, so to say, a well +organized tyranny, excepting that here one family and there another has +appropriated all the power to itself. Infantile sexuality, on the other +hand, is on the whole devoid of such centralization and organization, +its individual component impulses are of equal power, and each +independently goes in search of the acquisition of pleasurable +excitement. The lack as well as the presence of centralization fit in +well with the fact that both the perverse and the normal sexuality +originated from the infantile. There are also cases of perverse +sexuality that have much more similarity with the infantile, where, +independently of one another, numerous partial instincts have forced +their way, insisted on their aims, or rather perpetuated them. In these +cases it is more correct to speak of infantilism of sexual life than of +perversions. + +Thus prepared we can consider a question which we certainly shall not be +spared. People will say to us: "Why are you so set on including within +sexuality those manifestations of childhood, out of which the sexual +later develops, but which, according to your own admission, are of +uncertain origin? Why are you not satisfied rather with the +physiological description, and simply say that even in the suckling one +may notice activities, such as sucking objects or holding back +excrements, which show us that he strives towards an _organic pleasure_? +In that way you would have avoided the estranging conception of sexual +life in the tiniest child." I have nothing to say against organic +pleasure; I know that the most extreme excitement of the sexual union is +only an organic pleasure derived from the activity of the genitals. But +can you tell me when this organic pleasure, originally not +differentiated, acquires the sexual character that it undoubtedly does +possess in the later phases of development? Do you know more about the +"organic pleasure" than about sexuality? You will answer, the sexual +character is acquired when the genitals begin to play their role; sexual +means genital. You will even reject the contrary evidence of the +perversions by confronting me with the statement that in most +perversions it is a matter of achieving the genital orgasm, although by +other means than a union of the genitals. You would really command a +much better position if you did not regard as characteristic of the +sexual that untenable relation to reproduction seen in the perversions, +if you replaced it by activity of the genitals. Then we no longer differ +very widely; the genital organs merely replace other organs. What do you +make of the numerous practices which show you that the genitals may be +represented by other organs in the attainment of gratification, as is +the case in the normal kiss, or the perverse practices of "fast life," +or the symptoms of hysteria? In these neuroses it is quite usual for +stimulations, sensations and innervations, even the process of erection, +which is localized in the genitals, to be transferred to other distant +parts of the body, so that you have nothing to which you can hold as +characteristics of the sexual. You will have to decide to follow my +example and expand the designation "sexual" to include the strivings of +early childhood toward organic pleasure. + +Now, for my justification, I should like you to give me the time for two +more considerations. As you know, we call the doubtful and indefinable +pleasure activities of earliest childhood sexual because our analysis of +the symptoms leads us to them by way of material that is undeniably +sexual. We admit that it need not for that reason in itself be sexual. +But take an analogous case. Suppose there were no way to observe the +development of two dicotyledonous plants from their seeds--the apple +tree and the bean. In both cases, however, imagine it possible to follow +their evolution from the fully developed plant backwards to the first +seedling with two leaf-divisions. The two little leaves are +indistinguishable, in both cases they look exactly alike. Shall I +conclude from this that they really are the same and that the specific +differences between an apple tree and bean plant do not appear until +later in the history of the plant? Or is it biologically more correct to +believe that this difference is already present in the seedling, +although the two little leaves show no differences? We do the same thing +when we term as sexual the pleasure derived from the activities of the +suckling. Whether each and every organic enjoyment may be called sexual, +or if besides the sexual there is another that does not deserve this +name, is a matter I cannot discuss here. I know too little about organic +pleasure and its conditions, and will not be at all surprised if the +retrogressive character of the analysis leads us back finally to a +generalized factor. + +One thing more. You have on the whole gained very little for what you +are so anxious to maintain, the sexual purity of the child, even when +you can convince me that the activities of the suckling had better not +be called sexual. For from the third year on, there is no longer any +doubt concerning the presence of a sexual life in the child. At this +time the genitals already begin to become active; there is perhaps +regularly a period of infantile masturbation, in other words, a +gratification by means of the genitals. The psychic and social +expressions of the sexual life are no longer absent; choice of an +object, affectionate preference for certain persons, indeed, a leaning +toward one of the two sexes, jealousy--all these have been established +independently by unprejudiced observation, prior to the advent of +psychoanalysis, and confirmed by every careful observer. You will say +that you had no doubt as to the early awakening of affection, you will +take issue only with its sexual nature. Children between the ages of +three and eight have already learned to hide these things, but if you +look sharply you can always gather sufficient evidence of the "sexual" +purpose of this affection. What escapes you will be amply supplied by +investigation. The sexual goals of this period of life are most +intimately connected with the contemporaneous sexual theories, of which +I have given you some examples. The perverse nature of some of these +goals is the result of the constitutional immaturity of the child, who +has not yet discovered the goal of the act of copulation. + +From about the sixth or the eighth year on a pause in, and reversion of, +sexual development is noticeable, which in the cases that reach the +highest cultural standard deserves the name of a latent period. The +latent period may also fail to appear and there need not be an +interruption of sexual activity and sexual interests at any period. Most +of the experiences and impulses prior to the latent period then fall +victim to the infantile amnesia, the forgetting we have already +discussed, which cloaks our earliest childhood and makes us strangers to +it. In every psychoanalysis we are confronted with the task of leading +this forgotten period of life back into memory; one cannot resist the +supposition that the beginning of sexual life it contains furnishes the +motive for this forgetting, namely, that this forgetting is a result of +suppression. + +The sexual life of the child shows from the third year that it has much +in common with that of the adult; it is distinguished from the latter, +as we already know, by the lack of stable organization under the primacy +of the genitals, by the unavoidable traits of perversion, and, +naturally, by the far lesser intensity of the whole impulse. +Theoretically the most interesting phases of the sexual development or, +as we would rather say, the libido-development, so far as theory is +concerned, lie back of this period. This development is so rapidly gone +through that perhaps it would never have been possible for direct +observation to grasp its fleeting pictures. Psychoanalytic investigation +of the neuroses has for the first time made it possible to discover more +remote phases of the libido-development. These are, to be sure, nothing +but constructions, but if you wish to carry on psychoanalysis in a +practical way you will find that they are necessary and valuable +constructions. You will soon understand why pathology may disclose +conditions which we would have overlooked in the normal object. + +We can now declare what form the sexual life of the child takes before +the primacy of the genitals is established. This primacy is prepared in +the first infantile epoch prior to the latent period, and is +continuously organized from puberty on. There is in this early period a +sort of loose organization, which we shall call _pre-genital_. In the +foreground of this phase, however, the partial instincts of the genitals +are not prominent, rather the _sadistic_ and _anal_. The contrast +between _masculine_ and _feminine_ plays no part as yet, its place is +taken by the contrast between _active_ and _passive_, which we may +designate as the forerunner of sexual polarity, with which it is later +fused. That which appears masculine to us in the activity of this phase, +observed from the standpoint of the later genital stage, is the +expression of an instinct to mastery, which may border on cruelty. +Impulses with passive goals attach themselves to the erogenous zone of +the rectal opening. Most important at this time, curiosity and the +instinct to watch are powerful. The genital really takes part in the +sexual life only in its role as excretory organ for the bladder. Objects +are not lacking to the partial impulses of this period, but they do not +necessarily combine into a single object. The sadistico-anal +organization is the step antecedent to the phase of genital primacy. A +more penetrating study furnishes proof how much of this is retained for +the later and final form, and in what ways its partial instincts are +forced into line under the new genital organization. Back of the +sadistico-anal phase of libido-development, we get a view of an earlier, +even more primitive phase of organization, in which the erogenous +mouth-zone plays the chief role. You may surmise that the sexual +activity of sucking belongs to it, and may wonder at the intuition of +the ancient Egyptians, whose art characterized the child, as well as +the god Horus, with the finger in his month. Abraham only recently +published material concerning the traces which this primitive oral phase +has left upon the sexual life of later years. + +I can surmise that these details about sexual organization have burdened +your mind more than they have informed you. Perhaps I have again gone +into detail too much. But be patient; what you have heard will become +more valuable through the uses to which it is later put. Keep well in +mind the impression that sexual life, as we call it, the function, of +the libido, does not make its appearance as a completed whole, nor does +it develop in its own image, but goes through a series of successive +phases which are not similar to each other. In fact, it is a +developmental sequence, like that from the grub to the butterfly. The +turning point of the development is the subordination of all sexual +partial-instincts to the primacy of the genitals, and thereby the +subjection of sexuality to the function of reproduction. Originally it +is a diffused sexual life, one which consists of independent activities +of single partial instincts which strive towards organic gratification. +This anarchy is modified by approaches to pre-genital organization, +first of all the sadistico-anal phase, prior to this the oral phase, +which is perhaps the most primitive. Added to this there are the various +processes, as yet not well known, which carry over one organization +level to the later and more advanced phase. The significance, for the +understanding of the neuroses, of the long evolutionary path of the +libido which carries it over so many grades we shall discuss on another +occasion. + +Today we shall look at another angle of the development, namely the +relation of the partial instinct to the object. We shall make a hurried +survey of this development in order to spend more time upon a relatively +later product. Some of the components of the sex instincts have had an +object from the very beginning and hold fast to it; such are the +instinct to mastery (sadism), curiosity, and the impulse to watch. Other +impulses which are more clearly attached to specific erogenous zones of +the body have this object only in the beginning, as long as they adhere +to the functions which are not sexual; they release this object when +they free themselves from these non-sexual functions. The first object +of the oral component of the sexual impulse is the mother's breast, +which satisfies the hunger of the infant. By the act of sucking, the +erotic component which is also satisfied by the sucking becoming +independent, it gives up the foreign object and replaces it by some part +of its own body. The oral impulse becomes _auto-erotic_, just as the +anal and other erogenous impulses are from the very beginning. Further +development, to express it most briefly, has two goals--first, to give +up auto-eroticism, and, again, to substitute for the object of one's own +body a foreign object; second, to unify the different objects into a +single impulse, replace them by a single object. To be sure, that can +happen only if this single object is itself complete, a body similar to +one's own. Nor can it be consummated without leaving behind as useless a +large number of the auto-erotic instinctive impulses. + +The processes of finding the object are rather involved, and have as yet +had no comprehensive exposition. For our purpose, let us emphasize the +fact that when the process has come to a temporary cessation in the +childhood years, before the latent period, the object it has found is +seen to be practically identical with the first object derived from its +relation to the object of the oral pleasure impulse. It is, if not the +mother's breast, the mother herself. We call the mother the first +_object of love_. For we speak of love when we emphasize the psychic +side of sex-impulses, and disregard or for a moment wish to forget the +fundamental physical or "sensual" demands of the instincts. At the time +when the mother becomes the object of love, the psychic work of +suppression which withdraws the knowledge of a part of his sexual goal +from his consciousness has already begun in the child. The selection of +the mother as the object of love involves everything we understand by +the Oedipus complex which has come to have such great significance in +the psychoanalytic explanation of neuroses, and which has had no small +part in arousing opposition to psychoanalysis. + +Here is a little experience which took place during the present war: A +brave young disciple of psychoanalysis is a doctor at the German front +somewhere in Poland, and attracts the attention of his colleagues by the +fact that he occasionally exercises an unexpected influence in the case +of a patient. Upon being questioned he admits that he works by means of +psychoanalysis and is finally induced to impart his knowledge to his +colleagues. Every evening the physicians of the corps, colleagues and +superiors, gather in order to listen to the inmost secrets of analysis. +For a while this goes on nicely, but after he has told his audience of +the Oedipus-complex, a superior rises and says he does not believe it, +that it is shameful for the lecturer to tell such things to them, brave +men who are fighting for their fatherland, and who are the fathers of +families, and he forbade the continuation of the lectures. This was the +end. + +Now you will be impatient to discover what this frightful +Oedipus-complex consists of. The name tells you. You all know the Greek +myth of King Oedipus, who is destined by the fates to kill his father, +and take his mother to wife, who does everything to escape the oracle +and then does penance by blinding himself when he discovers that he has, +unknowingly, committed these two sins. I trust many of you have +yourselves experienced the profound effect of the tragedy in which +Sophocles handles this material. The work of the Attic poet presents the +manner in which the deed of Oedipus, long since accomplished, is finally +brought to light by an artistically prolonged investigation, +continuously fed with new evidence; thus far it has a certain similarity +to the process of psychoanalysis. In the course of the dialogue it +happens that the infatuated mother-wife, Jocasta, opposes the +continuation of the investigation. She recalls that many men have +dreamed that they have cohabited with their mothers, but one should lay +little stress on dreams. We do not lay little stress on dreams, least of +all typical dreams such as occur to many men, and we do not doubt that +this dream mentioned by Jocasta is intimately connected with the strange +and frightful content of the myth. + +It is surprising that Sophocles' tragedy does not call forth much +greater indignation and opposition on the part of the audience, a +reaction similar to, and far more justified, than the reaction to our +simple military physician. For it is a fundamentally immoral play, it +dispenses with the moral responsibility of men, it portrays godlike +powers as instigators of guilt, and shows the helplessness of the moral +impulses of men which contend against sin. One might easily suppose that +the burden of the myth purposed accusation against the gods and Fate, +and in the hands of the critical Euripides, always at odds with the +gods, it would probably have become such an accusation. But there is no +trace of this in the work of the believer Sophocles. A pious sophistry +which asserts that the highest morality is to bow to the will of the +gods, even if they command a crime, helps him over the difficulty. I do +not think that this moral constitutes the power of the drama, but so far +as the effect goes, that is unimportant; the listener does not react to +it, but to the secret meaning and content of the myth. He reacts as +though through self-analysis he had recognized in himself the +Oedipus-complex, and had unmasked the will of the gods, as well as the +oracle, as sublime disguises of his own unconsciousness. It is as though +he remembered the wish to remove his father, and in his place to take +his mother to wife, and must be horrified at his own desires. He also +understands the voice of the poet as if it were telling him: "You revolt +in vain against your responsibility, and proclaim in vain the efforts +you have made to resist these criminal purposes. In spite of these +efforts, you are guilty, for you have not been able to destroy the +criminal purposes, they will persist unconsciously in you." And in that +there is psychological truth. Even if man has relegated his evil +impulses to the unconscious, and would tell himself that he is no longer +answerable for them, he will still be compelled to experience this +responsibility as a feeling of guilt which he cannot trace to its +source. + +It is not to be doubted for a moment that one may recognize in the +Oedipus-complex one of the most important sources for the consciousness +of guilt with which neurotics are so often harassed. But furthermore, in +a study of the origins of religion and morality of mankind which I +published in 1913, under the title of _Totem and Taboo_, the idea was +brought home to me that perhaps mankind as a whole has, at the beginning +of its history, come by its consciousness of guilt, the final source of +religion and morality, through the Oedipus-complex. I should like to say +more on this subject, but perhaps I had better not. It is difficult to +turn away from this subject now that I have begun speaking of it, but we +must return to individual psychology. + +What does direct observation of the child at the time of the selection +of its object, before the latent period, show us concerning the +Oedipus-complex? One may easily see that the little man would like to +have the mother all to himself, that he finds the presence of his +father disturbing, he becomes irritated when the latter permits himself +to show tenderness towards the mother, and expresses his satisfaction +when the father is away or on a journey. Frequently he expresses his +feelings directly in words, promises the mother he will marry her. One +may think this is very little in comparison with the deeds of Oedipus, +but it is actually enough, for it is essentially the same thing. The +observation is frequently clouded by the circumstance that the same +child at the same time, on other occasions, gives evidence of great +tenderness towards its father; it is only that such contradictory, or +rather, _ambivalent_ emotional attitudes as would lead to a conflict in +the case of an adult readily take their place side by side in a child, +just as later on they permanently exist in the unconscious. You might +wish to interpose that the behavior of the child springs from egoistic +motives and does not justify the setting up of an erotic complex. The +mother provides for all the necessities of the child, and it is +therefore to the child's advantage that she troubles herself for no one +else. This, too, is correct, but it will soon be clear that in this, as +in similar situations, the egoistic interest offers only the opportunity +upon which the erotic impulse seizes. If the little one shows the most +undisguised sexual curiosity about his mother, if he wants to sleep with +her at night, insists upon being present while she is dressing, or +attempts to caress her, as the mother can so often ascertain and +laughingly relates, it is undoubtedly due to the erotic nature of the +attachment to his mother. We must not forget that the mother shows the +same care for her little daughter without achieving the same effect, and +that the father often vies with her in caring for the boy without being +able to win the same importance in his eyes as the mother. In short, it +is clear that the factor of sex-preference cannot be eliminated from the +situation by any kind of criticism. From the standpoint of egoistic +interest it would merely be stupid of the little fellow not to tolerate +two persons in his services rather than only one. + +I have, as you will have noticed, described only the relation of the boy +to his father and mother. As far as the little girl is concerned, the +process is the same with the necessary modifications. The affectionate +devotion to the father, the desire to set aside the mother as +superfluous and to take her place, a coquetry which already works with +all the arts of later womanhood, give such a charming picture, +especially in the baby girl, that we are apt to forget its seriousness, +and the grave consequences which may result from this infantile +situation. Let us not fail to add that frequently the parents themselves +exert a decisive influence over the child in the wakening of the Oedipus +attitude, in that they themselves follow a sex preference when there are +a number of children. The father in the most unmistakable manner shows +preference for the daughter, while the mother is most affectionate +toward the son. But even this factor cannot seriously undermine the +spontaneous character of the childish Oedipus-complex. The +Oedipus-complex expands and becomes a family-complex when other children +appear. It becomes the motive force, revived by the sense of personal +injury, which causes the child to receive its brothers and sisters with +aversion and to wish to remove them without more ado. It is much more +frequent for the children to express these feelings of hatred than those +arising from the parent-complex. If such a wish is fulfilled, and death +takes away the undesired increase in the family, after a short while we +may discover through analysis what an important experience this death +was for the child, even though he had not remembered it. The child +forced into second place by the birth of a little brother or sister, and +for the first time practically isolated from his mother, is loathe to +forgive her for this; feelings which we would call extreme bitterness in +an adult are aroused in him and often become the basis of a lasting +estrangement. We have already mentioned that sexual curiosity with all +its consequences usually grows out of these experiences of the child. +With the growing up of these brothers and sisters the relation to them +undergoes the most significant changes. The boy may take his sister as +the object for his love, to replace his faithless mother; situations of +dangerous rivalry, which are of vast importance for later life, arise +even in the nursery among numerous brothers who court the affection of a +younger sister. A little girl finds in her older brother a substitute +for her father, who no longer acts towards her with the same affection +as in former years, or she takes a younger sister as a substitute for +the child that she vainly wished of her father. + +Such things, and many more of a similar character, are shown by the +direct observation of children and the consideration of their vivid +childish recollections, which are not influenced by the analysis. You +will conclude, among other things, that the position of a child in the +sequence of his brothers and sisters is of utmost importance for the +entire course of his later life, a factor which should be considered in +every biography. In the face of these explanations that are found with +so little effort, you will hardly recall without smiling the scientific +explanations for the prohibition of incest. What inventions! By living +together from early childhood the sexual attraction must have been +diverted from these members of the family who are of opposite sex, or a +biological tendency against in-breeding finds its psychic equivalent in +an innate dread of incest! In this no account is taken of the fact that +there would be no need of so unrelenting a prohibition by law and +morality if there were any natural reliable guards against the +temptation of incest. Just the opposite is true. The first choice of an +object among human beings is regularly an incestuous one, in the man +directed toward the mother and sister, and the most stringent laws are +necessary to prevent this persisting infantile tendency from becoming +active. Among the primitive races the prohibitions against incest are +much more stringent than ours, and recently Th. Reik showed in a +brilliant paper that the puberty-rites of the savages, which represent a +rebirth, have the significance of loosing the incestuous bonds of the +boy to his mother, and of establishing the reconciliation with the +father. + +Mythology teaches that incest, apparently so abhorred by men, is +permitted to the gods without further thought, and you may learn from +ancient history that incestuous marriage with his sister was holy +prescript for the person of the ruler (among the ancient Pharaohs and +the Incas of Peru). We have here a privilege denied the common herd. + +Incest with his mother is one of the sins of Oedipus, patricide the +other. It might also be mentioned that these are the two great sins +which the first social-religious institution of mankind, totemism, +abhors. Let us turn from the direct observation of the child to analytic +investigation of the adult neurotic. What does analysis yield to the +further knowledge of the Oedipus-complex? This is easily told. It shows +the patient up in the light of the myth; it shows that each of these +neurotics was himself an Oedipus or, what amounts to the same thing, +became a Hamlet in the reaction to the complex. To be sure, the analytic +representation of the Oedipus-complex enlarges upon and is a coarser +edition of the infantile sketch. The hatred of the father, the +death-wish with regard to him, are no longer timidly suggested, the +affection for the mother recognizes the goal of possessing her for a +wife. Dare we really accredit these horrible and extreme feelings to +those tender childhood years, or does analysis deceive us by bringing in +some new element? It is not difficult to discover this. Whenever an +account of past events is given, be it written even by a historian, we +must take into account the fact that inadvertently something has been +interpolated from the present and from intervening times into the past; +so that the entire picture is falsified. In the case of the neurotic it +is questionable whether this interpolation is entirely unintentional or +not; we shall later come to learn its motives and must justify the fact +of "imagining back" into the remote past. We also easily discover that +hatred of the father is fortified by numerous motives which originate in +later times and circumstances, since the sexual wishes for the mother +are cast in forms which are necessarily foreign to the child. But it +would be a vain endeavor to explain the whole of the Oedipus-complex by +"imagining back," and as related to later times. The infantile nucleus +and more or less of what has been added to it continues to exist and may +be verified by the direct observation of the child. + +The clinical fact which we meet with in penetrating the form of the +Oedipus-complex as established by analysis, is of the greatest practical +importance. We learn that at the period of puberty, when the sexual +instinct first asserts its demands in full strength, the old incestuous +and familiar objects are again taken up and seized anew by the libido. +The infant's choice of an object was feeble, but it nevertheless set the +direction for the choice of an object in puberty. At that time very +intense emotional experiences are brought into play and directed towards +the Oedipus-complex, or utilized in the reaction to it. However, since +their presuppositions have become unsupportable, they must in large part +remain outside of consciousness. From this time on the human individual +must devote himself to the great task of freeing himself from his +parents, and only after he has freed himself can he cease to be a child, +and become a member of the social community. The task confronting the +son consists of freeing himself from his libidinous wishes towards his +mother and utilizing them in the quest for a really foreign object for +his love. He must also effect a reconciliation with his father, if he +has stayed hostile to him, or if in the reaction to his infantile +opposition he has become subject to his domination, he must now free +himself from this pressure. These tasks are set for every man; it is +noteworthy how seldom their solution is ideally achieved, i.e., how +seldom the solution is psychologically as well as socially correct. +Neurotics, however, find no solution whatever; the son remains during +his whole life subject to the authority of his father, and is not able +to transfer his libido to a foreign sexual object. Barring the +difference in the specific relation, the same fate may befall the +daughter. In this sense the Oedipus-complex is correctly designated as +the nucleus of the neurosis. + +You can imagine how rapidly I am reviewing a great number of conditions +which are associated with the Oedipus-complex, of practical as well as +of theoretical importance. I cannot enter upon their variations or +possible inversions. Of its less immediate relations I only wish to +indicate the influence which the Oedipus-complex has been found to exert +on literary production. In a valuable book, Otto Rank has shown that the +dramatists of all times have taken their materials principally from the +Oedipus-and incest-complexes, with their variations and disguises. +Moreover, we will not forget to mention that the two guilty wishes of +Oedipus were recognized long before the time of psychoanalysis as the +true representatives of the unrestrained life of impulses. Among the +writings of the encyclopedist Diderot we find a famous dialogue, _The +Nephew of Ramau_, which no less a person than Goethe has translated into +German. In this you may read the remarkable sentence: "_If the little +savage were left to himself he would preserve all his imbecility, he +would unite the passions of a man of thirty to the unreasonableness of +the child in the cradle; he would twist his father's neck and bed with +his mother_." + +There is also one other thing of which I must needs speak. The +mother-wife of Oedipus shall not have reminded us of the dream in vain. +Do you still remember the result of our dream analysis, that the wishes +out of which the dream is constructed so frequently are of a perverse, +incestuous nature, or disclose an enmity toward near and beloved +relatives the existence of which had never been suspected? At the time +we did not trace the sources of these evil impulses. Now you may see +them for yourselves. They represent the disposition made in early +infancy of the libidinous energy, with the objects, long since given up +in conscious life, to which it had once clung, which are now shown at +night to be still present and in a certain sense capable of activity. +But since all people have such perverse, incestuous and murderous +dreams, and not the neurotics alone, we may conclude that even those who +are normal have passed through the same evolutionary development, +through the perversions and the direction of the libidio toward the +objects of the Oedipus-complex. This, then, is the way of normal +development, upon which the neurotics merely enlarge. They show in +cruder form what dream analysis exposes in the healthy dreamer as well. +Accordingly here is one of the motives which led us to deal with the +study of the dream before we considered the neurotic symptom. + + + + +TWENTY-SECOND LECTURE + +GENERAL THEORY OF THE NEUROSES + +_Theories of Development and Regression--Etiology_ + + +We have learned that the libidio goes through an extensive development +before it can enter the service of reproduction in a way which may be +regarded as normal. Now I wish to present to you what importance this +fact possesses for the causation of neuroses. + +I believe we are in harmony with the teachings of general pathology in +assuming that this development involves two dangers, inhibition and +regression. In other words, with the universal tendency of biological +processes toward variation, it must necessarily happen that not all +preparatory phases of a given function are equally well passed through +or accomplished with comparable thoroughness. Certain components of a +function may be permanently held back in an early stage of development +and the complete development is therefore retarded to a certain extent. + +Let us seek analogies for these processes from other fields. If a whole +people leaves its dwellings to seek a new home, as frequently happened +in the early periods of the history of mankind, their entire number will +certainly not reach the new destination. Setting aside other losses, +small groups or associations of these wandering peoples would stop on +the way, and, while the majority passes on, they would settle down at +these way-stations. Or, to seek a more appropriate comparison: You know +that in the most highly evolved mammals, the male seminal glands, which +originally are located in the far depths of the abdominal cavity, begin +to wander during a certain period of intra-uterine life until they reach +a position almost immediately under the skin of the pelvic extremity. In +the case of a number of male individuals, one of the paired glands may +as a result of this wandering remain in the pelvic cavity, or may be +permanently located in the canal through which both glands must pass in +their journey, or finally the canal itself may stay open permanently +instead of growing together with the seminal glands after the change of +position has taken place normally. When, as a young student, I was doing +my first piece of scientific research under the direction of von Bruecke, +I was working on the dorsal nerve-roots in the spinal cord of a small +fish very archaic in form. I discovered that the nerve ganglia of these +roots grow out from large cells which lie in the grey matter of the +dorsal column, a condition no longer true of other vertebrates. But I +soon discovered that such nerve cells are found outside the grey matter +all the way to the so-called spinal ganglion of the dorsal root. From +this I concluded that the cells of this group of ganglia had traveled +from the spinal cord to the roots of the nerves. This same result is +attested by embryology. In this little fish, however, the entire path of +the journey was traceable by the cells that had remained behind. Closer +observation will easily reveal to you the weak points of these +comparisons. Therefore let me simply say that with reference to every +single sexual impulse, I consider it possible for several of its +components to be held back in the earlier stages of development while +other components have worked themselves out to completion. You will +realize that we think of every such impulse as a current continuously +driving on from the very beginning of life, and that our resolving it +into individual movements which follow separately one upon the other is +to a certain extent artificial. Your impression that these concepts +require further clarification is correct, but an attempt would lead to +too great digression. Before we pass on, however, let us agree to call +this arrest of a partial impulse in an early stage of development, a +_fixation_ of the instinct. + +_Regression_ is the second danger of this development by stages. Even +those components which have achieved a degree of progress may readily +turn backward to these earlier stages. Having attained to this later and +more highly developed form, the impulse is forced to a regression when +it encounters great external difficulties in the exercise of its +function, and accordingly cannot reach the goal which will satisfy its +strivings. We can obviously assume that fixation and regression are not +independent of each other. The stronger the fixations in the process of +development prove to be, the more readily will the function evade +external difficulties by a regression back to those fixations, and the +less capable will the fully developed function be to withstand the +hindrances that stand in the way of its exercise. Remember that if a +people in its wandering has left large groups at certain way-stations, +it is natural for those who have gone on to return to these stations if +they are beaten or encounter a mighty foe. The more they have left on +the way, however, the greater is their chance of defeat. + +For your comprehension of