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VOLUME 11 SEPT.-DEC. 1921 PART 3/4 






In 1908, Freud in his 'Character and Anal Erotism' drew 
attention to the impulses included under the description anal- 
erotic, and to their great significance in the development of the 
Ego factor of the personality; since then the limits of this * 
theme have been extended ever further in the steadily accumulat- 
ing investigations of many authors, and its fundamental import- 
ance made manifest. Such work could apparently only be carried 
through in the teeth of manifold resistances, on the part not only 
of the outsider but also of the student of analysis himself, because 
the psychic constellations concerned are subject to the most 
diverse transformations; for similar reasons vi^herever they are 
found, the solution of the most outstanding problems of the 
psycho-analytic treatment is concerned. It will suffice only to 
allude to the results, for they are intimately bound up with the 
progress of psycho-analysis in the last decade, and are con- ' 
sequently well known. Despite the fertility and wide ramifications 
embraced in the relevant literature published hitherto, it is 

" Translated by F. R. Winton. 







deficient in one respect, namely detailed presentation of the circum- 
stances of anal erotism, so far as they have been elucidated, 
•within the framework of its corresponding clinical entity. Freud 
alone continues to produce masterly contributions along these 
lines. I refer to the relevant sections of his papers: 'Bemerkungen 
fiber einen Fall von Zwangsneurose ' (Sammlung kleiner Schriften 
zur Neurosenlehre, 3. Folge) and ' Aus der Geschichte einer infantilen 
Neurose' {Ibid, 4, Folge.) i 

In both expositions he lets one realize vividly the laborious 
path of analysis; the new discoveries are seen in the process of 
being made, and one may guess against what resistances they 
have been evolved. The following case, which proved to be a 
severe neurosis erected upon fixation of the anal-erotic components, 
is to be presented clinically in accordance with this method. I need 
hardly add that the material examined, which was obtained during the 
course of some seven months, is certainly lacking in completeness 
and has not always served to make theoretical relationships clear; 
meanwhile, however, the treatment had achieved on the one hand 
recovery of the patient, and on the other a stage at which some 
significant correlations and discoveries could be established. With 
due regard to the special features 9f the case, I will now let the 
description of the course of the analysis follow. The actual struc- 
ture of the neurosis naturally only became evident at the con- 
clusion of the treatment ; nevertheless in the interests of lucidity 
I shall not adhere strictly to the chronological method of record, 
but leaven this with elements of the subsequent synthesis. This 
is inevitable in any presentation in which elegance is an aim. 

J. v., aged thirty-one years, a tramway employee, gave the 
following account of the onset of his illness. Two and a half 
years ago he fell off the step of his car at full speed, and was 
bruised on the head, forearm and loin. All the injuries affected 
the left side. He lost consciousness, and was conveyed from the 
scene of the accident to the surgical side of a hospital. In the 
meantime he regained consciousness, and it was at once evident 
that the injuries were slight, and only that to the head would 

> Between these come the theoretically most important two essays: 'Die 
Disposition zur Zwangsneurose' {InUrnat. Zeitschr. f. Psa,, 1913) and 'Ober 
Triebumsetzungen insbesondere der Analerotik ' (IntemaL Zeitschr, f. Psa., 
1916), to which I shall refer later. Likewise I would emphasize the pertinent work 
of Jones from the point of view of its wealth in casuistic and other material. 



need stitching, those to the forearm and side being but skin 
abrasions. No sort of internal injury was supposed to exist at that 
time. During his stay at the hospital, the doctor in charge of his 
treatment also had the injured parts X-rayed with negative 
results. Three weeks after admission, he left hospital cured. He 
again took up his work and after a short time felt quite fit. Some 
weeks later pains set in beneath the first rib on the affected side 
occurring at first rarely, but soon more frequently, until they 
partook of the character of regular attacks. They took place at 
short intervals, about fortnightly, lasted fourteen to sixteen hours 
and passed off" again. During an attack he felt a boring pain in 
the left side 'as if a solid object was trying to emerge', after- 
wards he was exhausted and required rest. However the intervals 
between attacks passed without the appearance of any particular 
phenomena, excepting a slight stitch in the side which occurred 
I along with any considerable excitement. In time the condition 

became more and more obstinate and intolerable. He had often to 
neglect work, and sought out all the various hospitals, where they 
were eventually baffled by his complaints. Toward the end of the 
second year of his illness, he had lost consciousness in three con- 
secutive acute attacks, and they sent him on to the neurological 
department. On the strength of the negative findings of surgeons 
and physicians, a diagnosis of Traumatic Hysteria was made. As 
such, the case was submitted to psycho-analytic treament 

At the outset of the course, before the history of the case 
could be written down in any detail, all the signs of a stormy 
transference set in and engaged my whole attention; it was only 
later shown that the explanation lay in his many years of pre- 
vious treatment and experiences with other doctors. I must confess 
that I found the behaviour of the patient at this time very strange, 
and the possibility of a mistaken diagnosis just passed through 
my mind. At the very beginning of analysis, he performed two 
pecuHar actions, of which the first was relatively intelligible, but 
/ the second seemed completely nonsensical. Soon after the beginning 
of the first hour he stood up without any particular occasion, and 
said he had felt exactly as if the couch had rolled off with him. 
Obviously it was an attempt to escape from his unaccustomed 
situation and the presence of the physician. When at length I had 
persuaded him to lie down again, he was incapable of producing 
coherent ideas. At the close of the hour, on my departure, he 

- • 18* 



h remained standing awhile and stared at me with protruding throat 

f and eyes widely dilated. He gave the impression of one demented; 

[ long after, I was able to find the explanation of this evanescent 

h 'symptomatic act', which I shall take up at its proper place in 

f the record. Some days later he introduced a fresh and quite 

i' unambiguous symptomatic act, which allowed the first insight into 

■ his unconscious mental life: he rose from the couch, made an 

awkward turning movement, and fell back again flat on his face 
with his legs dangling. This indirect expression of his passive 
homosexual attitude towards the doctor he attributed to 
a sudden fainting fit. Its intensity and the form it took at so 
early a stage of the analysis had its own particular significance. 
The same attitude also found expression in the dreams of this 
introductory period. Once he dreamed of a fight with a lion that bit 
him in the left shoulder; and again, he was quarrelling with a younger 
brother who wanted to shoot him down. In a third dream he was 
trying to enter the royal train (it was a few weeks after the 
revolution) but was surrounded by soldiers who threatened him with a 
dreadful punishment which they did not name. Lastly he dreamed a 
scene from his military training, in which a superior dug him in the ribs 
in fun. Most important in all these dreams, which succeeded one 
another as it were according to programme and undisguisedly 
represented the passive homosexuality of the dreamer, was the 
progressive demolition of the unconscious phantasies underlying them. 
The reaction which at first took so violent, almost archaic-mythi- 
cal, a form of expression, became finally transformed into slight 
facetiousness. Very little material actually recollected was however 
gleaned from these dreams. Here, as in the case of the sympto- 
matic act, the patient seemed at once to admit all and to conceal 
all. As before he maintained reserve with respect to the demands 
of analysis, and was httle inclined to communicate his thoughts 
freely. It could not well be a question of resistance nor of 
misunderstanding in regard to the treatment, for he had already 
accommodated himself to the guiding rules of analysis in accord- 
ance with the complex of his unconscious constellation. I can 
now only refer to his behaviour as somewhat 'close', but I shall 
go into this more fully later. 

The transition to a gentler and at once more rational trans- 
ference was accomplished by a new series of dreams, which 
according to their content belonged to the well-known type ot 


I flying-dreams. He was flying alone in the open, or in a room 

I full of onlookers, and in this way took a narcissistic delight in 

I his body, determined by regression of feeling. In connection with 

these dreams too, only scarce memories could be collected; they 
were not related to his real environment, but served purely as an 
expression of the tension current within him. Neither this nor the 
first type of dream occurred again during the many months of 
analysis; I must therefore regard them as a means of compen- 
sation or adaptation to the treatment. 

After such diverse interludes, I was at last able to induce a 
thoroughgoing discussion of the circumstances which formed the 
occasion of his falling ill. Nevertheless the results of this must be 
postponed in favour of the characterology of the patient as hitherto 
established. Taken together, botli thereafter constituted the actual 
programme of work of the analysis. 

The patient gave one the impression of a self-confident and 
methodical man, working with a view to consolidation of his 
circumstances. Several changes of occupation, which I shall de- 
scribe more closely below, had enabled him steadily to improve 
his standard of living; and taking an energetic part in aims 
common to his rank for the time being, he was yet able to 
further his own interests. He was now the leader of his group of 
workers in social and political questions, and his words carried 
weight. At the same time, he showed great moderation in his 
views, and was good at propagating them among his fellows. In 
' such wise he had found it possible to sublimate a great part of 

his homosexual libido and hold it in equilibrium. Herein moreover 
his marked conceit was rooted. He appeared to be gifted as a 

speaker; his style tended towards expletives and pithy expression, m 

and he could turn. a phrase with most amusing effect. However, I 

he thought thoroughly sensibly, and every action evidently follow- 
ed mature consideration. Men of his sort have no true sense of 
^■v style, they are deficient in the observational factor of the process 

i of thought, and may be said to think by action. He showed 

I moreover an insatiable desire for education, but in the absence , 

I of suitable authoritative guidance he had become self-taught, and 

f so combined some originality with considerable oddity. Thus for 

years he had kept copies of everything that interested him, and 
so had collected a manuscript library. From time to time he 
would transfer these notes — poems, newspaper articles on various 


subjects, and so on, — to new volumes: he would as it were 
make cleaner what was already clean. His attitude towards money 
was entirely rational; at one point only could anal erotism be 
detected: he disliked soiled notes and either passed them on to 
his wife, or despite his thrift spent them without adequate cause. 
He enjoyed memorizing passages that suited him; and even though 
he failed to understand genuine lyrical verse, he thoroughly 
appreciated the emotional variety, partly because it was rhymed. 
Moreover he kept a sort of diary, in which actual dates of 
general importance were noted; he had no talent whatever for 
personal outpourings. In addition to copying, he liked drawing 
up accounts and balance sheets. Everything connected with this 
business of writing was kept in perfect order, it was all at his 
fingers ends, and created an immense impression in his simple 
surroundings. Sublimated anal erotism evident in all this was 
further betrayed by a material interest in the physical processes 
of life, 1 and also by his efforts in diverse ways permanently to 
estabhsh himself. Most particularly did biological questions stimu- 
late his interest, and especially that of evolution. Information in 
this field had been gleaned partly from popular literature, and 
partly by unofficial visits, facilitated by the staff, to appropriate 
scientific institutions. The earliest incitements in this direction 
dated from boyhood, the child's impressions of the farmyard, and 
could be traced back step by step to typical infantile curiosity. 
Rearing of domestic animals and still more of fowls had had a par- 
ticular fascination for him. He related how for a time, as a boy, 
he had really cared about the business of hatching, to which 
interest numberless hen's and bird's eggs had been sacrificed. 
Later each time he had changed his calling, he had seriously 
thought of taking to the country and carrying on fowl breeding 
on a large scale. To all appearances this desire was so strong in 
him that he was sure one day to realise it. In the meantime he 
had to be content with pet singing birds, of which he kept several 
in the house, and which he fed and looked after himself The 
remainder of his ornithological hobbies found play in neighbouring 
woods. At the time of the analysis, for several weeks, he would 
visit the habitat of a wood-pecker and watch it with obvious 
enjoyment, knocking in order to entice its insect prey. All the 

• Cf. Ernest Jones: 'Anal-erotic character traits.' Papers on Psycho- 
Analysis, 2nd. Ed., p. 664. 



peculiarities described, and to be developed further, can at once 
be recognised as representatives, disguised and so compatible with 
consciousness, of such of the patient's complexes as appeared, if 
not pathogenic, at least exaggerated. 

Along with these enquiries the family history came to light, 
but I vi'ill confine myself here only to its most essential points. 
He came of peasants, as an eldest child, and they still lived on 
the farm where he had been brought up. Eight of the fourteen 
children of the marriage were alive. The youngest, a seven year 
old sister, had some relation to the patient's neurosis; likewise 
the eldest sister, a girl of twenty-four, whose way of living he 
judged most harshly without adequate cause. We found that his 
sexual researches had been very active at the time of her birth. 
He had noted enviously how tenderly they anticipated her arrival; 
a screen-memory involved the wish for her death. Later too, he 
had felt no more gently towards her, and by unconscious identi- 
fication with the father, had constantly found something to criti- 
cise. On a visit to his parents during treatment he turned her 
suitor out of the house. The significance of the youngest sister 
was cleared up only at the climax of the treatment. He had no 
very strong feelings about his brothers, in relation to whom he 
rather fancied himself as the first-born; to one only, who had 
been drowned in adolescence, was his attitude of any consequence. 
He had lent him the money to bathe, and so for a time felt 
partly guilty of his death. He was then sixteen years old. This 
memory still contributed to the feelings he experienced as driver 
in accidents involving others. 

Very vivid memories of earliest years were centered round 
the grandparents, who had lived at home with them. The respect 
shown to them by the grown-ups had intensified their consequence 
in the eyes of the child. He told of his grandmother that she had 
taken his mother's place in the house during the latter's frequent 
lying up with child, and had insisted on great tidiness; he was 
said to have inherited this character trait from her. He had been 
told that at nine months he had been making his first attempts 
to walk, or rather to crawl (he had developed very precociously), 
when his grandmother had unintentionally stepped on his thumb — 
he had already given up sucking it. So in his memories it fell 
to the woman to be the first disturber of the pursuit of pleasure. 
She too was supposed to have uttered the first castration threats. 




A particular memory was connected with her toothless mouth, | 

namely that she had carefully collected the teeth she had lost, h 

and preserved them under her bolster. I shall raise this again 
later and now mention only that it is striking that my patient 
possessed not a single upper incisor. Memories of the grandfather 
were recalled less vividly, although the earliest phenomena of 
transference of a specialised kind (not the above-mentioned im- 
personal kind) indicated him, and most probably he had been 
the patient's first narcissistic love-object. Robust and energetic to 
a great age, he had headed the family as farmers, and had 
managed the concern according to his own judgement. His pres- 
ence had put even the father into the shade, and later had made 
an almost undisturbed, even comradely relationship possible with 
his son. Actually the patient always behaved towards his father 
as he had seen the latter behave toward the grandfather. A mem- 
ory of childhood exhibited him as rescuer of the six-year-old 
boy from attack by a maddened bull. Another memory recalled 
him as priding himself as cheesemaker; he was said always to 
have been able to scent whether a cheese had been made by 
himself or his wife, which had given rise to jocular references at 
table. Both father and grandfather had been distinguished by a 
rigid sense of justice, which the patient took as symbol of 
independent manliness worthy of imitation. His standpoint in this 
respect was, as we shall find, rooted yet more deeply. 

Unfortunate economic circumstances had persuaded the parents 
to send him at fourteen years as apprentice to a baker. When 
he had fully learned his craft, he had gone to the town and 
worked for some years under a number of employers. He had 
then been influenced by a favourable opportunity to make his 
first change of occupation; he had become laboratory assistant at 
a chemist's. We were able to establish that he had obviously <v( 

enjoyed both these occupations; as baker he had particularly Uked ^ 

kneading clean dough; there moreover he had learned cookery ; 

and the preparation of dishes; in the laboratory he had Avorked 
with zest among aromatic and scented fluids. This work too he 
had deserted for tram-service, following disappointment in love. 
For the first few years he had been a driver, and had had several 
street accidents. One had made a very deep impression upon 
him, when he had ran over a man in tlie dark, who had been 
literally cut in two by the car. Later he had obtained a post 



as conductor. When not yet twenty-four years old he had 
married a girl, to whom he had previously paid attentions, but 
whom he had temporarily left in consequence of a quarrel. The 
marriage was childless although he had longed for a child from 
its first days. 

A clearer conception of the neurosis, and especially of its 
crucial points, became possible with a knowledge of all these 
events. Neither dreams hitherto related by the patient nor other 
indications pointed near the direction of the accident described 
above; on the other hand a displacement of accent soon took 
place in connection with the traumatic adventure; not the fall 
from the car, but to my surprise, the X-ray examination at the 
hospital advanced more and more indubitably into the forefront. 
Next it appeared that the patient had repeatedly and obstinately 
demanded to be X-rayed afresh, giving always as a ratiorfalized 
justification that his disease (namely the pain in the left side) must be 
of an organic nature. This stereotyped wish eventually aroused one's 
suspicion, which led to the following discoveries: The X-ray exam- 
ination originally arranged by the acting surgeon had been, it 
appears, of great psychical significance to the patient. Exposed to 
strange proceedings, he was brought into a state of anxious 
expectancy even by having to undress in the presence of a doctor, 
but still more by the various preliminary manipulations untertaken 
by the latter (such as fixing little sandbags to his extremities in 
order to keep them still). Now the lamp was switched on and 
began to work with its loud sparking, and for a moment he felt 
paralysed with fear. He readily admits that the examination itself 
rather disappointed him. In his anxiety he had been convinced 
that the doctor intended performing some operation in connection 
with the examination — 'perhaps suddenly thrusting an instrument 
into his loin'. However nothing much happened. The mental 
process associated with this was naturally entirely withdrawn from 
the patient's consciousness, and proceeded to develop in the 
unconscious. The whole adventure thus became a nucleus round 
which a libidinous wish-phantasy, of a passive-homosexual nature, 
might crystallise. Moreover the a,ssumption seemed probable that 
the wish to be X-rayed anew represented not only a persistent 
unconscious instinctive tendency, but at the same time an attempt 
at abreaction: a repetition might even now demolish the painful 
affect and tension which had not been abreacted at the time. So 


far I could form no sure judgement about the degree of thwart- 
ing of libido, or other factors determining this wish. Analysis 
elucidated this too, when the patient had described in detail his 
attacks of pain, and included many new particulars. 

Already twenty-four hours before these began, great restlessness 
set in. Ordinary incidents, usually without effect on him, now excited 
him. He became silent and irritable, especially at home where 
he treated his wife curtly; the more imminent the approach of 
the attack, the less could he tolerate her proximity or ultimately 
even her presence. He accounted for this strange behaviour, most 
important for the resolution of the neurosis, by the significant 
parallel that when at hospital, every assistance rendered by a 
woman had irritated him. Particularly had he refused to let one 
give him an enema; this operation seemed an impossibility for a 
womah. A sense of shame will not completely explain this behav- 
iour; I discern here too a passive-homosexual factor. He regarded 
his illness jealously as an exclusively personal affair. If he 
happened to be asked how he was, he might become furious 
and flare up; of this I had opportunity of satisfying myself during 
analysis. Together with his transformation of mood, he suffered 
from constipation that was not amenable to any drug. Regularly 
following such prodromal indications, the pain in the side occurred 
on the next day, and increased for some hours until the patient 
could neither stand nor sit. Even lying down he could maintain 
one position only for few minutes. As soon as the pains reached a 
climax, he became weak and limp. He then had to He down on 
his left side, and it eased him to stuff a small bolster under him. 
Sometimes he would fall asleep in this position after a short 
while. The attacks which were accompanied by loss of conscious- 
ness, were preceded by buzzing in the head, and seeing black 
before the eyes. Afterwards he felt pricking in all his limbs, and 
was temporarily dazed. First he passed wind, and finally the con- 
stipation too ceased. 

This description which was taken almost word for word from 
the patient, together with an impressive demonstration of his 
behaviour during an attack which he reproduced in my presence, 
drove me at length to the idea, which had formerly passed through 
my mind but was always suppressed as ridiculous, that if this 
were all true, the attack could represent nothing but a child- 
birth; moreover the constipation must be a conversion symptom 


of an hallucinated pregnancy, brought into close relationship with 
the X-ray episode.^ 

By this is of course meant an unrecognisable representation, 
rearranged by the mechanism of the neurosis, to which anal-' 
erotic components contributed suitable matter (partus per anum). 
The scene is dominated by a persistent infantile trait. In answer 
to careful enquiry on the point, the patient told me that when 
ten years old he had heard the groans and cries of a woman 
in labour. She was neighbour to the family, and for two 
whole days was unable to give birth to her child, so that at 
last the doctor had to deliver her with forceps. He had a 
vivid recollection of her lying on the bed, and holding her knees 
drawn up during the pains; he had observed her repeatedly 
unnoticed through a window. He thought he could remember 
mo£t clearly seeing the mutilated dead child in a wooden trough. 
The pain in the loin — a mythological necessity, as it were of 
the story of the creation, in which Eve is fashioned from Adam's 
rib — could later be more closely determined by a group of 
experiences. Nevertheless I am compelled at this point to drop 
the thread I had taken up, and to interpolate a short description 
of a nervous intestinal disturbance which the patient had had 
years ago, and of which the analysis ran parallel to that of the 
recent illness. 

It was in the early years of his marriage, seven years ago, 
that he had caught a heavy cold at work, which ran its course 
with high fever. Connected with it after a wearisome convalescence, 
a peculiar bowel trouble set in. The exact relation between the 
cold and bowel trouble could not be established, and had it 
seems not been clear to the doctor treating him at the time. The 
recent illness indicated that the neurosis tended to develop in 
connection with an organic process involving pain, in order to 
break into activity. This suggested the assumption of a maso- 
chistic fixation, for which the analysis contributed a wealth of 

• Later when I first told the patient of this state of affairs, with more 
adequate evidence, he was silent for a time and then replied: 'Dr. K. told 
my wife much the same thing when she asked him about my condition. He 
felt he could not fully envisage my complaints; if only I had not been a man 
he could have understood me more easily." I must admit that this intuitive 
confirmation on the part of an unknown colleague, who had thus hit the nail 
on the head, gave me great satisfaction. Like my predecessor I found of 
course that this had no effect on the patient at this stage. 


further evidence. At first he suddenly feU in the middle of his 
trip a painful desire to defaecate, and had rapidly to forsake his 
car. Moreover it always troubled him uselessly, for he could never 
obtain a motion. Medical treatment was adju.sted to the many 
and changeable complaints and symptoms of the patient, and they 
tried pretty well everything that one does in the case of bowel 
disturbance which is not clearly diagnosed. Even a chemical 
examination of stomach contents was undertaken. The patient's 
description of this, and a dream following upon it, led at last to 
the solution of the hitherto unintelligible transient symptomatic 
acts produced at the beginning of the analysis. In the patient's 
phantasy, the stomach tube had attained perverse secondary signi- 
ficance (as object of fellatio). His extraordinary behaviour, which 
quite corresponded to that at a stomach test, the protruded 
throat, anxiously dilated eyes, etc., was as it were the unconscious 
consent to a' homosexual perversion. This feminine attitude to the 
doctor was the key to all the symptomatic acts that occurred 
later too in the course of the cure. From the manifold symptoms 
of the disease, there crystallised gradually a very obstinate 
spastic constipation, which we recognise as a hysterical manifestation 
in Freud's sense. After several months, the continuance of this 
trouble was endangering the patient's position, and the condition 
slowly terminated. An extremely effective measure had been 
suppositories, which, on doctor's orders, were introduced into the 
rectum. The patient was at the time very satisfied with this 
treatment. The connection of this spontaneously evaporated mono- 
symptomatic hysteria with the conditions of his life at the time 
brings out the state of affairs still more clearly. Things happened 
at work, particularly that he occasionally had run over pedestrians 
on the streets (among them a boy who fortunately had got caught 
up in the safety arrangement) ;i these greatly worried him, where- 
fore he was already thinking of another change of occupation. 
The circumstances of his marriage contributed very important 
motives for illness. As I have already recorded, they had not 
united without disturbances. For not long previously he had 
heard by accident that there was an illegitimate child. The 

* A veritable birth-saving phantasy. A sadistic trait too is unmistakable, 
in response to which the sense of pity is aroused. To recover from his 
fright, by the way, the patient thrashed the boy like a mother punishing 
him, after he had brought him forth. 


patient was deeply hurt by the faithlessness of his bride, and her 
want of trust in him; with thje child itself, a girl, he put up 
more readily, and later took it to live with them. However 
he then felt deceived (the jealousy-constellation, with obvious 
interest in the seducer), and broke off the relationship tliey had 
begun. Several months later he first proposed to come to an 
amicable agreement. His parents were absent from the wedding, 
which he regretted grievously. His father was temporarily ill, and 
his mother lay in bed with child — his youngest sister.' As her 
frequent pregnancies are related, as we shall see, to his infantile 
anal-erotic desires, one could hardly escape the thought that this 
time too the repressed instinct may have obtained reinforcing 
contributions from the favourable circumstance, namely the sister's 
birth. Having embarked on marriage in such modest circum- 
stances, it was necessary to live economically, al though, following 
in the parental footsteps, he strove from the first day to possess 
a well-established household. Here his systematization came in. 
Everything was to be done properly, and in order — first estab- 
lishment, then increase of family. For this reason moreover, the 
satisfaction of his most ardent wish- — to have a child — -had at 
all costs to be postponed. This is the right moment at which to 
examine this wish more closely; intense narcissistic self-love alone 
could underlie it, for in phantasy he always thought of having 
male offspring only. The co-operation of the circumstances tlius 
briefly set, which are yet to appear more sharply defined and 
determined in relation to the whole, and more especially the 
thwarted life-wish of the patient, rooted in emotionally toned 
infantile phantasy, suffice to account for the nervous constipation, 
which in view of all this, can have only one meaning — the expected 
child is for the time being not to arrive. Equating child with 
faeces, natural in unconscious thought, ^ was frequently demon- 
strated in this case from dreams. Our patient did not at that time 

» Cf. Freud, 'Analyse der Phobic eines fUnfjahrigen Knabeu' ('Lumpf- 
theorie"), Sammlung kleiner Schriften zur Neurosenlehre, 3. Folge, 1913; and 
' 0ber Triebumsetzungen insbesondere der Analerotik. ' Ibid., 4. Folge, 1918. 
I would recount here the following from the history of a young woman. With 
a strong father fixation as a child, she began to suffer from serious constipation at 
her sixth year (motions once or twice a week, with great struggles). Then 
her youngest sister was born, and for a long time she was hostile, but later 
developed an intense almost maternal tenderness towards her. After the 
death of this sister, melancholic moods set in. Constipation continued with 



^ \ 


know that he would be prevented to this day from seeing his 
wish fulfilled. 

Let us now return to the chief symptom of the neurosis, the 
pain in the loin, the etiology of which I have described as deter- 
mined by a group of experiences. I shall postpone consideration 
of its foundation, which is to be sought in anal-erotic wish-phant- 
asies, until I come to the circumstances of childhood and dispos- 
itional elements. It might be that these, which were involved 
,|, in a massive fixation, together with the scene observed at ten 
years, would alone suffice to direct the patient's labile sexuality 
into the channel of the neurosis; further occurrences, to which in 
virtue of his innate disposition he reacted as to traumata, gave 
the clue. He was once followed by his grandfather, on account 
of a prank; he fled, but the old man started after him and ult- 
imately caught him. He was less impressed by the thrashing he 
received, than by the old man's robust legs. Pursuit, and the stitch 
in the side which followed this running, are closely related in the 
recollection. A quite analogous if less amusing scene took place 
somewhat later when he was nine years old. By bad luck, he had 
knocked out two front teeth of a little girl with a catapult. The ) 

injured child's father came along to punish him for the misdeed. I 

He rushed out in terror, and ran away from his pursuer right 
across an open field. Eventually, when his wind gave out, and 
exhaustion left him barely conscious, he was overtaken and dealt 
with. Both these memories of dread of an approaching man were 
blended with an apparently disconnected experience at fifteen 
years, which achieved later immense importance on account of 
the circumstances of the X-ray episode. He caught diphtheria, and 
was given an injection of antitoxin in the left side ^ by the 
doctor treating him. The later homosexual wish-phantasy was 

varying intensity for over twenty years, and after marriage, which was at 
first childless, it became if anything worse. The condition improved markedly 
every month during the periods. After birth of her first child there was 
spontaneous and complete cure. Analytic investigation showed in this case 
too, that the infantile wish for a child (from the father) had been converted 
into internal symptoms. Maternity eventually shifted the apparently slight 

* A person's left side counts as feminine, as is known from many neur- 
oses and folk-psychology. Moreover the male genital organ is usually carried 
on the left side. 


superimposed upon this real stimulus. It follows without doubt 
that in dealing with the psychical forces which arose in connection 
with the X-ray examination the patient was gravely impeded in 
mental adaptability by a high degree of 'complex' sensitivity 
which had developed from the experiences described. It is in this 
group therefore that we can recognise the immediate exciting 
causes of the neurosis. The persistence latently, at fifteen years 
of the unduly developed anal-erotic instinct-factor was meanwhile 
confirmed by a peculiar memory. The patient tells that he could 
not easily bring himself to defaecate in the open, although it was 
:^ the everyday custom in the circles to which he belonged. In 
addition to repressed exhibitionism, one can see clearly in this 
recollection the reaction against his passive homosexuality. ^ 
Furthermore, the fact of onanism having been transiently practised 
and smoothly given up during puberty, speaks in favour of other 
instinctive tendencies having remained prominent at this time, and 
consequently in childhood. 

Let us summarise the results of the analysis up to this point. 
They lead to the inevitable conclusion that the X-ray episode 
materially disturbed the equilibrium of the patient's libidinous 
tendencies. So far the state of aifairs would seem completely 
explained. In regard to two questions, however, which arise directly 
therefrom, satisfactory answers are still to a large extent out- 
standing. In connection with the first of these, namely the wish- 
phantasy made active by the neurosis, many indications strengthen 
the idea that it has to do with an hallucinated (hysterical) 
pregnancy, with associated representation of parturition in the 
attack. As to the second, we suspect with some justice, and par- 
ticularly on account of insight into the patient's character, that 
anal-erotic tendencies play a part. It was these, then, that consti- 
tuted the form of the neurosis, i. e. determined the wish-phantasy. 
Decisive conclusions on these two subjects, which are continually 
interrelated and supplementary, can be reached only by searching 
through the conditions of infant life. The material relevant to this 
was, as in all analyses, not obtained suddenly at a certain stage, 
but rather was accumulated at various times by ehciting facts, 
sometimes spontaneously, sometimes requiring careful re-inter- 
pretation. The essential achievement of the analysis is involved in 

» Boys often amuse themselves by stepping unnoticed behind their play- 
fellow's back for fun to startle him. (Related by the patient.) 


this work, both as regards theoretical elucidation, and therapeu- 
tically in overcoming the resistances concerned therein. 


One recollection stands out above all in the story of the pat- 
ient's childhood ; it is of an unusual adventure, and as such exer- 
cised an influence in later life. This episode had never entirely 
eluded his consciousness, and cropped up early in the course 
of treatment. What makes it so remarkable, apart from its con- 
tent, is the uncommon vividness and accuracy with which every 
detail had been preserved, although the patient was little more 
than three years old at the time it happened.^ In contrast with 
other experiences, which are remembered repeatedly during 
psycho-analytic treatment but only become distinct in the later 
reproductions, this one was presented immediately on the first 
occasion without gaps, making the later process of clarification 
and completion superfluous. I hold that this very circumstance 
is in favour of its pre-eminent significance in the patient's mental 
life. It happened as follows. His father was out, and he was 
playing one day in the kitchen, where his mother was. She was 
suckling his youngest brother, then about nine months old, and 
sat at the table on which crockery with relics of breakfast was 
still present. During play he noticed a fragment of bread left 
by his father. He stretched over for it holding tight to the edge 
of the table, and may so have disturbed his mother who was en- 
grossed in thought. She shouted angrily at him, and probably be- 
cause he would not desist from his intention, she seized a bread- 
knife lying near by, and hurled it at him. She had aimed her 
unpremeditated throw well. The blade ran its point through the 
little brimless felt hat that he was wearing (the usual headgear 
of Hungarian peasant children), and pierced the skin of the 

^ Incideatally, the patient's memory reproduces all recollections remark- 
ably vividly ; probably the notable sense of reality associated vifith anal 
erotism is here a leading factor. I would venture to put forward a corres- 
ponding proposition, with due reserve, though founded on a very convincing 
case. Phantasies that have developed under patronage of an oral fixation of 
1 ibido exhibit a curiously veiled character. This may be attributable to the 
yet limited field of action to which mental life is restricted at the corres- 
ponding stage of its development. 


forehead on the right side. He cried out loudly, but the mother 
too was horrified by her unintended act, and hurried towards him. 
She snatched the knife out of the wound, which she quickly 
washed ; she then carried the weeping child into the living room 
where, as he exactly remembers, she laid him right across the foot 
of the bed.i While he was gradually quieting down, she took the 
little hat which showed where the knife had cut it, and sewed up 
the damaged place with red twine, as he can recall to this day. 
At his mother's request, he kept the whole afifair from his father, 
who never heard anything of it. He continued wearing the mended 
hat for a long time. 

The effects of this episode could be traced in many directions, 
and as an outstanding childhood experience it often led to most 
important orientations during the course of the analysis. Thus in 
the first place, one could assume that it had set a term to the 
brief period of infantile masturbation, * and was later further in- 
volved in castration experiences. We found above, moreover, that 
the first castration threat hailed from the grandmother, to which 
he attributed the renunciation of his oral libido. Here the woman 
comes up a second time as disturber of sexual pleasure. Perhaps 
in another field the psychic effects of the episode were even 
deeper and more persistent. It is established without doubt that 
the patient's narcissistic masculinity was precociously stimulated 
by the injury to his head. We must not regard this as an innate 
disposition, such as the anal erotism which is to come up soon, 
but rather as an accidental motif, which however became respons- 
ible for the first fixation of libido in the patient's development.* 
Such a state of affairs could be inferred from a number of di- 
verse erotic attributes and character traits in the present condition 
^ of the patient. For the sake of completeness I will insert these 

here. The patient, a vigorous man who knew his mind, and had 
advanced views and interests, opposed in the most emphatic way 
any effort towards emancipation on the part of women, whose 
activities he wanted to see limited strictly to domesticity. He 

• > The place for new-born babes in the village. 

» Cf. Freud, Sammlung kleiner Schriften zur Neurosenlehre, 3. Folgc, 
S. 164, footnote. 

' The possibility of such fixation on account of 'purely chance happen- 
ings in childhood ' has already been emphasised by Freud (Vorlesungen zur 
Einfilhrung in die Psychoanalyse, 1917, S. 418). 



warmly denied women any sense of justice (which as a child he 
had so venerated in his father and grandfather) or capacity for 
education. Incidentally, he was himself guilty of contributing evid- 
ence on the last point, for he had made ineffectual efforts to 
educate his wife's illegitimate daughter, as well as his youngest 
sister, whose birth coincided with his first neurotic illness (see 
above). He attributed the bad results of his efforts, not to his 
own impatience towards any female creature, but rather to 
her supposed inferiority. Preoccupation with an idea or illness 
was ever a welcome opportunity to keep his wife at a 
distance; nor did he ever let her into the knowledge of the 
plans and projects he was ceaselessly forging. It has already 
been stated that his wish for male offspring was determined 
by narcissism. Other relics of unduly potent infantile narciss- 
ism came forward as certain paranoid phantasies, which 
however only gave evanescent indications, and proved very 
variable. Of these, 1 have already mentioned jealousy. It had 
reference, however, not only to his wife's former love-affair, 
but developed into delusion-like phantasies of her possible 
infidelity, for which he wished to atone by murder of the late 
lover. Surely these phantasies are to be regarded as new 
editions of similar ones in childhood, in which it was a quest- 
ion of the father and mother. As link may serve his jealous 
attitude with respect to his eldest sister. In this connection, further, 
one must mention his aggressiveness, which repeatedly appeared 
in dreams as ability in debate. A curious episode may have rein- 
forced it. When a conductor on a tram he thought he had once 
noticed that an old man of impressive appearance, who travelled 
with him daily and always dropped a small tip in his hand when 
he took his ticket, expected in consequence servile behaviour. 
Directly the idea had occurred to him, he unwillingly returned the 
superfluous money, and gave the traveller to understand he had 
nothing to expect from him. It is interesting that some days later 
there was a sort of conversation and r econciliation between them, 
which introduced them to a friendly relationship. He was partly 
responsible for this change, and afterwards he even enjoyed being 
pleasant to the old man. Thus a certain malleability of the pat- 
ient's narcissism is evident, and leads to the provisional assumpt- 
ion that another prepotent impulse had necessitated its dissolution. 
Mofeover there was a number of other means of expression or 

; '- ;ir 


rather regulation of the strengthened narcissism. Such was found 
in connection with an important dream, in which there were cer- 
tain saving-phantasies which had to do with various respected in- 
dividuals. The dream included a scene in which a town was on 
fire, and in the midst of tremendous upheaval he carried a town 
councillor from out of a burning house into the open, and as 
thanks for the rescue heard him utter resignation to an ajmless 
life.i A man who had natural endowments similar to those of the 
patient, but a finer intellect and more influential rank, would prob- 
ably have achieved very remarkable and profitable work in life. 
Such hero phantasies, which, dissociated from reality, nevertheless 
continued to exist in imagination, could always be traced back 
to the first love-object, the grandfather, who had once rescued 
the boy from a mad bull. In the reflector of narcissism, this ad- 
venture underwent transformation into its opposite. Another group 
of phantasies had to do with aversion from the woman's part in 
the process of reproduction, in which way he reacted analogously 
to the authors of the Old Testament story. He could never be 
.'ri.?: reconciled to the idea that Nature had left the important operat- 

ion of actual construction of the body, and carrying it, entirely 
to woman. Apparently he was running close therein to the chief 
complex of liis neurosis. A further step in such phantasies is the belief 
in self-creation, which was demonstrably present in the patient. 

It has not been possible to present this summary account of 
his narcissism in more coherent form, because analysis achieved 
in this respect isolated and disconnected suggestions, rather than 
definite and final conclusions; further because the psychical equil- 
ibrium of the patient himself did not allow him ultimately to 
penetrate beyond this stage of development. Particularly, as far 
as these saving and self-creation phantasies are concerned, they 
are as a rule not associated with the syndrome of hysteria, but 
belong to complexes of the psychoses. Though the case under treat- 
ment may seem strange in regard to the regions of feeling that 
have won recognition, further understanding can be approached 
by comparison with cases that belong to the realm of psychiatry. 

» The dream reminds one of the poignant poetic scene in the Aeneid, 
which tells how the hero Aeneas carries his father Anchises out of burning 
Troy. Similarly in other dreams mythological traces could be demonstrated 
The patient described this dream as prophetic, and brought it into lelation 
with political events. His tendency to prophesy will be discussed presently 



Psycho-analytic literature in particular includes a description of a 
typical case which can be cited as an example for comparison. 
I refer to the case that has been so critical in determing the 
etiology of paranoia, namely that of the President of the Senate, 
Schreber. 1 Here we find told straight out, with little inhibition, 
and called by name, those repulsive phantasies, foreign to con- 
sciousness, which called forth the patient's neurosis, and could 
only be disinterred with so much labour. Such are the inversion 
into woman, and fertilisation by divine rays. I would emphasise 
with Freud that analysis contributed nothing to these phantasies, 
which must be considered a psychic constellation sui generis, and 
which are contained in Schreber's own account of his illness. The 
distinction is to be found in the mechanisms of the types of dis- 
ease ; whereas in hysteria symptoms are formed exclusive of 
consciousness, in paranoia the diseased processes invade conscious- 
ness in the form of delusions. In Schreber's case a firm adhesion 
of feeling to the father, and the childlessness of his marriage 
called to life the psychotic process of inversion of his own sex ; 
in this case too, therefore, the most important section of uncon- 
scious content is concealed. Further I would just call attention 
to the far-reaching analogy which obtains between the infantile 
circumstances in either case (particularly anal erotism), but cannot 
develop this here. Anyhow the strangeness of the case in hand 
has thus been placed in its proper perspective, by which means 
it has surely become more readily credible.^ 

The patient's narcissism took a peculiar part in the structure 
of his dreams, and in this way was divulged a constant preoccupa- 
tion with his own person and certain internal processes. 
Fundamentally his hypochondriac fears must be reckoned as be- 
longing here. Nevertheless I would emphasise that none of the 
narcissistic traits brought forward formed very prominent features, 
although its strengthened basis could be established by obser- 
vation. We shall yet discover why these hypothetical derivatives 
suffered later deviation. 

* Freud, ' Psychoanalytische Bemerkungen (Ibereinen autobiographisch be- 
schriebenen Fall von Paranoia (Dementia Paranoides) ', Sammlung kleiner 
Schriften zur Neurosenlchre, 3. Folge, 1913. 

' Such phantasies seem at times to be conscious also in obsessional 
neuroses. Cf. Ernest Jones: 'EinigeFSlle von Zwangsneurosc '. Jakrbuck der 
Pta., Bd. IV, S. 574. 




I turn now to the element of disposition in this many-sided 
\ I neurosis, and this concealed its actual formation ; it is the anal- 

erotic component instinct, the enormous development of which 
was disclosed step by step by the analysis. To this it was that 
the libido had reverted which had become dissociated from its 
object, and so formed the group of hysterical symptoms with 
which we are familiar. In very early days, perhaps directly after 
the abrupt curtailment of oral libido, which however, as we shall 
see, was yet to levy tribute, anal erotism set in, in the guise of 
a well-marked zest for excretion. Although memory stopped short 
of this point, it may be taken as established on many grounds 
that the impulse first sought satisfaction in the act of defaecation, 
more especially in view of the bowel disturbance seven years ago 
which underwent spontaneous resolution. Indirect evidence for 
this could be drawn from several of the character traits already 
brought forward. I shall here describe two, the presence of 
which I have been unable to discover in psycho-analytic literature 
and beg that they should be interpolated at the appropriate point 
in Ernest Jones' excellent essay, 'The Anal-Erotic Character Traits'. 
The patient evinced a peculiar attitude towards time, far ex- 
ceeding rational limits. He was not only precise and punctual, 
so that he made use of every available moment, but was inclined 
to do two things concurrently, such as reading at meals or in the 
lavatory, or concentrated thinking on a walk, etc. This typical 
character trait, which might be named after Caesar's historical 
peculiarity, can be directly traced to the pleasurable tendency of 
the child to perform the major and minor operations contempor- 
aneously. And actually in this case, urethral erotism could be 
shown to exist in connection with anal erotism. Below, I shall 
aaain call attention to this characteristic in connection with the 
analysis of his death phantasies. He associated this characteristic 

to do two things at the same time — with the urgent impulse 

'' to do anything he undertook 'completely', from which a thor- 

■;; ou^hly virile and effective behaviour in life ensued. This last trait 

I also explains his strong inclination for 'complete', i.e. unused, 

things, such as clothes. People of such a kind are ashamed, for 

S instance, to wear mended garments. The voluptuous interest in 

the act of defaecation was later more vigorously assimilated and 

worked up into peculiarities of character than that in the excreta 

themselves, which would rather indicate inertia of libido. Several 



reminiscences were available in this connection. Primarily the stools 
became objects, exquisite to look at, to which the very value of 
a member of the body was attributed. It is the auto-erotic stage 
of development of this component instinct, in which but few 
associations have any influence. One gains the impression that 
the injury to the head alluded to was followed by a marked 
augmentation of anal erotism, determined partly by the turning 
away from the mother, and partly by the sexual enquiries that 
soon set in. All his childish fancies and experiences were grouped 
about this impulse, which like a magnet attracted all psychical 
activities within its sphere of influence. Sexual curiosity was directed 
in the first instance to the frequent pregnancies and parturitions 
of his mother ; and, in consequence of his massive dispositional 
tendencies, he lighted on the infantile phantasy of identity of 
child with faeces. This phantasy is to this day closely bound up 
in the patient's memory with the conception of fertility of faeces, 
actually in a form that I would term a *seed complex' {Frucht- 
kern complex).* A favourite occupation was to examine his own 
and adult's stools to see if any fruit-stones might be embedded 
in them. He made a note of situations in which he had left 
stools lying, and on one occasion discovered with intense wonder 
how a living shoot had sprouted from a cherry stone during the 
next spring. He was amazed that such a stone could still grow 
after the great heat to which he imagined it had been exposed 
in the bowel.^ Furthermore, he now took to the habit of swallow- 
ing fruit complete with stone, until at sixteen, when a painful 
mishap occurred, a pointed plumstone hurting his rectum during 
defaecation. The case of the extruded cherry-stone was not an 
isolated one ; in the yard of the family farm stood a tree which 
bloomed thanks to a similar chance, and was therefore called in 
joke by the father 'the filthy plum tree'. Only a few years ago, 
he heard in a letter from home that they had had to fell this 
particular tree. The significance of the seed-complex is evident 
moreover in other inclinations. Thus for example in the prepara- 
tion of plum-fool he has the stones cooked up with the rest, and 
than revels in the sweetened product. Again, he collects apricot 
stones, dries and skins them after breaking them open in hot 

' Just as in eastern poetry and thought the pomegranate counts as a sym- 
bol of fertility on account of its abundance of seed. 

^ These are obviously phantasies _of puberty, referred to childhood. 


water, so that he can relish them contemplatively during the i 
course of the winter. Further he knows a number of cookery rec- 
ipes, and enjoys playing at the art of cooking (anal erotism, 
and identification with the mother).^ An extraordinary accident "* 
enabled me to discover how powerful an influence this complex 
was still exerting on his mental experience. He was accompanying 
me for a short way, the cherry season being in full swing, when I 
noticed that while speaking or listening — we were discussing 
a matter in which he was interested — he continually deviated 
to the right or left in order to step on cherry stones thrown 
away in the street. I called his attention to this symbolic action, 
whereupon he told me that this had been his habit for years, 
and boasted that it was not so easy for a stone to evade his 
keen eye. This activhy did not disturb his being occupied in other 
ways at the same time (compare his so-called Caesarean capacity 
described above). He gave as a reason that he had once slipped 
on such a stone and wanted to avoid a similar mishap. Beneath 
this rationalization lay concealed those infantile death-wishes con- 
cerning his brothers and sisters, which the symbolic act disclosed; 
for the stones always represented small children in his uncon- 
scious thoughts. This hostility was quite openly experienced 
when he was six, when his eldest sister was born. The patient 
could remember vividly how they had looked forward to 
her arrival with immense expectations. Further the idea of 
dead children could be found counting as faecal symbols in his 


In this connection, I would mention the patient's flatus complex, 
which co-existed along with the coprophilic impulses. Though its 
influence was not as comprehensive as Ernest Jones has shown it 
to be in cases of obsessional neurosis,* nevertheless it was strik- 
ingly present. It could be traced back to the grandfather, who 
was without scruples in this respect, and aroused the respectful 
belief in the boy that such behaviour was a privilege of the head 
of the family. Whenever the grandfather broke wind he swore in 

1 Cf. Ernest Jones, 'Einige Falle von Zwangsneurose'. Jakrbuch der Pm., 
Bd. IV, S. 568. 

» I shall give an example of this later. 

» Ernest Jones: loc. cit Ernest Jones has established the far-reaching 
character of this complex in his monograph ' Die Empfangnis der Jungfrau 
Maria durch das Ohr', Jahrbuck der Psa., Bd. VI, 1914. 


fun, saying 'now go to the devil'. When the small boy was a 
nuisance, he would address him very similarly, cursing him gently. 
The complex could be recognised in occasional instances in later 
life. When a school-boy, he eagerly collected money, in order to 
be able to buy a toy steam engine. The complex appears as re- 
action-formation as fear of thunder and lightning (Brontephobia). 
Later it was expressed as interest in weather and its changes. I 
remarked in connection with the saving-phantasies (the dream of 
the fire) that he was inclined to imagine he possessed a certain 
prophetic talent, and this can now be readily correlated with the 
flatus-complex. He always gave as surest evidence in favour of 
this that he always knew exactly when a guest was coming 
(guest = child = faeces = flatus). 

An equally highly pleasurable sense of smell held sway along 
with anal erotism. No reaction in the form of hypersensitivity to 
scents has however yet appeared corresponding to its extensive 
infantile development. Excreta never disgusted him, but the smell 
of a carcase did so, and made him lose his appetite. How intim- 
ately the childish death-phantasies were related to this sense may 
be illustrated by two examples. He notices the smell of dead bodies 
even outside the house, should chance direct him to the prox- 
imity of such a place. He was once enabled, through the good 
offices of a friend, to visit an autopsy chamber, where he saw an 
incision which had been begun on the corpse of a woman. The 
fatty abdominal wall had already been divided in the mid-line. 
For two years after, he was unable to enjoy fat beef. He avoided 
mutton altogether, on account of its strong smell. 

For the sake of completeness I shall now proceed with the 
analytic revelations with regard to his sadistic tendencies, supple- 
menting the occasional examples already adduced. These were 
of so powerful development that two methods were employed in 
the process of their adaptation. A portion was transformed into 
masochism — the Ego serving as object of the sadistic impulse 
— and becoming bound up, as we have frequently noticed, with 
the tremendous anal-erotic complexes he thus became passive. 
A no less significant portion could however not avail itself of this 
outlet, and persisted actively as pity, a reaction-formation to tlie 
instinct.1 This contributed as a factor in the first neurotic illness, 
seven years ago; he was then incapable of bearing the sight of 

* Freud : ' Triebe und Triebschicksale ', etc. 



I -f ' 

I , 


"^ a person run over. Anyhow, he finds it intolerable to see animals 

die, and especially their failing glance, and people tortured by 
pain (the memory of childbirth observed as a child). 

This does not quite conclude the account of the sphere of 
anal-erotic tendencies. They were able to make considerable con- 
tributions to an organ which is inherently responsive in this direc- 
tion, namely the mouth. His phantasies indicating oral libido- 

I fixation suggested not only a surprisingly extensive distribution, 

but were also capable of interpretations from several cispects ; and 
their critical introduction into the general scheme of tlae neurosis 
caused no little trouble. The pregnancy phantasy served as a 
sign-post. When he was hardly more than five years old a curious 
selective inhibition of appetite appeared, having reference partic- 
ularly to strong smelling dishes, and this reached a real idiosyncrasy 
persisting to this day in the case, for instance, of onions. He 
cannot stand them in any form, and if by chance a minute speck 

I of onion comes into contact with his gums, he reacts with violent 

and repeated retching. I could only understand this irresistible 
distaste when I heard where the patient laid emphasis in des- 
cribing it. The Hungarian for the plant is literally 'onion-germ' 
{hagymacsir). Evidently the notion of something alive included in 
this conception had a mighty eifect in bringing about the forma- 
tion of the idiosyncrasy. Its unconscious basis appeared to be an 
infantile phantasy of oral fertilisation, which is constantly to be 
found supplementing anal birth theories. In this connection, tliere- 
fore must be taken the patient's presuming the origin of his ill- 
ness to be due to swallowing something unpalatable or harmful 
fa splinter of enamel from a saucepan). He is afraid moreover of 
being poisoned (a familiar dream symbol of pregnancy : in one 
of his dreams a fungus appeared as penis symbol). A year after 
I ^g onset of the idiosyncrasy to onions, our patient discovered 

that he had a peculiar ability as a function of his stomach which 
may be described as chewing the cud. He could easily swallow 
buttons or small marbles, such as children use for toys, and then 
regurgitate them into his mouth. After a satisfying meal he could 
even bring up chunks of meat that he had gulped down whole, 
piece by piece, in order by degrees to give them a subsequent 
chewino-. Water that he had drunk, could be spurted back in a 
stream. Such infantile inclinations concealed in part tendencies 
to coprbphagia (buttons and marbles are exquisite faeces- 


symbols), but in part too they show that an incredibly generalised 
anal erotism has transformed the oral zone to a secondary cloaca.^ 
It was only after all these things had been made clear that I 
arrived at a final explanation of a communication made by tlie 
patient long before. He had told how in the early months of his 
recent illness he had decided, without much consideration, to have 
his upper incisors extracted one by one, because he could no 
longer tolerate their foul smell. But during the process he fainted 
with pain. I vaguely guessed that these faints were causally related 
to the repeated losses of consciousness following the pain in the 
loin, but I could at first not find my way about the muddle of 
complaints, memories, interpretations, and so on. Here again the 
dominant pregnancy phantasy was a decisive factor. Tooth- 
extraction, which counts as a well-known symbol of parturition 
in women's dreams, must have the same significance in this case ; 
and the forceps delivery observed as a child contributed an inter- 
mediate idea.2 At the beginning of his hysteria, therefore, the 
patient attempted to rid himself of his diseased fancies by a 
sacrifice in the oral direction. The tooth extraction moreover was 
to be a substitute for the operation unavailingly anticipated at 
the X-ray performance, and to effect an outlet for the concomitant 
damming back of libido. Nevertheless the neurosis was the 
stronger, and found here another motive for its establishment. It is 
of interest to note the direction it took in that it first achieved 
transient expression in primordial form. Thus the archaic con- 
ception of oral birth is most impressively represented in the 
biblical story of Jonah, where the hero is spat forth by a whale. 
In describing the introductory phase of the treatment I called 
attention to one of the patient's character traits, which I could not 
then explain. I take this opportunity of interpolating the explana- 
tion at a point at which the trait became intelligible to me. The 
resistance which sooner or later appears in every analysis, as an 
inevitable consequence of treatment, is of course rooted in diflfer- 
ent sources from case to case, and must therefore be resolved 
independently each time. The factor of resistance that arises from 
the nature of the disease is often sufficiently equalised by the 

' Cf. Ernest Jones, ' Einige Falle von Zwangsneurose ', Jahrbuch der Psa. 
Bd. IV, S. 596. 

' To this may be added the grandmother's collectioQ of her teeth, and 
the injury to the little girl with the catapult. 


good-will of patients, who thoroughly grasp the seriousness and 
unbearable character of their illness ; if actual provocation is pre- 
sent, it becomes important to recognise this as it arises, and to 
follow it with close attention. There is however a particular kind 
of resistance which must be regarded as constitutional, and despite 
intimate relation with the case of illness in hand it merits a cert- 
ain independent interest. It appears at an earlier age than does 
the disease, and plays a prominent part in the life of every healthy 
individual. Our patient's behaviour was markedly reserved, and 
as it appeared in the foreground, this provided many a tough 
problem in the analysis. It always seemed likely to be related to 
anal-erotic tendencies, and ultimately this association proved to be 
very intimate. Consider how great an effort has to be devoted to 
the education particularly of the anal sphincter in the case of 
every child ; one must admit then that a psychic constellation 
may well arise as a reaction to the pleasure-toned activity of this 
occlusive muscle in consequence of its decadence along with that 
of infantilism, and that its energy will depend on its exact 
source. In a very penetrating study Ernest Jones ^ has established 
the relation between the capacity to hate and the early and 
forced conquest of control over sphincters ; without attempting 
to tackle the question of this significant relationship, which leads 
us into pathology, I would record my belief that in describ- 
ing behaviour by the word 'reserved' [Verschlossenheit) we 
reveal just such a relationship. The example of the patient is 
particularly instructive in this respect in view of the way in which 
we found that just the mechanical process of defaecation had been 
vicrorously transmuted into character traits. I do not intend to 

fc> "^ 

pursue the connection here, and will therefore not discuss the 

psychological problem of this reserved behaviour. Nevertheless I 

\ would mention that this characteristic ranks above many anal- 

■ erotic configurations as regards importance and extent ; it appears 

more amenable to change, and admits of greater malleability in 

V later life than do the others. It not only embraces its opposite 

I together with the whole series of intermediate steps, but is also 

I intimately related to important mental characters. Thus we recog- 

'; nise proud, modest, self-conscious, spiteful, etc., varieties of reserved 

^; behaviour in connection with each of which a corresponding 


! 1 'Hate and Anal Erotism in the Obsessional Neurosis', Papers onPsycho- 

i Analysis, 1918, p. 540. 


psychological type may be formulated^ The dissimulation of the 
paranoiac is probably a pathological derivative of reserved behav- 

I return once more to the prominent part played by anal 
erotism in this case, since its relation to the other component in- 
stincts is noteworthy on account of a particular circumstance. It 
appeared that the former could draw to some extent on their co- 
operation, and direct the libidinous complement which they could 
contribute. I will summarise then in a few sentences what has pre- 
viously been said. The oral instinct was traced down to a stage 
at which it became more comprehensible from a phylogenetic point 
of view. ' Observationism ' was entirely attached to the anal-erotic 
object, similarly exhibitionism, the presence of which was demon- 
strated by a memory of puberty, shame at carrying out defae- 
cation in the open. The olfactory component need hardly be 
mentioned, as its association in this connection is almost universal. 
Even urethral-erotism is closely related to its partner in excretory 
delights. Finally, we found that the expression of sadism was 
moulded on anal erotism, partly by inversion as masochism, partly 
by reaction-formation as pity. In consequence of its pre-eminence, 
the anal-erotic instinct irresistably permeated its fellows. The 
case is a model of penetration of individual instincts by a pre- 
dominant component instinct, which is present in every neurosis, 
and determines the configuration of infantile character. This 
dynamic process is moreover of importance in another connection, 
namely in relation to the narcissistic phase of libido development. 
Freud holds that at this stage all component instincts have al- 
ready achieved object-choice, but the object as yet coincides 
with the Ego.2 If now, as in the case of our patient, the anal- 
erotic component retains throughout its undue prominence, it may, 
even with an appropriate disposition only, which was here how- 
ever reinforced by the injury to the head, prevent the normal 
breaking through beyond narcissism. Such we have witnessed. It 
would seem that the whole process is not restricted in its applica- 
tion to this case, but is typical, since we interpolate a sadistic- 

* A less definite variety belongs to urethral-erotism, and this is probably 
expressed in less material form, a characteristic common to everything 
psychical that is rooted in this component instinct. 

