"FREUD AND PAYCHOANALYSIS"

$5.00 

THE COLLECTED WORKS OF 

C.G.JUNG 

VOLUME 4 

FREUD AND 
PSYCHOANALYSIS 

Translated by R. F. C. Hull 

Jung's first meeting with Freud took place in Feb 
ruary 1 907, though the two had been in corres 
pondence for a year and Jung had been applying 
Freud's ideas in various directions since 1904. 
Until 1912, the association of the two doctors 
was very close, and Jung was regarded as one of 
the leading spokesmen for and practitioners of 
psychoanalysis. The personal relationship subse 
quently became remote, though Jung continued 
to serve as president of the International Psycho- 
Analytical Association until 1914. 

The present volume gives the substance of 
Jung's published writings on Freud and psycho 
analysis between 1906 and 1916, with two later 
papers. Part I covers the period of enthusiastic 
collaboration and contains nine brief studies of 
Freud's theory of hysteria, dream analysis, the 
psychology of rumor, the work of Morton Prince, 
and other subjects. The papers in Parts II and III 
contain the essentials of the criticism that led to 
the formal rupture with Freud. The chief of these is 
a work of book length, "The Theory of Psycho 
analysis," originally given as a series of lectures 
at the medical school at Fordham University (New 
York) in 1 91 2. In Part IV, "The Significance of the 
father in the Destiny of the Individual," because 
c f $ special interest, has been edited to give both 
tV otirhal version of 1908 and the extensively 
revbtd vision of 1949. "Freud and Jung: Con 
trasts 1 ' ''929) and the introduction ti c book by 
W. M. Krai mi eld 1 11 930) together form a basis for 
further study of June's reassessment of psycho 
analysis as set forth In otaer volumes of this edition. 

The volume, witii bibliography and index, is the 
eleventh to appear m this collected edition. 



Jacket cfosj^n hy E. Aft<;ftng 



KANSAS CITY, MO, PUBLIC LIBRARY 




D DDD1 




SEp-2-tW 



-m 



mn- 



wr 



iy 1 419)2 



9 



APR i 



132 J95co v.4 

Jung, C. G. (Carl 

Gustav), 1875-1961. en 
Collected works. 



1953- 



BOLLINGEN SERIES XX 

THE COLLECTED WORKS 
OF 

C. G. JUNG 

VOLUME 4 



EDITORS 

SIR HERBERT READ 

MICHAEL FORDHAM, M.D., M.R.C.P. 

GERHARD ADLER, PH.D. 



FREUD AND 
PSYCHOANALYSIS 

C. G. JUNG 




TRANSLATED BY R. F. C. HULL 



BOLLINGEN SERIES XX 



PANTHEON BOOKS 



COPYRIGHT 1961 BY BOLLINGEN FOUNDATION, NEW YORK, N. Y. 
PUBLISHED FOR BOLLINGEN FOUNDATION 
BY PANTHEON BOOKS INC., NEW YORK, N. Y. 



THIS EDITION IS BEING PUBLISHED IN THE 
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA FOR THE BOL 
LINGEN FOUNDATION BY PANTHEON BOOKS 
INC., AND IN ENGLAND BY ROUTLEDGE AND 
KEGAN PAUL, LTD. IN THE AMERICAN EDI 
TION ALL THE VOLUMES COMPRISING THE 
COLLECTED WORKS CONSTITUTE NUMBER 
XX IN BOLLINGEN SERIES. THE PRESENT 
VOLUME IS NUMBER 4 OF THE COLLECTED 
WORKS, AND IS THE ELEVENTH TO APPEAR. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG CARD NUMBER: 52-8757 

MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA BY H. WOLFF 

NEW YORK, N. Y. 



EDITORIAL NOTE 



In the Editorial Note to Volume i it was pointed out that Jung's 
interest had gradually transferred itself, over the years, from 
psychiatry through psychoanalysis and typology to the theory 
of archetypes, and finally to the psychology of religious motifs. 
This facilitated the grouping of his published researches under 
the relevant headings, even though some of the material could 
equally well fit into any of several volumes. It follows that there 
is an underlying network linking, in time or subject-matter, each 
volume with others, and that wide reading among the volumes 
is required for a thorough grasp of Jung's views on any particu 
lar topic. From no single volume, whatever the arrangement, 
could the continuity of development be seen in historical 
perspective. 

The present volume gives the substance of Jung's published 
writings on Freud and psychoanalysis between the years 1906 
and 1916; two later papers are, however, added for reasons which 
will become apparent. Anyone familiar with Jung's work will 
be aware that references to Freud's observations and theories oc 
cur frequently throughout his writings; indeed, the discussion 
of them has engaged his interest from the beginning of the cen 
tury to the present day. The scientific papers in this volume, 
while falling short of a complete account of Freud and psycho 
analysis, nevertheless give the essential elements in Jung's chang 
ing views on this subject. 

Between the years 1907 and 1912, when Jung was a psycho 
analyst, his association with Freud was very close. Though the 
personal relationship between the two then became strained, 
largely owing to the publication of Wandlungen und Symbols 
der Libido in 191 1-12, Jung continued to serve as president of 
the International Psycho-Analytical Association until 1914. Part 



EDITORIAL NOTE 



I of this volume covers the period of Jung's close and "enthusias 
tic" collaboration with Freud; the papers in Parts II and III 
contain the essentials of the criticism that led to the formal rup 
ture. The contents of Part IV are more in need of explanation. 
"The Significance of the Father in the Destiny of the Individ 
ual/' having been originally written in 1908, is associated with 
the material of Part I. It was, however, considerably revised by 
the author in 1949, and the revisions are sufficiently extensive to 
warrant its being placed in Part IV. In view of their special in 
terest, the most important differences between the two versions 
have been indicated by the use of brackets and footnotes (a com 
parative method applied also to "The Theory of Psychoanalysis" 
in Part II). The essay "Freud and Jung: Contrasts" was com 
missioned in 1929 by the editor of the Kolnische Zeitung in view 
of the then current interest in the relation between Freud and 
Jung. It is included here because it shows the continuity in 
Jung's thinking from the time he wrote "The Theory of Psycho 
analysis" (1912), serving at the same time as an outline of the 
changes that had taken place in the interim. In particular, it 
stresses that the element of confession and the personality of the 
investigator cannot be eradicated from psychological formula 
tions and may even be considered an essential part of them. 
Jung's estimate of Freud must be seen in this light, not only in 
the writings in the present volume but in Volume 15, where 
Freud is viewed in his cultural setting. "Freud and Jung: Con 
trasts" and the Introduction to Kranefeldt's Secret Ways of the 
Mind (1930) therefore form a basis for further study of Jung's 
reassessment of psychoanalysis in that and other volumes o this 
edition. 