the neuroses it is necessary to keep in mind +this connection between fixation and regression. This will give you a +secure hold upon the question of the cause of neuroses--of the etiology +of neuroses--which we shall soon consider. + +For the present we have still to discuss various aspects of regression. +With the knowledge you have gained concerning the development of the +function of libido, you must expect two kinds of regression: incestuous +return to the first libidinous objects and return of the entire sexual +organization to an earlier stage of development. Both occur in the +transference neuroses and play an important part in its mechanism. +Especially is the return to the first incestuous objects of libido a +feature that the neurotic exhibits with positively tiresome regularity. +We could say far more about regression of libido if we took into +consideration another group of neuroses: neurotic narcism. But we cannot +do this now. These conditions give us a clue to other stages of +development of the function of libido, which have not been mentioned +previously, and correspondingly show new kinds of regression. But I +think the most important task before me at this point is to warn you not +to confuse _regression_ and _suppression_, and aid you to see clearly +the connection between the two processes. Suppression, as you know, is +the process by which an act capable of becoming conscious, in other +words, an act that belongs to the fore-conscious system, is rendered +unconscious and accordingly is thrust back into the unconscious system. +Similarly we speak of suppression when the unconscious psychic act never +has been admitted into the adjoining fore-conscious system but is +arrested by the censor at the threshold. Kindly observe that the +conception of suppression has nothing to do with sexuality. It describes +a purely psychological process, which could better be characterized by +terming it _localized_. By that we mean that it is concerned with the +spatial relationships within the psyche, or if we drop this crude +metaphor, with building up the psychological apparatus out of separate, +psychic systems. + +Through these comparisons we observe that up to this point we have not +used the word regression in its general, but in a very special sense. If +you accord it the general meaning of return from a higher to a lower +stage of development you must include suppression as a form of +regression, for suppression may also be described as the reversion to an +earlier and lower stage in the development of a psychic act. Only in +regard to suppression, this tendency to revert is not necessarily +involved, for when a psychic act is held back in the early unconscious +stage we also term it suppression in a dynamic sense. Suppression is a +localized and dynamic conception, regression purely descriptive. What up +this point we have called regression and considered in its relation to +fixation, was only the return of libido to former stages of its +development. The nature of this latter conception is entirely distinct +and independent of suppression. We cannot call the libido regressions +purely psychical processes and do not know what localization in the +psychological apparatus we should assign to them. Even though the libido +exerts a most powerful influence on psychic life, its organic +significance is still the most conspicuous. + +Discussions of this sort, gentlemen, are bound to be somewhat dry. To +render them more vivid and impressive, let us return to clinical +illustrations. You know that hysteria and compulsion-neurosis are the +two chief factors in the group of transference neuroses. In hysteria, +libidinous return to primary, incestuous sexual objects is quite +regular, but regression to a former stage of sexual organization very +rare. In the mechanism of hysteria suppression plays the chief part. If +you will permit me to supplement our previous positive knowledge of this +neurosis by a constructive suggestion, I could describe the state of +affairs in this manner: the union of the partial instincts under the +domination of the genitals is accomplished, but its results encounter +the opposition of the fore-conscious system which, of course, is bound +up with consciousness. Genital organization, therefore, may stand for +the unconscious but not for the fore-conscious. Through this rejection +on the part of the fore-conscious, a situation arises which in certain +aspects is similar to the condition existing before the genitals had +attained their primacy. Of the two libido regressions, the regression to +a former stage of sexual organization is by far the more conspicuous. +Since it is lacking in hysteria and our entire conception of the +neuroses is still too much dominated by the study of hysteria which +preceded it in point of time, the meaning of libido regression became +clearer to us much later than that of repression. Let us be prepared to +widen and change our attitude still more when we consider other +narcistic neuroses besides compulsion-neurosis and hysteria in our +discussion. + +In contrast to this, regression of libido in compulsion-neurosis turns +back most conspicuously to the earlier sadistico-anal organization, +which accordingly becomes the most significant factor expressed by the +symptoms. Under these conditions the love impulse must mask itself as a +sadistic impulse. The compulsion idea must therefore be reinterpreted. +Isolated from other superimposed factors, which though they are not +accidental are also indispensable, it no longer reads: "I want to murder +you"; rather it says "I want to enjoy you in love." Add to this, that +simultaneously regression of the object has also set in, so that this +impulse is invariably directed toward the nearest and dearest persons, +and you can imagine with what horror the patient thinks of these +compulsion ideas and how alien they appear to his conscious perception. +In the mechanism of these neuroses, suppression, too, assumes an +important part, which it is not easy to explain in a superficial +discussion of this sort. Regression of the libido without suppression +would never result in neurosis but would finally end in perversion. This +makes it obvious that suppression is the process most characteristic of +neurosis, and typifies it most perfectly. Perhaps I shall at some future +time have the opportunity of presenting to you our knowledge of the +mechanism of perversions and then you will see that here also things do +not work themselves out as simply as we should best like to construe +them. + +You will most readily reconcile yourself with these elucidations of +fixation and regression, when you consider them as a preface to the +investigation of the etiology of neuroses. Towards this I have only +advanced a single fact: that people become neurotically ill when the +possibility of satisfying their libido is removed, ill with "denial," as +I expressed myself, and that their symptoms are the substitutes for the +denied gratification. Of course, that does not mean that every denial of +libidinous satisfaction makes every person neurotic, but merely that in +all cases known of neurosis, the factor of denial was traceable. The +syllogism therefore cannot be reversed. You also understand, I trust, +that this statement is not supposed to reveal the entire secret of the +etiology of neurosis, but only emphasizes an important and indispensable +condition. + +Now, we do not know, in the further discussion of this statement, +whether to emphasize the nature of denial or the individuality of the +person affected by it. Denial is very rarely complete and absolute; to +cause a pathological condition, the specific gratification desired by +the particular person in question must be withheld, the certain +satisfaction of which he alone is capable. On the whole there are many +ways of enduring abstinence from libidinous gratification without +succumbing to a neurosis by reason thereof. Above all we know of people +who are able to endure abstinence without doing themselves injury; they +are not happy under the circumstances, they are filled with yearning, +but they do not become ill. Furthermore, we must take into consideration +that the impulses of the sex instinct are extraordinarily _plastic_, if +I may use that term in this connection. One thing may take the place of +the other; one may assume the other's intensity; if reality refuses the +one gratification, the satisfaction of another may offer full +compensation. The sexual impulses are like a network of communicating +channels filled with fluids; they are this in spite of their subjugation +to the primacy of the genitals, though I realize it is difficult to +unite these two ideas in one conception. The component impulses of +sexuality as well as the total sexual desire, which represents their +aggregate, show a marked ability to change their object, to exchange it, +for instance, for one more easily attainable. This displacement and the +readiness to accept substitutes must exert powerful influences in +opposition to the pathological effect of abstinence. Among these +processes which resist the ill effects of abstinence, one in particular +has won cultural significance. Sexual desire relinquishes either its +goal of partial gratification of desire, or the goal of desire toward +reproduction, and adopts another aim, genetically related to the +abandoned one, save that it is no longer sexual but must be termed +social. This process is called "sublimation," and in adopting this +process we subscribe to the general standard which places social aims +above selfish sexual desires. Sublimation is, as a matter of fact, only +a special case of the relation of sexual to non-sexual desires. We shall +have occasion to talk more about this later in another connection. + +Now your impression will be that abstinence has become an insignificant +factor, since there are so many methods of enduring it. Yet this is not +the case, for its pathological power is unimpaired. The remedies are +generally not sufficient. The measure of unsatisfied libido which the +average human being can stand is limited. The plasticity and freedom of +movement of libido is by no means retained to the same extent by all +individuals; sublimation can, moreover, never account for more than a +certain small fraction of the libido, and finally most people possess +the capacity for sublimation only to a very slight degree. The most +important of these limitations clearly lies in the adaptability of the +libido, as it renders the gratification of the individual dependent upon +the attainment of only a very few aims and objects. Kindly recall that +incomplete development of the libido leaves extensive and possibly even +numerous libido fixations in earlier developmental phases of the +processes of sexual organization and object-finding, and that these +phases are usually not capable of affording a real gratification. You +will then recognize libido fixation as the second powerful factor which +together with abstinence constitutes the causative factors of the +illness. We may abbreviate schematically and say that libido fixation +represents the internal disposing factor, abstinence the accidental +external factor of the etiology of neurosis. + +I seize the opportunity to warn you of taking sides in a most +unnecessary conflict. In scientific affairs it is a popular proceeding +to emphasize a part of the truth in place of the whole truth and to +combat all the rest, which has lost none of its verity, in the name of +that fraction. In this way various factions have already separated out +from the movement of psychoanalysis; one faction recognizes only the +egoistic impulses and denies the sexual, another appreciates the +influence of objective tasks in life, but ignores the part played by the +individual past, and so on. Here is occasion for a similar antithesis +and subject for dispute: are neuroses _exogenous_ or _endogenous_ +diseases, are they the inevitable results of a special constitution or +the product of certain harmful (traumatic) impressions; in particular, +are they called forth by libido fixation (and the sexual constitution +which goes with this) or through the pressure of forbearance? This +dilemma seems to me no whit wiser than another I could present to you: +is the child created through the generation of the father or the +conception of the mother? Both factors are equally essential, you will +answer very properly. The conditions which cause neuroses are very +similar if not precisely the same. For the consideration of the causes +of neuroses, we may arrange neurotic diseases in a series, in which two +factors, sexual constitution and experience, or, if you wish, +libido-fixation and self-denial, are represented in such a way that one +increases as the other decreases. At one end of the series are the +extreme cases, of which you can say with full conviction: These persons +would have become ill because of the peculiar development of their +libido, no matter what they might have experienced, no matter how gently +life might have treated them. At the other end are cases which would +call forth the reversed judgment, that the patients would undoubtedly +have escaped illness if life had not thrust certain conditions upon +them. But in the intermediate cases of the series, predisposing sexual +constitution and subversive demands of life combine. Their sexual +constitution would not have given rise to neurosis if the victims had +not had such experiences, and their experiences would not have acted +upon them traumatically if the conditions of the libido had been +otherwise. Within this series I may grant a certain preponderance to the +weight carried by the predisposing factors, but this admission, too, +depends upon the boundaries within which you wish to delimit +nervousness. + +Allow me to suggest that you call such series _complementary series_. We +shall have occasion to establish other series of this sort. + +The tenacity with which the libido clings to certain tendencies and +objects, the so-called _adhesiveness_ of the libido, appears to us as an +independent factor, individually variable, the determining conditions of +which are completely unknown to us, but the importance of which for the +etiology of the neuroses we can no longer underestimate. At the same +time we must not overestimate the closeness of this interrelation. A +similar adhesiveness of the libido occurs--for unknown reasons--in +normal persons under various conditions, and is a determining factor in +the perverse, who are in a certain sense the opposite of nervous. Before +the period of psychoanalysis, it was known (Binet) that the anamnesia of +the perverse is often traced back to an early impression--an abnormality +in the tendency of the instinct or its choice of object--and it is to +this that the libido of the individual has clung for life. Frequently it +is hard to say how such an impression becomes capable of attracting the +libido so intensively. I shall give you a case of this kind which I +observed myself. A man, to whom the genital and all other sex stimuli of +woman now mean nothing, who in fact can only be thrown into an +irresistible sexual excitation by the sight of a shoe on a foot of a +certain form, is able to recall an experience he had in his sixth year, +which proved decisive for the fixation of his libido. One day he sat on +a stool beside his governess, who was to give him an English lesson. She +was an old, shriveled, unbeautiful girl with washed-out blue eyes and a +pug nose, who on this day, because of some injury, had put a velvet +slipper on her foot and stretched it out on a footstool; the leg itself +she had most decorously covered. After a diffident attempt at normal +sexual activity, undertaken during puberty, such a thin sinewy foot as +his governess' had become the sole object of his sexuality; and the man +was irresistibly carried away if other features, reminiscent of the +English governess, appeared in conjunction with the foot. Through this +fixation of the libido the man did not become neurotic but perverse, a +foot fetishist, as we say. So you see that, although exaggerated and +premature fixation of the libido is indispensable for the causation of +neuroses, its sphere of action exceeds the limits of neuroses +immeasurably. This condition also, taken by itself, is no more decisive +than abstinence. + +And so the problem of the cause of neuroses seems to become more +complicated. Psychoanalytic investigation does, in fact, acquaint us +with a new factor, not considered in our etiological series, which is +recognized most easily in those cases where permanent well-being is +suddenly disturbed by an attack of neurosis. These individuals regularly +show signs of contradiction between their wishes, or, as we are wont to +say, indication of psychic _conflict_. A part of their personality +represents certain wishes, another rebels against them and resists +them. A neurosis cannot come into existence without such conflict. This +may seem to be of small significance. You know that our psychic life is +continually agitated by conflicts for which we must find a solution. +Certain conditions, therefore, must exist to make such a conflict +pathological. We want to know what these conditions are, what psychic +powers form the background for these pathological conflicts, what +relation the conflict bears to the causative factors. + +I hope I shall be able to give you satisfactory answers to these +questions even if I must make them schematically brief. Self-denial +gives rise to conflict, for libido deprived of its gratification is +forced to seek other means and ends. A pathogenic conflict arises when +these other means and ends arouse the disfavor of one part of the +personality, and a veto ensues which makes the new mode of gratification +impossible for the time being. This is the point of departure for the +development of the symptoms, a process which we shall consider later. +The rejected libidinous desires manage to have their own way, through +circuitous byways, but not without catering to the objections through +the observance of certain symptom-formation; the symptoms are the new or +substitute satisfaction which the condition of self-denial has made +necessary. + +We can express the significance of the psychic conflict in another way, +by saying: the _outer_ self-denial, in order to become pathological, +must be supplemented by an _inner_ self-denial. Outer denial removes one +possibility of gratification, inner denial would like to exclude another +possibility, and it is this second possibility which becomes the center +of the ensuing conflict. I prefer this form of presentation because it +possesses secret content. It implies the probability that the inner +impediment found its origin in the prehistoric stage of human +development in real external hindrances. + +What powers are these which interpose objections to libidinous desire, +who are the other parties to the pathological conflict? They are, in the +widest sense, the non-sexual impulses. We call them comprehensively the +"ego impulses"; psychoanalysis of transference neuroses does not grant +us ready access to their further investigation, but we learn to know +them, in a measure, through the resistance they offer to analysis. The +pathological struggle is waged between ego-impulses and sexual impulses. +In a series of cases it appears as though conflict could exist between +various purely sexual desires; but that is really the same thing, for of +the two sexual desires involved in the conflict, one is always +considerate of the ego, while the other demands that the ego be denied, +and so it remains a conflict between the ego and sexuality. + +Again and again when psychoanalysis claimed that psychological event was +the result of sexual impulses, indignant protest was raised that in +psychic life there were other impulses and interests besides the sexual, +that everything could not be derived from sexuality, etc. Well, it is a +great pleasure to share for once the opinion of one's opponents. +Psychoanalysis never forgot that non-sexual impulses exist. It insisted +on the decided distinction between sexual and ego-impulses and +maintained in the face of every objection not that neuroses arise from +sexuality, but that they owe their origin to the conflict between +sexuality and the ego. Psychoanalysis can have no reasonable motive for +denying the existence or significance of ego-impulses, even though it +investigates the influence sexual impulses play in illness and in life. +Only it has been destined to deal primarily with sexual impulses, +because transference neuroses have furnished the readiest access to +their investigation, and because it had become obligatory to study what +others had neglected. + +It does not follow, either, that psychoanalysis has never occupied +itself at all with the non-sexual side of personality. The very +distinction of the ego from sexuality has shown most clearly that the +ego-impulses also pass through a significant development, which is by no +means entirely independent of the development of the libido, nor does it +fail to exert a reaction upon it. To be sure, we know much less about +the evolution of the ego than about libido development, for so far only +the study of narcistic neuroses has promised to throw light on the +structure of the ego. There is extant the notable attempt of Ferenczi to +construct theoretically the stages of ego development, and furthermore +we already possess two fixed points from which to proceed in our +evolution of this development. We do not dream of asserting that the +libidinous interests of a person are from the outset opposed to the +interests of self-preservation; in every stage, rather, the ego will +strive to remain in harmony with its sexual organization at that time, +and accommodate itself thereto. The succession of the separate phases +of development of libido probably follows a prescribed program; but we +cannot deny that this sequence can be influenced by the ego, and that a +certain parallelism of the phases of development of the ego and the +libido may also be assumed. Indeed, the disturbance of this parallelism +could become a pathological factor. One of the most important insights +we have to gain is the nature of the attitude which the ego exhibits +when an intensive fixation of its libido is left behind in one stage of +its development. It may countenance the fixation and accordingly become +perverse or, what amounts to the same thing, become infantile. Or it may +be averse to this attachment of the libido, the result of which is that +wherever the libido is subject to _fixation_, there the ego undergoes +_suppression_. + +In this way we reach the conclusion that the third factor of the +etiology of neuroses is the tendency to _conflict_, upon which the +development both of the ego and libido are dependent. Our insight into +the causation of the neuroses has therefore been amplified. First, the +most generalized factor, self-denial, then the fixation of the libido, +by which it is forced into certain directions, and thirdly, the tendency +to conflict in the development of the ego, which has rejected libidinous +impulses of this kind. The state of affairs is therefore not so confused +and difficult to see through, as you may have imagined it to be in the +course of my explanation. But of course we are to discover that we have +not, as yet, reached the end. We must add still a new factor and further +analyze one we already know. + +To show you the influence of ego development in the formation of a +conflict, and so to give an illustration of the causation of neuroses, I +should like to cite an example which, although it is entirely imaginary, +is not far removed from probability in any respect. Drawing upon the +title of a farce by Nestroy, I shall label this example "On the ground +floor and in the first story." The janitor lives on the ground floor, +while the owner of the house, a rich, distinguished man, occupies the +first story. Both have children, and we shall assume that the owner +permits his little daughter to play unwatched with the child of the +people. Then it may easily happen that the games of the children become +"naughty," that is, they assume a sexual character; they play "father +and mother," watch each other in the performance of intimate +performances and mutually stimulate their genitals. The janitor's +daughter, who, in spite of her five or six years of age, has had +occasion to make observations on the sexuality of adults, probably +played the part of the seducer. These experiences, even though they be +of short duration, are sufficient to set in motion certain sexual +impulses in both children, which continue in the form of onanism for +several years after the common games have ceased. So far the +consequences are similar; the final result will be very different. The +janitor's daughter will continue onanism possibly to the commencement of +her periods, abandon it then without difficulty, not many years later +find a lover, perhaps bear a child, choose this or that path of life, +which may likely enough make of her a popular artist who ends as an +aristocrat. Perhaps the outcome will be less brilliant, but at any rate +she will work out her life, free from neurosis, unharmed by her +premature sexual activity. Very different is the effect on the other +child. Even while she is very young she will realize vaguely that she +has done wrong. In a short while, perhaps only after a violent struggle, +she will renounce the gratification of onanism, yet still retain an +undercurrent of depression in her attitude. If, during her early +childhood, she chances to learn something about sexual intercourse, she +will turn away in explicable disgust and seek to remain innocent. +Probably she is at the time subjected anew to an irresistible impulse to +onanism, of which she does not dare to complain. When the time arrives +for her to find favor in the eyes of a man, a neurosis will suddenly +develop and cheat her out of marriage and the joy of life. When analysis +succeeds in gaining insight into this neurosis, it will reveal that this +well-bred, intelligent girl of high ideals, has completely suppressed +her sexual desires, but that unconsciously they cling to the meager +experiences she had with the friend of her childhood. + +The difference of these two destinies, arising from the same experience, +is due to the fact that one ego has experienced development while the +other has not. The janitor's daughter in later years looks upon sexual +intercourse as the same natural and harmless thing it had seemed in her +childhood. The owner's daughter had experienced the influence of +education and had recognized its claims. Thus stimulated, her ego had +forged its ideals of womanly purity and lack of desire which, however, +could not agree with any sexual activity; her intellectual development +had made unworthy her interest in the woman's part she was to play. This +higher moral and intellectual evolution of her ego was in conflict with +the claims of her sexuality. + +I should like to consider today one more point in the development of the +ego, partly because it opens wide vistas, partly because it will justify +the sharp, perhaps unnatural line of division we are wont to draw +between sexual and ego impulses. In estimating the several developments +of ego and of libido, we must emphasize an aspect which has not +frequently been appreciated heretofore. Both the ego and the libido are +fundamentally heritages, abbreviated repetitions of an evolution which +mankind has, in the course of long periods of time, traversed from +primeval ages. The libido shows its phylogenetic origin most readily, I +should say. Recall, if you please, that in one class of animals the +genital apparatus is closely connected with the mouth, that in another +it cannot be separated from the excretory apparatus, and in others it is +attached to organs of locomotion. Of all these things you will find a +most fascinating description in the valuable book of W. Boelsche. Animals +portray, so to speak, all kinds of perversions which have become set as +their permanent sexual organizations. In man this phylogenetic aspect is +partly clouded by the circumstance that these activities, although +fundamentally inherited, are achieved anew in individual development, +presumably because the same conditions still prevail and still continue +to exert their influence on each personality. I should say that +originally they served to call forth an activity, where they now serve +only as a stimulus for recollection. There is no doubt that in addition +the course of development in each individual, which has been innately +determined, may be disturbed or altered from without by recent +influences. That power which has forced this development upon mankind, +and which today maintains the identical pressure, is indeed known to us: +it is the same self-denial enforced by the realities--or, given its big +and actual name, _Necessity_, the struggle for existence, the [Greek] +'Ananche. This has been a severe teacher, but under him we have become +potent. The neurotics are those children upon whom this severity has had +a bad effect--but there is risk in all education. This appreciation of +the struggle of life as the moving force of development need not +prejudice us against the importance of "innate tendencies in evolution" +if their existence can be proved. + +It is worth noting that sexual instincts and instincts of +self-preservation do not behave similarly when they are confronted with +the necessities of actuality. It is easier to educate the instincts of +self-preservation and everything that is connected with them; they +speedily learn to adapt themselves to necessity and to arrange their +development in accordance with the mandates of fact. That is easy to +understand, for they cannot procure the objects they require in any +other way; without these objects the individual must perish. The sex +instincts are more difficult to educate because at the outset they do +not suffer from the need of an object. As they are related almost +parasitically to the other functions of the body and gratify themselves +auto-erotically by way of their own body, they are at first withdrawn +from the educational influence of real necessity. In most people, they +maintain themselves in some way or other during the entire course of +life as those characteristics of obstinacy and inaccessibility to +influence which are generally collectively called unreasonableness. The +education of youth generally comes to an end when the sexual demands are +aroused to their full strength. Educators know this and act accordingly; +but perhaps the results of psychoanalysis will influence them to +transfer the greatest emphasis to the education of the early years, of +childhood, beginning with the suckling. The little human being is +frequently a finished product in his fourth or fifth year, and only +reveals gradually in later years what has long been ready within him. + +To appreciate the full significance of the aforementioned difference +between the two groups of instincts, we must digress considerably and +introduce a consideration which we must needs call _economic_. Thereby +we enter upon one of the most important but unfortunately one of the +most obscure domains of psychoanalysis. We ask ourselves whether a +fundamental purpose is recognizable in the workings of our psychological +apparatus, and answer immediately that this purpose is the pursuit of +pleasurable excitement. It seems as if our entire psychological activity +were directed toward gaining pleasurable stimulation, toward avoiding +painful ones; that it is regulated automatically by the _principle of +pleasure_. Now we should like to know, above all, what conditions cause +the creation of pleasure and pain, but here we fall short. We may only +venture to say that pleasurable excitation _in some way_ involves +lessening, lowering or obliterating the amount of stimuli present in the +psychic apparatus. This amount, on the other hand, is increased by pain. +Examination of the most intense pleasurable excitement accessible to +man, the pleasure which accompanies the performance of the sexual act, +leaves small doubt on this point. Since such processes of pleasure are +concerned with the destinies of quantities of psychic excitation or +energy, we call considerations of this sort economic. It thus appears +that we can describe the tasks and performances of the psychic apparatus +in different and more generalized terms than by the emphasis of the +pursuit of pleasure. We may say that the psychic apparatus serves the +purpose of mastering and bringing to rest the mass of stimuli and the +stimulating forces which approach it. The sexual instincts obviously +show their aim of pleasurable excitement from the beginning to the end +of their development; they retain this original function without much +change. The ego instincts strive at first for the same thing. But +through the influence of their teacher, necessity, the ego instincts +soon learn to adduce some qualification to the principle of pleasure. +The task of avoiding pain becomes an objective almost comparable to the +gain of pleasure; the ego learns that its direct gratification is +unavoidably withheld, the gain of pleasurable excitement postponed, that +always a certain amount of pain must be borne and certain sources of +pleasure entirely relinquished. This educated ego has become +"reasonable." It is no longer controlled by the principle of pleasure, +but by the _principle of fact_, which at bottom also aims at pleasure, +but pleasure which is postponed and lessened by considerations of fact. + +The transition from the pleasure principle to that of fact is the most +important advance in the development of the ego. We already know that +the sexual instincts pass through this stage unwillingly and late. We +shall presently learn the consequence to man of the fact that his +sexuality admits of such a loose relation to the external realities of +his life. Yet one more observation belongs here. Since the ego of man +has, like the libido, its history of evolution, you will not be +surprised to hear that there are "ego-regressions," and you will want to +know what role this return of the ego to former phases of development +plays in neurotic disease. + + + + +TWENTY-THIRD LECTURE + +GENERAL THEORY OF THE NEUROSES + +_The Development of the Symptoms_ + + +In the layman's eyes the symptom shows the nature of the disease, and +cure means removal of symptoms. The physician, however, finds it +important to distinguish the symptoms from the disease and recognizes +that doing away with the symptoms is not necessarily curing the disease. +Of course, the only tangible thing left over after the removal of the +symptoms is the capacity to build new symptoms. Accordingly, for the +time being, let us accept the layman's viewpoint and consider the +understanding of the symptoms as equivalent to the understanding of the +sickness. + +The symptoms,--of course, we are dealing here with psychic (or +psychogenic) symptoms, and psychic illness--are acts which are +detrimental to life as a whole, or which are at least useless; +frequently they are obnoxious to the individual who performs them and +are accompanied by distaste and suffering. The principal injury lies in +the psychic exertion which they cost, and in the further exertion needed +to combat them. The price these efforts exact may, when there is an +extensive development of the symptoms, bring about an extraordinary +impoverishment of the personality of the patient with respect to his +available psychic energy, and consequently cripple him in all the +important tasks of life. Since such an outcome is dependent on the +amount of energy so utilized, you will readily understand that "being +sick" is essentially a practical concept. But if you take a theoretical +standpoint and disregard these quantitative relations, you can readily +say that we are all sick, or rather neurotic, since the conditions +favorable to the development of symptoms are demonstrable also among +normal persons. + +As to the neurotic symptoms, we already know that they are the result of +a conflict aroused by a new form of gratifying the libido. The two +forces that have contended against each other meet once more in the +symptom; they become reconciled through the compromise of a symptom +development. That is why the symptom is capable of such resistance; it +is sustained from both sides. We also know that one of the two partners +to the conflict is the unsatisfied libido, frustrated by reality, which +must now seek other means for its satisfaction. If reality remains +inflexible even where the libido is prepared to take another object in +place of the one denied it, the libido will then finally be compelled to +resort to regression and to seek gratification in one of the earlier +stages in its organizations already out-lived, or by means of one of the +objects given up in the past. Along the path of regression the libido is +enticed by fixations which it has left behind at these stages in its +development. + +Here the development toward perversion branches off sharply from that of +the neuroses. If the regressions do not awaken the resistance of the +ego, then a neurosis does not follow and the libido arrives at some +actual, even if abnormal, satisfaction. The ego, however, controls not +alone consciousness, but also the approaches to motor innervation, and +hence the realization of psychic impulses. If the ego then does not +approve this regression, the conflict takes place. The libido is locked +out, as it were, and must seek refuge in some place where it can find an +outlet for its fund of energy, in accordance with the controlling +demands for pleasurable gratification. It must withdraw from the ego. +Such an evasion is offered by the fixations established in the course of +its evolution and now traversed regressively, against which the ego had, +at the time, protected itself by suppressions. The libido, streaming +back, occupies these suppressed positions and thus withdraws from before +the ego and its laws. At the same time, however, it throws off all the +influences acquired under its tutelage. The libido could be guided so +long as there was a possibility of its being satisfied; under the double +pressure of external and internal denial it becomes unruly and harks +back to former and more happy times. Such is its character, +fundamentally unchangeable. The ideas which the libido now takes over in +order to hold its energy belong to the system of the unconscious, and +are therefore subject to its peculiar processes, especially elaboration +and displacement. Conditions are set up here which are entirely +comparable to those of dream formation. Just as the latent dream, the +fulfillment of a wish-phantasy, is first built up in the +unconsciousness, but must then pass through conscious processes before, +censored and approved, it can enter into the compromise construction of +the manifest dream, so the ideas representing the libido in the +unconscious must still contend against the power of the fore-conscious +ego. The opposition that has arisen against it in the ego follows it +down by a "counter-siege" and forces it to choose such an expression as +will serve at the same time to express itself. Thus, then, the symptom +comes into being as a much distorted offshoot from the unconscious +libidinous wish-fulfillment, an artificially selected ambiguity--with +two entirely contradictory meanings. In this last point alone do we +realize a difference between dream and symptom development, for the only +fore-conscious purpose in dream formation is the maintenance of sleep, +the exclusion from consciousness of anything which may disturb sleep; +but it does not necessarily oppose the unconscious wish impulse with an +insistent "No." Quite the contrary; the purpose of the dream may be more +tolerant, because the situation of the sleeper is a less dangerous one. +The exit to reality is closed only through the condition of sleep. + +You see, this evasion which the libido finds under the conditions of the +conflict is possible only by virtue of the existing fixations. When +these fixations are taken in hand by the regression, the suppression is +side-tracked and the libido, which must maintain itself under the +conditions of the compromise, is led off or gratified. By means of such +a detour by way of the unconscious and the old fixations, the libido has +at last succeeded in breaking its way through to some sort of +gratification, however extraordinarily limited this may seem and however +unrecognizable any longer as a genuine satisfaction. Now allow me to add +two further remarks concerning this final result. In the first place, I +should like you to take note of the intimate connection between the +libido and the unconscious on the one hand, and on the other of the ego, +consciousness, and reality. The connection that is evidenced here, +however, does not indicate that originally they in any way belong +together. I should like you to bear continually in mind that everything +I have said here, and all that will follow, pertains only to the symptom +development of hysterical neurosis. + +Where, now, can the libido find the fixations which it must have in +order to force its way through the suppressions? In the activities and +experiences of infantile sexuality, in its abandoned component-impulses, +its childish objects which have been given up. The libido again returns +to them. The significance of this period of childhood is a double one; +on the one hand, the instinctive tendencies which were congenital in the +child first showed themselves at this time; secondly, at the same time, +environmental influences and chance experiences were first awakening his +other instincts. I believe our right to establish this bipartite +division cannot be questioned. The assertion that the innate disposition +plays a part is hardly open to criticism, but analytic experience +actually makes it necessary for us to assume that purely accidental +experiences of childhood are capable of leaving fixations of the libido. +I do not see any theoretical difficulties here. Congenital tendencies +undoubtedly represent the after-effects of the experiences of an earlier +ancestry; they must also have once been acquired; without such acquired +characters there could be no heredity. And is it conceivable that the +inheritance of such acquired characters comes to a standstill in the +very generation that we have under observation? The significance of +infantile experience, however, should not, as is so often done, be +completely ignored as compared with ancestral experiences or those of +our adult years; on the contrary, they should meet with an especial +appreciation. They have such important results because they occur in the +period of uncompleted development, and because of this very fact are in +a position to cause a traumatic effect. The researches on the mechanics +of development by Roux and others have shown us that a needle prick into +an embryonic cell mass which is undergoing division results in most +serious developmental disturbances. The same injury to a larva or a +completed animal can be borne without injury. + +The libido fixation of adults, which we have referred to as +representative of the constitutional factor in the etiological +comparison of the neuroses, can be thought of, so far as we are +concerned, as divisible into two separate factors, the inherited +disposition and the tendency acquired in early childhood. We know that a +schematic representation is most acceptable to the student. Let us +combine these relations as follows: + + Disposition as accidental + Cause of the determined by experiences + neurosis == libido fixation + (traumatic + element) + | + +-------------------------+------------------------+ + | | + Sexual constitution Infantile experience + (pre-historic experience) + +The hereditary sexual constitution provides us with manifold tendencies, +varying with the special emphasis given one or the other component of +the instinct, either individually or in combination. With the factor of +infantile experience, there is again built up a complementary series +within the sexual constitution which is perfectly comparable with our +first series, namely, the gradations between disposition and the chance +experiences of the adult. Here again we find the same extreme cases and +similar relations in the matter of substitution. At this point the +question becomes pertinent as to whether the most striking regressions +of the libido, those which hark back to very early stages in sexual +organization, are not essentially conditioned by the hereditary +constitutional factor. The answer to this question, however, may best be +put off until we are in a position to consider a wider range in the +forms of neurotic disease. + +Let us devote a little time to the consideration of the fact that +analytic investigation of neurotics shows the libido to be bound up with +the infantile sexual experiences of these persons. In this light they +seem of enormous importance for both the life and health of mankind. +With respect to therapeutic work their importance remains undiminished. +But when we do not take this into account we can herein readily +recognize the danger of being misled by the situation as it exists in +neurotics into adopting a mistaken and one-sided orientation toward +life. In figuring the importance of the infantile experiences we must +also subtract the influences arising from the fact that the libido has +returned to them by regression, after having been forced out of its +later positions. Thus we approach the opposite conclusion, that +experiences of the libido had no importance whatever in their own time, +but rather acquired it at the time of regression. You will remember that +we were led to a similar alternative in the discussion of the +Oedipus-complex. + +A decision on this matter will hardly be difficult for us. The statement +is undoubtedly correct that the hold which the infantile experiences +have on the libido--with the pathogenic influences this involves--is +greatly augmented by the regression; still, to allow them to become +definitive would nevertheless be misleading. Other considerations must +be taken into account as well. In the first place, observation shows, in +a way that leaves no room for doubt, that infantile experiences have +their particular significance which is evidenced already during +childhood. There are, furthermore, neuroses in children in which the +factor of displacement in time is necessarily greatly minimized or is +entirely lacking, since the illness follows as an immediate consequence +of the traumatic experience. The study of these infantile neuroses keeps +us from many dangerous misunderstandings of adult neuroses, just as the +dreams of children similarly serve as the key to the understanding of +the dreams of adults. As a matter of fact, the neuroses of children are +very frequent, far more frequent than is generally believed. They are +often overlooked, dismissed as signs of badness or naughtiness, and +often suppressed by the authority of the nursery; in retrospect, +however, they may be easily recognized later. They occur most frequently +in the form of _anxiety hysteria_. What this implies we shall learn upon +another occasion. When a neurosis breaks out in later life, analysis +regularly shows that it is a direct continuation of that infantile +malady which had perhaps developed only obscurely and incipiently. +However, there are cases, as already stated, in which this childish +nervousness continues, without any interruption, as a lifelong +affliction. We have been able to analyze a very few examples of such +neuroses during childhood, while they were actually going on; much more +often we had to be satisfied with obtaining our insight into the +childhood neurosis subsequently, when the patient is already well along +in life, under conditions in which we are forced to work with certain +corrections and under definite precautions. + +Secondly, we must admit that the universal regression of the libido to +the period of childhood would be inexplicable if there were nothing +there which could exert an attraction for it. The fixation which we +assume to exist towards specific developmental phases, conveys a meaning +only if we think of it as stabilizing a definite amount of libidinous +energy. Finally, I am able to remind you that here there exists a +complementary relationship between the intensity and the pathogenic +significance of the infantile experiences to the later ones which is +similar to that studied in previous series. There are cases in which the +entire causal emphasis falls upon the sexual experiences of childhood, +in which these impressions take on an effect which is unmistakably +traumatic and in which no other basis exists for them beyond what the +average sexual constitution and its immaturity can offer. Side by side +with these there are others in which the whole stress is brought to bear +by the later conflicts, and the emphasis the analysis places on +childhood impressions appears entirely as the work of regression. There +are also extremes of "retarded development" and "regression," and +between them every combination in the interaction of the two factors. + +These relations have a certain interest for that pedagogy which assumes +as its object the prevention of neuroses by an early interference in the +sexual development of the child. So long as we keep our attention fixed +essentially on the infantile sexual experiences, we readily come to +believe we have done everything for the prophylaxis of nervous +afflictions when we have seen to it that this development is retarded, +and that the child is spared this type of experience. Yet we already +know that the conditions for the causation of neuroses are more +complicated and cannot in general be influenced through one single +factor. The strict protection in childhood loses its value because it is +powerless against the constitutional factor; furthermore, it is more +difficult to carry out than the educators imagine, and it brings with it +two new dangers that cannot be lightly dismissed. It accomplishes too +much, for it favors a degree of sexual suppression which is harmful for +later years, and it sends the child into life without the power to +resist the violent onset of sexual demands that must be expected during +puberty. The profit, therefore, which childhood prophylaxis can yield is +most dubious; it seems, indeed, that better success in the prevention of +neuroses can be gained by attacking the problem through a changed +attitude toward facts. + +Let us return to the consideration of the symptoms. They serve as +substitutes for the gratification which has been forborne, by a +regression of the libido to earlier days, with a return to former +development phases in their choice of object and in their organization. +We learned some time ago that the neurotic is held fast somewhere in his +past; we now know that it is a period of his past in which his libido +did not miss the satisfaction which made him happy. He looks for such a +time in his life until he has found it, even though he must hark back to +his suckling days as he retains them in his memory or as he reconstructs +them in the light of later influences. The symptom in some way again +yields the old infantile form of satisfaction, distorted by the +censoring work of the conflict. As a rule it is converted into a +sensation of suffering and fused with other causal elements of the +disease. The form of gratification which the symptom yields has much +about it that alienates one's sympathy. In this we omit to take into +account, however, the fact that the patients do not recognize the +gratification as such and experience the apparent satisfaction rather as +suffering, and complain of it. This transformation is part of the +psychic conflict under the pressure of which the symptom must be +developed. What was at one time a satisfaction for the individual must +now awaken his antipathy or disgust. We know a simple but instructive +example for such a change of feeling. The same child that sucked the +milk with such voracity from its mother's breast is apt to show a strong +antipathy for milk a few years later, which is often difficult to +overcome. This antipathy increases to the point of disgust when the +milk, or any substituted drink, has a little skin over it. It is rather +hard to throw out the suggestion that this skin calls up the memory of +the mother's breast, which was once so intensely coveted. In the +meantime, to be sure, the traumatic experience of weaning has +intervened. + +There is something else that makes the symptoms appear remarkable and +inexplicable as a means of libidinous satisfaction. They in no way +recall anything from which we normally are in the habit of expecting +satisfaction. They usually require no object, and thereby give up all +connection with external reality. We understand this to be a result of +turning away from fact and of returning to the predominance of +pleasurable gratification. But it is also a return to a sort of +amplified autoeroticism, such as was yielded the sex impulse in its +earliest satisfactions. In the place of a modification in the outside +world, we have a physical change, in other words, an internal reaction +in place of an external one, an adjustment instead of an activity. +Viewed from a phylogenetic standpoint, this expresses a very significant +regression. We will grasp this better when we consider it in connection +with a new factor which we are still to discover from the analytic +investigation of symptom development. Further, we recall that in symptom +formation the same processes of the unconscious have been at work as in +dream formation--elaboration and displacement. Similarly to the dream, +the symptom represents a fulfillment, a satisfaction after the manner of +the infantile; by the utmost elaboration this satisfaction can be +compressed into a single sensation or innervation, or by extreme +displacement it may be restricted to a tiny element of the entire +libidinous complex. It is no wonder that we often have difficulties in +recognizing in the symptom the libidinous satisfaction which we +anticipate and always find verified. + +I have indicated that we must still become familiar with a new factor. +It is something really surprising and confusing. You know that by +analysis of the symptoms we arrive at a knowledge of the infantile +experiences upon which the libido is fixated and out of which the +symptoms are formed. Well, the surprising thing is this, that these +infantile scenes are not always true. Indeed, in the majority of cases +they are untrue, and in some instances they are directly contrary to +historical truth. You see that this discovery, as no other, serves +either to discredit the analysis which has led to such a result, or to +discredit the patients upon whose testimony the analysis, as well as the +whole understanding of neuroses, is built up. In addition there is +something else utterly confusing about it. If the infantile experiences, +revealed by analysis, were in every case real, we should have the +feeling of walking on sure ground; if they were regularly falsified, +disclosed themselves as inventions or phantasies of the patients, we +should have to leave this uncertain ground and find a surer footing +elsewhere. But it is neither the one nor the other, for when we look +into the matter we find that the childhood experiences which are +recalled or reconstructed in the course of the analysis may in some in +some instances be false, in others undeniably true, and in the majority +of cases a mixture of truth and fiction. The symptoms then are either +the representation of actual experiences to which we may ascribe an +influence in the fixation of the libido, or the representation of +phantasies of the patient which, of course, can be of no etiological +significance. It is hard to find one's way here. The first foothold is +given perhaps by an analogous discovery, namely, that the same scattered +childhood memories that individuals always have had and have been +conscious of prior to an analysis may be falsified as well, or at least +may contain a generous mixture of true and false. Evidence of error very +seldom offers difficulties, and we at least gain the satisfaction of +knowing that the blame for this unexpected disappointment is not to be +laid at the door of analysis, but in some way upon the patients. + +After reflecting a bit we can easily understand what is so confusing in +this matter. It is the slight regard for reality, the neglect to keep +fact distinct from phantasy. We are apt to feel insulted that the +patient has wasted our time with invented tales. There is an enormous +gap in our thinking between reality and invention and we accord an +entirely different valuation to reality. The patient, too, takes this +same viewpoint in his normal thinking. When he offers the material +which, by way of the symptom, leads back to the wish situations which +are modeled upon the childhood experiences, we are at first, to be sure, +in doubt whether we are dealing with reality or with phantasy. Later +certain traits determine this decision; we are confronted with the task +of acquainting the patient with them. This can never be accomplished +without difficulty. If at the outset we tell him that he is going to +reveal phantasies with which he has veiled his childhood history, just +as every people weaves myths around its antiquity, we notice (to our +comfort) that his interest in the further pursuit of the subject +suddenly diminishes. He, too, wants to discover realities, and despises +all "notions." But if until this is accomplished we allow him to believe +that we are investigating the actual occurrences of his childhood, we +run the risk of later being charged with error and with our apparent +gullibility. For a long time he is unable to reconcile himself to the +idea of considering phantasy and reality on equal terms and he tends, +with reference to the childish experiences to be explained, to neglect +for the time being the difference between the real and the imaginary. +And yet this is obviously the only correct attitude toward these +psychological products because they are, in a sense, real. It is a fact +that the patient is able to create such phantasies for himself, and this +is of scarcely less importance for his neurosis than if he had really +undergone the experience which he imagines. These phantasies possess +_psychological_ reality in contrast to _physical_ reality, and so we +gradually come to understand that _in the realm of neuroses the +psychological reality is the determining factor_. + +Among the experiences which recur continually in the early history of +neurotics and, in fact, are never lacking, some are of particular +significance and accordingly I consider them worthy of special +treatment. I shall enumerate a few examples of this species: observation +of the parental intercourse, seduction by an adult, and the threat of +castration. It would be a grievous error to assume that physical reality +can never be accorded them; this may often be proved beyond doubt by the +testimony of adult relatives. So, for example, it is not at all unusual +if the little boy who begins to play with his penis, and does not yet +know that one must conceal this, is threatened by his parents or nurse +with the cutting off of the organ or the guilty hand. Parents often +admit upon questioning that they thought they had done the right thing +by this intimidation; many individuals retain a correct, conscious +memory of these threats, especially if it has occurred in later +childhood. When the mother or some other woman makes the threat she +usually delegates the responsibility of executing it to the father or to +the doctor. In the famous _Struwelpeter_ by the pediatrist Hoffman, of +Frankfort, rhymes which owe their popularity to his very fine +understanding of the sexual and other complexes of childhood, you find a +milder substitute for castration in the cutting off of the thumbs as a +punishment for insistent sucking. But it is highly improbable that the +threat of castration is actually made as often as it occurs in the +analyses of neurotics. We are content to understand that the child +imaginatively constructs this threat for himself from suggestions, from +the knowledge that auto-erotic satisfaction is forbidden, and from the +impression of castration he has received in discovering the female +genital. It is, moreover, in no way impossible that the little child, so +long as he is not credited with any understanding or memory, will, even +in families outside the proletariat, become a witness to the sexual act +between his parents or some other group-ups, and it cannot be disproved +that the child _subsequently_ understands this impression, and may react +upon it. But when this intercourse is described with minute details +which could hardly have been observed, or if it turns out to be, as it +so frequently does, an intercourse which was not face to face, _more +ferarum_, there is no longer any doubt that this phantasy is derived +from the observation of the intercourse of animals (dogs) and the +unsatisfied curiosity of the child in his period of puberty. The +greatest feat of the imagination is the phantasy of having witnessed the +coitus of the parents while still unborn in the mother's womb. Of +especial interest is the phantasy of having been seduced, because so +often it is not a phantasy at all, but a real memory. But luckily it is +not real so often as first appears from the results of analysis. +Seduction by older children, or children of the same age, is much more +frequent than seduction by adults, and if, in the case of little girls, +the father quite regularly appears as the seducer in the occurrences +which they relate, neither the fantastic nature of this accusation nor +its motive can be doubted. The child as a rule covers the autoerotic +period of his sexual activity, where there has been no actual seduction, +with the seduction-phantasy. He spares himself the shame of onanism by +imagining the presence of an object for his desires in that early +period. As a matter of fact, you must not be misled in attributing +sexual misuse of the child by its nearest male relatives solely and +always to phantasy. Most analysts have probably treated cases in which +such relations were real and could be proved beyond doubt, with the +qualification that in such cases they belong to the later years of +childhood and were transposed to an earlier time. + +We cannot avoid the impression that such experiences of childhood are in +some way necessary to the neurosis, that they are claimed by its iron +rule. If they exist in reality, then well and good, but if reality has +withheld them they are constructed from suggestions and supplemented by +the imagination. The result is the same, and to this day we have been +unable to trace any difference in the results, whether fancy or fact +played the larger part in these childish occurrences. Here again we +encounter one of the complementary relationships so frequently met with; +it is, to be sure, the most estranging of all those we have become +acquainted with. Whence comes the need for these phantasies, and the +material for them? There can be no doubt as to the sources of the +impulse, but we must explain why the same phantasies are always created +with the same content. I have an answer in readiness which I know you +will think very far-fetched. I am of the opinion that these _primal +phantasies_--so I should like to term these, and certainly some others +also--are a phylogenetic possession. In them the individual reaches out +beyond his own life, into the experiences of antiquity, where his own +experience has become all too rudimentary. It seems very possible to me +that everything which is obtained during an analysis in the guise of +phantasy, the seduction of children, the release of sexual excitement by +watching parental intercourse, the threat of castration--or rather +castration itself--were once realities in the primeval existence of +mankind and that the imaginative child is merely filling in the gaps of +individual truth with prehistoric truth. We have again and again +suspected that the psychology of neuroses stores up more of the +antiquities of human development than all other sources. + +What we have just discussed makes it necessary for us to enter further +into the origin and significance of that mental activity that is called +imagination. As you well know, it enjoys universal esteem, although we +have never clearly understood its place in the psychic life. I have this +much to say about it. As you know, the ego of man is slowly educated by +the influence of external necessity to an appreciation of reality and a +pursuit of the principle of reality, and must therefore renounce +temporarily or permanently various objects and goals of its strivings +for satisfaction, sexual and otherwise. But renunciation of +gratification has always been difficult for man. He cannot accomplish it +without something in the nature of compensation. Accordingly he has +reserved for himself a psychological activity wherein all these +abandoned sources of pleasures and means of pleasurable gratification +are granted a further existence, a form of existence in which they are +freed from the requirements of reality and what we like to call the test +of reality. Every impulse is soon transformed into the form of its own +fulfillment. There is no doubt that dwelling on the imagined fulfillment +of a given wish affords some satisfaction, although the realization that +it is unreal is unobscured. In the activity of the imagination, man +enjoys that freedom from external compulsion that he has long since +renounced. He has made it possible to be alternately a pleasure-seeking +animal and a reasoning human being. He finds that the scant satisfaction +that he can force out of reality is not enough. "There is no getting +along without auxiliary-constructions," Th. Fontaine once said. The +creation of the psychic realm of fancy has its complete counterpart in +the establishment of "preserves" and "conservation projects" in those +places where the demands of husbandry, traffic and industry threaten +quickly to change the original face of the earth into something +unrecognizable. The national reserves maintain this old condition of +things, which otherwise has everywhere been regretfully sacrificed to +necessity. Everything may grow and spread there as it will, even that +which is useless and harmful. The psychic realm of phantasy is such a +reservation withdrawn from the principles of reality. + +The best known productions of phantasy are the so-called "day dreams," +which we already know, pictured satisfactions of ambitious, of covetous +and erotic wishes, which flourish the more grandly the more reality +admonishes them to modesty and patience. There is unmistakably shown in +them the nature of imaginative happiness, the restoration of the +independence of pleasurable gratification from the acquiescence of +reality. We know such day dreams are nuclei and models for the dreams of +night. The night dream is essentially nothing but a day dream, distorted +by the nocturnal forms of psychological activity, and made available by +the freedom which the night gives to instinctive impulses. We have +already become acquainted with the idea that a day dream is not +necessarily conscious, that there are also unconscious day dreams. Such +unconscious day dreams are as much the source of night dreams as of +neurotic symptoms. + +The significance of phantasy for the development of symptoms will become +clear to you by the following: We have said that in a case of +renunciation, the libido occupies regressively the positions once +abandoned by it, to which, nevertheless, it has clung in certain ways. +We shall neither retract this statement nor correct it, but we shall +insert a missing link. How does the libido find its way to these points +of fixation? Well, every object and tendency of the libido that has been +abandoned, is not abandoned in every sense of the word. They, or their +derivatives, are still held in presentations of the phantasy, with a +certain degree of intensity. The libido need only retire to the +imagination in order to find from them the open road to all suppressed +fixations. These phantasies were happy under a sort of tolerance, there +was no conflict between them and the ego, no matter how acute the +contrast, so long as a certain condition was observed--a condition +_quantitative_ in nature that is now disturbed by the flowing back of +the libido to the phantasies. By this addition the accumulation of +energy in the phantasies is heightened to such a degree that they become +assertive and develop a pressure in the direction of realization. But +that makes a conflict between them and the ego inevitable. Whether +formerly conscious or unconscious, they now are subject to suppression +by the ego and are victims to the attraction of the unconscious. The +libido wanders from phantasies now unconscious to their sources in +unconsciousness, and back to its own points of fixation. + +The return of the libido to phantasy is an intermediate step on the road +to symptom development and well deserves a special designation. C. G. +Jung coined for it the very appropriate name of _introversion_, but +inappropriately he also lets it stand for other things. Let us therefore +retain the idea that introversion signifies the turning aside of the +libido from the possibilities of actual satisfaction and the excessive +accumulation of the phantasies hitherto tolerated as harmless. An +introvert is not yet a neurotic, but he finds himself in a labile +situation; he must develop symptoms at the next dislocation of forces, +if he does not find other outlets for his pent-up libido. The intangible +nature of neurotic satisfaction and the neglect of the difference +between imagination and reality are already determined by arrest in the +phase of introversion. + +You have certainly noticed that in the last discussions I have +introduced a new factor into the structure of the etiological chain, +namely, the quantity, the amount of energy that comes under +consideration. We must always take this factor into account. Purely +qualitative analysis of the etiological conditions is not sufficient. +Or, to put it in another way, a _dynamic_ conception alone of these +psychic processes is not enough; there is need of an _economic_ +viewpoint. We must say to ourselves that the conflict between two +impulses is not released before certain occupation-intensities have been +reached, even though the qualitative conditions have long been potent. +Similarly, the pathogenic significance of the constitutional factors is +guided by how much _more_ of a given component impulse is present in the +predisposition over and above that of another; one can even conceive the +predispositions of all men to be qualitatively the same and to be +differentiated only by these quantitative conditions. The quantitative +factor is no less important for the power of resistance against neurotic +ailments. It depends upon _what amount_ of unused libido a person can +hold freely suspended, and upon _how large a fraction_ of the libido he +is able to direct from the sexual path to the goal of sublimation. The +final goal of psychological activity, which may be described +qualitatively as striving towards pleasure-acquisition and avoidance of +unpleasantness, presents itself in the light of economic considerations +as the task of overcoming the gigantic stimuli at work in the +psychological apparatus, and to prevent those obstructions which cause +unpleasantness. + +So much I wanted to tell you about symptom development in the neuroses. +Yes, but do not let me neglect to emphasize this especially: everything +I have said here relates to the symptom development in hysteria. Even in +compulsion neuroses, which retain the same fundamentals, much is found +that is different. The counter-siege directed against the claims of the +instincts, of which we have spoken in connection with hysteria, press to +the fore in compulsion neuroses, and control the clinical picture by +means of so-called "reaction-formations." The same kind and more +far-reaching variations are discoverable among the other neuroses, where +the investigations as to the mechanism of symptom development have in no +way been completed. + +Before I leave you today I should like to have your attention for a +while for an aspect of imaginative life which is worthy of the most +general interest. For there is a way back from imagination to reality +and that is--art. The artist is an incipient introvert who is not far +from being a neurotic. He is impelled by too powerful instinctive needs. +He wants to achieve honor, power, riches, fame and the love of women. +But he lacks the means of achieving these satisfactions. So like any +other unsatisfied person, he turns away from reality, and transfers all +his interests, his libido, too, to the elaboration of his imaginary +wishes, all of which might easily point the way to neurosis. A great +many factors must combine to present this termination of his +development; it is well known how often artists especially suffer from a +partial inhibition of their capacities through neurosis. Apparently +their constitutions are strongly endowed with an ability to sublimize +and to shift the suppression determining their conflicts. The artist +finds the way back to reality in this way. He is not the only one who +has a life of imagination. The twilight-realm of phantasy is upheld by +the sanction of humanity and every hungry soul looks here for help and +sympathy. But for those who are not artists, the ability to obtain +satisfaction from imaginative sources is very restricted. Their +relentless suppressions force them to be satisfied with the sparse day +dreams which may become conscious. If one is a real artist he has more +at his disposal. In the first place, he understands how to elaborate his +day dreams so that they lose their essentially personal element, which +would repel strangers, and yield satisfaction to others as well. He also +knows how to disguise them so that they do not easily disclose their +origin in their despised sources. He further possesses the puzzling +ability of molding a specific material into a faithful image of the +creatures of his imagination, and then he is able to attach to this +representation of his unconscious phantasies so much pleasurable +gratification that, for a time at least, it is able to outweigh and +release the suppressions. If he is able to accomplish all this, he makes +it possible for others, in their return, to obtain solace and +consolation from their own unconscious sources of gratification which +had become inaccessible. He wins gratitude and admiration for himself +and so, by means of his imagination, achieves the very things which had +at first only an imaginary existence for him: honor, power, and the love +of women. + + + + +TWENTY-FOURTH LECTURE + +GENERAL THEORY OF THE NEUROSES + +_Ordinary Nervousness_ + + +In our last discussion we accomplish a difficult task. Now I shall +temporarily leave our subject and address myself to you. + +For I know quite well that you are dissatisfied. You thought that an +introduction to psychoanalysis would be quite a different matter. You +expected to hear vivid illustrations instead of theories. You will tell +me that when I gave you the illustration of "on the ground floor in the +first story," you had grasped something of the causation of neurosis, +only of course this should have been a real observation and not an +imaginary story. Or, when in the beginning I described two symptoms (not +imaginary also, let us hope) whose analysis revealed a close connection +with the life of the patient, you first came to grasp the meaning of the +symptoms and you hoped that I would proceed in the same way. Instead I +have given you theories--lengthy, difficult to see in perspective and +incomplete, to which something new was constantly being added. I worked +with conceptions that I had not previously presented to you, abandoned +descriptive for dynamic conceptions, and these in turn for economic +ones. I made it hard for you to understand how many of the artificial +terms I made use of still carry the same meaning and are used +interchangeably only for the sake of euphony. Finally, I allowed broad +conceptions to pass in review before you: the principles of pleasure and +of fact and their phylogenetically inherited possession; and then, +instead of introducing you to definite facts, I allowed them to become +increasingly vague till they seemed to fade into dim distances. + +Why did I not begin my introduction to the theory of neurosis with the +facts that you yourselves know about nervousness, with something that +has always aroused your interest, with the peculiar temperament of +nervous people, their incomprehensible reactions to external influences, +to human intercourse, their irritability, their uselessness? Why did I +not lead you step by step from the understanding of simple, everyday +forms to the problems of mysterious and extreme manifestations of +nervousness? + +I cannot even say that you are wrong. I am not so infatuated with my art +of representation as to see some special attraction in every blemish. I +myself believe that I could have proceeded differently, to your better +advantage, and this indeed had been my intention. But one cannot always +carry out one's sensible intentions. The nature of the subject matter +issues its own commands, and easily modifies our plans. Even so usual a +performance as the organization of well-known material is not entirely +subject to the particular purposes of the author. It forms itself as it +will and later one wonders why it turned out so and not otherwise. + +Probably one of the reasons is that the title, _A General Introduction +to Psychoanalysis_, no longer applies to this part, which deals with the +neuroses. The introduction to psychoanalysis is found in the study of +errors and the dream; the theory of neurosis is psychoanalysis itself. I +do not think that in so short a time I could have given you a knowledge +of the theory of neurosis other than in concentrated form. It was +necessary to present to you connectedly the meaning and interpretation +of the symptoms, their external and internal conditions and their +bearing on the mechanism of symptom formation. This I have attempted to +do; it is practically the nucleus of the material that modern +psychoanalysis is able to offer. We had to say quite a good deal +concerning the libido and its development, and something as well +concerning the development of the ego. The introduction had already +prepared you for the presuppositions of our technique, for the large +aspects of the unconscious and of suppression (resistance). In a +subsequent lecture you will learn from what points psychoanalysis +proceeds organically. For the present I have not sought to hide from you +the fact that all our results are based on the study of a single group +of nervous affections, the so-called transference neuroses. Though you +have gained no positive knowledge and have not retained every detail, +still I hope that you have a fair picture of the methods, the problems +and the results of psychoanalysis. + +I have assumed that it was your wish for me to begin my presentation of +neuroses with a description of nervous behavior, the nature of neurotic +suffering, and the way in which the nervous meet the conditions of their +illness and adapt themselves to these. Such subject matter is certainly +interesting and well worth knowing. It is moreover not very hard to +handle, yet it is not wise to begin with its consideration. There is +danger of not discovering the unconscious, of overlooking the great +significance of the libido, of judging all conditions as they appear to +the ego of the nervous person. It is obvious that this ego is neither a +reliable nor an impartial authority. For this very ego is the force that +denies and suppresses the unconscious; when the unconscious is +concerned, how then could we expect justice to be done? The rejected +claims of sexuality stand first in the line of these suppressions; it is +natural that from the standpoint of the ego we can never learn their +extent and significance. As soon as we attain to the point of view of +suppression, we are sufficiently warned not to make one of the +contending factions, above all not to make the victor judge of the +struggle. We are prepared to find that the testimony of the ego may lead +us astray. If one is to believe the evidence of the ego, it would appear +to have been active all along, all its symptoms would have been actively +willed and formed. Yet we know that it has passively allowed a great +deal to occur, a fact which it subsequently seeks to conceal and to +palliate. To be sure, it does not always attempt this; in the case of +the symptoms of compulsion neurosis it must admit that it is being +opposed by something alien, which it can resist only with difficulty. + +Whoever does not heed these warnings not to mistake the prevarications +of the ego for truth, has clear sailing; he avoids all the resistances +which oppose the psychoanalytic emphasis upon the unconscious, on +sexuality, and on the passiveness of the ego. He will assert with Alfred +Adler that the "nervous character" is the cause instead of the result of +the neurosis, but he will not be able to explain a single detail of +symptom formation or to interpret a single dream. + +You will ask: Is it not possible to do justice to the part the ego plays +in nervousness and in symptom formation without crudely neglecting the +factors revealed by psychoanalysis? I answer you: Surely it must be +possible and at some time or other it will take place; but the methods +by which we organize the work of psychoanalysis do not favor our +beginning with just this task. We can foresee the time when this task +will claim the attention of psychoanalysis. There are forms of neuroses, +the so-called narcistic neuroses, in which the ego is far more deeply +involved than in anything we have studied heretofore. The analytic +investigation of these conditions will enable us to judge reliably and +impartially the part that the ego plays in neurotic illness. + +One of the relations which the ego bears to its neurosis is so obvious +that it must be considered at the very outset. In no case does it seem +to be absent, and it is most clearly recognizable in the traumatic +neuroses, conditions which we do not as yet clearly understand. You must +know that in the causation and mechanisms of all possible forms of +neurosis, the same factors are active again and again; it is only the +emphasis that is shifted from one to the other of these factors in +symptom formation. The members of a company of actors each have certain +parts to play--hero, villain, confidant, etc.--yet each will select a +different drama for his benefit. Thus the phantasies which undergo +conversion into symptoms are especially easy to detect in hysteria; +compulsion neuroses are essentially dominated by the reactionary +formations, or counter-seizures of the ego; what we designate as +_secondary elaboration_ in dreams dominates paranoia in the form of +delusions, etc. + +In traumatic neuroses, particularly if they are caused by the horrors of +war, we are especially impressed by a selfish ego-impulse which seeks +protection and personal advantage. This in itself is not a sufficient +cause for illness, but it can favor its beginning and also feed its +needs once it has been established. This motive serves to protect the +ego from the dangers whose imminence precipitated the disease, and does +not permit convalescence until the recurrence of these dangers seems +impossible, or until compensation has been obtained for the danger that +has been undergone. + +But the ego betrays similar interest in the origin and maintenance of +all other neuroses. We have already said that the ego suffers the +symptom to exist, because one of its phases gratifies the egoistic +tendency toward suppression. Besides, the ending of the conflict by +means of symptom development is the path of least resistance, and a +most convenient solution for the principle of pleasure. Through symptom +formation the ego is undoubtedly spared a severe and unpleasant inner +task. There are cases where even the physician must admit that the +resolution of the conflict into neurosis is the most harmless outcome +and one most easily tolerated by society. Do not be surprised, then, to +learn that occasionally even the physician takes the part of the illness +he is battling against. He does not have to restrict himself to the role +of the fanatic warrior for health in all situations of life. He knows +that the world contains not only neurotic misery, but also real, +incurable suffering. He knows that necessity may even require a human +being to sacrifice his health, and he learns that by this sacrifice on +the part of one individual untold wretchedness may be spared for many +others. So if we say that the neurotic escapes the conflict _by taking +refuge in illness_, we must admit that in some cases this escape is +justifiable, and the physician who has diagnosed the state of affairs +will retire silently and tactfully. + +But let us not consider these special cases in our further discussion. +In average cases the ego, by having recourse to neurosis, obtains a +certain inner _advantage from the disease_. Under certain conditions of +life, there may also be derived a tangible external advantage, more or +less valuable in reality. Let me direct your attention to the most +frequent occurrences of this sort. Women who are brutally treated and +mercilessly exploited by their husbands almost always adopt the evasion +of the neurosis, provided that their predisposition permits this. This +usually follows when the woman is too cowardly or too virtuous to seek +secret solace in the arms of another, or when she dare not separate from +her husband in the face of all opposition, when she has no prospect of +maintaining herself or of finding a better husband and especially when +her sexual emotions still bind her to this brutal man. Her illness +becomes a weapon in her struggle with him, one that she can use for +self-protection and misuse for purposes of vengeance. She probably dare +not complain of her marriage, but she can complain of her illness. The +doctor becomes her assistant. She forces her inconsiderate husband to +spare her, to attend to her wishes, to permit her absence from the house +and thus free her from the oppressions of her married life. Wherever +such external or accidental gain through illness is considerable and +can find no substitute in fact, you can prophesy that the possibility of +influencing neurosis through therapy is very slight. + +You will tell me that what I have said about the advantage gained from +the disease speaks entirely for the hypothesis I have rejected, namely, +that the ego itself wills and creates the neurosis. Just a moment! It +probably does not mean more than that the ego passively suffers the +neurosis to exist, which it is unable to prevent anyway. It makes the +most of the neurosis, if anything can be made of it at all. This is only +one side of the question, the advantageous side. The ego is willing to +endure the advantages of the neurosis, but there are not only +advantages. As a rule it soon appears that the ego has made a poor deal +in accepting the neurosis. It has paid too high a price for the +mitigation of the conflict; and the sensations of suffering which the +symptoms bring with them are perhaps every bit as bad as the agonies of +conflict, usually they cause even greater discomfort. The ego wants to +rid itself of the pain of the symptoms without relinquishing the gain of +illness, and that is impossible. Thus the ego is discovered as by no +means so active as it had thought itself to be, and this we want to keep +in mind. + +If you were to come into contact with neurotics as a physician, you +would soon cease to expect that those who complain most woefully of +their illness are the ones who will oppose its therapy with the least +resistance or who will welcome any help. On the contrary, you would +readily understand that everything contributing to the advantage derived +from the disease will strengthen the resistance to the suppression and +heighten the difficulty of the therapy. We must also add another and +later advantage to the gain of illness which is born with the symptom. +If a psychic organization, such as this illness, has persisted for a +long time, it finally behaves as an independent unit, it expresses +something like self-preservation, attains a kind of _modus vivendi_ +between itself and other parts of psychic life, even those that are +fundamentally hostile to it. And occasions will probably arise where it +can prove again to be both useful and valuable, by which it will attain +a _secondary function_, which gives strength to its existence. Instead +of an illustration from pathology take a striking example from everyday +life. An efficient workman who earns his living is crippled for his +occupation by some disaster; his work is over for him. After a while, +however, he receives a small accident insurance, and learns to exploit +his injury by begging. His new existence, though most undesirable, is +based upon the very thing that robbed him of his former maintenance. If +you could cure his defect, he would be without a means of subsistence, +he would have no livelihood. The question would arise: Is he capable of +resuming his former work? That which corresponds to such secondary +exploitation of illness in neurosis we may add to the primary benefit +derived therefrom and may term it a _secondary_ advantage of disease. + +In general I should like to warn you not to underestimate the practical +significance of the advantage from illness and yet not to be too much +impressed by it theoretically. Aside from the previously recognized +exceptions, I am always reminded of Oberlaender's pictures on "the +intelligence of animals" which appeared in the _Fliegende Blaetter_. An +Arab is riding a camel on a narrow path cut through a steep mountain +side. At a turn of the trail he is suddenly confronted by a lion who +makes ready to spring. He sees no way out, on one side the precipice, on +the other the abyss; retreat and flight--both are impossible; he gives +himself up as lost. Not so the camel. He leaps into the abyss with his +rider--and the lion is left in the lurch. The help of neurosis is as a +rule no kinder to the rider. It may be due to the fact that the +settlement of the conflict through symptom development is nevertheless +an automatic process, not able to meet the demands of life, and for +whose sake man renounces the use of his best and loftiest powers. If it +were possible to choose, it were indeed best to perish in an honorable +struggle with destiny. + +I still owe you further explanation as to why, in my presentation of the +theory of neurosis, I did not proceed from ordinary nervousness as a +starting point. You may assume that, had I done this, the proof of the +sexual origin of neurosis would have been more difficult for me, and so +I refrained. There you are mistaken. In transference neurosis we must +work at interpretations of the symptoms to arrive at this conclusion. In +the ordinary forms of the so-called true neuroses, however, the +etiological significance of sexual life is a crude fact open to +observation. I discovered it twenty years ago when I asked myself one +day why we regularly barred out questions concerning sexual activity in +examining nervous patients. At that time I sacrificed my popularity +among my patients to my investigations, yet after a brief effort I could +state that no neurosis, no true neurosis at least, is present with a +normal sexual life. Of course, this statement passes too lightly over +the individual differences, it is unclear through the vagueness with +which it uses the term "normal," but even to-day it retains its value +for purposes of rough orientation. At that time I reached the point of +drawing comparisons between certain forms of nervousness and sexual +abnormalities, and I do not doubt that I could repeat the same +observations now, if similar material were at my disposal. I frequently +noticed that a man who contented himself with incomplete sexual +gratification, with manual ononism, for instance, would suffer from a +true neurosis, and that this neurosis would promptly give way to another +form, if another sexual regime no less harmful were substituted. From +the change in the condition of the patient I was able to guess the +change in the mode of his sexual life. At that time I learned to hold +obstinately to my conjectures until I had overcome the patient's +prevarications and had forced him to confirm my suppositions. To be +sure, then he preferred to consult other physicians who did not inquire +so insistently into his sexual life. + +At that time it did not escape my notice that the origin of the disease +could not always be traced back to sexual life; sexual abnormality would +cause the illness in one person, while another would fall ill because he +had lost his fortune or had suffered an exhausting organic disease. We +gained insight into this variation by means of the interrelations +between the ego and the libido, and the more profound our insight +became, the more satisfactory were the results. A person begins to +suffer from neurosis when his ego has lost the capacity of accommodating +the libido. The stronger the ego, the easier the solution of the +problem; a weakening of the ego from any cause whatsoever has the same +effect as a superlative increase of the claims of the libido. There are +other and more intimate relations between the ego and the libido which I +shall not discuss, as we are not concerned with them here. To us it is +of enlightening significance that in every case, regardless of the way +in which the illness was caused, the symptoms of neurosis were opposed +by the libido and thus gave evidence for its abnormal use. + +Now, however, I want to draw your attention to the difference between +the symptoms of the true neuroses and the psychoneuroses, the first +group of which, the transference neurosis, has occupied us considerably. +In both cases the symptoms proceed from the libido. They are accordingly +abnormal uses of it, substitutes for gratification. But the symptoms of +the true neurosis--such as pressure in the head, sensations of pain, +irritability of an organ, weakening or inhibition of a function--these +have no meaning, no psychic significance. They are manifested not only +in the body, as for instance hysteric symptoms, but are in themselves +physical processes whose creation is devoid of all the complicated +psychic mechanism with which we have become acquainted. They really +embody the character that has so long been attributed to the +psychoneurotic symptom. But how can they then correspond to uses of the +libido, which we have come to know as a psychological force? That is +quite simple. Let me recall one of the very first objections that was +made to psychoanalysis. It was stated that psychoanalysis was concerned +with a purely psychological theory of neurotic manifestations; that this +was a hopeless outlook since psychological theories could never explain +illness. The objectors chose to forget that the sexual function is +neither purely psychic nor merely somatic. It influences physical as +well as psychic life. In the symptoms of the psychoneuroses we have +recognized the expression of a disturbance in psychic processes. And so +we shall not be surprised to discover that the true neuroses are the +direct somatic consequences of sexual disturbances. + +The medical clinic gives us a valuable suggestion (observed by many +research workers) for the comprehension of the true neuroses. In all the +details of their symptomatology, and as well in their characteristic +power to influence all organic systems and all functions, the true +neuroses reveal a marked similarity to the conditions of those diseases +which originate through the chronic influence of foreign poisons and as +well through their acute diminution; with conditions prevalent in +intoxication and abstinence. The two groups of conditions are brought +still closer together by the relation of intermediate conditions, which, +following M. Basedowi, we have learned to attribute to the influence of +toxic substances, but of toxins, however, which are not introduced into +the body from without, but arise in its own metabolism. These analogies, +I think, lead us directly to the consideration of these neuroses as +disturbances in sexual metabolism. It may be that more sexual toxins are +produced than the individual can dispose of, or that inner, even psychic +conditions, stand in the way of the proper elaboration of these +substances. The language of the people has always favored such +assumptions as to the nature of sexual desires. It calls love an +"intoxication"; it will have love-madness aroused through potions, and +thus sees the motive force removed, as it were, to the outer world. For +the rest, the phrase "sexual metabolism" or "chemism of sexuality" is a +chapter-head without content. We know nothing about it and cannot even +decide whether we are to assume two sexual substances, the male and the +female, or, if there is only _one_ sexual toxin, which to consider the +carrier of all the stimulating power of the libido. The structure of +psychoanalysis that we have erected is really only a superstructure +which at some future time must be placed upon its organic foundation; +but what this is we do not know as yet. + +Psychoanalysis is characterized as a science, not by reason of the +subject matter it handles but by the technique it employs. This can be +employed in dealing with the history of civilization, the science of +religion or mythology, as well as with the theory of neurosis, without +altering its character. The revealing of the unconscious in psychic life +is all it aims to accomplish. The problems of the true neuroses, whose +symptoms probably originate in direct toxic damage, yield no point of +attack to psychoanalysis. Psychoanalysis can do little for their +elucidation, and must leave the task to biological-medical research. +Perhaps you understand now why I did not choose to organize my material +differently. If I had given to you an _Introduction to the Theory of the +Neuroses_ as you wished, it would unquestionably have been correct to +proceed from the simple forms of the true neuroses to those complex +illnesses caused by a disturbance of the libido. In discussing the true +neuroses I would have had to bring together the facts we have gleaned +from various quarters and present what we think we know of them. Only +later, under the psychoneuroses, would psychoanalysis have been +discussed as the most important technical aid for insight into these +conditions. I had, however, intended and announced _A General +Introduction to Psychoanalysis_, and it seemed to me more important to +give you an idea of psychoanalysis than to present certain positive +facts about neuroses; and so I could not place the true neuroses into +the foreground, for they prove sterile for the purposes of +psychoanalysis. I believe that I have made the wiser choice for you, +since psychoanalysis deserves the interest of every educated person +because of its profound hypotheses and far-reaching connections. The +theory of neurosis, on the other hand, is a chapter of medicine like any +other. + +You are, however, justified in expecting some interest on our part in +the true neuroses. Because of their intimate connection with +psychoneuroses we find this decidedly necessary. I shall tell you then +that we distinguish three pure forms of true neuroses: _neurasthenia_, +_anxiety neurosis_ and _hypochondria_. Even this classification has not +remained uncontradicted. The terms are all widely used, but their +connotation is vague and uncertain. Besides, there are in this world of +confusion physicians who object to any distinctions between +manifestations, any emphasis of clinical detail, who do not even +recognize the separation of true neuroses and psychoneuroses. I think +they have gone too far and have not chosen the road which leads to +progress. The types of neuroses we have mentioned occur occasionally in +pure form; more often they are blended with one another or with a +psychoneurotic condition. This need not discourage us to the extent of +abandoning the task of distinction. Think of the difference between the +study of minerals and that of ores in mineralogy. Minerals are described +as individuals; frequently of course they occur as crystals, separated +sharply from their surroundings. Ores consist of an aggregate of +minerals which have coalesced not accidentally, but as a result of the +conditions of their origin. We understand too little of the process of +development of neuroses, to create anything similar to the study of +ores. But we are surely working in the right direction when we isolate +the known clinical factors, comparable to the separate minerals, from +the great mass. + +A noteworthy connection between the symptoms of the true neuroses and +the psychoneuroses adds a valuable contribution to our knowledge of +symptom formation in the latter. The symptom in the true neuroses is +frequently the nucleus and incipient stage of development of the +psychoneurotic symptom. Such a connection is most easily observed +between neurasthenia and the transference neuroses, which are termed +conversion hysteria, between anxiety neurosis and anxiety hysteria, but +also between hypochondria and paraphrenia (dementia praecox and +paranoia), forms of neuroses of which we shall speak subsequently. Let +us take as an illustration the hysteric headache or backache. Analysis +shows that through elaboration and displacement this pain has become the +gratification substitute for a whole series of libidinous phantasies or +reminiscences. But once upon a time this pain was real, a direct sexual +toxic symptom, the physical expression of libidinous excitation. We do +not wish to assert, by any means, that all hysteric symptoms can be +traced to such a nucleus, but it is true that this is frequently the +case, and that all influences upon the body through libidinous +excitation, whether normal or pathological, are especially significant +for the symptom development in hysteria. They play the part of the grain +of sand which the mollusc has enveloped in mother-of-pearl. In the same +way passing signs of sexual excitation, which accompany the sexual act, +are used by psychoneurosis as the most convenient and appropriate +material for symptom formation. + +A similar procedure is of diagnostic and therapeutic interest +especially. Persons who are disposed to be neurotic, without suffering +from a flourishing neurosis, frequently set in motion the work of +symptom development as the result of an abnormal physical change--often +an inflammation or an injury. This development rapidly makes the symptom +given by reality the representative of the unconscious phantasies that +had been lurking for an opportunity to seize upon a means of expression. +In such a case the physician will try different ways of therapy. Either +he will try to do away with the organic basis without bothering about +its noisy neurotic elaboration, or he will struggle with the neurosis +brought out by the occasion, and ignore its organic cause. The result +will justify now one, now the other method of procedure; no general laws +can be laid down for such mixed cases. + + + + +TWENTY-FIFTH LECTURE + +GENERAL THEORY OF THE NEUROSES + +_Fear and Anxiety_ + + +Probably you will term what I told you about ordinary nervousness in my +last lecture most fragmentary and unsatisfactory information. I know +this, and I think you were probably most surprised that I did not +mention fear, which most nervous people complain of and describe as +their greatest source of suffering. It can attain a terrible intensity +which may result in the wildest enterprises. But I do not wish to fall +short of your expectations in this matter. I intend, on the contrary, to +treat the problem of the fear of nervous people with great accuracy and +to discuss it with you at some length. + +Fear itself needs no introduction; everyone has at some time or other +known this sensation or, more precisely, this effect. It seems to me +that we never seriously inquired why the nervous suffered so much more +and so much more intensely under this condition. Perhaps it was thought +a matter of course; it is usual to confuse the words "nervous" and +"anxious" as though they meant the same thing. That is unjustifiable; +there are anxious people who are not nervous, and nervous people who +suffer from many symptoms, but not from the tendency to anxiety. + +However that may be, it is certain that the problem of fear is the +meeting point of many important questions, an enigma whose complete +solution would cast a flood of light upon psychic life. I do not claim +that I can furnish you with this complete solution, but you will +certainly expect psychoanalysis to deal with this theme in a manner +different from that of the schools of medicine. These schools seem to be +interested primarily in the anatomical cause of the condition of fear. +They say the medulla oblongata is irritated, and the patient learns that +he is suffering from neurosis of the nervus vague. The medulla +oblongata is a very serious and beautiful object. I remember exactly how +much time and trouble I devoted to the study of it, years ago. But today +I must say that I know of nothing more indifferent to me for the +psychological comprehension of fear, than knowledge of the nerve passage +through which these sensations must pass. + +One can talk about fear for a long time without even touching upon +nervousness. You will understand me without more ado, when I term this +fear _real_ fear in contrast to _neurotic_ fear. Real fear seems quite +rational and comprehensible to us. We may testify that it is a reaction +to the perception of external danger, viz., harm that is expected and +foreseen. It is related to the flight reflex and may be regarded as an +expression of the instinct of self-preservation. And so the occasions, +viz., the objects and situations which arouse fear, will depend largely +on our knowledge of and our feeling of power over the outer world. We +deem it quite a matter of course that the savage fears a cannon or an +eclipse of the sun, while the white man, who can handle the instrument +and prophesy the phenomenon, does not fear these things. At other times +superior knowledge promulgates fear, because it recognizes the danger +earlier. The savage, for instance, will recoil before a footprint in the +woods, meaningless to the uninstructed, which reveals to him the +proximity of an animal of prey; the experienced sailor will notice a +little cloud, which tells him of a coming hurricane, with terror, while +to the passenger it seems insignificant. + +After further consideration, we must say to ourselves that the verdict +on real fear, whether it be rational or purposeful, must be thoroughly +revised. For the only purposeful behavior in the face of imminent danger +would be the cool appraisal of one's own strength in comparison with the +extent of the threatening danger, and then decide which would presage a +happier ending: flight, defense, or possibly even attack. Under such a +proceeding fear has absolutely no place; everything that happens would +be consummated just as well and better without the development of fear. +You know that if fear is too strong, it proves absolutely useless and +paralyzes every action, even flight. Generally the reaction against +danger consists in a mixture of fear and resistance. The frightened +animal is afraid and flees. But the purposeful factor in such a case is +not fear but flight. + +We are therefore tempted to claim that the development of fear is never +purposeful. Perhaps closer examination will give us greater insight into +the fear situation. The first factor is the expectancy of danger which +expresses itself in heightened sensory attention and in motor tension. +This expectancy is undoubtedly advantageous; its absence may be +responsible for serious consequences. On the one hand, it gives rise to +motor activity, primarily to flight, and on a higher plane to active +defense; on the other hand, it gives rise to something which we consider +the condition of fear. In so far as the development is still incipient, +and is restricted to a mere signal, the more undisturbed the conversion +of the readiness to be afraid into action the more purposeful the entire +proceeding. The readiness to be afraid seems to be the purposeful +aspect; evolution of fear itself, the element that defeats its own +object. + +I avoid entering upon a discussion as to whether our language means the +same or distinct things by the words anxiety, fear or fright. I think +that anxiety is used in connection with a condition regardless of any +objective, while fear is essentially directed toward an object. Fright, +on the other hand, seems really to possess a special meaning, which +emphasizes the effects of a danger which is precipitated without any +expectance or readiness of fear. Thus we might say that anxiety protects +man from fright. + +You have probably noticed the ambiguity and vagueness in the use of the +word "anxiety." Generally one means a subjective condition, caused by +the perception that an "evolution of fear" has been consummated. Such a +condition may be called an emotion. What is an emotion in the dynamic +sense? Certainly something very complex. An emotion, in the first place, +includes indefinite motor innervations or discharges; secondly, definite +sensations which moreover are of two kinds, the perception of motor +activities that have already taken place, and the direct sensations of +pleasure and pain, which give the effect of what we call its feeling +tone. But I do not think that the true nature of the emotion has been +fathomed by these enumerations. We have gained deeper insight into some +emotions and realize that the thread which binds together such a complex +as we have described is the repetition of a certain significant +experience. This experience might be an early impression of a very +general sort, which belongs to the antecedent history of the species +rather than to that of the individual. To be more clear: the emotional +condition has a structure similar to that of an hysterical attack; it is +the upshot of a reminiscence. The hysteric attack, then, is comparable +to a newly formed individual emotion, the normal emotion to an hysteria +which has become a universal heritage. + +Do not assume that what I have said here about emotions is derived from +normal psychology. On the contrary, these are conceptions that have +grown up with and are at home only in psychoanalysis. What psychology +has to say about emotions--the James-Lange theory, for instance--is +absolutely incomprehensible for us psychoanalysts, and cannot be +discussed. Of course, we do not consider our knowledge about emotions +very certain; it is a preliminary attempt to become oriented in this +obscure region. To continue: We believe we know the early impression +which the emotion of fear repeats. We think it is birth itself which +combines that complex of painful feelings, of a discharge of impulses, +of physical sensations, which has become the prototype for the effect of +danger to life, and is ever after repeated within us as a condition of +fear. The tremendous heightening of irritability through the +interruption of the circulation (internal respiration) was at the time +the cause of the experience of fear; the first fear was therefore toxic. +The name anxiety--angustial--narrowness, emphasizes the characteristic +tightening of the breath, which was at the time a consequence of an +actual situation and is henceforth repeated almost regularly in the +emotion. We shall also recognize how significant it is that this first +condition of fear appeared during the separation from the mother. Of +course, we are convinced that the tendency to repetition of the first +condition of fear has been so deeply ingrained in the organism through +countless generations, that not a single individual can escape the +emotion of fear; not even the mythical Macduff who was "cut out of his +mother's womb," and therefore did not experience birth itself. We do not +know the prototype of the condition of fear in the case of other +mammals, and so we do not know the complex of emotions that in them is +the equivalent of our fear. + +Perhaps it will interest you to hear how the idea that birth is the +source and prototype of the emotion of fear, happened to occur to me. +Speculation plays the smallest part in it; I borrowed it from the native +train of thought of the people. Many years ago we were sitting around +the dinner table--a number of young physicians--when an assistant in the +obstetrical clinic told a jolly story of what had happened in the last +examination for midwives. A candidate was asked what it implied if +during delivery the foeces of the newborn was present in the discharge +of waters, and she answered promptly "the child is afraid." She was +laughed at and "flunked." But I silently took her part and began to +suspect that the poor woman of the people had, with sound perception, +revealed an important connection. + +Proceeding now to neurotic fear, what are its manifestations and +conditions? There is much to be described. In the first place we find a +general condition of anxiety, a condition of free-floating fear as it +were, which is ready to attach itself to any appropriate idea, to +influence judgment, to give rise to expectations, in fact to seize any +opportunity to make itself felt. We call this condition "expectant fear" +or "anxious expectation." Persons who suffer from this sort of fear +always prophesy the most terrible of all possibilities, interpret every +coincidence as an evil omen, and ascribe a dreadful meaning to all +uncertainty. Many persons who cannot be termed ill show this tendency to +anticipate disaster. We blame them for being over-anxious or +pessimistic. A striking amount of expectant fear is characteristic of a +nervous condition which I have named "anxiety neurosis," and which I +group with the true neuroses. + +A second form of fear in contrast to the one we have just described is +psychologically more circumscribed and bound up with certain objects or +situations. It is the fear of the manifold and frequently very peculiar +phobias. Stanley Hall, the distinguished American psychologist, has +recently taken the trouble to present a whole series of these phobias in +gorgeous Greek terminology. They sound like the enumeration of the ten +Egyptian plagues, except that their number exceeds ten, by far. Just +listen to all the things which may become the objects of contents of a +phobia: Darkness, open air, open squares, cats, spiders, caterpillars, +snakes, mice, thunder-storms, sharp points, blood, enclosed spaces, +crowds, solitude, passing over a bridge, travel on land and sea, etc. A +first attempt at orientation in this chaos leads readily to a division +into three groups. Some of the fearful objects and situations have +something gruesome for normal people too, a relation to danger, and so, +though they are exaggerated in intensity, they do not seem +incomprehensible to us. Most of us, for instance, experience a