''Die Disposition zur Zwangsneurose', SammlungkleinerSchriftenzurNeu- 
rosenlehre, 4. Folge, S. 118, 



anal-erotic as penultimate stage of development, intermediate 
ji I ' between narcissistic and genital stages, i It all tends to show how 

significant anal erotism is in the general development of the 

Every neurosis — or hysteria — may be regarded in a sense 

J as an attempt to cope auto-erotically with ideas that have become 
inaccessible to consciousness because of their dissociation from 
reality; 2 in our patient they took the form of homosexual wish- 
phantasies, and we may infer therefore from their consequences, 

, namely the group of symptoms of the disease, that tlie anal-erotic 
component too, which might have contributed to the assimilation 
of such wishes, remained under the sway of narcissism. The ant- 
agonism, which at bottom is the antagonism between libido and 
Ego, has achieved consequence in another direction, namely that 
of the castration-complex. It may be assumed, a priori, that a 
passive-homosexual wish in a neurosis only realises itself when 
the individual's narcissism is adapted to it. In what way then 
does renunciation of penis and masculinity come about? It has 
long been supposed to have to do with co-operation of con- 
stitutionally determined anal erotism. In a very important paper * 
Freud has indicated the fundamental features of the mechanism, 
jt is primarily the interest in faeces (faeces = the first 'part of the 

' body' which has to be renounced) which later becomes transferred 
to the penis. If the former was very potent, it is able by itself, 
by working up various impressions, including the castration-threat, 
to lead to the idea that the penis is similarly something detachable 
from the body. This idea approaches certainty directly the child's 
sexual investigations lead to the discovery that women lack a 
penis. Our patient could have discovered this when he was six 
years old, when his eldest sister was born. If we take into account 
his pre-occupation with anal-erotic phantasies current at that 
time, we may take it that the absolutely typical thoughts described 
above exercised his mind. I should like to call attention to two 
facts which I have noticed in the analytical treatment of this 
subject. It is surely not chance that most faeces-symbols are 
also castration-symbols — such as, nails, hair, teeth, etc. — and this 

> Freud : loc. cit. 
' 2 Freud: Vorlesungen zur Eiiifiihrung in die Psychoanalyse, 1917. S. 424. 

» ' LTber Triebumsetzungen, insbesondere der Analerotik ', Sammlung kleiner 
Schriften zur Neurosenlehre, 4. Folge, 1918. ' ; * 



circumstance by itself indicates that there are powerful common in- 
fluences at work. More important still do I find the second fact, 
which may, I suppose, be observed in every case of unconscious 
passive homosexuality. In such there are as a rule no indications 
of any psychical reaction against the threatened castration, and 
one gets the impression that they easily adapt themselves to the 
possibility of a loss of penis. This result is again to be ascribed 
to the undue power of the anal-erotic tendency, which seems to 
seize upon an experience with traumatic effect on the child's mind, 
and work it up in such a direction. It follows that in general the 
business of auto-erotism in childhood is not only preparatory, but 
constructive in its widest sense. 

I would not conclude discussion of the anal-erotic symptom- 
complex without noting the patient's typical dreams, which pro- 
vided sometimes difficult, but always valuable matter for analytic 
efforts. Like the other symptoms, they made their appearance as 
expressions of an almost inaccessible layer of the unconscious, and 
their interpretation, where indeed this was possible, was met with 
violent resistances and incredulity. Moreover they were extraordin- 
arily polished and well proportioned, which I attributed to an innate 
ability in productions of phantasy. The patient's grandfather and 
father had been excellent raconteurs of fairy-tales, and they treas- 
ured and carried on to the next generation the fine Hungarian 
folk-lore. And this may explain why many a symbol played so 
active a part not only in dreams, but in other unconscious pro- 
ducts of this neurosis (seed and tooth symbolism, etc.). It was 
just by means of these dreams that I was ultimately enabled to 
circumvent the resistances, and to penetrate to the actual patho- 
logical phantasies of the neurosis. Nevertheless, I am under the 
impression that it was more actual experiences linked together 
like a chain than the power of the dream symbolism that event- 
ually forced the patient to insight, and to relinquishing his in- 
effective infantile libido-position. This is perhaps best illustrated 
by examples, the explanation of which is involved in the whole 
history of the case, but I will limit myself here to the reproduct- 
ion of two very fine examples of his dreams. 

Dream I. He was ascending a hill, on which stood a ruin. 
At the top he lay down in the shade and gazed far and wide 
over the country, till he fell asleep from weariness. Later, he was 
woken by a bald old man leaning on a stick, looking at him. 



I He felt as if he had woken him by touching him with the stick 

I or his hand. The old man asked him then why he was frittering 

away his day, when he might have been doing something useful. 
As he actually had no plans, he asked the old fellow for advice. 
The latter pointed with his stick towards the ruin and said, therein 
was situated a well, down which he was just to climb and percuss 
its walls. If he found a hollow place, he was to open it, and he 
would get the reward for his labours. While he was considering 
the words of the old man, the latter disappeared. He followed. the ad- 
vice, stepped into the well, and discovered a secret chamber 
filled with jugs, old armour, and coins. All the objects were 
deeply smothered in mildew. 

Dream II. An unknown friend invited him to come to his 
farm.* There he showed him first the stabling, where one could 
see animals for breeding arranged in splendid order, and labelled 
' according to name and pedigree. In a small nitch, separated oflf, 

he saw a great number of hens' eggs covered with straw. He 
took up a strikingly large bean-shaped sample, and examined it 
with the greatest astonishment, since there were isolated letters 
on it, which were becoming clearer and clearer. On his friend's 
return, he hastily replaced the egg. They then went out into the 
yard, where animals reminiscent of rats were being reared in a 
pen-like enclosure. They gave out an intolerable odour. The whole 
farm was on a ridge ;' below lay a deserted churchyard with a 
meadow in its middle. Under a tree he saw a grave fallen in, 
and a chapel near it. He went in to this with his friend, and to 
the right and left of the gangway were placed children's coffins, 
I and on their lids could be seen modelled and painted, figures 

representing the dead. He stepped through a glass door to the 
inner chamber, where stood the adult's coffins. As he turned 
round by chance, and looked back through the glass door, he 
saw that the dead children were dancing ; directly they saw him 
however, they lay down again in their places. He was startled, 
and could not believe his eyes, and therefore tried again. Every 
time he found the children dancing and lying down again as soon 
as he looked at them. In the meantime the friend had disappear- 
ed, and he was seized with intense dread since he could only 
emerge in to the open through that gangway. 

» The dream heralded the phase of his first understanding of his own 
disease. The unknown one is doubtless the doctor. 




The analysis was rich in such dreams, in which I had to 
recognise very typical projections of his anal-erotic phantasies. 
These by themselves allowed a certain view to be taken of the 
diagnosis, and this was more and more confirmed, finding secure 
support from the actual memories. 

I will now attempt a brief survey of the case. At the 
beginning of analytic treatment, the case appeared one of hysteria 
due to shock. Gradually it became evident that not the actual 
accident, but an unimportant experience in hospital treatment 
(X-ray episode), the significance of which had been reinforced by 
important experiences in childhood and puberty, undoubtedly 
counted as the immediate determining motive of the illness. It 
was the business of the symptom that arose from this to indulge 
a passive homosexual wish-phantasy, and at the same time the 
neurosis mobilised a multitude of anal-erotic memory-traces wich 
took the lead in giving shape to the symptom. A memory became 
operative in the attack, namely that of the childbirth observed in 
childhood, which, ranking as an outstanding experience, had al- 
ready in its time led to powerful repression of allied memory- 
traces (his own mother's frequent childbirths) of even earlier 
years. These actual infantile experiences were closely bound up 
with the predominant activity of one of the component instincts. 
The immense contribution of anal erotism to the patient's sexual 
constitution was discovered, and by ascertaining piecemeal its 
former and current derivatives, the libidinous fixations and their 
transmutations into character traits, we eventually obtained access 
on the one hand to the elementary sources from which the neuro- 
sis derived its energy, and on the other achieved the gradual 
dissolution of the repressions that had been pathogenic. Although 
the dispositional factor of the libido had remained sufficiently 
prominent to contend against normal sexual development, the 
other symptoms of the disease had become so unbearable that 
they compelled him to show the necessary patience and endurance 
to put the analytic treatment through to its end, and this made 
a satisfactory result possible. The peculiar psychical material that 
came to light must stand as evidence of the degree of thorough- 
ness with which I treated the case. 




by ■ 


•The answer to technical problems in psycho-analytic practice is never 

obvious. ' 

Freud : Sammlung kleiner Schriften zur Neurosenlehre, IV. Folge. 

The analysis both of the child and of the adult has the same 
end and object; namely, the restoration of the psyche to health 
and equilibrium which have been endangered through influences 
known and unknown. 

The task of the physician is fulfilled when a cure has been 
effected, no matter what ethical and social standards the patient 
pursues; it suffices that the individual becomes once more adapted 
to life and his vocation, and that he is no longer liable to suc- 
cumb to the demands and disappointments of life. 

The curative and educative work of analysis does not consist 
only in freeing the young creature from his sufferings, it must also 
furnish him with moral and aesthetic values. The object of such - 
curative and educative treatment is not the mature man who when 
freed is able to take responsibility for his own actions: but the 
child the adolescent, that is human beings who are still in the 
developing stage, who have to be strengthened through the educa- 
tive guidance of the analyst, in order to become human beings 
with strong wills and definite aims. He who is both analyst and 
educator must never forget that the aim of child-analysis is 
character-analysis — in other words, education. 

The peculiarity of the child-psyche, its special relationship to 
the outside world, necessitates a special technique for its analysis. 

There are three considerations of fundamental importance: J 

1. The child does not come of his own accord to the 

> Read before the Sixth International Psycho-Analytical Congress at the 
Hague, September 1920. Translated by R. Gabler and Barbara Low. 

287 20 


analyst, as the grown-up does, but owing to the wish of his par- 
ents and only then (and herein he resembles the grown-up) when 
all other means have proved futile. 

2. The child is in the midst of the very experiences 
which are causing his illness. The grown-up suffers from past ex- 
periences, the child from present ones; and his ever-changing 
experiences create a perpetually-changing relationship between him- 
self and his surroundings. 

3. The child, unlike the adult man (but very often in 
accordan^ce with the attitude of women patients), has no desire at 
all to change himself or to give up his present attitude towards 
his external surroundings. His 'naughtiness' creates in him a sense 
of great self-importance, indeed a feeling of omnipotence, owing to 
which he tyrannizes over the people who surround him, and his 
narcissism which rejoices in the continual attention which he 
wins from his surroundings will not allow him to give up his 
wickedness. To the child with strong sadistic tendencies as well 
as to the child with pronounced masochism, constantly recurring 
outbursts of fury and punishments are essential to his neurotic 
personality. We must also include those fortunate natures who 
adapt themselves even as children to every different phase of life, 
who remember only the pleasure of 'making it up' in the con- 
tinual quarrels of childhood, and who take a temporary exile 
in a boarding-school as a pleasant change — we mean, in short, 
those who can adapt themselves to every change in their envir- 

For instance, a small boy, a habitual pilferer, whom I had for 
treatment, took all his experiences in school and at home just as 
'a lark' and squared his conscience in regard to* his complete 
failure at school with the reflection: 'My father did not like learn- 
ing either, and yet we are doing so well.' Another twelve-year 
old boy, a little truant, whom I analysed in the Vienna children's 
clinic, enjoyed his stay there so much, on account of the nice food 
he got, that in spite of his often expressed longing for his parents, 
he had no desire whatever to depart. 

Experience has taught me that girls at the age of puberty are 
more helpless when confronted by conflicts in the home hfe, and 
more sensitive to them, than are boys of the same age. The ex- 
planation of this lies partly in the fact that the girl has stronger 
links with her home Hfe on account of her education aiming more 


at repression, partly in the fact that she has less power to over- 
come, by way of sublimation, the incestuous impulses which are 
ready to burst out at this critical period. 

In the case of phobia in a five year old boy, Freud has shown 
us the method (and this has become the basis of psycho-analytic 
child-tlierapy) by which we can throw light on tliese psychic 
depths in a small child where the libidinous stirrings change into 
childish anxiety. At. this stage of hfe an analysis similar to the 
analytic treatment of the adult is not possible. One can only apply 
1 educational methods founded on psycho-analytical knowledge. A 

full understanding of the child's world of thoughts and feelings 
will call out its unlimited confidence, and thus a way is discovered 
to safeguard the child from various errors and injuries. As the 
training of the young child, both physical and mental, rests 
especially with women, it becomes essential tliat we should train 
understanding and kind-hearted women for educational psycho- 
analytic work. 

A proper analysis according to psycho-analytical principles can 
only be carried out after the seventh or eighth year. But even 
with children at this early age tlie analyst must, as I will show 
later, turn aside from the usual routine, and satisfy himself with part- 
ial results, where he thinks that the child might be intimidated 
by too powerful a stirring-up of his feelings and ideas, or that 
too high demands upon his powers of assimilation are being made, 
or that his soul is disturbed instead of freed. 

Generally speaking, there are two groups of these child-patients ; 
namely, those who know from the beginning, or soon learn, in 
what the treatment consists, its aim and object, and those others 
who owing to their tender age, or to the fact that they do not 
suifer personally from their symptoms (for example, in the case of 
marked homosexual tendencies) or owing to individual factors 
(such as a feeble constitution) cannot be enlightened as to the ob- 
ject of the analytic treatment Such children can be safely left to 
the idea that the analyst spends these hours with them in order 
to communicate some knowledge to them or to wean them from 
some misbehaviour, or to play with them, or from a special inter- 
est in them. 

For instance a delicate thirteen year old boy did not doubt for 
a moment that I was, as his mother said, a friend of his father who 
was in the war, and that I came to wish the youngster Many 

' 20* 


Happy Returns of the Day. As he had an impediment in his 
speech he also accepted quite trustingly the further explanation 
that I would teach him to speak distinctly, and he actually tried 
himself to speak more clearly. 

The mother of an eleven year old boy, who lived completely 
iB his phantasies and dreams, chose, without my sanction, a form 
of introduction which I thought might have proved harmful. She 
said that a friend of hers was very much interested in children's 
dreams and would like him to talk to her about his own. How- 
ever the course of the analysis convinced me that no harm had 
been done, for the somewhat artificial accounts of dreams given 
in the beginning were after all only reflections of his conscious 
and unconscious day-dreams. 

No rule can be laid down for the appropriate moment to tell 
the patient the aim of these talks; experience and personal tact 
are the only reliable guides. 

In close connection with the above matter is the formulating 
of the obligations which must be carried out by the adult patient 
at the beginning as a sine qua non if a cure is to be effected. 
Right from the beginning one understands that in the case of the 
second type of psycho-analytic patients one must abandon the de- 
mand for absolute openness, and uncensored expression of every- 
thing which comes into the mind, and instead put forward this 
obligation only at some favourable opportunity. In the case of the 
first-mentioned group, however, those more mature young people 
who often have already had instruction concerning psycho-ana- 
lysis from some other member of the family who has already 
undergone treatment, it is often suitable in the very first hour to 
demand that they shall be completely frank and shall not talk 
over the treatment with their comrades, their brothers and sisters, 
or other members of the family. Of course, in connection with 
this enjoining of secrecy, we must not overlook that commands 
and prohibitions are the very means of tempting the young to 

The period of time devoted to the child's analysis is generally 
conditioned by the attendance at school, which the parents do 
ot want on any account to be shortened. Apart from the few 
cases where the young patient has special difficulties in preserving 
the continuity, I have always found that three or four hours a 
week, if the analysis is carried on long enough, leads to 




successful results. An exact keeping to time appears to me 
of the greatest importance. It involves a self-education which the 
young person must undergo. Sometimes it needs strong self- 
control to reject some important communication which the child 
has kept back till the end of the hour, but to concede to such 
demands would mean that the patient was allowed to get the 
upper hand. 

While the educative analysis of children of more mature age 
(say from fourteen to eighteen) resembles more that of the grown- 
up — for in the very first hours, we can speak of the factors in 
the treatment, of positive and negative transference, of resistance, 
and of the significance of the unconscious psychic tendencies 
in the whole of our experience — the analysis of the younger or 
backward child proceeds on different lines from the beginning. 
I consider it inadvisable to take the young patient to the con- 
sultation with the analyst. The child feels himself exposed and 
humiliated while he waits in another room during the consult- 
ation, and often this creates in him excitement, may be anxiety, 
resentment, defiance, shame, all of which endangers the subsequent 
treatment, or at least makes the beginning much more difficult. If one 
has to break down a resistance before getting an opportunity to 
build abridge of mutual understanding, one is, so to speak, con- 
fronted with a task similar to that of clearing away a heap of 
debris which lies at the other side of a yawning chasm. 

Just as the first meeting between the analyst and the young 
patient should take place in the latter's home, so should it be 
with the treatment itself. The analysis must go on independently 
of the whims of the patient, who can very cleverly contrive to 
have a slight indisposition which prevents him coming, or arriving 
in time, or he may play truant in tlie analysis hour. The child 
not only lacks interest in the money problem (which for the 
grown-up is a continual stimulus to make him continue the treat- 
ment uninterruptedly), but in addition he knows tliat he has an 
opportunity of causing his parents expense and of satisfying his 
own defiance and desires for revenge. Of course, every child 
when at the height of a positive transference tries to transfer the 
analysis to the home of the analyst; but I have always gained the 
conviction that even when external circumstances demanded this 
change of place, such a change proved not to be lasting. How- 
ever much the time and energy of the analyst is burdened by 


this demand, since he can only see daily half the number of 
patients as compared with those treated by his medical colleagues, 
and although an absolutely undisturbed and private talk in the 
patient's own house is difficult to obtain, nevertheless these evils 
seem to me trifling compared with the greater one of letting the 
child decide the external conditions of the analysis. Anotlier con- 
sideration is that the parents, in spite of all- their devotion, very 
soon feel that chaperoning of the child to and from the analyst's 
house becomes impossible and this difficulty is used as a reason 
for terminating the treatment — a situation well-known to every 

However favourable may be a temporary absence from home 
for difficult children, nevertheless I have my doubts as to the 
value of psycho-analytic treatment for them in any kind of instit- 
ution, whether they are boarders or day-pupils, for one reason be- 
cause the child finds the necessity for secrecy in a situation where 
he feels himself more important than his comrades very difficult 
to endure, and for another, because he easily becomes a target 
for their ridicule when he has to have a special 'treatment hour', 
about the aim and object of which the other children cannot ob- 
tain information. What the treatment will be like in future happier 
times when perhaps some of my ideas for the founding of psycho- 
analytic homes for young children have been realized I cannot 
foretell, but I believe that it will need quite special tact, great 
educational skill and experience, to meet successfully the great 
difficulties which will arise in psycho-analytic treatment owing to 
collective life. The jealousy among the patients themselves, the 
making of comparisons not always favourable to one's own ana- 
lyst, the exchange of confidences between the children about their 
analysis which cannot be prevented — all these things are diffi- 
culties which must not be underrated. Nevertheless, I believe that 
the creation of psycho-analytic 'homes' will either solve the prob- 
lem of the guidance of the 'difficult' child which so many parents 
and schools fail in, or at least make the problem easier. 

An important difference between the analysis of the child and 
of the grown-up results from what seems a merely external cir- 
cumstance; namely, whether the patient should lie down or sit up 
during treatment. For the very juvenile patient, this question is 
already answered by the limitations which his age imposes. But 
also in the case of the older child the notion of 'lying down' 





i produces in the child an anxiety-situation. To lie down awakens 

in the child the memory of some real or imagined scene of being 
overpowered: one will be afraid of a beating, another of an 
operation, and both are overcome by their secret feeling of guilt, 
a fear of castration. ■Adolescent patients imagine themselves while 
lying down to be under hypnosis and exposed to rape. Seduction 
phantasies of both homosexual and heterosexual nature which 
are projected on to the analyst play a great part witlK so-called 
'nervous' boys and girls when they have to lie down. 

A fifteen-year old boy who came for my educative treatment 
on account of a serious phobia of thunderstorms and earthquakes, 
confessed to me in the course of analysis that he would certainly 
have resisted the treatment if he had been obliged to lie down on 
/ ' the sofa which, he had heard, a family acquaintance had had to 

do in his analysis, for he was in continual dread of being hypnot- 
ized. As a matter of fact this boy had worked himself into such 
a serious condition of excitement during a consultation with a 
nerve specialist at home, who tried to hypnotize him, that he 
cried out 'Pohce' and iinally dashed out of the house in a panic 
into the street.' 

I have never noticed that the success of the analysis is in any 
way imperilled by the fact that the analyst faces the patient. 

The first hour in treatment is of the utmost importance; it is 
the opportunity for establishing a rapport with the young creature, 
and for 'breaking the ice'. It causes much strain and stress to 
the beginner and opens up even to the experienced analyst nearly 
always new methods of approach and new guiding lines. But no 
rules and no programme can be laid down; the intellectual devel- 
opment, the age, and the temperament of the patient must decide 
which course to pursue. 

In the case of more mature patients, often the right course is 
for the analyst to confess himself as such openly, in order to gain 
their confidence whole heartedly. 

The mother of a nervous girl of fourteen introduced me to 
her daughter as a friend whom she had not seen for many years, 
but the girl was not to be deceived by this; after a little while 
she enquired: 'But who are you really?' My honest explanation, 
namely, that I was interested in young people who find Hfe very 
difficult and are unable to grapple with it, and that I should like 
to help her, too, to get on better with her mother, had the de- 


sired effect. The girl became strongly attached to me and came 
to me for advice about all matters which disturbed her, as to 
her 'second and real mother'. 

Sometimes, in the case of those patients who obstinately shut 
themselves up, a ruse is helpful. For example, a nine year old 
boy with suicidal impulses, during the first hour took not the 
slightest notice of me, but simply laid his head on the table and 
made no response to any remark. A fly passing close to my face 
suggested to me the idea of pretending that I had got something 
in my eye. At once the boy, who always wished to be in the 
limehght, jumped up, saying: 'Please let me see, I will get it out; 
but you must not rub your eye.' Thus, with his proffered help 
the ice was broken, because he felt himself of use to me. Every 
time, after this, when a strong resistance made him retire into 
silence, I had only to ask for his advice or his help, and the ana- 
lysis once more progressed favourably. 

A ruse, which, in my opinion, never fails, is to tell the young 
patient about the misdeeds of other children. As one has already 
been sufficiently informed by the parents about the misdemeanours 
and peculiarities of one's little patient, one need not be afraid of 
inciting the child, by such accounts of others, to similar naughti- 
ness which he has not indulged in up to the present. No child 
has so far been harmed either in a sexual, or any other way, by 
a properly-conducted analysis. Though a temporary increase in 
bad behaviour may lead the layman to such an idea, the analyst 
is able to appreciate it as a sign of progress. 

The reaction of the child to this kind of beginning may be of 
three types. Often the patient reacts with a story of similar mis- 
deeds, which at first are described as having been done by another 
child, and only later on admitted as his own. Or secondly he may 
reply with a fierce denial: 'I have never done such things!' From 
the analysis of the grown-up, we are aware that such emphatic 
denials are tantamount to admissions. Thirdly, the child may accept 
the information with absolute indifference. Then we can scarcely 
be wrong in assuming that the parents have misunderstood some- 
thing in the behaviour of the child, or that behind the known 
facts something more is hidden. 

When dealing with children of seven or eight years of age, 
the analyst can often pave the way by sharing in the play activi- 
ties, and thus he can recognise several symptoms, peculiar habits, 


and character traits; and in the case of these very young patients, 
very often play will enact an important part throughout the whole 

A seven year old boy, who suffered from severe insomnia 
accompanied with compulsive laughter and tic, which made me 
suspect he had watched the parental sex-life, manifested during 
daytime complete apathy: he lay on the carpet for hours without 
speaking or playing; he ate a great deal but without enjoyment 
or selection, and apparently *tiad lost quite suddenly his former 
strongly-marked desire for caresses. In the analysis he would allow 
me to play with his toys for the whole hour, with scarcely any 
reaction on his part, and seldom gave me answer, so that it was 
difficult to decide whether he had taken in at all that I said. In 
one of the first treatment hours I told him about a little boy who 
would not go to sleep at night, and made such a noise that his 
parents could not sleep either. I told also how little Rudi made 
a noise too in the afternoons when his father wanted to rest; so 
his father became angry and Rudi was whipped (Little Hans's 
reaction to this was to run to the sideboard and take down a 
'Krampus' ^ and to beat me on tlie arm, saying: ' You are naughty!'). 
I went on to tell how Rudi was then cross with his father, and 
wished his father were somewliere else (To this the reaction was: 
*My father is at the war'. Actually his father, an officer of high 
ff rank, was on active service throughout the war, and had only 

p| returned to his family in Vienna on short leave). Suddenly Hans 

ti| took his litde gun and said: 'Pufif, puff.' 

The next day his death-wishes towards his father showed 
themselves more clearly. He was playing with his toy motor-car 
and several times ran over the chauffeur, whom I had made out 
to be little RudL's father. I pretended to telephone the news of his 
father's accident to the little boy. Rudi was supposed to weep 
bitterly at the news, and then I said that although Rudi had for- 
merly wished his strict father away, now he felt very sad, because 
in spite of this wish, he really loved his father very much. The 
f§ reaction of Uttle Hans was very characteristic; he listened to me, 

lying on the floor, asking me eagerly now and then, 'What does 
little Rudi do next?' Suddenly he jumped up and ran out of the 
room. On the following day he reacted in the same way when 
our game was repeated, at his request. In his sudden going out 
* The dressed-up figure of a little man, holding a birch-rod. 

: 8 




of the room, we can see clearly the working of the unconscious. 
It also shows us an important difference in the course of psychic 
functionings in the grown-up and in the child. Whereas in the ana- 
lysis of the adult, we aim at bringing about full insight into un- 
conscious impulses and feelings, in the case of a child, this kind 
of avowal expressed, without words, in a symbolic act, is quite 
sufficient. We learn, indeed, from the analysis of the child that in 
him the psychic events take place in quite different layers from 
those of the grown-up, that they may be more closely or more 
remotely connected with each other and that in the child many 
impressions leave clearly-marked traces in spite of never having 
reached the threshold of consciousness. Even analysis does not 
make conscious these fragmentary memories of 'primordial scenes '^ 
the blending of new impressions with these former takes place, 
perhaps, in the preconscious, and it is left to later experiences at 
a higher stage of development to bring them into consciousness. 
This would supply a further explanation of the fact that the very 
earliest impressions which are very much alike for all human beings 
(such for example, as the methods of upbringing) lay the foundation 
for neurosis in some whilst others pass through them unharmed. 

It is most rare for the young patient to put out his psychic 
feelers, or to talk freely during the first treatment hour, since he 
is full of mistrust towards his analyst, who is the father- or mother- 
imago, unless it so happens that an extreme bitterness against his 
parents or brothers and sisters compels the child to break out 
into complaints and abuse. In such case, it is necessary to mani- 
fest to the young patient the greatest forbearance and a full con^ 
sideration of his troubles. 

The communications or symptomatic actions in the first treatment 
hour are of the greatest importance, for they demonstrate the nuc- 
lear-complex of the infantile neurosis. 

A fifteen year old boy came to me for analytic treatment on 
account of severe anxiety conditions, which he himself speedily 
declared to be 'anxiety of anxiety'. The first thing he said was: 
* In our form at school, the two best pupils are Jews, I come next, 
and again after that, the next best are Jews, and the rest are 
Gentiles.' By this formulation the boy betrayed his ever-gnawing 
feeling of reproach against the father, who owing to marriage with 
a Gentile, had become a convert from Judaism to Protestantism. 

» Cf. Freud: 'A Child is being Beaten", T\i\& Journal, Vol. I, p. 380. 


Little Hans, to whom we are indebted for valuable insight 
into the mechanism of the child's psychic functioning, was aroused 
from his complete apathy by the following game: I saw in the 
looking-glass that he poked his finger into his nose, and I said: 
'Oh dear, whatever is Hans doing? I don't want to see such a 
sight!* Whereupon he stood in front of the mirror, smiling 
roguishly, and said. 'Don't look!' poking his finger again into 
his nose. Of course he expects me to forbid him and untiringly 
repeats this game, only exchanging his nose-poking for putting 
out his tongue. This game symbolizes to him the oft-experienced 
strictness of his father which he tries to evade by keeping secret 
his little misdeed. 

A sixteen-year old girl suffered in a marked degree from in- 
feriority feelings, owing to squinting. She covered up spontan- 
eously my spectacles which lay on the table— a symptomatic 
action which revealed that she was unwilling to be reminded of 
eyes or their abnormalities. She admitted to me later on that this 
defect of mine had for a long time disturbed her aifectionate 
relations towards me. 

A ten year old boy, who was rather a failure at his work 
owing to his very extreme habit of phantasying, in tlie first treat- 
ment hour informed me how greatly he disliked the pose of the 
hero in a performance of 'Lohengrin' which he had witnessed" 
He ostentatiously turned his back towards me, imitating the 
singer's position, declaring it unsuitable for a performer on the 
stage, asking me : ' Surely, Doctor, an actor should not stand 
in such a position in front of the public.?' After a short 
course of analysis, my original suspicion was confirmed, | 

namely, that the boy was suffering from a strongly repressed 

The first communication of a fourteen year old girl, who was ■ ' 

harrassed by painful broodings, was a very contemptuous criti- 
cism of the geographical teaching which she received at the age 
of ten or eleven, which consisted of continual repetition about 
'climate' and even now in the high school it was tlie same subject 
all over again: climate, tlie position of the sun and its shadow — 
these were pursued witli the same persistency. 'Whatever is the 
object of teaching the movements of the sun to an eleven year 
old child who cares nothing about the subject,' and so forth — 
^this complaint filled up the whole hour of treatment with the 




greatest monotony, and in the subsequent hours she continually 
returned to this subject, until at last was revealed the connection 
between tliis question and what was really the girl's main inter- 
est — sexual intercourse between human beings. In a roundabout 
way (first under the guise of her great liking for horses— she 
was greatly interested in books on horse-breeding — then of her 
interest in descriptions of travels and the love relations of foreign 
peoples) the main preoccupation finally emerged: *For how long 
a period do the men and women of foreign races have intimate 
relations with one another' (having in mind her own father and 

The demand for 'active therapy' which is made for the ana- 
lysis of the adult is also of importance in child-analysis. It is 
certainly advisable for quite « number of patients that during the 
course of analysis they should be given small tasks to perform. 
Especially in tlie case of the patient who suffers from strong in- 
feriority feelings, if a due measure of work be demanded of him, 
his self-confidence will be strengthened. 

The shy, dependent weak boy (of whom I spoke above) who 
had difficulty with his speech and suffered a great deal from the 
ridicule of street-boys, surprised his grandfather after a six months 
treatment by his manly self-reliant behaviour with his seniors. The 
'boy, who formerly would scarcely go outside the house, improved 
so much by analysis that he joined in walks, and went along, 
first for me, then for his mother, to execute little commissions 
for us — which he carried out very successfully. 

More important than making positive requests is the avoidance, 
■ as far as possible, of any direct prohibitions, and, again, more 
valuable than both prohibitions and commissions, is talking over 
things together. This mutual weighing up of the pros and cons 
of a siven situation will influence the self-confidence of the patient 
repressed by his inferiority feelings. 

No more for the child than for the adult can a programme 
for the course of analysis be laid down. Kind and sympathetic 
attention, encouraging occasionally, ^joking words at the right mom- 
ent, a loving interest in all the trifles which are by no means 
trifles to the child, indicate the way to gain the full confidence 
of the young creature. In addition, to forget nothing and to con- 
fuse nothing said in previous sittings — this completes the de- 
mands made by the child upon the analyst. How far, and when, 


free association should be made use of, can only be decided as 
the circumstances arise. So far as my own experience goes, Abra- 
ham's remark that older people need more guidance in analysis 
than the younger ones holds good for both the young child and 
the adolescent. Perhaps we would add that in the case of these 
latter, greater care has to be used than with the grown-up. True, 
it is difficult to disentangle deep-rooted and rigid ideas and feel- 
ings, but the greater plasticity of the youthful mind lends itself 
easily to the danger of unintended suggestion instead of yielding 
to the patient the clearest possible insight. Over and over again 
I have been able to prove to myself that children know far more 
about the things that go on in their surroundings than we grown- 
ups, owing to our anxious solicitude, wish to admit. Does it not 
sound almost tragi-comic to receive unexpectedly the confession 
of "^an eleven-year old girl (whose repeated questions about the 
sexual act I have carefully tried to answer step by step) that when 
she was five her mother enticed her to look through the keyhole 
and tlius spy on her father when having intercourse with a pro- 
stitute ! 

Of course, dreams play their part in child-analysis also, but 
we need not fear, any more than in the case of adults, that resist- 
ance will produce a more intense or imaginary dream-experience. 
The so-called night-dream signifies only a day-dream to which 
perhaps the child would never otherwise give expression. And 
here I wish to emphasize the difficulty there is in getting some 
children to speak out freely all their ideas because they cannot 
free themselves from the habit fixed by the daily teaching, namely: 
'not to talk nonsense' and so forth. 

Although naturally in child-analysis technical expressions, such 
as the OEdipus and castration-complex, exhibitionism, etc. cannot 
be made use of, nevertheless the real facts must be made clear. 
Even in the case of a very young patient it is necessary to explain 
certain phenomena in the course of treatment. He will quite easily 
understand the meaning of 'resistance' if first it is explained to 
him in connection with 'the negative transference', that is, his 
refusal to speak out of a spirit of defiance; and later in connection 
with the 'positive transference', that is, his feeling of shame at 
making a confession to the analyst which is humiliating to himself 
or his family; and in the end he will understand the readily acquired 
phrase: 'Now I have no more to say.' 



Out of the resistance which expresses Itself in the form of 
unwiUingness to humiUate his family we can find a way of ex- 
planation concerning the negative transference, which is generally 
niuch more readily accepted than the idea of the positive trans- 
ference. Discussion about this latter, even when it is quite clearly 
recognised, demands special caution in formulating it, because at 
bottom the child is unwilling to exchange his own parents for 
any stranger, even when there is every good reason for so doing. 
In spite of this, however, the child's first attitude at the beginning 
of the treatment is generally a strong positive transference, owing 
to the fact that the analyst, by sympathetic and dispassionate 
listening, realizes the child's secret father — or mother — ideal. 
Of course he makes use of this attitude at once against his own 
family. This results in those intensely irritating remarks made by 
the child to his people, such as: 'Doctor said I need not do this 
or that', or, 'I must ask Doctor first about this'. The child takes 
for granted that the analyst by listening to his complaints in the 
treatment hour, is in agreement with him, and from this he builds 
up his phantasies and attributes to them the value of reality. Also 
the juvenile patient is continually ready to plot against his parents, 
and in this he relies upon the support of his analyst. The child, 
just like the grown-up, when at the height of his positive trans- 
ference, is unwilling to end the treatment. 

The negative transference usually appears first in the form of 
a fear of being deceived. For everytliing they say, they demand 
oaths of secrecy, for their mistrust towards the analyst is the prod- 
uct both of unwillingness to lay themselves bare, and of the 
countless disappointments which even the most favourable home 
conditions provide for the child from his earliest years. This is also 
the reason why he anxiously and jealously watches the interviews 
between the analyst and his parents and tries to overhear them 
and shorten them. 

We know what an important part is played in the child's 
psychic life by sexuality, and its observation, and by the diverting 
of this childish interest by the family circle. The child is accustomed 
to get very unsatisfactory answers from bis parents and other 
grown-up members of the family to the riddle of sex, and therefore 
he reacts in two ways to the straight-forward talk in the analysis 
about sexual matters. He feels more important, like a grown-up man, 
and tries hard to reward the analyst's frankness by greater friend- 


ship: on the other hand, as soon as stronger resistance sets in, 
he is at once ready (owing to his eariier repressions) to beUttle 
the analyst because he has talked on tabooed matters. So strong 
with the child is the parental authority and the first educational 
influence, that he expects the same claims to be made upon him- 
self, and the same outlook in life, from every grown-up who is 
interested in him. To him the analyst embodies, but in much 
stronger form than to the adult, the father- or mo\her-imag-o. 
On that account it takes a long time before he can feel convinced 
that the analyst does not take the parent's part, and that he can 
expect from the analyst full freedom and complete understanding 
for all his utterances. The child's over-estimation of authority in 
both positive and negative sense, makes the analysis difficult, for 
the patient watches with a keen eye for any defect in the ana- 
lyst which will give him an excuse for gainsaying his belief in 
authority. And the young person, especially the child, thinks he 
finds this wished-for defect in the analyst's frank talk about sexual 
problems, and therefore in this phase of the treatment the ambi- 
valency of the patient towards his guide and adviser is most 
apparent. The notable difference between his parents as they are 
in reality and their image in his phantasy re-awakens once more 
in its original intensity the very earliest child-wish, namely, that 
his little heart should once more be able to confide in his father 
and mother and witli this all the old feelings of early disappoint- 
ment are revived. Owing to this unavoidable conflict which has 
its foundation in the childish memories of the young soul, and in 
its attitude to the analyst, arise the fundamental demands made 
upon the latter by the patient. The chief thing in the analysis of 
children and young people is the analyst's power of intuition in 
regard to the sufferer. It does not matter so much whether many 
complexes are made conscious to the young patient, or how much 
'insight' he gains, the reaction is sufficient at the beginning. Often, 
much later, some chance word from the child shows that he has 
preserved and appreciated at its true value the explanation which 
he had at an earlier stage. But this acceptance does not take place 
by means of conscious work: a great part of the psycho-analytic 
process in the child takes place in his unconscious, and contrary 
to the case of the grown-up, it remains permanently there, and 
only a change in his behaviour proves to the analyst that his 
trouble has not been in vain. In my experience, it is those children 



whose seeming compliance might tempt one to satisfaction, who 
are the most difficult type for treatment: they are the well-drilled 
kind, who say 'yes' to everything, but in their hearts say 'no' 
and act accordingly. 

Intuition and patience, these are the foundations which must 
be laid from the first meeting witli the young patient, in order 
that confidence may rest on solid ground. 

An important factor in child-analysis is the relationship be- 
tween the analyst and the young patient's family. One might think 
that in this respect the analyst-educator would have an advantage 
over his medical colleagues, since the child comes for treatment 
owing to the parents' wish, whereas the adult comes of his own 
accord, very often quite against the wish of his family. Unfortun- 
ately this idea is quite incorrect. In the case of the child as well, 
psycho-analysis is looked upon as the last resource, and the parents, 
who have found all other educational measures fail, have a good 
deal of mistrust even of psycho-analysis. In spite of this, they 
expect a 'miraculous cure' which shall remedy in the course of days 
the mistakes of years. And the relatives cling to this expectation, in spite 
of the analyst's quite explicit information that the duration of the treat- 
ment cannot be fixed in advance because it is dependent upon the in- 
dividual character of the child, but that it will certainly stretch 
over several months. I have proved over and over again that the 
relatives from the very beginning of the treatment have privately 
settled in their own minds a time-limit, and this tliey maintain, 
incapable of sufficient insight to understand that to break off treat- 
ment half-way through means waste of time, trouble, and money. 
Of course, the psycho-analytic treatment itself is held responsible 
for the consequence of the premature breaking-off, namely, that 
there is a considerable intensification of the original trouble— and 
this is produced by the child (in part consciously, in part uncon- 
sciously) owing to his revolt against the loss of treatment which 
though at first compulsory has become indispensable to him. The 
parents' criticism of the treatment is made more poignant owing 
o their painful consciousness, mingled with shame, anxiety and 
bitterness, of having failed in regard to their children's successful 
training. In addition the knowledge that the analysis reveals all the 
mistakes made in the upbringing of the child in spite of the best 
intentions, and that the analyst obtains an insight (very undesir- 
able from the parent's point of view, into intimate family affairs 


creates in most parents distrustful and anxious feelings. This reluct- 
ance to lay bare family affairs proves a greater hindrance in the 
case of child-analysis than in the case of the adult, for the latter 
is willing to sacrifice, for the sake of his own recovery, the con- 
sideration he holds for his family. Another difficulty arises from the 
over-anxiety of the parents to further and hasten the analysis by their 
co-operation. The mothers, at all events, nearly always show a desire to 
make use of 'active therapy'. It is terribly difficult to convince them 
that their work lies in quite another direction and that they are 
really acting as helpers if they show the child during the treat- 
ment the greatest possible measure of patience and forbearance. 
They must develop the understanding that the young mind during 
the analysis has to go through a process of re-crystallization 
during which first the old values are destroyed; and this destruct- 
ive process cannot take place without disturbances, and these shocks 
have an outlet in an increase of the very difficulties and pecul- 
iarities which have to be eliminated. Quite usually after a striking 
temporary improvement in the symptoms (arousing in the parents 
premature expectation of cure in a few weeks or even hours in 
spite of the analyst's emphatic warning as to the duration of the 
analysis) a marked change for the worse takes place. Some children 
rebel more violently than ever against the parents' rules and regu- 
lations: others who have failed in their work owing to their ex- 
treme phantasy-life, will take advantage of the unwonted freedom 
to express now without check their secret thoughts and feelings. 
They lose themselves in their day-dreams, and for the time being, 
they turn away from their work more completely than before. 
This apparent deterioration in the outward behaviour of the child, 
which reveals his psychic condition, is regarded quite differently 
by the parents and by the analyst: the latter sees in it a good 
sign for the further progress of the analysis. 

It is not easy to convince the parents that the renunciation 
of the desire for the children's success in work during the pro- 
cess of analysis holds out the promise of that very success when 
the treatment is over. They are very unwilling to allow as much 
importance to a psychic trouble as to a physical one. Just as no 
father would think of sending his child to school when suffering 
from pneumonia, so no demands must be made for study from 
the child suffering psychically. 

The narcissism of the parents explains their extreme jealousy. 



experienced especially by the mother, when they see their child 
so ardently attaching himself to tlie analyst. In this connection an 
important task devolves upon the analyst who has to explain to 
the mother that the positive transference is a passing phenomea 
but one necessary to the success of the analysis, and in no way de- 
prives her permanently of Ijer child's love. 

In spite of the difficulties which prevent the relations between. 
the parents and analyst being so friendly as might be desirable 
in the interests of the child, this relationship is inevitable. It is a 
legitimate demand on the part of the parents and furthers the 
treatment. For the child passes over, instinctively and, unlike the 
adult, without conscious criticism, everything which has no 'feel- 
ing-tone' for him and which is settled and done with. Conse- 
quently, very often we learn nothing in the analysis of difficulties 
at home or at school, because the child does not feel the need 
to revise tliese scenes, and his interest in them disappears as sooa 
as they have played their part according to his expectations. la 
addition we must not forget that the child consciously also keeps 
secrets. In order to ascertain some special date, or the accuracy 
of some memory, it is sometimes useful to question the parents; 
and further it is valuable for obtaining an insight into the earliest 
stage of the patient's life. It is here that the parents can satisfy 
their desire for active co-operation in the analysis, by means of 
written replies to the analyst's series of questions, concerning the 
physical and psychic development of the child in early infancy, 
and these communications throw a valuable light upon the sur- 
roundings, the outlook on life and the educational system in which 
the child has grown up. It is of special importance in the process 
of analysis to refrain from touching on certain matters, such as 
infantile masturbation and how it ceased, and to overlook a de- 
cided denial in respect to certain matters which we all know (just 
like the interest in the digestive process, etc.) must be answered 
in the affirmative by every child. This emphatic denial of all 
kinds of 'nastiness' aiifords the analyst guiding-lines for the treat- 
ment of the sexual problem. 

I consider it impossible for anyone to analyse properly his 
own child. This is so not only because the child hardly ever 
reveals its deepest desires and thoughts, conscious or unconscious, 
to father and mother, but because in this case the analyst is often 
driven to re-construct too freely, and also because the narcissism 


of the parents would make it almost unbearable to hear from 
their own child the psycho-analytic revelations. 

The relations between the analyst and the patient's brothers 
and sisters has also a bearing on the course of the treatment. 
Usually the younger ones are eager to share the patient's con- 
fidence, whereas the elder ones, owing to a secret feeling of envy 
and animosity, and a half-expectation of betrayal of themselves 
keep aloof. Both of these attitudes are judged with equal hostility 
by the patient, who watches with jealous mistrust the relations of 
his special confidant with his brothers and sisters and is unwilling 
to give up his phantasy of the analyst's hostile attitude towards 
the latter. 

We may sum up our knowledge obtained from child-analysis 
in a few sentences. Almost always we find mistakes in education, 
through which a bad disposition or a harmful experience, instead 
of decreasing in destructive effects, is fostered. Too much strictness 
on the one hand, and too much leniency on the other, with 
nearly always alack of consistency in the upbringing, bring about 
these evils, from which both parents and children alike suffer. 
If the parents themselves were analysed, in all probability fewer 
children would be in need of analysis. 




The Abbe Dubois^ makes the following very interesting 
and significant observation: 'Tlie conduct and the manner of 
thinking of the Hindus respecting uncleanness and the means of 
purification, are so different from anytliing to be seen in other 
nations, that it would be very desirable if we could discover some 
evidence to enable us to discern with certainty what has given 
rise to those rules of conduct which they so invariably pursue '. 

No one who has made even a superficial study of the customs 
of the Hindus, still less any one who has come into actual con- 
tact with them in India, can fail to be impressed with the length 
and depth to which ideas pertaining to 'defilement' have come 
to permeate their existence. Ceremonial 'purifications' of all 
descriptions have played, and continue to play, important parts 
in the daily routine of mankind throughout the world, but it is 
unlikely that among any people at any time in the history of the 
human race has either the desire for the avoidance of contact 
with 'impurity' as well as the desire to remove the minutest 
trace of any such impure contact risen to be such an overwhelm- 
ing obsession as it has done among the Hindus. Although with 
all races and religious systems, the conception of moral guilt 
probably takes its origin in ideas which are fundamentally con- 
cerned with bodily uncleanness, especially with the uncleanness ol 
those parts of the body which are concerned with the excre- 
mentitious functions, it is among the Hindus that this association 
of ideas can be studied to the greatest advantage. Furthermore, 
although there are in India many races, ethnologically 
distinct, which profess Hinduism, yet in all of them we may find 
certain traits of character which could only exist in persons 
whose traditional beliefs and practices are largely the outcome 

1 Dubois: The People of India, p. 122. 
' i 306 


of sublimations of, or reaction-formations against, anal-erotic 

The facts on which the theory of anal erotism is based are 
now so widely known as to make it superfluous for me to do 
more than recapitulate some of their salient features. Ernest Tones ^ 
has observed that Freud discovered the existence of three 
character traits that are most typically related to highly 
developed anal erotism — namely, orderliness, parsimony and seli- 
willedness or obstinacy. To these three primary traits there belong 
a number of subsidiary attributes, some of which are of a positive 
nature (sublimations), while others bear a negative character 
(reaction-formations), and correspond to barriers erected against 
the repressed tendencies. 

I shall now proceed to essay an attempt to apply these prin- 
ciples to some of the main features, first of the Hindu cosmogony 
and then to the general character-complex of the races of India 
that are usually spoken of as 'Hindu'. 

Probably the most striking feature of Hinduism, certainly 
one that has exerted, aiid continues to exert, incalculable influence 
on the lives of all Hindus, is that remarkable social organisation 
which has been rather unfortunately termed 'caste'. Caste is a 
Portuguese word (casta) and was first introduced into India about 
the middle of the sixteenth century by the Portugese. Max 
Mueller^ rightly insists on the misunderstanding that has follow- 
ed upon the employment of this term 'caste' to the social 
organisation of the Hindus, but neither he, nor Risley, nor Dubois, 
nor, in fact, any of the numerous writers on the subject of 
'caste', has appreciated the fundamental difference of these social 
distinctions of the Hindus as compared, for instance, to the social 
divisions that existed among the ancient Egyptians, the Jews, the 
Greeks, as well as that separation of the public body of the 
Sabines and Romans by Numa Pompilius. As Farquhar » observes, 
there was at the time which brought forth the Rigveda, 
the earliest literature in India, 'no caste among the Aryan 
tribes'. There was, on the other hand 'a triple division of the 
people into warriors, priests and commons, but there was no 
hard and fast law prohibiting inter-marriage and commanding 

' Ernest Jones: Papers on Psycho-Analysis, 2nd. Edition, 1918, p. 665. 
> Max Mueller: The Six Systems of Indian Philosophy, p. 9. 
'J.N. Farquhar: Outline of the Religious Literature of India, p. 6. 



each son to follow his father's occupation'. Certainly, we do fitid 
in the celebrated 'Purusha hymn' of the Rig-veda (Mandala X. 
90) an allusion to the distinction of 'castes', but this hymn is 
admitted to be a' comparatively modern production. It is not 
until we come to that form of Brahmaniam which may be 
termed the Nomistic or Preceptive phase, because it represents 
that period in Indian religious history when the Brahmans com- 
posed codes of law (Kalpa-Sutras) and laid down precise precepts 
for the constitution of the Hindu social fabric, that we encounter 
definite expressions of separate divisions of the Hindus. 

Now however one may attempt to rationalise the sub-divisions 
as the outcome of purely social and economical, or even political, 
considerations, as has been done hitherto by all writers on the 
subject, we cannot get away from the fact that the basal prin- 
ciple underlying this organisation is one that is wholly con- 
cerned with a 'pollution-complex', for which assumption there 
could not exist better nor more conclusive evidence tlian the 
conception of the existence of a class of 'Untouchables'. As I 
have already observed, it is the idea of 'pollution' with its con- 
committant creation of a section of the body politic into 'Out- 
castes', 'shut out in their filth and in their poverty', that 
makes the Hindus unique among the other races of mankind. To 
estabUsh this view more fully it will now be necessary to embark 
on a review of the history of Hindu religious and philosoph- 
ical systems as well as of the practices and beliefs to which these 
systems have given rise. 

It has already been observed that the early Vedic religion, as 
epitomised in the Samhitas, does not afford such numerous 
examples of the part played at that epoch by anal-erotic impulses 
as we find in later manifestations of Hindu belief and practice. 
Nevertheless, in the triad of deities which constitute the true 
gods of the Veda— namely, the Fire-god (Agni), the Rain-god 
(Indra), and the Sun-god (Surya or Savirti), we have examples of 
the association of ideas traceable to an unconscious 'flatus- 

Ernest Jones ^ in a most interesting monograph has dealt 
with some of the aspects of the part played in art and religion 
by this complex, so that it is perhaps out of place to mention 

• Ernest Jones 'Die Empfangnis der Jungfrau Maria durch das Ohr', Jakrh. 
d. Psa. Bd. VI, 1914. 


here the fact that Kunti, the wife of the Sun-god, gave birth to 
a son Kama, so-called because he came forth from his mother's 
ear. Further manifestations of this same complex are met with 
again in the religion of the Veda in the so-called Sama-veda, a 
collection of liturgical hymns for chanting at particular sacrifices. 
In these hymns we find certain syllables, called 'stobhas', inter- 
polated, e. g., hai, hau, hoyi, huva, hoi, etc., which from their nature 
support the views expressed by Jones ^ and Ferenczi « that the ideas 
of speech are equivalent in the unconscious with that of passing 
flatus, and from this may arise the superstitious belief in the omnipotence 
of words. Later on, when we shall come to examine those mystical 
letters and syllables known as 'Bijas' we shall meet with still more 
remarkable examples of the same idea. 

In the Sama-veda we also find the beginnings of another 
type of anal-erotic complex, namely the desire for self-control, 
which lies at the root of perhaps the most typical of all 
the manifestations of Hinduism — namely, 'Yoga'. Deussen » says 
'The phenomenon of asceticism made its appearance among 
the Hindus earlier and occupied a larger place than among 
any other known people.' Although there are many other sources 
of these ascetic and self-martyring impulses, a not unimportant 
one is, as Ernest Jones * observes, ' the lasting influence of the infant's 
ambition to achieve control of his sphincters, his first great lesson 
of the kind'. To this view enormous support is to be found in 
such Hindu practices as those detailed in the ' Hatha-yoga-pradi- 
pika', one of many treatises on Yoga. For instance we read: ■> 
'The asanas or postures are said to be eighty-four in number, 
and each has its peculiar influence on the body and the mind... 
Of all the different postures four are said to be the best... Sit 
with the body perfectiy straight after placing the right foot in 
the cavity between the left thigh and the calf, and the left foot 
in the cavity between the right thigh and the calf. This is called 
svastikasana. Having pressed the perinaeum with the end of the 
left foot, place the end of the right foot on the spot exactly 
above the penis. Then fix the chin steadily on the heart and 

* Ernest Jones: Papers, etc., op. cit., p. 687. 

» S. Ferenczi: Contributions to Psycho-Analysis, p. 269 et seq, 
» Deussen: The Religion and Philosophy of India, p. 66. 

* Ernest Jones: op. cit, p. 674. 

' Manilal Nabhubhai Dvidedi: The Yoga-Sutra of Patanjali, Appen- 
dix, p. 1. 




; remaining unmoved like a post, direct the eyes to the spot in 

? the middle of the brows. This is siddkasana. In all tlie eighty- 

h four postures always practise the siddhasana, for it is that which 

I purifies all the seventy-two thousand nadis. ' Again, ' Place the 

p right foot in an inverted position under the right part of the 

I . perinaeum and the left foot under the left part, and hold both the 

i feet by both the hands.' Again, 'So long as the Nadis, the 

I vehicles of prana, are obstructed by abnormal humours, there is 

[• no possibility of the prana running in the middle course {sasumna) 

I and of accomplishing the unmani-mudra. Hence pranayama should 

t be pracdsed in the first instance for the clearance of these humours. 

\ The pranayama for this purpose is as follows. Having assumed 

[ the padmasana posture, the yogin should inhale at the left nostril 

[ and, having retained the breath for the time he easily can, should let it 

I • off at the opposite nostril; and repeat the same process beginning 

with the nostril where he exhales ... As helps to pranayama, and 

F even as independent practices leading to several important results 

' and even to samadhi, there are certain physico-mental postures 

which are called mudras. They are ten in number ... of these I 

shall describe three. Uddiyana consists in drawing in the navel \ 

and the parts above and below it. Mulabandha consists in drawing 

in the parts of the anus, and in mentally exerting as if to draw 

the apana upwards towards the navel.' 

The following are a few extracts from an English translation 
of the 'Yoga-Sutra' written by one Patanjali about the second \ 

century, B.C., with notes by tlie translator: 

XL. From purity arises disgust for one's own body and non- 
intercourse with others. 

Note. The purity here referred to is physical or external; mental or internal 
purity will be dealt with in the following aphorism. One who has understood 
purity naturally looks with disgust upon his physical body which is full of 
impurities, and he feels no strong desire to associate with others, 

XLI. Moreover, there arise clear passivity, pleasantness of mind, 
fixity of attention, subjugation of the senses, and fitness for com- 
munion with soul. 

Note. The results here enumerated are the consequences of mental purity. 

XLIX. This being accomplished, pranayama follows, the cut- 
ting off of the course of the inspiration and expiration of the 


Note. Having described the fourth accessory of Yoga, it is proposed to des- 
cribe here the nature of the fifth which is paranayama or control of the 
breath. It consists of suspending the natural course of the breath, viz., 
expiration and inspiration. 

L. It is external, internal or steady; regulated by place, time 
and number; and is long and short. 

Note. Paranayama is of four kinds. Three of these are described here and 
the fourth is described in the following aphorism. When the breath is 
expired, or held out as it is technically called, it is rechaka, the first pra- 
nayama. When it is drawn in, it is the second, called puraka. And when it 
is suspended, all at once, it is the third, called kumbhaka. Each of these is 
regulati-rd by place, time, etc. By place is meant the inside or. outside of 
the body, and the particular length of the breath in the act. The length of 
the breath is said to vary in accordance with the prevailing tattva. 

It is calculated that the breath is respectively 12, 16, 4, 8, and 0, finger- 
breadths long, according as the tattva is prthvi, apas, tejas, vayu or akasa. 
This, again, externally as well as internally. Time is time of the duration 
of each of these... Works on Yoga say that the number should slowly be 
carried to so far as eighty, every time one sits for the practice . . . Udgkata 
appears to mean the rising of the breath from the navel, and its striking 
at the roof of the palate. Pranayama has as its chief object the mixing of 
prana, the upper breath, and apana the lower breath, and raising them 
upwards, by degrees and stages, till they subside in the head. 

LI. The fourth is that which has reference to the external and 
internal object. 

Note. The steady kind of pranayama called kumbhaka is a stopping of the 
inspiration and expiration of the breath without reference to its external or 
internal position ... It considers the position of the breath in the vaiious 
padmas. The padmas are supposed to be plexuses formed by nerves and 
ganglia of different places in the body. They are generally believed to be 
seven in number, and are called adhara (at the anus), adhisthana (between 
the navel and the penis), manipura (at the navel), anahata (at the heart), 
visuddki (in the throat), ajna (between the eyebrows), and sakasrara (in the 
pineal gland). 

In the foregoing examples, which are typical of thousands of 
others, we have an exquisite manifestation of the process of 
'sublimation', in this case the conversion of the impulse to control 
the sphincter am, especially in its relation to the passage of flatus 
into a most elaborate quasi-philosophical system. 

We must now return to what Monier Williams^ calls the 
'second phase' of Indian religious thought, namely Philosophical 
Brahmanism. Here we once more find the flatus-complex 

■ Monier Williams: Brahmanism and Hinduism, p. 25. 


masquerading as a metaphysical Spirit (Atman) — * a divine afflatus * 
which permeated and breathed through all material things. This 
Atman received the name of Brahman, (nominative neuter of Brahma, 
from the root 'brih', to expand). Such was the fundamental doctrine 
of Brahmanism, but it soon became a more complex system and 
Monier Williams! divides it up into, (i) Ritualistic, (ii) Philosophical 
(iii) Mythological or Polytheistic, and (iv) Nomistic. 

Ritualistic Brahmanism has for its special bible the sacred 
treatise, called Brahmanas, which are added to the Rig-veda. 
According to Farquhar, * during the time when the Brahmans 
were coming into being the first order of hermits arose. These 
men gave up all business of the world and practised austerities 
[tapas), sacrifice and meditation. As early as the Vedic creation-myths 
the creator of tlie universe is said to have prepared himself for 
his work by the practice ot 'tapas'. In this word, says Deussen,' 
'the ancient idea of the "heat" which serves to promote the 
incubation of the egg of the universe blends with the ideas of the 
exertion, fatigue and self-renunciation, by which means the creator 
is transmuted into the universe which he proposes to create'. 
Ritualistic Brahmanism saw the development of the idea of the 
great efficacy of sacrifice and with this notion there came into 
being an intricate ritual. Every ceremonial rite had to be performed 
with pedantic accuracy which, as Ernest Jones* has pointed out, is 
another well recognised trait of an anal-erotic complex. The whole 
course of prayer,'praise, ritual and oblation lasted often for weeks, 
sometimes for years, and could then only be carried out by sixteen 
different classes of skilled priests. 

