Skip to main content

Full text of "The International Journal of Psycho-Analysis III. Volume 1922 Part 2"

See other formats









At the beginning of June 1920 a baker's assistant aged forty- 
three came to me for treatment on account of a torticollis tic 
from which he had been suffering for about three years. It had 
at first caused him but little inconvenience, but had become very 
much worse in consequence of several emotional experiences. The 
man now displayed an almost continual tonic cramp in the 
muscles innervated by the spinal accessory nerve, which only 
occasionally ceased for a moment. Only during sleep was he un- 
disturbed. At the same time he suffered from a number of other 
tics in his hands: he smelt at his thumbs, held his hand before 
his eyes, lifted up the lapels of his coat, etc. He had at first in- 
tended these tics as para-tics (in the sense of a patient of 
Meige's): if he merely raised his hand to his face he could over- 
come the torticollis. But now they continued in a compulsive way 
without his being able to exercise the slightest influence on them. 
He had been forced to give up his work, which was to take round 
bread in a baker's cart, because he could no longer push the cart. 
He could not look straight up the road because his head was 
absolutely askew, and as he continually held one hand up to his 
face he had to push the cart along with the other hand alone 
which was only possible for a short time. During the treatment 
it soon became evident that there were a number of other symp- 
toms. For more than a year he had been psychically impotent; 









he scarcely dared go out into the street any longer, for as soon 
as he got into a lively street he felt incomprehensible anxiety; 
and he was also very much afraid of smoking — as soon as ever 
he tried the tics grew so powerful that it was impossible. 

Several hours having been taken up with his explicit descrip- 
tions of the various emotions he had experienced, I wished to 
start the analysis in connection with his dreams. He told me, how- 
ever, that he scarcely ever dreamed and a dream he had happened 
to have the night before brought nothing that could be interpreted. 
(Much later we were able to analyse this dream which contained 
hidden the most important complexes.) I therefore enquired about 
earlier dreams and he told me the following one which he said 
he had often dreamed when he was about twelve years of age. 

'/ fell into a hole and sank very far down ; tlie longer it lasted 
the deeper I fell. At the end I screamed aloud and then woke up. ' 

I now asked the patient to direct his attention to this dream 
and to tell me without criticism the thoughts that occurred to 
him. I thus in no way prepared the patient for what could be 
discovered by the analysis of dreams ; the first dream had told 
us nothing; that anything like symbolism of dreams existed was 
absolutely unknown to the patient, who came of uneducated 
people. He gave a very long-winded account of his trains of 
thought and passed quickly from one theme to another. I repeat 
what he said, only insignificantly abbreviated, in his own words 
and order. I use the sign f to indicate the points at which I asked 
him again to direct his attention to the dream. 

f 'I am now thinking of my wife when she had to go to 
hospital.' (That had happened a year earlier.) 'I am thinking: if 
I were to lose my wife ! And I am thinking of my mother. My 
father was always grumbling, but I could get on with him well 
enough. I could not believe that Mother was dead and that I had 
not seen her.' (His mother had died three months before at a 
time when he had not seen her for some months.) 

f 'I must think of my father's illness and that he was such a 
nuisance when there was anything the matter with him. He was 
very bad-tempered and grumbled about nothing. Mother was quite 
different. It was always grumble, grumble and nothing else. When 
he was in hospital he behaved just as if he thought to himself: 
" I would rather you were not with me than with me." That was 
because of my sister Trien. Father loved Trien more than me.' 


f 'When I sank into that hole I had the same fear that I have 
with my wife.' (This refers to something he had told me a few 
days earlier — namely, that towards the end of the time when he 
had still been potent violent fear used to attack him during and 
after coitus.) 'The feeling is exactly the same: whether I fall into 
that hole, oi- whether I go to my wife. I liave the same fear.' 

f 'I am thinking of the time when Mother was buried. After 
the burial I went and looked into the grave. That hole was also 
a cleft in the earth.' 

I give these trains of thought in full chiefly on account of the 
sentences in italic. In these the patient spontaneously equated the 
falling into the hole with coitus and the fear in his dreams with 
the fear during coitus. This uneducated man instinctively under- 
stood the symbolic meaning of the dream. And on closer investiga- 
tion we can find a distinct connection in all his other ideas which 
apparently had nothing to do with the dream. The idea that his 
wife might die first arose from this symbol of coitus and then 
came the thoughts about his parents which were clearly directed 
by an Oedipus complex. His comparison of the hole with his 
mother's grave makes the incestuous nature of the dream-wish 
still more apparent. The patient compared this dream to coitus 
with his wife, whereas the dream took place when he was twelve 
years of age ; it could not therefore mean coitus with his wife, 
and the other associations made it clear that it was an incest 
dream. Naturally I did not yet tell the patient anything about 
this latter interpretation and contented myself with accepting his 
own explanation, which was that the dream was an equivalent 
to coitus. Soon, however, came an abundance of other statements 
about his maternal complex and it became clear to him as well as to 
me that he cohabited in phantasy with his mother during coitus with 
his wife. His dread during coitus was naturally the fear of incest— the 
same fear he had had in that dream when he was a child. 

In another dream which he soon brought the patient associated 
in a manner which made it evident that sexual symbolism was 
at once clear to him. The end of this dream, which could be 
adequately analysed, was as follows. 

'A dog was swimming to the bank of a pond. A thin layer of 
ice was on the water. On one side the bank was lower; tliere I 
went into the water a little. To do this I had to break the ice with 
my foot. Then I saved the little dog from the water.' 



There were several important associations to this. The saving 
of the dog made him think of the confinement of his sister Trien 
at which he had been present several years ago, and the breaking 
of the ice made him think of the tearing of the perineum. It is 
well known to all analysts that the saving-dream is founded on 
birth symbolism; I consider it well worth notice, however, that an 
uneducated man should make these associations quite of his own 
accord. The next association was this: 'That when I came to my 
wife I pushed up against something that I was afraid to break.' 
When I asked for an explanation of this idea he told me that 
during coitus with his wife he had never gone further with his 
penis than to the vulva. When he had pressed up against the 
hymen his wife had shown slight signs of pain and therefore 
during ten years of marriage the patient had never ventured to 
penetrate into the vagina. In this dream he compared the crust 
of ice to the hymen and the breaking of the one with his foot 
to the penetration of the other with his penis. 

Further it soon became evident that beside the fixation on his 
mother there also existed a fixation on his sister Trien. This 
fixation had existed since his fifth year when Trien, who was two 
years older, had often taken him to bed with her and forced him 
to infantile coitus experiments. 

The analysis had gone on without difficulties for about six 
weeks and the family complexes had grown more and more dis- 
tinct. Several important memories from his youth and from later 
years, which he had forgotten at the outbreak of the neurosis, 
had been recalled chiefly in connection with dreams. In spite of 
this, however, his relationship to his brother Kees, who was six 
years his senior, had not become clear. Meanwhile he produced 
dreams in such over-abundance — doubtless out of resistance — as 
to make it impossible to single out more than a few for complete 
analysis. The patient was very much afraid of his brother who 
was, according to his description, a mauvais sujet. We had in part 
discovered the cause of this dread. When, as a child, he had gone 
to Trien he had observed that Kees too came regularly to her. 
He had then always been jealous of Kees and when he himself 
had been with her he had always been afraid that Kees would 
catch him. As he also unconsciously tried to identify his wife 
with Trien, he reproduced this infantile situation in his married 
life. He always suspected Kees of having relations with his wife, 


though he saw perfectly well that there was no adequate ground 
for this suspicion. His fear of Kees was certainly in part the fear 
of the punisher of incest, as Kees had for the most part taken 
over the role of father in the neurosis. The constellation patient- 
Trien-Kees formed a new edition of the Oedipus constellation. 
But I felt perfectly sure that a positive connection with the brother 
must exist. They had been friends, particularly when young lads, 
and he had always taken Kees as a model; Kees had introduced 
him to town and night life in Rotterdam. Also I could not find 
an explanation for the fact that the patient insisted without any 
apparent reason on the idea that his torticollis must be in some 
way connected with his brother. 

Besides although almost all possible kinds of perversities had 
come up during the analysis, there were to my surprise no state- 
ments worth mentioning concerning homosexuality. I proved to 
' be right in the supposition that this must be strongly repressed 
and in some connection with his brother. We first discovered this 
after he had related a dream to me. The dream finish .ed with 
the words- 'A Bolshevik was following me; he caught hold of vie 
arrd I awoke very frightened: To this closing Vf-«L<*£ 
dream the patient gave the following associations. (1) lnis Bol 
sh "k was my broLr who probably fought as a leader m Ge, 
many. He caught hold of me by my shoulder and wanted to 
Zw me to the ground. And he did throw me to the gr ound 
I could not see whether he had something -an object-in bl 
hands' (2) 'That he also threw my wife to the ground in that 

^Thl^wUh^ herring was as follow, His brother had 
once attacked the wife of the patient with a herring and she had 
laughed a great deal. Nothing further had occurred. But the way 
his wife had laughed had reminded him of the manner in which 
she always laughed during coitus and he had (probably justly) 
felt that a sexual attack had taken place in that otherwise harm- 
less incident. That the brother had thrown his wife down on that 
occasion was not true ; this false memory evidently only served 
to emphasise more distinctly the conformity between the 'attack 
against his wife and the one against himself in his dream. 
Although other parts of the dream also indicated homosexuality 
I only drew his attention to the fact that he was comparing his 
brother's attack with a sexual attack and that, so far, we had 


always found wish-fulfilments in his dreams. The conclusion na- 
turally drawn by the patient, that he wished for a sexual attack 
from his brother, made him laugh— a laugh that puzzled me for 
a moment but did not shake my opinion, though I did not defend 
it any further. And it soon turned out that his dream had made 
the first breach in the battlements that separated his homosexuality 
from his consciousness. 

On the following day the first thing the patient said to me 
was : 'I dreamed all last night that I went with my wife all night 
long.' I unquestioningly considered this dream to be a hetero- 
sexual protest- dream. In the following analysis hour there suddenly 
arose the remembrance of mutual onanistic acts at the age of 
about thirteen. I am convinced that he had really forgotten- 
repressed— these things. I had formerly often expressly enquired 
about them and he expressly denied them : and there could be 
no idea of concealment. Besides he had told me worse things 
than these rather innocent juvenile sins. Next time the patient 
came with the following recollection. When he was about four- 
teen he used to go down to the sea for a swim and an old 
man who was 'from the reverse side' used to come and look 
at him through a telescope. He always stood there and admired 
him. He was dreadfully disgusted with the man. He was always 
afraid of his coming after him. Much later when he went for a 
walk with his wife and would see him coming, he would run 
into some other street so as not to meet him. If he did meet 
him he would tremble all over. Of course I now told him that this 
groundless fear must have had some reason, and as the old man 
had given no further single occasion for it the danger must 
necessarily be hidden in the patient himself. This explanation 
made an evident impression on him. He remembered later on that 
in his twentieth year he had had a similar anxiety dream in which 
the old man had attacked him in the same manner as his brother 
had done in the other dream and with manifestly sexual purpose. 
And now it was not long before he remembered things that were 
of the greatest importance in connection with his homosexual 
fixation on his . brother. When he was at most four years of age, 
even before he had been with Trien, he had been forced by his 
brother, with whom he slept in one bed, to give him manual 
satisfaction. It can be ascertained that this really happened at that 
early age by the fact that the patient had a 'brain-fever' in 


that year after which he no longer slept together with Kees, and 
further because he remembers that no fluid was ejaculated by 
Kees who was six years older than he. Kees often also threw his 
legs over those of the patient in order to perform the manipula- 
tions in a sort of coitus position. The patient had suffered all 
this much against his will but at the same time not without 
pleasure and interest ; he had soon wanted to touch Kees all over 
and had also begun to produce an erection of his own penis by 
friction when he was alone. 

In the meantime several determinants for the torticollis tic 
appeared. It had always seemed remarkable to me that this tic 
had developed gradually without the patient's being able to tell 
me when it had actually begun. We know that such tics usually 
begin after an organic trauma in the region of the neck or (and 
Meige and Feindel give a few good examples of this) after a 
voluntary movement of the head, usually during some strong 
emotion, which movement is later repeated against the will of the 
patient When the analysis had continued thus far memory of the 
first appearance returned. When relating how he used to look 
round anxiously to see if Kees were coming in when he was with 
Trien he suddenly thought of the following incident. One night 
when' desiring to cohabit with his wife (shortly after the death of his 
sister Kaatie three years ago) he had suddenly started upm fnghtjust 
before the supreme moment because he had the feeling that Kaatje 
was coming into the room. He had turned round towards the door 
convulsively, and he showed me quite of his own accord how it 
had been exactly (he. same movement that he was forced to make 
continually. Lying on his stomach over his wife he had lifted up 
his head sideways and thus made the typical movement of a cramp 
of the spinal accessory. Later on he had always been forced to listen 
and turn round involuntarily whenever he wished to go to his 
W ife and this had finally made sexual intercourse quite impossible. 
The' patient now immediately went on to tell me that he had 
once before looked up in the same direction after Kaatje when 
there had been good reason to do so. He had made h.s girl 
masturbate him in a road into which the windows of Kaatjes 
room opened sideways from above him. 'And; he said I turned 
in the same way when I was with Trien as a child and looked 
up to see whether Kees was coming'. This equating of Kaatje 
and Kees was often repeated during the analysis. Kaatje had a 


masculine character and she always appeared as a castrated man 
in his phantasies; this idea was founded on the fact that she 
had a bleeding wound in the anus which she was said to have 
always had and to which she succumbed in the end. She had 
been the head of the household for some time and all the others 
had stood in awe of her and had to obey her. She had also caught 
him once when he was masturbating. She was very religious and re- 
presented to him the repressing element in his family. In this last 
she was again linked with his brother Kees who, as a direct 
father-representative, made him refrain from 'forbidden fruit' 
without the roundabout way of morality. 

The following determinants could be found for the tic : 

1. Reproductions of the situations above described, therefore 
dread of the punisher of incest. 

2. Homosexual desires which he had for his father, Kees and 
Kaatje, who made him look the wrong way round and prevented 
heterosexual actions. 

3. Onanism equivalent. The tic had begun to be severe after 
he had given up onanism (for reasons to be dealt with presently) 
and had become impotent. The head and neck were penis symbols 
for him. His libido had, so to speak, turned from the genitals to 
his head and neck. 

4 Self-punishment. This very masochistic patient punished 
himself with this illness for his infantile as well as for later sexual 
sins. (He 'gave himself one in the neck' was his usual ex- 

I will now just mention a few of the results of further ana- 
lysis so as to be able to proceed to the reconstruction of the 

Even before his fourth year an Oedipus-situation existed and 
distinct sadistic and anal-erotic traits were distinguishable. The 
genital apparatus only began to play a more important role after 
the above-described acts with his brother and his sister Trien. 
Since then his relationship to his brother was determined by: 
(i) A feeling of inferiority, envy of the penis, a constant desire to 
surpass him. (z) Envy, and fear that he would send him away 
from Trien (a repetition and representation of the Oedipus con- 
stellation). (3) Awe and homosexual fixation. The following conflict 
ruled his life: Inclination to his mother and Trien, on the other 
hand fear and inclination towards his father and brother. His 


sister Kaatje was added to the latter group of those of his own 
sex for the reasons mentioned above. 

This disturbance in the development of his libido was another 
reason why he bore for the most part polymorphous-perverse 
traits in later life. He was a sadist towards all women, men, and 
animals with whom he came in contact and a masochist in his 
phantasies. At the age of about eighteen years as a symbolic 
self-castration he actually mutilated his face and neck with a 
knife to a not inconsiderable degree. He was an exhibitionist in 
his fifteenth year; remained coprophilic all his life; and practised 
cunnilingus. He liked to eat with hands on which semen or vaginal- 
secretion had dried up and was a strong leg-fetishist towards the 
female sex. The leg was the maternal penis of his childhood's 
phantasy. This conception had over-determined his homosexuality: 
a well-known aetiology. 1 At the same time his narcissism was 
particularly developed. 

His Oedipus complex and homosexuality remained always in 
a state of repression (the latter with the exception of a short 
phase of mutual onanism). He had repeatedly had sexual inter- 
course with Trien till his sixteenth year, without penetration. He 
looked for his mother's imago in all women he fell in love with. 
His first non-auto-erotic onanism was accompanied by phantasies 
about a woman twenty years his senior. He often went with 
prostitutes. The repressed but abnormally strongly developed 
homosexuality left behind a number of symptoms. He could not 
stand being looked at by a man for any length of time. Often, 
when sitting in a cafe in which he thought some man had looked 
at him too long, he would get up, rush out into the street and 
curiously (or comprehensibly) thrash the first man he came across. 
At the time he himself did not know why he did it ; but at his 
rather low moral level (he also drank a good deal) he was not 
troubled by his conscience. 

He married when he was thirty-two and it was soon clear 
that it could not be a happy marriage in consequence of his 
pronounced mother- and sister-complex and his strong narcissism. 
While he unconsciously tried to identify his wife with his mother, 
he had a dread of incest which prevented the separation of his 
libido from the moftwc-imago and its transference on to his wife. 
In spite of his being very passionate he never ventured to break 
l Ci.Taxi%k:.InternationaleZeitsckriftfurPs}>choanalj'se,igi^.h6..\\. l S.i\. 



the hymen but ejaculated in the vulva. The conflict was heightened 
because his parents and Kaatje lived in the same house with him 
and because his beloved sister Trien was (of course) unhappily 
married. As he became impotent with his wife he soon returned 
to prostitutes, with whom he could obtain satisfaction because he 
could penetrate ; but the repression was soon extended to all 
women and he grew impotent with prostitutes as well. But he 
returned with success to onanism which he practised four or 
five times a day for many years. It was chiefly accompanied 
by phantasies of women's legs (for the meaning see above). His 
repeated attempts at coitus being unsuccessful, he practised onanism 
lying over his wife in the position of coitus. He also hated her and had 
death-wishes directed against her for which he could not account. 

Three years before the analysis the conflict was brought to 
a head by two events. The first was his brother's return from 
Germany, which reawakened all the infantile desires and fears which 
we have shown the patient had for him and which had been slumber- 
ing in the later years. Besides, his brother was a drunkard and 
the patient's obsessive suspicion that Kees wanted to approach 
his wife and was always persecuting him was perhaps not utterly 
groundless so far as the first was concerned. The second event, 
which occurred shortly afterwards, was the death of his sister 
Kaatje, the religious, pious woman for whom he always had the 
greatest respect. If the whole family had made a complete confession 
Kaatje could have gone straight to Heaven. (A Catholic colleague 
tells me that this idea has no doctrinal basis.) The patient did 
not feel himself capable of making the confession. For not only 
did he lack the courage to tell all his sexual sins, but he would 
also have had to say that he had never yet confessed honestly in 
all his life. The first communion had been a very unpleasant ex- 
perience to him, as he had concealed at the previous confession 
the regular sexual manipulations with Trien. 

At that time the torticollis had appeared, the first appearance 
of which we have discussed above. Shortly before he had, however, 
had a sneezing tic for some time when Kaatje had still been lying 
ill. When he had tried to cohabit with his wife he suddenly began 
to sneeze, and later even when sitting downstairs in the room 
and only thinking of coitus the same thing occurred, so that he 
had to give up all idea of it. The reason of this curious tic was 
easily found. Kaatje snuffed tobacco a good deal and had formerly 


often offered him a pinch. But, curiously, he seemed not to be 
susceptible to it, and if he pressed ever so much tobacco into his 
nose he could not bring himself to sneeze. Now he sneezed without 
any snuff. The well-known meaning of sneezing as a coitus- 
equivalent was here again confirmed by associations (cf. below, 
the frequent association 'snuff-box — femininity'; further his in- 
clination to sniff voluptuously at the vulva and to enjoy faecal 
smells). Here, exactly like the torticollis, it meant therefore the 
turning away from his wife towards Kaatje (to Kaatje's snuff-box). 
The torticollis now soon appeared independently directly his 
thoughts threatened to run in a sexual direction. 

A short time afterwards his wife was taken dangerously 
ill. A wild fear that she would die came over him. He was 
in danger of being entirely exposed to his homosexual family- 
complexes which had been so much strengthened by recent events. 
At the same time he was unable to return to his heterosexual 
debauches and perversities because the resistance had become so 
strong. There was only one way out of it all : his wife must be 
kept alive and he must love her at all costs. An awful horror 
and disgust of onanism now came over him. When his wife re- 
covered, his aversion was changed into neurotic love. He wanted 
to do everything for her, thought and lived only for her, and was 
cross when anybody made even the slightest remark about her; 
but he had now grown utterly impotent and even his former 
onanistic pseudo-coitus was no longer possible. At the same time 
the torticollis grew more pronounced, though it was still not 
exactly troublesome. It is notable that simultaneously his love 
relations to Trien were reversed. The heterosexual fixation on this 
sister had been the chief reason why he had not been able to 
attach himself to his wife. The constellation 'love for Trien, hate 
against his wife' was wholly repressed and changed to the contrary 
in consciousness 'hate against Trien, love for his wife'. 

A year after these events his father died, an occurrence that 
had but a small aggravating [influence on his condition. The re- 
pression was at its height and his homo-libido was attached for 
the most part to Kees, the repressing and forbidding tendencies 
proceeding chiefly from the imagines of Kees and Kaatje. It had 
been the Oedipus constellation that had determined the relation 
to his father during recent years and that had caused a slight 
continuous irritation between father and son. 


Another year later — a year before he came to me for treatment — 
a violent quarrel with Trien had occurred, after which the torticollis 
had become very troublesome. When the patient started treatment 
he stated that the torticollis had begun after that quarrel ; it was 
only later, in the course of the analysis, that he came to remember 
that he had been affected with it during the last three years, a 
statement corroborated by his wife. Now the quarrel with Trien 
had broken out on account of a remark she had made about his 
wife. His mother lived above them in the same house and Trien 
had once come and said that his wife had not washed the mother's 
underclothing clean enough. Thereupon he had flown into a 

According to the description, Trien was an hysteric with a 
strong mother-complex, who had suffered from hysterical attacks 
through all the years that her mother had lived with her. She 
now managed to persuade the mother to leave the patient's 
house and move to hers. A regular battle for the mother ensued 
in which the sister conquered right along the line and the patient 
was forbidden to enter his sister's house. The tic now gradually 
took a tonic form, only suspended from time to time for a moment. 
After two months the mother died without his having seen her 
again and he heard accidentally of her death from strangers. At 
the funeral he stood outside the churchyard gate to watch. When 
the relatives went away he entered to throw a handful of earth 
on her grave. 

One can understand that his state of health only became worse 
after all these events, the consequences of which were as follows. 
Intensified repression took place and also regression of the libido 
to still more prohibited objects. His illness became worse and 
reached the form we began by describing, making work and going 
out impossible. If he wanted to be shaved his head had to be 
forcibly held fixed by a man. He was afraid to think of anything 
connected with his former life, and for years he had never thought 
of the sexual actions described above. Sometimes he had the 
following obsessive thought which he himself found curious: ' I should 
like to remain always as I am now.' 

After an analysis of about ninety hours the treatment had to 
be stopped. The patient was being treated gratuitously in the 
Leiden University section of the Rhijngeest Sanatorium where he 
led a comfortable and lazy life, while his wife had to work 


hard at home for the daily bread. Under these circumstances, 
which are well-known to be unpropitious for psycho-analysis, his 
illness was soon used for the purpose of being allowed to remain. 
As a satisfactory improvement had been secured as well as a strong 
transference and insight on the part of the patient, so that one 
could expect that his libido would find new social directions, the 
patient was sent home. 

The therapeutic result of the analysis was as follows. The 
torticollis soon changed from a tonic to a clonic cramp and 
diminished regularly in strength. Towards the end of the analysis 
it became a little worse, for reasons which we shall presently 
discuss. Still, at home the patient soon got so much better that 
he now only spoke of 'slight twitches' which gave him no trouble. 
At all events many of his associates scarcely noticed them, or only 
on careful observation, and considered him entirely recovered. 

I however, had involuntarily made a mistake by predicting indeed 
a possible recovery in answer to a question from his wife (my 
opinion being founded on Oppenheim, Meige and Feindel, and 
others). But, considering that the tic had already lasted three years, 
the prognosis quoad restitutionem ad integrum was unfavourable. 
This opinion became known to the patient. Having tried to avoid all 
suggestion, I may thus have indirectly practised suggestion in malam. 

I succeeded in analysing separately all the other (para-) tics 
and they either entirely ceased or only appeared very rarely. His 
dread of moving among people, chiefly among men, vanished 
completely ; he often went to concerts, walked in the street or 
moved amongst people without the slightest difficulty. He felt as 
if he had been 'set quite free'. 

He had worked again for six months without any trouble. His 
impotence was at an end. He had broken his wife's hymen and 
cohabited regularly. His married life -which had always before 
been unhappy was now, according to both him and his wife, as 
happy as possible. To her great surprise the wife suddenly found 
herself happier in her married life than she had ever been before. 
All his jealousy had disappeared. He was no longer afraid of his 
relations nor did he hate them ; after all that had happened, how- 
ever, a reconciliation was scarcely possible. He also confessed 
everything to his priest. 

1 still wish to deal with one more phenomenon, namely, his fear 
of smoking a cigar or a pipe. A cigar represented for him, as one 


would expect, the penis, i. e. his father's and brother's; the pipe 
had a vaginal and rectal significance. During the high tide of 
repression in the latter years everything sexual, and therefore 
smoking, had been reached by repression. He had therefore re- 
acted with fear and an augmentation of the torticollis to every 
attempt or thought of smoking. The resistance diminishing during 
the analysis, smoking became so to speak free from repression, 
and his libido, which had been diverted from the genitals to the 
head and neck, found it possible to obtain satisfaction in smoking. 
The result was that the patient now began to smoke passionately, 
and when he smoked, his neck did not twist at all (a result that 
had not been obtained by any one of the para-tics). In order to 
produce a final damming-up of libido I forbade smoking towards 
the end of the analysis, whereupon the torticollis instantly in- 
creased. In this phase the anal-erotic components appeared. Never- 
theless I would not assert that they could not have been analysed 
without this renunciation. 

When words were called out to the patient, he reacted not only 
with associations, which he described at great length, but frequently 
also with a series of words which he said very quickly one after 
the other. I here cite small selections from such series on account 
of their interest. 

a. Finger, hand, foot, manliness, key, cigar. 

b. Ear, femininity, path, kitchen, cellar, stairs, railway station. 

c. Tobacco, tobacco-pouch, femininity, snuff-box, living-room, 

d. Smoking, tobacco-jar, cigar-stand, mother. 

e. Tobacco-box, cigar-holder, snuff-box, femininity, pipe, tobacco 
chewing-tobacco, wife. 

These series were given as free associations without reflection 
or criticism. Very striking are in (a) the series of symbols of the 
penis, in (6) and (c) symbolism of the vagina. The association 
'foot — manliness' was very common from the beginning of the ana- 
lysis. He never spoke of a key with this exception and the word 
appeared here really very appropriately. The association ' femininity — 
snuff-box' in (c) and (e) draws our attention to the symbolism of 
sneezing dealt with above. 'Cigar-stand— mother' is naturally in 
connection with the symbolic meaning of the cigar. 

I have just read Ferenczi's paper in this Jo urnal. 1 Many of 

1 192 1, Vol. II, p. 1. 


his observations are in accord with what took place in the case 
here described. It was particularly clear that the torticollis as 
well as the para-tics were onanism-equivalents. Where the patient 
showed distinct narcissism, they were also easily to be comprehended 
as narcissistic symptoms of disease. But they did not take up 
such a separate position that it was not easy to fit them into the 
structure of the complicated building-up of the neurosis ; on the 
contrary they were pushed to the front by several determinants 
as cardinal symptoms of the neurosis. 




The patient, a married woman, but childless, brought the following 
series of three dreams dreamed in one night. 

First Dream : ' I had eaten a slice of cake that had been put 
by in a tin. My husband commented on the fact. I replied that he 
would still find the slice there; that it was not eaten. He again 
pointed out that I had eaten it. I wanted to tell him that I thought 
I had only eaten it in my dream ; but all I could say was that I had 
somehow not really eaten it, and that he would still find it in the tin.' 

Associations: 'I had come home after dinner in the evening, 
and had felt tempted to eat a piece of cake that had been put out 
for me. My husband intimated that it might spoil my digestion if 
I did, and I put the cake in a tin to keep it till the next day.' 

The emphasis on the word 'really': 'In a manuscript that I had 
been correcting on the previous evening, I had had to read a difficult 
passage aloud several times over. The sentence contained an italicized 
word, the word " appearance", in the sense of being opposed to reality.' 

It is evident from the complication of the dream, and from the 
importance attached in it to the question of having or not having 
eaten the slice of cake, that the slice of cake cannot in this 
instance have a straightforward meaning. As is known to psycho- 
analysts, eating something, in its symbolic meaning, very commonly 
represents becoming pregnant. It has probably received this meaning 
from infantile theories of conception, the most general of which is 
that pregnancy takes place through the mouth, from swallowing 
some kind of food. The question whether the patient had really 
eaten the cake or not would therefore resolve itself into the question 
whether she was with child or not. The fact that the patient connects 
her emphasized 'really' of the dream with the italicized 'appearance' 
of the manuscript seems to accentuate the alternative character of 
the dream-thoughts, to dwell upon the contrast between reality and 

J 54 


unreality. And it seems that the dreamer, after some doubt, adopts 
the view that her being with child is unreal. 

Nevertheless, this last point is not so clear as it seems. Apart 
from the consideration that the patient was in fact not with child 
at the time, and had therefore no motive for asserting it in her 
dream, it is well-known that when a person dreams he has only 
dreamed a thing, it is usually a sign that that thing is something 
real and important. Indeed, it may be said (I am quoting Freud) 
that this is the only method known to the dream of conveying the 
notion of reality. If we now further suppose that our patient's 
emphasis of the word 'really' was not designed to point its contrast 
to the italicized word 'appearance' but to indicate an assimilation 
of the two, — to indicate that the word really meant was 'appear- 
ance' — then the whole dream would seem to require to be inter- 
preted in precisely the opposite sense. The dreamer would be 
asserting that her pregnancy was not supposititious, that she had not 
conceived only in 'appearance'. 

At this point we must fall back upon another consideration. 
The oral character of the conception places it under the heading 
of an infantile phantasy. The dreamer's affirmation of the reality 
of her pregnancy may, therefore, ultimately relate to an infantile 
phantasy. Eating the cake, in other words, may stand for having 
had (and still having) an infantile phantasy of pregnancy, of being 
with child in phantasy. 

We now see that both meanings may be present in the dream. 
The more superficial dream-thoughts might indeed simply be: 'It 
is not true that I am with child; there is no cause for believing 
that'; whereas the less obvious thought would run something like 
this: 'It is true that I have an infantile phantasy of pregnancy, and 
that I once supposed I was with child, or could get with child, by way 
of swallowing food. And this phantasy does really still exist in me.' 
In what relates to the uncertainty and confusion of thought expressed 
in the first part of this dream, I shall have more to say later on. 

Second Dream: 'I was correcting some manuscripts and asked 
my husband, concerning some word, whether it would "wo" in 
italics, or whether it was "wo" in italics— I can't exactly remember 
the words I used. I think I asked him more than once, and did 
not use exactly the same words each time.' 

' Then I awoke and remembered this and the first dream. The 
word "wo" rhymed with "go".' 

1 56 A. S. STRACHEY 

Associations: 'The night before I had been occupied in correcting 
a manuscript of a translation from the German with my husband. 
A certain sentence had been very obscure in the English version, 
and I had had to read it aloud several times over. (This is the 
sentence already mentioned in connection with my first dream.) 
It contained a word in italics, so that every time I repeated the 
passage I had had to emphasize the word.' 

In italics : The italicized word, as we already know, was ' appear- 
ance' as opposed to reality. Therefore being 'in italics', besides 
meaning being emphasized, may stand for being ' apparent ' in the 
sense of being unreal. 'In italics' also introduces a play upon the 
patient's own Christian name, which was Alix ('in it, Alix'). We 
shall return to this later. 

We see that the expression 'in italics' is employed to effect a 
condensation of two opposing notions, ' very marked ' and ' unreal '. 
The theme of contrast, which in the first dream found expression 
in the emphasis on the word 'really', seems here, too, to turn upon 
that emphasis. 

Wo: This suggested 'woe' 'distress' to the patient The word 
cognate with 'woe' in German is 'Well' ('pain'). The poetical 
form of this word is 'Wehe', and 'Wehe' in ordinary language 
means the pangs of childbirth. This was known to the patient. At 
this point she said: 'I recollect that I had been comparing German 
and English auxiliary verbs yesterday, and had been reminding 
myself that "er wird" means "he will", and "er will" "he wants 
to"; so that the transposition of German "w's" into English "w's" 
may have been running in my head'. 1 

The association of 'wo* with 'Wehe' was, of course, further 
facilitated by the events of the day before, on which the dream 
was based, — by the previous evening's work of comparing an English 
translation with the German original. It may be added that in that 

• Possibly the English word which was replaced by ' wo ' in the dream 
was 'throe'. Her own associations took her as far as 'woe', and half 
accounted for the presence of a 'w'. 'Throe' would of course be 
directly associated in any English mind with being 'in the throes of 
childbirth'. It would then appear as if the dreamer, in her attempt to 
conceal the all-betraying word 'throe* by substituting 'wo' for it, had 
not mended matters very much. It is true that the connection between 
' wo ' and the childbirth theme was more circuitous in its new form, but 
it was none the less traceable, as we see. 


translation there had been a description of childbirth and that the 
word 'Wehen' had been used. 

We may assume, then, that 'wo' stands for labour in child-bed. 

'Wo' next suggested the word 'wo* 'whoa' as applied to 
horses to make them stop. This association may supply a 
determinant for the appearance of the cart-horse in the third 


In this dream, therefore, the patient seems to be asking herseli 
whether the pains of childbirth are very excessive in reality, or are 
only supposed to be so. 

Third Dream : 'A woman told me that she was with child, and 
begged me to give her some of the drug that I possessed, so as 
to alleviate the pangs of childbirth. She appealed to my sympathy, 
saying that she was already elderly, so that her pains would be 
very severe, and that she was a colonel's widow. I refused, although 
there was enough of the medicament for her and for myself. At 
the same time I was ashamed of my hardness of heart and could 
not understand it. During this scene I saw the Colonel's wife 
before me in the shape of a heavy cart-horse with its hindquarters 
turned towards me so that its anus was plainly visible.' 

Associations : 'The translation we had been going over the evening 
before introduced a scene of childbirth, in which the woman's 
son, a boy of nine, had been present, and, although unable to see 
much had gathered what was going forward from his mother's 
groans and from the conversation of the persons attending her. 

The woman: 'I was thinking yesterday that giving birth to a 
child, if ever I had to do it, would be very painful for me, since 
I am now nearly thirty; and that I had every right to insist on its 
being rendered as painless as possible.' 

•My mother gave birth to me at the age of 34, and she used 
frequently to tell me how agonizing the pain had been, and how 
she longed for the occasional whiffs of chloroform which had been 
administered to her during the latter part of the process. Later on, 
when I was about ten or twelve, I remember her suffering very acutely 
from attacks of colic and diarrhoea, and having to lie down and 
take pills to alleviate the pain. I think I recollect hearing her groan. 
I distinctly remember thinking at the time that her pain could not 
be as bad as she made out, and feeling no sympathy for her.' The 
ultimate connection which subsists in the mind between colic and 
childbirth need scarcely be pointed out. 


From the two associations here given, it is evident that the 
patient makes the woman represent first herself and then her mother. 
This would involve at least a partial identification of herself with 
her mother. 

A colonel's wife: This brought up in the patient's mind the 
recollection of a journey she and her husband had made across 
the Adriatic under very trying circumstances, on which occasion a 
middle-aged lady, travelling alone, had applied to them for help 
and companionship. She was a colonel's wife. Her name, which 
unfortunately cannot be given here, also serves to indicate the 
patient's attitude towards her mother during her attacks of 
colic— i. e. in labour— and perhaps towards her own state of mind 
regarding childbirth. 

The colonel's wife also brought to mind a certain colonel's 
daughter 1 whom she had known slightly and of whom a friend 
had said that her mouth was like 'a horse's behind', meaning its 
anus. This serves as a second determinant for the appearance of 

The heavy carthorse : This in itself, of course, is very well suited 
to represent either of the parents and is a familiar symbol for them. 
From being heavy it would be indicative here of the pregnant 
mother. Another determinant was supplied by the patient, who said: 
' I had been wondering yesterday whether I had been right in inter- 
preting a horse which figured in the dream of a friend of mine 
as the dreamer's father rather than his mother, and thinking that 
the latter interpretation would have been better.' 

The horse's anus being visible presents no difficulty. The patient 
knew in her dream, she said, that this was the part of the horse 
through which birtii was going to take place. It therefore helps to 
associate her mother's colic with labour-pains. And it also carries 
on the oral character of the patient's birth-phantasy. 

Refusing to give the drug was interpreted by the patient as 
affirming her disbelief in the woman's sufferings. This view of its 
meaning is borne out by the patient's conscious and acknowledged 
attitude towards her mother's attacks of colic. 

