The difference between the indifferent and critical reactions for A = 0·7, for B = 0, for C = 0·4. A is again the highest.

Another question to consider is, the proportion of imperfect reactions in each case.

The result for A = 34%, for B = 28%, and for C = 30%.

Here, too, A reaches the highest value, and in this, I believe, we see the characteristic moment of the guilt-complex in A. I am, however, unable to explain here circumstantially the reasons why I maintain that memory errors are related to an emotional complex, as this would lead me beyond the limits of the present work. I therefore refer the reader to my work "Ueber die Reproductionsstörrungen im Associationsexperiment" (IX Beitrag der Diagnost. Associat. Studien).[140]

As it often happens that an association of strong feeling tone produces in the experiment a perseveration, with the result that not only the critical association, but also two or three successive associations are imperfectly reproduced, it will be very interesting to see how many imperfect reproductions are so arranged in the series in our cases. The result of computation shows that the imperfect reproductions thus arranged in series are for A 64·7%, for B 55·5%, and for C 30·0%.

Again we find that A has the greatest percentage. To be sure, this may partially depend on the fact that A also possesses the greatest number of imperfect reproductions. Given a small number of reactions, it is usual that the greater the total number of the same, the more the imperfect reactions will occur in groups. But this cannot account for the high proportion in our case, where, on the other hand, B and C have not a much smaller number of imperfect reactions when compared to A. It is significant that C with her slight emotions during the experiment shows the minimum of imperfect reproductions arranged in series.

As imperfect reproductions are also complex indicators, it is necessary to see how they distribute themselves in respect to the indifferent, critical, etc., reactions.

It is hardly necessary to bring into prominence the differences between the indifferent and the critical reactions of the various subjects as shown by the resulting numbers of the table. In this respect, too, A occupies first place.

Imperfect Reproductions which Occur.

Naturally, here, too, there is a probability that the greater the number of the imperfect reproductions the greater is their number in the critical reactions. If we suppose that the imperfect reproductions are distributed regularly and without choice, among all the reactions, there will be a greater number of them for A (in comparison with B and C) even as reactions to critical words, since A has the greater number of imperfect reproductions. Admitting such a uniform distribution of the imperfect reproductions, it is easy to calculate how many we ought to expect to belong to each individual kind of reaction.

From this calculation it appears that the disturbances of reproductions which concern the critical reactions for A greatly surpass the number expected, for C they are 0·9 higher, while for B they are lower.

Imperfect Reproductions.

All this points to the fact that in the subject A the critical stimulus words acted with the greatest intensity, and hence the greatest suspicion falls on A. Practically relying on the test one may assume the probability of this person's guilt. The same evening A made a complete confession of the theft, and thus the success of the experiment was confirmed.

Such a result is undoubtedly of scientific interest and worthy of serious consideration. There is much in experimental psychology which is of less use than the material exemplified in this test. Putting the theoretical interest altogether aside, we have here something that is not to be despised from a practical point of view, to wit, a culprit has been brought to light in a much easier and shorter way than is customary. What has been possible once or twice ought to be possible again, and it is well worth while to investigate some means of rendering the method increasingly capable of rapid and sure results.

This application of the experiment shows that it is possible to strike a concealed, indeed an unconscious complex by means of a stimulus word; and conversely we may assume with great certainty that behind a reaction which shows a complex indicator there is a hidden complex, even though the test-person strongly denies it. One must get rid of the idea that educated and intelligent test-persons are able to see and admit their own complexes. Every human mind contains much that is unacknowledged and hence unconscious as such; and no one can boast that he stands completely above his complexes. Those who persist in maintaining that they can, are not aware of the spectacles upon their noses.

It has long been thought that the association experiment enables one to distinguish certain intellectual types. That is not the case. The experiment does not give us any particular insight into the purely intellectual, but rather into the emotional processes. To be sure we can erect certain types of reaction; they are not, however, based on intellectual peculiarities, but depend entirely on the proportionate emotional states. Educated test-persons usually show superficial and linguistically deep-rooted associations, whereas the uneducated form more valuable associations and often of ingenious significance. This behaviour would be paradoxical from an intellectual view-point. The meaningful associations of the uneducated are not really the product of intellectual thinking, but are simply the results of a special emotional state. The whole thing is more important to the uneducated, his emotion is greater, and for that reason he pays more attention to the experiment than the educated person, and his associations are therefore more significant. Apart from those determined by education, we have to consider three principal individual types:

1. An objective type with undisturbed reactions.

2. A so-called complex-type with many disturbances in the experiment occasioned by the constellation of a complex.

3. A so-called definition-type. The peculiarity of this type consists in the fact that the reaction always gives an explanation or a definition of the content of the stimulus word; e.g.:

apple,—a tree-fruit;
table,—a piece of household furniture;
to promenade,—an activity;
father,—chief of the family.

This type is chiefly found in stupid persons, and it is therefore quite usual in imbecility. But it can also be found in persons who are not really stupid, but who do not wish to be taken as stupid. Thus a young student from whom associations were taken by an older intelligent woman student reacted altogether with definitions. The test-person was of the opinion that it was an examination in intelligence, and therefore directed most of his attention to the significance of the stimulus words; his associations, therefore, looked like those of an idiot. All idiots, however, do not react with definitions; probably only those react in this way who would like to appear smarter than they are, that is, those to whom their stupidity is painful. I call this widespread complex the "intelligence-complex." A normal test-person reacts in a most overdrawn manner as follows:

anxiety—heart anguish;
to kiss—love's unfolding;
to kiss—perception of friendship.