With the rise of Philosophical Brahmanism there followed a 
reaction from the pedantic ritual of the Brahmans with a return 
to an insistence on the importance of knowledge of the one 
universally-diffused Spiritual essence (Brahman) and a concommittant 
feeling that this purely spiritual knowledge made sacrificial cere- 
monies useless. The special book of this phase of Brahmanism is 
the Upanishads and it is in them that we encounter the quint- 
essence of Hindu metaphysical speculation. In the Upanishads the 
anal-erotic complexes find gratification in a striving after perfection, 

' Monier Williams: op. cit. 

' J. N. Farquhar: op. cit, p. 29. 

* Deussen: The Religion and Philosophy of India, p. 66. 

* Ernest Jones: op. cit 


for the essential aim of the Upanishads is to explain reality, to 
discover the Absolute. The teaching of the Upanishads circle round 
the central conception of Brahman-Atman, the source, the support 
and the reality of the universe. The idea embodied in the Upanishads 
may be said to find its expression in the following lines from the 
Kathaka, V., 9-11. 

The light, as one, penetrates into space. 

And yet adapts itself to every form ; 

So the inmost self of all beings dwells 

Enwrapped in every form, and yet remains outside. 

The air, as one, penetrates into space, 

And yet adapts itself to every form ; 

So the inmost self of all beings dwells 

Enwrapped in every form, and yet remains outside. 

The sun, the eye of the whole universe, 

Remains pure from the defects of eyes external to it; 

So the inmost self of all beings remains 

Pure from the sufferings of the external worlds. 

But it is in those portions of the Upanishads which are con- 
cerned with physiological conclusions as to the nature of the body 
I that we find the greatest abundance of ideas associated with anal 

■ erotic complexes. For instance, in the Maitrayana we find the 

following : ' In this evil-smelling unsubstantial body, shuffled together 
out of bones, skin, sinews, marrow, flesh, seed, blood, mucus, tears, 
eye-gum, dung, urine, gall and phlegm, how can we enjoy pleasure.? 
This body, originating from copulation, grown in the pit (of the 
mother's womb) and issuing forth through the passages of the 

excretions, is a collection of bones daubed over with flesh, covered ^ 

with skin, filled full with dung, urine, phlegm, marrow, fat and ] 

grease ; and to crown all with many diseases, like a treasure store i 

I crammed with treasure'. } 

f The most complete elucidation of the body and its relations j 

is furnished by the Garbha Upanishad : ' Consisting of five (earth, \ 

water, fire, wind, ether), ruling in these groups of five (the so- '■ 

called five elements, or the five organs of knowledge, or the organs ; 

of generation and evacuation), Supported on six (the sweet, sour, 
salt, bitter, acid and harsh juices of food), endowed with six : 


qualities (unexplained), made up of seven elementary substanceis 
(the white, red, grey, smoke-coloured, yellow, brown, pale fluid In 
the body which is produced from the juice of the food), made up 
of three kinds of mucus (unexplained, probably the three humours, 
viz., wind, gall, phlegm), twice-begotten (from the father's seed and 
from the mother's blood), partaking of various kinds of food (that 
which is eaten, drunk, licked and sucked up), is the body.' 

We may now proceed to review that phase of Brahmanism 
which Monier Williams i calls the Mythological or Polytlieistic. 
This phase has for its sacred books the two great legendary heroic 
poems (Itihasa), the Mahabarata and Ramayana, and, in later times, 
the Puranas. Monier Williams* writes as follows: 

'The religious instincts of the mass of the Hindus found no 
real satisfaction in the propitiation of the forces of nature and 
spirits of the air, or in the cold philosophy of pantheism, or in 
homage paid to the memory of a teacher held to be nowhere in 
existence. They needed devotion (bhakti) to personal and human 
gods, and these they were led to find in their own heroes'. 

Hence the idea spread that all visible forms on earth are 
* emanations' from the one eternal Entity, 'like drops from an 
ocean or like sparks from fire'. They maintained that the highest 
human manifestations of the eternal Brahma are the Brahmans, 
and that above the human Brahmans there exists a series of super- 
natural beings, demi-gods, inferior gods, superior gods and so on 
up to the primeval male god Brahma, the first personal product 
of the purely spiritual Brahma when overspread by Maya or 
illusory creative force. But as creation involves maintenance of 
being and disintegration, Brahma is associated with two other 
personal deities, Vishnu the Preserver, and Rudra-Siva, the Dissolver 
and Reproducer. These three gods, concerned in the threefold 
operation of integration (evolution), maintenance and disintegration, 
are typified by the three letters composing the mystic syllable OM 
(AUM) — yet another manifestation of the flatus-complex. Another 
interesting point is the idea that at the end of vast periods of 
time, called, 'days of Brahma', each lasting 4,320,000,000 human 
years, the whole universe is re-absorbed, and after remaining dor- 
mant for equally long periods, is again evolved. A 'day' of Brahma 
is said to be divided thus : 

* Monier Williams: op. cit., p. 41. 

» Monier Williams; op. cit, p. 42. . 


(1) The Krita-Yuga 1,728.000 years 

(2) The Treta-Yuga 1,296,000 „ 

(3) The Dvapara-Yuga . . . 864,000 

(4) The Kali-Yuga 432,000 " 

' A Mahayuga 4,320,000 


A Manu period 306,720,000 „ 


4,294,080,000 „ 
With fifteen intervals ot 
1,728.000 each 25,920,000 „ 

4,320,000,000 „ 

Jones 1 maintains that 'time' in its ordinary and personal 
application can be an unconscious equivalent of excretory product 
because of the sense of value attaching to it. Are vi^e not at liberty 
to suppose that the explanation of the origin of these almost in- 
credible figures has its root in somewhat similar notions? There 
exist throughout the literature that pertains to Hindu religion and 
philosophy almost endless examples of that particular type of 
thinking which is concerned so deeply with figures. It appears to 
me as not unlikely that playing and juggling with figures is an 
intellectual form of the manipulation of external objects. In other 
words, it is the purely mental equivalent of moulding, sculpture, 
and the manipulation of plastic material. 

The Ramayana, one of the famous epic poems of the period 
of Mythological Brahmanism, to which reference has been made 
already, teams with numbers of colossal magnitude. For example, 
the host of Ravan, the demon opponent of Rama, consisted 
of 150,000,000 elephants, 300,000,000 horses and 1,200,000,000 
asses ; and so on. 

In the Harsa-Carita of Bana, a historical romance dating from 
the seventh century of our era, the epic poets are positively out- 
done. Here is a description of the camp of Sri-Hirsa. 

'It seemed like a creation-ground where the Prajapatis practised 
their skill, or a fourth world made out of the choicest parts of 
the other three ; its glory could not be described in hundreds of 

» Ernest Jones : op. cit. 








I Mahabharatas — it must have been put together in a thousand 

f golden ages, and its perfection constructed with millions of swargas 

[ (heavens), and it seemed watched over by crores (1 crore is equal 

to 10,000,000) of tutelary royal deities'. 

The fourth phase of Brahmanism according to Monier Williams * 
may be called the Nomistic or Preceptive phase. It represents 
the period in Indian religious history when the BrahiYians compiled 
codes of law for the co-ordination of its different castes and for 
the regulation of everyday domestic life. It is especially note- 
worthy that the introduction of these codes which promulgated 
drastically and pedantically ordinances in regard to every act of 
a man's domestic life was accompanied by an increase of laxity 
and liberty in. regard to all forms of religious belief The reason 
for this is not very difficult to see. The three principle codes, the 
Manava Dharmasutra, the Yajnavalkya and the Parasara, embodied 
ideas that offered much greater facilities not only for sublimation 
of anal-erotic impulses but for the formation of barriers against 
such impulses. The most important of these three codes was the 
Manava Dharmasutra, more usually known as the Law of Manu. 
It deals pre-eminently with the subject of conduct. The word 
Dharma means that which is obligatory and is thus similar to the 
Latin religio. The tliree codes combine to form a kind of bible 
and as such are mirrors of Indian domestic customs. 

Ernest Jones ^ remarks ; 'It is astounding how many tasks and 
performances can symbohse in the unconscious the act of defaecation, 
and thus have the mental attitude towards them influenced by the 
anal-erotic character traits when these are present. Three classes 
of actions are particularly prone to become affected in this way. 
First, tasks where there is a special sense of duty or of "oughtness" 
^ attached, therefore especially moral tasks. Much of the pathologically 

intolerant insistence on the absolute necessity of doing certain 
things in exactly the "right" way is derived from this source. The 
person has an overwhelming sense of "mustness" which brooks 
of no argument and renders him quite incapable of taking any 
sort of detached or objective view of the matter ; there is only 
one side to the question, and it is not open to any discussion 
at all.' 

We have already noted (p. 312) how tliis sense of 'oughtness' as 

• Monier Williams: op. cit, 
° Ernest Jones: op. cit. 


well as that feeling of the absolute necessity of doing certain thihgs 
in exactly the 'right' way were of the greatest importance in the 
period which we have termed Ritualistic Brahmanism. We shall 
now see how these same feelings have sought gratification when 
under the influence of the codes of conduct peculiar to the Nomistic 
or Preceptive period. 

Indeed it would appear only possible to explain the vast majority 
of the ideas that govern the life of the Hindus, especially the Brahman 
on the assumption that his thoughts, actions and words are profoundly 
influenced by unconscious complexes associated with the act ot 

To simplify our illustration we will first pursue an orthodox 
Brahman male adult through his day from his getting up in the 
morning to his retiring to rest at night. 

A Brahman should rise every day about an hour and a halt 
before the sun appears above the horizon. On rising, his first thought 
should be of Vishnu, and he should do all he can to avoid any 
inauspicious sights and to cast his eyes on something of good 
omen. Confusion might be introduced into the household for the 
rest of the day were the householder to cast his eyes on a crow 
on his left hand, a kite on his right, a snake, cat, jackal, or hare, 
an empty vessel, smoky fire, a bundle of sticks, a widow, a man 
with one eye, or even with a big nose. On the other hand, should 
the householder's first glance fall on a cow, horse, elephant, parrot, 
a lizard on an east wall, a clear fire, a virgin, or two Brahmans, 
all will go right. 1 

Then after calling upon certain gods to cause the sun to rise, 
he recites several prayers and performs several meditations, remind- 
ing himself that this daily task to be meritorious must be done 
zealously and piously, and not indifferently and perfunctorily. He 
must then perform the hari-smarana, which consists in reciting aloud 
the litanies of Vishnu and repeating his thousand names. These 
preliminaries ended he must attend to the calls of nature and the 
following rules must be closely obeyed:* 

Rtiles to be observed by Brahmins when answering- the calls of 

I. Taking in his hand a big chembu (brass vessel) he will proceed 
1 Monier Williams: op. cit. 


to the place set apart for this purpose, which should be at least 
a bowshot from his domicile. 

II. Arrived at the place he will begin by taking off his slippers^ 
which he deposits some distance away, and will then choose a clean 
spot on level ground. 

III. The places to be avoided for such a purpose are: the 
enclosure of a temple; the edge of a river, pond, or well; a public 
thoroughfare or a place frequented by the public; a light-coloured 
soil; a ploughed field; and any spot close to a banian or anyotlier 
sacred tree. 

IV. A Brahmin must not at the time wear a new or newly- 
washed cloth. 

V. He will take care to hang his triple cord over his left ear 
and to cover his head with his loin-cloth. 

VI. He will stoop down as low as possible. It would be a great 
offence to relieve oneself standing upright or only half stooping: 
it would be a still greater offence to do so sitting on the branch 
of a tree or upon a wall. ' 

VII. While in this posture he should take particular care to 
avoid tlie great offence of looking at the sun or the moon, the 
stars, fire, a Brahmin, a temple, an image, or one of the sacred 

VIII. He will keep perfect silence. 

IX. He must chew nothing, have nothing in his mouth, and 
hold nothing on his head. 

X. He must do what he has to do as quickly as possible, and 
rise immediately. 

XL After rising he will commit a great offence if he looks behind 
his heels. 

XII. If he neglects none of these precautions his act will be a 
virtuous one, and not without merit; but if he neglects any of them 
the offence will not go without punishment. 

XIII. He will wash his feet and hands on the very spot with 
the water contained in the chembu which he brought. Then, taking 
the vessel in his right hand, and holding his private parts in his 
left hand, he will go to the stream to purify himself from the great 
defilement which he has contracted. 

XIV. Arrived at tlie edge of the river or pond where he pur- 

1 Dubois and Beauchamp: Hindu Manners, Customs and Ceremonies, 
3rd. Edition, p. 237. 





poses to wash himself, he will first choose a suitable spot, and 
will then provide himself with some earth to be used along with 
the water in cleansing himself. 

XV. He must be careful to provide himselt with the proper 
kind of earth, and must remember that there are several kinds 
which cannot be used without committing an offence under these 
circumstances. Such are the earth of white-ants' nests; salt-earth' 
potters' earth; road-dust; bleaching earth; earth taken from under 
trees, from temple enclosures, from cemeteries, from cattle pastures; 
earth that is almost white like ashes; earth thrown up from rat 
holes and such like. 

XVI. Provided with the proper kind of earth, he will approach 
the water but will not go into it. He will take some in his chembu. ^ 
He will then go a little distance away and wash his feet and hands 
again. If he has not a brass vessel he will dig a little hole in the 
ground with his hands near the river-side and will fill it with water 
which he will use in the same way, taking great care that this 
water shall not leak back into the river. 

XVII. Taking a handful of earth in his left 'hand' ^ he will pour 
water in it and rub jt well on tlie dirty part of his body. He 
will, repeat the operation, using only half the amount of earth, 
and so on three times more, the amount of earth being lessened 
each time. 

XVIII. After cleansing himself thus he will wash each of his 
hands ^ five times with earth and water, beginning with the left 
hand. 11 1 

* He must not use that portion of the hand sacred to the Pitris or spirits 
of his departed ancestors, namely the part between the thumb and the fore- 
finger which is called 'pitrya'. 

» It is only the left hand that may be used on these occasions. It would 
be thought unpardonably filthy to use the right hand. It is always the left 
hand that is used when anything dirty has to be done, such as blowing the 
5 nose, cleaning the ears, the eyes, etc. The right hand is generally used when 

any part of the body above the navel is touched, and the left hand below 
that. All Hindus are so habituated to this that one rarely sees them using 
the wrong hand. The custom of carefully washing the dirty part after ans- 
wering a call of nature is strictly observed in every caste. The European 
habit of using paper is looked upon by all Hindus, without exception, as an 

utter abomination, and they never speak of it except with horror. There are | 

some who even refuse to believe such a habit exists, and think it must be a 
libel invented out of hatred for Europeans. I am quite sure that when Hindus 
talk amongst themselves of what they call our dirty, beastly habits, they 




XIX. He will wash his private parts once with water and potters' 
earth mixed. 

XX. The same performance for his two feet, repeated five times 
for each foot, beginning, under the penalty of eternal damnation, 
with the right foot. 

XXI. Having thus scoured the different parts of his body with 
earth and water he will wash them a second time with water only. 

XXIL After that he will wash his face and rinse his mouth out 
eight times. 1 When he is doing this last act he must take very 
great care to spit out the water on his left side, for if by care- 
lessness or otherwise he unfortunately spits it out on the other 
side, he will assuredly go to hell. 

XXIII. He will think three times on Vishnu and will swallow 
a little water three times in doing so. 

Rttles to be observed when cleaning the teeth. 

I. To clean his teeth a Hindu must use a small twig cut from 
either an uduga, a rengu, or a neradu tree, or from one of a dozen 
others of which the names are given by tl;e author. 

IL If sucli a twig is unobtainable, he may use a bit of wood 
cut from any thorny or milky shrub. ': ; . 

III. Before cutting the twig he must repeat the following prayer 
to the gods of the woods: 'O gods of the woods! I cut one of 
your small twigs to cleanse my teeth. Grant me, for this action, 
long life, strength, honour, wit, many cattle and much wealth, 
prudence, judgment, memory, and power '. 

IV. This prayer ended, he cuts a twig a few inches in length, 
|[ and softens one end into the form ol a painter's brush. 

V. Squatting on his heels and facing either east or north, he 

never fail to put this at the head oi them all, and to make it a subject of 
bitter sarcasm and mockery. The sight of a foreigner spitting or blowing his 
nose into a handkerchief and then putting it into his pocket is enough to 
make them feel sick. According to their notions it is the politest thing m 
the world to go outside and blow one's nose with one's fingers and then to 
wipe them on a wall. 

Mt is necessary to rinse the mouth out after every action which is cal- 
culated to cause any defilement. The rule is to rinse the mouth out four 
times after making water, eight times after answering an ordinary call of 
■f nature, twelve times after taking food, and sixteen times after sexual inter- 





scrubs all his teeth well with this brush after which he rinses his 
mouth with fresh water, 

VI. He must not indulge in this cleanly habit every day. He 
''0. must abstain on the sixth, the eighth, the ninth, the eleventh the 

fourteenth, and the last day of the moon, on the days of new and 
't full moon, on the Tuesday in every week, on the day of the con- 

stellation under which he was born, on the day of the week and 
on the day of the month which correspond with those of his birth 
at an eclipse, at the conjunction of the planets, at the equinoxes 
the solstices, and other unlucky epochs, and also on the anniversary 
of the death of his father or mother. i 

VII. Any one who cleans his teeth with his bit of stick on any 
of the above-mentioned days will have hell as his portion! 

VIII. He may, however, except on the day of the new moon 
and on the ekadasi (eleventh day of the moon), substitute grass or 
the leaves of a tree for this piece of wood. 

IX. On the day of the new moon and on the ekadasi he may 
only clean his teeth with the leaves of the mango, the juvi, or 
the nere. 

', After having cleaned his teeth the Brahmin must direct his 

steps to some water to go through the important act of the 
• sandkya. 

Teeth-cleaning is only preliminary to the next important 
religious act of the day — bathing (snana). According to Monier 
Williams 1 'This should be performed in some sacred stream, 
but in default of a river, the householder may use a pool or tank, 
or even, in case of dire necessity, a bath in his own house. Before 
entering the water the bather ought to say, "I am about to perform 
morning ablution in this sacred stream in the presence of the gods 
and Brahmans with a view to the removal of guilt resulting from 
act, speech, thought from what has been touched and untouched, 
known and unknown, eaten and not eaten, drunk and not drunk." ' 
After bathing comes the cereinony of Bhasmadharana, or application 
of ashes. This is done by rubbing ashes taken from the sacred 
domestic hearth on the head and other parts of the body, with the 
-V repetition of a prayer to Siva. The next act is Sikha-Bandhana, 

or tying up of the locks on the crown of the head, lest any hair, 
thought to convey impurity, should fall on the ground or in the 
water. All preUminary acts and purifications being now completed, 

1 Monier Williams: op. cit. , . 



the pious Hindu proceeds to the regular Morning Service, called 
Pratah-Sandhya, performed at the junction of night and day. Tlie 
first act of the morning service, and, as stated before, the usual 
preliminary to all Hindu rehgious rites, is sipping water (acamana); 
two or three mouthfuls being swallowed for internal ablution. The 
water is taken up in the hollowed palm of the right hand or 
poured from a spoon into the palm, and is supposed to cleanse 
body and soul in its downward course. This is done two or three 
times at the commencement of tlie Morning Service. During the 
sipping of the water the twenty-four principal names of the god 
Vishnu are invoked. The second act is called the Pranayama, 
'exercise or regulation of the breath', to which reference has already 
been made on page 310. The next division of the ceremonial is 
caUed Marjana, 'sprinkling'. It is a kind of self-baptism performed 
by the worshipper himself by sprinkling water on the head while 
the first three verses of the Rig-Veda are recited. Then follows a 
second performance of Marjana, or 'sprinkling', and a repetition of 
all the nine verses of the Rig-Veda hymn of which the first three 
verses had been previously recited. The next division of the ser- 
vice is called Karna-nyasa, or 'imposition of fingers'. Its peculiar 
ritual is taught in the more modern religious works called Tantras. 
To understand the Karna-nyasa we must bear in mind that the five 
fingers and the palm of the hand are consecrated to various forms 
of Vishnu, and that different gods are supposed to reside in different 
parts of the body, the Supreme Being occupying the top of the 
head. Hence the act of placing the fingers or hand reverentially on 
the several organs is supposed to gratify and do honour to the 
deities whose essence pervade these organs, and to be completely 
efficacious in removing sin. The tip of the thumb is held to be 
occupied by Govinda, the forefinger by Mahidhara, the middle finger 
by Hrishikesa, the next finger by Tri-vikrama, the little finger by 
Vishnu, the palm of the hand by Madhava, all being different forms 
of the same god Vishnu. The worshipper then commences the 
nyasa ceremonial by saying: 'Homage to the two thumbs, ,to the 
two forefingers, to the middle fingers, to the two nameless fingers 
(i. e. the ring fingers), to the two little fingers, to the two palms, 
to the two backs of the hands. ' Then follows another division ot 
the Nyasa ceremonial called Indriya-Sparsa, or the act of touching 
different parts of the body, such as the breast, eyes, ears, navel, 
throat, and head with the fingers. 



Next comes the regular Gayatri-japa, or repeated muttering 
of the Gayatri prayer to the sun. Before beginning' this repetition, 
those who follow the Tantrik system go through the process ol 
^^i making various mystical figures called Madras, twenty-four in 

number, by twisting, interlacing or intertwining the fingers and 
hands together. Each of these figures, according to its name bears 
some fanciful resemblance to animals or objects of various 
j; kinds, as for example, to a fish, tortoise, boar, lion (these 

•/;! being forms in which the god Vishnu became incarnate), or to 

!: : a cart, noose, knot, garland, the efficacy attributed to these pe- 

I'; culiar intertwinings and twistings of the hands and fingers being 

.;; enormous. The correct number of repetitions is 108, and to insure 

accuracy of enumeration a rosary of 108 beads made of Tulasi 
wood is generally used, the hand being carefully concealed in a 
red bag or under a cloth. The last act, like the first, is an 
internal purification of the body by acamana, or sipping of water. 
On the completion of the Sandhya service, the next ceremony is 
the worship of the Supreme Being, the act being known as Brahma- 
yajna. The Brahma-yajna is followed by the Tarpana ceremony, 
which is properly a triple act, consisting in offerings of water for 
refreshment (tarpana) to the gods, inspired sages, and fathers. 
In the first part, called Deva-tarcana, 'refreshing of the gods', 
the sacred thread is worn over the left shoulder and under 
the right arm, the worshipper being then called Upaviti. 
Water is taken up in the right hand and poured out over 
the straightened fingers. In the second part of the Tarpana 
service, called Rishi-tarpana, 'refreshing of the inspired sages', 
the sacred thread is worn • round the neck like a necklace 
the worshipper being then called Niviti. The wate^ is then' 
offered so as to flow over the side of the palm between the 
root of the thumb and fore-finger, the fingers being bent 
) inwards. The worshipper now changes the position of his sacred 

I thread, and placing it over his right shoulder and under his 

I left arm (being then called Pracinaviti) makes offerings of water 

'% to the Acaryas, or inspired religious teachers. The third division 

of the Tarpana ceremony is called Pitritarpana, 'refreshing ol 
deceased fathers or departed ancestors'. The thread is worn 
over the right shoulder as in Acarya- tarpana, but the water is 
y poured out over the side of the palm opposite to the root of 

'' the thumb. 



As Monier Williams ^ observes: *An orthodox Brahman's 
craving for religious ceremonial is not by any means satiated by 
the tedious round of forms he has gone through in the early 
morning. A pause of an hour or two brings him to the time 
when preparations for another solemn rite have to be made. This 
is the ceremony which ought to precede the midday meal*. This 
ceremony is divided into two parts which are known as the Vais- 
vadeva and Bali-harana. The detail of botli as given in the most 
trustworthy manuals is as follows: * 

The worshipper begins by the usual sippings of water (acamana) 
and breathing exercise* (page 310), and by declaring his intention 
of performing the ceremony thus : 'I will today perform the morning 
and evening Vaisvadeva with the cooked food (siddhana) cast into 
the fire, for the purification of that food and for my own purifi- 
cation, and to make expiation of the five destructive domestic 
implements (Panca-suna), » and to obtain the reward prescribed 
by the Sruti, Smriti and Puranas.' Then a small moveable fire- 
receptacle is brought and the service begins with an invocation 
of the god of fire. After this invocation a covered dish of uncooked 
rice is brought in and the cover removed. Then the sacred fire 
is placed in the receptacle. Consecrated fuel is then put on and 
the fire fanned while the following remarkable text from the Rig- 
Veda IV, 58, 3, is recited : ' Four are his horns, three are his feet, 
two are his heads, seven are his hands. He the triply-bound bull 
roars. The mighty deity enters mortals'. The collecting together 
and spreading of the consecrated fuel and sacred Kusa grass 
employed in the ceremony are then made ; and water is sprinkled 
round in a circle. Next, the rice about to be eaten is consecrated 
by the sprinkUng of water and placed on the fire. After this prayer 
oflferings are made with the usual reverential ejaculations. Next, 
the worshipper, after purifying his person and washing his hands, 
makes offerings to all the gods, throwing portions of cooked rice — 
each portion about equal to a mouthful — into the fire. The next 
act is the taking up of ashes from the fire in a deep-bowled spoon 

* Monier Williams: op. cit. 

* Idem: op. cit. 

* The five places, or domestic implements, through the use ot which 
animals may be accidentally destroyed in the process of preparing food, are, 
(1) the fire place, (2) the slab for grinding corn, (3) the pots and pans, 
(4) the pestle and mortar, (5) the water pot. 




called Darvi, and the application of a small quantity with the 
finger to different parts of the body, and the utterance of a prayer. 
The ashes are applied to the forehead, the neck, the navel, the 
right shoulder, the left shoulder, and the head respectively. Another 
prayer to the god of fire concludes the Vaisvadeva portion of the 
service. But the Vaisvadeva ceremony is not complete without the 
Vali-harana, or offering of food to all gods and all creatures, in- 
cluding all kinds of animals and spirits. The worshipper begins 
by placing a small mouthful of cooked rice in a circle on the ground 
between himself and the fire-receptacle, allotting separate portions 
to all the gods to whom off'erings have already been made in the 
fire, as well as to other beings outside the circle, in regular order. 
After the due performance of the Vaisvadeva and Bali-harana 
ceremonies the cooked food is considered fit to be consumed, but 
yet other ceremonies are due in the matter of eating and drinking. 
In the first place, the usual sipping of water (acamana) for internal 
purification, has to be performed. Each diner pours water with 
a spoon into the palm of the hand, then someone leads the others 
and all sip together. Next, water is sprinkled in a circle round 
each plate, and someone of the company repeats a grace before 
eating. After the recitation of this grace the actual business ot 
eating may begin, but each person first places either four or five 
small mouthfuls of food on the ground on the right side of his 
leaf plate. His meal over, the Hindu (Brahman) washes his hands 
and rinses his mouth. He must also gargle his throat twelve times. 
Towards sunset he returns to the river and performs the evening 
sandhya, repeating the ceremonies of the morning. On his return 
home he performs the homam for the second time, and reads some 
Puranas. He again goes through the Hari-Smarana. Having com- 
pleted his religious duties for the day, he takes his evening meal, 
observing the usual ceremonies, and goes to bed soon afterwards. 
A Brahman must purify the place where he is going to sleep by 
rubbing it over with cow dung, and he must manage so that the 
place cannot be overlooked by any one. A Brahman must 
never sleep on a mountain, in a graveyard, in a temple, in any 
place where they do puja (worship), in any place dedicated to 
evil spirits, under the shadow of a tree, on ground that has been 
tilled, in a cowshed, in the house of his gura (spiritual teacher), 
in any spot that is higher than that where there happens to be 
the image of some god, or where there are ashes, holes made by 


rats, or where snakes generally live. A Brahman puts a vessel 
of water and a weapon near where he lays his head. He rubs his 
feet, washes his mouth twice, and then lies down. A Brahman 
must never go to bed with his feet wet, nor sleep under the beam 
which supports the roof of the house. He must avoid sleeping 
with his face turned to the west or north. If it is impossible to 
arrange it otherwise it would be better to be turned towards the 
north than towards the west. When lying down he offers worship 
to the earth, to Vishnu, to Nandikeswara one of the chief spirits 
who guard Siva, and to the bird garuda (Brahmany kite), to whom 
he makes the following prayer : ' Illustrious son of Kasyapa 
and Vinata ! King of birds, with beauteous wings and sharp-pointed 
beak ; you who are the enemy of snakes, preserve me from their 
poison ! ' Finally, the Brahman must again think of Vishnu, and 
this should be his last thought before sleeping. 

We have now examined fairly fully the routine of an ordinary 
day of an orthodox Brahman. Of course, the details vary a little 
from those which have been quoted ^ according to the sect to 
which the Brahman may belong, the part of India in which 
he lives, and the degree of his orthodoxy. Nevertheless, the 
description may be taken as a very fairly correct account of 
the daily life of an orthodox Brahman, especially one belonging 
to Southern India. 

In the rules laid down for the performance of excretory acts, 
we find an abundance of reaction-formations against the material 
emitted. Moreover, the passion for cleanliness is not confined to the 
outside of the body but extends to the inside also. Ample evidence ol 
this exists in the scrupulous ceremonial observed in the preparation 
and consumption of food, as well as the repeated rinsings of the mouth 
and sippings of water. This intense fear of pollution is, as I have 
remarked at the outset, one of the most typical reaction-format- 
ions of the Hindus and probably no parallel can be found to it 
except among victims of obsessional neuroses of the type des- 
cribed by Ernest Jones. ^ It is not possible to give examples of all 
the expressions of this reaction-formation but one more may be cited 
in the case of the Ramanuja sect of the Vaishnavas (followers ot 
Vishnu) who carefully lock the doors of their kitchens and protect 

' Dubois and Beauchamp: op. cit. 

= Ernest Jones: 'Einige Falle von Zwangsneurose ', Jahrhuch /, Psycko- 
ttnal. u. Psychopath. Forsckung, Bd. V, S. 55. 



their culinary and prandial operations from the gaze of even high- 
caste Brahmans of tribes and sects different from their own. i 
I' ^gain a close parallel between the thought processes in the 

; obsessional neurotic and the Hindu is discernible in that partic- 

ular type of belief which has been termed 'the omnipotence ol 
thoughts'. Ferenczi^ has divided up the course of development 
in the infant as regards its sense of reality into four stages. Ot 
these, the third stage Ferenczi calls 'the period of omnipotence 
by the help of magic gestures'. Among these 'gestures' the sound 
produced by the passage of flatus play an important part so that, 
as Ernest Jones' observes, 'they constitute one of the chief means' 
p through which the infant retains its belief in its omnipotence, a 

consideration that throws some light on the above mentioned 
association between the belief and anal erotism in the obsessional 
neurosis'. Examples indicating the relation between certain pract- 
ices of the Hindus and Ferenczi's 'third stage' were given on 
page 323. I will now give a still more extravagant example from 
the chapter by Monier Williams * which deals with Saktism, in 
which the idea of the omnipotence of words and thoughts, 
(Ferenczi's 'fourth stage') is very admirably illustrated. The follow- 
ing is a description of the rite of Bhuta-suddhi, 'removal ot 
1 demons': 'Holding a scented flower, anointed with sandals, on 

the left temple, repeat Om to the Gurus, Om to Ganesh, Om to 
Durga. Then with Om phat rub the palms with flowers, and clasp 
the hands thrice over the head and by snapping the fingers 
towards ten diff"erent directions, secure immunity from the evil 
spirits. Next utter the Mantra Ram, sprinkle water all around, 
and imagine this water as a wall of fire. Let the priest identify 
himself with the living spirit Qivatman) abiding in man's breast, 
in the form of the tapering flame of a lamp, and conduct it by 
means of the Sushumna nerve through the six spheres within the 
body upwards to the Divine Spirit. Then meditate on the twenty- 
four essences in nature; viz. the Producer, Intellect, Egoism, the 
five subtle and five gross elements, the five external organs of 
sense, the five organs of action, with mind. Conceive in the left 
nostril the Mantra Yam, declared to be the Bija or root of wind; 

« Monier Williams: op. cit. ' • 

» S. Ferenczi: op. cit. ■ . 

' Ernest Jones: op. cit., p. 546. 

* Monier Williams: op. cit. . . ' 


repeat it sixteen times while drawing air by the same nostra; 
then close the nose and hold the breath, and repeat the Mantra 
sixty-four times. 

' Then meditate on the Matrika, and say, "Help me, goddess ot 
speech": Am to the forehead. Am to the mouth, Im to the right 
eye, Im to the left eye, Um to the right ear, Urn to the left ear, 
Im to the right cheek, Im to the left cheek, Rim to the right 
nostril. Rim to the left nostril, Lrim to the right cheek, Lrim to 
the left cheek, Em to the upper lip, Aim to the lower hp, Om 
to the upper teeth, Aum to the lower teeth, Tarn, Tham, Dam, 
Dham, and Nam to the several parts of the left leg, Pam to the 
right side, Pham to the left, Bam to the back, Mam to the 
stomach, Yam to the heart. Ram to the right shoulder, Lam to 
the neck-bone, Vam to the left shoulder, Sam from the heart to 
the right leg, Ham from the heart to the left leg, Ksham from 
the heart to the mouth.' 

Monier Williams i observes: 'To us it may seem extra- 
ordinary that intelligent persons can give credence to such ab- 
surdities, or lend themselves to the practice of superstitions so 
senseless; but we must bear in mind that with many Hindu 
thinkers the notion of the eternity of sound — as propounded in 
Patanjali's Mahabhashya (I. i. 1) and in the Purva-mimansa of 
Jaimini — is by no means an irrational doctrine. According to 
tlie well-known Mimansa aphorisms (I. i. 18-23), sound is held 
to have existed from the beginning, hence the letters of the 
alphabet, being the ultimate instruments by which sounds are 
uttered and thoughts expressed, are considered to possess super- 
natural qualities and attributes and to contain within themselves 
an occult magical efficacy. Let a man only acquaint himselt 
with the proper pronounciation and application both of the Mantras 
and of their Bijas or radical letters, and he may thereby propitiate 
the Saktis so as to acquire through them superhuman power (siddhi) 
—nay, he becomes, through their aid, competent to accomplish 
every conceivable object. 

Following Ernest Jones' scheme ^ of dividing up the reactions 
against anal erotism into four groups, of which two are derived 
from the ' keeping back ' or possessing instinct, while the remain- 
ing two are characterised by the desire to create and produce, 

' Monier Williams: op. cit. 

= Ernest Jones: op. cit. ; ' ■ 


we may now proceed to examine some of the more marked 
and universal traits of character and temperament of the Hindus 
with a view of ascertaining, if possible, whether the singularity of 
the mental make-up of these people, as well as the antipathy 
they invariably display towards other religions whose main-spring, 
so to speak, lies in a totally different category of ideas can be 
traced to the distinctive type of sublimations and reaction- 

■ formations of their anal erotism. 
Ernest Jones ^ writes: 'the most typical sublimation product of 

the " retaining " tendency is the character trait of parsimony, one 

of Freud's triad; in the most pronounced cases it goes on to 

actual miserliness. ' No one conversant with Hindu character 

probably not even a Hindu himself, would hesitate to admit that 

as a class the Hindus are niggardly and avaricious, especially the 

Brahmans and Vaisyas, or trader caste. This trait of the Hindu 

character is piquantly dealt with in one of Rudyard Kipling's 

stories. 8 Although the facts as narrated are made to proceed 

from a disreputable European, they represent so much that is so 

true that 1 cannot refrain from quoting the whole passage: 'A 

year spent among native States ought to send a man back to the 

Decencies and the Law Courts and the Rights of the Subject with 

a supreme contempt for those who rave about the oppressions ot 

£|. our brutal bureaucracy. One month nearly taught an average 

"=" Englishman that it was the proper thing to smite anybody of I 

mean aspect and obstructive tendencies on the mouth with a ~-| 

;'| - shoe. Hear what an intelligent loafer said. His words are at least 

as valuable as these babbhngs. He was, as usual, wonderfully 

drunk, and the gift of speech came upon him. The conversation 

. -: — he was a great politician, this loafer — had turned on the 

.• poverty of India. "Poor?" said he. "Of course it's poor. Oh, yes, 

- d — d poor. And I'm poor, an' you're poor, altogether. Do you 

■ ; . expect people will give you money without you ask 'em.? No, I 

tell you, Sir, there's enough money in India to pave Hell with if 
you could only get at it. I've kep' servants in my day. Did they 
I ■ ever leave me without a hundred or a hundred and fifty rupees 

put by — and never touched ? You mark that. Does any black 
, man who had been in Guv'ment service go away without hundreds 
an' hundreds put by, and never touched.? You mark that. Money.? 

• Ernest Jones: op. cit. ■ 

= 'From Sea to Sea' Vol. I, p. 196. .. , _ , ' 


The place stinks o' money — ^just kept out o' sight. Do you 
ever know a native that didn't say Garib adnii (I'm a poor man)? 
They've been sayin ' Garib admi so long that the Guv'ment learns 
to believe 'em, and now they're all bein' treated as though 
they was paupers. I'm a pauper, an' you're a pauper — we' aven't 
got any thing hid in the ground^an' so's every white man in 
this forsaken country. But the Injian he's a rich man. How do I 
know.? Because I've tramped on foot, or warrant pretty well from 
one end of the place to the other, an' I know what I'm talkin' 
about, and this 'ere Guv'ment goes peckin' an' fiddlin' over its 
tuppenny-ha'penny little taxes as if it was afraid. Which it is. You 
see how they do things in... It's six " sowars "^ here, and ten 
"sowars" there, and, "Pay up, you brutes, or we'll pull your ears 
over your head." And when they've taken all they can get, the 
headman, he says: "This is a dashed poor yield. I'll come again:" 
Of course the people digs up something out of the ground, and 
they pay. I know the way it's done, and that's the way to do it. 
You can't go to an Injian an' say: "Look here. Can you pay me 
five rupees?" He says: " Garib admi,'''' of course, an' would say it 
if he was as rich as a banker. But if you send half a dozen 
swords at him and shift the thatch oif of his roof he'll pay. ' 

Any one who knows India to any appreciable extent will agree 
that this story gives a lively account of two notable characteristics 
of the Hindu, namely, his avariciousness and his instinct to hoard. 

A far more edifying manifestation of the same complex is, as 
Ernest Jones ^ observes, ' the great affection that may be displayed for 
various symbolic objects — and one of the most impressive traits 
in the whole gamut of the anal character is the extraordinay and 
quite exquisite tenderness that some members of the type are 
capable of, especially to children. ' The Hindu is certainly passion- 
ately fond of children, at any rate of his own children. Children, 
like money, are faecal symbols * and there is a good deal 
in Hindu literature which displays evidence of the unconscious 
association of these two sets of ideas. For instance, the common 
idea that the baby is created out of faeces is reproduced in the 
story of the birth of Ganesh, the elephant-headed god, who was 
derived from the excrement of his mother Parvati. Again, at Nan- 

' troopers. 

* Ernest Jones: op. cit. 

' Ernest Jones: op. cit. 


jangud, a village situated about ten leagues south of Seringapatam, 
there is a temple famous throughout Mysore. Among the numerous 
votaries who flock to it are many women, who go to implore the 
help of the idol in curing their sterility. Offerings and prayers 
are not the only ceremonies which have to be gone through. On 
leaving the temple the woman, accompanied by her husband has 
to go to a place where all the pilgrims are accustomed to resort 
to answer the calls of nature. There the husband and the wife 
collect with their hands a certain quantity of ordure and form it 
into a small pyramid, which they are careful to mark with a sign 
that will enable them to recognize it. Then they go to the neigh- 
bouring tank and mix in the hollow of their hands the filth which 
has soiled their fingers. After having performed their ablutions 
they retire. Two or three days afterwards they visit their pyramid, 
and, still using their hands, turn the filtliy mass over and over 
and examine it as carefully and as seriously as the Roman augurs 
scrutinized the entrails of sacrificed animals, in order to see if any 
insects have been engendered in it. In this case it would be a 
very good omen, showing that the woman would soon be pregnant. 
But if, after careful search, not even the smallest insect is visible, 
the poor couple, sad and discouraged, return home in the full con- 
viction that the expenses they have been put to and the pains 
they have taken have been of no availA 

The chief reaction-formation of the retaining tendency is the 
trait which loves orderliness, the third of Freud's triad. How this 
trait expresses itself to an extraordinary degree in the pedantic 
ceremonial of Hindu worship has already been alluded to. Simil- 
arly in the field oi thought reference has been made (p. 313) to 
the expression of the same tendency through the Hindu passion 
for definitions, especially in the realm of metaphysics. Probably 
the intense attraction which the study and practice of law has for 
Hindus is conditioned by their fondness for that particular form 
of intellectual exercise which is often termed 'hair-splitting'. In 
this same category we find the opposite of parsimony — extreme 
generosity and extravagance. The history of India teems with 
stories illustrating the extravagance of her princes, nobles and 
plutocrats. Dubois ^ states that immense fortunes! seldom sur- 
vive the second generation of Hindus, owing to the manner in 

• Dubois and Beauchamp: op. cit. 
' Dubois and Beauchamp: op. cit. 




which the sons foolishly squander the wealth laboriously gained by 
their fathers. Ernest Jonesi remarks : ' One can distinguish two varieties 
of even the positive aspect of the "giving out" type according to 
what is done with the product ; with the one variety the person's 
aim is to eject the product on to some other object, living or not, 
while with the other the aim is to manipulate the product further 
and to create something out of it. To the former type belongs 
the impulse to stain or contaminate by throwing ink, acids or 
chemicals at people'. This impulse is typified in the Hindu cere- 
mony of Holi, a kind of Hindu Saturnalia. It is marked by rough 
sports in which the worshippers eidier sprinkle each other with 
red or yellow powder, or squirt red or yellow fluid at each other 
with squirts. Probably painting the forehead with the ' caste-mark ' 
in variously coloured pigments, a procedure followed by all ortho- 
dox Hindus, has its origin in the same impulse. Another and very 
prominent manifestation of the infantile level of Hindu thought 
and behaviour finds expression in certain aspects of their love-life 
which is almost entirely subordinated to the act of giving and 
receiving. This may indeed be partly accounted for by the fact tliat 
most marriages among Hindus are between immature and pre-genital 
boys and girls, hence a further factor in the custom of wooing 
through presents of money, jewels, etc. As Ernest Jones ^ observes, 
this type of wooing is only to be observed amongst Europeans who 
are relatively impotent or anaesthetic. The desire for marriage, 
i. e. to impregnate, which is contributed to by this complex is, 
among Hindus, a veritable passion. To a Hindu marriage is the 
most important and most engrossing event of his life ; it is a sub- 
ject of endless conversation and of the most prolonged preparations. 
An unmarried man is looked upon as having no social status. He 
is not usually consulted on any important point and no work ol 
any consequence may be given to him. Women cannot under any 
circumstances take vows of celibacy. The marriage of girls before 
puberty and the prohibition to widows to remarry are doubtless 
both expressions of 'the pollution complex' which, as has been ob- 
served already, is the keystone of the Hindu hierarchy of ideas. 
The desire to manipulate the product further finds its commonest 
sublimation among mankind in industrial and artistic creations 
such as metal-moulding and sculpture. Both these occupations have 

' Ernest Jones: op. cit 
' Idem: op. cit. 



been pursued with passionate zeal by Hindus from very early 
times, and in their products whether in brass, bronze or stone- 
^^' the impulse to manipulate has been carried to lengths hardly to 

be met with in similar creations of other nations. The impression 
that nearly all Hindu manipulative art, as opposed to pictorial, 
leaves on the mind of the European is one of oppressive confusion 
of ornament with an insensate distortion of the human figure which 
is nearly always represented in attitudes of violent contortion. 

We have already dealt at some length with the varieties of 
reaction-formations built up by the Hindu against the material 
emitted or symbols thereof. In fact it is this aspect of the anal- 
erotic functioning of the mind that the Hindu transcends any other 
race or class of people in the whole history of the world. 

Further, the Hindus display conspiciously a trait which is 
pecuHar to persons In whom there exists this type of reaction- 
formation, namely, an astonishing indiffarence to their surroundings 
to their furniture, clothes and so on. To the ordinary run ol 
European, whose reaction-formations tend more towards a passion 
for cleanliness, hardly anything occasions more surprise in the 
character of the wealthy Hindu than his contentment with shabby, 
patched clothing, his rather mean househould equipment, frequently 
in obvious need of repair or replacement Such a saying as 'a 
stitch in time saves nine' is to a Hindu merely an impertinence! 

In Hindu custom it would appear that we are confronted with 
the obverse of 'the theory of the pure man' i as exemplified in the in- 
sistence on the marriage of girls before puberty as well as in the 
horror they experience over the idea of a widow marrying again. 

The exuberant manifestations of the flatus-complex which we 
meet at every turn in studying Hindu beliefs and practices has 
already been considered. We may therefore conclude our survey 
of the subject with a few general observations on the effect that 
these character-traits of the Hindus have on their past, present 
and future relations to the rest of mankind. 

It is not unhkely that the strange antipathy that is felt for the 
Hindus by most, if indeed not all, the races of the world, is 
nothing more than an expression of an unconscious feeling of 
antagonism brought about by some of the peculiarities of the 
manifestations of anal erotism as met with among the Hindus. It 
is certainly a fact that wherever the Hindu may go, no matter 
• Ernest Jones: op. cit. . » 


whether it be in Asia, Africa or Europe, he is" to the inhabitants 
of that country a veritable Dr. Fell. We must tlierefore assume 
that, this obscure but nevertheless very real dislike which is shared 
by all races of mankind for the Hindu, must, from its very nature, 
have its roots in some deeply-buried source of feeling. Books on 
India teem with' references to this singular 'otherness', if I may 
use the term, of the Hindu as compared, for instance, with the 
Muslim or Christian Indian, and a variety of reasons' are cited to 
account for it. It is obviously absurd to appeal to the question 
of 'colour', for the colour of Hindus is tlie same as that of the 
Muslims and Christians of India. Moreover, many people who make 
this appeal, appear to overlook the fact that the black man of 
Africa feels quite as antipathetic to the Hindu as does the white 
man of Europe or America, or the yellow man of Burma, China 
or Japan. Another fact that is frequently ;forgotten by persons 
in discussing what is usually termed 'colour prejudice' in regard 
to the relations of Hindus to Europeans is that Hindus have 
always been very much more concerned with the question ot 
colour than have Europeans. It was the early Hindus themselves 
who deliberately grounded all social distinctions upon Varna. 
colour, and dismissed all the dark-skinned aboriginal races ot 
Southern India as Rakshasas or demons. Every Hindu admires a 
fair skin and longs for a fair-skinned wife to bring him fair 
children. Other persons have sought a solution to the question by 
assuming that the non-Hindu, whether he be European, African 
or Asiatic, dislikes the Hindu because of the jealousy he feels for 
the Hindu's intellectual gifts. Needless to say, this view of the 
question is held for the most part only by Hindus and that even 
they have some difficulty in holding such a belief finds ample 
evidence in the perfervid adulation of their own attainments in 
which they seem compelled to indulge from time to time. For 
mstance, we find in a recent text-book published for the use of 
the Central Hindu College at Benares, such desperate expressions 
of an attempt to compensate a powerful 'insufficiency complex ' as the 
following : 'No other religion has produced so many great men, great 
teachers, great writers, great sages, great saints, great kings, great 
warriors, great statesmen, great benefactors, great patriots, etc' 

From what is now known of the influence exerted on the form- 
ation of character and temperament by the two fundamental 
phases of anal erotism, that is to say, the impulse to 'keep back' 



'•■h ■ 


and the impulse to 'give out', it is by -no means unlikely that 
herein lies the answer to the riddle as to the origin of many of 
those striking idiosyncrasies of the Hindu character which not only 
mark him off from the rest of mankind but leave him with a habit 
of mind that is antipathetic, if not actually repellent, to his fellow- 
men of other religious persuasion. Ernest Jones i has shewn how the 
end-product of the character of an individual will depend on the 
detailed interplay of the attitudes distinctive of each phase and 
on the extent to which the individual may react to each by devel- 
oping either a positive sublimation or a negative reaction-form- 
ation. Jones has also shewn that some of the most valuable 
qualities are derived from this complex, as well as some of the 
most disadvantageous. He cites as belonging to the first group 
individualism, determination and persistence, love of order and 
power of organisation, competency, reliability and thoroughness, 
generosity, the bent toward art and good taste; the capacity for 
unusual tenderness, and the general ability to deal with concrete 
objects of the material world. In the second group he includes 
the incapacity for happiness, irritability and bad temper, hypo- 
chondria, miserhness, meanness and pettiness, slow-mindedness and 
proneness to bore, the bent for tyrannising and dictating and 
obstinacy. A glance at the character traits summarised in the second 
group is sufficient for any one at all acquainted with the Hindu 
character and temperament to recognise that most, if not all, of 
them are eminently those of Hindus. To begin with, an incapacity 
for happiness is one of their most notorious peculiarities. There is ' 

nothing a Hindu fears more than life. The very essence of his life 
is fear — fear of the unknown result which may follow upon error, ' 

either in conduct, in faith or in ceremonial. Moreover, the bugbear 
of the Hindu is his behef in metempsychosis. An average Hindu 
sees very little to enjoy in life. Such a phrase as 'la joie de vivre* 
is to him nothing more nor less than a contradiction in terms. * 

A Hindu who could say with Thoreau that he enjoyed his life to % 

*the core and rind' is unthinkable! As Meredith Townsend^ re- 
marks: 'The wish to be rid of consciousness either by annihil- 
ation or absorption in the Divine, is the strongest impulse he 
(the Hindu) can feel'. In this feeling probably lies the source of that 
detestation in which both Islam and Christianity are held by Hindus. 

' Ernest Jones: op. cit. 

« Meredith Townsend: Asia and Europe, p. 35. ' • • - . / 




A religion which preaches an * everlasting consciousness' so far 
from affording him solace only tends to drive the Hindu into further 
depths of distraction. 
J. Then as regards the character trait of irritability and short 

^_ temper. It is awell-known characteristic of Hindu legendary asceticism 

f: that its votaries are insanely short-tempered and vindictive. Incal- 

culable is the trouble wrought in legend by the maledictions ot 
irascible rishis.'^ No one can deny that as a general rule the 
Hindus exhibit a disastrous propensity to quarrel, especially 
in the family circle, and to this trait is added, what is still 
worse, vindictiveness. Reference has already been made to the 
miserhness, meanness and pettiness of the Hindus, and as these traits 
are so well known there is no call to notice them further. That love 
of orderliness which we may observe as a conspicuous feature of 
Hindu religious ritual, is rarely met with in the guise of the power 
to organise, except perhaps in the pursuit of wealth. The tendency 
to dictate and to tyrannise is such a notorious trait of all Oriental 
character that it is not surprising to find it a prominent feature 
of Hindu character. Indeed one of the most odious manifestations 
of tyranny may be regarded as quite peculiar to the Hindus, and 
that is the tyranny of the higher castes, especially the Brahmans, 
over those of lower caste. Obstinacy is so typical a character trait 
of the Hindu that its various manifestations have been the tlieme 
for innumerable dissertations on the 'changeless East'. It was to 
this trait in the Hindu character that Mattliew Arnold referred in 
his celebrated lines: 

The East bowed low before the blast, 
In patient deep disdain; 
^ She let the legions thunder past, 

Then plunged in thought again. 

It will appear that when we come to consider the question of 
the source of the antipathy that is felt by other races, especially 
the European and African, for the Hindu, from the standpoint of 
* anal-erotic complexes, the answer to it is not very difficult to find, 
for we see how the anal erotism of the Hindu produces a congeries 
of character traits which are the very antithesis to those of Europeans, 
especially the English. The character traits of the English people 
' William Archer: India and the Future, p. 20S. 



as a whole belong for the greater part to the first of the two 
groups distinguished by Ernest Jones, i For instance, the Englishman, 
as opposed to the Hindu, exhibits usually an extraordinary 
individualism as well as a frequently devastating persistence to 
V ' carry through whatever he may believe to be 'right'. Likewise 

;;;|; the Englishman is prone to entertain pedantic notions about 

;• " , 'justice', while the Hindu, altliough he loves the law as a source 

' .-^;: of income, has very little liking for it as an instrument of govern- 

ment. He ' prefers a flexible and human will which can be turned 
by prayers, threats or conciliations in money'. ^ The average 
Englishman revels in attempts to get other people to accept 
his views on religion, morality and the like, but the Hindu's 
-■i views on these matters are for private consumption only, or, at 

the most, for members of his family. While Englishmen will often 
display remarkable competency, reliability and thoroughness, 
Hindus will not. under any provocation, burden themselves with 
a sustained habit of taking trouble. As Meredith Townsends ob- 
serves: 'You might as well ask lazzaroni to behave like Prussian 
officials'. Like most Orientals, Hindus issue orders and punish 
terribly (or not at all!) if they are not obeyed. As to 'hunting the 
lY||v ' order down' to its execution, they would not accept life at the 

price of such a duty! Again, the English have learnt to make a 
fetish of 'sanitation'. An Englishman's bath-room, water-closet and 
laundry form a triad of reaction-formations of his anal erotism be- 
fore which he will, so to speak, prostrate himself in a rhapsody 
of adoration. Among the Hindus, reaction-formations of the same 
type have led to the apotheosis of ceremonial puriiication, but 
•': hand-in-hand with this goes an indifference to hving under con- 

ditions indescribably filthy, especially when the filth is associated 
with religious worship, a fact to which the holy places of Benares 
bear ample testimony. Lastly, and perhaps above all, the Englishman 
possesses a general ability to deal with the concrete objects of the 
world to an extent to which few other races can aspire. In his 
introduction to Nietzsche's 'Genealogy of Morals', Alexander 
Tille* writes as follows: 'A great English scholar whom years 

> Ernest Jones: op. cit. . ."■ _ 

' Meredith Townsend: op. cit. '' - 

' Idem: op. cit. 
•' - •* Friederich Nietzsche: A Genealogy of Morals. Translated by W. Hauss- 

mann and J. Gray. Introduction by Alexander Tille, p. xiii. 

■-■-■' '28* 


ago I asked to explain how at this time of day a philosophy so 
utterly absurd as that of Hegel was in full sway in English academic 
circles, whilst long ago it had died out at the German universities, 
told me that he did not wonder at it in the least. The English 
mind was so absolutely practical that for a philosophy it needed 
something absurd in the highest degree, because it^ would at once 
pull to pieces every reasonable philosophy offered'. The Hindu, 
on the other hand, has earned an enormous reputation for specula- 
tive metaphysics and transcendental idealism. In short, the type of 
mentality which we encounter among Hindus is in many ways 
typical of that of obsessional states, while their general level ot 
thought partakes of the variety usually peculiar to children. Whether 
the Hindu mind is capable of any further approximination to reality 
is a matter which the future alone can show. 

Received March 20, 1920. 






JAMES S. VAN TESLAAR, Brookline, Mass. 

^ In the history of science it is not often that it falls to the lot 

of a single investigator to inaugurate an entirely new method of 
research or to discover a whole group of general laws, each valid, 
each equally fundamental. 

Sigmund Freud, the founder of psychoanalysis, has done both: 

he has inaugurated the analytic method of inquiry which is being 

fw. successfully applied to all the manifestations and products of mental 

' „' ' activity; and through the careful use of tliis technique he has un- 

' covered fundamental principles hitherto either wholly unrecognised 

or perceived but vaguely. 

For the first time psychoanalysis introduces true order and 
.- , - understanding into some of the most obscure and bafHing pro- 

vinces of the mind — phobias, compulsions, obsessions and dreams. 

For the first time, too, we are acquiring true insight into the 
meaning, the psychic development and mechanism of that most 
dreadful of all personal calamities, mental brealcdown or insanity; 
and through the aid of psychoanalysis correct principles are being 
evolved for its prevention — in so far as mental disorder may be 

Although psychoanalytic research is only in its initial stage, it 
has already thrown a flood of light on mental growth during in- 
fancy, childhood and adolescence; and the respective educational 
and hygienic requirements are becoming clear as the development 
of human personality is traced with scientific accuracy. The un- 
foldment of character traits is becoming a study as objective in 
its technique and results as any study of natural history. Human 
behaviour is being subjected to scientific scrutiny at last without 
the handicap of ego-centric presuppositions. 



j," It would not be easy at tliis early stage properly to estimate 

i the great practical benefits in terms of personal and racial wel- 

I fare bound to follow the wider extension and applications of psycho- 

i analysis and certain to be witnessed in the immediate future. In 

!' unravelling for us the natural history of mental growth and thus 

f placing within our ken the means for its conscious direction and 

I control, Freud's discoveries promise to accomplish, with respect to 

E our knowledge of the subjective, inner world of our psyche, a 

r transformation as radical as that which Newton's discovery of the 

I laws governing the Cosmos has accomplished with respect to our 

i knowledge of the world of external reality. 

The same precision, of course, cannot be expected in the two 
. fields of inquiry. The laws of mind are infinitely more complicated 

' and do not lend themselves to mathematical treatment like the 

laws of nature. But in general aspects the comparison holds. The 
position of both, Newton and Freud, is alike unique in the history 
of science; for just as there is no other cosmic system for man 
to repeat Newton's discovery of its laws so tliere is but one sub- 
jective world for man to delve into and Freud has shown the way 
of discovering law and order therein. 

The earliest significant observations were made by Freud in 
connection with his professional studies of persons suffering from 
various nervous complaints. These incidental observations have led 
him to most important discoveries. From the field of abnormal 
psychology in which they first arose, Freud and his pupils extended 
the important discoveries to the whole realm of psychology. Not 
psychology alone but all contiguous disciplines, anthropology, folk- 
lore, religion, economics, sociology, history, and even literary 
criticism, politics and biography, are becoming indebted to psycho- 

The work is only at its beginnings, as mentioned, but signi- 
ficant contributions have already been made in some of these 
various directions. Already it is not premature to assert that p.sycho- 
analysis promises to accomplish for the whole group of the so- 
called Geisteswissenschaften (the cultural sciences, as contrasted to 
the exact disciplines) what the evolutionary theory — and specifically 
the work of Darwin — has done for the biological group of sciences. 
Indeed, in a broad sense, it may be said that psychoanalysis re- 
presents but an extension of the theory of evolution, an applica- 
tion of the principle of evolution to the study of mind or, 


'■'m ■ 


rather, a rediscovery of that truth in terms of concrete psycho- 
logic data, facts. 