feeling +of repulsion in the presence of a snake. One may say that snakephobia is +common to all human beings, and Charles Darwin has described most +impressively how he was unable to control his fear of a snake pointing +for him, though he knew he was separated from it by a thick pane of +glass. The second group consists of cases which still bear a relation to +danger, but this is of a kind which we are disposed to belittle rather +than to overestimate. Most of the situation-phobia belong here. We know +that by taking a railroad journey we entail greater chance of disaster +than by staying at home. A collision, for instance, may occur, or a ship +sink, when as a rule we must drown; yet we do not think of these +dangers, and free from fear we travel on train and boat. We cannot deny +that if a bridge should collapse at the moment we are crossing it, we +would fall into the river, but that is such a rare occurrence that we do +not take the danger into account. Solitude too has its dangers and we +avoid it under certain conditions; but it is by no means a matter of +being unable to suffer it for a single moment. The same is true for the +crowd, the enclosed space, the thunder-storm, etc. It is not at all the +content but the intensity of these neurotic phobias that appears strange +to us. The fear of the phobia cannot even be described. Sometimes we +almost receive the impression that the neurotic is not really afraid of +the same things and situations that can arouse fear in us, and which he +calls by the same name. + +There remains a third group of phobias which is entirely unintelligible +to us. When a strong, adult man is afraid to cross a street or a square +of his own home town, when a healthy, well-developed woman becomes +almost senseless with fear because a cat has brushed the hem of her +dress or a mouse has scurried through the room--how are we to establish +the relation to danger that obviously exists under the phobia? In these +animal phobias it cannot possibly be a question of the heightening of +common human antipathies. For, as an illustration of the antithesis, +there are numerous persons who cannot pass a cat without calling and +petting it. The mouse of which women are so much afraid, is at the same +time a first class pet name. Many a girl who has been gratified to have +her lover call her so, screams when she sees the cunning little creature +itself. The behavior of the man who is afraid to cross the street or the +square can only be explained by saying that he acts like a little child. +A child is really taught to avoid a situation of this sort as dangerous, +and our agoraphobist is actually relieved of his fear if some one goes +with him across the square or street. + +The two forms of fear that have been described, free-floating fear and +the fear which is bound up with phobias, are independent of one another. +The one is by no means a higher development of the other; only in +exceptional cases, almost by accident, do they occur simultaneously. The +strongest condition of general anxiety need not manifest itself in +phobias; and persons whose entire life is hemmed in by agoraphobia can +be entirely free of pessimistic expectant fear. Some phobias, such as +the fear of squares or of trains, are acquired only in later life, while +others, the fear of darkness, storms and animals, exist from the very +beginning. The former signify serious illness, the latter appear rather +as peculiarities, moods. Yet whoever is burdened with fear of this +second kind may be expected to harbor other and similar phobias. I must +add that we group all these phobias under _anxiety hysteria_, and +therefore regard it as a condition closely related to the well-known +conversion hysteria. + +The third form of neurotic fear confronts us with an enigma; we loose +sight entirely of the connection between fear and threatening danger. +This anxiety occurs in hysteria, for instance, as the accompaniment of +hysteric symptoms, or under certain conditions of excitement, where we +would expect an emotional manifestation, but least of all of fear, or +without reference to any known circumstance, unintelligible to us and to +the patient. Neither far nor near can we discover a danger or a cause +which might have been exaggerated to such significance. Through these +spontaneous attacks we learn that the complex which we call the +condition of anxiety can be resolved into its components. The whole +attack may be represented by a single intensively developed symptom, +such as a trembling, dizziness, palpitation of the heart, or tightening +of breath; the general undertone by which we usually recognize fear may +be utterly lacking or vague. And yet these conditions, which we +describe as "anxiety equivalents," are comparable to anxiety in all its +clinical and etiological relations. + +Two questions arise. Can we relate neurotic fear, in which danger plays +so small a part or none at all, to real fear, which is always a reaction +to danger? And what can we understand as the basis of neurotic fear? For +the present we want to hold to our expectations: "Wherever there is +fear, there must be a cause for it." + +Clinical observation yields several suggestions for the comprehension of +neurotic fear, the significance of which I shall discuss with you. + +1. It is not difficult to determine that expectant fear or general +anxiety is closely connected with certain processes in sexual life, let +us say with certain types of libido. Utilization, the simplest and most +instructive case of this kind, results when persons expose themselves to +frustrated excitation, viz., if their sexual excitation does not meet +with sufficient relief and is not brought to a satisfactory conclusion, +in men, during the time of their engagement to marry, for instance, or +in women whose husbands are not sufficiently potent or who, from +caution, execute the sexual act in a shortened or mutilated form. Under +these circumstances libidinous excitement disappears and anxiety takes +its place, both in the form of expectant fear and in attacks and anxiety +equivalents. The cautious interruption of the sexual act, when practiced +as the customary sexual regime, so frequently causes the anxiety +neurosis in men, and especially in women, that physicians are wise in +such cases to examine primarily this etiology. On innumerable occasions +we have learned that anxiety neurosis vanishes when the sexual misuse is +abandoned. + +So far as I know, the connection between sexual restraint and conditions +of anxiety is no longer questioned even by physicians who have nothing +to do with psychoanalysis. But I can well imagine that they do not +desist from reversing the connection and saying that these persons have +exhibited a tendency to anxiety from the outset and therefore practice +reserve in sexual matters. The behavior of women whose sexual conduct is +passive, viz., is determined by the treatment of the husband, +contradicts this supposition. The more temperamental, that is, the more +disposed toward sexual intercourse and capable of gratification is the +woman, the more will she react to the impotence of the man, or to the +_coitus interruptus_, by anxiety manifestations. In anaesthetic or only +slightly libidinous women, such misuse will not carry such consequences. + +Sexual abstinence, recommended so warmly by the physicians of to-day, +has the same significance in the development of conditions of anxiety +only when the libido, to which satisfactory relief is denied, is +sufficiently strong and not for the most part accounted for by +sublimation. The decision whether illness is to result always depends +upon the quantitative factors. Even where character formation and not +disease is concerned, we easily recognize that sexual constraint goes +hand in hand with a certain anxiety, a certain caution, while +fearlessness and bold daring arise from free gratification of sexual +desires. However much these relations are altered by various influences +of civilization, for the average human being it is true that anxiety and +sexual constraint belong together. + +I have by no means mentioned all the observations that speak for the +genetic relation of the libido to fear. The influence on the development +of neurotic fear of certain phases of life, such as puberty and the +period of menopause, when the production of libido is materially +heightened, belongs here too. In some conditions of excitement we may +observe the mixture of anxiety and libido and the final substitution of +anxiety for libido. These facts give us a twofold impression, first that +we are concerned with an accumulation of libido, which is diverted from +its normal channel, second that we are working with somatic processes. +Just how anxiety originates from the libido we do not know; we can only +ascertain that the libido is in abeyance, and that we observe anxiety in +its place. + +2. We glean a second hint from the analysis of the psychoneuroses, +especially of hysteria. We have heard that in addition to the symptoms, +fear frequently accompanies this condition; this, however, is free +floating fear, which is manifested either as an attack or becomes a +permanent condition. The patients cannot tell what they are afraid of +and connect their fear, through an unmistakable secondary elaboration, +with phobias nearest at hand; death, insanity, paralysis. When we +analyze the situation which gave rise to the anxiety or to symptoms +accompanied by it, we can generally tell which normal psychologic +process has been omitted and has been replaced by the phenomenon of +fear. Let me express it differently: we reconstruct the unconscious +process as though it had not experienced suppression and had continued +its way into consciousness uninterruptedly. Under these conditions as +well this process would have been accompanied by an emotion, and we now +learn with surprise that when suppression has occurred the emotion +accompanying the normal process has been replaced by fear, regardless of +its original quality. In hysteric conditions of fear, its unconscious +correlative may be either an impulse of similar character, such as fear, +shame, embarrassment or positive libidinous excitation, or hostile and +aggressive emotion such as fury or rage. Fear then is the common +currency for which all emotional impulses can be exchanged, provided +that the idea with which it has been associated has been subject to +suppression. + +3. Patients suffering from compulsive acts are remarkably devoid of +fear. They yield us the data for our third point. If we try to hinder +them in the performance of their compulsive acts, of their washing or +their ceremonials, or if they themselves dare to give up one of their +compulsions, they are seized with terrible fear that again exacts +obedience to the compulsion. We understand that the compulsive act had +veiled fear and had been performed only to avoid it. In compulsion +neurosis then, fear, which would otherwise be present, is replaced by +symptom development. Similar results are yielded by hysteria. Following +the process of suppression we find the development, either of anxiety +alone or of anxiety and symptom development, or finally a more complete +symptom development and no anxiety. In an abstract sense, then, it would +be correct to say that symptoms are formed only to evade development of +fear, which otherwise could not be escaped. According to this +conception, fear is seen to occupy the center of the stage in the +problems of neurosis. + +Our observations on anxiety neuroses led to the conclusion that when the +libido was diverted from its normal use and anxiety thus released, it +occurred on the basis of somatic processes. The analyses of hysteria and +compulsion neuroses furnish the correlative observations that similar +diversion with similar results may also be the consequence of a +constraint of psychic forces. Such then is our knowledge of the origin +of neurotic fear; it still sounds rather vague. But as yet I know no +path that would lead us further. The second task we have set ourselves +is still more difficult to accomplish. It is the establishment of a +connection between neurotic fear, which is misused libido, and real +fear, which is a reaction to danger. You may believe that these things +are quite distinct and yet we have no criterion for distinguishing the +sensations of real and neurotic fear. + +The desired connection is brought about by presupposing the antithesis +of the ego to libido that is so frequently claimed. We know that the +development of fear is the ego's reaction to danger, the signal for +preparation for flight, and from this we are led to believe that in +neurotic fear the ego attempts to escape the claims of its libido, and +treats this inner danger as though it came from without. Accordingly our +expectation that where there is fear there must be something to be +afraid of, is fulfilled. But the analogy admits of further application. +Just as the attempt to flee external danger is relieved by standing +one's ground, and by appropriate steps toward defense, so the +development of neurotic fear is arrested as fast as the symptom +develops, for by means of it the fear is held in check. + +Our difficulties in understanding now lie elsewhere. The fear, which +represents flight of the ego before the libido, is supposed to have +sprung from the libido itself. That is obscure and warns us not to +forget that the libido of a person belongs fundamentally to him and +cannot confront him as an external force. The localized dynamics of fear +development are still unintelligible; we do not know what psychic +energies are released or from what psychic systems they are derived. I +cannot promise to solve this problem, but we still have two trails to +follow which lead us to direct observations and analytic investigation +which can aid our speculations. We turn to the origin of fear in the +child, and to the source of neurotic fear which attaches itself to +phobias. + +Fear in children is quite common and it is very hard to tell whether it +is neurotic or real fear. Indeed, the value of this distinction is +rendered questionable by the behavior of children. On the one hand we +are not surprised that the child fears all strange persons, new +situations and objects, and we explain this reaction very easily by his +weakness and ignorance. We ascribe to the child a strong disposition to +real fear and would consider it purposeful if this fear were in fact a +heritage. Herein the child would only repeat the behavior of prehistoric +man and of the primitive man of today who, on account of his ignorance +and helplessness, fears everything that is new, and much that is +familiar, all of which can no longer inspire us with fear. If the +phobias of the child were at least partially such as might be attributed +to that primeval period of human development, this would tally entirely +with our expectations. + +On the other hand, we cannot overlook the fact that not all children are +equally afraid, and that those very children who express particular +timidity toward all possible objects and situations subsequently prove +to be nervous. Thus the neurotic disposition reveals itself by a decided +tendency to real fear; anxiety rather than nervousness appears to be +primary. We therefore arrive at the conclusion that the child (and later +the adult) fears the power of his libido because he is anxious in the +face of everything. The derivation of anxiety from the libido is hence +put aside. Any investigation of the conditions of real fear consistently +leads to the conclusion that consciousness of one's own weakness and +helplessness--inferiority, in the terminology of A. Adler--when it is +able to persist from childhood to maturity, is the cause underlying the +neuroses. + +This sounds so simple and convincing that it has a claim upon our +attention. To be sure, it would result in our shifting the basis of +nervousness. The persistence of the feeling of inferiority, and its +prerequisite condition of anxiety and its subsequent development of +symptoms, is so firmly established that it is rather the exceptional +case, when health is the outcome, which requires an explanation. What +can be learned from careful observation of the fear of children? The +little child is primarily afraid of strange people; situations wax +important only because they involve people, and objects become +influential much later. But the child does not fear these strange +persons because he attributes evil intentions to them, because he +compares his weakness with their strength or recognizes them as +dangerous to his existence, his safety and freedom from pain. Such a +child, suspicious, afraid of the aggressive impulse which dominates the +world, would prove a sad theoretic construction. The child is afraid of +a stranger because he is adjusted to a dear, beloved person, his +mother. His disappointment and longing are transformed into fear, his +unemployed libido, which cannot yet be held suspended, is diverted by +fear. It cannot be termed a coincidence that this situation, which is a +typical example of all childish fear, is a repetition of the first +condition of fear during birth, viz., separation from the mother. + +The first situation phobias of children are darkness and solitude; the +former often persists throughout life; common to both is the absence of +the dear nurse, the mother. I once heard a child, who was afraid of the +dark, call into an adjoining room, "Auntie, talk to me, I am afraid." +"But what good will that do you? You cannot see me!" Whereupon the child +answered, "If someone speaks, it is brighter." The yearning felt in +darkness is converted into the fear of darkness. Far from saying that +neurotic fear is only a secondary, a special case of real fear, we +observe in little children something that resembles the behavior of real +fear and has in common with neurotic fear, this characteristic feature: +origin from unemployed libido. The child seems to bring very little real +fear into the world. In all situations which may later become the +conditions of phobias, on elevations, narrow bridges across water, on +railroad and boat trips, the child exhibits no fear. And the more +ignorant he is, the less fear he feels. It would be most desirable to +have a greater heritage of such life-preservative instincts; the task of +supervision, which is to hinder him from exposing himself to one danger +after another, would be lessened. In reality the child at first +overestimates his powers and behaves fearlessly because he does not +recognize dangers. He will run to the water's edge, mount the window +sill, play with fire or with sharp utensils, in short, he will do +everything that would harm him and alarm his guardians. The awakening of +real fear is the result of education, since we may not permit him to +pass through the instructive experience himself. + +If there are children who meet this education to fear half way, and who +discover dangers of which they have not been warned, the explanation +suffices that their constitution contains a greater measure of +libidinous need or that they have been spoiled early through libidinous +gratification. No wonder that those persons who are nervous in later +life are recruited from the ranks of these children. We know that the +creation of neurosis is made easy by the inability to endure a +considerable amount of pent-up libido for any length of time. You see +that here too we must do justice to the constitutional factor, whose +rights we never wish to question. We fight shy of it only when others +neglect all other claims for this, and introduce the constitutional +factor where it does not belong according to the combined results of +observation and analysis, or where it must be the last consideration. + +Let us extract the sum of our observations on the anxiety of children: +Infantile fear has very little to do with real fear, but is closely +related to the neurotic fear of adults. It originates in unemployed +libido and replaces the object of love that is lacking by an external +object or situation. + +Now you will be glad to hear that the analysis of phobias cannot teach +much more that is new. The same thing occurs in them as in the fear of +children; unemployed libido is constantly being converted into real fear +and so a tiny external danger takes the place of the demands of the +libido. This coincidence is not strange, for infantile phobias are not +only the prototypes but the direct prerequisite and prelude to later +phobias, which are grouped with the anxiety hysterias. Every hysteria +phobia can be traced to childish fear of which it is a continuation, +even if it has another content and must therefore receive a different +name. The difference between the two conditions lies in their mechanism. +In the adult the fact that the libido has momentarily become useless in +the form of longing, is not sufficient to effect the transformation of +fear into libido. He has long since learned to maintain such libido in a +suspended state or to use it differently. But when the libido is part of +a psychic impulse which has experienced suppression, similar conditions +to those of the child, who cannot distinguish the conscious from the +unconscious, are reestablished. The regression to infantile phobia is +the bridge where the transformation of libido into fear is conveniently +effected. We have, as you know, spoken a great deal about suppression, +but we have always followed the fate of the conception that was to be +suppressed, because this was easier to recognize and to present. We have +always omitted from our consideration what happened to the emotion that +clung to the suppressed idea; and only now we learn that whatever +quality this emotion might have manifested under normal conditions, its +fate is a transformation into fear. This transformation of emotion is by +far the more important part of the suppression process. It is not so +easy to discuss, because we cannot assert the existence of unconscious +emotions in the same sense as unconscious ideas. With one difference, an +idea remains the same whether it is conscious or unconscious; we can +give an account of what corresponds to an unconscious idea. But an +emotion is a release and must be judged differently from an idea. +Without a deeper reflection and clarification of our hypotheses of +psychic processes, we cannot tell what corresponds to its unconscious +stage. We cannot undertake this here. But we want to retain the +impression we have gained, that the development of anxiety is closely +connected with the unconscious system. + +I said that the transformation into fear, rather a discharge in the form +of fear, is the immediate fate of suppressed libido. Not the only or +final fate, I must add. These neuroses are accompanied by processes that +strive to restrain the development of fear, and succeed in various ways. +In phobias, for instance, two phases of the neurotic process can be +clearly distinguished. The first effects the suppression of libido and +its transition to fear, which is joined to an external danger. The +second consists in building up all those precautions and safety devices +which are to prevent contact with this danger which is dealt with as an +external fact. Suppression corresponds to the ego's flight from the +libido, which it regards dangerous. The phobia is comparable to a +fortification against outer danger, which is represented by the much +feared libido. The weakness of the phobias' system of defense lies in +the fact that the fort has been strengthened from without and has +remained vulnerable within. The projection of peril from the libido into +the environment is never very successful. In other neuroses, therefore, +other systems of defense are used against the possibility of fear +development. That is an interesting aspect of the psychology of +neurosis. Unfortunately its study would lead us to digress too far, and +presupposes a more thorough and special knowledge of the subject. I +shall add only one thing more. I have already spoken to you of the +counter siege by which the ego imprisons the suppression and which it +must maintain permanently for the suppression to subsist. The task of +this counter siege is to carry out diverse forms of defense against the +fear development which follows the suppression. + +To return to the phobias, I may now say that you realize how +insufficient it would be to explain only their content, to be interested +only in knowing that this or that object or situation is made the +subject of a phobia. The content of the phobia has about the same +importance for it as the manifest dream facade has for the dream. With +some necessary restrictions, we admit that among the contents of the +phobias are some that are especially qualified to be objects of fear +through phylogenetic inheritance, as Stanley Hall has emphasized. In +harmony with this is the fact that many of these objects of fear can +establish connections with danger only by symbolic relations. + +And so we are convinced of the central position that the problem of fear +assumes in the questions of the neurotic psychology. We are deeply +impressed with how closely the development of fear is interwoven with +the fate of the libido and the unconscious system. There is only one +disconnected point, one inconsistency in our hypothesis: the +indisputable fact that real fear must be considered an expression of the +ego's instincts of self-preservation. + + + + +TWENTY-SIXTH LECTURE + +GENERAL THEORY OF THE NEUROSES + +_The Libido Theory and Narcism_ + + +Repeatedly in the past and more recently we have dealt with the +distinction between the ego instincts and the sexual instincts. At +first, suppression taught us that the two may be flatly opposed to each +other, that in the struggle the sexual instincts suffer apparent defeat +and are forced to obtain satisfaction by other regressive methods, and +so find the compensation for defeat in their invulnerability. After that +we learned that at the outset both have a different relation to the +educator, Necessity, so that they do not develop in the same manner and +do not enter into the same relationship with the principle of reality. +We come to realize that the sexual instincts are much more closely +allied to the emotional condition of fear than the ego instincts. This +result appears incomplete only in one respect, which, however, is most +important. For further evidence we shall mention the significant fact +that non-satisfaction of hunger and thirst, the two most elementary +instincts of self-preservation, never result in their reversal into +anxiety, while the transformation of unsatisfied libido into fear is, as +we have heard, one of the best known and most frequently observed +phenomena. + +No one can contest our perfect justification in separating the ego from +sexual instincts. It is affirmed by the existence of sexual desire, +which is a very special activity of the individual. The only question +is, what significance shall we give to this distinction, how decisive is +it? The answer will depend upon the results of our observations; on how +far the sexual instincts, in their psychological and somatic +manifestations, behave differently from the others that are opposed to +them; on how important are the consequences which result from these +differences. We have, of course, no motive whatever for insisting upon +a certain intangible difference in the character of the two groups of +instincts. Both are only designations of the sources of energy of the +individual. The discussion as to whether they are fundamentally of the +same or of a different character, and if the same, when it was that they +separated from one another, cannot profit by the conceptions, but must +deal rather with the underlying biological facts. At present we know +very little about this, and even if we knew more it would not be +relevant to our analytic task. + +Obviously, we should gain slight profit if, following the example of +Jung, we were to emphasize the original unity of all instincts, and were +to call the energy expressed in all of them "libido." Since the sexual +function cannot be eliminated from psychic life by any device, we are +forced to speak of sexual and asexual libido. As in the past, we rightly +retain the name libido for the instincts of sexual life. + +I believe, therefore, that the question, how far the justifiable +distinction of the instincts of sex and of self-preservation may be +carried, is of little importance for psychoanalysis; and psychoanalysis +is moreover not competent to deal with it. From a biological standpoint +there are, to be sure, various reasons for believing that this +distinction is significant. Sexuality is the only function of the living +organism which extends beyond the individual and sees to his kinship +with the species. It is undeniable that its practice does not always +benefit the individual as do his other performances. For the price of +ecstatic pleasures it involves him in dangers which threaten his life +and frequently cause death. Probably peculiar metabolic processes, +different from all others, are required to maintain a part of the +individual life for its progeny. The individual who places himself in +the foreground and regards his sexuality as a means to his gratification +is, from a biological point of view, only an episode in a series of +generations, a transient appendage to a germ-plasm which is virtually +endowed with immortality, just as though he were the temporary partner +in a corporation which continues to persist after his death. + +For psychoanalytic explanation of neuroses, however, there is no need to +enter upon these far-reaching implications. By separate observation of +the sexual and the ego instincts, we have gained the key to the +understanding of transference-neuroses. We were able to trace them back +to the fundamental situation where the sexual instinct and the instinct +of self-preservation had come in conflict with one another, or +biologically although not so accurately, expressed where the part played +by the ego, that of independent individuality, was opposed to the other, +that of a link in a series of generations. Only human beings are capable +of such conflict, and therefore, taken all in all, neurosis is the +prerogative of man, and not of animals. The excessive development of his +libido and the elaboration of a varied and complicated psychic life thus +made possible, appear to have created the conditions prerequisite for +conflict. It is clear that these conditions are also responsible for the +great progress that man has made beyond his kinship with animals. The +capacity for neurosis is really only the reverse side of his talents and +gifts. But these are only speculations, which divert us from our task. + +Until now we worked with the impulse that we can distinguish the ego and +the sexual instincts from one another by their manifestations. We could +do this without difficulty in the transference neuroses. We called the +accumulation of energy which the ego directed towards the object of its +sexual striving libido and all others, which proceeded from the +instincts of self-preservation, interest. We were able to achieve our +first insight into the workings of psychic forces by observing the +accumulation of the libido, its transformations and its final destiny. +The transference neuroses furnished the best material for this. But the +ego, composed from various organizations, their construction and +functioning, remained hidden and we were led to believe that only the +analysis of other neurotic disturbances would raise the veil. + +Very soon we began to extend these psychoanalytic conceptions to other +conditions. As early as 1908, K. Abraham asserted, after a discussion +with me, that the principal characteristic of dementia praecox (which +may be considered one of the psychoses) is _that there is no libidinous +occupation of objects_ (_The Psycho-sexual Differences between Hysteria +and Dementia Praecox_). But then the question arose, what happens to the +libido of the demented, which is diverted from its objects? Abraham did +not hesitate to give the answer, "It is turned back upon the ego, and +_this reflected turning back is the source of the megalomania_ in +dementia praecox." This hallucination of greatness is exactly comparable +to the well-known over-estimation of the objects habitual to lovers. So, +for the first time, we gained an understanding of psychotic condition by +comparing it with the normal course of love. + +These first interpretations of Abraham's have been maintained in +psychoanalysis, and have become the basis of our attitude towards the +psychoses. Slowly we familiarized ourselves with the idea that the +libido, which we find attached to certain objects, which expresses a +striving to attain gratification from these objects, may also forsake +them and put in their place the person's own ego. Gradually these ideas +were developed more and more consistently. The name for this placing of +the libido--narcism--was borrowed from one of the perversions described +by P. Naecke. In it the grown individual lavishes upon his own body all +the affection usually devoted to some foreign sex object. + +We reflected that if such a fixation of libido on one's own body and +person instead of on some external object exists, this cannot be an +exceptional or trivial occurrence. It is much more probable that this +narcism is the general and original condition, out of which the love for +an object later develops, without however necessarily causing narcism to +disappear. From the evolutionary history of object-libido we remembered +that in the beginning many sex instincts seek auto-erotic gratification, +and that this capacity for auto-eroticism forms the basis for the +retardation of sexuality in its education to conformity with fact. And +so, auto-eroticism was the sexual activity of the narcistic stage in the +placing of the libido. + +To be brief: We represented the relation of the ego-libido to the +object-libido in a way which I can explain by an analogy from zoology. +Think of the simplest forms of life, which consist of a little lump of +protoplasmic substance which is only slightly differentiated. They +stretch out protrusions, known as pseudopia, into which the protoplasm +flows. But they can withdraw these protrusions and assume their original +shape. Now we compare the stretching out of these processes with the +radiation of libido to the objects, while the central mass of libido can +remain in the ego, and we assume that under normal conditions ego-libido +can be changed into object-libido, and this can again be taken up into +the ego, without any trouble. + +With the help of this representation we can now explain a great number +of psychic conditions, or to express it more modestly, describe them, in +the language of the libido theory; conditions that we must accredit to +normal life, such as the psychic attitude during love, during organic +sickness, during sleep. We assumed that the conditions of sleep rest +upon withdrawal from the outer world and concentration upon the wish to +sleep. The nocturnal psychic activity expressed in the dream we found in +the service of a wish to sleep and, moreover, governed by wholly +egoistic motives. Continuing in the sense of libido theory: sleep is a +condition in which all occupations of objects, the libidinous as well as +the egoistic, are given up, and are withdrawn into the ego. Does this +not throw a new light upon recovery during sleep, and upon the nature of +exhaustion in general? The picture of blissful isolation in the +intra-uterine life, which the sleeper conjures up night after night, +thus also completes the picture from the psychic side. In the sleeper +the original condition of libido division is again restored, a condition +of complete narcism in which libido and ego-interest are still united +and live indistinguishably in the self-sufficient ego. + +We must observe two things: First, how can the conceptions of narcism +and egoism be distinguished? I believe narcism is the libidinous +complement of egoism. When we speak of egoism we mean only the benefits +to the individual; if we speak of narcism we also take into account his +libidinous satisfaction. As practical motives the two can be followed up +separately to a considerable degree. One can be absolutely egoistic, and +still have strong libidinous occupation of objects, in so far as the +libidinous gratification by way of the object serves the needs of the +ego. Egoism will then take care that the striving for the object results +in no harm to the ego. One can be egoistic and at the same time +excessively narcistic, i.e., have very slight need of an object. This +need may be for direct sexual satisfaction or even for those higher +desires, derived from need, which we are in the habit of calling love as +opposed to sensuality. In all of these aspects, egoism is the +self-evident, the constant, and narcism the variable element. The +antithesis of egoism, _altruism_, is not the same as the conception of +libidinous occupation of objects. Altruism differs from it by the +absence of desire for sexual satisfaction. But in the state of being +completely in love, altruism and libidinous occupation with an object +clash. The sex object as a rule draws upon itself a part of the narcism +of the ego. This is generally called "sexual over-estimation" of the +object. If the altruistic transformation from egoism to the sex object +is added, the sex object becomes all powerful; it has virtually sucked +up the ego. + +I think you will find it a pleasant change if after the dry phantasy of +science I present to you a poetic representation of the economic +contrast between narcism and being in love. I take it from the +_Westostliche Divans_ of Goethe: + + SULEIKA: + Conqueror and serf and nation; + They proclaim it joyously; + Mankind's loftiest elation, + Shines in personality. + Life's enchantment lures and lingers, + Of yourself is not afar, + All may slip through passive fingers, + If you tarry as you are. + + HATEM: + Never could I be thus ravished, + Other thoughts are in my mind, + All the gladness earth has lavished + In Suleika's charms I find. + When I cherish her, then only + Dearer to myself I grow, + If she turned to leave me lonely + I should lose the self I know. + Hatem's happiness were over,-- + But his changeling soul would glide + Into any favored lover + Whom she fondles at her side. + +The second observation is supplementary to the dream theory. We cannot +explain the origin of the dream unless we assume that the suppressed +unconscious has achieved a certain