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diff --git a/old/66041-0.txt b/old/66041-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d9fb820..0000000 --- a/old/66041-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5762 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Theory of Psychoanalysis, by Carl Gustav -Jung - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Theory of Psychoanalysis - -Author: Carl Gustav Jung - -Release Date: August 11, 2021 [eBook #66041] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Turgut Dincer, David King, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The Internet - Archive.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS *** - - - - - The Theory of Psychoanalysis - - - - - Nervous and Mental Disease Monograph - Series, No. 19 - - The Theory of Psychoanalysis - - BY - DR. C. G. JUNG - of Zurich - - - NEW YORK - - THE JOURNAL OF NERVOUS AND MENTAL DISEASE - PUBLISHING COMPANY - - 1915 - - - - - NERVOUS AND MENTAL DISEASE - MONOGRAPH SERIES - - Edited by - - Drs. SMITH ELY JELLIFFE and WM. A. WHITE - Numbers Issued - - - 1. Outlines of Psychiatry. (4th Edition.) $3.00. - - By Dr. William A. White. - - 2. Studies in Paranoia. - - By Drs. N. Gierlich and M. Friedman. - - 3. The Psychology of Dementia Praecox. (Out of Print). - - By Dr. C. G Jung. - - 4. Selected Papers on Hysteria and other Psychoneuroses - (2d Edition.) $2.50. - - By Prof. Sigmund Freud. - - 5. The Wassermann Serum Diagnosis in Psychiatry. $2.00. - - By Dr. Felix Plaut. - - 6. Epidemic Poliomyelitis. New York, 1907. (Out of Print). - - 7. Three Contributions to Sexual Theory. $2.00. - - By Prof. Sigmund Freud. - - 8. Mental Mechanisms. $2.00. By Dr. Wm. A. White. - - 9. Studies in Psychiatry. $2.00. - - New York Psychiatrical Society. - - 10. Handbook of Mental Examination Methods. $2.00. - - By Shepherd Ivory Franz. - - 11. The Theory of Schizophrenic Negativism. $0.60. - - By Professor E. Bleuler. - - 12. Cerebellar Functions. $3.00. - - By Dr. André-Thomas. - - 13. History of Prison Psychoses. $1.25. - - By Drs. P. Nitsche and K. Wilmanns. - - 14. General Paresis. $3.00. By Prof. E. Kraepelin. - - 15. Dreams and Myths. $1.00. By Dr. Karl Abraham. - - 16. Poliomyelitis. $3.00. Dr. I. Wickmann. - - 17. Freud’s Theories of the Neuroses. $2.00. - - Dr. E. Hitschmann. - - 18. The Myth of the Birth of the Hero. $1.00. - - Dr. Otto Rank - - 19. The Theory of Psychoanalysis. $1.50. - - Dr. C. G. Jung. - - Copyright, 1915, by - THE JOURNAL OF NERVOUS AND MENTAL DISEASE - PUBLISHING COMPANY, NEW YORK - - PRESS OF - THE NEW ERA PRINTING COMPANY - LANCASTER, PA. - - - - - CONTENTS - -INTRODUCTION 1 - -CHAPTER I - -CONSIDERATION OF EARLY HYPOTHESES 4 - -CHAPTER II - -THE INFANTILE SEXUALITY 17 - -CHAPTER III - -THE CONCEPTION OF LIBIDO 27 - -CHAPTER IV - -THE ETIOLOGICAL SIGNIFICANCE OF THE INFANTILE SEXUALITY 45 - -CHAPTER V - -THE UNCONSCIOUS 55 - -CHAPTER VI - -THE DREAM 60 - -CHAPTER VII - -THE CONTENT OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 67 - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE ETIOLOGY OF THE NEUROSES 72 - -CHAPTER IX - -THE THERAPEUTICAL PRINCIPLES OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 96 - -CHAPTER X - -SOME GENERAL REMARKS ON PSYCHOANALYSIS 111 - - - - - INTRODUCTION - - -In these lectures I have attempted to reconcile my practical experiences -in psychoanalysis with the existing theory, or rather, with the -approaches to such a theory. Here is my attitude towards those -principles which my honored teacher Sigmund Freud has evolved from the -experience of many decades. Since I have long been closely connected -with psychoanalysis, it will perhaps be asked with astonishment how it -is that I am now for the first time defining my theoretical position. -When, some ten years ago, it came home to me what a vast distance Freud -had already travelled beyond the bounds of contemporary knowledge of -psycho-pathological phenomena, especially the psychology of the complex -mental processes, I no longer felt myself in a position to exercise any -real criticism. I did not possess the sorry mandarin-courage of those -people who—upon a basis of ignorance and incapacity—consider themselves -justified in “critical” rejections. I thought one must first work -modestly for years in such a field before one might dare to criticize. -The evil results of premature and superficial criticism have certainly -not been lacking. A preponderating number of critics have attacked with -as much anger as ignorance. Psychoanalysis has flourished undisturbed -and has not troubled itself one jot or tittle about the unscientific -chatter that has buzzed around it. As everyone knows, this tree has -waxed mightily, and not in one world only, but alike in Europe and in -America. Official criticism participates in the pitiable fate of -Proktophantasmist and his lamentation in the Walpurgis-night: - - “You still are here? Nay, ’tis a thing unheard! - Vanish at once! We’ve said the enlightening word.” - -Such criticism has omitted to take to heart the truth that all that -exists has sufficient right to its existence: no less is it with -psychoanalysis. - -We will not fall into the error of our opponents, nor ignore their -existence nor deny their right to exist. But then this enjoins upon -ourselves the duty of applying a proper criticism, grounded upon a -practical knowledge of the facts. To me it seems that psychoanalysis -stands in need of this weighing-up from the inside. - -It has been wrongly assumed that my attitude denotes a “split” in the -psychoanalytic movement. Such a schism can only exist where faith is -concerned. But psychoanalysis deals with knowledge and its ever-changing -formulations. I have taken William James’ pragmatic rule as a -plumb-line: “You must bring out of each word its practical cash-value, -set it at work within the stream of your experience. It appears less a -solution, then, than as a program for more work and more particularly as -an indication of the ways in which existing realities may be changed. -_Theories thus become instruments, not answers to enigmas, in which we -can rest._ We don’t lie back upon them, we move forward, and, on -occasion, make nature over again by their aid.” - -And so my criticism has not proceeded from academic arguments, but from -experiences which have forced themselves on me during ten years earnest -work in this sphere. I know that my experience in no wise approaches -Freud’s quite extraordinary experience and insight, but none the less it -seems to me that certain of my formulations do present the observed -facts more adequately than is the case in Freud’s method of statement. -At any rate I have found, in my teaching, that the conceptions put -forward in these lectures have afforded peculiar aid in my endeavors to -help my pupils to an understanding of psychoanalysis. With such -experience I am naturally inclined to assent to the view of Mr. Dooley, -that witty humorist of the _New York Times_, when he says, defining -pragmatism: “Truth is truth ‘when it works.’” I am indeed very far from -regarding a modest and moderate criticism as a “falling away” or a -schism; on the contrary, through it I hope to help on the flowering and -fructification of the psychoanalytic movement, and to open a path -towards the scientific treasures of psychoanalysis for those who have -hitherto been unable to possess themselves of psychoanalytic methods, -whether through lack of practical experience or through distaste of the -theoretical hypothesis. - -For the opportunity to deliver these lectures I have to thank my friend -Dr. Smith Ely Jelliffe, of New York, who kindly invited me to take part -in the “Extension Course” at Fordham University. These lectures were -given in September, 1912, in New York. - -I must here also express my best thanks to Dr. Gregory, of Bellevue -Hospital, for his ready support of my clinical demonstrations. - -For the troublesome work of translation I am greatly indebted to my -assistant, Miss M. Moltzer, and to Mrs. Edith Eder and Dr. Eder of -London. - -Only after the preparation of these lectures did Adler’s book, “Ueber -den nervösen Character,” become known to me, in the summer of 1912. I -recognize that he and I have reached similar conclusions on various -points, but here is not the place to go into a more intimate discussion -of the matter; that must take place elsewhere. - - - - - CHAPTER I - Consideration of Early Hypotheses - - -It is not an easy task to speak about psychoanalysis in these days. I am -not thinking, when I say this, of the fact that psychoanalysis in -general—it is my earnest conviction—is among the most difficult -scientific problems of the day. But even when we put this cardinal fact -aside, we find many serious difficulties which interfere with the clear -interpretation of the matter. I am not capable of giving you a complete -doctrine elaborated both from the theoretical and the empirical -standpoint. Psychoanalysis has not yet reached such a point of -development, although a great amount of labor has been expended upon it. -Neither can I give you a description of its growth ab ovo, for you -already have in your country, with its great regard for all the progress -of civilization, a considerable literature on the subject. This -literature has already spread a general knowledge of psychoanalysis -among those who have a scientific interest in it. - -You have had the opportunity of listening to Freud, the real explorer -and founder of this method, who has spoken in your own country about -this theory. As for myself, I have already had the honor of speaking -about this work in America. I have discussed the experimental foundation -of the theory of complexes and the application of psychoanalysis to -pedagogy. - -It can be easily understood that under these circumstances I fear to -repeat what has already been said, or published in many scientific -journals in this country. A further difficulty lies in the fact that in -very many quarters there are already prevailing quite extraordinary -conceptions of our theory, conceptions which are often absolutely wrong, -and unfortunately wrong just in that which touches the very essence of -psychoanalysis. At times it seems nearly impossible to grasp even the -meaning of these errors, and I am constantly astonished to find any one -with a scientific education ever arriving at ideas so divorced from all -foundations in fact. Obviously it would be of no importance to cite -examples of these curiosities, and it will be more valuable to discuss -here those questions and problems of psychoanalysis which really might -provoke misunderstanding. - - - A Change in the Theory of Psychoanalysis - - -Although it has very often been repeated, it seems to be still an -unknown fact to many people, that in these last years the theory of -psychoanalysis has changed considerably. Those, for instance, who have -only read the first book, “Studies in Hysteria,” by Breuer and Freud, -still believe that psychoanalysis essentially consists in the doctrine -that hysteria, as well as other neuroses, has its root in the so-called -“traumata,” or shocks, of earliest childhood. They continue to condemn -this theory, and have no idea that it is fifteen years since this -conception was abandoned and replaced by a totally different one. This -change is of such great importance in the whole development of -psychoanalysis, as well for its technique as for its theory, that I must -give it in some detail. That I may not weary you with the complete -recitation of cases already well known, I will only just refer to those -in Breuer and Freud’s book, which I shall assume are known to you, for -the book has been translated into English.[1] You will there have read -that case of Breuer’s, to which Freud referred in his lectures at Clark -University. You will have found that the hysterical symptom has not some -unknown organic source, but is based on certain highly emotional psychic -events, so-called injuries of the heart, traumata or shocks. I think -that now-a-days every careful observer of hysteria will acknowledge from -his own experience that, at the root of this disease, such painful -events are to be found. This truth was already known to the physicians -of former days. - - - The Traumatic Theory - - -So far as I know it was really Charcot who, probably under the influence -of Page’s theory of nervous shock, made this observation of theoretical -value. Charcot knew, by means of hypnotism, at that time not understood, -that hysterical symptoms could be called forth by suggestion as well as -made to disappear through suggestion. Charcot believed that he saw -something like this in those cases of hysteria caused by accident, cases -which became more and more frequent. The shock can be compared with -hypnosis in Charcot’s sense. The emotion provoked by the shock causes a -momentary complete paralysis of will-power, during which the remembrance -of the trauma can be fixed as an auto-suggestion. This conception gives -us the original theory of psychoanalysis. Etiological investigation had -to prove whether this mechanism, or a similar one, was also to be found -in those cases of hysteria which could not be called traumatic. This -lack of knowledge of the etiology of hysteria was supplied by the -discovery of Breuer and Freud. They proved that even in those ordinary -cases of hysteria which cannot be said to be caused by shock the same -trauma-element was to be found, and seemed to have an etiological value. -It is natural that Freud, a pupil of Charcot, was inclined to suppose -that this discovery in itself confirmed the ideas of Charcot. -Accordingly the theory elaborated out of the experience of that period, -mainly by Freud, received the imprint of a traumatic etiology. The name -of trauma-theory is therefore justified; nevertheless this theory had -also a new aspect. I am not here speaking of the truly admirable -profoundness and precision of Freud’s analysis of symptoms, but of the -relinquishing of the conception of auto-suggestion, which was the -dynamic force in the original theory, and its substitution by a detailed -exposure of the psychological and psycho-physical effects caused by the -shock. The shock, the trauma, provokes a certain excitation which, under -normal circumstances, finds a natural outlet (“abreagieren”). In -hysteria it is only to a certain extent that the excitation does find a -natural outlet; a partial retention takes place, the so-called blocking -of the affect (“Affecteinklemmung”). This amount of excitation, which -can be compared with an amount of potential energy, is transmuted by the -mechanism of conversion into “physical” symptoms. - -_The Cathartic Method._—According to this conception, therapy had to -find the means by which those retained emotions could be brought to a -mode of expression, thereby setting free from the symptoms that amount -of repressed and converted feeling. Hence this was called the cleansing, -or _cathartic method_; its aim was to discharge the blocked emotions. -From this it follows that analysis was then more or less closely -concerned with the symptoms, that is to say, the symptoms were -analyzed—the work of analysis began with the symptoms, a method -abandoned to-day. The cathartic method, and the theory on which it is -based, are, as you know, accepted by other colleagues, so far as they -are interested at all in psychoanalysis, and you will find some -appreciation and quotation of the theory, as well as of the method, in -several text-books. - - - The Traumatic Theory Criticized - - -Although, as a matter of fact, the discovery of Breuer and Freud is -certainly true, as can easily be proved by every case of hysteria, -several objections can be raised to the theory. It must be acknowledged -that their method shows with wonderful clearness the connection between -the actual symptoms and the shock, as well as the psychological -consequences which necessarily follow from the traumatic event, but -nevertheless, a doubt arises as to the etiological significance of the -so-called trauma or shock. - -It is extremely difficult for any critical observer of hysteria to admit -that a neurosis, with all its complications, can be based on events in -the past, as it were on one emotional experience long past. It is more -or less fashionable at present to consider all abnormal psychic -conditions, in so far as they are of exogenic growth, as the -consequences of hereditary degeneration, and not as essentially -influenced by the psychology of the patient and the environment. This -conception is too narrow, and not justified by the facts. To use an -analogy, we know perfectly well how to find the right middle course in -dealing with the etiology of tuberculosis. There are, of course, cases -of tuberculosis where in earliest childhood the germ of the disease -falls upon a soil predisposed by heredity, so that even in the most -favorable conditions the patient cannot escape his fate. None the less, -there are also cases where, under favorable conditions, illness can be -prevented, despite a predisposition to the disease. Nor must we forget -that there are still other cases without hereditary disposition or -individual inclination, and, in spite of this, fatal infection occurs. -All this holds equally true of the neuroses, where matters are not -essentially different in their method of procedure than they are in -general pathology. Neither a theory in which the predisposition is -all-important, nor one in which the influence of the environment is -all-important, will ever suffice. It is true the shock-theory can be -said to give predominance to the predisposition, even insisting that -some past trauma is the condition sine qua non of the neurosis. Yet -Freud’s ingenious empiricism presented even in the “Studies in Hysteria” -some views, insufficiently exploited at the time, which contained the -elements of a theory that perhaps more accentuates the value of -environment than inherited or traumatic predisposition. - - - The Conception of “Repression” - - -Freud synthesized these observations in a form that was to extend far -beyond the limits of the shock-theory. This conception is the hypothesis -of repression (“Verdrängung”). As you know, by the word “repression” is -understood the psychic mechanism of the re-transportation of a conscious -thought into the unconscious sphere. We call this sphere the -“unconscious” and define it as the psyche of which we are not conscious. -The conception of repression was derived from the numerous observations -made upon neurotic patients who seemed to have the capacity of -forgetting important events or thoughts, and this to such an extent that -one might easily believe nothing had ever happened. These observations -can be constantly made by anyone who comes into close psychological -relations with his patients. As a result of the Breuer and Freud -studies, it was found that a very special method was needed to call -again into consciousness those traumatic events long since forgotten. I -wish to call attention to this fact, since it is decidedly astonishing -for a priori we are not inclined to believe that valuable things can -ever be forgotten. For this reason several critics object that the -reminiscences which have been called into consciousness by certain -hypnotic processes are only suggested ones, and do not correspond with -reality. Even granting this, it would certainly not be justifiable to -regard this in itself as a condemnation of “repression,” since there are -and have been not a few cases where the fact of repressed reminiscences -can be proved by objective demonstration. Even if we exclude this kind -of proof, it is possible to test the phenomena by experiment. The -association-tests provide us with the necessary experiences. Here we -find the extraordinary fact that associations pertaining to complexes -saturated with emotion emerge with much greater difficulty into -consciousness, and are much more easily forgotten. - -As my experiments on this subject were never reëxamined, the conclusions -were never adopted, until just lately, when Wilhelm Peters, a disciple -of Kraepelin, proved in general my previous observation, namely, that -painful events are very rarely correctly reproduced (“die unlustbetonten -Erlebnisse werden am seltensten richtig reproduciert”). - -As you see, the conception rests upon a firm empirical basis. There is -still another side of the question worth looking at. We might ask if the -repression has its root in a conscious determination of the individual, -or do the reminiscences disappear rather passively without conscious -knowledge on the part of the patient? In Freud’s works you will find a -series of excellent proofs of the existence of a conscious tendency to -repress what is painful. Every psychoanalyst will know more than a dozen -cases showing clearly in their history one particular moment at least in -which the patient knows more or less clearly that he will not allow -himself to think of the repressed reminiscences. A patient once gave -this significant answer: “Je l’ai mis de côté” (I have put it aside). - -But, on the other hand, we must not forget that there are a number of -cases where it is impossible for us to show, even with the most careful -examination, the slightest trace of conscious repression; in these cases -it seems as if the mechanism of repression were much more in the nature -of a passive disappearance, or even as if the impressions were dragged -beneath the surface by some force operating from below. From the first -class of cases we get the impression of complete mental development, -accompanied by a kind of cowardice in regard to their own feelings; but -among the second class of cases you may find patients showing a more -serious retardation of development. The mechanism of repression seems -here to be much more an automatic one. - -This difference is closely connected with the question I mentioned -before—that is, the question of the relative importance of -predisposition and environment. The first class of cases appears to be -mainly influenced by environment and education; in the other, -predisposition seems to play the chief part. It is pretty clear where -treatment will have more effect. (As I have already said, the conception -of repression contains an element which is in intrinsic contradiction -with the shock-theory.) We find, for instance, in the case of Miss Lucy -R.,[2] described by Freud, that the essential etiological moment is not -to be found in the traumatic scenes, but in the insufficient readiness -of the patient to set store upon the convictions passing through her -mind. But if we think of the later views we find in the “Selected Papers -on Hysteria,”[3] where Freud, forced through further experience, -supposes certain traumatic sexual events in early childhood to be the -source of the neurosis, then we get the impression of an incongruity -between the conception of repression and that of shock. The conception -of “repression” contains the elements of an etiological theory of -environment, while the conception of “shock” is a theory of -predisposition. - -But at first the theory of neurosis developed along the lines of the -trauma conception. Pursuing Freud’s later investigations, we see him -coming to the conclusion that no such positive value can be ascribed to -the traumatic events of later life, as their effects could only be -conceivable if the particular predisposition of the patient were taken -into account. Evidently the enigma was to be resolved just at this -point. As the analytical work progressed, the roots of hysterical -symptoms were found in childhood; they reached back from the present far -into the past. The further end of the chain threatened to get lost in -the mists of early childhood. But it was just there that reminiscences -appeared of certain scenes where sexual activities had been manifested -in an active or passive way, and these were unmistakably connected with -the events which provoked the neurosis. (For further details of these -events you must consult the works of Freud, as well as the numerous -analyses which have already been published.) - - - The Theory of Sexual Trauma in Childhood - - -Hence arose the theory of sexual trauma in childhood which provoked -bitter opposition, not from theoretical objections against the -shock-theory in general, but against the element of sexuality in -particular. In the first place, the idea that children might be sexual, -and that sexual thoughts might play any part with them, aroused great -antagonism. In the second place, the possibility that hysteria had a -sexual basis was most unwelcome, for the sterile position that hysteria -was either a reflex neurosis of the uterus or arose from lack of sexual -satisfaction had just been given up. Naturally, therefore, the real -value of Freud’s observations was disputed. If critics had limited -themselves to that question, and had not adorned their opposition with -moral indignation, a calm discussion would have been possible. In -Germany, for instance, this method of attack made it impossible to get -any credit for Freud’s theory. As soon as the question of sexuality was -touched general resistance, as well as haughty contempt were awakened. -But in truth there was but one question at issue: were Freud’s -observations true or not? That alone could be of importance to a really -scientific mind. It is possible that these observations do not seem very -probable at first sight, but it is unjustifiable to condemn them a -priori as false. Wherever really sincere and thorough investigations -have been carried out it has been possible to corroborate his -observations. The fact of a psychological chain of consequences has been -absolutely confirmed, although Freud’s original conception, that real -traumatic scenes were always to be found, has not been. - - - Theory of Sexual Trauma Abandoned - - -Freud himself abandoned his first presentation of the shock-theory after -further and more thorough investigation. He could no longer retain his -original view as to the reality of the sexual shock. Excessive -sexuality, sexual abuse of children, or very early sexual activity in -childhood, were later on seen to be of secondary importance. You will -perhaps be inclined to share the suspicion of the critics that the -results derived from analytic researches were based on suggestion. There -might be some justification for this view if these assertions had been -published broadcast by some charlatan or ill-qualified person. But -anyone who has carefully read Freud’s works, and has himself similarly -sought to penetrate into the psychology of his patients, will know that -it is unjust to attribute to an intellect like Freud’s the crude -mistakes of a journeyman. Such suggestions only redound to the discredit -of those who make them. Ever since then patients have been examined by -every possible means from which suggestion could be absolutely excluded. -And still the associations described by Freud have been proved to be -true in principle. We are thus obliged in the first place to regard many -of these shocks of early childhood as phantoms, while other traumata -have objective reality. With this knowledge, at first somewhat -confusing, the etiological importance of the sexual trauma in childhood -declines, as it seems now quite irrelevant whether the trauma really -took place or not. Experience teaches us that phantasy can be, so to -speak, of the same traumatic value as real shock. In the face of such -facts, every physician who treats hysteria will recall cases where the -neurosis has indeed been provoked by violent traumatic impressions. This -observation is only in apparent contradiction with our knowledge, -already referred to, of the unreality of traumatic events in childhood. -We know perfectly well that many persons suffer shocks in childhood or -in adult life who nevertheless get no neurosis. Therefore the trauma -has, ceteris paribus, no absolute etiological importance, but owes its -efficacy to the nature of the soil upon which it falls. - - - The Predisposition for the Trauma - - -No neurosis will grow on an unprepared soil where no germ of neurosis is -already existing; the trauma will pass by without leaving any permanent -and effective mark. From this simple consideration it is pretty clear -that, to make it really effective, the patient must meet the shock with -a certain internal predisposition. This internal predisposition is not -to be understood as meaning that totally obscure hereditary -predisposition of which we know so little, but as a psychological -development which reaches its apogee and its manifestation at the -moment, and even through, the trauma. - -I will show you first of all by a concrete case the nature of the trauma -and its psychological predisposition. A young lady suffered from severe -hysteria after a sudden fright. She had been attending a social -gathering that evening and was on her way home at midnight, accompanied -by several acquaintances, when a carriage came behind her at full speed. -Everyone else drew aside, but she, paralyzed by fright, remained in the -middle of the street and ran just in front of the horses. The coachman -cracked his whip, cursed and swore without any result. She ran down the -whole length of the street, which led to a bridge. There her strength -failed her, and to escape the horses’ feet she thought, in her extreme -despair, of jumping into the water, but was prevented in time by -passers-by. This very same lady happened to be present a little later on -that bloody day, the 22d of January, in St. Petersburg, when a street -was cleared by soldiers’ volleys. Right and left of her she saw people -dying or falling down badly wounded. Remaining perfectly calm and -clear-minded, she caught sight of a gate that gave her escape into -another street. - -These terrible moments did not agitate her, either at the time, or later -on. Whence it must follow that the intensity of the trauma is of small -pathogenic importance: the special conditions form the essential -factors. Here, then, we have the key by which we are able to unlock at -least one of the anterooms to the understanding of predisposition. We -must next ask what were the special circumstances in this -carriage-scene. The terror and apprehension began as soon as the lady -heard the horses’ foot-steps. It seemed to her for a moment as if these -betokened some terrible fate, portending her death or something -dreadful. Then she lost consciousness. The real causation is somehow -connected with the horses. The predisposition of the patient, who acts -thus wildly at such a commonplace occurence, could perhaps be found in -the fact that horses had a special significance for her. It might -suffice, for instance, if she had been once concerned in some dangerous -accident with horses. This assumption does hold good here. When she was -seven years old, she was once out on a carriage-drive with the coachman; -the horses shied and approached the steep river-bank at full speed. The -coachman jumped off his seat, and shouted to her to do the same, which -she was barely able to do, as she was frightened to death. Still, she -sprang down at the right moment, whilst the horses and carriage were -dashed down below. - -It is unnecessary to prove that such an event must leave a lasting -impression behind. But still it does not offer any explanation for the -exaggerated reaction to an inadequate stimulus. Up till now we only know -that this later symptom had its prologue in childhood, but the -pathological side remains obscure. To solve this enigma we require other -experiences. The amnesia which I will set forth fully later on shows -clearly the disproportion between the so-called shock and the part -played by phantasy. In this case phantasy must predominate to an -extraordinary extent to provoke such an effect. The shock in itself was -too insignificant. We are at first inclined to explain this incident by -the shock that took place in childhood, but it seems to me with little -success. It is difficult to understand why the effect of this infantile -trauma had remained latent so long, and why it only now came to the -surface. The patient must surely have had opportunities enough during -her lifetime of getting out of the way of a carriage going full speed. -The reminiscence of the danger to her life seems to be quite -insufficiently effective: the real danger in which she was at that one -moment in St. Petersburg did not produce the slightest trace of -neurosis, despite her being predisposed by an impressive event in her -childhood. The whole of this traumatic event still lacks explanation; -from the point of view of the shock-theory we are hopelessly in the -dark. - -You must excuse me if I return so persistently to the shock-theory. I -consider this necessary, as now-a-days many people, even those who -regard us seriously, still keep to this standpoint. Thus the opponents -to psychoanalysis and those who never read psychoanalytic articles, or -do so quite superficially, get the impression that in psychoanalysis the -old shock-theory is still in force. - -The question arises: what are we to understand by this predisposition, -through which an insignificant event produces such a pathological -effect? This is the question of chief significance, and we shall find -that the same question plays an important rôle in the theory of -neurosis, for we have to understand why apparently irrelevant events of -the past are still producing such effects that they are able to -interfere in an impish and capricious way with the normal reactions of -actual life. - - - The Sexual Element in the Trauma - - -The early school of psychoanalysis, and its later disciples, did all -they could to find the origin of later effects in the special kind of -early traumatic events. Freud’s research penetrated most deeply. He was -the first, and it was he alone, who discovered that a certain sexual -element was connected with the shock. It is just this sexual element -which, speaking generally, we may consider as unconscious, and it is to -this that the traumatic effect is generally due. The unconsciousness of -sexuality in childhood seems to throw a light upon the problem of the -persistent constellation of the primary traumatic event. The true -emotional meaning of the accident was all along hidden from the patient, -so that in consciousness this emotion was never brought into play, the -emotion never wore itself out, it was never used up. We might perhaps -explain the effect in the following way: this persistent constellation -was a kind of “suggestion à échéance,” for it is unconscious and the -action occurs only at the stipulated moment. - -It is hardly necessary to give detailed examples to prove that the true -nature of sexual manifestations during infancy is not understood. -Physicians know, for instance, how often a manifest masturbation -persisting up to adult life, especially in women, is not understood as -such. It is, therefore, easy to realize that to a child the true nature -of certain actions would be far less conscious. And that is the reason -why the real meaning of these events, even in adult life, is still -hidden from our consciousness. In some cases, even, the traumatic events -are themselves forgotten, either because their sexual meaning is quite -unknown to the patient, or because their sexual character is -inacceptable, being too painful. It is what we call “repressed.” - -As we have already mentioned, Freud’s observation, that the admixture of -a sexual element with the shock is essential for any pathological -effect, leads on to the theory of the _infantile sexual trauma_. - -This hypothesis may be thus expressed: the pathogenic event is a sexual -one. This conception forced its way with difficulty. The general opinion -that children have no sexuality in early life made such an etiology -inadmissible, and at first prevented its acceptance. - - - The Infantile Sexual Phantasy - - -The change in the shock-theory already referred to, namely, that in -general the shock is not even real, but is essentially a phantasy, did -not make things better. On the contrary, still worse, since we are -forced to the conclusion that we find in the infantile phantasy at least -one positive sexual manifestation. It is no longer some brutal -accidental impression from the outside, but a positive sexual -manifestation created by the child itself, and this very often with -unmistakable clearness. Even real traumatic events of an outspoken -sexual type do not always happen to a child quite _without its -coöperation_, but are not infrequently apparently _prepared and brought -about by the child itself_. Abraham stated this, proving his statement -with evidence of the greatest interest, and this, in connection with -many other experiences of the same kind, makes it very probable that -even really sexual scenes are frequently called forth and supported by -the peculiar psychological state of the child’s mind. Perfectly -independently from psychoanalytic investigation, medical criminology has -discovered striking parallels to this psychoanalytic statement. - -Footnote 1: - - “Selected Papers on Hysteria and Other Psychoneuroses,” by Prof. - Sigmund Freud. Nervous and Mental Disease Monograph Series, No. 4. - -Footnote 2: - - Monograph No. 4, p. 14. - -Footnote 3: - - _Ibid._ - - - - - CHAPTER II - The Infantile Sexuality - - -The precocious manifestations of sexual phantasy as cause of the shock -now seemed to be the source of neurosis. This, logically, attributed to -children a far more developed sexuality than had been hitherto admitted. -Many cases of precocious sexuality had been recorded in literature long -before the time of psychoanalysis. For instance, a girl of two years old -with normal menstruation, or cases of boys of three and four and five -years of age having normal erections, and so far ready for cohabitation. -These were, however, curiosities. Great astonishment was caused when -Freud began to attribute to the child, not only ordinary sexuality, but -even polymorphic perverse sexuality; all this based upon the most -exhaustive investigation. People inclined much too lightly to the -superficial view, that all this was merely suggested to the patients, -and was a highly disputable artificial product. Hence Freud’s[4] “Three -Contributions to the Sexual Theory” not only provoked opposition, but -even violent indignation. It is surely unnecessary to insist upon the -fact that science is not furthered by indignation, and that arguments of -moral resentment may perhaps please the moralist—that is his -business—but not a scientific man, for whom truth must be the guide, and -not moral indignation. If