Scientific discoveries so wide in their range of applicabihty, so 
novel — even revolutionary — and of such tremendous consequence 
' as those which form the major body of psychoanalytic theory, 
cannot but rouse extreme scepticism, even hostility— at first. 

That is precisely the fate that psychoanalysis has met at the 
hands of critics too startled by the new principles to \iew them 
with objective detachment. 

Psychoanalysis is nothing short of revolutionary, exactly as 
Darwinism has proven to be. That the introduction of conceptions 
compelling a rearrangement of fundamental principles should create 
havoc is only to be expected. Such a change foretells the doom 
of the old and customary viewpoints whose protagonists will not 
i.f^l yield the ground without a struggle. 

Now, psychoanalysis challenges the whole group of scientific dis- 
ciplines in any way related to the operations of the mind. It requires 
all psychologic branches of learning to undertake nothing less than 
a restatement in terms of evolutionary dynamics of the principles 
upon which they are based. Freudian psychology has sounded the 
vM " - death-knell of static, descriptive, atomistic psychology just as surely 

■%i# " as Darwinism has put an end to the pre-evolutionary biology. 

The world at large cannot remain long indifferent to the Freudian 
transformations of psychology. This is not merely a matter con- 
\|^ ' ceming specialists. The controversy raised by psychoanalysis does 

not center on theoretic problems and abstract points such as are 
popularly supposed to be dear to the dry-as-dust scientist. The 
problems raised by psychoanalysis relate most intimately to the 
' practical concerns of health and everyday living. If Freud be 
correct, if the unconscious, for instance, plays the r61e he assigns 
to it and if it is truly possible to get at it through the analysis of 
dreams and of the other formulations and products of the un- 
conscious by means of the technique he has evolved, we have in 
our hands, for the first time in the history of science, a scientific 
method for controlling our psychic energies and for properly 
directing their outward flow. Through psychoanalysis, at last, mental 
health, efficiency, education of mind and body, human welfare 
generally — racial as well as personal — become subject to purposive 
direction and control, exactly as tlie forces of nature are today in 
the engineer's hands. •: ■ - :_,.■... i 



The prospect is not over-drawn. Psychoanalysis clearly holds 
out no less a promise than this. 

, Not the least merit of Freud is that he has at last linked in 
a practical, rigorously scientific manner our so-called 'normal' 
mental activities with those considered 'abnormal*, and has proven 
the essential unity of mental functions. 

That mental disorders are the result of the psychic forces 
governing the normal reactions of mind has long been accepted as 
a truism — in the abstract. Bat in the practical working out of the 
subject, in our text-books on psychiatry, for example, this essential 
truth played no part. It was practically disregarded — abstract 
theory and practice did not conform to each other in this instance, 
for the simple reason that there had been found no way of utilising 
the truth; no method of interpreting the disordered mind through a 
knowledge of what is going on in the healthy mind and vice versa. 

To assert the essential unity of mental functions as a truth 
flowing out of theoretic considerations is one thing; to prove, as 
well as make fruitful use of, this important fact, is quite an other. 

This bridging over of normal and abnormal, the rediscovery of 
the essential unity or oneness of mind, has been accomplished by 

The links that connect normal and abnormal mind are furnished 
by the functions of the unconscious. The notion of the unconscious, 
of course, is not in itself a novel contribution of psychoanalysis. 
Indeed, as a mere hypotliesis the unconscious is as old as, and 
perhaps antedates, the formulation even of our earliest scientific 
conceptions in psychology. But Freud gave the principle its present 
scientific and precise formulation. Above all he has evolved the tech- 
nique for the empiric investigation of the unconscious — a technique 
that enables us to deal with the facts and forces of mind as ob- 
jectively as with any other facts and forces in nature. 

The concept of the unconscious had been rejected from modern 
scientific psychology because of its metaphysical and highly specula- 
tive character. But with the adoption of Freud's rigorous, practical 
method of inquiry the principle of the unconscious has become 
the core of psychology. 

It is in this connection that Freud has evolved the study and 
analysis of dreams. The results are overwhelming; they yield a 
new sense of order and permit our understanding to reach down 
to the nethermost depths of human nature. i 



The significance of psychoanalysis in the history of science 
may be best illustrated perhaps by pointing out the background, 
the historic setting of Freud's invaluable contributions. 

The dominant conception in all the biologic sciences, during 
: the period immediately preceding Darwin's epoch-making discoveries 

I and before Darwinism made itself felt, may be designated as 


The age of atomism in biology was preceded by, and to a 
large extent cotemporaneous with, atomism in politics, philosophy, 
•■ theology and education; for in every age the dominant idea spreads 

Itself over the whole realm of its characteristic culture. 

Political atomism culminated in the French Revolution and the 
i,. American Declaration of Independence. 

The sense theory of knowledge carried to its logical extreme 

by Hume with his denial of causality and true selfhood, by Leibniz 

with his theory of monads, and by Kant's teacher, Wolff, with his 

so-called Rational Psychology, illustrates the philosophical atomism 

' of the period. 

Theological atomism manifested itself in the crude theism of 
that period separating a kind of atomic divinity from the aggre- 
gate of units called the Universe, and representing that unit as 
standing in a sort of preferential relationship to the other atoms 
— an off-shoot, clearly, of the Leibniz-Wolffian doctrine. 

Educational atomism blossomed forth in the theories of Rousseau, 
notably his 'Emile'. 

Finally upon the sociologic-economic field we have, towards the 
end of the atomistic p«(iod, the materialistic conception of history 
culminating in the doctrine of the struggle between classes, a little 
earlier the laissez-faire doctrine and between the middle and the 
end of that period, again, the formulation of the philosophical 
anarchism of Godwin and Proudhon. Thus the various cultural 
movements manifested the same or a similar dominant note— indiv- 
idualism, atomism. 

Closely upon the heels of this atomistic Weltanschauung, there 
followed the conception of energy. Indeed, tlie doctrine of energy 
was inherent in tlie standpoint of atomism. Just as atomism 
attempted to show us the constitution, 'energeticism' was to explain 
the dynamics of the universe and of human existence. Then followed 


in rapid succession the discoveries of new energies in nature, the 
harnessing of electricity, steam, and other labor-saving forces, the 
multiplication of means for creating power, the rise of large cities, 
of international trade combinations and of corporations for tlie 
exploitation of natural resources on a tremendous scale-— all in 
keeping with the new cultural development. 

At that stage Darwin introduced the concept of unfoldment, of 
scientific evolution. It became the fashion of scientiISc endeavor to 
explain what a thing really is by showing how it came to be, that 
is, by giving its developmental history. 

In the history of psychology ' associationism ' represents the 
atomistic phase of the science of mind. The pre-Freudian conception 
of psychic dynamism is a sort of metaphysical, philosophic, specula- 
tive energeticism. Though rooted in physiology and often expressed 
in terms current in biology, it is at bottom but little more than 
the psychology of Locke, Berkeley, Hume, Dugald Stewart, Thomas 
Reid, Adam Smith, James Mill, John Stuart Mill, and Alexander 
Bain— to mention only some of the chieftains of British speculative 

Even the psychology of Herbert Spencer does not typify the 
true evolutionistic development. In his day the data were not yet 
available for the adoption of evolution as a working principle in 
psychology; but to Spencer belongs the credit of having anticipated 
■with many keen generalizations, though speculatively, the next phase 
in the development of the science of mind. 

At any rate the adoption of the evolutionistic or developmental 
concept in biology and the rapid spread of that viewpoint to 
contiguous sciences represents the next great general phase m 
the history of culture. Even disciplines of speculative character, 
philosophy, sociology, ethics, adopted the new viewpoint. Bui 
clinical psychology remained strangely aloof, and experimental 
psychology lagged behind. The 'energeticism' of Herbart and 
Lotze, fruitful and significant as they have been, remain a secondary 
development. No working basis had been devised for the adoption 
of evolution as a guiding principle in the practical concerns of 
psychology. The main course of development in the study of 
mind during health and disease alike persisted on the old path 
of atomism. The doctrine of the association of ideas and the 
more recent doctrine of the 'conditional reflex' are typical of the 
standpoint of non-Freudian psychology to this day in spite of the 



[^ - . - 

•■.■^: influence of the principle of evolution upon the course of scientific 

-;•: ■ , development. 

■^ In that state psychology and clinical psychia:try were not likely 

, .-^J . to yield significant results along other than descriptive lines. 

? .% KraepeHn, the high light of psychiatry, arranged his text-book 

, .;, . . with the conscientious scruples of one who appreciates the scientific 

. ;|t; value of classification and description. His clinical entities are 

'0y .,... divided, classified and subdivided, tabulated and labelled with 

C^ ' much care. Progress between succeeding editions of Kraepelin's text- 

,.^' book on Psychiatry consists largely of the introduction of some 

Ifi new subdivision or in the transfer from one label to another of 

a part of its contents. 

The tendency of clinical psychology and psychiatry in its 
atomistic stage to emphasize description and classification, as 
illustrated in Kraepelin, is equally obvious in the French school of 
clinical psychologic research. The Raymond-Janet contributions are 
masterly descriptions of psychologic states. Janet's works, in par- 
ticular, read like romances. His studies of hysteria, neuroses, fixed 
ideas and psychic automatisms have inspired Professor William 
James to hold out the expectation, in his 'Principles of Psycho*logy', 
that, 'all these facts, taken together, form unquestionably the be- 
ginning of an inquiry which is destined to throw a new light into 
the very abysses of our nature*. 

The new light came as the result of Freud's important discoveries. 
To the J:wo-dimensional, atomistic, descriptive psychology of the 
' French school and of the Kraepelinian psychiatry Freud has added 

a third dimension — the genetic, developmental, evolutionistic view- 
point. The result is as radical a transformation of all branches of 
psychology as that which Darwin has inaugurated in the biological 
sciences. Freud's discoveries are doing for' psychology what 
Darwin's have done for biology. 


The method of Freud is known as psychoanalysis. It recognizes 
a selective property whereby ideas group and regroup themselves 
in accordance with laws governing their emotional value to the 
person concerned. Freud's psychology lays stress on the emotional, 
affective value of our ideas rather than on their logical content: 


that feature constitutes one ot tlie chief differences between it and 
the older psychology. 

Even in that regard Freud's work is not altogether novel, ihe 
most radical departure is the serviceable, accurate conception of 
the qualities and forces of our psyche which he has formulated as 
the result of his recognition of the unconscious. 

An illustration will make this matter clear. Suppose a person 

has undergone a strong emotional experience— a sudden shock, 

fright, some keen disappointment or painful loss. The reaction to 

that experience will vary with the person's temperament, mental 

status, and other conditions. Suppose the person in question is 

highly nervous and the shock results in some degree of dissociation, 

that is, in a loss from memory of certain parts of the experience. 

This is a most frequent occurrence. In such cases, too, it is common 

for some unreasonable and unaccountable fear to appear, the fear 

being associated with some object or situation harmless in itself. [ 

For instance, the person in question may be afraid of closed doors, 

or of open spaces, or of crowds or of being alone, or of some animal . 

or person. The victim cannot account for this fear; cannot even tell I 

when "it began or why it appeared. The fear may be partly over- j 

come in the course of years. But the chances are rather that it will . 

persist and that, all through his future life that person will go j 

about more or less handicapped by that unreasonable fear. I have ■ 

chosen this example because it is a very common experience and ^ 

in its milder form may be found in every person's experience. { 

If the victim of such a condition is helped to reestablish a free 
intercommunication of his ideas by regular periods of concen- 
tration upon the disturbing situation or idea or object which happens 
to become associated with his unreasonable fear, it will soon be 
evident that there is an intimate connection between the object of 
his fear and the unpleasant experience which became lost from 
ordinary consciousness. Through concentration of the mind around 
the disturbing object, thought, or image, and allowing all ideas 
which crop up in that connection to come to the surface (aided 
thereby by the counsel of the consulting psychologist), the afflicted 
person finds that the ideas evoked, at first scattered and coming 
as if by chance from nowhere in particular, point gradually and 
at last irresistibly to the particular event which, because of its 
painful or unpleasant character, had become excluded from con- 
sciousness. Following the ramification of the ideas as they crop 


f ■ 

I up, it is soon found that a number of other experiences, entirely 

I forgotten, many of them dating from early childhood, have become 

associatively linked to the painful occurrence or incident and have 

; fortified the fear or other unreasonable symptom with their own 

j emotional strength. While this is going on another strange thing 

happens. As the painfully unpleasant, apparently forgotten memories 
are brought to the surface and the emotions with which they were 
originally associated are recalled, the fear which was the object 
of investigation disappears either suddenly or more or less rapidly. 
The reawakening of painful reminiscences, apparently lost from 
, memory, dissolves the unreasonable and apparently meaningless 

fear. The connection between the painful incident and the later 
fear is thus disclosed. 

But what is the nature of that relationship ? The two are linked 
through a common emotion or complementary affect. Where the 
condition is not entirely reheved by the recall of certain painful 
reminiscences, further inquiry leads to the unearthing of additional 
occurrences which had become similarly excluded from ordinary 
consciousness and have added their emotional strength to the un- 

: pleasant existing state. This teaches us that when painful experiences 

are pushed out of memory, they are really only pushed further 
in; they disappear from conscious memory but only to lie dormant 
and to influence the subject unconsciously, throwing up emotional 
bubbles in most unexpected ways. No matter how deeply this in- 

! grown emotion may lie buried it does not wholly get out of reach. 

I Following up the free association of ideas, especially those which 

arise around the subject's dreams, the submerged memory is brought 
back, element by element. 

One of the most remarkable features of repressed emotions 
is that they belong in large part to our childhood life. Even when 

\ the events to which they pertain belong to a later period the 

' reaction they evoke is characteristic of our childish or infantile 

j attitude towards life and does not belong to the age at which 

it appears. In other words certain infantile emotional reactions 
persist in the unconscious and become the center of psychic shocks 

' or injuries. 

', Previous to Freud's discovery of these important facts clinical 

psychology, as I have pointed out already, was concerned chiefly 
with description and classification. In the. case mentioned it would 
have limited itself to inquire: what is the person most afraid of? 


I ' Closed doors? That is claustrophobia. Open spaces? That is agora- 

i.^ phobia, and so forth. Freud found that these fears have specific 

.. meanings in every instance. That 'open spaces' and ' closed door ', 

for instance, have particular meanings for the persons concerned 
f^. * , on account of which they play the role they do in certain in- 

stances; that their role is always determined by what they stand 
i for in the subject's own mind — perhaps a meaning acquired in 

connection with some actual experience, forgotten, or rather re- ji 

t pressed, or a fanciful meaning derived symbohcally. 

[ In other words, our fears, morbid dreads, doubts, feelings of ' 

[ incapacity and numerous other emotional handicaps have an inner, \ 

E or subjective developmental history; their course must be traced 

t. back to the earliest episodes in connection with which they have | 

[: arisen, before we can expect to be completely freed of them. , 

[, Now, eliildhood has been compared to the primitive state ot ' 

[ mankind. Conversely, savage society is said to represent the 

[ childhood of the race. This much was surmised here and there 

[ even during the pre-evolutionistic phase of science. 

Since Darwin, the comparison between childhood and primitive 

' mankind as representative of the same developmental stages has 

I achieved new significance. Darwinism has led to the theoretic 

f , assumption that in our physical as well as mental development 

[- we recapitulate the biologic history of the race. Herbert Spencer 

|: has popularised this idea. It has led to the formulation of the so- 

t called recapitulation theory — an idea which has been worked out 

r extensively in embryology where it is associated chiefly with the 

researches of Ernst Haeckel. Readers will recall the interesting 

series of embryologic sections which were circulated years ago, 

showing that during the various stages of its development the 

human foetus resembles in form and functional arrangement one 

after another various animal species from the lower to the 


The recapitulation theory maintains that during the embryonic 
stage every individual repeats, in abbreviated form of course, many 
of the important stages through which the human race has passed 
in its ascent from the lower and more primitive forms. Countless 
centuries of unfoldment are thus condensed and recapitulated in 
the brief course of our intra-uterine existence. Beginning as an 
unicellular organism, a protozoon in all respects, the fertilised 
human ovum becomes a metazoon, assumes shapes and forms re- 




sembling one after another various organisms from the simpler to 
the more complex and at birth still resembles man's immediate 
anthropoid pregenitor more than the human race. 

This is not the place to mention the numerous limitations and 
strictures that have been placed upon this ingenious theory as 
originally worked out by Haeckel and his enthusiastic pupils. It 
is true that some phases of intra-uterine existence appear to corre- 
spond to a higher phyletic branch than the immediately following 
ones, as if in repeating the story of the biologic unfoldment of 
the human race, the embryo rushed ahead a period or two and 
returned to the omitted sections subsequently, exactly as one often 
does when telling an interesting story. This and other minor con- 
siderations in no way detract from the significance of the theory 
as a whole any more than rushing from one crucial point to 
another in the telling of a story and then returning to dwell on 
details, makes the story untrue. The facts are sufficient in their 
essentials to prove the recapitulation theory is sound. 


Now, turning our attention to the individual mind, may not 
that, too, similarly recapitulate in the course of its growth the 
psychic unfoldment of the human race.> That our mind does that 
very thing has long been a theoretic conclusion of biological in- 

Unfortunately, psychologists had discovered no way to lift 
that capital idea from the realm of hypothesis and transmute it 
into a working, useful, practical principle. Neither the technique 
of ordinary laboratory psychology nor that of clinical psychiatry 
was such as to enable students of mind to make use of this fund- 
amental truth in their work. Both psychology and psychiatry 
remained as before Darwin, atomistic, loosely dynamistic, descrip- 
tive. Whole textbooks on psychology have been written without 
the term 'development' becoming once necessary in the descrip- 
tion of mental processes. At this stage in the history of science 
that in itself should have warned the old school psychologists and 
psychiatrists that something was the matter with the technique of 
their disciplines. ^ -. . . • 


Freud did not set out deliberately to cover the gap between 
atomism and evolutionism. His ambition was limited to the direct 
and practical task of finding out what was wrong in the case of 
that large number of functional nervous disorders which ordinary- 
methods of therapy, including hypnosis and suggestion, failed to 
cure. His task was a practical one, his attitude that of a specialist 
in nervous diseases interested in the welfare of his patients. 

When Freud found that his patients suffered from painful reminis- 
cences, hidden or suppressed, he set to work to discover the forces 
which lead to suppression. He found that the reminiscences in 
question were linked emotionally to promptings incompatible with 
ethical standards, and violating the most common dictates of cul- 
ture — here I use the terms 'ethical' and 'culture' in their broad- 
est meaning. Persons mentally handicapped, those who undergo 
'nervous' breakdowns or who give way entirely, becoming subjects 
for sanitoria, are burdened with 'unethical' and 'irrational' cravings 
of which they are often unaware. Mental and nervous disorders 
are caused by an attempt of the primitive residue of the psyche 
to break through. This proposition is as simple as it is funda- 
mental to the proper understanding of the forces which govern 
human nature. Freud found that ordinarily we are often prompt- 
ed by bits of our racial past in the form of an obscure craving, 
an unorganized attitude, a blind predisposition impelling us to 
think or do things which consciousness would refuse openly to 
contemplate. He found further that manifestations of this primitive, 
raw, unmoral attitude together with the cravings to which it gives 
rise, far from being exceptional, is the rule during the earlier 
phases of our mental existence- namely, during the preconscious 
stage of infancy and early childhood. 

Incidentally Freud's discovery shows that in the course of its 
development the individual mind repeats our racial history. The 
details of Freud's work amount to a restatement of the recapitula- 
tion theory applied to the biologic history of the mind. For the 
first time there has been disclosed to us the manner in which 
psychic recapitulation operates and its consequences. 

Primordial cravings tliat persist are racial vestiges of the mind. 
They are racial endowments belonging to early psychic stages in 
our individual development just as certain structures and organs 
of the embryo represent passing phases in the course of our phys- 
ical development. Some embryonic organs disappear when higher 


stages are reached; but certain other organs and structures persist 

ji..> ,, in rudimentary form long after their functions have ceased. But, 

j;f' unUke the embryonic organs which disappear after fulfilling what- 

tr ever role they may play during the embryonic phase of our phys- 

^1 ical existence, unlike the rudimentary structures which are carried 

;|; ^ forward but lie dormant and useless in the adult, the mental 

.| vestiges of our earlier existence, our primordial cravings, our racial 

'^'; instincts persist in their raw and naked form alongside the more 

complex, subtle emotions, ideals and aspirations which we acquire 

,..: ' in later life as the heritage of historic civilization. Our raw instincts 

0k not only persist but so long as they are allowed to remain 'un- 

|§^ charted' within us they compete with consciousness for mastery 

• ;^^ over our conduct. 

Man's unconscious, the bearer ol the racial past, the instinct- 
ive and primordial in human nature, functions long before con- 
sciousness is awakened. Its beginnings cannot be traced. It seems 
to be always present. It reaches far beyond any stage in our in- 
^f dividual development which can be subjected to direct investiga- 

^^ tion. All we know is that during intra-uterine existence the foetus 

^■; ■ already shows reactions which must have a psychic counterpart, 

Ije it ever so vague. Certain it is that our mental life does not 
begin with consciousness; and consequently any psychology that 
concerns itself with consciousness to the total exclusion of the 
unconscious is neglecting the greater for the lesser part of our 
mental existence. The unconscious has back of it a biologic history 
of millions of years compared to which the phyletic period of 
man's consciousness is like the efflorescence of an hour. A proper 
• knowledge of the unconscious will enable us the better to pene- 
trate the^ mental processes of primitive folk and to reconstruct, as 
it were, the kind ot world in which man's ancestors moved, lived 
■ and had their being. Finally we can understand neither the mental 
aspects of childhood and infancy nor the true requirements of 
education unless we appreciate the significance, extent, operation 
and consequences of our unconscious mental processes. 

Sleep is a state during which it is possible for the unconscious 
within us to find a sort of vicarious expression. Dreams are largely 
the expression of the unconscious, hence the significance of the 
meaning of dreams; hence the fundamental importance of Freud's 
discovery of the technique and methodology for the interpretation 
of dreams. 

■ '4 





For the first time since Darwin announced his discoveries, an 
important corollary of the theory of evohition — recapitulation — is 
thus proven to hold good of the psyche. It happens that the onto- 
genetic account of the mind is of greatest practical significance 
because in no other field is an appreciation of the workings of 
recapitulation so important. Thus it is interesting to know that 
the appendix, for instance, is a vestigial organ representing a phase 
of existence during which man's dietary habits were what we call 
today 'vegetarian'. It is interesting to know tliat certain sets of 
muscles around our ears prove that at one stage in his long past 
man had the ability to move his ears in all directions witli the 
agility displayed to-day by animals depending for safety upon acute 
hearing more than man does. Such remnants are tell-tale signs of 
man's previous history, as much as the findings exhibited in our 
museums of natural history. They testify as to man's past habits 
and ways of living. But when the appendix becomes inflamed it 
is no longer a matter of 'museum interest' for the person con- 
cerned. And if all the vestigial, embryonic organs and structures 
were to persist and flare up into activity, a difficult and serious 
situation would arise. 

That is precisely what often happens upon the mental sphere. 
Phases of our past, in the widest sense of the term, tend to per- 
petuate themselves 'in their original image', as it were. 

An occasional strong flaring up and more commonly, a con- 
tinuous functional persistance of the mental equipment character- 
istic of our early stages of existence is the rule rather than the 
exception. This is precisely what makes an understanding of the 
processes of psychic recapitulation a matter of such capital impor- 
tance in the study of human behavior. 

In spite of the refinements of civilization, in spite of the in- 
fluence of education, religion, precept or preachment, our mental 
equipment still persists in its primordial forms. Eventually most 
of the cravings of the human race, our raw instincts, undergo 
transformations and refinements. But for a long time these cravings 
continue to manifest themselves very much 'in the raw'. We recog- 
nise this fact when we remark that 'the child is a savage' or that 
'youth is callous and cruelly selfish'. As youth passes into man- 
hood and womanhood respectively it learns to abide by the more 


refined manifestations of the instincts which make up life. But the 
instincts are never abandoned. They are only refined. Moreover 
they persist and occasionally flare up in their 'original image*. 

The recapitulation theory, so interesting in other fields of 
biology, becomes here of the utmost practical significance. 

It will be understood, of course, that the idea of recapitulation 
had been conceived as a principle of mental development and 
somewhat exploited long before Freud. Various attempts, some of . 
them more ingenious than convincing, had been made to trace 
correspondences between the behavior of children and the life of 
primitive people on the supposition that children and so-called 
savages stand psychically close to each other. 

We have long been familiar with such expressions as 'the 
childhood of the human race' and by many comparisons we have 
been led to infer what is implied. The propensity of children for 
chmbing, for instance, has been described as a vestigial tendency 
harking back, as it were, to the arboreal habits of man's ancestors. 
Children's games, peculiar choices, curious likes and dislikes, and 
many of their imageries have been similarly related. But all such 
observations were conjectural. Proof was lacking. 

Freud has stumbled upon the proof; and what is more, he has 
had the sagacity to recognise the importance of his discovery for 
science. He has disclosed the role of ontogenetic recapitulation 
in the growth and interplay of our psychic forces. 

For the first time in the history of psychology we now have 
the key to the understanding of human behavior in the light of 
its biological history. 

The technique which Freud has evolved largely in the con- 
nection with the analysis of dreams for sounding, investigating and 
charting the realm of man's unconscious is one of the most im- 
portant contributions in the history of science. The practical bene- 
fits of this discovery have only begun to be realised. Psychology 
is but beginning to redeem the promise it had long held out of 
becoming a practical guide in the conduct of our everyday life. 

Received May 25, 1921. 



ISADOR H. CORIAT, Boston, Mass. 

Shakespeare's character of Shylock, the central figure of 'The 
Merchant of Venice', has been one of the male characters in the 
marvellous gamut of the Shakespearean drama whose essential 
traits have evoked varying interpretations, thus placing it in the 
same category with Hamlet, Lear, and Macbeth. Whether or not 
he was a blood-thirsty villain or a man more sinned against than 
sinning, or whether he showed character traits which were to be 
expected in one of his race and tradition, are subjects over which 
the controversy of Shakespearean criticism has raged. It has been 
the fashion to compare the character of Shylock with that of 
Barrabas in Marlowe's ']ew of Malta'. This parallel however, is 
incorrect in its general essentials, for Barrabas carried his long 
suppressed hate to the point of sadistic lust murders, a trait which 
is entirely absent in Shylock; for Shylock's wishes at no time 
during their development had any of the horrors of the revenge 
of Barrabas. 

The sources of the plot of 'The Merchant of Venice' and of 
the character of Shylock have been traced to old ballads, such as 
the song of Gernutus, Italian romances (U Pecorone), Persian and 
Indian legends, the 'Jew of Malta' and finally an old German 
comedy. Thus there were many analogies in European and 
Oriental literature to the two intertwined stories which may be 
termed the pound of flesh theme and three caskets theme, which 
constitute the main plot of the 'Merchant of Venice'. It appears 
that Shylock was made a Jew to appeal to the popular prejudice 
of the time. As Elze states ^ 'His (Shakespeare's) public wished 
above all things to see Shylock crushed' and it may be added 
that Shakespeare completely fulfilled the wishes of that public. 

Most of the critical interpretations of Shylock's character have 
insisted on the essential Jewish traits. For instance Hudson states 
that Shylock is 'thoroughly and intensely Jewish, with strong 

» Karl Elze; Essays, 1874. 

354 ;•: . 

■ ?**i. 


national traits interwoven with personal traits'. Brandes in his 
f ;' , fine criticism regards Shylock from the same standpoint: 'Shake- 

,^ ' :' speare has seized upon and reproduced racial characteristics and 

tV, emphasized what is peculiarly Jewish in Sliylock's culture'. 
;^; ' .' It is impossible to agree with these interpretations, for when 

fShylock's character traits are examined according to psycho- 
analytic conceptions, it will be found that they are not specifically 
• . . Jewish, but universal, and that the same traits may exist in all 
men and women. Analysis ofShylock's character is able to show, 
^M first, that it is not particularly Jewish and secondly, that his love 

;;^^ for money and his hate and revenge spring from the same un- 

-,^ conscious sources, in other words they are merely the outward 

■^M projections! of strong anal-erotic tendencies. These anal-erotic im- 

4M pulses are the same in all men and as a result of racial repression 

*M any individual may show an outburst of the same strong charac- 

teristics as Shylock and react as he has done. The*e character 
■_-_j; traits have been precipitated into the unconscious of all mankind 

^m- ^t"*^™ ^^^ experience of previous generations and it is only the 

*m moral code of culture and civilization which keeps them suppressed. 

•^, Under proper conditions these egoistic and anal-erotic components 

emerge and dominate the personality and thus become manifest 
either as an instinct for the possession of money or a stubborn 
wish for revenge. 
f;W A few of the Shakespearean critics have possessed sufficient 

1^1 ■ . insight into Shylock's character to refer to the anal-erotic compon- 

mM ' • ents in a vague manner, but without, however, clearly under- 

bill ■ ■ standing them. Giles 2 for instance cites the feeling of power and 

P^ omnipc^ence in Shylock and states: 'His energy is restricted to 

[|||- ' one mode of power, the power of money. To have potency he 

must have money '. Heine, with his remarkable insight, clearly saw 
the ambivalent! tendencies of Shylock's character, the love of 
money and revenge and the love for his daughter. He states: 
'Shylock does indeed love money, but there are things which he 
loves still more, among them his daughter ("Jessica, my girl") 
f^M Although he curses her in his rage and would see her dead at 

his feet with the jewels in her ears and the ducats in her coffin, 
he loves her more than ducats or jewels'. 

1 [These two words are here used in a sense peculiar to the author, not 
in thtir usually accepted sense. Ed.] 
■ . . = Human Life iu Shakespeare, 1868. 



In referring to Judaism, Weiningeri specifies that it is 'neither 
a race nor a people nor a recognized creed. I think of it as a 
tendency of mind, as a psychological constitution which is a poss- 
ibility for all mankind'. This statement is of interest in any 
psychoanalysis of Shylock, for it furnishes an insight into those 
traits which have constantly been referred to as being peculiar to 
the Jew in general and to Shylock in particular. As all men are 
capable of homosexual object selection and often accomplish this 
in their unconscious mental life, so all have the same anal-erotic 
components which to a certain degree are so conspicuous in 

The unconscious mind is so remote from the conscious mind, 
that Freud's astonishing demonstration in 1908 of what he termed 
the anal-erotic character traits has provoked the most intense 
opposition and incredulity. These traits of adult life and their 
dependence- on infantile sexual excitations in the anal canal have 
been criticized as absurd and grotesque, yet anyone who carefully 
worked in psychoanalysis is soon absolutely convinced of the 
soundness and validity of Freud's ideas. 

Without going into the mechanism and genesis of these traits, 
it seems sufficient merely to enumerate them for the purpose in 
view, namely the analysis of the various aspects of Shylock's 
character. These features when they occur in a highly developed 
anal-erotic individual are orderliness, parsimony, miserliness and 
obstinacy, to which may be added love of money, hate, revenge, 
love of children, defiant disobedience and procrastination. Nearly 
all these will be found well defined in the character of Shylock 
if the development of the play and the text are carefully studied. 

Shylock is portrayed as a wealthy Jew of Venice in whom 
the love of money, as shown by his often reiterated reference to 
his 'ducats', is a distinguishing trait. With the love of his money, 
Shakespeare with a remarkable insight emphasizes the tenderness 
for his daughter Jessica, as a sort of unconscious identity of 
the two most valuable possessions of his life — his daugliter and 
his ducats. As Jones points out: 'One of the most impressive 
traits in the whole gamut of the anal character is the extra- 
ordinary and quite exquisite tenderness that some members ol 
the type are capable of, especially with children; this is no doubt 
strengthened both by the association with innocence and purity . . . 

1 Otto Wcininger: Sex and Character, p. 303. 


and by the reaction-formation against the repressed sadism that 
so commonly goes with marked anal erotism'.^ This is well 
shown in the speech of Salanio where the elopement of Shylock's 
daughter Jessica is described: 

My daughter! O my ducats! O my daughter! (II, viii). 

That Shylock is a miser, that he collects, gathers and hoards 
money and gives none or very little out, even in the management 
of his own household, is demonstrated in the speech of Laun- 
celot Gobbo, the servant of Shylock, where he states: 'I am 
famished in his service, you may tell every finger I have with 
my ribs' (II, ii). Shylock is a miser because money means power 
to him and, as Ferenczi states, ^ 'The adult's symbolic interest in 
money gets extended not only to objects with similar physical 
attributes, but to all sorts of things that in any way signify value 
or possession . . . The enjoyment at possessing it has its deepest 
and amplest source in coprophilia'. 

Studies in anal erotism have demonstrated that whenever 
archaic methods of thought prevail, such as the neuroses, dreams 
superstition and unconscious thinking, money has been brought 
into the closest connection with filth and scatological rites. This 
superstition is shown in the fairy tale of the goose which laid 
the golden eggs and in many legends, poems and linguistic ex- 
pressions. Ferenczi has also emphasized the transition from the 
infantile idea of excrement to the apparently remote symbol of 

money. ' 

For instance, in the analysis of a compulsion neurotic with 
strong anal-erotic traits and superstitions the following dream 
occurred: He was paying the man in coin for commission on 
some goods and the man gave the money to a horse to eat 
and then the dreamer recovered the money from the manure 
of the horse and stuffed it into a big sausage for safe keeping 
have a dream which coincides with the superstition of bringing 
Here we the discovery of treasure into association with the act o 

) 1 Ernest Jones : ' Anal-Erotic Character Traits ', Papers on Psycho- 
Analy.-is, 2nd. ed. 1918, p. 682. 

2 S. Ferenczi: 'The Ontogenesis ot Interest in Money", Contributions 
to Psycho -Analysis, 1916, Chap. XIII. 

' Loc. cit. 


defaecation. Now the profound significance of Shylock's words to 
Jessica becomes clear: 

Shylock, I am bid forth to supper, Jessica: 

There are my keys. But wherefore should I go? 
I am not bid for love; they flatter me: 
But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon 
The prodigal Christian. Jessica, my girl, 
Look to my house. I am right loath to go: 
There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest, 
For I did dream ol money-bags to-night. (II, v) 

Here we have an exquisite combination of the precipitation of 
strongly repressed anal-erotic traits into the unconscious, produc- 
ing the dream of 'money bags' the superstitious interpretation 
of the dream, the hate of Shylock and the love and tenderness 
for his daughter. In addition, the scatological symbolism of 
'money-bags' in the dream is very apparent to workers in psycho- 
analysis. This relationship with the usual Elizabethan freedom of 
coprophilic expression is also seen in the last words of Shylock's 
warning to Jessica. 

Fast bind, fast find, 

A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. (II, v) 

Shylock's sadism as shown in his literal demand for the pound 
of flesh is already found foreshadowed in his 'aside', when he 
first meets Antonio, the 'aside' I take it, as in all dramas, being 
a sort of a day-dream. 

If I can catch him once upon the hip, 

I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. (I, iii) 

and the later words: / 

Cursed be my tribe, 
If I forgive him! (I, iii) 

This sadistic hate is further emphasized in the following 
dialogue : 


Salarino. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his 
flesh; what's that good for? 

Shylock. To bait fish withal, if it will feed nothing else, it 
will feed my revenge. (Ill, i) 

This is what Brandes probably meant when he said, in speaking 
^^. of the character of Shylock 'Money is nothing to him in com- 

^P': , , parison with revenge. His hatred for Antonio is far more intense 

''^' than his love for his jewels and it is the passionate hatred, not 

avarice, that makes him the monster he becomes'. 
^M^ ■ ■ As Ernest Jones ^ has pointed out, an observation which was 

^^ ■ subsequently confirmed by Freud, there is a strong unconscious 

f^- • psychological connection between hate and anal erotism. This 

t^" connection is seen to an extreme degree in Shylock. From this 

hate there arises the sadism of Shylock with its pleasure in the 

anticipation of inflicting pain on the hated person as a form of 
y~., defiance. This character trait of sadistic hate is developed to its 

fullest extent in the trial scene, where Shylock is preparing to 

have the due and forfeit of his bond. 


Bassanio.Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly? 
^gv;^ Shylock. To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there. (IV, i) 


Here in this wonderful scene, the hate of Shylock, the pleasure 
in the anticipation of inflicting pain and seeing others suffer, is 
strongly over-emphasized and becomes stronger than the love for 

Bassanio.Yov thy three thousand ducats here is six. 
Shylock. If every ducat in six thousand ducats 
^^; ^ Were in six parts and every part a ducat, 

• I would not draw them ; I would have my bond. (IV, i) 

Thus is portrayed with astonishing accuracy another anal-erotic 
trait, the idea or feeling of power, showing the deep connection 
between power and anal erotism or between force and possession, 
the sadistic and the anal-erotic impulses. For until the legal quibble 
■of the distinguished Portia, Shylock's feeling of power over an 

» Ernest Jonts: 'Hate and Anal Erotism in the Obsessional Neuroses'. 
Papers on Psycho-Analysis, 2nd. Edition. 1918. 



unfortunate fellowman and the pleasure which this power brings 
is reinforced by the admission of the Duke that Shylock's demand, 
cruel and blood-thirsty as it may seem, is a just one and within 
the law. 

The conclusion to be drawn from this short analysis of Shylock's 
character is that all men in whom there are highly developed 
anal-erotic character traits, particularly those referring to money, 
power, hate, would have reacted, under the same circumstances 
of social repression, in much the same way that Shylock reacted. 
We may assume, therefore, from the data as revealed by the dis- 
tinguishing traits of anal erotism, that Shylock's character was 
not of a particular racial type, but that such character traits can 
be found in all individuals where these traits are so little repressed 
and so highly developed as profoundly to modify their relations 
to their fellow men. The same unconscious impulses and motiva- 
tions under the same conditions which reacted on Shylock would 
be able to produce identical tendencies to power and revenge. 

Received June 13, 1921. 




AUGUST STARCKE, den Dolder, Holland. 


The application of psycho-analysis to the psychoses has not led 

to an effective therapy like its use in the transference neuroses 

and more recently the war neuroses. The pathological explanation 

of the psychoses, however, has undergone radical alterations through 

Freud's concepts, just as was the case with chemistry as a result 

of Dalton's and Lavoisier's work. The aim of any discussion of the 

issues relative to this subject must be to ascertain the reasons why 

^■. the outcome of this new psychopathology has been a new 

I therapy for the 'neuroses', and not one for the 'mental diseases', 

!'■ . and also to suggest possible improvements. In this paper we shall 

be concerned with these improvements only in so far as they 

relate to the investigator and his methods. 

Psychiatrist and analyst are dissimilar in their nature, their 
subject of investigation, their hopes and their methods. Both have 
the same mass of symptoms for their material, but the difference 
lies in their conception of it. 

As contrasted with the analyst, the psychiatrist suffers from 
certain definite psychic scotomata. The subject of his investigation 
is the conscious, the brain as its hypothetical correlate, and the 
body in general. 

The analyst is characterised by the removal of the scotomata, 
so far as we recognise them. His sphere of investigation is extended 
to the unconscious; he puts the libido and the ego impulses as 
hj'pothetical correlates behind the phenomena. 

The primary medical aim — to establish the diagnosis — has a 
different significance in psychiatry from that which it has elsewhere. 
It is usual in medicine to allocate the case, according to its dia- 

1 Translated by Douglas Bryan. 




gnosis, to a group of cases with a definite aetiology or a definite 
anatomical basis, or with a definite prognosis and where possible 
a definite therapy. In psychiatry this rule applies only to the in- 
fective diseases and grosser lesions of the brain, which comprise 
a relatively small percentage of the cases. In by far the greater 
number of cases the diagnosis gives no indication of the causes, 
no anatomy or useful prognosis (fifty per cent of errors in one of 
the best clinics), and no therapy. The therapeutic measures in 
vogue are based more on sympathy than science and the results 
are nothing to be proud of. Under these circumstances the relation 
of psycho-analysis to psychiatry seems to be summed up in the 
statement that its relation to psychiatry is the same as to any 
other psychic formation of doubtful utility; psycho-analysis has to 
interpret the formation and endeavour to remove it in order to 
replace it by something useful. If we were to adopt this view, 
however, we should commit a triple injustice. 

First, we should underestimate the results that psychiatry has 
to show, not as regards the understanding of the psychoses but In 
sundry matters of secondary importance. Jt may even be admitted 
that the finer anatomy and physiology of the central nervous 
system, of the sense organs and endocrine glands, is building a 
very promising foundation; and a bridge can be carried from this 
foundation to Freud's theories if the building is not prematurely 
wrecked on the same obstacle at which clinical psychiatry has made 
a halt and turned aside, namely, sexuality. 

These methods of study, however, are not psychiatry, but its 
auxiliary sciences, which in other respects are independent and 
fully adequate in themselves. Psychiatry can signify nothing other 
than the science of the medical treatment of the mind. 

A second and historically important fact, which we must not 
overlook, is that psychiatry has not always proceeded in such 
a helpless and fluctuating manner as in the last thirty or forty 
years. It had been on the best road to discover the fixation of 
the libido as the cause of the failure of adaptation. The word 
hysteria — which formerly comprised all kinds of cases that now 
are included in other psychotic types — bears witness to this. The 
oldest theories asserted that the wanderings of the uterus throughout 
the body were the cause of hysteria. When Galen proved that 
these wanderings were impossible, the blame was attributed to 
retention of semen or blood in the uterus, since tlie humours could 


decompose and the enlarged uterus would be damaged by poisonous 
products or by pressure. This was modified later to the view that 
conditions of irritation of the genitals could pass over to the nervous 
system. Romberg (1851) ^ endeavoured to reconcile witli each other 
the alternative conceptions of hysteria as a disease of the uterus 
or of the brain, conceptions in which he considered the theories 
of hysteria known at that time culminated. He maintained that 
Ji. hysteria was a reflex neurosis caused by genital irritation. He made 

i'^. ■ the important observation, 'that it is not necessary for a sensation 

's^ • - to become conscious to produce reflex action . . .' According to 

t Jolly (1877) 2 sexual abstinence and over-stimulation are important 
causes of illness. After this the subject of sex disappeared more 
% ,' and more from psychiatry. Griesinger, Meynert and the large 

number of brain anatomists, as well as the Salpetriere School, 
became tlie authorities on the subject. Since Charcot, Pitres, Janet, 
and Raymond, hysteria has been considered a psychosis, as previously 
a great part of the psychoses were considered hysteria. The difference 
is that the latter view meant something, namely, the sexual origin 
=^-.-" of the psychoses, whereas the former view is only an expression 

of our infantile hope to discover somewhere in the brain chaste 
reasons for the indecent actions of hysterics. Psycho-analysis appears 
f^^yi- as the normal continuation of the general line of development, of 

1^1 which the pre-Freudian psychiatry, since Charcot and Griesinger, 

i^Ss', constitutes simply an interruption, an incident, the temporary hyper- 

il§^/ . trophy of a newly discovered principle, an incident, however, which 

pi has meant delay and stoppage in the discovery of the psychic 

M - nature of hysteria, because progress on tins patli urgently required 

the investigation of the psychic sexuality of the normal person. 
Here was tlie barrier which the investigators avoided and which 
\^:M also turned from its course the investigation of the brain. 

Freud, as we know, has broken through this barrier like a 
'■'^' ':' battering-ram, and has thus secured the progress of psychiatry. 

i^- Thirdly, we must not blind ourselves to the fact that the psycho- 

i^y analytical doctrine also affords its subjective gratification. Nobody 

can bear to turn exclusively to objects. And if Freud has taught 
j ' us to look at facts, and facts only, he has also taken the lead in 

I ^ recognising the co-operation of the pleasure-principle even in his 

%}M, " M. H. Romberg: Lehrbuch der Nervenkrankheiten, 1851, II, S. 209 ff. 

^'•*--' ■' t F. Jolly: Hysteric und Hypochondrie in v. Ziemssen Handbuch, 

2. Auflage, 1877. , ;- ---'■, . . ^ .-■. • 



own scientific work.^ Just where science appears gratifying to our 
mind we are to mistrust its results, if we wish to obey the law 
of necessity — the reality-principle. 

Science was faced with the problem of admitting the existence 
of mental diseases as an unpleasant fact. Since it was not at the 
time in the position to cure mental diseases, i. e. to change reality 
itself so that it became endurable, science had to add to reality 
sufficient intellectual gratification to serve as a support for the 
impulse to investigate mental diseases (a compensation that is 
found in every kind of science, including psycho-analysis), or else 
to exclude so much from reality that at least the idea of reality 
thus created became endurable. This was the path taken by the 
pre-Freudian psychiatry. It allowed the investigator to regard the 
mental diseases without too great discomfort and without having 
to relinquish the over-estimation of his own ego. But it crippled 
itself at the same time as far as its real purpose was concerned. 
It had to replace the excluded part of reality — in this object, as 
chance would have it, the principal part — by matters of secondary 
importance. And where it would not wish to give up its particular 
object, the mental disease, it had to fill up the existing paucity 
of thoughts with foreign words, authors' names, literary references, 
repetitions, and considerations loaded with the virtus dormitiva. 
Thus in an extreme development of this nature it conveys the 
impression of glossolaha. 

Freud, on the other hand preferred to forego a piece of nar- 
cissism from the start and thereby obtained the increase of the 
object libido which he used for breaking through the obstruction. In 
psycho-analytical literature the following are found as external 
signs of this essentially different standpoint: the absence of in- 
flation with references to the literature, etc., the absence of the 
taboo of one's own language, the working with the nuclei of 
concepts instead of limits of concepts, and with a fluid instead of 
a fixed system of working theories, the absence of 'replies to 
the preceding reply', the replacement of the antithesis, 'either-or 
by 'and-and'. 

Medical psycho-analysis thus appears as the psychiatry of a group 

of observers who have all, following the lead of a single individual, 

made mobile a part of their own narcissistic portion of libido. 

The remaining fixations can be broken up after this keystone has 

' See also Hegel, Nietzsche, Bolland, etc. 



been moved. We, as followers, found this procedure easier, because 
we were able to allow the attraction of the newly discovered 
fields for scientific thought to influence us. We must remember, 
however, that the narcissism is always ready to creep up again. 
This possibility threatens most easily from the side of morals, 
.-i><' religion, and scientific and philosophical systems. 

While the rest of the psychiatrists awaited the further elaborat- 
ion of psychiatry chiefly through the improvement of instruments 
and their methods of use, Freud recognised that in the first in- 
stance the investigator should be improved and adapted to his 
task. He demands that the investigator should have analysed him- 
self or been analysed before he undertakes the study and treatment 
^''- '■ of patients. This procedure is indispensable and not to be substi- 

"■f tuted by anything, not even by the profound study of psycho- 

-f^,- analytical literature. He who adopts this course gains a widening 

of his mental field of vision that henceforth becomes his most 
valuable instrument. Problems that were previously hidden in im- 
penetrable darkness become illuminated as by the sunrise. 
i^i , The field of the psychoses is not, as is imagined, the most 

-M difficult, but the easiest field of psychology to work upon. Palaeo- 

:'ii ' psychic layers that otherwise lie deeply buried and can only be 

,5^ reached after laborious mining are exposed to view in the psych- 

oses. Those things which are betrayed in the life of the healthy 
person and the neurotic only through indications, the real value 
of which can only be recognised through the microscope of psycho- 
analysis, are visible to all, in caricature-like enlargement, in the 
mental patient. The only need is eyes that can see and ears that 
If^': \ can hear. But the investigator can neither hear nor see because 

' he does not wish to see or hear, because the repressions of the 

normal person prevent it. 

Science always serves two different purposes, which the poet 
has symbolised clearly and briefly as the milch-cow and the godd- 
ess. The first of these is a social and above all a material pur- 
pose. The investigator's task is to bring a further portion of the 
external world that has been created by the mind by means of 
the sense organs of distance (hearing, sight, smell) into the reach 
of the sense organs of proximity (feeling, taste), and to get the 
useful part ready for incorporation. For this object, which is more 
r of service to society than to the investigator, it is necessary for 

>■ the latter to sacrifice a part of his own personal happiness. 

t-' .:. 


The second purpose is, on the other hand, subordinated only to 
the pleasure-principle. It concerns the upholding by magic thoughts, 
words and gestures of ethical, aesthetic and logical illusions con- 
cerning the ego and the external world. Here science encounters 
the competition of art and religion. The high gratification which 
science is also able to afford is only born when it, like art and 
religion, uses the everyday case for the representation of the 
sublime. It is just at this moment that it misses its other material- 
social purpose. The investigator, however, then receives his reward. 
Society is not uniformly agreed as to the second purpose. So 
far as society is able to experience in itself the happiness of the 
investigator, this aim of science is also to be called social; other- 
wise society is soon ready to disqualify him under any available 

The orientation ot psycho-analysis to these two purposes is 
different from that of the rest of psychiatry. The essential diifer- 
ence is a displacement in the direction of the reality-principle. ^ 
I have already enumerated the external symptoms of this. The 
two following characteristics which result from removal of the 
repression in the technique of research have a more intimate con- 
nection with this difference. Firstly, the tendency to return from 
the type to the isolated fact, in contrast to clinical psychiatry 
which exhausts itself in creating types. Secondly, the capacity of 
enduring unanswered questions and unsolved problems, in contrast 
to the compulsion in the non-analytical psychiatry to solve and 
to finish with problems, even if the solution be only illusory (e. g. 
the histology of the psychoses). In the endeavour to surrender 
this illusion of power we again recognise the same capacity to 
endure pain [Unlust) and delay gratification which we strive for 
in the patient by means of the treatment. It is true that the attain- 
ment of the original purpose is also delayed in the investigation 
of the brain, but a substitute is soon found and mastery obtained 
over this substitute, whereby the material-social purpose falls into 
the background, while the happiness of the investigator becomes 
correspondingly more pure. 

The sacrifice that the investigator makes to society by psycho- 
analysis is twofold. The first has already been discussed. It con- 
cerns the limitation of the high gratification of the pure desire for 

' See Binswanger's article in th& Internationale Zeitschrift fur Psycho- 
analyse, Bd. VII, S. 137. 



world-creating knowledge, for this is the happiness of the investig- 
ator. He must not surrender himself to the intoxication of creat- 
ion, but as soon as possible get ready for further advance. The 
edifice of hypotheses and the world illusion that arises from it are 
to serve as working theories and not for. aesthetic enjoyment. 
Self-criticism compels us to recognise that there is still much im- 
j'p" provement needed in this direction. The writer at least knows how 

;# far he is removed from complying with his own claims. 

The second is a more secondary one. It concerns the over- 
P^ . coming of the counter-transference. The old (laboratory) psychiatry 

solves this counter-transference according to the mechanism of 
the obsessional neurosis; it either keeps out of the way of the 
patient or approaches him only through the intervention of a host 
of apparatus of all kinds, which besides their alleged practical 
significance have also symbolic meanings that make them suited 
to give the repressed and suppressed tendencies a discharge by 
'■ something resembling a short circuit, which means useless waste 
of energy during the work. The analyst renounces this gratifica- 
tion; he endeavours to direct the forces, which finally drive him 
^ijM' also to the work, as directly as possible to the cultural aim, that 

r.Hhi' : of .education. 

1^ - , Reading psycho-analytical literature also demands extra work. 

kiM% In the usual psychiatry only the assimilation of the new material 

p|:5;' ■ _ is of moment. In psycho-analysis we have in addition to consider 

S'^-j^i the change necessary for the understanding of one's own psyche, 

namely, the mobilisation of fixed quantities. This absolute need 
for the overcoming of resistances is in all probability the reason 
for the remark often heard that psycho-analytic works are of such 
!;> .. ' bad style, vague or unintelligible. In view of all these sacrifices the 

question may be asked, how is it that anyone ever becomes an 
analyst? The answer must be that necessity, the most powerful 
factor of civilisation, has furnished the motive. ;.!/■> nriHm(h^Ti,v, 
^,1-,!, The principal demand for. the psychiatric investigation of the 
'. mental patient was to establish, to register, and to measure by 
every means all the phenomena and spontaneous expressions of 
the mental patient, and further to initiate methodical investigations 
in which both stimulus and effect are strictly determined (Sommer). 
:, irThis technique becomes sterile through the fact that the in- 
vestigator does not know his 'personal errors', and therefore can- 
not take into account the deviations arising from them. The 




observation of sexuality, genital as well as infantile auto-erotic, is 
radically destroyed by these psychical scotomata, and where ob- 
servation and registration of sexual factors still take place it is 
left out of account in working up the materials. 

The following example shows how these scotomata hinder the 
anamnesis. This sexual anamnesis of a male schizophrenic (four 
reactions negative), aged thirty-five, was obtained by an experien- 
ced lunacy and nerve specialist. 

15. Was the sexual impulse strong or perverse? How did it 
express itself? 

Answer: As usual. 

25. What was the nature of your mode of Ufe? (Excesses in 
love or wine, mental or bodily stress.) 

Answer: No excesses. Four years ago the patient had joined 
a woman abroad, having been previously disillusioned by being 
in love with a respectable girl who had refused his offer of 

The analyst was able to obtain the following 'additions' by 
simple questioning. 

Excessive masturbation in his youth and recently, once to five 
times a night. He made his first attempt at coitus on his sister 
who was about two years his senior when he was fourteen years 
old. This attempt his sister confirmed. From the age of seventeen 
onwards he had regular intercourse with prostitutes, gonorrhaea 
six times, and a lengthy treatment for dilatation of a stricture. 
Eight years ago he had an ulcer of the penis for which he was 
treated by injections and drugs for four or five years. Nine years 
ago he had relations with an actress. He was twice engaged and 
each time broke it off after a short while. He became depressed 
after the marriage of his sister. 

There was no question of suggestion here, as shown by the 
confirmation of the incest. 

In the methodical registration of stimulus and effect, the facts 
which show that the stimulus Is also of significance for the im- 
pulses of the patient are just as methodically ignored. Whether 
the investigator is a man or a woman, whether he is old or young, 
whether he has known the patient for some time or not, in a 
word this whole mass of impulse which as transference and 
counter-transference psycho-analysis makes the object of the in- 
vestigation, is lacking in psychiatrical case descriptions. There is 


only one means of getting round this defect, namely, psycho- 
analysis. Its use in the investigation of mental patients requires 
in the first instance its previous use upon the investigator. Then, 
having regard to the child-like nature of the patient, the material 
has to be collected mostly in the same way as Dr. von Hug- 
Hellmuth has suggested for child analysis, namely, in play ^ and 
conversation. As it is more difficult to obtain a useful positive 
transference in these patients, the relation has to become some- 
thing more real than in the analysis of the transference neuroses. 
The rule must be adhered to that only the minimum of discharge 
shall be permitted. It suffices to study the effect of commands and 
prohibitions prescribed by the situation, and the effect of small 

In society a good mutual relationship is only made possible 
through positive mutual transference: relics of the unconscious idea 
to stand to others in the relation of father or mother (brother, 
sister, husband) and the necessary feelings of love, are absorbed 
in the social relationships. This unconscious Constellation is, as we 
know, used in the treatment in order to be transferred on society 
in a more highly organised form via the analyst, and in order to 
re-establish the patient's rapport with society. The analyst avoids 
a stoppage of the process at the intermediate station, his own 
person, by carrying out the analysis of the transference in stages. 
Through the limitation of the material relation the transference 
becomes continually over-charged and accessible to analysis. 

This method however fails in institutional patients. Most of 
them have a rather hostile attitude from the beginning. They see 
in the doctor a jailer (the worst of it is that the conditions 
force him to be really such), and in order to obtain a be- 
ginning of contact he has to make use of the expedient of 
favouritism or gifts; he thereby creates at the same time a degree 
of actual relationship which he would like to avoid. Here the claims 
of the institutional doctor and the analyst diverge. The former 
accepts the father-r61e, readily seeks the real relation, and tries to 
profit by it in order to bring the patient to the highest possible 
degree of obedience and dependence, and to lead him along this 
path to work and social utility. The analyst meets with resistances 
in the analysis that are unconquerable, because the patient has it 

• The 'association experiment' belongs here. It has no special advan- 
tages over other occupations in common. 



in his power every time to enforce active intervention on the part 
of the doctor by incorrect conduct, and because some quantities 
which have been temporarily freed from their fixations flow off 
directly as short-circuits. 

I have, on the other hand, occasionally tried to safeguard 
myself against this by transferring the management of the discipline 
and all active intervention to the head nurse, but I found that she 
now received the bulk of the transference which should have 
helped my analysis. 

Each case has to be decided on its merits. Preceding or inter- 
current physical examination has proved advantageous in some 
cases, but in the majority unusually hindering. 

Finally one has to take into account that the temporary symptom 
formation can assume a very crude form. A schizophrenic to whom 
I had proved that he was in love with one of his female relatives, 
rewarded me by a sudden blow with his fist that left a depressed 
spot as a lasting remembrance. Another schizophrenic who had 
confessed a secret to me immediately attacked me and then 
tiarned upon himself with the result that he wounded himself in 
the wrist with a window-pane that he had struck. Later he so far ' 

recovered that he was able to take up his difficult occupation. 

Of course such sudden acts of violence occur also in con- i 

sequence of trifling motives outside analytic investigation, they are | 

not to be ascribed to the analysis, but to the low stage of organ- | 

isation of the patient's motility, though an analytic talk, like any '' | 

other, can cause the excitation. This possibility compels us to be 
more careful with communications to the patient, and to take care 
of ourselves. Dangerous patients I place in a corner behind a 
heavy table, or I use the hours when he is in a cold bandage. 

