recall it. But as I positively knew it before, I assumed that I wished
to forget this number. All reflection was in vain. I wished to continue
with my reading, but I read only mechanically without understanding
a word, for I was annoyed by the number 17. I extinguished the light
and continued my search. It finally came to me that number 17 must be
a play by Shakespeare. But which one? I thought of Hero and Leander.
Apparently a stupid attempt of my will to distract me. I finally arose
and consulted the catalogue of the U. L. Number 17 was _Macbeth_! To my
surprise I had to discover that I knew nothing of the play, despite the
fact that it did not interest me any less than any other Shakespearean
drama. I only thought of: murder, Lady Macbeth, witches, ‘nice is
ugly,’ and that I found Schiller’s version of _Macbeth_ very nice.
Undoubtedly I also wished to forget the play. Then it occurred to me
that 17 and 34 may be divided by 17 and result in 1 and 2. Numbers 1
and 2 of the U. L. is Goethe’s _Faust_. Formerly I found much of Faust
in me.”
We must regret that the discretion of the physician did not allow us
to see the significance of ideas. Adler remarked that the man did not
succeed in the synthesis of his analysis. His association would hardly
be worth reporting unless their continuation would bring out something
that would give us the key to the understanding of the number 1,734 and
the whole series of ideas.
To quote further: “To be sure this morning I had an experience which
speaks much for the correctness of the Freudian conception. My wife,
whom I awakened through my getting up at night, asked me what I wanted
with the catalogue of the U. L. I told her the story. She found it all
pettifogging but--very interesting. _Macbeth_, which caused me so much
trouble, she simply passed over. She said that nothing came to her mind
when she thought of a number. I answered, ‘Let us try it.’ She named
the number 117. To this I immediately replied: ‘17 refers to what I
just told you; furthermore, I told you yesterday that if a wife is in
the 82nd year and the husband is in the 35th year it must be a gross
misunderstanding.’ For the last few days I have been teasing my wife
by maintaining that she was a little old mother of 82 years. 82 + 35 =
117.”
The man who did not know how to determine his own number at once
found the solution when his wife named a number which was apparently
arbitrarily chosen. As a matter of fact, the woman understood very well
from which complex the number of her husband originated, and chose her
own number from the same complex, which was surely common to both, as
it dealt in his case with their relative ages. Now, we find it easy to
interpret the number that occurred to the man. As Dr. Adler indicates,
it expressed a repressed wish of the husband which, fully developed,
would read: “For a man of 34 years as I am, only a woman of 17 would be
suitable.”
Lest one should think too lightly of such “playing,” I will add that I
was recently informed by Dr. Adler that a year after the publication of
this analysis the man was divorced from his wife.[70]
Adler gives a similar explanation for the origin of obsessive numbers.
Also the choice of so-called “favourite numbers” is not without
relation to the life of the person concerned, and does not lack a
certain psychologic interest. A gentleman who evinced a particular
partiality for the numbers 17 and 19 could specify, after brief
reflection, that at the age of 17 he attained the greatly longed-for
academic freedom by having been admitted to the university, that at 19
he made his first long journey, and shortly thereafter made his first
scientific discovery. But the fixation of this preference followed
later, after two questionable affairs, when the same numbers were
invested with importance in his “love-life.”
Indeed, even those numbers which we use in a particular connection
extremely often and with apparent arbitrariness can be traced by
analysis to an unexpected meaning. Thus, one day it struck one of my
patients that he was particularly fond of saying, “I have already told
you this from 17 to 36 times.” And he asked himself whether there was
any motive for it. It soon occurred to him that he was born on the 27th
day of the month, and that his younger brother was born on the 26th
day of another month, and he had grounds for complaint that Fate had
robbed him of so many of the benefits of life only to bestow them on
his younger brother. Thus he represented this partiality of Fate by
deducting 10 from the date of his birth and adding it to the date of
his brother’s birthday. I am the elder and yet am so “cut short.”