The concept of personality is closely bound up with the sub 
ject of typology, first broached in this volume and elaborated 
systematically in Psychological Types (Volume 6). Indeed, Jung 
has once again declared (in his British television broadcast, No 
vember 1959) that it was the difference between Freud's views 
and his own that originally impelled him to work out a psychol 
ogy of types. We can see this very clearly in the publications 
between the years 1913 and 1921, when Psychological Types was 
published. The break with Freud was followed by a relatively 
fallow period. Except for a handful of publications chiefly in 
English only two works appeared during those years, but they 

vi 



EDITORIAL NOTE 



are very important indeed: "The Conception of the Uncon 
scious" and "The Psychology of the Unconscious Processes" (a 
revision of a 1912 work), published in 1916 and 1917. Through 
periodic revision these ultimately became the celebrated Two 
Essays on Analytical Psychology (Volume 7), and they contain in 
embryo the whole future development of analytical psychology 
both as a therapeutic technique and as a method of investigating 
the unconscious. In these two seminal works and their subse 
quent revisions, Jung progressively elaborates and clarifies his 
basic concepts and carefully differentiates his position from that 
of Freud. They deepen our understanding of Jung's relation to 
psychoanalysis in that they set his concepts of the collective un 
conscious, the archetypes, and the individuation process side by 
side with his assessment of the theories of Freud and Adler. In 
this respect, they amplify the papers published in Parts I, II, and 
III of the present volume and form the link between them and 
Jung's more critical approach to Freud in Part IV. 

The combination of scientific with less technical essays illus 
trates another aspect of editorial policy in this and other volumes. 
Over the years Jung has responded again and again to the wide 
spread interest which psychoanalysis, and later analytical psy 
chology, aroused. The Editors, therefore, have not hesitated to 
assemble in the same volume scientific articles with essays of a 
more popular nature. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 



EDITORIAL NOTE 



Freud's Theory of Hysteria: A Reply to 
Aschaffenburg 3 

Translated from "Die Hysterielehre Frauds: Eine Erwiderung 
auf die Aschaffenburgsche Kritik," Munchener medizinische 
Wochenschrift (Munich), LIII (1906). 

The Freudian Theory of Hysteria 10 

Translated from "Die Freud'sche Hysterietheorie," Monats- 
schrift fur Psychiatrie und Neurologic (Berlin), XXIII (1908). 

The Analysis of Dreams *5 

Translated from "L/ Analyse des rves," Annte psychologiquc 
(Paris), XV (1909). 

A Contribution to the Psychology of Rumour 35 

Translated from "Ein Beitrag zur Psychologic des Geriichtes," 
Zentralblatt fur Psychoanalyse (Wiesbaden), I (1910/11). 

On the Significance of Number Dreams 4 8 

Translated from "Ein Beitrag zur Kenntnis des Zahlen- 
traumes," Zentralblatt fur Psychoanalyse (Wiesbaden), I 
(1910/11). 

ix 



CONTENTS 



Morton Prince, "The Mechanism and Interpretation 

of Dreams": A Critical Review 56 

Translated from a review in the Jahrbuch fur psychoanaly- 
tische und psychopathologische Forschungen (Leipzig), III 



On the Criticism of Psychoanalysis 74 

Translated from "Zur Kritik iiber Psychoanalyse," Jahrbuch 
fur psychoanalytische und psychopathologische Forschungen 
(Leipzig), II (1910). 

Concerning Psychoanalysis 78 

Translated from "Zur Psychoanalyse," Wissen und Leben 
(Zurich), V (1912). 



II 

The Theory of Psychoanalysis 83 

Translated from Versuch einer Darstellung der psychoana- 
lytischen Theorie, 2nd edn. (Zurich: Rascher, 1955). 

FOREWORD TO THE FIRST EDITION 85 

FOREWORD TO THE SECOND EDITION 87 

1. A REVIEW OF THE EARLY HYPOTHESES 88 

2. THE THEORY OF INFANTILE SEXUALITY 1O2 

3. THE CONCEPT OF LIBIDO 1 1 ^ 

4. NEUROSIS AND AETIOLOGICAL FACTORS IN CHILDHOOD 139 

5. THE FANTASIES OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 139 

6. THE OEDIPUS COMPLEX ^ ^ 

7. THE AETIOLOGY OF NEUROSIS IRH 

8. THERAPEUTIC PRINCIPLES OF PSYCHOANALYSIS l8l 

9. A CASE OF NEUROSIS IN A CHILD 



X 



CONTENTS 



III 

General Aspects of Psychoanalysis 229 

Translated from "Allgemeine Aspekte der Psychoanalyse/' 
the original ms,, which was published (in an anonymous 
translation) in Transactions of the Psycho-Medical Society 
(Cockermouth, England), 1913. 

Psychoanalysis and Neurosis 243 

Originally published in English as "On Psychoanalysis" in 
Collected Papers on Analytical Psychology (London: Bailli&re, 
Tindall and Cox, 1916). 

Some Crucial Points in Psychoanalysis: A Corre 
spondence between Dr. Jung and Dr. Loy 252 

Translated from Psychotherapeutische Zeitfragen: Ein Brief- 
wechsel mil Dr. C. G. Jung, edited by Dr. R. Loy (Leipzig and 
Vienna: Deuticke, 1914). 

Prefaces to Collected Papers on Analytical Psychology 290 

Originally published in the book, edited by Constance E. 
Long (London: Baillire, Tindall and Cox, 1916; 2nd edn., 



IV 

The Significance of the Father in the Destiny of the 
Individual 301 

Translated from Die Bedeutung des Vaters fur das Schicksal 
des Einzelnen (grd revised edn., Zurich: Rascher, 1949), in 
cluding material from the ist edn. (1909). 

Introduction to Kranefeldt's Secret Ways of the Mind 324 
Translated from the introduction to W. M. Kranefeldt, Die 
Psychoanalyse (Berlin and Leipzig: W. de Gruyter, 1930). 

xi 



CONTENTS 



Freud and Jung: Contrasts 333 

Translated from "Der Gegensatz Freud und Jung/' Seelen- 
probleme der Gegenwart (Zurich: Rascher, 1931). 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 343 

INDEX 35 1 



Xll 



I 



ARTICLES 
1906-1912 



FREUD'S THEORY OF HYSTERIA: A REPLY TO 
ASCHAFFENBURG 1 

If I try to answer Aschaffenburg's on the whole very mod 
erate and cautious criticism of Freud's theory of hysteria, 2 I do 
so in order to prevent the baby from being thrown out with the 
bath-water. Aschaffenburg, of course, does not assert that 
Freud's importance ends with his theory of hysteria. But the 
medical public (psychiatrists included) know Freud mainly 
from this side of his work, and for this reason adverse criticism 
could easily throw a shadow on Freud's other scientific achieve 
ments. I would like to remark at the start that my reply is not 
directed to Aschaffenburg personally, but to the whole school 
of thought whose views and aspirations have found eloquent 
expression in Aschaffenburg's lecture. 

