Dr. W. Stekel, which appeared in the Berlin _Tageblatt_ of January,
1904, entitled “Unconscious Confessions.”
“An unpleasant trick of my unpleasant thoughts was revealed by the
following example: To begin with, I may state that in my capacity
as a physician I never consider my remuneration, but always keep in
view the patient’s interest only: this goes without saying. I was
visiting a patient who was convalescing from a serious illness. We
had passed through hard days and nights. I was happy to find her
improved, and I portrayed to her the pleasures of a sojourn in Abbazia,
concluding with: ‘If, as I hope, you will _not_ soon leave your bed.’
This obviously came from an unconscious selfish motive, to be able
to continue treating this wealthy patient, a wish which is entirely
foreign to my waking consciousness, and which I would reject with
indignation.”
(_o_) Another example (Dr. W. Stekel): “My wife engaged a French
governess for the afternoons, and later, coming to a satisfactory
agreement, wished to retain her testimonials. The governess begged
to be allowed to keep them, saying, ‘Je cherche encore pour les
_après-midis_--pardons, pour les _avant-midis_.’ She apparently
intended to seek another place which would perhaps offer more
profitable arrangements--an intention which she carried out.”
(_p_) I was to give a lecture to a woman. Her husband, upon whose
request this was done, stood behind the door listening. At the end of
my sermonizing, which had made a visible impression, I said: “Good-bye,
sir!” To the experienced person I thus betrayed the fact that the words
were directed towards the husband; that I had spoken to oblige him.
(_q_) Dr. Stekel reports about himself that he had under treatment
at the same time two patients from Triest, each of whom he always
addressed incorrectly. “Good morning, Mr. Peloni!” he would say to
Askoli, and to Peloni, “Good morning, Mr. Askoli!” He was at first
inclined to attribute no deeper motive to this mistake, but to explain
it through a number of similarities in both persons. However, he easily
convinced himself that here the interchange of names bespoke a sort
of boast--that is, he was acquainting each of his Italian patients
with the fact that neither was the only resident of Triest who came to
Vienna in search of his medical advice.
(_r_) Two women stopped in front of a drug-store, and one said to her
companion, “If you will wait a few _moments_ I’ll soon be back,” but
she said _movements_ instead. She was on her way to buy some castoria
for her child.
(_s_) Mr. L., who is fonder of being called on than of calling, spoke
to me through the telephone from a nearby summer resort. He wanted
to know when I would pay him a visit. I reminded him that it was his
turn to visit me, and called his attention to the fact that, as he was
the happy possessor of an automobile, it would be easier for him to
call on me. (We were at different summer resorts, separated by about
one half-hour’s railway trip.) He gladly promised to call, and asked:
“How about Labour Day (September 1st), will it be convenient for you?”
When I answered affirmatively, he said, “Very well, then, put me down
for _Election_ Day” (November). His mistake was quite plain. He likes
to visit me, but it was inconvenient to travel so far. In November we
would both be in the city. My analysis proved correct.
(_t_) A friend described to me a nervous patient, and wished to know
whether I could benefit him. I remarked: “I believe that in time I can
remove all his symptoms by psychoanalysis, because it is a durable
case,” wishing to say “curable”!
(_u_) I repeatedly addressed my patient as Mrs. Smith, her married
daughter’s name, when her real name is Mrs. James. My attention having
been called to it, I soon discovered that I had another patient of the
same name who refused to pay for the treatment. Mrs. Smith was also my
patient and paid her bills promptly.
(_v_) A _lapsus linguæ_ sometimes stands for a particular
characteristic. A young woman, who is the domineering spirit in her
home, said of her ailing husband that he had consulted the doctor about
a wholesome diet for himself, and then added: “The doctor said that
diet has nothing to do with his ailments, and that he can eat and drink
what _I_ want.”
(_w_) I cannot omit this excellent and instructive example, although,
according to my authority, it is about twenty years old. A lady once
expressed herself in society--the very words show that they were
uttered with fervour and under the pressure of a great many secret
emotions: “Yes, a woman must be pretty if she is to please the men. A
man is much better off. As long as he has _five_ straight limbs, he
needs no more!”