I am not so pessimistic as most people regarding the possibility 
of a therapy for the insane in institutions, a therapy which, if not 
true analysis, is nevertheless carried out according to the theses 
gained from analysis. The improvements seen after moving the 
patient to another location should make us think. There are many 
possibilities in the direction of Ferenczi's 'active psycho-analytic 
technique', and in the direction of combination with the cathartic pro- 
cedure, which still lie within our scotoma owing to our personal 
imperfections. If, as is likely, schizophrenia finds an organic basis 
in the loss of equilibrium between the germ and puberty glands, 
we can point out that both are interpolated in the whole chain of 



the sympathetic paths, and are accessible to psychic influence. 
The chief aim is the study of the aetiology and with it of pro- 

The success ah-eady attained by Freud also shows us the 
method that will play the principle part in the later development 
f-M ' of psychiatry. The psychiatrist will have to renounce a further 

^■^% portion of his narcissism. '• '^ 

';ij«' We have arrived at the conviction that important sources of 
,;'„^\ error as regards the results lie in the person of the investigator. 

i;'^, 'In astronomy it has long been known that the personal error has 

^:h" . to be taken into account in the observation. Besides, it is known 

how the utility of working theories has previously suffered from 
'^ ■ the fact that the earth was considered the centre of the universe, 

|>^. , and how the sacrifice of this over-valuation led at once to a great 

if#- V advance of science, even though at first it suffered from strong 

Y.^f- and active opposition on the part of the ruling powers. 

f^^; , i -ill, What was possible for astronomy has also to serve for psychiatry. 

tjM We also have to learn to sacrifice that part of our self-overestimation 

1^;^^ ' which places in the centre and considers unassailable our truth, our 

^£ religion, our standard of civilisation. We have to give up the 

!&•; narcissistic and infantile idea that development is the path to 

|:'_v|;. greater ' purposiveness ' of action. Every action is purposive for 

^ ■ our one purpose, that of the libido, and without purpose for our 

other purpose, that of the ego impulses, or vice versa, or for both. 
In human development is to be seen perhaps only the one guiding 
line — that of the progressive retardation of the discharge, i. e. pro- 
longation of life. Biologically considered this certainly is not 
always an advantage for the species, and if carried out unchecked 
the principle, which paralyses the elasticity of the' species, could 
just as well destroy it as it has destroyed other great species. 

The psycho-analytical continuation of psychiatry will have to 
free itself from the arrogance that lies hidden in the word 'subli- 
mation'. This word has been invented by a philosopher, and is 
better replaced by 'domestication', or 'taming'. Where possible 
' these judgements as to value must be avoided. In the end nobody 
can do this, but they can be postponed — and in the meantime 
analysed — to the point where the doctor steps in, i. e. the therapy, 
or the prophylaxis. It is then found that the points of attack and 
the direction of this help are quite different from those of the 
present psychiatry, which leaves its aims wholly to the rest of 


society. The psycho-analytic psychiatry which has developed from 
the Freudian 'behaviour '-psychology of the human being has further 
aims. It should not be forgotten that it has a double task. When 
the analyst teaches the individual to limit his libidinous ex- 
pressions to vi^hat is allowed by society, and to lead the infantile 
fixed libido again to civilised aims, and educates him to endure 
mental privation, he has then a second more comprehensive duty 
towards society, which, although dictated by the same healing 
endeavour, leads in an opposite direction. He must reconcile society 
with the libido, with death, in short with the unconscious. 

This then will be the last and practically important consequence 
of the difference between the psychiatrist and analyst. The old- 
style psychiatrist is a servant of the censorship, an instrument of 
society, he treats the 'out-casts'. The analyst, who has here and 
there to some slight extent pushed aside the barrier of the cen- 
sorship in himself, should use society itself as an instrument for 
social progress, he must serve society without reference to the 

The reality-principle protects against dangers of a direct kind 
which threaten from without, the pleasure-principle against the 
inner danger of overloading and against remoter biological dangers. 
To the neurotic the disadvantages of the pleasure-principle are 
made clear, to society the disadvantages of a too exclusive homage 
to the reality-principle must be brought forward. The normal 
being, of whom we know least of all, must be discovered and if 
necessary cured. 


^ I 

In Grimm's fairy tale of the white snake the servant tastes a 
small portion from the king's secret dish, which contains a white 
snake, and then all of a sudden he can understand the language 
of birds. 

' Including material presented in a paper read before the Sixth Inter- 
national Psycho-Analytical Congress, The Hague, September, 1920. 


This simile characterises the revolutioa which Freud's teaching 
has brought into the hfe of the psychiatrist who ventures to taste 
the forbidden dish. The patient's gesticulations, his phantastic 
delusions and confused nonsense, become full of meaning, and he 
becomes again a human being among human beings. He is no 
longer considered, as previously and even to-day by a number 
of scientific physicians of institutions, a more or less worthless 
appendage to his brain, his death being waited for with scarcely 
repressed impatience; and not till dead, dissected in the laboratory, 
does he become the object of an aesthetic cult of the dead. In 
other words, Freud has made possible a useful counter-transference 
to the failure or repression of which is due the retarded develop- 
ment of psychiatry. 

We have therefore arrived at a point which belongs to my 
paper — namely, the problem of the relations between neuroses and 
psychoses. The neurosis itself absorbs the interest of the physician 
in the patient; the transference of the patient to the physician in- 
creases this interest and helps to get over the advancing hostile 
transferences. In mental patients transferences to the physician are 
not lacking; their unpleasant, gross and hostile expressions are too 
well known, they are transferences of an infantile or a negative 
libido (hate transferences). The transference mania of hysterics 
corresponds to the delusions of persecution in the psychoses, 
the latter being the negative-libidinal analogue of the former, i 
Negativism also is a kind of transference mania of negative 

The first aim is to fix the criteria of the concepts ' neurosis ' 
and 'psychosis', and this is by no means easy. It has happened 
in foro that the psychiatric expert, asked what actually constituted 
a mental patient, has answered that he did not know. Therefore 
we will consider the different criteria given by the laity (whose 
opinion is here authoritative and also is expressed in legislation), 
by psychiatry, and finally by psycho-analysis. Here we shall have 
to make two digres-sions, one of which takes for its subject the 
nosological position of civilisation as an entire phenomenon, the 
other keeps in view the development of motor inhibition. 

Difficulties arise from the fact that the psychotic person like 

» Freud: ' Zur Dynamik der tJbertragung ', Zcntralbl. f, Psa., Bd. II, 
S. 168 ff.: 'Where the capability of transference has become essentially negat- 
ive, as in paranoia, the possibility of influence and cure ceases.' 


the neurotic only seeks advice on his own initiative in exceptional 
cases. The concept of psychosis is only conceivable in a society ; 
an isolated individual, Robinson Crusoe for instance, could have 
a neurosis, but not a psychosis, because a psychosis can only exist 
in relation to a society regarded as normal. Its criteria are: 

1. Social troublesomeness, harmfulness, or failure of co-operation, 
in as far as their motives are unintelligible to society. When they 
are intelligible then the deviating individual is regarded as an 
offender or criminal if he is defeated. If he knows how to carry 
himself through, then he is regarded as a hero or great man. 

2. Inability to appreciate the feelings of others. The relativity 
of this criterion is evident ; so we have the constantly repeated 
conflicts as to whether this or that symptom stamps a person as 
a mental case. 

3. B'ailure of relation to reality. I need only allude to the per- 
secutions which science has suffered at the hands of religion in 
order to demonstrate the subjective character of this criterion. 
Whoever does not feel convinced of tliis might consider how 
psycho-analysts are reproached by their opponents with failure of 
relation to reality, and that it finally depends solely on the numerical 
superiority of the one or other party whether society considers 
the opponents as unfortunately left behind, or Freud's pupils as a 
paranoiac sect. 

4. Lack of insight into the illness, or defence of his position 

on the part of the patient by means of projection. As concerns ,. 

logical response the mental patient is inaccessible. We trace this 
peculiarity to reinforced narcissism. The number of 'normal' people 1 

who lack any insight into the morbid nature of their peculiarities, 
for example, alcoholics, is very great, yet they are not considered 
mental cases; not to speak of religious and philosophical convic- j' 

tions, the adherents of which mutually reproach one another with '^ 

the same charges. ^ ^i^ufo ^rprt rti :nm^']" 

Failure of co-operation is also found in neurotics arid many 
normal parasitic natures, and so our first mentioned criterion is 
incomplete. Obviously a certain degree of capacity for positive 
transference and intellectual performances can cause society to 

' See also Dresslar's questionnaire referred to by Ernest Jones in the 
Zmtralbl. f. Psa., Bd. II. Dresslar found 7176 descriptions of different super- 
stitions in 875 American students; in 3225 cases there was belief in the 
truth of the superstition. 

■» -■. 



<3isregard failure which otherwise would be considered complete. 

The example of the intelligent paranoiac on the one hand, and 

that of the lazy, superstitious and dishonest war-profiteer on the 

other shows how little this criterion gratifies logical feelings. 

I We might expect tiiat besides the conscious criteria one or 

■, ,, more unconscious criteria exist, and that these will be decisive. 

L?M Behind those various ways in which the mentally diseased are 

openly recognised as constituting a danger to society there lies 

another unmentioned one. We find indications of it in the attitude 

with which the public regards the insane person; this attitude 

contains a certain horror and at the same time an equally ill- 

/\ ', founded sympathy. The normal person has a feeling of uncanni- 

, Bess as regards the mental patient. The patient's incapability for 

.;, normal conversation disturbs the belief in the power of spoken 

!;p: words, and his apparent incapability of being influenced and his 

|||v incurability disturb the belief in one's own omnipotence. The belief 

t:^. .. in the magic power of the spoken word and the belief in the 

.power over other human beings and nature in general rest on 

narcissism. The normal person protects his narcissism, and prob- 

}^- ably in a certain respect quite righdy, since physical health partly 

^My depends upon it. This unconscious narcissism is severely affected 

by association with mental patients. 

The repressions of the normal person are endangered in yet 
another way. In the wards of the troublesome mental patients one 
is literally on a visit to the unconscious. Here the uncanny forces 
of the deep can be denied no longer, they show themselves openly 
like the glowing fire of a volcano, and call up in the visitor their 
deep and distant rumblings. 

Society considers as mad him who threatens to reveal to men 

its unconscious, and knows no other means of defence against 

such revelation than to isolate the madman. ,i.(Oi)i?,of| 

This fifth criterion is the most important and compared with 

it the remainder appear as pretexts. ; . ••. 

,:?; -hy -"i'''-^ THE NORMAL AND THE ABNORMAL -'''i-'ini'r.'.H. 

The criteria which psychiatry gives for mental disease will not 
detain us long: there are none. On the other hand, the boundaries 



between the normal and abnormal are precisely stated. But as 
soon as the question is put: How much abnormal performance / 

must there be in order to constitute mental disease? the answer , 

is awaited in vain. When the psychiatrist has to express an opinion 
on this matter he manifestly acts just like a layman with a general | 

education. Here and there attempts are made to answer this 
question on principle, but they are either too indefinite, for j| 

example: (dans les psycho-nevroses) '. . . les symptomes psychiques ui 

sont plus d^velopp6s que dans les nevroses simples ou partielles, 
mais ils y sont moins accentu^s et moins constants que dans les | 

v^sanies; le ddire, notamment, n'y est qu'un Episode accidentel .; 

et transitoire alors qu'il est dp regie dans les v^sanies' (Ray- 
mond) ;l or they appeal in the last resort to the above criticised lay 
criteria of failure in adaptation to society, or of unintelligibility as I 

regards logic: '. . . in consequence of their coildition they are unable 
to guide themselves or preserve or respect the rights of others 
(Forel) ; '. . . in consequence of their condition other persons are i 

needed for their care and protection, or they cause annoyance, | 

injury and danger to other individuals or to the public' (Erlen- 

It can be seen that these definitions are made according to 
society, the rights of which are considered unassailable in contrast 
to thosis of individuals. Forel's definition would include the maj- 
ority of normal people. 

There is no * medico-technical' diagnosis of 'mental disease'. ^ 

Psychiatry has good grounds for the fact that it will not define 
the boundary sharply and according to scientific laws, otherwise 
it would be inevitable that phenomena which have to be account- 
ed as normal— like religion, superstition, amourousness, or even j 
the normal feeling of 'reality'— would place it in an awkward 

Legislation makes it just as bad. In general it lays down that j, 

'raving', 'mad', or 'weak-minded' persons, who through their I 

illness are either robbed wholly of the use of their reason, or at 
least incapacitated from perceiving the results of their actions, 
must be put under restraint, and regarded as not or only partly 

accountable or responsible for their actions: ' failure of the 

capacity to act reasonably' (Switzerland, Z. G. B., par. 16.); *A state 

' Nevroses et psycho-n6vroses. Trait6 international de Psychologie patho- 
logique (A. Marie), Alcan, Paris, 1911. 


of morbid disturbance of mental activity excluding the free deter- 
mination of the will, so far as this state according to its nature is 
not temporary'. (Germany, B, G. B., par. 104.); 'The concept of 
mental disturbance has a special significance for every sphere of 
law. Here it concerns something so specific that the same individual 
can be a mental case in the meaning of one law and not one in 
the meaning of another law ' (E. Schultze in Aschaffenburg, Hand- 
buch der Psychiatrie). 

The juridical definition of the concept of mental disease ('Failure 
of free determination of will', 'Failure of the necessary insight') 
has led a legal psychiatrist (O. Bumke in Aschaffenburg, Hand- 
buch der Psychiatrie) to allude expressly to the lack of scientific 
method underlying psychological concepts: 'Under circumstances 
the expert has to emphasise in opposition to this that this insight 
can exist, yet the capacity for employment — perhaps through dis- 
turbances of the mental qualities or qualities of the will — can have 

While the absolute dependency of the concept of mental 
disease on the tolerance of society is wholly unconscious in the 
juridical definition of the concept, it begins to emerge in the 
psychiatric formulations. 

Psycho-analysis can only continue this order of development. 
It has to accept the existence of the lay concept of mental disease 
and trace it back to its unconscious origin, which we found in 
the menace to cultural repression by the mentally affected person 
in consequence of his inadequate capacity for untruth and dis- 
simulation or repression and domestication. Psycho-analysis traces 
back these incapabilities to definite consequences of instinctive 
forces. It also shows that these consequences are found in numerous 
occurrences of normal hfe which are not looked upon as 'mental', 
because, as experience has shown, they only last a short time and 
admit of a definitely favourable prognosis (Hke the slips of everyday 
life), or — and tliis is valid for similar types of longer duration — 
because they occur in so many individuals that the average human 
being has been able to establish his repressions particularly firmly 
in this respect, and that he is always opposed to them and there- 
fore no longer shocked by them (idealism). 

There is also a difference in the disposition. A regressive format- 
ion which affects simultaneously a number of individuals standing 
in social relationship to one another will easily find a social outlet 


(sects, war, sleep). On the other hand, the regressive solitary type 
of individual is suppressed at once by society {as far as he does 
not know how to use society for his own purpose!). If it breaks 
through regardless of this resistance, then this proves a stronger 
energy of the regressive or progressive occurrence, a condition 
which psycho-analysis traces back to early acquired fixations in 
definite stages (dififerent for each syndrome) of development of 
the impulses. Psycho-analysis, in considering this quantitative diffe- 
rence, interests itself in the analogous phenomena exhibited by 
normal people. The mental life of the normal person is a symphony 
of single performances of the various stages of development. Some 
of the stages, like sleep, are extremely deep regressions, surpassing 
the severest psychoses in depth and, strange to say, often absent 
in these latter, "-"i? <-m M^t'r-'H'.i^ ••■- ---i-- -(■■•■■ ■•' ;' ■ ■ ' 



Since there exists a state of conflict between mental patients 
and society it behoves science to subject society to an investigation 
in order to facilitate an impartial study. --:» S/'H' 

What is this society that we find as the co-ordinating axis when 
we attempt to arrive at the concept of 'mental disease'.? Here the 
matter is obviously different from the neuroses. There we found 
as object of comparison the picture of the ideal normal human 
being composed of the various ideal aspects of reality. An ideal 
society has not yet been created, on tlie contrary all are agreed 
that much of society is valueless. Many thinkers — I need only 
mention Carpenter and Ruskin— were not afraid to compare present- 
day civilisation with a disease. Actually at the present time it is 
easy to hold this opinion. The civihsation of the white race is a 
morbid one. 

The gains won by civilisation are of course very important: 
■^an improved defence against enemies from other realms of 
nature, and a more intensive utilisation of the natural sources of 
life, these together leading to a considerable extension of the 
duration of life. Many people, however, will not look upon material 
advantages as the most important gain, but upon the feelings of 
security and superiority which permit the civilised human being 




to be himself so proud and independent in comparison with 
nature— an attitude which in primitive people was possible only 
to kings and magicians. Otiiers, on the contrary, wih perceive the 
most important gains in the sacrifice of the individual for the 
whole, the feeling of fellowship, and the self-control which civili- 
sation demands, or will call special attention to the lofty superiority 
of the civihsed religions. I acknowledge all these qualities, but should 
like to allude to a few on the darker side. 

First of all I may point to the unequal distribution of the 
material advantages of civilisation. It is not the possession of this 
or that quantity of goods that makes a, person fortunate, but the 
fact that there are but few of his wishes that cannot be gratified. 
Modern intercourse, in dangling before the e3^es of the poor all 
kinds of riches, creates more requirements tlian can be gratified- 
the tradesman even thinks it is his duty 'to create requirements'. 
p- That is to say, he makes an occupation by making human beings 


Secondly, as contrasting with the security of modern life I may 
point to wars and class warfare, which, it is true, do not occur 
incidentally in the course of everyday existence, but which, nevertheless, 

••^H.^> . occur with the same regularity as the manic phases of a periodic 

sC|^" psychosis, or the attacks of an epileptic. Wars belong to society, 

r*'^;'--' as the other manifestations belong to disease. 

. /,. Too little consideration is given to the fact that in the ethical 

advantages of civilised society the social elements are by no means 

j composed exclusively of 'sublimated' erotic impulses. Civilised 

' society consists rather of a nucleus working for the whole— a nucleus 

which is indeed actually held together by love, and of a great 
number of individuals whose interest in society is the interest of 
the beast of prey for its spoil. The latter group depends on 

t cultural control and exercises this control for its purpose; its 

cultural progress makes the ethical advantages .of civilisation 

': Illusory. ,u;,., .^ri,!.,.^:.;;,: _..., ,.''U, ' "V!',''T "'"'V 

tf. Finally- I believe that the loss even as regards cultural values 
which the civilisation of to-day brings with it is not estimated at 
( its true extent. It seems to me that logic cannot increase with, 

^ but only at the expense of ethics and aesthetics. While among 

I primitive peoples every woman can make a pretty ornament or 

I vessel herself, in civilised lands the artist is only a freak of nature. 

I" In lands where industrial civilisation has progressed farthest there 


are no artists at all. This statement, so simple in itself, signifies in 
reality such an enormous loss that this alone should be sufficient 
to prevent one being enthusiastically in love with the alleged 
advances of civilisation. It seems to me that a lengthening of the 
duration of life is of little value if at the same time the content 
of life is diminished. 

The unequal development of the sexes compels the woman to 
sublimate more than she can sustain on the average, because the 
man, seduced by covetousness, so splits and wastes his libido in. 
social life, or is forced to keep it infantile through care about the 
daily bread, that he is no longer sufficiently capable of love. 
Civilised education compels the two sexes to divert so much libido 
into phantasy and life of thought that the capacity for real gratif- 
ication is lost to a great extent, and it punishes at the same time 
its all too obedient victims by an increased tendency to psycho- 
neuroses. While on the one hand the woman is compelled to turn 
a great part of her libido towards the young child on account of 
little gratification received from the man, on the other hand 
society takes over education from the parents much earlier and 
thereby deprives the mother of the love object which she needed 
the more. The children seldom remain with their parents to the 
end of their education, on account of the strongly developed social 
life. The children become more spoiled through their limited 
number, have greater craving for affection, and are then torn from 
their parents by society at an age when they are allowed to 
express the greater craving only in a highly domesticated manner. 
The morbid nature of this civilisation also follows from the fact 
that a people, or a part of a people, who have succumbed to it 
regularly diminish numerically. 

The concept 'disease' is only conceivable in connection with 
the concept 'health'; therefore it is obligatory for me to indicate 
what is a 'healthy' civilisation. I consider it permissible in the 
scope of this work to content myself provisionally with the thesis 
that a healthy society should be that in which the happiness of 
individuals is not pressed down below a certain minimum through 
care about the existence of the species; and I leave open the 
possibility that an ideally 'healthy' civilisation is probably excluded 
altogether through the existence of certain impulses in the white 
races. The solution of the problem has to be left to economics, 
in connection with which, however, psycho-analysis has to give 


the advice that in the solutions up to the present a morbid path 
has been followed which is perceptible in a psycho-neurosis of 
individuals, still better in its fatality. The solutions so far have 
failed on account of the underestimation of the claims of the un- 
conscious and the libido. A compromise is made between the two 
demands of culture in the ' white ' civilisation of to-day. The indiv- 
idual happiness, as mentioned above, is considerably limited by 
the precepts of civilisation. 

The existence of the species is only secured by the fact that 
civilisation is not held in equal estimation as regards the whole 
of society, but is only proved in certain spheres and social classes 
while the, increase of population originates from the less civilised 
or uncivilised spheres (Dulosis). As soon as a people strives to 
raise itself in toto to a certain stage of civilisation it diminishes 
numerically. Civilisation seems then to be a disease which is 
imposed on a certain portion of society in order to obtain a 
certain extra gain whereby all profit. Economically the motive of 
existence falls to the ground as soon as the extra gain becomes 
too small, as is now the case in the eyes of many people. 

This does not interest us psychologically, but it presents a 
striking agreement with the psycho-neuroses, the existence of 
which often likewise depends on a certain 'secondary gain of ill- 
ness ', because a tendency ' sifts from the many momentary psychic 
states of various stages those who provide this gain and gives it 
a longer duration— as 'neuroses', etc. — if the condition of the 
disposition is also fulfilled. We are further interested psychologic- 
ally in the investigation of the details of the phenomena of civilisa- 
tion which permits insertion in our present comparison of 'neur- 
otic' phenomena. We keep in view the distinction between the 
social secondary gain of illness in civilisation and the individual 
secondary gain of illness in the neurosis, and emphasise that this 
is the only distinction, so that civilisation passes over completely 
into illness as soon as the gain becomes too individual. Civilisation 
considered from the individual point of view belongs to neurotic 
phenomena. , 

I think one can go further and attempt a more precise dia- 
gnosis of this civilisation-disease by the insight obtained from psycho- 
analytical experience. But I must keep strictly to the scope of my 

> Or several, egoistic and libidinal, tendencies. 


I concur with Freud's opinion given in 1908. ' Freud states 
that besides the necessity of life there are family feelings derived 
from erotism which have induced the individual to suppress his 
impulse for the advantage of society. In all probability it can be 
added that the prohibitions proceeding from the father participated 
in this process of suppression, and that these prohibitions more 
easily succeeded in diverting the love from the mother, because 
the primitive work which was available as a substitute for the 
original activity of the libido was capable of receiving great quant- 
ities of libido. It is perhaps in this outline superfluous to allude 
to the fact that the present industrial work no longer exhibits this 
characteristic. The higher organisations of the libido are taken 
away from the work in a great measure, and placed at the dis- 
posal of religion and the neuroses. The result of this is a damming 
of libido, since the libido, as Freud has clearly shown, is more 
and more banished from civilised love-life and has to be satisfied 
only with phantasy and pleasure. 

In consequence of this increasing insufficiency of the work the 
paternal prohibition (and command) has to be used more and more 
for social purposes, and society is kept intact only through prohibit- 
ions, and the more so the longer these prohibitions are utilised. 

The correlated excessive fear of death (arising from the situa- 
tion, depicted by Freud, of the death of the father) supplies the 
motive for the equally extreme development of hygtene, which 
keeps the civilised human being in an invisible glass cage, and of 
cleanliness which assumes the dimensions of a phobia. 

A far-going inhibition of hostile object-erotic factors directed 
upon the members of the family becomes necessary in society^ 
factors which in times of peace are finally discharged in work and 
pleasure. Thereby both work and pleasure have the character of 
aggressive activity (this character belongs both to primitive and 
civilised society). 

The anal-erotic factors, expelled alike from the fields of love 
and work by hygiene and cleanhness, find a substitute in the 
desire to acquire products, in the last resort time and money, 
those two symbols of faeces (this characteristic being confined 
to civilised societies), --..j^r-- ,„.; 7- •.i.i.u.^uL- c ;•;> - • 

» Sigm. Freud: 'Die tultiirelle'Sexiialmbral und did rnbafcrne Nervositat , 
Sexualprohhme, 1908, 4. Also in Sammlung kleiner Schriften zur Neurosen- 
. lehre, Zweite Folge, 1909, S. 175. 


The obsessional neurotic character of civilisation results from 
this compulsive striving and these aggressive tendencies. 

I shall not give further analogies w^hich exist even on super- 
ficial comparison between civilisation and obsessional neuroses,* 
but only mention that the return of repressed material is not 

To those who are not able to pass through the whole of this 
development the result seems to furnish relatively gratifying 
syntheses. But the pleasure always requires an ever increasing 
amount of time, since the libido is now excluded from work and 
love is prohibited for reasons of hygiene, it has to find its gratification 
in the period of recreation. 

Moreover the solution becomes unsatisfactory as far as it is 
only attainable for a minority, and even for this minority does 
not prove to be a firm basis. 

The striving for time and money, by the class' satisfied thereby, 
depreciates the work of the rest of the community, while the 
altered social relationships are opposed to a development of the 
family life which should be able to receive the libido quantities 
■which flow back from the work. Hence diminution of work, fatigue, 
etc. after a time endangers life just as much as the origmal situation 
of pleasure, rest and danger to life. 

Freud has warned us against regarding the life of primitive 
peoples as unfettered and only filled with pleasure. He has shown 
us that it is limited by taboo prohibitions in every important 
respect, and almost at each step the infringement of some pro- 
hibition is threatened. We also know that savages, if they are 
less afraid of the open and conscious risk ofdeaihthan ourselves, 
nevertheless for the most part do not possess stabile courage: 
they are easily seized with panic, and are dominated by the fear 
of the mysterious death brought about by spirits. The institution 
of the taboo is not in a position to compensate all this anxiety, 
and a certain quantity remains as such. 

Among civilised people, whose religion is so much more 

1 There is only lacking the consciousness of illness; therefoi-e the civilis- 
ed actions compulsively earned out would have to be christened as a 
superstitious ceremonial, rather than as an obsessional neurotic one. The 
claim that the patient must recognise that he is ill is however quite arbi7 
trary and it is best to leave it alone. In the diagnosis ' tuberculosis ' or 
' typhus ' no one would think of raising it. 



complicated, a part of the fear of death is elaborated just as in the 
case of savages. This part applies to earthly death as such. The 
hygiene and cleanliness taboos are erected for its compensation, 
and at the samet ime logically based. The fear of death is replaced 
by the care about the observance of these taboo orders. 

As regards another part the fear of death is removed by rais- 
ing death to eternal and real life. ^ The religions which bring this 
about elude the practical consequences to be drawn from this by 
giving a number of precepts upon the observance of vi^hich eternal 
salvation is made dependent. The fear of death as far as it is 
transmuted into a religious sense is replaced by fear of eternal 
punishment, and this again by care about the observance of the 
moral code. This elaboration therefore finally ends in a taboo 
similar to the neurotic obsessions. If one has to admit that the 
savage is not as free as he appears to be, this is also valid as 
regards the civilised human being and moreover in a still higher 

It is usual to allude to the normal person's capacity to sup- 
press his narcissism. The normal human being is supposed to be 
in the position to sacrifice his ego for the social whole. I should 
like to question the general validity of this statement, though I 
admit that it may be applicable as regards exceptions or even as 
regards a large minority of people. It would seem rather that the 
normal human being gives his life for the whole only when 
this sacrifice is associated with the setting free of lowly organised 
aggressive tendencies and partial impulses. It is well known that 
good discipline can be maintained in an army only if there is a 
real fight, and that the soldier tends to fire shots in the battle, 
though they may not hit the mark, solely to relieve himself. I see 
in the capacity of the normal person to tolerate military discipline 
merely a relaxation of his higher psychic organisations which are 
normally directed towards peaceful activities, and a sense oi dim- 
inished effort at finding himself once again in the situation of 
the automatically obedient child. From above and not from below 
— from the narcissism— originate therefore the sublimated allo- 
erotic forces which qualify for discipline. The infantile rewards of 
uniforms, distinctions etc., which have always been necessary, show 
that narcissism is not really given up in the army, but has merely 
become more infantile. At the moment of battle, as Wolozkoi's 
' Freud: 'Zeitgemafies tiber Krieg und Tod', Imago, Bd. IV, S. 1. 



investigations have shown, there is rarely a conscious sacrifice of 
life for the whole, the majority are not capable of the simplest 
psychical performances, but only of automatic repetitions and 
similar attempts at flight, defence and attack, or advance. 

The sublimations and reaction-formations of the social human 
being follow the mechanisms of the obsessional neuroses (there 
is here an agreement of the moral, logical, and aesthetic com- 
pulsion with that of the neuroses). They also tend to the return 
of repressed material. We see the civilisation of a people or a 
race built up in cycles according to the mechanisms of the ob- 
sessional neurosis, until it becomes no longer bearable ; then there 
comes about a limitation of the useful effect through the return of 
the repressed material in disguised form, and a breaking through 
*^7 of forbidden things in war and revolution, according to the prin- 

ciples of the manic psychoses, while various 'isms' analogous to 
the paranoid fields are not lacking. 

Our axis of co-ordination is better orientated— according to 

the principle of relativity — by these reflections. The civilised 

human being suffers from a special form of obsessional neurosis. 

The civilisation of the period of industrial production corresponds 

' to a regression to the second pregenital organisation of the libido. 


Having thus cleared the ground we can continue our reflections 
Civilisation demands regression. All those who have not sufficient 
fixation on the second pregenital organisation of the libido will 
have difficulty in conducting themselves socially. Family education 
has the aim oi making of the child a capable and loving father 
or mother. As soon as society takes over education it negatives 
this purpose and strives for an infantile one. In a small number 
of individuals a small part of the libido is further sublimated, 
but to attain this end, the sublimation already achieved by the 
remainder is ruthlessly sacrificed. To those who become neurotic 
at an early age, because they cannot keep pace with this devel- 
opment, must be added those who later on in puberty refuse the 
regression demanded by society, or in whom the regression turns 
out differently, because the points of fixation of their libido are 



not those which society demands. Society forces upon them in- 
fantile gratifications (like the monotonous repetitions involved m 
working with machines) i and thereby calls forth the whole in- 
fantile libido-position from the past. As soon as suitable points 
of fixation appear in development there arises opportunity for the 
origin of psychotic phenomena. If no suitable fixations exist then 
there occur regressive alterations of character, alterations as serious 
and profound as the regressions of the psychoses and just as 
detrimental to civilisation, but which are not recognised as such 
because they appear en masse. These types of regression— many 
of which are typical as regards modern society— belong in a 
great measure to the type of the situation-psychoses. They are 
remedied by transplantation into an environment where the social 
stage of libido-discharge is on a different level. This distinction 
between the alterations of character in question and the recognised 
psychoses is still further lessened by the fact that a great number 
of these latter, a number which is greater the stricter the in- 
vestigation, belong to the situation-psychoses. * 

Before I pass on to a more detailed comparison I should like 
to make a few general remarks on disposition (fixation) in tiie 
psychoses. In the following considerations we shall start from the 
conclusion at which we have now arrived, i. e., that the usual 
classification into psychotic, neurotic and normal phenomena does 
■not represent a gradation of the depth of regression of such a 
kind that the normal stands at the head, and the other groups 
respectively each a stage lower. This division rests exclusively on 
the relationship of the groups to what is tolerated socially. In 
psychotics the suppression fails, in neurotics there takes place a 
process of compromise, while normal people either submit them- 
selves to society or else induce society to submit to them. 

For the comparison of the regressions the corresponding 
phenomena of normal mental life will be distributed between the 
two other groups. I presuppose therefore an ideal, strict, social, 
ethical norm, as it is found only as a demand bat not a reality, 
and I call psychotic the psychical expressions which have more 
the character of a flat refusal of this ethical suppression of im-^ 

» There also results from this an 'ego-contiict' in the traumatic neuroses, 
of peace-time. 

• i. e. psychoses where the external situation has played a prominent part 
in the onset (Bleuler). 


pulse, and neurotic those in which the character of a comprom- 
ise is evident. Used only in -this sense our intuitive inclination - 1 
is right in ascribing to the psychoses more intense regression. 
This intensity is determined by a sum of products, the factors of ' 
which are on the one hand the depth of regression, and, on the ; 
other, the quantity of libido regressing to it. . 

It is customary to consider a fixation in narcissism as essential '' 

for the psychoses, and to contrast this group with the transference ^ 

neuroses as narcissistic neuroses. I recognise the heuristic value ' 

of this grouping, but should like to emphasise that narcissistic fix- i 

ation ?lso belongs to the disposition of normal 'civilised people'. ) 

The peculiarity of psychotics consists in an insufficient relation- 
ship between socially transferable and narcissistically fixed libido. ; 
The movement of regression can very well take place in such i 
a manner that auto-erotic or socially useless early object-erotic 
fixations take up the regressed social transference quantities. Thereby 

the narcissistic intensity and quantity can remain the same, but J 

the relationship between social transference and narcissism can j 

change in favour of the latter. 1 

The disposition to the psychoses is rather to be sought in the ■ 

fact that the whole sum of all more primitive fixations (palaeo- 
psychic fixations) exceeds a certain value. Psychoses are also de- 
noted by a high degi-ee of fixation. The stage at which the fix- 
ations lie is not characteristic for the psychotic (antisocial-neurotic) 
individual as a whole, but for each syndrome itself If, nevertheless, 
it is wished to retain the name 'narcissistic neuroses' instead of, 
for example, 'palaeo-psychoses' for the antisocial-neurotic syndrome 
group ^ then at least it should be emphasised that the narcissism j 

of the psychoses, to which this name alludes, is an infantile one. i 

The narcissism has also its further development like object-erotism. '~\ 

The development of the libido, as Freud has described it, from ! 

auto-erotism to narcissism and then to allo-erotism — homosexual- \ 

ity and heterosexuality — can only take place through the meet- 
ing together of the libido with an impulse which splits it up, joins s 
itself with the fragments, and changes its direction. This impulse, 

> It would be better to keep separate the lay concept of 'mental disease' 
as an antisocial-psychotic group of individuals from the psychological concepts 

palaeo-psychoses, neo-psychoses, etc, which are here created and under which ' 

are to be understood definite types of intensity of regression, independent 
of the question how they are estimated by society. . 


the ego impulse, we only recognise in that quality as antagonist 
of the Ubido. Yet this connection is not sufficient to explain the 
numerous forms of the libido. An association of only two elements 
offers only limited possibilities. We have to assume a third factor, 
one which is most probably constituted as follows : the portions 
of the libido which have received the stamp of the different eroto- 
genic zones also retain a certain independence within their later 
formed syntheses like the radical in the molecule. 

The narcissistic synthesis may at first consist of an association 
(which may vary very greatly both qualitatively and quantitatively) 
of different auto-erotic components, and these components as well 
as the syntheses formed from them can, moreover, stand on higher 
or lower stages of inhibition, i. e., be allied with more or less ego 
impulses. If then one takes into consideration that the libido as 
far as it is stamped has still a direction, which we express with 
positive or negative signs, and that we have to distinguish among 
the ego impulses at least formative, secretory, sensory (?), and motor 
ones, then possibilities of combination are given which can com- 
prise life as far as it lies within our scope. 

The development of narcissism is still very imperfectly known. 
Probably the processes of splitting and condensation are both 
effective. Condensation in the sense that auto-erotic components 
of the impulse are soldered with the kernel: splitting in the 
sense that quantities of the narcissistic impulse-condensation are 
split off and enter into new syntheses with object-erotic and ego- 
impulse quantities governed by the pleasure- and reality-principles. 
The split-off quantities constantly approach more to egoism through 
the continual union of new ego-impulse quantities. It is not known 
to which of the stages the narcissism belongs, the fixation of which 
conditions the disposition to antisocial-psychotic phenomena; it 
is to be supposed that several narcissistic points of fixation have 
to be distinguished and that these differences contribute to the 
choice of psychosis. 

The manner in which a fixation takes place we can provision- 
ally represent as twofold. The social human being must be able 
to pass quickly from one stage of expression to another. If we, 
in agreement with a priori ideas, ideas that are perhaps childish 
but which are nevertheless unavoidable, imagine the psychical pro- 
cesses as the machinery driven by water-power in a high-storeyed 
building, a sky-scraper, then it is necessary for social adaptation 


that there should be an arrangement which allows large quanti- 
ties of that water to pass as quickly as possible from one storey 
• to another. If the capacity of the water-pipe is too small for 
' • requirements that exceed the average, then we have a case of 
fixation. But if the lower tap or one of the lower taps is very 
spacious and permits a large amount to be drawn off then 
^ there is also fixation. Also if the pressure is small it is possible 

that without fixation only the lower storeys will be supplied with 

A similar organic libido-insufficiency is to be imagined in the 
psychoses leading to pseudo-dementia. 

We will not continue this crude allegory, but merely retain the 
notice of two possible foundations for the fixation, and meanwhile 
wait for anatomy to reveal the existence of such channels as we 
i have been considering, channels the development of which we may 
then suppose to stand in correlation with, the cultural ability of 
the individual. 





We will now pass on to the more special comparison of the 
neuroses with the psychoses. We leam the following: 

1. Psychotic symptom-complexes appear in such a motley mix- 
ture in the same patient at the same time or following one an- 
other that almost no case wholly agrees with the artificial disease 
j; ' ' entities of the text books (except in the case of Bleuler's schizo- 

f phrenia where the nosological concept approximately agrees with 

that of the functional psychoses). The clinicians are resigned to 
^> this fact through the discovery of 'degenerative insanity', which 

^ rather hides than cancels this difficulty. As examples I mention 

i the manic and melancholic states in schizophrenia, manic and mel- 

f^* ^ - . ancholic states in typical hysterical dream-states, typical hysterical 

i: twilight states in schizophrenia, isolated epileptic attacks and fugues 
i^i in schizophrenia, combination of typical epileptic dementia with 

strokes and at the same time classical physical delusions of per- 
secution. In one case I had a psychotic condition commence as a 
typical hysterical twilight state with delirium, and then saw it 
pass away just like classical mania, which was followed by slight 



melancholia. I have seen a room full of patients who as whole a 
had been diagnosed as hysteria by professors of the university 
and as a whole suffered from profound schizophrenic dementia. 
I maintain therefore an acute functional psychotic state does not , 
permit the prophecy of the further course merely on the basis of 
the momentary picture, a prophecy which has little more than a 
relative value of probability. 

2. Neurotic symptoms of the most various kinds often form 
the prelude and interlude of the psychoses. 

The combination of obsessional phenomena with manic-depressive 
psychoses has been minutely studied by Heilbronner and Bonhoefer. 
I add— and Bleuler also has alluded to it — that obsessional neurotic 
phenomena often occur also in psychoses of the schizophrenic 
groups, and that many stereotyped and bizarre movements in 
schizophrenics and paranoiacs are really indistinguishable from 
compulsive actions. Insight into the illness is lacking in these latter 
conditions; in the obsessional neuroses it is found, as far as I can 
judge, that only a part of the existing obsessional phenomena are 
conscious to the patients as such. 

Much less frequently have I observed the symptoms of con- 
version hysteria in- mental patients, and for the most part in manics 
and epilepdcs. On the other hand, anxiety and hypochondria are 
symptoms of both the neuroses and psychoses, and it depends 
only on the camouflage whether anxiety neurosis or anxiety psychosis 
is diagnosed. ' 

3. Psychotic symptoms of a slighter degree are found in many 
neurotics. 1 Frames of mind of a hypomanic or melancholic character 
are not lacking in hysteria, just as fleeting ideas ol sin inhibitions 
and disturbances of interest actually lie within the normal fluctuation 
of affect The narcissistic identiiication with the object as sub- 
stitute for the love charge and the conditions of unconscious loss 
and ambivalency in melancholia as distinct from normal griet 
(Freud) are to be conceived quantitatively. Among the few less 
severe obsessional neurotics whom I happen to have seen within 
and without the institution several attempts at suicide had occurred. 
In one patient the miscarried suicide was really a compulsive action 

' According to the following authors genuine delusional ideas are devel- 
oped in the course of a functional neurosis: KrafFt-Ebing, Meynert, Wille, 
Emminghaus, Kraepelin, Tuczek, Morsclli, Friedmann, Mickle, Schtlle, Stij^las, 
Pitres, R^gis. See also the delirium in the obsessional neurosis of Freud. 


which he perpetrated upon himself innumerable times; that it mis- 
carried each time, that he survived poisoning, that by timely help 
he escaped bleeding to death from severed radial arteries, that 
a swallowed piece of fork could be removed, that the repeated 
deep cut in the throat did not kill him, for all this he was 
responsible only in so far as he did not offer too great a resistance 
to the attempts at saving him. The same patient had also distinct 
delusions of reference. Another obsessional patient at one and 
the same time had hypochondria, heard the devil at night, and 
believed in the reality of some dream phenomena; she com- 
mitted suicide. 

4. Signs of illness in other directions, as it were test-psychoses 
or neuroses, are usually observed before the outbreak of a neurosis 
or a psychosis proper. Particularly at the commencement of a 
psychosis there often exist together depressive symptoms and 
delusions of reference and persecution. It seems that the paths to 
melancholia and paranoia run along together pretty far. Similarly, 
transitory delusions of reference are often found at the conclusion 
of a manic phase. 

The neuroses are not simple products of regression, but attempts 
at reconstruction, just like many psychotic symptoms. The deeper 
regression precedes them. The attempts at reconstruction at first 
go in many directions. One or more of them iinally attract more 
quantities to themselves and end in the forbidden deed or 
gesture. , 

The conception of the nosological uniformity of all functional 
psychoses and neuroses forced upon us by these four series of 
facts does not prejudice the necessity of studying the single syn- 
dromes and their typical combinations; it stands, however, for 
quantitative instead of qualitative distinctions. This has already 
been maintained by Clouston and Macpherson. * It is supported by 
Freud's discovery ot the relative darnming of libido as common 
cause, of the ambivalency and infantile fixation as common 

» John Macpherson: 'The Identity of the Psychoses and the Neuroses', 
Journ. Mental Science, 66, 273, April 1920. Regarding the question whether it 
,is possible to establish psychical types of illness I refer to Hoche: 'Die Be- 
deutung der Symptomenkomplexe in der Psychiatric'. Zeitschr. f, d, get. 
Neur. u. Psych. 12, 540 (contra) and Aschaffenburg: 'Die Einteilung der 
Psychosen'. Handb. d. Psa. 1915, 19 ff. (pro). 




I shall probably not go wrong if I assume that the concepts 
of the 'psychoses' and the 'neuroses', according to the facts just 
discussed, seem to the reader more confused and hazy than before. 
Only if anyone attributes this unsatisfactory result to my method 
of representation should I object. With these concepts nothing 
can be done scientifically, and I have only endeavoured to malce 
conscious the indefiniteness of their outlines. 

Freud i has given the solution to this impasse. He distinguishes 
in the clinical picture: 

1. The residual phenomena (of the preserved normality or 

2. Those of the process of illness (regression, the release of the 
libido from the objects and its location in narcissism or still 

3. Attempts at restitution. 

The last are for the most part those which lead to the conflict 
with the environment and impress us as illness. 

Thus finally all psychoses and neuroses are mixtures, just as, 
according to Freud's striking analogy, the rock consists of several 
minerals. In many cases one of the syndromes assumes sole power 
or at any rate becomes most conspicuous from outside. The mixtures 
consist of: 

1. The actual neuroses: anxiety neurosis, neurasthenia and 
hypochondria — symptoms which are the direct accompaniment 
either of sexual stimulation or exhaustion, or of the extraordinary 
charge of libido of other erotogenic zones. 

2. The transference neuroses: conversion hysteria, anxiety 
hysteria and obsessional neuroses — further elaborations of anxiety 
through conversion, protection formation (phobia) and reaction 

3. Other less known transference neuroses, which as restitution 
attempts in paraphrenia {- schizophrenia + paranoia) and other 
psychoses lead the libido again to objects and receive their particular 

«Sigm. Freud. 'Zur EinfUhrung des Narzifimus", Jahrhuch der Psychoanalyse 
Bd. VI, S. 1, 1914. Vorlesungen zur Einftthrang in die Psychoanalyse, III. 1,917. 
« Metapsychologische Erganzung zur Traumlehre ', Intern. Zeitschr. f. P'O' 
1916/17, Bd. IV, S. 277; 'Trauer uad Melancholic', Ibid. S. 288. 


character through the great quantity of negative libido with which 
they have to deal, as well as their permanent tendency to return 
to narcissism. 

4. The narcissistic neuroses — results of the regression of object- 
erotic quantities to narcissism — as they are found in rather pure 
form in paraphrenia, but also as one of the chief constituent parts 
in the other psychoses. 

5. The hallucinatory wish-psychoses — constituent parts of amentia 
dreams, and paraphrenia. 

In the transference neuroses the libido, freed from a libido- 
position which cannot be maintained, is first turned into phantasy 
(introversion) which continues psychically the existence of the object 
that has in reality disappeared and finds for it a substitute. The 
miscarriage of this process gives rise to anxiety. 

Such a transference neurosis is also the commencement of 
grief and melancholia (or the mania covering it as reaction- 
formation). In grief the transference succeeds along that path, in 
melancholia it miscarries and then follows a narcissistic neurosis. 

In paraphrenia the libido freed through refusal is utilised nar- 
cissistically and here lil^ewise worked off psychically (delusions of 
greatness), or in the case of failure is used for the overcharge of 
the auto- erotic zones, which signifies a further regression. From 
this deeper situation (hypochondria) the attempt at restitution is 
undertaken anew, which through a transference neurosis, this time 
a transference of quantities at an extremely infantile level ot 
organised quantities, fastens the libido again to objects (negative 
transference-mania as such, which is according to the nature of 
the phobia either surrounded with securities like the inhibitions of 
motility — negativism ; or else projected — delusions of persecution). 

I propose to make use of a similar classification of normal 
persons, and first, therefore, to place at the side of the para- 
phrenics the individuals dominated by time and money compulsion, 
denoting them as metaphrenics. IMetaphrenia then consists of: (1) 
The remainder of the earlier phases (orthophrenia), (2) An ob- 
sessional neurosis (products compulsion), (3) A narcissistic neurosis 
(idealism), (4) An anxiety hysteria (over-developed hygiene, etc.), 
(5) Transference neuroses of the second group (domestication, for- 
mation of the State, etc.). These methods of using the libido have 
together begun to nibble at the narcissistic neuroses, obsessional 
neuroses, and attempts at restitution of the historically and racially 


primitive orthophrenia (the mental position ot the primitive peasant 
folk) which together have built up religion, art and the love-life. 
For the further differentiation of the hallucinatory wish-psych- 
oses as well as of dreams as contrasted with schizophrenia 
Freud has developed his theory of topographical regression, which 
cannot be referred to briefly because the problems in this field 
are still not settled. I therefore refer to his works on this subject 
(1. c.)i and only quote here Freud's conclusions in so far as 
they have reference to my subject. In schizophrenia there is an 
overcharge of the (pre-conscious) word-ideas and these become 
elaborated, in the dream it is the (unconscious) matter-ideas 
which become elaborated; intercourse between the preconscious 
and unconscious remains free. 

'In dreams the withdrawal of the charge (libido, interest) 
concerns all systems equally, in the transference neuroses the pre- 
conscious charge is drawn back, in schizophrenia that of the un- 
conscious, in amentia that of the consciousness.' 

It seems to me that the theory of topographical regression is 
not the sole possibility of explanation (See Section VIII). Against 
my doubt in this respect only the following facts make me 
hesitate, that during the years in which I followed in relative 
solitude the development of the Freudian teachings I several 
times had such doubts which turned out to be resistances when 
I again revised the material, especially my own. 

Psycho-analysis, however, which has so often to reject anti- 
thesis, can proceed differently from ordinary science even in deal- 
ing with working hypotheses. It seems to me permissible to use 
different means for investigating problems which are to explain 
topographical regression, even if they should clash here and there 
with the topographical theory. 

I propose further to extend the economic point ot view, by 
dividing the concept of the quantity ^ of libido into a concept of 
quantity (Helm,3 [Mass, Entropy etc.]), and a concept of intensity 
(the square of velocity, temperature, potentiality, etc.). "When for 
instance Ferenczi* says that hysteria is to be conceived as a hetero- 

' The facts already in 'Die Traumdeutung ', 1900, S. 312 ff. 

* Freud, 1894. 

' = capacity (Ostwald), content (Meyerhoffer). 

* S. Ferenczi, 'Hysterische Materialisationsphanomene', Hysteric und 
Pathoneurosen, Intern. Psa. Bibl. Nr. 2, 1919, S. 30. 


geneous genital function and that in hysterical conversion the 

earlier auto-erotisms are charged with genital sexuality, i. e. with 

an 'excitation' which retains in its nature and intensity the genital 

character after transposition, then the principle mentioned is 

already indicated. 


• • VII 


If we consider the relations between neuroses and psychoses 
exclusively with reference to the hbido, then a system is sketclied 
out in the chaos of these disorders. The acquired disturbance of 
correlation results through the regression of the libido to the 
stages of fixation determined by the individual occurrences of 
youth. The regressively withdrawing streams of libido invest all 
the paths that have been relinquished. When this movement is 
at all marked the regression becomes strikingly like a twilight state. 
The rest of the symptoms belong in a great part to the process 
of reconstruction. The chief mass of the reconstruction in the neur- 
oses and psychoneuroses reaches the infantile object choice and 
the criminal tendencies, and allows so much libido to be fixed 
normally that its expression can be a compromise. ^ In delusions' of 
persecution and of grandeur disturbing quantities persist in the 
homosexual, * narcissistic ^ and sadistic-anal-erotic * stages; in manic 
depressive they persist in the first and second pregenital * and 
narcissistic ^ stages ; in the obsessional neurosis ^ (including tlie meta- 
phrenic culture «) in the narcissistic and second pregenital stage- 
The sadistic-anal-erotic point of fixation is common to both the 
manic-depressive psychoses and paranoia. The regression of a negat- 
ive quantity goes back in both to auto-erotism (hypochondriacal 
symptoms in both). The anal-erotic quantity used for the re- 
construction originates in paranoia from the regression of sublimat- 
ed homosexual libido, and as far as it is positive it is used for 

' Freud. 

» Freud und Abraham. 

' Fi rt nczi. 

* Abraham. 

5 Freud and Jones. 

" The Author. '• 



the reconstruction of the ego (as delusions of grandeur), as far 
as it is negative for the reconstruction of the external world (as 
delusions of persecution). ' 

As regards the libido-economy of melancholia it is typical that 
the negative anal-erotism is not elaborated object-erotically, but 
remains at a lower stage and is expressed as negative narcissism 
(delusions of inferiority, etc.). Its origin is probably less typical. 
Moreover, it possesses a point of fixation in the first pregenital 
(oral) stage which is lacking in the paranoiac syndrome. Alcoholism 
has its fixations in the first pregenital and homosexual stages. 
Schizophrenia finally is the collective name for all more severe 
cases of the psychoses in which the reconstruction of a part of 
the libido-positions makes a halt in auto-erotism or still deeper. 

A certain degree of regression is answerable for the economic 
foundation of the difference between the neurotic feelings of being 
slighted or threatened, for ideas of inferiority, persecution, etc., 
and the equivalent delusions (where the feeling conquers the test 
of reality). It is not known whether this degree is intensity, quant- 
ity, or depth of the regression. 

It is a fundamental remark ofKronfeld's that the causal factors 
as regards form, content and time of appearance of the psychosis 
must be different. The stage of regression (or reconstruction as 
the case may be) is the determining influence as regards form. 
The content is determined by the old imagines and the new con- 
densations. We see, for example, the same complex of the un- 
gratified desire for a child expressed in hysterics as simulated 
pregnancy, vomiting, meteorism, in paranoiacs as delusional ideas 
of being pregnant or of having an elephant in the body, in the 
normal woman in actions which lead to the ^ratification of the 
desire or in social substitute actions. 

There is therefore no difference in principle in the normal, 
neurotic and psychotic. I previously had the impression that hate 
contributed still more to the content in the psychoses, Since I 
have paid more attention to hate in normal people and neurotics 
I am inclined to think that it is only the camouflage of tlie hate 
that is defective and its execution infantile in the psychoses. 

Hate is developed secondarily in psychotics by society rejecting 
the actions of transference of the hbido, now become infantile. 
The everyday observations of attendants of the insane furnish proof 
of this. 


In the above the agreements with reference to the content of 
the symptom have been especially emphasised. 

The diiiferences in reference to the content are clearer between •■ 

the single syndromes than between the groups of neurotics and 1 

psychotics. A certain difierence in the relation between the QEdi- ; 

pus and the castration complex is perhaps open to discussion. 

Psycho-analysis teaches that the object-libido finds the parents as ' 

the first objects. Simultaneously with the condensation of the auto- 
erotic quantities about the nucleus of the ego there takes place i 
a condensation of object-erotism which forms the imago of the i 
father or mother, to which increasingly powerful quantities from ■ 
the auto-erotism then adhere. The CEdipus complex thus origin- 1 
ated is the kernel not only of the neuroses, but also of the psychic ;;! 
life in general. It does not, however, always comprise the totality j 
of the object-erotism, since besides the condensation work which ^ 
has produced and nourished it, dividing forces are also in operat- '! 
ion which take away from it its components or parts of its quant- 
ity which bear its stamp (intensity?), and which tend to bring \ 
them into another combination. This splitting of the imago is sup- 1 
p orted by education ; only the artist knows how to avoid it. i 

In addition there are perhaps from the beginning erotic imp- 
ulses which will not mix with the CEdipus condensation, it may 
be on account of their negative properties, or other peculiarities. 
They, on the other hand, participate with the narcissistic compon- 
ents in an antagonistically directed and much less studied con- 
densation, the castration complex, which comprises the anal def- 
iance, urethral ambition, and the oral feeling of disappointment, 
but only becomes important as soon as the genital development 
of the CEdipus complex is inhibited. Then it joins more or less 
t| with its negative part and takes over from it the primacy of the 

genital zone. The procreating organ is reduced to the instrument 
of murder or castration, the object libido to narcissism. I arrived 
at the above idea from the fact that wherever the genital ' 

development ot the CEdipus complex is inhibited in a strong de- 
gree through organic defector through interference of the environ- 
ment (society), the castration complex is expressed in an increased 

Civilised people strive after destruction of the two conden- 
sations. Among primitive people the CEdipus complex seems less 1 
split; their culture in the first instance reacts to it according to 



the nature of a phobia. Among the white races the castration 
complex comes to greater development, their culture is in a great 
part sublimation of this complex, and reacts to the CEdipus com- 
plex after the nature of the obsessional neurosis. 

' Now it seems to me i that while the CEdipus complex strives 
to assert itself in neuroses and psychoses, and forms the content 
of the symptom— for in this sense the CEdipus complex is 
particularly the nucleus of the neuroses— the castration complex 
plays a greater part in the obsessional neurosis, the white civilisa- 
tion, and in most institutional patients. 

The typical process is then as follows: the reconstruction 
is the attempt at restoration in the form of an incestuous striving. 
This is refused in consequence of its infantile character and then 
the content goes back to the castration complex. 

There is still a fact to be brought into the consideration 
of the regression — a fact which decides the result of the 
complicated relations between the patient's own impulses and 
those of society. Each psychic illness has a conflict as its con- 
dition. Roughly speaking, the neu)i(j^tic has a conflict in himself, 
the psychotic with society. Considered more strictly, conflict is a 
condidon not merely of illness, but of every other psychic process. 
As regards the conflict the phenomena of orthophrenia and meta- 
phrenia correspond pardy to the neurosis and partly to the psych- 
osis. The amount of narcissism is highly but not absolutely cor- 
related with the conflicts with society. 

The little child at the beginning has its conflict only with 
its environment (apart from the antagonism between libido and 
ego-impulse). The possibility of an internal conflict only becomes 
conceivable when the child has accepted the ideals of the envir- 
onment. Here I leave this train of thought, which is not com- 
/ pleted, and note that the manner in which the psychotic person 
manifests his conflict goes back again to the form of conflict of 
the little child. 

VIII ' . 


The psychotic carries out in reality what the normal person 
and the neurotic carry out in phantasy. Thoughts which normal 

' This assertion, like several apodictic statements in this article, is in- 
tended as a point for discussion and not as a final formula. 




' '■ ' ' i 

people and neurotics repress become as conscious as reality to the :^ 

psychotic. These facts compel our consideration of the ego im- 
pulses. We will attempt a rough sketch of their development. 

I present this scheme under the pressure of necessity, and am 
well aware that it is in the highest degree tentative. It is meant 
to show that the degree of regression or development of the ego 
impulses in every symptom keeps pace in general with the degree 
of development of the libido. 

Hints of this are found here and there throughout Freud's 

We possess Ferenczi's extremely important and independent 
work on the stages of development of the sense of reality. 

The analyses of the development both of motility and of con- 
sciousness have proceeded from Freud's remark that development 
advances from repetition to memory. 

Before these stages of repetition and before the development 
of the psyche to the complicated systems of inhibition and adjust- 
ment, as we now see it, the condition was probably that living 
beings stored energy which flowed into motility on the occasion 
of a stimulus coming from "without or after the passing over of 
any threshold. (The formative and secretory stages of inhibition 
of the libido and the sensory discharges are not considered here). 
The conscious psychic content directly after the discharge was 
euphoria (' feeling of omnipotence ' according to Freud and Ferenczi), 
The first further psychic content was anxiety, a state of conscious- 
ness that resulted from the heaping up of stimuli: during the dis- 
charge itself the transition from anxiety to euphoria became con- 
scious as pleasure. Therewith the categories of ego impulse 
(storing impulse) and libido (pleasure impulse) are given. ^ 

In the further development we have to imagine in each new 
stage a repetition of these processes: the ego impulse places the 
threshold of discharge higher,^ thereby anxiety becomes free as 
conscious sensation of the investment of old paths by the stage 
of anxiety. ^ At the same time the higher tension of the impulses 

* The ego impulse corresponds to a selection by the hostile external 
world; whoever or whatever cannot postpone discharges, evaporates, is dis- 
persed, suffers defeat. In many organisms (bacteria, etc.) another principle 
dominates, that of rapid procreation. In us it is the motor, in bacteria the 
formative inhibitions (ego impulse components) which have more developed. 

= I understand here unconscious processes which accompany the damming 
up of libido, and give off their surplus as conscious feelings of anxiety. 