His criticism is confined exclusively to the role which sex 
uality, according to Freud, plays in the formation of the 
psychoneuroses. What he says, therefore, does not affect the 
wider range of Freud's psychology, that is, the psychology of 
dreams, jokes, and disturbances of ordinary thinking caused by 
feeling-toned constellations. It affects only the psychology of 
sexuality, the determinants of hysterical symptoms, and the 
methods of psychanalysis. 3 In all these fields Freud has to his 
credit unique achievements, which can be contested only by one 

1 [First published as "Die Hysterielehre Freuds: Eine Erwiderung auf die Aschaf- 
fenburgsche Kritik," Munchener medizinische Wochenschrift (Munich), LIII : 47 
(Nov. 1906). EDITORS.] 

2 [Aschaffenburg, "Die Beziehungen des sexuellen Lebens zur Entstehung von 
Nerven- und Geisteskrankheiten/' in the same organ, no. 37 (Sept. 1906). Origi 
nally an address (to a congress of neurologists and psychiatrists, Baden-Baden, May 
1906) criticizing Freud's "Bruchstvick einer Hysteric-analyse/' which had been first 
published in 1905 (i.e., "Fragment of an Analysis of a Case of Hysteria"). See Jones, 
Freud: Life and Work, II, p. 12. EDITORS.] 

3 [The earlier form "psychanalysis" (Psychanalyse) is used throughout this and 
the next paper. EDITORS.] 

3 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



who has never taken the trouble to check Freud's thought-proc 
esses experimentally. I say "achievements/' though this does 
not mean that I subscribe unconditionally to all Freud's the 
orems. But it is also an achievement, and often no small one, to 
propound ingenious problems. This achievement cannot be 
disputed even by Freud's most vigorous opponents. 

3 To avoid being unnecessarily diffuse, I shall leave out of 
account all those points which are not affected by Aschaffen- 
burg's criticism, and shall confine myself only to those it attacks. 

4 Freud maintains that he has found the root of most psycho- 
neuroses to be a psychosexual trauma. Is this assertion nonsense? 

5 Aschaff enburg takes his stand on the view, generally accepted 
today, that hysteria is a psychogenic illness. It therefore has its 
roots in the psyche. It would be a work of supererogation to 
point out that an essential component of the psyche is sexuality, 
a component of whose extent and importance we can form ab 
solutely no conception in the present unsatisfactory state of em 
pirical psychology. We know only that one meets sexuality 
everywhere. Is there any other psychic factor, any other basic 
drive except hunger and its derivates, that has a similar im 
portance in human psychology? I could not name one. It stands 
to reason that such a large and weighty component of the psyche 
must give rise to a correspondingly large number of emotional 
conflicts and affective disturbances, and a glance at real life 
teaches us nothing to the contrary. Freud's view can therefore 
claim a high degree of probability at the outset, in so far as he 
derives hysteria primarily from psychosexual conflicts. 

6 Now what about Freud's particular view that all hysteria is 
reducible to sexuality? 

1 Freud has not examined all the hysterias there are. His prop 
osition is therefore subject to the general limitation which ap 
plies to empirical axioms. He has simply found his view con 
firmed in the cases observed by him, which constitute an 
infinitely small fraction of all cases of hysteria. It is even con 
ceivable that there are several forms of hysteria which Freud 
has not yet observed at all. Finally, it is also possible that Freud's 
material, under the constellation of his writings, has become 
somewhat one-sided. 

8 We may therefore modify his dictum, with the consent of 
the author, as follows: An indefinitely large number of cases of 
hysteria derive from sexual roots. 

4 



FREUD'S THEORY OF HYSTERIA (1906) 



9 Has anyone proved that this is not so? By "prove* 1 1 naturally 
mean applying Freud's psychanalytic methods and not just car 
rying out a rigorous examination of the patient and then de 
claring that nothing sexual can be found. All such "proofs" are 
of course worthless from the start. Otherwise we would have to 
admit that a person who examines a bacterial culture with a 
magnifying-glass and asserts that there are no bacteria in it is 
right. The application of psychanalytic methods is, logically, a 
sine qua non. 

10 Aschaffenburg's objection that an entirely traumatic hysteria 
contains nothing sexual and goes back to other, very clear trau 
mata seems to me very apt. But the limits of traumatic hysteria, 
as Aschaffenburg's example shows (flower-pot falling followed 
by aphonia), are very wide. At that rate countless cases of hys 
teria could be put into the category of "traumatic" hysteria, for 
how often does a mild fright produce a new symptom! Aschaff en- 
burg will surely not believe that anyone can be so naive as to 
seek the cause of the symptom in that little affect alone. The 
obvious inference is that the patient was hysterical long before. 
When for instance a shot is fired and a passing girl gets abasia, 
we can safely assume that the vessel, long since full, has merely 
overflowed. No special feat of interpretation is needed to prove 
this. So these and a legion of similar cases prove nothing against 
Freud. 

1 It is rather different in the case of physical traumata and 
hysterias about insurance money. Here, where the trauma and 
the highly affective prospect of money coincide, an emotional 
situation arises which makes the outbreak of a specific form of 
hysteria appear at least very plausible. It is possible that Freud's 
view is not valid in these cases. For lack of other experiences I 
incline to this opinion. But if we want to be absolutely fair and 
absolutely scientific, we would certainly have to show first that 
a sexual constellation really never did pave the way for the hys 
teria, i.e., that nothing of this sort comes out under analysis. At 
any rate the allegation of traumatic hysteria proves, at best, 
only that not all cases of hysteria have a sexual root. But this 
does not controvert Freud's basic proposition, as modified 
above. 

There is no other way to refute it than by the use of psych 
analytic methods. Anyone who does not use them will never 
refute Freud; for it must be proved by means of the methods 

5 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



inaugurated by him that factors can be found in hysteria other 
than sexual ones, or that these methods are totally unsuited to 
bringing intimate psychic material to light. 

*3 Under these conditions, can Aschaffenburg substantiate his 
criticism? 

*4 We hear a great deal about "experiments" and ''experi 
ences/' but there is nothing to show that our critic has used the 
methods himself and what is more important handled them 
with certainty. He cites a number of we must admit very star 
tling examples of Freudian interpretation, which are bound to 
nonplus the beginner. He himself points out the inadequacy of 
quotations torn from their context; it should not be too much 
if I emphasize still further that in psychology the context is 
everything. These Freudian interpretations are the result of in 
numerable experiences and inferences. If you present such re 
sults naked, stripped of their psychological premises, naturally 
no one can understand them. 