This type gives a constrained and unnatural impression. The test-persons wish to be more than they are, they wish to exert more influence than they really have. Hence we see that persons with an intelligence-complex are usually unnatural and constrained; that they are always somewhat stilted, or flowery; they show a predilection for complicated foreign words, high-sounding quotations, and other intellectual ornaments. In this way they wish to influence their fellow-beings, they wish to impress others with their apparent education and intelligence, and thus to compensate for their painful feeling of stupidity. The definition-type is closely related to the predicate-type, or, to express it more precisely, to the predicate-type expressing personal judgment (Wertprädikattypus). For example:

flower—pretty;
money—convenient;
animal—ugly;
knife—dangerous;
death—ghastly.

In the definition type the intellectual significance of the stimulus word is rendered prominent, but in the predicate type its emotional significance. There are predicate-types which show great exaggeration where reactions such as the following appear:

piano—horrible;
to sing—heavenly;
mother—ardently loved;
father—something good, nice, holy.

In the definition-type an absolutely intellectual make-up is manifested or rather simulated, but here there is a very emotional one. Yet, just as the definition-type really conceals a lack of intelligence, so the excessive emotional expression conceals or overcompensates an emotional deficiency. This conclusion is very interestingly illustrated by the following discovery:—On investigating the influence of the familiar milieus on the association-type it was found that young people seldom possess a predicate-type, but that, on the other hand, the predicate-type increases in frequency with advancing age. In women the increase of the predicate-type begins a little after the 40th year, and in men after the 60th. That is the precise time when, owing to the deficiency of sexuality, there actually occurs considerable emotional loss. If a test-person evinces a distinct predicate-type, it may always be inferred that a marked internal emotional deficiency is thereby compensated. Still, one cannot reason conversely, namely, that an inner emotional deficiency must produce a predicate-type, no more than that idiocy directly produces a definition-type. A predicate-type can also betray itself through the external behaviour, as, for example, through a particular affectation, enthusiastic exclamations, an embellished behaviour, and the constrained sounding language so often observed in society.

The complex-type shows no particular tendency except the concealment of a complex, whereas the definition and predicate types betray a positive tendency to exert in some way a definite influence on the experimenter. But whereas the definition-type tends to bring to light its intelligence, the predicate-type displays its emotion. I need hardly add of what importance such determinations are for the diagnosis of character.

After finishing an association experiment I usually add another of a different kind, the so-called reproduction experiment. I repeat the same stimulus words and ask the test-persons whether they still remember their former reactions. In many instances the memory fails, and as experience shows, these locations are stimulus words which touched an emotionally accentuated complex, or stimulus words immediately following such critical words.

This phenomenon has been designated as paradoxical and contrary to all experience. For it is known that emotionally accentuated things are better retained in memory than indifferent things. This is quite true, but it does not hold for the linguistic expression of an emotionally accentuated content. On the contrary, one very easily forgets what he has said under emotion, one is even apt to contradict himself about it. Indeed, the efficacy of cross-examinations in court depends on this fact. The reproduction method therefore serves to render still more prominent the complex stimulus. In normal persons we usually find a limited number of false reproductions, seldom more than 19-20 per cent., while in abnormal persons, especially in hysterics, we often find from 20-40 per cent. of false reproductions. The reproduction certainty is therefore in certain cases a measure for the emotivity of the test-person.

By far the larger number of neurotics show a pronounced tendency to cover up their intimate affairs in impenetrable darkness, even from the doctor, so that he finds it very difficult to form a proper picture of the patient's psychology. In such cases I am greatly assisted by the association experiment. When the experiment is finished, I first look over the general course of the reaction times. I see a great many very prolonged intervals; this means that the patient can only adjust himself with difficulty, that his psychological functions proceed with marked internal frictions with resistances. The greater number of neurotics react only under great and very definite resistances; there are, however, others in whom the average reaction times are as short as in the normal, and in whom the other complex indicators are lacking, but, despite that fact, they undoubtedly present neurotic symptoms. These rare cases are especially found among very intelligent and educated persons, chronic patients who, after many years of practice, have learned to control their outward behaviour and therefore outwardly display very little if any trace of their neuroses. The superficial observer would take them for normal, yet in some places they show disturbances which betray the repressed complex.

After examining the reaction times I turn my attention to the type of the association to ascertain with what type I am dealing. If it is a predicate-type I draw the conclusions which I have detailed above; if it is a complex type I try to ascertain the nature of the complex. With the necessary experience one can readily emancipate one's judgment from the test-person's statements and almost without any previous knowledge of the test-persons it is possible under certain circumstances to read the most intimate complexes from the results of the experiment. I look at first for the reproduction words and put them together, and then I look for the stimulus words which show the greatest disturbances. In many cases merely assorting these words suffices to unearth the complex. In some cases it is necessary to put a question here and there. The matter is well illustrated by the following concrete example:

It concerns an educated woman of 30 years of age, married three years previously. Since her marriage she has suffered from episodic excitement in which she is violently jealous of her husband. The marriage is a happy one in every other respect, and it should be noted that the husband gives no cause for the jealousy. The patient is sure that she loves him and that her excited states are groundless. She cannot imagine whence these excited states originate, and feels quite perplexed over them. It is to be noted that she is a catholic and has been brought up religiously, while her husband is a protestant. This difference of religion did not admittedly play any part. A more thorough anamnesis showed the existence of an extreme prudishness. Thus, for example, no one was allowed to talk in the patient's presence about her sister's childbirth, because the sexual moment suggested therein caused her the greatest excitement. She always undressed in the adjoining room and never in her husband's presence, etc. At the age of 27 she was supposed to have had no idea how children were born. The associations gave the results shown in the accompanying chart.