matters are really as Freud describes them, -all indignation is absurd; if they are not so, again indignation will -avail nothing. The conclusion as to what is the truth can only be -arrived at on the field of observation and research, and nowhere else. -The opponents of psychoanalysis with certain honorable exceptions, -display rather ludicrously a somewhat pitifully inadequate realization -of the situation. Although the psychoanalytic school could unfortunately -learn nothing from their critics, as the criticism took no notice of its -investigations, and although it could not get any useful hints, because -the psychoanalytic method of investigation was, and still is unknown to -these critics, it remains a serious duty for our school to explain -thoroughly the contrast between the existing conceptions. It is not our -endeavor to put forward a paradoxical theory contradicting all existing -theories, but rather to introduce a certain category of new observations -into science. Therefore we regard it as a duty to do whatever we can to -promote agreement. It is true, we must renounce all hope of obtaining -the approval of those who blindly oppose us, but we do hope to come to -an understanding with scientific men. This will be my endeavor now in -attempting to sketch the further intellectual development of the -psychoanalytic conception, so far as the so-called sexual theory of the -neuroses is concerned. - - - Objections to the Sexual Hypothesis - - -As I said, the finding of precocious sexual phantasies, which seemed the -source of the neurosis, forced Freud to the view of a highly developed -sexuality in infancy. As you know, the reality of this observation has -been contested by many, who maintain that crude error, that -narrow-minded delusion, misled Freud and his whole school, alike in -Europe and in America, so that the Freudians saw things that never -existed. They regarded them as people in the grip of an intellectual -epidemic. I have to admit that I possess no way of defending myself -against criticism of this kind. The only thing I can do is to refer to -my own work, asking thoughtful persons if they discover there any clear -indications of madness. Moreover, I must maintain that science has no -right to start with the idea that certain facts do not exist. At the -most one can say: “This seems very improbable—we want still more proofs -and more research.” This is also our reply to the objection: “It is -impossible to discover anything trustworthy by the psychoanalytic -method, as this method is practically absurd.” No one believed in -Galileo’s telescope, and Columbus discovered America on a false -hypothesis. The psychoanalytic method may be full of errors, but this -should not prevent its use. Many chronological and medical observations -have been made with inadequate instruments. We must regard the -objections to the method as pretexts until our opponents come to grip -with the facts. It is there a decision must be reached—not by wordy -warfare. - -Our opponents also call hysteria a psychogenic disease. We believe that -we have discovered the etiological determinants of this disease and we -present, without fear, the results of our investigation to open -criticism. Whoever cannot accept our results should publish his own -analyses of cases. So far as I know, that has never been done, at least -not in European literature. Under these circumstances, critics have no -right to deny our conclusions a priori. Our opponents have likewise -cases of hysteria, and those cases are surely as psychogenic as our own. -There is nothing to prevent their pointing out the psychological -determinants. The method is not the real question. Our opponents content -themselves with disputing and reviling our researches, but they do not -point out any better way. - -Many other critics are more careful and more just, and do admit that we -have made many valuable observations, and that the associations of ideas -given by the psychoanalytic method will very probably stand, but they -maintain that our point of view is wrong. The alleged sexual phantasies -of childhood, with which we are here chiefly concerned, must not be -taken, they say, as real sexual functions, being obviously something -quite different, since at the approach of puberty the characteristic -peculiarities of sexuality are acquired. - -This objection, being calmly and reasonably made, deserves to be taken -seriously. Such objections must also have occurred to every one who has -taken up analytic work, and there is reason enough for deep reflection. - - - The Conception of Sexuality - - -The first difficulty arises with the conception of sexuality. If we -take sexuality as meaning the fully-developed function, we must -confine this phenomenon to maturity, and then, of course, we have no -right to speak of sexuality in childhood. If we so limit our -conception, then we are confronted again with new and much greater -difficulties. The question arises, how then must we denominate all -those correlated biological phenomena pertaining to the sexual -functions sensu strictiori, as, for instance, pregnancy, childbirth, -natural selection, protection of the offspring, etc. It seems to me -that all this belongs to the conception of sexuality as well, although -a very distinguished colleague did once say, “Childbirth is not a -sexual act.” But if these things do pertain to this concept of -sexuality, then there must also belong innumerable psychological -phenomena. For we know that an incredible number of the pure -psychological functions are connected with this sphere. I shall only -mention the extraordinary importance of phantasy in the preparation -for the sexual function. Thus we arrive rather at a biological -conception of sexuality, which includes both a series of psychological -phenomena as well as a series of physiological functions. If we might -be allowed to make use of an old but practical classification, we -might identify sexuality with the so-called instinct of the -preservation of the species, as opposed in some way to the instinct of -self-preservation. - -Looking at sexuality from this point of view, we shall not be astonished -to find that the root of the instinct of race-preservation, so -extraordinarily important in nature, goes much deeper than the limited -conception of sexuality would ever allow. Only the more or less grown-up -cat actually catches mice, but the kitten plays at least as if it were -catching mice. The young dog’s playful indications of attempts at -cohabitation begin long before puberty. We have a right to suppose that -mankind is no exception to this rule, although we do not notice similar -things on the surface in our well brought-up children. Investigation of -the children of the lower classes proves that they are no exceptions to -the biological rule. It is of course infinitely more probable that this -most important instinct, that of the preservation of the race, is -already nascent in the earliest childhood, than that it falls at one -swoop from heaven, full-fledged, at the age of puberty. The sexual -organs also develop long before the slightest sign of their future -function can be noticed. Where the psychoanalytic school speaks of -sexuality, this wider conception of its function must be linked to it, -and we do not mean simply that physical sensation and function generally -designated by the term sexual. It might be said that, in order to avoid -any misunderstanding on this point, the term sexuality should not be -given to these preparatory phenomena in childhood. This demand is surely -not justified, since the anatomical nomenclature is taken from the -fully-developed system, and special names are not generally given to -more or less rudimentary formations. - -After all, the objections to the terminology do not spring so much from -objective arguments, as from those tendencies which lie at the base of -moral indignation. But then no objection can be made to the -sex-terminology of Freud, as he rightly gives to the whole sexual -development the general name of sexuality. But certain conclusions have -been drawn which, so far as I can see, cannot be maintained. - - - The “Sexuality” of the Suckling - - -When we examine how far back in childhood the first traces of sexuality -reach, we have to admit implicitly that sexuality already exists ab ovo, -but only becomes manifest a long time after intrauterine life. Freud is -inclined to see in the function of taking the mother’s breast already a -kind of sexuality. Freud was bitterly reproached for this view, but it -must be admitted that it is very ingenious, if we follow his hypothesis, -that the instinct of the preservation of the race has existed separately -from the instinct of self-preservation ab ovo and has undergone a -separate development. This way of thinking is not, however, a biological -one. It is not possible to separate the two ways of manifestation of the -hypothetical vital process, and to credit each with a different order of -development. If we limit ourselves to judging by what we can actually -observe, we must reckon with the fact that everywhere in nature we see -that the vital processes in an individual consist for a considerable -space of time in the functions of nutrition and growth only. We see this -very clearly in many animals; for instance, in butterflies, which as -caterpillars pass an asexual existence of nutrition and growth. To this -stage of life we may allot both the intrauterine life and the -extrauterine time of suckling in man. This time is marked by the absence -of all sexual function; hence to speak of manifest sexuality in the -suckling would be a contradictio in adjecto. - -The most we can do is to ask if, among the life-functions of the -suckling, there are any that have not the character of nutrition, or of -growth, and hence could be termed sexual. Freud points out the -unmistakable emotion and satisfaction of the child while suckling, and -compares this process with that of the sexual act. This similarity leads -him to assume the sexual quality in the act of suckling. This conclusion -is only admissible if it can be proved that the tension of the need, and -its gratification by a release, is a sexual process. That the act of -suckling has this emotional mechanism proves, however, just the -contrary. Therefore we can only say this emotional mechanism is found -both in nutrition and in the sexual function. If Freud by analogy -deduces the sexual quality of sucking from this emotional mechanism, -then his biological empiricism would also justify the terminology -qualifying the sexual act as a function of nutrition. This is -unjustifiably exceeding the bounds in either case. It is evident that -the act of sucking cannot be qualified as sexual. - -We are aware, however, of functions in the suckling stage which have -apparently nothing to do with the function of nutrition, such as sucking -the finger, and its many variations. This is perhaps the place to -discuss whether these things belong to the sexual sphere. These acts do -not subserve nutrition, but produce pleasure. Of that there is no doubt, -but nevertheless it is disputable whether this pleasure which comes by -sucking should be called by analogy a sexual satisfaction. It might be -called equally pleasure by nutrition. This latter qualification has even -the further justification that the form and kind of pleasure belong -entirely to the function of nutrition. The hand which is used for -sucking finds in this way preparation for future use in feeding one’s -self. Under these circumstances nobody will be inclined by a petitio -principii to characterize the first manifestation of human life as -sexual. The statement which we make that the act of sucking is attended -by a feeling of satisfaction leaves us in doubt whether the sucking does -contain anything else but the character of nutrition. We notice that the -so-called bad habits shown by a child as it grows up are closely linked -with early infantile sucking, such for instance as putting the finger in -the mouth, biting the nails, picking the nose, ears, etc. We see, too, -how closely these habits are connected with later masturbation. By -analogy, the conclusion that these infantile habits are the first step -to onanism, or to actions similar to onanism, and are therefore of a -well-marked sexual character cannot be denied: it is perfectly -justified. I have seen many cases in which a correlation existed between -these childish habits and later masturbation. If this masturbation takes -place in later childhood, before puberty, it is nothing but an infantile -bad habit. From the fact of the correlation between masturbation and the -other childish bad habits, we conclude that these habits have a sexual -character, in so far as they are used to obtain physical satisfaction -from the child’s own body. - -This new standpoint is comprehensible and perhaps necessary. It is only -a few steps from this point of view to regarding the infant’s act of -sucking as of a sexual character. As you know, Freud took the few steps, -but you have just heard me reject them. We have come to a difficulty -which is very hard to solve. It would be relatively easy if we could -accept two instincts side by side, each an entity in itself. Then the -act of sucking the breast would be both an action of nutrition and a -sexual act. This seems to be Freud’s conception. We find in adults the -two instincts separated, yet existing side by side, or rather we find -that there are two manifestations, in hunger, and in the sexual -instinct. But at the sucking age, we find only the function of -nutrition, rewarded by both pleasure and satisfaction. Its sexual -character can only be argued by a petitio principii, for the facts show -that the act of sucking is the first to give pleasure, not the sexual -function. Obtaining pleasure is by no means identical with sexuality. We -deceive ourselves if we think that in the suckling both instincts exist -side by side, for then we project into the psyche of the child the facts -taken from the psychology of adults. The existence of the two instincts -side by side does not occur in suckling, for one of these instincts has -no existence as yet, or, if existing, is quite rudimentary. If we are to -regard the striving for pleasure as something sexual, we might as well -say paradoxically that hunger is a sexual striving, for this instinct -seeks pleasure by satisfaction. If this were true, we should have to -give our opponents permission to apply the terminology of hunger to -sexuality. It would facilitate matters, were it possible to maintain -that both instincts existed side by side, but it contradicts the -observed facts and would lead to untenable consequences. - -Before I try to resolve this opposition, I must first say something more -about Freud’s sexual theory, and its transformations. - - - The Polymorphic Perverse Sexuality of Infancy - - -We have already reached the conclusion, setting out from the idea of the -shock being apparently due to sexual phantasies, that the child must -have, in contradiction to the views hitherto prevailing, a nearly fully -formed sexuality, and even a _polymorphic perverse sexuality_. Its -sexuality does not seem concentrated on the genital functions or on the -other sex, but is occupied with its own body; whence it is said to be -auto-erotic. If its sexual instinct is directed to another person, no -distinction, or but the very slightest, is made as to sex. It can, -therefore, be very easily homo-sexual. In place of non-existing local -sexual function there exists a series of so-called bad habits, which -from this standpoint look like a series of perversities, since they have -the closest analogy with the later perversities. In consequence of this -way of regarding the subject, sexuality, whose nature is ordinarily -regarded as a unit, becomes decomposed into a multiplicity of isolated -striving forces. Freud then arrived at the conception of the so-called -“erogenous zones,” by which he understood mouth, skin, anus, etc. (It -is, of course, a universal tacit presumption that sexuality has its -origin in the sexual organs.) - -The term “erogenous zone” reminds us of “spasmo-genic zones,” and the -underlying image is at all events the same; just as the spasmo-genic -zone is the place whence the spasm arises, so the erogenous zone is the -place whence arises an affluent to sexuality. Based upon the model of -the genital organs as the anatomical origin of sexuality, the erogenous -zones must be conceived as being so many genitals out of which the -streams of sexuality flow together. This is the condition of the -_polymorphic perverse sexuality of childhood_. The expression “perverse” -seems to be justified by the close analogy with the later perversities -which present, so to speak, but a new edition of certain early infantile -perverse habits. They are very often connected with one or other of the -different erogenous zones, and are the cause of those exchanges in sex, -which are so characteristic for childhood. - -According to this view, the later normal and monomorphic sexuality is -built up out of several components. The first division is into homo- and -hetero-sexual components, to which is linked an auto-erotic component, -as also there are components of the different erogenous zones. This -conception can be compared with the position of physics before Robert -Mayer, when only isolated forces, having elementary qualities, were -recognized, whose interchanges were little understood. The law of the -conservation of energy brought order into the inter-relationship of the -forces, at the same time abolishing the conception of those forces as -absolute elements, but regarding them as interchangeable manifestations -of one and the same energy. - - - The Sexual Components as Energic Manifestations - - -Conceptions of great importance do not arise only in one brain, but are -floating in the air and dip here and there, appearing even under other -forms, and in other regions, where it is often very difficult to -recognize the common fundamental idea. Thus it happened with the -splitting up of sexuality into the polymorphic perverse sexuality of -childhood. - -Experience forces us to accept a constant exchange of isolated -components as we notice more and more that, for instance, perversities -exist at the expense of normal sexuality, or that the increase of -certain kinds of sex-manifestations causes corresponding deficiencies of -another kind. To make the matter clearer, let me give you an instance: A -young man had a homo-sexual phase lasting for some years, during which -time women had no interest for him. This abnormal condition changed -gradually toward his twentieth year and his erotic interest became more -and more normal. He began to take great interest in girls, and soon the -last traces of his homo-sexuality were conquered. This condition lasted -several years, and he had some successful love-affairs. Then he wished -to get married; he had here to suffer a great disappointment, as the -girl to whom he proposed refused him. During the ensuing phase he -absolutely abandoned the idea of marriage. After that he experienced a -dislike of all women, and one day he discovered that he was again -perfectly homo-sexual, that is, young men had an unusually irritating -influence upon him. To regard sexuality as composed of a fixed -hetero-sexual component, and a like homo-sexual element, will never -suffice to explain this case, for the conception of the existence of -fixed components excludes any kind of transformation. - -To understand the case, we have to admit a great mobility of the sexual -components, which even goes so far that one of the components can -practically disappear completely, whilst the other comes to the front. -If only substitution took place, if for instance the homo-sexual -component entered the unconscious, leaving the field of consciousness to -the hetero-sexual component, modern scientific knowledge would lead us -to conclude that equivalent effects arose from the unconscious sphere. -Those effects would have to be conceived as resistances against the -activity of the hetero-sexual component, as a repugnance towards women. - -Experience tells us nothing about this. There have been some small -traces of influences of this kind, but of such slight intensity that -they cannot be compared with the intensity of the former homo-sexual -component. On the conception that has been outlined, it is also -incomprehensible how this homo-sexual component, regarded as so firmly -fixed, can ever disappear without leaving active traces. To explain -things, the process of development is called in, forgetting that this is -only a word and explains nothing. You see, therefore, the urgent -necessity of an adequate explanation of such a change of scene. For this -we must have a dynamic hypothesis. Such commutations are only -conceivable as dynamic or energic processes. I cannot conceive how -manifestations of functions can disappear if I do not accept a change in -the relation of one force to another. Freud’s theory did have regard to -this necessity in the conception of components. The presumption of -isolated functions existing side by side began to be somewhat weakened, -more in practice than theoretically. It was replaced by an energic -conception. The term chosen for this conception is “libido.” - -Footnote 4: - - No. 7 of this Monograph Series. - - - - - CHAPTER III - The Conception of Libido - - -Freud had already introduced the idea of libido in his[5] “Three -Contributions to the Sexual Theory” in the following words: - -“In biology, the fact that both mankind and animals have a sexual want -is expressed by the conception of the sexual desire. This is done by -analogy with the want of nourishment, so-called hunger. Popular speech -has no corresponding characterization for the word ‘hunger,’ and so -science uses the word ‘libido.’” - -In Freud’s definition, the term “libido” appears as exclusively a sexual -desire. “Libido” as a medical term is certainly used for sexual desire, -and especially for sexual lust. But the classical definition of this -word as found in Cicero, Sallust, and others, was not so exclusive. The -word is there used in a more general sense for every passionate desire. -I only just mention this definition here, as further on it plays an -important part in our considerations, and as it is important to know -that the term “libido” has really a much wider meaning than is -associated with it through medical language. - -The idea of libido (while maintaining its sexual meaning in the author’s -sense as long as possible) offers us the dynamic value which we are -seeking in order to explain the shifting of the psychological scenery. -With this conception it is much simpler to formulate the phenomena in -question, instead of by the incomprehensible substitution of the homo- -by the hetero-sexual component. We may say now that the libido has -gradually withdrawn from its homo-sexual manifestation and is -transferred in the same measure into a hetero-sexual manifestation. Thus -the homo-sexual component practically disappears. It remains only an -empty possibility, signifying nothing in itself. Its very existence, -therefore, is rightly denied by the laity, just as we doubt the -possibility that any man selected at random would turn out to be a -murderer. By the use of this conception of libido many relations between -the isolated sexual functions are now easily explicable. - -The early idea of the multiplicity of sexual components must be given -up: it savors too much of the ancient philosophical notion of the -faculties of the mind. Its place is taken by libido which is capable of -manifold applications. The earlier components only represent -possibilities of activities. With this conception of libido, the -original idea of a divided sexuality with different roots is replaced by -a dynamic unity, without which the formerly important components remain -but empty possibilities of activities. This development in our -conception is of great importance. We have here the same process which -Robert Mayer introduced into dynamics. Just as the conception of the -conservation of energy removed their character as elements from the -forces, imparting to them the character of a manifestation of energy, so -the libido theory similarly removes from the sexual components the idea -of the mental “faculties” as elements (“Seelen Vermögen”), and ascribes -to them merely phenomenal value. This conception represents the -impression of reality far more than the theory of components. With a -libido-theory we can easily explain the case of the young man. The -disappointment he met with, just at the time he had definitely decided -on a hetero-sexual life, drove his libido again from the hetero-sexual -manifestation into a homo-sexual form, thus calling forth his entire -homo-sexuality. - - - The Energic Theory of Libido - - -I must point out here that the analogy with the law of the conservation -of energy is very close. In both cases the question arises when an -effect of energy disappears, where is this energy meanwhile, and where -will it reemerge? Applying this point of view as a heuristic principle -to the psychology of human conduct, we shall make some astonishing -discoveries. Then we shall see how the most heterogeneous phases of -individual psychological development are connected in an energic -relationship. Every time we see a person who is splenetic or has a -morbid conviction, or some exaggerated mental attitude, we know here is -too much libido, and the excess must have been taken away from somewhere -else where there is too little. From this standpoint, psychoanalysis is -that method which discovers those places or functions where there is too -little or too much libido, and restores the just proportions. Thus the -symptoms of a neurosis must be considered as exaggerated and -correspondingly disturbed functional manifestations overflowing with -libido. The energy which has been used for this purpose has been taken -away from somewhere else, and it is the task of the psychoanalyst, to -restore it whence it was taken, or to bestow it where it was never -before given. Those complexes of symptoms which are mainly characterized -by lack of libido, for instance, the so-called apathetic conditions, -force us to reverse the question. Here we have to ask, where did the -libido go? The patient gives us the impression of having no libido, and -there are occasionally physicians who believe exactly what the patients -tell them. Such physicians have a primitive way of thinking, like the -savage who believes, when he sees an eclipse of the sun, that the sun -has been swallowed up and put to death. But the sun is only hidden, and -so it is with these patients. Although the libido is there, it is not -get-at-able, and is inaccessible to the patient himself. Superficially, -we have here a lack of libido. It is the task of psychoanalysis to -search for that hidden place where the libido dwells, and where it is as -a rule inaccessible to the patient. The hidden place is the -non-conscious, which may also be called the unconscious, without -ascribing to it any mysterious significance. - - - The Conception of Unconscious Phantasy - - -Psychoanalytic experience has taught us that there are non-conscious -systems which, by analogy with conscious phantasies, can be described as -phantasy-systems of the unconscious. In cases of neurotic apathy these -phantasy systems of the unconscious are the objects of the libido. We -know well that, when we speak of unconscious phantasy systems, we only -speak figuratively. We do not mean more by this than that we accept as -an indispensable postulate the conception of psychic entities existing -outside consciousness. Experience teaches us, we might say daily, that -there are unconscious psychic processes which influence the disposition -of the libido in a perceptible way. Those cases, known to every -psychiatrist in which complicated symptoms of delusions emerge with -relative great suddenness, show clearly that there must be unconscious -psychic development and preparation, for we cannot regard them as having -been just suddenly formed when they entered consciousness. - - - The Sexual Terminology - - -I feel myself justified in making this digression concerning the -unconscious. I have done it to point out that, with regard to shifting -of the manifestations of the libido, we have to deal not only with the -conscious, but also with another factor, the unconscious, whither the -libido sometimes disappears. We have not yet followed up the discussion -of the further consequences which result from the adoption of the -libido-theory. - -Freud has taught us, and we see it in the daily practice of -psychoanalysis, that in earlier childhood, instead of the normal later -sexuality, we find many tendencies which in later life are called -perversions. We have to admit that Freud has the right to give to these -tendencies a sexual terminology. Through the introduction of the -conception of the libido, we see that in adults those elementary -components which seemed to be the origin and the source of normal -sexuality, lose their importance, and are reduced to mere -potentialities. The effective power, their life force, is to be found in -the libido. Without libido these components mean nothing. We saw that -Freud gives to the conception of libido an undoubted sexual definition, -somewhat in the sense of sexual desire. The general view is, that libido -in this sense only comes into being at the age of puberty. How are we -then to explain the fact that in Freud’s view a child has a -polymorphic-perverse sexuality, and that therefore, in children, the -libido brings into action not only one, but several possibilities? If -the libido, in Freud’s sense, begins its existence at puberty, it could -not be held accountable for earlier infantile perversions. In that case, -we should have to regard these infantile perversions as “faculties of -the mind,” in the sense of the theory of components. Apart from the -hopeless theoretical confusion which would thus arise, we must not -multiply explanatory principles in accordance with the philosophical -axiom: “principia praeter necessitatem non sunt multiplicanda.” - -There is no other way but to agree that before and after puberty it is -the same libido. Hence, the perversities of childhood have arisen -exactly in the same way as those of adults. Common sense will object to -this, as obviously the sexual needs of children cannot possibly be the -same as those of adults. We might admit, with Freud, that the libido -before and after puberty is the same, but is different in its intensity. -Instead of the intense post-pubertal sexual desire, there would be first -a slight sexual desire in childhood, with diminishing intensity until, -as we reach back to the first year, it is but a trace. We might admit -that we are biologically in agreement with this formulation. It would -then have to be also agreed that everything that falls into the region -of this enlarged conception of sexuality is already pre-existing but in -miniature; for instance, all those emotional manifestations of -psycho-sexuality: desire for affection, jealousy, and many others, and -by no means least, the neuroses of childhood. - -It must, however, be admitted that these emotional manifestations of -childhood by no means make the impression of being in miniature; their -intensity can rival that of an affect among adults. Nor must it be -forgotten that experience has shown that perverse manifestations of -sexuality in childhood are often more glaring, and indeed seem to have a -greater development, than in adults. If an adult under similar -conditions had this apparently excessive form of sexuality, which is -practically normal in children, we could rightly expect a total absence -of normal sexuality, and of many other important biological adaptations. -An adult is rightly called perverse when his libido is not used for -normal functions, and the same could be said of a child: it is -polymorphous perverse since it does not know normal sexual functions. - -These considerations suggest the idea that perhaps the amount of libido -is always the same, and that no increase first occur at puberty. This -somewhat audacious conception accords with the example of the law of the -conservation of energy, according to which the quantity of energy -remains always the same. It is possible that the summit of maturity is -reached when the infantile diffuse applications of libido discharge -themselves into the one channel of definite sexuality, and thus lose -themselves therein. For the moment we must content ourselves with these -suggestions, for we must next pay attention to one point of criticism -concerning the quality of the infantile libido. - -Many critics do not admit that the infantile libido is simply less -intense or is essentially of the same kind as the libido of adults. The -emotions among adults are correlated with the genital functions. This is -not the case in children, or it is only so in miniature, or -exceptionally, and this gives rise to an important distinction, which -must not be undervalued. - -I believe such an objection is justified. There is really a considerable -difference between immature and fully developed functions, as there is a -difference between play and reality, between shooting with blank and -with loaded cartridges. That the childish libido has the harmlessness -demanded by common sense cannot be contested. But of course none can -deny that blank shooting is shooting. We must get accustomed to the idea -that sexuality really exists, even before puberty, right back in early -childhood, and that we have no right to pretend that manifestations of -this immature sexuality are not sexual. This does not indeed refute the -objection, which, while recognizing the existence of infantile sexuality -in the form already described, yet denies Freud’s claim to regard as -sexual early infantile manifestations such as sucking. We have mentioned -already the motives which induced Freud to enlarge the sexual -terminology in such a way. We mentioned, too, how this very act of -sucking, for instance, could be conceived from the standpoint of -pleasure in the function of nutrition, and that, on biological grounds, -there was more justification for this derivation than for Freud’s view. -It might be objected that these and similar activities of the oral zones -are found in later life in an undoubted sexual use. This only means that -these activities can in later life be used for sexual purposes, but that -does not tell us anything concerning the primitive sexual nature of -these forms. I must, therefore, admit that I find no ground for -regarding the activities of the suckling, which provoke pleasure and -satisfaction, from the standpoint of sexuality. Indeed there are many -objections against this conception. It seems to me, in so far as I am -capable of judging these difficult problems, that from the standpoint of -sexuality it is necessary to divide human life into three phases. - - - The Three Phases of Life - - -The first phase embraces the first years of life. I call this part of -life the pre-sexual stage. These years correspond to the -caterpillar-stage of butterflies, and are characterized almost -exclusively by the functions of nutrition and growth. - -The second phase embraces the later years of childhood up to puberty, -and might be called the pre-pubertal stage. - -The third phase is that of riper years, proceeding only from puberty -onwards, and could be called the time of maturity. - -You cannot have failed to notice that we become conscious of the -greatest difficulty when we arrive at the question at what age we must -put the limit of the pre-sexual stage. I am ready to confess my -uncertainty with regard to this problem. If I survey the -psychoanalytical experiences with children, as yet insufficiently -numerous, at the same time keeping in mind the observations made by -Freud, it seems to me that the limit of this phase lies between the -third and fifth years. This, of course, with due consideration for the -greatest individual diversities. From various aspects this is an -important age. The child has emancipated itself already from the -helplessness of the baby, and a series of important psychological -functions have acquired a firm hold. From this period on, the obscurity -of the early infantile “amnesia,” or the _discontinuity of the early -infantile consciousness_, begins to clear up through the _sporadic -continuity of memory_. It seems as if, at this age, a considerable step -had been made towards emancipation and the formation of a new and -independent personality. As far as we know, the first signs of interest -and activity which may fairly be called sexual fall into this period, -although these sexual indications have still the infantile -characteristics of harmlessness and naiveté. I think I have sufficiently -demonstrated why a sexual terminology cannot be given to the pre-sexual -stage, and so we may now consider the other problems from the standpoint -we have just reached. You will remember that we dropped the problem of -the libido in childhood, because it seemed impossible to arrive at any -clearness in that way. But now we are obliged to take up the question -again, if only to see whether the energic conception harmonizes with the -principles just advanced. We saw, following Freud’s conception, that the -altered manifestations of the infantile sexuality, if compared with -those of maturity, are to be explained by the diminution of sexuality in -childhood. - - - The Sexual Definition of Libido Must be Abandoned - - -The intensity of the libido is said to be diminished relatively to the -early age. But we advanced just now several considerations to show why -it seems doubtful if we can regard the vital functions of a child, -sexuality excepted, as of less intensity than those of adults. We can -really say that, sexuality excepted, the emotional phenomena, and, if -nervous symptoms are present, then these likewise are quite as intense -as those of adults. On the energic conception of the libido all these -things are but manifestations of the libido. But it becomes rather -difficult to conceive that the intensity of the libido can ever -constitute the difference between a mature and an immature sexuality. -The explanation of this difference seems rather to postulate a change in -the localization of the libido (if the expression be allowed). In -contradistinction to the medical definition the libido in children is -occupied far more with certain side-functions of a mental and -physiological nature than with local