said about forgetting and faulty actions, the whole subject is already
known to everybody as something self-evident. It is strange enough that
it is still necessary to push before consciousness such well-known
facts. How often I have heard people remark: “Please do not ask me to
do this, I shall surely forget it.” The coming true of this prophecy
later is surely nothing mysterious in itself. He who speaks thus
perceives the inner resolution not to carry out the request, and only
hesitates to acknowledge it to himself.
Much light is thrown, moreover, on the forgetting of resolutions
through something which could be designated as “forming false
resolutions.” I had once promised a young author to write a review of
his short work, but on account of inner resistances, not unknown to
me, I promised him that it would be done the same evening. I really
had serious intentions of doing so, but I had forgotten that I had
set aside that evening for the preparation of an expert testimony
that could not be deferred. After I thus recognized my resolution as
false, I gave up the struggle against my resistances and refused the
author’s request.
VIII
ERRONEOUSLY CARRIED-OUT ACTIONS
I shall give another passage from the above-mentioned work of Meringer
and Mayer (p. 98):
“Lapses in speech do not stand entirely alone. They resemble the errors
which often occur in our other activities and are quite foolishly
termed ‘forgetfulness.’”
I am therefore in no way the first to presume that there is a sense and
purpose behind the slight functional disturbances of the daily life of
healthy people.[45]
If the lapse in speech, which is without doubt a motor function,
admits of such a conception, it is quite natural to transfer to the
lapses of our other motor functions the same expectation. I have here
formed two groups of cases; all these cases in which the faulty effect
seems to be the essential element--that is, the deviation from the
intention--I denote as erroneously carried-out actions (_Vergreifen_);
the others, in which the entire action appears rather inexpedient,
I call “symptomatic and chance actions.” But no distinct line of
demarcation can be formed; indeed, we are forced to conclude that all
divisions used in this treatise are of only descriptive significance
and contradict the inner unity of the sphere of manifestation.
The psychologic understanding of erroneous actions apparently gains
little in clearness when we place it under the head of “ataxia,” and
especially under “cortical ataxia.” Let us rather try to trace the
individual examples to their proper determinants. To do this I shall
again resort to personal observations, the opportunities for which I
could not very frequently find in myself.
(_a_) In former years, when I made more calls at the homes of patients
than I do at present, it often happened, when I stood before a door
where I should have knocked or rung the bell, that I would pull the
key of my own house from my pocket, only to replace it, quite abashed.
When I investigated in what patients’ homes this occurred, I had to
admit that the faulty action--taking out my key instead of ringing the
bell--signified paying a certain tribute to the house where the error
occurred. It was equivalent to the thought “Here I feel at home,” as
it happened only where I possessed the patient’s regard. (Naturally, I
never rang my own door-bell.)
The faulty action was therefore a symbolic representation of a definite
thought which was not accepted consciously as serious; for in reality
the neurologist is well aware that the patient seeks him only so long
as he expects to be benefited by him, and that his own excessively
warm interest for his patient is evinced only as a means of psychic
treatment.
An almost identical repetition of my experience is described by A.
Maeder (“Contrib. à la psychopathologie de la vie quotidienne,” _Arch.
de Psychol._, vi., 1906): “Il est arrivé à chacun de sortir son
trousseau, en arrivant à la porte d’un ami particulièrement cher, de se
surprendre pour ainsi dire, en train d’ouvrir avec sa clé comme chez
soi. C’est un retard, puisqu’il faut sonner malgré tout, mais c’est
une preuve qu’on se sent--ou qu’on voudrait se sentir--comme chez soi,
auprès de cet ami.”
Jones speaks as follows about the use of keys:[46] “The use of keys is
a fertile source of occurrences of this kind, of which two examples may
be given. If I am disturbed in the midst of some engrossing work at
home by having to go to the hospital to carry out some routine work,
I am very apt to find myself trying to open the door of my laboratory
there with the key of my desk at home, although the two keys are quite
unlike each other. The mistake unconsciously demonstrates where I
would rather be at the moment.