. 27 




makes for itself the new psychic paths of outlet that characterise 
the new stage. The mind is developed as a prepared field for the 

We have to imagine the first discharges as tonic in character. 
The visceral tensions and secretions, as well as the motility of the 
genital fore-pleasure, are in the higher animals fixed at this stage. 
The sympathetic nervous system is their organ correlate. 

After these tonic stages the first advance is tonus with inter- 
ruption which goes hand in hand with the development of an 
axial nervous system. The two kinds of innervation of every 
muscle correspond to these two groups of stages. 

The first stage of the second group is clearly marked as an 
epileptic stage. The interruption succeeds sometimes and then 
fails. The reactions of flight and defence of lower animals go 
back to this stage in the case of violent terror. In order to be 
able to see them in their completeness one must make use of 
stimuli to which the animals are not yet or no longer accustomed. 
If, for example, an ant from the Amazon is bitten by a myrmica 
it has a clonic convulsive attack which represents the parody of a 
flight; a very strong smell stimulus has the same effect. If the big 
broscus which lives underground is fetched from its hole it be- 
comes cataleptic with its jaws open and peculiarly stretched legs. 
In this condition it absolutely cannot use its dangerous jaws, etc. 
The fact that in the functional separation of certain parts of 
the brain i the human being also reacts to stimuli with an epilep- 
tic convulsive attack leads us to suppose that this epileptic stage 
occurs in his development The genital motility of the end-pleas- 
ure, male as well as female, is fixed permanently in this stage. 
The discharges of the epileptic stage which have remained in 
the adult— like the genital and excremental discharges, laughing, 
sneezing, coughing and yawning — are characterised by the ac- 
companying deep feeling of gratification, their inhibition by the 
great quantity of anxiety which it frees. 

The stage following is that of rhythmical repetition. * 

' The epileptic attack is the complete auto-erotic orgasm; the catatonic 
attack belongs to a higher stage. 

• As soon as the excitation flows off, a rhythiji occurs. This rhythm has 
a very great frequency on the tonic stage. The further development of the 
motility consists of a decrease of this frequency. This fact is of decisive 
importance for the development of the feeling of time. 


The most striking residues in human beings are movements of 
the heart and respiration, the sucking of the new-born infant, 
blinking, coitus, the dance and other religious and artistic actions 
and games (swinging). Many psychotic phenomena (stereotyped 
movements, cries, etc.) are regressions to this stage. 

Hereabout sets in the separation between the impulses of 
flight, defence and attack, and soon in connection with these the 
separation between male and female. All these impulses belong 
to the libido, with this condition, that they have assumed ecro 
impulse-quantities according to their degree of inhibition. This 
stage corresponds in consciousness to the feeling of desire. 
The stage following, then, is that of reactive repetition. 
The motility consists of automatic and stereotyped mechanisms 
of attack, defence and flight, which result from stimuli (like the 
flight of butterflies, and the pursuit of prey by dragon-flies etc.). 
We find regression to this stage in the fugues of epileptic and 
other psychoses, and in twilight states, etc. 

Here is the suitable place for the insertion of the test of real- 
ity and its influence on the censorship, that is to say, the separat- 
ion of the system of the pre-conscious. ^ 

The admixture of ego impulse-quantities with the libido 
has gone so far in some motility-(impulse-)spheres that in these 
spheres the libido is subjected to the ego impulses (nourishment, 
etc.). The gratification of the libido (hunt after prey, etc.) then 
secondarily serves the ego impulse. After the discharge of these 
libido subsidiaries the ego impulse can compel a longer inter- 

These latter branches of the libido are those which develop 
themselves to further inhibition. The gratification through motility 
is easier for them, but is extended to a longer period than that 
of the genital branches. 

As soon as the desire is perceived too strongly, so that con- 
sciousness has no room for it and the remainder of the excitation 
regresses to the anxiety stage, it is to be supposed that the cen- 
sorship sets in. In the first instance this concerns the sexual desire 
(because its motihty stands so low). 

The censorship is to some degree dependent on the test of 
reality. If tliere results from the test of reality the non-existence 
of the desired or feared thing, then the demand arises to inhibit 
the rhythmical repetition, because it would signify impulse waste 



and purposeless reaction. It raises itself to reactive repetition 
through the inhibition. 

With the inhibition there is a disappearance of the conscious 
symptom accompanying the rhythmical repetition (the desire), ^ but 
at the same time a damming of impulse. A part of the dammed- 
up impulses invest old paths, amongst them the anxiety stage. 
Another part invests the future paths with memory ^ (Ecphoria 
with inhibited motility). The destruction of the present animates 
the past and creates the future. 

Thus a mechanism can be imagined through which anxiety 
arises from repressed desire. The censorship is a function of the 
inhibition of movement. So far everything is in order. In fact m- 
hibition of movement (suppression) and censorship (repression) run 
fairly parallel. Everything that does not fit in with the momentary 
direction of action is repressed. Truth is orientated pragmatically. 
Psycho-analysis has made us familiar with the idea that the 
censorship is older than the test of reality, that it was subordin- 
ated previously only to narcissistic purposes and had to exclude 
from consciousness everything that would be disturbing to the 
feeling of omnipotence. Its new function has not replaced the older 
one, but covered it over. The function regresses under the con- 
ditions of the neuroses, makes itself free of the test of reality, and 
serves again its old magic purpose. In science, reUgion, and super- 
stition and in delusions one resorts to tliis regression and is con- 
soled for manifold disadvantages by narcissistic satisfaction. This 
primary gain seems to be authoritative for delusions; as to science 
one dips into it with the intention of obtaining secondary gain 
and, after this purpose is obtained, of submitting to the test of 
reality the thoughts gained along magic paths. In all cases the m- 
tended or unintended regression of the censorship does not occur 
without producing a corresponding regression of the remainmg 
motility, which then impresses its stamp on scientific or religious 

The development of the alterations which the external world 
produces in the relation of the individual to his enviroment takes 

' This follows from the laws of ecphoria. Naturally I understand under 
the concept of desire also its negative components. 

» The development of the unconscious and pre-conscious proceeding at 
the same time is not considered, not because it is less important— the 
opposite is the case — but because I do not know it. 


the form of a transition from repression to suppression. This 
formula coincides with the Freudian formula already quoted: de- 
velopment from repetition to memory. This last formula refers 
to discharges that are permitted, while the first refers to such as 
are suppressed. 

The development of the relationship to the ego likewise takes 
this path. It concerns conscience. As the test of reality has to 
investigate the external world as regards difference or agreement 
with the wished-for (the imago), so conscience has to examine 
the ego and its products as to difference or agreement with the 
ideal. It stands to narcissism in the same relationship as the test 
of reality to object erotism, but is far less developed. 

Only when the individual takes over the ideals of his educa- 
tor, that is to say, connects a part of his object libido — which 
he takes from the imago of the educator — with a narcissistic 
quantity and wishes to identify the imago of this association (the 
ideal) with the ego, does conscience begin to function as a new 
part of the test of reality formed for the investigation of the inner 
life. The censorship stands in relation to it as it did before to 
the remaining part; in the beginning it is orientated so that every 
thing that should hinder the identification is repressed. Often it 
detaches itself again from the rest of the reality test, i.e. re- 
gresses. ^ 

The result of conscience was the non-fulfilment of the ideal, 
so that the return of the narcissistic quantity stationed in the ideal 
would be excluded. This exclusion would be the dynamic function 
of the conscience or of an inhibiting factor which becomes stimu- 
lated through the conscience. 

The idealist strives further in a two-fold manner: 1. Through 
fulfilment of the ideal — suppression. This is idealism as one 
would like to imagine it. 2. Through repression. The result o- 
conscience is either permanently repressed or only long enough 
for the identification, the re-establishment of the original narcissism, 
to succeed; then it is projected. This second — magic — process^ 
which really is older than the first, is seldom missing, and gives 
to idealism, when it is strongly developed, its character of a genuine 
narcissistic neurosis. 

The whole complex is not represented in the repression, but 

* In analytic treatment this developmental process with its regressions 
of the censorship in each new resistance is to be pursued in nuce. 


only a part (one of its symbols). On this is based the Freudian 
method of rediscovering the thing repressed. According to Freud 
thinking is an experimental action with displacement of small 
quantities. I will add that this experimental action takes place 
simultaneously according to the different stages of the development 
of the motility. Each path is charged according to its capacity. 
We could imagine the repression as an inhibition of this experim- 
ental action at the highest stages of the development of motility.^ 
There remains then the experimental displacement in the paths of 
other stages, pre-conscious so long as the stages of the actions 
remain charged, unconscious when it only concerns charges of the 
lower stages. The imago of the highest stage, thus robbed of its 
tendencies, remains conscious as memory. Memory therefore origin- 
ates tlirough repression of something else. The conscious content 
is always the common third in the simultaneous ecphoria of many 
simultaneous stimulus-complexes, each with its tendency. If, now, 
one of these tendencies is suppressed, because it contradicts another 
dominating tendency, then the common third of the stage in which 
the inhibition takes place is displaced. A part of the ideas is with- 
drawn into the unconscious (that is to say, there remain only the 
charges of the lower stages, which however are charged the more 
strongly), others stand out in their place. These latter are those 
which furnish the substitute memory, ^ which emerges in the 
supposed moments of repression. 

The next stages — those of postponed repetition — comprise by 
far the greater part of life after the period of suckling, although 
m adults many actions are fixed in lower stages. 

During the pause in discharge the excitation finds the paths 
of the memory stage as mode of outlet (and the lower stages). 

Quite at the end of these series two more stages can be clearly 
distinguished. They are the stage of lies and dissimulation, and 
the idealistic stage, both of which lie within the social development, 
and both of which bear characters already regressive. Several 
pathological reconstructions are variants of them. They are only 
to be understood if one consciously takes into consideration the 
libidinous compensations in the system. 

' I am unable to estimate whether this attempt at explanation makes a 
topographical idea of the repression superfluous; so far it does not seem to 
me to contradict it. 

* Or 'feeling'. 


In delusions much of the unconscious can become conscious, 
because the narcissistic compensation is secured through the 
mechanism of projection; in sleep the censorship can relax or 
become otherwise orientated, because the motility is otherwise 
orientated. i 

In each inhibition of the reaction of a higher stage the dammed- 
up libido finds the next lower stages for discharge, and in addition 
makes new paths. In part these are limited to thoughts (phantasy). 
The content of the phantasy can be nothing else than the investment 
of the imago the realisation of which was inhibited; that is to say, 
the wish-fulfilment. The influence of the censorship on these \ 

phantasies is manifestly weaker than that of the inhibition on the • \ 

remaining motility.i If they are strongly charged then they break i 

through the censorship and become conscious on the memory . 

stage — accompanied by simultaneous strong repression on a lower ' 1 

stage (desire, anxiety, etc.). This possibility, therefore, originates 
only in strong erotisation of thinking. In all those symptoms which ' 

resemble delusions and also in the analogous phenomena of healthy 
persons, we have to assume an over-strong pleasure in thinking 
which corresponds to a libido over-charge of the brain.* 1 

Between phantasy and action there are a number of transitions, i 

-the gestures, of which language is the last developed branch. The 
stages of development of these phantasies and gestures have been 
described very accurately by Ferenczi, so that I am astonished 
that no clinician has made this work the basis of a clinical 

Lies and dissimulation correspond to a new subjection of 
libidinous compensations (gestures and phantasies) under the domin- 
ation of the ego impulses. They save the work of repression in 
others and become of value socially. It seems that society endures 
every real disadvantage rather than give up its repressions. Society 
puts itself at the standpoint of that woman betrayed by her husband: 
'pourvu que je ne le sache pas.' 

They are regressive because they correspond to a phantasy 
elevated to gesture which has not passed the test of reality. 

« This circumstance indicates that the phantasy is older than the fully "i 

developed motor discharge. | 

• One is not terrified by such a materialistic expression. Perhaps we ' 

have no reason to conceive the libido materially, but just as little reason ! 
to forbid it. The whole assumption is perhaps superfluous. 


In the last stage its value is again repressed but not suppressed. 
There occurs a curtailment of the obsessional neurotic mechanism 
with evasion of the long path of prohibition, displacement, and 
return of the repressed. And tliis for the reason that a part of the 
imago is made independent, endowed with entire paternal authority, 
identified with the narcissistic zVwa^o (the ego-ideal); tlie proliibidon 
is changed in a still unexplained manner into a command and 
ascribed to it, whereby tlie forbidden deed is committed simply 
in the name of this ideal^ The ceremonial of the feast is a transition 
stage to that of idealism. In the leasts of the orthophrenics hate is 
still admitted as a pure return of the repressed (Festival fights of 
primitive peoples, carnival affrays). Only the return of the primitive 
libido is[admitted to the feasts of the metaphrenics, the hate is 
assigned to idealism. The libido quantity saved by the idealistic 
process of curtailment enters at first into narcissism, causes the 
elevated frame of mind of the idealist, and renders possible the 
further identification with authority and the projection of the pro- 
hibition. The original delusion of greatness of the normal child is 
again reached on this idealistic path. The mechanism resembles 
economically a pendant of paranoia which is not exclusively homo- 

I mention these stages in particular because an early fixation 
of the ego impulses belongs to the conditions of some psychoses. 
Both neurotics ' and psychotics have an over-development of the 
narcissistic compensation. In neurotics the chief weiglit falls on the 
narcissistic (and other regressive) phantasies, in psychotics on the 
narcissistic gestures. This regressive over-development of gestures, 
which thereby escapes the denial and dissimulation demanded by 
society, is the cause of the particular attitude of the laity towards 
mental patients. The psychotic acts anew the repressed period ot 
childhood, as the delirious person acts the later phantasies. 

The theoretical structure shortly sketched above can very well 

' See also, Abraham: Intern. Zeitschr. f. drztl. Fsa. Bd. IV, 1916-17, 
S. 183. For the leading points of view for the understanding of idealism: 
Sigm. Freud, ' Zur Einfuhrang des Narzifimus ', Jahrbuch d. Psa. Bd. VI, 1914, 
S. 1-24. Bernard Shaw, The Quintessence of Ibsenism, Ideals and Idealists. 

' In the meantime I in no way consider the explanation of idealism given 
here a first-rate one. It emphasises a side — the repressed side— of idealism 
too exclusively. However, it is well to consider that the euphrenia serves for 
its social purpose such a cult of the lies of life, which nosologically belongs 
to the narcissistic neuroses. 



be a house of cards. I do not even attempt to base it more securely, 
as this would be impossible in the scope of an article. It is here 

only of service as a provisional system of ideas, which is to permit | 

the consideration of the ego impulses. I should like to call special , 1 

attention however to just three points of view, which I believe -\ 

have to play a further role, namely, the reference to the lower I 

stage of the genital (and other caudal) motility, the reference to | 

the primary character of the inhibition in the movement impulse I 

and retardation of the rhythm as the guiding line of the development 1 

of motility. J 

"•,■■'/ IX ^ 

" I' 

: ■ " SUMMARY 



The relation between neuroses and psychoses can be summed 
up as follows: Both categories originate from the relative damming j 

of libido as cause, and from the infantile fixation and ambivalency 
as dispositional factors (libido impoverishment can be a cause in 
itself, the fixation has then little significance). 

The difference between the two groups is a quantitative one. 
The boundary is dependent on the stage of development or re- 
gression of the social civilisation. 

The criterion of the lay concept of mental disease lies in the 
technique of the morbid gestures (including speech), which shocks 
the normal repression. In both groups the regression can pass from 
libido and ego impulses to the very lowest stage. The regressing 
quantity and the intensity of the regression of the libido are in 
general less in the neuroses. The reconstruction is a compromise 
in the neuroses; its result stands on a low stage in general in the 
psychoses, as much for the libido as the ego impulses. The ob- 
sessional neurosis (including civilisation) takes a medial position 
between psychoses and neuroses. 

The regression of the ego impulses runs parallel to that of 
the libido. 

The dispositional factor of the fixation is in the psychoses an 
increase of the entire intensity of the fixation on lower stages. 

The symptomatologicai difference between the two groups is 


Stages of the development of the Ego-Impulses 

Stages of the motor inhibition of the Libido 
Stages of the sensory inhibition of the Libido (?) 
Stages of the secretory inhibition of the Libido 
Stages of the formative inhibition of the Libido 

Stages of development of the 
Form of Motility. 

Cultural Stages of the 
Sexual Moral. 
(j~j According to Freud,) 

(Of the Motor Inhibition, of the 

Motor Ego-Impulses). 

Tonic Stages. 
Tonus with Interruption. 

Epileptic Stage. 

1. Unconditional Free Practice. 

Stage of Rhythmical 

Stage of Reactive 

Stages of Postponed 

(stage of transference) 

Stage of Lies and 

Idealistic Stage. 

2. Freedom only for Procreat- 

3. Freedom only for Legitimate 
Procreation (Cultural Sexual 

4. Procreation only for Definite 
Classes (ergatoid Degenera- 



Stages of Development of the 
Conscious Content. 

Stages of Development of the 
Sense oj reality according to 

(of the libidinal compensation}. 


Stage of Unconditional 

Stage of Magic-Hallucinatory 



Stage of Omnipotence with 
the help of Magic Gestures, 

Stage of the real stage with 
magic thought and magic words. 



not dominated so much through the increase of the narcissism in the 
psychoses as through its infantiUsm and through the breakdown of 
the positive object-erotism which can keep the narcissism in check. 

The differences between the symptom pictures are, moreover, 
conditioned through the intensity of the regression as well as 
through the distribution of the libido over parts of the body. 
The psychotic breaking down of the censorship is perhaps con- 
ditioned through abnormally strong pleasure in thinking. In the 
psychoses organic libido increase plays a greater part. Organic 
libido decrease is also responsible for schizophrenic pseudo- 

The four Freudian types of neurotic illness also occur in the 
psychoses. In additon, psychoses often follow infantile wish- 
fulfilments (for example, death of a relative, the possibility of 
perverse practices), which are often thrust upon one by society. 

Neuroses as reaction to denial have the tendency to remove 
a want or create a substitute for it, and are more easily in- 

Psychoses as reaction to fulfilment of forbidden wishes coin- 
ciding with the damming of libido seem to be influenced less 
easily. In the neuroses the teleological aspect preponderates, in 
the psychoses the causal aspect ; or, better expressed, in the neur- 
oses the secondary gain of illness preponderates, in the psychoses 
the primary. 

I must establish this aetiological assertion a little better. For, 
since the neuroses and other regressive processes according to 
Freud follow the denial of the Ubidinal gratification, the state- 
ment that psychoses often follow wish-fulfilments might possibly 
give rise to apprehension whether one has generally the choice 
of anything else than psychosis or neurosis. Therefore I expressly 
emphasise that the aetiologically effective and real wish-fulfilment 
must be an infantile (forbidden) one, and I think the thesis can 
be best made clear by an example. 

Some years ago I observed a paraphrenic whose most pro- 
nounced symptoms were periodic hallucinations of hearing, and 
complicated and systematised delusions of reference and accusa- 
tion. This man was also interesting in that he had repeatedly 
changed his neurosis during his lifetime. When he was fifteen 
years old he had a hysterical paralysis of the left arm which re- 
sulted after convulsive attacks. During his period of study he had 


produced several works as an author (literary sketches). During his 
engagement he had for some time suflfered from a knife phobia- 
His delusions broke out only after the inner failure of his marriage. 
He had never had sexual intercourse during his three years 
of marriage. He, like his wife, was entirely inexperienced and 
timid, she had had vaginismus from the commencement and was 
disinclined for intercourse. There were then in this case causes 
enough for the damming of the libido, and evidence in plenty for 
the importance of the factor of privation. On closer consideration 
the matter turned out to be considerably more complicated. As 
foundations of his neurotic constitution were established a number 
of infantile libido fixations, which were grouped about the sad- 
istic-anal-erotic stage. His object libido was relatively limited in 
comparison with that used narcissistically, and the homosexual 
stage was also excessively charged. Taken all together the whole 
development of the libido was retarded by one station. Among 
the infantile phantasies one appeared particularly in the foreground 
in which he beat a girl on her bare buttocks. The struggle against 
these phantasies had an influence on his aesthetic and ethical devel- 
opment. In his marriage he now found opportunity to realise 
this phantasy through the masochistic attitude of his wife. The 
beating formed his marital activity; he masturbated as well. It is 
therefore uncertain whether' one could talk of a real damming-up 
of libido; I dare say this had preceded. During this period there 
originated neurotic and artistic symptoms, but no psychosis. The 
psychosis originated after a period of libidinal discharge on a lower 
stage of development, after real fulfilment of an infantile wish. 

As the chief stream of the libido was turned on to the second 
pregenital stage, there remained for the charge of the genital 
stages only entropy sufficient for the formation of phantasies which^ 
since the censorship corresponding to the real activity had regress- 
ed, were then worked out in delusions. In this case we can re- 
present the r61e of the preceding libido-damming as the one 
source of the libidinal over-charge of the phantasies, so that these 
in themselves became more pleasurably emphasised than usual. 
The form of the discharge — through short circuit — brought it 
about that the object was conceived infantilely. 

In erroneously carried out actions, which are indeed otherwise 
estimated through their incidental appearance but which have 
nevertheless to be conceived as psychotic phenomena in their 

ii & 


nature though lying within the normal, we also find the influence 
of the infantile wish-fulfilment. A second example might 
illustrate this. 

An ambitious nurse of a somewhat neurotic constitution was 
one day promoted to be a charge nurse. During the subsequent 
weeks she was reported twice for being late on duty, which had 
never happened before. The wish-fulfilment of the promotion was 
in itself completely conscious and not infantile, but it concealed 
an infantile and unconscious overestimation of her new dignity. 
She behaved as though punctuality had now become superfluous. 
Since I had had to treat her earher on account of conversion- 
hysteria symptoms, difficult temper, and examination anxiety, I 
knew that she possessed a strong self-overestimation restrained 
with some difficulty. This was stimulated by the promotion. Be- 
fore she became a nurse she had endeavoured to obtain another 
intellectual position, but this had to be given up on account of 
examination anxiety just before she reached her goal. Her pro- 
motion therefore fulfilled a long-felt need. From the point of view 
of libido-dconomics it might be said that there existed a libido- 
damming which, as soon as the long cherished wish was finally 
fulfilled, flowed off at the first moment to a somewhat too low 
level in agreement with the narcissistic fixation, which was strength- 
ened anew by the esteem originating from outside, i 

As a consequence of the fact that in order to attain the result 
she was compelled during several years of work to sacrifice some- 
thing of her self-glorification, i. e. to loosen the narcissism and to 
turn a portion of her libido to outer objects — a task which 
succeeded though not without the accompaniment of certain neur- 
otic by-products— this portion of the libido flowed back again 
from the objects to narcissism after the final attainment of the 
goal, and had to be forced anew, through the intervention of the 
environment, to move itself to the uncomfortable higher level. 

The primary illness gain is neutralised by the secondary illness 
loss. The symptom breaks out as soon as the latter no longer 
threatens. This is valid for all narcissistic symptoms and also for 
that part of the 'psychosis' which is a narcissistic neurosis. 

A third example. Social life is interspersed with all kinds of 

' The other determinations, the castration complex, tendencies to self- 
punishment, identification with her mother, etc. I cannot go into lest I break 
the connection. 



actions which are not logically motivated, and which to the objective 
observer, or to an inhabitant of Mars endowed with judgement, 
must appear as bordering on the insane. Take, for instance, 
applause. This is obviously an entirely senseless action. A collection 
of people, who have been for some time silent and peaceful and 
have borne the influence of one or some other individuals on 
their sight and hearing, at the end of the performance breaks 
into an infernal noise, and the individual who has taken pains to 
please them is far from feeling offended at this outbreak, but, on 
the contrary, is the more flattered the more violent it is and the 
longer it lasts. 

The meaning of this nonsense is as follows. In the course of 
every lecture, sometimes after several hours or minutes, sometimes 
even after a few seconds, a moment comes in which the public 
has only one manifest wish: Let it end! Let him disappear! 

This wish is nourished by primitive infantile rebellious tendencies, 
by mutiny against every authority, against the compulsion to im- 
mobility, against the father or the one temporarily representing 
his authority. 

Hardly is this infantile wish fulfilled — the lecture is over, thank 
goodness — when the libido dammed up by the long enforced 
immobility breaks out in a discharge and indeed takes on the 
epileptic phase. ^ 

This would be the meaning of the symptoms with reference 
to the negative libido. The rites in question are grief rites. The 
positive side is also easily guessed. One puts himself into a passive 
attitude and tolerates for some time the activity of one or several 
individuals. Now the enjoyment ceases, and this gives to the public, 
who have remained passive, occasion for an actively directed ex- 
pression towards the individual who was active, an expression 
which can be better understood if we study its various degrees. 

» Naturally this does not mean that I ascribe epileptic attacks to normal 
human beings. The epileptic attack is a discharge of the 'epileptic' stawe 
of inhibition, likewise the fanatical applause, but applause and attack are 
yet not identical. The criterion of the ' epileptic ' stage of inhibition is the 
continuance of the discharge with interruptions up to exhaustion. I chose 
the term ' epileptic ' — pars pro toto — because this word is easily impressed. 

I also willingly admit that in most cases the applause is more inhibited 
and belongs to the stage of rhythmical repetition, as Prof. Freud remarked 
during the author's lecture. Sometimes ev,en to the stage of lies and dis- 








Its conscious purpose is to be a reward and a sign of sympathy 
and thanksgiving. It is a request to continue a while, and it allows 
itself to be stopped only by an encore. 

Applause in its usual form is only a rudiment. In its more 
complete form its meaning is that the active individual should 
come back, then go away again, then return; so he has to carry 
out in the hall a coming and going movement, which, if the success 
was complete, is crowned by the fact that he is offered flowers, 
and in the highest stage, and only if he is a man, is offered a 
wreath for his head. Briefly, one does not need to go to Central 
Australia to find a social ceremonial in which a group of human 
beings summons another one by rhythmical clapping of hands to 

The whole has the form of an exchange of rhythmical gestures 
between the public and those who come before the public. It is 
a conversation in a language which we understand better than 
that which we speak or write, and in which we feel ourselves 

It seems that the savage in us is not replaced by the civilised 
human being, but is covered over by him as by a net. The primit- 
ive peeps through the meshes on all sides. Every conversation, 
every one of our expressions, moves at the same time in paths 
of all stages of inhibition; in every stage resounds a little of every 
stage that has been overcome from time immeasurable; the greater 
the share of the lower stages and the more it contains of the 
sphere of rhythm, etc., so much the more unrestrainedly and deeply 
it gratifies us. 

If one gives undivided attention for only one hour to the 
psychic impulses, words, and movements of a human being, one is 
easily convinced that the 'cultural' highest stages of inhibition are 
not more common in the midst of the deeper ones than are ships 
on the wide rhythmical world of ocean waves and currents. For 
navigation we require the sea as much as the ships, even if there 
are storms. 

I should like to exploit somewhat more fully the example ot 
applause. The discharge at the end of the lecture is not as a rule 
the only thing. Compromises now and then occur during the 
enforced immobility and when attention is turned towards the 
object. Someone blows his nose at the wrong time, coughs or 
yawns, another allows his attention to wander and gives himself 


up to his own day-dreams in expectation of an occasion to laugh 
— likewise a discharge of lower stages of inhibition approximating 
to the epileptic stage. 

Whilst the applause was the cultural analogue of an acute 
psychosis, we have before us, in these compromises, actions which 
show some inner agreement with neurotic actions. They appear 
during the damming of libido enforced by the social attitude. As 
in#the two other examples we find that during the period of the 
damming-up the work of civilisation takes place, conception, 
understanding, elaboration and eventually creation. As by-products 
there appear neurotic, either perverse or criminal, at any rate 
infantile, minor discharges, residual elaborations. As soon as society 
opens the sluices and raises the dam the greater discharge takes 
place; a discharge which is the more violent and the inhibition 
(ego impulse) of which is the lower, the greater was the preceding 
damming-up, and the greater are the capacities (fixations) of the 
lower levels as compared with those of the higher. Discharge 
seeks . only the lowest resistance. Every discharge on a certain 
level increases the capacity of that level. Although the fixations 
acquired during development are highly important, it is very likely 
that society — by removing inhibitions or direcdy prescribing mono- 
tonous repetitions as in Taylor's system and its recent modifications 
which announce themselves under innocent names and form the 
harmful background of psycho-technique — causes regressions of 
longer duration which, as psychoses and in their mass appearance 
as wars and social unrest, endanger its own existence. 

Reality, to which progressive development learns to pay attention 
and on which patients are wrecked, in society increasingly consists 
of the more or less regressed libido of other social classes. Five 
years ago I would not have dared to emphasise so expressly the 
importance of social order for the causation and also for the con- 
stitutional disposition of mental diseases. Society appeared to be 
something unalterable, and our sole task was to help the patient 
to adapt himself again to this society. 

At the present time when equilibrium is so unstable, we too are 
responsible for the coming reconstruction, and the demand must 
be made that not only should man adapt himself to society, but 
that society should adapt itself to the peculiar needs of man. 





M. R. C. MACWATTERS, Lucknow, India. 

The Valley of Kashmir is a wide alluvial plain which to this 
day is liable to disastrous floods because at its outlet the mala 
river escapes through a narrow gorge which obstructs the escape 
of any considerable accumulation of water. In fact the whole 
valley is almost as dependent as Holland on its drainage and 
other engineering works. 

The first serious attempt to protect it by dams and drainage 
operations was made by Suyya in the ninth century and an 
account of his exploits is given by a historian named Kalhana* 
who wrote three centuries later. Although much of his story 
appears to be historical, the account of Suyya's origin is a typical 
birth-myth, which utilizes a part of his engineering exploits for 
its symbolic expression. Kalhana recounts how such protective 
works as already existed had been neglected by a series of kings 
until the reign of Avantivamam and how famine had come upon 
the land in consequence. He then proceeds as follows: 

Chapter V, Paragraph 72. Then through the merits of Avanti- 
vamam there descended to earth the Lord of Food himself, the 
illustrious Suyya to give fresh life to the people. 

73. 7he origin of the wise man was not known, and his deeds 
which Tnade the world wonder proved that though [he appeared] 
in the fourth period (Yuga) lie was not bom from a [woman's] womb. 

74. Once a Candala woman, Suyya by name, found when 
sweeping up a dust heap on the road a fresh earthen vessel fitted 
with a cover. 

75. Raising the cover she saw lying in it a baby, which had 
eyes like two lotus leaves and was sucking his fingers. 

^ See Fajatarangini by Kalhana. Translated into English by Sir Aurel 
Stein, 1900. 



' I'T'-i'irl 


76. 'Some unfortunate woman must have exposed this lovely 
boy' Thus she thought in her mind, and then from tenderness 
her breasts gave milk. 

77. Without defiling the chUd with her touch she arranged 
for his keep in the house of a Sudra-nurse and brought him up. 

78. Taking the name of Suyya he grew into an intelligent 
[youth] and having learned his letters became a teacher of small 
boys in the house of some householder. 

79. As he endeared himself to the virttious by observances in 
regard to fasts, bathing and the like, and showed a brilliant intel- 
lect, men of sense kept around him in assemblies. 

80. When these were complaining in their conversation of the 
flood calamity he said 'I have got the knowledge [for preventii^ 
it] but what can I do without means?' 

81. When the King heard through spies that he was saying 
these words persistently, as if he were deranged In his mind, he 
was surprised. 

82. The King had him brought up and questioned him about 
this saying. He calmly replied also in the royal presence *! have 
got the knowledge.' 

83. Thereupon the Lord of the Earth, though his courtiers 
declared him (Suyya) crazy, was anxious to test that knowledge 
and placed his own treasures at his disposal. 

84. He took many pots full of money (dinnara) from the treasury 
and embarking on a boat proceeded in haste to Madavarajya. 

85. After dropping there a pot full of money at a village called 
Nandaka which was submerged in the flood he hurriedly turned back. 

86. Though the councillors said 'that Suyya is surely only a 
madman ' the King when he heard this account became interested 
in watching the end of these proceedings. 

87. On reaching in Kramajya the locality called Yaksadara 
he threw with both hands money (dinnara) into the water. 

88. 89. There where the rocks which had rolled down from 
the mountains lining both river banks had compressed the Vitasta 
and made its waters turn backwards the famine stricken villagers 
then searched for the money, dragged out the rocks from the 
river, and thus cleared the [bed of the] Vitasta. 

90. After he had in this manner artfully drained off that water 
for two or three days, he had the Vitasta dammed up in one 
place by workmen. 



91. The whole river which Nila produced was blocked up by 
Suyya for seven days by the construction of a stone dam — a 
wonderful work. 

92. After having the river bed cleared at the bottom and 
stone walls constructed to protect it against rocks which might 
roll down he removed the dam. 

93. Then the stream flowing to the ocean set out on its 
course in haste as if eagerly longing for the sea after its 

94. When the water left it the land was covered with mud 
and with wriggling fishes and thus resembled the [night] sky 
which when free from clouds displays black darkness and the 
stars. ■ . 

96. The river with its numerous great channels branching off 
from the original channel appeared like a black female serpent 
which has numerous hoods resting on one body. 

Following the example of Otto Rank in 'The Myth of the 
^irth of the Hero' those points which are common to many such 
myths are printed in italics. Their analysis has been fully worked 
out by him and need not be dealt with here, but several features 
of the present story are worthy of mention. 

We may infer that the hero's real father is the King. It is 
true that the phrase which attributes his origin to the merits of 
the King is a common expression in the flattery of oriental court- 
iers who attribute all fortunate events to the auspiciousness of 
their ruler, but we may interpret it as an implication of parenthood 
also, especially as the scene in which the King receives and wel- 
comes him is very reminiscent of the scenes of reconciliation in 
other hero-myths. The hostility between father and son is not 
obvious but is perhaps hinted at in the neglect, not of the King 
but of his predecessors, and in the activity of his spies. The hos- 
tility of the courtiers must surely stand for the hostility between 
the hero and his brothers. Several points in the story show redup- 
lication, for example he is found in a pot and embarks in a 
boat upon the water, these symbolising the same idea, and the 
first foster mother, like Pharoah's daughter, hands him over to 
a second. 

We see the expression of a number of childhood fantasies ia 
the tale. The hero boasts insistently *I have the knowledge' and 
that even in the presence of the King (father). Just so would the 


child like to be able to boast of sex-knowledge even to his father 
but cannot, and even when he has the knowledge he lacks 'the 
means'. Whereas in some fantasies it is the father who denies 
knowledge and power to the son, here the father encourages the 
one and provides the other (wish-fulfilment). Sir Aurel Stein's 
notes on tlie word 'dinnara' here used for money are interesting. 
A dinnara is a unit of value so small that it was more likely a 
cowrie than a metal coin (and lends itself therefore to identification 
with seed) while the ideas of money and grain are largely inter- 
changeable since payments were more often made in grain than 
in coin even up to recent times in Kashmir. 

The 'infantile theory' of generation from faeces comes to ex-' 
pression through the dust heap where he is found and through 
the mud which covered the land and swarmed with wriggling 

We find also an expression of the common fantasy of being 
one's own father. The Hero engages in certain interesting opera- 
tions at the outlet of the valley where he scatters money (or seed), 
as a result of which there is an accumulation of the waters for 
seven days, or if we allow ourselves to add the two or three 
days mentioned in verse 90, a total period of 9 or 10 days cor- 
responding to the 9 months or 10 moons of pregnancy, and he 
achieves this result by the erection of a dam whose solidity the' 
story emphasises, 'a wonderful work' indeed! In the opening 
sentence we are told that he 'came to give hfe' which he does 
by fertilising Kashmir, his mother-land. 



by : 

' ' ERNEST JONES, London. 

I have rq)eatedly met with a remarkable form of disguise in 
dreams which [does not seem to have received much attention, 
although it is one that can be particularly misleading to the ana- 
lyst. Its characteristics are as follows. A well-known figure appears 
in the dream, most often a parent, clear and unmistakable. The 
associations, however, lead just as unmistakably to another person, 
and are of such a kind as evidently to apply to the latter. One 
is thus bound to say that the famiUar person in the dream is for 
some reason replacing the other, and in interpreting tlie dream 
one has to substitute the second person in the place of the first 
Many analyses go no furtlier than this quite correct procedure, no 
suspicion being aroused. Yet when one reflects on tlie matter one 
finds it peculiar — and contrary to our experience otherwise — that 
a familiar image, and one dating from the earliest infancy, should 
represent one of later date and of less psychical significance to 
the dreamer. ,To accept such a state of affairs as a definite explan- 
ation would be to approximate to the views held by Adler, Jung 
and Maeder, according to which a recently acquired and often 
highly abstract notion can be 'symbolised' by a more concrete and 
personal image dating from infancy, i. e, the very opposite to the 
general findings of psycho-analysis. The dreams in question afford 
a very good test as to which view is nearer to the truth. 

On paying attention to all the details of such dreams it will be 
found that what may be called the 'current' interpretation does 
not cover them as completely as it at first seemed to, some really 
relating to the actual dream person. On pursuing the analysis it 
will also be discovered that the 'dream thoughts' concerning the 
second person who is concealed behind the dream figure are really 
of the nature of transferences from repressed infantile material which 
once referred to the original person, the dream figure, and still does 



so in the unconscious. The process is well illustrated in the follow- 
ing dream. 

The patient dreamt that she and her mother were in the presence 
of some officials, who were inquiring as to their ages. The mother 
stated hers as 22, whereupon the patient thought, a Utile derisively, 
'How can she make such a ridictdous statement when her ag^e is 
actually §2. ' 

It appeared a particularly meaningless dream, for her mother's 
actual age was 61, and no question of age had arisen of late in 
regard to her. On the other hand 52 was the age of her mother- 
in-law, and tlie further associations made it plain that this was the 
woman intended in the dream. 

On thinking of the ages given in the dream the patient's first 
reflection was that the difference between them was 30, from 
which one drew two inferences: that the number 3 was of some 
importance, and that there was some dream thought of comparison 
between two ages, probably the difference' between the ages of 
two people. Although the number 3 was contained in the first 
association, it was only indirectly indicated in the manifest content 
of the dream, where the figure 2 occurs three times over and the 
difference between it and the only other figure is also 3. We are 
therefore concerned with three figures, 2, 3 and 5. These relate 
both to her own age (35) and to her mother-in-law's (52). It was 
a great grievance with the mother-in-law that the patient was 6 
(2 X 3) years older than her son (the patient's husband), partly 
because she feared that there might be no offspring. There was a 
considerable rivalry between the two women (especially on the 
part of the older one) as to the possession of the husband, who 
was an only child. An absurd instance had happened a short time 
before, when at the census-taking (statement of ages) the mother- 
inrlaw had refused to enter her son as a guest (he was staying 
with her for a day or two at the particular date); she insisted on 
entering him, not only as a permanent resident in her house, but 
also as a 'student', although he had completed his professional 
studies years before. He was bom when his mother was 22, the 
other age in the dream, the theme of child-birth being thus indi- 

At the time of the dream the patient was pregnant and there 
had been considerable friction over this subject with the mother-in- 
law, who was already indicating her intention of exercising authority 


422 ' ERNEST JONES •' '■ '■ 

over the future arrangements and upbringing of the child. Both 
women were therefore instituting claims over the child, as over 
the man, and the dream represents the scornful reflection of the 
younger woman that the day of the other was past. It practically 
says: 'Remember you are 52; you mustn't think that you are 
bearing a child, that you are again 22'; in it there is contained 
a veiled reference to the patient's own age and therefore to the 

' This seems an entirely satisfactory explanation of the dream,' 
and does indeed account for the current 'dream-thoughts'. But I 
have not related the whole of the dream, nor, for certain reasons, 
can I. Pursuance of the analysis, both of these other details, which 
related to the mother, and of the themes just mentioned, shewed 
that the dream, like most dreams, had also infantile roots. The 
most prominent number in the dream, 2, related to the age when 
the patient had woven various important child-birth phantasies 
during her mother's pregnancy, and the more concealed, i. e. 
repressed, number, 3, was her age when these were destroyed by 
the birth of a little brother. While, therefore, all the immediate 
associations led away from the mother who appeared in the dream,' 
and indicated that she was only the substitute for another person,- 
closer consideration shewed that this second person owed much of 
her significance to the fact that she was an adult substitute for the 
mother of childhood. 

In the process in question there are thus three layers: the 
original person and the infantile thoughts relating to him or her; 
the secondary person about whom there are similar thoughts also 
in a state of repression; and the superficial appearance of the 
original person in a situation that would more naturally apply to 
the second one. It is with excellent reason that, for instance in this 
dream, the mother is used to represent thoughts concerning the 
n:iother-in-law. The patient had always been on good terms with 
her mother as long as she could remember and the infantile 
situation indicated above was covered by an almost complete 
amnesia in which there were only a few islands of 'screen-memories'. 
No more successful way, therefore, could have been chosen to 
conceal the rivalry and jealousy with the mother-in-law over the 
birth of a child than, in effect, to say, ' Of course I am not jealous 
of her; that is as impossible as saying that I could have been 
jealous of my own mother when she bore my little brother'. And 


no argument could be more convincing to the patient, for as 
it concerned the most deeply repressed part of her personality 
nothing could be more remote from her consciousness or less 
likely to be true. 

The process illustrates two phenomena with which we are 
famiUar in psycho-analysis: the 'return of the repressed' as Freud 
terms it; and the significance of free association, which is the 
essence of the argument imderlying the dream. When a patient 
says 'this is as likely — or as impossible, as the case may be — as 
that', he is furnishing an unusually free association, to which 
special attention should always be paid. Itis a familiar experience 
that when anyone says 'for example' then we get the truth. 



The old man whose case is here given came under observa- 
tion in circumstances which rigidly excluded analytic investiga- 
tion; the facts given below were poured forth by the patient 
and tell their own tale; this brief notice cannot convey the full 
impression his conversation left on the mind, his dramatic nods 
and grimaces illustrated his story when words failed him. 

The patient is now aged sixty-five. He said he had bowel 
trouble for twenty-seven years, beginning with 'diarrhoea and 
corruption and prolapse following the conception of my only son ; 
he had 'no control over his bowels at all'. Since that time (1893) 
he had not had a single solid motion. I asked whether he had 
had treatment and what relief he had received. He replied that 
when going to a doctor he always said, 'Now, doctor, don't inter- 
fere with my bowels whatever you do!' Nevertheless he went to 
a famous hospital and was treated for six months. He kept 'fit 
for twelve years and then became worse. At this point 1 asked 
how fit he was during that time. He said he was fit enough to 
work, he didn't go more than four times before he left the house 
in the morning; once immediately on rising, the second time after 
lighting the kitchen fire, then again after shaving and last after 
breakfast just before leaving for his work. I asked if the diarrhoea 
continued throughout the day and if his illness interfered with his 
work. He replied that usually he did not go more than eight 
times in the day and that he always knew how hard he was 
going to find the day's work by the way he went before break- 
fast, 'more than four times and I know I am going to have a 
bad day.' 

In 1904, after twelve years of good health, his trouble became 

* This case-history was presented verbally to a meeting of the British 
Psycho-Analytical Society on February 10, 1921. 



worse so that he was 'weakened in body' and he returned to tbe 
htKpitaL Here, he said^ they fetched the doctors with the longest 
fingers and examined his back passage. It was said that the 
'webs' which held his bowels up were weak and so his 'insides' 
had dropped down. He was in a bad way, they gave him six 
hours to live and advised that he should go to the infirmary. His. 
wife would not hear of tliis, so he returned home and recovered 
without treatment. 

Eight years later the trouble returned. In the interval he had 
poor sphincter control but could 'hold' better at some times 
than others. Again eight years later he had another bad turn and 
on this occassion went to another hospital where I saw him. 
I asked what the hospital had done for him this time; he replied, 
rather dolefully, that they had cut his bowels out. As a matter 
of fact a caecostomy had been performed and he had colon lavage 
daily. At the operation the pathological findings were: Enormous 
thickening of caecum and ascending colon. The blood serum 
agglutinated Flexner's bacillus in all dilutions and Shiga's partially. 
No amoebae were found in the stools; he received a course of 

He did not volunteer anything else about his health so I asked 
him about his occupation. He was a labourer and worked for 
preference at unstopping sewers or in digging the foundations oi 
houses and making tlie trench from the house to the 'main' 
(drain, of course). I asked if the smells in the sewers were bad, 
he replied, ' Oh no. Well, -notliing in partic'lar. I never worked in 
compressed air'. It appears that some sewers are kept fresh by 
forced draught, it was in such that he had not worked. He had 
also been a bricklayer's labourer and had to mix the mortar. 

He was next asked to tell about his bowel condition before 
the illness which began twenty-seven years ago and in particular his 
> condition during infancy. He said he had been ' free in his motions 

as a young nipper but later had a costive nature' which caused 
him to miss a day or two, and he had had trouble to pass his motions, 
which were like green walnuts. However, at the age of sixteen 
or seventeen when he went to work at the gas-works his costive- 
I ness came to an end and he was 'free' again. 

I When asked what his relations had suffered from he replied 

I that he had an idea that his father was troubled with his bowels, 

I because he was frequently seen to stand with his legs crossed in 



an attitude as though he was squeezing himself up. Then the 
patient volunteered, 'I always advises my son, "if you feel it — GOt 
Never hold it back"'. His son is now 'troubled with kidneys and 

The patient dreams at night that women are preventing him 
from going to the water closet 



In my experience it has not often occurred that a dream should 
contain material in barely disguised, yet symbolic form; material 
that was in the main readily interpreted on direct or immediate 
associations. An interesting feature is that of the two important 
wish (repressed) elements in the dream one was present in the 
patient's consciousness from the time of its origin, while the other 
became evident to her only when well along in the analysis. It 
may also be of interest that though the dream is short, and the 
associations to the dream elements few in number, yet they dis- 
close the most important sets of impulses concerned in the neurosis 
of the patient. 

The dream to be described was that of a woman thirty-six 
years of age, married thirteen years, sterile. The condition for 
which she sought treatment was an anxiety-hysteria, some of the 
symptoms being: an easily aroused anxiety and apprehension, 
gastric disturbances and constipation. The most pronounced 
characteristic traits were obstinacy, inordinate regularity in all things 
and a psychological difficulty in regard to money matters, though 
not miserliness. A well pronounced feeling of envy in regard to 
boys existed from her very early childhood, being later in life 
transferred to men. These scanty details may aid in the apprecia- 
tion of the dream, which was as follows: 

'I was up on the roof, standing against a fence; a hole in it. 
Some boys inserted something into my rectum; it was of wood. 
I knew that it belonged to a boy. I ran away, they stood and 
laughed at me. It was a joke on me. The wood was colored red 
and green. I was so ashamed, because I knew it belonged to a 
boy, and I was a girl-' 

Addendum: 'I was small and young; I had no clothes on.' 

The patient had met a woman the day preceding the night of 
the dream, whom she had not seen since the second year of the 
patient's marriage. The woman on the day of the meeting had 



told the patient that a sister of the former had wished very much 
to have a child, and that after seventeen years of married life she 
had developed symptoms which had been diagnosed as a tumor, but 
which turned out to be a pregnancy, though it had afterwards terminated 
in an abortion, to the great disappointment of the woman. 

On the day preceding the dream, the woman had also asked 
the patient if she had any children, to which the patient with 
mingled feelings of regret and shame had answered in the nega- 
tive,, adding 'and I do not know why.' 

Associations to 'fence'. Suggests fence in the yards of houses in 
which patient lived in childhood; the intense pleasiu-e derived from 
sitting on a fence, swinging her legs, as boys do; the great pleas- 
ure in climbing fences, as boys do. 

Further associations to 'fence with hole' disclosed that, though 
the patient had for many years on account of a vaginal discharge 
been making frequent vaginal douches, she still had more difBculty 
in finding the vaginal orifice than the anal, though she rarely took 
an enema. Further associations brought out that her husband had 
often referred to the patient, as ' a piece of wood with a hole in 
it', on account of her sexual frigidity. 

This group of associations indicates the patient's desire to do 
what boys do, her envy of boys, and the apparent transference of 
the libido to the anal, from the vaginal region. Associations to other 
parts of the dream contain references to the same material from 
miare repressed sources. 

Associations to 'wood inserted into rectum': patient stated that 
when speaking to the acquaintance on the day preceding the dream 
she had had a very strong desire to have a child herself, and that 
it was really the first time she had consciously wanted a child and 
regretted her sterility. 

Associations to 'red and green' color of the object, are: red is 
blood; the bleeding that took place when the woman aborted. Red 
and green suggest little dolls that children play with. About two 
years ago the patient saw just such a doll in the hands of a child 
that was with its mother, who at the time was pregnant. 

The reference above to one of the important dream elements, 
indicating the existence of material conscious to the patient from 
the time of its origin, concerns what the patient stated at this 
point; namely, her recoUectien that she had since early childhood, 
between the ages four and five, thought that babies came from the 


rectum; nor had she forgotten having seen, about the age of five 
or six, the sexual act in animals, and had based later sex concep- 
tions on this] incident; at, about the age of eight years, the 
patient saw a cat give birth to kittens, and thought that they came 
from the rectum. This tended to strengthen the previously formed 
anal theory. AU this material had always been conscious to the 
patient. The patient also recalled that at the time of witnessing 
the birth of the kittens, she saw blood issue with them. 'Green' 
in the dream is reinforced by the association of green with jealousy 
and cats, for which animals the patient has a very strong aversion. 
As she puts it, she 'hates cats'. 

This group of associations has reference to the anal birth 
theory, and explains in a measure why the anal region is more 
familiar to the patient than the vaginal. The following wiU also 
help to explain the patient's ignorance concerning the latter region. 

Further associations to the red and green object recall the 
patient as a child, how she thought that boys laughed at her for 
being thin and small; being present, at the age of three or four 
years ^ at a circumcision, and, after the people had left, examining 
with great interest and in secret, a small object on an ash tray 
which she thought was the cut off penis, but which she later 
decided was a heap of cigar ashes. At about the age of eight, on 
one occasion she examined the genitals of a younger brother, and 
noticed her own lack of an organ such as his. In the dream the 
patient remarks that she is ashamed, because she knew it belonged 
to a boy, and she is a girl. The patient also recalled that in her 
family there was always a great 'fuss' made when a boy was 
bom, but the birth of a girl was passed over as of little account 
The general feeling in the family was that *boys were something', 
while girls were relegated to the background. 

In all this the great envy on the part of the patient of boys 
because they possessed a penis is very evident, though this as such 
was not conscious to her. It is the other of the repressed elements 
of the dream above mentioned as not being conscious, while the 
former was from the time of its origin. 

» It is likely that this incideat took place at a somewhat later age, but 
other incidents recalled by the patient seem to fix this one somewhere 
between the years mentioned in the text. I wish to mention that the sequ- 
ence of the associations as given in this report has been varied in places 
for the sake of clearness. 




MARY K. ISHAM, New York. 

A pretty example of how a child occupies or sublimates in 
its play feelings or impulses which it has been forcibly hindered 
from expressing in a cruder way recently came to my notice. 
A father was telling me the following story about his Uttle son 
who is very headstrong. The boy is three years old, exceedingly 
sturdy, active, and aggressive, and must be almost constantly 
supervised on account of his surprising impulses. Last fall when 
his father and mother went to the cemetery for their yearly decora- 
tion of the family graves, they took the child with them. In 
one part of the family lot is a long slab lying horizontally and 
marking the location of graves of ancient members of the family. 
The parents of the child started to place flowers on this slab. He 
did not approve and vigorously threw on it a handful of earth 
which he had gathered from a neighboring newly made grave. 
Although told to stop, he kept pelting the slab with earth. As 
nearly as the father can remember, the boy was scolded, shaken, 
or slapped seven or eight times for persisting in this conduct 
Finally his father had to hold him forcibly, while his mother 
finished decorating the graves. The child was very angry, although 
quiet on the way home and seemed to forget the incident by 

The next morning he went out-doors to play. His mother 
happened to look out of the window and saw that he had dragged 
a long board from the back to the side yard and placed it flat 
where the grass was especially green and thick. He then vigorously 
pelted the board with one handful of earth after another, until it 
was completely covered. Then he carefully brushed the earth 
away. His mother saw him do this four times, but he had been 
engaged in the occupation some time before she looked out. We 
make a guess that he pelted the board as many times as he had 



been hindered from pelting the slab at the cemetery. He worked 
with great energy and earnestness. After cleaning the board thor- 
oughly he left the spot with the air of having completed an 
important work and ran into another part of the yard to play. 
That he left the board clean speaks well for his social sense and 
feeling of confidence in his father's right to exercise authority. 
But the play represents a satisfied revenge against his father, 
probably also a compensation for the attention bestowed by his 
mother upon the graves, and a final method of getting his own 
way by symbolic play. 

The dynamics appear to be the following. The Oedipus 
, complex was manifested by a jealousy directed toward the object 

occupying his mother's attention — the grave-stone. The jealousy 
i toward the grave-stone was an animistic survival, in that the child 

i endowed the stone with a hostile personality, and expressed his 

f jealousy and hatred by mud-slinging. The child's resentment at 

] interference in his fighting aggressiveness was transformed into a 

I fighting anger against his interfering father, which anger was 

J! gradually repressed by the external force of paternal authority. 

(Since the repressing force continued, the manifest anger gradually 
passed into latent, seemed to die out entirely, and the whole 
incident to be forgotten. By an unconscious subhmation (the ad- 
jective is predicative) t^he original affect then effected an outlet in 
compensatory play. 




. .•' hy ■/:...'. 

J. MARCINOWSKI, Heilbrunn. 

1. *I dreamt of a big sand-hill like the one in front of our 
house in W., only this one went up to a point. I had continually 
to walk round and round the point. I had the feeling : You must ! 
I do not know whether I had to do it for practice or for 
some other reason. I kept looking down, and grasping firmly and 
anxiously in the sand with my hands. A road ran at the botton 
of the sand-hill, and there was water by the side of it I was 
terribly giddy, just as I used to be in the mountains. As I was 
crawling about feeling that I was going to fall the hill suddenly 
opened, and I was drawn downwards as in a funnel. I felt I should 
be suffocated by the sand falling in on me. Instead, however, I 
felt that I was descending quickly, and I arrived at the bottom 
in an open space similar to a wide tube and close to the road. 
A restaurant was opposite in which people were drinking coffee. 
The whole situation reminded me of a mere where we often 
played when children. Then I awoke. My feeling was quite different 
from that after my other dreams of falling; I was quite easy and 

2. 'I was downstairs with our housekeeper in the kitchen. The 
domestic offices were the same as in T., but were in the basement, 
somewhat low, like ours. A few steps led up from it as though 
from a shaft, and I saw the sun shining into the passages. I want- 
ed to go up into the dining-room to dinner and was afraid that 
you might scold me if I came too late as usual. But when I tried 
to come up the different exits I always had to return at the top 
step, because they were closed by something I could not explain. 
It was like a blind which moved of its own accord and tlirough 
which I could only get my head, but stuck with my shoulders. 
Then I suddenly managed to force myself through one of the 
openings which yielded all of a sudden. Then I was in the side 



entrance to the farmyard in T. out in the open in the sunlight. 
I had my 'brown dress on, and when I looked down to see if I 
was tidy to go into the dining-room I found the dress was crum- 
pled in deep creases which were held together by burrs. This I 
felt was very unpleasant; it was like a spider's web which had 
clung to my dress from the passage. I thought I had made myself 
very dirty'. 

I quote these dreams without analysis, since their interpretation 
is obvious from the condition of the dreamer. They furnish a 
proof of our conception of the dream thoughts that is independent 
of the analytic technique, and confirm the theory without imputing 
it to the analytical method of interpretation. The confinement took 
place four weeks later. 

In both dreams the dreamer does not appear in the character 
of one about to give birth to a child, but it is as though she 
anxiously re-experiences the memory of her own birth and ex- 
presses it symbohcally. The sand-hill and its colour of human 
skin obviously represent the pregnant abdomen out of which the 
dreamer enters on the way of life (the road) with feelings of 
anxiety. Stekel somewhere remarks that one's own birth is the 
first great anxiety attack in life. Indeed, if we think ourselves into 
the child's position at its own birth it is quite evident that this 
leaves behind a vivid impression, though without the possibility 
of picturing it clearly, as is the case in purely emotional memories. 
Anxiety and feelings of suffocation are associated with each other. 
The coffee for the midwife and the relatives in attendance after 
the great relief stands for the humour in the dream. The inter- 

I pretation of the dream comes as it were at the end; the whole 

dream recalls the story of tlae stork who fetches little children 

}. from the marsh (the mere). 

' Also the second dream describes the feelings of the child about 

■ ^ to be born, and not those of the mother. Arriving too late for 
i dinner has its meaning — her previous child came into the world 

■ very late. The process of birth is described very characteristically 
— the head pressing forward and receding, and the difficulty of 

I the passage. The fact that the different passages led into the open 

I is an allusion to infantile sexual theories. As soon as the new- 

i, born child has arrived it is near the anal orifice (the farmyard). 

1 The whole situation of the dream is located in the lower regions 

;| of the body (the domestic offices), where the alimentary process 


■•-1, ■•-'» 


JrfV ^ 


if... i'-- •^•1 

.'x> i"j .»* y; 

434 ,; J. MARCINOWSKI , 

is cared for. The brown dress represents the newly bom child 
smeared with meconium. The child's skin is often creased after 
the birth and does not appear presentable. 

Dreams of this kind are often better suited to prove the justi- 
fication of our dream psychology than a profound analysis of 
difficult dream material. 

■V ■: . 




■ FELIX BOEHM, Berlin. 

♦ 1. Adler, A.: 

2. Bluher, H.: 

3. Idem: 

4. Idem'. 

5. Idem'. 

6. Fedem, P.: 

7. Ferenczi, S.. 

8. Idem: 

9. Frank, L.: 

10. Freud, S.: 

11. Zf^w: 

12. /i/<?w: 

13. Idem: 

14. Friedjung J. 

15. Hattingberg, 


Das Problem der Homosexualitat. 1917. 
Die Rolle der Erotik in der mannllchen GesellschafL 
1917/19. , 

'Zur Theorie der Inversion*. Int. Zeitsckr. /. Psa. 
n. S. 223. 

'Die drei Gnindformen der sexuellen Inversion*. 
Jahrb. f. Sex. Zw. 1913. Xm. 

' Studien iiber den perversen Charakter '. Zentralbl. /. 
Psa. IV, S. 10. 