sexual functions. One is here -already tempted to remove from the term libido the predicate “sexualis,” -and thus to have done with the sexual definition of the term given in -Freud’s “Three Contributions.” This necessity becomes imperative, when -we put it in the form of a question: The child in the first years of its -life is intensely living—suffering and enjoying—the question is, whether -his striving, his suffering, his enjoyment are by reason of his libido -sexualis? Freud has pronounced himself in favor of this supposition. -There is no need to repeat the reasons through which I am compelled to -accept the pre-sexual stage. The larva stage possesses a libido of -nutrition, if I may so express it, but not yet the libido sexualis. It -is thus we must put it, if we wish to keep the energic conception which -the libido theory offers us. I think there is nothing for it but to -abandon the sexual definition of libido, or we shall lose what there is -valuable in the libido theory, that is, the energic conception. For a -long time past the desire to extend the meaning of libido, and to remove -it from its narrow and sexual limitations, has forced itself upon -Freud’s school. One was never weary of insisting that sexuality in the -psychological sense was not to be taken too literally, but in a broader -connotation; but exactly how, that remained obscure, and thus too, -sincere criticism remained unsatisfied. - -I do not think I am going astray if I see the real value of the libido -theory in the energic conception, and not in its sexual definition. -Thanks to the former, we are in possession of a most valuable heuristic -principle. We owe to the energic conception the possibility of dynamic -ideas and relationships, which are of inestimable value for us in the -chaos of the psychic world. The Freudians would be wrong not to listen -to the voice of criticism, which reproaches our conception of libido -with mysticism and inaccessibility. We deceived ourselves in believing -that we could ever make the libido sexualis the bearer of the energic -conception of the psychical life, and if many of Freud’s school still -believe they possess a well-defined and almost complete conception of -libido, they are not aware that this conception has been put to use far -beyond the bounds of its sexual definition. The critics are right when -they object to our theory of libido as explaining things which cannot -belong to its sphere. It must be admitted that Freud’s school makes use -of a conception of libido which passes beyond the bounds of its primary -definition. Indeed, this must produce the impression that one is working -with a mystical principle. - - - The Problem of Libido in Dementia Præcox - - -I have sought to show these infringements in a special work, “Wandlungen -und Symbole der Libido,” and at the same time the necessity for creating -a new conception of libido, which shall be in harmony with the energic -conception. Freud himself was forced to a discussion of his original -conception of libido when he tried to apply its energic point of view to -a well-known case of dementia præcox—the so-called Schreber case. In -this case, we had to deal, among other things, with that well-known -problem in the psychology of dementia præcox, the loss of adaptation to -reality, the peculiar phenomenon consisting in a special tendency of -these patients to construct an inner world of phantasy of their own, -surrendering for this purpose their adaptation to reality. As a part of -the phenomenon, the lack of sociability or emotional rapport will be -well known to you all, this representing a striking disturbance of the -function of reality. Through considerable psychological study of these -patients we discovered, that this lack of adaptation to reality is -compensated by a progressive increase in the creation of phantasies. -This goes so far that the dream-world is for the patient more real than -external reality. The patient Schreber, described by Freud, found for -this phenomenon an excellent figurative description in his delusion of -the “end of the world.” His loss of reality is thus very concretely -represented. The dynamic conception of this phenomenon is very clear. We -say that the libido withdrew itself more and more from the external -world, consequently entered the inner world, the world of phantasies, -and had there to create, as a compensation for the lost external world, -a so-called equivalent of reality. This compensation is built up piece -by piece, and it is most interesting to observe the psychological -materials of which this inner world is composed. This way of conceiving -the transposition and displacement of the libido has been made by the -every-day use of the term, its original pure sexual meaning being very -rarely recalled. In general, the word “libido” is used practically in so -harmless a sense that Claparède, in a conversation, once remarked that -we could as well use the word “interest.” - -The manner in which this expression is generally used has given rise to -a way of using the term that made it possible to explain Schreber’s “end -of the world” by withdrawal of the libido. On this occasion, Freud -recalled his original sexual definition of the libido, and tried to -arrive at an understanding with the change which in the meantime had -taken place. In his article on Schreber, he discusses the question, -whether what the psychoanalytic school calls libido, and conceives of as -“interest from erotic sources” coincides with interest generally -speaking. You see that, putting the problem in this way, Freud asks the -question which Claparède practically answered. Freud discusses the -question here, whether the loss of reality noticed in dementia præcox, -to which I drew attention in my book,[6] “The Psychology of Dementia -Præcox,” is due entirely to the withdrawal of erotic interest, or if -this coincides with the so-called objective interest in general. We can -hardly agree that the normal “fonction du réel” [Janet] is only -maintained through erotic interest. The fact is that, in many cases, -reality vanishes altogether, and not a trace of psychological adaptation -can be found in these cases. Reality is repressed, and replaced by -phantasies created through complexes. We are forced to say that not only -the erotic interests, but interests in general—that is, the whole -adaptation to reality—are lost. I formerly tried, in my “Psychology of -Dementia Præcox,” to get out of this difficulty by using the expression -“psychic energy,” because I could not base the theory of dementia præcox -on the theory of transference of the libido in its sexual definition. My -experience—at that time chiefly psychiatric—did not permit me to -understand this theory. Only later did I learn to understand the -correctness of the theory as regards the neuroses by increased -experience in hysteria and the compulsion neurosis. As a matter of fact, -an abnormal displacement of libido, quite definitely sexual, does play a -great part in the neuroses. But although very characteristic repressions -of sexual libido do take place in certain neuroses, that loss of -reality, so typical for dementia præcox, never occurs. In dementia -præcox, so extreme is the loss of the function of reality that this loss -must also entail a loss of motive power, to which any sexual nature must -be absolutely denied, for it will not seem to anyone that reality is a -sexual function. If this were so, the withdrawal of erotic interests in -the neuroses would lead to a loss of reality—a loss of reality indeed -that could be compared with that in dementia præcox. But, as I said -before, this is not the case. These facts have made it impossible for me -to transfer Freud’s libido theory to dementia præcox. Hence, my view is, -that the attempt made by Abraham, in his article “The Psycho-Sexual -Differences Between Hysteria and Dementia Præcox,” is from the -standpoint of Freud’s conception of libido theoretically untenable. -Abraham’s belief, that the paranoidal system, or the symptomatology of -dementia præcox, arises by the libido withdrawing from the external -world, cannot be justified if we take “libido” according to Freud’s -definition. For, as Freud has clearly shown, a mere introversion or -regression of the libido leads always to a neurosis, and not to dementia -præcox. It is impossible to transfer the libido theory, with its sexual -definition, directly to dementia præcox, as this disease shows a loss of -reality not to be explained by the deficiency in erotic interests. - -It gives me particular satisfaction that our master also, when he placed -his hand on the fragile material of paranoiac psychology, felt himself -compelled to doubt the applicability of his conception of libido which -had prevailed hitherto. My position of reserve towards the ubiquity of -sexuality which I allowed myself to adopt in the preface to my -“Psychology of Dementia Præcox”—although with a complete recognition of -the psychological mechanism—was dictated by the conception of the libido -theory of that time. Its sexual definition did not enable me to explain -those disturbances of functions which affect the indefinite sphere of -the instinct of hunger, just as much as they do those of sexuality. For -a long time the libido theory seemed to me inapplicable to dementia -præcox. - - - The Genetic Conception of Libido - - -With greater experience in my analytical work, I noticed that a slow -change of my conception of libido had taken place. A genetic conception -of libido gradually took the place of the descriptive definition of -libido contained in Freud’s “Three Contributions.” Thus it became -possible for me to replace, by the expression “psychic energy,” the term -libido. The next step was that I asked myself if now-a-days the function -of reality consists only to a very small extent of sexual libido, and to -a very large extent of other impulses. It is still a very important -question, considered from the phylogenetic standpoint, whether the -function of reality is not, at least very largely, of sexual origin. It -is impossible to answer this question directly, in so far as the -function of reality is concerned. We shall try to come to some -understanding by a side-path. - -A superficial glance at the history of evolution suffices to teach us -that innumerable complicated functions, whose sexual character must be -denied, are originally nothing but derivations from the instinct of -propagation. As is well known, there has been an important displacement -in the fundamentals of propagation during the ascent through the animal -scale. The offspring has been reduced in number, and the primitive -uncertainty of impregnation has been replaced by a quite assured -impregnation, and a more effective protection of offspring. The energy -required for the production of eggs and sperma has been transferred into -the creation of mechanisms of attraction, and mechanisms for the -protection of offspring. Here we find the first instincts of art in -animals, used for the instinct of propagation, and limited to the -rutting season. The original sexual character of these biological -institutions became lost with their organic fixation, and their -functional independence. None the less, there can be no doubt as to -their sexual origin, as, for instance, there is no doubt about the -original relation between sexuality and music, but it would be a -generalization as futile, as unesthetic, to include music under the -category of sexuality. Such a terminology would lead to the -consideration of the Cathedral of Cologne under mineralogy, because it -has been built with stones. Those quite ignorant of the problems of -evolution are much astonished to find how few things there are in human -life which cannot finally be reduced to the instinct of propagation. It -embraces nearly everything, I think, that is dear and precious to us. - -We have hitherto spoken of the libido as of the instinct of -reproduction, or the instinct of the preservation of the species, and -limited our conception to that libido which is opposed to hunger, just -as the instinct of the preservation of the species is opposed to that of -self-preservation. Of course in nature this artificial distinction does -not exist. Here we find only a continuous instinct of life, a will to -live, which tries to obtain the propagation of the whole race by the -preservation of the individual. To this extent this conception coincides -with that of Schopenhauer’s “will,” as objectively we can only conceive -a movement as a manifestation of an internal desire. As we have already -boldly concluded that the libido, which originally subserved the -creation of eggs and seed, is now firmly organized in the function of -nest-building, and can no longer be employed otherwise, we are similarly -obliged to include in this conception every desire, hunger no less. We -have no warrant whatever for differentiating essentially the desire to -build nests from the desire to eat. - -I think you will already understand the position we have reached with -these considerations. We are about to follow up the energic conception -by putting the energic mode of action in place of the purely formal -functioning. Just as reciprocal actions, well known in the old natural -science, have been replaced by the law of the conservation of energy, so -here too, in the sphere of psychology, we seek to replace the reciprocal -activities of coordinated psychical faculties by energy, conceived as -one and homogeneous. Thus we must bow to the criticism which reproaches -the psychoanalytic school for working with a mystical conception of -libido. I have to dispel this illusion that the whole psychoanalytic -school possesses a clearly conceived and obvious conception of libido. I -maintain that the conception of libido with which we are working is not -only not concrete or known, but is an unknown _X_, a conceptual image, a -token, and no more real than the energy in the conceptual world of the -physicist. In this wise only can we escape those arbitrary -transgressions of the proper boundaries, which are always made when we -want to reduce coördinated forces to one another. Certain analogies of -the action of heat with the action of light are not to be explained by -saying that this tertium comparationis proves that the undulations of -heat are the same as the undulations of light; the conceptual image of -energy is the real point of comparison. If we regard libido in this way -we endeavor to simulate the progress which has already been made in -physics. The economy of thought which physics has already obtained we -strive after in our libido theory. We conceive libido now simply as -energy, so that we are in the position to figure the manifold processes -as forms of energy. Thus, we replace the old reciprocal action by -relations of absolute equivalence. We shall not be astonished if we are -met with the cry of vitalism. But we are as far removed from any belief -in a specific vital power, as from any other metaphysical assertion. We -term libido that energy which manifests itself by vital processes, which -is subjectively perceived as aspiration, longing and striving. We see in -the diversity of natural phenomena the desire, the libido, in the most -diverse applications and forms. In early childhood we find libido at -first wholly in the form of the instinct of nutrition, providing for the -development of the body. As the body develops, there open up, -successively, new spheres of influence for the libido. The last, and, -from its functional significance, most overpowering sphere of influence, -is sexuality, which at first seems very closely connected with the -function of nutrition. With that you may compare the well-known -influence on propagation of the conditions of nutrition in the lower -animals and plants. - -In the sphere of sexuality, libido does take that form whose enormous -importance justifies us in the choice of the term “libido,” in its -strict sexual sense. Here for the first time libido appears in the form -of an undifferentiated sexual primitive power, as an energy of growth, -clearly forcing the individual towards division, budding, etc. The -clearest separation of the two forms of libido is found among those -animals where the stage of nutrition is separated by the pupa stage from -the stage of sexuality. Out of this sexual primitive power, through -which one small creature produces millions of eggs and sperm, -derivatives have been developed by extraordinary restriction of -fecundity, the functions of which are maintained by a special -differentiated libido. This differentiated libido is henceforth -_desexualized_, for it is dissociated from its original function of -producing eggs and sperm, nor is there any possibility of restoring it -to its original function. The whole process of development consists in -the increasing absorption of the libido which only created, originally, -products of generation in the secondary functions of attraction, and -protection of offspring. This development presupposes a quite different -and much more complicated relationship to reality, a true function of -reality which is functionally inseparable from the needs of -reproduction. Thus the altered mode of reproduction involves a -correspondingly increased adaptation to reality. This, of course, does -not imply that the function of reality is exclusively due to -differentiation in reproduction. I am aware that a large part of the -instinct of nutrition is connected with it. Thus we arrive at an insight -into certain primitive conditions of the function of reality. It would -be fundamentally wrong to pretend that the compelling source is still a -sexual one. It _was_ largely a sexual one originally. The process of -absorption of the primitive libido into secondary functions certainly -always took place in the form of so-called affluxes of sexual libido -(“libidinöse Zuschüsse”). - -That is to say, sexuality was diverted from its original destination, a -definite quantity was used up in the mechanisms of mutual attraction and -of protection of offspring. This transference of sexual libido from the -sexual sphere to associated functions is still taking place (_e. g._, -modern neo-Malthusianism is the artificial continuation of the natural -tendency). We call this process _sublimation_, when this operation -occurs without injury to the adaptation of the individual; we call it -_repression_—when the attempt fails. From the descriptive standpoint -psychoanalysis accepts the multiplicity of instincts, and, among them, -the instinct of sexuality as a special phenomenon, moreover, it -recognizes certain affluxes of the libido to asexual instincts. - -From the genetic standpoint it is otherwise. It regards the multiplicity -of instincts as issuing out of relative unity, the primitive libido. It -recognizes that definite quantities of the primitive libido are split -off, associated with the recently created functions, and finally merged -in them. From this standpoint we can say, without any difficulty, that -patients with dementia præcox withdraw their “libido” from the external -world and in consequence suffer a loss of reality, which is compensated -by an increase of the phantasy-building activities. - -We must now fit the new conception of libido into that theory of -sexuality in childhood which is of such great importance in the theory -of neurosis. Generally speaking, we first find the libido as the energy -of vital activities acting in the zone of the function of nutrition. -Through the rhythmical movements in the act of sucking, nourishment is -taken with all signs of satisfaction. As the individual grows and his -organs develop, the libido creates new ways of desire, new activities -and satisfactions. Now the original model—rhythmic activity, creating -pleasure and satisfaction—must be transferred to other functions which -have their final goal in sexuality. - -This transition is not made suddenly at puberty, but it takes place -gradually throughout the course of the greater part of childhood. The -libido can only very slowly and with great difficulty detach itself from -the characteristics of the function of nutrition, in order to pass over -into the characteristics of sexual function. As far as I can see, we -have two epochs during this transition, the epoch of _sucking_ and the -epoch of the _displaced rhythmic activity_. Considered solely from the -point of view of its mode of action, sucking clings entirely to the -domain of the function of nutrition, but it presents also a far wider -aspect, it is no mere function of nutrition, it is a rhythmical -activity, with its goal in a pleasure and satisfaction of its own, -distinct from the obtaining of nourishment. The hand comes into play as -an accessory organ. In the epoch of the displaced rhythmical activity it -stands out still more as an accessory organ, when the oral zone ceases -to give pleasure, which must now be obtained in other directions. The -possibilities are many. As a rule the other openings of the body become -the first objects of interest of the libido; then follow the skin in -general and certain places of predilection upon it. - -The actions carried out at these places generally take the form of -rubbing, piercing, tugging, etc., accompanied by a certain rhythm, and -serve to produce pleasure. After a halt of greater or less duration at -these stations, the libido proceeds until it arrives at the sexual zone, -where it may next provoke the first onanistic attempts. During its -“march,” the libido carries over not a little from the function of -nutrition into the sexual zone; this readily explains the numerous close -associations between the function of nutrition and the sexual function. - -This “march” of the libido takes place at the time of the pre-sexual -stage, which is characterized by the fact that the libido gradually -relinquishes the special character of the instinct of nutrition, and by -degrees acquires the character of the sexual instinct. At this stage we -cannot yet speak of a true sexual libido. Therefore we are obliged to -qualify the polymorphous perverse sexuality of early infancy -differently. The polymorphism of the tendencies of the libido at this -time is to be explained as the gradual movement of the libido away from -the sphere of the function of nutrition towards the sexual function. - -_The Infantile “Perversity.”_—Thus rightly vanishes the term -“perverse”—so strongly contested by our opponents—for it provokes a -false idea. - -When a chemical body breaks up into its elements, these elements are the -products of its disintegration, but it is not permissible on that -account to describe elements as entirely products of disintegration. -Perversities are disorders of fully-developed sexuality, but are never -precursors of sexuality, although there is undoubtedly an analogy -between the precursors and the products of disintegration. The childish -rudiments, no longer to be conceived as perverse, but to be regarded as -stages of development, change gradually into normal sexuality, as the -normal sexuality develops. - -The more smoothly the libido withdraws from its provisional positions, -the more completely and the more quickly does the formation of normal -sexuality take place. It is proper to the conception of normal sexuality -that all those early infantile inclinations which are not yet sexual -should be given up. The less this is the case, the more is sexuality -threatened with perverse development. The expression “perverse” is here -used in its right place. The fundamental condition of a perversity is an -infantile, imperfectly developed state of sexuality. - -Footnote 5: - - No. 7 of this Monograph Series. - -Footnote 6: - - No. 3 of this Monograph Series. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - The Etiological Significance of the Infantile Sexuality - - -Now that we have decided what is to be understood as infantile -sexuality, we can follow up the discussion of the theory of the -neuroses, which we began in the first lecture and then dropped. We -followed the theory of the neuroses up to the point where we ran against -Freud’s statement, that the tendency which brings a traumatic event to a -pathological activity, is a sexual one. From our foregoing -considerations we understand what is meant by a sexual tendency. It is a -standing still, a retardation in that process whereby the libido frees -itself from the manifestations of the pre-sexual stage. - -First of all, we must regard this disturbance as a _fixation_. The -libido, in its transition from the function of nutrition to the sexual -function, lingers unduly at certain stages. A disharmony is created, -since provisional and, as it were, worn-out activities, persist at a -period when they should have been overcome. This formula is applicable -to all those infantile characteristics so prevalent among neurotic -people that no attentive observer can have overlooked them. In dementia -præcox it is so obtrusive that a symptom complex, hebephrenia, derives -its name therefrom. - -The matter is not ended, however, by saying that the libido lingers in -the preliminary stages, for while the libido thus lingers, time does not -stand still, and the development of the individual is always proceeding -apace. The physical maturation increases the contrast and the disharmony -between the persistent infantile manifestations, and the demands of the -later age, with its changed conditions of life. In this way the -foundation is laid for the dissociation of the personality, and thereby -to that conflict which is the real basis of the neuroses. The more the -libido is in arrears in practice, the more intense will be the conflict. -The traumatic or pathogenic moment is the one which serves best to make -this conflict manifest. As Freud showed in his earlier works, one can -easily imagine a neurosis arising in this way. - -This conception fitted in rather well with the views of Janet, who -ascribed neurosis to a certain defect. From this point of view the -neurosis could be regarded as a product of retardation in the -development of affectivity; and I can easily imagine that this -conception must seem selfevident to every one who is inclined to derive -the neuroses more or less directly from heredity or congenital -degeneration. - - - The Infantile Sexual Etiology Criticized - - -Unfortunately the reality is much more complicated. Let me facilitate an -insight into these complications by an example of a case of hysteria. It -will, I hope, enable me to demonstrate the characteristic complication, -so important for the theory of neurosis. You will probably remember the -case of the young lady with hysteria, whom I mentioned at the beginning -of my lectures. We noticed the remarkable fact that this patient was -unaffected by situations which one might have expected to make a -profound impression and yet showed an unexpected extreme pathological -reaction to a quite everyday event. We took this occasion to express our -doubt as to the etiological significance of the shock, and to -investigate the so-called predisposition which rendered the trauma -effective. The result of that investigation led us to what has just been -mentioned, that it is by no means improbable that the origin of the -neurosis is due to a retardation of the affective development. - -You will now ask me what is to be understood by the retardation of the -affectivity of this hysteric. The patient lives in a world of phantasy, -which can only be regarded as infantile. It is unnecessary to give a -description of these phantasies, for you, as neurologists or -psychiatrists, have the opportunity daily to listen to the childish -prejudices, illusions and emotional pretensions to which neurotic people -give way. The disinclination to face stern reality is the distinguishing -trait of these phantasies—some lack of earnestness, some trifling, which -sometimes hides real difficulties in a light-hearted manner, at others -exaggerates trifles into great troubles. We recognize at once that -inadequate psychic attitude towards reality which characterizes the -child, its wavering opinions and its deficient orientation in matters of -the external world. With such an infantile mental disposition all kinds -of desires, phantasies and illusions can grow luxuriantly, and this we -have to regard as the critical causation. Through such phantasies people -slip into an unreal attitude, preeminently ill-adapted to the world, -which is bound some day to lead to a catastrophe. When we trace back the -infantile phantasy of the patient to her earliest childhood we find, it -is true, many distinct, outstanding scenes which might well serve to -provide fresh food for this or that variation in phantasy, but it would -be vain to search for the so-called traumatic motive, whence something -abnormal might have sprung, such an abnormal activity, let us say, as -day-dreaming itself. There are certainly to be found traumatic scenes, -although not in earliest childhood; the few scenes of earliest childhood -which were remembered seem not to be traumatic, being rather accidental -events, which passed by without leaving any effect on her phantasy worth -mentioning. The earliest phantasies arose out of all sorts of vague and -only partly understood impressions received from her parents. Many -peculiar feelings centered around her father, vacillating between -anxiety, horror, aversion, disgust, love and enthusiasm. The case was -like so many other cases of hysteria, where no traumatic etiology can be -found, but which grows from the roots of a peculiar and premature -activity of phantasy which maintains permanently the character of -infantilism. - -You will object that in this case the scene with the shying horses -represents the trauma. It is clearly the model of that night-scene which -happened nineteen years later, where the patient was incapable of -avoiding the trotting horses. That she wanted to plunge into the river -has an analogy in the model scene, where the horses and carriage fell -into the river. - -Since the latter traumatic moment she suffered from hysterical fits. As -I tried to show you, we do not find any trace of this apparent etiology -developed in the course of her phantasy life. It seems as if the danger -of losing her life, that first time, when the horses shied, passed -without leaving any emotional trace. None of the events that occurred in -the following years showed any trace of that fright. In parenthesis let -me add, that perhaps it never happened at all. It may have even been a -mere phantasy, for I have only the assertions of the patient. All of a -sudden, some eighteen years later, this event becomes of importance and -is, so to say, reproduced and carried out in all its details. This -assumption is extremely unlikely, and becomes still more inconceivable -if we also bear in mind that the story of the shying horses may not even -be true. Be that as it may, it is and remains almost unthinkable that an -affect should remain buried for years and then suddenly explode. In -other cases there is exactly the same state of affairs. I know, for -instance, of a case in which the shock of an earthquake, long recovered -from, suddenly came back as a lively fear of earthquakes, although this -reminiscence could not be explained by the external circumstances. - - - The Traumatic Theory—A False Way - - -It is a very suspicious circumstance that these patients frequently show -a pronounced tendency to account for their illnesses by some long-past -event, ingeniously withdrawing the attention of the physician from the -present moment towards some false track in the past. This false track -was the first one pursued by the psychoanalytic theory. To this false -hypothesis we owe an insight into the understanding of the neurotic -symptoms never before reached, an insight we should not have gained if -the investigation had not chosen this path, really guided thither, -however, by the misleading tendencies of the patient. - -I think that only a man who regards world-happenings as a chain of more -or less fortuitous contingencies, and therefore believes that the -guiding hand of the reason-endowed pedagogue is permanently wanted, can -ever imagine that this path, upon which the patient leads the physician, -has been a wrong one, from which one ought to have warned men off with a -sign-board. Besides the deeper insight into psychological determination, -we owe to the so-called error the discovery of questions of immeasurable -importance regarding the basis of psychic processes. It is for us to -rejoice and be thankful that Freud had the courage to let himself be -guided along this path. Not thus is the progress of science hindered, -but rather through blind adherence to a provisional formulation, through -the typical conservatism of authority, the vanity of learned men, their -fear of making mistakes. This lack of the martyr’s courage is far more -injurious to the credit and greatness of scientific knowledge than an -honest error. - - - Retardation of the Emotional Development - - -But let us return to our own case. The following question arises: If the -old trauma is not of etiological significance, then the cause of the -manifest neurosis is probably to be found in the retardation of the -emotional development. We must therefore disregard the patient’s -assertion that her hysterical crises date from the fright from the -shying horses, although this fright was in fact the beginning of her -evident illness. This event only seems to be important, although it is -not so in reality. This same formula is valid for all the so-called -shocks. They only seem to be important because they are the -starting-point of the external expression of an abnormal condition. As -explained in detail, this abnormal condition is an anachronistic -continuation of an infantile stage of libido-development. These patients -still retain forms of the libido which they ought to have renounced long -ago. It is impossible to give a list, as it were, of these forms, for -they are of an extraordinary variety. The most common, which is scarcely -ever absent, is the excessive activity of phantasies, characterized by -an unconcerned exaggeration of subjective wishes. This exaggerated -activity is always a sign of want of proper employment of the libido. -The libido sticks fast to its use in phantasies, instead of being -employed in a more rigorous adaptation to the real conditions of life. - - - Introversion - - -This state is called the state of _introversion_, the libido is used for -the psychical inner world instead of being applied to the external -world. A regular attendant symptom of this retardation in the emotional -development is the so-called parent-complex. If the libido is not used -entirely for the adaptation to reality, it is always more or less -introverted. The material content of the psychic world is composed of -reminiscences, giving it a vividness of activity which in reality long -since ceased to pertain thereto. The consequence is, that these patients -still live more or less in a world which in truth belongs to the past. -They fight with difficulties which once played a part in their life, but -which ought to have been obliterated long ago. They still grieve over -matters, or rather they are still concerned with matters, which should -have long ago lost their importance for them. They divert themselves, or -distress themselves, with images which were once normally of importance -for them but are of no significance at their later age. - - - The Complex of the Parents - - -Amongst those influences most important during childhood, the -personalities of the parents play the most potent part. Even if the -parents have long been dead, and might and should have lost all real -importance, since the life-conditions of the patients are perhaps -totally changed, yet these parents are still somehow present and as -important as if they were still alive. Love and admiration, resistance, -repugnance, hate and revolt, still cling to their figures, transfigured -by affection and very often bearing little resemblance to the past -reality. It was this fact which forced me to talk no longer of father -and mother directly, but to employ instead the term “image” (imago) of -mother or of father for these phantasies no longer deal with the real -father and the real mother, but with the subjective, and very often -completely altered creations of the imagination which prolong an -existence only in the patient’s mind. - -The complex of the parents’ images, that is to say, the sum of ideas -connected with the parents, provides an important field of employment -for the introverted libido. I must mention in passing that the complex -has in itself but a shadowy existence in so far as it is not invested -with libido. Following the usage that we arrived at in the -“Diagnostische Associationsstudien,” the word “complex” is used for a -system of ideas already invested with, and actuated by, libido. This -system exists as a mere possibility, ready for application, if not -invested with libido either temporarily or permanently. - -_The “Nucleus”-Complex._—At the time when the psychoanalytic theory was -still under the dominance of the trauma conception and, in conformity -with that view, inclined to look for the causa efficiens of the neurosis -in the past, the parent-complex seemed to us to be the so-called -root-complex—to employ Freud’s term—or nucleus-complex (“Kerncomplex”). - -The part which the parents played seemed to be so highly determining -that we were inclined to attribute to them all later complications in -the life of the patient. Some years ago I discussed this view in my -article[7] “Die Bedeutung des Vaters für das Schicksal des Einzelnen.” -(The importance of the father for the fate of the individual.) - -Here also we were guided by the patient’s tendency to revert to the -past, in accordance with the direction of his introverted libido. Now -indeed it was no longer the external, accidental event which caused the -pathogenic effect, but a psychological effect which seemed to arise out -of the individual’s difficulties in adapting himself to the conditions -of his familiar surroundings. It was especially the disharmony between -the parents on the one hand and between the child and the parents on the -other which seemed favorable for creating currents in the child little -compatible with his individual course of life. In the article just -alluded to I have described some instances, taken from a wealth of -material, which show these characteristics very distinctly. The -influence of the parents does not come to an end, alas, with their -neurotic descendants’ blame of the family circumstances, or their false -education, as the basis of their illness, but it extends even to certain -actual events in the life and actions of the patient, where such a -determining influence could not have been expected. The lively -imitativeness which we find in savages as well as in children can -produce in certain rather sensitive children a peculiar inner and -unconscious identification with the parents; that is to say, such a -similar mental attitude that effects in real life are sometimes produced -which, even in detail, resemble the personal experiences of the parents. -For the empirical material here, I must refer you to the literature. I -should like to remind you that one of my pupils, Dr. Emma Fürst, -produced valuable experimental proofs for the solution of this problem, -to which I referred in my lecture at Clark University.