The stimulus words characterised by marked disturbances are the following: yellow, to pray, to separate, to marry, to quarrel, old, family, happiness, false, fear, to kiss, bride, to choose, contented. The strongest disturbances are found in the following stimulus words: to pray, to marry, happiness, false, fear, and contented. These words, therefore, more than any others, seem to strike the complex. The conclusions that can be drawn from this is that she is not indifferent to the fact that her husband is a protestant, that she again thinks of praying, believes there is something wrong with marriage, that she is false, entertains fancies of faithlessness, is afraid (of the husband? of the future?), she is not contented with her choice (to choose) and she thinks of separation. The patient therefore has a separation complex, for she is very discontented with her married life. When I told her this result she was affected and at first attempted to deny it, then to mince over it, but finally she admitted everything I said and added more. She reproduced a large number of fancies of faithlessness, reproaches against her husband, etc. Her prudishness and jealousy were merely a projection of her own sexual wishes on her husband. Because she was faithless in her fancies and did not admit it to herself she was jealous of her husband.

It is impossible in a lecture to give a review of all the manifold uses of the association experiment. I must content myself with having demonstrated to you a few of its chief uses.

Lecture II

THE FAMILIAL CONSTELLATIONS

Ladies and Gentlemen: As you have seen, there are manifold ways in which the association experiment may be employed in practical psychology. I should like to speak to you to-day about another use of this experiment which is primarily of theoretical significance. My pupil, Miss Fürst, M.D., made the following researches: she applied the association experiment to 24 families, consisting altogether of 100 test-persons; the resulting material amounted to 22,200 associations. This material was elaborated in the following manner: Fifteen separate groups were formed according to logical-linguistic standards, and the associations were arranged as follows:

As can be seen from this example, I utilise the difference to demonstrate the degree of the analogy. In order to find a basis for the sum of the resemblance I have calculated the differences among all Dr. Fürst's test-persons, not related among themselves, by comparing every female test-person with all the other unrelated females; the same has been done for the male test-persons.

The most marked difference is found in those cases where the two test-persons compared have no associative quality in common. All the groups are calculated in percentages, the greatest difference possible being 200/15 = 13·3 per cent.

I. The average difference of male unrelated test-persons is 5·9 per cent., and that of females of the same group is 6 per cent.

II. The average difference between male related test-persons is 4·1 per cent., and that between female related tests-persons is 3·8 per cent. From these numbers we see that relatives show a tendency to agreement in the reaction type.

III. Difference between fathers and children = 4·2.
"        "    mothers  "    "    = 3·5.

The reaction types of children come nearer to the type of the mother than to the father.

V. Difference between brothers = 4·7.
" " sisters  = 5·1.

If the married sisters are omitted from the comparison we get the following result:

Difference of unmarried sisters = 3·8. These observations show distinctly that marriage destroys more or less the original agreement, as the husband belongs to a different type.

Difference between unmarried brothers = 4·8.

Marriage seems to exert no influence on the association forms in men. Nevertheless, the material which we have at our disposal is not as yet enough to allow us to draw definite conclusions.

VI. Difference between husband and wife = 4·7.

This number sums up inadequately the different and very unequal values; that is to say, there are some cases which show extreme difference and some which show marked concordance.

The different results are shown in the tracings (Figs. 11-15).

In the tracings I have marked the number of associations of each quality perpendicularly in percentages. The Roman letters written horizontally represent the forms of association indicated in the above tables.

Tracing A. The father (black line) shows an objective type, while the mother and daughter show the pure predicate type with a pronounced subjective tendency.

Tracing B. The husband and wife agree well in the predicate objective type, the predicate subjective being somewhat more numerous in the wife.

Tracing C. A very nice agreement between a father and his two daughters.

Tracing D. Two sisters living together. The dotted line represents the married sister.

Tracing E. Husband and wife. The wife is a sister of the two women of tracing D. She approaches very closely to the type of her husband. Her tracing is the direct opposite of that of her sisters.

The similarity of the associations is often very extraordinary. I will reproduce here the associations of a mother and daughter.

One might indeed think that in this experiment, where full scope is given to chance, individuality would become a factor of the utmost importance, and that therefore one might expect a very great diversity and lawlessness of associations. But as we see the opposite is the case. Thus the daughter lives contentedly in the same circle of ideas as her mother, not only in her thought but in her form of expression; indeed, she even uses the same words. What could be regarded as more inconsequent, inconstant, and lawless than a fancy, a rapidly passing thought? It is not lawless, however, neither is it free, but closely determined within the limits of the milieu. If, therefore, even the superficial and manifestly most inconsequent formations of the intellect are altogether subject to the milieu-constellation, what must we not expect for the more important conditions of the mind, for the emotions, wishes, hopes, and intentions? Let us consider a concrete example, illustrated by tracing A.

The mother is 45 years old and the daughter 16 years. Both have a very distinct predicate-type expressing personal judgment, both differ from the father in the most striking manner. The father is a drunkard and a demoralised creature. We can thus readily understand that his wife experiences an emotional voidness which she naturally betrays by her enhanced predicate-type. The same causes cannot, however, operate in the case of the daughter, for, in the first place, she is not married to a drunkard, and, in the second, life with all its hopes and promises still lies before her. It is distinctly unnatural for the daughter to show an extreme predicate-type expressing personal judgment. She responds to the stimuli of the environment just like her mother. But whereas in the mother the type is in a way a natural consequence of her unhappy condition of life, this condition is entirely lacking in the daughter. The daughter simply imitates the mother; she merely appears like the mother. Let us consider what this can signify for a young girl. If a young girl reacts to the world like an old woman, disappointed in life, this at once shows unnaturalness and constraint. But more serious consequences are possible. As you know the predicate-type is a manifestation of intensive emotions; the emotions are always involved. Thus we cannot prevent ourselves from responding inwardly, at least, to the feelings and passions of our immediate environment; we allow ourselves to be infected and carried away by it. Originally the effects and their physical manifestations had a biological significance; i.e. they were a protective mechanism for the individual and the whole herd. If we manifest emotions, we can with certainty expect to receive emotions in return. That is the feeling of the predicate-type. What the 45-year-old woman lacks in emotions, i.e. in love in her marriage relations she seeks to obtain in the outside world, and for that reason she is an ardent participant in the Christian Science movement. If the daughter imitates this situation she copies her mother, she seeks to obtain emotions from the outside. But for a girl of sixteen such an emotional state is, to say the least, quite dangerous; like her mother, she reacts to her environment as a sufferer soliciting sympathy. Such an emotional state is no longer dangerous in the mother, but for obvious reasons it is quite dangerous in the daughter. Once freed from her father and mother she will be like her mother, i.e. she will be a suffering woman craving for inner gratification. She will thus be exposed to the great danger of falling a victim to brutality and of marrying a brute and inebriate like her father.