I shall tarry a little longer at the analysis of chance numbers, for
I know of no other individual observation which would so readily
demonstrate the existence of highly organized thinking processes of
which consciousness has no knowledge. Moreover, there is no better
example of analysis in which the suggestion of the position, a frequent
accusation, is so distinctly out of consideration. I shall therefore
report the analysis of a chance number of one of my patients (with
his consent), to which I will only add that he is the youngest of many
children and that he lost his beloved father in his young years.
While in a particularly happy mood he let the number _426,718_ come to
his mind, and put to himself the question, “Well, what does it bring
to your mind?” First came a joke he had heard: “If your catarrh of the
nose is treated by a doctor it lasts 42 days, if it is not treated it
lasts--6 weeks.” This corresponds to the first digit of the number (42
= 6 × 7). During the obstruction that followed this first solution I
called his attention to the fact that the number of six digits selected
by him contains all the first numbers except 3 and 5. He at once found
the continuation of this solution:--
“We were altogether 7 children, I was the youngest. Number 3 in the
order of the children corresponds to my sister A., and 5 to my brother
L.; both of them were my enemies. As a child I used to pray to the Lord
every night that He should take out of my life these two tormenting
spirits. It seems to me that I have fulfilled for myself this wish: ‘3’
and ‘5,’ the _evil_ brother and the hated sister, are omitted.”
“If the number stands for your sisters and brothers, what significance
is there to 18 at the end? You were altogether only 7.”
“I often thought if my father had lived longer I should not have been
the youngest child. If one more would have come, we should have been
8, and there would have been a younger child, toward whom I could have
played the rôle of the older one.”
With this the number was explained, but we still wished to find the
connection between the first part of the interpretation and the part
following it. This came very readily from the condition required for
the last digits--if the father had lived longer. 42 = 6 × 7 signifies
the ridicule directed against the doctors who could not help the
father, and in this way expresses the wish for the continued existence
of the father. The whole number really corresponds to the fulfilment of
his two wishes in reference to his family circle--namely, that both the
evil brother and sister should die and that another little child should
follow him. Or, briefly expressed: _If only these two had died in place
of my father!_[71]
Another analysis of numbers I take from Jones.[72] A gentleman of his
acquaintance let the number 986 come to his mind, and defied him to
connect it to anything of special interest in his mind. “Six years
ago, on the hottest day he could remember, he had seen a joke in an
evening newspaper, which stated that the thermometer had stood at
98·6° F., evidently an exaggeration of 98·6° F. We were at the time
seated in front of a very hot fire, from which he had just drawn back,
and he remarked, probably quite correctly, that the heat had aroused
his dormant memory. However, I was curious to know why this memory had
persisted with such vividness as to be so readily brought out, for with
most people it surely would have been forgotten beyond recall, unless
it had become associated with some other mental experience of more
significance.
“He told me that on reading the joke he had laughed uproariously, and
that on many subsequent occasions he had recalled it with great relish.
As the joke was obviously of an exceedingly tenuous nature, this
strengthened my expectation that more lay behind. His next thought was
the general reflection that the conception of heat had always greatly
impressed him, that heat was the most important thing in the universe,
the source of all life, and so on. This remarkable attitude of a quite
prosaic young man certainly needed some explanation, so I asked him
to continue his free associations. The next thought was of a factory
stack which he could see from his bedroom window. He often stood of an
evening watching the flame and smoke issuing out of it, and reflecting
on this deplorable waste of energy. Heat, flame, the source of life,
the waste of vital energy issuing from an upright, hollow tube--it
was not hard to divine from such associations that the ideas of heat
and fire were unconsciously linked in his mind with the idea of love,
as is so frequent in symbolic thinking, and that there was a strong
masturbation complex present, a conclusion that he presently confirmed.”
Those who wish to get a good impression of the way the material of
numbers becomes elaborated in the unconscious thinking, I refer to two
papers by Jung[73] and Jones.[74]
In personal analysis of this kind two things were especially striking.
First, the absolute somnambulistic certainty with which I attacked
the unknown objective point, merging into a mathematical train of
thought, which later suddenly extended to the looked-for number, and
the rapidity with which the entire subsequent work was performed.