[8] In applying -association experiments to whole families, Dr. Fürst established the -great resemblance of reaction-type among all the members of one family. - -These experiments show that there very often exists an unconscious -parallelism of association between parents and children, to be explained -as an intense imitation or identification. - -The results of these investigations show far-reaching psychological -tendencies in parallel directions, which readily explain at times the -astonishing conformity in their destinies. Our destinies are as a rule -the result of our psychological tendencies. These facts allow us to -understand why, not only the patient, but even the theory which has been -built on such investigations, expresses the view, that the neurosis is -the result of the characteristic influence of the parents upon their -children. This view, moreover, is supported by the experiences which lie -at the basis of pedagogy: namely the assumption of the plasticity of the -child’s mind, which is freely compared with soft wax. - -We know that the first impressions of childhood accompany us throughout -life, and that certain educational influences may restrain people -undisturbed all their lives within certain limits. It is no miracle, -indeed it is rather a frequent experience, that under these -circumstances a conflict has to break out between the personality which -is formed by the educational and other influences of the infantile -milieu and that one which can be described as the real individual line -of life. With this conflict all people must meet, who are called upon to -live an independent and productive life. - -Owing to the enormous influence of childhood on the later development of -character, you can perfectly understand why we are inclined to ascribe -the cause of a neurosis directly to the influences of the infantile -environment. I have to confess that I have known cases in which any -other explanation seemed to be less reasonable. There are indeed parents -whose own contradictory neurotic behavior causes them to treat their -children in such an unreasonable way that the latter’s deterioration and -illness would seem to be unavoidable. Hence it is almost a rule among -nerve-specialists to remove neurotic children, whenever possible, from -the dangerous family atmosphere, and to send them among more healthy -influences, where, without any medical treatment, they thrive much -better than at home. There are many neurotic patients who were clearly -neurotic as children, and who have never been free from illness. For -such cases, the conception which has been sketched holds generally good. - -This knowledge, which seems to be provisionally definitive, has been -extended by the studies of Freud and the psychoanalytic school. The -relations between the patients and their parents have been studied in -detail in as much as these relations were regarded as of etiological -significance. - - - Infantile Mental Attitude - - -It was soon noticed that such patients lived still partly or wholly in -their childhood-world, although quite unconscious themselves of this -fact. It is a difficult task for psychoanalysis so exactly to -investigate the psychological mode of adaptation of the patients as to -be capable of putting its finger on the infantile misunderstanding. We -find among neurotics many who have been spoiled as children. These cases -give the best and clearest example of the infantilism of their -psychological mode of adaptation. They start out in life expecting the -same friendly reception, tenderness and easy success, obtained with no -trouble, to which they have been accustomed by their parents in their -youth. Even very intelligent patients are not capable of seeing at once -that they owe the complications of their life and their neurosis to the -trail of their infantile emotional attitude. The small world of the -child, the familiar surroundings—these form the model of the big world. -The more intensely the family has stamped the child, the more will it be -inclined, as an adult, instinctively to see again in the great world its -former small world. Of course this must not be taken as a conscious -intellectual process. On the contrary, the patient feels and sees the -difference between now and then, and tries to adapt himself as well as -he can. Perhaps he will even believe himself perfectly adapted, for he -grasps the situation intellectually, but that does not prevent the -emotional from being far behind the intellectual standpoint. - - - Unconscious Phantasy - - -It is unnecessary to trouble you with instances of this phenomenon. It -is an every-day experience that our emotions are never at the level of -our reasoning. It is exactly the same with such a patient, only with -greater intensity. He may perhaps believe that, save for his neurosis, -he is a normal person, and hence adapted to the conditions of life. He -does not suspect that he has not relinquished certain childish -pretensions, that he still carries with him, in the background, -expectations and illusions which he has never rendered conscious to -himself. He cultivates all sorts of favorite phantasies, which seldom -become conscious, or at any rate, not very often, so that he himself -does not know that he has them. They very often exist only as emotional -expectations, hopes, prejudices, etc. We call these phantasies, -unconscious phantasies. Sometimes they dip into the peripheral -consciousness as quite fugitive thoughts, which disappear again a moment -later, so that the patient is unable to say whether he had such -phantasies or not. It is only during the psychoanalytic treatment that -most patients learn to observe and retain these fleeting thoughts. -Although most of the phantasies, once at least, have been conscious in -the form of fleeting thoughts and only afterwards became unconscious, we -have no right to call them on that account “conscious,” as they are -practically most of the time unconscious. It is therefore right to -designate them “unconscious phantasies.” Of course there are also -infantile phantasies, which are perfectly conscious and which can be -reproduced at any time. - -Footnote 7: - - Jahrbuch für psychoanalytische und psychopathologisch Forschungen, Bd. - I. - -Footnote 8: - - Am. Jour. Psychol., April, 1910. - - - - - CHAPTER V - The Unconscious - - -The sphere of the unconscious infantile phantasies has become the real -object of psychoanalytic investigation. As we have previously pointed -out, this domain seems to retain the key to the etiology of neurosis. In -contradistinction with the trauma theory, we are forced by the reasons -already adduced to seek in the family history for the basis of our -present psychoanalytic attitude. Those phantasy-systems which patients -exhibit on mere questioning are for the most part composed and -elaborated like a novel or a drama. Although they are greatly -elaborated, they are relatively of little value for the investigation of -the unconscious. Just because they are conscious, they have already -deferred over-much to the claims of etiquette and social morality. Hence -they have been purged of all personally painful and ugly details, and -are presentable to society, revealing very little. The valuable, and -much more important phantasies are not conscious in the sense already -defined, but are to be discovered through the technique of -psychoanalysis. - -Without wishing to enter fully into the question of technique, I must -here meet an objection that is constantly heard. It is that the -so-called unconscious phantasies are only suggested to the patient and -only exist in the minds of psychoanalysts. This objection belongs to -that common class which ascribes to them the crude mistakes of -beginners. I think only those without psychological experience and -without historical psychological knowledge are capable of making such -criticisms. With a mere glimmering of mythological knowledge, one cannot -fail to notice the striking parallels between the unconscious phantasies -discovered by the psychoanalytic school and mythological images. The -objection that our knowledge of mythology has been suggested to the -patient is groundless, for the psychoanalytic school first discovered -the unconscious phantasies, and only then became acquainted with -mythology. Mythology itself is obviously something outside the path of -the medical man. In so far as these phantasies are unconscious, the -patient of course knows nothing about their existence, and it would be -absurd to make direct inquiries about them. Nevertheless it is often -said, both by patients and by so-called normal persons: “But if I had -such phantasies, surely I would know something about them.” But what is -unconscious is, in fact, something which one does not know. The -opposition too is perfectly convinced that such things as unconscious -phantasies could not exist. This a priori judgment is scholasticism, and -has no sensible grounds. We cannot possibly rest on the dogma that -consciousness only is mind, when we can convince ourselves daily that -our consciousness is only the stage. When the contents of our -consciousness appear they are already in a highly complex form; the -grouping of our thoughts from the elements supplied by our memory is -almost entirely unconscious. Therefore we are obliged, whether we like -it or not, to accept for the moment the conception of an unconscious -psychic sphere, even if only as a mere negative, border-conception, just -as Kant’s “thing in itself.” As we perceive things which do not have -their origin in consciousness, we are obliged to give hypothetic -contents to the sphere of the non-conscious. We must suppose that the -origin of certain effects lies in the unconscious, just because they are -not conscious. The reproach of mysticism can scarcely be made against -this conception of the unconscious. We do not pretend that we know -anything positive, or can affirm anything, about the psychic condition -of the unconscious. Instead, we have substituted symbols by following -the way of designation and abstraction we apply in consciousness. - -On the axiom: Principia præter necessitatem non sunt multiplicanda, this -kind of ideation is the only possible one. Hence we speak about the -effects of the unconscious, just as we do about the phenomena of the -conscious. Many people have been shocked by Freud’s statement: “The -unconscious can only wish,” and this is regarded as an unheard of -metaphysical assertion, something like the principle of Hartman’s -“Philosophy of the Unconscious,” which apparently administers a rebuff -to the theory of cognition. This indignation only arises from the fact -that the critics, unknown to themselves, evidently start from a -metaphysical conception of the unconscious as being an “end per se,” and -naïvely project on to us their inadequate conception of the unconscious. -For us, the unconscious is no entity, but a term, about whose -metaphysical entity we do not permit ourselves to form any idea. Here we -contrast with those psychologists, who, sitting at their desks, are as -exactly informed about the localization of the mind in the brain as they -are informed about the psychological correlation of the mental -processes. Whence they are able to declare positively that beyond the -consciousness there are but physiological processes of the cortex. Such -naiveté must not be imputed to the psychoanalyst. When Freud says: “We -can only wish,” he describes in symbolic terms effects of which the -origin is not known. From the standpoint of our conscious thinking, -these effects can only be considered as analogous to wishes. The -psychoanalytic school is, moreover, aware that the discussion as to -whether “wishing” is a sound analogy can be re-opened at any time. -Anyone who has more information is welcome. Instead, the opponents -content themselves with denial of the phenomena, or if certain phenomena -are admitted, they abstain from all theoretical speculation. This last -point is readily to be understood, for it is not everyone’s business to -think theoretically. Even the man who has succeeded in freeing himself -from the dogma of the identity of the conscious self and the psyche, -thus admitting the possible existence of psychic processes outside the -conscious, is not justified in disputing or maintaining psychic -possibilities in the unconscious. The objection is raised that the -psychoanalytic school maintains certain views without sufficient -grounds, as if the literature did not contain abundant, perhaps too -abundant, discussion of cases, and more than enough arguments. But they -seem not to be sufficient for the opponents. There must be a good deal -of difference as to the meaning of the term “sufficient” in respect to -the validity of the arguments. The question is: “Why does the -psychoanalytic school apparently set less store on the proof of their -formulas than the critics?” The reason is very simple. An engineer who -has built a bridge, and has worked out its bearing capacity, wants no -other proof for the success of its bearing power. But the ordinary man, -who has no notion how a bridge is built, or what is the strength of the -material used, will demand quite different proofs as to the bearing -capacity of the bridge, for he has no confidence in the business. In the -first place, it is the critics’ complete ignorance of what is being done -which provokes their demand. In the second place, there are the -unanswerable theoretical misunderstandings: impossible for us to know -them all and understand them all. Just as we find, again and again, in -our patients new and astonishing misunderstandings about the ways and -the aim of the psychoanalytic method, so are the critics inexhaustible -in devising misunderstandings. You can see in the discussion of our -conception of the unconscious what kind of false philosophical -assumptions can prevent the understanding of our terminology. It is -comprehensible that those who attribute to the unconscious involuntarily -an absolute entity, require quite different arguments, beyond our power -to give. Had we to prove immortality, we should have to collect many -more important arguments, than if we had merely to demonstrate the -existence of plasmodia in a malaria patient. The metaphysical -expectation still disturbs the scientific way of thinking, so that -problems of psychoanalysis cannot be considered in a simple way. But I -do not wish to be unjust to the critics, and I will admit that the -psychoanalytic school itself very often gives rise to misunderstandings, -although innocently enough. One of the principal sources of these -mistakes is the confusion in the theoretical sphere. It is a pity, but -we have no presentable theory. But you would understand this, if you -could see, in a concrete case, with what difficulties we have to deal. -In contradiction to the opinion of nearly all critics, Freud is by no -means a theorist. He is an empiricist, of which fact anyone can easily -convince himself, if he is willing to busy himself somewhat more deeply -with Freud’s works, and if he tries to go into the cases as Freud has -done. Unfortunately, the critics are not willing. As we have very often -heard, it is too disgusting and too repulsive, to observe cases in the -same way as Freud has done. But who will learn the nature of Freud’s -method, if he allows himself to be hindered by repulsion and disgust? -Because they neglect to apply themselves to the point of view adopted by -Freud, perhaps as a necessary working hypothesis, they come to the -absurd supposition that Freud is a theorist. They then readily agree -that Freud’s “Three Contributions to the Sexual Theory” is a priori -invented by a merely speculative brain which afterwards suggests -everything into the patient. That is putting things upside down. This -gives the critics an easy task, and this is just what they want to have. -They pay no attention to the observations of the psychoanalysts, -conscientiously set forth in their histories of diseases, but only to -the theory, and to the formulation of technique. The weak spot of -psychoanalysis, however, is not found here, as psychoanalysis is only -empirical. Here you find but a large and insufficiently cultivated -field, in which the critics can exercise themselves to their full -satisfaction. There are many uncertainties, and as many contradictions, -in the sphere of this theory. We were conscious of this long before the -first critic began to pay attention to our work. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - The Dream - - -After this digression we will return to the question of the unconscious -phantasies which occupied us before. As we have seen, nobody can dispute -their existence, just as nobody can assert their existence and their -qualities forthwith. The question, however, is just this: Can effects be -observed in the consciousness of unconscious origin, which can be -described in conscious symbolic signs or expressions? Can there be -found, in the conscious, effects which correspond with this expectation? -The psychoanalytic school believes it has discovered such effects. Let -me mention at once the principal phenomenon, the dream. Of this it may -be said that it appears in the consciousness as a complex factor -unconsciously constructed out of its elements. The origin of the images -in certain reminiscences of the earlier or of the later past can be -proved through the associations belonging to the single images of the -dream. We ask: “Where did you see this?” or “Where did you hear that?” -And through the usual way of association come the reminiscences that -certain parts of the dream have been consciously experienced, some the -day before, some on former occasions. So far there will be general -agreement, for these things are well known. In so far, the dream -represents in general an incomprehensible composition of certain -elements not at first conscious, which are only recognized later on by -their associations. It is not that all parts of the dream are -recognizable, whence its conscious character could be deduced; on the -contrary, they are often, and indeed mostly, unrecognizable at first. -Only subsequently does it occur to us that we have experienced in -consciousness this or that part of the dream. From this standpoint -alone, we might regard the dream as an effect of unconscious origin. - - - The Method of Dream Analysis - - -The technique for the exploration of the unconscious origin is the one I -mentioned before, used before Freud by every scientific man who -attempted to arrive at a psychological understanding of dreams. We try -simply to remember where the parts of the dream arose. The -psychoanalytic technique for the interpretation of dreams is based on -this very simple principle. It is a fact that certain parts of the dream -originate in daily life, that is, in events which, on account of their -slighter importance, would have fallen into oblivion, and indeed were on -the way to become definitely unconscious. It is these parts of the dream -that are the effect of unconscious images and representations. People -have been shocked by this expression also. But we do not conceive these -things so concretely, not to say crudely, as do the critics. Certainly -this expression is nothing but a symbolism taken from conscious -psychology—we were never in any doubt as to that. The expression is -quite clear and answers very well as a symbol of an unknown psychic -fact. - -As we mentioned before, we can conceive the unconscious only by analogy -with the conscious. We do not imagine that we understand a thing when we -have discovered a beautiful and rather incomprehensible name. The -principle of the psychoanalytic technique is, as you see, -extraordinarily simple. The further procedure follows on in the same -way. If we occupy ourselves long with a dream, a thing which, apart from -psychoanalysis, naturally never happens, we are apt to find still more -reminiscences to the various different parts of the dream. We are not -however always successful in finding reminiscences to certain portions. -We have to put aside these dreams, or parts of dreams, whether we will -or no. - -The collected reminiscences are called the “_dream material_.” We treat -this material by a universally valid scientific method. If you ever have -to work up experimental material, you compare the individual units and -classify them according to similarities. You proceed exactly in the same -way with dream-material; you look for the common traits either of a -formal or a substantial nature. - -Certain extremely common prejudices must be got rid of. I have always -noticed that the beginner is looking for one trait or another and tries -to make his material conform to his expectation. This condition I -noticed especially among those colleagues who were formerly more or less -passionate opponents of psychoanalysis, their opposition being based on -well-known prejudices and misunderstandings. When I had the chance of -analyzing them, whereby they obtained at last a real insight into the -method, the first mistake generally made in their own psychoanalytic -work was that they did violence to the material by their own -preconceived opinion. They gave vent to their former prejudice against -psychoanalysis in their attitude towards the material, which they could -not estimate objectively, but only according to their subjective -phantasies. - -If one would have the courage to sift dream material, one must not -recoil from any parallel. The dream material generally consists of very -heterogeneous associations, out of which it is sometimes very difficult -to deduce the tertium comparationis. I refrain from giving detailed -examples, as it is quite impossible to handle in a lecture the -voluminous material of a dream. I might call your attention to Rank’s[9] -article in the Jahrbuch, “Ein Traum der sich selber deutet” (A dream -interpreted by itself). There you will see what an extensive material -must be taken into consideration for comparison. - -Hence, for the interpretation of the unconscious we proceed in the same -way as is universal when a conclusion is to be drawn by classifying -material. The objection is very often heard: Why does the dream have an -unconscious content at all? In my view, this objection is as -unscientific as possible. Every actual psychological moment has its -special history. Every sentence I pronounce has, beside the intended -meaning known to me another historical meaning, and it is possible that -its second meaning is entirely different from its conscious meaning. I -express myself on purpose somewhat paradoxically. I do not mean that I -could explain every individual sentence in its historical meaning. This -is a thing easier to do in larger and more detailed contributions. It -will be clear to everyone, that a poem is, apart from its manifest -content, especially characteristic of the poet in regard to its form, -its content, and its manner of origin. Although the poet, in his poem, -gave expression to the mood of a moment, the literary historian will -find things in it and behind it which the poet never foresaw. The -analysis which the literary historian draws from the poet’s material is -exactly the method of psychoanalysis. - -The psychoanalytic method, generally speaking, can be compared with -historical analysis and synthesis. Suppose, for instance, we did not -understand the meaning of baptism as practised in our churches to-day. -The priest tells us the baptism means the admission of the child into -the Christian community. But this does not satisfy us. Why is the child -sprinkled with water? To understand this ceremony, we must choose out of -the history of rites, those human traditions which pertain to this -subject, and thus we get material for comparison, to be considered from -different standpoints. - -I. The baptism means obviously an initiation ceremony, a consecration; -therefore all the traditions containing initiation rites have to be -consulted. - -II. The baptism takes place with water. This special form requires -another series of traditions, namely, those rites where water is used. - -III. The person to be baptized is sprinkled with water. Here are to be -consulted all those rites where the initiated is sprinkled or submerged, -etc. - -IV. All the reminiscences of folklore, the superstitious practices must -be remembered, which in any way run parallel with the symbolism of the -baptismal act. - -In this way, we get a comparative scientific study of religion as -regards baptism. We accordingly discover the different elements out of -which the act of baptism has arisen. We ascertain further its original -meaning, and we become at the same time acquainted with the rich world -of myths that have contributed to the foundations of religions, and thus -we are enabled to understand the manifold and profound meanings of -baptism. The analyst proceeds in the same way with the dream. He -collects the historical parallels to every part of the dream, even the -remotest, and he tries to reconstruct the psychological history of the -dream, with its fundamental meaning, exactly as in the analysis of the -act of baptism. Thus, through the monographic treatment of the dream, we -get a profound and beautiful insight into that mysterious, fine and -ingenious network of unconscious determination. We get an insight, which -as I said before, can only be compared with the historical understanding -of any act which we had hitherto regarded in a superficial and one-sided -way. - -This digression on the psychoanalytic method has seemed to me to be -unavoidable. I was obliged to give you an account of the method and its -position in methodology, by reason of all the extensive -misunderstandings which are constantly attempting to discredit it. I do -not doubt that there are superficial and improper interpretations of the -method. But an intelligent critic ought never to allow this to be a -reproach to the method itself, any more than a bad surgeon should be -urged as an objection to the common validity of surgery. I do not doubt -that some inaccurate descriptions and conceptions of the psychoanalytic -method have arisen on the part of the psychoanalytic school itself. But -this is due to the fact that, because of their education in natural -science it is difficult for medical men to attain a full grasp of -historical or philological method, although they instinctively handle it -rightly. - -The method I have described to you, in this general way, is the method -that I adopt and for which I assume the scientific responsibility. - -In my opinion it is absolutely reprehensible and unscientific to -question about dreams, or to try to interpret them directly. This is not -a methodological, but an arbitrary proceeding, which is its own -punishment, for it is as unproductive as every false method. - -If I have made the attempt to demonstrate to you the principle of the -psychoanalytic school by dream-analysis, it is because the dream is -one of the clearest instances of those contents of the conscious, -whose basis eludes any plain and direct understanding. When anyone -knocks in a nail with a hammer, to hang something up, we can -understand every detail of the action. But it is otherwise with the -act of baptism, where every phase is problematic. We call these -actions, of which the meaning and the aim is not directly evident, -symbolic actions or symbols. On the basis of this reasoning, we call a -dream symbolic, as a dream is a psychological formation, of which the -origin, meaning and aim are obscure, inasmuch as it represents one of -the purest products of unconscious constellation. As Freud strikingly -says: “The dream is the via regia to the unconscious.” Besides the -dream, we can note many effects of unconscious constellation. We have -in the association-experiments a means for establishing exactly the -influence of the unconscious. We find those effects in the -disturbances of the experiment which I have called the “indicators of -the complex.” The task which the association-experiment gives to the -person experimented upon is so extraordinarily easy and simple that -even children can accomplish it without difficulty. It is, therefore, -very remarkable that so many disturbances of an intentional action -should be noted in this experiment. The only reasons or causes of -these disturbances which can usually be shown, are the partly -conscious, partly not-conscious constellations, caused by the -so-called complexes. In the greater number of these disturbances, we -can without difficulty establish the relation to images of emotional -complexes. We often need the psychoanalytic method to explain these -relations, that is, we have to ask the person experimented upon or the -patient, what associations he can give to the disturbed reactions. We -thus gain the historical matter which serves as a basis for our -judgment. The intelligent objection has already been made that the -person experimented upon could say what he liked, in other words, any -nonsense. This objection is made, I believe, in the unconscious -supposition that the historian who collects the matter for his -monograph is an idiot, incapable of distinguishing real parallels from -apparent ones and true documents from crude falsifications. The -professional man has means at his disposal by which clumsy mistakes -can be avoided with certainty, and the slighter ones very probably. -The mistrust of our opponents is here really delightful. For anyone -who understands psychoanalytic work it is a well-known fact that it is -not so very difficult to see where there is coherence, and where there -is none. Moreover, in the first place these fraudulent declarations -are very significant of the person experimented upon, and secondly, in -general rather easily to be recognized as fraudulent. - -In association-experiments, we are able to recognize the very -intense effects produced by the unconscious in what are called -complex-interventions. These mistakes made in the association-experiment -are nothing but the prototypes of the mistakes made in everyday life, -which are for the greater part to be considered as interventions. Freud -brought together such material in his book, “The Psychopathology of -Everyday Life.” - -These include the so-called symptomatic actions, which from another -point of view might equally as well be called “symbolic actions,” and -the real failures to carry out actions, such as forgetting, slips of -the tongue, etc. All these phenomena are the effect of unconscious -constellations and therefore so many entrance-gates into the domain of -the unconscious. When such errors are cumulative, they are designated -as neurosis, which, from this aspect, looks like a defective action -and therefore the effect of unconscious constellations or -complex-interventions. - -The association-experiment is thus not directly a means to unlock the -unconscious, but rather a technique for obtaining a good selection of -defective reactions, which can then be used by psychoanalysis. At least, -this is its most reliable form of application at the present time. I -may, however, mention that it is possible that it may furnish other -especially valuable facts which would grant us some direct glimpses, but -I do not consider this problem sufficiently ripe to speak about. -Investigations in this direction are going on. - -I hope that, through my explanation of our method, you may have gained -somewhat more confidence in its scientific character, so that you will -be by this time more inclined to agree that the phantasies which have -been hitherto discovered by means of psychoanalytic work are not merely -arbitrary suppositions and illusions of psychoanalysts. Perhaps you are -even inclined to listen patiently to what those products of unconscious -phantasies can tell us. - -Footnote 9: - - Jahrbuch für psychopath. u. psychoanalyt. Forschungen, Bd. II, p. 465. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - The Content of the Unconscious - - -The phantasies of adults are, in so far as they are conscious, of great -diversity and strongly individual. It is therefore nearly impossible to -give a general description of them. But it is very different when we -enter by means of analysis into the world of his unconscious phantasies. -The diversities of the phantasies are indeed very great, but we do not -find those individual peculiarities which we find in the conscious self. -We meet here with more typical material which is not infrequently -repeated in a similar form in different people. Constantly recurring, -for instance, are ideas which are variations of the thoughts we -encounter in religion and mythology. This fact is so convincing that we -say we have discovered in these phantasies the same mechanisms which -once created mythological and religious ideas. I should have to enter -very much into detail in order to give you adequate examples. I must -refer you for these problems to my work, “Wandlungen und Symbole der -Libido.” I will only mention that, for instance, the central symbol of -Christianity—self-sacrifice—plays an important part in the phantasies of -the unconscious. The Viennese School describes this phenomenon by the -ambiguous term castration-complex. This paradoxical use of the term -follows from the particular attitude of this school toward the question -of unconscious sexuality. I have given special attention to the problem -in the book I have just mentioned; I must here restrict myself to this -incidental reference and hasten to say something about the origin of the -unconscious phantasy. - -In the child’s unconsciousness, the phantasies are considerably -simplified, in relation to the proportions of the infantile -surroundings. Thanks to the united efforts of the psychoanalytic school, -we discovered that the most frequent phantasy of childhood is the -so-called _Œdipus-complex_. This designation also seems as paradoxical -as possible. We know that the tragic fate of Œdipus consisted in his -loving his mother and slaying his father. This conflict of later life -seems to be far remote from the child’s mind. To the uninitiated it -seems inconceivable that the child should have this conflict. After -careful reflection it will become clear that the tertium comparationis -consists just in this narrow limitation of the fate of Œdipus within the -bounds of the family. These limitations are very typical for the child, -for parents are never the boundary for the adult person to the same -extent. The Œdipus-complex represents an infantile conflict, but with -the exaggeration of the adult. The term Œdipus-complex does not mean, -naturally, that this conflict is considered as occurring in the adult -form, but in a corresponding form suitable to childhood. The little son -would like to have the mother all to himself and to be rid of the -father. As you know, little children can sometimes force themselves -between the parents in the most jealous way. The wishes and aims get, in -the unconscious, a more concrete and a more drastic form. Children are -small primitive people and are therefore quickly ready to kill. But as a -child is, in general, harmless, so his apparently dangerous wishes are, -as a rule, also harmless. I say “as a rule,” as you know that children, -too, sometimes give way to their impulses to murder, and this not always -in any indirect fashion. But just as the child, in general, is incapable -of making systematic projects, as little dangerous are his intentions to -murder. The same holds good of an Œdipus-view toward the mother. The -small traces of this phantasy in the conscious can easily be overlooked; -therefore nearly all parents are convinced that their children have no -Œdipus-complex. Parents as well as lovers are generally blind. If I now -say that the Œdipus-complex is in the first place only a formula for the -childish desire towards parents, and for the conflict which this craving -evokes, this statement of the situation will be more readily accepted. -The history of the Œdipus-phantasy is of special interest, as it teaches -us very much about the development of the unconscious phantasies. -Naturally, people think that the problem of Œdipus is the problem of the -son. But this is, astonishingly enough, only an illusion. Under some -circumstances the libido-sexualis reaches that definite differentiation -of puberty corresponding to the sex of the individual relatively late. -The libido sexualis has before this time an undifferentiated sexual -character, which can be also termed bisexual. Therefore it is not -astonishing if little girls possess the Œdipus-complex too. As far as I -can see, the first love of the child belongs to the mother, no matter -which its sex. If the love for the mother at this stage is intense, the -father is jealously kept away as a rival. Of course, for the child -itself, the mother has in this early stage of childhood no sexual -significance of any importance. The term “Œdipus-complex” is in so far -not really suitable. At this stage the mother has still the significance -of a protecting, enveloping, food-providing being, who, on this account, -is a source of delight. I do not identify, as I explained before, the -feeling of delight eo ipso with sexuality. In earliest childhood but a -slight amount of sexuality is connected with this feeling of delight. -But, nevertheless, jealousy can play a great part in it, as jealousy -does not belong entirely to the sphere of sexuality. The desire for food -has much to do with the first impulses of jealousy. Certainly, a -relatively germinating eroticism is also connected with it. This element -gradually increases as the years go on, so that the Œdipus-complex soon -assumes its classical form. In the case of the son, the conflict -develops in a more masculine and therefore more typical form, whilst in -the daughter, the typical affection for the father develops, with a -correspondingly jealous attitude toward the mother. We call this -complex, the _Electra-complex_. As everybody knows, Electra took revenge -on her mother for the murder of her husband, because that mother had -robbed her of her father. - -Both phantasy-complexes develop with growing age, and reach a new stage -after puberty, when the emancipation from the parents is more or less -attained. The symbol of this time is the one already previously -mentioned; it is the symbol of self-sacrifice. The more the sexuality -develops the more the individual is forced to leave his family and to -acquire independence and autonomy. By its history, the child is closely -connected with its family and specially with its parents. In -consequence, it is often with the greatest difficulty that the child is -able to free itself from its infantile surroundings. The Œdipus- and -Electra-complex give rise to a conflict, if adults cannot succeed in -spiritually freeing themselves; hence arises the possibility of neurotic -disturbance. The libido, which is already sexually developed, takes -possession of the form given by the complex and produces feelings and -phantasies which unmistakably show the effective existence of the -complex, till then perfectly unconscious. The next consequence is the -formation of intense resistances against the immoral inner impulses -which are derived from the now active complexes. The conscious attitude -arising out of this can be of different kinds. Either the consequences -are direct, and then we notice in the son strong resistances against the -father and a typical affectionate and dependent attitude toward the -mother; or the consequences are indirect, that is to say, compensated, -and we notice, instead of the resistances toward the father, a typical -submissiveness here, and an irritated antagonistic attitude toward the -mother. It is possible that direct and compensated consequences take -place alternately. The same thing is to be said of the Electra-complex. -If the libido-sexualis were to cleave fast to these particular forms of -the conflict, murder and incest would be the consequence of the Œdipus -and Electra conflicts. These consequences are naturally not found among -normal people, and not even among amoral (“moral” here implying the -possession of a rationalized and codified moral system) primitive -persons, or humanity would have become extinct long ago. On the -contrary, it is in the natural order of things that what surrounds us -daily and has surrounded us, loses its compelling charm and thus forces -the libido to search for new objects, an important rule which prevents -parricide and inbreeding. - -The further development of the libido toward objects outside the family -is the absolutely normal and right way of proceeding, and it is an -abnormal and morbid phenomenon if the libido remains, as it were, glued -to the family. Some indications of this phenomenon are nevertheless to -be noticed in normal people. A direct outcome of the infantile-complex -is the unconscious phantasy of self-sacrifice, which occurs after -puberty, in the succeeding stage of development. Of this I gave a -detailed example in my work, “Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido.” The -phantasy of self-sacrifice means sacrificing infantile wishes. I have -shown this in the work just mentioned and in the same place I have -referred to the parallels in the history of religions. - - - The Problems of the Incest-Complex - - -Freud has a special conception of the incest-complex which has given -rise to heated controversy. He starts from the fact that the -Œdipus-complex is generally unconscious, and conceives this as the -result of a repression of a moral kind. It is possible that I am not -expressing myself quite correctly, when I give you Freud’s view in these -words. At any rate, according to him the Œdipus-complex seems to be -repressed, that is, seems to be removed into the unconscious by a -reaction from the conscious tendencies. It almost looks as if the -Œdipus-complex would develop into consciousness if the development of -the child were to go on without restraint and if no cultural tendencies -influenced it. Freud calls this barrier, which prevents the -Œdipus-complex from ripening, the _incest-barrier_. He seems to believe, -so far as one can gather from his work, that the incest-barrier is the -result of experience, of the selective influence of reality, inasmuch as -the unconscious strives without restraint, and in an immediate way, for -its own satisfaction, without any consideration for others. This -conception is in harmony with the conception of Schopenhauer, who says -of the blind world-will that it is so egoistic that a man could slay his -brother merely to grease his boots with his brother’s fat. Freud -considers that the psychological incest-barrier, as postulated by him, -can be compared with the incest-taboo which we find among inferior -races. He further believes that these prohibitions are a proof of the -fact that men really desired incest, for which reason laws were framed -against it even in very primitive cultural stages. He takes the tendency -towards incest to be an absolute concrete sexual wish, lacking only the -quality of consciousness. He calls this complex the root-complex, or -nucleus, of the neuroses, and is inclined, viewing this as the original -one, to reduce nearly the whole psychology of the neuroses, as well as -many other phenomena in the world of mind, to this complex. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - The Etiology of the Neuroses - - -With this conception of Freud’s we have to return to the question of the -etiology of the neuroses. We have seen that the psychoanalytic theory -began with a traumatic event in childhood, which was only later on found -to be a phantasy, at least in many cases. In consequence, the theory -became modified, and tried to find in the development of abnormal -phantasy the main etiological significance. The investigation of the -unconscious, made by the collaboration of many workers, carried on over -a space of ten years, provided an extensive empirical material, which -demonstrated that the incest-complex was the beginning of the morbid -phantasies. But it was no longer thought that the incest-complex was a -special complex of neurotic people. It was demonstrated to be a -constituent of a normal infantile psyche too. We cannot tell, by its -mere existence, if this complex will give rise to a neurosis or not. To -become pathogenic, it must give rise to a conflict; that is, the -complex, which in itself is harmless, has to become dynamic, and thus -give rise to a conflict. - -Herewith, we come to a new and important question. The whole etiological -problem is altered, if the infantile “root-complex” is only a general -form, which is not pathogenic in itself, and requires, as we saw in our -previous exposition, to be subsequently set in action. Under these -circumstances, we dig in vain among the reminiscences of earliest -childhood, as they give us only the general forms of the later -conflicts, but not the conflict itself. - -I believe the best thing I can do is to describe the further development -of the theory by demonstrating the case of that young lady whose story -you have heard in part in one of the former lectures. You will probably -remember that the shying of the horses, by means of the anamnestic -explanation, brought back the reminiscence of a comparable scene in -childhood. We here discussed the trauma theory. We found that we had to -look for the real pathological element in the exaggerated phantasy, -which took its origin in a certain retardation of the psychic sexual -development. We have now to apply our theoretical standpoint to the -origin of this particular type of illness, so that we may understand -how, just at that moment, this event of her childhood, which seemed to -be of such potency, could come to constellation. - -The simplest way to come to an understanding of this important event -would be by making an exact inquiry into the circumstances of the -moment. The first thing I did was to question the patient about the -society in which she had been at that time, and as to what was the -farewell gathering to which she had been just before. She had been at a -farewell supper, given in honor of her best friend, who was going to a -foreign health-resort for a nervous illness. We hear that this friend is -happily married, and is the mother of one child. We have some right to -doubt this assertion of her happiness. If she were really happily -married, she probably would not be nervous and would not need a cure. -When I put my question differently, I learned that my patient had been -brought back into the host’s house as soon as she was overtaken by her -friends, as this house was the nearest place to bring her to in safety. -In her exhausted condition she received his hospitality. As the patient -came to this part of her history she suddenly broke off, was -embarrassed, fidgetted and tried to turn to another subject. Evidently -we had now come upon some disagreeable reminiscences, which suddenly -presented themselves. After the patient had overcome obstinate -resistances, it was admitted that something very remarkable had happened -that night. The host made her a passionate declaration of love, thus -giving rise to a situation that might well be considered difficult and -painful, considering the absence of the hostess. Ostensibly this -declaration came like a flash of lightning from a clear sky. A small -dose of criticism applied to this assertion will teach us that these -things never drop from the clouds, but have always their previous -history. It was the work of the following weeks to dig out piecemeal a -whole, long love-story. - -I can thus roughly describe the picture I got at finally. As a child the -patient was thoroughly boyish, loved only turbulent games for boys, -laughed at her own sex, and flung aside all feminine ways and -occupations. After puberty, the time when the sex-question should have -come nearer to her, she began to shun all society; she hated and -despised, as it were, everything which could remind her even remotely of -the biological destination of mankind, and lived in a world of -phantasies which had nothing in common with the rude reality. So she -escaped, up to her twenty-fourth year, all the little adventures, hopes -and expectations which ordinarily move a woman of this age. (In this -respect women are very often remarkably insincere towards themselves and -towards the physician.) But she became acquainted with two men who were -destined to destroy the thorny hedge which had grown all around her. Mr. -A. was the husband of her best friend at the time; Mr. B. was the -bachelor-friend of this family. Both were to her taste. It seemed to her -pretty soon that Mr. B. was much more sympathetic to her, and from this -resulted a more intimate relationship between herself and him, and the -possibility of an engagement was discussed. Through her relations with -Mr. B., and through her friend, she met Mr. A. frequently. In an -inexplicable way his presence very often excited her and made her -nervous. Just at this time our friend went to a big party. All her -friends were there. She became lost in thought, and played as in a dream -with her ring, which suddenly slipped from her hand and rolled under the -table. Both men tried to find it, and Mr. B. managed to get it. With an -expressive smile he put the ring back on her finger and said: “You know -what this means?” At that moment a strange and irresistible feeling came -over her, she tore the ring from her finger and threw it out of the open -window. Evidently a painful moment ensued, and she soon left the -company, feeling deeply depressed. A short time later she found herself, -for her holidays, accidentally in the same health-resort where Mr. A. -and his wife were staying. Mrs. A. now became more and more nervous, -and, as she felt ill, had to stay frequently at home. The patient often -went out with Mr. A. alone. One day they were out in a small boat. She -was boisterously merry, and suddenly fell overboard. Mr. A. saved her -with great difficulty, and lifted her, half unconscious, into the boat. -He then kissed her. With this romantic event the bonds were woven fast. -To defend herself, our patient tried energetically to get herself -engaged to Mr. B., and to imagine that she loved him. Of course this -queer play did not escape the sharp eye of feminine jealousy. Mrs. A., -her friend, felt the secret, was worried by it, and her nervousness grew -proportionately. It became more and more necessary for her to go to a -foreign health-resort. The farewell-party was a dangerous opportunity. -The patient knew that her friend and rival was going off the same -evening, so Mr. A. would be alone. Certainly she did not see this -opportunity clearly, as women have the notable capacity “to think” -purely emotionally, and not intellectually. For this reason, it seems to -them as if they never thought about certain matters at all, but as a -matter of fact she had a queer feeling all the evening. She felt -extremely nervous, and when Mrs. A. had been accompanied to the station -and had gone, the hysterical attack occurred on her way back. I asked -her of what she had been thinking, or what she felt at the actual moment -when the trotting horses came along. Her answer was, she had only a -frightful feeling, the feeling that something dreadful was very near to -her, which she could not escape. As you know, the consequence was that -the exhausted patient was brought back into the house of the host, Mr. -A. A simple human mind would understand the situation without -difficulty. An uninitiated person would say: “Well, that is clear -enough, she only intended to return by one way or another to Mr. A.’s -house,” but the psychologist would reproach this layman for his -incorrect way of expressing himself, and would tell him that the patient -was not conscious of the motives of her behavior, and that it was, -therefore, not permissible to speak of the patient’s intention to return -to Mr. A.’s house. - -There are, of course, learned psychologists who are capable of -furnishing many theoretical reasons for disputing the meaning of this -behavior. They base their reasons on the dogma of the identity of -consciousness and psyche. The psychology inaugurated by Freud recognized -long ago that it is impossible to estimate psychological actions as to -their final meaning by conscious motives, but that the objective -standard of their psychological results has to be applied for their -right evaluation. Now-a-days it cannot be contested any longer that -there are unconscious tendencies too, which have a great influence on -our modes of reaction, and on the effects to which these in turn give -rise. What happened in Mr. A.’s house bears out this observation; our -patient made a sentimental scene, and Mr. A. was induced to answer it -with a declaration of love. Looked at in the light of this last event, -the whole previous history seems to be very ingeniously directed towards -just this end, but throughout the conscience of the patient struggled -consciously against it. Our theoretical profit from this story is the -clear perception that an unconscious purpose or tendency has brought on -to the stage the scene of the fright from the horses, utilizing thus -very possibly that infantile reminiscence, where the shying horses -galloped towards the catastrophe. Reviewing the whole material, the -scene with the horses—the starting point of the illness—seems now to be -the keystone of a planned edifice. The fright, and the apparent -traumatic effect of the event in childhood, are only brought on the -stage in the peculiar way characteristic of hysteria. But what is thus -put on the stage has become almost a reality. We know from hundreds of -experiences that certain hysterical pains are only put on the stage in -order to reap certain advantages from the sufferer’s surroundings. The -patients not only believe that they suffer, but their sufferings are, -from a psychological standpoint, as real as those due to organic causes; -nevertheless, they are but stage-effects. - - - The Regression of Libido - - -This utilization of reminiscences to put on the stage any illness, or an -apparent etiology, is called a _regression of the libido_. The libido -goes back to reminiscences, and makes them actual, so that an apparent -etiology is produced. In this case, by the old theory, the fright from -the horses would seem to be based on a former shock. The resemblance -between the two scenes is unmistakable, and in both cases the patient’s -fright is absolutely real. At any rate, we have no reason to doubt her -assertions in this respect, as they are in full harmony with all other -experiences. The nervous asthma, the hysterical anxiety, the psychogenic -depressions and exaltations, the pains, the convulsions—they are all -very real, and that physician who has himself suffered from a -psychogenic symptom knows that it feels absolutely real. Regressively -re-lived reminiscences, even if they were but phantasies, are as real as -remembrances of events that have once been real. - -As the term “regression of libido” shows, we understand by this -retrograde mode of application of the libido, a retreat of the libido to -former stages. In our example, we are able to recognize clearly the way -the process of regression is carried on. At that farewell party, which -proved a good opportunity to be alone with the host, the patient shrank -from the idea of turning this opportunity to her advantage, and yet was -overpowered by her desires, which she had never consciously realized up -to that moment. The libido was not used consciously for that definite -purpose, nor was this purpose ever acknowledged. The libido had to carry -it out through the unconscious, and through the pretext of the fright -caused by an apparently terrible danger. Her feeling at the moment when -the horses approached illustrates our formula most clearly; she felt as -if something inevitable had now to happen. - -The process of regression is beautifully demonstrated in an illustration -already used by Freud. The libido can be compared with a stream which is -dammed up as soon as its course meets any impediment, whence arises an -inundation. If this stream has previously, in its upper reaches, -excavated other channels, then these channels will be filled up again by -reason of the damming below. To a certain extent they would appear to be -real river beds, filled with water as before, but at the same time, they -only have a temporary existence. It is not that the stream has -permanently chosen the old channels, but only for as long as the -impediment endures in the main stream. The affluents do not always carry -water, because they were from the first, as it were, not independent -streams, but only former stages of development of the main river, or -passing possibilities, to which an inundation has given the opportunity -for fresh existence. This illustration can directly be transferred to -the development of the application of the libido. The definite -direction, the main river, is not yet found during the childish -development of sexuality. The libido goes instead into all possible -by-paths, and only gradually does the definite form develop. But the -more the stream follows out its main channel, the more the affluents -will dry up and lose their importance, leaving only traces of former -activity. Similarly, the importance of the childish precursors of -sexuality disappears completely as a rule, only leaving behind certain -traces. - -If in later life an impediment arises, so that the damming of the libido -reanimates the old by-paths, the condition thus excited is properly a -new one, and something abnormal. - -The former condition of the child is normal usage of the libido, whilst -the return of the libido towards the childish past is something -abnormal. Therefore, in my opinion, it is an erroneous terminology to -call the infantile sexual manifestations “perversions,” for it is not -permissible to give normal manifestations pathological terms. This -erroneous usage seems to be responsible for the confusion of the -scientific public. The terms employed in neurotic psychology have been -misapplied here, under the assumption that the abnormal by-paths of the -libido discovered in neurotic people are the same phenomena as are to be -found in children. - - - The Infantile Amnesia Criticized - - -The so-called _amnesia of childhood_, which plays an important part in -the “Three Contributions,” is a similar illegitimate retrograde -application from pathology. Amnesia is a pathological condition, -consisting in the repression of certain contents of the conscious. This -condition cannot possibly be the same as the antegrade amnesia of -children, which consists in an incapacity for intentional reproduction, -a condition we find also among savages. This incapacity for reproduction -dates from birth, and can be understood on obvious anatomical and -biological grounds. It would be a strange hypothesis were we willing to -regard this totally different quality of early infantile consciousness -as one to be attributed to repression, in analogy with the condition in -neurosis. The amnesia of neurosis is punched out, as it were, from the -continuity of memory, but the remembrances of earlier childhood exist in -separate islands in the continuity of the non-memory. This condition is -the opposite in every sense of the condition of neurosis, so that the -expression “amnesia,” generally used for this condition, is incorrect. -The “amnesia of childhood” is a conclusion _a posteriori_ from the -psychology of neurosis, just as is the “polymorphic perverse” -disposition of the child. - - - The Latent Sexual Period Criticized - - -This error in the theoretical conception is shown clearly in the -so-called _latent sexual period of childhood_. Freud has remarked that -the early infantile so-called sexual manifestations, which I now call -the phenomena of the pre-sexual stage, vanish after a while, and only -reappear much later. Everything that Freud has termed the “suckling’s -masturbation,” that is to say, all those sexual-like actions of which we -spoke before, are said to return later as real onanism. Such a process -of development would be biologically unique. In conformity with this -theory one would have to say, for instance, that when a plant forms a -bud, from which a blossom begins to unfold, the blossom is taken back -again before it is fully developed, and is again hidden within the bud, -to reappear later on in the same form. This impossible supposition is a -consequence of the assertion that the early infantile activities of the -pre-sexual stage are sexual phenomena, and that those manifestations, -which resemble masturbation, are genuinely acts of masturbation. In this -way Freud had to assert that there is a disappearance of sexuality, or, -as he calls it, a _latent sexual period_. What he calls a disappearance -of sexuality is nothing but the _real beginning of sexuality_, -everything preceding was but the fore-stage to which no real sexual -character can be imputed. In this way, the impossible phenomenon of the -latent period is very simply explained. This theory of the latent sexual -period is a striking instance of the incorrectness of the conception of -the early infantile sexuality. But there has been no error of -observation. On the contrary, the hypothesis of the latent sexual period -proves how exactly Freud noticed the apparent recommencement of -sexuality. The error lies in the conception. As we saw before, the first -mistake consists in a somewhat old-fashioned conception of the -multiplicity of instincts. If we accept the idea of two or more -instincts existing side by side, we must naturally conclude that, if one -instinct has not yet become manifest, it is present in nuce in -accordance with the theory of pre-formation. In the physical sphere we -should perhaps have to say that, when a piece of iron passes from the -condition of heat to the condition of light, the light was already -existent in nuce (latent) in the heat. Such assumptions are arbitrary -projections of human ideas into transcendental regions, contravening the -prescription of the theory of cognition. - -We have thus no right to speak of a sexual instinct existing in nuce, as -we then give an arbitrary explanation of phenomena which can be -explained otherwise, and in a more adequate manner. We can speak of the -manifestations of a nutrition instinct, of the manifestations of a -sexual instinct, etc., but we have only the right to do so when the -function has quite clearly reached the surface. We only speak of light -when the iron is visibly luminous, but not when the iron is merely hot. -Freud, as an observer, sees clearly that the sexuality of neurotic -people is not entirely comparable with infantile sexuality, for there is -a great difference, for instance, between the uncleanliness of a child -of two years old and the uncleanliness of a katatonic patient of forty. -The former is a psychological and normal phenomenon; the latter is -extraordinarily pathological. Freud inserted a short passage in his -“Three Contributions” saying that the infantile form of neurotic -sexuality is either wholly, or at any rate partly, due to a regression. -That is, even in those cases where we might say, these are still the -same by-paths, we find that the function of the by-paths is still -increased by regression. Freud thus recognizes that the infantile -sexuality of neurotic people is _for the greater part_ a regressive -phenomenon. That this must be so is also shown through the further -insight obtained from the investigations of recent years, that the -observations concerning the psychology of the childhood of neurotic -people hold equally good for normal people. At any rate we can say that -the history of the development of infantile sexuality in persons with -neurosis differs but by a hair’s breadth from that of normal beings who -have escaped the attention of the expert appraiser. Striking differences -are exceptional. - - - Further Remarks on the Etiology of Neurosis - - -The more we penetrate into the heart of infantile development, the more -we receive the impression that as little can be found there of -etiological significance, as in the infantile shock. Even with the -acutest ferreting into history, we shall never discover why people -living on German soil had just such a fate, and why the Gauls another. -The further we get away, in analytical investigations from the epoch of -the manifest neurosis, the less can we expect to find the real motive of -the neurosis, since the dynamic disproportions grow fainter and fainter -the further we go back into the past. In constructing our theory so as -to deduce the neurosis from causes in the distant past, we are first and -foremost obeying the impulse of our patients to withdraw themselves as -far as possible from the critical present. The pathogenic conflict -exists _only in the present moment_. It is just as if a nation wanted to -regard its miserable political conditions at the actual moment as due to -the past; as if the Germany of the 19th century had attributed its -political dismemberment and incapacity to its suppression by the Romans, -instead of having sought the actual sources of her difficulties in the -present. _Only_ in the _actual present_ are the effective causes, and -only here are the possibilities of removing them. - - - The Etiological Significance of the Actual Present - - -A greater part of the psychoanalytic school is under the spell of the -conception that the conflicts of childhood are conditio sine qua non for -the neuroses. It is not only the theorist, who studies the psychology of -childhood from scientific interest, but the practical man also, who -believes that he has to turn the history of infancy inside out to find -there the dynamic source of the actual neurosis—it were a fruitless -enterprise if done under this presumption. In the meantime, the most -important factor escapes the analyst, namely, the conflict and the -claims of the present time. In the case before us, we should not -understand any of the motives which produced the hysterical attacks if -we looked for them in earliest childhood. It is the form alone which -those reminiscences determine to a large extent, but the dynamic -originates from the present time. The insight into the actual meaning of -these motives is real understanding. - -We can now understand why that moment was pathogenic, as well as why it -chose those particular symbols. Through the conception of regression, -the theory is freed from the narrow formula of the importance of the -events in childhood, and the actual conflict thus gets that significance -which, from an empirical standpoint, belongs to it implicitly. Freud -himself introduced the conception of regression in his “Three -Contributions,” acknowledging rightly that our observations do not -permit us to seek the cause of neurosis exclusively in the past. If it -is true, then, that reminiscent matter becomes active again as a rule by -regression, we have to consider the following question: Have, perhaps, -the apparent effective results of reminiscences to be referred in -general to a regression of the libido? As I said before, Freud suggested -in his “Three Contributions,” that the infantilism of neurotic sexuality -was, _for the greater part, due to the regression of the libido_. This -statement deserves greater prominence than it there received. Freud did -give it this prominence in his later works to a somewhat greater extent. - -The recognition of the regression of the libido very largely reduces the -etiological significance of the events of childhood. It has already -seemed to us rather astonishing that the Œdipus- or the Electra-complex -should have a determining value in regard to the onset of a neurosis, -since these complexes exist in everyone. They exist even with those -persons who have never known their own father and mother, but have been -educated by their step-parents. I have analyzed cases of this kind, and -found that the incest-complex was as well developed as in other -patients. It seems to us that this is good proof that the incest-complex -is much more a purely regressive production of phantasies than a -reality. From this standpoint, the events in childhood are only -significant for the neuroses in so far as they are revived later through -a regression of the libido. That this must be true to a great extent is -also shown by the fact that the infantile sexual shock never causes -hysteria, nor does the incest-complex, which is common to everyone. The -neurosis only begins as soon as the incest-complex becomes actuated by -regression. - -So we come to the question, why does the libido make a regression? To -answer it we must study carefully under what circumstances regression -arises. In treating this problem with my patients, I generally give the -following example: While a mountain climber is attempting the ascent of -a certain peak, he happens to meet with an insurmountable obstacle, let -us say, some precipitous rocky wall which cannot be surmounted. After -having vainly sought for another path, he will have to return and -regretfully abandon the climbing of that peak. He will say to himself: -“It is not in my power to surmount this difficulty, so I will climb -another easier mountain.” In this case, we find there is a normal -utilization of the libido. The man returns, when he finds an -insurmountable difficulty, and uses his libido, which could not attain -its original aim, for the ascent of another mountain. Now let us imagine -that this rocky wall was not really unclimbable so far as his physique -was concerned, but that from mere nervousness he withdrew from this -somewhat difficult enterprise. In this case, there are two -possibilities: I. The man will be annoyed by his own cowardice, and will -wish to prove himself less timid on another occasion, or perhaps will -even admit that with his timidity he ought never to undertake such a -difficult ascent. At any rate, he will acknowledge that he has not -sufficient moral capacity for these difficulties. He therefore uses that -libido, which did not attain its original aim, for a useful -self-criticism, and for sketching a plan by which he may be able, with -due regard to his moral capacity, to realize his wish to climb. II. The -possibility is, that the man does not realize his own cowardice, and -declares off-hand that this mountain is physically unattainable, -although he is quite able to see that, with sufficient courage, the -obstacle could have been overcome. But he prefers to deceive himself. -Thus the psychological situation which is of importance for our problem -is created. - - - The Etiological Significance of Failure of Adaptation - - -Probably this man knows very well that it would have been physically -possible to overcome the difficulty, that he was only morally incapable -of doing so. He rejects this idea on account of its painful nature. He -is so conceited that he cannot admit to himself his cowardice. He brags -of his courage and prefers to declare things impossible rather than his -own courage inadequate. But through this behavior he comes into -opposition with his own self: on the one hand he has a right view of the -situation, on the other he hides this knowledge from himself, behind the -illusion of his infallible courage. He represses the proper view, and -forcibly tries to impress his subjective, illusive opinion upon reality. -The result of this contradiction is that the libido is divided, and that -the two parts are directed against one another. He opposes his wish to -climb a mountain by his artificial self-created opinion, that its ascent -is impossible. He does not turn to the real impossibility, but to an -artificial one, to a self-given limitation; thus he is in disharmony -with himself, and from this moment has an internal conflict. Now insight -into his cowardice will get the upper hand; now obstinacy and pride. In -either case the libido is engaged in a useless civil war. Thus the man -becomes incapable of any enterprise. He will never realize his wish to -climb a mountain, and he goes perfectly astray as to his moral -qualities. He is therefore less capable of performing his work, he is -not fully adapted, he can be compared to a neurotic patient. The libido -which withdrew from before this difficulty has neither led to honest -self-criticism, nor to a desperate struggle to overcome the obstacle; it -has only been used to maintain his cheap pretence that the ascent was -really impossible, even heroic courage could have availed nothing. Such -a reaction is called an _infantile reaction_. It is very characteristic -of children, and of naïve minds, not to find the fault in their own -shortcomings, but in external circumstances, and to impute to these -their own subjective judgment. This man solves his problem in an -infantile way, that is, he replaces the suitable mode of adaptation of -our former case by a mode of adaptation belonging to the infantile mind. -This is regression. His libido withdraws from an obstacle which cannot -be surmounted, and replaces a real action by an infantile illusion. -These cases are very commonly met with in practice among neurotics. I -will remind you here of those well-known cases in which young girls -become hysterical with curious suddenness just when they are called upon -to decide about their engagements. As an instance, I should like to -describe to you the case of two sisters, separated only by one year in -age. They were similar in capacities and characters; their education was -the same; they grew up in the same surroundings, and under the influence -of their parents. Both were healthy; neither the one nor the other -showed any nervous symptoms. An attentive observer might have discovered -that the elder daughter was the more beloved by the parents. This -affection depended on a certain sensitiveness which this daughter -showed. She asked for more affection than the younger one, was also -somewhat precocious and more serious. Besides, she showed some charming -childish traits, just those things which, through their slightly -capricious and unbalanced character, make a personality especially -charming. No wonder that father and mother had a great joy in their -elder daughter. As both sisters became of marriageable age, almost at -the same time they became intimately acquainted with two young men, and -the possibility of their marriages soon approached. As is generally the -case, certain difficulties existed. Both girls were young and had very -little experience of the world. Both men were relatively young too, and -in positions which might have been better; they were only at the -beginning of a career, but nevertheless, both were capable young men. -Both girls lived in a social atmosphere which gave them the right to -certain social expectations. It was a situation in which a certain doubt -as to the suitability of either marriage was permissible. Moreover, both -girls were insufficiently acquainted with their prospective husbands, -and were therefore not quite sure of their love. There were many -hesitations and doubts. Here it was noticed that the elder girl always -showed greater waverings in her decisions. From these hesitations some -painful moments arose between the girls and the young men, who naturally -longed for more certainty. At such moments the elder sister was much -more excited than the younger one. Several times she went weeping to her -mother, complaining of her own hesitation. The younger one was somewhat -more decided, and put an end to the unsettled situation by accepting her -suitor. She thus got over her difficulty and the further events ran -smoothly. As soon as the admirer of the elder sister became aware that -the younger one had put matters on a surer footing, he rushed to his -lady and begged in a somewhat passionate way for her acceptance. His -passion irritated and frightened her a little, although she was really -inclined to follow her sister’s example. She answered in a somewhat -haughty and offhand way. He replied with sharp reproaches, causing her -to get still more excited. The end was a scene with tears, and he went -away in an angry mood. At home, he told the story to his mother, who -expressed the opinion that this girl was really unsuitable for him, and -that it would be perhaps better to choose some one else. The girl, for -her part, doubted very much if she really loved this man. It suddenly -seemed to her impossible to follow him to an unknown destiny, and to be -obliged to leave