This conception is of importance in the consideration of the influence of environment and education. The example shows what passes over from the mother to the child. It is not the good and pious precepts, nor is it any other inculcation of pedagogic truths that have a moulding influence upon the character of the developing child, but what most influences him is the peculiarly affective state which is totally unknown to his parents and educators. The concealed discord between the parents, the secret worry, the repressed hidden wishes, all these produce in the individual a certain affective state with its objective signs which slowly but surely, though unconsciously, works its way into the child's mind, producing therein the same conditions and hence the same reactions to external stimuli. We know the depressing effect mournful and melancholic persons have upon us. A restless and nervous individual infects his surroundings with unrest and dissatisfaction, a grumbler with his discontent, etc. Since grown-up persons are so sensitive to surrounding influences, we should certainly expect this to be even more noticeable among children, whose minds are as soft and plastic as wax. The father and mother impress deeply into the child's mind the seal of their personality; the more sensitive and mouldable the child the deeper is the impression. Thus things that are never even spoken about are reflected in the child. The child imitates the gesture, and just as the gesture of the parent is the expression of an emotional state, so in turn the gesture gradually produces in the child a similar feeling, as it feels itself, so to speak, into the gesture. Just as the parents adapt themselves to the world, so does the child. At the age of puberty when it begins to free itself from the spell of the family, it enters into life with, so to say, a surface adaptation entirely in keeping with that of the father and mother. The frequent and often very deep depressions of puberty emanate from this; they are symptoms which are rooted in the difficulty of new adjustment. The youthful person at first tries to separate himself as much as possible from his family; he may even estrange himself from it, but inwardly this only ties him the more firmly to the parental image. I cite the case of a young neurotic who ran away from his parents; he was estranged from, and almost hostile to them, but he admitted to me that he possessed a special sanctum; it was a strong box containing his old childhood books, old dried flowers, stones, and even small bottles of water from the well at his home and from a river along which he walked with his parents, etc.

The first attempts to assume friendship and love are constellated in the strongest manner possible by the relation to parents, and here one can usually observe how powerful are the influences of the familiar constellations. It is not rare, for instance, for a healthy man whose mother was hysterical to marry a hysteric, or for the daughter of an alcoholic to choose an alcoholic for her husband. I was once consulted by an intelligent and educated young woman of twenty-six who suffered from a peculiar symptom. She thought that her eyes now and then took on a strange expression which exerted a disagreeable influence on men. If she then looked at a man he became self-conscious, turned away and said something rapidly to his neighbour, at which both were either embarrassed or inclined to laugh. The patient was convinced that her look excited indecent thoughts in the men. It was impossible to convince her of the falsity of her conviction. This symptom immediately aroused in me the suspicion that I dealt with a case of paranoia rather than with a neurosis. But as was shown only three days later by the further course of the treatment, I was mistaken, for the symptom promptly disappeared after it had been explained by analysis. It originated in the following manner: The lady had a lover who deserted her in a very marked manner. She felt utterly forsaken; she withdrew from all society and pleasure, and entertained suicidal ideas. In her seclusion there accumulated unadmitted and repressed erotic wishes which she unconsciously projected on men whenever she was in their company. This gave rise to the conviction that her look excited erotic wishes in men. Further investigation showed that her deserting lover was a lunatic, which she had not apparently observed. I expressed my surprise at her unsuitable choice, and added that she must have had a certain predilection for loving mentally abnormal persons. This she denied, stating that she had once before been engaged to be married to a normal man. He, too, deserted her; and on further investigation it was found that he, too, had been in an insane asylum shortly before,—another lunatic! This seemed to me to confirm with sufficient certainty my belief that she had an unconscious tendency to choose insane persons. Whence originated this strange taste? Her father was an eccentric character, and in later years entirely estranged from his family. Her whole love had therefore been turned away from her father to a brother eight years her senior; him she loved and honoured as a father, and this brother became hopelessly insane at the age of fourteen. That was apparently the model from which the patient could never free herself, after which she chose her lovers, and through which she had to become unhappy. Her neurosis which gave the impression of insanity, probably originated from this infantile model. We must take into consideration that we are dealing in this case with a highly educated and intelligent lady, who did not pass carelessly over her mental experiences, who indeed reflected much over her unhappiness, without, however, having any idea whence her misfortune originated.