Recollecting what has been said about the patient's identification 
of herself with her mother, we may suppose that in tiiis dream 

' Here again the colonel's wife is associated first with a colonel's 
wife, and then with a colonel's daughter, thus carrying on the identifi- 
cation of daughter and mother. 



her thoughts ran somewhat like this: 'My mother declares that she 
suffered great agony in childbed; and so shall I, then.' But then 
they add: 'I don't believe that she did suffer such extreme pain;' 
('I refused to give her the opiate') 'and if she did not, no more 
shall V 

Summary : The theme of conception and childbirth was obscurely 
presaged in the first dream in a symbolic form, and only found 
expression in a very covert and unsubstantial way, by means of 
verbal associations, in the second dream. At last it discloses itself 
in an undisguised manner in the third and final dream. In this 
series of dreams, nevertheless, it seems possible to distinguish an 
unbroken current of thought, which seems to be the following: 
'Provided that I am not with child myself— that my pregnancy is 
only an infantile phantasy, which I admit to having — and I have 
nothing to apprehend that way' (first dream), 'I am prepared to 
begin to doubt whether, after all, child-birth is such a dreadfully 
painful business in reality' (second and third dreams), 'As my mother 
has led me to suppose' (third dream). 

The general situation of the patient at the time of her dream 
is not without interest as throwing further light upon it. The patient 
was just then in the middle of a conflict concerning childbirth. Her 
conscious attitude towards pregnancy and everything connected with 
childbirth was one of fear and aversion. Now in view of the fact 
that she suffered from chronic constipation and was in the habit 
of taking laxative pills regularly for it, and in view of other facts 
connected with her constipation, the analyst had come to the con- 
clusion that it was psychologically determined, and that it expressed 
a phantasy of pregnancy, in which taking the pills symbolized con- 
ception. A few weeks before the dream happened, accordingly, he 
had recommended her to stop taking them, hoping thus to bring 
the conflict to a head. The patient had followed his advice, although 
by no means convinced of the truth of his view or the wisdom of 
taking such a course. Her dream is a reaction to this abstinence. 
The uncertainty 1 expressed in the first half of the first dream, as 
to whether she had or had not eaten the cake, will thus be seen 
to reproduce her doubt in waking life as to whether the analyst 

> The dispute between her and her husband in the first dream 
represents this difference of opinion between her and the analyst. The 
substitution of her husband for the analyst needs no explanation. 


was right in thinking that swallowing her pills had meant to her 
conceiving a child. When she then has the idea that she may have 
eaten the cake ' in her dream ' (i. e. in reality), it is evident that she 
is ready to change her doubt into conviction, and to confess the 
existence of her phantasy and incidentally the symbolic value of 
her pills. 

This transition from incredulity to belief is again the theme of 
the third dream. The analyst's conduct in denying her her pills 
becomes the subject of her thoughts. We may assume that her 
action in denying the colonel's wife her drug represents the analyst's 
action towards her. And, from the fact that she puts herself in the 
analyst's place and identifies herself with him in his line of conduct, 
we must infer that she approves of it. Once more she confirms his 
view that taking the pills symbolized getting with child. But a 
second conflict has arisen in this dream. It centres round the same 
problem, but is concerned with emotional values. The patient's 
thoughts are not so much occupied with the existence or non- 
existence of an infantile phantasy but with the bearing of such 
a phantasy upon life. 1 This second conflict has already been clearly 
shown in the analysis of the third dream. The transition here 
indicated is that from having shrunk from the situation of her 
phantasy the patient has come round to a less gloomy view of it. 

Thus the dream is based upon a double conflict, an intellectual 
one and an affectual one. And we should not be surprised to find 
somewhere in it a representation of the very complicated and intense 
train of thought that was proceeding in the' patient at the time. 
This would be what we should call the functional aspect of the 
dream, in allusion to Silberer's 'functional phenomenon'. In its 
functional aspect the dream has as its contents the dreamer's 
own mental processes. It is probable that in the question asked in 
the second dream we can discover a functional aspect of this kind. 

1 There can be no doubt that the patient's emotional attitude to 
pregnancy and childbirth was not normal. It was most probably the out- 
come of some very strongly repressed infantile phantasy of being with 
child. The question, therefore, of whether she had had a phantasy of 
that kind would naturally be very intimately connected in her mind with 
the second question— of whether she was able to face the realization 
of her phantasy. The second conflict arose from the first ; because the 
same repressive forces which had obliterated her infantile phantasy from 
recollection had also reversed her feeling towards its content. 


If we take the pun in it seriously and the question therefore as 
being addressed by the dreamer to herself, it would run 'Is this 
"wo" (i. e. childbirth) in it, AlixV, meaning 'Are your thoughts 
engaged upon the subject of giving birth to a child ? ' The dreamer 
is examining her mind concerning that conflict between denial and 
acknowledgment of her phantasy and between dislike and toleration 
of it which characterizes the dream as a whole. Is it, furthermore, 
too daring a suggestion that the 'wo' in the question, through its 
second association with 'whoa', and in virtue of the rule of 
representation by opposites — a form of representation to which the 
patient was very much addicted— may be made to stand for 'gee-up', 
for getting on 1 (without prejudice to its meaning of stopping still, 
of course)? In that case, another sense, again a functional one, of 
the question would be 'Shall I make this step (or shall I stay 

where I am)?' 

We therefore see that in its more general aspect— taken, that 
is, in relation to the patient's analysis— the dream is of great im- 
portance as marking the step from a repudiation of an unconscious 
phantasy to an acceptance of it. And besides the dream as a whole 
illustrating this transition, we have noted that each of the three 
separate dreams reflects the same change of attitude from different 
angles, re-states the process from another point of view. In the 
first dream, there is, to begin with, her denial of having eaten the 
cake * then the dispute about it, and finally her suspicion that she 
has in truth eaten it,-a suspicion which she is not able to speak 
aloud In this dream the accent is laid upon the truth ot the 
existence of her phantasy of pregnancy. In the second dream there 
is her threefold question, 'Am I really concerned with giving birth 
to a child?' 'Is it very painful?' and 'Shall I go forward in it? 
The accent here is upon her own deliberations concerning the step 
she is taking. F inally, in the third dream, there is the woman 

, Th e patient's own association was that 'wo' rhymed with 'go'. 

• It is true that at the opening of the dream the situation is simply 
that she has eaten the cake. But this is before any complication has 
arisen or any particular interest become attached to the question. I think, 
therefore, that we are justified in taking this statement as a bona fide 
one. The patient had, in fact, wanted to eat the cake the night before, 
and so her wish was represented as fulfilled in the dream. The cake is 
still a cake here. It does not become a symbolic cake until, so to speak, 
the action begins. 

1 62 A. S. STRACHEY 

— herself— who shrinks from the idea of bearing a child; and then 
there is the dreamer — the analyst — who refuses to give her the 
drug, who dismisses her apprehensions. The accent here falls upon 
the readjustment of her attitude to childbirth entailed by the con- 
fession of her phantasy, — upon her emotional acceptance of it, as 
it were. 

One more word as to the technique of the dream. It is inter- 
esting from two points of view. In the first place, supposing ot'r 
interpretation of the first dream to have been correct, it furnishes 
another instance of the rule that a dream within a dream represents 
reality. In the second place it goes to support the theory that 
dream-work is essentially of an uncreative character. The ingenious 
interplay of German and English words which composes the second 
dream gives, at first sight, the impression that a high degree of 
intellectual invention has gone to its construction. But as a matter 
of fact both the general setting (the comparing of German with 
English) and the more particular elements (the repetition of the 
sentence containing the emphasized word)— and, indeed, the very 
words themselves, are, except for a few modifications, reproduced 
from events out of waking life. Such modifications as were made 
were done so on a strictly economical basis. They were presumably 
as many as and no more than were required to make the dream suitable 
for expressing certain thoughts that were occupying the dreamer's 
mind at the time, and to place it in the service of an unconscious 





In establishing the symbolic relation of an object or an action 
to an unconscious phantasy we must first have recourse to con- 
jectures, which necessarily undergo considerable modifications and 
often complete transformation with wider experience. Indications 
flooding in on one, as they often do, from the most diverse 
spheres of knowledge offer important confirmation; so that all 
branches of individual and group psychology can take their share 
in the establishment of a special symbolic relation. Dream- inter- 
pretation and analysis of neuroses, however, remain, as before, 
the most trustworthy foundation of every kind of symbolism, 
because in them we can observe in anima vili the motivation, 
and further the whole genesis, of mental structures of this kind. 
A feeling of certainty about a symbolic relation can, in my 
opinion, only be attained in psycho-analysis. Symbolic inter- 
pretations in other fields of knowledge (mythology, fairy-tales, 
folk-lore, etc.) always bear the impress of being superficial, two- 
dimensional: they tend to produce a lurking feeling of incertitude, 
an idea that the meaning might just as well have been something 
else, and indeed in these fields there is always a tendency to 
go on imposing new interpretations on the same content. The 
absence of a third dimension may well be what distinguishes the 
unsubstantial allegory from the symbol— a thing of flesh and 

Bridges often play a striking part in dreams. In the inter- 
pretation of the dreams of neurotics one is frequently confronted 
with the question of the typical meaning of the bridge, particularly 
when no historical fact apropos of the dream-bridge, occurs to 
the patient. It may have been due to some coincidence in the 
material furnished by my practice that I should be able to replace 



the bridge in a whole series of cases by sexual symbols as follows: 
the bridge is the male organ, and in particular the powerful organ 
of the father, which unites two landscapes (the two parents in 
the giant shapes in which they appear to the infant view). This 
bridge spans a wide and perilous stream, from which all life takes 
its origin, into which man longs all his life to return, and to 
which the adult does periodically return, though only by proxy — 
through a portion of himself. That the approach to this stream in 
dream-life is not direct but by means of some kind of supporting 
plank or stay is intelligible in the light of the special characteristic 
of the dreamers: they were without exception suffering from sexual 
impotence, and they made use of this genital weakness to protect 
themselves against the dangerous proximity of women. This sym- 
bolic interpretation of the bridge-dream proved true in numerous 
cases; I also found confirmation of my assumption in a popular 
folk-tale and in a French artist's drawing of an obscene topic: in 
both an enormous male organ figured, which was extended over 
a wide river, and in the fairy story was strong enough to carry 
a heavy team of horses with their load. 

My view as to this symbol received final verification, and at 
the same time took on the deeper significance that belonged 
to it but had been previously lacking, from the communications 
of a patient who suffered from bridge-anxiety and from ejaculatio 
retardata. Besides a variety of experiences which were calculated 
to arouse and to heighten in the patient the apprehension of 
castration or death (he was the son of a tailor), the analysis 
disclosed the following terrifying episode from his ninth year; 
his mother, a midwife (!), who idolised him, would not be parted 
from him even on the night of agony in which she gave birth to 
a girl-child, so that the little boy, if he could not see the whole 
process of the birth from his bed, was at least obliged to hear 
everything, and from the remarks of the people tending the 
mother was able to gather details about the appearing of the 
infant and then its withdrawal for a time once more into the 
mother's body. The boy could not have escaped the apprehension 
which irresistibly seizes the witness of a scene of -birth ; he 
imagined himself in the position of the child, which was going 
through that first and greatest anxiety, the prototype of every 
later anxiety, which for hours together was being drawn to and 
fro between the mother's womb and the outer world. This 


to and fro, this isthmus between life and what is not yet (or no 
longer) life, thus gave the special form of bridge-anxiety to the 
patient's anxiety-hysteria. The opposite shore of the Danube signified 
for him the future life which, as is usual, was modelled upon pre- 
natal life. 1 Never in his life has he yet gone over a bridge on 
foot, only in vehicles driven very fast and in the company of a 
strong personality dominating his own. When, after adequate 
development of the transference, I induced him for the first time 
to drive across the bridge with me once more after a long 
interval, he clung to me like a vice, all his muscles were stiffened 
to tautness, and his breath held. On the return journey he behaved 
in the same way, but only as far as the middle of the bridge; 
when the bank this side, which for him meant life, became 
visible, he loosed his grip, became cheerful, noisy and talkative. 
The anxiety had vanished. 

We are thus enabled to understand the patient's apprehension 
in the proximity of female genitals, and his incapacity for complete 
surrender to a woman, who always meant for him, though un- 
consciously, deep water with the menace of danger, water in which 
he must drown if someone stronger does not 'hold him above 

the water'. . . , 

In my opinion, the two meanings 'bridge = uniting member 
between the parents' and 'bridge = link between life and not-life 
(death)' supplement each other in the most effectual manner: the 
father's organ is actually the bridge which expedited, the 
unborn (the not yet born) into life. This latter add* onal inter- 
pretation alone gives to the simile that deeper sense without 
which there can be no true symbol. 

It is natural to interpret the use of the bridge-symbol as it 
occurs in cases of neurotic bridge-anxiety as representing 
purely mental 'connections', 'linking', 'associating' (Freud s word- 
bridge')-in a word, as a mental or logical relation, that is, to 
take it as an 'autosymbolic', 'functional' phenomenon in S.lberer s 
sense But just as in the given instance solid material ideas about 
the events at a confinement form the basis for these phenomena, 
my own view is that there is no functional phenomenon without 
a material parallel, that is, one relating to ideas of objects. Of 

1 Cf. Rank's detailed discussion of the Lohengrin-legend with con- 
firmations from folk-psychology. 


course, in the case of narcissistic stressing of the 'ego-memory 
systems', 1 association with object-memories may fall into the 
background, and the appearance of a pure autosymbolism may be 
produced On the other hand it is possible that no 'material' 
mental phenomenon exists which is not blended with some memory- 
trace, even though only a faint one, of the self-perception ac- 
companying it. Finally it may be recalled in this connection that 
in the last analysis nearly every symbol, perhaps indeed every 
one, has also a physiological basis, i.e. expresses in some way or 
other the whole body or an organ of the body or its function. s 

There are contained, I think, in what has been so far intimated, the 
main outlines along which a topographical description of the formation 
of symbols might be constructed; and since the dynamics of the 
repression active in it has been already described on a former 
occasion, 8 there still remains to be supplied (in order to gain 
' metapsychologicaF insight, in Freud's sense, into the essential 
nature of symbols) a knowledge of the distribution of the psycho- 
physical quantities concerned in this interplay of forces, and more 
exact data as to its ontogenesis and phylogenesis.* 

The psychic material brought to the surface in the 'bridge- 
anxiety' appears also in the patient in a symptom of conversion 
hysteria. A sudden shock, the sight of blood, or of some bodily 
defect may bring about faintness. The occurrence which was the 
fore-runner of these attacks was supplied by his mother's story 
that he came half-dead into the world after a difficult birth and 
that respiration was brought about with great trouble. This re- 
collection was the original trauma, to which the later one, his 
presence at his mother's labour, could attach itself. 

It need scarcely be specially mentioned that bridges in dreams 
may also originate in historical dream-material and be without 
any symbolic significance. 

1 See my article on Tic. (This Journal, Vol. II, p. i.) 
Cf the observations relative to this in the article 'Hysterische 
Materialisationsphanomene ' in Hysterie und Pathoneurosen, Internationale 
Psychoanalytische Bibliothek, No. 2, by S. Ferenczi. 

See 'The Ontogenesis of Symbols'. Ferenczi: Contributions to 
Psycho-Analysis. 191 6, Ch. X. 

* Cf. Ernest Jones's article on 'The Theory of Symbolism ', Ch. VII 
of Papers on Psycho-Analysis, 191 8. 




In the preceding paper on Bridge Symbolism I have tried to 
disclose the numerous layers of meaning which the bridge has 
attained in the unconscious. According to that interpretation the 
bridge is: (1) the male member which unites the parents during 
sexual intercourse, and to which the little child must cling if it 
is not to perish in the 'deep water' across which the bridge is 
thrown. (2) In so far as it is thanks to the male member that we 
have come into the world at all out of that water the bridge is an 
important vehicle between the 'Beyond' (the condition of the unborn, 
the womb) and the 'Here' (life). (3) Since man is not able to 
imagine death, the Beyond after life, except in the image of the 
past, consequently as a return to the womb, to water, to Mother 
Earth, the bridge is also the symbol of the pathway to death. 
(4) Finally the bridge may be used as a formal representation of 
'transitions', 'changes of condition' in general. 

Now in the original version of the Don Juan legend the 
motives (1-3) mentioned are so closely related to a strikingly 
clear bridge symbol that I may claim this relationship as a con- 
firmation of my interpretation. 

According to the legend the famous woman-killer Miguel 
Monara Vicentello de Leco (Don Juan) lighted his cigar with t)ie 
devil's cigar across the Guadalquivir. Once he met his own funeral 
and wanted to be buried in the crypt of a chapel built by him- 
self in order to be trodden on by the feet of men. Only after 
the 'burial' did he change and become a repentant sinner. 

a. I wish to interpret the cigar lighted across the river as a 
variation of the bridge symbol, in which (as so frequently happens 
with variations) much of the unconscious repressed material has 
returned. By its form and the fact that it burns, the cigar reminds 
us of the male organ burning with desire. The gigantic gesture — 
kindling the cigar from one side of the river to the other — is 
eminently fitted to serve as a representation of the gigantic potency 
of a Don Juan whose organ we wished to portray in colossal 

b. His presence at his own burial may be explained by the 
idea that this phantasy of a double represents a personification 


of the chief part of Don Juan's bodily ego, namely his sexual 
organ. In every sexual intercourse the sexual organ is actually 
'buried' and of course in the same place as that of birth, and 
the rest of the 'ego' may look anxiously at this 'burial'. The 
psycho-analysis of numerous dreams and of neurotic claustrophobia 
explains the fear of being buried alive as the transformation into 
dread of the wish to return to the womb. Moreover from the 
narcissistic point of view every sexual act, every sacrifice to woman, 
is a loss, a kind of castration in Starcke's meaning, 1 to which the 
offended ego may react with fear of death. Scruples of conscience, 
phantasies of punishment, too, may contribute to the fact that 
a Don Juan feels himself nearer to hell, to annihilation, with every 
sexual act. If we explain, with Freud, the Don Juan type of love- 
life — the compulsion to sequence-formation, to the conquest of 
innumerable women (Leporello's list!) — as a series of substitutes 
for the one and only love which is denied even to the Don 
Juan himself (the Oedipus-phantasy) we understand better the 
phantasy of punishment mentioned above: it requites for the 
supreme 'mortal sin'. 

Of course I do not pretend in these few lines to have revealed 
the hidden meaning of the Don Juan legend which still has many 
inexplicable traits, (for example, I may hint at the probably homo- 
sexual signification of the lighting of one cigar by another); I only 
wished to give a confirmation of the phallic, life and death sym- 
bolism of the bridge by its appearance among the typical sym- 
bols of death, birth and sexuality. 

1 See this Journal, Vol. II, p. 179. 






Of all thinkers of the western world Plato was the first to observe 
our subject deeply and to describe it plainly. According to him, 
Eros, Love, is above all the instinct of sex or propagation. * 

He did not in the least depreciate the part played in life by 
these instincts ; the union of man and woman for the purpose of 
procreation was to him a holy thing (Symposium, chap. 25). But 
love reaches still greater heights : in the body it seeks and finds 
the beautiful, noble and gifted soul (Nachmansohn, 78), so that 
impregnation becomes a spiritual deed. On the ground of this 
spiritualization Plato creates for himself a reason (or pretext) for 
praising the love of boys so highly, which as an ethical attitude 
he places above the love of women. He sees in philosophical 
tendencies a further exaltation of the love-instinct ; Eros is turned to 
the abstract, to the world of ideas. Finally love attains divinity. 
Nachmansohn rightly says: 'According to Plato, Eros and Love 
are one and th e same thing, whether the love is that of parents 

' The following notes form part of the historical introduction to a book 
which I am now writing on 'The Developments and Misdevelopments 
of Love ' I offer them to the reader, not only because it is a joy to 
the analyst to rediscover some of Freud's most profound and fruitful 
teaching in the work of one whose understanding of the soul of men 
has been one of the greatest wonders ol history, but also for another 
reason. Plato is always counted among the noblest and most honoured 
thinkers; even his glorification of homosexuality is passed over leniently. 
But supposing that the most repellent doctrines of psycho-analysis are 
to be found already in his works? Will the analyst still be regarded 
as a heathen and Plato venerated as a divine prophet? However this 
may be we will continue on our way in search of truth, indifferent to 
both slander and suspicion. 

1 Nachmansohn : 'Freuds Libidotheorie verglichen mit der Eroslehre 
Platos '. Internationale Zeitschri/t fUr Psychoanalyse, 1915, Bd. Ill, S. 76. 



for children, or of children for parents, of man for woman, of 
art or of science, or the love of God.' To this he adds: 'It is 
interesting that all the amplifications of the usual conception of the 
sexual instinct which Freud has made, much to the disgust of so many 
academicians, are to be found already in the works of the founder 
of the Academy (Plato)'. Plato recognizes a difference between com- 
mon and divine love « which is independent of these gradations. 

Plato's kinship with psycho-analysis is, however, by no means 
exhausted by these valuable references. In order to show the 
profound knowledge of the minds of men that he possessed I 
will here quote a number of passages from his writings. 

It sounds as if he had forestalled the views of the most modern 
form of psycho-therapy— psycho-analysis — when he says : ' There 
are in the human body these two kinds of love, the desire of the 
healthy is one and the desire of the diseased is another ; so too 
in the body the good and the healthy elements are to be indulged, 
and the bad elements and the elements of disease are not to be 
indulged but discouraged. For medicine may be regarded generally 
as the knowledge of the loves and the desires of the body, and 
how to satisfy them or not' The following goes even further: 
'The best physician is he who is able to separate fair love from 
foul, or to convert one into the other ; and he who knows how 
to eradicate and how to implant love, whichever is required, and 
can reconcile the most hostile elements in the constitution and 
make them loving friends is a skilful practitioner. Now the most 
hostile are the most opposite, such as hot and cold, bitter and sweet, 
moist and dry, and the like' (chap. 12). 'Love . . . since of all the 
gods he is the best friend of men, the helper and healer of the ills which 
are the great impediments of the happiness of the race' (chap. 14). 
Nearly all the technical, artistic and social activities arose from 
love ; Plato mentions the following : gymnastics, agriculture, music, 
chivalry, poetry, archery, (chap. 12) metal-work, weaving, art of 
government, the love for the beautiful and the good (chap. 19). 

We must draw special attention to certain passages, first of 
all to his attitude toward music and its relationship to medicine. 
' . . . Harmony is a symphony and symphony is an agreement ; but 
an agreement of disagreements while they disagree there cannot 
be; you cannot harmonize that which disagrees. In like manner 
rhythm is compound ed of like elements short or long, once 
' Symposium, chap. 8. Compare Phaedrus, chap. 49. 


differing and now in accord; which accordance, as in the former 
instance, medicine, so in all these other cases, music implants, 
making love and unison to grow up among them ; and thus music, 
too, is concerned with the principles of love in their application 
to harmony and rhythm. Again in the essential nature of harmony 
and rhythm there is no difficulty in discerning love which has not 
yet become double' (chap. 12). 

Here with his wonderfully acute perception Plato recognized 
the power of love in music, and in the sentences which follow he 
shows himself to be a remarkable psychologist in regard to morality 
and religion. The significance of his thoughts in these matters has 
only remained hidden because since his time, with the exception 
of Freud, hardly one person has embraced in a single vision the 
interaction of all mental processes and the working of the mind 
as a whole. 'Furthermore all sacrifices and the whole province 
of divination which is the art of communion between gods and 
men — these, I say, are concerned only with the preservation of 
the good love and the cure of the evil. For all manner of impiety 
is likely to ensue if, instead of accepting and honouring and 
reverencing the harmonious love in all his actions, a man honours 
the other love, whether in his feeling towards gods and parents, 
towards the living or the dead. Wherefore the business of divin- 
ation is to see to these loves and to heal them' (chap. 13). 'And 
divination is the peacemaker between gods and men, working by 
a knowledge of the religious or irreligious tendencies which exist 
in human loves. Such is the great and mighty, or rather omnipotent, 
force of love in general' (chap. 13). Religion also is simply a 
matter of understanding and directing the emotions which spring 
from the love-impulse. 

The astounding thing in this is that the unconscious is already 
assumed as the seat of piety, although naturally the idea is not 
expressed in exact terms.* (The idea was apparently taken * over 

1 Compare Otto Wichmann: Platos Lehre vom Instinkt und Genie, 
Berlin, Reuther & Reichard, 1917- According to this author Plato con- 
tinually extended the concept of the unconscious (78); it is the seat of 
the gift of religious prophecy; only he whose senses are lost during 
sleeping sickness or mental illness and whose mental energies are 
restricted possesses in his unconscious condition the divine power of 
prophecy (69). It is the province of the spirits (69), of philosophy 
(79, 92 ff.), of the art of government and poetry (74). 


from Socrates.) One need only point out the following passage: 
'Love ... is a great spirit, and like all spirits he is intermediate 
between the divine and the mortal. ... He interprets between gods 
and men, conveying and taking across to the gods the prayers 
and sacrifices of men, and to men the commands and replies of 
the gods; he is the mediator who spans the chasm which divides 
them, and therefore in him all is bound together, and through 
him the art of the prophet and the priest, their sacrifices, mysteries 
and charms, and all prophecy and incantation, find their way. For 
God mingles not with man; but through Love all the intercourse 
and converse of God with man, whether asleep or awake, is carried 
on' (chap. 23). 

To Plato philosophy too springs from Eros: 'For wisdom is 
a beautiful thing and love is of the beautiful* (chap. 23). Even 
further: ' Generally all desire of good and happiness is only the 
great and subtle power of love ' (chap. 24). ' And if love is of the 
everlasting possession of the good, all men will necessarily desire 
immortality together with the good; wherefore love is of immor- 
tality' (chap. 25). 'Those who are pregnant in the body only 
betake themselves to women and beget children — this is the 
character of their love; their offspring, as they hope, will preserve 
their memory and give them the blessedness and immortality 
which they desire in the future. But souls which are pregnant — 
for there certainly are men who are more creative in their souls 
than in their bodies — conceive that which is proper for the soul 
to conceive or contain. And what are these conceptions? — wisdom 
and virtue in general. And such creators are poets and all artists 
who are deserving of the name of inventor. But the greatest and 
fairest sort of wisdom by far is that which is concerned with the 
ordering of states and families, and which is called temperance 
and justice. And he who in youth has the seed of these implanted 
in him and is himself inspired, when he comes to maturity desires 
to beget and generate' (chap. 27). 1 In wonderful words Diotima 
describes through the mouth of Socrates what Freud calls subli- 

The whole passage is a great panegyric of love; it is not a 
purely sensuous enthusiasm but is dictated by profound psychological 

1 The metaphysical concepts according to which Eros plays a part 
in animals and in plants, in short, in all living beings, does not here 
concern us further. 


insight. The whole matter is summed up in these rapturous words : 
'This is he who empties men of disaffection and fills them with 
affection, who makes them to meet together at banquets such as 
these; in sacrifices, feasts, dances, he is our lord — who sends courtesy 
and sends away discourtesy, who gives kindness ever and never 
gives unkindness ; the friend of the good, the wonder of the wise, 
the amazement of the gods; desired by those who have no part 
in him, and precious to those who have the better part in him; 
parent of delicacy, luxury, desire, fondness, softness, grace ; regardful 
of the good, regardless of the evil: in every word, work, wish 
fear — saviour, pilot, comrade, helper ; glory of gods and men, leader 
best and brightest : in whose footsteps let every man follow, 
sweetly singing in his honour and joining in that sweet strain 
with which love charms the souls of gods and men' (chap. 19). 

We must draw attention to yet another peculiarity of the platonic 
idea of love : the redemption tendency. Numerous later philosophers 
(Aristotle among the first) seek pleasure of a high order in the 
egoistic felicity of love. Plato, on the other hand, sees in love the 
striving to free the imprisoned, to heal the sick and to raise up 
the fallen, > and this is one of his most lofty ideas in this connection. 
We must, however, beware of confusing this redeeming love with 
the Christian concept. Plato is indifferent to the individual. 

'He therefore willingly permits child-murder on political and 
pedagogical grounds, in order to produce good citizens and also 
to prevent over-population ; in this sense he is a keen Darwinist 
and believes in sexual selection ; he would like the state to 
breed not only horses but also human beings.' (Teichmiiller). 
Neverdieless, for him love is freed from the barrier of egotism. 

We must lay stress on the depth and breadth, of vision which 
takes love as the basic force of the mind and as the creative 
principle, and follows it through all possible mental processes and 
actions, even going beyond the domain of experience into that 
of metaphysics. We do not accompany him into that territory 
which he himself describes only in mythological pictures, but we 
must still point out that such a careful positivist as Freud has also 
found in this source deep inspirations, which have proved of lasting 
value. 2 In Plato we also find the beginnings of an evolutionistic 

' Teichmiiller : Neue Studien zur Geschichte der Begriffe, Bd. Ill, 

S. 374- 

5 Freud: Jenseits des Lustprinzips, 1920, S. 55. 



mode of thought Even the theory oi sublimation is anticipated. No 
thinker in terms of evolution would object that the evolutionistic 
discipline was not maintained consistently throughout and that 
homosexuality, for example, was not recognized as the result of 
misdevelopment. In the same way we cannot complain that Plato 
discovered neither specific mental connections nor general psycho- 
logical laws. His work, as it stands, is a wonderful piece of 





The patient whom I am treating for sexual impotence, was passion- 
ately in love with a girl who gave every indication of a corresponding 
feeling. As he intended to marry her, it was this love which led 
him to be analysed. When he proposed to the young lady, however, 
after some weeks of analysis, he received an unexpected but quite 
definite refusal. As a result he fell into a condition of which I will 
give the main features as they showed themselves during the im- 
mediately succeeding hours of analysis. 

The patient became quite incapable of work, since he could not 
bring to it the necessary interest, although he made the attempt. 
He could not recall anything said, even though he was conscious 
of having listened. His sister and employer were concerned about 
his condition, but he was indifferent to them and remembered either 
not at all or' very incompletely what they had said to him. Yet 
it appeared in the analysis that there had been an understanding 
of his sister's comforting words, though to some extent elaborated. 
Until the second day after the shock he had no physical sensations, 
apart from an oppressive general feeling of discomfort Not until 
the second analysis period did he find that his shoe was hurting 
his foot. The first evening he was quite seriously occupied with 
thoughts of suicide, and depicted to himself how he would arrange 
it, how the bullet would take off the top of his skull, etc. Still 
earlier he was busy with thoughts of sending to his faithless 
sweetheart an insulting and crushingly scornful letter. He had no 
appetite, and took nothing except some liquid food at night. 'In 
spite of that', he said, 'I have had awful uneasiness in the bowels, with 
flatulency-pains.' In addition he suffered from total sleeplessness. 



The analysis discovered two opposed libido-mechanisms, working 
one after the other, and to some extent simultaneously. Immediately 
after the brutal injury which the patient had suffered from his 
libido-object, he withdrew his whole libido from the painful outer 
world, and therewith his entire interest, to such an extent that he 
had no cognizance of the most elementary sensations, e. g. the pain 
caused by the pressure of the shoe. That the withdrawn libido and 
interest became concentrated in the ego and produced there a 
narcissistic libido-tension is proved by the almost completely similar 
case of another patient, in whom, after such a rejection, excessive 
masturbation made its appearance as an indication of and relief for 
such a narcissistic tension. This patient made a distinction between 
such masturbation and the masturbation of puberty, in noting that 
the latter was always introduced by mental pictures of erotic objects 
while the former was evoked merely by stimulating the penis. 
If experience confirms the existence of such masturbation without 
object-phantasies we may be able to draw a distinction between 
object- and narcissistic-masturbation- In the first case also there 
proved to be an attempt at immediate discharge of the ego tension, 
but here more in the direction of personality. ' I believe in myself 
and similar thoughts assured him of his own value, and when he 
was alone he would whistle aloud and dance even in his misery. 

But this defence-mechanism proved insufficient, probably because 
his source of discomfort was by this time introjected, so that for 
him total withdrawal from the painful outer world could not shut 
out the painful memory. There was no way open to him except 
to destroy the source of pain together with the ego that contained 
it. The proposed wounding letter shows decisively that hate against 
the former sweetheart, now set free with the breaking down of the 
love relation, was in this case the radius vector. In killing himself 
the patient was going to destroy also the former libido-object, 
through an obvious identification with the object, by turning the 
hate impulse against his own person. Planning to execute the deed 
in the presence of the loved one (either in phantasy or in actuality), 
in order to give her pain, has a similar motive and is frequently 
found among suicides. 

But new possibilities for the withdrawn libido soon manifest 
themselves, and in each new disposition the libido must pass through 
the whole developmental process of its formation, this following 
completely the main lines of development of the infantile sexuality, 



and justifying the theory. The patient ceases to feed in the adult 
manner, and the taking of liquid food shows that he has regressed 
to the method which belongs to infancy. In my opinion, however, 
this is complicated by other factors. In the first place there should be 
mentioned the refusal to take food following the disappointment, 
which signifies not only a complete withdrawal from the world 
— external nourishment as well as external excitants, perhaps originally 
one and the same, being ignored — but also an inverted ablactation, 
an active self-weaning. But I will desist from following up this track 
since it is only inferred from a short section of the analysis and 
is without further verification. 

Several signs of strong anal regression are present and are 
to be regarded as a progression from the stage of regressive 
narcissism towards the anal-sadistic organisation. The violent bowel 
disturbances mentioned above should be compared with the fear 
experienced earlier, that if he lived together with his sweetheart 
he would disgrace himself before her by copious production of 
intestinal gases. Now he can no longer resist this impulse, since 
he has again invested with his libido the method of getting satis- 
faction which he previously gave up out of love for the normal 
sex-object. We may assume that at this fixation-point the elements 
of the regressive libido find an opportunity to combine with similar 
currents from the ego-reservoir.* 

Together with a strengthened defence against the increased danger 
from this impulse, appeared numerous anal-erotic memories (without 
exception very unpleasant), which came from childhood and else- 
where and were to be ascribed to this reinforced component-impulse. 
But such obsessive thoug h as 'I am undone,* and ' She has given me 

« I must here remark that I consider a part of the libido betrayed 
by the bowel movements as entirely narcissistic, and therefore more 
primitive than the purely anal-erotic. Here a reference might 1 be : made 
to hypochondria (Cp. Freud's < Einffihrung des Narzissmus and Ferenczi s 
'Pathoneurosen') of which the simultaneous appearance with increased 
narcissism, together with other analytical experiences, is in agreement 
with what has just been said. The above mentioned muscular phenomena 
must be considered as at the same level (dance). Perhaps we are deahng 
here with differences in distribution of the narcissistic libido among the 
different organs, and perhaps also with differences in the regression- 
stages of the libido itself. 

5 In Hungarian: 'Le vagyok sajnalva', a euphemism for soiling. 


an evasive answer ' — the first with a well-known anal-erotic double 
meaning, and the second leading up to the point of a scatological 
obscene joke — both show that the patient attempts to bring the 
injury coming to the ego from without into harmony with the danger 
threatening from the instinct within. It is here to be noted that such 
external injuries to the ego provide suitable opportunities for pro- 
jection of the inner menace from the instinct and for the simultaneous 
discharge of anal-erotic-masochistic impulses. (Here again the 
masochistic impulse is sadism turned against one's own person). 

But the greatest outflow of energy is shown in the patient's 
new choice of objects. It will not surprise us to recognise incest- 
libido as the chief factor of this, which he showed in strong 
fixation. The first soothing influence was exerted on him by the 
words of his sister with whom he lived, and who was his mother- 
representative. (The other patient, mentioned above, went back to 
his parent's house when in a similar state, and spent there some 
time 'as though in lethargy'). In connection with this sister the 
patient had related some days before that during the night he 
had withdrawn to a room for the purpose of thinking about his 
sweetheart. In this he did not succeed and on consideration 
remembered that that room was next to the bedroom of his sister. 
These thoughts, and the hearing of some noises in the bedroom, 
drove all thoughts of his sweetheart out of his head. In order to 
soothe him his sister had intimated that girls were all coquettes, 
and that she herself was no exception. Then the patient began to 
feel deep sympathy with one of his numerous nieces who, 
according to information supplied by his sister, was in love with 
him. He thought he ought to comfort this girl who could be 
made so happy by him. It should be understood that for our 
patient with his strong family-fixation, the female cousins formed 
a series into which he had resolved his mother-flWMgV. The 
sleeplessness, which according to Rad6 expresses a flight of the 
enhanced narcissism from further augmentation, as well as the 
fear of the claims of the repressed object-libido, is brought 
to an end by a saving-dream in which mother, sister and 
sweetheart are saved in one composite dream-person. This dream 
forms also a functional picture showing that in this search among 
old and new libido objects he is beginning to save himself from 
being swallowed up in narcissism. Beginning from there his libido 
set out on side-tracks some of which had already been well worn 


in the unconscious, and he developed towards the analyst a growing 
transference amounting to homosexual love, which on the one hand 
was connected through infantile traumata with the family complex, 
and on the other represented (through estrangement from women) 
flight from incest-love. 

Later, when a glimmering hope appeared that it might be 
possible still to win the lady, came expressions such as 'I was as 
if electrified', or 'It seemed as if I must jump out of my skin'. 
These show that only a part of the narcissistic libido could get 
expression by the paths mentioned above. Another part, for want 
of a suitable object, contributes to the augmentation of the primary 
narcissism, and so to the production of a potential tension with 
increased readiness for discharge. 