her beloved parents. From that moment, she was -depressed; she showed unmistakable signs of the greatest jealousy -towards her sister, but would neither see nor admit that she was -jealous. The former affectionate relations with her parents changed -also. Instead of her earlier childlike affection, she betrayed a -lamentable state of mind, which increased sometimes to pronounced -irritability; weeks of depression ensued. Whilst the younger sister -celebrated her wedding, the elder went to a distant health-resort for a -nervous intestinal trouble. I shall not continue the history of the -disease; it ended in an ordinary hysteria. - -In analyzing this case, great resistance to the sexual problem was -found. The resistance depended on many perverse phantasies, the -existence of which would not be admitted by the patient. The question, -whence arose such perverse phantasies, so unexpected in a young girl, -brought us to the discovery that once as a child, eight years old, she -had found herself suddenly confronted in the street by an exhibitionist. -She was rooted to the spot by fright, and even much later ugly images -persecuted her in her dreams. Her younger sister was with her at the -time. The night after the patient told me this, she dreamed of a man in -a gray suit, who seemed about to do in front of her what the -exhibitionist had done. She awoke with a cry of terror. The first -association to the gray suit was a suit of her father’s, which he had -been wearing on an excursion which she made with him when she was about -six years old. This dream connects the father, without any doubt, with -the exhibitionist. This must be done for some reason. Did something -happen with the father, which could possibly call forth this -association? This problem met with great resistance from the patient. -But she could not get rid of it. At the next sitting she reproduced some -early reminiscences, when she had noticed her father undressing himself. -Again, she came one day excited and terribly shaken, and told me that -she had had an abominable vision, absolutely distinct. In bed at night, -she felt herself again a child of two or three years old, and she saw -her father standing by her bed in an obscene attitude. The story was -gasped out piece by piece, obviously with the greatest internal -struggle. This was followed by violent reproaches, of how dreadful it is -that a father should ever behave to his child in such a terrible manner. - -Nothing is less probable than that the father really did this. It is -only a phantasy, probably first constructed in the course of the -analysis from that same need of discovering a cause which once induced -the physician to form the theory that hysteria was only caused by such -impressions. This case seemed to me suitable to demonstrate the meaning -of the theory of regression, and to show at the same time the source of -the theoretical mistakes so far. We saw that both sisters were -originally only slightly different. From the moment of the engagement -their ways were totally separated. They seemed now to have quite -different characters. The one, vigorous in health, and enjoying life, -was a good and courageous woman, willing to undertake the natural -demands of life; the other was sad, ill-tempered, full of bitterness and -malice, disinclined to make any effort towards a reasonable life, -egotistical, quibbling, and a nuisance to all about her. This striking -difference was only brought out when the one sister happily passed -through the difficulties of her engagement, whilst the other did not. -For both, it hung to a certain extent only on a hair, whether the affair -would be broken off or not. The younger one, somewhat calmer, was -therefore more deliberate, and able to find the right word at the right -moment. The elder one was more spoiled and more sensitive, consequently -more influenced by her emotions, and could not find the right word, nor -had she the courage to sacrifice her pride to put things straight -afterwards. This little circumstance had a very important effect. -Originally the conditions were much the same for both sisters. The -greater sensitiveness of the elder produced the difference. The question -now is: Whence arose this sensitiveness with its unfortunate results? -The analysis demonstrated the existence of an extraordinarily developed -sexuality of infantile phantastic character; in addition, an incestuous -phantasy towards the father. We have a quick and easy solution of the -problem of this sensitiveness, if we admit that these phantasies had a -lively, and therefore effective existence. We might thus readily -understand why this girl was so sensitive. She was shut up in her own -phantasies and strongly attached to her father. Under these -circumstances, it would have been really a wonder had she been willing -to love and marry another man. The more we pursue our need for a -causation, and pursue the development of these phantasies back to their -beginning, the greater grow the difficulties of the analysis, that is to -say, the resistances as we call them. At the end we should find that -impressive scene, that obscene act, whose improbability has already been -established. This scene has exactly the character of a subsequent -phantastic formation. Therefore, we have to conceive these difficulties, -which we called “resistances,” at least in this part of the analysis, as -an opposition of the patient against the formation of such phantasies, -and not as a resistance against the conscious admittance of a painful -remembrance. - -You will ask with astonishment, to what aim the patient contrives such a -phantasy? You will even be inclined to suggest that the physician forced -the patient to invent it, otherwise she would probably never have -produced such an absurd idea. I do not venture to doubt that there have -been cases in which, by dint of the physician’s desire to find a cause, -especially under the influence of the shock-theory, the patient has been -brought to contrive such phantasies. But the physician would never have -come to this theory, had he not followed the patient’s line of thought, -thus taking part in this retrograde movement of the libido which we call -regression. The physician, consequently, only carried right through to -its consequence what the patient was afraid to carry out, namely, a -regression, a falling back of the libido to its former desires. The -analysis, in following the libido-regression, does not always follow the -exact way marked by its historical development, but very often rather a -later phantasy, which only partly depends on former realities. In our -case, only some of the circumstances are real, and it is but much later -that they get their great importance, namely, at the moment when the -libido regresses. Wherever the libido takes hold of a reminiscence, we -may expect that this reminiscence will be elaborated and altered, as -everything that is touched by the libido revives, takes on dramatic -form, and becomes systematized. We have to admit that, in our case, -almost the greater part of these phantasies became significant -subsequently, after the libido had made a regression, after it had taken -hold of everything that could be suitable, and had made out of all this -a phantasy. Then that phantasy, keeping pace with the retrograde -movement of the libido, came back at last to the father and put upon him -all the infantile sexual desires. Even so it was thought in ancient -times that the golden age of Paradise lay in the past! In the case -before us we know that all the phantasies brought out by analysis did -become subsequently of importance. From this standpoint only, we are not -able to explain the beginning of the neurosis; we should constantly move -in a circle. The critical moment for this neurosis was that in which the -girl and man were inclined to love one another, but in which an -inopportune sensitiveness on the part of the patient caused the -opportunity to slip by. - -_The Conception of Sensitiveness._—We might say, and the -psychoanalytical conception inclines in this direction, that this -critical sensitiveness arises from some peculiar psychological personal -history, which determined this end. We know that such sensitiveness in a -psychogenic neurosis is always a symptom of a discord within the -subject’s self, a symptom of a struggle between two divergent -tendencies. Both tendencies have their own previous psychological story. -In this case, we are able to show that this special resistance, the -content of that critical sensitiveness, is, as a matter of fact, -connected in the patient’s previous history, with certain infantile -sexual manifestations, and also with that so-called traumatic event—all -things which are capable of casting a shadow on sexuality. This would be -so far plausible if the sister of the patient had not lived more or less -the same life, without experiencing all these consequences. I mean, she -did not develop a neurosis. So we have to agree that the patient -experienced these things in a special way, perhaps more intensely than -the younger one. Perhaps also, the events of her earlier childhood were -to her of a disproportionate importance. But if it had been the case to -such a marked extent, something of it would surely have been noticed -earlier. In later youth, the earlier events of childhood were as much -forgotten by the patient as by her sister. Another supposition is -therefore possible. This critical sensitiveness is not the consequence -of the special previous past history, but springs from something that -had existed all along. A careful observer of small children can notice, -even in early infancy, any unusual sensitiveness. I once analyzed a -hysterical patient who showed me a letter written by her mother when -this patient was two and a half years old. Her mother wrote about her -and her sister. The elder was always good-tempered and enterprising, but -the other was always in difficulties with both people and things. The -first one became in later life hysterical, the other one katatonic. -These far-reaching differences, which go back into earliest childhood, -cannot depend on the more or less accidental events of life, but have to -be considered as being innate differences. From this point of view, we -cannot any longer pretend that her special previous psychological -history caused this sensitiveness at that critical moment; it would be -more correct to say: This innate sensitiveness is manifested most -distinctly in uncommon situations. - -This surplus of sensitiveness is found very often as an enrichment of a -personality contributing even more to the charm of the character than to -its detriment. But in difficult and uncommon situations the advantage -very often turns into a disadvantage, as the inopportunely excited -emotion renders calm consideration impossible. Nothing could be more -incorrect than to consider this sensitiveness as eo ipso a morbid -constituent of a character. If it really were so, we should have to -regard at least one third of humanity as pathological. Only if the -consequences of this sensitiveness are destructive to the individual -have we a right to consider this quality as abnormal. - -_Primary Sensitiveness and Regression._—We come to this difficulty when -we crudely oppose the two conceptions as to the significance of the -previous psychological history as we have done here; in reality, the two -are not mutually exclusive. A certain innate sensitiveness leads to a -special psychological history, to special reactions to infantile events, -which are not without their own influence on the development of the -childish conception of life. Events bound up with powerful impressions -can never pass without leaving some trace on sensitive people. Some of -these often remain effective throughout life, and such events can exert -an apparently determining influence on the whole mental development. -Dirty and disillusional experiences in the domain of sexuality are -specially apt to frighten a sensitive person for years and years. Under -these conditions, the mere thought of sexuality raises the greatest -resistances. As the creation of the shock-theory proved, we are too much -inclined, in consequence of our knowledge of such cases, to attribute -the emotional development of a person more or less to accidents. The -earlier shock-theory went too far in this respect. We must never forget -that _the world is, in the first place, a subjective phenomenon. The -impressions we receive from these happenings are also our own doing._ It -is not the case that the impressions are forced on us unconditionally, -but our disposition gives the value to the impressions. A man with -stored-up libido will as a rule have quite different impressions, much -more vivid impressions, than one who organizes his libido into a rich -activity. Such a sensitive person will have a more profound impression -from certain events which might harmlessly pass over a less sensitive -subject. Therefore, in conjunction with the accidental impression, we -have to consider seriously the subjective conditions. Our former -considerations, and the observation of the concrete case especially, -show us that the important subjective condition is the regression. It is -shown by experience in practice, that the effect of regression is so -enormous, so important and so impressive, that we might perhaps be -inclined to attribute the effect of accidental events to the mechanism -of regression only. Without any doubt, there are cases in which -everything is dramatized, where even the traumatic events are artefacts -of the imagination, and in which the few real events are subsequently -entirely distorted through phantastic elaboration. We can simply say, -that there is not a single case of neurosis, in which the emotional -value of the preceding event is not considerably aggravated through the -regression of libido, and even where great parts of the infantile -development seem to be of extraordinary importance, they only gain this -through regression. - -As is always the case, truth is found in the middle. The previous -history has certainly a determining historic value, which is reinforced -by the regression. Sometimes the traumatic significance of the previous -history comes more into the foreground; sometimes only the regressive -meaning. These observations have naturally to be applied to the -infantile sexual events too. Obviously there are cases in which brutal -sexual accidents justify the shadow thrown on sexuality, and explain -thoroughly the later resistance of the individual towards sexuality. -Dreadful impressions other than sexual can also sometimes leave behind a -permanent feeling of insecurity, which may determine the individual in a -hesitating attitude towards reality. Where real events of undoubted -traumatic potentiality are wanting—as is generally the case with -neurosis—there the mechanism of regression prevails. Of course, you -could object that we have no criterion for the potential effect of the -trauma or shock, as this is a highly relative conception. It is not -quite so; we have in the standard of the average normal a criterion for -the potential effect of a shock. Whatever is capable of making a strong -and persistent impression upon a normal person must be considered as -having a determining influence for neurotics also. But we may not -straightway attribute any importance, even in neurosis, to impressions -which in a normal case would disappear and be forgotten. In most of the -cases where any event has an unexpected traumatic influence, we shall -find in all probability a regression, that is to say, a secondary -phantastic dramatization. The earlier in childhood an impression is said -to have arisen, the more suspicious is its reality. Animals and -primitive people have not that readiness in reproducing memories from a -single impression which we find among civilized people. Very young -children have by no means that impressionability which we find in older -children. A certain higher development of the mental faculties is a -necessary condition for impressionability. Therefore we may agree that -the earlier a patient places some significant event in his childhood, -the more likely it will be a phantastic and regressive one. Important -impressions are only to be expected from later youth. At any rate, we -have generally to attribute to the events of earliest childhood, that -is, from the fifth year backwards, but a regressive importance. -Sometimes the regression does play an overwhelming part in later years, -but even then one must not ascribe too little importance to accidental -experiences. It is well known that, in the later course of a neurosis, -the accidental events and the regression together form a vicious circle. -The withdrawal from the experiences of life leads to regression, and the -regression aggravates the resistances towards life. - -In the conception of regression psychoanalysis has made one of the most -important discoveries which have been made in this sphere. Not only has -the earlier exposition of the genesis of neurosis been already -subverted, or at least widely modified, but, at the same time, the -_actual conflict_ has received its proper valuation. - - - The Significance of the Actual Conflict - - -In the case I have described, we saw that we could understand the -symptomatological dramatization as soon as it could be conceived as an -expression of the actual conflict. Here the psychoanalytic theory agrees -with the results of the association-experiments, of which I spoke in my -lectures[10] at Clark University. The association-experiment, with a -neurotic person, gives us a series of references to certain conflicts of -the actual life, which we call complexes. These complexes contain those -problems and difficulties which have brought the patient into opposition -with himself. Generally we find a love-conflict of an obvious character. -From the standpoint of the association-experiment, neurosis seems to be -something quite different from what it appeared from the standpoint of -the earlier psychoanalytic theory. Considered from the standpoint of the -latter theory, neurosis seemed to be a growth which had its roots in -earliest childhood, and overgrew the normal structure. Considered from -the standpoint of the association-experiment, neurosis seems to be a -reaction from an actual conflict, which is naturally found also among -normal people, but among them the conflict is solved without too great -difficulty. The neurotic remains in the grip of his conflict, and his -neurosis seems, more or less, to be the consequence of this stagnation. -So we may say that the result of the association-experiments tell in -favor of the theory of regression. - -With the former historical conception of neurosis, we thought we -understood clearly why a neurotic person, with his powerful -parent-complex, had such great difficulty in adapting himself to life. -Now that we know that normal persons have the same complex, and in -principle have to pass through just the same psychological development -as a neurotic, we can no longer explain neurosis as a certain -development of phantasy-systems. The really illuminating way to put the -problem is a prospective one. We do not ask any longer if the patient -has a father- or a mother-complex, or unconscious incest-phantasies -which worry him. To-day, we know that every one has such things. The -belief that only neurotics had these complexes was an error. We ask now: -What is the task which the patient does not wish to fulfil? From which -necessary difficulties of life does the patient try to withdraw himself? - -When people try always to adapt themselves to the conditions of life, -the libido is employed rightly and adequately. When this is not the -case, the libido is stored up and produces regressive symptoms. The -inadequate adaptation, that is to say, the abnormal indecision of -neurotics in face of difficulties, is easily accounted for by their -strong subjection to their phantasies, in consequence of which reality -seems to them, wholly or partly, more unreal, valueless and -uninteresting than to normal people. These heightened phantasies are the -results of innumerable regressions. The ultimate and deepest root is the -innate sensitiveness, which causes difficulties even to the infant at -the mother’s breast, in the form of unnecessary irritation and -resistances. Call it sensitiveness or whatever you like, this unknown -element of predisposition is in every case of neurosis. - - - The Etiological Significance of Phantasy Criticized - - -The apparent etiological development of neurosis, discovered by -psychoanalysis, is in reality only the work of causally connected -phantasies, which the patient has created from that libido which at -times he did not employ in the biological adaptation. Thus, these -apparently etiological phantasies seem to be forms of compensation, -disguises, for an unfulfilled adaptation to reality. The vicious circle -previously mentioned between the withdrawing in the face of difficulties -and the regression into the world of phantasies, is naturally -well-suited to give the illusion of an apparent striking causal -relationship, so that both the patient and the physician believe in it. -In such a development accidental experiences are only “extenuating -circumstances.” I feel I must make allowance for those critics who, on -reading the history of psychoanalytic patients, get the impression of -phantastic elaboration. Only they make the mistake of attributing the -phantastic artefacts and far-fetched arbitrary symbolism to the -suggestion and to the awful phantasy of the physician, instead of to the -unequalled fertility of phantasy on the part of the patient. Of a truth, -there is a good deal of artificial elaboration in the phantasies of a -psychoanalytic case. There are generally significant signs of the -patient’s active imagination. The critics are not so wrong when they say -that their neurotic patients have no such phantasies. I have no doubt -that patients are unconscious of the greater part of their own -phantasies. A phantasy only “really” exists in the unconscious, when it -has some notable effect upon the conscious, _e. g._, in the form of a -dream; otherwise, we may say with a clear conscience that it is not -real. Every one who overlooks the frequently nearly imperceptible -effects of unconscious phantasies upon the conscious, or renounces the -fundamental, and technically incontestable analysis of dreams, can -easily overlook the phantasies of his patients altogether. We are, -therefore, inclined to smile when we hear this repeated objection. But -we must admit that there is some truth in it. The regressive tendency of -the patient is strengthened by the attention bestowed on it, and -directed to the unconscious, that is to say, to the phantasies he -discovers and forms during analysis. We might even perhaps go so far as -to say that, during the time of analysis, this phantasy-production is -greatly increased, as the patient is strengthened in his regressive -tendency, by the interest taken by the physician and originates even -more phantasies than he did before. Hence, our critics have repeatedly -stated that a conscientious therapy of the neurosis should go in exactly -the opposite direction to that taken by psychoanalysis; in other words, -it has been the chief endeavor of therapy, hitherto, to extricate the -patient from his unhealthy phantasies and bring him back again to real -life. - -Footnote 10: - - Am. Journ. Psych., April, 1910. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - The Therapeutical Principles of Psychoanalysis - - -While the psychoanalyst, of course, knows of this therapeutic tendency -to extricate the patient from his unhealthy phantasies, he also knows -just how far this mere extricating of neurotic patients from their -phantasies goes. As physicians, we should never think of preferring a -difficult and complicated method, assailed by all authorities, to a -simple, clear and easy one without good reason. I am perfectly -well-acquainted with hypnotic suggestion, and with Dubois’ method of -persuasion, but I do not use these methods, on account of their relative -inadequacy. For the same reason, I do not use the direct “ré-éducation -de la volonté” as the psychoanalytic method gives me better results. - -In applying psychoanalysis we must grant the regressive phantasies of -the patient, for psychoanalysis has a much broader outlook, as regards -the valuation of symptoms, than have the above psychotherapeutic -methods. These all emanate from the assertion that a neurosis is an -absolute morbid formation. - -The reigning school of neurology has never thought of considering -neurosis as a healing process also, and of attributing to the neurotic -formations a quite special teleological meaning. Neurosis, like every -other disease, is a compromise between the morbid tendencies, and the -normal function. Modern medicine no longer considers fever as the -illness itself, but a purposeful reaction of the organism. -Psychoanalysis, likewise, no longer conceives a neurosis as eo ipso -morbid, but as also having a meaning and a purpose. From this there -follows the more reserved and expectant attitude of psychoanalysis -towards neurosis. Psychoanalysis does not judge the value of the -symptoms, but first tries to understand what tendencies lie beneath -these symptoms. If we were able to abolish a neurosis in the same way, -for instance, as a cancer is destroyed, then at the same time there -would be destroyed a great amount of available energy also. We save this -energy, that is, we make it serve the purposes of the instinct for -health, as soon as we can trace the meaning of these symptoms; by taking -part in the regressive movement of the patient. Those unfamiliar with -the essentials of psychoanalysis will have some difficulty in -understanding how a therapeutic effect can come to pass when the -physician takes part in the pernicious phantasies of the patient. Not -only critics, but the patients also, doubt the therapeutic value of such -a method, which concentrates attention upon phantasies which the patient -rejects as worthless and reprehensible. The patients will often tell you -that their former physicians forbade them to occupy themselves with -their phantasies, and told them that they must only consider that it is -well with them, when they are free, if but momentarily, from their awful -torments. So, it seems strange enough that it should be of any use to -them, when the treatment brings them back to the very thing from which -they have tried constantly to escape. The following answer may be made: -all depends upon the position which the patient takes up towards his own -phantasies. These phantasies have been hitherto, for the patient, an -absolutely passive and involuntary manifestation. As we say, he was lost -in his dreams. The patient’s so-called brooding is an involuntary kind -of dreaming too. What psychoanalysis demands from a patient is only -apparently the same. Only a man who has a very superficial knowledge of -psychoanalysis can confuse this passive dreaming with the position taken -up in analysis. What psychoanalysis asks from the patient is just the -contrary of what the patient has always done. The patient can be -compared to a person who, unintentionally, has fallen into the water and -sunk, whilst psychoanalysis wants him to dive in, as it was no mere -chance which led him to fall in at just that spot. There lies a sunken -treasure, and only a diver can raise it. - -The patient, judging his phantasies from the standpoint of his reason, -regards them as valueless and senseless; but, in reality, the phantasies -have their great influence on the patient because they are of great -importance. They are old, sunken treasures, which can only be recovered -by a diver, that is, the patients, contrary to their wont, must now pay -an active attention to their inner life. Where they formerly dreamed, -they must now think, consciously and intentionally. This new way of -thinking about himself has about as much resemblance to the patient’s -former mental condition as a diver has to a drowning man. The earlier -joy in indulgence has now become a purpose and an aim—that is, has -become work. The patient, assisted by the physician, occupies himself -with his phantasies, not to lose himself therein, but to uproot them, -piece by piece, and to bring them into daylight. He thus reaches an -objective standpoint towards his inner life, and everything he formerly -loathed and feared is now considered consciously. This contains the -basis of the whole psychoanalytic therapy. In consequence of his -illness, the patient stood, partially or totally, outside of real life. -Consequently he neglected many of his life’s duties, either in regard to -social work or to the ordinary daily tasks. If he wishes to be well, he -must return to the fulfilment of his particular obligations. Let me say, -by way of caution, that we are not to understand by such “duties,” some -general ethical postulates, but duties towards himself. Nor does this -mean that they are eo ipso egoistic interests, since we are social -beings as well, a matter too easily forgotten by individualists. An -ordinary person will feel very much more comfortable sharing a common -virtue than possessing an individual vice, even if the latter is a very -seductive one. They must be already neurotic, or otherwise extraordinary -people who can be deluded by such particular interests. The neurotic -fled from his duties and his libido withdrew, at least partly, from the -tasks imposed by real life. In consequence, the libido became -introverted and directed towards an inner life. The libido followed the -path of regression: to a large extent phantasies replaced reality, -because the patient refused to overcome certain real difficulties. -Unconsciously the neurotic patient prefers—and very often consciously -too—his dreams and phantasies to reality. To bring him back to real life -and to the fulfilment of its necessary duties, the analysis proceeds -along the same false path of regression which has been taken by his -libido; so that the beginning of psychoanalysis looks as if it were -supporting the morbid tendencies of the patient. But psychoanalysis -follows these phantasies, these wrong paths, in order to restore the -libido, which is the valuable part of the phantasies, to the conscious -self and to the duties of the moment. This can only be done by bringing -the phantasies into the light of day, and along with them the libido -bound up with them. We might leave these unconscious phantasies to their -shadowy existence, if no libido were attached to them. It is unavoidable -that the patient, feeling himself at the beginning of analysis confirmed -in his regressive tendencies, leads his analytical interest, amid -increasing resistances, down to the depths of the shadowy world. We can -easily understand that any physician who is a normal person experiences -the greatest resistance towards the thoroughly morbid, regressive -tendency of the patient, since he feels quite certain that this tendency -is pathological. And this all the more because, as physician, he -believes he is right in refusing to give heed to his patient’s -phantasies. It is quite conceivable that the physician feels a repulsion -towards this tendency; it is undoubtedly repugnant to see how a person -is completely given up to such phantasies, finding only himself of any -importance and never ceasing to admire or despise himself. The esthetic -sense of normal people has, as a rule, little pleasure in neurotic -phantasies, even if it does not find them absolutely repulsive. The -psychoanalyst must put aside such esthetic judgment, just as every -physician must, who really tries to help his patients. He may not fear -any dirty work. Of course there are a great many patients physically -ill, who, without undergoing an exact examination or local treatment, do -recover by the use of general physical, dietetic, or suggestive means. -Severe cases can, however, only be helped by a more exact examination -and therapy, based on a profound knowledge of the illness. Our -psychotherapeutic methods hitherto have been like these general -measures. In slight cases they did no harm; on the contrary, they were -often of great service. But for a great many patients these measures -have proved inadequate. If they really can be helped, it will be by -psychoanalysis, which is not to say that psychoanalysis is a universal -panacea. Such a sneer proceeds only from ill-natured criticism. We know -very well that psychoanalysis fails in many cases. As everybody knows, -we shall never be able to cure all illnesses. - -This “diving” work of analysis brings dirty matter piecemeal out of the -slime, which must then be cleansed before we can tell its value. The -dirty phantasies are valueless and are thrown aside, but the libido -actuating them is of value and this, after cleansing, becomes -serviceable again. To the psychoanalyst, as to every specialist, it will -sometimes seem that the phantasies have also a value of their own, and -not only by reason of the libido linked with them. But their value is -not, in the first instance, for the patient. For the physician, these -phantasies have a scientific value, just as if is of special interest to -the surgeon to know whether the pus contained staphylococci or -streptococci. To the patient it is all the same, and for him, it is -better that the doctor conceal his scientific interest, in order not to -tempt him to have greater pleasure than necessary in his phantasies. The -etiological importance which is attached to these phantasies, -incorrectly, to my mind, explains why so much room is given up in -psychoanalytic literature to the extensive discussion of the various -sexual phantasies. Once if is known that absolutely nothing is -impossible in the sphere of sexual phantasy, the former estimate of -these phantasies will disappear, and therewith the endeavor to discover -in them an etiological import. Nor will the most extended discussion of -these cases ever be able to exhaust this sphere. - -Every case is theoretically inexhaustible. But in general the production -of phantasies ceases after a time. Naturally, we must not conclude from -this that the possibility of creating phantasies is exhausted, but the -cessation in their production only means that there is then no more -libido on the path of regression. The end of the regressive movement is -reached as soon as the libido takes hold of the present real duties of -life, and is used to solve those problems. But there are cases, and -these not a few, where the patient continues longer than usual to -produce endless phantastic manifestations, either from his own pleasure -in them or from certain false expectations on the part of the doctor. -Such a mistake is especially easy for beginners, since, blinded by the -present psychoanalytical discussion, they keep their interest fixed on -these phantasies, because they seem to possess etiological significance. -They are therefore constantly at pains to fish up phantasies of early -childhood, vainly hoping to find thus the solution of the neurotic -difficulties. They do not see that the solution lies in action, and in -the fulfilment of certain necessary duties of life. It will be objected -that the neurosis is entirely due to the incapacity of the patient to -carry out these very demands of life, and that therapy by the analysis -of the unconscious ought to enable him to do so, or at least, give him -means to do so. The objection put in this way is perfectly valid, but we -have to add that it is only so when the patient is really conscious of -the duties he has to fulfil, not only academically, in their general -theoretical outlines but in their most minute details. It is -characteristic for neurotic people to be wanting in this knowledge, -although, because of their intelligence, they are well aware of the -general duties of life, and struggle, perhaps only too hard, to fulfil -the prescriptions of current morality. But the much more important -duties which he ought to fulfil towards himself are to a great extent -unknown to the neurotic; sometimes even they are not known at all. It is -not enough, therefore, to follow the patient blindfold on the path of -regression, and to push him by an inopportune etiological interest back -into his infantile phantasies. I have often heard from patients, with -whom the psychoanalytic treatment has come to a standstill: “The doctor -believes I must have somewhere some infantile trauma, or an infantile -phantasy which I am still repressing.” Apart from the cases where this -supposition was really true, I have seen cases in which the stoppage was -caused by the fact that the libido, hauled up by the analysis, sank back -into the depths again for want of employment. This was due to the -physician’s attention being directed entirely to the infantile -phantasies, and his failing therefore to see what duties of the moment -the patient had to fulfil. The consequence was that the libido brought -forth by analysis always sank back again, as no opportunity for further -activity was found. - -There are many patients who, on their own account, discover their -life-tasks and abandon the production of regressive phantasies pretty -soon, because they prefer to live in reality, rather than in their -phantasies. It is a pity that this cannot be said of all patients. A -good many of them forsake for a long time, or even forever, the -fulfilment of their life-tasks, and prefer their idle neurotic dreaming. -I must again emphasize that we do not understand by “dreaming” always a -conscious phenomenon. - -In accordance with these facts and these views, the character of -psychoanalysis has changed during the course of time. If the first stage -of psychoanalysis was perhaps a kind of surgery, which would remove from -the mind of the patient the foreign body, the “blocked” affect, the -later form has been a kind of historical method, which tries to -investigate carefully the genesis of the neurosis, down to its smallest -details, and to reduce it to its earliest origins. - - - The Conception of Transference - - -This last method has unmistakably been due to strong scientific -interest, the traces of which are clearly seen in the delineations of -cases so far. Thanks to this, Freud was also able to discover wherein -lay the therapeutical effect of psychoanalysis. Whilst formerly this was -sought in the discharge of the traumatic affect, it was now seen that -the phantasies produced were especially associated with the personality -of the physician. Freud calls this process _transference_ -(“Uebertragung”), owing to the fact that the images of the parents -(“imagines”) are henceforth transferred to the physician, along with the -infantile attitude of mind adopted towards the parents. The transference -does not arise solely in the intellectual sphere, but the libido bound -up with the phantasy is transferred, together with the phantasy itself, -to the personality of the physician, so that the physician replaces the -parents to a certain extent. All the apparently sexual phantasies which -have been connected with the parents are now connected with the -physician, and the less this is realized by the patient, the more he -will be unconsciously bound to his physician. This recognition is in -many ways of prime importance. - -This process has an important biological value for the patient. The less -libido he gives to reality, the more exaggerated will be his phantasies, -and the more he will be cut off from the world. Typical of neurotic -people is their attitude of disharmony towards reality, that is, their -diminished capacity for adaptation. Through the transference to the -physician, a bridge is built, across which the patient can get away from -his family, into reality. In other words, he can emerge from his -infantile environment into the world of grown-up people, for here the -physician stands for a part of the extra-familial world. But on the -other hand, this transference is a powerful hindrance to the progress of -treatment, for the patient assimilates the personality of the physician -as if he did stand for father or mother, and not for a part of the -extra-familial world. If the patient could acquire the image of the -physician as a part of the non-infantile world, he would gain a -considerable advantage. But transference has the opposite effect; hence -the whole advantage of the new acquisition is neutralized. The more the -patient succeeds in regarding his doctor as he does any other -individual, the more he is able to consider himself objectively, the -greater becomes the advantage of transference. The less he is able to -consider his doctor in this way, the more the physician is assimilated -with the father, the less is the advantage of the transference and the -greater will be its harm. The familial environment of the patient has -only become increased by an additional personality assimilated to his -parents. The patient himself is, as before, still in his childish -surroundings, and therefore maintains his infantile attitude of mind. In -this manner, all the advantages of transference can be lost. - -There are patients who follow the analysis with the greatest interest -without making the slightest improvement, remaining extraordinarily -productive in phantasies, although the whole development of their -neurosis, even to the smallest details, has been brought to light. A -physician under the influence of the historical view might be thus -easily thrown into confusion, and would have to ask himself: What is -there in this case still to be analyzed? Those are just the cases of -which I spoke before, where it is no longer a matter of the analysis of -the historical material, but we have now to face a practical problem, -the overcoming of the inadequate infantile attitude of mind. Of course, -the historical analysis would show repeatedly that the patient had a -childish attitude towards his physician, but it would not bring us any -solution of the question how that attitude could be changed. To a -certain extent, this serious disadvantage of transference is found in -every case. Gradually it has been proved that this part of -psychoanalysis is, considered from a scientific standpoint, -extraordinarily interesting and of great value, but in its practical -aspect, of less importance than that which has now to follow, namely, -the _analysis of the transference_. - - - Confession and Psychoanalysis - - -Before we enter into a more detailed consideration of this practical -part of psychoanalysis, I should like to mention a parallelism between -the first part of psychoanalysis and a historical institution of our -civilization. It is not difficult to guess this parallelism. We find it -in the religious institution called _confession_. By nothing are people -more cut off from fellowship with others than by a secret borne about -within them. It is not that a secret actually cuts off a person from -communicating with his fellows, yet somehow personal secrets which are -zealously guarded do have this effect. “Sinful” deeds and thoughts, for -instance, are the secrets which separate one person from another. Great -relief is therefore gained by confessing them. This relief is due to the -re-admission of the individual to the community. His loneliness, which -was so difficult to bear, ceases. Herein lies the essential value of the -confession. But this confession means at the same time, through the -phenomenon of transference and its unconscious phantasies, that the -individual becomes tied to his confessor. This was probably -instinctively intended by the Church. The fact that perhaps the greater -part of humanity wants to be guided, justifies the moral value -attributed to this institution by the Church. The priest is furnished -with all the attributes of paternal authority, and upon him rests the -obligation to guide his congregation, just as a father guides his -children. Thus the priest replaces the parents and to a certain extent -frees his people from their infantile bonds. In so far as the priest is -a highly moral personality, with a nobility of soul, and an adequate -culture, this institution may be commended as a splendid instance of -social control and education, which served humanity during the space of -two thousand years. So long as the Christian Church of the Middle Ages -was capable of being the guardian of culture and science, in which rôle -her success was, in part, due to her wide toleration of the secular -element, confession was an admirable method for the education of the -people. But confession lost its greatest value, at least for the more -educated, as soon as the Church was unable to maintain her leadership -over the more emancipated portion of the community and became incapable, -through her rigidity, of following the intellectual life of the nations. - -The more highly educated men of to-day do not want to be guided by a -belief or a rigid dogma; they want to understand. Therefore, they put -aside everything that they do not understand, and the religious symbol -is very little accessible for general understanding. The sacrificium -intellectus is an act of violence, to which the moral conscience of the -highly developed man is opposed. But in a large number of cases, -transference to, and dependence upon the analyst could be considered as -a sufficient end, with a definite therapeutic effect, if the analyst -were in every respect a great personality, capable and competent to -guide the patients given into his charge and to be a father of his -people. But a modern, mentally-developed person desires to guide -himself, and to stand on his own feet. He wants to take the helm in his -own hands; the steering has too long been done by others. He wants to -understand; in other words, he wants to be a grown-up person. It is much -easier to be guided, but this no longer suits the well-educated of the -present time, for they feel the necessity of the moral independence -demanded by the spirit of our time. _Modern humanity demands moral -autonomy._ Psychoanalysis has to allow this claim, and refuses to guide -and to advise. The psychoanalytic physician knows his own shortcomings -too well, and therefore cannot believe that he can be father and leader. -His highest ambition must only consist in educating his patients to -become independent personalities, and in freeing them from their -unconscious dependency within infantile limitations. Psychoanalysis has -therefore to analyze the transference, a task left untouched by the -priest. In so doing, the unconscious dependence upon the physician is -cut off, and the patient is put upon his own feet; this at least is the -end at which the physician aims. - - - The Analysis of the Transference - - -We have already seen that the transference brings about difficulties, -because the personality of the physician is assimilated with the image -of the patient’s parents. The first part of the analysis, the -investigation of the patient’s complexes, is rather easy, chiefly -because a man is relieved by ridding himself of his secrets, -difficulties and pains. In the second place, he experiences a peculiar -satisfaction from at last finding some one who shows interest in all -those things to which nobody hitherto would listen. It is very agreeable -to find a person, who tries to understand him, and does not shrink back. -In the third place, the expressed intention of the physician, to -understand him and to follow him through all his erring ways, -pathetically affects the patient. The feeling of being understood is -especially sweet to the solitary souls who are forever longing for -“understanding.” In this they are insatiable. The beginning of the -analysis is for these reasons fairly easy and simple. The improvement so -easily gained, and the sometimes striking change in the patient’s -condition of health are a great temptation to the psychoanalytic -beginner to slip into a therapeutic optimism and an analytical -superficiality, neither of which would correspond to the seriousness and -the difficulties of the situation. The trumpeting of therapeutic -successes is nowhere more contemptible than in psychoanalysis, for no -one is better able to understand than a psychoanalyst how the so-called -result of the therapy depends on the coöperation of nature and the -patient himself. The psychoanalyst may rest content with possessing an -advanced scientific insight. The prevailing psychoanalytic literature -cannot be spared reproach that some of its works do give a false -impression as to its real nature. There are therapeutical publications -from which the uninitiated receive the impression that psychoanalysis is -more or less a clever trick, with astonishing effects. The first part of -analysis, where we try to understand, and which, as we have seen before, -offers much relief to the patient’s feelings, is responsible for these -illusions. These incidental benefits help the phenomenon of -transference. The patient has long felt the need of help to free him -from his inward isolation and his lack of self-understanding. So he -gives way to his transference, after first struggling against it. For a -neurotic person, the transference is an ideal situation. He himself -makes no effort, and nevertheless another person meets him halfway, with -an apparent affectionate understanding; does not even get annoyed or -leave off his patient endeavors, although he himself is sometimes -stubborn and makes childish resistances. By this means the strongest -resistances are melted away, for the interest of the physician meets the -need of a better adaptation to extra-familial reality. The patient -obtains, through the transference, not only his parents, who used to -bestow great attention upon him, but in addition he gets a relationship -outside the family, and thus fulfils a necessary duty of life. The -therapeutical success so often to be seen at the same time fortifies the -patient’s belief that this new-gained situation is an excellent one. -Here we can easily understand that the patient is not in the least -inclined to abandon this newly-found advantage. If it depended upon him, -he would be forever associated with his physician. In consequence, he -begins to produce all kinds of phantasies, in order to find possible -ways of maintaining the association with his physician. He makes the -greatest resistances towards his physician, when the latter tries to -dissolve the transference. At the same time, we must not forget that for -our patients the acquisition of a relationship outside the family is one -of the most important duties of life, and one, moreover, which up to -this moment they had failed or but very imperfectly succeeded in -accomplishing. I must oppose myself energetically to the view that we -always mean by this relationship outside the family, a sexual relation -in its popular sense. This is the misunderstanding fallen into by so -many neurotic people, who believe that a right attitude toward reality -is only to be found by way of concrete sexuality. There are even -physicians, not psychoanalysts, who are of the same conviction. But this -is the primitive adaptation which we find among uncivilized people under -primitive conditions. If we lend uncritical support to this tendency of -neurotic people to adapt themselves in an infantile way, we just -encourage them in the infantilism from which they are suffering. The -neurotic patient has to learn that higher adaptation which is demanded -by life from civilized and grown-up people. Whoever has a tendency to -sink lower, will proceed to do so; for this end he does not need -psychoanalysis. But we must be careful not to fall into the opposite -extreme and believe that we can create by analysis great personalities. -Psychoanalysis stands above traditional morality. It follows no -arbitrary moral standard. It is only a means to bring to light the -individual trends, and to develop and harmonize them as perfectly as -possible. - -Analysis must be a biological method, that is, a method which tries to -connect the highest subjective well-being with the most valuable -biological activity. The best result for a person who passes through -analysis, is that he becomes at the end what he really is, in harmony -with himself, neither bad nor good, but an ordinary human being. -Psychoanalysis cannot be considered a method of education, if by -education is understood the possibility of shaping a tree to a highly -artificial form. But whoever has the higher conception of education will -most prize that educational method which can cultivate a tree so that it -shall fulfil to perfection its own natural conditions of growth. We -yield too much to the ridiculous fear that we are at bottom quite -impossible beings, and that if everyone were to appear as he really is a -dreadful social catastrophe would result. The individualistic thinkers -of our day insist on understanding by “people as they really are,” only -the discontented, anarchistic and egotistic element in humanity; they -quite forget that this same humanity has created those well-established -forms of our civilization which possess greater strength and solidity -than all the anarchistic under-currents. - -When we try to dissolve the transference we have to fight against powers -which have not only neurotic value, but also universal normal -significance. When we try to bring the patient to the dissolution of his -transference, we are asking more from him than is generally asked of the -average man; we ask that he should subdue himself wholly. Only certain -religions have made such a claim on humanity, and it is this demand -which makes the second part of analysis so difficult. - -The technique that we have to employ for the analysis of the -transference is exactly the same as that before described. Naturally the -problem as to what the patient must do with the libido which is now -withdrawn from the physician comes to the fore. Here again, there is -great danger for the beginner, as he will be inclined to suggest, or to -give suggestive advice. This would be extremely pleasant for the patient -in every respect, and therefore fatal. - - - The Problem of Self-Analysis - - -I think here is the place to say something about the indispensable -conditions of the psychology of the psychoanalyst himself. -Psychoanalysis is by no means an instrument applied to the patient only; -it is self-evident that it must be applied to the psychoanalyst first. I -believe that it is not only a moral, but a professional duty also, for -the physician to submit himself to the psychoanalytic process, in order -to clean his mind from his own unconscious interferences. Even if he is -entitled to trust to his own personal honesty, that will not suffice to -save him from the misleading influences of his own unconscious. _The -unconscious is unknown, even to the most frank and honest person._ -Without analysis the physician will inevitably be blindfolded in all -those places where he meets his own complexes; this is a situation of -dangerous importance in the analysis of transference. Do not forget that -the complexes of a neurotic are only the complexes of all human beings, -the psychoanalyst included. Through the interference of your own hidden -wishes you will do the greatest harm to your patients. The psychoanalyst -must never forget that _the final aim of psychoanalysis is the personal -freedom and moral independence of the patient_. - - - The Analysis of Dreams - - -Here, as everywhere in analysis, we have to follow the patient along the -line of his own impulses, even if the path seems to be a wrong one. -Error is just as important a condition of mental progress as truth. In -this second step of analysis, with all its hidden precipices and -sand-banks, we owe a great deal to _dreams_. At the beginning of -analysis dreams chiefly helped in discovering phantasies; here they -guide us, in a most valuable way, to the application of the libido. -Freud’s work laid the foundation of an immense increase in our knowledge -in regard to the interpretation of the dream’s content, through its -historical material and its tendency to express wishes. He showed us how -dreams open the way to the acquisition of unconscious material. In -accordance with his genius for the purely historical method, he apprises -us chiefly of the analytical relations. Although this method is -incontestably of the greatest importance, we ought not to take up this -standpoint exclusively, as such an historical conception does not -sufficiently take account of the _teleological meaning of dreams_. - -Conscious thinking would be quite insufficiently characterized, if we -considered it only from its historical determinants. For its complete -valuation, we have unquestionably to consider its teleological or -prospective meaning as well. If we pursued the history of the English -Parliament back to its first origin, we should certainly arrive at a -perfect understanding of its development, and the determination of its -present form. But we should know nothing about its prospective function, -that is, about the work which it has to accomplish now, and in the -future. The same thing is to be said about dreams. Their prospective -function has been valued only by superstitious peoples and times, but -probably there is much truth in their view. Not that we pretend that -dreams have any prophetic foreboding, but we suggest, that there might -be a possibility of discovering in their unconscious material those -future combinations which are subliminal just because they have not -reached the distinctiveness or the intensity which consciousness -requires. Here I am thinking of those indistinct presentments of the -future which we sometimes have, which are nothing else than subliminal -combinations, the objective value of which we are not able to -apperceive. The future tendencies of the patient are elaborated by this -indirect analysis, and, if this work is successful, the convalescent -passes out of treatment and out of his half-infantile state of -transference into life, which has been inwardly carefully prepared for, -which has been chosen by himself, and to which, after many -deliberations, he has at last made up his mind. - - - - - CHAPTER X - Some General Remarks on Psychoanalysis - - -As may easily be understood, psychoanalysis will never do for polyclinic -work, and will therefore always remain in the hands of those few who, -because of their innate and trained psychological faculties, are -particularly apt and have a special liking for this profession. Just as -not every physician makes a good surgeon, so neither will every one make -a good psychoanalyst. The predominant psychological character of -psychoanalytic work will make it difficult for doctors to monopolize it. -Sooner or later other faculties will master it, either for practical -uses or for its theoretical interest. Of course the treatment must -remain confined entirely to the hands of responsible scientific people. - -So long as official science excludes psychoanalysis from general -discussion, as pure nonsense, we cannot be astonished if those belonging -to other faculties master this material even before the medical -profession. And this will occur the more because psychoanalysis is a -general psychological method of investigation, as well as a heuristic -principle of the first rank in all departments of mental science -(“Geisteswissenschaften”). Chiefly through the work of the Zürich -School, the possibility of applying psychoanalysis to the domain of the -mental diseases has been demonstrated. Psychoanalytical investigation of -dementia præcox, for instance, brought us the most valuable insight into -the psychological structure of this remarkable disease. It would lead me -too far were I to demonstrate to you the results of those -investigations. The theory of the psychological determinants of this -disease is already in itself a vast territory. Even if I had to treat -but the symbolic problems of dementia præcox I should be obliged to lay -before you so much material, that I could not possibly master it within -the limits of these lectures, which must give a general survey. - -The question of dementia præcox has become so extraordinarily -complicated because of the quite recent incursion on the part of -psychoanalysis into the domains of mythology and comparative religion, -whence we have derived a deeper insight into ethical psychological -symbolism. Those who are well-acquainted with the symbolism of dreams -and of dementia præcox have been greatly impressed by the striking -parallelism between modern individual symbols and those found in -folk-lore. The extraordinary parallelism between ethnic symbolism and -that of dementia præcox is remarkably clear. This fact induced me to -make an extended comparative investigation of individual and ethnic -symbolism, the results of which have been recently published.[11] This -complication of psychology with the problem of mythology makes it -impossible for me to demonstrate to you my conception of dementia -præcox. For the same reasons, I must forego the discussion of the -results of psychoanalytic investigation in the domain of mythology and -comparative religions. It would be impossible to do this without setting -forth all the material belonging to it. The main result of these -investigations is, for the moment, the knowledge of the far-reaching -parallelisms between the ethnical and the individual symbolisms. From -the present position of this work, we can scarcely conceive what a vast -perspective may result from this comparative ethnopsychology. Through -the study of mythology, the psychoanalytical knowledge of the nature of -the unconscious processes we may expect to be enormously enriched and -deepened. - -I must limit myself, if I am to give you in the course of my lectures a -more or less general presentation of the psychoanalytic school. A -detailed elaboration of this method and its theory would have demanded -an enormous display of cases, whose delineation would have detracted -from a comprehensive view of the whole. But to give you an insight into -the concrete proceedings of psychoanalytic treatment, I decided to bring -before you a short analysis of a girl of eleven years of age. The case -was analyzed by my assistant, Miss Mary Moltzer. In the first place, I -must mention that this case is by no means typical, either in the length -of its time, or in the course of its general analysis; it is just as -little so as an individual is characteristic for all other people. -Nowhere is the abstraction of universal rules more difficult than in -psychoanalysis, for which reason it is better to abstain from too many -rules. We must never forget that, notwithstanding the great uniformity -of complexes and conflicts, every case is unique. For every individual -is unique. Every case demands from the physician an individual interest, -and in every case you will find the course of analysis different. In -describing this case, I offer you a small section of the vast diverse -psychological world, showing all those apparently bizarre and arbitrary -peculiarities scattered over human life by the whims of so-called -chance. I have no intention of withholding any of the minute -psychoanalytic details, as I do not want to make you believe that -psychoanalysis is a method with rigid laws. The scientific interest of -the investigator inclines him to find rules and categories, in which the -most living of all things alive can be included. But the physician as -well as the observer, free from all formulas, ought to have an open eye -for the whole lawless wealth of living reality. In this way I will -endeavor to present to you this case, and I hope also to succeed in -demonstrating to you how differently an analysis develops from what -might have been expected from purely theoretical considerations. - - - A Case of Neurosis in a Child - - -The case in question is that of an intelligent girl of eleven years of -age, of good family. The history of the disease is as follows: - - - Anamnesis - - -She had to leave school several times on account of sudden sickness and -headache, and was obliged to go to bed. In the morning she sometimes -refused to get up and go to school. She suffered from bad dreams, was -capricious and not to be counted upon. - -I informed the mother, who came to consult me, that these things were -neurotic signs, and that some special circumstance must be hidden there, -necessitating an interrogation of the child. This supposition was not -arbitrary, for every attentive observer knows that if children are -restless or in bad temper, there is always something painful worrying -them. If it were not painful, they would tell it, and they would not be -worried over it. Of course, I am only speaking of those cases having a -psychogenic cause. The child confessed to her mother the following -story: She had a favorite teacher, of whom she was very fond. During -this last term she had fallen back somewhat, through working -insufficiently, and she believed she had rather fallen in the estimation -of her teacher. She then began to feel sick during his lessons. She felt -not only estranged from her teacher, but even somewhat hostile. She -directed all her friendly feelings to a poor boy with whom she usually -shared the bread which she took to school. Later on she gave him money, -so that he could buy bread for himself. In a conversation with this boy -she made fun of her teacher and called him a goat. The boy attached -himself more and more to her, and considered that he had the right to -levy a tax on her occasionally in the form of a little present of money. -She now became greatly alarmed lest the boy might tell her teacher that -she turned him into ridicule and called him a “goat,” and she promised -him two francs if he would give his solemn word never to tell anything -to her teacher. From that moment the boy began to exploit her; he -demanded money with threats and persecuted her with his demands on the -way to school. This made her perfectly miserable. Her attacks of -sickness are closely connected with all this story. But after the affair -had been disposed of by this confession, her peace of mind was not -restored as might have been expected. - -We very often see, as I have said, that the mere relation of a painful -affair can have an important therapeutical effect. Generally this does -not last very long, although on occasion such a favorable effect can -maintain itself for a long time. Such a confession is naturally a long -way from being an analysis. But there are nerve-specialists nowadays who -believe that an analysis is only a somewhat more extensive anamnesis or -confession. - -A little while later the child had an attack of coughing and missed -school for one day. After that she went to school for one day and felt -perfectly well. On the third day, a renewed attack of coughing came on, -with pains on the left side, fever and vomiting. Her temperature, -accurately taken, showed 39.4° C., about 103° F. The doctor feared -pneumonia. But the next day everything had passed away. She felt quite -well and not the slightest sign of fever or sickness was to be noted. - -But still our little patient wept the whole time and did not wish to get -up. From this strange course of events I suspected some serious -neurosis, and I therefore advised treatment by analysis. - - - Analytic Treatment - - -First interview: The little girl seemed to be nervous and constrained, -having a disagreeable forced laugh. Miss Moltzer, who analyzed her, gave -her first of all an opportunity of talking about her staying in bed. We -learn that she liked it immensely, as she always had some society. -Everybody came to see her; also her mother read to her out of a book -which contained the story of _a prince who was ill, but who recovered -when his wish was fulfilled, the wish being that his little friend, a -poor boy, might be allowed to stay with him_. - -The obvious relation between this story and her own little love-story, -as well as its connection with her own illness, was pointed out to her, -whereupon she began to cry and say she would prefer to go to the other -children and play with them, otherwise they would run off. This was at -once allowed, and away she ran, but came back again, after a short -while, somewhat embarrassed. It was explained to her that she did not -run away because she was afraid her playmates would go, but that she -herself wanted to get off because of resistances. - -At the second interview she was less anxious and repressed. They -happened to speak about the teacher, but then she was embarrassed. She -seemed to be ashamed at the end, and she timidly confessed that she -liked her teacher very much. It was then explained to her that she need -not be ashamed of that; on the contrary, her love for him could be a -valuable stimulus to make her do her very best in his lessons. “So I may -love him?” asked the little patient with a happier face. - -This explanation justified the child in the choice of the object of her -affection. It seems as if she had been ashamed of admitting her feelings -for her teacher. It is not easy to explain why this should be so. Our -present conception tells us that the libido has great difficulty in -taking hold of a personality outside the family, because it still finds -itself in incestuous bonds,—a very plausible view indeed, from which it -is difficult to withdraw. But we must point out here that her libido was -placed with much intensity upon the poor boy, who was also someone -outside the family; whence we must conclude that the difficulty was not -to be found in the transference of the libido outside the family, but in -some other circumstance. The love of the teacher betokens a difficult -task; it demands much more than her love for the little boy, which does -not require any moral effort on her part. This indication in the -analysis that her love for her teacher would enable her to do her utmost -brings the child back to her real duty, namely, her adaptation to her -teacher. - -The libido retires from before such a necessary task, for the very human -reason of indolence, which is highly developed, not only in children, -but also in primitive people. Primitive laziness and indolence are the -first resistances to the efforts towards adaptation. The libido which is -not used for this purpose becomes stagnant and will make the inevitable -regression to former objects or modes of employment. It is thus that the -incest-complex is revived in such a striking way. The libido avoids the -object which is so difficult to attain and demands such great efforts, -and turns towards the easier ones, and finally to the easiest of all, -namely, the infantile phantasies, which thus become real -incest-phantasies. The fact that, wherever there is present a -disturbance of psychological adaptation, one finds an exaggerated -development of incest-phantasies, must be conceived, as I have pointed -out, as a regressive phenomenon. That is to say, the incest-phantasy is -of secondary and not of causal significance, while the primary cause is -the resistance of human nature against any kind of exertion. The drawing -back from certain duties is not to be explained by saying that man -prefers the incestuous condition, but he has to fall back into it, -because he shuns exertion; otherwise it would have to be said that the -aversion from conscious effort must be taken as identical with the -preference for incestuous relations. This would be obvious nonsense, for -not only primitive man, but animals too, have a pronounced dislike for -all intentional efforts, and pay homage to absolute laziness, until -circumstances force them into action. We cannot pretend, either in very -primitive people or in animals, that their preference for incestuous -relations causes aversion towards efforts of adaptation, as in those -cases there can be no question of “incestuous” relations. This would -presuppose a differentiation of parents and non-parents. - -Characteristically, the child expressed her joy at being allowed to love -her teacher, but not at being allowed to do her utmost for him. That she -might love her teacher is what she understood at once, because it suited -her best. Her relief was caused by the information that she was right in -loving him, even though she did not especially exert herself before. - -The conversation ran on to the story of the extortion, which is now -again told in details. We hear further that she had tried to force open -her savings-bank, and as she could not succeed in doing so, she wanted -to steal the key from her mother. She expressed herself thus about the -whole matter: she ridiculed her teacher because he was much kinder to -the other girls than to her. But it was true that she did not do very -well in his lessons, especially at arithmetic. Once she did not -understand something, was afraid to ask, for fear she might lose his -esteem, and consequently she made many mistakes and did really lose it. -It is pretty clear that her position towards her teacher became -consequently very unsatisfactory. About this time it happened that a -young girl in her class was sent home because she was sick. Soon after, -the same thing happened to herself. In this way, she tried to get away -from the school which had become uncongenial to her. The loss of her -teacher’s respect led her on the one hand to insult him and on the other -into the affair with the little boy, obviously as a compensation for the -lost relationship with the teacher. The explanation which was given here -was a simple hint: she would be rendering a service to her teacher if -she took pains to understand the lessons by sensible questions. - -I can add here that this hint, given in the analysis, had a good effect; -from that moment the little girl became one of the best of pupils, and -missed no more arithmetic lessons. - -We must call attention to the fact that the story of the boy’s extortion -shows constraint and a lack of freedom. This phenomenon exactly follows -the rule. As soon as anyone permits his libido to draw back from -necessary tasks, it becomes autonomous and chooses, without regard to -the protests of the subject, its own way, and pursues it obstinately. It -is a general fact, that a lazy and inactive life is highly susceptible -to the _coercion of the libido_, that is to say, to all kinds of terrors -and involuntary obligations. The anxieties and superstitions of savages -furnish us with the best illustrations; but our own history of -civilization, especially the civilization and customs of the ancients, -abounds with confirmations. Non-employment of the libido makes it -autonomous, but we must not believe either that we are able to save -ourselves permanently from the coercion of the libido by making forced -efforts. To a certain limited extent we are able to set conscious tasks -to our libido, but other natural tasks are chosen by the libido itself, -and that is what the libido exists for. If we avoid those tasks, the -most active life can become useless, for we have to deal with the whole -of the conditions of our human nature. Innumerable cases of neurasthenia -from overwork can be traced back to this cause, for work done amid -internal conflicts creates nervous exhaustion. - -At the third interview the little girl related a dream she had had when -she was five years old, and by which she was greatly impressed. She -says, “I’ll never forget this dream.” The dream runs as follows: “_I am -in a wood with my little brother and we are looking for strawberries. -Then a wolf came and jumped at me. I took to a staircase, the wolf after -me. I fall down and the wolf bites my leg. I awoke in terror._” - -Before we go into the associations given by our little patient, I will -try to form an arbitrary opinion about the possible content of the -dream, and then compare our result afterwards with the associations -given by the child. The beginning of the dream reminds us of the -well-known German fairy-tale of Little Red-Ridinghood, which is, of -course, known to the child. The wolf ate the grandmother first, then -took her shape, and afterwards ate Little Red-Ridinghood. But the hunter -killed the wolf, cut open the belly and Little Red-Ridinghood sprang out -safe and sound. This motive is found in a great many fairy-tales, -widespread over the whole world, and it is the motive of the biblical -story of Jonah. The original significance is astro-mythological: the sun -is swallowed up by the sea, and in the morning is born again out of the -water. Of course, the whole of astro-mythology is at the root but -psychology, unconscious psychology, projected on to the heavens, for -myths have never been and are never made consciously, but arise from -man’s unconscious. For this reason, we sometimes find that marvellous, -striking similarity or identity in the forms of myths, even among races -that have been separated from each other since eternity as it were. This -explains the universal dissemination of the symbol of the cross, -perfectly independent of Christianity, of which America, as is well -known, furnishes us especially interesting instances. It is impossible -to agree, that myths have been made to explain meteorological or -astronomical processes. Myths are, first of all, manifestations of -unconscious currents, similar to dreams.