Secondly, the fact that the numbers were always at the disposal of my
unconscious mind, when as a matter of fact I am a poor mathematician
and find it very difficult to consciously recall years, house numbers,
and the like. Moreover, in these unconscious mental operations with
figures I found a tendency to superstition, the origin of which had
long remained unknown to me.
It will not surprise us to find that not only numbers but also mental
occurrences of different kinds of words regularly prove on analytic
investigation to be well determined.
Brill relates: “While working on the English edition of this book I was
obsessed one morning with the strange word ‘Cardillac.’ Busily intent
on my work, I refused at first to pay attention to it, but, as is
usually the case, I simply could not do anything else. ‘Cardillac’ was
constantly in my mind. Realizing that my refusal to recognize it was
only a resistance, I decided to analyse it. The following associations
occurred to me: _Cardillac_, _cardiac_, _carrefour_, _Cadillac_.
“_Cardiac_ recalled cardalgia--heartache--a medical friend who had
recently told me confidentially that he feared that he had some cardiac
affection because he had suffered some attacks of pain in the region
of his heart. Knowing him so well, I at once rejected his theory, and
told him that his attacks were of a neurotic character, and that his
other apparent physical ailments were also only the expression of his
neurosis.
“I might add that just before telling me of his heart trouble he spoke
of a business matter of vital interest to him which had suddenly come
to naught. Being a man of unbounded ambitions, he was very depressed
because of late he had suffered many similar reverses. His neurotic
conflicts, however, had become manifest a few months before this
misfortune. Soon after his father’s death had left a big business on
his hands. As the business could be continued only under my friend’s
management, he was unable to decide whether to enter into commercial
life or continue his chosen career. His great ambition was to become a
successful medical practitioner, and although he had practised medicine
successfully for many years, he was not altogether satisfied with the
financial fluctuations of his professional income. On the other hand,
his father’s business promised him an assured, though limited, return.
In brief, he was ‘at a crossing and did not know which way to turn.’
“I then recalled the word _carrefour_, which is the French for
‘crossing,’ and it occurred to me that while working in a hospital
in Paris I lived near the ‘Carrefour St. Lazarre.’ And now I could
understand what relation all these associations had for me.
“When I resolved to leave the State Hospital I made the decision,
first, because I desired to get married, and, secondly, because I
wished to enter private practice. This brought up a new problem.
Although my State hospital service was an absolute success, judging
by promotions and so on, I felt like a great many others in the
same situation, namely, that my training was ill suited for private
practice. To specialize in mental work was a daring undertaking for one
without money and social connections. I also felt that the best I could
do for patients should they ever come my way would be to commit them to
one of the hospitals, as I had little confidence in the home treatment
in vogue. In spite of the enormous advances made in recent years in
mental work, the specialist is almost helpless when he is confronted
with the average case of insanity. This may be partially attributed
to the fact that such cases are brought to him after they have fully
developed the psychosis when hospital treatment is imperative. Of the
great army of milder mental disturbances, the so-called border-line
cases, which make up the bulk of clinic and private work and which
rightfully belong to the mental specialist, I knew very little, as
those patients rarely, or never, came to the State hospital, and what I
did know concerning the treatment of neurasthenia and psychasthenia was
not conducive to make me more hopeful of success in private practice.
“It was in this state of mind that I came to Paris, where I hoped to
learn enough about the psychoneuroses to enable me to continue my
specialty in private practice, and yet feel that I could do something
for my patients. What I saw in Paris did not, however, help to change
my state of mind. There, too, most of the work was directed to dead
tissues. The mental aspects, as such, received but scant attention.
I was, therefore, seriously thinking of giving up my mental work for
some other specialty. As can be seen, I was confronted with a situation
similar to the one of my medical friend. I, too, was at a crossing and
did not know which way to turn. My suspense was soon ended. One day
I received a letter from my friend Professor Peterson, who, by the
way, was responsible for my entering the State hospital service. In
this letter he advised me not to give up my work, and suggested the
psychiatric clinic of Zurich, where he thought I could find what I
desired.