In a few hours of analysis I was able to ohtain this insight 
into the mechanism of libido movements after a violently broken-off 
love affair. This subject is to my mind very important, and I invite 
colleagues to discuss it, together with the numerous and very 
significant relations of the love-life during the analysis to the analysis 






An interesting paper by Mr.F.C.Bartlett 1 in one of the recent 
numbers of Folk-Lore deals with the claims of psychology in general 
to contain the key that will unlock the difficult and much discussed 
problem of the 'folk-tale' or 'Marchen'. He tells us that the psycho- 
logical theories relating to the folk-tale have received new impetus 
from Freud's study of dreams. 2 However, he wishes to criticise 
all attempts to interpret the folk-tale as an 'individual expression' 
and devotes his chief attention to those who apply Freud's views 
on dreams to the mechanisms determining the growth of the popular 
tale, particularly Rank (The Myth of the Birth of the Hero) and 
Riklin (Wish-Fulfilment and Symbolism in Fairy Tales). 

He begins his criticism by telling us that 'wish-fulfilment' is not 
an acceptable explanation from the point of view of scientific 
psychology. For if a wish means only a 'directed tendency' the 
explanation is far too general, since it refers to an element which 
is present in all modes of human behaviour. If however something 
more definite is to be understood by wish-fulfilment, for instance 
the memory-image left by former satisfactions of certain bodily 
cravings, then these are themselves 'the result of incoming ex- 
perience acquired in the course of the mental life and so them- 
selves call for explanation by reference to environment.'" 

Now this argument has a plausible appearance, but I think that 
if one really reads Freudian contributions to the study of the popular 

■ F. C. Bartlett: 'Psychology in relation to the popular story', Folk- 
Lore, 1920, pp. 264-93. 
' idem: I.e. p. 265. 
» idem: ibid p. 277. 



tale and moreover if one knows something about psycho-analysis on 
the one hand and folk-lore on the other, there cannot be the slightest 
doubt as to the meaning of the term wish-fulfilment in this connection. 
To begin Avith a truism ; popular tales are all told to a juvenile 
audience and usually end (particularly fairy-tales) by the young 
hero overcoming all obstacles and winning the fair lady. Now 
every human action is done for one of two reasons: either because 
it is useful and necessary, or because people find pleasure in it 
since it satisfies a wish. We may safely leave out of account use- 
fulness as a possible motive (apart from moralising additions) when 
applying this consideration to the folk-tale and come to the con- 
clusion that the tales are told, like fiction in general, for pleasure, 
because the juvenile audience delights in them. The child identifies 
itself to a varying extent with the young hero of the story. It has 
an unconscious apprehension of the difficulties that stand ' 'twixt 
cup and lip', between itself and the sexual object, and magnifies 
them into dragons and monsters. But all tales have a happy ending; 
the child obtains a fulfilment in imagination of those unconscious 
wishes which it cannot yet obtain in reality. The hero wins the 
maiden; this is the happy ending and it is not in the least doubtful 
what sort of 'directed tendency' is at work here. It is true that 
some folk-tale motives, like some dreams, contain wish-fulfilments 
of a still more elementary character: the dream of Nordenskiold's 
hungering crew, mentioned by Freud > as a case of a simple infantile 
wish with hunger as the actuating motive, may for instance be 
compared with the magic tablecloth desired in fairy tales.* 
Nevertheless, in the large majority of cases we may say that the 
wish is of a sexual nature, and that its manifestations, even in fiction, 
are controlled by the psychic censorship and subject to the same 
measure of distortion as other products of the unconscious. 

Here we glide over to the subject of symbolism and to the 
second error of our critic. He acknowledges the possibility of 
symbolism in popular story, but he objects violently to the idea 
of a 'universal symbolism', to the principle 'once a symbol 
always a symbol'. Something may be symbolical for A who tells 

« Freud: Die Traumdeutung. 191 1. S. 96, 97. 

» Cp. T. Jacobs: English Fairy Tales. 1907. p. 206. No. xxxix. 
Grimm : Kinder- und Hausmiirchen. No. 36. With the copious notes and 
references of Bolte-Polivka : Anmerkungen zu den Kinder- und Haus- 
miirchen, 191 3, p. 346. 

182 G. r6heim 

the story and not symbolical for B who retells it. We come here 
to the flaw in the author's argument. If something is a symbol for 
A and not for B, then evidently A knows that what he is relating 
is, a symbol . . . but in this case it is no symbol at all in the sense 
in which we use this word in psycho-analysis, but something quite 
different, let us say an allegory or a metaphorical expression. By 
symbol we mean a substitute for something we are not conscious 
of, for a repressed unconscious concept. 1 A symbol the story-teller 
would be aware of is therefore manifestly a contradictio in ad- 
jecto. Like many others the author strangely fails to grasp that 
an unconscious concept is something of which we are really not 
conscious. 'In my childhood I learned', he tells us, 'from my mother 
and from others many popular stories. Some of them contained 
material of precisely the kind discussed by Riklin. Never till I read 
this book was I in any sense aware of that possible symbolic 
meaning with which he is preoccupied.' 2 Well, it would have been 
most abnormal if as a child he had been aware of it, but that in 
no sense disproves the symbolic interpretation of folk-tale elements. 
When, however, our critic protests against ' universal symbols ' and 
demands careful analysis for each case, we must acknowledge that 
he is right to a certain extent and that Riklin's book, a premature 
attempt to apply analysis to the folk-tale, is open to criticism from 
a psycho-analytical point of view as well. Still we must say a few 
words on the idea of a 'universal symbolism' in psycho-analysis. 
When the analyst has obtained the same solution to the same 
problem on x occasions he will expect to find it again in case 
x + 1 and if the dagger proves to be a substitute for the penis in 
a hundred dreams it is very likely that it will mean the same in 
the hundred and first. This is what is meant by 'universal symbols'; 
every analyst knows that by applying this key to certain simple 
and typical dreams we have only fathomed their latent contents 
with a certain, and high, degree of probability, though absolute 
certainty can only be attained through individual analysis. The 
value of the symbolic interpretation when applied to the folk-tale 
as an heuristic principle lies in the fact that 'what at first tends to 
appear a mere muddled mass may be shown to illustrate the most 

' Cp. Ernest Jones: 'The Theory of Symbolism', Papers on Psycho- 
Analysis, 1918. 

* Bartlett: I.e., p. 279. 



perfectly determined order.' 1 Take for instance the 'Three golden 
hairs of the devil'. A boy who is sent on an errand to the devil 
or another supernatural being has to bring an answer to various 
questions: (a) why a certain well will give no more water, (b) why 
a fruit tree will not bear any more fruit, (c) what is the matter 
with a certain princess or queen. The devil's mother or wife helps 
him to get the information by hiding him in a cupboard or under 
the bed and telling her husband three times that she has been 
dreaming about (a) a well, etc., (b) a fruit tree, etc., (c) a girl, etc. and 
that she cannot sleep till these questions are answered. Now if we 
remember that the number three is one of the conventional ele- 
ments of folk-tale, and that the same episode although repeated 
three times still remains the same, we shall search for the same 
unconscious meaning in these three questions. There is a remarkable 
parallelism between the girl and the well; on the other hand the 
nature of the girl's ailment seems somewhat obscure. Fleur d'Epine 
is told that he will win the girl as his wife if he can make the 
waters of a certain well flow again.' There seems to be abundant 
reason for this marriage, for the youthful adventurer has made the 
princess, as well as all the other princesses he encountered on his 
voyage, enceinte.' In another variant the well is dried up on account 
of the immoral life led by the Red Emperor's daughter.* The reason 
why the well refuses to give water and why the princess is ill is 
very often the same; a toad is obstructing the water or sitting under 
the bed of the princess." Frog and toad are well-known equi- 
valents of the womb in European folk belief," so that is the 
direction in which we must look for the nature of the princess's 
illness. Indeed we know quite well that she is pregnant— our Breton 

« idem: ibid. p. 264, referring to Freud's researches on dream-life. 
* F. M. Luzel: Contes Populaires de la Basse-Bretagne. 1887, t. I, 

p. 135. 

» idem: ibid. 1. 1, p. 124. 

« Rona Sklarck: Ungarische Volksm'archen. 1 90 1. Vol. I, p. 33. 

» A. Aarne : Der reiche Mann und sein Schwiegersohn. F. F. Com- 
munications No. 23. 1916, pp. 143, 145- For the variants and literary 
history of the tale consult this excellent monograph and the notes of 
Bolte-Polivka: 1. c. Vol. I, p. 276. 

« See R6heim: Adalekok a magyar nephithez. (Contributions to 
Hungarian Folklore.) 1920. p. 219. R. Andree: Votive und Weihegaben. 
1 914. p. 129. 

184 ' G. R6HEIM 

variant is quite clear on the matter. In some variants her illness 
is said to be caused by the fact that she has vomited the Holy 
Wafer 1 — nausea being a symptom of pregnancy, and the Holy 
Wafer the symbol of the Saviour, the God-Child. If we continue 
the parallelism between the well, the tree and the woman we shall 
have to say that the questions why the well does not give any 
water and the tree does not bear fruit are equivalent to the question 
why a woman cannot give birth to her child, and this is really 
what the young hero wants to know. This is simply a slightly 
distorted version of the child's typical question: how are children 
born, how did I come into the world ? It is a well-known fact that 
this sexual curiosity of the child gains fresh impulse from ob- 
servations on the intercourse between his parents which he makes 
at an age when he is not thought capable of making any ob- 
servations, 8 and here we find the hero in a truly infantile situation, 
hidden beneath the bed, listening to what the grown-ups (the 
supernatural beings) are saying. They are talking about how children 
come into the world, just what our youthful hero would like to 

t Certain passages seem to indicate that here for once we have 

direct dream experience embodied in folk-tale. For are we not 
told that the devil (sun, dragon, etc.) is asleep and does not his 
wife (mother) tell us that she is being harrassed by oppressive 
dreams? Freud has shown that the impression received by the infant 
from observing the coition of his parents will persist in his dreams 
with the distortion habitual to dream-work. We shall therefore 
come to the conclusion that it is not the grown-ups who are 
dreaming, but the child, and that our tale only projects the idea 
of being asleep from the hero on to the supernatural beings. In 
the child's dream the situation is softened down; instead of looking 
at his parent's cohabitation, he is only listening to their talk about 
how a child is born. But in the projection we get the original 
situation back once more; he is surreptitiously observing something 
that his parents are doing at night. 

Now for another detail; every time the devil's wife wakes the 
giant or devil she does so by pulling out one of his golden hairs. 

• Rona Sklarck: 1. c. p. 33. 

2 See especially Freud,: Aus der Geschichte einer infantilen Neurose 
(Schriften zur Neurosenlehre, IV.), 1918, and also Roheim: Die Urszene 
im Traume. Internationale Zeitschrift filr Psychoanalyse, Bd. VI., S. 337. 



I have given instances elsewhere of the hair as a penis-symbol; 1 
what Samson loses with his hair is not so much his physical strength 
as his potency. 2 We touch here on another element which has its 
root in the Oedipus complex; the boy loves his mother, is jealous 
of his father, and wishes to punish him by castration for doing 
what he cannot do; and it is in this form, as the symbolic punish- 
ment for cohabitation, that the original scene appears in the dream. 
But the whole analysis rests on the assumption that the devil is a 
duplicate of the father, transformed into a devil by the boy's 
Oedipus attitude. 8 This and the whole chain of argument is con- 
firmed by the end of the story where the boy's father, or rather 
step-father, who sent him on the dangerous errand is punished for 
his wickedness by being compelled to replace the ferryman (a sort 
of Charon) of the nether-world who is a duplicate figure of the 
devil himself. Now, if the tale tells us that two people who replace 
each other are equivalent to each other we may safely assume that 
this is correct. Thus our whole chain of assumptions is confirmed 
by a return of repressed elements at the end of the tale; at last 
it cannot help telling us who the devil really is. 

This short analysis shows us what is meant or what ought to 
be meant by Riklin and others when they say that they can do 
without the 'historical pedigree' in interpreting a folk-tale. The 
fact is that by the help of a careful comparative study of the 
sequence of 'motives' which are united to build up a connected 
whole, besides comparing the same 'motive' as it appears in other 
tales, we may make use of our psycho -analytical knowledge of the 
general laws which govern the transformations of all psychic products 
to guess the latent contents of the tale. But this is only part of 
the tale, although the most- important part from an analytic point 
of view. If we wish to know where the tale originated, how it 
came to be developed into a tale, out of what mythic material, 
belief, or custom it was formed, we must certainly make use of 
the usual methods of comparative folk-lore and social anthropology. 
Thus for instance we have the interesting sugges tion of von der 

1 See 'Psychoanalysis e"s ethnologia', Ethnographia. 191 8. 

- See L. Lewy: 'Sexualsymbolik in der Simsonsage '. Zeitschrift filr 
Sexualwissenschaft, 19 16, Ht. 617. 

5 For demonstration of this see Ernest Jones : Der Alptraum in seiner 
Beziehung zu gewissen Formen des mittelalterlichen Aberglaubens, 19 12 . 
S. 88 et seq. 

1 86 G. R6HEIM 

Leyen who thinks that the 'three golden hairs of the devil' are 
an account of a shaman's journey to the other world. In his trance 
he asks the supernatural beings how to cure a barren woman, make 
a well flow, etc.; a proceeding which would be really quite in 
keeping with the usual ways of shamans. 1 If we should be able to 
prove that these customs existed in the region where our tale started 
on its migration we should certainly have made another important 
step forward. The next thing would be to show whether the 
unconscious content of the tale is in keeping with the general psychic 
tendency dominant in shamanism (the shaman in the position of 
a child towards the supernatural beings, sexual character of his 
'knowledge' etc.) and if all this has been done we may hope to 
give a sort of biography of our tale from its infancy to maturity 
and decay. We certainly do not think of doing without an 'historical 
pedigree' for it is here that the whole process of distortion, the 
mechanism of repression, and the return of repressed elements 
can be studied with some hope of success. The folk-tale as we 
have it to-day is a house with many floors; if we wish to go from 
attic to cellar we shall have to make use of all methods hitherto 
employed ; the literary school (from Benfey to Aarne) for migration, 
social anthropology for the materials the tale is made of, psycho- 
analysis for the unconscious tendencies which take hold of those 
materials (custom, belief) and make use of them for their own 
purposes. This seems to be the legitimate claim to be advanced 
by psycho-analysis in bringing new light to the intricate problem 
of the folk-tale. 2 

1 F. von der Leyen: Das Marchen. 191 1. S. 49. 

• Thus we have acknowledged Mr. Bartlett's criticism as legitimate 
to a certain degree although we must also point out his errors. Point (3) 
of his criticism (p. 281) where he requires an individual analysis of those 
who employed the symbolic ' motive ' is a truly psycho-analytic postulate ; 
only as everybody knows, it is hardly practicable. 

Received Jan. 1, 1922. 






Nesta is nine years old and has had a liberal education in sex. She was 
enlightened about the origin of children in early childhood; and now, 
as her sex interest is reviving, the lesson has been repeated to her. 

This is how she elaborated the newly-won knowledge in her 
own way. She was going to tell a story and asked what it should 
be about. 'About a red berry' was the request; whereupon she 
told the following tale spontaneously, given here in her own words: 

'There was once a berry alone on a bush, and her husband 
had been plucked off, and she was so sorry, because she wanted 
to have some children. Then a little red berry rolled along near 
her and she asked who it was, and it said: "Somebody plucked 
my mummy and daddy, and so I am all alone, and have nobody 
to take care of me." Then the old berry said it had no children, 
and would the little berry be its child, and it would be its mother. 
So they agreed, and lived together. 

'After a while, one day the mother said to herself: "I wonder why 
little Reddy is scratching herself so much. — Why are you, Reddy?" 
"O mummy, I have to scratch, because I feel as if there's something 
inside me." "Oh," said the mother, "we must go to the doctor." 

' So they went to • Dr. Berry, and he said she must be cut 
open. So he laid her on some soft moss—' 

('Didn't she have chloroform?' asked the listener.) 

'O no but he poured some early dew on her, which is the 
same as chloroform for berries. Then he cut her open, and out 
came a little thing with two legs, two arms, and two wings. It 
was a fairy. It said it had been caught in a flower in the spring 
and made a prisoner, and then felt something growing around 
itself, and that was the berry. So then it flew away. 

'Then the berry woke up, and it was quite well, and it gave 
the doctor three bottles of rose water.' 

'* 187 



What is interesting about the above story is the fact that, 
though the sex information was given in a strictly rational, sci- 
entific manner, still the child felt the need of elaborating uncon- 
sciously in her own language and images knowledge that she 
already had consciously. The ' mytho-poetical' faculty is very 
strong in Nesta, and it enabled her to express in her own sym- 
bolic way what had occupied her mind intently for some time 
without her venturing to give open and direct expression to it. 

Her symbolism conforms entirely to what we are used to 
find in psycho-analysis. In the first place there is the reversal so 
characteristic of the unconscious. While the offspring grows inside 
the mother, the story has it that the berry grows around the fairy child, 
forming a receptacle for it. This receptacle has close resemblance to 
the idea of a 'box' which so often stands symbolically for the womb. 
Secondly it is not the old mother-berry, bereft of her husband, who 
gets with child, but little Reddy herself, thus showing a reversal ot 
generations. x Little Reddy identifies herself with her own mother 
and becomes thus, as it were, the mother of herself. As a matter 
of fact, Nesta often mentions that she is going to have a lot of 
children. She simply carries out her wish in the story. 

Furthermore it is interesting to note that Nesta represents the 
birth of the fairy as taking place by a doctor cutting open the 
mother. She had been told only that the child comes out of the 
mother at birth without any further indication of the birth-process; 
she represents the latter symbolically in the typical way by ' cuttkjg- 
open\ (It may be said here that Nesta's father is a doctor). 

That Nesta has a special attachment to her mother, whom she 
strongly resembles, is quite clear from the story, though of late 
signs have not been wanting which indicate that she is nearing 
the period of father-fixation. 

Asked why Little Reddy scratches herself when with child, 
she naively answers: 'Wouldn't you do so, if something were 
wobbling about inside you?' The displacement of the internal 
sensation to the skin gives a hint that skin erotism may some- 
times be due to pregnancy phantasies. 

Finally it may be pointed out that Nesta asked the following 
day whether cats can have young without a husband. Though 
told that the male partner is necessary for reproduction, she had 
not been informed about the exa ct r61e h e plays. 

' See Ernest Jones : Papers on Psycho-Analysis, 191 8, chap. XXXIX. 





g£za r6heim 



1. * Abraham, K.:'XJber Einschrankungen und Umwandlungen derSchau- 

lust bei den Psychoneurotikern.' Jahrbuch der Psycho- 
analyse. 1914. VI. S. 25-89. 

2. *Idem: 'Uber neurotische Exogamie.' Imago. 1914. III. 

S. 499-501. 

3. Ankermann, Bernard: 'Verbreitung und Formen des Totemismus 

in Afrika.' Zeitschrift filr Ethnologic 1915. XL VII. 
S. 1 14-80. 

4. Idem : ' Totenkult und Seelenglaube bei afrikanischen Volkern.' 

Ibid. 191 8. S. 89-153. 

5. Larguir des Bancels, I.: 'Sur les Origines de la Notion de l'Ame 

h propos d'une Interdiction de Pythagore.' Archives 
de Psychologie. XVII. 191 8. p. 58. 

6. Backtold, Hans: 'ZumRitus der verhiillten Hande.' Schweiserisches 

Archiv filr Volkskunde. XX. (Festschrift fur Hoffmann- 
Krayer.) 1916. S. 6. 

7. *Bluher, Hans : Die Rolle der Erotik in der mannlichen Gesellschaft. 

19 1 9. 2 Volumes. 

8. Boll, Frans: 'Oknos.' Archiv filr Religionswissenschaft. 191 8. S. 151. 

9. Bork, F.: 'Tierkreisforschungen.' Anthropos. 1914. Heft 12. 

10. * Brill, A. A.: 'Die Psychopathologie der neuen Tanze.' Imago. 1914. 
ID. S.401. 

1 The works marked with an asterisk are written from a psycho-analytic 
standpoint. It seems appropriate from time to time to call attention to works 
which are not connected with psycho-analysis, but in which nevertheless 
material is collated in a way rendering it immediately available for expert 
psycho-analytic handling, and also to works which arrive at conclusions having 
a relation to psycho-analytic questions. 

'»* 189 

i go 


11. Busckan: 'Das Mannerkindbett.' Zeitschrift fiir Sexualwissen- 

schaft. II. S. 203. 

12. *Eisler, Robert: 'Der Fisch als Sexualsymbol.' Imago. III. S. 165. 

13. *Federn, Paul: 'Die vaterlose Gesellschaft' 1919. {Der Au/stieg 

Nr. 12/13.) 

14. *Fehrle, Eugen: 'Zum Verhiillen im deutschen Volksglauben.' 

Sckweizerisches Archiv fiir Volkskunde. 1916. XX. 
S. 120. 

15. *Felszegky, Be'la: 'A pan complexum' (Pan-Complex). Huszadik 

Szdzad. 1 91 9. 

16. *Ferenc si, S. : ' Zur Psychogenese der Mechanik.' Imago. 1919. V. 

S. 394- 

17. Foy, W.: Uber das indische Ioni-Symbol. 1916. 

18. * Freud, S.: 'Das Tabu der Virginitat.' Sammlung kleiner Schriften 

zur Neurosenlehre. Vierte Folge. 191 8. S. 229. 

19. *Giese, Fritz: ' Sexualvorbilder bei einfachen Erfindungen.' Imago. 

IE. S. 524. 

20. Hall, Stanley G.: 'Spiel, Erholung, Riickschlag." Zeitschrift fur 

Sexualwissensckaft. 1919. VI. 

21. Jellinek, Morton: A saru eredete. (The Origin of Shoes.) 1917. 

22. * Jones, Ernest: ' Die Empfangnis der Jungfrau Maria durch das Ohr.' 

Jahrbuch der Psychoanalyse. 1 91 4. VI. S. 135. 

23. Hartley, C. Gasquoine: The Position of Woman in Primitive Society. 


24. * Kaplan, Leo :Grvaidziige der Psychoanalyse. 1914. 

25. *Idem: Psychoanalytische Probleme. 1916. 

26. *Idem: Hypnotismus, Animismus und Psychoanalyse. 1917. 

27. Kreichgauer, P.D.: 'Das Symbol fiir "Kampf" im alten Mexiko.' 

Anthropos. 1914. S. 381. 

28. Idem: 'Die Klapptore am Rande der Erde in der altmexikani- 

schen Mythologie.' Anthropos. Bd. XII. XIII. S. 272. 

29. *Levy, Ludwig: 'Die Sexualsymbolik der Bibel und des Talmuds.' Zeit- 

schrift fiir Sexualwissensckaft. 1914. I. S. 273, 318. 

30. *Idem: 'Die Sexualsymbolik des Ackerbaues in Bibel und 

Talmud.' Zeitschrift fiir Sexualzvissenschaft. II. S. 437. 

31. *Idem: 'Sexualsymbolik in der Simsonsage.' Zeitschrift fiir 

Sexualwissensckaft. 1916. Heft 6/7. 

32. *Idem: 'Sexualsymbolik in der biblischen Paradiesgeschichte.' 

Imago. V. 191 7. S. 16. 

33. Idem: 'Die Schuhsymbolik im jiidischen Ritus.' Monatsschrift 

fiir Geschickte und Wissenschaft des Judentums. 1 91 8. 
LXII. S. 178. 

34. Idem: '1st das Kainszeichen die Beschneidung ? ' Imago. 1919. 

V. S. 290. 


35. Lindworsky, P. J.: 'Vom Denken des Urmenschen. Zugleich ein 

Wort zur Annaherung von Psychologie und Ethnologic' 
Anthropos. 1917/18. Heft 3/4. 

36. *Lo'wenthal, John: 'Zur Mythologie des jungen Helden und des 

Feuerbringers.' Zeitschrift fiir Ethnologie. 191 8. 
S. 42. 

37. Marcuse,M.: 'Vom Inzest' Juristisch-psychiatrische Grenzfragen. 

IQI5- X. Heft 3/4- 

38. Mogh,£ugen:'Das Ei im Volksbrauch und Volksglauben.' Zeitschrift 

des Vereines fiir Volkskunde. 1915. S. 215-23. 

39. Parsons, Elsie Clew: 'Links between Religion and Morality in Early 

Culture.' American Anthropologist. 1915. p. 41. 

40. Idem: 'The Reluctant Bridegroom.' Anthropos. 191 5/16. XI. 

41. Idem: 'Discomfiture and Evil Spirits." The Psychoanalytic 

Review. 1916. III. p. 289. 
42 *Pfeifer Siegmund: ' AuCerungen infantil-erotischer Triebe im Spiele.' 
Imago. 1919. V. S. 213. 

43. *Rank, Otto: 'Der Doppel ganger.' Imago. HI. S. 97- 

44. *Idem: Psychoanalytische Beitr'age zur Mythenforschung. Inter- 

nationale Psychoanalytische Bibliothek Nr. 4. 1919. 

45. *Reik, Theodor: 'DieCouvade und die Psychogenese der Vergeltungs- 

furcht." Imago. 1914. HI. S. 409. 

46 *Idem: 'Couvade und Mutterschutz.' Die neue Generation. 

1915. XI. H. 7/8. 

47 *Idem: ' VOlkerpsychologisches.' Internationale Zeitschrift fiir 

Psychoanalyse'. 1915. III. S. 180. « 

48. *Idem: 'Die Pubertatsriten der Wilden.' Imago. 1915- IV. 
* S. 125, 189. 

49. *Idem: Probleme der Religionspsychologie. Internationale 

Psychoanalytische Bibliothek Nr. 5. 1919- 
50 *Idem: 'Das Kainszeichen.' Imago. V. S. 31. 

51' *Idem: 'Psychoanalytische Studien zur Bibelexegese.' Imago. 

V. S. 325- 

52. Barbara, Rem: 'Schlange und Baum als Sexualsymbole in der 

Volkerpsychologie.' Archiv fur Sexualforschung. 1916. 
I. Heft 2. 

53. Ro-heimG/sa: l A medve-es as ikrek.' (The Bear and the Twins.) 

Ethnographia. 19 14. S. 93. 

54. *Idem: 'Az elet fonola.' (The Thread of Life.) Ethnographia. 

1916. S. 275. 

55. *Idem : ' A kazar nagj'fejedelem ds a turulmenda.' (The Kasarian 

Grand-Duke and the Story of the Turul.) Ethnographia. 

1917. Published separately 191 7. 



56. *Idem: 

57- *Wem: 

58. *Idem 
59- *Idem 

60. *Idem 

61. *Idem 

'A kazar 6s a magyar nagyfejedelem.' (The Kasarian 
and the Hungarian Grand-Dukes.) Ethnographia. 1918. 
S. 142. 

'Psychoanalysis 6s ethnologia.' (Psycho-Analysis and 
Ethnology.) 'I. Az ambivalentia es a megforditas torvenyc' 
(Ambivalence and the Law of Inversion.) Ethnographia. 
1918. S. 49. 'II. A symbolumok tartalma es a libidd 
fejlodestortenetc' (The Meaning of Symbols and the 
Developmental History of the Libido.) Ibid. S. 206. 
'Nefanda carmina.' Ethnographia. 191 8. Jahrg. XXTX. 
S. 271. 

Spiegelzauber. Internationale Psychoanalytische Biblio- 
thek. Nr. 6. 1919. (Kap. I— III also Imago. V. S. 62.) 
'Allerseelen im Volksbrauch und Volksglauben.' Pester 
Lloyd. 1919. XI. S. 4. 

'Skt. Nikolaus im Volksbrauch und Volksglauben.' 
Pester Lloyd. 1919. XII. S. 7. (60 and 61 under the 
name 'Helios'. 

62. Sartori, Paul: 'Diebstahl als Zauber.' Schweizerisches Arckiv fur 

Volkskunde. XX. 19 16. S. 380. 

63. Schilder, Paul: Wahn und Erkenntnis. Monographien aus dem Ge- 

samtgebiete der Neurologie und Psychiatric Heft 15. 
1918. S. 57-112. Kap. III. Volkerpsychologie und 

64. Silberer, H.: Durch Tod zum Leben. Beitrag zur Geschichte der 

neueren Mystik und Magik. 191 5. S. 4. 

65. Soederilom, N.: Das Werden des Gottesglaubens. 1916. 

66. Werner, Heinz: Die Urspriinge der Metapher. Arbeiten zur Entwick- 

lungspsychologic 1919. Heft 3. 

67. Zude, Waldemar: 'DerKuckuck in der Sexualsymbolik. 1 Zeitschri/t 

fur Sexualwissenschaft. 1917/18. IV. S. 88. 

The work which laid the foundations of psycho-analytic folk- 
psychology is beyond question Freud's 'Totem and Taboo', in 
which the phylogenetic parallels of the ontogenetic (or individual) 
Oedipus complex are brought to light. The results achieved in it 
were confirmed by Reik's work, to which we owe the most im- 
portant advances of the period dealt with in this Review. 

Reik (48) takes as his starting-point the observation that a 
common fundamental feature in rites of initiation is to be found 



in the idea of slaying the young men, and bringing them back to life. 
We may assume that the greedy monster which apparently devours 
the youths represents the totem animal which primitives admittedly 
reverence as their ancestor. In order to understand these rites we 
must take as our starting-point the ambivalent part which the 
fathers play, both as tormentors and as protectors of their sons. 
It is clear that in the monsters we can see nothing but the pro- 
jected hostility of the fathers. The same impulses are at work in 
the rite of circumcision. This is to be understood as a castration- 
equivalent, and a most effective reinforcement of the incest-taboo. 
The rite is motivated by the unconscious fear of retaliation ex- 
perienced by the man who has become a father: he fears that his 
own wishes for the castration of his father will be realised on 
himself by his own son (or : his unconscious is aware of the im- 
pulses latent in the unconscious of his children and revenges itself 
on them in accordance with the principle of the pf talionis): he 
identifies himself thus with his own father who appears in the 
ceremonies as the monster-grandfather. The slaying and the 
resurrection are related to each other in the same way as the two 
elements in the alternating behaviour of obsessional neurotics : in 
the one phase hate comes to the surface, in the other love and 
tenderness ; the fathers signify to the sons in this way their read.ness 
to accept them with the tribal group, but on condition of their 
renouncing their infantilism. 

The author sees in the rites of puberty a repetition of the 
primitive situation that we must presume to have existed when 
the totem system arose. In both there follows on a violent mani- 
festation of hostility a reaction of tender feeling, which expresses 
itself as identification with the totem (S. 192). 

The rebirth of the youth out of the totem animal, that is, out 
of the father, signifies his enfranchisement from the incest-fixation, 
by means of a contradiction and cancellation of the fundamental 
cause of the incestuous desire, viz. the birth from the mother. In 
tfiese puberty-rites two age-groups stand confronting each other. In 
the case of savage races it has already been shown by Schurtz, 
but it is true universally, that these two age-groups represent the 
tribe's conception of itself— the mutual sympathy between them 
reveals the unconscious homosexual impulse. Thus we find a con- 
firmation of the Freudian conjecture that, after the all-important 
death of the father, the brothers must at some time have founded 


some sort of organisation based on the homosexual direction of 

A similar compromise between the Oedipus fixation and the 
fear of retaliation, between aggressivity and tender feeling, is ex- 
pressed in the couvade of primitive races (45). The couvade originates 
when the feelings of tenderness for the son suppress the fear of 
retaliation in such a way that this is only revealed in acts expressing 
a compromise, that is, in the performance of a ritual. 

Treatment of a related subject will be found in a paper on the 
mark of Cain (50) which is considered by Biblical critics to be the 
race tattoo-mark of the Kenites. Here again we have to do with 
an Oedipus fixation and a fear of retaliation; the mark of Cain, 
originally a castration-equivalent, is therefore a talion punishment 
for incest committed. The attempt made by Levy (34) to refute 
the arguments of Reik seems to me throughout inadequate and 
to rest on a misconception of the mechanism of the unconscious. 
In the first part of Reik's 'Problems of the Psychology of Religion' 
will be found an amalgamation of four separate articles, particularly 
45 and 48 in an expanded form, and, in addition, 'Kolnidre' and 
'The Schofar'. 

Among primitive peoples an essential part of the oath consists 
in a practice symbolizing the evil fate which is thought to over- 
take a perjurer : e. g. being eaten by a wild beast. An Old Testa- 
ment analogy to this form of oath is to be found in 'Brith', the 
covenant between Jehovah and Abraham. According to the author, 
the 'Brith' is the raw material of the sacrificial ceremony, an .inter- 
mediate form developed out of the prototype of the totemistic 
meal. The self-imprecation must be considered as a reaction against 
a previous act of violence, the nature of which is betrayed in the 
rite of dismembering the animal, in view of Freud's explanation 
of totemism. Originally it constituted a self-inflicted punishment for 
the murder-impulse. Tearing the animal to pieces is a symbolic 
repetition of the murder of the father; and with it is linked up the 
terrifying prospect of the punishment threatened in the event of a 
repetition. 'The Brith brings before our eyes the first ceremonial 
attempt at reconciliation with the dead father-god' (S. 155). In the 
Kolnidre formula we have to do, in the author's opinion, with 
the discharge of obligations undertaken through the Brith, the 
fulfilment of which meet with unconscious opposition in the 


Thus the Kolnidre is nothing less than an open confession and 
avowal of, and penance for, 'the wish to murder the father-god'. 
The act of expiation, the sacrifice of the scape-goat (totem animal) 
even represents a renewal of the offence, and is thereby analogous 
to a breaking-through of the tabooed impulses of the Kolnidre. 
There follows an examination into another ceremony belonging to 
the Day of Atonement: blowing the Schofar horn. Originally 
Jehovah himself causes the ram's horn to be blown on Sinai, or 
actually himself bellows like a ram. Reik follows out ancient Oriental 
material relating to bulls and rams as deities: the conclusion that 
Jehovah was once revered as a bull or a ram is obvious. A specially 
relevant symbol in connection with paternal deities is the horn, 
which is everywhere valid as a symbol of power. The priest who 
blows the Schofar, and so imitates the divine voice, identifies him- 
self in this way with God, just as those sons of the primitive horde 
who murdered their father gradually came to imitate the paternal 
nature and behaviour. 

The Schofar-blowing is according to tradition done in remem- 
brance of the sacrifice of Isaac. The Sinaitic revelation corresponds 
in the same way to the rites reported by investigators to take 
place at the celebrations of puberty among savages. In the initiation 
ceremonies, as in the sacrifice of Isaac, the slaying of the son is 
signified, and the command for the slaying of the son which goes 
forth to Abraham from Jehovah appears in the bull-roarer, a monster 
from which fathers protect their sons prior to their initiation. This 
late tradition has with reason connected the Schofar-blowing with 
the account of the sacrifice of Isaac; there is also a survival in 
it, although disguised, of the idea of the old blood-guiltiness. The 
author details in a way that carries conviction the common features 
belonging to the Schofar and to the bull-roarer of the puberty 
rites. The sound of the Schofar is likened to the bellowing of a 
bull, and the English name of the whirring piece of wood is equally 
significant ('bull-roarer'). 

Thus the voice of Jehovah, which according to the Biblical 
account sounds from Sinai and affrights the Jews, is in its nature 
identical with the sound of the whirring wood which terrifies the 
youths at the initiation ceremonies. 'The use made of elaborate 
scenic effect in the Sinaitic narrative need not confuse us; in both 
cases the members of a primitive clan, who must learn to know 
the graven commandments of the religion of their race, are stricken 


with awe at mysterious and supernatural sounds, in which they 
recognise the voice of their terrible God.' 

Striking confirmation of this is supplied from Australian sources, 
where we find the bull-roarer spirits as sons of the father-god, 
killed by him as a punishment for their rebellion, while their voice 
lives on in the whirring wood (S. 247). With the genesis of music 
that of dancing is interwoven : the Jews who dance round the 
golden calf are identifying themselves with the godhead. The hymn 
of Greek tragedy is an imitation of the cry of Dionysius or of 
the bleating of a goat: the choral dance the imitation of the 
leaps and gambolling of a goat. In an appendix the author takes 
the Moses of Michelangelo as a starting-point and continues his 
interpretation of the events of Sinai. The horns and the whole 
facial expression point to an identification with Jehovah. 'The 
recognition of the psychological identity of Jehovah and the golden 
image of the bull (calf) provides the key to comprehension of 
the whole narrative' (S. 271). The calf is moreover consumed by 
the people in the form of dust, and here we have the sacramental 
meal, the sacrifice of the totem. 

In the two last papers (The Kolnidre and The Schofar) certain 
features of an annual festival (the Day of Atonement) are inter- 
preted in the light of initiation ceremonies: a short paper of the 
reviewer's has a similar aim (61). The various masks worn to 
frighten children at winter festivals in accordance with European 
custom are degenerate remains of the masked figures of savages, 
which always appear in initiation ceremonies. 

Reik's smaller contributions (51) may be regarded as a continuation 
of the same line of thought as was begun in The Kolnidre and 
The Schofar. The first treatise, Jacob's Battle, examines the 
narrative of the nocturnal wrestling of Jacob with Jehovah on 
Penuel which was interpreted by Roscher as a struggle with a 
nightmare. In these nightmares, however, the consciousness of 
sexual guilt plays an important part, together with the fear of 
the threatened punishment (castration). In the Sohar light is thrown 
on the meaning: the thigh-sinew, which in Jacob's case is shrivelled 
by Jehovah's touch, is properly the phallus. In the article on puberty- 
rites proof is already adduced that limping is a symbolic castration. 
'If we read the story over once more in the new light it strikes 
us now that the whole situation, the sudden attack, the wrestling 
with a mysterious being, the new name, and finally the mutilation 


of the penis . . . closely resemble procedures apparently widely 
different, i. e. the puberty-rites of primitive peoples' (51) (S. 333). 