*5 When Aschaffenburg says these interpretations are arbitrary 
and asserts that other interpretations are just as possible, or that 
there is absolutely nothing behind the facts in question, it is up 
to him to prove, by his own analyses, that such things are suscep 
tible of altogether different interpretations. Then the matter 
would be quickly settled, and everyone would thank him for 
clearing up this question. It is the same with the question of 
"forgetting" and other symptomatic actions which Aschaffen 
burg relegates to the realm of mysticism. These phenomena are 
extraordinarily common; you meet them almost every day. It is 
therefore not too much to ask a critic to show by means of prac 
tical examples how these phenomena can be traced back to other 
causes. The association experiment would provide him with 
any amount of material. Again he would be doing constructive 
work for which one could not thank him enough. 

16 As soon as Aschaffenburg meets these requirements, that is 
to say, publishes psychanalyses with totally different findings, 
we will accept his criticism, and then the discussion of Freud's 
theory can be reopened. Till then his criticism hangs in mid air. 

*7 Aschaffenburg asserts that the psychanalytic method amounts 
to auto-suggestion on the part of the doctor as well as the patient. 

*8 Apart from the fact that it is incumbent on a critic to demon 
strate his thorough knowledge of the method, we also lack the 

6 



FREUD'S THEORY OF HYSTERIA (1906) 



proof that the method is auto-suggestion. In earlier writings 4 
I have already pointed out that the association experiment de 
vised by me gives the same results in principle, and that psych- 
analysis is really no different from an association experiment, 
as Aschaffenburg himself says in his criticism. His assertion that 
the experiment was used by me in one case only is erroneous; it 
was used for the purpose of analysis in a great number of cases, 
as is evident from numerous statements in my own work and 
from the recent work of Riklin. Aschaffenburg can check my 
statements and those of Freud at any time, so far as the latter 
coincide with my own, by experiment, and thereby acquire a 
knowledge of the exact foundations of psychanalysis. 

That my experiments have nothing to do with auto-sugges 
tion can easily be seen from their use in the experimental diag 
nosis of facts. The step from the association experiment, which 
is already pretty complicated, to full psychanalysis is certainly a 
big one. But, by thorough study of the association experiment 
to the development of which Aschaffenburg himself has made 
outstanding contributions one can acquire invaluable insights 
which prove very useful during analysis. (At any rate this 
has been so with me.) Only when he has gone through this 
arduous and difficult training can he begin, with some justifi 
cation, to examine Freud's theory for evidence of auto-sugges 
tion. He will also have a more sympathetic insight into the 
somewhat apodictic nature of Freud's style. He will learn to 
understand how uncommonly difficult it is to describe these 
delicate psychological matters. A written exposition will never 
be able to reproduce the reality of psychanalysis even approxi 
mately, let alone reproduce it in such a way that it has an im 
mediately convincing effect on the reader. When I first read 
Freud's writings it was the same with me as with everybody else: 
I could only strew the pages with question-marks. And it will be 
like that for everyone who reads the account of my association 

4 Studies in Word Association, [Vol. I of Diagnostische Assoziationsstudien, which 
the author actually cited here, was published in 1906, before the present paper. It 
reprinted Jung's "Psychoanalyse und Assoziationsexperiment" ("Psychoanalysis 
and Association Experiments," Vol. 2), originally published in the Journal fur 
Psychologic und Neurologic (Leipzig), VII (1905). This paper, which discussed 
Freud's theory of hysteria and commented on the "Fragment of an Analysis" (see 
n. 2, supra), was Jung's first significant publication on the subject of psycho 
analysis. EDITORS.] 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



experiments for the first time. Luckily, however, anyone who 
wants to can repeat them, and so experience for himself what he 
did not believe before. Unfortunately this is not true of psych- 
analysis, since it presupposes an unusual combination of spe 
cialized knowledge and psychological routine which not every 
one possesses, but which can, to a certain extent, be learnt. 

So long as we do not know whether Aschaffenburg has this 
practical experience, the charge of auto-suggestion cannot be 
taken any more seriously than that of arbitrary interpretation. 

Aschaffenburg regards the exploration of the patient for sex 
ual ideas as, in many cases, immoral. 

This is a very delicate question, for whenever morals get 
mixed up with science one can only pit one belief against an 
other belief. If we look at it simply from the utilitarian point 
of view, we have to ask ourselves whether sexual enlightenment 
is under all circumstances harmful or not. This question cannot 
be answered in general terms, because just as many cases can be 
cited for as against. Everything depends on th individual. Many 
people can stand certain truths, others not. Every skilled psy 
chologist will surely take account of this fact. Any rigid formula 
is particularly wrong here. Apart from the fact that there are 
many patients who are not in the least harmed by sexual en 
lightenment, there are not a few who, far from having to be 
pushed towards this theme, guide the analysis to this point of 
their own accord. Finally, there are cases (of which I have had 
more than one) that cannot be got at at all until their sexual 
circumstances are subjected to a thorough review, and in the 
cases I have known this has led to very good results. It therefore 
seems to me beyond doubt that there are at least a great many 
cases where discussion of sexual matters not only does no harm 
but is positively helpful. Conversely, I do not hesitate to admit 
that there are cases where sexual enlightenment does more harm 
than good. It must be left to the skill of the analyst to find out 
which these cases are. This, it seems to me, disposes of the moral 
problem. "Higher" moral considerations derive all too easily 
from some obnoxious schematism, for which reason their appli 
cation in practice would seem inopportune from the start. 

So far as the therapeutic effect of psychanalysis is concerned, 
it makes no difference to the scientific Tightness of the hysteria 
theory or of the analytic method how the therapeutic result 

8 



FREUD'S THEORY OF HYSTERIA (1906) 



turns out. My personal conviction at present is that Freud's 
psychanalysis is one of several possible therapies and that in cer 
tain cases it achieves more than the others. 

24 As to the scientific findings of psychanalysis, nobody should 
be put off by seeming enormities, and particularly not by sen 
sational quotations. Freud is probably liable to many human 
errors, but that does not by any means rule out the possibility 
that a core of truth lies hidden in the crude husk, of whose sig 
nificance we can form no adequate conception at present. Sel 
dom has a great truth appeared without fantastic wrappings. 
One has only to think of Kepler and Newton! 

25 In conclusion, I would like to utter an urgent warning 
against the standpoint of Spielmeyer, 5 which cannot be con 
demned sharply enough. When a person reviles as unscientific 
not only a theory whose experimental foundations he has not 
even examined but also those who have taken the trouble to 
test it for themselves, the freedom of scientific research is im 
perilled. No matter whether Freud is mistaken or not, he has 
the right to be heard before the forum of science. Justice de 
mands that Freud's statements should be verified. But to strike 
them dead and then consign them to oblivion, that is beneath 
the dignity of an impartial and unprejudiced scientist. 