“But what does _Cadillac_ mean? Cadillac is the name of a hotel and
of an automobile. A few days before in a country place my medical
friend and I had been trying to hire an automobile, but there was none
to be had. We both expressed the wish to own an automobile--again an
unrealized ambition. I also recalled that the ‘Carrefour St. Lazarre’
always impressed me as being one of the busiest thoroughfares in Paris.
It was always congested with automobiles. Cadillac also recalled that
only a few days ago on the way to my clinic I noticed a large sign over
a building which announced that on a certain day ‘this building was
to be occupied by the Cadillac,’ etc. This at first made me think of
the Cadillac Hotel, but on second sight I noticed that it referred to
the Cadillac motor-car. There was a sudden obstruction here for a few
moments. The word Cadillac reappeared and by sound association the word
_catalogue_ occurred to me. This word brought back a very mortifying
occurrence of recent origin, the motive of which is again blighted
ambition.
“When one wishes to report any auto-analysis he must be prepared to lay
bare many intimate affairs of his own life. Any one reading carefully
Professor Freud’s works cannot fail to become intimately acquainted
with him and his family. I have often been asked by persons who claim
to have read and studied Freud’s works such questions as: ‘How old is
Freud?’ ‘Is Freud married?’ ‘How many children has he?’ etc. Whenever I
hear these or similar questions I know that the questioner has either
lied when he made these assertions, or, to be more charitable, that he
is a very careless and superficial reader. All these questions and many
more are answered in Freud’s works. Auto-analyses are autobiographies
_par excellence_; but whereas the autobiographer may for definite
reasons consciously and unconsciously hide many facts of his life, the
auto-analyst not only tells the truth consciously, but perforce brings
to light his whole intimate personality. It is for these reasons that
one finds it very unpleasant to report his own auto-analyses. However,
as we often report our patients’ unconscious productions, it is but
fair that we should sacrifice ourselves on the altar of publicity when
occasion demands. This is my apology for having thrust some of my
personal affairs on the reader, and for being obliged to continue a
little longer in the same strain.
“Before digressing with the last remarks I mentioned that the word
_Cadillac_ brought the sound association _catalogue_. This association
brought back another important epoch in my life with which Professor
Peterson is connected. Last May I was informed by the secretary of
the faculty that I was appointed chief of clinic of the department of
psychiatry. I need hardly say that I was exceedingly pleased to be
so honoured--in the first place because it was the realization of an
ambition which I dared entertain only under special euphoric states;
and, secondly, it was a compensation for the many unmerited criticisms
from those who are blindly and unreasonably opposing some of my work.
Soon thereafter I called on the stenographer of the faculty and spoke
to her about a correction to be made in my name as it was printed in
the catalogue. For some unknown reason (perhaps racial prejudice) this
stenographer, a maiden lady, must have taken a dislike to me. For
about three years I repeatedly requested her to have this correction
made, but she had paid no attention to me. To be sure she always
promised to attend to it, but the mistake remained uncorrected.
“When I saw her last May I again reminded her of this correction, and
also called her attention to the fact that as I had been appointed
chief of clinic I was especially anxious to have my name correctly
printed in the catalogue. She apologized for her remissness and assured
me that everything should be as I requested. Imagine my surprise and
chagrin when on receiving the new catalogue I found that while the
correction had been made in my name I was not listed as chief of
clinic. When I asked her about this she was quite puzzled; she said
she had no idea that I had been appointed chief of clinic. She had to
consult the minutes of the faculty, written by herself, before she was
convinced of it. It should be noted that as recorder to the faculty it
was her duty to know all these things as soon as they transpired.[75]
When she finally ascertained that I was right she was very apologetic
and informed me that she would at once write to the superintendent of
the clinic to inform him of my appointment, something which she should
have done months before. Of course I gained nothing by her regrets and
apologies. The catalogue was published and those who read it did not
find my name in the desired place. I am chief of clinic in fact but not
in name. Moreover, as the appointments are made only for one year, it
is quite likely that my great ambition will never be actually realized.