“Some years ago I was acting in a subordinate position at a certain
institution, the front door of which was kept locked, so that it was
necessary to ring for admission. On several occasions I found myself
making serious attempts to open the door with my house key. Each one of
the permanent visiting staff, of which I aspired to be a member, was
provided with a key to avoid the trouble of having to wait at the door.
My mistake thus expressed the desire to be on a similar footing and to
be quite ‘at home’ there.”
A similar experience is reported by Dr. Hans Sachs of Vienna: “I always
carry two keys with me, one for the door of my office and one for my
residence. They are not by any means easily interchanged, as the office
key is at least three times as big as my house key. Besides, I carry
the first in my trouser pocket and the other in my vest pocket. Yet it
often happened that I noticed on reaching the door that while ascending
the stairs I had taken out the wrong key. I decided to undertake a
statistical examination; as I was daily in about the same emotional
state when I stood before both doors, I thought that the interchanging
of the two keys must show a regular tendency, if they were differently
determined psychically. Observation of later occurrences showed that
I regularly took out my house key before the office door. Only on one
occasion was this reversed: I came home tired, knowing that I would
find there a guest. I made an attempt to unlock the door with the,
naturally too big, office key.”
(_b_) At a certain time twice a day for six years I was accustomed
to wait for admission before a door in the second story of the same
house, and during this long period of time it happened twice (within a
short interval) that I climbed a story higher. On the first of these
occasions I was in an ambitious day-dream, which allowed me to “mount
always higher and higher.” In fact, at that time I heard the door in
question open as I put my foot on the first step of the third flight.
On the other occasion I again went too far “engrossed in thought.” As
soon as I became aware of it, I turned back and sought to snatch the
dominating fantasy; I found that I was irritated over a criticism of
my works, in which the reproach was made that I “always went too far,”
which I replaced by the less respectful expression “climbed too high.”
(_c_) For many years a reflex hammer and a tuning-fork lay side by side
on my desk. One day I hurried off at the close of my office hours, as
I wished to catch a certain train, and, despite broad daylight, put
the tuning-fork in my coat pocket in place of the reflex hammer. My
attention was called to the mistake through the weight of the object
drawing down my pocket. Any one unaccustomed to reflect on such slight
occurrences would without hesitation explain the faulty action by the
hurry of the moment, and excuse it. In spite of that, I preferred to
ask myself why I took the tuning-fork instead of the hammer. The haste
could just as well have been a motive for carrying out the action
properly in order not to waste time over the correction.
“Who last grasped the tuning-fork?” was the question which immediately
flashed through my mind. It happened that only a few days ago an
idiotic child, whose attention to sensory impressions I was testing,
had been so fascinated by the tuning-fork that I found it difficult to
tear it away from him. Could it mean, therefore, that I was an idiot?
To be sure, so it would seem, as the next thought which associated
itself with the hammer was _chamer_ (Hebrew for “ass”).
But what was the meaning of this abusive language? We must here inquire
into the situation. I hurried to a consultation at a place on the
Western railroad to see a patient who, according to the anamnesis which
I received by letter, had fallen from a balcony some months before,
and since then had been unable to walk. The physician who invited me
wrote that he was still unable to say whether he was dealing with a
spinal injury or traumatic neurosis--hysteria. That was what I was to
decide. This could therefore be a reminder to be particularly careful
in this delicate differential diagnosis. As it is, my colleagues think
that hysteria is diagnosed far too carelessly where more serious
matters are concerned. But the abuse is not yet justified. Yes, the
next association was that the small railroad station is the same place
in which, some years previous, I saw a young man who, after a certain
emotional experience, could not walk properly. At that time I diagnosed
his malady as hysteria, and later put him under psychic treatment; but
it afterward turned out that my diagnosis was neither incorrect nor
correct. A large number of the patient’s symptoms were hysterical,
and they promptly disappeared in the course of treatment. But back
of these there was a visible remnant that could not be reached by
therapy, and could be referred only to a multiple sclerosis. Those who
saw the patient after me had no difficulty in recognizing the organic
affection. I could scarcely have acted or judged differently, still the
impression was that of a serious mistake; the promise of a cure which I
had given him could naturally not be kept.