independence of the ego. It does not +conform to the wish for sleep and retains its hold on the energies that +have seized it, even when all the occupations with objects dependent +upon the ego have been released for the benefit of sleep. Not until then +can we understand how this unconscious can take advantage of the +nocturnal discontinuance or deposition of the censor, and can seize +control of fragments left over from the day to fashion a forbidden dream +wish from them. On the other hand, it is to the already existing +connections with these supposed elements that these fragments owe a part +of the resistance directed against the withdrawal of the libido, and +controlled by the wish for sleep. We also wish to supplement our +conception of dream formation with this trait of dynamic importance. + +Organic diseases, painful irritations, inflammation of the organs create +a condition which clearly results in freeing the libido of its objects. +The withdrawn libido again finds itself in the ego and occupies the +diseased part of the part. We may even venture to assert that under +these conditions the withdrawal of the libido from its objects is more +conspicuous than the withdrawal of egoistic interest from the outside +world. This seems to open the way to an understanding of hypochondria, +where an organ occupies the ego in a similar way without being diseased, +according to our conception. I shall resist the temptation of continuing +along this line, or of discussing other situations which we can +understand or represent through the assumption that the object libido +travels to the ego. For I am eager to meet two objections, which I know +are absorbing your attention. In the first place, you want to call me to +account for my insistence upon distinguishing in sleep, in sickness and +in similar situations between libido and interest, sexual instincts and +ego instincts, since throughout the observations can be explained by +assuming a single and uniform energy, which, freely mobile, occupies now +the object, now the ego, and enters into the services of one or the +other of these impulses. And, secondly, how can I venture to treat the +freeing of libido from its object as the source of a pathological +condition, since such transformation of object-libido into +ego-libido--or more generally, ego-energy--belongs to the normal, daily +and nightly repeated occurrences of psychic dynamics? + +The answer is: Your first objection sounds good. The discussion of the +conditions of sleep, of sickness and of being in love would in +themselves probably never have led to a distinction between ego-libido +and object-libido, or between libido and interest. But you do not take +into account the investigations from which we have set out, in the +light of which we now regard the psychic situations under discussion. +The necessity of distinguishing between libido and interest, that is, +between sexual instincts and those of self-preservation, is forced upon +us by our insight into the conflict out of which the transference +neuroses emerge. We can no longer reckon without it. The assumption that +object-libido can change into the ego-libido, in other words, that we +must reckon with an ego-libido, appeared to us the only possible one +wherewith to solve the riddle of the so-called narcistic neuroses--for +instance, dementia praecox--or to justify the similarities and +differences in a comparison of hysteria and compulsion. We now apply to +sickness, sleep and love that which we found undeniably affirmed +elsewhere. We may proceed with such applications as far as they will go. +The only assertion that is not a direct refutation of our analytic +experience is that libido remains libido whether it is directed towards +objects or toward the ego itself, and is never transferred into egoistic +interest, and vice-versa. But this assertion is of equal weight with the +distinction of sex and ego instincts which we have already critically +appraised, and which we will maintain from methodological motives until +it may possibly be disproved. + +Your second objection, too, raises a justified question, but it points +in a wrong direction. To be sure the retreat of object-libido into the +ego is not purely pathogenic; we see that it occurs each time before +going to sleep, only to be released again upon awaking. The little +protoplasmic animal draws in its protrusions, only to send them out +again on a later occasion. But it is quite another matter when a +specific, very energetic process compels the withdrawal of libido from +the object. The libido has become narcistic and cannot find its way back +to the object, and this hindrance to the mobility of the libido +certainly becomes pathogenic. It appears that an accumulation of +narcistic libido cannot be borne beyond a certain point. We can imagine +that the reason for occupation with the object is that the ego found it +necessary to send out its libido in order not to become diseased because +it was pent up. If it were our plan to go further into the subject of +dementia praecox, I would show you that this process which frees the +libido from the objects and bars the way back to them, is closely +related to the process of suppression, and must be considered as its +counterpart. But above all you would recognize familiar ground, for the +conditions of these processes are practically identical, as far as we +can now see, with those of suppression. The conflict appears to be the +same, and to take place between the same forces. The reason for a result +as different as, for instance, the result in hysteria, can be found only +in a difference of dispositions. The vulnerable point in the libido +development of these patients lies in another phase; the controlling +fixation, which, as you will remember, permits the breach resulting in +the formation of symptoms, is in another place probably in the stage of +primitive narcism, to which dementia praecox returns in its final stage. +It is noteworthy that for all the narcistic neuroses, we must assume +fixation points of the libido which reach back into far earlier phases +of development than in cases of hysteria or compulsion neuroses. But you +have heard that the conceptions obtained in our study of transference +neuroses are sufficient to orient us in the narcistic neuroses, which +present far greater practical difficulties. The similarities are +considerable; it is fundamentally the same field of observation. But you +can easily imagine how hopeless the explanations of these conditions, +which belong to psychiatry, appear to him who is not equipped for this +task with an analytic knowledge of transference neuroses. + +The picture given by the symptoms of dementia praecox, which, moreover, +is highly variable, is not exclusively determined by the symptoms. These +result from forcing the libido away from the objects and accumulating it +in the ego in the form of narcistic libido. A large space is occupied by +other phenomena, which result from the impulses of the libido to regain +the objects, and so show an attempt toward restitution and healing. +These symptoms are in fact the more conspicuous, the more clamorous; +they show an unquestionable similarity to those of hysteria, or less +often to those of compulsion neurosis, and yet they are different in +every respect. It appears that in dementia praecox the libido in its +endeavor to return to the objects, i.e., to the images of the objects, +really captures something, but only their shadows--I mean, the verbal +images belonging to them. This is not the place to discuss this matter, +but I believe that these reversed impulses of the libido have permitted +us an insight into what really determines the difference between a +conscious and an unconscious representation. + +I have now brought you into the field where we may expect the further +progress of analytic work. Since we can now employ the conception of +ego-libido, the narcistic neuroses have become accessible to us. We are +confronted with the problem of finding a dynamic explanation of these +conditions and at the same time of enlarging our knowledge of psychic +life by an understanding of the ego. The ego psychology, which we strive +to understand, must not be founded upon introspective data, but rather, +as in the libido, upon analysis of the disturbances and decompositions +of the ego. When this greater task is accomplished we shall probably +disparage our previous knowledge of the fate of the libido which we +gained from our study of the transference neuroses. But there is still +much to be said in this matter. Narcistic neuroses can scarcely be +approached by the same technique which served us in the transference +neuroses. Soon you will hear why. After forging ahead a little in the +study of narcistic neuroses we always seem to come to a wall which +impedes progress. You know that in the transference neuroses we also +encountered such barriers of resistance, but we were able to break them +down piece by piece. In narcistic neuroses the resistance is +insuperable; at best we are permitted to cast a curious glance over the +wall to spy out what is taking place on the other side. Our technical +methods must be replaced by others; we do not yet know whether or not we +shall be able to find such a substitute. To be sure, even these patients +furnish us with ample material. They do say many things, though not in +answer to our questions, and for the time being we are forced to +interpret these utterances through the understanding we have gained from +the symptoms of transference neuroses. The coincidence is sufficiently +great to assure us a good beginning. How far this technique will go, +remains to be seen. + +There are additional difficulties that impede our progress. The +narcistic conditions and the psychoses related to them can only be +solved by observers who have schooled themselves in analytic study of +transference neuroses. But our psychiatrists do not study psychoanalysis +and we psychoanalysts see too few psychiatric cases. A race of +psychiatrists that has gone through the school of psychoanalysis as a +preparatory science most first grow up. The beginnings of this are now +being made in America, where many leading psychiatrists explain the +teachings of psychoanalysis to their students, and where many owners of +sanatoriums and directors of institutes for the insane take pains to +observe their patients in the light of these teachings. But even here we +have occasionally been successful in casting a glance over the narcistic +wall and I shall tell you a few things that we think we have discovered. + +The disease of paranoia, chronic systematic insanity, is given a very +uncertain position by the attempts at classification of present-day +psychiatry. There is no doubt of its close relationship to dementia +praecox. I once was so bold as to propose that paranoia and dementia +praecox could be classed together under the common name of paraphrenia. +The types of paranoia are described according to their content as: +megalomania, the mania of persecution, eroto mania, mania of jealousy, +etc. From psychiatry we do not expect attempts at explanation. As an +example of such an attempt, to be sure an antiquated and not entirely +valid example, I might mention the attempt to develop one symptom +directly out of another by means of an intellectual rationalization, as: +the patient who primarily believes he is being persecuted draws the +conclusion from this persecution that he must be an extraordinarily +important personality and thus develops megalomania. In our analytical +conception megalomania is the immediate outcome of exaggeration of the +ego, which results from the drawing-in of libidinous occupation with +objects, a secondary narcism as a recurrence of the originally early +infantile form. In cases of the mania of persecution we have noticed a +few things that lead us to follow a definite track. In the first place, +we observed that in the great majority of cases the persecutor was of +the same sex as the persecuted. This could still be explained in a +harmless way, but in a few carefully studied cases it was clearly shown +that the person of the same sex, who was most loved in normal times, +became the persecutor after the malady set in. A further development is +made possible by the fact that one loved person is replaced by another, +according to familiar affinities, e.g., the father by the teacher or the +superior. We concluded from such ever-increasing experiences, that +paranoia persecutoria is the form in which the individual guards himself +against a homosexual tendency that has become too powerful. The change +from affection to hate, which notoriously may take the form of serious +threats against the life of the loved and hated person, expresses the +transformation of libidinous impulse into fear, which is a regularly +recurring result of the process of suppression. As an illustration I +shall cite the last case in which I made observations on this subject. A +young physician had to be sent away from his home town because he had +threatened the life of the son of a university professor, who up to that +time had been his best friend. He ascribed truly devilish intentions to +his erstwhile friend and credited him with power of a demon. He was to +blame for all the misfortunes that had in recent years befallen the +family of the patient, for all his personal and social ill-luck. But +this was not enough. The wicked friend, and his father the professor, +had been the cause of the war and had called the Russians into the land. +He had forfeited his life a thousand times and our patient was convinced +that with the death of the culprit all misfortune would come to an end. +And yet his old affection for his friend was so great that it had +paralyzed his hand when he had had the opportunity of shooting down the +enemy at close quarters. In my short consultations with the patient, I +discovered that the friendship between the two dated back to early +school-life. Once at least the bonds of friendship had been +over-stepped; a night spent together had been the occasion for complete +sexual intercourse. Our patient never felt attracted to women, as would +have been natural to his age or his charming personality. At one time he +was engaged to a beautiful and distinguished young girl, but she broke +off the engagement because she found so little affection in her fiance. +Years later his malady broke out just at that moment when for the first +time he had succeeded in giving complete gratification to a woman. When +this woman embraced him, full of gratitude and devotion, he suddenly +felt a strange pain which cut around his skull like a sharp incision. +His later interpretation of this sensation was that an incision such as +is used to expose a part of the brain had been performed upon him, and +since his friend had become a pathological anatomist, he gradually came +to the conclusion that he alone could have sent him this last woman as a +temptation. From that time on his eyes were also opened to the other +persecutions in which he was to be the victim of the intrigues of his +former friend. + +But how about those cases where the persecutor is not of the same sex as +the persecuted, where our explanation of a guard against homosexual +libido is apparently contradicted? A short time ago I had occasion to +investigate such a case and was able to glean corroboration from this +apparent contradiction. A young girl thought she was followed by a man, +with whom she had twice had intimate relations. She had, as a matter of +fact, first laid these maniacal imputations at the door of a woman, whom +we may consider as having played the part of a mother-substitute in her +psychic life. Only after the second meeting did she progress to the +point of diverting this maniacal idea from the woman and of transferring +it to the man. The condition that the persecutor must be of the same sex +was also originally maintained in this instance. In her claim before the +lawyer and the physician, this patient did not mention this first stage +of her mania, and this caused the appearance of a contradiction to our +theory of paranoia. + +Homosexual choice of object is originally more natural to narcism than +the heterosexual. If it is a matter of thwarting a strong and +undesirable homosexual impulse, the way back to narcism is made +especially easy. Until now I have had very little opportunity of +speaking to you about the fundamental conditions of love-life, so far as +we know them, and now I cannot make up for lost time. I only want to +point out that the choice of an object, that progress in the development +of the libido which comes after the narcistic stage, can proceed +according to two different types--either according to the _narcistic_ +type, which puts a very similar personality in the place of the personal +ego, or according to the _dependent_ type, which chooses those persons +who have become valuable by satisfying needs of life other than as +objects of the libido. We also accredit a strong fixation of the libido +to the narcistic type of object-choice when there is a disposition +toward manifest homosexuality. + +You will recall that in our first meeting of this semester I told you +about the case of a woman who suffered from the mania of jealousy. Since +we are so near the end you certainly will be glad to hear the +psychoanalytic explanation of a maniacal idea. But I have less to say +about it than you expect. The maniacal idea as well as the compulsion +idea cannot be assailed by logical arguments or actual experience. This +is explained by their relation to the unconscious, which is represented +by the maniacal idea or the compulsion idea, and held down by whichever +is effective. The difference between the two is based upon respective +localization and dynamic relations of the two conditions. + +As in paranoia, so also in melancholia, of which, moreover, very +different clinical forms are described. We have discovered a point of +vantage which will yield us an insight into the inner structure of the +condition. We realize that the self-accusations with which these +melancholic patients torture themselves in the most pitiless way, really +apply to another person, namely, the sex object which they have lost, or +which through some fault has lost value for them. From this we may +conclude that the melancholic has withdrawn his libido from the object. +Through a process which we designate as "narcistic identification" the +object is built up within the ego itself, is, so to say, projected upon +the ego. Here I can give you only a descriptive representation, as yet +without reference to the topical and dynamic relations. The personal ego +is now treated in the same manner as the abandoned object, and suffers +all the aggression and expressions of revenge which were planned for the +object. Even the suicidal tendencies of melancholia are more +comprehensible when we consider that this bitterness of the patient +falls alike on the ego itself and on the object of its love and hate. In +melancholia as well as in other narcistic conditions a feature of +emotional life is strikingly shown which, since the time of Bleuler, we +have been accustomed to designate as _ambivalence_. By this we mean that +hostile and affectionate feelings are directed against one and the same +person. I have, in the course of these discussions, unfortunately not +been in a position to tell you more about this emotional ambivalence. + +We have, in addition to narcistic identification, an hysterical +identification as well, which moreover has been known to us for a much +longer time. I wish it were possible to determine clearly the difference +between the two. Of the periodic and cyclic forms of melancholia I can +tell you something that you will certainly be glad to hear, for it is +possible, under favorable circumstances--I have twice had the +experience--to prevent these emotional conditions (or their antitheses) +by means of analytic treatment in the free intervals between the +attacks. We learn that in melancholia as well as in mania, it is a +matter of finding a special way for solving the conflict, the +prerequisites for which entirely coincide with those of other neuroses. +You can imagine how much there still is for psychoanalysis to learn in +this field. + +I told you, too, that we hoped to gain a knowledge of the structure of +the ego, and of the separate factors out of which it is built by means +of the analysis of narcistic conditions. In one place we have already +made a beginning. From the analysis of the maniacal delusion of being +watched we concluded that in the ego there is really an agent which +continually watches, criticizes and compares the other part of the ego +and thus opposes it. We believe that the patient imparts to us a truth +that is not yet sufficiently appreciated, when he complains that all his +actions are spied upon and watched, all his thoughts recorded and +criticized. He errs only in transferring this distressing force to +something alien, outside of himself. He feels the dominance of a factor +in his ego, which compares his actual ego and all of its activities to +an _ideal ego_ that he has created in the course of his development. We +also believe that the creation of this ideal ego took place with the +purpose of again establishing that self-satisfaction which is bound up +with the original infantile narcism, but which since then has +experienced so many disturbances and disparagements. In this +self-observing agent we recognize the ego-censor, the conscience; it is +the same factor which at night exercises dream-censorship, and which +creates the suppressions against inadmissible wish-impulses. Under +analysis in the maniacal delusion of being watched it reveals its origin +in the influence of parents, tutors and social environment and in the +identification of the ego with certain of these model individuals. + +These are some of the conclusions which the application of +psychoanalysis to narcistic conditions has yielded us. They are +certainly all too few, and they often lack that accuracy which can only +be acquired in a new field with the attainment of absolute familiarity. +We owe them all to the exploitation of the conception of ego-libido or +narcistic libido, by the aid of which we have extended to narcistic +neuroses those observations which were confirmed in the transference +neuroses. But now you will ask, is it possible for us to succeed in +subordinating all the disturbances of narcistic conditions and the +psychoses to the libido theory in such a way that in every case we +recognize the libidinous factor of psychic life as the cause of the +malady, and never make an abnormality in the functioning of the +instincts of self-preservation answerable? Ladies and gentlemen, this +conclusion does not seem urgent to me, and above all not ripe for +decision. We can best leave it calmly to the progress of the science. I +should not be surprised to find that the power to exert a pathogenic +influence is really an exclusive prerogative of the libidinous impulses, +and that the libido theory will celebrate its triumphs along the whole +line from the simplest true neurosis to the most difficult psychotic +derangement of the individual. For we know it to be a characteristic of +the libido that it is continually struggling against subordinating +itself to the realities of the world. But I consider it most probable +that the ego instincts are indirectly swept along by the pathogenic +excitations of the libido and forced into a functional disturbance. +Moreover, I cannot see any defeat for our trend of investigation when we +are confronted with the admission that in difficult psychoses the ego +impulses themselves are fundamentally led astray; the future will teach +us--or at least it will teach you. Let me return for one moment more to +fear, in order to eliminate one last ambiguity that we have left. We +have said that the relation between fear and the libido, which in other +respects seems clearly defined, does not fit in with the assumption that +in the face of danger real fear should become the expression of the +instinct of self-preservation. This, however, can hardly be doubted. But +suppose the emotion of fear is not contested by the egoistic ego +impulse, but rather by the ego-libido? The condition of fear is in all +cases purposeless and its lack of purpose is obvious when it reaches a +higher level. It then disturbs the action, be it flight or defense, +which alone is purposeful, and which serves the ends of +self-preservation. If we accredit the emotional component of actual fear +to the ego-libido, and the accompanying activity to the egoistic +instinct to self-preservation, we have overcome every theoretical +difficulty. Furthermore, you do not really believe that we flee +_because_ we experience fear? On the contrary, we first are afraid _and +then_ take to flight from the same motive that is awakened by the +realization of danger. Men who have survived the endangering of their +lives tell us that they were not at all afraid, they only acted. They +turned the weapon against the wild animal, and that was in fact the most +purposeful thing to do. + + + + +TWENTY-SEVENTH LECTURE + +GENERAL THEORY OF THE NEUROSES + +_Transference_ + + +We are nearing the close of our discussions, and you probably cherish +certain expectations, which shall not be disappointed. You think, I +suppose, that I have not guided you through thick and thin of +psychoanalytic subject matter to dismiss you without a word about +therapy, which furnishes the only possibility of carrying on +psychoanalysis. I cannot possibly omit this subject, for the observation +of some of its aspects will teach you a new fact, without which the +understanding of the diseases we have examined would be most incomplete. + +I know that you do not expect any guidance in the technique of +practising analysis for therapeutic purposes. You wish to know only +along what general lines psychoanalytic therapy works and approximately +what it accomplishes. And you have an undeniable right to know this. I +shall not actually tell you, however, but shall insist that you guess it +yourselves. + +Only think! You know everything essential, from the conditions which +precipitate the illness to all the factors at work within. Where is +there room for therapeutic influence? In the first place, there is +hereditary disposition; we do not speak of it often because it is +strongly emphasized from another quarter, and we have nothing new to say +about it. But do not think that we underestimate it. Just because we are +therapeutists, we feel its power distinctly. At any rate, we cannot +change it; it is a given fact which erects a barrier to our efforts. In +the second place, there is the influence of the early experiences of +childhood, which are in the habit of becoming sharply emphasized under +analysis; they belong to the past and we cannot undo them. And then +everything that we include in the term "actual forbearance"--misfortunes +of life out of which privations of love arise, poverty, family discord, +unfortunate choice in marriage, unfavorable social conditions and the +severity of moral claims. These would certainly offer a foothold for +very effectual therapy. But it would have to be the kind of therapy +which, according to the Viennese folk-tale, Emperor Joseph practiced: +the beneficial interference of a potentate, before whose will men bow +and difficulties vanish. But who are we, to include such charity in the +methods of our therapy? Poor as we are, powerless in society, forced to +earn our living by practicing medicine, we are not even in a position to +treat free of charge those patients who are unable to pay, as physicians +who employ other methods of treatment can do. Our therapy is too long +drawn-out, too extended for that. But perhaps you are still holding to +one of the factors already mentioned, and think that you have found a +factor through which our influence may be effective. If the restrictions +of morality which are imposed by society have a share in the privation +forced upon the patient, treatment might give him the courage, or +possibly even the prescription itself, to cross these barriers, might +tell him how gratification and health can be secured in the renunciation +of that ideal which society has held up to us but often disregards. One +grows healthy then, by giving one's sexuality full reign. Such analytic +treatment, however, would be darkened by a shadow; it does not serve our +recognized morality. The gain to the individual is a loss to society. + +But, ladies and gentlemen, who has misinformed you to this degree? It is +inconceivable that the advice to give one's sexuality full reign can +play a part in analytic therapy, if only from the circumstance we have +ourselves described, that there is going on within the patient a bitter +conflict between libidinous impulse and sexual suppression, between +sensual and ascetic tendencies. This conflict is not abolished by giving +one of these tendencies the victory over its opponent. We see that in +the case of the nervous, asceticism has retained the upper hand. The +consequence of this is that the suppressed sexual desire gains breathing +space by the development of symptoms. If, on the other hand, we were to +give the victory to sexuality, symptoms would have to replace the sexual +suppression, which has been pushed aside. Neither of the two decisions +can end the inner conflict, one part always remains unsatisfied. There +are only a few cases wherein the conflict is so labile, that a factor +such as the intervention of the physician could be decisive, and these +cases really require no analytic treatment. Persons who can be so much +influenced by a physician would have found some solution without him. +You know that when an abstinent young man decides upon illegitimate +sex-intercourse, or when an unsatisfied woman seeks compensation from +another man, they have generally not waited for the permission of a +physician, far less of an analyst, to do this. + +In studying the situation, one essential point is generally overlooked, +that the pathogenic conflict of the neurotic must not be confused with +normal struggles between psychic impulses of which all have their root +in the same psychological soil. The neurotic struggle is a strife of +forces, one of which has attained the level of the fore-conscious and +the conscious, while the other has been held back in the unconscious +stage. That is why the conflict can have no outcome; the struggling +parties approach each other as little as in the well-known instance of +the polar-bear and the whale. A real decision can be reached only if +both meet on the same ground. To accomplish this is, I believe, the sole +task of therapy. + +Moreover, I assure you that you are misinformed if you assume that +advice and guidance in the affairs of life is an integral part of the +analytic influence. On the contrary, we reject this role of the mentor +as far as possible. Above all, we wish to attain independent decisions +on the part of the patient. With this intention in mind, we require him +to postpone all vital resolutions such as choice of a career, marriage +or divorce, until the close of the treatment. You must confess that this +is not what you had imagined. It is only in the case of certain very +young or entirely helpless persons that we cannot insist upon the +desired limitation. Here we must combine the function of physician and +educator; we are well aware of the responsibility and behave with the +necessary precaution. + +Judging from the zeal with which I defend myself against the accusation +that analytic treatment urges the nervous person to give his sexuality +full reign, you must not gather that we influence him for the benefit of +conventional morality. We are just as far removed from that. We are no +reformers, it is true, only observers, but we cannot help observing with +critical eyes, and we have found it impossible to take the part of +conventional sex morality, or to estimate highly the way in which +society has tried to regulate the problems of sexual life in practice. +We can prove to society mathematically that its code of ethics has +exacted more sacrifices than is its worth, and that its procedure rests +neither on veracity nor wisdom. We cannot spare our patients the task of +listening to this criticism. We accustom them to weigh sexual matters, +as well as others, without prejudice; and when, after the completion of +the cure, they have become independent and choose some intermediate +course between unrestrained sexuality and asceticism, our conscience is +not burdened by the consequences. We tell ourselves: whoever has been +successfully educated in being true to himself is permanently protected +against the danger of immorality, even if his moral standard diverges +from that of society. Let us, moreover, be careful not to overestimate +the significance of the problem of abstinence with respect to its +influence on neuroses. Only the minority of pathogenic situations of +forbearance, with a subsequent condition of pent-up libido, can be +resolved without more ado by such sexual intercourse as can be procured +with little trouble. + +And so you cannot explain the therapeutic influence of psychoanalysis by +saying that it simply recommends giving full sway to sexuality. You must +seek another solution. I think that while I was refuting this +supposition of yours, one of my remarks put you on the right track. Our +usefulness consists in replacing the unconscious by the conscious, in +translating the unconscious into the conscious. You are right; that is +exactly it. By projecting the unconscious into the conscious, we do away +with suppressions, we remove conditions of symptom formation and +transform a pathogenic into a normal conflict which can be decided in +some way or other. This is the only psychic change we produce in our +patients; its extent is the extent of our helpfulness. Wherever no +suppression and no analogous psychic process can be undone, there is no +place for our therapy. + +We can express the aim of our efforts by various formulae of rendering +the unconscious conscious, removing suppressions, filling out amnestic +gaps--it all amounts to the same thing. But perhaps this admission does +not satisfy you. You imagined that when a nervous person became cured +something very different happened, that after having been subjected to +the laborious process of psychoanalysis, he was transformed into a +different human being. And now I tell you that the entire result is only +that he has a little less of the unconscious, a little more of the +conscious within him. Well, you probably underestimate the significance +of such an inner change. The person cured of neurosis has really become +another human being. Fundamentally, of course, he has remained the same. +That is to say, he has only become what he might have been under the +most favorable conditions. But that is saying a great deal. When you +learn all that has to be done, the effort required to effect apparently +so slight a change in psychic life, the significance of such a +difference in the psychic realm will be credible to you. + +I shall digress for a moment to ask whether you know what is meant by a +causal therapy? This name is given to the procedure which does not take +the manifestations of disease for its point of departure, but seeks to +remove the causes of disease. Is our psychoanalytical therapy causal or +not? The answer is not simple, but perhaps it will give us the +opportunity of convincing ourselves that this point of departure is +comparatively fruitless. In so far as analytical therapy does not +concern itself immediately with the removal of symptoms, it may be +termed causal. Yet in another respect, you might say this would hardly +follow. For we have followed the causal chain back far beyond the +suppressions to the instinctive tendencies and their relative intensity +as given by the constitution of the patient, and finally the nature of +the digression in the abnormal process of its development. Assume for a +moment that it were possible to influence these functions chemically, to +increase or to decrease the quantity of the libido that happens to be +present, to strengthen one impulse at the expense of another. This would +be causal therapy in its true sense and our analysis would have +furnished the indispensable preparatory work of reconnaissance. You know +that there is as yet no possibility of so influencing the processes of +the libido. Our psychic therapy interposes elsewhere, not exactly at +those sources of the phenomena which have been disclosed to us, but +sufficiently far beyond the symptoms, at an opening in the structure of +the disease which has become accessible to us by means of peculiar +conditions. + +What must we do in order to replace the unconscious by the conscious in +our patient? At one time we thought this was quite simple, that all we +had to do was to reconstruct the unconscious and then tell the patient +about it. But we already know this was a shortsighted error. Our +knowledge of the unconscious has not the same value as his; if we +communicate our knowledge to him it will not stand _in place of_ the +unconscious within him, but will exist _beside_ it, and only a very +small change will have been effected. We must rather think of the +unconscious as _localized_, and must seek it in memory at the point +where it came into existence by means of a suppression. This suppression +must be removed before the substitution of the conscious for the +unconscious can be successfully effected. How can such a suppression be +removed? Here our task enters a second phase. First to find the +suppression, then to remove the resistance by which this suppression is +maintained. + +How can we do away with resistance? In the same way--by reconstructing +it and confronting the patient with it. For resistance arises from +suppression, from the very suppression which we are trying to break up, +or from an earlier one. It has been established by the counter-attack +that was instigated to suppress the offensive impulse. And so now we do +the very thing we intended at the outset: interpret, reconstruct, +communicate--but now we do it in the right place. The counter-seizure of +the idea or resistance is not part of the unconscious but of the ego, +which is our fellow-worker. This holds true even if resistance is not +conscious. We know that the difficulty arises from the ambiguity of the +word "unconscious," which may connote either a phenomenon or a system. +That seems very difficult, but it is only a