The second treatise, The Doorkeeper, (51) is an explanation of 
Jeremiah xxxv. 4. In Zephaniah the leaping over the threshold is 
mentioned. Treading on the threshold symbolises the destruction of 
the house, a symptomatic act which betrays the unconscious hostile 
intentions towards the owner of the house (Jahveh). Section III 
(51) is an attempt to explain the sin of numbering the people as 
evidencing the unconscious hostile intent of the representative father- 
image (divine or royal) against the people (sons). Section IV, 
The Meaning of the Silence, takes as a starting-point the favourite 
metaphor of the prophets — the sacrifice in the form of a sentence 
to punishment. From the sacrificial ritual of the ancient Arabs we 
know that after the slaughter was effected they stood round the 
altar in silence for a time. This sudden silence is nothing but a 
self-inflicted punishment, a symbolic state of death after the death 
of the father, which must be taken as the prototype of all sacrifices. 
Reik of course admits that this explains only one of the sources 
of the ritual of silence. 

Taking the modern and mediaeval secret society as his starting- 
point, Silberer (64) attempts an explanation of the rebirth idea in 
the initiation ceremonies of savage peoples. Many details of the 
symbolism of initiation customs, such as ignition by friction and 
the tree (S. 39, 40) are placed in their right light; but on the whole 
the article simply amounts to an 'anagogic' interpretation of the 
rebirth as a 'radical revolution in life' and as a symbol of the 
'relation to the divine' (S. 50). Explanations which leave the matter 
to be explained still obscure must be considered as completely 
superseded since the appearance of Reik's articles on the subject. 

In the next work we proceed from totemism to the phenomenon 
of sacrosanct kingship, a form of the same complex but on a higher 
cultural level. The present reviewer makes an attempt to fit the 
scattered accounts of the victim-king that we find among the 
Ural-altaic peoples into the nexus of Frazer's theory, and to 
draw the conclusions which follow about the psychology of these 
rites (55). 

The first section deals with the doubling of the kingly office. 
Among the ancient Hungarians, Chasari, and other Ural-altaic 
peoples, the institution of a two-fold kingly office is found, i. e. the 
supremacy is split into a sacrosanct and a temporal power (Mikado 


and Shogun). The rulers of the Mikado type are projections of 
unconscious thought about the ageing father, while the Shogun 
corresponds to the adult son, the leader of the male federation, 
but as such is equally a splitting-off and doubling of the father. 
According to tradition in the Tonga Islands, slaying the ruling chief 
was the occasion for establishing a double kingdom; the son avenges 
his father and shares his office with his brother. The 'vengeance' 
owes its origin to a secondary elaboration ; originally the son was 
himself the father's murderer. Among the Meithei a second ruler 
appears, whose function consists in averting all sins and evil spirits 
(i. e. unconscious impulses) from the council and people and in 
taking them on himself. A similar figure doubling the king is found 
among the Ewho; he wears the mantle that confers invulnerability 
on the king, but must beware of women and of the' act of urination 
(invulnerability is here an over-compensation for the dread of 
castration). Obedience, and nothing more, is rendered to the 
representatives of the Shogun type; the Mikado represents both a 
deposition and an apotheosis of the father. 

In the second section, the rites of slaying the king and of 
coronation are submitted to analysis. Among the Shilluk the king 
is slain if he can no longer satisfy his numerous wives. His principal 
task consists in making rain by enchantment or by entreaty to 
Nyakang. This Nyakang is a cone-shaped object, carved to resemble 
a human being, a representation of the first king (the word means 
equally family, grandfather and snake). The rain-making activity of 
the king thus seems to be a projection of his sexual potency, 
while Nyakang and the corresponding deities are again supernatural 
projections of the father and the phallus. Similarly Etzel's death 
on his wedding night is ascribed to sexual impotence and to the 
slaying of the king following upon it; and by a displacement of 
the castration complex to the upper part of the body the cause 
of death becomes nose-bleeding. The sacrosanct king of the Chasari 
is slain and delivered up to the wrath of the tribe by the Shogun 
if the rainfall fails, or any evil befall the land, or according to 
other authorities, after the lapse of forty years. Isstakhri and Ibn 
Haukal have on record another variant. At the ceremony of the 
great king's enthronement a silken scarf is placed round his neck, 
and he is strangled to the point of suffocation. Then he is asked 
how long he wishes to rule, and if he dies within the allotted 
period nothing happens to him, but if he oversteps it he is slain 



Similar customs are recorded of the Tukiu, Mpongwe, etc. The 
author notes in these an ambivalent behaviour, a return of 
the repressed, in that the design of slaying the king achieves 
fulfilment exactly at the moment of subjection. In the act of 
homage a simple prolongation of his life is inherent so that the 
responsibility for his death devolves upon himself. These aggressive 
rites of homage are comparable to and derivative from the attacks 
of neighbours on a newly-made father (Celebes, Karaib). The manner 
of a king's death (by hanging) is determined by the wish to avoid 
shedding of blood, so that the tender aspect of the feeling towards 
the father comes again to expression. Accounts of the custom of 
sons hanging their father 'out of piety' are adduced from 

Fiji, etc. 

It is not without historical importance that the great stride 
which the Magyars made in the eleventh century out of Asiatic 
nomad life into European mediaeval life was effected by means 
of a regressive revival of the sacrosanct power of a great king 
(St. Stephen), just as with the Mikado, under whose rule it 
became possible to change mediaeval Japan into a modern state. 

The third section treats of the relation between rulers and 
heavenly beings. The projection of the paternal power heavenwards is 
an intensified repression of the unconscious complexes, which, however, 
obviously corresponds to no historic series of events. The ruler is 
the father of his subjects, but the son of heaven. The solar sym- 
bolism, the spears and swords of heaven, are treated as royal 
symbols among Eastern Asiatics and Ural-altaics. 

The Grave of the Ruler is the title of the fourth section. Like 
Etzel and Alaric, the king of the Chasari finds his grave in a river and 
thereby returns to the mother's womb. (His grave is called Paradise.) 
The twenty graves dug for him in order to deceive the evil spirits 
may be supposed to repeat the slaying twenty times (see appendix 
to review), and at the same time mislead the spirits of remorse. 
The grave-diggers are sacrificed so as to cancel all traces of the 
impiety, and also to shift the guilt of the parricide on to their 
shoulders, and to wreak the talion punishment on them. In the bed 
of the stream the king ends his earthly course, but in the form of 
the river he enters on it again. Part II: The Turulsaga. Section 1. 
Emese's dream. Emese, the mother of the sacrificed victim Almos, 
dreams a dream that Mandane was named 'Almos, i.e. that which 
is dreamt, by a divine act because to his mother being with child 


a divine vision appeared in a dream, in the form of a bird which 
seemed to come towards her and impregnate her. And it announced 
to her that from her womb would proceed a torrent and from 
his loins great kings would spring, but would not be multiplied 
in their own land'. The symbolic meaning of the water is to be 
taken as the uterine water and also as the ejaculation. Ural-altaic 
legends are adduced in which the ancestors of the race are called 
'river' or something similar. We have a variant of the dream 
about Mandane in which a vine takes the place of the river; and 
the same symbol with the same meaning of the future greatness 
of the progeny is found in the dream of the founder of the Os- 
manic dynasty, the Er-Togrul, who is called the male Turul (eagle 
or falcon); thus coinciding with the fructifying bird (astur) in 
Emese's dream. Almos is in fact ' of the race of Turul ', and the 
Turul bird was the emblem of the Magyars. There are frequent 
allusions to eagles and falcons as race-emblems, i.e. totems, 
within the group of Ural-altaic peoples. The Goldi ascribe birth 
to magic birds, who bring the souls from the world-tree (compare 
the significance of trees in the former dreams) and place them in 
the bodies of women. Among the Jakuti the woman who is 
destined to bear a future Shaman dreams a dream which is analogous 
to the dream of Emese. The eagle is the soul of the unborn 
child, and flies with it into the fairy lands where a fairy sun and 
moon shine on field and valley, and the eagle lays an egg, hatches 
it and opens it with his beak. The child that creeps out is 
brought up by the beast-mother, who is like the nursing beasts 
of the hero-legend a symbol of the mother. The egg-birth corres- 
ponds to the infantile birth-theories; the egg is naturally the womb. 
The phallic significance of the eagle, which seems at the same 
time a reduplication of the world-tree, throws light for us on the 
circumstance that the only Shaman who is capable of curing, by a 
ceremony of beating with fire, a skin affection (of sexual origin) is 
one who springs from the eagle. The punishment for the infringement 
of the taboo of the eagle-fetish is the dying-out of the tribe, and 
the Jakuti name the eagle 'creator-grandfather'; for this reason 
the sacrosanct king and national hero, the son of Emese, takes 
his origin from an eagle as symbol of the paternal and procreative 
power. The constant connection existing between the royal race 
and some kind of animal is investigated in the last section (royal 
lotems). What psychic link thus connects the violent death of Almos 


with his magic birth and animal origin? Outside the Ural-altaic 
stocks specific royal totems are frequent in Africa. Towards both 
totem and king the ambivalent attitude of humanity is the same: 
prohibition of murder and injunction to sacrifice. Among the Haussa 
the totem animal is slain yearly at harvest by the principal members 
of the clan; they smear their foreheads with its blood and its 
dried skull is kept till next year in the hut of the chief. The 
priest-king of the Lion-tribe is called 'Lion of the town' and it 
is among his duties to kill the lion if its strength is considered 
to be failing — in other words, if it is going ill with the members of 
the Lion tribe. After two years they decide to have a new priest-king 
and accuse the ' Lion of the town ' to the actual lion, who at first 
protects his brother, but then, in order not to appear a partner in 
bis guilt, kills the priest-lion. This splitting of the father-image into 
an animal and a human form contains in itself the key of the develop- 
ment : the royal totems represent a transition-point from the zoomorphic 
to the anthropomorphic projection of the father-image. 

The function of the totem on which the incarnation of the 
child-souls depends symbolizes the paternal procreative power, 
and ever further wider circles came to be introjected, till the 
priest-kings in their omnipotence-phantasy fructify not only the 
mother, not only all human mothers, but the whole world: on 
their magical powers (that is, their potency) depend the rainfall 
and the fruitfulness of trees and plants. 

No. 56 is a supplement to the above article and at the same 
time a reply to criticisms made on the historical side. 

The doubling of the office of king corresponds ontogenetically 
to the opposed pair father — son, functionally to the psychic types 
of the introvert (Mikado) and the extrovert (Shogun). The young 
chiefs in the strictly totemistic phase were not killed, for the 
totem-beast met that fate in their place and in that of the father, 
so that we can assign the magical slaying of Almos to the 
transition-point in culture-development between totemism and 
kingly priesthood. Two further examples of the slaying of the 
priest-king are adduced. 

The highly interesting work of Lowenthal (36) reveals an 
approach to psycho-analysis by a specialist in American ethnology. 
In the contributions of the present reviewer the transition is traced 
from totemism to royal sacredness; this work shows the connecting 
links between totemism, vegetation cults and hero-worship. The 


ancient mythology of Mexico describes how the maize-god was 
begotten in a cavern by a god ('the young prince') and born of 
the goddess ('the tall and stately flower'); and how there sprang 
in turn from his body different fruits and plants. This young 
prince is identical with Tezcatlipoca (the 'shadow stripling'). 
According to another version Tezcatlipoca steals the goddess 
from the rain-god Tialoc. Mythologically, however, the 'maize- 
god' and the 'young prince' are one and the same person, at 
once son and spouse of the flower-goddess. The maize-god is at 
the same time the young sun-god, the lord of the flowers, and 
the morning star. As morning star he is the bringer of fire, but 
the fire-bringer is again Tezcatlipoca, corresponding to Loki in 
Scandinavian mythology. Axel Olrik and others take Loki to 
be a human being, and the rape of women and the discovery of 
fire ascribed to Tezcatlipoca also have reference to human be- 
haviour. The figure of the flower-goddess is also submitted to 
examination by the method of comparative mythology. She is the 
Earth-goddess and also Itzpapalotl ('the red lava butterfly'), i.e. 
the soul of a woman who has died in child-bed. As the wife of 
the lord of the flowers, the son of the first man, she is also 
the first of women to die in that way, and from her body 
springs . the tobacco plant (Nicotiani). As the red lava butterfly 
she is also the sea-snail, and thus again an attribute of the moon; 
'as the snail comes forth from its house, so comes man from his 
mother's womb', according to the words of the commentary. The 
author arrives at the very just conclusion that the love-story of 
the young prince and the flower-goddess originally had another 
meaning, and was only subsequently referred to natural phenomena. 
To establish this meaning, Lowenthal adduces the Mexican legend 
of the Fall. In Tamoanchan, that is, the abode of the formless 
and the inchoate 'whence spring the flowers', the gods sinned by 
despoiling the trees of blossoms and twigs. Thereupon the 'lord 
of all flesh' and 'the mistress of all flesh' were wroth, and drove 
the gods from paradise. But among the Mexicans and the Cora 
Indians the expression 'plucking flowers' has quite a definite 
sense, and means exactly 'to have sexual intercourse with a 
woman'. The legend thus appears to mean that the sons of the 
original pair invade the precincts of the parents, that is, have 
intercourse with the women, and are thereupon driven out by the 
parents. These women must be the daughters of the original pair, 


for among the gods who are banded against the first parent is 
undoubtedly reckoned Itzpapalotl, the Bringer-forth, 'and wherefore 
is the story of the fall of the gods so lacking in meaning for the 
narrator that he has to take refuge in the device of investing it 
in the form of a flower-garden' (S. 50). The rape of the women 
was the cause of the first war in heaven, from which came all 
war, and only after the Fall is Tezatlipoca represented with a 
serpent's tail (i.e. with a phallic symbol). He thus reduces the 
story of the fall of the gods to the following nucleus. 'In the 
olden time the sons who had banded themselves against the father 
forced their way into his enclosure, overpowered him, took away 
his wives, and made off with their booty'; and he quotes Freud's 
'Totem and Taboo' (S. 51). Among the rebellious gods moreover 
is Tezcatlipoca the king, the father, and Huitzilopochtli, the stripling, 
the warrior. 'Many allusions in the manuscript seem to point to 
a homosexual relationship between these two. Furthermore Tezcat- 
lipoca is "he with the foot cut off". The Spaniards suppressed 
such representations of the god, as though they saw in it some 
impropriety '. In point of fact this mutilation means, in the language 
of dreams and of neurotics, as I have shown frequently and at 
some length, losing the male organ, becoming like a woman; he 
who is a passive homosexual becomes in relation to his 'friend' 
a woman, i. e. no longer has the male organ — ' one foot is taken off' 
(S. 52, 53). For the homosexuality of the gods who bring sal- 
vation and the boon of fire Scandinavian parallels are forthcoming 
(Loki, Fox and Chauk), the fire-bringer is connected in thought 
with the lower piece of wood used in the making of fire and therefore 
lies underneath in the sexual act (fire-kindling by friction). The 
author puts the question whether passive homosexuality must be 
reckoned among the qualities of the violater of women, or of the 
fire-bringer, and subjoins a discussion of the custom obtaining 
at the festival of the 'raising of the standard' (December 3). An 
impersonator of Quetzalcouati shoots an arrow and kills the 
craven figure of Huitzilopochtli; his body is then divided and 
eaten, his heart being reserved for the king, his limbs for the 
elders of the house, while the young men, 'the guardians of the 
deity', devour his body. Quetzalcouati equally with Tezcatlipoca 
is a morning-star hero, and to him sexual relations with the flower- 
goddess are ascribed. One of the splittings of his personality 
appears as brother and comrade of Huitzilopochtli. 


The author thus reconstructs the primitive history of the 
human family as follows: 'After the overthrow of the first father 
the leader of the sons makes the attempt to appropriate to him- 
self the wives and the authority of the murdered man; then his 
own first favourite encounters him at the head of a band of 
brothers and does unto him as he to his father. As to what 
happened afterwards, we may conjecture that the brothers made 
some arrangement in respect to the women under exogamous 
conditions, and in perpetuity as the day of the deed came round 
each year and remorse threatened them, by killing and eating 
one who stood for their brother or their father — he might be a 
complete stranger, a beast or a dummy — renewed their confederacy 
and their guilt (S. 56).' 

' The history of the young hero and his beloved is at the same 
time . . . both the history of the rise of totemism and of exo- 
gamy' (S. 58). The well-known Arabian offering of a young boy 
or a white camel to the morning star is referred to by Robertson- 
Smith (Story of the Sacred Nile), and is compared to the fight 
between Tezcatlipoca and Huitzilopochtli (death of the morning 
star). Germanic customs link up with these, especially the Christmas 
boar-feast at Oxford and the cake in the shape of a boar in 
Sweden. The boar is Ingri or Freyr, ancestor of the Angles and 
of the Swedes. 'Thus in this survival of pagan times in England 
and Sweden it is the ancestor of the race who is eaten as a boar'. 
The totemistic boar later takes on a new meaning in the corn- 
demon, from his ravaging of the fields. This outstanding work 
merits a careful study, it is one of those which solve problems 
and stimulate further enquiries. 

Then follow a few slighter .works on totemism and kindred 
questions. First, the purely ethnological, in so far as they need 
be mentioned here: Bork (9), who professes to derive totemism 
from the zodiac, may be mentioned only as an example of the 
absurd. A good collection of African material is presented by 
Ankermann (3). The legends that trace totemism to a blood- 
brotherhood, formed in primitive times between the human an- 
cestors of the tribe and the totem-animal, are of great interest 
in the light of the theory Reik puts forward as to the origin of 
the Brith (Cf. 49). Totem legends are forthcoming in which the totem 
animal is a mother-symbol (Romulus, Remus and the she-wolf). 
In many legends of the chase there is mention of a beast which 


is sacrificed and burnt at the funeral of the chief, a striking 
confirmation of the Freudian theory of the origin of the totem- 
sacrifice, regarding this sacrifice at the grave-side as a symbolic 
repetition of the parricidal act. (See in this connection, under 
' zweimcd toten' (to kill twice) in funeral rites, 'Spiegelzauber', 1919 
S. 197). The evidence showing that in the majority of cases the 
totem is passed on in the line of paternal descent and that 
relating to totemism and exogamy is of importance and value to 
the analyst. The latest contribution of the present reviewer (53) 
treats of an allied subject, in fact the question dealt with is not 
actually totemism but the projection of the father-image on to 
an animal species — a distinction which, as we shall see, has been 
neglected by the psycho-analyst. 

Among the Lapps and Woguls the belief is current that bears 
can only be mastered by two brothers; on closer consideration, 
however, they must be not any two brothers, but twins. Among 
various primitive peoples the view is held that, since there are 
two of them, twins must have two fathers, and the non-human 
father is then always some kind of animal. The supernatural 
strength of twins is thus an inheritance of their supernatural 
birth; hence the legends of the Dioscuri, of whom only the 
stronger brother is of divine origin, the weaker being of mortal 
descent. The doubling of brothers has, I have now reason to 
think, universal significance: in agreement with Rank we may see 
in them the representatives of the brother-clan. 

As we have already indicated, there lies in the totem problem 
a danger of confusion due to over-generalization of the idea. The 
otherwise striking and informative work of Abraham (1) has 
not quite succeeded in avoiding these pitfalls. Analysis of the 
neurotic horror of light shows that the sun has in the first in- 
stance the significance of a father-symbol, in a less marked way 
that of a mother-symbol. In connection with the 'mother's womb 
phantasy' the author succeeds in exhibiting the positive as well 
as the negative meaning of darkness: the neurotics who attach a 
pleasure-value to darkness (sleep-ceremonial, etc.) achieve thereby 
a regression into the mother's womb, into the realm of birth and 
death. Ghosts are substitutive objects for the longed-for parents; 
the biblical prohibition against making a likeness of God the father 
constitutes the reverse side of the voyeur attitude (see another 
interpretation No. 49). Chapter V bears the sub-title 'The origin 



in infantile totemism of the fear of the sun and ot ghosts', and 
it is properly only this section to which our remark on the dan- 
gers of the imperfect ethnological orientation of the psycho-analyst 
is relevant. Abraham is not satisfied with the derivation of these 
phobias in certain neurotics which he has reached in the father- 
significance of these symbols: he thinks it possible to proceed 
from this point to the totemism of primitive races. Now this is in 
the first place a logical fallacy. A totem is, of course, as we know 
from Freud, a father-symbol; but is therefore every father-symbol 
a totem? By no means; on the contrary, certain special character- 
istics must be added before the specific 'totem' can be arrived 
at from the generic 'father-symbol'. Especially there must be a 
magico-mystic relation between a human group on one side and 
a species (generally an animal one) on the other. One may of 
course be content with a concept of the idea of totemism which 
has been extended for the purpose of psycho-analysis, and may 
include in it all cases in which an animal species stands as a 
father (or mother, brother, sister) symbol to a child or a neurotic. 
This, however, is not strictly justifiable, since the cases of non- 
totemistic animal-worship among primitives are related to the 
father complex just as much as totemism proper (i.e. as defined 
sociologically) and these are actually nearer to the instances 
among European individuals. To explain the phobias of the sun 
and ghosts from the quite different phenomena of totemism, even 
though the two correspond in their point of origin, seems to me 
superfluous and unsuitable; these are father-symbols, which can 
be adduced in explanation of the primitive belief in ghosts and 
the cult of the sun (not ethnologically more recent than totemism), 
but which cannot be brought into nearer relations with totemism 
proper, particularly with clan-totemism. In a short article (2) the 
same author makes the just observation that neurotic exogamy, 
that is to say the fixation of the capacity for love in a neurotic 
on a type of womanhood completely opposed to that of the 
mother (as on one of a foreign race, etc.) — this flight from incest 
on the part of the neurotic— has its counterpart in the exogamy 
of primitive peoples. 

Gasquoinc Hartley's book (23) is of interest to the psycho- 
analyst, since it belongs to the group of works that use Atkinson's 
primal horde theory as a basis for an explanation of the sociological 
conditions of primitive peoples. By a view peculiar to herself, but 



fully intelligible from her personal complexes (as an upholder ot 
woman's rights) she attributes to the daughters the rebellion against 
the paternal tyrant, his aggressiveness having aroused their oppo- 
sition. Quite the most successful part of the book is in the tracing 
of the matrilinear organization to the circumstance that in the 
primal horde the father lived apart by himself, while the immature 
of botii sexes remained with the mother. 

Continuing the subject of endo- and exogamy the article on 
incest by Marcuse (37) calls for mention. The author follows 
Freud in upholding the primitiveness of incest in phylogenesis, 
and regards the reaction against it as a product of civilisation, 
but in this connection he only cites the unfortunate experiences 
that are said to have resulted from incestuous relations, and does 
not apply the Atkinson-Freud view. The jus primae noctis is 
rightly explained as a survival of the rights of the father. On the 
ontogenetic side of the question he keeps wavering between re- 
cognizing and rejecting the Freudian theory; on the whole the 
views of ordinary psychology predominate. 

The common origin of religion and ethics has long been 
known to the psycho-analyst; in ethnology, however, it is still 
often contested. This gives especial value to the work of Parsons 
(39) in compiling and sifting the relevant material. In her second 
work she passes to the special sphere of sexual psychology, and 
arrives at psychological though, it is true, only functional inter- 
pretations (40). The explanation of the different signs of shame 
and refusal in marriage as survivals of the robber-marriage may 
be considered as quite antiquated, for we find similar signs not 
anly in the bride but also in the bridegroom. According to the 
author these rites are the result of reaction to the change anti- 
cipated in the social status of the lovers, every innovation being 
exceedingly repugnant to primitive peoples. The authoress follows 
Crawley, and here to a certain degree approaches the psycho- 
analytical theory. We should say that at marriage there originates 
a conflict between narcissism and object-libido, so that a part of 
the narcissistic libido is transformed into anxiety and is abreacted 
in these rites. Plutarch's statement that the bride is first introduced 
to her betrothed in male clothing and with her hair cut short is 
significant of the narcissistic mechanism of identification expressed 
in such rites. 

Freud's work (18) belongs to the same field of interest and 


throws a good deal of light on a previously unanalysed part of 

The very fact that defloration is considered as a solemn act 
certainly disproves the view that primitive peoples put little value 
on virginity. That the act of defloration is regarded as an im- 
portant procedure, but one from which the future husband of the 
girl shrinks, needs explaining. The various possible explanations, 
which on account of over-determination exist partly side by side 
and partly overlapping each other, are here given by Freud in 
turn (fear of blood, neophobia, taboo of women, etc.). All these 
views certainly contain some part of the truth, but we still lack 
the answer to the question why it is just the future husband who 
should avoid the act of defloration and entrust it to another. The 
first coitus often leaves a woman ungratified; it needs a certain 
length of time and frequent repetition of the sexual act before 
the woman obtains gratification. An analysis of a woman who 
struck her husband after every coitus gave Freud the opportunity 
of gaining a deeper insight into the nature of this condition. In 
frigidity it is this hostile reaction which prevents affection from 
coming to expression. The danger lies in invoking this hostility by 
the defloration of the woman, and indeed the future husband has 
every ground for avoiding such hatred. The pain that the virgin 
experiences at defloration finds its unconscious continuation in the 
narcissistic feeling of humiliation which arises on the destruction 
of an organ. This would perhaps give reason for a manual 
defloration, but still leaves unexplained the consummating of the 
first coitus after defloration by someone other. than the husband. 
If we consider the fact that the first coitus is consummated with a 
father-substitute (priests, elders, divinities), the solution of the rite 
would appear to lie in the incest-attitude of the libido. The son 
obtains a wife whom the father formerly possessed, and who is 
therefore a suitable substitute for the mother: the woman is de- 
florated by someone who can appear to her as a father-substitute. 
In a similar way also the jus primae noctis and the Tobian 
marriage signified the recognition of the older rights of the 
patriarchs. The woman's envy of the penis is also aroused by the 
first coitus; she would like to pay back in the same coin the 
castration that has been committed upon her. As Fcrenczi suggests, 
this hostility in women may have its origin in the era previous 
to the differentiation of the sexes. 


'It is, therefore, the still incomplete sexuality of the woman 
that discharges itself in her paradoxical reaction to the man who 
introduces her to the sexual act. The taboo of virginity is thus 
seen to be full of meaning, and we understand the injunction that 
bids the very man who has to live with this woman henceforth 
beware of such dangers'. (S. 247). 

A relatively small number of works concerns the subject of 
animism, which bulks so largely both in books on ethnology and 
also in the life of primitive peoples. The most important work on 
this subject has been done by Rank (43). 

Beginning with a film drama by H. H. Ewers, 'The Student 
of Prague', Otto Rank undertakes a searching analysis of the 
figure of the ' double ' {alter ego) in literature, and also in mythology 
and folk-beliefs. Everywhere the double may be clearly perceived 
to be a narcissistic projection of the subject's personality, of his 
unconscious, or strictly speaking, a splitting-off of the narcissistic 
complexes in the unconscious. In particular, the part played by 
portraits, shadows, mirrors, etc. is explained by the revival and 
rehabitation of the analogous folk-psychology elements. Like all 
tabooed things, the shadow also exhibits the characteristic of 
ambivalence; beside the idea of death, that of the shadow as a 
guardian spirit arises — or of a fertilising shadow. But in any case, 
as has long been ethnologically established, amongst most primi- 
tive peoples the shadow quite consciously signifies the soul, and 
indeed the soul as an image or a feeble double of the body. The 
superstitious views relating to reflected images arise as in the case 
of shadows from their disaster and death significance. As with 
shadows the creative-erotic meaning of reflected images can be 

shown to exist. 

If an explanation is sought on the basis of Frazer's theory 
why in the Narcissus myth the death-idea which belongs to the 
appearance of the 'double' is masked by the motive of self-love, 
one must think of the universal tendency of the unconscious 
mechanism to repress all painful ideas. The idea of death is par- 
ticularly often over-compensated by the idea of love (the Fates, etc.); 
the appearance of the beloved in a girl's mirror is to be traced 
to this over-compensation. The author proceeds to analyse the 
neurotic fear of death that manifests itself in the shadow-, soul-, 
and reflection-beliefs, and finds an explanation of them in the 
narcissism of the individual, which feels itself threatened by the 


idea of death. Thus, in general, the idea of the soul has originated 
as a defensive wish against the dreaded eternal destruction. 

The love of the other sex menaces narcissism, and so too in 
the menace of death the death-idea, originally averted by the 
alter ego, recurs in this figure, who according to universal super- 
stition is a presage of death, or to injure whom is to injure one- 
self (S. 163). The equation, animism = narcissism, is consequently 
the result of this treatise. 

The reviewer's own work on the subject of the magic meaning 
of mirrors (59) is to a certain extent a continuation of that of 
Rank. Most of the prohibitions of looking into mirrors take place 
in childhood, the narcissistic age; we perceive them to be reaction- 
formations against narcissistic self-love. 

The substitution of the finger-nails for a mirror can be seen 
to indicate the over-valuation of the person's own body; whilst the 
pre-requisite of chastity for narcissistic visions is to be explained 
in the sense that the narcissistic object-choice is not attained. 
Besides this chastity we also often find amongst prophets and 
prophetesses supernatural consorts in marriage, namely, their own 
heterosexual split personalities. The mirror occurs often in customs 
directed to the reincarnation of the father in the child; it then 
hints at the narcissistic rediscovery of the beloved ego in the child. 
The breaking of mirrors is due to the unconscious determination 
which underlies slips in behaviour. If a girl breaks a mirror they 
say in folk-belief that she will not get a husband, that is to say, 
she does not want one, she destroys as it were the future 
(narcissistic) object of the libido. The breaking of mirrors is 
frequently also a presage of death, because it is an action equi- 
valent to killing the person. One kills the dead person a second 
time, so to speak, if after death one breaks one of his belongings. 
In such cases primitive peoples destroy all the property of the 
dead person, lay waste his gardens, pull down his houses, etc. 
Fear of the dead, according to Freud, arises from a projection . 
of the personal unconscious hostility. We meet here with another 
trick on the part of the unconscious for disguising personal 
hostility against the dead: the object evoking the outbreak of 
hostility is 'displaced' from the dead person on to the sorcerer 
who is said to have caused the death. The repressed impulse, 
however, discharges itself by motor paths, since the unknown 
sorcerer is reviled, but it is the house of the dead that is destroyed. 


Chapter VII deals with the veiling of the mirror at death; 
chapter VIII with celestial bodies and mirrors. Many primitive 
peoples believe that the soul follows the sun. The soul follows 
the path of him who was the first to die, of the primal father of 
mankind, whose death has served as a prototype and reason for 
every subsequent death. Many races maintain that the sun is a 
father-symbol. Bulgarians and Australians (Victoria) believe that 
the sight of one's own likeness in the sun foretells death - the 
double becomes identified with the dead father. 'The reflected image 
is the person's soul, the sun is the reflection of the father in the 
firmament.' It is forbidden to look straight at the sun during an 
eclipse, as this is regarded either as death (death-struggle) or as 
coitus with the heavenly body. The original prohibition concerns 
the child's scoptophilia; the prohibition of the observing of 
parental coitus is projected on to the heavens, and hence it is said 
that the eclipse (i. e. death of the parents) is the result of the sins 
of the human race. The breaking of this prohibition is the prototype 
of revolt; he who has the power to break it is indeed a sorcerer. 

We understand the meaning of this revolt if we remember that 
in VOrOsvar during an eclipse the moon is looked upon as being 
eaten by a child. In the rites of feast-days a breaking-through of 
the repressed can be observed, just as in the psychology of the 
sorcerer; to this connection belongs the observance of the dancing 
sun in the water mirror on Easter Sunday. In this rite the genial 
warmth of the sun is supposed to be drawn down over the earth 
by enchantment. 

A new, though not yet fully established theory, is brought 
forward in Ernest Jones' work (22) which interprets the idea of 
the soul as breath on the basis of the flatus-complex (No. 5 is an 
unjustified criticism of this book). Ankermann gives a good ethno- 
logical collection of material (4). The reviewer tries to explain in 
a small essay (60) funeral rites as having arisen out of a mechanical 
repetition of the actions of the living community, and All Souls 
Festival as a cyclical celebration of funeral rites. 

Still less has been written regarding primitive magic. The 
distinction made by the reviewer between active and passive magic 
is new. Beginning with the mirror in love-magic (59), he arrives 
at a general theory of love-magic and the love oracle. The rites 
of love-magic are imitations of coitus, symbolic copies of coitus 
that arise from the conflict between libido and repression, evoking 


a preliminary situation analogous to that of coitus and thereby 
acting as wish-fulfilments. 6, 14 and 62 are a collection of material 
very enlightening for the analyst in regard to certain magic obsessive 
acts. The reviewer treats the curse-spell as a kind of trial action, 
the belief in the efficacy of the magic is the endopsychic perception 
of a series of actions growing in potency as the spell passes on to 
the rite and from there to the real action (58). The psychology of the 
sorcerer has already been touched upon; as regards the prophet 
it seems to be a case of the narcissistic constitution (59). Schilder's 
work (63) bears on this point, for the psychotic patient includes the 
different types of sorcerer among primitive peoples. The greater 
part of Schilder's work is devoted to a fairly exhaustive discussion 
of the question of the exact relation between folk-psychology 
(i. e. the psychological interpretations of the ethnological findings) 
and psychiatry, widely separated as they would seem to be. He 
compares the patient's idea of magic to that held by primitive 
peoples. The Mada and Orenda are quite analogous to ideas found 
in paranoiacs. Schilder also calls attention to important differences 
between the belief in magic in primitive races and in the insane. 
In the insane the magic action is suffered and not practised. In 
terms that here and there remind one of Jung, the author describes 
the importance of sexual matters in the idea of magic. He thinks 
it probable that animistic ideas first arose only through a secondary 
attribution of magic power to definite personalities. 

Symbolism is naturally the main theme of many authors. In 
this connection three articles by Rank should be mentioned (44, 
chap. II, VI, VII) which are extensions of previously published 
works now collected in book form. With great skill and circum- 
spection Jones deals in detail (22) with the symbolic ramifications 
of the flatus-complex. 

Kings are the representatives of thundering Zeus; they are 
also typical father-representatives of the community. On the other 
hand, the connection between thunder and flatus is a permanent • 
association in obscene wit. Hence the power to influence the 
spirits by means of a thunder-like din; one drives away spirits by 
means of uproar, the devil by means of flatus (Luther); hymn- 
singing, musical instruments, and the bull-roarer also belong, according 
to the author, to this connection. Dumbness as a motive in mythology 
signifies death and impotence, talking and laughing signifies love 
and life, hence conception by means of speech. 



In a Hungarian work (57) the reviewer attempts to expound 
in detail the ethnological foundation and confirmation of the main 
theses of psycho-analysis. Up to the present only the first part and 
half of the second have appeared. In the first part some 'light is 
thrown on the relation between the conscious and unconscious 
mental levels, as well as on functional phenomena; the second part 
is devoted to the confirmation by folk-psychology of the psycho- 
analytical conception of symbolism, and to a history of the evolution 
of the libido, while a section dealing with endogamy (Oedipus 
complex) is to form the conclusion. 