There are things which unconsciously appear to us as a matter of course, and it is for this reason that we do not see them truly, but attribute everything to the so-called congenital character. I could cite any number of examples of this kind. Every patient furnishes contributions to this subject of the determination of destiny through the influence of the familiar milieu. In every neurotic we see how the constellation of the infantile milieu influences not only the character of the neurosis, but also life's destiny, even in its minute details. The unhappy choice of a profession, and innumerable matrimonial failures can be traced to this constellation. There are, however, cases where the profession has been well chosen, where the husband or wife leaves nothing to be desired, and where still the person does not feel well but works and lives under constant difficulties. Such cases often appear under the guise of chronic neurasthenia. Here the difficulty is due to the fact that the mind is unconsciously split into two parts of divergent tendencies which are impeding each other; one part lives with the husband or with the profession, while the other lives unconsciously in the past with the father or mother. I have treated a lady who, after suffering many years from a severe neurosis, merged into a dementia præcox. The neurotic affection began with her marriage. This lady's husband was kind, educated, well to do, and in every respect suitable for her; his character showed nothing that would in any way interfere with a happy marriage. The marriage was nevertheless unhappy, all congenial companionship being excluded because the wife was neurotic.

The important heuristic axiom of every psychoanalysis reads as follows: If a person develops a neurosis this neurosis contains the counter-argument against the relation of the patient to the individual with whom he is most intimately connected. A neurosis in the husband loudly proclaims that he has intensive resistances and contrary tendencies against his wife; if the wife has a neurosis she has a tendency which diverges from her husband. If the person is unmarried the neurosis is then directed against the lover or the sweetheart or against the parents. Every neurotic naturally strives against this relentless formulation of the content of his neurosis, and he often refuses to recognise it at any cost, but still it is always justified. To be sure, the conflict is not on the surface, but must generally be revealed through a painstaking psychoanalysis.

The history of our patient reads as follows:

The father had a powerful personality. She was his favourite daughter, and entertained for him a boundless veneration. At the age of seventeen she for the first time fell in love with a young man. At that time she twice dreamt the same dream, the impression of which never left her in all her later years; she even imputed a mystic significance to it, and often recalled it with religious dread. In the dream she saw a tall, masculine figure with a very beautiful white beard; at this sight she was permeated with a feeling of awe and delight as if she experienced the presence of God Himself. This dream made the deepest impression on her, and she was constrained to think of it again and again. The love affair of that period proved to be one of little warmth, and was soon given up. Later the patient married her present husband. Though she loved her husband she was led continually to compare him with her deceased father; this comparison always proved unfavourable to her husband. Whatever the husband said, intended, or did, was subjected to this standard and always with the same result: "My father would have done all this better and differently." Our patient's life with her husband was not happy, she could neither respect nor love him sufficiently; she was inwardly dissatisfied. She gradually developed a fervent piety, and at the same time violent hysterical symptoms supervened. She began by going into raptures now over this and now over that clergyman; she was looking everywhere for a spiritual friend, and estranged herself more and more from her husband. The mental trouble manifested itself about ten years after marriage. In her diseased state she refused to have anything to do with her husband and child; she imagined herself pregnant by another man. In brief, the resistances against her husband, which hitherto had been laboriously repressed, came out quite openly, and among other things manifested themselves in insults of the gravest kind directed against him.

In this case we see how a neurosis appeared, as it were, at the moment of marriage, i.e. this neurosis expresses the counter-argument against the husband. What is the counter-argument? The counter-argument is the father of the patient, for she verified her belief daily that her husband was not the equal of her father. When the patient first fell in love there had appeared a symptom in the form of an extremely impressive dream or vision. She saw the man with the very beautiful white beard. Who was this man? On directing her attention to the beautiful white beard she immediately recognised the phantom. It was of course her father. Thus every time the patient merged into a love affair the picture of her father inopportunely appeared and prevented her from adjusting herself psychologically to her husband.

I purposely chose this case as an illustration because it is simple, obvious, and quite typical of many marriages which are crippled through the neurosis of the wife. The cause of the unhappiness always lies in a too firm attachment to the parents. The infantile relationship has not been given up. We find here one of the most important tasks of pedagogy, namely, the solution of the problem how to free the growing individual from his unconscious attachments to the influences of the infantile milieu, in such a manner that he may retain whatever there is in it that is suitable and reject whatever is unsuitable. To solve this difficult question on the part of the child seems to me impossible at present. We know as yet too little about the child's emotional processes. The first and only real contribution to the literature on this subject has in fact appeared during the present year. It is the analysis of a five-year-old boy published by Freud.

The difficulties on the part of the child are very great. They should not, however, be so great on the part of the parents. In many ways the parents could manage the love of children more carefully, more indulgently, and more intelligently. The sins committed against favourite children by the undue love of the parents could perhaps be avoided through a wider knowledge of the child's mind. For many reasons I find it impossible to say anything of general validity concerning the bringing up of children as it is affected by this problem. We are as yet very far from general prescriptions and rules; indeed we are still in the realm of casuistry. Unfortunately, our knowledge of the finer mental processes in the child is so meagre that we are not yet in any position to say where the greatest trouble lies, whether in the parents, in the child, or in the conception of the milieu. Only psychoanalyses of the kind that Professor Freud has published in the Jahrbuch, 1909,[141] will help us out of this difficulty. Such comprehensive and profound observations should act as a strong inducement to all teachers to occupy themselves with Freud's psychology. This psychology offers more values for practical pedagogy than the physiological psychology of the present.