26 To recapitulate: 

(1) It has never yet been proved that Freud's theory of hys 
teria is erroneous in all cases. 

(2) This proof can, logically, be supplied only by one who 
practises the psychanalytic method. 

(3) It has not been proved that psychanalysis gives other 
results than those obtained by Freud. 

(4) It has not been proved that psychanalysis is based on 
false principles and is altogether unsuitable for an understand 
ing of hysterical symptoms. 

5 Untitled note in the Zentralblatt fur Nervenheilkunde und Psychiatric , XXIX 
(1906), 322. [The first review (pub. April) of Freud's "Fragment of an Analysis of 
a Case of Hysteria"; see n. 2, supra. Jung's paper cited in n. 4, supra, is earlier, 
however, and is probably the first discussion of the "Dora analysis." EDITORS.] 



THE FREUDIAN THEORY OF HYSTERIA * 

27 It is always a difficult and ungrateful task to discuss a theory 
which the author himself has not formulated in any final way. 
Freud has never propounded a cut-and-dried theory of hysteria; 
he has simply tried, from time to time, to formulate his theoreti 
cal conclusions in accordance with his experience at that mo 
ment. His theoretical formulations can claim the status of a 
working hypothesis that agrees with experience at all points. For 
the present, therefore, there can be no talk of a firmly-established 
Freudian theory of hysteria, but only of numerous experiences 
which have certain features in common. As we are not dealing 
with anything finished and conclusive, but rather with a process 
of development, an historical survey will probably be the form 
best suited to an account of Freud's teachings. 

28 The theoretical presuppositions on which Freud bases his 
investigations are to be found in the experiments of Pierre 
Janet. Breuer and Freud, in their first formulation of the prob 
lem of hysteria, start from the fact of psychic dissociation and 
unconscious psychic automatisms. A further presupposition is 
the aetiological significance of affects, stressed among others by 
Binswanger. 2 These two presuppositions, together with the find 
ings reached by the theory of suggestion, culminate in the now 
generally accepted view that hysteria is a psychogenic neurosis. 

29 The aim of Freud's research is to discover how the mecha 
nism producing hysterical symptoms works. Nothing less is at 
tempted, therefore, than to supply the missing link in the long 
chain between the initial cause and the ultimate symptom, a 

1 [Translated from "Die Freud'sche Hysterietheorie," Monatsschrift fur Psychi 
atric und Neurologic (Berlin), XXIII (1908), 310-22. Originally a report to the 
First International Congress of Psychiatry and Neurology, Amsterdam, September 
1907. Aschaffenburg also addressed the Congress, publishing his paper in the same 
organ, XXII (1907), 564*1". For an account of this event, see Jones, Freud: Life 
and Work, II, pp. 1 2 5ff. EDITORS.] 

2 [Binswanger, "Freud'sche Mechanismen in der Symptomatologie von Psychosen" 
(1906). Cf. Jones, II, pp. gGf. EDITORS.] 

IO 



THE FREUDIAN THEORY OF HYSTERIA (1908) 

link which no one had yet been able to find. The fact, obvious 
enough to any attentive observer, that affects play an aetiolog- 
ically decisive role in the formation of hysterical symptoms 
makes the findings of the first Breuer-Freud report, in the year 
1893, immediately intelligible. This is especially true of the 
proposition advanced by both authors, that the hysteric suffers 
most of all from reminiscences, i.e., from feeling-toned com 
plexes of ideas which, in certain exceptional conditions, prevent 
the initial affect from working itself out and finally disappearing. 

3 This view, presented only in broad outline at first, was 
reached by Breuer, who between the years 1880 and 1882 had 
the opportunity to observe and treat an hysterical woman pa 
tient of great intelligence. The clinical picture was characterized 
chiefly by a profound splitting of consciousness, together with 
numerous physical symptoms of secondary importance and con 
stancy. Breuer, allowing himself to be guided by the patient, 
observed that in her twilight states complexes of reminiscences 
were reproduced which derived from the previous year. In these 
states she hallucinated a great many episodes that had had a trau 
matic significance for her. Further, he noticed that the reliving 
and retelling of these traumatic events had a marked therapeutic 
effect, bringing relief and an improvement in her condition. If 
he broke off the treatment, a considerable deterioration set in 
after a short time. In order to increase and accelerate the effect 
of the treatment, Breuer induced, besides the spontaneous twi 
light state, an artificially suggested one in which more material 
was "abreacted." In this way he succeeded in effecting a sub 
stantial improvement. Freud, who at once recognized the ex 
traordinary importance of these observations, thereupon fur 
nished a number of his own which agreed with them. This 
material can be found in Studies on Hysteria, published in 1895 
by Breuer and Freud. 

3 1 On this foundation was raised the original theoretical edifice 
constructed jointly by the two authors. They start with the 
symptomatology of affects in normal individuals. The excitation 
produced by affects is converted into a series of somatic inner- 
vations, thus exhausting itself and so restoring the "tonus of the 
nerve centres/' In this way the affect is "abreacted." It is differ 
ent in hysteria. Here the traumatic experience is followed to 
use a phrase of Oppenheim's by an "abnormal expression of 

11 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



the emotional impulse." 3 The intracerebral excitation is not 
discharged directly, in a natural way, but produces pathological 
symptoms, either new ones or a recrudescence of old ones. The 
excitation is converted into abnormal innervations, a phenom 
enon which the authors call "conversion of the sum of excita 
tion." The affect is deprived of its normal expression, of its 
normal outlet in adequate innervations; it is not abreacted but 
remains "blocked." The resulting hysterical symptoms can 
therefore be regarded as manifestations of the retention. 

32 This formulates the situation as we see it in the patient; but 
the important question as to why the affect should be blocked 
and converted still remains unanswered, and it was to this ques 
tion that Freud devoted special attention. In "The Defence 
Neuro-psychoses," published in 1894, he tried to analyse in 
great detail the psychological repercussions of the affect. He 
found two groups of psychogenic neuroses, different in princi 
ple because in one group the pathogenic affect is converted into 
somatic innervations, while in the other group it is displaced to 
a different complex of ideas. The first group corresponds to clas 
sic hysteria, the second to obsessional neurosis. He found the 
reason for the blocking of affect, or for its conversion or dis 
placement, to be the incompatibility of the traumatic complex 
with the normal content of consciousness. In many cases he 
could furnish direct proof that the incompatibility had reached 
the consciousness of the patient, thus causing an active repres 
sion of the incompatible content. The patient did not wish to 
know anything about it and treated the critical complex as "non 
arriv." The result was a systematic circumvention or "repres 
sion" of the vulnerable spot, so that the affect could not be 
abreacted. 