The first section, Ambivalence and the Law of Inversion, starts 
from those rites in which one of two opposing psychic currents 
finds expression in reality, the other merely in a symbolic manner. 
(For instance, the story of the 'Master-maid': 'I have come and 
also not come'; and the drink-offerings that are brought to spirits 
as the owners of waters.) The renunciation, the offering of the first 
sip of water, is a partial (that is, symbolic) form of discharge, and 
the gods to whom these offerings are brought are projections of 
the negative components of the ambivalent psychic attitude. The 
original form of those primitive offerings is demonstrable in the 
Intichiuma rites of the Central Australians. The Australians renounce 
the first morsel in favour of the totem-elders, in the same way as 
other primitive peoples offer the first sip or morsel to the spirits 
of the dead or the gods. One cannot reject the assumption that 
behind the functional one there is also necessary an ontogenetic 
significance for the custom, according to which the children play 
the part of sacrificers, i. e. the totem-members, the parents the part 
of the gods, the totem-elders. The mother tastes the food and only 
then gives it to the child : this could lead to establishing the action 
and to the formation of such fictitious ' foretasters ' among mythical 
beings. The primitive person acts in just this manner if he has 
to give up any object; the clinging to what is habitual, the 
unconscious ' I will not give up ' shows itself too in keeping back 
a small part (representation by a detail). The rite serves to appease 
the unconscious resistances; they 'pretend' to have taken back the 
whole animal by means of the small bunch of hair, and so to have 
undone the previous action. In the Behring Straits the Eskimos cut 
a tiny piece from all objects that they give away in order to retain, 
as they think, the essence, the soul of the object. In the cases 
dealt with so far we find both currents of the ambivalent attitude, 


the stronger of which breaks through into reality, whilst the weaker 
has to be satisfied with a symbol. In other cases the equilibrium 
of the two currents is expressed by the antithesis of two equi- 
valent actions. The knight kills the giant with the first blow, but 
he must refrain from a second lest his opponent comes to life 
again. By the discharge of one component of the ambivalent currents 
it becomes possible for the opposing feelings, which have previously 
been repressed, to come into consciousness. The Ostjaks first kill 
a bear, then mourn it and prepare a feast in its honour. In other 
cases the sequence is an inverted one, first apotheosis and then 
death of the victim, e.g. among die Giljaks of Mexico, etc. The 
psychic attitude which we find in taboo and in similar expressions 
must be explained by the stratification of the opposed currents. 
The second section deals with inversion and functional symbolism. 
Inversion is a frequent method of symbol-formation, the significance 
of which was known already to Frobenius (Law of Inversion) 
though not, it is true, with psychological accuracy. In the Mexican 
sacrificial worship the goddess was rejuvenated by having her head 
cut off and by another actor taking up the r61e of goddess. The 
ambivalent psychic attitude makes it intelligible that the opposite 
current at once gains the ascendancy after the 'killing', so that 
the previous action is made retrograde by means of a re-birth. 
For that reason fairy-tales may represent the opposite of their 
apparent meaning because all our thoughts and aspirations contain 
more or less of negative elements, which are made use of by the 
censor in order to let the unconscious complexes become conscious 
only in an inverted form. After the murder of an enemy the Dacoits 
hold a joy-feast and put on mourning clothes. On the basis of 
Frazer's material Freud was easily able to show that the primitive 
person has an ambivalent attitude towards a stranger to the tribe 
or an enemy. The ambivalent attitude of the prophet Balaam towards 
Israel explains the reversal of the curse into a blessing. According 
to Deuteronomy xxiii. 6, it was Jahveh (i. e. the unconscious) who 
changed the words into their opposite meaning. The words for 
curse and blessing in Hebrew are derived from the same root. In 
Egbaland (West Africa) the god Obalufen is worshipped, who 
fulfils all the wishes of his adherents in a reversed manner. The 
true meaning of these ideas will be still clearer to us if we take 
into consideration that group of inversions that is to be under- 
stood auto-symbol ically while at the same time representing the 


functional category. Thus in Schreber's 'primal language' everything 
means the opposite; in the next world (that is, the unconscious) 
of the Dajas, bitter means sweet, to lie means to stand, and the other 
way round; and the language of the spirits is a 'reversed language'. 
There is evidence of a similar idea in many of the feasts in North 
America and Europe which belong to the Saturnalia type; frenzied 
people go from house to house intimating the content of their 
dreams by gestures, and do not cease from their ravings until some 
one gives them what they wish. He whose dreams were not guessed 
died before the next feast; he whose dream-wish was fulfilled 
rejoiced in a long life and remained healthy. This account contains 
by implication a number of Freud's views. First that our dreams 
serve as an hallucinatory wish-fulfilment, secondly, that we must 
distinguish between the dream-thoughts and the manifest content, 
thirdly, that the divining of the dream-thoughts (psycho-analysis!) 
causes the pathogenic complexes to disappear, and finally, that we 
have to consider the inverted actions as censored wish-fulfilments. 
In accordance with the auto-symbolic evidences of inversion the 
author attempts to analyse examples of the auto-symbolic or functional 
categories appearing in the form of inversion, i.e. cases in which 
the myth itself indicates the psychic tendencies from which it has 
arisen, only that they represent the relation between cause and 
effect in an inverted manner. (Compare Kaplan: Psychoanalytische 
Probleme, 1916, S. 55). The Kayas tell of primordial people who 
did not know how to use their hands and feet, and say 'The way 
children crawl about is a survival of this awkwardness', the reverse 
of which is of course correct; the state of the primordial being is 
a projection of the 'prehistoric' ontogenetic situation. The law of 
auto-symbolic inversion in myth asserts that the myth can only 
retain its apparent reality, its apparent independence from the inner 
life, if it discloses its proper origin only in inverted form. Here 
belong the transitory and special gods (Usener), the gods of activity 
(Preuss), but also all the component parts of myth and religion which 
deal with the influence of the gods on mankind; we have to deal here 
with a psychological confirmation of the known truth that man creates 
his god in his own image. Auto-symbolic inversion gives the fata mor- 
gana of the myth the appearance of a supernatural condition. 

The second section of the work deals with the content of 
symbols and the history of the development of the libido; up to 
now, however, only the first part (content of symbols) has appeared. 


Among the Huichal a kind of sexualization of the universe is 
found; in their idea the penis is a serpent, and consequently they 
see serpents in most natural phenomena and important objects, 
and their gods appear in the form of serpents. The serpent 
causes pregnancy, and the lover in serpent form in the story of 
Amor and Psyche is the penis, the libido. The libidinal meaning 
leads on to the primal forms of the libido, since many legends 
reveal the two forms of female object-love (father and son) more 
or less clearly in the serpent-bridegroom. Faunus took diverse 
shapes until in serpent shape he succeeded in cohabiting with his 
daughter Bona Dea, and Zeus as a serpent had sexual intercourse 
with his mother Rhea and his daughter Persephone. The fear of 
serpents inherited from his anthropoid ancestors is repressed in 
man by the process of libidinization; he introjects the serpent by 
identifying it with his own penis. This symbol takes its rise in 
another way in a woman. She fuses together her two dangerous 
enemies, the serpent which (in accordance with the reality-principle) 
she fears and the penis which in an ambivalent way she both 
fears and desires. The second example of sexual symbolism is the 
ritualistic significance of jumping over and stepping over (see 
Internationale Zeitschrift fur Psychoanalyse, 1920, Bd. VI). The 
breaking of a glass as a marriage-custom augurs a happy marriage 
and many children. Defloration-symbolism is particularly clear in 
Morocco, where the men tear up a flag which the bride holds in 
her hand in order that the bridegroom may be successful in 
rupturing the hymen. The rites relating to broken eggs lead straight 
to the myths of birth from eggs. It is not a far step to explain 
the Easter egg that girls present to their lovers as a reward for 
a whipping as meaning the womb. After the symbolism of coitus, 
defloration, and the female genitals, the author deals with the 
symbolic significance of emission in rites. Amongst the Ruanda a 
man spits milk on to a girl's breast and says ' Give me the summons 
to joy; I am married'. A parallel marriage-custom (already rightly 
explained by Winternitz) is the pelting with rice, corn or small 
balls, which consciously means fructifying-magic; it must be regarded 
as an emission (by displacement from below). The last portion 
deals with the symbolism of the excrements. 

In a general work on symbolism Levy (29) gives a collection 
of material (food, apple, egg, bread, cup, fish, garden, spring, 
water, source, rain, door, house). Compare also I. Nacht: Euphemismes 


sur la Femme dans la Literature Rabbinique : Revue des Etudes 
Juives, 19 10, LIX, p. 36. (Mill, bread, fish). The searching and 
detailed analysis of the biblical history of Paradise carried out by 
the same author is an instructive example of what can be achieved 
by psycho-analytic methods. 

Of the works on separate symbols (cf. 30, 31, 17) Eisler's 
(12) stands out prominently (fish as penis, as vagina, in marriage- 
customs, etc.). Regarding shoe-symbolism, 21 and 33 should be 
compared; 67 does not in any way reach the level of scientific 
investigation. Felszeghy's fine essay has, in the meantime, appeared 
in German (15). Kreichgauer's works (27, 28), written from the 
standpoint of lunar-myths, contain important material relating to 
the psycho-analytic significance of symbolism. 

The second work is a contribution to the motif of the Symplegades 
and the sudden banging of doors and windows in fairy-tales. In 
Mexico it is said that the dead must pass between two mountains 
which touch. In the Symplegades as a revenge of the underworld 
we already find a hint that the origin of the whole set of ideas 
must be looked for in the human body; and the proper origin of 
this myth appears when we hear that the new-born was hailed as 
one who had come down from the home ' of the old gods ', from 
the highest heavens. These 'old gods' are the particular tutelary 
gods of the Symplegades. The Symplegades are the opening through 
which the new-born sees the light of day, through which the dead 
again returns. The author sees everywhere in the whole Mexican 
mythology 'Symplegades-symbols', much of which may be correct, 
in view of the unconscious meaning of the Symplegades (for 
instance, the alternative of Symplegades and eyes in ornament); 
most of it, however, is very much exaggerated. 

Mogk (38) tries to explain the magic power of an egg from 
the fact that it is the source of life, that out of it a new being 
is born. The eggs that are found in graves are said to supply 
new power of life to the dead. From this set of ideas comes the 
explanation of the idea of small souls in the form of eggs existing 
in the heads of big souls, and changing at the death of the human 
being into great souls (Giljak). The small soul in the egg is the 
embryo which breaks the egg only after death, and awakes to 
full life. 'Now one understands also the widespread stories of the 
Life-egg, according to which the life of a human being or a 
mythical being is hidden in an egg, so that one robs the being 


concerned of his life if one takes possession of this egg'. The 
reviewer explains the idea of 'the thread of life' in an Hungarian 
work (54). In the Celebes it is said that when one cuts the thread 
the child is born, from which it is quite clear that the cutting of 
the life-thread in death is merely an inversion of the cutting 
of the umbilical cord at birth. The magico-mystical connection 
between the human being and his umbilical cord (or placenta), 
the sympathetic unity with the tree under which the after-birth 
is buried, the 'outer soul' in this after-birth, are merely forms of 
expressing the attachment in feeling to the mother. Parsons (41) 
has an article on functional symbolism, in which the demons of 
menstruation, marriage, birth, death, etc. are interpreted as an 
expression of the feelings of pain disengaged by the pressure 
of new social adaptation. There is much folk-psychology in 
Kaplan's interesting contribution. Expressive actions serve originally 
merely as the abreaction of pent-up affects, and are only later 
used to communicate something to others. The judgements of 
God are primitive reaction experiments : the sinner's consciousness 
of guilt betrays itself in blunders (24). In its application to folk- 
psychology the analytic method undergoes a necessary modification; 
the variants of a theme arc collected like the separate associations 
of a patient and serve to illuminate each other. The spook in 
the Rflgener Saga who keeps pace with the Wanderer is explained 
by the splitting and projection of the personality of the Wanderer; 
the story of the changeling is just as aptly explained as an ex- 
pression of repressed hostility against the child (S. 75, 96). Time 
is the expression of the resistance to reality; the unconscious, the 
child, and primitive man do not take the time factor into account. 
The Oedipus attitude in the female is revealed in several examples 
(Lot's daughters, Adonis); the pursuit by the father is a fulfilment 
of the daughter's sexual wish. Here we are concerned with the 
delusion of persecution with an hysterical substratum, whilst the 
witch (stepmother) as a pursuer must be counted as belonging to 
the paranoiac picture. Giants are usually imagined as an early 
species of earth-dweller; they are quite clearly the mythical images 
of the parents, towering over human beings as grown-ups tower 
above children, and thus they naturally preceded human beings 
on the earth. The stupidity of giants arises from the tendency of 
infantile heroes to impose on their parents. Boll's work (8) is a 
contribution to dream-mythology in the proper sense of the term. 


Whilst showing no knowledge of psycho-analysis Boll arrives 
at conclusions that are psycho-analytically correct, even if not 
complete. Besides the mythical figures of Sisyphus, Tantalus, the 
Danaides, and other great penitents in the underworld, we' find 
Oknos (the loiterer), an old man who either sits helpless on the 
ground in front of some wood while his donkey, whose tail is 
grasped by a youth, falls on its knees, or according to another 
variant he plaits a rope while the she-ass standing near him eats 
up the other end of the rope. From his own subjective impression 
and by comparison with a passage by Gotthelf, the author comes 
to the conclusion that we are here concerned with a dream- 
phantasy which in concurrence with Schemer he characterises as 
a typical dream of being hindered. A striking confirmation of the 
idea is that the same rope-plaiter appears in the Yatakas as the 
seventh dream of King Kocala, except that in this case instead 
of the she-ass a hungry female jackal eats the rope. The Ionic inter- 
pretation of Oknos as the vainly industrious husband of a slovenly 
wife, according to our theories, approaches the correct meaning. Ass 
and jackal are to be translated as the woman, the rope-plaiting as 
the sexual act, the labour in vain — as is well-known — as onanism 
(compare the relationship of onanism to indecision). 

Pfeifer gives the first application of the psycho-analytic method 
to games (42. Cf. also 20). After the analysis of some particular 
games the author passes on to folklore material, starting with 
the well-known game of 'Fox in the den'. 

The den is a symbol of the womb, the Mere Garucke, the 
mother with a whip, that is, a penis. {Fran Hollc with the iron 
tooth, i.e. a castrated fox, male symbol.) The meaning of the 
game thus is that the father's penis is in the mother's vagina, but 
also at the same time that the mother has a penis like the boy, 
also that she once had one, but lost it through castration. The 
limping hero in the game is analysed by reference to the lame 
figures in mythology. Mythological heroes often suffer the loss of 
their member through penetrating into a mother-symbol. The 
change in the person of the fox belongs to the category of 
contrary determination. The child in the group of players (brothers) 
to whom the father by a stroke with his whip magically transfers 
the power to punish his evilly-disposed children (brothers) and to 
commit incest, takes this part not only from an external compulsion, 
but also in consequence of an affective identification with the 



father. Whilst the part of the fox in the game appears as a kind 
of punishment it thus represents in reality a wish-fulfilment. The 
change in the part of the fox corresponds to the continuous change 
of generations. Here we touch upon the phenomenon so striking 
in play — the formation of series and reduplications which extend 
to the symbol as well as to the persons and themes. Starting 
from this, the writer evolves an interesting theory regarding the 
significance of the formation of series in mental life ; the in- 
completeness of the gratification by the substitutive object and the 
mental tension thereby created form the motive for the multi- 
plication of the object. Another class of mental series reflects the 
redistribution of forces between the ego and the libido ; it 
particularly concerns symbols, the anxiety character of which 
proves the part played in their origin by repression. Instead of 
against the hostile father-image the hero of a fairy-tale has to 
fight against innumerable children, servants, animals etc ; the severed 
heads of the dragon grow again, and so on. 

The mechanism of series-formation belongs, like condensation, 
displacement, etc. to the most important of the methods of 
repression, and has a special meaning in games, where it makes 
possible a transference to the fellow-players, later on to the outer 
world. Other examples are cited in confirmation of the part played 
by the incest complex in games. ' Games representing a repressed 
content begin to appear at a period which coincides with the 
period at which repression begins to operate in childhood ; in 
particular, typical games with a 'mythological' content fill up the 
time approximately from the third year until puberty, when a 
marked decline in play-activity sets in. The inference is very near 
that in this period, which Freud has called the latency period and 
which at first glance appears to form a hiatus in the sexual life 
of mankind, the infantile sexuality, which was previously so strong 
and fraught with such pleasure, does not cease to exist but simply 
overflows into play' (S. 281). 

The collection of material for the present review has brought 
us in touch with the application of psycho-analysis to sociology 
(apart from the sociology of primitive peoples). Bltther (7) upholds 
two principial theses : (a) proof can be brought of the part played 
by homo-erotic currents of feeling in building up human society 
and states (the writer thinks that these currents form the distinctively 
social element, in contradistinction to attempts to explain society 


on the basis of economics or of the family), (b) These currents 
themselves can be explained by a ' non-pathographic, natural' 
theory of inversion. He tries to disprove the psycho-analytic theory 
of the origin of homosexuality in the flight from incest, by the 
assertion that the analyst only comes across neurotic representatives 
of the inverse type. It is precisely in the domain of ethnology, 
however, that the secondary character of inversion appears clearly 
in relation to the Oedipus complex. Before admittance to the male 
society can be obtained the puberty ceremony must first be gone 
through ; this ceremony, however, is actually a symbolic repetition 
of the struggle between the father and sons of the primal horde. 
Homo-erotism, which according to Freud first appears as the uniting 
bond in the brother-clan, was merely a 'substitute-feeling' for 
mother-incest; 'obeying necessity and not the inward instinct' 
(i.e. the necessity which originally existed in the shape of the 
jealous father), the members of the male society prevent the 
entrance of females into the men's house, and when they after 
all permit it, it is not, as Bluher supposes, an evidence of de- 
generation but a return of the repressed. 

From the study of society Federn's fine work leads on to the 
psychology of political movements (13). Brill's work (10) touches 
on the sphere of group psychology, and brings forward muscle- 
erotism as the explanation of the modern craze for dancing. 

The remaining sphere of ethnology to which analysis has been 
applied is that of the material side of civilisation. Much has already 
been mentioned in the writings on symbolism (compare 21, 33); 
only two works are devoted to this subject exclusively. Giese's 
article (19) starts from correct premises but unfortunately proceeds 
quite speculatively. Giese distinguishes male and female sexual 
prototypes, representations of both organs in coitus, and 
further, imitations of emission, erection, the secondary sexual 
characteristics, etc. There is no difficulty in making these com- 
parisons, everything depends on the completeness of the evidence. 
Ferenczi (16) distinguishes between projection and introjection in 
machinery and so creates a serviceable basis for a searching 
ethnological investigation, since the only possibility of clearing up 
the question of the psychogenesis of mechanical invention will be 
by means of ethnological material. In the reviewer's 'Mirror- 
Magic' (59) an attempt is made to explain an important part of 
material civilisation, namely, the domestication of animals, through 


the libidinal forces (being allowed to suck), and to interpret the 
ceremonies at the introduction of new household animals into 
the community of the household as invariably constituting a 
regression to this primal situation. 

If we now attempt to sum up the progress made in the appli- 
cation of psycho-analysis to the spheres of ethnology and folk- 
psychology during the last five years, we must distinguish within 
our limits three chief spheres of application. These are (a) the 
mental culture and sociology of primitive peoples, together with 
the survivals of them in higher levels of civilisation; (b) the be- 
ginnings of material and domestic civilisation; (c) a differential 
psychology of various peoples. The first group predominates, both 
in the number of works and in the importance of the results. In 
the sphere of mental culture two chief themes can be distinguished; 
on the one hand, the Oedipus complex and that which is directly 
bound up with it, and on the other hand, the libido-theory as 
laid down in the 'Three Contributions to the Sexual Theory'. 
Totemism as a phylogenetic parallel of the Oedipus-complex has 
already been elucidated by Freud in his pioneer work; Reik now 
takes the second step along this path, for he points out the way 
in which the struggle between father and son in the primal horde 
(Atkinson) is repeated in male initiation rites. The significance of 
this conclusion cannot yet be properly estimated; it would appear 
that we are here in close touch with one of the most important 
roots of festival customs. 

As regards the application of the libido-theory, special attention 
is called principally to the close connections between narcissism 
and the idea of the soul. In this direction the work of Rank has 
been continued and will be still further elaborated by the reviewer. 
An elucidation of the course followed by the love-impulses in the 
female has been begun by Freud in a brilliant work on a folk- 
psychological basis. Almost all the works naturally contain more 
or less important contributions to symbolism. The reviewer attempts 
to deal with the evidence of functional phenomena in myth- 
formation; in this sphere little has been accomplished up to the 
present and a detailed presentation of the relationship between 
function and content of symbols is much to be desired. Pfeifer's 
theory of series-formation is a step in this direction. The applica- 
tion of psycho-analysis to play and to the formation of states 
and of society is new. 


Delusion and Dream. By Professor Sigmund Freud. Translated by 
Helen M. Downey MA Introduction by Dr. G. Stanley Hall. (George Allen 
& Unwin, London, 1921. Pp. 213. Price 12s. 6d.) 

Most of our readers will already be familiar with this volume, of 
which the sale in England has just been taken over by Messrs. 
Allen & Unwin. It contains a translation not only of Freud's essay on 
Jensen's ' Gradiva ', but also of Jensen's book itself. It was a good idea to 
combine the two volumes in one in this way. 

The translation is mediocre though painstaking. We note that Hamlet's 
reflection 'There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt 
of in your philosophy ' (which in Freud's original is, of course, given in 
the Schlegel rendering) is re-translated into the English in the following 
original way: 'They usually know many things between heaven and earth 
that our academic wisdom does not even dream of. 

It is perhaps not superfluous to mention that Freud's volume appeared 
in 1907 ; a recent reviewer strangely hailed it as a new work which 
indicated that Freud had renounced his previous errors, adjuring, of 
course, all psycho-analysts to follow this latest example. E. J. 

Leonardo da Vinci. A Psychosexual Study of an Infantile Reminiscence. 
By Sigmund Freud, M.D., LL.D. Translated by A. A. Brill. Reprint of 
the American Edition with a Preface by Ernest Jones. (Kegan Paul, 
Trench, Trubner & Co. Ltd. London, 1922. Pp. 130. Price 12s. 6d.) 

The rights for the sale in England of the American translation of 
this well known book have been acquired by a London publisher. The 
book appeared many years ago, so that it is not necessary to review it 
here, but the attention of those not already familiar with the study it 
contains may be directed to it, for it is a remarkably interesting and 
valuable analysis by Professor Freud. E. J. 



The Technique of Psycho-Analysis. By David Forsyth, M.D., D.Sc, 
F.R.C.P., Physician (with care of Out-Patients), Charing Cross Hospital, 
London, etc. (Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner & Co., London, 1922. 
Pp. 133. Price 5s.) 

Of the flood of books at present appearing on the subject of psycho- 
analysis very few are of any serious value; indeed, apart from Freud's 
works, the useful books in English can easily be counted on the fingers 
of two hands. To take a single example; on the wrapper of the 
present book thirty-three volumes are advertised as being 'Notable 
Books on Psycho-Analysis'; of these eight are hardly or not at all con- 
cerned with psycho-analysis, eighteen are ill-informed or misleading, 
three are of indifferent value, and only four, i. e. twelve per cent of the 
whole, can be regarded as serious contributions to the literature of the is, therefore, all the greater pleasure to come across a new 
book which like the present one belongs to the valuable class. 

Dr. Forsyth has righdy perceived that there is a palpable lack of a 
book on this topic, and he has here attempted to fill it on the basis of 
his own personal experience and his knowledge of the literature of the 
subject. It can be said at once that up to a certain point he has ad- 
mirably succeeded in this aim and has produced a book which must 
prove of great practical value to workers in psycho-analysis; the slight 
reservation indicated in this statement will be explained presently. 

The book begins with a chapter on the analyst, followed by one 
on the prerequisites of the treatment, and then has four on the treat- 
ment itself. In the first chapter Dr. Forsyth rightly insists on the 
importance of the analyst's own analysis and selects narcissism as being 
the greatest obstacle to becoming a good analyst. In the second chapter 
he deals not only with the selection of cases, but with a number of 
matters to do with the arrangements of the details of treatment which 
beginners are apt to regard as trivial; they would be well advised, 
however, to follow strictly the lines here laid down, for all of which 
experience shews there is good reason. The part of the book dealing 
with the treatment proper is also full of wisdom and sound advice. 
Dr. Forsyth makes it plain that the direct aim of the analyst should 
always be the discovery and overcoming of resistances rather than the 
search for buried memories. The difficult subject of transference is dealt 
with at length. He draws a vivid picture of the numerous manifestations 
of transference and resistance and indicates the principles on which the 
difficulties arising in connection with these essential processes should 
be dealt with. The book ends with a pithy summary of the main 

Our review will gain in value if we also indicate a few points on 
which we do not quite see eye to eye with Dr. Forsyth, and we do this 
the more freely as we are confident that a second edition of his book 


will soon be called for. The book is as a whole clearly and most 
interestingly written, but here and there the author's usual sureness of 
touch seems to fail him somewhat, with the result that the matter is not 
so well arranged and the essential points not brought out with the 
penetrating incisiveness otherwise shewn. An example of this is the 
question of the exact relationship between the transference and the 
resistance. Only incidentally and imperfectly does the reader discover 
in what way precisely transference, which usually furthers the analysis, often 
comes to be the greatest hindrance to it. Further we have the impression that 
Dr. Forsyth does not come close to the greatest difficulties and passes 
them by too optimistically. For instance, 'Such emotions have remained 
attached to bygone memories, but once they appear in the transference 
they are thereby permanently severed from their out-of-date attach- 
ments ' (p. 70). To put it mildly, this is an over-simplistic description of 
the truth, for very much more has to be done than merely to allow 
such emotions to appear. Similarly his account of the difficulties set up 
by undue positive transference is very elementary. The patient is said 
to find it hard to make admissions which might lower her in the physician's 
esteem (p. 106). Really this is a superficial pretext which covers the real 
reasons for the difficult situation. Dr. Forsyth advises the analyst to meet 
it by reminding the patient that his feelings about her are 'of small 
account compared with the purpose of the treatment', but this begs 
the whole question. It is true that in the physician's opinion this ought 
to be so but it by no means follows that the argument is as obvious 
to the patient, particularly to her unconscious (and sometimes to her 
conscious mind also). Again the remark that the patient 'presumably 
did not undertake it (the analysis) in order to make a favourable im- 
pression on the physician ' would seem to indicate an imperfect realisation 
of neurotic motivation, for this is just the reason why many patients 
undertake the analysis. Indeed, in one sense perhaps all do, inasmuch 
as they are driven by the need for love, which, as they correctly divine, 
is the only motive force that can cure a neurosis. 

The handling of the transference is the touchstone of an analyst's 
knowledge of technique, and it would seem to us that Dr. Forsyth's 
mastery of it is not yet complete. Another instance is his half-hearted 
attitude towards the matter of concealing his private life from the patient. 
He several times (e.g., p. 17) says that it is desirable to do so, giving, 
however, only rather superficial, though correct, reasons for this opinion. 
In another passage, on the other hand, he goes far to nullify this by 
writing 'It is in many cases helpful rather than the reverse for the 
analyst to communicate to his patient something of his own life ' (p. 80), 
and quotes in support of this a sentence of Freud's which the original 
context shows to have exactly the opposite meaning from that here 
ascribed to it. He nowhere brings out the real reason for the great 


desirability of such privacy, namely, to ensure that the patient's phantasies 
about the physician, which play such a central part in the treatment, 
shall be as purely subjective as possible. We doubt, further, the wisdom 
of the view that the physician's attitude should vary according as, the 
patient is in a state of positive or of negative transference, ' explicit 
assurances of sympathy and continued esteem' being given in the former 
case, while the physician withdraws and becomes more distant in the 
other (pp. 80, 85). It is true that the physician's attitude does commonly 
so change and that it is very hard to hinder its doing so, but it would 
seem to us better technique to strive unceasingly to maintain an even 
and unalterable note in all situations, both because the opposite would be 
yielding to the patient's efforts to influence the physician's emotions and be- 
cause of the reason given above in reference to the patient's phantasies. 
Another matter on which Dr. Forsyth seems to us to be over- 
optimistic is in his estimates about the length of treatment necessary 
(p. 2i), though we are glad to note his excellent advice to beginners 
to work as fully and deeply as possible with one or two cases rather 
than try to learn from a more extensive material (p. 45); one thorough 
analysis teaches more than twenty half carried through, though many 
analysts have never made the one. Dr. Forsyth deals frankly with the 
matter of fees, and points out that analytic work 'makes heavier demands 
and at a smaller rate of remuneration than any other kind of special 
medical work* (p. 26). We would dissent from his opinion that ' the two 
chief points to be taken into consideration when estimating the probable 
results of treatment are age and intelligence' (p. 23); for, important as 
these undoubtedly are, the amount and tenacity of the narcissism and 
the strength of the motives making for cure are still more important. 
We do not think that many analysts find it desirable to get their patients 
to close their eyes during treatment as Dr. Forsyth does (p. 34). Nor 
do we think it necessary to give the patient at the beginning of the 
treatment ' some account of free association, of dreams and fantasies, 
and of the decisive importance of childhood as the key to adult 
character' (p. 47), for he will learn all these things far better through 
experience; what has to be said at the introduction can be said in a 
couple of sentences. Taking notes during the treatment is in general 
advised against (pp. 37, 38), but we think Dr. Forsyth could have been 
more thorough-going in his advice to the beginner on the subject, for 
the latitude he allows may encourage the latter to follow his natural 
impulses unduly. In the paragraph on active therapy, which is introduced 
apropos of 'force', 'violence', and the use of 'the steel fist', nothing 
is said of what active therapy consists in and the reader is bound 
to come away with the idea that activity in this sense has something 
to do with aggressivity; we cannot understand why Dr. Forsyth is content 
to leave such a curiously misleading impression. 




It is perhaps a pity that the book was not entitled 'The Practice of 
Psycho-Analysis \ for it is really concerned much more with the general 
aspects surrounding the practice of analysis than with the more purely 
technical difficulties and problems met with. It is for this reason all the 
better suited for the pure beginner in the subject, but this might have 
been indicated in the title itself. With this reservation, and those implied 
in the criticisms made above, we can warmly commend the book as one 
of the best and most practical introductions to actual psycho-analytic 
work that have been written, and we hope that the lessons it teaches 
will be carefully taken to heart and widely applied. E. T. 

Psycho-analysis. By R. H. Hingley, B.A. Research Student in Psych- 
ology at Edinburgh University. (Methuen, London. 192 1. Pp. 190. 
Price 6s.) 

The main purpose of this book is stated to be * to enable the general 
reader to obtain such insight into the hidden processes of the mind that 
he may be able to exercise more effective control over his life ' (p. 107) 
and it may be said at once that the author has succeeded in his aim. 
Nearly all the book is, as the title indicates, taken up with an ex- 
position of psycho-analysis, on the whole a reliable one; but it differs 
from expositions such as those of Hitschmann or Barbara Low in two 
respects. On the one hand it shews the deficiencies inseparable from a 
presentation by a writer who is familiar with the phenomena of the 
unconscious only up to a certain point; he relates, for instance, some 
' everyday ' blunders of his own of the full implications of which he is 
evidently unaware. On the other hand, the presentation is much more 
subjective than that of the other authors mentioned. It may be described 
rather as a sympathetic criticism, of the kind of which psycho-analysis 
is certainly in need. Being himself an ' orthodox psychologist ', Mr. Hingley 
finds that some of the formulation devised by Freud is open to criticism, 
though he never questions the accuracy of either his findings or his 
conclusions. Towards the end of the book he becomes still more 
individual in his tendencies, though he quite fairly says in his preface; 
'The last two chapters, and especially the last, should be regarded 
rather as speculative essays in application. They should not be 
regarded as practical programmes to which psycho-analysis is in any 
way committed'. 

He starts by contrasting with the older psychology what he considers 
to be the three new movements, of the last forty years. The first of 
these is the work of what is here termed the 'subconscious' school. 
The author does not seem to be too well informed on this topic, else 


he would not have ascribed its development solely to the work of French 
and American investigators, omitting all reference to that of such men 
as Gurney and Myers in England. Nor would one select Charcot, 
Bernheim and Janet as the 'leading exponents' in France, for Charcot 
in particular would have been extremely puzzled if he had ever heard 
of the conception, which he probably never did; the names given should 
have been those of Binet and Janet. The second movement, for which 
he gives far too much credit to McDougall, is that of biological psych- 
ology, the study of the instincts. The third is psycho-analysis. In comparing 
the three he underestimates, in our opinion, the extent of the differences 
between the first school and the analytical one, and overestimates those 
between the latter one and the biological movement. We doubt very 
much, for instance, the truth of his statement that 'the instinct' school 
is more phylogenetic, while the 'unconscious' school is more exclusively 
ontogenetic (p. 15). After this introduction comes a chapter on the 
'Origin and Development of Psycho-Analysis', followed by chapters on 
'Dreams', 'The Nature of the Unconscious', 'The Control of the 
Unconscious ', ' The Psychopathology of Everydaylife ', ' Psycho-Analysis 
and Education', 'Society and Religion'. 

Mr. Hingley is not very satisfied with Freud's definition of the terms 
'consciousness' and 'the unconscious' and we think he would clarify 
his own mind a little better in the first respect by reflecting on the 
meaning of the terms 'bewufttseinsfahig' and ' ichgerecht ', and in the 
second respect by studying Freud's metapsychological essays on the 
precise psychological distinctions between a conscious and an unconscious 
idea. He holds that such expressions as 'unconscious ideas' are both 
objectionable and unnecessary, believing that what is unconscious is 
nothing but a 'tendency', which only becomes an idea or wish when 
it emerges into consciousness. But what really rouses his ire is Freud's 
'unwarrantable' use of the word 'wish', to which he curiously ascribes 
much of the whole opposition to Freud's theories (pp. 26, 27); we feel 
sure that this is a case of displacement, which Mr. Hingley might fruit- 
fully analyse in himself. He asserts that a wish is nothing but a recognised 
tendency — which of course begs the whole question of whether processes 
hitherto known only in a conscious form cannot also be unconscious; 
and he would replace it throughout by the term 'tendency', though he 
admits (p. 63) that in so doing he is committing the very fault with which 
he charges Freud, namely, of widening the accepted use of certain 
words. The definition of ' tendency ' as ' a psychic " structure " deter- 
mining a mode of reaction' (p. 70) is insufficiently dynamic to meet the 
needs of the case, and we feel the lack of an adequate physiological 
training in his omission of such conceptions as 'tension' and 'reflex 
discharge' when he tries to expound his view of the matter. Possibly 
he is not so thoroughly deterministic in regard to the deeper layers as 


he is in the more superficial ones, and there may be a lingering relic 
of the theological distinction between the blind instinctive cravings and 
conscious, self-willed, controlling goal-ideas. 

Not that Mr. Hingley is at all afraid of psycho-analysis, that is, of 
the unconscious life of the mind. He very wisely says 'If these ten- 
dencies do exist in human nature, it is better that we should know it 
that we may have at least a clear conception of the problem that we 
have to solve; if they do not exist, then not all the psycho-analysts in 
the world can create them' (p. 62). This illuminating remark is so 
obviously true that it should give our more terrified and wrathful opponents 
pause before they ascribe to analysts the superhuman powers that would 
be implied if their panic were well founded. 

Nor is the author perturbed by Freud's theory of sexuality. He 
properly regards it not as something ' final and incontrovertible, but as 
a body of doctrine for which there is a tremendous and ever-increasing 
amount of evidence ' (p. 84). Or, as he puts it elsewhere (p. 80), ' we 
are bound to admit that the evidence seems to us overwhelming as to 
the importance of this tendency, and we are prepared to find, because 
of its biological importance, because of ordinary observation of ordinary 
life, and finally and chiefly, because of the very constitution of the mind, 
that it is a factor of greater or less significance in every mental reaction '. 
Like Hart, he groups the instincts into three, nutrition, sex and herd, 
though had he read the Massenpsyckologie he could hardly have said 
that Freud failed to take into account the last-named of these (p. 54). 

His criticism of the objections to psycho-analytical theory are often 
very acute, such as the following one in reference to the wish-fulfilment 
in anxiety dreams. ' If we consider that the terror dream invalidates this 
dream theory, then, in the name of consistency, we must deny that in 
waking life the fear-flight instinct is a mechanism of self-preservation, 
because in the extreme case of terrified collapse it fails to fulfil its 
function ' (p. 40). He discusses very wisely and sanely the possibilities, 
advantages and limitations of self-analysis (see p. no). We would 
question his judgement in omitting the subject of symbolism ;• he writes: 
1 We have refrained from giving examples of the common symbols that 
occur in dreams because we believe the reader will be more satisfied 
if he discovers these for himself (p. 69). He should know that in the major- 
ity of cases the meaning of symbols is not to be discovered by means of 
free association, so that this is just where the beginner needs external help. 
Our outstanding criticism of the book is the extraordinary extent to 
which ethical and other tendencious attitudes are mingled with the 
main scientific one. It is true that Mr. Hingley has much that is 
interesting and acceptable to say in these directions, but we feel that 
he would have been better advised to have made a separate book of 
them. But perhaps he is unable to dissociate the various aspects of his 


problems. For him 'the religious ideal stands for the final synthesis 
of all mental activity* (p. 143), though it is only right to add that he 
uses the word 'religious' in a very sociological sense. He attempts to 
answer the question 'What is the nature of the society, and what is 
the nature of the religion which will do justice to the ascertained facts 
,of man's unconscious nature?' (p. 159). What he has to say on this 
tremendous theme calls for no special comment, for he evades all the 
concrete difficulties and confines himself to truisms. 

As has been hinted, Mr. Hingley's ethical interests do not appear to 
have seriously impeded his scientific insight, but there is a notable 
exception, which illustrates the dangers that beset one who sets out 
on such a thorny path. 'Let us look at the problem in the light of 
another concrete incident. A man comes to a psycho-analyst for the 
treatment of psycho-sexual impotence, that is sexual impotence due to 
mental causes. The man is freed from his disability by the treatment. 
Here, according to the Vienna school the treatment ends. It is no concern 
of the physician what the man does with his newly found freedom. He 
may wreck the life of some trusting girl, or help to swell the trade of 
the prostitute. But we ask, Can such a man be regarded as truly free 
when he is actuated by such impulses? Answer the question in which 
way we will we are face to face with moral issues. To ignore them is 
not to evade them. They cannot be evaded. To consider them is to 
grant the fundamental contentions which lie at the heart of Jung's 
position. For ourselves we cannot see how the question of mental health 
can be isolated from the question of moral well-being. We are quite 
aware that it may be a doctor's duty in what we may call the realm 
of physical medicine, to restore to health and continued depredation 
some sick scoundrel, but we cannot consider that in the realm of 
mental medicine a doctor has completed his cure, if he has left his 
patient with anti-social tendencies. What are really anti-social tendencies 
may perhaps be a question of debate, but it cannot be a question to 
be ignored.' (pp. 55, 56). With this pronouncement we must take imme- 
diate issue, and, indeed, on ethical grounds. As Mr. Hingley admits, 
it would be a monstrous piece of presumptuousness for any medical 
man to refuse to set a patient's broken arm until he had first inquired 
into the question of what use this limb was going to be put to in the 
future, until a guarantee was first given that it would never be used 
to strike a neighbour or to sign a forged cheque. To adopt such an 
attitude, to constitute oneself the arbiter of what another human being 
should do with his own life, would be an unwarrantable intrusion into 
individual freedom, a usurpation of the rights pertaining only to the 
Law and State, and to make such a claim is completely to misapprehend 
the function of the medical profession. We maintain that this principle 
is equally valid for both mental and physical disease. When a suffering 



person seeks our help our sole purpose is to make him whole. Whether 
we personally happen to approve of what that whole comprises is 
quite irrelevant; sometimes, no doubt, we do, and sometimes we do 
not, but we should strive to prevent such considerations from prejudicing 
us in the endeavour to help the patient. For the physician to seek to 
impose his particular moral, ethical or religious (why not political ?) views 
on a patient as a condition of rendering him medical assistance would 
be to establish a new and specially hateful kind of sacerdotalism in the 
body politic. It is because there are already signs of it that we make 
this strong protest against what can only be described as a prostitution 
of the medical profession. There need at least be no doubt about the 
psycho-analyst's attitude towards such proposals. 