This example affords us a good insight into the intimate mechanisms of
a mistake in speech by means of condensation and contamination (cf.
p. 72). It is quite obvious that we have here a fusion of two similar
modes of expression:--
“As long as he has his four _straight limbs_.”
“As long as he has all his _five senses_.”
Or the term “straight” may be the common element of the two intended
expressions:--
“As long as he has his _straight_ limbs.”
“All five should be _straight_.”
It may also be assumed that both modes of expression--viz., those of
the five senses and those of the straight five--have co-operated to
introduce into the sentence about the straight limbs first a number and
then the mysterious five instead of the simple four. But this fusion
surely would not have succeeded if it had not expressed good sense in
the form resulting from the mistake; if it had not expressed a cynical
truth which, naturally, could not be uttered unconcealed, coming as it
did from a woman.
Finally, we shall not hesitate to call attention to the fact that
the woman’s saying, following its wording, could just as well be
an excellent witticism as a jocose speech-blunder. It is simply a
question whether she uttered these words with conscious or unconscious
intention. The behaviour of the speaker in this case certainly speaks
against the conscious intention, and thus excludes wit.
(_x_) Owing to similarity of material, I add here another case of
speech-blunder, the interpretation of which requires less skill. A
professor of anatomy strove to explain the nostril, which, as is known,
is a very difficult anatomical structure. To his question whether
his audience grasped his ideas he received an affirmative reply. The
professor, known for his self-esteem, thereupon remarked: “I can
hardly believe this, for the number of people who understand the
nostril, even in a city of millions like Vienna, can be counted _on a
finger_--pardon me, I meant to say _on the fingers_ of a hand.”
(_y_) I am indebted to Dr. Alf. Robitsek, of Vienna, for calling my
attention to two speech-blunders from an old French author, which I
shall reproduce in the original.
Brantôme (1527-1614), _Vies des Dames galantes_, Discours second: “Si
ay-je cogneu une très belle et honneste dame de par le monde, qui,
devisant avec un honneste gentilhomme de la cour des affaires de la
guerre durant ces civiles, elle luy dit: ‘J’ay ouy dire que le roy a
faiet rompre tous les c---- de ce pays là.’ Elle vouloit dire le ponts.
Pensez que, venant de coucher d’avec son mary, ou songeant à son amant,
elle avoit encor ce nom frais en la bouche; et le gentilhomme s’en
eschauffer en amours d’elle pour ce mot.
“Une autre dame que j’ai cogneue, entretenant une autre grand dame
plus qu’elle, et luy louant et exaltant ses beautez, elle luy dit
après: ‘Non, madame, ce que je vous en dis, ce n’est point pour vous
_adultérer_’; voulant dire _adulater_, comme elle le rhabilla ainsi:
pensez qu’elle songeoit à adultérer.”
In the psychotherapeutic procedure which I employ in the solution and
removal of neurotic symptoms, I am often confronted with the task
of discovering from the accidental utterances and fancies of the
patient the thought contents, which, though striving for concealment,
nevertheless unintentionally betray themselves. In doing this the
mistakes often perform the most valuable service, as I can show through
most convincing and still most singular examples.
For example, patients speak of an aunt and later, without noting the
mistake, call her “my mother,” or designate a husband as a “brother.”
In this way they attract my attention to the fact that they have
“identified” these persons with each other, that they have placed them
in the same category, which for their emotional life signifies the
recurrence of the same type. Or, a young man of twenty years presents
himself during my office hours with these words: “I am the father of
N. N., whom you have treated--pardon me, I mean the brother; why, he
is four years older than I.” I understand through this mistake that
he wishes to express that, like the brother, he, too, is ill through
the fault of the father; like his brother, he wishes to be cured, but
that the father is the one most in need of treatment. At other times an
unusual arrangement of words, or a forced expression, is sufficient to
disclose in the speech of the patient the participation of a repressed
thought having a different motive.