Lecture III

EXPERIENCES CONCERNING THE PSYCHIC LIFE OF THE CHILD[142]

Ladies and Gentlemen: In our last lecture we saw how important the emotional processes of childhood are for later life. In to-day's lecture I should like to give you some insight into the psychic life of the child through the analysis of a four-year-old girl. It is much to be regretted that there are few among you who have had the opportunity of reading the analysis of "Little Hans" (Kleiner Hans), which was published by Freud during the current year.[143] I ought to begin by giving you the content of that analysis, so that you might be in a position to compare Freud's results with those obtained by me, and observe the marked, and astonishing similarity between the unconscious creations of the two children. Without a knowledge of the fundamental analysis of Freud, much in the report of the following case will appear strange, incomprehensible, and perhaps unacceptable to you. I beg you, however, to defer your final judgment and to enter upon the consideration of these new subjects with a kindly disposition, for such pioneer work in virgin soil requires not only the greatest patience on the part of the investigator, but also the unprejudiced attention of his audience. Because the Freudian investigations apparently involve a discussion of the most intimate secrets of sexuality many people have had a feeling of repulsion against them, and have therefore rejected everything as a matter of course without any real disproof. This, unfortunately, has almost always been the fate of Freud's doctrines up to the present. One must not come to the consideration of these matters with the firm conviction that they do not exist, for it may easily happen that for the prejudiced they really do not exist. One should perhaps assume the author's point of view for the moment and investigate these phenomena under his guidance. Only in this way can the correctness or otherwise of our observations be affirmed. We may err, as all human beings err. But the continual holding up to us of our mistakes—perhaps they are worse than mistakes—does not help us to see things more distinctly. We should prefer to see wherein we err. That should be demonstrated to us in our own sphere of experience. Thus far, however, no one has succeeded in meeting us on our own ground, nor in giving us a different conception of the things which we ourselves see. We still have to complain that our critics persist in maintaining complete ignorance about the matters in question. The only reason for this is that they have never taken the trouble to become thoroughly acquainted with our method; had they done this they would have understood us.

The little girl to whose sagacity and intellectual vivacity we are indebted for the following observations is a healthy, lively child of emotional temperament. She has never been seriously ill, and never, even in the realm of the nervous system, had there been observed any symptoms prior to this investigation. In the report which follows we shall have to waive any connected description, for it is made up of anecdotes which treat of one experience out of a whole cycle of similar ones, and which cannot, therefore, be arranged scientifically and systematically, but must rather be described somewhat in the form of a story. We cannot as yet dispense with this manner of description in our analytical psychology, for we are still far from being able in all cases to separate with unerring certainty what is curious from what is typical.

When the little daughter, whom we will call Anna, was about three years old, she once had the following conversation with her grandmother:

Anna: "Grandma, why are your eyes so dim?"

Grandma: "Because I am old."

A.: "But you will become young again."

G.: "No, do you know, I shall become older and older, and then I shall die."

A.: "Well, and then?"

G.: "Then I shall be an angel."

A.: "And then will you be a little baby again?"

The child found here a welcome opportunity for the provisional solution of a problem. For some time before she had been in the habit of asking her mother whether she would ever have a living doll, a little child, a little brother. This naturally included the question as to the origin of children. As such questions appeared only spontaneously and indirectly, the parents attached no significance to them, but responded to them as lightly and in appearance as carelessly as the child seemed to ask them. Thus she once received from her father the pretty story that children are brought by the stork. Anna had already heard somewhere a more serious version, namely, that children, are little angels living in heaven, and are brought from heaven by the stork. This theory seems to have become the starting point for the investigating activity of the little one. From the conversation with the grandmother it could be seen that this theory was capable of wide application, namely, it not only solved in a comforting manner the painful idea of parting and dying, but at the same time also the riddle of the origin of children. Such solutions which kill at least two birds with one stone were formerly tenaciously adhered to in science, and cannot be removed from the mind of the child without a certain amount of shock.

Just as the birth of a little sister was the turning point in the history of "Little Hans," so in this case it was the birth of a brother, which happened when Anna had reached the age of four years. The pregnancy of the mother apparently remained unnoticed; i.e. the child never expressed herself on this subject. On the evening before the birth, when labour pains were beginning, the child was in her father's room. He took her on his knee and said, "Tell me, what would you say if you should get a little brother to-night?" "I would kill him" was the prompt answer. The expression "to kill" looks very serious, but in reality it is quite harmless, for "to kill" and "to die" in child language signify only to remove, either in the active or in the passive sense, as has already been pointed out a number of times by Freud. "To kill" as used by the child is a harmless word, especially so when we know that the child uses the word "kill" quite promiscuously for all possible kinds of destruction, removal, demolition, etc. It is, nevertheless, worth while to note this tendency (see the analysis of Kleiner Hans, p. 5).

The birth occurred early in the morning, and later the father entered the room where Anna slept. She awoke as he came in. He imparted to her the news of the advent of a little brother, which she took with surprise and strained facial expression. The father took her in his arms and carried her into the lying-in room. She first threw a rapid glance at her somewhat pale mother and then displayed something like a mixture of embarrassment and suspicion as if thinking, "Now what else is going to happen?" (Father's impression.) She displayed hardly any pleasure at the sight of the new arrival, so that the cool reception she gave it caused general disappointment. During the forenoon she kept very noticeably away from her mother; this was the more striking as she was usually much attached to her. But once when her mother was alone she ran into the room, embraced her and said, "Well, aren't you going to die now?" Now a part of the conflict in the child's psyche is revealed to us. Though the stork theory was never really taken seriously, she accepted the fruitful re-birth hypothesis, according to which a person by dying helps a child into life. Accordingly the mother, too, must die; why, then, should the newborn child, against whom she already felt childish jealousy, cause her pleasure? It was for this reason that she had to seek a favourable opportunity of reassuring herself as to whether the mother was to die, or rather was moved to express the hope that she would not die.

With this happy issue, however, the re-birth theory sustained a severe shock. How was it possible now to explain the birth of her little brother and the origin of children in general? There still remained the stork theory which, though never expressly rejected, had been implicitly waived through the assumption of the re-birth theory. The explanations next attempted unfortunately remained hidden from the parents as the child went to stay with her grandmother for a few weeks. From the latter's report the stork theory was often discussed, and was naturally reinforced by the concurrence of those about her.