We have still a few minor criticisms to make. Mr. Hingley ventures 
to define for psycho-analysts the conception of normality. In one place 
he states: 'For psychology and medicine the normal is the usual' (p 16). 
We do not think that this can be seriously maintained. It is usual for 
men to be infected with the gonococcus and the tubercle bacillus, 
for most men are, but we have never heard it maintained that such a 
state of affairs is normal. And it would be as easy to point to pathol- 
ogical mental complexes of equally frequent occurrence. Similarly, in 
considering the nature of an ideal society, Mr. Hingley says: 'The 
answer of psycho-analysis is: a society that is free from neuroticism, etc.' 
(p. 160). That is not an answer given by any psycho-analyst. Freud, 
for instance, has more than once protested against the idea that every 
neurosis should at all costs be cured, pointing out that not infrequently 
a neurosis is the most advantageous solution of an existing situation, 
and he warns against fanaticism in hygiene as against all other 

It is not true that Freud holds all curiosity to be 'primarily and 
fundamentally sexual ' (p. 79). He has never expressed any opinion on 
the matter in his writings, but there is reason to think that his actual 
view is to the contrary. It is not 'a wise precaution to instruct the 
subject to keep the eyes closed' (p. 31) during any stage of the psycho- 
analytic treatment. An analysis of an instance of lapsus linguae is 
attributed to Freud instead of to Brill (p. 125). Finally, we regret to 
see the author of a book on psycho-analysis imposed on by M. Coue 1 to 
the extent Mr. Hingley is (pp. 1 16-18). 

On the whole, we would say that this is one of the best books on 
psycho-analysis we have seen written by someone without personal 
training in the subject, and we shall look forward with interest to future 
works by the same author.. 




Outwitting our Nerves. By Josephine A. Jackson, M.D., and Helen 
M. Salisbury. (The Century Co., New York. 1921. Pp. 403.) 

This is a breezy volume, written in a free and easy American style, 
which is addressed purely to a lay audience, indeed, specifically to 
those suffering from neuroses. It is essentially written on psycho- 
analytical lines and aims at 'meeting the need for a simple, com- 
prehensive presentation of the Freudian principles. ' We must say that 
the authors have succeeded in their aim. Though the presentation is 
only very elementary, it is quite accurate so far as it goes. In the 
glossary appended, we note that repression is defined as 'Expulsion 
from consciousness of a pain-provoking mental process '. It should be 
pointed out that this act constitutes only a small part of repression, 
the greater part of which is occupied with preventing such processes 
from ever entering consciousness, so that no question of expulsion 
can arise. 

In general, the book can be cordially recommended as being suitable 
for its purpose. There are few books which it would be better for a 
nervous invalid to read than this. E. J. 

How to psycho-analyze yourself. By Joseph Ralph. (Joseph Ralph, 
California, 1921. Pp. 318.) 

This volume, though interestingly and on the whole sanely written, 
need not be criticised by any strict standard, for it is obviously in- 
tended for an exceedingly 'popular' audience. The list of contents of 
the chapter entitled 'Grubbing for Mind Worms' contains the following: 
'Their Breeding Places', 'Grime from the Trail', 'How Mind Worms 
spawn', 'Draining morbid Agents', ' Killing off the Mind Worms '. Some 
of the headings frankly puzzle us, no doubt owing to our linguistic 
deficiencies: 'An unconscious Jamboree', 'Trouble Bluffs', 'Throwing 
away mental junk', 'Carrying unbaled hay in a hand satchel', 'Listening 
in on the Unconscious', 'A mental Roughhouse', 'The go and get it 
feeling', 'Bumps and Holes in the personality', 'Making mental con- 
centration one continuous joy ride', 'Cleaning off mental barnacles'. 

The author thinks highly of the study of philosophy: 'Philosophy is 
a fine thing when you can take it with your food, go to sleep with it, 
;uid blend its influences with the general daily actions. I know it, for 
1 have tried it ; in fact, I have so mixed it up in my general perspective 
that all of my mental attitudes have become more or less seasoned 
with it Mr. Reader, Mrs. Reader, Miss Reader, all of you, collectively 
and individually, try it yourselves. It's fine dope. The more you try it 
the better you will like it; and the more you have of it the more you 


will want. Furthermore, the habit of using it will grow on you the 
more you have recourse to it. Personally I find a great fascination in 
tracing the transformation of an idea into a kinetic force, and in following 
the effect of introducing that force into the molecular gyration of the 
cellular functions of the human body; but that is no reason why 
everyone else should feel similarly attracted to the scientific aspects of 
these exceedingly intricate actions and reactions. ' 

The book, therefore, cannot be called a dull one and we have no 
doubt that it will fulfil the function for which it was intended. 

E. J. 

Psychoanalysis of the 'Reformer'. By Joel Rinaldo. (Lee Publishing 
Co., New York, 1921. Pp. 137.) 

The contents of this book may be guessed from the title. The 
author develops in eight chapters the following eight theses: (1) That 
reformism is a reaction to life determined by the psychological condition 
of the reformer, and is not primarily determined by any peculiar social 
order or condition. (2) That the reformer is an hysteriac (sic) and that 
his social activities are the result of his abnormal condition. (3) That 
libertinism and reformism can not be understood as cause and effect 
or in any proper sense as reactions to each other; that both have the 
same genesis and a simultaneous development. (4) That the reformer's 
hysteria results from an inhibition of normal sexual life and is a form 
of sexual perversion. (5) That prohibition is not essentially different 
from other reformist activities: that it is the result of sexual perversion 
and is a sadistic gratification of the sexual desire. (6) That the drinking 
of alcoholic beverages has a peculiar sexual significance and a necessary 
and important part in the healthy sex life of humanity. (7) That reform- 
ism leads to race suicide through inversion of the sexes and a de- 
velopment of the female sex element at the expense of the male and 
by a weakening and ultimate suppression of the male element in the 
social dynamic. (8) That the cure for reform hysteria is the psycho- 
analysis of reformers and the application of psycho-analytic principles 
in social hygiene. 

As may be guessed, the book is a general polemic rather than a 
dispassionate scientific study and is written with an affect-tone. At the 
same time a great part of what the author has to say is doubtless true 
and will perhaps be taken into account by statesmen of a future 

E. J. 


Repressed Emotions. By Isador H. Coriat, M.D. (Brentano's, New 
York, 1920. Pp. 213.) 

The writer of a book which is written to express in popular form 
some of the theories of a particular science as well as their effects 
should above all be exceedingly careful that his use of the terms of 
the science is quite in accord with their special meaning, and that his 
explanations are accurately based on the science. Unfortunately these 
two points cannot be said to be fulfilled in this book on 'Repressed 
Emotions'. The author has taken the science of psycho-analysis as the 
foundation of his book and of the views expressed in it, but in many 
instances throughout the book these latter do not agree with psycho- 
analytical theory, and his description of certain terms and processes are not 
the psycho-analytical ones. This defect is a serious one, for readers, 
especially those unacquainted with the psycho-analytical principles, will 
obtain quite erroneous views and ideas on the subject. Considering the 
author's supposed knowledge of psycho-analysis one would have thought 
he would have taken, particular care when writing this book, but instead 
of doing so he exhibits a carelessness that is greatly to be regretted. 

For instance, the title he has chosen for the book does not coincide 
with psycho-analytical views, for the psycho-analytical theory does not 
admit the 'repression of emotions'. The author seems to consider that 
ideas and emotions are one and the same thing, for on p. 8 he says, 
'Repression is not suspension of forbidden ideas or 1 emotions'. In the 
same paragraph he says, 'In the course of development of the individual, 
certain powerful components of the mental life, particularly referring to 
the sexual impulse, may undergo a repression'. Why 'may'? The 
author must know that certain components are repressed. When 
speaking of the forgetting of familiar words (pp. 12 and 13) he states 
that 'This emotional factor was repression'. It is to be supposed that 
he means the censorship. And further on he says 'the removal of a 
few repressions', again it is to be supposed that he means resistances. 
Such mistakes as these, and many more could be mentioned, give one 
the impression that the author does not know the meaning and use of 
the fundamental psycho-analytical terms. 

Does the author really mean that the first repressions (p. 16) refer 
principally to the primitive impulses of hunger and love f If so he must 
have come across a great number of marasmic infants and interpreted 
the condition as the result of 'repression of the impulse of hunger*. 

On p. 19 the author states, 'It is impossible to agree entirely with 
the idea that the unconscious embodies entirely the lower and more 
brutal qualities of man, that it is irrational, primitive, savage, cruel and 
lacks individuality and self-control', whereas on p. 142 he says that 

1 The italics throughout are the reviewer's. 



the motives or wishes of the unconscious are barbaric and unethical. 
What is one to make of such a contradiction ? 

On the same page he further says, 'Out of war or revolutions there 
have crystallized acts of sublime heroism, sort of sublimations of the 
unconscious, and this in itself invalidates the idea that the unconscious 
is the repository of primitive and basal instincts alone'; this shows 
that the author does not know what is meant by sublimation. 

One can quite appreciate the author's use of the word 'startling' 
(p. 36) when he discovered the symbol of a 'repressed emotion'. 

It might be pointed out that Alfred Adler of Vienna is not usually 
denoted as one of the greatest thinkers of the Freudian school (p. 43). 
If Dr. Coriat thinks this he should state it as an individual opinion and 
not a generally accepted fact, as also his statement (p. 177) that Adler's 
approach to psycho-analysis from the organic side is of great value 
for the future development of psycho-analysis. 

It is a gross travesty of fact when the author says (p. 154) on the 
discussion of Psycho-Analysis and the War Neuroses at the Fifth Inter- 
national Psycho-Analytical Congress in 1918, 'It was generally con- 
curred that the war neuroses were merely manifestations of the mechan- 
isms of the reactions to fright, etc.', and that 'The neuroses were 
classified as anxiety and repressed hysteria'. 

Further comment on this book is useless, for any good points that 
might exist in it are entirely vitiated by the number of inaccuracies it 
contains. D. B. 

Instinct and the Unconscious. A Contribution to a Biological Theory 
of the Psycho-Neuroses. By W. H. R. Rivers, M.D., D. Sc, LL.D., F.R.S. 
(Cambridge University Press, Second edition, 1922. Pp. 277). 

Few changes have been made in this edition, the most important 
being connected with the topic of dissociation. Two new chapters are 
added, a general essay on 'Psychology and the War', and a paper on 
'The instinct of acquisition' which will be separately noticed in this 

The criticisms made in this Journal (Vol. I, p. 470) have been 
practically ignored, so that they apply equally to the present edition. 




A Study of the Mental Life of the Child. By Dr. H. von Hug- 
Hellmuth. Translated from the German by James J. Putnam, M. D., and 
Mabel Stevens, B.S. (Nervous and Mental Disease Publishing Co., 
Washington. 1919. Pp. 154. Price S2). 

In Dr. Hug-Hellmuth's work we have expert knowledge and under- 
standing brought to bear, from the psycho-analytical standpoint, in 
masterly fashion on the problems she handles, and every page gives 
evidence of her deep comprehension of, and sympathy with, the child 
in all his varying desires and activities. 

Dr. Hug-Hellmuth has divided her book into two parts — The Period 
of Infancy (Part I); Play-time (Play, speech, reasoning, the emotional 
life, etc.) (Part II) ; and these two parts together cover, as she tells us 
in her introduction (pp. xi and xii) the two first periods of childhood : 
the nursing period, 'principally occupied, so far as the mental pro- 
cesses are concerned, with reactions — pleasurable and painful — to the 
operations of feeding and the care of the body, and to the regularly 
recurring alternatives of sleep and waking, passes gradually over, during 
the later months of the first year, into the second great period ', namely, 
the period of play. Of this the author writes : 'This period takes in the 
years during which play is for the child his chief interest and main 
' purpose, and every object is made use of— a plaything. It includes the 
time from the end of the first year until the beginning of school life, 
that most important of landmarks in the child's existence'. 

A third period, the period of serious study, is promised for treatment 
later on, in a special monograph, and with this we shall get the com- 
pletion of the study of mental life in childhood, ranging from the very 
first stage, to what may be called the end of childhood and adolescence. 

Perhaps for a majority of readers the greatest interest will centre 
upon the first period— the nursing period — (dealt with in pp. 1-37) 
since this stage of the child's development is so little known, so difficult 
and obscure to interpret, and so illuminatingly revealed by Dr. Hug- 
Hellmuth. All the chapters here are full of significance, but if any may 
be singled out, it would be perhaps chap. I, 'The functions of the senses in 
the service of the' affective life of the infant', chap. Ill, 'The first signs of 
development of the intellect', and chap. V, 'The development of ethical 
feeling'. The tremendous significance of the bodily functions and the 
way in which the later character-developments depend upon the emot- 
ional attitude towards these functions, is brought out strikingly in the 
first chapter, and yet the paradoxical fact remains, as Dr. Hug-Hell- 
muth observes in her Introduction, (p. ix) : ' One would seek in vain, 
among scientific treatises, for any adequate description of the interest 
felt by children in the important functions of their own bodies, and of 
the organs that subserve these functions '. Similarly, we are shown how 
large the problem of nakedness bulks in the mind of the very young 



child — the pleasure, fear, shame and sexual excitement all collected 
about the matter. 

The extraordinarily close and detailed observation of the infant and 
young child, the delicate tracing of cause and effect, the accurate 
descriptions of manifold phases in the child's existence, shown throughout 
Section I, accompanied always by first-hand illustration, make the 
reading of these pages (1-39) most attractive and convincing. Thumb- 
sucking, the connection between the sense of smell and early (as well 
as mature) sexuality, the beginnings of speech, of narcissism, anger 
and fear — all are dealt with in this section, and no one interested in 
child-psychology can afford to ignore what is here revealed. The second, 
and much larger, section which is Part II (Play-time) takes up, after 
the general survey of 'The body and its functions in the service of 
play', specific subjects such as 'the development of the understanding' 
(chap. II); 'Memory' (chap. HI); 'Imagination' and 'Reasoning' 
(chaps. IV and V); 'Speech' (chap. VI); 'The emotional life' (chap. VII).' 
All of these chapters give most valuable material, as before demon- 
strating the author's insight and sympathy. (This is to be noted, for 
example, in dealing with matters such as infantile masturbation and 
anal-erotism). The last two chapters of the book, treating of 'Art in 
the life of the child ', and ' Dreams ', prove how much richer and more 
complex emotionally and mentally are the very first years of life than 
has hitherto been imagined. 

In his preface, Dr. Putnam has written: 'Impartial science has the 
right to ask only, What is true?' Dr. Hug-Hellmuth may indeed lay 
claim to having followed the call of impartial science from the first to 
the last page of her book. 

Barbara Low. 

Psychanalysis in the Class Room. By George H. Green, B.Sc, B.Litt 
(University of London Press Ltd., London. 1921. pp. 276. Price 7s. 6d). 

The main purpose of Mr. Green's book is summed up by himself 
as follows: 'to present as clearly and as simply as possible, such parts 
of the psychanalytic theory as were likely to be of use to parents and 
teachers, and to other people who were connected with and interested 
in children'. This aim he has certainly achieved in large measure, and 
has produced in addition a very readable and well-constructed book. 
One of its best features is the wealth of illustrations which accompany 
each different theme under discussion — illustrations always drawn from 
the author's own experience in his school and class room work or 
from contact with children outside the school — which give the reader 



a sense of conviction from their genuineness. For example, in the 
chapters on 'Day-dreams', (chaps. II and III) ten different cases are 
examined: these cases (whose ages range from three to twenty-three, 
of both sexes) are laid out very fully, discussed and analysed. In 
chapter VII, 'Interest', the same method is again followed, and here 
we have some useful illustrations to demonstrate the part played by 
unconscious motivation, and the futility of appeals to consciousness 

For the practical teacher, chap. XI is one of the most valuable: 
' Slips, Accidents and Omissions '. It will do something to suggest a new 
attitude towards the pupil's ' forgetfulness ', 'stupidity', 'carelessness*, 
over which so much energy is fruitlessly expended, on the side of both 
teacher and taught, in the daily routine. The chapter on 'Dependence 
and Sex ' treats somewhat lightly and slightly the specific sex side, but 
this may be a virtue in a book intended for the fairly average person 
studying the subject for the first time— he will not be alarmed by what 
Mr. Green has to tell him. 

In the sphere of psycho-analytical theory, Mr. Green is not always 
so sure of his ground, and his deductions are sometimes misleading. 
For example, in his chapters on 'Introversion' and ' Extraversion ' 
(chaps. Vin and DC) he appears to distinguish the two types according 
to their manifest behaviour only, which will certainly lead to error. 
We are told (p. 198) that 'the children who depend upon their teachers 
too much, who seek to win goodwill by submission, by abnormally 
good or hard work, or by offerings of flowers, are introverts', and 
(p. 201) 'The extravert is not less in evidence in the class room than 
in the world of grown-up men. He is the child who fidgets, who 
makes a great deal of noise, talks a great deal, and is often in 
"mischief".' These conclusions are neither of them wholly true, and 
often will be found quite incorrect 

Again, some of the dream-interpretation certainly does not tally 
with psycho-analytic findings, e.g. the suffocation dream discussed in 
chap. Vm, the dream of Case XIII in chap. V, the case of cat-phobia 
in chap. VII, in all of which conscious or sub-conscious motivation 
only is considered, never, the unconscious. 

In a subsequent edition (which there is every reason to expect 
speedily, since the book has many excellent and helpful features) it is 
much to be hoped that Mr. Green will give a new bibliography. In 
the present one there is confusion between books dealing with psycho- 
analysis proper (i.e. the Freudian method and its applications), 
other kinds of psychology (e. g. the work of Jung and his followers) 
and books which do not deal with the psycho-analytic view-point at 
all (e.g. 'Mental Tests' by Dr. P. B. Ballard; 'Psychology and Parent- 
hood' by H. Addington Bruce, etc.) Still worse, writers who merely 




discredit psycho-analysis by distortion and ignorance even of its A B C 
(e.g. Tridon) are admitted to the list. May we suggest their exclusion 
at the earliest opportunity? 

Barbara Low. 

The Education of Behaviour. By I. B. Saxby, D.Sc. (University of 
London Press Ltd., London. 1921. Pp. 248. Price 6s.). 

This book cannot but impress the reader with its sincerity and 
serious intention, and obviously thought and care have been expended 
upon the writing of it: nevertheless, one is tempted to ask what is its 
raison d'etre. It follows the lines, more or less, of 'orthodox' child- 
psychology (such, for instance, as may be found in Munsterberg's 
'Psychology and the Teacher'), and in general is based upon 
McDougall's work, especially in the treatment of the Impulses. There is a 
good deal of insistence on matters which most intelligent educators 
nowadays are agreed upon — notably in the sections on 'The growth 
and control of habits', 'Self-Assertion', 'Work and Play'. On the other 
hand, one does not find the wider understanding and deeper insight 
which might be expected from a writer who has studied the modern 
work on analytical psychology. In some chapters dealing with educational 
applications— The Psychology of Character (chap. VIII), The Training 
of Character (chap. IX), The Growth and Control of Habits (chap. VI) 

there is an attempt to incorporate tte findings of psycho-analysis. 

Some quite useful lines of enquiry ar^ developed in these sections 
concerning the use and abuse of 'symA^y' in education; the value 
of suggestion, direct and indirect; plRsure and pain as incentives 
to behaviour, and so forth; but, unfortuAely, it is here that there is 
confusion of thought and too many hasty generalisations. Throughout 
the book Repression is confused with Suppression, as a result of which 
we meet with such statements as : ' If we repress i. e. refuse to think 
about an experience we have had, it is either because it was exception- 
ally painful, or because it has in some way hurt our self-respect' 
(p. 82). (Clearly Repression is here taken as a conscious process). 
Again: 'We may conclude that the extreme forms of shyness and self- 
absorption are usually if not always, due to the repression of some 
painful incident which should have been tackled at the time of its 
occurrence'. (As in the former instance, Repression is considered as a 
matter of conscious effort). The discussion on Gregariousness, Imitation, 
Suggestion, and the individual's relation to his 'superiors, equals, and 
inferiors ' (pp. 87-97) leaves out of account some of the most important 
considerations — indeed the real nature of 'Suggestion' hardly seems 
grasped (cp. the section on 'Passive Play' p. 223 et seq.). It is curious 


that the author should write (p. 231) discerningly about the need for 
a scientific attitude towards problems of behaviour, and yet allow her- 
self very often superficial generalization and a too facile optimism. We 
read, for instance, on p. 239: 'Childhood is the time for pure play, 
because the young child lives entirely in the present'. (Italics are the 
reviewer's). This seems to mean just nothing at all; consciously, the 
young child lives a good deal in the past, even though it be a recent 
past ; unconsciously, he cannot choose but live in the past, since all his 
experience is built up out of his past, real or fantasied. Again and 
again we are assured that results will be 'quite easy' to achieve, that 
desired improvements will certainly come about if only we are sen- 
sible, and in general an impression is conveyed that education is a 
simple matter if teachers are wise, and the young human being is a 
very malleable creature. The section in 'The Impulse to seek a Mate' 
(p. 36 et seq.) shows this clearly: apparently the author thinks, in 
spite of having told us how powerful the sex-impulse is, that the 
problem can be nicely solved by establishing co-education schools, 
staffing such schools with men and women 'who are alive to the im- 
portance of their task and able to give the right kind of guidance at 
the right moment' (p. 39). Such airy solutions hardly seem adequate, 
at least not in a work which professes to be thinking scientifically. By 
the chapter on 'Work and Play' (chap. X) which deals with the 
activities of the infant, youiw child and adolescent, one is forcibly 
reminded of the work of Dr«Hug-Hellmuth, already referred to, and 
one is able to realize the \tqlfcl of difference created by the applic- 
ation of psycho-analytic ir*ic*i> Miss Saxby seems to be treating the 
subject here from the outside Aly, with all sorts of adult preconceptions 
in her mind. Perhaps in a second volume she will follow up more 
completely some special im^igation into Behaviour with the additional 
illumination gained from the study of the Unconscious. 

Barbara Low. 

The Adolescent Girl. By Phyllis Blanchard,Ph.D., with an Introduction 
by Dr. G. Stanley Hall. (Moffat, Yard and Company, New York. 1920. 
Pp. 242.) 

The theme of this book is of obvious interest, and the complexity 
of the problem of adolescence still further heightens that interest. 
Adolescence, in both sexes, is so creative a period, often so full of 
attraction for the adolescent himself (in spite of suffering) and for the 
more adult, and still so full of obscurity, that its study is one of the 
most needed pieces of work for the psychologist. The present book 



contains many lines of enquiry, many suggestions, which could be made 
fruitful, but its value is to a large extent stultified by its curious mix- 
ture of psychology, religion (of a mystical kind) and moralizing. The 
chapter-headings show something of the book's attempted scope. After 
starting with some theories from Schopenhauer, Bergson, Freud, Jung, 
Adler, among others, and the 'conception of woman as a mysterious 
being' (chap. I), we pass on to 'The Sexual and Maternal Instincts of 
the Adolescent Girl' (chap. II), 'The Adolescent Conflict' (chap. in). 
'The Sublimation of the Libido' (chap. IV), 'The Adolescent Girl and 
Love' (chap. VI), ' The Adolescent Girl and her Future' (chaps. VII). Far 
too much matter is touched upon with too many slight allusions to this 
and that writer, but there is value in the number of cases giving the 
adolescent girl's fantasies and desires: this part constitutes the useful 
material in the book, especially where we are furnished with examples 
from history (St. Theresa, Margarita Ebner) and literature (Hauptmann's 
Hannele, Charlotte Bronte's heroines). Chapters V and VI, 'Pathological 
Manifestations of Libido in Adolescent Girls.', and ' The Adolescent Girl 
and Love ', contain some true and useful reflections, especially chapter V 
in the part dealing with sexual enlightenment. Dr. Blanchard realizes 
that such enlightenment cannot be easily, nor always satisfactorily, obtained 
even in the best possible environment. She desires 'the impersonal 
teaching of biological facts to the child in the course of its school 
curriculum so that the secret of reproduction would be understood by 
the girl at an age when the passionate element would not confuse her 
judgement' (whether there is such a thing as 'the impersonal teaching 
of biological facts ' at any age may be'questioned, but at least it is an 
objective), but very honestly adds: 'Ev y e« then, the problem would only 
be lessened to the extent that this natural and healthful imparting of 
knowledge would decrease the adolescent conflict by removing the 
complicating factors of morbid curiosity," and rebellion against facts 
hitherto unsuspected and unknown' (pp. 178, 180). 

In this chapter and the next— The Adolescent Girl and Love- 
there is much that is sane and useful, somewhat vitiated by a scattering 
of windy utterances and by a very marked 'feminist' bias. 

The bibliographies appended to the chapters would be more useful 
if discrimination had been shown in drawing them up : in many cases, 
half the writers named could be omitted with advantage. 

Barbara Low. 

The Analysis of Mind. By Bertrand Russell, F.R.S. (George Allen 
and Unwin Ltd., London, The Macmillan Company, New York, 1921. 
Pp. 310. Price 16s.) 


This book, which contains the substance of lectures recently delivered 
in London and Peking, is primarily metaphysical in aim, though psycho- 
logical as regards its subject matter. It has grown, the author tells us in 
his preface, out of an attempt to harmonize two apparently inconsistent 
tendencies in modern science— the materialistic attitude of many psycho- 
logists (especially those of the behaviourist school) and the contrary 
attitude of many physicists (especially Einstein and the other exponents 
of the theory of relativity) who 'have been making matter less and less 
material '. In pursuit of this aim Mr. Russell endeavours to bridge over 
the at first sight impassable gap between mind and matter by showing 
that mind is less mental and matter less material than is commonly 
supposed. His ultimate view of the nature of the world is that it is 
made up of a 'neutral stuff' itself neither mental nor material, but out 
of which both mind and matter are constructed, and with which, there- 
fore, both psychology and the physical sciences are ultimately concerned, 
though the former is in a sense nearer to what actually exists than are 
the latter. The essential distinction between psychology and physics lies 
in the way in which they treat their data rather than in any difference 
as regards these data themselves. In either case the principal data consist 
of sensations, but whereas physics is interested in 'the appearance ot 
a given thing from different places', psychology is concerned with 'the 
appearance of different things from a given place'. The former point 
of view leads to the conception of external things, the latter to the con- 
ception of a mind which apprehends these things. Psychology is, however, 
richer than physics in that it deals with images as well as sensations; 
since images are not capable of being included among the aspects which 
constitute a physical thing or piece of matter and therefore belong to 
psychology alone. 

This rapprochement between the material and the mental is rendered 
easier by an analysis of mental phenomena, as a result of which it appears 
that the apparently diverse contents and processes of the mind, such as 
desires, feelings, emotions, beliefs, reasonings and thoughts can all 
ultimately be reduced to sensations and images and their relations. The 
largest portion of the book is devoted to the carrying out in detail of 
this analysis, a difficult task in which the author exhibits much skill, 
subtlety and persuasiveness. Opinions will probably differ very con- 
siderably as to how far the attempted reduction to sensations and images 
meets with success. To the present writer the process of packing all the 
varied contents of the mind into two neat compartments seems to be 
accomplished only with the help of a good deal of squeezing and pushing 
in the case of certain inconveniently obstreperous items. In some cases 
too Mr. Russell appears to attach too little weight to the results of ex- 
perimental investigations which are apparently in conflict with his attempted 
analysis. This is the case, for instance, in his treatment of the results 


of the Wilrzburg school of introspectionists as regards the existence of 
thoughts that cannot be reduced to either words or images (p. 223); 
and perhaps still more strikingly in his allusion to the view 'which 
regards discomfort and pleasure as actual contents in (the minds of) 
those who experience them' — a view which is summarily rejected as 
having 'nothing conclusive to be said in its favour' (p. 69), in spite of 
the contrary result of the painstaking investigation of Wohlgemuth (an 
author with whose work Mr. Russell seems nevertheless to be well 
acquainted, though he does not refer to his monograph on 'Pleasure- 
Unpleasure ' in which the chief experimental evidence bearing on this 
point is brought forward). 

Psycho-Analysis is welcomed by Mr. Russell as an ally against the 
excessive demands of consciousness upon Psychology (demands which 
are repugnant to him as tending to widen the gap between the mental 
and the physical), and as proving the existence of unconscious tendencies; 
though he complains that even psycho-analysts attach too much importance 
to consciousness and (like so many other English students of Psychology) 
objects to the concept of the Censorship. 'Psycho-analysts', says Mr. Russell, 
in a passage that deserves to be quoted, 'speak always as though it 
were more normal for a desire to be conscious, and as though a positive 
cause had to be assigned for its being unconscious. Thus " the unconscious " 
becomes a sort of underground prisoner, living in a dungeon, breaking 
in at long intervals upon our daylight respectability with dark groans 
and maledictions and strange atavistic lusts. The ordinary reader almost 
inevitably thinks of this underground person as another consciousness, 
prevented by what Freud calls the "Censor" from making his voice heard 
in company, except on rare and dreadful occasions when he shouts so 
loud that everyone hears him and there is a scandal. Most of us like 
the idea that we could be desperately wicked if only we let ourselves 
go. For this reason, the Freudian "Unconscious" has been a consolation 
to many quiet and well-behaved persons.' (p. 37). 

The book undoubtedly deserves to be carefully read by all who are 
interested in the metaphysical bearings of Psychology, even though 
Mr. Russell's conclusions on purely psychological matters must sometimes 
be treated with caution and accepted with restraint. J. C. F. • 

History of Psychology. By G. S. Brett, M.A., Professor of Philosophy 
in the University of Toronto. Vol. II: Mediaeval and Early Modern 
Period; Vol. Ill: Modern Psychology. (George Allen and Unwin. 
London. 1921. Vol. II. Pp. 394; Vol. III. Pp. 322. Price 16s. each 


The first volume of this work was published in 191 2 under the title 
of 'A History of Psychology : Ancient and Patristic '. The present volumes 
bring the work to about the end of the nineteenth century, and we 
hope that the author will face the formidable task of completing this 
series with a final volume on the present position of psychology. The 
work itself will stand as one of the monuments in the history of psycho- 
logy and is a magnificent tribute to English scholarship, being con- 
siderably superior to its only serious rival, Siebeck's work, published 
some forty years ago. Although its conception is on a grand scale, 
aiming at nothing less than a history of psychological thought from the 
earliest times to the present day, it is far from being a mere encyclopaedia, 
inclusive though it is. The author's chasteness of style and the directness 
and serenity of his judgement make it a most valuable presentation of 
the essential contributions made by the more important writers of the 
past two thousand years. 

A small section on psycho-analysis has been, perhaps unwisely, 
included at the end of the last volume. We say unwisely, because it is 
evident that the author is far from familiar with the development of 
this subject, nor has he been able to select the central ideas in a way 
that might have been done in the space at his disposal; the word 
'Unconscious' for example, is not mentioned, and the subject is regarded 
too much as^ being merely a branch of medical science. "We trust that 
this deficiency will be remedied in a future edition. 

The author rightly points out that ' If the student is not to be left 
with the idea that knowledge is a fixed quantity of indisputable facts, 
if on the contrary he is to acquire a real understanding of the process 
by which knowledge is continually made and remade, he must learn 
to look at the movement of ideas without prejudice as a separate fact 
with its own significance and its own meaning for humanity. To despise 
forgotten theories because they no longer hold good, and refuse on that 
account to look backward, is in the end to forget that man's highest 
ambition is to make progress possible, to make the truth of to-day into ' 
the error of yesterday— in short, to make history'. To those who 
grasp the significance of this broad point of view and wish to enrich 
their education in this desirable respect, we warmly commend this 
invaluable work. E. J. 

A History of the Association Psychology. By Howard C. Warren, 
Stuart Professor of Psychology, Princeton University. (Constable, London. 
1 92 1. Pp. 328. Price 1 6s.) 

This book represents a painstaking labour of years. It will be of 
value chiefly to specialist workers on the subject; for the general reader 


it is rather dry and lifeless. It is a conscientious collection of the various 
stages in the development of views on the subject of association, from Plato 
to the present day. Two deficiencies of the book may be remarked on. 
While the account of the earlier English Associationists is clear and full, 
that of later workers is presented in such a condensed way as to render 
it not always easy to appraise it. In the second place, little effort is 
made to bring this earlier form of psychology into line with that of the 
present day, and, indeed, it may be said that practically all the book 
could have been written fifty years ago. Even on the subject of association 
itself there is no sign of any modern outlook. Jung's revolutionary work 
on the subject, for instance, is dismissed in half a page, without any 
hint of its implications; the words 'complex' and 'psycho-analysis' 
are not to be found at all. Within these limits the book will doubtless 
constitute a useful reference work for historical purposes. E. J. 

Psychology. A Study of Mental Life. By Robert S. Woodworth, 
Ph.D., Professor of Psychology in Columbia University. (Methuen & Co. 
London. 1922. Pp. 580. Price 8s. 6d.) 

This is another of the numerous text -books of psychology now 
available and it appears to present no outstanding features. It takes the 
student over the various chapters, reactions, emotions, sensations etc., 
in a quite adequate manner, and Professor Woodworth's name is a 
guarantee of its general trustworthiness. Its tendency lies mid-way be- 
tween the older text-books, with their insistence on cognition, and the 
newer psychology, which is so much concerned with motive, conflict 
and like topics. With regard to the newer psychology, Professor Woodworth 
adopts a conservative but not a shut attitude. We read that ' attraction 
towards the opposite sex is felt by a small number of children' (p. 147), 
so that this phenomenon is admitted to exist at all events occasionally. 
A sketchy account is given of Freud's theory of dreams, but, as the 
author remarks, 'Not that Freud would O K our account of dreams 
up to this point' (p.505). His three vague objections to the theory are: 
(1) That Freud fails to see how easy-running the association mechanism 
is. This seems to be a reversion to the old associationist psychology 
when associations were thought to form themselves without any motive 
forces being at work. (2) That 'Freud overdoes the Unconscious', a 
statement so general that nothing can be said about it. (3) That ' Freud 
overdoes the libido', a comment more appropriate to the newspaper 
press than to a text-book on psychology. Altogether his acquaintance 
with Freud's work is a very cursory one. For instance, he says that 
Freud divides instincts into the self-preservative and reproductive 


one's, and objects that this leaves out many others, such as the self- 
assertive instinct. Freud's classification is, on the contrary, into egoistic 
and sexual instincts, and the former includes far more than the impulse 
to save one's self from drowning. 

The main feature that might militate against the success of the book, 
especially in this country, is the extreme colloquialism of its style, which 
frequently degenerates into familiarity and slang. E. J. 


By Dr. phil. Gaston Roffenstein. (Ernst Bircher, Bern and Leipzig, 1921, 

An interesting application of the ideas of Nietzsche and Adler to the 
field of politics, with especial reference to revolution, class antagonism 
and class warfare. The revolutionary tendencies at present manifested 
in so many countries, are, the author maintains, due to reactions against 
feelings of class inferiority rather than to economic causes (such as 
were emphasised by the earlier socialists). Recent events have stimulated 
such reactions by emphasising the importance and indispensability of 
the proletariat and by diminishing class barriers, which, when — as pre- 
viously — of larger dimensions, were felt to be natural, justifiable and 
inevitable. Though admittedly treating the phenomena from a single 
point of view only, the little book contains many suggestions that should 

be of interest to the student of social psychology. J. C. F. 

An Outline of Psychology. Plebs Textbooks Number One. (Published 
by the Plebs League, Affiliated to the National Council of Labour Colleges, 
London, 1921, Pp. 167. Price 2s. 6d.) 

This is a distinctly original departure in the writing of text books. 
It is presented to the proletariat as an additional weapon of knowledge 
in the fight against the bourgeoisie and is written from that point of 
view. We need hardly say that this innovation of writing text books on 
scientific subjects from particular political points of view is one which 
no scientific worker can welcome, constituting, as it does, a retrogres- 
sion to the days when they had to be written from particular religious 
points of view. As the very essence of science is impartiality, it could 
not long survive if treated in this way. A text book on Chemistry from 
the tariff reformer's point of view, or one on Biology in support of the 
vegetarian cause would be books that would soon cease to have any 
serious value. 



This point of view colours a large part of the book. We meet with 
such headings as 'Determinism and the Class Struggle ' ; such curiously 
one-sided statements as that 'the home is essentially an economic in- 
stitution', or that Mr. Woodrow Wilson's inconsistencies in behaviour 
are due to a partition between a ' Christianity ' complex and a ' capitalist 
polities' complex; or pronouncements such as that 'for Marxians, the 
"purpose" of life is to fulfil the destiny to which conation urges man, 
the ever-increasing control of his environment. ' 

An attempt is made to incorporate psycho-analytical conclusions 
into the whole medley, but that the result is an unhappy one will be 
gathered from one fact alone:, in the bibliography appended, the only 
work on psycho-analysis specially recommended is one by Tridon, whose 
ignorance of the subject is notorious. We are not surprised to meet 
again the ridiculous idea that Freud regards the sexual instinct as 'the 
driving force behind all action ', and ' the basis of psychic phenomena ' ; 
he is here further supposed to identify it with the pleasure principle. 
We also learn that impulses which would tend to retain the pleasure 
principle are repressed, the converse of the truth. We read further that 
'where physical defect or privation induces creative effort in some in- 
tellectual or artistic field. This is what psycho-analysts term sublimation '. 
These quotations illustrate the level of the book. 