[12] These currents are caused -by the libido in its unconscious forms. The material which comes to the -surface is infantile material, hence, phantasies connected with the -incest-complex. Without difficulty we can find in all the so-called -sun-myths infantile theories about generation, childbirth and incestuous -relations. In the fairy-tale of Little Red-Ridinghood, we find the -phantasy that the mother has to eat something which is similar to a -child, and that the child is born by cutting open the mother’s body. -This phantasy is one of the most universal, to be found everywhere. - -We can conclude, from these universal psychological observations, that -the child, in its dream, elaborates the problem of generation and -childbirth. As to the wolf, the father probably has to be put in its -place, for the child unconsciously assigns to the father any act of -violence towards the mother. This anticipation can be based on -innumerable myths which deal with the problem of any act of violence -towards the mother. In reference to the mythological parallelism, let me -direct your attention to Boas’s collection, where you will find a -beautiful set of Indian legends; also to the work of Frobenius, “Das -Zeitaltes Sonnengottes”; and, finally, to the works of Abraham, Rank, -Riklin, Jones, Freud, Spielrein, and my own investigations in my -“Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido.” - -After having made these general observations for theoretical reasons, -which, of course, were not made in the concrete case, we will go back to -see what the child has to tell in regard to her dream. Of course the -child speaks of her dream just as she likes, without being influenced in -any way whatever. The little girl begins with the bite in her leg, and -relates, that she had once been told by a woman who had had a baby, that -she could still show the place where the stork had bitten her. This mode -of expression is, in Switzerland, a universally known variant of the -symbolism of generation and birth. Here we find a perfect parallelism -between our interpretation and the associations of the child. The first -associations which have been brought by the child, without being -influenced in any way, are connected with the problem which, for -theoretical reasons, was suggested by ourselves. I know well that the -innumerable cases, published in our psychoanalytic literature, where the -patients have certainly not been influenced, have not prevented the -critics’ contention, that we suggest our own interpretations to our -patients. This case will not, therefore, convince anyone who is -determined to find crude mistakes or, much worse still—fabrications. - -After our little patient had finished her first association, she was -asked, “What did the wolf suggest?” She answered, “I think of my father, -when he is angry.” This association also coincides with our theoretical -observations. It might be objected that the observation was made just -for this purpose and for nothing else, and has therefore no general -validity. I believe that this objection vanishes of itself as soon as -the corresponding psychoanalytic and mythological knowledge has been -acquired. The validity of an hypothesis can only be confirmed by -positive knowledge; otherwise it is impossible to confirm it. We have -seen by the first association that the wolf has been replaced by the -stork. The associations given to the wolf bring the father. In the -common myth, the stork stands for the father, as the father brings -children. The apparent contradiction, which could be noticed here -between the fairy-tale, where the wolf represents the mother, and the -dream, in which the wolf stands for the father, is of no importance for -the dream. I must renounce here any attempt at a detailed explanation. I -have treated this problem of bisexual symbols in the work already -referred to. You know that in the legend of Romulus and Remus, both -animals were raised to the rank of parents, the bird Picus and the wolf. - -The fear of the wolf in the dream is therefore fear of her father. The -little patient explains her fear of her father by his severity towards -her. He had also told her that we only have bad dreams when we have been -doing wrong. Later, she once asked her father, “But what does Mamma do -wrong? She has very often frightful dreams.” - -The father once slapped her fingers because she was sucking them. Was -this her naughtiness? Scarcely, because sucking the fingers is an -anachronistic infantile habit, of little interest at her age. It only -seems to annoy her father, for which he will punish and hit her. In this -way, she relieves her conscience of the unconfessed and much more -serious sin. It comes out, that she has induced a number of other girls -to perform mutual masturbation. - -These sexual tendencies have caused the fear of the father. Still, we -must not forget that she had this dream in her fifth year. At that time -these sins had not been committed. Hence we must regard this affair with -the other girls as a reason for her present fear of her father; but that -does not explain the earlier fear. But still, we may expect it was -something of a similar nature, some unconscious sexual wish, -corresponding to the psychology of the forbidden action previously -mentioned. The moral value and character of this wish is even more -unconscious with the child than with adults. To understand what had made -an impression on the child, we have to ask what happened in her fifth -year. Her youngest brother was born at that time. Even then her father -had made her nervous. The associations previously referred to give us an -undoubted connection between her sexual inclinations and her anxiety. -The sexual problem, which nature connects with positive feelings of -delight, is in the dream brought to the surface in the form of fear, -apparently on account of the bad father, who represents moral education. -This dream illustrates the first impressive appearance of the sexual -problem, obviously suggested by the recent birth of the little brother, -just such an occasion when experience teaches us that these questions -become vital. - -Just because the sexual problem is closely connected with certain -pleasurable physical sensations, which education tries to reduce and -break off, it can apparently only manifest itself hidden under the cloak -of moral anxiety as to sin. This explanation certainly seems rather -plausible, but it is superficial, it is insufficient. It attributes the -difficulties to the moral education, on the unproved assumption that -education can cause such a neurosis. We hereby leave out of -consideration the fact that there are people who have become neurotic -and suffer from morbid fears without having had a trace of moral -education. Moreover, the moral law is not merely an evil, which has to -be resisted, but a necessity, born out of the utmost needs of humanity. -The moral law is only an outward manifestation of the innate human -impulse to dominate and tame oneself. The origin of the impulse towards -domestication or civilization is lost in the unfathomable depths of the -history of evolution, and can never be conceived as the consequence of -certain laws imposed from without. Man himself, obeying his instincts, -created laws. Therefore, we shall never understand the reasons for the -repression of sexuality in the child if we only take into account the -moral influences of education. The main reasons are to be found much -deeper, in human nature itself, in its perhaps tragic contradiction -between civilization and nature, or between individual consciousness and -the general conscience of the community. I cannot enter into these -questions now; in my other work, I have tried to do so. Naturally, it -would be of no value to give a child a notion of the higher -philosophical aspects of the problem; that would probably not have the -slightest effect. - -The child wants, first of all, to be relieved from the idea that she is -doing wrong in being interested in the generation of life. By the -analytic explanation of this complex it is made clear to the child how -much pleasure and curiosity she really takes in the problem of -generation, and how her groundless fear is the inversion of her -repressed desire. The affair of her masturbation meets with a tolerant -understanding and the discussion is limited to drawing the child’s -attention to the aimlessness of her action. At the same time it is -explained to her that her sexual actions are mainly the consequences of -her curiosity, which might be satisfied in a better way. Her great fear -of her father corresponds, probably, with as great an expectation, -which, in consequence of the birth of her little brother, is closely -connected with the problem of generation. Through this explanation, the -child is declared to be justified in her curiosity and the greater part -of her moral conflict is eliminated. - -Fourth Interview. The little girl is now much nicer and much more -confiding. Her former unnatural and constrained manner has vanished. She -brings a dream which she dreamed after the last sitting. It runs: “_I am -as tall as a church-tower and can see into every house. At my feet are -very small children, as small as flowers are. A policeman comes. I say -to him, ‘If you dare to make any remark, I shall take your sword and cut -off your head.’”_ - -In the analysis of this dream she makes the following remarks: “I would -like to be taller than my father, for then he will have to obey me.” The -first association with policeman was father. He is a military man and -has, of course, a sword. The dream clearly fulfils her wish. In the form -of a tower, she is much bigger than her father, and if he dares to make -a remark, he will be decapitated. The dream fulfils the natural wish of -the child to be a grown-up person, and to have children playing at her -feet, symbolized in the dream by the small children. With this dream she -overcomes her great fear of her father; that means an important -improvement with regard to her personal freedom, and her certainty of -feeling. - -But incidentally there is here also a theoretical gain; we may consider -this dream to be a clear example of the compensating and teleological -function of dreams which was especially pointed out by Maeder. Such a -dream must leave with the dreamer an increased sense of the value of her -own personality, which is of much importance for personal well-being. It -does not matter that the symbols of the dream are not perceived by the -consciousness of the child, as conscious perception is not necessary to -derive from symbols their corresponding emotional effect. We have to do -here with knowledge derived from intuition; in other words, it is that -kind of perception on which at all times the effect produced by -religious symbols has depended. Here no conscious understanding has been -needed; the feelings are affected by means of emotional intuition. - -Fifth Interview. In the fifth sitting, the child brings a dream which -she had dreamt meanwhile. “_I am with my whole family on the roof. The -windows of the houses on the other side of the valley radiate like fire. -The rising sun is reflected. Suddenly I notice that the house at the -corner of our street is, as a fact, on fire. The fire comes nearer and -nearer; at last our house is also on fire. I take flight into the street -and my mother throws several things to me. I hold out my apron, and -among other things my doll is thrown to me. I notice that the stones of -our house are burning, but the wood remains untouched._” - -The analysis of this dream presents peculiar difficulties and therefore -required two sittings. It would lead me too far to sketch to you all the -material this dream brought forth. I have to limit myself to what is -most necessary. The associations which deal with the real meaning of the -dream belong to the remarkable image which tells us that the stones of -the house are on fire, while the wood remains untouched. It is sometimes -worth while, especially with longer dreams, to take out the most -striking parts and to analyze them first. This proceeding is not the -typical one, but it is justified by the practical desire to shorten -matters. The little patient makes the observation that this part of the -dream is like a fairy-tale. Through examples it was made plain to her -that fairy-tales always have a meaning. She objects: “But not all -fairy-tales have one. For instance, the tale of the Sleeping Beauty. -What could that mean?” The explanation was as follows: “The Sleeping -Beauty had to wait for one hundred years in an enchanted sleep until she -could be freed. Only he who was able to overcome all the difficulties -through love, and had the courage to break through the thorny hedge, was -able to deliver her. So one must often wait a long while to obtain what -one longs for.” - -This explanation is as much in harmony with the capacity of childish -understanding, as it is perfectly consonant with the history of the -motive of this fairy-tale. The motive of the Sleeping Beauty shows -clearly its relation to an ancient myth of Spring and fertility, and -contains at the same time a problem which has a remarkably close -affinity to the psychological situation of the precocious girl of -eleven. - -This motive of the Sleeping Beauty belongs to a whole cycle of legends -in which a virgin, closely guarded by a dragon, is delivered by a hero. -Without entering into the interpretation of this myth, I want to bring -into prominence the astronomical or meteorological components which are -very clearly demonstrated in the Edda. In the form of a virgin, the -Earth is kept prisoner by the winter, covered in ice and snow. The young -Spring-Sun, in the form of a hero, delivers her out of her frosty -prison, where she has been longing for her deliverer. - -The association given by the little girl was chosen by her simply to -give an example of a fairy-tale without a meaning, and was not, in the -first place, conceived as having any relation with the house on fire. To -this part of the dream, she only made the observation: “It is quite -marvellous, just like a fairy-tale.” She meant to say it was impossible, -as the idea of burning stones is to her something impossible, some -nonsense, or something like a fairy-tale. The observation made a propos -of this shows her that an impossibility and a fairy-tale are only partly -identical, since a fairy-tale certainly has much meaning. Although this -particular fairy-tale, from the casual way in which it was mentioned, -seemed to have no apparent relation to the dream, we have to pay special -attention to it, as it was given spontaneously in the course of the -interpretation of the dream. The unconscious suggested this example, -which cannot be accidental, but must be in some way significant for the -present situation. In interpreting dreams we have to pay attention to -such apparent accidents, since in psychology we find no blind chances, -much as we are inclined to think these things accidental. From the -critics, you may hear this objection as often as you like, but for a -really scientific mind there are only causal relationships and no -accidents. From the fact that the little girl chose the example of the -Sleeping Beauty we may conclude that there was some fundamental reason -underlying this in the psychology of the child. This reason is a -comparison, or partial identification, of herself with the Sleeping -Beauty; in other words, there is in the soul of the child a complex, -which manifests itself in the form of the motive of the Sleeping Beauty. -The explanation, which I mentioned before, which was given to the child, -was in harmony with this conclusion. - -Notwithstanding she is not quite satisfied, and doubts that all -fairy-tales have a meaning. She brings another instance of a fairy-tale, -that cannot be understood. She brings the story of little Snow-White, -who, in the sleep of death, lies enclosed in a coffin of glass. It is -not difficult to see that this fairy-tale belongs to the same kind of -myths to which the Sleeping Beauty belongs. The story of little -Snow-White in her glass-coffin is at the same time very remarkable in -regard to the myth of the seasons. This mythical material chosen by the -little girl has reference to an intuitive comparison with the earth, -held fast by the winter’s cold, awaiting the liberating sun of spring. - -This second example affirms the first one and its explanation. It would -be difficult to pretend here that this second example, which accentuates -the meaning of the first, has been suggested by the explanation given. -The fact that the little girl brought up the story of little Snow-White, -as another example of the senselessness of fairy-tales, proves that she -did not understand her identification with little Snow-White and the -Sleeping Beauty. Therefore we may expect that little Snow-White arose -from the same unconscious sources as the Sleeping Beauty, that is, a -complex consisting of the expectation of coming events, which are -altogether comparable with the deliverance of the earth from the prison -of winter and its fertilization through the sunbeams of spring. - -As may, perhaps, be known, the symbol of the bull has been given from -time immemorial to the fertile spring sun, as the bull embodies the -mightiest procreative power. Although without further consideration, it -is not easy to find any relation between the insight indirectly gained -and the dream, we will hold to what we have found and proceed with the -dream. The next part described by the little girl is receiving the doll -in her apron. The first association given tells us that her attitude and -the whole situation in the dream is like a picture very well known to -her, representing a stork flying above a village; children are in the -street, holding their aprons, looking up and shouting to him; the stork -must bring them a little baby. The little patient adds the observation -that several times she wished to have a little brother or sister -herself. This material, given spontaneously by the child, stands in a -clear and valuable relationship to the motive of the myths. We notice -here that the dream is indeed concerned with the problem of the -awakening instinct of generation. Nothing of this has been said to the -little girl. After a little pause, she brings, abruptly, this -association: “Once, when I was five years old, I thought I was in the -street and that a bicyclist passed over my stomach.” This highly -improbable story proved to be, as it might be expected, a phantasy, -which had become a paramnesia. Nothing of this kind had ever happened, -but we came to know that at school the little girls lay cross-wise over -each other’s bodies, and trampled with their legs. - -Whoever has read the analyses of children published by Freud and myself -will observe the same “leit-motif” of trampling; to this must be -attributed a sexual undercurrent. This conception demonstrated in our -former work agrees with the next association of our little patient: “I -should prefer a real child to a doll.” - -This most remarkable material brought by the child in connection with -the phantasy of the stork, refers to typical childish attempts at the -sexual theory, and betrays where we have to look for the actual -phantasies of the child. - -It is of interest to know, that this “motive of trampling” can be -illustrated through mythology. I have brought together the proofs in my -work on the libido theory. The utilization of these early infantile -phantasies in the dream, the existence of the paramnesia of the -bicyclist, and the expectation expressed by the motive of the Sleeping -Beauty show that the interests of the child dwell chiefly on certain -problems which must be solved. Probably the fact that the libido has -been attracted by the problem of generation has been the reason of her -lack of attention at school, through which she fell behind. This problem -is very often seen in girls between the ages of twelve and thirteen. I -could demonstrate this to you by some special cases published under the -title of “Beitrag zur Psychologie des Gerüchtes” in the Zentralblatt für -Psychoanalyse. The frequent occurrence of the problem at this age is the -cause of the indecent talk among all sorts of children and the attempts -at mutual enlightenment, which are naturally far from beautiful, and -which so very often spoil the child’s imagination. Not the most careful -protection can prevent children from some day discovering the great -secret, and then probably in the dirtiest way. Therefore it would be -much better if children could learn about certain important secrets of -life in a clean way and at suitable times, so that they would not need -to be enlightened by their playmates, too often in very ugly ways. - -In the eighth interview the little girl began by remarking that she had -understood perfectly why it was still impossible for her to have a child -and therefore she had renounced all idea of it. But she does not make a -good impression this time. We get to know that she has told her teacher -a falsehood. She had been late to school, and told her teacher that she -was late because she was obliged to accompany her father. But in -reality, she had been lazy, got up too late and was thus late for -school. She told a lie, and was afraid of losing the teacher’s favor by -telling the truth. This sudden moral defect in our little patient -requires an explanation. According to the fundamentals of -psychoanalysis, this sudden and striking weakness can only follow from -the patient’s not drawing the logical consequences from the analysis but -rather looking for other easier possibilities. - -In other words, we have to do here with a case in which the analysis -brought the libido apparently to the surface, so that an improvement of -the personality could have occurred. But for some reason or other, the -adaptation was not made, and the libido returned to its former -regressive paths. - -The ninth interview proved that this was indeed the case. Our patient -withheld an important piece of evidence in her ideas of sexuality, and -one which contradicted the psychoanalytic explanation of sexual -maturity. She suppressed the rumor current in the school that a girl of -eleven had a baby with a boy of the same age. This rumor was proved to -be based on no facts, but was a phantasy, fulfiling the secret wishes of -this age. Rumors appear often to originate in this kind of way, as I -tried to show in the above-mentioned demonstration of such a case. They -serve to give vent to the unconscious phantasies, and in fulfiling this -function correspond to dreams as well as to myths. This rumor keeps -another way open: she need not wait so long, it is possible to have a -child even at eleven. The contradiction between the accepted rumor and -the analytic explanation creates resistances towards the analysis, so -that it is forthwith depreciated. All the other statements and -information fall to the ground at the same time; for the time being, -doubt and a feeling of uncertainty have taken their place. The libido -has again taken possession of its former ways, it has made a regression. -This is the moment of the relapse. - -The tenth sitting added important details to the story of her sexual -problem. First came a remarkable fragment of a dream: “_I am with other -children in an open field in the wood, surrounded by beautiful pine -trees. It begins to rain, to lighten and to thunder. It is growing dark. -Suddenly I see a stork in the air._” - -Before I enter into an analysis of this dream, I should like to point -out its beautiful parallel with certain mythological presentations. This -astonishing coincidence of thunderstorm and stork has, of course, to -those acquainted with the works of Adalbert Kuhn and Steinthal nothing -remarkable. The thunderstorm has had, from ancient times, the meaning of -the fertilizing of the earth, the cohabitation of the father Heaven and -the mother Earth, to which Abraham[13] has recently again called -attention, in which the lightning takes the place of the winged phallus. -The stork is just the same thing, a winged phallus, the psychosexual -meaning of which is known to every child. But the psychosexual meaning -of the thunderstorm is not known to everyone. In view of the -psychological situation just described, we must attribute to the stork a -psychosexual meaning. That the thunderstorm is connected with the stork -and has also a psychosexual meaning, seems at first scarcely acceptable. -But when we remember that psychoanalytic observation has shown an -enormous number of mythological associations with the unconscious mental -images, we may suppose that some psychosexual meaning is also present in -this case. We know from other experiences that those unconscious strata -which, in former times, produced mythological forms, are still in action -among modern people and are still incessantly productive. But this -production is limited to the realm of dreams and the symptomatology of -the neuroses and the psychoses, for the correction, through reality, is -so much increased in the modern mind that it prevents their projection -into reality. - -We will return to the dream analysis. The associations which lead us to -the heart of this image begin with the idea of rain during the -thunderstorm. Her actual words were: “I think of water. My uncle was -drowned in water—it must be dreadful to be kept under water, so in the -dark. But the child must be also drowned in the water. Does it drink the -water that is in the stomach? It is very strange, when I was ill Mamma -sent my water to the doctor. I thought perhaps he would mix something -with it, perhaps some syrup, out of which children grow. I think one has -to drink it.” - -With unquestionable clearness we see from this set of associations that -even the child associates psychosexual, and even typical ideas of -fructification with the rain during the thunderstorm. - -Here again, we see that marvellous parallelism between mythology and the -individual phantasies of our own day. This series of associations -contains such an abundance of symbolic relationships, that we could -easily write a whole dissertation about it. The child herself splendidly -interpreted the symbolism of drowning as a pregnancy-phantasy, an -explanation given long ago in psychoanalytic literature. - -Eleventh interview. The next sitting was occupied with the spontaneous -infantile theories about fructification and child-birth. The child -thought that the urine of the man went into the body of the woman, and -from this the embryo would grow. Hence the child was in the water from -the beginning, that is to say, in urine. Another version was, the urine -was drunk in the doctor’s syrup, so that the child would grow in the -head. The head had then to be split open, to help the growth of the -child, and one wore hats to cover this up. She illustrated this by a -little drawing, representing a child-birth through the head. The child -again had still a smaller child on the head, and so on. This is an -archaic idea and highly mythological. I would remind you of the birth of -Pallas, who came out of the father’s head. - -We find striking mythological proofs of the fertilizing significance of -the urine in the songs of Rudra in the Rigveda. Here should be mentioned -something the mother added, that once the little girl, before analysis, -suggested she saw a puppet on the head of her little brother, a phantasy -with which the origin of this theory of child-birth might be connected. -The little illustration made by the patient has remarkable affinity with -certain pictures found among the Bataks of Dutch India. They are the -so-called magic wands or ancestral statues, on which the members of -families are represented, one standing on the top of the other. The -explanation of these wands, given by the Bataks themselves, and regarded -as nonsense, has a marvellous analogy with the infantile mental -attitude. Schultz, who wrote about these wands, says: “The assertion, -that these figures represent the members of a family who have committed -incest, were bitten by a snake, entwined with another, and met a common -death in their criminal embrace, is widely disseminated and obviously -due to the position of the figures.” - -The explanation has a parallel in our presuppositions as to our little -patient. We saw from the first dream that her sexual phantasy centers -round the father; the psychological condition is here the same as with -the Bataks, being found in the idea of incestuous relationship. - -Still a third version is the growth of the child in the intestinal -canal. The child tried several times to provoke nausea and vomiting, in -accordance with her phantasy that the child is born through vomiting. In -the closet she had arranged also pressure-exercises, in order to press -out the child. Under these circumstances, we cannot be astonished that -the first and principal symptoms of the manifest neurosis were -nausea-symptoms. - -We have come so far with our analysis that we are now able to throw a -glance over the case as a whole. - -We found, behind the neurotic symptoms, complicated emotional processes, -which were undoubtedly connected with the symptoms. If it may be allowed -to draw some general conclusions from this limited material, we could -construct the course of the neurosis in the following way. - -At the gradual approach of puberty, the libido of the child assumed -rather an emotional than a practical attitude towards reality. She began -to be very much taken with her teacher, but the sentimental -self-indulgence, evinced in her riotous phantasies, played a greater -part than the thought of the increased endeavors which such love ought -really to have demanded of her. For this reason, her attention and her -work left much to be desired. The former pleasant relationship with her -favorite teacher was troubled. The teacher was annoyed, and the little -girl, who had been made somewhat conceited by her home-conditions, was -resentful, instead of trying to improve in her work. In consequence her -libido withdrew from her teacher, as well as from her work, and fell -into the characteristic forced dependence on the little boy, who on his -side made the most of the situation. Then the resistances against school -seized the first opportunity, which was suggested by the case of the -little girl who had to be sent home on account of sickness. Our little -patient followed this child’s example. Once away from school, the way -was open to her phantasies. By the regression of the libido, these -symptom-making phantasies became awakened to a real activity, and were -given an importance they had never had before, for they had never -previously played such an important part. Now they become apparently of -much importance and seemed to be the very reason why the libido -regressed to them. It might be said that the child, in consequence of -its essentially phantasy-building nature, saw her father too much in her -teacher, and thus developed incestuous resistances towards the latter. -As I have already stated, I hold that it is simpler and more probable to -accept the view that, during a certain period, it was convenient for her -to see the teacher as the father. As she preferred to follow the hidden -presentiments of puberty rather than her duties towards the school and -her teacher, she allowed her libido to fall on the little boy, from -whom, as we saw, she awaited some mysterious advantages. Even if -analysis had demonstrated it as a fact that she had had incestuous -resistances against her teacher on account of the transference of the -father-image, those resistances would only have been secondary -phantasies, that had become inflated. At any rate, indolence would still -have been the primum movens. In the analysis she learned about the two -ways of life, the way of phantasy, of regression, and the way of -reality, wherein lay her present child’s duties. In her the two were -dissociated, and consequently she was at strife with herself. As the -analysis was adapted to the regressive tendency of the libido, the -existence of an extreme sexual curiosity, connected with certain very -definite problems, was discovered. The libido, imprisoned in this -phantastical labyrinth, was brought back into useful application by -means of the psychological explanation of the incorrect infantile -phantasies. The child thus got an insight into her own attitude towards -reality with all its possibilities. The result was that she was able to -take an objective-critical attitude towards her immature -puberty-desires, and was able to give up these and all other -impossibilities in favor of the use of her libido in possible -directions, in her work and in obtaining the good-will of her teacher. -In this case, analysis brought great peace of mind, as well as a -pronounced intellectual improvement. After a short time her teacher -himself stated that the little girl was one of the best pupils in her -class. - -I hope that by the exposition of this brief instance of the course of an -analysis, I have succeeded in giving you an insight not only into the -concrete procedure of treatment, and into the technical difficulties, -but no less into the beauty of the human mind and its endless problems. -I intentionally brought into prominence the parallelism with mythology, -to indicate the universally possible applications of psychoanalysis. At -the same time, I should like to refer to the further importance of this -position. We may see in the predominance of the mythological in the mind -of a child, a distinct hint of the gradual development of the individual -mind out of the collective knowledge or the collective feeling of -earliest childhood, which gave rise to the old theory of a condition of -perfect knowledge before and after individual existence. - -In the same way we might see, in the marvellous analogy between the -phantasies of dementia præcox and mythological symbolisms, a reason for -the widespread superstition that an insane person is possessed of a -demon, and has some divine knowledge. - -With these hints, I have reached the present standpoint of -investigation, and I have at least sketched those facts and working -hypotheses which are characteristic for my present and future work. - -Footnote 11: - - “Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido,” Wien, 1912. - -Footnote 12: - - Abraham, “Dreams and Myths,” No. 15 of the Monograph Series. - -Footnote 13: - - “Dreams and Myths,” No. 15 of the Monograph Series. - - - - - INDEX - - - Abreagieren, 5 - - Actual conflict, 92, 93 - - Actual present, 81 - - Adaptation, failure of, 83 - - Amnesia, infantile, 78 - - Analysis of dreams, 60, 109 - - Analysis of transference, 105 - - Association-experiment, 66 - - - Breuer, 5 - - - Cathartic method, 6 - - Change in the theory of psychoanalysis, 5 - - Charcot, 5 - - Child, neurosis in, 113 - - Childhood, sexual trauma in, 10 - - Complex, Electra, 69 - - Complex, Oedipus, 67 - - Complex, incest, 70 - - Complex of the parents, 50 - - Conception of libido, 27 - - Conception of sensitiveness, 89 - - Conception of sexuality, 19 - - Conception of transference, 102 - - Confession and psychoanalysis, 103 - - Conflict, actual, 92, 93 - - Content of the unconscious, 67 - - Criticism, 1 - - Criticized, infantile sexual etiology, 46 - - - Dementia præcox, 111 - - Dementia præcox, libido in, 35 - - Dream analysis, 60, 109 - - Dream, the, 60 - - Dreams, teleological meaning of, 109 - - - Early hypothesis, 4 - - Electra-complex, 69 - - Energic theory of libido, 28 - - Environment and predisposition, 9 - - Etiology of the neuroses, 72, 80 - - - Failure of adaptation, 83 - - Finger, sucking of, 22 - - Freud, 5 - - - Genetic conception of libido, 38 - - - Hypothesis, early, 4 - - - Incest-complex, 70 - - Infancy, the polymorphic sexuality of, 24 - - Infantile amnesia, 78 - - Infantile mental attitude, 53 - - Infantile perversity, 43 - - Infantile reaction, 84 - - Infantile sexuality, 17 - - Infantile sexual etiology criticized, 46 - - Infantile sexual phantasy, 15 - - Introversion, 49 - - - Latent sexual period, 79 - - Libido, 26, 27 - - Libido in dementia præcox, 35 - - Libido, energic theory of, 28 - - Libido, genetic conception of, 38 - - Libido, regression of, 76 - - Libido, the sexual definition, 34 - - Life, three phases of, 33 - - Little Red-Ridinghood, 119 - - - Masturbation, 22 - - Method, cathartic, 6 - - - Naughtiness, 121 - - Neurosis in a child, 113 - - Neuroses, etiology of, 72, 80 - - Nucleus-complex, 50 - - - Objections to the sexual hypothesis, 18 - - Oedipus-complex, 67 - - - Perversity, infantile, 43 - - Phantasy criticized, 94 - - Phantasy, infantile sexual, 17 - - Phantasy, unconscious, 29, 53 - - Polymorphic perverse sexuality of infancy, 24 - - Pragmatic rule, 2 - - Predisposition and environment, 9 - - Predisposition for the trauma, 12 - - Present, actual, 81 - - Problem of self-analysis, 108 - - Psychoanalysis and confession, 103 - - Psychoanalysis, remarks on, 111 - - Psychoanalysis, therapeutic principles of, 96 - - Psychopathology of everyday life, 65 - - - Regression of the libido, 76 - - Regression and sensitiveness, 90 - - Remarks on psychoanalysis, 111 - - Repression, 8 - - Robert Mayer, 28 - - Romulus and Remus, 120 - - - Schopenhauer’s will, 39 - - Self-analysis, problem of, 108 - - Sensitiveness, conception of, 89 - - Sensitiveness and regression, 90 - - Sexual definition of libido, 34 - - Sexual element in the trauma, 14 - - Sexual period, latent, 79 - - Sexual hypothesis, objections to, 18 - - Sexual trauma in childhood, 10 - - Sexuality, the conception of, 19 - - Sexuality, infantile, 17 - - Sexuality of the suckling, 21 - - Sexual terminology, 30 - - Sleeping Beauty, 124 - - Snow-White, 125 - - Spring-Sun, 124 - - Stork, 129 - - Sucking the finger, 22 - - Suckling, sexuality of, 21 - - Symbolism, 112 - - - Teleological meaning of dreams, 109 - - Terminology, sexual, 30 - - The dream, 60 - - Theory, change in, 5 - - Theory criticized, traumatic, 7 - - Theory, traumatic, 5, 48 - - Therapeutic principles of psychoanalysis, 96 - - Three contributions to the sexual theory, 17 - - Three phases of life, 33 - - Thunderstorm, 129 - - Transference, analysis of, 105 - - Transference, conception of, 102 - - Trauma, predisposition for, 12 - - Trauma, sexual element in, 14 - - Traumatic theory, 5, 48 - - Traumatic theory criticized, 7 - - - Unconscious, 55 - - Unconscious, content of, 67 - - Unconscious phantasy, 29, 53 - - - - - ● Transcriber’s Notes: - ○ Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). - 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