The mistake in grasping the tuning-fork instead of the hammer could
therefore be translated into the following words: “You fool, you ass,
get yourself together this time, and be careful not to diagnose again
a case of hysteria where there is an incurable disease, as you did in
this place years ago in the case of the poor man!” And fortunately for
this little analysis, even if unfortunately for my mood, this same
man, now having a very spastic gait, had been to my office a few days
before, one day after the examination of the idiotic child.
We observe that this time it is the voice of self-criticism which makes
itself perceptible through the mistake in grasping. The erroneously
carried-out action is specially suited to express self-reproach. The
present mistake attempts to represent the mistake which was committed
elsewhere.
(_d_) It is quite obvious that grasping the wrong thing may also serve
a whole series of other obscure purposes. Here is a first example: It
is very seldom that I break anything. I am not particularly dexterous,
but by virtue of the anatomic integrity of my nervous and muscular
apparatus there are apparently no grounds in me for such awkward
movements with undesirable results. I can recall no object in my home
the counterpart of which I have ever broken. Owing to the narrowness
of my study it has often been necessary for me to work in the most
uncomfortable position among my numerous antique clay and stone
objects, of which I have a small collection. So much is this true that
onlookers have expressed fear lest I topple down something and shatter
it. But it never happened. Then why did I brush to the floor the cover
of my simple inkwell so that it broke into pieces?
My inkstand is made of a flat piece of marble which is hollowed out
for the reception of the glass inkwell; the inkwell has a marble cover
with a knob of the same stone. A circle of bronze statuettes with small
terra-cotta figures is set behind this inkstand. I seated myself at the
desk to write, I made a remarkably awkward outward movement with the
hand holding the pen-holder, and so swept the cover of the inkstand,
which already lay on the desk, to the floor.
It is not difficult to find the explanation. Some hours before my
sister had been in the room to look at some of my new acquisitions. She
found them very pretty, and then remarked: “Now the desk really looks
very well, only the inkstand does not match. You must get a prettier
one.” I accompanied my sister out and did not return for several hours.
But then, as it seems, I performed the execution of the condemned
inkstand.
Did I perhaps conclude from my sister’s words that she intended to
present me with a prettier inkstand on the next festive occasion, and
did I shatter the unsightly old one in order to force her to carry out
her signified intention? If that be so, then my swinging motion was
only apparently awkward; in reality it was most skilful and designed,
as it understood how to avoid all the valuable objects located near it.
I actually believe that we must accept this explanation for a whole
series of seemingly accidental awkward movements. It is true that
on the surface these seem to show something violent and irregular,
similar to spastic-ataxic movements, but on examination they seem to
be dominated by some intention, and they accomplish their aim with a
certainty that cannot be generally credited to conscious arbitrary
motions. In both characteristics, the force as well as the sure aim,
they show besides a resemblance to the motor manifestations of the
hysterical neurosis, and in part also to the motor accomplishments of
somnambulism, which here as well as there point to the same unfamiliar
modification of the functions of innervation.
In latter years, since I have been collecting such observations, it
has happened several times that I have shattered and broken objects of
some value, but the examination of these cases convinced me that it
was never the result of accident or of my unintentional awkwardness.
Thus, one morning while in my bath-robe and straw slippers I followed a
sudden impulse as I passed a room, and hurled a slipper from my foot
against the wall so that it brought down a beautiful little marble
Venus from its bracket. As it fell to pieces I recited quite unmoved
the following verse from Busch:--
“Ach! Die Venus ist perdü--[47]
Klickeradoms!--von Medici!”