When Anna returned to her parents, she again, on meeting her mother, evinced the same mixture of embarrassment and suspicion which she had displayed after the birth. The impression, though inexplicable, was quite unmistakable to both parents. Her behaviour towards the baby was very nice. During her absence a nurse had come into the house who, on account of her uniform, made a deep impression on Anna; to be sure, the impression at first was quite unfavourable as she evinced the greatest hostility to her. Thus nothing could induce her to allow herself to be undressed and put to sleep by this nurse. Whence this resistance originated was soon shown in an angry scene near the cradle of the little brother in which Anna shouted at the nurse, "This is not your little brother, he is mine!" Gradually, however, she became reconciled to the nurse, and began to play nurse herself; she had to have her white cap and apron, and "nursed" now her little brother, and now her doll.

In contrast to her former mood she became unmistakably mournful and dreamy. She often sat for a long time under the table singing stories and making rhymes, which were partially incomprehensible but sometimes contained the "nurse" theme ("I am a nurse of the green cross"). Some of the stories, however, distinctly showed a painful feeling striving for expression.

Here we meet with a new and important feature in the little one's life: that is, we meet with reveries, even a tendency towards poetic fancies and melancholic attacks. All of them things which we are wont first to encounter at a later period of life, at a time when the youth or maiden is preparing to sever the family tie and to enter independently upon life, but is still held back by an inward, painful feeling of homesickness for the warmth of the parental hearth. At such a time the youth begins to replace what is lacking with poetic fancies in order to compensate for the deficiency. To approximate the psychology of a four-year-old child to that of the youth approaching puberty will at first sight seem paradoxical; the relationship lies, however, not in the age but rather in the mechanism. The elegiac reveries express the fact that a part of that love which formerly belonged, and should belong, to a real object, is now introverted, that is, it is turned inward into the subject and there produces an increased imaginative activity. What is the origin of this introversion? Is it a psychological manifestation peculiar to this age, or does it owe its origin to a conflict?

This is explained in the following occurrence. It often happened that Anna was disobedient to her mother, she was insolent, saying, "I am going back to grandma."

Mother: "But I shall be sad when you leave me."

Anna: "Oh, but you have my little brother."

This reaction towards the mother shows what the little one was really aiming at with her threats to go away again; she apparently wished to hear what her mother would say to her proposal, that is, to see what attitude her mother would actually assume to her, whether her little brother had not ousted her altogether from her mother's regard. One must, however, give no credence to this little trickster. For the child could readily see and feel that, despite the existence of the little brother, there was nothing essentially lacking to her in her mother's love. The reproach to which she subjects her mother is therefore unjustified, and to the trained ear this is betrayed by a slightly affected tone. Such an unmistakable tone does not expect to be taken seriously and hence it obtrudes itself more vehemently. The reproach as such cannot be taken seriously by the mother, for it was only the forerunner of other and this time more serious resistances. Not long after the conversation narrated above, the following scene took place:

Mother: "Come, we are going into the garden now!"

Anna: "You are telling lies, take care if you are not telling the truth."

M.: "What are you thinking of? I am telling the truth."

A.: "No, you are not telling the truth."

M.: "You will soon see that I am telling the truth: we are going into the garden now."

A.: "Indeed, is that true? Is that really true? Are you not lying?"

Scenes of this kind were repeated a number of times. This time the tone was more rude and more vehement, and at the same time the accent on the word "lie" betrayed something special which the parents did not understand; indeed, at first they attributed too little significance to the spontaneous utterances of the child. In this they merely did what education usually does in general, ex officio. We usually pay little heed to children in every stage of life; in all essential matters, they are treated as not responsible, and in all unessential ma tters, they are trained with an automatic precision.

Under resistances there always lies a question, a conflict, of which we hear later and on other occasions. But usually one forgets to connect the thing heard with the resistances. Thus, on another occasion, Anna put to her mother the following questions:—

Anna: "I should like to become a nurse when I grow big—why did you not become a nurse?"

Mother: "Why, as I have become a mother I have children to nurse anyway."

A. (Reflecting): "Indeed, shall I be a lady like you, and shall I talk to you then?"

The mother's answer again shows whither the child's question was really directed. Apparently Anna, too, would like to have a child to "nurse" just as the nurse has. Where the nurse got the little child is quite clear. Anna, too, could get a child in the same way if she were big. Why did not the mother become such a nurse, that is to say, how did she get a child if not in the same way as the nurse? Like the nurse, Anna, too, could get a child, but how that fact might be changed in the future or how she might come to resemble her mother in the matter of getting children is not clear to her. From this resulted the thoughtful question, "Indeed, shall I be a lady like you? Shall I be quite different?" The stork theory evidently had come to naught, the dying theory met a similar fate; hence she now thinks one may get a child in the same way, as, for example, the nurse got hers. She, too, could get one in this natural way, but how about the mother who is no nurse and still has children? Looking at the matter from this point of view, Anna asks: "Why did you not become a nurse?" namely, "why have you not got your child in the natural way?" This peculiar indirect manner of questioning is typical, and evidently corresponds with the child's hazy grasp of the problem, unless we assume a certain diplomatic uncertainty prompted by a desire to evade direct questioning. We shall later find an illustration of this possibility. Anna is evidently confronted with the question "Where does the child come from?" The stork did not bring it; mother did not die; nor did mother get it in the same way as the nurse. She has, however, asked this question before and received the information from her father that the stork brings children; this is positively untrue, she can never be deceived on this point. Accordingly, papa and mama and all the others lie. This readily explains her suspicion at the childbirth and her discrediting of her mother. But it also explains another point, namely, the elegiac reveries which we have attributed to a partial introversion. We know now what was the real object from which love was removed and uselessly introverted, namely, it had to be taken from the parents who deceived her and refused to tell her the truth. (What can this be which must not be uttered? What is going on here?) Such were the parenthetic questions of the child, and the answer was: Evidently this must be something to be concealed, perhaps something dangerous. Attempts to make her talk and to draw out the truth by means of artful questions were futile, so resistance is placed against resistance, and the introversion of love begins. It is evident that the capacity for sublimation in a four-year-old child is still too slightly developed to be capable of performing more than symptomatic services. The mind, therefore, depends on another compensation, namely, it resorts to one of the relinquished infantile devices for securing love by force, preferably that of crying and calling the mother at night. This had been diligently practised and exhausted during her first year. It now returns, and corresponding to the period of life has become well determined and equipped with recent impressions. It was just after the earthquakes in Messina, and this event was discussed at the table. Anna was extremely interested in everything, she repeatedly asked her grandmother to tell her how the earth shook, how the houses fell in and many people lost their lives. After this she had nocturnal fears, she could not be alone, her mother had to go to her and stay with her; otherwise she feared that an earthquake would happen, that the house would fall and kill her. During the day, too, she was much occupied with such thoughts. While walking with her mother she annoyed her with such questions as, "Will the house be standing when we return home? Are you sure there is no earthquake at home? Will papa still be living?" About every stone lying in the road she asked whether it was from an earthquake. A building in course of erection was a house destroyed by the earthquake, etc. Finally, she began to cry out frequently at night that the earthquake was coming and that she heard the thunder. Each evening she had to be solemnly assured that there was no earthquake coming.