S3 The blocking of affect is due, therefore, not to a vaguely con 
ceived "special disposition" but to a recognizable motive. 

34 To recapitulate what has been said: up to the year 1895 the 
Breuer-Freud investigations yielded the following results. Psy 
chogenic symptoms arise from feeling-toned complexes of ideas 
that have the effect of a trauma, either 

i. by conversion of the excitation into abnormal somatic 
innervations, or 

3 ["Thatsachliches und Hypothetisches iiber das Wesen der Hysteric" (1890). Cf. 
Breuer and Freud, Studies on Hysteria, Standard Edn., p. 203 .EDITORS.] 

12 



THE FREUDIAN THEORY OF HYSTERIA (1908) 

2. by displacement of the affect to a less significant complex. 

35 The reason why the traumatic affect is not abreacted in a 
normal way, but is retained, is that its content is not compatible 
with the rest of the personality and must be repressed. 

3 6 The content of the traumatic affect provided the theme for 
Freud's further researches. Already in the Studies on Hysteria 
and particularly in "The Defence Neuro-psychoses," Freud had 
pointed out the sexual nature of the initial affect, whereas the 
first case history reported by Breuer skirts round the sexual ele 
ment in a striking fashion, although the whole history not only 
contains a wealth of sexual allusions but, even for the expert, 
becomes intelligible and coherent only when the patient's sex 
uality is taken into account. On the basis of thirteen careful 
analyses Freud felt justified in asserting that the specific aetiol 
ogy of hysteria is to be found in the sexual traumata of early 
childhood, and that the trauma must have consisted in a "real 
irritation of the genitals." The trauma works at first only pre 
paratorily; it develops its real effect at puberty, when the old 
memory-trace is reactivated by nascent sexual feelings. Thus 
Freud tried to resolve the vague concept of a special dispo 
sition into quite definite, concrete events in the pre-pubertal 
period. At that time he did not attribute much significance to 
a still earlier inborn disposition. 

37 While the Breuer-Freud Studies enjoyed a certain amount 
of recognition (although, despite Raimann's assurances, 4 they 
have not yet become the common property of science), this 
theory of Freud's met with general opposition. Not that the 
frequency of sexual traumata in childhood could be doubted, 
but rather their exclusively pathogenic significance for normal 
children. Freud certainly did not evolve this view out of noth 
ing, he was merely formulating certain experiences which had 
forced themselves on him during analysis. To begin with, he 
found memory-traces of sexual scenes in infancy, which in many 
cases were quite definitely related to real happenings. Further, 
he found that though the traumata remained without specific 
effect in childhood, after puberty they proved to be deter 
minants of hysterical symptoms. Freud therefore felt compelled 
to grant that the trauma was real. In my personal opinion he 

4 [Emil Raimann, Vienna psychiatrist, critic of Freud. See Jones, I, pp. 395 f -> and 
II, p. 122. EDITORS.] 

13 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



did this because at that time he was still under the spell of the 
original view that the hysteric "suffers from reminiscences/' 
for which reason the cause and motivation of the symptom must 
be sought in the past. Obviously such a view of the aetiological 
factors was bound to provoke opposition, especially among 
those with experience of hysteria, for the practitioner is accus 
tomed to look for the driving forces of hysterical neurosis not so 
much in the past as in the present. 

38 This formulation of the theoretical standpoint in 1896 was 
no more than a transitional stage for Freud, which he has since 
abandoned. The discovery of sexual determinants in hysteria 
became the starting-point for extensive researches in the field of 
sexual psychology in general. Similarly, the problem of the de 
termination of associative processes led his inquiry into the field 
of dream psychology. In 1900 he published his fundamental 
work on dreams, which is of such vital importance for the de 
velopment of his views and his technique. No one who is not 
thoroughly acquainted with Freud's method of dream interpre 
tation will be able to understand the conceptions he has de 
veloped in recent years. The Interpretation of Dreams lays down 
the principles of Freudian theory and at the same time its tech 
nique. For an understanding of his present views and the verifi 
cation of his results a knowledge of Freud's technique is indis 
pensable. This fact makes it necessary for me to go rather more 
closely into the nature of psychanalysis. 

39 The original cathartic method started with the symptoms 
and sought to discover the traumatic affect underlying them. 
The affect was thus raised to consciousness and abreacted in the 
normal manner; that is, it was divested of its traumatic potency. 
The method relied to a certain extent on suggestion the analyst 
took the lead, while the patient remained essentially passive. 
Aside from this inconvenience, however, it was found that there 
were more and more cases in which no real trauma was present, 
and in which all the emotional conflicts seemed to derive ex 
clusively from morbid fantasy activity. The cathartic method 
was unable to do justice to these cases. 

40 According to Freud's statements in 1904, much has altered 

5 ["Freud's Psycho-Analytic Procedure" and "On Psychotherapy" appear to be 
the publications Jung referred to. Cf., however, "Fragment of an Analysis of a 
Case of Hysteria" (1905), Standard Edn., p. 12. -EDITORS.] 

14 



THE FREUDIAN THEORY OF HYSTERIA (lQ08) 

in the method since those early days. All suggestion is now dis 
carded. The patients are no longer guided by the analyst; the 
freest rein is given to their associations, so that it is really the 
patients who conduct the analysis. Freud contents himself with 
registering, and from time to time pointing out, the connections 
that result. If an interpretation is wrong, it cannot be forced on 
the patient; if it is right, the result is immediately visible and 
expresses itself very clearly in the patient's whole behaviour. 

4 1 The present psychanalytic method of Freud is much more 
complicated, and penetrates much more deeply, than the orig 
inal cathartic method. Its aim is to bring to consciousness all the 
false associative connections produced by the complex, and in 
that way to resolve them. Thus the patient gradually gains com 
plete insight into his illness, and also has an objective standpoint 
from which to view his complexes. The method could be called 
an educative one, since it changes the whole thinking and feel 
ing of the patient in such a way that his personality gradually 
breaks free from the compulsion of the complexes and can take 
up an independent attitude towards them. In this respect Freud's 
new method bears some resemblance to the educative method of 
Dubois, 6 the undeniable success of which is due mainly to the 
fact that the instruction it imparts alters the patient's attitude 
towards his complexes. 