“Thus the obsessive neologism _cardillac_, which is a condensation
of _cardiac_, _Cadillac_, and _catalogue_, contains some of the most
important efforts of my medical experience. When I was almost at the
end of this analysis I suddenly recalled a dream containing this
neologism cardillac in which my wish was realized. My name appeared
in its rightful place in the catalogue. The person who showed it to
me in the dream was Professor Peterson. It was when I was at the
first ‘crossing’ after I had graduated from the medical college that
Professor Peterson urged me to enter the hospital service. About
five years later while I was in the state of indecision which I have
described, it was Professor Peterson who advised me to go to the clinic
of psychiatry at Zurich where through Bleuler and Jung I first became
acquainted with Professor Freud and his works, and it was also through
the kind recommendation of Dr. Peterson that I was elevated to my
present position.”
I am indebted to Dr. Hitschman for the solution of another case in
which a line of poetry repeatedly obtruded itself on the mind in a
certain place without showing any trace of its origin and relation.
Related by Dr. E.: “Six years ago I travelled from Biarritz to San
Sebastian. The railroad crosses over the Bidassao--a river which here
forms the boundary between France and Spain. On the bridge one has a
splendid view, on the one side of the broad valley and the Pyrenees
and on the other of the sea. It was a beautiful, bright summer day;
everything was filled with sun and light. I was on a vacation and
pleased with my trip to Spain. Suddenly the following words came to me:
‘_But the soul is already free, floating on a sea of light._’
“At that time I was trying to remember where these lines came from,
but I could not remember; judging by the rhythm, the words must be a
part of some poem, which, however, entirely escaped my memory. Later
when the verse repeatedly came to my mind, I asked many people about it
without receiving any information.
“Last year I crossed the same bridge on my return journey from Spain.
It was a very dark night and it rained. I looked through the window
to ascertain whether we had already reached the frontier station
and noticed that we were on the Bidassao bridge. Immediately the
above-cited verse returned to my memory and again I could not recall
its origin.
“At home many months later I found Uhland’s poems. I opened the volume
and my glance fell upon the verse: ‘_But the soul is already free,
floating on a sea of light_,’ which were the concluding lines of the
poem entitled ‘The Pilgrim.’ I read the poem and dimly recalled that
I had known it many years ago. The scene of action is in Spain, and
this seemed to me to be the only relation between the quoted verse and
the place on the railroad journey described by me. I was only half
satisfied with my discovery and mechanically continued to turn the
pages of the book. On turning the next page I found a poem the title of
which was ‘_Bidassao Bridge_.’
“I may add that the contents of this poem seemed even stranger to me
than that of the first, and that its first verse read:
“‘On the Bidassao bridge stands a saint grey with age, he blesses to
the right the Spanish mountain, to the left he blesses the French
land.’”
II. This understanding of the determination of apparently arbitrarily
selected names, numbers, and words may perhaps contribute to the
solution of another problem. As is known, many persons argue against
the assumption of an absolute psychic determinism by referring to
an intense feeling of conviction that there is a free will. This
feeling of conviction exists, but is not incompatible with the belief
in determinism. Like all normal feelings, it must be justified by
something. But, so far as I can observe, it does not manifest itself
in weighty and important decisions; on these occasions one has much
more the feeling of a psychic compulsion and gladly falls back upon it.
(Compare Luther’s “Here I stand, I cannot do anything else.”)
On the other hand, it is in trivial and indifferent decisions that
one feels sure that he could just as easily have acted differently,
that he acted of his own free will, and without any motives. From
our analyses we therefore need not contest the right of the feeling
of conviction that there is a free will. If we distinguish conscious
from unconscious motivation, we are then informed by the feeling of
conviction that the conscious motivation does not extend over all our
motor resolutions. _Minima non curat prætor._ What is thus left free
from the one side receives its motive from the other side, from the
unconscious, and the determinism in the psychic realm is thus carried
out uninterruptedly.[76]