Many means of calming her were tried, thus she was told, for example, that earthquakes only occur where there are volcanoes. But then she had to be satisfied that the mountains surrounding the city were not volcanoes. This reasoning led the child by degrees to a desire for learning, as strong as it was unnatural at her age, which showed itself in a demand that all the geological atlases and text-books should be brought to her from her father's library. For hours she rummaged through these works looking for pictures of volcanoes and earthquakes, and asking questions continually. Here we are confronted by an energetic effort to sublimate the fear into an eager desire for knowledge, which at this age made a decidedly premature exaction. But how many a gifted child suffering in exactly the same way with such problems, is "cosseted" through this untimely sublimation, by no means to its advantage. For, by favouring sublimation at this age one is merely strengthening manifestation of neurosis. The root of the eager desire for knowledge is fear, and fear is the expression of converted libido; that is, it is the expression of an introversion which has become neurotic, which at this age is neither necessary nor favourable for the development of the child.

Whither this eager desire for knowledge was ultimately directed is explained by a series of questions which arose almost daily. "Why is Sophie (a younger sister) younger than I?" "Where was Freddie (the little brother) before? Was he in heaven? What was he doing there? Why did he come down just now, why not before?"

This state of affairs led the father to decide that the mother should tell the child when occasion offered the truth concerning the origin of the little brother. This having been done, Anna soon thereafter asked about the stork. Her mother told her that the story of the stork was not true, but that Freddie grew inside his mother like the flowers in a plant. At first he was very little, and then he became bigger and bigger as a plant does. She listened attentively without the slightest surprise, and then asked, "But did he come out all by himself?"

Mother: "Yes."

Anna: "But he cannot walk!"

Sophie: "Then he crawled out."

Anna, overhearing her little sister's answer: "Is there a hole here? (pointing to the breast) or did he come out of the mouth? Who came out of the nurse?" She then interrupted herself and exclaimed, "No, no, the stork brought baby brother down from heaven." She soon left the subject and again wished to see pictures of volcanoes. During the evening following this conversation she was calm. The sudden explanation produced in the child a whole series of ideas, which manifested themselves in certain questions. New unexpected perspectives were opened; she rapidly approached the main problem, namely, the question, "Where did the baby come out?" Was it from a hole in the breast or from the mouth? Both suppositions are entirely qualified to form acceptable theories. We even meet with recently married women who still entertain the theory of the hole in the abdominal wall or of the Cæsarean section; this is supposed to betray a very unusual degree of innocence. But as a matter of fact it is not innocence; we are always dealing in such cases with infantile sexual activities, which in later life have brought the vias naturales into ill repute.

It may be asked where the child got the absurd idea that there is a hole in the breast, or that the birth takes place through the mouth. Why did she not select one of the natural openings existing in the pelvis from which things come out daily? The explanation is simple. Very shortly before, our little one had invoked some educational criticism from her mother by a heightened interest in both openings with their remarkable excretions,—an interest not always in accord with the requirements of cleanliness and decorum. Then for the first time she became acquainted with the exceptional laws relating to these bodily regions and, being a sensitive child, she soon learned that there was something here to be tabooed. This region, therefore, must not be referred to. Anna had simply shown herself docile and had so adjusted herself to the cultural demands that she thought (at least spoke) of the simplest things last. The incorrect theories substituted for correct laws sometimes persist for years until brusque explanations come from without. It is, therefore, no wonder that such theories, the forming of and adherence to which are favoured even by parents and educationalists should later become determinants for important symptoms in a neurosis, or of delusions in a psychosis, just as I have shown that in dementia præcox[144] what has existed in the mind for years always remains somewhere, though it may be hidden under compensations of a seemingly different kind.

But even before this question was settled as to where the child really comes out a new problem obtruded itself, viz. the children came out of the mother, but how is it with the nurse? Did some one come out of her too? This question was followed by the remark, "No, no, the stork brought down baby brother from heaven." What is there peculiar about the fact that nobody came out of the nurse? We recall that Anna identified herself with the nurse, and planned to become a nurse later, for she, too, would like to have a child, and she could have one as well as the nurse. But now when it is known that the little brother grew in mama, how is it now?