On the other hand it must be said that a mass of information about 
psychology has been compressed into the book and that the arrange- 
ment, with a full glossary, bibliography and index, is an excellent one. 
It only needs to be revised by someone with a knowledge of the 
subject. E. J. 

Jesus, the Christ, in the Light of Psychology, By G. Stanley Hall, 
Ph.D. LL.D., Professor of Psychology, President of Clark University. 
(Doubleday, Page & Co. New York. In 2 vols. Price 25s. net) 

This book is, as the title states, an exhaustive study of Jesus from a 
psychological point of view. In the first chapter the physical personality 
of Jesus is dealt with and the various representations of Him as depicted 
by pictorial art. 'Jesus in Literature' the longest of the eleven chapters, 
begins with the Apocrypha and mediaeval literature and goes on to 
modern publications the majority of which emanate from America. 
Much of this provides somewhat wearisome reading, as the schemes 
and plots of a vast amount of novels and plays are given in resume. 
Some pages in the long chapter on the 'Negative Views' are devoted to 
Nietzsche's criticisms and to the views of the Monists, Smith, Robertson 
and Drews, and to Jenson's theories. The Nativity is taken from a 
psycho-analytical standpoint and the subjects of virgin birth and the 



psychology of pregnancy are dealt with in the same chapter. Chapter VI 
is devoted to what Professor Stanley Hall terms the three great achieve- 
ments of Jesus: the Messianity, the Sonship and the Kingdom; and the 
stages are discussed by which He came to regard Himself first as the 
Messiah and later as the Son of God, and His conceptions regarding 
the Kingdom, which the author holds to be entirely ethical and as 
owing nothing to the pagan cults of the dying and rising gods. A 
detailed discussion on the Parables and the Miracles occupies some 
hundred and sixty pages; the latter are termed by the author 'the baby 
talk of religious faith '. Chapters VII and XI are intended to be taken 
together and have for content the subjects of Jesus' eschatalogical con- 
ceptions and the psychology of death, guilt and resurrection. Professor 
Stanley Hall holds Jesus as unique in that He was no usurping aspirer 
for the godhood by displacing His predecessor, Yahveh, to the position 
of an ex-god or by diabolizing him, ' but by the laws of ambivalence 
and compensation the better elements of Yahveh's nature were not 
only conserved but . . . given a loftier . . . interpretation than ever before. ' 
The author believes in the authenticity of the historical Jesus and is 
'convinced that the psychological Jesus Christ is the true and living 
Christ of the present and of the future'. As a book of reference the 
value of this work is much impaired by the complete absence of any 
index and the predilection of the author for coining new words derived 
from the Greek renders it necessary for more than a bowing acquaintance 
with that language for a correct understanding of his meaning. To the 
orthodox churchman the book will be anathema but it will be welcomed 
by many who under analysis find their religious conceptions inseparably 
bound up with their neuroses, and by those who are in the throes of 
evolving a fresh ethical standard founded on the basis of the church 
teachings of their childhood ; it is to such as these that Professor Stanley 
Hall dedicates the results of his labours of twenty years. 

Sybil Porter. 

Psychology and the Christian Life. By T. W. Pym, D.S.O., M.A. 
(Student Christian Movement, London, 192 1. Pp. 134.) 

This little book is an attempt to adapt the latest psychological 
teaching to the Christian religion. The author, a clergyman of the 
established church, feels that it is time Christianity recognised some of 
the latest psychological truths. He gives a list of ten books from which 
he states he has consciously obtained his psychological knowledge. As 
the only one quoted which has any direct bearing on psycho-analysis 
is ' The New Psychology ' by A. G. Tansley, it may be inferred that a 
wide knowledge of the latest schools of thought is not to be expected. 




Too much importance is ascribed to the New Nancy School of 
thought and to reflective auto-suggestion, which is compared with 
religious meditation. In his discussion of psycho-analysis, based appa- 
rently on Tansley's book, we find evidence of the usual fear of sex. 
This fear, that sex may be stronger than he desires, probably causes 
the author to base his theories on three primary instincts, and he sand- 
wiches sex between the self and social instincts. He appears to think 
that sexuality simply means gratification of desire. Thus he shews a 
narrow-minded attitude towards sexuality in which the old idea of the 
terrible nature of fornication is conveyed. 

On page 67 an undue amount of stress is placed on the cure of 
fornication and impurity of heart: 'To cure fornication find other and 
creative channels for surplus physical energy.' To quote again from the 
same page : ' To cure impurity of heart . . . pray for the positive virtues 
and believe in God's power to make you clean.' This suggests that 
prayer must be considered as the chief agent in the cure of sexual conflict. 
From the standpoint of the Christian belief, the book is written 
. lucidly; from any other standpoint it is too one-sided and presupposes 
a dogmatic belief in all Christian doctrines. It is implied that the 
baulked sexual instinct is merely lustful and consequently sinful and 
that only those who believe in God will win through. Belief in Christ 
is considered to be the first and final requisite in dealing with sin, by 
which presumably auto-erotism is meant. Chapter IV on the Psycho- 
logy of Sin ends with the following sentence: 'Sex is too big to find 
final satisfaction anywhere but in God Himself.' Chapter V deals with 
Christianity and Psycho-Analysis and must not be taken too seriously. 
The following sentence from page 79 will illustrate this point: 'The 
cause of the sickness is revealed through psycho-analysis and the 
sickness is cured largely by suggestion. ' An idea of course, completely 
at variance with psycho-analytical teaching. Apparently Mr. Pym regards 
the doctrine of forgiveness of sin as a panacea for the guilt complex 
(page 85). Apart from these criticisms, the book is a praiseworthy 
attempt to reach that class of religious society to which Psychology in 
any form is a closed book, and in this respect alone it will serve the 
purpose for which it was written. 

Robert M. Riggall. 

The History of Human Marriage. By Edward Westermarck, LL.D., 
Professor of Sociofogy in the University of London. (Macmillan & Co., 
London. 1921. Fifth Edition. In 3 Volumes. Pp. 1753. Price four guineas.) 

Since the first edition of this work appeared, over thirty years 
ago, it has won an unchallenged place as the standard classic on the 


subject. Nevertheless, so much new work is constantly appearing that 
the author decided entirely to re-write the present edition and so 
little of the former ones remains that it can be regarded as a new book. 
It is a veritable encyclopaedia of information on all conceivable matters 
relating to marriage, and almost rivals Frazer's ' Golden Bough ' as a 
bibliographical reference book. Like that work also, it defines its sub- 
ject matter very widely and so comes to deal not only with marriage 
in the narrower sense, but with almost every aspect of heterosexuality, 
both in its positive and its negative aspects. To mention only a few of 
the headings: virginity, celibacy, religious prostitution, jus primae noctis, 
modesty, secondary sexual characteristics, etc. 

While the information on the various aspects of the subject has 
enormously increased in the past thirty years, and quite new sections 
have been added to the book even in the present edition, the author's 
own views have changed but little in this time. The one perhaps most 
associated with his name, the denial that sexual promiscuity was ever 
a primitive state of mankind, has stood the test of time and is now 
widely accepted. Other views of his, however, such as those on the 
origin of exogamy, are still striving for recognition. 

It is probable that most reviews of the work will contain nothing but 
the respectful admiration which is its full due and which we also freely 
accord. But the present review must differ from most others in adding 
also a note of fundamental criticism, on a matter where we have every 
right to speak. It is that the author has not profited from just those 
researches which in recent years have thrown most light on many of 
the problems that engage him. We refer, of course, to the investigations 
of psycho-analysis. Over and over again on reading the book one comes 
across a series of sterile speculations about some obscure problem the 
answer to which would be given at once by some knowledge of the 
unconscious, i. e. primitive, mind such as is afforded by psycho-analytic 
research. The overestimation of virginity and the taboos relating to 
it are a striking case in point. The extraordinary discussion of exogamy is 
another. For instance, the author rightly remarks that ' any theory of the 
origin of the prohibition of incest which takes no account of the relation 
between father and daughter (i. e. only of that between son and mother) is 
obviously a failure.' This point is solved at once when one realises 
that prohibition of the father incest must be not only weaker (and 
therefore more often broken through) than the son incest, but also 
inevitably secondary to it, simply because when the father-daughter 
relationship develops it becomes identified in the unconscious mind with 
the son-mother relationship, as the present reviewer has shewn in his 
study of the * alternation of generations ' phantasy. 

The author makes every effort to prove that the prohibition of incest 
is due to a primary inborn aversion against such acts and heatedly 



opposes any other possible explanation. By the way of a reductio ad 
absurdum of Frazer's obvious objection that were this so there would 
have been no need to reinforce that instinct by such stringent penalties, 
and that 'we may safely assume that crimes forbidden by law are crimes 
which men have a natural propensity to commit' Dr. Westermarck makes 
the really exquisite reply: ' Would Sir James Frazer maintain... that the 
exceptional severity with which parricide is treated by many law-books 
proves that a large number of men have a natural propensity to kill 
their parents?' (vol. II, p. 203). Now those having a serious faith in the 
determination of all mental acts must pause and ask, what made 
Dr. Westermarck choose just this very example to parallel the absurdity 
of Frazer's statement? Can it be that the two have other points of 
connection besides that of absurdity? There are of course a thousand 
other examples of absurdity from which Dr. Westermarck could have 
made a choice, but the simple fact remains that he happened (by 
chance!) to choose just this one, the one which Psycho-Analysis has 
shewn to be an integral constituent of the Oedipus complex of which 
the incest tendency is the other constituent, that complex which 
dominates the unconscious mind of all men. 

Dr. Westermarck's belief that close association extinguishes lustful 
feelings, even to the point of intense aversion, is so strong that he 
extends it even to associations formed outside the family. One reads, 
breathlessly, that 'Even between lads and girls who are educated 
together in the same school there is a conspicuous absence of erotic 
feelings, according to an interesting communication of a lady who has 
for many years been the head-mistress of such a school in Finland' 
(p. 193). In a well-known novel a heroine somewhat uneasily remarks of 
her fiance, 'His mother told me he had had no love affairs', whereupon 
the disappointed suitor who has been hinting the contrary makes the 
cynical rejoinder ' Oh, of course, his mother would know '. It is a 
serious enough exposure of one's naivete to expect someone who has 
been ' a head-mistress for many years ' to retain any knowledge of the 
intimate feelings of children in eroticis, but the situation must be des- 
perate if one has to go to Finland for such information. To those who 
have had the experience of exploring the private mental life of children 
the innocence that anthropological students of sex can at times display 
in these matters seems almost to rival that to which one is accustomed 
in members of the educational profession. 

Not that the author has never heard of Freud. He even refers to 
him in a couple of contemptuous footnotes. In one, quoting a statement 
of Freud's about the incestuous tendencies of childhood, he writes: 
'That the results of the so-called (!) psycho-analysts are destructive to 
my theory is a supposition for which I must see some evidence before 
I can take it seriously ... the study of neurotic persons can hardly be 



regarded as a safe guide to the proper understanding of the normal 
manifestations of the sexual instinct. Dr. Jung, Freud's most distin- 
guished disciple, says "I am able to attribute as little strength to 
incestuous desires in childhood as in primitive humanity ".' (p. 204). The 
evidence which Dr. Westermarck demands is to hand for his study in 
the numerous journals and books devoted to the subject; he has only 
to read it. Whether the study of neurotic persons, which incidentally 
is far from being the only source open to psycho-analytic investigation, 
is a safe guide to an understanding of the normal is a matter that can 
be decided only by those who have made a comparative study of both, 
and no one has yet done this and answered the question in the negative. 
For Dr. Westermarck's information we may add that the most interesting 
difference between the two classes is that it is the former which contains in 
the more accessible form the evidence relating to the nature of primitive 
human tendencies which gives the key to so many of the problems he 
is attempting to solve. We would also inform him that Dr. Jung, so far 
from being a 'disciple of Freud's ', is one of Freud's chief opponents, so 
that he might just as well quote his own opinion as Dr. Jung's. 

The author has in the preparation of this new and greatly enlarged 
edition lost an unrivalled opportunity of incorporating the results of 
research that would have been invaluable for his purpose. It will not 
be long before the results of these researches, which he now despises, 
will belong to the commonplaces of general scientific information, when 
many of the profitless speculations to which the author devotes so much 
attention will have been superseded. In spite of these strictures, 
however, we must repeat our opinion that his work remains a massive 
store-house of valuable information, one quite indispensable for all 
students of the subject. E. J." 

Taboo and Genetics. A Study of the Biological, Sociological and 
Psychological Foundations of the Family. By M.M. Knight, Ph.D., Iva 
Lowther Peters, Ph.D., and Phyllis Blanchard, Ph.D. (Moffat, Yard & Co., 
New York, 1920. Pp. xv + 301. Price £3.00.) 

This book is divided into three parts. The first of these parts, by 
M.M. Knight, is devoted to 'The New Biology and the Sex Problem in 
Society' and contains information as to the biological role of sex and 
the processes of reproduction and heredity at different biological levels, 
together with an account of a good deal of the modern work on internal 
secretions, Mendelism and Eugenics. Part 2 on 'The Institutionalized Sex 
Taboo', by Iva Lowther Peters, treats the subject from the point of 
view of anthropology and ethnology, indicating the nature of the principal 


sexual taboos as manifested in primitive society and the influences 
exercised by these taboos in modern civilisation: while Part 3 on 'The 
Sex Problem in the Light of Modern Psychology', by Phyllis 
Blanchard, is concerned with the influence of the same taboos upon the 
individual mind. 

The book thus covers a very wide field; the biological and ethno- 
logical aspects, however, being treated at considerably greater length 
than the psychological aspects. For those who desire a brief but com- 
prehensive treatment of the various aspects of sex, such as can usually 
be found only by consulting several different works, the book is to be 
recommended as containing much varied information presented in an 
agreeable and simple manner, with constant reference to original authorities. 
As the authors say in their preface, 'the influence of the primitive sex 
taboos on the evaluation of the social mores and family life has received 
too little attention in the whole literature of sexual ethics and in the 
sociology of sex '. It is therefore very desirable that all who are con- 
cerned in one way or another with sex problems' (and who indeed is 
not ?) should be provided with some means of realising the nature of 
the influence of our past history upon the present sexual behaviour 
of individuals and the present sexual institutions of society. If the book 
before us can help to bring about a more general realisation of this 
kind, it will undoubtedly perform a very useful task. The reader should 
however be warned that, despite the sub-title, certain important aspects 
of the family, such as the relations between parents and children, the 
reckoning of descent and the classification of family relationships, are 
barely touched upon, the emphasis being laid throughout upon the 
relationship between the sexes and the operation of dysgenic and eugenic 
racial factors. Parts 2 and 3, it should be added, treat the subject from 
the point of view of women more exclusively than would be expected 
in a work of this description. It is further to be regretted that the 
treatment of the subject from the psychological point of view should be 
so much shorter and more superficial than the other parts. These 
blemishes in some respects detract from, but by no means do away 
with, the general usefulness and interest of the book for popular 

Perhaps the most serious criticism that may be levelled against the 
general presentation of the subject is that, although great stress is 
(rightly) laid upon the many harmful effects of sexual taboos and the 
relics of such taboos, there is attempted but little if any explanation of 
the biological and psychological functions of taboo, so that the reader 
is apt to be left wondering by what means these apparently so detri- 
mental inhibitions can have been established or perpetuated. This is 
perhaps not altogether the fault of the authors, being due largely to the 
general deficiences of our knowledge on this subject Nevertheless, in 




a work of this kind room might profitably have been found for some 
more detailed consideration of the facts of sublimation and of the general 
function of the displacement of sexual energy to ends of 'higher' cultural 
value, and perhaps also for some mention of Herbert Spencer's general 
biological law of the 'antagonism between Individuation and Genesis'. 
It is only where there is some realisation of the biological advantages 
to be derived from sexual inhibition and the consequent diversion of 
sexual energy to other fields that there can be any full understanding 
of the ultimate nature of sexual taboos and of their rdle in human 
society. J. C. F. 

The Witch -Cult in Western Europe. A Study in Anthropology. 
By Margaret Alice Murray. (Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1921. Pp. 303. 
Price 16s.) 

The current view Shout witches is, we presume, that they were a 
collection of sour beldams and neurotic girls, unusually prone to lascivious 
hallucinations, who were the victims of terrified or malicious neighbours 
aided by ignorant and superstitious judges. It is a chapter in the history 
of mankind which we would rather forget, an epidemic aberration. In 
a monograph devoted to the subject the present reviewer attempted to 
give it some psychological meaning, particularly from the point of view 
of the unconscious signification of the mutual reactions. Miss Murray 
attacks the problem, i. e. that of meaning, from an historical stand- 
point, basing her study on her knowledge of anthropology and com- 
parative religion, and she has produced an extremely valuable, original 
and illuminating work. 

Miss Murray will have nothing to do with any pathological ex- 
planations and dismisses this aspect lightly with the words 'Much con- 
fusion has been caused ... by the unfortunate belief of modern writers 
in the capacity of women for hysteria' (p. 231). It is no wonder that 
even with such an intelligible phenomenon as the anaesthesia and anaemia 
of the 'marks' inflicted by the devil she is reduced to saying 'I can at 
present offer no solution of this problem ' (p. 86). But we cannot make 
this a matter of reproach to Miss Murray, for she has offered solutions 
enough of other and more weighty problems. 

The main thesis of the book can be shortly stated. Witches and 
sorcerers are alleged to represent the survival of a pre-Christian fertility 
cult, to which the author gives the name of the 'Dianic cult'. Her view 
is that witchcraft was a definite organised religion which regarded 
Christianity as its natural enemy. Its main characteristics were various 
rites and ceremonies designed to increase fertility in human beings, 
animals and crops. When Christianity undertook to extirpate it as a 



particularly odious form of paganism it defended itself and retaliated, 
along the lines of a 'castration-complex', by shifting its interest in the 
increased fertility of its own members on to that in diminished fertility 
of its enemies. This was the reason, as indeed was avowed in the 
celebrated Decree of Innocent VIII, why Christians were alarmed at the 
idea of witchcraft and destroyed witches whenever possible. This view 
certainly tallies with the conclusion reached by the reviewer that the 
various forms of ntaleficium exercised by witches were all symbolic 
forms of the ' ligature ', i. e. were designed to induce impotence. 

The greater part of the book consists of a detailed study of the 
individual rites, admission ceremonies, meetings and so on, and the 
actual evidence on which this is founded is admirably marshalled and 
amply documented. From the mass of detailed conclusions a few only 
can be mentioned here. There is reason to think that there was a con- 
siderable hierarchy of officials and that each congregation, or ' coven ', 
comprised thirteen fully initiated witches, or rather twelve and a ' devil '. 
There are many indications of a totemistic God-sacrifice, akin to the 
Christian one ; sacrifices were made of just those animals whose form 
was assumed by the God-Devil, and leaders voluntarily submitted to be 
executed by the law, the devotees often acquiescing in this God-sacrifice 
even when they might have prevented it. In this way is in part to be 
explained the supineness of the French in the case of Joan of Arc, for, 
sad to relate, Miss Murray thinks it probable that after all Joan was a 
devil-worshipper, witch and heretic. So after five centuries of execration 
the Bishop of Beauvais experiences a belated vindication, at least of his 
intellectual judgement if not of his humanity. There would, incidentally, 
seem to be scope for a psycho-analytic study of Joan. Miss Murray pro- 
vides an interesting, and rather convincing, explanation of the old riddle 
of the coldness of the devil's genitalia, a feature which recurs over and 
again in the trials. She points out that the man who impersonated the 
devil in each district was doubtless called upon — from both ritualistic 
and lewd motives — by the ladies of the congregation to exercise his 
virile powers to an extent far exceeding his physical capacities, and she 
suggests that he eked these out by the obvious device of providing 
himself with an artifical phallus, e. g. of leather. This would seem to 
account for a number of the features recorded, such as the usual absence 
of semen with the devil, the impossibility of his impregnating the witch, 
and the curious and manifold descriptions of the size, colour and shape 
of the organ. Another riddle Miss Murray does not solve — one pointed 
out, we believe, for the first time — is that the vast majority of the names 
of witches are eight in number, including their respective variants: 
Ann, Alice, Christian, Elizabeth, Ellen, Joan (by far the commonest), 
Margaret and Marion. 

On can only admire the evidence in the book of solid work. As to 


the author's conclusions we find many of them highly suggestive, including 
her main thesis, but there appear to us to be two important gaps in it 
which need to be filled before it can be regarded as established. In 
the first place proof is lacking of the elaborate degree of higher organisation 
which Miss Murray rather, as it seems to us, assumes. The evidence 
she quotes would accord quite as well with the assumption of a scattered 
and only loosely connected set of customs and beliefs (much as with 
superstitions) as with that of an elaborate secret society on the pattern 
of the mythical 'Elders of Zion'. Secondly, if the theory were true in 
the form stated by Miss Murray, it should be possible to discover more 
evidence bearing on it from the Christian side, and especially from 
earlier epochs when presumably the cult would be much more open 
and widespread. In general it is a pity that the data here given are so 
late, mostly from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Although it 
is true that witchcraft as, so to speak, an institution was especially as- 
sociated with the years between 1400 and 1700 (a limitation in time, 
by the way, which speaks against Miss Murray's theory), yet there is no 
difficulty in tracing back the constituents of the phenomenon to the 
earliest times. 


In conclusion a word of praise should be reserved for the general 
arrangement of the book, with its comprehensive index and its com- 
plete addenda giving amongst other things the names and addresses of 
all known witches, lists of covens, and a study of the ointments used 
for flying. 

The book is by far the most important one on the subject that has 
appeared in recent years and will be invaluable to those interested in 
the various aspects of this gruesome subject. E. J. 

The Private Character of Queen Elizabeth. By Frederick Chamberlin. 
(The Bodley Head, London, 1921. Pp. 325. Price 18s.) 

'I have never been able to control the M.S. of this publication', 
says Mr. Chamberlin in almost the first words of his preface. To the 
expectant reader they are a little ominous — and the reader of this book 
must be decidedly expectant 

Queen Elizabeth has always been an enigma. Two fairly obvious facts 
about her and her reign stand out: the first is her exceptional ability, 
which abundance of contemporary evidence attests; the^econd is that during 
her reign 'the British Empire was born', as Mr. Chamberlin proclaims 
— an unquestionable fact, however you express it. But the problem for 
the historian lies in the relation between these facts. To what extent 



did Elizabeth's ability bring about or contribute to the 'birth of the 
British Empire', and what were the ways and means by which her 
ability was manifested to achieve this end? Not many historians have 
attempted to approach this problem in the light of psychology — perhaps 
Beesley came near to it; one of the earliest of them, Sir Anthony Weldon 
in 1652, left her reign out of his work altogether on the grounds that 
'I have nothing to do with women and wish I never had' — his sense 
of inadequacy was complete. Most of the historians have turned the 
obscurity of the past to their own account by tracing out a figure of 
the Queen that agrees with their own views. This is the way of 
historians, however; perhaps it is this trait that has led many critics of 
Mr. Chamberlin's book to hail it as a contribution to history. For although 
he has no political or religious axe to grind, and is exclusively interested 
in intimate matters relating to the Queen, yet his own view of her 
has proved all-compelling — he is concerned to trace out a figure of her 
which first grew in his imagination. 

The preface opens by telling us that eight years ago Mr. Chamberlin 
set out to write a biography of Queen Elizabeth on the usual lines. Then 
come the words quoted above, indicating that something in the subject 
carried him away; it is clear that an obsession concerning the Queen 
gradually absorbed all the writer's interest. We discover that the con- 
templated biography has reduced and expanded itself into a con- 
sideration, a collection, ' of all the contemporary evidence for and against 
the morality of Elizabeth ' (documentary evidence, he means), and that 
this is the point which proved so uncontrollable to Mr. Chamberlin. 
We open a study on the private character of an enigmatic historical 
woman, which, besides having the obvious intrinsic interest of all personal 
narratives about the great, should inevitably throw light on the problem 
of her influence on the affairs of her time. We find the book devoted 
to the question of her chastity, strictly speaking, of her physical virginity, 
and about one third of it taken up with the question of her health 
— apparently on the assumption that an invalid is precluded from the 
experience of the sexual act. Mr. Chamberlin can be sarcastic enough 
about those who use words in too narrow a sense — e. g. neurotic to mean 
erotic, and specific to mean syphilitic — but he himself sees in the word 
' character ' no connotation but that of the physical sexual act ! 

After the first shock of this disappointment we might reflect that the 
question of a woman's virginity has many aspects of importance, and 
we would certainly not be understood to belittle them. It is a matter 
that has affected human development probably as much as any other. 
The problem of Elizabeth's chastity, and incidentally of her health, may 
be quite worth considering in itself; although we may differ widely from 
Mr. Chamberlin in thinking it 'the most significant inquiry that can be 
raised concerning the life of Elizabeth '. In this book these questions are 


exhaustively investigated, in so far as contemporary documentary evidence 
contains any reference to them— of inferences bearing on them drawn 
from other known facts about the Queen there is practically nothing. 
The book is crammed with quotations, footnotes and references and bears 
every mark of careful and patient research. Enthusiasm and boundless 
devotion to his task could alone have produced such labour, and indeed 
Mr. Chamberlin makes no secret of his attitude towards the Queen. His 
superlatives are quite unrestrained: Elizabeth is 'by far the greatest 
woman of history ... the greatest monarch who has ever occupied the 
throne of England', or, with three exceptions, any throne. Again, she 
is ' a genius ', and a letter written by her at the age of fifteen ' shows 
signs of greater ability than anything written by any other person of 
similar age in all the records of history '. 

In order that his defence of his idol may be more telling, the author 
greatly magnifies, if he does not altogether invent, a general supposition 
that Elizabeth's private life was morally licentious; few people would 
agree with him that 'it is the unanimous opinion of mankind' that she 
was the mistress of four men or more. He himself is passionately con- 
vinced of her chastity, and believes that his book will reverse the opinion 
of the world. He has sought to surpass all previous historians, and he 
has greatly overestimated the importance of the problem and of his own 
contributions to a solution of it. His aim, he says, has been to let the 
evidence speak for itself — and it does, leaving us all exactly where we 
were before. The five distinguished medical authorities to whom he sub- 
mitted the mass of evidence about her ill-health are extremely guarded 
in their judgements of it Most of it emanates from the Spanish and 
French Ambassadors, who of course, when times were dull, were glad 
enough to fill up their reports home with hopeful rumours of the Queen's 
expected early death. In many instances it is perfectly clear that the 
'illnesses' arose conveniently in political exigencies. In the light of 
modern knowledge of the neuroses many of the minor ailments, even 
if authentic, may well have been manifestations of some hysterical tendency; 
indeed, one observer, Leicester, in writing of rumours of her ill-health 
actually diagnoses one of them thus: 'The Queen is in good health; 
somewhat her Majesty hath been troubled by a spice or show of Mother 1 
but indeed not so', meaning that the 'spice' did not develop seriously, 
as he goes on to explain. Incidentally, and as bearing on the value of 
this kind of evidence generally, it is interesting to note that Leicester, 
whose interests, in contrast to the Ambassadors', were of course bound 
up with the Queen's health, is always at pains to describe her as well. 
At any rate, the fact remains that she lived to be all but seventy, in 
spite of the appalling medical treatment of those days, and that she took 
an active part all her life in affairs. 

1 Common contemporary term for hysteria. 



The evidence about her chastity is equally inconclusive. During her 
lifetime several people recorded their belief that there was 'nothing 
wrong' in her intimacies with her favourites — apparently the Spanish 
Ambassador used these very words. But we have to remember that the 
expressions of opinion of all her entourage, not excepting Burghley who 
probably knew the truth, were liable to be coloured by political if not 
personal considerations— namely, the ardent desire of every politician 
that the Queen should marry and have an heir. Similarly, much of the 
scandal about her was an inevitable result of her position and of her 
injudicious behaviour. Elizabeth was no prude; it is even possible that 
she would not have approved of Mr. Chamberlin's efforts to attribute to 
her a morality far in advance of the general standard of her age. 

The best approach to the problem would be by the path of modern 
psychology. But even so, greater knowledge brings with it further 
uncertainties. Here it can only be said that, apart from any political, 
moral, or religious motives restraining her, there are plenty of indications 
that Queen Elizabeth was a woman whose sexual needs were far from 
normal. The circumstances of her early life were heavily against a normal 
development: the character of Henry VIII, her father, and his marital 
relations, his treatment of her mother and of herself can hardly have 
failed to be traumatic in their effect. An attempt at seduction of the 
little Princess, at the age of thirteen, by the second husband of Katherine 
Parr, her step-mother, evidently left traces on her subsequent health 
and character, as Mr. Chamberlin has dimly perceived. The detailed 
narrative of this affair and of the way in which the young girl dealt 
with the dangers to which it exposed her is the contribution of most 
value and interest in the book. 

There was little about the Queen characteristic of a normal fully-developed 
woman — little passivity, nosubmissiveness, little ornomaternalfeelingjacom- 
parison with her successor, Victoria, makes that instantly clear. Of unco- 
ordinated primal tendencies several are very marked, notoriously of course 
exhibitionism ; they all stand in close relation to narcissism, clearly the 
dominant note of her character. The narcissism and the masculinity complex 
(evident in her astonishing intellectual development and many masculine 
traits) make it very probable that the female part in the normal sexual act had 
no attraction for her and that she never experienced it. She had many 
opportunities for sublimation of her narcissism. In its unsublimated crude 
form, closely allied with exhibitionism, it is expressed in the craving she 
showed for devoted adorers, of whom Mr. Chamberlin appears to be 
the latest. It is indeed unlikely that the real Elizabeth ever inspired such 
a passion as his — which is a sufficient explanation of the uncontrollable 
nature of his book. 

Joan Riviere. 


List of Members 

Ames, Dr. T. H., 375 Park Ave., New York. 
Brill, Dr. A. A., 1 West 70th Street, New York. 
Brown, Dr. Sanger II., 173 East 70th Street, New York. 
Burrow, Dr. Trigant, The Tuscany, Baltimore, Md. 
Clark, Dr. L. Pierce, 20 East 48th Street, New York. 
Coriat, Dr. Isador H., 416 Marlborough Street, Boston, Mass. 
Emerson, Dr. L. E., 64 Sparks Street, Cambridge, Mass. 
Farnell, Dr. F. J., 219 Waterman Street, Providence, R. I. 
Frink, Dr. H. W., 17 East 38th Street, New York. 
Hall, Prof. G. Stanley, Clark University, Worcester, Mass. 
Hamill, Dr. Ralph G., 666 Spence Street, Winnetka, 111. 
Hutchings, Dr. R. H., Utica State Hospital, Utica, N. Y. 
Jelliffe, Dr. S. E., 64 West 56th Street, New York. 
Kempf, Dr. E. J., 100 West 59th Street, New York. 
Luce, Dr. L. A., 536 Commonwealth Ave., Boston, Mass. 
McCurdy, Dr. John T., 46 West 55th Street, New York. 
Meyer, Dr. Adolf, Phipps Clinic, Johns Hopkins Hospital, Bal- 
timore, Md. 
Oberndorf, Dr. C. P., (Secretary) 249 West 74th Street, New York. 
Payne, Dr. C. R., Wadhams, N. Y., 

Pope, Dr. Curran, 115 West Chestnut Street, Louisville, Ky. 
Reed, Dr. Ralph, 180 E. McMillan Street, Cincinnati, Ohio. 
Singer, Dr. H. D, State Psychopathic Hospital, Dunning, 111. 
Stern, Dr. Adolph, 40 West 84th Street, New York. 
Stuart, Dr. D. D. V., 1728 Connecticut Ave., Washington, D. C. 
Tancyhill, Dr. G. Lane, 405 N. Charles Street, Baltimore, Md. 
Van Tesslar, Dr. J. S., 12 Kent Street, Brookline, Mass. 
Walker, Dr. W. K., 1018 Westinghouse Bldg., Pittsburgh, Pa. 



Wells, Dr. F. Lyman, McLean Hospital, Waverley, Mass. 
White, Dr. Wm. A., St. Elizabeths Hosp., Washington, D. C. 
Wholey, Dr. C. C, 4616 Bayard St., Pittsburgh, Pa. 
Young, Dr. G. A., 424 Brandeis Bldg., Omaha, Neb. 


February 1, 1922. Business meeting to discuss points relating 
to the preparations for the forthcoming Congress. 

February 7, 1922. Dr. F. Alexander: The castration complex 
and character-formation. 

February 14, ip22. Short communications relating to cases seen 
at the Poliklinik. 

a. Dr. Simmel: General remarks on the dreams of an epileptic 
female patient. 

b. Frau Klein: A ' Sunday '-neurosis in a child. 

c. Dr. Alexander: Supplementary remarks on the neurotic 

d. Dr. Harnik: Remarks on the analysis of an obsessional 
neurosis in a homosexual. 

e. Dr. Eitingon: Some peculiarities of the material met with at 
the Poliklinik. 

February 21, 1922. Discussion on Dr. Alexander's review of 
February 7; further remarks by Frau Klein: On latent anxiety. 

March 7, 1922. Frau Dr. Hubermann : On the concept of disease 
among primitive peoples. 

March 14, 1922. Short Communications. 

March 21, 1922. Lowenstein: The Black Mass. 

Dr. Abraham: Faulty performance of actions with a com- 
pensatory tendency. 

April 4, 1922. Dr. H. Sachs: Remarks on the analysis of a case 
of obsessional neurosis. 

April 11, 1922. Short Communications. 

a. Dr. C. Miiller: Objects symbolic of the testicles. 

b. Dr. H. Sachs: The symbolism of ball games. 

c. Dr. Harnik: On throwing objects out of the window. 

d. Dr. Abraham: A blunder: mistaking an expression. 

e. Frau Dr. Klein: Analysis of a school composition. 


f- Dr. C. M tiller: A further source of envy of the penis. 

g. Dr. Boehm: Difficulties in the analysis of a case of homo- 

April 25, 1922. Dr. Abraham: A case of Pseudologia phan- 

D R - M. Eitingon 

List of members 
November 1, 1921. 

A. Members 

Dr. med. Karl Abraham (President), Berlin-Grunewald, Bismarck- 

Allee 14. 
Dr. med. Franz Alexander, Berlin W., Dtlsseldorferstrafie 77. 
Dr. med. Felix Boehm, Berlin W. 50, Rankestrafie 20. 
Dr. med. Max Eitingon (Secretary), Berlin W. 10, Rauchstrafie 4. 
Dr. med. Rudolf Foerster, Hamburg, Parkallee 42. 
Dr. med. Gerstein, Hamburg, Kolonnaden 96. 
Dr. med. Georg Groddeck, Baden-Baden, WerderstraCe 14. 
Dr. med. I. Harnik, Berlin W. 35, Potsdamerstrafie 29/IV, Poliklinik. 
Frau Dr. med. Karen Homey, Berlin- Zehlendorf-Mitte, Sophie- 

Charlotte-Strafie 15. 
Dr. med. Heinrich Koerber, Berlin W. 15, Meinekestrafie 7. 
Dr. med. Hans Liebermann, Berlin W., Trautenaustrafie 18. 
Dr. phil. Karl Muller-Braunschweig, Berlin-Schmargendorf, Helgo- 

landstraCe I. , 

Dr. med. M. Nachmannsohn, Koenigsberg, Mozartstrafie 34. 
Dr. jur. Hanns Sachs, Berlin-Charlottenburg, Mommsenstrafie 7/lV. 
Dr. med. Simonson, Berlin-Halensee, Georg Wilhelm-Strafie 2. 
Dr. med. Ernst Simmel, Berlin W. 15, Emserstrafie 21. 
Fraulein Dr. med. Anna Smeliansky, Berlin W. 35, Potsdamer- 

strafie 29/IV, Poliklinik. 
Frau Dr. med. Margarete Stegmann, Dresden A, Sidoniestrafie 18. 
Dr. med. Vollrath, Teupitz, Kreis Teltow J, Landesirrenanstalt. 
Dr. med. Wanke, Friedrichroda i. Thtir., Gartenstrafie 14. 
Dr. med. Wittenberg, Miinchen, Elisabethstrafie 17. 
Frau Dr. med. Happel, Frankfurt a. M., Leerbachstrafie 39. 
Frau Dr. med. I. Mtiller, Berlin-Schmargendorf, Helgoland- 

strafie I. 



B. Associate Members 

Frau Melanie Klein, Berlin-Schmargendorf, Cunostrafie 46. 
Frau Dr. phil. Helene Stoecker, Berlin -Wannsee, Miinchow- 
strafie 1. 

C. Honorary Member 
Dr. med. Alexander Ferenczi, Budapest 


There have been six meetings of the Society since the last 

The Meeting held on January 4, 1922 was devoted to a general dis- 
cussion on various points brought forward by members. 

At the Meeting on January 18, Mr. Duggan (a visitor) read a 
paper on 'Psycho -Analytical Principles in Education'. 