'Beitrag-e zur Analyse des Masochismus und Sadismus. 
II. Die libidinosen Quellen des Masochismus'. Int. 
Zeitsckr. f. Psa. H. S. 105. 

• Hysteric und Pathoneurosen. Intern. Psychoan. 
Bibliothek, Nr. 2. 1919. 

'Zur Nosologie der mannlichen Homosexualitat'. Int. 
Zeitsckr. f. Psa. 11. S. 131. 
Sexuelle i^nomalien. 1914. 

Drei Abhandlungen zur Sexualtheorie. (Third, enlarged 
edition.) 1915. 

Eine Kindheitserinnerung des Leonardo da Vinci. 
(Second, enlarged edition,) 1919. 
' Ein Kind wird geschlagen '. Int. Zeitsckr. f. Psa, V. 
S. 151. (Trans. Int. Jour. Psa. 1920, Vol. I, p. 371.) 
Vorlesungen zur Einfuhrung in die Psychoanalyse. 

K.: 'Schamhaftigkeit als Maske der Homosexualitat*. 
Int. Zeitsckr. f. Psa. EI. S. 155. 

H. v.: 'Analerotik, Angstlust und Eigensinn'. Int. 
Zeitsckr. /. Psa. H. S. 244. 



16. Hug-Hellmuth, H. v.: 'Ein Fall von weiblichem FuC-, richtiger 

Stiefelfetischismus '. Int. Zeitschr. f. Psa. III. S. 111. 

17. Marcinowskiy 3^.: 'Die Kindheit als Queilgebiet perverser Nei- 

gung-en', Geschl. u. Gesellsch. 1913. VIII. S. 31. 

18. Riklin, F. : Zur psychoanalytischen Auffassung des Sadismus. 1914. 

19. Sadger, y.: ' Ketzergedanken uber Homosexualitat'. Gro^' Archiv, 

Bd. 59. 

'Neue Forschungen zur Homosexualitat'. Berliner 
Klinik. Februar 1915. Heft 315. 

'Allerlei Gedanken zur Psychopathia sexualis'. Neue 
drztliche Zentralzeihing. Jahrg. 1919. Neue Folge 6. 
'Psychosexuelle Intuition'. Zeitschr. f. Sexualwissen- 
schaft. VI. S. 81. 

'Ein Fall von Analerotik (Priapismus).' Zeitschr. f. 
Sexualwissensch. V. S. 271. 

Storungen des Trieb- und Affektlebens. H. Onanie 
und Homosexualitat. (Die homosexuelle Neurose.) 1917. 
Zur Psychologie und Therapie des Fetischismus. 
Zentralbl. f. Psa. IV. S. 113. 

'Homosexualitat und Geschlechtsbewertung '. Geschl. 
u. Gesellsch. 1914. IX. 
■• *Zur forensischen Begutachtung des Exhibitionismus ', 
Zeitschr. f. Individualpsychologie. I. Bd. 2. II. 
'Beobachtung eines Falles von erotischer Perversion 
mit Neurose'. Int. Zeitschr. f. Psa. Bd. II. S. 265. 

20. Idem: 

21. Idem: 

22. Senf, P.: 

23. Steiiel, W. : 

24. Idem: 

25. Idem: 

26. Stacker, H.: 

27. StraJSer, Ch. 

28. Anon. : 

Frank (9) describes a number of cases of perversions which 
he has treated during a half sleep state. He found that memories 
of events that had had a harmful effect on the development of 
childhood and puberty could be reawakened quickly and without 
difficulty during hypnosis. The semi-conscious problems and phan- 
tasies aroused by external events, the sexual theories of earliest 
childhood, could not be made conscious. Therefore the investiga- 
tion in these cases was only a superficial one. 

The case of a young girl who showed a number of perverse 
traits IS described in the 'Beobachtung eines Falles von erotischer 
Perversion mit Neurose' (The observation of a case of erotic 
perversion with neurosis) (28). The patient's father was a drinker. 
She herself was of a very infantile disposition and addicted to 


pathological lying. When she -was eighteen years old she was 
persuaded on one occasion only to sexual intercourse, which 
resulted in her becoming pregnant. From that time she experien- 
ced nausea at any sexual advance on the part of a man, and 
also showed marked prudishness with regard to having her neck 
and arms bare. This prudishness changed into a pronounced 
exhibitionism at moments of sexual excitement. Observationism 
was marked in her youth, but later was completely repressed. 
There was a strong skin and muscle erotism in connection with 
the exhibitionism, but tlie vaginal mucous membrane was com- 
pletely anaesthetic. The patient also showed pronounced maso- 
chistic traits. Men under forty years of age had absolutely no 
attraction for her. Two years after the birth of her child she gave 
way to alcohol, obviously following her father's example. She was 
an only daughter and loved her father greatly. The author traced 
the morbid phenomena to a number of painful impressions in her 
childhood. Unfortunately it was not possible to carry out a tho- 
rough analysis. The case is interesting theoretically from its 
admixture of neurotic and perverse elements. 

Freud has made a number of important allusions to the per- 
versions in his ' Vorlesungen zur Einfuhrung in die Psychoanalyse ' 
(13), in his remarks on dreams (S. 232), and particularly in his 
theory of the neuroses (see S. 346, 354, 360, 370, 389, 396, 402, 
409, 415). Freud's remark in the third edition of the 'Drei Ab- 
handlungen' (10) (S. 91) seems to me of great importance as 
regards therapeutic influence over the perversions. 'These latter, i.e. 
perversions, are not merely to be traced back to the fixation of 
infantile tendencies, but also to regression to the tendencies in 
consequence of the damming of qertain currents in the sexual 

■ stream. It is for this reason that the positive perversions are 

I accessible to psycho-analytic therapy'. 

I Riklin's work 'Zur psychoanalytischen Auffassung des Sadis- 

f mus' (On the psycho-analytic conception of sadism) (18) has 

really nothing to do with psycho-analysis. The 'causal' method 

t of consideration is contrasted with the 'final' one. 

I Fedem investigates the libidinous sources of masochism in the 

second part of his work (6). He separates the concepts 'female' 

I and 'masochistic', and 'passive' and 'masochistic' from one another. 

The term masochism — in contrast to the passive sexual com- 
|i ponents — should only be used if sexual pleasure is obtained 



from non-sexual suffering. In the same way he distinguishes sadism 
from the active sexual components; the source of the sexual 
pleasure is displaced from the sphere of sexual activity to the 
sphere of aggression. The sadist does not obtain sexual end- 
pleasure by using force or causing pain in taking sexual possession; 
his pleasure lies solely in the taking possession or excitation of 
pain itself. The author does not regard masochism simply as 
the persistence of an infantile sexual activity, nor is he content 
merely to point out the erotogenicity of certain zones and the 
nature of the perverse • partial impulses in childhood which lead 
to masochism. According to his view masochism results from the 
fixation of definite infantile partial impulses; but he attempts to 
establish more precisely the causes of their fixation and the con- 
ditions under which they assume the masochistic character. These 
infantile components are re-awakened in masochism. The same 
process occurs in sadism, but with an opposite tendency. In sadism 
: active components of the normal sexuality re-awaken erotic 

and other infantile partial impulses. Passive components are neces- 
. sary for the development of masochism. Both tendencies go back 
to causes which, in spite of their antithesis, existed simultaneously 
beside each other and can be summated. 

The author has established the view that an active sexual 

sensation belongs to the sadistic sexual feeling, and a passive one 

to the masochistic sexual feeling. In many of his cases there was 

not only a difference in the quality of the sensation, but also its 

somatic localisation in the male genital was different in the two 

conditions. In extreme masochists the surface of the penis is 

sexually quite anaesthetic; the masochistic excitation is localised 

in the perineum. In sadists and normal individuals it is located in 

the glans. Masochism only appears when the passive sexual sensation 

communicates its own character of passive pleasure to the whole 

ego, and the ego feels itself identified with its organ in reference 

to the pleasurable passivity. Masochism is possession and control 

I of the whole personality by the passively directed libido. The 

I masochist has not only passive sexual experience as regards his 

sex organ, but also as a whole, therefore in other organs and 


r In order to show the libidinous sources of masochism the 

f' ^ author divides the different aims of the libidinous strivings into 

f I; action-libido and passion-libido. Libido that is directed to a passive 

'■ ■ ■ *>!• ':< J. 


aim proceeds from all those organs whose gratification is asso- 
ciated with a passive process. These partial impulses supply- 
passion libido. 

The author comes to the conclusion that masochism has to be 
considered as the result and expression of the primacy of passive 
partial impulses. If the sum of the latter is sufficiently strong, 
then they are in the position to overcome the other activities of 
the individual, and discharge themselves by unconscious mecha- 
nisms in passive situations in the sexual sphere, whereby the 
individual experiences passive sexual feelings. But since the active 
attitude is connected with penis libido (genital libido) by similar 
mechanisms, the disturbance of the activity which gives rise to 
masochism is expressed in the man by an inhibition of libi- 
dinal penis sensations; thus in masochists the passive sensations 
in the erotogenic zones corresponding to the female sexuality 
appear in the foreground, while the male organ becomes sexually 
\ anaesthetic. 

1 The only fault in Federn's work is the omission of any 

I reference to the pregenital organisation stages of the development 

" of the libido. Otherwise it contains the kernel, or at least the 

j first steps towards our present views. Freud considers that the 

i skin of the body is always the primary seat of masochistic 

! practice. Ferenczi supposes that in masochism a secondary and 

j henceforth neurotic process leads to the repression of the normal 

i genital impulses and to a regression towards the (by this time 

genitalised) original skin masochism. He calls this the primitive 
i masochism. 

\ With reference to masochism and sadism the following new 

I remarks are to be found in Freud's 'Drei Abhandlungen' (10) 

i (S. 23). Strictly speaking only extreme attitudes should be called 

perversion-attitudes in which gratification is associated exclusively 
, with suifering or the causing of physical or mental pain. Maso- 

I chism seems to be farther removed from the normal sexual aim 

' than its counterpart sadism, and is not a primary condition but 

I originates from sadism. It is sadism turned upon one's own 

■ person, which stands in the place of the sexual object. 

Freud's study, 'Kin Kind wird geschlagen' (A child is being 

beaten) (12), adds considerably to our knowledge of the origin of 

; masochism and sadism. Patients who are under treatment for 

hysteria or obsessional neuroses very frequently admit this phantasy. 

I ^^_ ■ i 


Feelings of pleasure are associated with it; and at its height it is 
very frequently accompanied by onanistic gratification. The patient 
is usually very unwilling to admit this phantasy, and the memory 
of its first appearance is decidedly uncertain. The first phantasy of 
this nature generally occurs very early, about the fifth or sixth 
year of life. The influence of school was so evident that the 
patients were tempted to trace their beating phantasy exclusively 
to impressions received at this time; but in reality the phantasy 
had existed before the school period. In the higher school classes 
this phantasy received new stimuli from reading books like 'Uncle 
Tom's Cabin', etc. Looking on when a child is being beaten in 
school never produced the same pleasure as that of the phantasy; 
also in the more refined phantasies of later years it was a con- 
dition that the chastised children did not receive serious injury. 
The persons who produced the material for this analysis had not 
been educated with the help of the cane. The only answer receiv- 
ed to a closer inquiry into the content of this phantasy was: 
•I know nothing more about it: A child is being beaten.' Under 
these circumstances it cannot at first be decided whether the 
beating phantasy denotes a sadistic or masochistic attitude. 

Such a phantasy of autoerotic gratification emerging in the 
early years of childhood can only be looked upon as a 
primary characteristic of a perversion. One of -the compo- 
nents of the sexual function has preceded the others in 
development, made itself prematurely independent, and become 
fixed, thereby indicating a particular peculiarity in the con- 
stitution of the person. When we find in adults a sexual ab- 
erration we quite rightly expect to discover by means of an 
anamnestic investigation such a 'fixing' occurrence of childhood. 
The significance of the 'fixing' impressions is found in the fact 
that they have offered to the prematurely developed and over- 
active sexual components the cause, an (accidental) occasion, for 
the fixation. The actual constitution seems to correspond to such 
a view. A prematurely detached sadistic sexual component sug- 
gests a disposition to an obsessional neurosis. This idea was 
borne out in the investigation of six cases. ' 

An analysis carried back into early childhood shows that this 
phantasy, which first appears after the fifth year of life, has a 
complicated previous history. During the course of the phantasy 
it more than once changes its relation to the person producing. 


the phantasy, its object, content, and significance. The content of 
a primary and very early phase of the beating phantasy in 
I female persons is: 'The father beats the child', or more 

fully, 'The father beats the child I hate'. This phantasy is 
certainly not masochistic, neither is it definitely sadistic, because 
the child creating the phantasy does not do the beating itself. 
The second phase has never been conscious ; it is a necessary 
construction of the analysis. Great alterations have taken place 
betw^een it and the first phase. Literally the second phase is: 
:i 'I am beaten by my father'. This has undoubtedly a masochistic 

1 character. The third phase resembles the first, except that the 

' child producing the phantasy substitutes for the father a person 

I representing him (teacher) vi/ho does the beating, and (in the 

; phantasy of girls) several boys are beaten instead of one child. 

The phantasy is now the bearer of a strong and definitely sexual 
excitation, and leads to onanistic gratification. 

An analysis carried back into that early period shows that the 

little girl is occupied with the excitations of the parental complex; 

, she is affectionately fixed on her father. But there are other 

children in the nursery with whom she has to share her parent's 

love, and on account of this she casts them aside. If she has a 

i. younger brother or sister then he or she is hated and despised. 

It is soon seen that the being beaten signifies a denial of love 

' and a humiliation; it is a comforting idea that the father beats 

: a hated child. Therefore the cogent and significance of the 

J beating phantasy in the first phase is: 'The father does not love 

I this other child, he only loves me'. It is doubtful if it can be 

i called a pure 'sadistic' or a pure 'sexual' phantasy, but it is 

composed of the material of both. In no case need we assume 

an excitation associated with phantasies leading to an onanistic 

act. In this premature object choice of incestuous love the sexual 

?■ life of the child obviously reaches the stage of the genital organi- 

[ sation. The incestuous amourousness is repressed, because it is 

its fate to perish, probably because its time limit has expired, 

for children now enter into a new phase of development in which it 

f is necessary for them to repeat from the history of mankind the 

repression of the incestuous object choice, in the same way as 

I they had been previously compelled to make such object choice. 

A guilty conscience appears simultaneously with this process of 

repression. The phantasy of the incestuous love period had said; 


'He (the father) only loves me, not tlie other child, that's why 
he beats it'. The guilty conscience cannot find a more severe 
punishment than the reversal of this triumph: 'No, he does not 
love you, for he beats you'. The phantasy of the second phase, 
to be beaten by the father, now appears as the expression of the 
guilty conscience to which the love for the father succumbs. It 
has therefore become masochistic. As far as I know this is always 
the case; the guilty conscience is always the factor which changes 
sadism into masochism. But this is certainly not the whole 
content of the masochism. The guilty conscience cannot alone 
have taken complete possession ; the love impulse must also have 
its share. Since the phantasy concerns children in whom the 
sadistic components could stand out prematurely and isolated on 
constitutional grounds, a regression to the pregenital, sadistic-anal 
organisation of the sexual life is particularly easy. When the 
scarcely reached genital organisation is affected by repression, then 
not only does every psychic representation of the incestuous love 
remain unconscious, but the genital organisation itself experiences a 
regressive diminution. For instance, 'the father loves me', was 
meant in a genital sense ; but through regression it is changed 
into, 'The father beats me (I am beaten by the father)'. This 
being beaten is now a union of guilty conscience and erotism; 
it is not only punishment for the forbidden genital relation, but 
also its regressive substitute, and it obtains from this latter source 
libidinal excitations which henceforth are attached to it, and are 
discharged in onanistic acts. The second phase of the beating 
phantasy is as a rule unconscious, and in consequence, onanism 
that has appeared during this period is under the control of 
unconscious phantasies which are replaced by the beatmg 
phantasies of the third phase." 

We look upon this third phase of the beating phantasy as 
such a substitute, i.e. the final formation in which the child 
producing the phantasy appears as the on-looker while the father 
is represented by the teacher or other person in authority. The 
phantasy which is now similar to the first phase seems to have 
turned again into a sadistic one. It gives the impression, 'The 
father beats the other child, he loves only me'; the accent has 
gone back to the first part after the second has succumbed to 
repression. Only the form of the phantasy is sadistic, the grati- 
fication obtained from it is a masochistic one; its significance 


{ '•■ 



lies in the fact that it has taken over the libidinal charge of 
the repressed portion and also with this the guilty conscience 
attached to the content. All the many indefinite children who 
are beaten by the teacher are only substitutes for the person 
himself (or herself). 

These observations are of service for the explanation of the 
genesis of perversions in general, and of masochism in particular. 
These views do not invaUdate the conception which puts in the 
foreground the constitutional strengthening of a sexual component 
in perversions, they merely amplify it. The perversion no longer 
stands as an isolated fact in the sexual life of the child, but is 
brought into connection with the typical processes of develop- 
ment. It is brought into relation with the incestuous object love 
of the chad, the Oedipus complex; it first appears at the basis 
of this complex, and after the basis is broken up, the perversion 
often remains as an inheritance of the libidinal charge of the 
complex and burdened with the attached guilty conscience. It 
seems possible that all infantile perversions have their origin in 
the Oedipus complex. The 'first occurrence' is fixed by the per- 
verse person at a time in which the control of the Oedipus 
complex had already passed; the effective event remembered in 
such a mysterious manner could very well represent the inherit- 
ance. Just as the Oedipus complex is the kernel of tlie neuroses^ 
so in a similar way the beating phantasies and other analogous 
perverse fixations are only deposits of the Oedipus complex, as 
it were scars after the expired process, the notorious 'inferiority' 
corresponds to such a narcissistic scar^. 

The discussion of the beating phantasies only furnishes a 
meagre contribution to the genesis of masochism. It seems to be 
established that masochism is not a primary expression of an 
impulse, but originates from a turning back of sadism upon one's 
own person, a regression from the object to ithe ego. It is of 
course true that we find impulses with passive aims from the 
beginning, particularly in women, but passivity is not the whole 
of masochism; there is still to be accounted for the pain character 
which is so strange in the fulfilment of an instinct. The trans- 
formation of sadism into masochism seems to occur through the 
influence of the guilty conscience that accompanies the act of 

1 Cf. Marcinowski: 'Die erotischen Quellen der MindeiwertigkeitsgefUhlc', 
Zeitschr. fur Sexualwissenschaft, IV, 1918. 


repression. The repression expresses itself in three ways. It makes 
unconscious the results of the genital organisation, forces therri to 
regress to the early sadistic-anal stage, and changes their sadism 
into the passive, and in a certain sense again narcissistic, maso- 
chism. The second of these results is rendered possible by the 
weakness of the genital organisation which may be assumed in 
these cases. The third result becomes necessary because the guilty 
conscience objects to the sadism in a manner similar to the 
genitally conceived incestuous object choice. 

The second phantasy, the unconscious and masochistic phase, 
to be oneself beaten by the father, is far more important; its effects, 
which are directly derived from its unconscious setting, are 
shown in the character of the person. Human beings who bear 
within them such a phantasy develop a particular sensitiveness and 
irritability towards persons whom they can regard as 'fathers*. 

I shall refrain from dealing with the second part of Freud's 
work which described corresponding conditions in boys^ in order 
not to complicate the picture of the connections between per- 
versions and the Oedipus complex. 

Von Hattingberg in his article, 'Analerotik, Angstlust und 
Eigensinn', (Anal Erotism, Pleasure in Anxiety, and Obstinacy) 
(15), critically, though hesitatingly, discusses Freud's view that 
orderliness, parsimony and obstinacy are connected with anal 
erotism in childhood. His views are built up from his own ex- 
periences and from examples which are apparently unanalysed and 
unconvincing. By 'anxiety pleasure', i. e. a 'mixed' — 'agreeable- 
disagreeable' — feeling, the author understands the sexual pleasure 
which arises from anxiety. He considers 'anxiety pleasure' has a 
somatic origin. 

Stekel under an unfortunately chosen title, *Ein Fall von 
Analerotik (Priapismus) ' (A case of anal erotism [priapism]) (23), 
describes the case of a man, fifty-four years old, who for years 
had suifered irom nocturnal erections. The erections were pro- 
duced by a phantasy, but the author does not explain its origin. 

Strasser in his article 'Zur forensischen Begutachtung des 
Exhibitionismus' (27) gives the history of two exhibitionists, but 
omits the details of their early childhood. He endeavours to bring 
the explanation of these cases into line with Adler's views. 

A case of fetishism is described by H. von Hug-Hellmuth, 
(16). The sexual feelings of a lady, who took no interest in men 


and obtained no gratification in normal sexual intercourse, were 
quite consciously directed upon boots, particularly Jack-boots worn 
by men, and the foot in the boot, especially the toes. Her father 
was an officer and she had been very interested in his Jack-boots 
from early youth. She became engaged to an officer who was 
thirty years her senior, 'because he had such delightful feet'. 
Later she fell in love with a very ugly and elderly officer, 'I am 
dying of love for the most delightful Jack-boots I have ever 
.seen'. This ended in an unfortunate marriage. Bare feet filled her 
with disgust. 'If I only imagine to myself the big toe it fills me 
with disgust ; and the nails which are always crumpled, and the 
little toes which can never grow, these are horrible to me '. When 
she was twenty years old she suddenly cast aside a young officer 
whom she had preferred on account of the above attraction, be- 
cause she noticed him moving his toes in his boot when he was 
sitting beside her. She declined the wooing of another because 
he had 'bunions'. The case was not analysed, but an explanation 
is attempted from the material given. When she was ten years 
old she had ' wished for high-legged boots. This wish was probably 
on account of her identification with her beloved father, and the 
strong desire to be a boy (foot = penis), and not purely from 
narcissism. The lady's attitude towards the bare foot seems to be 
of special significance. The foot is a symbol of and substitute for 
the penis. At some time or another her attention must have been 
directed to the male, that is to say paternal, genital, and this 
became repressed and transferred to the foot. In its r61e as a 
penis substitute it had to be concealed and special demands were 
made of its covering in tlie interest of the idealisation of the ob- 
ject, for instance, newness (which perhaps signifies integrity) and 
freedom from creases ; hence the qualification ' delightfully respect- 
able' applied to Jack-boots. Probably ideas of castration played 
a part in her horror of crumpled toes and nails. The masochistic 
factor is quite evident : ' One can tremble before Jack-boots, and 
yet one has to love them'. 

Freud has made two new remarks apropos of fetishism in his 
'Drei Abhandlungen' (10) (S. 19, 21). 'This weakness would 
derive from a constitutional disposition. Psycho-analysi s 
shown that premature sexual intimidation which diverts the normal 
sexual aim and stimulates its substitute is an accidental condition.' 
' In many cases of foot fetishism it can be shown that the 


;. Vi;fi 



4^'^' '' ■'■ ■' " ' COIXECTIVE REVIEW '■ • 

i.,t,i •- ■,; ; ■.. .:• .. - , . • .- ; • i* ■■'''■■■ •': 

impulse to look was originally directed upon the genitals, which 
impulse wished to get near to its object from below but was 
prevented by prohibition and repression, and for this reason the 
foot or shoe is retained as a fetish. The female genital would be 
represented as a male one in accordance with the infantile idea, ' 
Stekel in his work, 'Zur Psychologie und Therapie des Fet- 
ischismus' (25), gives the 'analyses' of two cases of fetishism. 
The author explains his method of procedure as follows. 'I will 
now quote one of the many dreams of this patient It affords us 
a deep insight into the structure of the neurosis and the motive 
of this fetishism. I might add that I at first carried through the 
analysis without associations from the patient, and afterwards under 
my guidance^ the patient produced the material belonging to the 
dream. This analysis is a brilliant proof that one does not get 
far in the majority of dreams by using Freud's methods. My 
methods have to be adopted if one wishes to obtain new know- 
ledge. It is certainly easier to await the associations of the 
dreamer, than to arrive at the correct interpretation through one's 
own ideas. But it is not everybody who has the gift of this dream 
interpretation'. In the detailed 'analysis' of a long dream there 
is not one association of the patient and it is never evident 
whether the ideas are the patient's or Stekel's interpretations. The 
author comes to the conclusion that both cases are 'Christ neur- 
oses', for the cure of which there is only one way, marriage, 
'because here coitus is no longer a sin'. The author states that 
fetishism is a substitute for religion. The fetishist is offered a new 
religion in the form of a perversion which gratifies his desire for 
belief. It originates from a compromise between an over-powerful 
sexuality and a strong piety. However, all this has nothing to do 
with psycho-analysis. 

Adler's 'Das Problem der Homesexualitat ' (1) has already 
been criticised by Federn. It is simply a recapitulation of the 
views expressed in 'tJber den Nervosen Character'. 

Friedjung in his article ' Schamhaftigkeit als Maske der Homo- 
sexualitat' (Prudishness as a mask of homosexuality) (14), de- 
scribes the case of a man aged thirty-nine who, on account of 
his homosexuality, refused to undress before the doctor. 'The 
trouble is, the doctor is dressed during the examination, if he 
were naked then it would be all right'. 

1 Reviewer's italics. , • ' 


R. Senf in his article, ' Psychosexuelle Intuition' (22) repeats 
his theory of the origin of homosexuahty in order to show his 
method of Psycho-Sexual Intuition'. Perversions originate from the 
splitting up of the sex act into the 'single impressions* of which 
it is composed. Male homosexuality is derived from 'the single 
impression of the excitation'. Senf disagrees entirely with Hirsch- 
feld's idea of homosexuality that it is a biological variant He 
considers that it is a developmental product which appears as an 
inborn and finished disposition. 

' Psycho-Sexual Intuition ' is based on 'inner experience'. 'The 
results of chemical or biological investigation originate from a 
\ world which has nothing at all to do with the sphere of inner ex- 

perience.' Psychical processes can only be conceived ' iiituitively ', 
and for this a ' disposition ' is necessary in order to discover in 
oneself psychical possibilities, to yield to them, to get near to 
them, to note their ghding into one another, and also to perceive 
I their relations to each other, and finally to find them again in all 

related and imaginable nuances. This concerns a kind of 'sensa- 
tion mathematics' the conscious experience of psychic results 
and their application. 

Bliiher's work, 'Die Rolle der Erotik in der mannlichen Ge- 
sellschaft' (2) has already been criticised by Eisler. It is intended 
i to prove the views expressed in his earlier works on Inversion 

['Zur Theorie der Inversion' (3), 'Studien iiber den perversen 
Charakter' (5), and 'Die drei Grundformen der sexuellen Inver- 
sion' (4)]. The work is useful to psycho-analysts to enlarge their 
knowledge concerning the extent of repressed homosexual tend- 
encies in many social circles. Bliiher repeatedly uses the words 
I 'analysis' and 'to analyse' in quite a different meaning to the 

I psycho-analytic. Bliiher's treatment of homosexuality is very 

i similar to Magnus Hirschfeld's adaptation therapy ; he ceases to 

analyse where we begin. 

Sadger's 'Ketzergedanken iiber Homosexualitat' (19) is a critic- 
; ism and refutation of Magnus Plirschfeld's views on homosexuality. 

Sadger summarises his new experiences on male inversion in 
I his article 'Neue Forschungen zur Homosexualitat' as follows: 

', 1. The urning behaves towards female sexual objects like the 

: psychically impotent person who is incapable because he is fixed 

on his mother or more rarely his sister. 

2. A part of his specific constitution lies in the fact that, on 


the one hand, his muscle erotism is diminished from the outset, 
while on the other hand, his genital libido and the sexual pleasure 
in looking — this latter being particularly directed to the sex 
organs — are considerably increased. 

3. Very frequently the already over-strong genital libido is 
further increased by stimuli coming from the father who loves 
his offspring to excess. 

4. An over-estimation of the male genital pursues the urning 
like a demon. r ... 

5. For similar reasons there exists a particular pleasure in 
handling the penis. The typical 'corrupters' are for the most part 
'absolutely' homosexual. 

6. The over-emphasis of the genital libido without exception 
leads to early amourousness towards the opposite sex, above all 
the mother or her early representative. 

7. The mother's sharp repulse occasions his first disappointment ; 
the second is the missing of the penis in the, mother, which he 
feels more acutely than normal children. ... 

8. When in maturity he again experiences a disappointment 
in sexualibus through the mother, he becomes fixed on his own 
sex by means of regression to the primarily loved mother with 
the penis. 

9. This regression enables him to give and receive the two 
strongest sensations of love of every man, i. e. love of the mother 
and of the ego. This accounts for the urning's fixation on the man. 

The whole article contains much that is of value for those 
interested in the problem of inversion. , 

In the first part of Sadger's article 'AUerlei Gedanken zur 
Psychopathia sexualis ' (21) he divides homosexuals into three groups. 
(1) Homosexuals who prefer men of the same age. (2) Those who 
prefer younger men or youths. (3) Those who have a decided 
preference for older and even quite old men. Sadger endeavours 
to explain these groups from the study of a case of dementia 
paranoides in a patient twenty-five years old. This patient por- 
trayed all the three groups in himself He conducted himself 
passively towards older men who represented his father, wishing 
to be embraced, kissed and finally coitised by them, in a similar 
manner to that which he had often seen in the case of his father 
and mother. He conducted himself actively towards men of his 
own age, who clearly represented his motlier in appearance, 


wishing to coitise them like his father and thereby fulfil an old 
wish of childhood. Towards younger men or youths who repren- 
sented himself in earlier years he was accustomed to play the 
r61e of the mother. This scheme is a typical one. The homo- 
sexual does not really wish for the man, but for the woman with 
the penis (his mother). ' The first sensations of pleasure received 
by the new-born child are from sucking at its mother's breast. 
This pleasure consists of two feelings, namely, the pacifying of 
hunger, and the stimulation of an important erotogenic zone — 
the mouth.' 'Many neurotics regard the placing of the nipple in 
the mouth as a sexual act with the mother. In their childhood 
they considered that the mother possessed a breast-penis with 
which she coitised the little boy. ' Sadger also explains cunnilingus 
and fellatio on the basis of this primitive coitus. (The second part 
of Sadger's article I have not been able to obtain.) 

Ferenczi in his article 'Zur Nosologic der mannlichen Homo- 
sexualitat (Homoerotik)' (8), describes two different types of homo- 
sexuality, namely, the active and the passive. He uses the term 
'homo-erotic', first employed by F. Karsch-Haack instead of 
'homosexuality' in order to call particular attention to the 
psychical side of the impulse. The term 'invert' should only be 
used where there is a 'pure anomaly of development', an actual 
reversal of normal psychical and physical characteristics. This 
condition cannot be influenced by psycho-analysis or any other 
psychotherapeutic measures. A man who in intercourse with men 
feels himself a woman is inverted in relation to his own ego 
(homo-erotic through subject inversion or 'subject-homo-erotic'). 
The 'active homosexual' feels himself a man in every relation; 
only the object is changed, i.e. he is an ' object-homo-erotic. ' In 
the early history of the subject-homo-erotic we already find signs 
of inversion. As a little child he creates phantasies of being in 
his mother's place, and not in that of his father ; he wishes the 
death of his mother, and early shows various girlish traits. ^ 

Object-homo-erotics are true obsessional neurotics. Their ob- 
sessional ideas abound in obsessional protective procedures and 
ceremonies. The characteristic lack of balance in love and hate 
is found in them. Object-homo-erotLsm is a true neurotic com- 
pulsion, with logically irreversible substitution of normal sexual 
aims and actions by abnormal ones. Their early history is as 
follows: precocious heterosexual aggression, 'normal' Oedipus 




phantasies, severe punishment on account of hetero-erotic offences 
in earliest childhood. Analysis shows that an object-homo-erotic 
unconsciously knows how to love the woman in a man. The 
active-homo-erotic act appears on the one hand as subsequent (false) 
obedience, which avoids intercourse with women, but indulges 
the forbidden hetero-erotic desires in unconscious phantasies ; on 
the other hand the paederastic act serves the purpose of the orig- 
inal Oedipus phantasy and denotes the injuring and sullying of 
the man. Ferenczi in designating object-homo-erotism as a neurotic 
symptom comes into opposition with Freud, who in his 'Sexual- 
theorie' describes homosexuality as a perversion, neuroses on the 
contrary as the negative of perversions. However, according to 
Ferenczi the contradiction is only apparent. 'Perversions', i. e. 
tarrying at primitive or preparatory sexual aims, can very well 
be placed at the disposal of neurotic repression tendencies also, 
a part of true (positive) perversion, neurotically exaggerated, 
representing at the same time the negative of another perversion. 
Now this is the case with 'object- ho mo-erotism'. The homo-erotic 
component, which is never absent even normally, gets here over- 
engaged with masses of affect, which in the unconscious relate to 
another, repressed perversion, namely, a hetero-erotism of such 
strength as to be incapable of becoming conscious. In a purely 
theoretical respect Ferenczi seems to me to take up an essentially 
new point of view regarding the perversions. 

Freud, in a new foot-note in his 'Drei Abhandlungen ' (10) 
(S. 12/13), very decidedly expresses himself against considering 
homosexuals as a special group of human beings. All human beings 
are capable of object choice towards the same sex and have 
accomplished this in their unconscious. That object choice is not 
dependent upon the sex of the object seems to be the original 
tendency. The normal as well as the inversion type is developed 
from this original tendency through restriction. The inversion types 
show throughout the predominance of archaic constitutions and 
primitive psychic mechanisms. Their chief characteristics are narcis- 
sistic object choice and erotic significance of the anal zone. In 
childhood the absence of a strong father frequently favours 

Freud's analysis, 'Eine Kindheitserinnerung des Leonardo da 
Vinci' (11), when it appeared furnished the greatest contribution 
to our knowledge of homosexuality. 


Psychoanalyse und soziologie. Zur Psychologie von Masse und Ge- 
sellschaft By Aurel Kolnai. (Intemationaler Psychoanalytischer Verlag, 
Vienna, 1920. Pp. 152. Price 2s. 6d.) 

The book consists of two main parts, the first dealing with the 
sociological results of Psycho-Analysis, the second with the possibilities 
of Psycho-Analysis in the field of sociology. 

The first part, which is sub-divided into several chapters, endeavours 
to draw a distinction between the results gained by direct observation 
of society itself and those gained by observation of the individual. 
Psycho-Analysis, working with entirely new methods, might be expected 
to produce new results. Its research into the sphere of sex has thrown 
light on the formation of primitive society and at the same time on the 
dissolution of it. Can Psycho-Analysis play any great part in socio- 
logical science? The question is answered in the negative; as Psycho- 
Analysis occupies itself only with the individual it cannot possibly play 
an important part in the science of society. Nevertheless, the aim 
of Psycho-Analysis, though it started only as a purely therapeutic 
one, has become wider and wider. It coincides with the aim of politics, 
namely to make the individual better adapted to his surroundings, his 
conditions, in short to his milieu. Any reform of sexual and family life 
(a sociological question) can only be successful when helped by psycho- 
analytical insight. 

Psycho-Analysis has reached three important results for sociology: 
the research into Race Psychology, into Primitive Society and into the 
Connection between the Individual and Society. This last point com- 
prises the vast fields of Pedagogics and Family Life. 

Psycho-Analysis is able to explain primitive processes, not however 
the differentiated ones. Collective ideas on a low level, being the sum 
of individual thought, can be explained by these methods. The neuroses 
are regressions to that level. 

Sexuality forms the most important link between the two sciences, 
since it can be observed in both the individual and society. The central 
question of mcest, the feeling towards the father, changing from hate 
to ambivalency, is the beginning of social conflict. Psycho-Analysis by 
its methodical investigation of the unconscious mind has rendered the 
most valuable services to Sociology, For, although the unconscious 

. 451 



mind seems a-social, as one cannot express or communicate unconscious 
conflicts, it reveals itself clearly in the actions of the individual and 
society. The content of the unconscious mind, forbidden wishes, leads 
when incompletely repressed to neurosis, to flight from society. By 
making those unconscious wishes conscious and helping thereby to 
overcome those tendencies hostile to society, Psycho-Analysis is of the 
greatest importance for social politics. 

The second part, on the Possibilities of Psycho-Analysis, suggests 
possible ways for Sociology to make more use of the results gained by 
psycho-analytical research. Psycho-Analysis has always ascribed the 
greatest value to the surroundings of the individual and its effect on 
his character. By extending those investigations and grouping them 
carefully according to Race, Profession, Financial Conditions, and by 
carefully working out the material statistically, a wide field of new- 
knowledge opens for Sociology. An analysis of the character of the 
English, for example, has been ventured by Maeder. 

On the Psychology of Social Movements Psycho-Analysis with its 
new methods is bound to reach deeper thsu any other science. An 
analysis on those lines is here attempted witii the social movement of 
Anarcho-Communism. After defining this conception, Kolnai explains 
Anarchism as a regression to the murder of the father. Through being 
a regression, and not a development, it is doomed to failure. It is not 
the strife of men, but the struggle of children. 

Communism; on the other hand, is less hostile to law; it allows an 
authority, a father. Communism is the social movement of the workman, 
hi its earliest stages it shows a distinct longing to return to Mother 
Earth (Physiocrats) which can easily be understood from the feeling of 
the workman, living far from the country and without the possibility of 
seeing it. hi this stage, with its doctrine: Work according to Ability, 
Food according to Needs, it has a striking resemblance to the childish 
principle of getting the most with the smallest amount of discomfort 
It is not designed to develop strength and will power by exertion. In 
its further development, where it recognizes authority, Communism rises 
from an infantile movement to the struggle of youths. 

The task of following and expounding the author's ideas is made 
extremely difficult by thq richness of the material worked into a small 
book and also by the way this material is used. The author seems to 
deal with subjects in the order — or better disorder — in which they occur 
to him. There is no trace of a plan. Some of his statements would be 
very surprising to students of Political Economy, such as the one that 
Psycho-Analysis was the first to give its due importance to the sur- 
rounding milieu conditions of the individual. One is not sure whether 
to attribute the superficial, and in parts ridiculous, character sketch of 
the English. to the author or to Maeder from whom it is taken. The 


definitions of Anarchism and Communism are, though very long, by no 
means complete. What he describes as a childish impulse, to get most 
with the smallest amount of work, is usually considered to be the 
reigning economic principle. However, Kolnai himself describes the 
book as nothing more than a sketch. It is impossible to deal adequat- 
ely with such an enormous amount of material in a small book; on 
the last twenty pages he starts on an analysis of Marxism, Bolshevism 
and the effects of the War on society. Nevertheless the book is full ol 
ideas and most interesting, though far from easy reading. Some more 
knowledge of sociological and economic literature, a more fluent and 
coherent style and a strict plan to coordinate the rich flow of ideas 
would make an excellent book of what is now only an interesting 
sketch. A table of contents as well as an index would be a great 


Katherine Jones. 

Concept OF Repression. By Girindrasheklar Bose, M. B., D. Sc, 
Lecturer in Psycho-Analysis and Abnormal Psychology at the University 
of Calcutta. (Bose, Calcutta, 1921, Pp. 223. Price Rs. 10.) 

This must be the first work on psycho-analysis written by an Ind- 
ian, and we note with interest that it reveals a considerable know- 
ledge of the subject. The author tells us that he has been practising 
psycho-analysis since 1909, and although he has no access to writings 
in the German language, and evidently only to a certain number of 
those in English, he gives evidence of considerable personal experience 
as well as of careful thought. 

In the first chapter or two the author explains his position as a 
pan-psychic determinist, a doctrine he applies thoroughly. He has 
chosen repression as the title of his book and as the main theme in it 
because in his opinion 'Freud's concept of repression is perhaps the 
most important contribution to psychopathology '. He then expounds the 
subject of repression, of conflict, and of allied themes familiar to the 
readers of this Journal. In it he lays especial, and unwonted stress on 
the tendency to polarity in the human mind. The book is extensively 
illustrated by diagrams, which will doubtless be useful to the beginner. 

E. J. 

The Hysteria or Lady Macbeth. By Isador H. Coriat, M. D. (The 
Four Seas Company, Boston. Second Edition, 1920. Pp. 95. Price 
1.25 dollars.) 


The first half of this little brochure consists of a brief account of psycho- | 


analysis and its applications in the field of literature, the second of a 
psycho-analysis of the character of Lady Macbeth. The author is at 
considerable pains to shew that the figure of Lady Macbeth represents 
a type of hysteria, and that her somnambulic activities signified mental 
dissociation, not sleep proper. Sadger's work on Somnambulism is not 
mentioned. The diagnosis of Lady Macbeth's mental state culminates 
in the conclusion that her sexual energies, thwarted by her barrenness, 
were transformed into ambition, and that this came into conflict with 
'repressed cowardice'. Cowardice, like any other form of fear, may be 
inhibited, but it is not a primary content of the unconscious, so that 
one can hardly speak of it as repressed in the psycho-analytic sense: 
it is, of course, a reaction to some deeper content of the unconscious. 
The whole study is very slight, but readably written. It is a pity that 
the author was not able to refer to the profound analyses of the same 
character published by Freud and Jekels. 

E. J. 

Die Diktatur der Liebe (The Dictatorship of Love). By Th. ZelL (HoflF- 
mann & Campe, Hamburg-Berlin, 1919.) 

This book really gives what its sub-title promises, 'New insight 
into the sex life of human beings and animals '. The author has arrived 
^ at some new and far-reaching ideas as the result of observations carried 
out for many years. His explanations have not been biassed by any 
prevailing theories, and he advances his views in opposition to those 
found in the special literature on the subject which he has closely 
studied. Many of his explanations of a teleological nature, for example 
the reason he gives for the appearance of albinos, can only be proved 
after further discussion and investigation. Most of his conclusions, how- 
ever, are evident from the material he brings forward. 

There is a great deal in this book of interest to us, especially the 
insight into the mental life of animals that is obtained from an under- 
standing of their sexual biology; and the fact that their habits of life 
are conditioned by their sexual life much more than has hitherto been 
supposed. His descriptions are tinged with humour, and the joy that 
he takes in living nature is communicated to the reader. Sexuality is 
described without prudery and quite openly. Many ideas are in accord 
"With psycho-analytical views. For instance, Zell constantly emphasises 
and makes use of the principle that the habits and mental life of dom- 
estic animals can be correctly explained only if a study is made of 
the conditions of life of these animals in their original and wild state, 
or at least of a species closely related to them. Moreover, Zell explains 
in an original manner peculiarities in human beings from comparison 


with the conditions of life and iiistincts of the human apes. In the same 
way psycho-analysis shows that the psyche of civilised people is only 
to be understood from a knowledge of primitive man; however, the 
analogy is not complete, because the so-called primitive peoples are 
relatively highly civilised. 

It is remarkable how many false ideas are removed by the con- 
sistent consideration of the organisation of the senses, by observing 
whether the sense of smell predominates, whether the eyes are the 
dominant sense organs, or whether they are night or day animals. The 
sexual constitution is bound up with the constitution of the senses and 
from this all the habits of love are explained. We learn from this com- 
parative sexual biology that the erotogenic zones of the excretory 
organs are very highly developed in all animals that have a keen sense 
of smell. In animals who orient themselves and recognise friends and 
foes by means of smell — in the second instance by hearing — and 
only finally or not at all by sight, the love-play of their fore-pleasure 
is carried out by nose and tongue as organs of choice and enjoyment; 
and in them the genital and anal region and their excretions are 
objects of fore-pleasure and individual choice. In animals in which the 
sense of sight predominates, for instance, birds and beasts of prey, we 
see nothing of this ; their fore-pleasure is obtained by sight and hearing. 
In all animals with a predominant sense of smell the excretions of the 
bladder and bowels fulfil a second and from a biological point of view 
exceedingly important task; they serve as posts of love !to enable 
rutting animals some distance from one another to scent and find one 
another. The poUakiuria of dogs, for instance, serves this purpose, 
though naturally it is superfluous in their domesticated state, and is 
only explicable as a traditional post of love. 

It is very probable that the human being, who is an animal in whom 
the sense organ of sight predominates, has descended from animals 
in which smell is the dominant sense. The sense of smell still plays a 
great part in the sexual life of many apes. In human beings the sense 
of smell as an organ of orientation has lost very much of its importance, 
but it still plays a considerable role in love choice and fore-pleasure. 
A perverse association of smell and sexuality, as far as it concerns 
constitutional conditions, thus appears as an atavism that does not reach 
back very far. Psycho-analytical experience directly shows this connect- 
ion, for cunnilingus intensified to a perversion is very frequently found 
in individuals with an atavistic development of the sense of smell. The 
infant comes very near to the animal in its instincts, so that the fact 
in comparative biology that the excretory organs in animals are of very 
high sexual significance supports our view that the excretory organs 
during the period of suckling in the infant act as sexual zones. 

Zell discusses the favourite perfumes from the animal world which 


are used not only by women, but also by homosexual men. He has 
taken up the subject of the 'Uberkreuzregel', first established by Jager, 
and irrefutably proved it by"' means of new material. This peculiar term 
denotes that sexual attraction takes place between different species and 
particularly between animals and human beings. It is for this reason 
that the domestic animal or the wild animal in captivity shows a marked 
preference for its breeder, owner, tamer, or keeper of the opposite 
sex. Apes only steal women as" sexual objects. As demonstrated by Zell 
in a particularly convincing manner in the case of rational dairy-farm- 
ing, the 'Schweizer', i.e. the men who milk the cows, owe their 
remarkable success exclusively to their sex. Their sex so acts on the 
cow that it gives proportionately more and better milk, for the final 
yield of milk at the milking is the richest in fat. Both the secretion and the 
passive excretion of milk are very dependent on pleasurable psycho-sexual 
feelings in the cow being milked; the cow scents the man, being an animal 
with the organ of smell specially pronounced. They do not ' withhold ' the 
milk from the male milker. The animals are sensible of a pleasurable 
stimulus during the process of milking. When these obvious arguments 
are advanced it is comical with what certainty the opponents brmg 
forward absurd explanations for the success of the male milkers. We 
are reminded of the display of apparent reasons with which our oppo- 
nents differently rationalise every sexual causation. Psycho-analytically 
speaking the teats are therefore, according to Zell, erotogenic zones. 
This entirely corresponds to the experience of laymen and the accounts 
of normal women who are suckling a child. Candid wet-nurses admit 
to experiencing this great sexual pleasure; other women react to the 
question with an expression of modest indignation which betrays the 
repression. The sexual character of the pleasure in suckling, as now 
established by Zell from the observation of animals, is a good argument 
for the psycho-analytical assumption that sexual pleasure also takes place 
in the infant that is being suckled; the same feelings are to be assumed in 
a biological process as regards the skin of the giver and receiver. 

Opposition to the recognition of the sexual impulse in its strength 
and psychical significance extends also to biology. Investigators prefer 
to ignore even the sexuality of animals. Zell lays stress on the fact 
that in the standard work by Alfred Brehm monkeys are described as 
being very sexual. In the later edition the authors have omitted the 
passages, not on the grounds of new observations, but on account oi 
subjective antipathy; thus the monkeys are purged of the views of 
Cuvier, Oken, Reichenbach and Alfred Brehm, who all agree as to their 

excessive sexuality. 

As this passage agrees with the assumption of the Darwinian primitive 
horde, which Freud has taken up; but is not quoted in Darwin' and is 

' Carus, translation, 1871. 


no longer to be found in the new Brehm, I will quote it literally 
from Zell's book on account of its interest to psycho-analysts. 'The 
strongest or oldest, therefore the most qualified male member of a herd, 
eventually becomes the chief or leader of the monkeys. This position 
is not assigned to him by universal suffrage, but only bestowed upon 
him after very obstinate struggles and fights with other candidates, i. e. 
with the rest of the old males. The longest teeth and the strongest 
arms are the deciding factors. A monkey who is not willing to be sub- 
ordinated is taught discipline by blows and bites until he becomes 
reasonable. The crown descends in virtue of strength. His wisdom lies 
in his teeth. The chief monkey demands and enjoys unconditional 
obedience in every respect' He does not practise chivalrous courtesy 
towards the weaker sex, he obtains in the fight the reward of love. 
The jus primae noctis is still to-day in force for him. He is the tribal 
father of a people, and his family, like that of Abraham, Isaac and 
Jacob, increase "as the sands of the sea". No female member of the 
band may yield to a foolish love affair with a youngster. The chiefs 
eyes are keen and his discipline strict; he has no fooling in love affairs. 
The female monkeys who forget themselves, or rather him, get their 
ears boxed and are roughly handled, so that their association with other 
heroes of the band is certainly spoiled. The young male monkey who 
violates the laws of the harem that are made by the sultan, who is 
very proud of his right, fares very badly indeed. Jealousy makes the 
young monkey formidable. It is foolish of a female monkey to conjure 
up such jealousy, for the chief monkey is sufficient for all the female 
monkeys of his herd. If the herd becomes too big then a portion separ- 
ates itself from the chief band under the leadership of a brother, who 
in the meantime has become sufficiently strong, and now begins on its 
own account the struggle and fight for the leadership in the herd and 
in love. Fighting always takes place where several strive for the same 
goal. Certainly no day passes'among the" apes without strife and quarrel- 
ling. A herd has only to be observed for a short time and we soon 
become aware of the struggle in their midst and its true causes.' In the 
fourth edition this excellent passage is very much abridged. It only says, 
'Certainly no day passes among the apes without strife and quarrelling.' 
The chimpanzee is the only exception to the general and excessive 
sexuality of the anthropoids. The chimpanzee is very good-natured and 


Among the other monkeys in captivity excessive onanism is the 
rule. Zell says of this: 'Leopards and the worries of obtaining food 
drive away thoughts of love from the mandrill living in the wild state 
and under normal conditions.' Onanism is very frequent in all animals 
in captivity and domestic animals, ' because we allow them to gratify their 
sexual impulse only on very rare occasions'. Perversions and sexual 


intercourse with other species occur under the same conditions. 'I do 
not believe that animals living in freedom practise onanism — nor 
have I heard anything about it' — and inversion is not known in 
animals in their free state. The too young female is in the position to 
protect itself instinctively and successfully against the sexual attacks of 
the males. All aberrations from the normal are limited to domesticated 
states. Frogs are the only exception. 

Zell discusses a question that is of interest to psycho-analysts. 
Castration originates from Africa, and extends back beyond the primitive 
period of mankind. Baboons bite off the sex organs of their adversaries, 
including men. The natives of Africa have learned this custom from 
the apes, and also a kind of dance, hair dressing, some kinds of food, 
a definite tatooing, and the apes' greeting. 

This greeting has been hitherto explained incorrectly as an ex- 
pression of homosexual preparedness, as though the stronger monkey 
were opposed to the smaller male monkey sexually, which certainly is 
not the case. Zell's illuminating explanation is that this greeting like 
all greetings in the animal world and between men signifies a state of 
defencelessness, in that the animal feeling itself too weak for .the fight 
takes up a position in which it cannot fight. This idea, as well as de- 
fiance, is contained in the verbal derivative of the apes greeting among 
human beings. 

In conclusion I will quote a short example from this book, which, 
though of no particular interest to psycho-analysts, shows in a typical 
manner the clear train of thought of the author. 'Why do not horses 
cry out? Only animals who assist each other cry out. For example, 
cattle low. Wild and single-hoofed animals do not assist each other.' 

This book belongs to the good type of new books which does not 
humanize animals, but represents them in their natural condition, and 
thus in the sense of Schopenhauer shows the unity of all animated 
beings. One gains from it the conviction that the mind of animals, like 
that of human beings, receives its characteristic nature and often its 
individual fate through remote effects of the libido. In animals the libido 
can be developed to individual love, and for this reason the title 
Dictatorship of Love does not disparage this word. 

Paul Federn. 

Sanity in Sex. By William J. Fielding. (Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner 
& Co., Ltd. London, pp. 326. Price 10s. 6d. net.) 

The Mystery of Existence and a Brief Study of the Sex Problem. 
By C. W. Armstrong. (Grant Richards, Ltd. London, pp. 192, 6s. net.) 

Sex Education and Maternal Health. By C. Gasquoine Hartley 
(Leonard Parsons, Ltd., London, pp. 143, 6s. net.) 


These three books, thoug-h widely different in scope and treatment, 
have in common their main theme — namely, that of sex and its develop- 
ments, present or to come, in the individual and in society. It must be 
admitted that this is a subject which needs thought and research from 
any helpful quarter, but at the same time so complicated a problem is 
it, demanding really efficient equipment on the part of those who 
handle it, that the reader is at times tempted to wish that fewer people 
would rush in to tackle it. 

Moreover, the new light shed by the discoveries concerning the 
\mconscious render many of the formerly accepted views, even of 
' Reformers ', invalid, and it seems waste of time to offer us theories 
which by now are only to be relegated to the scrap-heap. 

Such reflections are called forth by two out of the above three 
volumes, more especially by the largest of them. 

Sanity and Sex. By William y. Fielding. 

This fairly large work which is ushered in by a Preface characterized 
by its large claims and curiously pompous air, although containing some 
actual facts which are interesting and may prove useful (e. g. Ch. V, ' Sex 
Hygiene in Industry ' ; Ch. VII, ' Other Phases of the Sex Hygiene Move- 
ment'), is so full of misstatement, of half-knowledge and of an extra- 
ordinary (and to the reviewer, at least, a very repellent) blend of would- 
be 'science' and gushing ethics, that as a whole there is little to be 
said in recommendation of the book. 

Mr. Fielding evidently feels himself capable of dealing with the 
most difficult and complicated problems of sex life in the individual 
and in our modern society, and his method too often is to achieve 
this by an artless elimination of the real factors. Such chapters as Ch. I, 
' The Decadence of Fig-Leave Morality ', Ch. K, ' Sex Enlightenment and 
Conjugal Happiness'; Ch. HI, 'Bringing Sex-Truths to the Soldier' are 
astonishing in their naive outlook — ' schoolgirlish ' one is almost tempted 
to describe it — and ignoring of innumerable essentials. 

It is impossible to give evidence of this in the short space of a 
review beyond quoting one or two instances which must suffice. In 
Ch. Ill, (Bringing Sex-Truths to the Soldier) the author seems to imag- 
ine that the men who made up the American army had no information, 
knowledge or experience of their own before the advent of sex-lectures 
arranged by the army-officials. He writes (p. 41) : ' It seems almost like 
thinking of another age when we consider the practically unruffled field 
of virgin ignorance of sex-truths which so generally prevailed in 1917 
when the mobilization of the American war-machine began.' Really, one 
was not aware that men, young, middle-aged or old, were such entirely 
different creatures in 1917 from what they are now, and one wonders 
whether W. Fielding has kept his eyes shut both before and after that 
date. On pp. 47 and 48 we are told of the lectures given to the men, 


how the speakers emphasized the perils of promiscuous sexual relations, 
'appealed to the human innate trait of altruism', 'impressed' the audience 
with the need of living clean lives, showed the 'possible effects of 
venereal diseases on innocent children', and so forth. As a result, accord- 
ing to our author, the men learnt what they had never heard of before 
in tlieir lives, were inspired then and there to quite new standards of 
morality and life, and in general behaved very much as the hero of the 
Sunday School Tract. 

Indeed, in Ch. IV, p. 67, we are informed that 'Specially designed 
art posters, bearing appealing messages, were used with splendid effect. 
The most popular of these was one issued by the Y. M. C. A. with the 
poem. "You— in her thoughts", by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, handsomely 
illustrated. This poster with so vivid a reminder of mother-love and 
home, and so forceful an entreaty for clean living and the children 
unborn, gripped the men as possibly few other appeals could.' (Italics 
are the Reviewer's.) 

It is difficult to believe that in this same book we have a chapter 
(Ch. XII) devoted to 'Psycho- Analysis— the Searchlight on the Sub- 
consciousness of Sex' in which the author sets out a brief resume of 
some of the leading ideas in the Freudian theory. It must remain one 
of the insoluble mysteries that a writer can really (as he claims) under- 
stand Freud's theories and then proceed to write a book in which 
almost every chapter flies in the face of everything which those theories 
have established! 

The Mystery of Existence and A Brief Study of the Sex Problem. 
By C. W. Armstrong. 

The second book of the trilogy, as the title makes clear, has a wide 
scope, probably far too wide for the small compass of this volume. The 
chapter-headings will indicate the material dealt with : e. g., ' The World- 
Spirit' (Ch. n), 'The Subliminal Self (Ch. IV), 'Free Will' (Ch. VI), 
, Man's Destiny' (Ch. K), 'Immortality' (Ch. X), 'Love' (Ch. VHI). 

A great deal of reference is made to theories, philosophies, thinkers, 
in passing, but too little space perforce is devoted to any one to make 
this of value. One is left with vague ideas and generalizations only. 

The second part, devoted to 'The Sex Problem" is more specific 
and thereby more satisfactory in treatment. It contains some useful facts 
in reference to Venereal Disease and a plea for more openness and 
honesty in regard to such matters as prostitution, so-called 'Unnatural 
Vice' and so forth. But here again, as in the volume previously reviewed, 
there is so much windy and unbased theorizing that the value of the 
other is largely vitiated. The author has a way of writing like this: 
.Children were meant by God to play together in innocence ..." (p. 184) ; 
,What is the new morality that shall... lead us on to earthly bliss?' 
(p. 197) (the obvious reply being 'there's no sich'); 'Had we ideal 


marriage laws, prostitution would either cease to exist or shrink 
to unsignificant proportions' (p. 167) — remarks which do not tend 
to produce either respect or conviction in the reader. 

A very odd theory is formulated in this section on 'The Sex Pro- 
blem' — namely, that for Britain the sex problem is so particularly 
urgent since it is her business to maintain her Empire and 'The British 
Empire can never really go under as long as it possesses larger and fitter 
populations than any other countries' (p. 165), and hence we must 
desire to see unfit citizens in other nations. 'The only approach to a 
real guarantee we have of peace in the -future lies in the number of 
physically defective children now born in Germany.' (Italics are the 

An interesting doctrine, but perhaps a trifle difficult to fit in with 
the uplifting views expressed at length in Section I ! 