This crazy action and my calmness at the sight of the damage is
explained in the then existing situation. We had a very sick person in
the family, of whose recovery I had personally despaired. That morning
I had been informed that there was a great improvement; I know that I
had said to myself, “After all she will live.” My attack of destructive
madness served therefore as the expression of a grateful feeling
toward fate, and afforded me the opportunity of performing an “act
of sacrifice,” just as if I had vowed, “If she gets well I will give
this or that as a sacrifice.” That I chose the Venus of Medici as this
sacrifice was only gallant homage to the convalescent. But even to-day
it is still incomprehensible to me that I decided so quickly, aimed so
accurately, and struck no other object in close proximity.
Another breaking, in which I utilized a pen-holder falling from
my hand, also signified a sacrifice, but this time it was a pious
offering to avert some evil. I had once allowed myself to reproach a
true and worthy friend for no other reason than certain manifestations
which I interpreted from his unconscious activity. He took it amiss
and wrote me a letter in which he bade me not to treat my friends by
psychoanalysis. I had to admit that he was right and appeased him
with my answer. While writing this letter I had before me my latest
acquisition--a small, handsome glazed Egyptian figure. I broke it in
the manner mentioned, and then immediately knew that I had caused this
mischief to avert a greater one. Luckily, both the friendship and the
figure could be so cemented that the break would not be noticed.
A third case of breaking had a less serious connection; it was only a
disguised “execution,” to use an expression from Th. Vischer’s _Auch
Einer_, of an object that no longer suited my taste. For quite a while
I had carried a cane with a silver handle; through no fault of mine the
thin silver plate was once damaged and poorly repaired. Soon after the
cane was returned I mirthfully used the handle to angle for the leg of
one of my children. In that way it naturally broke, and I got rid of it.
The indifference with which we accept the resulting damage in all
these cases may certainly be taken as evidence for the existence of an
unconscious purpose in their execution.
(_e_) As can sometimes be demonstrated by analysis, the dropping of
objects or the overturning and breaking of the same are very frequently
utilized as the expression of unconscious streams of thought, but more
often they serve to represent the superstitious or odd significances
connected therewith in popular sayings. The meanings attached to the
spilling of salt, the overturning of a wineglass, the sticking of a
knife dropped to the floor, and so on, are well known. I shall discuss
later the right to investigate such superstitious interpretations;
here I shall simply observe that the individual awkward acts do not
by any means always have the same meaning, but, depending on the
circumstances, they serve to represent now this or that purpose.
Recently we passed through a period in my house during which an
unusual number of glass and china dishes were broken. I myself largely
contributed to this damage. This little endemic was readily explained
by the fact that it preceded the public betrothal of my eldest
daughter. On such festivities it is customary to break some dishes and
utter at the same time some felicitating expression. This custom may
signify a sacrifice or express any other symbolic sense.
When servants destroy fragile objects through dropping them, we
certainly do not think in the first place of a psychologic motive for
it; still, some obscure motives are not improbable even here. Nothing
lies farther from the uneducated than the appreciation of art and works
of art. Our servants are dominated by a foolish hostility against these
productions, especially when the objects, whose worth they do not
realize, become a source of a great deal of work for them. On the other
hand, persons of the same education and origin employed in scientific
institutions often distinguish themselves by great dexterity and
reliability in the handling of delicate objects, as soon as they begin
to identify themselves with their masters and consider themselves an
essential part of the staff.
I shall here add the report of a young mechanical engineer, which gives
some insight into the mechanism of damaging things.
“Some time ago I worked with many others in the laboratory of the
High School on a series of complicated experiments on the subject of
elasticity. It was a work that we undertook of our own volition, but it
turned out that it took up more of our time than we expected. One day,
while going to the laboratory with F., he complained of losing so much
time, especially on this day, when he had so many other things to do at
home. I could only agree with him, and he added half jokingly, alluding
to an incident of the previous week: ‘Let us hope that the machine will
refuse to work, so that we can interrupt the experiment and go home
earlier.’