Abstract: In recent years the aims and methods of education 
have been considerably changed. Psycho-analysis is of value in 
helping us to attain our aims. It affects the educator in two ways, 
by revealing his own complexes and by giving insight into the 
child's mind. At present we need chiefly to avoid the mistakes of 
the old educators in the problems which faced them. These are 
often connected with the sexual life, notably masturbation and 
homosexuality. Whatever may be the best solution the old methods 
are to be deprecated. Experiments in new methods appear to be 

A discussion took place on the various points raised in the 

At the Meeting on February 1, Miss May Smith (a visitor) read 
a paper on 'Repression in Industry'. 

Abstract: The conditions of modern factory life involve a very 
considerable repression on the part of individuals, for against a 
background of compulsion and monotony the self-assertive instinct 
in particular has little chance for expression. To some in whom 
this instinct is weak the situation is not difficult, but to others the 
difficulty of adjustment is great, and the resultant differences in 
conduct are great. Several types seem to stand out clearly: 
"1. The truculent type who is always up against authority. 



2. The type that is outwardly submissive, but compensates in 
phantasy life. 

3. The type that reacts in exaggerated form outside the 
works, etc. 

4. The type that reconciles anxiously the two instincts. 
Various points arising out of the paper were then discussed. 
At the Meeting on February 16, Rev. P. Youlden Johnson (a visitor) 

read a paper entitled 'Technical Terms for the Various Dynamic 
States of the Mind 1 . 

Abstract: The chaotic state of psychological terminology and 
consequent confusion. The danger of static rather than dynamic 
interpretation of present terms. The failure of the conscious to find 
original terms. The marks of the Freudian teaching, i. e. work of 
the unconscious traced, even in this failure. The task then given 
as an experiment to the unfettered unconscious and the result 
analysed by the Freudian method. The terms found fulfilled all 
four previously determined conditions, confirmed Freud's teaching 
regarding infantile and childhood's impressions and choice of 
material, and were therefore Freudian in nature and typically 
Freudian in respect to the dynamic states of the mind as classified 
by Ernest Jones. A discussion followed. 

At the Meeting on March 1, Dr. W. Inman (a visitor) read a 
paper on 'Some Psychical Symptoms in Ophthalmic Practice'. 

Abstract: The paper dealt with the generally accepted opinion 
amongst the public and the medical profession that the most common 
cause of headache was eye-strain, and the view was expressed that 
whilst frontal aching, due to over-action of the frontalis and corru- 
gator supercilii muscles, was frequently associated with an appreciable 
error of refraction, there was grave reason for doubting if pain 
elsewhere was ever caused by eyestrain. It had been found that 
many other neurotic symptoms were present in these cases, and that 
when one was removed the patients usually took refuge in 

In accordance with the view that the eye had a phallic significance 
several symptoms associated with the appendages of the eyes were 
brought forward, including fibrillary twitching of the orbicularis 
muscle ('live blood'), watering of the eyes without obvious obstruction 
of the tear passage or reflex irritation, inflammation of the conjunctiva 
at times of emotional stress (comparable with the conjunctivitis 
neurotica described by Abraham), atropine irritation of the lids, 



and denudation of the brows and eyelashes. Cases illustrating these 
conditions were described. 

Inequality of the pupils and partial ptosis following psychical 
disturbance were referred to. 

A relation between concomitant squint or heterophoria, left- 
handedness and stammering had been found in a series of over 
five hundred cases, and the opinion was expressed that whereas 
the left-handers almost invariably proved to be rebels against 
parental authority, the squinting and stammering were indications 
that an element of fear was present in the attitude of the children 
towards one or both parents. 

A discussion followed. 

At the Meeting on March 1 5, the Interim Report of the Propaganda 

Sub-committee was discussed. The points brought forward specially 

concerned methods for increasing the circulation of the International 

Journal of Psycho- Analysis, and getting the status and activities of 

the Society more widely recognised. The question of the organisation 

of a course of lectures was considered and the sub-committee was 

asked to make a further report with respect to details, such as 

lecturers, syllabus of lectures, etc. 

Douglas Bryan 
Hon. Sec. 

List of Members 
October 13, 1921. 

Major Owen Berkeley-Hill, I.M.S., European Hospital, Ranchi, India. 
Dr. Douglas Bryan, (Hon. Secretary), 72 Wimpole Street, London, 

W. I. 
Mr. Cyril Burt, 30 Princess Road, Regent's Park, N.W. 1. 
Dr. Estelle Maude Cole, 12 Weymouth Court, Weymouth Street, 

London, W. 1. 
Mr. J. C. Flfigel (Member of the Council), 1 1 Albert Road, Regent's 

Park, London, N.W. 1. 
Dr. D. Forsyth, 74 Wimpole Street, London, W. 1. 
Dr. Ernest Jones (President), 111 Harley Street, London, W. 1. 
Miss Barbara Low, 13 Guilford Street, Russell Square, London. 

W. C. 1. 
Dr. Stanford Read, 31 Wimpole Street, London, W. 1. 
Dr. R. M. Riggall, 31 Wimpole Street, London, W. 1. 
Mrs. Riviere, 10 Nottingham Terrace, London, N.W. I. 
Dr. Vaughan-Sawyer, 131 Harley Street, London, W. 1. 



Dr.W.H. B. Stoddart (Hon. Treasurer), Harcourt House, Cavendish 
Square, London, W. i. 

Associate Members 

Dr. C. Bose, 14 Parsi Bagan, Calcutta, India. 

Dr. 0. H. Bowen, Gwynant, Peak's Hill, Purley. 

Dr. W. H. Brend, 14 Bolingbroke Grove, Wandsworth Common, 

London, S. W. 
Mrs. Brierley, 53 Hunter Street, London, W. C. I. 
Dr. Chuckerbutty, c/o Grindley's, Calcutta, India. 
Dr. M. Culpin, Meads, Loughton, Essex. 
Dr. H. E. Davison, 34 Russell Gardens, Golders Green, London, 

N. W. 1 1. 
Dr. J. Glover, 26 Mecklenburg Square, Russell Square, London, 

W. C. 1. 

Rev. P. Gough, S. Thomas' Vicarage, Halifax. 

Dr. Bernard Hart, 8 1 Wimpole Street, London, W. 1 . 

Dr. Herbert, 2 St. Peters Square, Manchester. 

Dr. M. B. Herford, 19 Redlands Road, Reading. 

Dr. W. J. Jago, 50 Leyland Road, Lee, London, S. E. 12. 

Major C. McWatters, c/o Grindley's, Bombay, India. 

Dr. T. W. Mitchell, Hadlow, near Tonbridge, Kent. 

Prof. Percy Nunn, London Day Training College, Southampton 

Row, London. 
Mrs. Porter, 34 De Vere Gardens, London, W. 8. 
Dr. J. Rickman, London. 

Dr. W. H. R. Rivers, St. Johns College, Cambridge. 
Major R. B. Ryan, 4 Milverton Street, Moonee Ponds, Melbourne, 

Miss Ella Sharpe, 2 Mecklenburg Street, London, W. C. 1. 
Dr. T. Waddelow Smith, City Asylum, Nottingham. 
Dr. C. R. A. Thacker, Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge. 
Dr. Rees Thomas, Greyridges, Retford, Notts. 
Mrs. Walker, 1 1 St. Georges Road, London, S. W. 1 . 
Dr. Monier Williams, 48 Onslow Gardens, S. W. 7. 
Dr. Maurice Wright, 4 Devonshire Place, London, W. 1. 

Honorary Members 

Dr. S. Ferenczi, Budapest. 
Dr. Otto Rank, Vienna. 



January 14, 1922, at tlie Hague: Dr. J. Knappert described the 
work of a painter whom he had had under observation for some 
time. The paintings and drawings impressed him from the first as 
plastically-reproduced dreams. The analysis confirmed this ; the 
productions proved to be actually disguised expressions of the 
painter's thoughts. 

February 18, 1922, at Amsterdam; Dr. A. van der Chijs described 
the work of another painter whom he had treated for a considerable 
time. In this case also the drawings and paintings expressed very 
clearly the artist's conflicts. In drawing them he had usually no 
notion of their meaning, which only became clear to him after 

Dr. van Ophuijsen communicated an analysis of an ' unintelligible ' 
song which had been sent to him by a literary man. This song 
belonged to a collection kept by a society of total abstainers ; it 
described the sexual act in symbolic terms of a nautical character. 

Dr. J. Varendonck then gave an account of what he has called 
'duplicative memory'. As a first example he mentioned Anna O., 
Breuer's well-known patient, who for a long period lived in the 
reminiscences of the preceding year. But in normal persons also 
this kind of repetition plays an important part ; he himself often 
re-lived in thought experiences which he had gone through earlier 
in a similar situation — several examples of this were given. 

March 25, 1922, at the Hague: The President called attention 
to the fact that five years had passed since the Society was 
founded ; he then passed in review the events of this first lustrum 
and mentioned the earlier history of the movement and the fact 
that as long ago as August 191 3 the founders of the Society had 
been in the habit of meeting for discussion at irregular intervals. 

Dr. F. P. Muller gave a review of Freud's 'Jeaseits des Lust- 
prinzips', which was followed by a lively discussion in which all 
the members present took part 

Dr. Adolph F. Meijer 

List of Members 

Professor Dr. K. H. Bouman (Librarian), Jan Luijkenstraat 24, 


Dr. A. van der Chijs, van Breestraat 117, Amsterdam. 

Dr. W. H. Cox, Asylum 'Willem Arntsz Hocve', Den Dolder. 

Dr. J. E. G. van Emden (President), Jan van Nassaustraat 84, The 

Dr. A. Endtz, Asylum 'Endegeest', Oegstgeest (near Leiden). 
Dr. J. H. van der Hoop, P. C, Hooftstraat 5, Amsterdam. 
Professor Dr. G. Jelgersma, Terweepark 2, Leiden. 
Dr. J. Knappert, Middelburg. 

Dr. B. D. J. van de Linde, Boomberglaan 4, Hilversum. 
Dr. Adolph F. Meijer (Secretary), Koninginneweg 77, Haarlem. 
Dr. S. J. R. de Monchy, Schiedamsche singel 112, Rotterdam. 
Dr. Fred Muller, Julianastraat 8, Haarlem. 

Dr. F. P. Muller, Leidsche straatweg 2, Oegstgeest (near Leiden). 
Dr. J. H. W. van Ophuijsen (Treasurer), Prinsevinkenpark 5, The 

Dr. A. W. van Renterghem, Bronckhorststraat 18, Amsterdam. 
Dr. J. M. Rombouts, Oegstgeesterlaan 31, Leiden. 
Dr. W. U. Schuurman, Wilhelmina-Gasthuis, Amsterdam. 
Dr. Aug. Starcke, Den Dolder (near Utrecht). 
Dr. A. J. Westerman Holstijn, van Breestraat I, Amsterdam. 

Foreign Member: Dr. J. Varendonck, 42 Rue de la Pacification, 
Ledeberg-Gand (Belgium). 



November 5, 1921. Dr. S. Feldmann : Remarks on the Analysis 
of a Pregnancy-Neurosis. 

The case described was that of a female patient in whom the 
outbreak of neurosis coincided in point of time with her pregnancies 
and was also connected in content with them. She was overtaken 
by depression after the birth of both her first two children ; she 
suffered from a peculiar sense of loss, cared nothing for the 
children and so on. After she had procured the abortion of a third 
pregnancy, her condition became worse. She was aware of violent 
feelings of revenge directed against her children, her husband, and 

• The reports are made up from the notes of the various speakers. 



her father whom she had been passionately fond of, and was 
tormented by an impulse to murder her children. 

Analysis revealed that the central point of the neurosis lay in 
the castration complex. To the patient her child was her penis ' 
the confinement was a repetition of the castration. Her aim was to 
retain her children within her body and her confinements had 
consequently been lengthy and difficult. On the other hand, her 
narcissism was affected by pregnancy; the children were 'destroy- 
ing' her body. Stereotyped dreams were concerned with damage 
to her room and her furniture. Her impulses to murder the children 
proved to be reactions to this feeling of injury. 

The developments undergone by the sadistic-masochistic pair 
of impulses played the principal part in the neurosis ; but these 
remarks cannot very well be condensed. The speaker took the 
view that a pregnancy-neurosis belongs to the group of patho- 
neuroses (Ferenczi). 

In the course of his remarks the speaker referred to the 
injurious consequences of artificial abortion, and also invited 
discussion on three other cases observed by him, in which an un- 
conscious (hysterical) pregnancy had hindered the development of 
a real pregnancy ; after the elucidation of the hysterical symptom 
the long-desired conception took place. 

The following took part in the discussion : Holl6s, R6heim, 
Eisler, Rad6, Ferenczi. 

November 26, ip2i. Dr. Imre Hermann : Contribution to the 
Psychology of Expressional Movements. 

The fundamental principle of psycho-analysis in the scientific 
investigation of expressional movements is as follows: the affects 
are conditioned by a latent primary preconscious process, and by 
two secondary processes, namely, a subjective conscious one and 
an objective motor one. (Criticism of the Lange theory). The 
guiding principle of the primary process, according to Freud, is 
reminiscence, which also to some extent explains the problem of 
the secondary process. The latter motor process is the main, subject 
of this paper. 

A general review of the older theories concerning expressional 
movements shows that the idea of reminiscence is not entirely 
absent from them, although not clearly expressed (Darwin, Lehmann). 
Many of the theories lay a marked emphasis on the latent psychic 
content (J.J. Engel— -1785, Piderit, Ribot). The dominating ideas 


of these theories are contained in the conception of 'analogy' 
(Engel) and of 'imaginary excitation' (Piderit); the material is 
grouped according to them. Ferenczi's 'materialization-phenomenon' 
may be regarded as a combination of the two. Besides his 
theory concerned with the idea of reminiscence, Darwin gives 
other examples of psychic mechanisms activated in expressional 
movements; these the speaker recognizes as primitive mechanisms 
employed in dream-work (representation by an opposite, appearance 
of a repressing instead of a repressed idea). Many authors regard the 
expressional movements as symbolic, but all the older theories 
prove unsatisfactory in cases where the libido is concerned (With 
regard to anal-erotic components, see Preier : ' Die Erklarung des 
Weinens'). 1 

The speaker's conclusion is that all expressional movements 
are conditioned by a topographical regression to a particular system, 
the ego-body-system. (The bodily organs are doubled in the mental 
apparatus; they belong to the ego, and also to the system for 
concrete ideas (Sacksystem), according to a conclusion of 
Ferenczi's). This assumption opens new paths to a conception of 
artistic activities. The speaker here took occasion to refute an old 
* and wide-spread fallacy, namely, that affects are impelled towards 

motor discharge from energic causes; the source of energy for 
motor activity is provided locally and does not lie in the mental 

In contrast to Ferenczi ('Hysterie und Pathoneurosen ') the 
speaker takes the view that thought-processes are carried on in 
the ego-body-system and that regression does not merely occasion 
simple reflexes. The standpoint thus arrived at inductively can 
also be traced out deductively, on the one hand from the conception 
of thought itself, on the other by reference to a primitive 
process of abstraction (Rand-Hervorltebung). This is linked up with 
the explanation of laughter which is supported by the conception 
of a primitive marginal abstraction {Rand-Abstraktion) and by the 
assumption of a 'fore-pleasure repository' (cheek, larnyx, mouth- 
zone, etc). 

An attempt is then made to apply Wundt's three dimensions 
of feeling to three different kinds of processes : excitation and 
inhibition would follow upon changes in sexual chemistry, tension 
and release upon the metapsycholog ical process of cleavage (or 

1 [The Explanation of Weeping. Tr.] 



mingling) in the system. Sexual-chemical processes would thus 
bring the actual neuroses very near to expressional movements 
as Freud maintains of the symptom in the psycho-neuroses. 
In conclusion, the speaker controverts the view that the act of 
thinking can arise in motor activity: action can only be ranged 
alongside of thinking. Both of them however are purposive per- 
formances, which cannot be said of every motor activity. Action 
is a more primitive form of thought-expression than so-called 
'preconscious thinking'. If thinking is accompanied by motor dis- 
charge as well as by affects, it merely confirms the rule that 
every mental process pursues the course of the phylo- and onto- 
genetic path of development characteristic of it. 

Discussion; Dr. S. Rad6's opinion was that although the speaker 
had expressly accepted Freud's reminiscence theory of affects, he had 
tacitly abandoned it again in attempting an explanation of expressional 
movements from the isolated investigation of motor phenomena. 
That is exactly the line taken by the James-Lange theory, which 
the speaker explicitly rejects! The speaker has given a very 
valuable review of the past literature on the subject: Rad6 wished 
particularly to draw attention to Darwin's invaluable achievement 
in first propounding the phylogenetic origin of affects. Darwin's 
formula— expressional movements] are archaic functions of utility, 
which have been retained in the course of the evolution of the 
species after their original purpose had ceased to exist — may be 
modified by Freud's view that archaic processes of libido-develop- 
ment determine the formation of affects (as in the hysterical attack). 
Much that the speaker said was unfortunately not entirely com- 
prehensible to Rad6. Psycho-Analysis must hold fast to the 
conception of 'motor discharge', heuristically so important, in 
spite of Berger's experiments in temperature-measurement, which 
incidentally do not in any way controvert this conception. 

Dr. S. Ferenczi said that by the assumption of special ego- 
memory-systems in the mind, which register subjective experiences 
apart from objective ones, he did not in the least exclude the 
possibility, as the speaker had erroneously supposed, that more 
complicated processes of thinking could exist in this system. However 
this may be, the first task of the psycho-analyst in regard to 
affects must be to discover the genetic (historical) causes of 
expressional movements. The psycho-physiological paths by which 
reminiscences find expression can then in their turn be investigated; 


this will be in part a matter for physiology and not for psychology. 
The attempt to explain laughter and weeping fell short by a 
failure to assess the importance of the part played by respiration. 
The respiratory tract is actively engaged where affects are concerned; 
on the one hand in its capacity as an erotogenic zone (Forsyth), 
on the other hand because shortness of breath (or apnoea) can 
take part in the whole gamut of pleasure-pain feelings and is 
thus specially adapted to reflect emotions of every kind. A 
similar r6le belongs to the heart. The pleasurable and painful 
capacities of the respiratory and the circulatory systems may be 
ultimately traced back to the alterations in circulation at birth, 
phylogenetically to the process of adaptation by which water- 
animals became land-animals, or to the reminiscence of these traumata, 
which have not yet been fully abreacted and which seize upon 
every available opportunity for the purpose of achieving motor 

December w, ip2i. Dr. Sigmund Pfeifer : Problems of the 
Psychology of Music in the Light of Psycho-Analysis. Part 2. 
On Rhythm. 

Like sound, rhythm is an elementary phenomenon of music ; 
the intoxicating effect of it and the feeling of leaving the world 
behind are due first and foremost to rhythm. Its similarity to 
suggestion in this respect and its power to induce dreams and 
phantasies are emphasized by Souriau and Groos, analytically by 
F. Teller and E. Bardas, and its compulsion by Nietzsche. The 
compulsive repetition in it draws to itself (and so 'binds') conscious 
attention, so that the cathexis is withdrawn from the repressing 
censorship and the way opened to wish-fulfilling, pleasure-producing 
tendencies, all of which is evinced in a general feeling of pleasure, of 
intoxication. A similar though more extreme process may be 
observed in the traumatic neurosis, where loss of consciousness 
(withdrawal of cathexis from consciousness) ensues "upon a single 
stimulus which mostly takes the form of a sound resolving itself into 
rhythmical reverberations. The rhythm enables this painful effect 
(which represents the hostile outer world) to be mastered by means 
of a series-formation on the principle of compulsive repetitions 
and to be converted into pleasure by a regression to unconscious 

The other source of pleasure in rhythm is the economy of 
expenditure in ideas and perception possible with the repetition 


oi a single stimulus (cp. Freud's preliminary pleasure mechanism 
in 'Wit and its Relation to Everyday Life'). This economy also 
brings about a diminution of the perceptive and of the censoring 
tension, and a regression to autonomic, narcissistic mental states. 
The prototype of this condition is sleep, in which periodic, 
autonomic processes are uppermost. 

The deeper unconscious levels of the mind may also exert 
an attraction upon the aperiodic higher activities, which then arrange 
these into a rhythm (e. g. the pseudo-rhythmical noise of a railway 
train). This extreme case is seen in certain hysterical and catatonic 

According to this, rhythm would have arisen as a ' complemental 
series' from the co-operation of the following three factors: 
compulsive repetition, pleasure in economy, force of attraction 
exerted by the unconscious. All three lead away from consciousness, 
away from adaptation to reality, to the unconscious, to narcissism 

Prototypes of rhythm are to be found in intra-uterine life and 
in the infantile activity of erotogenetic zones (Ferenczi, K. Weiss). 
Autonomic processes, the bodily prototypes of rhythm, are of 
course always periodic but not always rhythmic. Rhythm originates 
when an ictus exists, that is, when an activity adapted to reality 
lapses into regression to an autonomic activity. This accounts for 
the high degree -of development of rhythm in humanity ; the heart- 
beats of the embryo' itself are not rhythmic until after birth. 

Discussion : Dr. B. v. Felszeghy attempted to explain the 
suggestive effect of music by reference to the two types of father- 
and mother-hypnosis so ingeniously formulated by Ferenczi. He 
surmised that arhythmic music activates phantasies which are 
connected with the father-Mwogw while those of rhythmical music 
would stand for the mother. Of these two forms the older historically 
would in his opinion be the arhythmic, produced after the murder 
of the father to propitiate his ghost. 

Hermann, R6heim, and Ferenczi also took part in the dis- 


January 15, ip22. By request of the members Dr. S. Ferenczi 
repeated the lecture which he delivered in Vienna to English and 
American physicians on 'Metapsychology'. 


The following members took part in the discussion: Pfeifer, 
Hermann, Rad6. 

January sp, 1922. Dr. Josef Michael Eisler: Review of Kurt 
Martens' 'Unsparing Record of my Life.' (This review appears in 
the current number of the Zeitsckrift^) 

The following members took part in the discussion: Pfeifer. 
Hermann, Rad6, Ferenczi. 

February 12, 1922. Dr. S. Feldmann: A castration-dream. 

Frau Dr. Elisabeth Rad6-Re>6sz: (a) On the phylogenesis of 
globus hystericus', (b) A case of menstrual depression. 

Dr. Sandor Rad6: (a) Illustrations to the text of dreams; 
(b) An hysteric who cured herself. 

The following members took part in the discussion: Hermann, 
R6heim, L6vy, v. Felszeghy, Pfeifer, Ferenczi. 

(These contributions appear in the current number of the 

February 26, 1922. Dr. S. Ferenczi: Theoretical contribution to 
the psycho-analysis of paralysis of the insane. (Published as 
Beiheft Nr. 5 of the Internationale Zeitsckrift fur Psychoanalyse.) 

Discussion: Dr. S. Rad6 said that the lecturer had achieved a 
conspicuous success in removing the taboo imposed by psycho- 
logical research upon organic phenomena. He contributed some 
further observations on the peculiar inventive mania of paralytics, 
which has even been known at times to produce real results 
(examples quoted from Bleuler) and which probably corresponds 
to an attempt at a cure in accordance with the libido-theory. The 
lecturer had presented a complete psycho-analytic theory of paralysis, 
embracing details of great heuristic importance, but for the time 
being Dr. Rad6 inclined to suspend his judgement in the matter. 
The conception of paralysis at the present day was primarily de- 
termined by considerations of aetiology and histology, while the 
somatic symptoms were decisive in diagnosis; before the disease 
could be satisfactorily defined on a purely psychological basis analytic 
endeavours would need sure clinical foundation. On the other hand, 
a patho-neurotic theory of paralysis would have to define its position 
in relation to those psychotic conditions which arose after other 
(anatomical, toxic etc.) injuries to the brain. 

In connection with the lecturer's statement that psycho-analysis 
itself must assume the existence of a disposition to paralytic insanity, 
Dr. Rad6 then tried to enter more fully into the problem of this 



disposition. As was demonstrated by the biology of immunity, syphilitic 
symptoms are properly protective reactions of the infected organism. 
They consist of lymphocyte infiltrations, the decomposition of which 
releases lipase, a ferment which breaks down the cell-lipoids of 
the spirochaeti and so destroys the morbific agent (cf. Bergel, 
Klin. Wockenschrift, 1922, p. 204). In the struggle of the organism 
to defend itself the skin plays one of the principal parts; together 
with the lymphatic glands, it displays the primary and secondary 
symptoms of the disease (i. e. protective reactions). In syphilis when 
violent^ cutaneous symptoms have broken out and subsided, long- 
established clinical experience shows that subsequent syphilitic illness 
is much less to be feared than in cases where the initial symptoms 
are trifling. If, with Freud, we endeavour to extend the conception 
of the libido on to the cells, and hence to the interrelation of the 
organs, then these biological facts may readily be translated into 
psychological theory. The skin is obviously able to put up a fight 
against the spirochaeti without any profound disturbance of its 
physiological function. Nevertheless, if it does not fulfil this task, 
to which it is necessary that it should constantly devote itself, or 
fulfils it imperfectly— if its behaviour towards the organism as a 
whole is narcissistic, or, so to speak, 'unpatriotic'— then the latter 
will be forced to press into its service for defence other organs, 
which are perhaps of more importance for life. In this way the 
internal forms of syphilitic disease would arise and, owing to a 
series of further considerations, it might happen that at times the 
organism had to sacrifice its most precious component parts, namely, 
the ganglion-cells. Here it would be necessary for us to guard against 
jumping to the conclusion that the atrophy of the brain-elements 
was nothing more than a passive result of the injury sustained. 
The narcissistic behaviour of the other organs in the struggle of 
the organism to protect itself against the morbific cause would 
accordingly be one of the factors contributing to the disposition 
to paralysis. If this conception proved workable, it might properly 
be applied also to the psychological consideration of other infectious 
diseases, especially those which selected particular systems of organs 
for attack (tuberculosis, etc.). . 

Dr. I. Hermann recalled a fact of pathology and physiology. 
It was pointed out by K. Schaffer that in tabes dorsalis the patho- 
histological process follows the same course as the ontogenetic 
development; further Mosso proved experimentally that the 



temperature of the brain of a dog rises higher when its name is 
called than in response to other acoustic stimuli— a fact which 
might confirm the supposed connection between narcissism and 

the brain. 

Dr. B. v. Felszeghy paid a tribute to the value of the insight 
gained from the lecturer's exposition and raised the question 
whether this knowledge could ever be converted into therapeutic 


Dr. S. Feldmann said that psychic traumata could, in syphilitic 
subjects otherwise apparently healthy, induce the onset of para- 
lysis. He instanced the case of an artist who became infected 
with syphilis, but otherwise showed no organic disturbance. Fifteen 
years later, following on a serious blow to his professional vanity, 
paralysis suddenly supervened— the somatic symptoms (fixity of 
the pupils, dysarthria, etc.) developing within two days. From this 
it might be inferred that continued mental stability can stave off 
paralysis, at least temporarily, and it was quite within the bounds 
of possibility— and this was the answer to von Felszeghy's question 
—that in the case of nervous syphilitics analytic treatment might 
intervene to prevent the onset of paralysis. 

Dr. S. Ferenczi replied briefly to the above observations. 

March 11, 1922. Dr. Bela v. Felszeghy: Review of Freud's 'Group 
Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego.' 

The following members took part in the discussion: Pfeifer, 
Roheim, Ferenczi. 

January 15, 1922. Business meeting: The Annual Report was 
adopted and the balance-sheet approved. All the officials were re- 
elected and the subscription for membership was raised to K 800. 

Dr. Rado 

List of Members 
January 1, 1922. 

Man6 Dick, Budapest, VII. Erzsebet kflrut 14. 

Dr. Michael Josef Eisler, Budapest, V. Nador utca 5. 

Dr. Man6 Eisner, Szeged, Dugonich-ter 11. 

Dr. Sandor Feldman, Budapest, VIII. Baross-utca 59. 

Dr. Bela v. Felszeghy, Budapest, IV. Veres Palne-utca 4. 

Dr. Sandor Ferenczi (President), Budapest, VII. Nagydi6fa-utca 3. 


Dr. Imre Hermann, Budapest, VI. Teleki ter 6. 

Dr. Istvan Hollos, Budapest-Lip6tmezo. 

Hugo Ignotus-Veigelsberg, Budapest, II. Margit ktfrut 64a. 

Aur61 Kolnai, Vienna, VI. Webgasse II. 

Dr. Lajos Le"vy, Budapest, V. Szalay-utca 3. 

Dr. Zsigmond Pfeifer, Budapest, VII. Rakoczi-ut 1 8. 

Dr. Sandor Rado (Secretary), Budapest, IX. Ferencz-korut 14. 

Frau Dr. Erzsebet Rado-Rev£sz, Budapest, IX. Ferencz-korut 14. 

Dr. Geza R6heim, Budapest, II. Nyul-utca 1 3 a. 

Dr. Sandor Szab6, at present Zurich, Voltastrasse 24 

Dr. G6za Szilagyi, Budapest, VII. Damjanich-utca 28 a. 

Honorary Member 

Dr. Ernest Jones, London. 

Dr. Rado Sandor 


Decetnber 16, ipai. Present: Brun, Blum, Furrer, Fiirst, Grii- 
ninger, Kielholz, Meier-Miiller, Minkowski, E. Oberholzer, M. Ober- 
holzer, Peter, Pfister, Wehrli. 

Dr. O. Pfister: Small Contributions to Freud's Theory of 


January 21, 1922. Present: Blum, Brun, Furrer, Fiirst, Hofman, 
Kielholz, Meier-Miiller, Minkowski, E. Oberholzer, M. Oberholzer, 
Peter, Pfister, Wehrli. 

The following were elected as members of the Society: 

Allende Fernando, Dr. med., Assistant Physician to the Cantonal 
Asylum, Herisau. 

Blum Ernst, Dr. med., Assistant Physician to the Neurological 
Polyclinic, Zurich. 

Brun Rudolf, Priv. Doz., Dr. med., Assistant Physician to the 
Neurological Polyclinic, Zurich. 

Klinke Willibald, Priv. Doz., Dr. phil., Professor of Pedagogy 
at the Training College for Teachers, Zurich. 


Meier-MUller Hans, Dr. med., Assistant Physician to the Neur- 
ological Polyclinic, Zurich. 

Minkowski Mieczyslaw, Priv. Doz., Dr. med., Head Assistant at 
the Institute for Cerebral Anatomy, Zurich. 

Discussion on Pregenital Sexuality: 

A. Furrer: Observations on Children. 

E. Oberholzer: Pregenital Sexuality and Neurosis. Excerpts 
from analyses were brought forward with a view to demonstrating 
the transformation of instincts in the obsessional neurosis, with 
especial reference to the r61e of pregenital sexuality. 

February 18, 1922. Dr. H. Rorschach : The Use of Experiments 
in the Interpretation of Ink-blots for Psycho-Analytic Purposes 
(to be published). 

List of Members 

Fernando Allende, Dr. med., Kant. Irrenanstalt Herisau. 

Hans Behn-Eschenburg, Dr. med., Kantonsspital Herisau. 

Ludwig Binswanger, Dr. med., Sanatorium Belle-Vue, Kreuzlingen 

Ernst Blum, Dr., Nervenarzt, Hauserstrafle 4, Zflrich. 
Pierre Bovet, Prof. Dr. phil., Institut J. J. Rousseau, Taconnerie 5, 

Rudolf Brun, Priv.-Doz. Dr., Nervenarzt, Theaterstrafie 14, Zurich. 
Hans ChristofTel, Dr., Nervenarzt, Albanvorstadt 42, Basel. 
Paul Dubi, Mittlere Strafie 127, Basel. 
Hedwig Etter, Frl., med. pract. temporarily in Vienna. 
Dorian Feigenbaum, Dr. med., Dir., Lunatic Asylum 'Esrath 

Nashim', Jerusalem. 
Albert Furrer, Padagogischer Leiter der Kinderbeobachtungsstation 

Stephansburg-Burgholzli, SUdstrafie 78, Zurich. 
Emma Ftirst, Frl. Dr., Nervenarzt, Apollostrafie 21, Ziirich. 
Max Geiser, Dr. med., Dufourstrafie 39, Basel. 
Guillaume Gontaut-Biron, 19 Aleja Ujasdowska, Varsovie. 
Ulrich Grttninger, Dr. phil., Stadt. Knabenheim, Selnaustrafie 9, 

Walter Hofmann, Lehrer, Russenweg 9, Zurich. 
Arthur Kielholz, Dr. med., Dir., Kant Irrenanstalt Konigsfelden 

Frank Kornmann, Dr. med., Dir. Arzt, Kurhaus Mont£ Bre, 

Lugano-Castagnol a. 



Emil Luethy, stud, med., Birsigstrafie 76, Basel. 

Hans Meier-Muller, Dr., Fiiftlistrafie 4, Zurich. 

M. Minkowski, Priv.-Doz., Dr. med., Physikstrafie 6, Zurich. 

Ferdinand Morel, Priv.-Doz. Dr. phil., 8 Rue Beauregard, Geneve. 

Emil Oberholzer, Dr., Nervenarzt, Ramistrafie 39, Zurich. 

Mira Oberholzer, Dr., Nervenarzt, Ramistrafie 39, Zurich. 

Albert Peter, Lehrer, Eidmattstrafie 29, Zurich. 

Oskar Pfister, Pfr. Dr. phil., Schienhutgasse 6, Zurich. 

Jean Piaget, Dr. phil., Poudrieres 21, Neuchatel. 

Hermann Rorschach, Dr. med., Kant. Irrenanstalt Herisau. 

Philipp Sarasin, Dr. med., temporarily in Vienna. 

Raymond Saussure, Dr. med., Asile de Cery, Lausanne. 

Hans Jakob Schmid,- Dr. med., Leysin (Waadt). 

Ernst Schneider, Prof. Dr. phil., Wisby-Prospekt 14, Riga. 

H. Tobler, Dir., Land-Erziehungsheim Hof-Oberkirch, Kaltbrunn 

(St Gallen). 
Gust. Ad. Wehrli, Priv.-Doz. Dr. med., LeonhardstraGe 1, Zurich. 
Hans Zulliger, Lehrer, Ittigen bei Bern. - 


F. Morel. 

E. Oberholzer (President). 

O. Pfister. 

H. Rorschach (Vice-President). 

P. Sarasin. 

Advisory Committee 

R. Brun. 
A. Kielholz. 
E. Oberholzer. 
O. Pfister. 
H. Rorschach. 



List of Members 

Dr. Siegfried Bernfeld, XIII., Suppegasse 10, Vienna. 

Professor Dr. M. Levi-Bianchini, Nocera Inferiore (Salerno). 

Dozent Dr. Felix Deutsch, L, Wollzeile 33. Vienna. 

Dr. Helene Deutsch, I., Wollzeile 33, Vienna. 

Dr. Paul Federn, L, Riemergasse I, Vienna. 

Dr. Otto Fennichel,- V., Margaretenstrafie 25, Vienna. 

Dr. Walter Fokschaner, VI., Kasernengasse 2, Vienna. 

Professor Dr. Sigm. Freud, IX., Berggasse 19, Vienna. 

Dozent Dr. Josef K. Friedjung, I., Ebendorferstrafie 6, Vienna. 

Dr. H. v. Hattingberg, Ainmillerstrafie 62/II, Munich. 

Hugo Heller, I., Bauernmarkt 3, Vienna. 

Eric Hiller, VII., Andreasgasse 3, Vienna. 

Dr. Eduard Hitschmann, IX., Wahringerstrafie 24, Vienna. 

Professor Dr. Guido Holzknecht, I., Liebiggasse 4, Vienna. 

Frau Dr. Hug-Hellmuth, IX., Lustkandlgasse 10, Vienna. 

Dr. Ludwig Jekels, IX., Berggasse 29, Vienna. 

Dr. Robert Jokl, III., Sechskriigelgasse 2, Vienna. 

Dr. Michael Kaplan, XVIII., Cottagegasse 48, Vienna. 

Dr. Karl Landauer, Kettenhofweg 17, Frankfort o. M. 

Dr. J. Marcinowski, Bad Heilbrunn, Isartalbahn, Bayern. 

Dr. Richard Nepallek, VIII., Alserstrafie 41, Vienna. 

Dr. H. Nunberg, VIII, Florianigasse 20, Vienna. 

Professor Dr. Otto Potzl, Psychiatrische Klinik, Prague. 

(Dr. Otto Rank, I., Grtinangergasse 3 — 5, Vienna. 
Dr. Wilhelm Reich, IX., Berggasse 7, Vienna. 
Dr. Theodor Reik, IX., Lackierergasse I a, Vienna. 
Dr. Oskar Rie, III, Estegasse 5, Vienna. 
Dr. J. Sadger, IX, Liechtensteinstrafie 15, Vienna. 
Dozent Dr. Paul Schilder, IX., Lazarettgasse 14 (Klinik Wagner- 

Med. Walter Schmideberg, III., Seidelgasse 36, Vienna. 
Herbert Silberer, I., Annagasse 3 a, Vienna. 
Frau Eugenia Sokolnicka, Rue de l'Abb6 Gregoire 3, Paris VI. 
Frau Dr. S. Spielrein-Scheftel, 2 to rue St. Legere, Geneva. 
Dr. Maxim. Steiner, I., Rotenturmstrafie 19, Vienna. 
A. J. Storfer, IX., Porzellangasse 43, Vienna. 


Frieda Teller, III., Plaska 14, Prague. 

Dr. Karl Weiss, IV., Schwindgasse 12, Vienna. 

Dr. Edoardo Weiss, S. Giovanni inf. Guardiella 691, Trieste. 

Dr. Alfred Winterstein, I., Augustinerstrafie 12, Vienna. 

Volume m, Part 2 
Issued June 1923