Hence, in coarse as well as in finer speech disturbances, which may,
nevertheless, be subsumed as “speech-blunders,” I find that it is
not the contact effects of the sound, but the thoughts outside the
intended speech, which determine the origin of the speech-blunder, and
also suffice to explain the newly formed mistakes in speech. I do not
doubt the laws whereby the sounds produce changes upon one another;
but they alone do not appear to me sufficiently forcible to mar the
correct execution of speech. In those cases which I have studied
and investigated more closely they merely represent the preformed
mechanism, which is conveniently utilized by a more remote psychic
motive. The latter does not, however, form a part of the sphere of
influence of these sound relations. _In a large number of substitutions
caused by mistakes in talking there is an entire absence of such
phonetic laws._ In this respect I am in full accord with Wundt, who
likewise assumes that the conditions underlying speech-blunders are
complex and go far beyond the contact effect of the sounds.
If I accept as certain “these more remote psychic influences,”
following Wundt’s expression, there is still nothing to detain me from
conceding also that in accelerated speech, with a certain amount of
diverted attention, the causes of speech-blunder may be easily limited
to the definite law of Meringer and Mayer. However, in a number of
examples gathered by these authors a more complicated solution is
quite apparent.
In some forms of speech-blunders we may assume that the disturbing
factor is the result of striking against obscene words and meanings.
The purposive disfigurement and distortion of words and phrases,
which is so popular with vulgar persons, aims at nothing else but the
employing of a harmless motive as a reminder of the obscene, and this
sport is so frequent that it would not be at all remarkable if it
appeared unintentionally and contrary to the will.
I trust that the readers will not depreciate the value of these
interpretations, for which there is no proof, and of these examples
which I have myself collected and explained by means of analysis. But
if secretly I still cherish the expectation that even the apparently
simple cases of speech-blunder will be traced to a disturbance caused
by a half-repressed idea outside of the intended context, I am tempted
to it by a noteworthy observation of Meringer. This author asserts that
it is remarkable that nobody wishes to admit having made a mistake in
speaking. There are many intelligent and honest people who are offended
if we tell them that they made a mistake in speaking. I would not risk
making this assertion as general as does Meringer, using the term
“nobody.” But the emotional trace which clings to the demonstration
of the mistake, which manifestly belongs to the nature of shame, has
its significance. It may be classed with the anger displayed at the
inability to recall a forgotten name, and with the surprise at the
tenaciousness of an apparently indifferent memory, and it invariably
points to the participation of a motive in the formation of the
disturbance.
The distorting of names amounts to an insult when done intentionally,
and could have the same significance in a whole series of cases
where it appears as unintentional speech-blunders. The person who,
according to Mayer’s report, once said “Freuder” instead of “Freud,”
because shortly before he pronounced the name “Breuer” (p. 38), and
who at another time spoke of the “Freuer-Breudian” method (p. 28), was
certainly not particularly enthusiastic over this method. Later, under
the mistakes in writing, I shall report a case of name disfigurement
which certainly admits of no other explanation.[20]
As a disturbing element in these cases there is an intermingling of a
criticism which must be omitted, because at the time being it does not
correspond to the intention of the speaker.
Or it may be just the reverse; the substituted name, or the adoption
of the strange name, signifies an appreciation of the same. The
identification which is brought about by the mistake is equivalent
to a recognition which for the moment must remain in the background.
An experience of this kind from his schooldays is related by Dr.
Ferenczi:--
“While in my first year at college I was obliged to recite a poem
before the whole class. It was the first experience of the kind in my
life, but I was well prepared. As soon as I began my recitation I was
dismayed at being disturbed by an outburst of laughter. The professor
later explained to me this strange reception. I started by giving the
title ‘From the Distance,’ which was correct, but instead of giving the
name of the real author, I mentioned--my own. The name of the poet is
Alexander Petöfi. The identity of the first name with my own favoured
the interchange of names, but the real reason was surely the fact that
I identified myself at that time with the celebrated poet-hero. Even
consciously I entertained for him a love and respect which verged on
adoration. The whole ambition-complex hides itself under this faulty
action.”
A similar identification was reported to me concerning a young
physician who timidly and reverently introduced himself to the
celebrated Virchow with the following words: “I am Dr. Virchow.”