4* Since it has grown entirely out of empirical practice, the 
theoretical foundations of the psychanalytic method are still 
very obscure. By means of my association experiments I think I 
have made at least a few points accessible to experimental in 
vestigation, though not all the theoretical difficulties have been 
overcome. It seems to me that the main difficulty is this. If, as 
psychanalysis presupposes, free association leads to the complex, 
Freud logically assumes that this complex is associated with the 
starting-point or initial idea. Against this it can be argued that 
it is not very difficult to establish the associative connection be 
tween a cucumber and an elephant. But that is to forget, first, 
that in analysis only the starting-point is given, and not the goal; 
and second, that the conscious state is not one of directed think 
ing but of relaxed attention. Here one might object that the 
complex is the point being aimed at and that, because of its 

6 [Paul Dubois, of Bern, treated neurosis by "persuasion." EDITORS.] 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



independent feeling-tone, it possesses a strong tendency to re 
production, so that it "rises up" spontaneously and then, as 
though purely by chance, appears associated with the starting- 
point. 

43 This is certainly conceivable in theory, but in practice things 
generally look different. The complex, in fact, does not "rise 
up" freely but is blocked by the most intense resistances. In 
stead, what "rises up" often seems at first sight to be quite 
incomprehensible intermediate associations, which neither the 
analyst nor the patient recognizes as belonging in any way to 
the complex. But once the chain leading to the complex has 
been fully established, the meaning of each single link becomes 
clear, often in the most startling way, so that no special work of 
interpretation is needed. Anyone with enough practical experi 
ence of analysis can convince himself over and over again that 
under these conditions not just anything is reproduced, but 
always something that is related to the complex, though the 
relationship is, a priori, not always clear. One must accustom 
oneself to the thought that even in these chains of association 
chance is absolutely excluded. So if an associative connection is 
discovered in a chain of associations which was not intended 
if, that is to say, the complex we find is associatively con 
nected with the initial idea then this connection has existed 
from the start; in other words, the idea we took as the starting- 
point was already constellated by the complex. We are therefore 
justified in regarding the initial idea as a sign or symbol of the 
complex. 

44 This view is in agreement with already known psychological 
theories which maintain that the psychological situation at a 
given moment is nothing but the resultant of all the psycholog 
ical events preceding it. Of these the most predominant are the 
affective experiences, that is, the complexes, which for that rea 
son have the greatest constellating power. If you take any seg 
ment of the psychological present, it will logically contain all 
the antecedent individual events, the affective experiences occu 
pying the foreground, according to the degree of their actuality. 
This is true of every particle of the psyche. Hence it is theoreti 
cally possible to reconstruct the constellations from every parti 
cle, and that is what the Freudian method tries to do. During 
this work the probability is that you will come upon just the 

16 



THE FREUDIAN THEORY OF HYSTERIA (1908) 

affective constellation lying closest to hand, and not merely on 
one but on many, indeed very many, each according to the 
degree of its constellating power. Freud has called this fact 
over-determination. 

45 Psychanalysis accordingly keeps within the bounds of known 
psychological facts. The method is extraordinarily difficult to 
apply, but it can be learnt; only, as Lowenfeld rightly empha 
sizes, one needs some years of intensive practice before one can 
handle it with any certainty. For this reason alone all over-hasty 
criticism of Freud's findings is precluded. It also precludes the 
method from ever being used for mass therapy in mental insti 
tutions. Its achievements as a scientific instrument can be judged 
only by one who uses it himself. 

46 Freud applied his method first of all to the investigation of 
dreams, refining and perfecting it in the process. Here he found, 
it appears, all those surprising associative connections which 
play such an important role in the neuroses. I would mention, 
as the most important discovery, the significant role which feel 
ing-toned complexes play in dreams and their symbolical mode 
of expression. Freud attaches great significance to verbal expres 
sionone of the most important components of our thinking 
because the double meaning of words is a favourite channel for 
the displacement and improper expression of affects. I mention 
this point because it is of fundamental importance in the psy 
chology of neurosis. For anyone who is familiar with these mat 
ters, which are everyday occurrences with normal people too, 
the interpretations given in the "Fragment of an Analysis of a 
Case of Hysteria/' however strange they may sound, will con 
tain nothing unexpected, but will fit smoothly into his general 
experience. Unfortunately I must refrain from a detailed dis 
cussion of Freud's findings and must limit myself to a few hints. 
These latest investigations are required reading for Freud's pres 
ent view of hysterical illnesses. Judging by my own experience, 
it is impossible to understand the meaning of the Three Es 
says and of the "Fragment" without a thorough knowledge of 
The Interpretation of Dreams. 

47 By "thorough knowledge" I naturally do not mean the cheap 
philological criticism which many writers have levelled at this 
book, but a patient application of Freud's principles to psychic 
processes. Here lies the crux of the whole problem. Attack and 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



defence both miss the mark so long as the discussion proceeds 
only on theoretical ground. Freud's discoveries do not, at pres 
ent, lend themselves to the framing of general theories. For the 
present the only question is: do the associative connections as 
serted by Freud exist or not? Nothing is achieved by thought 
less affirmation or negation; one should look at the facts without 
prejudice, carefully observing the rules laid down by Freud. 
Nor should one be put off by the obtrusion of sexuality, for as 
a rule you come upon many other, exceedingly interesting things 
which, at least to begin with, show no trace of sex. An altogether 
harmless but most instructive exercise, for instance, is the anal 
ysis of constellations indicating a complex in the association 
experiment. With the help of this perfectly harmless material a 
great many Freudian phenomena can be studied without undue 
difficulty. The analysis of dreams and hysteria is considerably 
more difficult and therefore less suitable for a beginner. With 
out a knowledge of the ground-work Freud's more recent teach 
ings are completely incomprehensible, and, as might be ex 
pected, they have remained misunderstood. 

4 8 It is with the greatest hesitation, therefore, that I make the 
attempt to say something about the subsequent development of 
Freud's views. My task is rendered especially difficult by the 
fact that actually we have only two publications to go on: they 
are the above-mentioned Three Essays on the Theory of Sex 
uality and the "Fragment of an Analysis of a Case of Hysteria." 
There is as yet no attempt at a systematic exposition and docu 
mentation of Freud's more recent views. Let us first try to come 
closer to the argument of the Three Essays. 

49 These essays are extremely difficult to understand, not only 
for one unaccustomed to Freud's way of thinking but also for 
those who have already worked in this special field. The first 
thing to be considered is that Freud's conception of sexuality is 
uncommonly wide. It includes not only normal sexuality but 
all the perversions, and extends far into the sphere of psycho- 
sexual derivates. When Freud speaks of sexuality, it must not 
be understood merely as the sexual instinct. 7 Another concept 
which Freud uses in a very wide sense is "libido." This concept, 
originally borrowed from "libido sexualis," denotes in the first 

7 Freud's concept of sexuality includes roughly everything covered by the concept 
of the instinct for the preservation of the species. 