Sex Education and Maternal Health. By C. Gasquoine Hartley. 
, It is a relief to turn to the smallest book of the three on the subject 
of sex, with its honest attempt to find out and think out some at least 
of the urgent problems involved. Mrs. Hartley has sense, sympathy and 
a good deal of excellent knowledge in certain directions connected 
with sex and its manifestations, which things give her an equipment for 
her subject. She does not attempt large generalizations nor (as a rule) 
hasty half-statements. She does try to look into and around the questions 
she attempts to deal with, and one is impressed by her sincerity in 
the sense of her real endeavour to see what is to be seen — a quality 
so conspicuously lacking in many writers on the matter. One of the 
best chapters is the one on 'Sexual Education' (Ch. H), especially 
pp. 34-7 and p. 44 (on the futility of a boundless belief in outside 
'instruction' to the child); another which has many wise and helpful 
things in it is Ch. IV, 'Adolescence with special reference to the 
Adolescent Girl', and Ch. VII, 'Concluding Remarks' contains much 
enlightened good sense. The author has obviously applied some of 
Freud's teaching to the question of sex-education, with very desirable 
results, and one feels that when she has investigated and experienced 
more on psycho-analytical lines, some of the defects of her present 
work will be removed. She is inclined to underestimate the profound 
difficulties to be met with in the matter of sex-education and to ignore 
the actual facts in psychic development. Here is an example: (Ch. II, 
p. 33) 'The right opportunity for sexual instruction is when the child 
seeks for knowledge and the right knowledge is what the child wants 
to know.' Unfortunately, things are not so simple: Too often the child 
'wants to know', but that 'want' is inhibited from conscious expression, 
or appears shameful to himself, and therefore is suppressed, through 
the fantasies already built up, and the parent must find some way ot 
giving the knowledge which may never be sought openly, yet the ab- 


sence of which is causing- suffering and distortion oi ideas. If the child 
could ask every time he desired, the process of education would indeed 
be made easier! In the same chapter (p. 45), still deahng with the 
question of giving information, she writes : ' It goes without saying that 
the mother must answer the child's question as if ■ she were talking 
about any other part of the body, explaining the difference between 
a crab and a lobster.' An astonishing lack of understanding is revealed 
here! What is the use of the mother behaving 'as if she were doing 
one thing when she is doing another ? This can effect nothing but 
distrust and hypocrisy in the whole affair. The sex-organs are not 'any 
other part of the body' (nor, in fact, are any parts of the body as 'any 
other part'): the human being is not 'a crab or a lobster', and the 
effect of this kind of attitude— an attitude which itself denotes fear 
and repression — is to create further repressions — in the child. 

In her advocacy of nakedness — the ideal, she says, is for boys 
and girls to bathe together naked quite openly, and for the young to 
see their elders naked — she again seems ignorant of some important 
considerations, and overlooks the question of premature sexual excitation : 
probably this is due to some vague idea that nakedness is 'natural', 
that what is 'natural' is right and desirable, or that what primitive 
people can do with advantage, so can the civilized man, if only he 
would begin to try — a doctrine responsible for ail sorts of error! 
However, in spite of certain defects, in spite of the fact that one finds 
oneself often in disagreement with her conclusions, Mrs. Hartley must 
be thanked for a contribution which is very much worth having, one 
of the very few books on 'sex-education' which one cares to study and 
to recommend. Barbara Low. 

PsYCHOLOGiE EE l'Enfant. By Dr. Ed. Claparfcde, Professor at the 
University of Geneva. (Kiindig, Geneva, 1920, Pp. 571.) 

This well-known book has now reached its eighth edition in the 
original, the only English translation being from the fourth. It is gener- 
ally recognised to be a standard work, one of the very best books 
that have ever been written on the subject of child psychology. 

In the new edition we note that much more space has been devot- 
ed to psycho-analytical doctrines than in the earlier ones. The author, 
though long interested in psycho-analysis, has generally adopted a non- 
committal attitude towards it. In the course of time this has gradually 
become more and more favourable. Throughout the book — and of how 
many other psychological text-books could this be said? — are scattered 
references to psycho-analytical work, which is taken extensively into 
account in regard to such topics as memory, conflict, sublimation, and 
so on. The author protests against the objections that have been made 


to the application of psycho-analysis in childhood and says: 'la m^thode 
s'est montr^e suffisamment feconde pour qu'elle ne soit pas condamn^e 
pour cette seule raison qu'elle est delicate a manier, et que tel ou tel 
op^rateur a pu faillir k sa tache' (p. 249). 

Nevertheless it is plain that the author has more to learn concerning, 
the theory of psycho-analysis and we hope that the following- mistakes 
will be corrected in the next edition. On p. 647 we read: 'Pour Freud 
revolution des intdrets se ramfene en somme k revolution d'un instinct 
primordial, qui apparatt le premier, et qui est la source de toute acti- 
vite psychique, I'instinct sexuel'. It is becoming very tiresome to correct 
this gross misapprehension time after time, but one must ask such 
writers how they suppose Freud comes to build his whole psychology 
on the conception of conflict if he thinks there is no other instinct than 
the sexual one with which this can enter into conflict. Again (p. 548) 
it is stated that Freud gives such a wide meaning to the word Libido 
that it becomes equivalent to the term interest, this distortion of the 
word being just what psycho-analysts, on the contrary, have reproached 
Jung with committing; and sure enough, as a proof of this statement 
relating to Freud, we find a footnote giving a reference to Jung's writ- 
ings! Although there is still confusion in other countries concerning 
the difference between the views of Freud and Jung one is astonished 

to find it persisting in Switzerland. 

E. J. 


The Psychology of Industry. By James Drever, M. A., B.Sc, D.Phil, 
(Methuen and Co., London, 1921. Pp. vii + 141. Price 5s.) 

'This little book is intended not so much for the student of psycho- 
logy as for the ordinary man' and we might add is written from the 
standpoint of the experimental psychologist. Three aspects of the pro- 
blem are outlined; the first concerns the worker (his character, intelli- 
gence, vocational fitness, etc.), the second the work (fatigue and output 
in relation to rest periods, ventilation, lighting, economy of movement), 
the third concerns the market (supply and demand from the psycho- 
logical standpoint). The second aspect is dealt with at some length and 
repays careful reading. 

The industrial psychologist may approach his problem in two ways ; 
he may start from the details of the work to be done: for example 
from the question, 'How quickly, how accurately can this person tap 
keys?' he formulates tests and from their results can hazard a guess 
whether a girl will be a good typist. Or he may approach the problem 
from the other end and start, not from the details of the work, but 
from the energy sources of the worker's life, from the libido, and then 
try to place the worker in such a position that his libido may be 


satisfied; the interests ot the libido and of the community meeting on 
the common ground of a sublimation-activity. The former is the ex- 
perimental psychologist's method, the latter a derivative of psycho-analytic 
research. The inadequacy of the former method alone except as a guide 
to the final sorting and grading of workers is obvious. 

Psycho-analysis proper frequently includes studies of work-efficiency. 
Repressed homosexuality is often a cause of difficulties between mistress 
and maid. Narcissism causes workmen to dread efficiency tests as it 
does schoolboys to funk their examinations. Anal erotism and the anal 
character often play a determining part both in the choice of work and 
emotional attitude to it. 

The ubiquitous (Edipus complex is an almost constant factor. There 
are people who make a profession of psycho-analytical knowledge and 
who on the basis of that knowledge and of experimental psychology 
advise their clients what work will satisfy libido and also earn a good 
salary. Such efforts one watches with interest and trepidation, but at 
least they possess one merit in that they approach the relation of worker 
to work from both aspects. Accredited psycho-analysts do not employ 
their time in advising their patients what work to pursue, for the reason 
that a sublimation-activity is no more amenable to advice than a neur- 

If a book called the Psychology of Love dealt with topics no more 
fundamental than early-closing day, the shading of lights and 'tests for 
the memory of faces', the ordinary man would feel that while valuable 
points had been touched on sufficient stress had not been laid on the 
dynamic power of love, and that justice had not been done to our 
present knowledge of the subject. It is a pity that the author of 'The 
Psychology of Everyday Life ' and ' Instinct in Man ' has been so depart- 
mental in a book he entitles 'The Psychology of Industry'. 

John Rickman. 

Traite de Pathologie Medicale et de Therapeutique appliquee. 
(Maloine et Fils, Paris) 

Dans'le Traite de Pathologie Medicale et de Therapeutique appliquee 
deux volumes seront consacres k la Psychiatric. 

Le premier volume, qui vient de parattre, contient les articles sui- 

Ritti (Dr. Antoine), Semeiologie generale. — Juquelier (Dr.), Manie 
aigue. Psychasthenic. — Durand (Dr.), Melancolie et Psychoses periodi- 
ques. — Mignard (Dr.), Etats confusionels, Psychologic des delires. Con- 
fusion mentale aigue. — Serieux et Capgras (Drs.), Delires systematis^s. 
— Logre, Etat mental des hysteriques. — Brissot (Dr.), Etat mental des 
epileptiques. — Mallet (Dr.), Psychoses de guerre. 


Ce premier volume sug-gere dejk de nombreuses remarques, aussi 
ai-je voulu en rendre compte, sans attendre la publication du second. 
Ce livre possede toutes las grandes qualites at les grands defauts 
des ouvrages franijais. Cast dire que les descriptions cliniques des 
differentas maladies qu'il traite, sont excellentes; on ne peut qu'admirer 
avec quel soin chaque sympt6me est ^tudie. Mais d'autre part on est 
oblige de regretter que les psychiatres frangais, au point de vue etio- 
logique, en soient toujours restes k la theorie de la d^g^n^rescence 
vieille de plus de 50 ans. Cette perseveration provient probablement 
du fait que les Francjais se tiennent si pen au courant de la litterature 
^trangfere. On s'^tonne en effet de ne trouver aucune mention des 
ouvrages de Freud dans les articles de Ritti, de Juquelier, de Capgras, 
de S^rieux, de Brissot et de Mallet. Le sujet qu'ils traitent est cepen- 
dant en rapport direct avec les travaux des psychoanalystes. 

Logre, dans son article sur 'L'etat mental des hyst^riques ', rend 
compte de la psychoanalyse, d'apres I'ouvrage de Regis et Hesnard, 
mais il semble ne pas la connattre de premifere main, et surtout ne 
I'avoir jamais pratiqude. La citation ci-dessous le montre clairement 
(p. 356): 

'Appliquer la psycho-analyse, c'est-k-dire faire appel aux souvenirs 
anciens, en partie oubli6s et ddformes; laisser aller la fantaisie du ma- 
lade k I'aventure, sous pretexte d'etudier les associations spontan^es, ou 
mettre en jeu sa suggestibility, sous pretexte de diriger les associations 
provoqu^es; s'en rapporter au rdcit des reves, dont I'anamnfese et le 
commeritaire sont toujours si delicats, si incertains et si fuyants; inter- 
preter enfin des etats d'automatisme subconscient et de distraction, 
n'est-ce pas accumuler, comme k plaisir, toutes les chances d'infid^lit^ 
du temoignage ? N'est-ce pas precis6ment convertir en moyens d'investi- 
gation scientifique les causes d'erreur les plus habituelles de I'inter- 
rogatoire mMical: amnesia et Tabulation, suggestibility, reve et reverie, 
subconscience et distraction ? ' 

Par ailleurs, Logres reconnait cependant le bien-fonde de certaines 
ois psychologiques, mises en lumiere par la psycho-analyse. Voici, par 
exemple, ce qu'il dit du refoulement (p. 359) : 

'II est etrange, en verity, que I'ecole de Freud ait pu regarder 
I'hyst^rie comme la consequence exclusive d'un refoulement sexuel. S'il 
est, en effet, toute une serie de faits dans lesquels le proc'^dd du re- 
fotdement se manifeste avec quelque evidence clinique, c'est bien dans 
I'hystero-traumatisme de guerre. Ce bras paralyse qui ne veut pas 
gu6rir, c'est, au fond, I'expression indirecte et inconsciente d'une d^- 
faillance du courage. Mais ce refoulement n'appartient, — comme de 
juste, — en aucune manifere, a la psychopathologie de I'instinct de re- 
production. II met seulement en jeu ces deux tendances primordiales de 
I'instinct de conservation: I' amour de l' argent et la peur de la mort.' 



Mignard, dans son article sur *La psychologic des d^lires' semble 
avoir une comprehension meilleure et plus impartiale de la psycho- 
analyse. Voici une citation un peu longue, mais qui resume bien ses 
id6es sur les diverses psychoth^rapies modernes (p. 230). 

'Nous ne ferons qu'une brfeve allusion aux precedes que I'insuccfes 
a condamnn^s. Disons, en un mot, qu'il ne sert k rien, ou h peu prfes 
h. rien, d'essayer d'intimider le delirant ou de le convaincre par des 
raisons purement logiques. Par la premifere methode on a pu obtenir 
d'apparantes concessions, cachant la persistance des erreurs; par la 
seconde, de momentanes avantages, bientot masquds par un nouvel 
^panouissement de la vegetation psycho-pathologique. 

'Quelques annees avant la guerre, I'^cole de Freud avait propose 
un systfeme th^rapeutique par lequel furent obtenus certains r^sultats. 
La psychoanalyse' consistait h rechercher rorigine de I'idee dehrante 
dans une preoccupation ancienne refoulee hors de la claire conscience. 
Une observation poussee servait de traitement. Les disciples de Freud 
trouvaient par une curieuse methode d'investigation, la racine du delire 
dans quelque souvenir devenu m^connaissable k la suite du "refoule- 
ment". Le "complexe" que la "Censure" avait exclu r^apparaissait sous 
des formes nouvelles. Montrer au malade, en la decouvrant, la veritable 
identite de son trouble, c'^tait en meme temps le reduire. Quelques 
succfes furent obtenus. lis restferent limites. C'est que le principe de 
I'investigation etait lui-meme bien special. Pour Freud, en effet, et pour 
ses disciples, tous les "complexes" refoul^s sont de nature sexuelle. 
Leurs doctrines prdcongues admettent I'origine g6nitale des formes 
superieures de la pens6e. Les relations sociales en proscriraient la re- 
connaissance ouverte. La conscience personelle, complice des refoule- 
ments, n'admettrait la reminiscence des "traumas sexuels" qu'aprfes 
complete metamorphose. On imagine sans peine les etranges developpe- 
ments qu'une doctrine aussi partielle et aussi partiale a pu susciter dans 
certains esprits. Tel ^leve de Freud, interpretant les songes par la sym- 
bolique ^rotique, charge d'impudiques significations les plus modestes 
images. Ces exagerations et cette erreur fondamentale ne doivent pas 
faire oublier la part de v6rM qui existe dans la psychoanalyse. EUe 
6tait, k vrai dire, connue avant le d^veloppement de ce systeme ex- 
cessif. Janet, avant Freud, avait montr^ dans certaines id^es d^lirantes 
I'expression d'une obsession dissimulee, dont la nature n'est pas for- 
c^ment sexuelle, mais qui se rattache toujours a quelque donnee affective. 
'Un premier temps du traitement psychoth^rapique consiste done 
souvent en effet dans une observation soigneuse et approfondie, par 

' L'on n'envisage ici que rapplication de la psychoanalyse aux iddes d6- 
lirantes. Le systfeme de Freud s'adressait surtout, dans le ddbut, aux psycho- 
n^vj-oses. Plus tard il s'<itendit aux psychoses, et trouva, par ailleurs, de 
nombreuses adaptations. 


laquelle on essaiera d& degager les racines cach^es de I'id^e d^lirante. 
Puis, les montrant au sujet, on tentera de lui faire comprendre la genfese 
de son erreur. Les arguments logiques et experimentaux que Ton pent 
opposer k la conviction erronee ne seront pas negliges. Nous avons 
parle de leur impuissance ordinaire lorsqu'on les utilise seuls; ils n'en 
constituent pas moins un excellent moyen d'accoutumer le sujet k 
discuter avec son delire, et les resultats obtenus peuvent etre consolid^s 
si Ton a soin d'attaquer, en meme temps que la construction intellec- 
tuelle, la base affective qui la soutient.' 

Si Mignard montre ici qu'il n'est pas entiferement d'accord avec les 
theories sexuelles de Freud, on voit cependant qu'll a su reconnaltre 
de grandes qualites a la methode psychoanalytique. 

Raymond de Saussxjre. 

ExAMEN DES Alienes- Par Andre Bart6. (Masson et Cie. editeurs, 
177 pages.) 

Ce livre consacre quelques pages a la psychoanalyse; mais I'auteur 

ne connait cette methode qu'k travers les livres et articles frangais et 

le livre du regrette professeur Putnam. Son expos^ des theories de 

Freud ne contient done aucun jugement personnel, et, de plus, contient k 

un errand nombre d'erreurs. 

Raymond de Saussure. 

Manual of Psychiatry. Edited by Aaron J. Rosanoff, M.D. (Fifth 
Edition, Revised and Enlarged, 1920. Chapman & Hall. Pp. 640. Price 22s.) 

The fact that this well known American Manual has reached its fifth 
edition in fifteen years is sufficient evidence that it serves its purpose 
as a text-book. ^ 

Before the war it was merely a translation of Rogues de Fursac s 
work, but Dr. Rosanoff has now taken over most of the American 
edition and modified it according to his own views. 

We have always regarded this book as remarkably unequal and the 
present edition has not modified our opinion. For the most part Krae- 
pelin's classification is adopted and the various forms of mental disorder 
are described, sometimes in full (Manic-Depressive psychoses, Dementia 
Praecox, General Paralysis) and sometimes much too briefly (Neur- 
asthenia, Paranoia, Infection and Exhaustion psychoses). Uraemic delirium 
has a chapter all to itself while myxoedema is dismissed in less than 
three pages. 

There is a chapter on psycho-analysis which is quite good, ipso 


facto, because it consists mainly of quotations from psycho-analytical 
books, especially from translations of Freud's works; but there is not 
one word about the value of psycho-analysis in the treatment of mental 
illness. Indeed this chapter does not fit the book at all. 

There is a section on the Sexual Psychopathies, i. e. perversions, 
but there is no mention of their repression. Hysteria is regarded as a 
special form of malingering, closely allied to criminality, and the 
account of Neurasthenia (fortunately only a page and a half) is all 
wrong in spite of the fact that the author quotes an accurate definition 
and explanation in Appendix VIII, which is the ' Classification of Mental 
Diseases adopted by the Medico-Psychological Association, May. 30, 
1917, and by the New York State Hospital Commission, July 1, 1917' 
with officially issued explanatory notes and definitions. In this official 
document, the Anxiety Neurosis receives full recognition, but such an 
important malady is not even mentioned in the body of the book. In 
the brief account of Paranoia there is no allusion to the homosexual 
basis of this psychosis or even to the underlying mechanism of projec- 
tion. In the chapter on epilepsy there is no reference to the work of 
Ferenczi, Pierce Clark and others who have demonstrated by psycho- 
analysis that epilepsy is fundamentally a psychosis. Such criticism might 
be multiplied ; but enough has been said to show that the chapter on 
psycho-analysis, good as it is, is out of place in Dr. Rosanoffs book. 
Psycho-analysis is evidently a thing apart. 

Among the appendices seventy-four pages are devoted to word- 
association tests and tables of word-reactions, incorrectly called the 
'Free Association Test'. Those word-reactions which comply with 
certam arbitrary rules are regarded as normal, others as abnormal. 
According to these rules a person who reacted to the word ' dark ' with 
■fearsome* or to the word 'table' with 'Mabel' would be abnormal; but, 
in any case, we fail to see what on earth can be the use of these 
tables of word reactions in the diagnosis or treatment of mental disorder. 
Jung used word association to determine certain types of reaction, but 
to use the method as an end in itself is futile. Quite commonly a word 
reaction may revive a preconscious memory, but occasions must be 
extremely rare where a stimulus word happens as a stray shot to pene- 
trate the unconscious; and even then, it is uncertain that the revived 
memory would have bearing on the malady from which the patient is 

The index of Authors, whose views — by the way — are not always 
correctly interpreted, fills five pages while the index of subjects occu- 
pies no less than forty-seven pages, from which it would appear that 
mdexmg can be overdone. Some items, such as age, -delusions, 
dementia praecox, depression, excitement, hallucinations, recovery and 
treatment have forty, fifty or even more than sixty references. An index 


of this kind is a nuisance to anybody who wishes to look up some 


We know of no book which reminds us so strongly of the story 

of the curate's egg. It is excellent in parts. 

W. H. B. Stoddart. 

Foundations of Psychiatry. By William A. White, M.D. (Nervous 
and Mental Disease Publishing Company, New York and Washington. 
1921. Pp. 136. Price 3 dollars.) 

This is another of the very readable books with which Dr. White 
provides us. Its aim seems to be not so much a technical study of the 
individual insanities, a subject with which Dr. White has dealt in his 
well-known 'Outlines of Psychiatry," as an attempt to broaden the 
conception of Psychiatry by showing its relation to other branches of 
medicine and psychology on the one hand, and to sociology and cognate 
sciences on the other. In this aim it admirably succeeds. It is an excellent 
and broad presentation of the implications of psychiatric study, approaching 
it from many aspects besides the technical one of psychiatry proper, 
such as those of zoology, pre-historic history of man, child development, 
endocrinology etc. 

It is not very clear, however, precisely what audience Dr. White 
has in mind in writing the book, for to appreciate or even to under- 
stand the range of topics with which it deals needs a reader well-nigh 
as widely educated as the author himself. How many non-medical 
readers, for instance, would find such passages as the following easy 
reading? 'The voluntary type of muscle consists of two parts, sarco- 
plasmatic substance which is innervated by the autonomic system and, 
imbedded within this substance, the anisotropic disc system which is 
innervated by the projicient nervous apparatus,' or 'The affects are the 
psychological reverberations of the autonomicaily conditioned visceral 
and postural tonicities which thus become the physiological aspects of 
the emotions.' It would seem possible to have dealt even with such 
matters in a somewhat less technical manner. 

Dr. White finds that the isolation of psycho-analysts in different 
countries during the war has led to the development of certain national 
characteristics. He speaks of the American School of Psychopathology 
and enumerates ten features characteristic of this school. It strikes us 
that most of these features are either not peculiar to America, or else 
are expressed in such a general way as to leave their precise meaning not 
obvious. They are as follows: (1) The unity of the organism as an 
energy system; (2) human behavior as a special problem of energy 
transformation and discharge; (3) structural organization as an instance 


of the phyletic synthesis of experience, with the nervous system as 
the chief agent in this organization; (4) the principle of action patterns 
of discharge as integral parts of the structural organization; (5) the 
conception that the symbol is a source and a carrier of energy; (6) the 
abolition ot the metaphysical distinction between mind and body ; (7) the 
conception of the unconscious as a container of the phyletic history of 
the organization of the psyche in action pattern symbolization ; (8) the 
importance of archaic symbols and their relationship to somatic as well 
as mental diseases; (9) the belief that organic disorders have their 
psychologic as well as their somatic symptomatology; (10) the belief 
that standards of conduct are an integral part of the action pattern 
symbolizations and therefore must be included in the understanding and 
management of all medical and social problems. 

Dr. White has incidentally succeeded in making much more intel- 
ligible the tendencies of Kempfs recent work than can easily be 
gleaned from the writings of that author, which were reviewed in the 
last number of this Journal,' and we recommend those desirous 
of informing themselves on this work to refer rather to Dr. White's 

Sublimation is defined (p. 126) as ' the name given to the results of 
continuous successful solutions of conflicts along the lines of the most 
effective unfolding of the personality.' If Dr. White wishes to give the 
term this new, and as it seems to us quite unwarranted, sense, we 
think it only right that he should also quote the sense in which it was 
used by Freud when he first employed and defined the term. Not to 
do so is not only unfair, but also adds to the steadily increasing confusion 
due to the loose and irregular use of technical psycho-analytical terms. 

Ferenczi, Groddeck and other workers in Europe will be interested 
to know that Dr. White also makes a strong plea (pp. 104-6) for a 
psychogenic view of many organic disorders, including the myopathies, 
pylorospasm, which may lead to organic changes such as gastric or 
duodenal ulcer,' 'diabetes mellitus, particularly the adrenalinogenic 
type' etc. 

To the young practitioner of psychiatry the volume will prove of 
the greatest value, and many other readers such as physiologists, psycho- 
logists and sociologists, will also find it useful. 



FfixEs ET CHANSONS DE L'ANCIENNE CHINE. Par Granct. (Paris, Leroux, 

Ce livre ^crit par un disciple de Durkheim ne fait pas allusion 
aux theories de Freud mais il presente cependant un grand interet 
' p. 237. 


pour les psychoanalystes. Les Chinois, en effet, se sont toujours servis 
de symboles. Les commentateurs de leurs vieux livres sacres ont donn6 
des interpretations multiples au travers des siecles des differentes 
chansons et legendes sacr^es. II n'est pas jusqu'aux caracteres de leur 
ecriture qui soient surdetermines, tant ces caractferes ont eu de signifi- 
cations successives. C'est pourquoi le folk-lore chinois prdsente un int^ret 
si particulier pour les psychoanalystes. 

On pourrait consid6rer au moins deux phases dans la symbolisation 
des chansons chinoises. Une premifere, dans laquelle les symboles re- 
presentent certains desirs, ou certains complexes de leurs auteurs. Puis 
une deuxieme phase, ou phase de rationalisation, dans laquelle les 
commentateurs essaient de tirer une doctrine morale de ces symboles. 
L'ouvrag'e de M. Granet fait bien ressortir ces deux etapes a propos 
des chansons et des fetes de I'ancienne Chine. M. G. fait remarquer 
que si ces poesies avaient ^te Rentes directement dans le but de mo- 
raliser, elles auraient ^t^ composees par des lettres. Or, tout tend k 
prouver qu'il s'agit de chansons populaires et non de chansons d'erudits. 
Elles ont toutes, en effet, un caractere d'impersonnalite. II n'y a point 
de heros dans ces chansons d'amour. Quant aux images po^tiques elles 
sont toujours de nature rustique. Au point de vue de la forme, les vers 
sont ecrits avec symetrie, et souvent en manifere d'interrog'ations et de 
reponses. M. G. croit pouvoir en conclure que ces chansons ont ete 
composees pour les danses des ffetes champetres. 

Le rythme de ces vers, et les modifications legferes que Ton trouve 
d'un auteur h. I'autre, tendraient meme a prouver qu'ils ont ete crees 
spontanement au cours des danses paysannes. Pendant longtemps on n'a 
voulu voir dans les fetes champetres qu'une glorification du printemps et de 
Tautomne, mais M. G. s'est attach^ k retrouver la vraie signification 
de ces ceremonies. II a recherche notamment quel pouvait etre le sens 
des joutes, ce rite que Ton retrouve dans toutes les fetes chinoises. 

'Avant que dans la vie domestique', dit-il, 'nes'exalt&t le parti- 
cularisme familial, une fete automnale consolidait I'unit^ des commu- 
nautes locales; de meme avant que la vie corporative ne vint rendre 
plus aigue I'opposition entre hommes et femmes, ime fMe prin- 
tannifere, avec sa joute, ne voulait-elle pas rapprocher les sexes par 
d'universelles accordailles ^ La joute chantee refait d'une double manifere 
I'unit^ sociale, dont elle exprime aussi la complexity: elle rapproche 
les jeunes gens de villages differents, de sexes diff^rents, elle attenue 
I'antagonisme des groupes secondaires, elle attenue celui des corpora- 
tions sexuelles. L' opposition des groupes locaux est, comme I'opposition 
des sexes, h la base de I'organisation chinoise ; mais tandis que la pre- 
mifere ne repose que sur une distribution g^ographique, I'autre s'appuie 
^ une division technique du travail; elle est la plus irreductible des 
deux. Si la division du groupe social en deux corporations sexuelles 



est primordiale en effet, une fgte qui opposait et rapprochait ces deux 

moiti^s de la societe en retablirait I'unite premiere: dfes lors I'union 

sexuelle devait sembler le principe de toute alliance C'est pour- 

quoi la joute amoureuse par laquelle se concluaient tous les mariages 

de I'annee, avait droit k la premiere place dans les fStes saisonniferes 

de la Concorde paysanne, et tout particulierement dans la grande 

f^te du printemps. Par le fait meme que I'union sexuelle ^tait, primitive- 

ment et par essence, un principe de cohesion sociale, elle ne pouvait 

manquer d'etre r^glementee. 


n'etaient apparemment que les. premieres : les plus generales et les plus sim- 
ples de rfegles auxquelles devait obeir toute alliance matrimoniale ; ces 
regies devinrent sans doute plus minucieuses, quand la structure sociale se 
compliqua. Je vois une preuve de cette stricte r^glementation dans le 
fait que I'amour resta dtranger aux fantaisies du desir ef au caprice de 
la passion. Et, en effet, dans les chansons improvisees, il garde toujours 
un air d'impersonnalite ; il ne s'exprime pas selon le libre jeu d'une 
inspiration originale, mais par des formules ou des dictons, mieux faits 
pour traduire les sentiments usuels d'une collectivite, que les Amotions 
singuliferes des individus. Lorsqu'au cours des joutes, dans I'ardeur du 
concours les protagonistes s'avan^aient, qui se d^fiaient I'un I'autre et 
face h. face improvisaient, leur invention n'avait pas sa source dans le 
fonds particulier de leur kme, le mouvement propre de leur coeur, la 
fantaisie de leur genie, elle se faisait au contraire sur le patron de 
thfemes traditionels, selon un rythme de danse par tons suivi, sous I'im- 
pression enfin d'emotions collectives. Et c'^tait par proverbes qu'ils se 
ddclaraient leur amour naissant. Mais si cette declaration d'amour pouvait 
ainsi recevoir une expression proverbiale, c'est que le sentiment lui-meme 
ne r^sultait pas d'un attrait particulier senti, d'une Election du coeur, d'un 
choix, s'il en avait ^16 autrement, si les protagonistes avaient 6t6,pouss^s 
I'un vers I'autre par une vocation spontanee, il ne se pourrait pas, que 
jamais jls n'aient fait entendre un accent personel; ils ne se seraient pas 
toujours adressds k un etre vague, anonyme, inddfini; les couplets nou- 
veaux se seraient ordinairement signales par d'autres trouvailles que celle 
d'auxiliaires descriptifs; les variantes t^moigneraient de quelque originalite; 
— or, bien au contraire, la plus uniforme monotonie caracterise I'inven- 
tion des chansons d'amour. C'est que mfeme dans les duels oh ils 
s'affrontaient, individu k individu, les gargons et les filles restaient avant 
tout les repi^sentants de leur sexe et les d^l^gues de leur groupe 
familial : C'est que m^me alors, ils ne suivaient pas leur fantaisie, mais 
ob^issaient a un devoir .... Aux temps classiques, les fiangailles se 
firent sans aucune liberty de choix, et par I'autorite d'un entremetteur; 
un tel usage aurait-il pu s'^tablir si, au cours des joutes, les 6poux 
s'^taient choisis librement? Et n'est-ce pas significative la tradition qui 


fait pr^sider les f^tes sexuelles du printemps par tin fonctionnaire 
nomm6 prdcis^ment Tentremetteur ? apparamment les joutes loin d'etre 
propices aux caprices individuels et la licence, mettent seulement 
en rapport des jeunes gens deja destines Fun k I'autre et qui avaient 
k s'aimer.' (page 214 et suivantes.) 

Cette citation montre bien k quelle curieuse conception de I'amour, 
a amen^ le traditionalisme chinois. On trouvera dans le livre de M. G., 
bien d'autres renseignements interessants, se rapportant aux relations 
sexuelles des Chinois (p. 250). 

' L' opposition des sexes demeura une des regies cardinales de la 
society. L'activit6 masculine, particulierement dans I'entourage des 
seigneurs, ne perdit rien de sa noblesse, bien au contraire ; mais tandis 
que les hommes 6taient frequemment appeles aux reunions de cour, 
les femmes s'en trouvaient normalement exclues; elles vivaient dans la 
retraite des gyn^c^es, constamment occupies a des besognes quoti- 
diennes, tenues k I'ecart des solennit^s de la vie publique. L' opposition 
qui restait grande, entre les sexes, sembia d6termin6e par une diffe- 
rence de valeur entre Thomme et la femme; le contact sexuel, qui in- 
spira toujours plus de crainte, fut redoute, parceque rhomme parut, en 
s'approchant de la femme, compromettre son caractfere auguste. Dfes 
que la femme fut retranch^e de \a vie publique, on imagina qu'elle 
etait trop impure pour avoir le droit d'y participer; la reclusion oil 
elle vivait paraissait imposde par cette impurete, et devint de plus en 
plus stricte; les pratiques qui accompagnaient I'union sexuelle furent 
consid^rees comme autant de remedes destines k combattre une in- 
fluence n^faste emanant de la femme.' 

Le livre de M. G. se termine par un appendice, oil I'on trouvera 
des descriptions d'explorateurs contemporains, concernant les rites des 

fetes chinoises modernes. 

Raymond de Saussuee. 

Spiritualism among Civilised and Savage Races. By Edward Law- 
rence, F.R.A.I. (A. &C. Black, Ltd., London, 192L Pp. 112, Price 5s.) 

This is a book that is not likely to convert anyone to the author's 
way of thinking, if he does not already share it He is as uncompro- 
mising an opponent of spiritism as Edward Clodd, Stanley Hall and 
Mercier, though without the fierceness of the last named. There is 
little in the book of the impartiality evinced by another adverse critic, 
Ivor Tuckett, in his ' Evidence of the Supernatural '. 

The author's thesis is the thorough-going identity of the beliefs held 
by modern-day spiritists, and most of their technique, with those ob- 
taining among practically all primitive races. The facts are certainly 
indubitable and the author marshalls them with considerable skill. The 



interpretation ot them, however, is perhaps not so obvious as it appears 
to him. With an anthropologist, as with a biologist, the consideration 
in question will carry very great weight, justly so, and the tendency 
will be almost irresistible to regard the present-day beliefs as nothing 
more than lingering relics of aA ignorant and superstitious past. In fact 
the author defines spiritism, not very gracefully, as 'nothing but the 
fag-end of an old superstition— a superstition which obsesses the 
mind of barbaric man because he does not possess the necessary know- 
ledge which explains natural phenomena'. 'As the biologist and the 
astronomer of today would repudiate primitive explanations of their 
respective sciences, and declare those explanations to be untrue ex- 
planations of "natural" phenomena, although they themselves may share 
with the savage other primordial conceptions; so would the anthro- 
pologist, whose business it is to study the complex psychology of man, 
refuse to accept any explanation put forth in the name of science which, 
on examination, proved contradictory of facts as well attested as those 
upon which modern biology and astronomy themselves are founded. 

It may very well be so, but we are not so sure as Mr. Lawrence 
is that the anthropologist is capable of the final decision. According to 
him 'the truth or falsehood of this modern Spiritualism is a question 
for the anthropologist to decide'. As a matter of fact, however, the 
anthropologist would probably have come to a like decision, on similar 
grounds, concerning the question whether dreams possess mental 
meaning and significance, a decision which we now know would have 
been wrong. It is possible that the ignorant superstitions clustering 
about the belief in the supernatural may, when we learn to interpret 
them correctly, prove to have a core of truth, symbolic if not literal, just 
as psycho-analysis has shewn to be so with those clustering about dream 
life. We would at all events challenge his view that such matters can 
be settled without reference to modern psychology, for it is becoming 
clearer that the indirect contact which is the only one possible to 
effect with primitive men will have to be extensively supplemented by 
the modern methods of directly investigating the primitive mind that 
remains in all of us. In other words matters such as these will never 
be adequately investigated or explained until we have men trained in 
both social anthropology and psycho-analysis. 

E. J. 


Sexual Life of Primitive People. By Hans Fehlinger, translated by 
Dr. and Mrs. S. Herbert. (A. & C. Black Ltd., London 1921. Pp. 133. Price 5s.) 

This volume gives a condensed but representative account of the 
sexual life and customs of primitive peoples. The topics covered are : 


Modesty among primitive people; pre-marital freedom and conjugal 
fidelity; courtship customs; marriage; birth and foeticide; ignorance ol 
the process of generation; mutilation of the sex organs; maturity and 
decHne. A useful bibliography is appended in which, however, we miss 
the valuable work of Karsch-Haack on homosexuality among savages. 
The risk books such as these run is in not being able successfully 
to avoid the impression that primitive peoples are to be treated as a 
unit. The ordinary mind tends to regard them as such and is apt to 
forget that the difference between one such race and another may be 
quite as great as that between either and ourselves. This risk is fairly 
well avoided in the present volume, care being taken to quote concrete 
facts while restricting the number of generalisations made. It is a book 
that can be commended to those desiring preliminary information on 
this topic. The translation has been very well done. 

E. J. 

The Psychic Research Quarterly. Vol. I. (Published by Kegan Paul, 
Trench Trubner and Co.) 

The first numbers of this new periodical have reached us. As it* 
title indicates, it is concerned with the various aspects of spiritism. 

From an editorial article entitied ' The Special Technique of Psychical 
Research' we take the following passages (p. 193). 'The light which 
modern investigations, and especially psycho-analytic methods, have 
thrown on the unconscious motives which determine seemingly causeless 
actions is in itself a contribution of first-rate importance to the subject. 
It has been proved up to the hilt that even the apparently most 
senseless actions of the deranged have a raison d'etre which is per- 
fectly comprehensible when once the mechanisms concerned are laid 
bare. Henceforward all arguments in favour of the genuineness of 
phenomena which are based on lack of motive for their fraudulent 
production must be considered worthless, for no mediumistic activities 
are more irrational than many compulsive acts whose secret causes 
have been discovered . . . Psycho-analytic methods in particular are 
the most powerful which have yet been devised for the investigation of 
those transformations of personality which so closely resemble some of 
the conditions with which Psychical Research is concerned'. 

In No. 4 is a paper by Dr. William Brown entitled ' Psycho-Pathology 
in Relation to Psychical Research ', in which he quotes some of his 
hypnotic experiences in France; he points out how these could err- 
oneously have been interpreted in a spiritistic sense. 

We understand that this journal is , about to change its character into 
that of a general psychological one; E. J. 



The Seventh International Psycho- Analytical Congress will be held 
in Berlin on September 22 to September 25, 1922. The titles of 
papers to be read should be sent to the Secretary (J. C. Fliigel, 
11 Albert Road, London, N.W. 1) before July 1, and abstracts 
before July 15. A Reception Committee is being formed in Berlin 
and further details will be communicated in due course. 


yanuary 6, ip2i. Short Communications. 

January 20, ip2i. Dr. K. Abraham : Contributions to the Theory 
of the Anal Character, 

Jantiary 2^, ipsi. General Meeting. 

February ^, ipzi. Frau Melanie Klein : Child-Analysis. 

February 10, ip2i. Discussion on the above paper. 

February ly, ip2i. Dr. Alexander : Metapsychological Contri- 

February 24, ip2i. Discussion on Psycho-Analytical Therapy, 

March ^, ip2i. Short Communications. 

March 10, ip2i. General Meeting. 

March ly, ip2i. Dr. Simmel : On the Psycho- Analysis of Tic. 

March 24, ip2i. Short Communications. 

April y, ip2i. Short Communications. 

April 14, ip2i. Dr. Sachs : Contributions to Symbolism. 

April 21, ip2i. Short Communications. 1 

April 28, ip2i. Dr. Reik : On the Psychology of Early 
, Christendom. 




May 12, ig2i. Short Communications. 

May ip, IQ2I. Frau Melanie Klein : Disturbances of Orientation 
in Children. 

May 26, ip2i. Short Communications. 

yune 2, ip2i. Dr. Hubermann : On Speech ; Dr. Harnik : Review 
of Ferenczi's paper on Tic. ^ 

June Pj, ip2i. Discussion of Dr. Harnik's review. ^ 

yune 2j, ip2i. Short Communications, 

June 30, ip2i. Dr. Boehm; Transvestitism. 

New Members: Dr. F. Alexander. Berlin- Wilmersdorf, DOssel- 
dorferstrafie 77. Frau Dr. Happel, Frankfurt am Main, Leerbach- 
straCe 39. 

From the Swiss Society: Dr. Nachmansohn. 

From Budapest: Dr. Harnik. 

From Vienna: Dr. Sachs. 

Max Eitingon, Hon. Sec, 
Berlin W, RauchstraCe 4. 


Dr. y. Harnik recognised especially the great similarity between 
traumatic neuroses and tic which Ferenczi had pointed out both as 
regards the (motor) symptoms and the conjectured mechanism of origin 
of the disease. A case of generalised tic, which he had had the oppor- 
tunity of investigating analytically for some time, led him to suspect 
that an uncontrolled, strong affect of fright (e. g. as a result of libid- 
inal fright traumata) was the precipitating etiological factor of the 
disease. It seemed to him that in such cases — as Freud had 
similarly found in the traumatic neuroses — the mental machinery, 
as a result of the traumatic experience, was overwhelmed with 
a mass of (libidinal) stimuli which could not any longer be con- 
trolled by the customary mechanism of repression. The motor 
symptoms of tic then served as a safeguard against these libidinal 
demands in the sense Ferenczi had indicated. 

Dr. Abraham said that the term tic had been originally used 
equally for entirely heterogeneous symptoms, such as 'tic dou- 
loureux ' (trigeminal neuralgia), facial nerve spasm, and many com- 
pulsive motor symptoms, as well as for those conditions which were 
today termed tic. In differential diagnosis the main difficulty now 
» See the following 'Discussion', and this Journal, Vol. 11, p. l. 


lay in separating tics from obsessional acts. A solution was not 
offered either by Meige and Feindel or by Ferenczi. The character- 
istics of tic given by the former authors were vah'd in every parti- 
cular in the case of obsessional acts as well. The inability to con- 
trol stimuli described by Ferenczi had been excellently observed, 
but this inability was quite as characteristic of obsessional neu- 
rotics. The narcissistic symptoms upon which Ferenczi had laid 
the greatest weight occurred in every case of hysteria or obsess- 
ional neurosis. The regression to narcissism, however, certainly 
never went so far in the case of a tiqueur as it did in the ment- 
ally deranged. Ferenczi was! right in pointing out the similarities 
between tic and catatonia, but he had overlooked the many very 
fundamental contrasts between the two conditions. There was 
never a question of tic terminating in dementia. On the other 
hand, the assumption of an exaggerated organ-libido and the con- 
struction of a group of ' patho-neurotic tics ' seemed very fruitful. 

So far as he could see, it was just as impossible to separate 
tic absolutely from obsessional actions as it was to separate an- 
xiety symptoms completely from conversion symptoms in hysteria. 
The mutual relationship was, however, quite similar. The tiqueur 
adduced an etiology, that is to say a connection between his suf- 
ferings and his experiences, just as the hysterical patient did. 
But in his emotional life he did not give any significance to this 
connection, as did the obsessional neurotic who feared disastrous 
results from the omission of his obsessional acts. The sup- 
pression of a tic was painful and when it was allowed free play 
it undoubtedly relieved tension ; but he could not agree to the 
view that the suppression of a tic caused anxiety. 

One of the principal objections arose at another point. Ferenczi 
had expressed the opinion that no relationship to an object seem- 
ed to be concealed in a tic. His (Dr. Abraham's) analyses had 
revealed a double relationship to the object, a sadistic and an 
anal one. The resemblance of tic to obsessional neurosis showed 
itself here ; it seemed closer than the relationship to catatonia. 

The first tic mentioned in psycho-analytic literature was a 
tongue-clicking (Studien Qber Hysteric, 1895), through which the 
female patient unconsciously wished to wake her sick father who 
had just fallen asleep. There was certainly a tendency here direc- 
ted against her father's Hfe. One of his (Dr. Abraham's) patients 
suffering from a generalized tic made snapping movements with 



his fingers, at the same time always throwing his arm forward in 
an aggressive manner. Tics which take the form of making gri- 
maces had a plainly hostile meeining. Such examples could be easily 

Some tics, especially such as coprolalia, showed plainly an 
anal origin (as Ferenczi had also pointed out). Others, as for 
example the whistling tic, could be traced to anal activities 
(flatus). The hostile intention to degrade was attained in these cases 
by the anal route. Other tics imitated the contractures of the 
sphincter. Certain tics seemed actually to mimic the well known 
invitations of Gotz von Berlichingen. * 

On the basis of his observations, which he could not describe 
here in detail, it seemed to him that tic was a conversion symp- 
tom on the sadistic-anal plane. The following table might elucidate 
the conception: 

Object love 


Normal state 

Control of the 
innervation of 
the organism 

Ability to 

control psychic 


Object love 



Anxiety Hysteria 

Object love 




with transition 
to Auto-Erotism 



According to the above schedule, tic stood parallel to the 
obsessional neuroses, just as conversion hysteria was parallel to 
anxiety hysteria. Tic was a regression one step lower than the 
hysterical conversion symptom and approached nearer to catatonia 
than to hysteria. It belonged, so to speak, to the conversion series 
and not to the anxiety series. 

' The reference here is to the play of this name by Goethe in which 
the hero, G6tz, after refusing to capitulate, demonstrates his defiance to the 
besiegers of his castle by exhibiting his buttocks at the window (Translator' ■ 


The diflferences in the conception he had advanced in contra- 
distinction to Ferenczi's exposition, did not in any way detract 
from the credit due to him, who was the first to undertake a com- 
prehensive psycho-analytic consideration of tic. Although certain 
of Ferenczi's postulates had seemed to him erroneous, neverthe- 
less they had given him hints which showed the way to the opin- 
ions expressed above. 

Dr. van Ophuijsen thought Ferenczi's failure to give a clear 
definition of tic was a shortcoming of his paper. Though he had 
cited Trousseau's formulation, he included stereotypies with tics 
in the first part of his paper. This was misleading, for if one 
left out of the question the narrower meaning of this technical 
term, as it was applied in connection with the acts of schizo- 
phrenics, which were continously repeated in the same manner, 
obsessional acts (ceremonies) and 'bad habits' could be included 
as well as tics. Moreover it was also apparent that Ferenczi gave 
some examples of so-called tics which were true obsessional acts. 
In any case one should keep in mind the idea that a subjective 
feeling of obsession, perhaps motivated by anxiety, was never 
absent in obsessional acts, whereas a liqueur, though he knew that 
his tics occurred without his will, sometimes without his being 
aware of them, was yet free from a feeling of obsession. 
It was certainly not true that the suppression of a tic gave rise 
to anxiety ; this assertion was true in the case of obsessional acts 
but not in the case of tic. 

The following example demonstrated how difficult it was to 
decide whether an act was a real tic. A boy had the habit of 
frequently opening his mouth, allowing his chin to sink to his 
chest and at the same time lowering his head a little. Then, with 
a sudden movement of his head backwards, he would shut his 
mouth and at the same time emit a sound something like 'Haung'. 
It turned out that this was the abbreviation of a prayer, which the 
boy used to repeat when he got his fear of robbers. Should one 
call this case an obsessional act or a defence symptom in an anx- 
iety hysteria? If Ferenczi maintained that the 'maladie des tics' 
(Gilles de la Tourette) led to dementia, this must be based on 
some error; nevertheless if he was correct one argument fell away 
from his assumption that tic should be considered as an isolated 
regression to the narcissistic stage. The reference to chorea 
of the child was also incorrect, for even if this sickness exhibited 


symptoms which resembled tics, certainly one was not dealing here 
with a psycho-neurosis. 

Van Ophuijsen added, in connection with the arguments of 
Abraham, that in his opinion the boundaries between tics and obsess- 
ional acts ought not to be completely obliterated. Abraham's 
table even allowed one to keep in mind a differentiation whose 
analogy was to be found in hysteria. In anxiety-hysteria morbid 
fear was the main symptom ; a conversion-hysteria symptom, how- 
ever, was not accompanied by fear. Obsessional symptoms were 
characterized by a subjective feeling of obsession ; tic was not 
accompanied by this feeling. One must remember this differentia- 
tion. In conclusion van Ophuijsen asked if it had been possible 
to determine whether an inflamed area which so often became the 
starting point of a tic possessed some anal significance in uncon- 
scious phantasies. 

Dr. S. Ferenczi: The courtesy of the president enables me to 
participate, at least by correspondence, in this interesting discus- 
sion. Every reader of the paper which is being discussed must 
concede that Dr. van Ophuijsen points out the obvious when he 
calls attention to the incompleteness of this presentation, and 
especially of the definition of tic. As I expressly said, my formula- 
tion was intended only to serve as a preliminary orientation and 
to bring into prominence such problems as might arise from it 
Thus it will entirely have fulfilled its purpose if it is successful 
in eliciting other points of view, as, for instance, the interesting 
contribution to the discussion by Abraham. 

I admit that according to Abraham's experiences a higher 
valuation should be placed upon sadistic and anal-erotic impulsive 
components in the genesis of tics than I credited to them in my 
paper, but I may add that I did not overlook them. His 'conver- 
sion on a sadistic anal plane' is an original point of view and 
also important theoretically. I cannot refrain, however, from call- 
ing attention to the points which remain unshaken, even after 
acceptance of .^braham's position. 

1. Tic, even in Abraham's formulation, is just as contiguous 
to the obsessional neurosis and hysteria as to catatonia. 

2. The fundamental relationship of tic to catatonia (Abraham 
says 'resemblance') remains (as a localized motor defence in con- 
tradistinction to generalized catatonia). 

3. The analogy between tic and the traumatic neurosis permits 


us to classify this type of neurosis between the narcissistic and 
the transference neuroses. This intermediary position, as is well 
known, is also characteristic of the war neuroses. 

4. The termination of the ' maladie des tics ' in catatonia is 
a definitely established fact (see the reports of Gilles de la Tou- 
rette) even if it is not a very frequent occurrence. 

I hope that the consideration of the * regressions of the ego \ 
to which the work of Freud on Massenpsychologie points the way, 
will also erase the differences which have still continued to exist 
in the elaboration of tic. In my work on the developmental stages 
of the reality-principle I have already expressed the opinion that 
in order to define any neurosis it will be necessary to state the 
ego-regression as well as the libido-regression characteristic of it. 
As a result especially of the observations made on psycho-neu- 
rotic tic, I now believe that the regression of the ego is far more 
extensive in this form of neurosis than in hysteria or obsessional 
neurosis (obsessional neurosis regresses to the 'omnipotence of 
thought', hysteria to 'magic gestures ', tic to the plane of defence 
reflex). Future observations should determine whether the forcible 
suppression of a tic can provoke only 'tension states' or also 
true anxiety. 


- Seven meetings of the British Psycho-Analytical Society have 
been held since the last report. 
j^— The meetings held on January 13 and February 10 were de- 

voted to the discussion of the questionnaire sent out by theExe- | 

cutive of the International Psycho-Analytical Association. ! 

At the meeting on January 13 a discussion also took place as 
to whether any action should be taken with regard to the corre- ' 

spondence on psycho-analysis appearing in various daily news- 
papers. It was decided that no action should be taken unless 
special circumstances arose, in which case the Committee should 
have power to deal with them. 

At the meeting on February 10, Dr. Ernest Jones mentioned 
a detail from the analysis of a patient who was an engineer and 
engaged on designing a particular type of engine. He was unable 
to decide a certain technical point in its structure, although he felt 


this should be quite easy considering his special knowledge. The 
analysis showed that this particular point was unconsciously associated 
with early masturbatory practices and ideas, and on their becoming 
conscious he was immediately freed of his inhibition to see the 
point in question and was able to solve the problem. 

At the meeting on March 10 Dr. Estelle Cole gave some notes 
on a new point in the symbolism of flute playing. The patient's 
dreams showed a direct association between the sound of whistling 
(air) and the act of micturition. There was marked urethral erotism 
in the case. 

Dr. Ernest Jones mentioned that there were always three 
preliminary points to be especially noted with regard to symbolism. 

1. EstabUshment of the fact of symbolism. 

2. Tracing out its existence in other fields. 

3. Determining the roots of association. 
With reference to this particular symbolism Dr. Jones showed 

a picture by F61icien Rops portraying a female figure playing on 
a flute (large phallus) through which bubbles were blown which ^ 
formed into new planets. 

Dr. Waddelow Smith mentioned the case of a girl in a Mental 
Hospital who had attacks of nymphomania with homicidal inclinations 
towards nurses. These attacks suddenly changed in about three 
days to homosexual attraction with homicidal tendencies towards 
doctors and male persons. The whole attack lasted about a week, 
after which time an apparentiy normal sexually quiescent period 
would set in for about two months. No analysis of the case had 
been attempted, but. Dr. Smith hoped to report more precise details 
later on. 

At the meeting on April 14, Mr. Gough mentioned that he had 
collected several thousand dreams of children of eleven to twelve 
years of age from Central and Eastern Europe. He had noted that 
the sun, moon, or various planets appeared in about 60 per cent 
of tiie dreams of Czech children. 

Miss Barbara Low made a few remarks on dreams that appeared 

in the form of myths. 

Dr. Stoddart mentioned a case in which Lichen planus appeared 

as a neurotic symptom. -f :| 

Mrs. Riviere mentioned that a chance remark on her part during ! 

an analysis brought up an association which succeeded in helping 
to remove a severe resistance in her patient 



At the meetings on May 19, June 16 and July 13, Mrs. Riviere 
read her translation of Freud's articles on technique. Discussions 
took place on various points arising from them. 

At the meeting on July 13 Mr. Fliigel gave an interesting 
account of his visit to Geneva and the psycho-analytical movement 

Douglas Bryan, Hon. Sec. 

July 24, 1921. 

Report of the May Meeting 

A psychoanalytic study of Friedrich Nietzsche, by Everett D. 
Martin. (Author*s Abstract) 

Nietzsche had a brilliant and cultivated mind and a personality 
endowed with great sensitiveness, violent emotional conflicts, and 
great candor. People who have been unsympathetic towards 
Nietzsche's teachings have for the most part been quite without 
scientific knowledge of psychology, and have for years sought to 
discredit his philosophy by appearing to find through all his writings 
evidences of an incipient psychosis. Max Nordau was a good 
example of this. It is enough to say that Nietzsche was throughout 
the greater part of his life unadjusted and that this fact influenced 
his thought to some extent. He felt this lack of adjustment him- 
self, and a large part of his philosophy should best be understood 
as an attempt, to use his own words, 'to cure' himself. Un- 
doubtedly, he struggled against a tendency to inversion and much 
of his philosophy of affirmation should doubtless be understood as 

Was Nietzsche a paranoiac with a tendency to psychic homQ- 
sexuality? Undoubtedly he had an unusual tendency to hero- 
worship which long survived his adolescence. His periods of most 
successful functioning seem to have been those during which he 
was the friend and apologist for some great man. His relations 
to Ritschel and Wagner and his violent attachment to such historical 
persons as Goethe, Schopenhauer, are cases in point. 


It is precisely because of his own emotional conflicts and his 
critical struggle against his own tendencies to rationalization that 
Nietzsche has penetrated more deeply than others into those systems 
of rationalization which are commonly confused with popular 
social thinking. Here we find, to my mind, the most fruitful 
connection between Nietzsche and Analytical Psychology. As a 
social psychologist, Nietzsche anticipates tliose who approach the 
problems of social psychology from a psycho-analytical standpoint. 
He understands with remarkable perspicacity the significance of the 
unconscious. He says that the social psychologist of the future must 
be a ' vivisectionist', that he must accustom himself to ' the most dia- 
bolical squinting out of every abyss of iniquity'. He loves to speak 
of the 'Jesuitism' and 'Tartuffery ' of our instincts. Nietzsche says 
that in modern civilisation, the natural order of rank is upset an.d that 
the unconscious Will to Power of lower men is at work destroying 
the values of civilization and that this down-pulling tendency is 
always rationalized as herd morality, patriotism, religion, brotherly 
love, Christian ethics, etc. These forms of rationalization, says 
Nietzsche, are but disguised instruments, weapons of the meek, by 
which sick people — spiritually sick and defectives — seek to limit 
their superiors and thus have a better opportunity of survival in 
the struggle for existence. 


Bergson and Freud: Some points of correspondence, by Dr. Albert 
Polon. This paper will be published in full in the Journal. 

Adolph Stern, Secretary 
July 20, 1921. 


Member taken over from the British Society : Eric Killer, 
Wien, VIIL, Albertgasse 55. 

1. January £, ipsi. Dr. Alfred Winterstein : The Collector. 

2. Januare ip, ip2i. Short communications : (a)^Dr. Nunberg: 
On drowsiness and going to sleep during analysis, (b) Frau Dr. 



Hug-Hellmuth : (1) A contribution to the understanding of the 
connection between symptom and experience. (2) On the test of 
intelligence, (c) Frau Dr. Deutsch : (1) An observation. (2) From 
the analysis of a paranoid psychosis, (d) Dr. Schilder: On obsess- 
ional impulses, (e) Dr. Jokl : Contribution to the origin of the 
womb-phantasy, (f) Dr. Reik: A remark of Gustav Mahler's, 
(g) Dr. Hitschmann : From Lassalle's life and writings, (h) Dr. 
Weiss: From the correspondence between Goethe and Zelter. 
(i) Professor Freud : A ' mistake ' in speaking English. 

3. February 3, 1921. Dr. Schilder : On Narcissism. 

4. February 9, 1921. Business meeting. 

5. February 16, 1921. Short Communications: (a) Kolnai: 
On sadism and masochism, (b) Dr. Hitschmann : On sexual neu- 
rasthenia, (c) M. U. C. Reich: A contribution to anal erotism, 
(d) Dr. Hitschmann : On the nonsense talked by a little girl. 

6. March 2, ip2i. Dr. Th. Reik: S. Epiphanius makes a slip 
of the pen. 

7. March 16, ipsi. Short communications, (a) Dr. de Saussure: 
On the terminology of anal erotism in French, (b). A communi- 
cation, (c) Frau Dr. Deutsch (1) A pseudo-persecutional delusion. 
(2) A mistake in a dream, (d) Dr. Rank: On psychic potence. 

8. March 30, ipsi. Frau Dr. Deutsch : On Pseudologia. 

9. April IS, 1921. Discussion of Freud's ' Beyond the Pleasure- 
Principle' (opened by Dr. P. Federn). 

10. April 2'j, ip2i. Dr. Sadger: Neurosis and Castration 

11. May II, ip2i. Short communications, (a) Frau Dr. H. 
Deutsch: An observation of a child, (b) M. U. C. Reich: Day 
dreams of an obsessional neurotic, (c) Dr. Schilder: Notes on 
observations of psychotics. (d) Dr. Reik : On psycho-analytic tech- 
nique, (e) Dr. Federn: On 'Beyond the Pleassure-Principle'. 

12. May 2£, ip2i. Dr. Th. Reik: The tradition of Judas 

13. yune 8, ip2i, M. U. C. Reich : On instinctive energy. 




Volume n, Part 3/4 
Issued December 1921