The surprised professor turned to him and asked, “Is your name also
Virchow?” I do not know how the ambitious young man justified his
speech-blunder, whether he thought of the charming excuse that he
imagined himself so insignificant next to this big man that his own
name slipped from him, or whether he had the courage to admit that he
hoped that he, too, would some day be as great a man as Virchow, and
that the professor should therefore not treat him in too disparaging a
manner. One or both of these thoughts may have put this young man in an
embarrassing position during the introduction.
Owing to very personal motives I must leave it undecided whether a
similar interpretation may also apply in the case to be cited. At the
International Congress in Amsterdam, in 1907, my theories of hysteria
were the subject of a lively discussion. One of my most violent
opponents, in his diatribe against me, repeatedly made mistakes in
speech in such a manner that he put himself in my place and spoke in
my name. He said, for example, “Breuer and I, as is well known, have
demonstrated,” etc., when he wished to say “Breuer and Freud.” The name
of this opponent does not show the slightest sound similarity to my
own. From this example, as well as from other cases of interchanging
names in speech-blunders, we are reminded of the fact that the
speech-blunder can fully forego the facility afforded to it through
similar sounds, and can achieve its purpose if only supported in
content by concealed relations.
In other and more significant cases it is a self-criticism, an
internal contradiction against one’s own utterance, which causes the
speech-blunder, and even forces a contrasting substitution for the one
intended. We then observe with surprise how the wording of an assertion
removes the purpose of the same, and how the error in speech lays bare
the inner dishonesty. Here the _lapsus linguæ_ becomes a mimicking form
of expression, often, indeed, for the expression of what one does not
wish to say. It is thus a means of self-betrayal.
Brill relates: “I had recently been consulted by a woman who showed
many paranoid trends, and as she had no relatives who could co-operate
with me, I urged her to enter a State hospital as a voluntary patient.
She was quite willing to do so, but on the following day she told
me that her friends with whom she leased an apartment objected to
her going to a hospital, as it would interfere with their plans,
and so on. I lost patience and said: ‘There is no use listening to
your friends who know nothing about your mental condition; you are
quite _incompetent_ to take care of your own affairs.’ I meant to say
‘competent.’ Here the _lapsus linguæ_ expressed my true opinion.”
Favoured by chance the speech material often gives origin to examples
of speech-blunders which serve to bring about an overwhelming
revelation or a full comic effect, as shown by the following examples
reported by Brill:--
“A wealthy but not very generous host invited his friends for an
evening dance. Everything went well until about 11.30 p.m., when there
was an intermission, presumably for supper. To the great disappointment
of most of the guests there was no supper; instead, they were regaled
with thin sandwiches and lemonade. As it was close to Election day the
conversation centred on the different candidates; and as the discussion
grew warmer, one of the guests, an ardent admirer of the Progressive
Party candidate, remarked to the host: ‘You may say what you please
about Teddy, but there is one thing--he can always be relied upon;
he always gives you a _square meal_,’ wishing to say _square deal_.
The assembled guests burst into a roar of laughter, to the great
embarrassment of the speaker and the host, who fully understood each
other.”
“While writing a prescription for a woman who was especially weighed
down by the financial burden of the treatment, I was interested to hear
her say suddenly: ‘Please do not give me _big bills_, because I cannot
swallow them.’ Of course she meant to say _pills_.”
The following example illustrates a rather serious case of
self-betrayal through a mistake in talking. Some accessory details
justify full reproduction as first printed by Dr. A. A. Brill.[21]
“While walking one night with Dr. Frink we accidentally met a
colleague, Dr. P., whom I had not seen for years, and of whose private
life I knew nothing. We were naturally very pleased to meet again, and
on my invitation he accompanied us to a café, where we spent about two
hours in pleasant conversation. To my question as to whether he was
married he gave a negative answer, and added, ‘Why should a man like me
marry?’
“On leaving the café, he suddenly turned to me and said: ‘I should
like to know what you would do in a case like this: I know a nurse
who was named as co-respondent in a divorce case. The wife sued the
husband for divorce and named her as co-respondent, and _he_ got the
divorce.’ I interrupted him, saying, ‘You mean _she_ got the divorce.’