repetition, isn't it? We +were prepared for it a long time ago. We expect resistance to be +relinquished, the counter-siege to collapse, when our interpretation has +enabled the ego to recognize it. With what impulses are we able to work +in such a case? In the first place, the patient's desire to become well, +which has led him to accommodate himself to co-operate with us in the +task of the cure; in the second place, the help of his intelligence, +which is supported by the interpretation we offer him. There is no doubt +that after we have made clear to him what he may expect, the patient's +intelligence can identify resistances, and find their translation into +the suppressions more readily. If I say to you, "Look up into the sky, +you can see a balloon there," you will find it more readily than if I +had just asked you to look up to see whether you could discover +anything. And unless the student who for the first time works with a +microscope is told by his teacher what he may look for, he will not see +anything, even if it is present and quite visible. + +And now for the fact! In a large number of forms of nervous illness, in +hysteria, conditions of anxiety and compulsion neuroses, one hypothesis +is correct. By finding the suppression, revealing resistance, +interpreting the thing suppressed, we really succeed in solving the +problem, in overcoming resistance, in removing suppression, in +transforming the unconscious into the conscious. While doing this we +gain the clearest impression of the violent struggle that takes place in +the patient's soul for the subjugation of resistance--a normal +psychological struggle, in one psychic sphere between the motives that +wish to maintain the counter-siege and those which are willing to give +it up. The former are the old motives that at one time effected +suppression; among the latter are those that have recently entered the +conflict, to decide it, we trust, in the sense we favor. We have +succeeded in reviving the old conflict of the suppression, in reopening +the case that had already been decided. The new material we contribute +consists in the first place of the warning, that the former solution of +the conflict had led to illness, and the promise that another will pave +the way to health; secondly, the powerful change of all conditions since +the time of that first rejection. At that time the ego had been weak, +infantile and may have had reason to denounce the claims of the libido +as if they were dangerous. Today it is strong, experienced and is +supported by the assistance of the physician. And so we may expect to +guide the revived conflict to a better issue than a suppression, and in +hysteria, fear and compulsion neuroses, as I have said before, success +justifies our claims. + +There are other forms of illness, however, in which our therapeutic +procedure never is successful, even though the causal conditions are +similar. Though this may be characterized topically in a different way, +in them there was also an original conflict between the ego and libido, +which led to suppression. Here, too, it is possible to discover the +occasions when suppressions occurred in the life of the patient. We +employ the same procedure, are prepared to furnish the same promises, +give the same kind of help. We again present to the patient the +connections we expect him to discover, and we have in our favor the same +interval in time between the treatment and these suppressions favoring a +solution of the conflict; yet in spite of these conditions, we are not +able to overcome the resistance, or to remove the suppression. These +patients, suffering from paranoia, melancholia, and dementia praecox, +remain untouched on the whole, and proof against psychoanalytic therapy. +What is the reason for this? It is not lack of intelligence; we require, +of course, a certain amount of intellectual ability in our patients; but +those suffering from paranoia, for instance, who effect such subtle +combinations of facts, certainly are not in want of it. Nor can we say +that other motive forces are lacking. Patients suffering from +melancholia, in contrast to those afflicted with paranoia, are +profoundly conscious of being ill, of suffering greatly, but they are +not more accessible. Here we are confronted with a fact we do not +understand, which bids us doubt if we have really understood all the +conditions of success in other neuroses. + +In the further consideration of our dealings with hysterical and +compulsion neurotics we soon meet with a second fact, for which we were +not at all prepared. After a while we notice that these patients behave +toward us in a very peculiar way. We thought that we had accounted for +all the motive forces that could come into play, that we had +rationalized the relation between the patient and ourselves until it +could be as readily surveyed as an example in arithmetic, and yet some +force begins to make itself felt that we had not considered in our +calculations. This unexpected something is highly variable. I shall +first describe those of its manifestations which occur frequently and +are easy to understand. + +We see our patient, who should be occupying himself only with finding a +way out of his painful conflicts, become especially interested in the +person of the physician. Everything connected with this person is more +important to him than his own affairs and diverts him from his illness. +Dealings with him are very pleasant for the time being. He is especially +cordial, seeks to show his gratitude wherever he can, and manifests +refinements and merits of character that we hardly had expected to +find. The physician forms a very favorable opinion of the patient and +praises the happy chance that permitted him to render assistance to so +admirable a personality. If the physician has the opportunity of +speaking to the relatives of the patient he hears with pleasure that +this esteem is returned. At home the patient never tires of praising the +physician, of prizing advantages which he constantly discovers. "He +adores you, he trusts you blindly, everything you say is a revelation to +him," the relatives say. Here and there one of the chorus observes more +keenly and remarks, "It is a positive bore to hear him talk, he speaks +only of you; you are his only subject of conversation." + +Let us hope that the physician is modest enough to ascribe the patient's +estimation of his personality to the encouragement that has been offered +him and to the widening of his intellectual horizon through the +astounding and liberating revelations which the cure entails. Under +these conditions analysis progressed splendidly. The patient understands +every suggestion, he concentrates on the problems that the treatment +requires him to solve, reminiscences and ideas flood his mind. The +physician is surprised by the certainty and depth of these +interpretations and notices with satisfaction how willingly the sick man +receives the new psychological facts which are so hotly contested by the +healthy persons in the world outside. An objective improvement in the +condition of the patient, universally admitted, goes hand in hand with +this harmonious relation of the physician to the patient under analysis. + +But we cannot always expect to have fair weather. There comes a day when +the storm breaks. Difficulties turn up in the treatment. The patient +asserts that he can think of nothing more. We are under the impression +that he is no longer interested in the work, that he lightly passes over +the injunction that, heedless of any critical impulse, he must say +everything that comes to his mind. He behaves as though he were not +under treatment, as though he had closed no agreement with the +physician; he is clearly obsessed by something he does not wish to +divulge. This is a situation which endangers the success of the +treatment. We are distinctly confronted with a tremendous resistance. +What can have happened? + +Provided we are able once more to clarify the situation, we recognize +the cause of the disturbance to have been intense affectionate +emotions, which the patient has transferred to the physician. This is +certainly not justified either by the behavior of the physician or by +the relations the treatment has created. The way in which this affection +is manifested and the goals it strives for will depend on the personal +affiliations of the two parties involved. When we have here a young girl +and a man who is still young we receive the impression of normal love. +We find it quite natural that a girl should fall in love with a man with +whom she is alone a great deal, with whom she discusses intimate +matters, who appears to her in the advantageous light of a beneficent +adviser. In this we probably overlook the fact that in a neurotic girl +we should rather presuppose a derangement in her capacity to love. The +more the personal relations of physician and patient diverge from this +hypothetical case, the more are we puzzled to find the same emotional +relation over and over again. We can understand that a young woman, +unhappy in her marriage, develops a serious passion for her physician, +who is still free; that she is ready to seek divorce in order to belong +to him, or even does not hesitate to enter into a secret love affair, in +case the conventional obstacles loom too large. Similar things are known +to occur outside of psychoanalysis. Under these circumstances, however, +we are surprised to hear women and girls make remarks that reveal a +certain attitude toward the problems of the cure. They always knew that +love alone could cure them, and from the very beginning of their +treatment they anticipated that this relationship would yield them what +life had denied. This hope alone has spurred them on to exert themselves +during the treatments, to overcome all the difficulties in communicating +their disclosures. We add on our own account--"and to understand so +easily everything that is generally most difficult to believe." But we +are amazed by such a confession; it upsets our calculations completely. +Can it be that we have omitted the most important factor from our +hypothesis? + +And really, the more experience we gain, the less we can deny this +correction, which shames our knowledge. The first few times we could +still believe that the analytic cure had met with an accidental +interruption, not inherent to its purpose. But when this affectionate +relation between physician and patient occurs regularly in every new +case, under the most unfavorable conditions and even under grotesque +circumstances; when it occurs in the case of the elderly woman, and is +directed toward the grey-beard, or to one in whom, according to our +judgment, no seductive attractions exist, we must abandon the idea of an +accidental interruption, and realize that we are dealing with a +phenomenon which is closely interwoven with the nature of the illness. + +The new fact which we recognize unwillingly is termed _transference_. We +mean a transference of emotions to the person of the physician, because +we do not believe that the situation of the cure justifies the genesis +of such feelings. We rather surmise that this readiness toward emotion +originated elsewhere, that it was prepared within the patient, and that +the opportunity given by analytic treatment caused it to be transferred +to the person of the physician. Transference may occur as a stormy +demand for love or in a more moderate form; in place of the desire to be +his mistress, the young girl may wish to be adopted as the favored +daughter of the old man, the libidinous desire may be toned down to a +proposal of inseparable but ideal and platonic friendship. Some women +understand how to sublimate the transference, how to modify it until it +attains a kind of fitness for existence; others manifest it in its +original, crude and generally impossible form. But fundamentally it is +always the same and can never conceal that its origin is derived from +the same source. + +Before we ask ourselves how we can accommodate this new fact, we must +first complete its description. What happens in the case of male +patients? Here we might hope to escape the troublesome infusion of sex +difference and sex attraction. But the answer is pretty much the same as +with women patients. The same relation to the physician, the same +over-estimation of his qualities, the same abandon of interest toward +his affairs, the same jealousy toward all those who are close to him. +The sublimated forms of transference are more frequent in men, the +direct sexual demand is rarer to the extent to which manifest +homosexuality retreats before the methods by which these instinct +components may be utilized. In his male patients more often than in his +women patients, the physician observes a manifestation of transference +which at first sight seems to contradict everything previously +described: a hostile or _negative_ transference. + +In the first place, let us realize that the transference occurs in the +patient at the very outset of the treatment and is, for a time, the +strongest impetus to work. We do not feel it and need not heed it as +long as it acts to the advantage of the analysis we are working out +together. When it turns into resistance, however, we must pay attention +to it. Then we discover that two contrasting conditions have changed +their relation to the treatment. In the first place there is the +development of an affectionate inclination, clearly revealing the signs +of its origin in sexual desire which becomes so strong as to awaken an +inner resistance against it. Secondly, there are the hostile instead of +the tender impulses. The hostile feelings generally appear later than +the affectionate impulses or succeed them. When they occur +simultaneously they exemplify the ambivalence of emotions which exists +in most of the intimate relations between all persons. The hostile +feelings connote an emotional attachment just as do the affectionate +impulses, just as defiance signifies dependence as well as does +obedience, although the activities they call out are opposed. We cannot +doubt but that the hostile feelings toward the physician deserve the +name of transference, since the situation which the treatment creates +certainly could not give sufficient cause for their origin. This +necessary interpretation of negative transference assures us that we +have not mistaken the positive or affectionate emotions that we have +similarly named. + +The origin of this transference, the difficulties it causes us, the +means of overcoming it, the use we finally extract from it--these +matters must be dealt with in the technical instruction of +psychoanalysis, and can only be touched upon here. It is out of the +question to yield to those demands of the patient which take root from +the transference, while it would be unkind to reject them brusquely or +even indignantly. We overcome transference by proving to the patient +that his feelings do not originate in the present situation, and are not +intended for the person of the physician, but merely repeat what +happened to him at some former time. In this way we force him to +transform his repetition into a recollection. And so transference, which +whether it be hostile or affectionate, seems in every case to be the +greatest menace of the cure, really becomes its most effectual tool, +which aids in opening the locked compartments of the psychic life. But I +should like to tell you something which will help you to overcome the +astonishment you must feel at this unexpected phenomenon. We must not +forget that this illness of the patient which we have undertaken to +analyze is not consummated or, as it were, congealed; rather it is +something that continues its development like a living being. The +beginning of the treatment does not end this development. When the cure, +however, first has taken possession of the patient, the productivity of +the illness in this new phase is concentrated entirely on one aspect: +the relation of the patient to the physician. And so transference may be +compared to the cambrium layer between the wood and the bark of a tree, +from which the formation of new tissues and the growth of the trunk +proceed at the same time. When the transference has once attained this +significance the work upon the recollections of the patient recedes into +the background. At that point it is correct to say that we are no longer +concerned with the patient's former illness, but with a newly created, +transformed neurosis, in place of the former. We followed up this new +edition of an old condition from the very beginning, we saw it originate +and grow; hence we understand it especially well, because we ourselves +are the center of it, its object. All the symptoms of the patient have +lost their original meaning and have adapted themselves to a new +meaning, which is determined by its relation to transference. Or, only +such symptoms as are capable of this transformation have persisted. The +control of this new, artificial neurosis coincides with the removal of +the illness for which treatment was sought in the first place, namely, +with the solution of our therapeutic problem. The human being who, by +means of his relations to the physician, has freed himself from the +influences of suppressed impulses, becomes and stays free in his +individual life, when the influence of the physician is subsequently +removed. + +Transference has attained extraordinary significance, has become the +centre of the cure, in the conditions of hysteria, anxiety and +compulsion neuroses. Their conditions therefore are properly included +under the term transference neuroses. Whoever in his analytic experience +has come into contact with the existence of transference can no longer +doubt the character of those suppressed impulses that express +themselves in the symptoms of these neuroses and requires no stronger +proof of their libidinous character. We may say that our conviction that +the meaning of the symptoms is substituted libidinous gratification was +finally confirmed by this explanation of transference. + +Now we have every reason to correct our former dynamic conception of the +healing process, and to bring it into harmony with our new discernment. +If the patient is to fight the normal conflict that our analysis has +revealed against the suppressions, he requires a tremendous impetus to +influence the desirable decision which will lead him back to health. +Otherwise he might decide for a repetition of the former issue and allow +those factors which have been admitted to consciousness to slip back +again into suppression. The deciding vote in this conflict is not given +by his intellectual penetration--which is neither strong nor free enough +for such an achievement--but only by his relation to the physician. +Inasmuch as his transference carries a positive sign, it invests the +physician with authority and is converted into faith for his +communications and conceptions. Without transference of this sort, or +without a negative transfer, he would not even listen to the physician +and to his arguments. Faith repeats the history of its own origin; it is +a derivative of love and at first requires no arguments. When they are +offered by a beloved person, arguments may later be admitted and +subjected to critical reflection. Arguments without such support avail +nothing, and never mean anything in life to most persons. Man's +intellect is accessible only in so far as he is capable of libidinous +occupation with an object, and accordingly we have good ground to +recognize and to fear the limit of the patient's capacity for being +influenced by even the best analytical technique, namely, the extent of +his narcism. + +The capacity for directing libidinous occupation with objects towards +persons as well must also be accorded to all normal persons. The +inclination to transference on the part of the neurotic we have +mentioned, is only an extraordinary heightening of this common +characteristic. It would be strange indeed if a human trait so +wide-spread and significant had never been noticed and turned to +account. But that has been done. Bernheim, with unerring perspicacity, +based his theory of hypnotic manifestations on the statement that all +persons are open to suggestion in some way or other. Suggestibility in +his sense is nothing more than an inclination to transference, bounded +so narrowly that there is no room for any negative transfer. But +Bernheim could never define suggestion or its origin. For him it was a +fundamental fact, and he could never tell us anything regarding its +origin. He did not recognize the dependence of suggestibility upon +sexuality and the activity of the libido. We, on the other hand, must +realize that we have excluded hypnosis from our technique of neurosis +only to rediscover suggestion in the shape of transference. + +But now I shall pause and let you put in a word. I see that an objection +is looming so large within you that if it were not voiced you would be +unable to listen to me. "So at last you confess that like the +hypnotists, you work with the aid of suggestion. That is what we have +been thinking for a long time. But why choose the detour over +reminiscences of the past, revealing of the unconscious, interpretation +and retranslation of distortions, the tremendous expenditure of time and +money, if the only efficacious thing is suggestion? Why do you not use +suggestion directly against symptoms, as the others do, the honest +hypnotists? And if, furthermore, you offer the excuse that by going your +way you have made numerous psychological discoveries which are not +revealed by direct suggestion, who shall vouch for their accuracy? Are +not they, too, a result of suggestion, that is to say, of unintentional +suggestion? Can you not, in this realm also, thrust upon the patient +whatever you wish and whatever you think is so?" + +Your objections are uncommonly interesting, and must be answered. But I +cannot do it now for lack of time. Till the next time, then. You shall +see, I shall be accountable to you. Today I shall only end what I have +begun. I promised to explain, with the aid of the factor of +transference, why our therapeutic efforts have not met with success in +narcistic neuroses. + +This I can do in a few words and you will see how simply the riddle can +be solved, how well everything harmonizes. Observation shows that +persons suffering from narcistic neuroses have no capacity for +transference, or only insufficient remains of it. They reject the +physician not with hostility, but with indifference. That is why he +cannot influence them. His words leave them cold, make no impression, +and so the mechanism of the healing process, which we are able to set +in motion elsewhere, the renewal of the pathogenic conflict and the +overcoming of the resistance to the suppression, cannot be reproduced in +them. They remain as they are. Frequently they are known to attempt a +cure on their own account, and pathological results have ensued. We are +powerless before them. + +On the basis of our clinical impressions of these patients, we asserted +that in their case libidinous occupation with objects must have been +abandoned, and object-libido must have been transformed into ego-libido. +On the strength of this characteristic we had separated it from the +first group of neurotics (hysteria, anxiety and compulsion neuroses). +Their behavior under attempts at therapy confirms this supposition. They +show no neurosis. They, therefore, are inaccessible to our efforts and +we cannot cure them. + + + + +TWENTY-EIGHTH LECTURE + +GENERAL THEORY OF THE NEUROSES + +_Analytical Therapy_ + + +You know our subject for today. You asked me why we do not make use of +direct suggestion in psychoanalytic therapy, when we admit that our +influence depends substantially upon transference, i.e., suggestion, for +you have come to doubt whether or not we can answer for the objectivity +of our psychological discoveries in the face of such a predominance of +suggestion. I promised to give you a comprehensive answer. + +Direct suggestion is suggestion directed against the expression of the +symptoms, a struggle between your authority and the motives of the +disease. You pay no attention during this process to the motives, but +only demand of the patient that he suppress their expression in +symptoms. So it makes no difference in principle whether you hypnotize +the patient or not. Bernheim, with his usual perspicacity, asserted that +suggestion is the essential phenomenon underlying hypnotism, that +hypnotism itself is already a result of suggestion, is a suggested +condition. Bernheim was especially fond of practising suggestion upon a +person in the waking state, and could achieve the same results as with +suggestion under hypnosis. + +What shall I deal with first, the evidence of experience or theoretic +considerations? + +Let us begin with our experiences. I was a pupil of Bernheim's, whom I +sought out in Nancy in 1889, and whose book on suggestion I translated +into German. For years I practised hypnotic treatment, at first by means +of prohibitory suggestions alone, and later by this method in +combination with investigation of the patient after the manner of +Breuer. So I can speak from experience about the results of hypnotic or +suggestive therapy. If we judge Bernheim's method according to the old +doctor's password that an ideal therapy must be rapid, reliable and not +unpleasant for the patient, we find it fulfills at least two of these +requirements. It can be carried out much more rapidly, indescribably +more rapidly than the analytic method, and it brings the patient neither +trouble nor discomfort. In the long run it becomes monotonous for the +physician, since each case is exactly the same; continually forbidding +the existence of the most diverse symptoms under the same ceremonial, +without being able to grasp anything of their meaning or their +significance. It is second-rate work, not scientific activity, and +reminiscent of magic, conjuring and hocus-pocus; yet in the face of the +interest of the patient this cannot be considered. The third requisite, +however, was lacking. The procedure was in no way reliable. It might +succeed in one case, and fail with the next; sometimes much was +accomplished, at other times little, one knew not why. Worse than this +capriciousness of the technique was the lack of permanency of the +results. After a short time, when the patient was again heard from, the +old malady had reappeared, or it had been replaced by a new malady. We +could start in again to hypnotize. At the same time we had been warned +by those who were experienced that by frequent repetitions of hypnotism +we would deprive the patient of his self-reliance and accustom him to +this therapy as though it were a narcotic. Granted that we did +occasionally succeed as well as one could wish; with slight trouble we +achieved complete and permanent results. But the conditions for such a +favorable outcome remained unknown. I have had it happen that an +aggravated condition which I had succeeded in clearing up completely by +a short hypnotic treatment returned unchanged when the patient became +angry and arbitrarily developed ill feeling against me. After a +reconciliation I was able to remove the malady anew and with even +greater thoroughness, yet when she became hostile to me a second time it +returned again. Another time a patient whom I had repeatedly helped +through nervous conditions by hypnosis, during the treatment of an +especially stubborn attack, suddenly threw her arms around my neck. This +made it necessary to consider the question, whether one wanted to or +not, of the nature and source of the suggestive authority. + +So much for experience. It shows us that in renouncing direct suggestion +we have given up nothing that is not replaceable. Now let us add a few +further considerations. The practice of hypnotic therapy demands only a +slight amount of work of the patient as well as of the physician. This +therapy fits in perfectly with the estimation of neuroses to which the +majority of physicians subscribe. The physician says to the neurotic, +"There is nothing the matter with you; you are only nervous, and so I +can blow away all your difficulties with a few words in a few minutes." +But it is contrary to our dynamic conceptions that we should be able to +move a great weight by an inconsiderable force, by attacking it directly +and without the aid of appropriate preparations. So far as conditions +are comparable, experience shows us that this performance does not +succeed with the neurotic. But I know this argument is not unassailable; +there are also "redeeming features." + +In the light of the knowledge we have gained from psychoanalysis we can +describe the difference between hypnotic and psychoanalytic suggestion +as follows: Hypnotic therapy seeks to hide something in psychic life, +and to gloss it over; analytic therapy seeks to lay it bare and to +remove it. The first method works cosmetically, the other surgically. +The first uses suggestion in order to prevent the appearance of the +symptoms, it strengthens suppression, but leaves unchanged all other +processes that have led to symptom development. Analytic therapy attacks +the illness closer to its sources, namely in the conflicts out of which +the symptoms have emerged, it makes use of suggestion to change the +solution of these conflicts. Hypnotic therapy leaves the patient +inactive and unchanged, and therefore without resistance to every new +occasion for disease. Analytic treatment places upon the physician, as +well as upon the patient, a difficult responsibility; the inner +resistance of the patient must be abolished. The psychic life of the +patient is permanently changed by overcoming these resistances, it is +lifted upon a higher plane of development and remains protected against +new possibilities of disease. The work of overcoming resistance is the +fundamental task of the analytic cure. The patient, however, must take +it on himself to accomplish this, while the physician, with the aid of +suggestion, makes it possible for him to do so. The suggestion works in +the nature of an _education_. We are therefore justified in saying that +analytic treatment is a sort of _after-education_. + +I hope I have made it clear to you wherein our technique of using +suggestion differs therapeutically from the only use possible in +hypnotic therapy. With your knowledge of the relation between suggestion +and transference you will readily understand the capriciousness of +hypnotic therapy which attracted our attention, and you will see why, on +the other hand, analytic suggestion can be relied upon to its limits. In +hypnosis we depend on the condition of the patient's capacity for +transference, yet we are unable to exert any influence on this capacity. +The transference of the subject may be negative, or, as is most +frequent, ambivalent; the patient may have protected himself against +suggestion by very special adjustments, yet we are unable to learn +anything concerning them. In psychoanalysis we work with the +transference itself, we do away with the forces opposing it, prepare the +instrument with which we are to work. So it becomes possible to derive +entirely new uses from the power of suggestion; we are able to control +it, the patient does not work himself into any state of mind he pleases, +but in so far as we are able to influence him at all, we can guide the +suggestion. + +Now you will say, regardless of whether we call the driving force of our +analysis transference or suggestion, there is still the danger that +through our influence on the patient the objective certainty of our +discoveries becomes doubtful. That which becomes a benefit to therapy +works harm to the investigation. This objection is most often raised +against psychoanalysis, and it must be admitted that even if it does not +hit the mark, it cannot be waved aside as stupid. But if it were +justified, psychoanalysis would be nothing more than an extraordinarily +well disguised and especially workable kind of treatment by suggestion, +and we may lay little weight upon all its assertions concerning the +influences of life, psychic dynamics, and the unconscious. This is in +fact the opinion held by our opponents; we are supposed especially to +have "balked into" the patients everything that supports the importance +of sexual experiences, and often the experiences themselves, after the +combinations themselves have grown up in our degenerate imaginations. We +can refute these attacks most easily by calling on the evidence of +experience rather than by resorting to theory. Anyone who has himself +performed a psychoanalysis has been able to convince himself innumerable +times that it is impossible thus to suggest anything to the patient. +There is no difficulty, of course, in making the patient a disciple of +any one theory, and thus causing him to share the possible error of the +physician. With respect to this he behaves just like any other person, +like a student, but he has influenced only his intelligence, not his +disease. The solving of his conflicts and the overcoming of his +resistances succeeds only if we have aroused in him representations of +such expectations as can agree with reality. What was inapplicable in +the assumptions of the physician falls away during the course of the +analysis; it must be withdrawn and replaced by something more nearly +correct. By employing a careful technique we seek to prevent the +occurrence of temporary results arising out of suggestion, yet there is +no harm if such temporary results occur, for we are never satisfied with +early successes. We do not consider the analysis finished until all the +obscurities of the case are cleared up, all amnestic gaps filled out and +the occasions which originally called out the suppressions discovered. +We see in results that are achieved too quickly a hindrance rather than +a furtherance of analytic work and repeatedly we undo these results +again by purposely breaking up the transference upon which they rest. +Fundamentally it is this feature which distinguishes analytical +treatment from the purely suggestive technique and frees analytic +results from the suspicion of having been suggested. Under every other +suggestive treatment the transference itself is most carefully upheld +and the influence left unquestioned; in analytic treatment, however, the +transference becomes the subject of treatment and is subject to +criticism in whatever form it may appear. At the end of an analytic cure +the transference itself must be abolished; therefore the effect of the +treatment, whether positive or negative, must be founded not upon +suggestion but upon the overcoming of inner resistances, upon the inner +change achieved in the patient, which the aid of suggestion has made +possible. + +Presumably the creation of the separate suggestions is counteracted, in +the course of the cure, by our being continually forced to attack +resistances which have the ability to change themselves into negative +(hostile) transferences. Furthermore, let me call your attention to the +fact that a large number of results of analysis, otherwise perhaps +subject to the suspicion that they are products of suggestion, can be +confirmed from other unquestionable sources. As authoritative witnesses +in this case we refer to the testimony of dements and paranoiacs, who +are, naturally far removed from any suspicion of suggestive influence. +Whatever these patients can tell us about symbolic translations and +phantasies which have forced their way into their consciousness agrees +faithfully with the results of our investigations upon the unconscious +of transference-neurotics, and this gives added weight to the objective +correctness of our interpretations which are so often doubted. I believe +you will not go wrong if you give your confidence to analysis with +reference to these factors. + +We now want to complete our statement concerning the mechanism of +healing, by including it within the formulae of the libido theory. The +neurotic is incapable both of enjoyment and work; first, because his +libido is not directed toward any real object, and second because he +must use up a great deal of his former energy to keep his libido +suppressed and to arm himself against its attacks. He would become well +if there could be an end to the conflict between his ego and his libido, +and if his ego could again have the libido at its disposal. The task of +therapy, therefore, consists of freeing the libido from its present +bonds, which have estranged it from the ego, and furthermore to bring it +once more into the service of the ego. Where is the libido of the +neurotics? It is easy to find; it is bound to the symptoms which at that +time furnish it with the only available substitute satisfaction. We have +to become master of the symptoms, and abolish them, which is of course +exactly what the patient asks us to do. To abolish the symptoms it +becomes necessary to go back to their origin, to renew the conflict out +of which they emerged, but this time with the help of motive forces that +were originally not available, to guide it toward a new solution. This +revision of the process of suppression can be accomplished only in part +by following the traces in memory of the occurrences which led to the +suppression. The decisive part of the cure is accomplished by means of +the relationship to the physician, the transference, by means of which +new editions of the old conflict are created. Under this situation the +patient would like to behave as he had behaved originally, but by +summoning all his available psychic power we compel him to reach a +different decision. Transference, then, becomes the battlefield on which +all the contending forces are to meet. + +The full strength of the libido, as well as the entire resistance +against it, is concentrated in this relationship to the physician; so it +is inevitable that the symptoms of the libido should be laid bare. In +place of his original disturbance the patient manifests the artificially +constructed disturbance of transference; in place of heterogeneous +unreal objects for the libido you now have only the person of the +physician, a single object, which, however, is also fantastic. The new +struggle over this object is, however, raised to the highest psychic +level with the aid of the physician's suggestions, and proceeds as a +normal psychic conflict. By avoiding a new suppression the estrangement +between the ego and the libido comes to an end, the psychic unity of the +personality is restored. When the libido again becomes detached from the +temporary object of the physician it cannot return to its former +objects, but is now at the disposal of the ego. The forces we have +overcome in the task of therapy are on the one hand the aversion of the +ego for certain directions of the libido, which had expressed itself as +a tendency to suppression, and on the other hand the tenacity of the +libido, which is loathe to leave an object which it has once occupied. + +Accordingly the work of therapy falls into two phases: first, all the +libido is forced from the symptoms into the transference, and +concentrated there; secondly, the struggle over this new object is +carried on and the libido set free. The decisive change for the better +in this renewed conflict is the throwing out of the suppression, so that +the libido cannot this time again escape the ego by fleeing into the +unconscious. This is accomplished by the change in the ego under the +influence of the physician's suggestion. In the course of the work of +interpretation, which translates unconscious into conscious, the ego +grows at the expense of the unconscious; it learns forgiveness toward +the libido, and becomes inclined to permit some sort of satisfaction for +it. The ego's timidity in the face of the demands of the libido is now +lessened by the prospect of occupying some of the libido through +sublimation. The more the processes of the treatment correspond to this +theoretic description the greater will be the success of psychoanalytic +therapy. It is limited by the lack of mobility of the libido, which can +stand in the way of releasing its objects, and by the obstinate narcism +which will not permit the object-transference to effect more than just +so much. Perhaps we shall obtain further light on the dynamics of the +healing process by the remark that we are able to gather up the entire +libido which has become withdrawn from the control of the ego by drawing +a part of it to ourselves in the process of transference. + +It is to be remembered that we cannot reach a direct conclusion as to +the disposition of the libido during the disease from the distributions +of the libido which are effected during and because of the treatment. +Assuming that we have succeeded in curing the case by means of the +creation and destruction of a strong father-transference to the +physician, it would be wrong to conclude that the patient had previously +suffered from a similar and unconscious attachment of his libido to his +father. The father-transference is merely the battlefield upon which we +were able to overcome the libido; the patient's libido had been +concentrated here from its other positions. The battlefield need not +necessarily have coincided with the most important fortresses of the +enemy. Defense of the hostile capital need not take place before its +very gates. Not until we have again destroyed the transference can we +begin to reconstruct the distribution of the libido that existed during +the illness. + +From the standpoint of the libido theory we might say a last word in +regard to the dream. The dreams of neurotics, as well as their errors +and haphazard thoughts, help us in finding the meaning of the symptoms +and in discovering the disposition of the libido. In the form of the +wish fulfillment they show us what wish impulses have been suppressed, +and to what objects the libido, withdrawn from the ego, has been +attached. That is why interpretation of dreams plays a large role in +psychoanalytic treatment, and is in many cases, for a long time, the +most important means with which we work. We already know that the +condition of sleep itself carries with it a certain abatement of +suppressions. Because of this lessening of the pressure upon it, it +becomes possible for the suppressed impulse to create in the dream a +much clearer expression than the symptom can furnish during the day. So +dream-study is the easiest approach to a knowledge of the libidinous +suppressed unconscious which has been withdrawn from the ego. + +Dreams of neurotics differ in no essential point from the dreams of +normal persons; you might even say they cannot be distinguished. It +would be unreasonable to explain the dreams of the nervous in any way +which could not be applied to the dreams of the normal. So we must say +the difference between neurosis and health applies only during the day, +and does not continue in dream life. We find it necessary to attribute +to the healthy numerous assumptions which have grown out of the +connections between the dreams and the symptoms of the neurotic. We are +not in a position to deny that even a healthy man possesses those +factors in his psychic life which alone make possible the development of +the dream and of the symptom as well. We must conclude, therefore, that +the healthy have also made use of suppressions and are put to a certain +amount of trouble to keep those impulses under control; the system of +their unconscious, too, conceals impulses which are suppressed, yet are +still possessed of energy, and _a part of their libido is also withdrawn +from the control of their ego_. So the healthy man is virtually a +neurotic, but dreams are apparently the only symptoms which he can +manifest. Yet if we subject our waking hours to a more penetrating +analysis we discover, of course, that they refute this appearance and +that this seemingly healthy life is shot through with a number of +trivial, practically unimportant symptom formations. + +The difference between nervous health and neurosis is entirely a +practical one which is determined by the available capacity for +enjoyment and accomplishment retained by the individual. It varies +presumably with the relative proportion of the energy totals which have +remained free and those which have been bound by suppressions, and is +quantitative rather than qualitative. I do not have to remind you that +this conception is the theoretical basis for the certainty that neuroses +can be cured, despite their foundation in constitutional disposition. + +This is accordingly what we may make out of the identity between the +dreams of the healthy and those of the neurotic for the definition of +health. As regards the dream itself, we must note further that we cannot +separate it from its relation to neurotic symptoms. We must recognize +that it is not completely defined as a translation of thoughts into an +archaic form of expression, that is, we must assume it discloses a +disposition of libido and of object-occupations which have actually +taken place. + +We have about come to the end. Perhaps you are disappointed that I have +dealt only with theory in this chapter on psychoanalytic therapy, and +have said nothing concerning the conditions under which the cure is +undertaken, or of the successes which it achieves. But I shall omit +both. I shall omit the first because I had intended no practical +training in the practice of psychoanalysis, and I shall neglect the +second for numerous reasons. At the beginning of our talks I emphasized +the fact that under favorable circumstances we attain results which can +be favorably compared with the happiest achievements in the field of +internal therapy, and, I may add, these results could not have been +otherwise achieved. If I were to say more I might be suspected of +wishing to drown the voices of disparagement, which have become so loud, +by advertising our claims. We psychoanalysts have repeatedly been +threatened by our medical colleagues, even in open congresses, that the +eyes of the suffering public must be opened to the worthlessness of this +method of treatment by a statistical collection of analytic failures and +injuries. But such a collection, aside from the biased, denunciatory +character of its purpose, would hardly be able to give a correct picture +of the therapeutic values of analysis. Analytic therapy is, as you know, +still young; it took a long time to establish the technique, and this +could be done only during the course of the work and under the influence +of accumulating experience. As a result of the difficulties of +instruction the physician who begins the practice of psychoanalysis is +more dependent upon his capacity to develop on his own account than is +the ordinary specialist, and the results he achieves in his first years +can never be taken as indicative of the possibilities of analytic +therapy. + +Many attempts at treatment failed in the early years of analysis because +they were made on cases that were not at all suited to the procedure, +and which today we exclude by our classification of symptoms. But this +classification could be made only after practice. In the beginning we +did not know that paranoia and dementia praecox are, in their fully +developed phases, inaccessible, and we were justified in trying out our +method on all kinds of conditions. Besides, the greatest number of +failures in those first years were not due to the fault of the physician +or because of unsuitable choice of subjects, but rather to the +unpropitiousness of external conditions. We have hitherto spoken only of +internal resistances, those of the patient, which are necessary and may +be overcome. External resistances to psychoanalysis, due to the +circumstances of the patient and his environment, have little +theoretical interest, but are of great practical importance. +Psychoanalytic treatment may be compared to a surgical operation, and +has the right to be undertaken under circumstances favorable to its +success. You know what precautions the surgeon is accustomed to take: a +suitable room, good light, assistance, exclusion of relatives, etc. How +many operations would be successful, do you think, if they had to be +performed in the presence of all the members of the family, who would +put their fingers into the field of operation and cry aloud at every cut +of the knife? The interference of relatives in psychoanalytical +treatment is a very great danger, a danger one does not know how to +meet. We are armed against the internal resistances of the patient which +we recognize as necessary, but how are we to protect ourselves against +external resistance? It is impossible to approach the relatives of the +patient with any sort of explanation, one cannot influence them to hold +aloof from the whole affair, and one cannot get into league with them +because we then run the danger of losing the confidence of the patient, +who rightly demands that we in whom he confides take his part. Besides, +those who know the rifts that are often formed in family life will not +be surprised as analysts when they discover that the patient's nearest +relatives are less interested in seeing him cured than in having him +remain as he is. Where, as is so often the case, the neurosis is +connected with conflicts with members of the family, the healthy member +does not hesitate long in the choice between his own interest and that +of the cure of the patient. It is not surprising if a husband looks with +disfavor upon a treatment in which, as he may correctly suspect, the +register of his sins is unrolled; nor are we surprised, and surely we +cannot take the blame, when our efforts remain fruitless and are +prematurely broken off because the resistance of the husband is added to +that of the sick wife. We had only undertaken something which, under the +existing circumstance, it was impossible to carry out. + +Instead of many cases, I shall tell you of just one in which, because of +professional precautions, I was destined to play a sad role. Many years +ago I treated a young girl who for a long time was afraid to go on the +street, or to remain at home alone. The patient hesitatingly admitted +that her phantasy had been caused by accidentally observing affectionate +relations between her mother and a well-to-do friend of the family. But +she was so clumsy--or perhaps so sly--as to give her mother a hint of +what had been discussed during the analysis, and changed her behavior +toward her mother, insisting that no one but her mother should protect +her against the fear of being alone, and anxiously barring the way when +her mother wished to leave the house. The mother had previously been +very nervous herself, but had been cured years before in a hydropathic +sanatorium. Let us say, in that institution she made the acquaintance of +the man with whom she was to enter upon the relationship which was able +to satisfy her in every respect. Becoming suspicious of the stormy +demands of the girl, the mother _suddenly_ realized the meaning of her +daughter's fear. She must have made herself sick to imprison her mother +and to rob her of the freedom she needed to maintain relations with her +lover. Immediately the mother made an end to the harmful treatment. The +girl was put into a sanatorium for the nervous and exhibited for many +years as "a poor victim of psychoanalysis." For just as long a period I +was pursued by evil slander, due to the unfavorable outcome of this +case. I maintained silence because I thought myself bound by the rules +of professional discretion. Years later I learned from a colleague who +had visited the institution, and had seen the agoraphobic girl there, +that the relationship between the mother and the wealthy friend of the +family was known all over town, and apparently connived at by the +husband and father. It was to this "secret" that our treatment had been +sacrificed. + +In the years before the war, when the influx of patients from all parts +made me independent of the favor or disfavor of my native city, I +followed the rule of not treating anyone who was not _sui juris_, was +not independent of all other persons in his essential relations of life. +Every psychoanalyst cannot do this. You may conclude from my warning +against the relatives of patients that for purposes of psychoanalysis we +should take the patients away from their families, and should limit this +therapy to the inmates of sanatoriums. I should not agree with you in +this; it is much more beneficial for the patients, if they are not in a +stage of great exhaustion, to continue in the same circumstances under +which they must master the tasks set for them during the treatment. But +the relatives ought not to counteract this advantage by their behavior, +and above all, they should not antagonize and oppose the endeavors of +the physician. But how are we to contend against these influences which +are so inaccessible to us! You see how much the prospects of a treatment +are determined by the social surroundings and the cultural conditions of +a family. + +This offers a sad outlook indeed for the effectiveness of psychoanalysis +as a therapy, even if we can explain the great majority of our failures +by putting the blame on such disturbing external factors! Friends of +analysis have advised us to counterbalance such a collection of failures +by means of a statistical compilation on our part of our successful +cases. Yet I could not try myself to do this. I tried to explain that +statistics would be worthless if the collected cases were not +comparable, and in fact, the various neuroses which we have undertaken +to treat could, as a matter of fact, hardly be compared on the same +basis, since they differed in many fundamental respects. Besides, the +period of time over which we could report was too short to permit us to +judge the permanency of our cures, and concerning certain cases we could +not have given any information whatever. They related to persons who had +kept their ailments, as well as their treatment, secret, and whose cure +must necessarily be kept secret as well. The strongest hindrance, +however, lay in the knowledge that men behave most irrationally in +matters of therapy, and that we have no prospect of attaining anything +by an appeal to reason. A therapeutic novelty is received either with +frenzied enthusiasm, as was the case when Koch first made public his +tuberculin against tuberculosis, or it is treated with abysmal distrust, +as was the really blessed vaccination of Jenner, which even today +retains implacable opponents. There was a very obvious prejudice against +psychoanalysis. When we had cured a very difficult case we would hear it +said: "That is no proof, he would have become well by himself in all +this time." Yet when a patient who had already gone through four cycles +of depression and mania came into my care during a temporary cessation +in the melancholia, and three weeks later found herself in the +beginnings of a new attack, all the members of the family as well as the +high medical authorities called into consultation, were convinced that +the new attack could only be the result of the attempted analysis. +Against prejudice we are powerless; you see it again in the prejudices +that one group of warring nations has developed against the other. The +most sensible thing for us to do is to wait and allow time to wear it +away. Some day the same persons think quite differently about the same +things than before. Why they formerly thought otherwise remains the dark +secret. + +It may be possible that the prejudice against psychoanalysis is already +on the wane. The continual spread of psychoanalytic doctrine, the +increase of the number of physicians in many lands who treat +analytically, seems to vouch for it. When I was a young physician I was +caught in just such a storm of outraged feeling of the medical +profession toward hypnosis, treatment by suggestion, which today is +contrasted with psychoanalysis by "sober" men. Hypnotism did not, +however, as a therapeutic agent, live up to its promises; we +psychoanalysts may call ourselves its rightful heirs, and we have not +forgotten the large amount of encouragement and theoretical explanation +we owe to it. The injuries blamed upon psychoanalysis are limited +essentially to temporary aggravation of the conflict when the analysis +is clumsily handled, or when it is broken off unfinished. You have heard +our justification for our form of treatment, and you can form your own +opinion as to whether or not our endeavors are likely to lead to lasting +injury. Misuse of psychoanalysis is possible in various ways; above all, +transference is a dangerous remedy in the hands of an unconscientious +physician. But no professional method of procedure is protected from +misuse; a knife that is not sharp is of no use in effecting a cure. + +I have thus reached the end, ladies and gentlemen. It is more than the +customary formal speech when I admit that I am myself keenly depressed +over the many faults in the lectures I have just delivered. First of +all, I am sorry that I have so often promised to return to a subject +only slightly touched upon at the time, and then found that the context +has not made it possible to keep my word. I have undertaken to inform +you concerning an unfinished thing, still in the process of development, +and my brief exposition itself was an incomplete thing. Often I +presented the evidence and then did not myself draw the conclusion. But +I could not endeavor to make you masters of the subject. I tried only to +give you some explanation and stimulation. + + +END + + + + +INDEX + + +Abel, C., 195 + +Abel, R., 148 + +Abraham, K., 284, 358 + +Abstinence, 299 + +Accidental and symptomatic acts, 42 + +Accumulated and combined errors, 37 + +Adler, A., 203, 330, 351 + +Agoraphobia, 227, 233 + +Alexander, dream of, 65 + +Altruism, 360 + +Ambivalence, 369 + +Amnesia, 244; + childhood, 168; + hysterical, 245; + infantile, 245; + of the neurotic, 244 + +Analyses of dreams, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 153 + +Analysis, experimental, dream for, 93 + +Analytical therapy, 372, 388 + +Andreas, Lou, 272 + +Anxiety, 340, 342; + dream, 183; + equivalents, 347; + form of neurotic fear, 346; + hysteria, 233, 259, 316, 346; + hysteria, resistance in, 250; + neurosis, 338, 344, 347 + +Anxious expectation, 344 + +Archaic remnants and infantilism in the dream, 167 + +Art, and the neurosis, 326 + +Association experiment, 86; + free, 84 + +Auto-eroticism, 359 + + +Back, George, 108 + +Basedowi, M., 336 + +Beheading symbol, 231 + +Bernheim, 81, 240, 385, 388 + +Binet, 302 + +Binz, 66 + +Birth of the hero, myths, 182 + +Birth, the source of fear, 343; + symbols of, 132; + theories of children, 274 + +Bleuler, 86, 369 + +Bloch, Ivan, 265 + +Boelsche, W., 307 + +Breuer, J., 221, 232, 241, 242, 253, 254, 388 + +Breughel, P., 263 + + +Castration complex, 175 + +Censor, dream, 110 + +Charcot, 119 + +Child, sexual life of, 268, 281 + +Childhood amnesia, 168; + dreams of, 101; + egoism in, 171; + experiences, phantasy in, 319; + loss of memory for, 168; + prophylaxis, 317 + +Children, fear in, 350; + sexual curiosity of, 274 + +Children's dreams, 102; + theories of birth, 274 + +Choice of an object, 368 + +Clinical problem, 244 + +Common elements of dreams, 67, 69, 75 + +Complex, castration, 175; + family, 285; + Oedipus, 174, 285; + parent, 289 + +Compulsion neurosis, 222, 227, 259, 261, 267, 298, 326; + fear in, 349; + manifestations of, 222 + +Compulsion neurotics, resistance in, 250, 251; + symptoms, analysis of, 224 + +Compulsive activity, meaning of, 239; + acts, 223; + washing as, 233 + +Condensation, 142 + +Conflict, role of, in neurosis, 302, 305 + +Conscious, definition of, 90 + +Conversion-hysteria, 259, 339 + +Criticism of dream, 194; + of psychoanalysis, reasons for, 246 + + +Darwin, Charles, 247, 345 + +Day dreams, 76, 105, 324 + +Death in dreams, 133; + wishes, 169 + +Definition of psychoanalysis, 1 + +Delusion, 216 + +Dementia praecox, 339, 358, 363 + +Development and regression, theories of, 294 + +Diderot, 292 + +Difficulties of psychoanalysis, 2, 5 + +Disease, secondary advantage of, 334 + +Disguise-memories, 168 + +Displacement, 114, 144 + +Dream, the, 63; + of Alexander, 65; + anxiety, 183; + approaches to study of, 82; + archaic remnants and infantilism in the, 167; + censor, 110; + character of, 69; + criticism of, 194; + day, 76, 105; + definition of, 67, 68; + difficulties and preliminary approach to, 63; + distortion in, 101, 110, 183; + doubtful points concerning, 194; + for experimental analysis, 93; + hypothesis and technique of interpretation of, 78; + infantile, 183; + interpretation, rules to be observed in, 91, 92; + manifest and latent content of, 90, 96; + of a prisoner, 109; + the reaction to sleep-disturbing stimuli, 70; + stimuli in, 71, 73; + symbolism in, 122 + +Dreams analysed, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 153; + of childhood, 101; + children's, 102; + children's, elements of, 101-5; + common elements of, 67, 69, 75; + death in, 133; + elaboration in, 74; + examples of, 111; + experimentally induced in, 71; + of neurotics, 395; + typical, 234; + visual forms in, 75; + wish fulfillment, 107; + dream-work, 141; + processes of, 142 + +Du prel, 108 + + +Ego, development of, 304; + impulses, 303; + instincts, 356; + psychology, 365; + regressions, 310 + +Egoism, 360; + in childhood, 171 + +Elements of children's dreams, 101, 102, 103, 104, 105 + +Erogenous zones, 271 + +Erotomania, 366 + +Errors, accumulated and combined, 37; + forgetting names, 34; + forgetting projects, 34; + losing and mislaying objects, 36; + misreading, 51; + proved by further developments, 39; + psychology of, 10, 23; + repeated, 37; + slips of the pen, 49; + of the tongue, 16, 18; + expectant fear, 344 + + +Fact, principle of, 309 + +Family-complex, 289 + +Fear, 340, 342; + in children, 350; + in compulsion neurosis, 349; + expectant, 344; + in hysteria, 348; + of the manifold, 344; + neurotic, 341; + anxiety, form of, 346; + clinical observations on, 347; + origin of, 350; + and real fear, connection between, 350; + real, 341; + and neurotic fear, connection between, 350 + +Fechner, G. T., 69 + +Federn, P., 127 + +Ferenczi, 304 + +Fetichism, 302 + +Fetichists, 264 + +Fixation of the instinct, 295; + traumatic, 236 + +Flaubert, G., 263 + +Fliess, W., 277 + +Fontaine, Th., 324 + +Fore-conscious, 256 + +Forgetting, defense against unpleasant recollections, 56; + impressions and experiences, 56; + names, 34, 55; + plans, 52; + projects, 34; + proper names, 87 + +Free association, 84; + name analysis by, 85 + +Free-floating fear, 344 + +Fright, 342 + + +Hall, Stanley, 344, 355 + +Hildebrand, 71 + +Hoffman, 321 + +Homosexualists, 266 + +Homosexuality, 263 + +Hypnosis, 253, 386; + psycho-therapy by, 253 + +Hypnotic and psychoanalytic suggestion, difference between, 390 + +Hypnotism, 81, 388 + +Hypochondria, 338, 339, 362 + +Hysteria, 233, 245, 246, 261, 266, 297; + anxiety, 233, 316; + conversion, 339; + fear in, 348 + +Hysterical amnesias, 245; + backache, 339; + headache, 339; + identification, 369; + vomiting, 233 + + +Illness as a defense, 332 + +Imago, 139 + +Incest, 176, 290 + +Infantile amnesias, 245; + dream, 183; + fear, 353; + neurosis, 316; + sexuality, 272, 279 + +Infantilism in the dream, archaic remnants and, 167 + +Inferiority, 351 + +Inhibition, 294 + +Instinct, fixation of, 295 + +Intellectual resistances, 251 + +Introversion, 325 + +Inversions, 149, 263 + + +James-Lange theory of emotion, 343 + +Janet, P., 221 + +Jealousy, obsession of, 216 + +Jenner, 400 + +Jung, C. J., 86, 232, 325, 357 + + +Koch, 400 + +Krauss, F. S., 134 + + +Latent dream content, 90, 98 + +Leuret, 221 + +Levy, L., 133 + +Libido, 116, 270; + development of, 277, 282; + fixation, 300; + regressions of, 297; + theory, the, 356 + +Lichtenberg, 27 + +Lindner, 271 + +Losing and mislaying objects, 36, 57 + +Loss of memory for childhood, 168 + + +Maeder, A., 39, 202 + +Mania of persecution, 366; + of jealousy, 366 + +Manifest dream content, 90, 96 + +Masochists, 264 + +Maury, 66, 71 + +Mayer, 16 + +Mechanism of the tongue slip, 46 + +Megalomania, 366 + +Melancholia, 369 + +Memory gaps, 244; + loss of, for childhood, 168 + +Meringer, 16 + +Misreading, 51 + +Mistakes, general observations on, 57 + +Myths, birth of the hero, 132 + + +Name analysis by free association, 85 + +Naecke, P., 359 + +Narcism, 359, 360 + +Narcistic identification, 369; + neuroses, 298, 365; + and transference, 386 + +Negative transference, 383 + +Nervousness, fear and, 340; + ordinary, 328 + +Nestroy, 305 + +Neurasthenia, 338, 339 + +Neurosis, anxiety, 344; + art and, 326; + common experiences in history of, 321; + compulsion, 222; + determining factor in, 321; + development of symptoms of, 311; + etiology of, 296; + general theory of, 294; + infantile, 316; + narcistic, 298; + schematic representation of cause of, 315; + spontaneous, 237; + symptoms of, 317; + traumatic, 237; + true, difference between the symptoms of, and the psychoneurosis, 336 + +Neurotic fear, anxiety form of, 346; + clinical observations on, 347; + manifestations of, 344; + origin of, 350; + and real fear, connection between, 350 + +Neurotic manifestations, psychoanalytic conception of, 211; + symptoms, evolution of, 244; + meaning of, 221; + objections to interpretations of, 260 + +Neurotics, dreams of, 395 + +Nordenskjold, Otto, 107 + + +Oberlaender, 334 + +Object, choice of, 368 + +Obsession of jealousy, 216 + +Oedipus complex, 174, 285 + +Onanism, 272, 274 + +Organic pleasure, 280 + + +Paranoia, 266, 339, 366 + +Paraphrenia, 339, 366 + +Parent-complex, 289 + +Pathological ritual, 228 + +Patricide, 290 + +Perverse, 263; + sexuality, 268, 279 + +Perversions, sex, 175, 278 + +Pfister, 199 + +Phantasies, primal, 323 + +Phantasy in childhood experiences, 319; + in children, 322 + +Phobias, 344; + analysis of, 353; + situation, in children, 352 + +Pleasure, principle of, 309 + +Pleasure-striving, 116 + +Pre-genital sexual organization, 283 + +Primal phantasies, 323 + +Principle of fact, 309; + of pleasure, 309 + +Psychiatry, psychoanalysis and, 209; + therapeutics of, 220 + +Psychic flight from unpleasantness, 55; + process, meaning of, 23; + definition of, 7; + in sleeping and waking, differences between, 69 + +Psychoanalysis, definition of, 1; + difficulties of, 2, 5; + and psychiatry, 209; + purpose of, 6; + reasons for criticism of, 246; + therapeutics of, 220 + +Psychoanalytic conception of neurotic manifestations, 211; + suggestion, hypnotic and difference between, 390 + +Psychology of errors, 10 + +Psychoneurosis, + difference between the symptoms of the true neurosis and, 336; + true neurosis and, connection between symptoms of, 338 + +Psychotherapy by hypnosis, 253 + +Purpose of psychoanalysis, 6 + + +Rank, O., 21, 108, 132, 139, 154, 175, 292 + +Reaction-formations, 326 + +Regression, 295, 296; + of Libido, 297; + theories of development and, 294 + +Reik, Th., 290 + +Repression, 255 + +Reproduction, 269; + sexuality and, 277 + +Resistance, 92, 248; + in anxiety hysteria, 250; + in compulsion neurotics, 250, 251; + external, 398; + forms taken by, 250; + internal, 398; + intellectual, 251; + in narcistic neurosis, 365 + +Ritual, pathological, 228; + sleep, 227 + +Roux, 314 + + +Sachs, Hanns, 139, 173 + +Sadistico-anal sexual organization, 283 + +Sadists, 264 + +Scherner, K. A., 124 + +Schirmer, 74 + +Schwind, 109 + +Secondary treatment, 151 + +Sex symbols, 126 + +Sex, the third, 263 + +Sexual curiosity of children, 274; + definition of concept, 262; + development, 284; + instincts, 356; + life of the child, 268, 281; + life of man, 262; + organizations, 277, 283; + perversions, 175, 278 + +Sexuality, perverse, 268; + and reproduction, 277 + +Siebault, 81 + +Silberer, V., 203 + +Situation-phobia, 345; + phobias in children, 352 + +Sleep, definition of, 67; + ritual, 227 + +Slips of the tongue, 16; + effects of, 18; + explanation of, 25, 46; + general observations on, 48; + of the pen, 49 + +Sperber, H., 138 + +Spontaneous neuroses, 237 + +Stekel, W., 203 + +Struwelpeter, 321 + +Sublimation, 8, 300 + +Substitute names, 87 + +Suggestibility, 386 + +Suggestion, 386, 388 + +Suppression, 46, 248, 256, 259, 296, 298 + +Symbol, 123; + beheading, 231 + +Symbolism in the dream, 122; + in every day life, 130 + +Symbols, 125, 126; + of birth, 132; + sex, 126 + +Symptomatic acts, accidental and, 42 + +Symptom-development, 259; + interpretation, 259; + purpose of, 258, 259 + +Symptoms, individual, 232, 234; + meaning of, 221; + of neurosis, development of, 311; + neurotic, evolution of, 244; + objections to interpretations of, 260; + significance of phantasy for the development of, 324; + typical, 233 + +System of the unconscious, fore-conscious and the conscious, 255-257 + + +Technique in dream interpretation, 82 + +Therapy, analytical, 372 + +Therapeutics of psychiatry, 220; + of psychoanalysis, 220 + +Third sex, 263 + +Tongue slip, mechanism of, 46, 49 + +Topophobia, 233 + +Transference, 25, 372, 379; + narcistic neuroses and, 386; + neuroses, 259, 339, 384 + +Translation of thoughts into visual images, 145 + +Traumatic fixation, 236; + neuroses, 237 + +Trenck, 108 + +True neuroses, 338; + and psychoneuroses, connection between symptoms of, 338; + symptoms of, 336 + +Typical symptoms, 234 + + +Unconscious, the, 236, 255; + definition of, 90; + psychological processes, 240 + + +Vold, J. Mourly, 66, 127 + +Vomiting, hysterical, 233 + +von Bruecke, 295 + + +Wallace, 247 + +Washing, a compulsive act, 233 + +Wishes, death, 169 + +Wish fulfillment, 180; + in dreams, 104, 107; + negative, 261; + positive, 261 + +Wundt school, 86 + + +Zola, Emile, 224 + +Zurich school, 86 + + * * * * * + +The following typographical errors have been corrected by the etext +transcriber: + +Resistance and Supression=>Resistance and Suppression + +Dark Ages faithfully perserved things=>Dark Ages faithfully preserved +things + +the dream anaylsis=>the dream analysis + +reocgnize=>recognize + +crimes commited=>crimes committed + +embryo in the amnotic fluid=>embryo in the amniotic fluid + +Sublim Porte=>Sublime Porte + +remote of these thoughs=>remote of these thoughts + +uncomfortabe=>uncomfortable + +archiac or regressive mode=>archaic or regressive mode + +capitalist and the entrepeneur=>capitalist and the entrepreneur + +By means of two selected illlustrations=>By means of two selected +illustrations + +and did not yet want to a prophet=>and did not yet want to be a prophet + +fundamenal difference=>fundamental difference + +psychlogical=>psychological + +sexual substitute-satsifaction=>sexual substitute-satisfaction + +carry on psychonalaysis=>carry on psychoanalysis + +with manual anonism=>with manual ononism + +the educator, Nesessity=>the educator, Necessity + +has been succssfully=>has been successfully + +The physician forms a very favorable opinon=>The physician forms a very +favorable opinion + +affctionate=>affectionate + +destroyed the transfrence=>destroyed the transference + +read "Agamemnon" for "angenomen,"=>read "Agamemnon" for "angenommen," + +"Angenomen" is a verb, meaning "to accept."=>"Angenommen" is a verb, +meaning "to accept." + +misprints, which are of ocurse to be considered as errors of the +typesetter.=>misprints, which are of course to be considered as errors +of the typesetter. + +"Rueckhaltos" means "unreservedly."=>"Rueckhaltlos" means "unreservedly." + +Struuelpeter=>Struwelpeter + +Struwwelpeter=>Struwelpeter + +Oberlander, 334=>Oberlaender, 334 + + * * * * * + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] "Fehl-leistungen." + +[2] In the German, the correct announcement is, "Connetable schickt sein +Schwert zurueck." The novice, as a result of the suggestion, announced +instead that "Komfortabel schickt sein Pferd zurueck." + +[3] "Aufstossen" instead of "anstossen." + +[4] "Begleit-digen" compounded of "begleiten" and "beleidigen." + +[5] "Briefkasten" instead of "Bruetkasten." + +[6] "Geneigt" instead of "geeignet." + +[7] "Versuchungen" instead of "Versuche." + +[8] "Aufgepatzt" instead of "aufgeputzt." + +[9] "Angenommen" is a verb, meaning "to accept." + +[10] The young man here said "aufzustossen" instead of "anzustossen." + +[11] Prof. Freud here gives the two examples, quite untranslatable, of +"apopos" instead of "apropos," and "eischeiszwaibehen" instead of +"eiweiszscheibehen." + +[12] From C. G. Jung. + +[13] From A. A. Brill. + +[14] From B. Dattner. + +[15] So also in the writings of A. Maeder (French), A. A. Brill +(English) J. Staerke (Dutch) and others. + +[16] From R. Reitler. + +[17] In the German Reichstag, November, 1908. "Rueckhaltlos" means +"unreservedly." "Rueckgratlos" means "without backbone." + +[18] "Zum Vorschein bringen," means to bring to light. "Schweinereien" +means filthiness or obscurity. The telescoping of the two ideas, +resulting in the word "Vorschwein," plainly reveals the speaker's +opinion of the affair. + +[19] The lady meant to say "Nach Hause," "to reach home." The word +"Hose" means "drawers." The preservating content of her hesitancy is +hereby revealed. + +[20] The German reads, "bei meinen Versuchen an Mausen," which, through +the slip of the pen, resulted in "bei meinen Versuchen an Menschen." + +[21] "Angenommen" is a verb, meaning "to accept." + +[22] Josef Breuer, in the years 1880-1882. Cf. also my lectures on +psychoanalysis, delivered in the United States in 1909. + +[23] The reader will recall the example: "things were re-filled." + +[24] From the sublime to the ridiculous is but a narrow passage. + +[25] Yes, the passage from Calais. + +[26] "Vorzug." "Vom Bett hervorziehen." + +[27] "Schraenkt sich ein." + +[28] In Germany tickets may be bought before the day of the performance +only upon additional payment, over and above the regular cost of the +ticket. This is called "Vorverkaufsgebuehr." + +[29] See frontispiece + +[30] "steigen." + +[31] "den Frauen nachsteigen," and "ein alter Steiger." + +[32] "besitzen," to straddle. + +[33] While revising these pages I chanced upon a newspaper article that +I quote here as an unexpected supplement to the above lines. + +THE PUNISHMENT OF GOD + +A BROKEN ARM FOR BROKEN FAITH + +Mrs. Anna M. the wife of a soldier in the reserve accused Mrs. +Clementine C. of being untrue to her husband. The accusation reads that +Mrs. C. had carried on an illicit relationship with Karl M. while her +own husband was on the battlefield, from which he even sent her 70 +Kronen a month. Mrs. C. had received _quite a lot of money_ from the +husband of the plaintiff, while she and her children had to live in +_hunger_ and in misery. Friends of her husband had told her that Mrs. C. +had visited inns with M. and had caroused there until late at night. The +accused had even asked the husband of the plaintiff before several +infantrymen whether he would not soon get a divorce from his "old woman" +and live with her. Mrs. C.'s housekeeper had also repeatedly seen the +husband of the plaintiff in her (Mrs. C.'s) apartment, in complete +negligee. + +Yesterday Mrs. C. _denied_ before a judge in Leopoldstadt that she even +knew M; there could be no question of intimate relation between them. + +The witness, Albertine M., however, testified that Mrs. C. had kissed +the husband of the plaintiff and that she had surprised them at it. + +When M. was called as a witness in an earlier proceeding he had denied +any intimate relation to the accused. Yesterday the judge received a +_letter_ in which the witness retracts the statement he made in the +first proceeding and _admits_ that he had carried on a love affair with +Mrs. C., until last June. He says that he only denied this relationship +in the former proceeding for the sake of the accused because before the +proceeding she had come to him and begged on her knees that he should +save her and not confess. "To-day," wrote the witness, "I felt impelled +to make a full confession to the court, since I have _broken my left +arm_ and this appears to me as the _punishment of God_ for my +transgression." + +The judge maintained the penal offense had already become null and void, +whereupon the plaintiff withdrew her accusation and the liberation of +the accused followed. + +[34] This highly technical concept is explained in _The Interpretation +of Dreams_, Chap. VII, Sec. (b) pp. 422 et seq. + +[35] The principal street of Vienna. + +[36] I do not mention another obvious interpretation of this "3" in the +case of this childless woman, because it is not material to this +analysis. + +[37] Compare S. Freud, _Totem and Taboo_, 1913. + +[38] E. Toulouse, Emile Zola--_Enquete medico-psychologique_, Paris, +1896. + +[39] There are fagots and fagots. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A General Introduction to +Psychoanalysis, by Sigmund Freud + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GENERAL INTRODUCTION *** + +***** This file should be named 38219.txt or 38219.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/2/1/38219/ + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images available at The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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