“In arranging the work, it happened that F. was assigned to the
regulation of the pressure valve, that is, it was his duty to carefully
open the valve and let the fluid under pressure flow from the
accumulator into the cylinder of the hydraulic press. The leader of
the experiment stood at the manometer and called a loud ‘Stop!’ when
the maximum pressure was reached. At this command F. grasped the valve
and turned it with all his force--to the left (all valves, without
any exception, are closed to the right). This caused a sudden full
pressure in the accumulator of the press, and as there was no outlet,
the connecting pipe burst. This was quite a trifling accident to the
machine, but enough to force us to stop our work for the day and go
home.
“It is characteristic, moreover, that some time later, on discussing
this occurrence, my friend F. could not recall the remark that I
positively remember his having made.”
Similarly, to fall, to make a misstep, or to slip need not always be
interpreted as an entirely accidental miscarriage of a motor action.
The linguistic double meaning of these expressions points to diverse
hidden fantasies, which may present themselves through the giving up
of bodily equilibrium. I recall a number of lighter nervous ailments
in women and girls which made their appearance after falling without
injury, and which were conceived as traumatic hysteria as a result
of the shock of the fall. At that time I already entertained the
impression that these conditions had a different connection, that the
fall was already a preparation of the neurosis, and an expression of
the same unconscious fantasies of sexual content which may be taken as
the moving forces behind the symptoms. Was not this very thing meant in
the proverb which says, “When a maiden falls, she falls on her back?”
We can also add to these mistakes the case of one who gives a beggar a
gold piece in place of a copper or a silver coin. The solution of such
mishandling is simple: it is an act of sacrifice designed to mollify
fate, to avert evil, and so on. If we hear a tender mother or aunt
express concern regarding the health of a child, directly before taking
a walk during which she displays her charity, contrary to her usual
habit, we can no longer doubt the sense of this apparently undesirable
accident. In this manner our faulty acts make possible the practice of
all those pious and superstitious customs which must shun the light of
consciousness, because of the strivings against them of our unbelieving
reason.
(_f_) That accidental actions are really intentional will find no
greater credence in any other sphere than in sexual activity, where the
border between the intention and accident hardly seems discernible.
That an apparently clumsy movement may be utilized in a most refined
way for sexual purposes I can verify by a nice example from my own
experience. In a friend’s house I met a young girl visitor who excited
in me a feeling of fondness which I had long believed extinct, thus
putting me in a jovial, loquacious, and complaisant mood. At that time
I endeavoured to find out how this came about, as a year before this
same girl made no impression on me.
As the girl’s uncle, a very old man, entered the room, we both jumped
to our feet to bring him a chair which stood in the corner. She was
more agile than I and also nearer the object, so that she was the
first to take possession of the chair. She carried it with its back to
her, holding both hands on the edge of the seat. As I got there later
and did not give up the claim to carrying the chair, I suddenly stood
directly back of her, and with both my arms was embracing her from
behind, and for a moment my hands touched her lap. I naturally solved
the situation as quickly as it came about. Nor did it occur to anybody
how dexterously I had taken advantage of this awkward movement.
Occasionally I have had to admit to myself that the annoying, awkward
stepping aside on the street, whereby for some seconds one steps
here and there, yet always in the same direction as the other person,
until finally both stop facing each other, that this “barring one’s
way” repeats an ill-mannered, provoking conduct of earlier times
and conceals erotic purposes under the mask of awkwardness. From my
psychoanalysis of neurotics I know that the so-called naïveté of young
people and children is frequently only such a mask, employed in order
that the subject may say or do the indecent without restraint.
W. Stekel has reported similar observations in regard to himself: “I
entered a house and offered my right hand to the hostess. In a most
remarkable way I thereby loosened the bow which held together her loose
morning-gown. I was conscious of no dishonourable intent, still I
executed this awkward movement with the agility of a juggler.”