He immediately corrected himself, saying, ‘Yes, she got the divorce,’
and continued to tell how the excitement of the trial had affected this
nurse to such an extent that she became nervous and took to drink. He
wanted me to advise him how to treat her.
“As soon as I had corrected his mistake I asked him to explain it, but,
as is usually the case, he was surprised at my question. He wanted
to know whether a person had no right to make mistakes in talking. I
explained to him that there is a reason for every mistake, and that if
he had not told me that he was unmarried, I would say that he was the
hero of the divorce case in question, and that the mistake showed that
he wished he had obtained the divorce instead of his wife, so as not
to be obliged to pay alimony and to be permitted to marry again in New
York State.
“He stoutly denied my interpretation, but his emotional agitation,
followed by loud laughter, only strengthened my suspicions. To my
appeal that he should tell the truth ‘for science’ sake,’ he said,
‘Unless you wish me to lie you must believe that I was never married,
and hence your psychoanalytic interpretation is all wrong.’ He,
however, added that it was dangerous to be with a person who paid
attention to such little things. Then he suddenly remembered that he
had another appointment and left us.
“Both Dr. Frink and I were convinced that my interpretation of his
_lapsus linguæ_ was correct, and I decided to corroborate or disprove
it by further investigation. The next day I found a neighbour and old
friend of Dr. P., who confirmed my interpretation in every particular.
The divorce was granted to Dr. P.’s wife a few weeks before, and a
nurse was named as co-respondent. A few weeks later I met Dr. P., and
he told me that he was thoroughly convinced of the Freudian mechanisms.”
The self-betrayal is just as plain in the following case reported by
Otto Rank:--
A father who was devoid of all patriotic feeling and desirous of
educating his children to be just as free from this superfluous
sentiment, reproached his sons for participating in a patriotic
demonstration, and rejected their reference to a similar behaviour of
their uncle with these words: “You are not obliged to imitate him;
why, he is an _idiot_.” The astonished features of the children at
their father’s unusual tone aroused him to the fact that he had made a
mistake, and he remarked apologetically, “Of course, I wished to say
_patriot_.”
When such a speech-blunder occurs in a serious squabble and reverses
the intended meaning of one of the disputants, at once it puts him at a
disadvantage with his adversary--a disadvantage which the latter seldom
fails to utilize.
This clearly shows that although people are unwilling to accept
the theory of my conception and are not inclined to forego the
convenience that is connected with the tolerance of a faulty action,
they nevertheless interpret speech-blunders and other faulty acts in
a manner similar to the one presented in this book. The merriment and
derision which are sure to be evoked at the decisive moment through
such linguistic mistakes speak conclusively against the generally
accepted convention that such a speech-blunder is a _lapsus linguæ_
and psychologically of no importance. It was no less a man than the
German Chancellor, Prince Bülow, who endeavoured to save the situation
through such a protest when the wording of his defence of his Emperor
(November, 1907) turned into the opposite through a speech-blunder.
“Concerning the present, the new epoch of Emperor Wilhelm II, I can
only repeat what I said a year ago, that _it would be unfair and unjust
to speak of a coterie of responsible advisers around our Emperor_ (loud
calls, ‘Irresponsible!’)--to speak of _irresponsible_ advisers. Pardon
the _lapsus linguæ_” (hilarity).
A nice example of speech-blunder, which aims not so much at the
betrayal of the speaker as at the enlightenment of the listener outside
the scene, is found in Wallenstein (_Piccolomini_, Act I, Scene 5),
and shows us that the poet who here uses this means is well versed in
the mechanism and intent of speech-blunders. In the preceding scene
Max Piccolomini was passionately in favour of the ducal party, and was
enthusiastic over the blessings of the peace which became known to him
in the course of a journey while accompanying Wallenstein’s daughter
to the encampment. He leaves his father and the Court ambassador,
Questenberg, in great consternation. The scene proceeds as follows:--
QUESTENBERG. Woe unto us! Are matters thus? Friend, should we allow
him to go there with this false opinion, and not recall him at once in
order to open his eyes instantly.