18 



THE FREUDIAN THEORY OF HYSTERIA (1908) 

place the sexual components of psychic life so far as they are 
volitional, and then any inordinate passion or desire. 

50 Infantile sexuality, as Freud understands it, is a bundle of 
possibilities for the application or "investment" of libido. A 
normal sexual goal does not exist at that stage, because the 
sexual organs are not yet fully developed. But the psychic mecha 
nisms are probably already in being. The libido is distributed 
among all the possible forms of sexual activity, and also among 
all the perversionsthat is, among all the variants of sexuality 
which, if they become fixed, later turn into real perversions. 
The progressive development of the child gradually eliminates 
the libidinal investment of perverse tendencies and concentrates 
on the growth of normal sexuality. The investments set free 
during this process are used as driving-forces for sublimations, 
that is, for the higher mental functions. At or after puberty the 
normal individual seizes on an objective sexual goal, and with 
this his sexual development comes to an end. 

5 1 In Freud's view, it is characteristic of hysteria that the in 
fantile sexual development takes place under difficult condi 
tions, since the perverse investments of libido are much less 
easily discarded than with normal individuals and therefore last 
longer. If the real sexual demands of later life impinge in any 
form on a morbid personality, its inhibited development shows 
itself in the fact that it is unable to satisfy the demand in the 
proper way, because the demand comes up against an unpre 
pared sexuality. As Freud says, the individual predisposed to 
hysteria brings a "bit of sexual repression" with him from his 
childhood. Instead of the sexual excitation, in the widest sense 
of the word, being acted out in the sphere of normal sexuality, 
it is repressed and causes a reactivation of the original infantile 
sexual activity. This is expressed above all in the fantasy-activ 
ity so characteristic of hysterics. The fantasies develop along the 
line already traced by the special kind of infantile sexual activ 
ity. The fantasies of hysterics are, as we know, boundless; hence, 
if the psychic balance is in some measure to be preserved, equiv 
alent inhibiting mechanisms are needed or, as Freud calls them, 
resistances. If the fantasies are of a sexual nature, then the cor 
responding resistances will be shame and disgust. As these affec 
tive states are normally associated with physical manifestations, 
the appearance of physical symptoms is assured. 

19 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



52 I think a concrete example from my own experience will 
illustrate the meaning of Freud's teachings better than any 
theoretical formulations, which, because of the complexity of 
the subject, are all apt to sound uncommonly ponderous. 

53 The case is one of psychotic hysteria in an intelligent young 
woman of twenty. The earliest symptoms occurred between the 
third and fourth year. At that time the patient began to keep 
back her stool until pain compelled her to defecate. Gradually 
she began to employ the following auxiliary procedure: she 
seated herself in a crouching position on the heel of one foot, 
and in this position tried to defecate, pressing the heel against 
the anus. The patient continued this perverse activity until her 
seventh year. Freud calls this infantile perversion anal eroticism. 

54 The perversion stopped with the seventh year and was re 
placed by masturbation. Once, when her father smacked her on 
the bare buttocks, she felt distinct sexual excitement. Later she 
became sexually excited when she saw her younger brother 
being disciplined in the same way. Gradually she developed a 
markedly negative attitude towards her father. 

55 Puberty started when she was thirteen. From then on fanta 
sies developed of a thoroughly perverse nature which pursued 
her obsessively. These fantasies had a compulsive character: she 
could never sit at table without thinking of defecation while 
she was eating, nor could she watch anyone else eating without 
thinking of the same thing, and especially not her father. In 
particular, she could not see her father's hands without feeling 
sexual excitement; for the same reason she could no longer bear 
to touch his right hand. Thus it gradually came about that she 
could not eat at all in the presence of other people without con 
tinual fits of compulsive laughter and cries of disgust, because 
the defecation fantasies finally spread to all the persons in her 
environment. If she was corrected or even reproached in any 
way, she answered by sticking out her tongue, or with convul 
sive laughter, cries of disgust, and gestures of horror, because 
each time she had before her the vivid image of her father's 
chastising hand, coupled with sexual excitement, which im 
mediately passed over into ill-concealed masturbation. 

5^ At the age of fifteen, she felt the normal urge to form a love 
relationship with another person. But all attempts in this di 
rection failed, because the morbid fantasies invariably thrust 

20 



THE FREUDIAN THEORY OF HYSTERIA (1908) 

themselves between her and the very person she most wanted to 
love. At the same time, because of the disgust she felt, any dis 
play of affection for her father had become impossible. Her 
father had been the object of her infantile libido transference, 
hence the resistances were directed especially against him, 
whereas her mother was not affected by them. About this time 
she felt a stirring of love for her teacher, but it quickly suc 
cumbed to the same overpowering disgust. In a child so much 
in need of affection this emotional isolation was bound to have 
the gravest consequences, which were not long in coming. 

57 At eighteen, her condition had got so bad that she really did 
nothing else than alternate between deep depressions and fits 
of laughing, crying, and screaming. She could no longer look 
anyone in the face, kept her head bowed, and when anybody 
touched her stuck her tongue out with every sign of loathing. 

58 This short history demonstrates the essentials of Freud's 
view. First we find a fragment of perverse infantile sexual activ 
ityanal eroticism replaced in the seventh year by masturba 
tion. At this period the administering of corporal punishment, 
affecting the region of the anus, produced sexual excitement. 
Here we have the determinants for the later psychosexual de 
velopment. Puberty, with its physical and spiritual upheavals, 
brought a marked increase in fantasy activity. This seized on the 
sexual activity of childhood and modulated it in endless varia 
tions. Perverse fantasies of this kind were bound to act as moral 
foreign bodies, so to speak, in an otherwise sensitive person, and 
had to be repressed by means of defence mechanisms, particu 
larly shame and disgust. This readily accounts for all those fits 
of disgust, loathing, exclamations of horror, sticking out the 
tongue, etc. 

59 At the time when the ordinary longings of puberty for the 
love of other people were beginning to stir, the pathological 
symptoms increased, because the fantasies were now directed 
most intensively to the very people who seemed most worthy of 
love. This naturally led to a violent psychic conflict, which fully 
explains the deterioration that then set in, ending in hysterical 
psychosis. 

60 We now understand why Freud can say that hysterics bring 
with them "a bit of sexual repression from childhood." For con 
stitutional reasons they are probably ready for sexual or quasi- 

21 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



sexual activities earlier than other people. In keeping with their 
constitutional emotivity, the infantile impressions go deeper 
and last longer, so that later, at puberty, they have a constellat 
ing effect on the trend o the first really sexual fantasies. Again 
in keeping with their constitutional emotivity, all affective im 
pulses are much stronger than in normal persons. Hence, to 
counteract the intensity of their abnormal fantasies, correspond 
ingly strong feelings of shame and disgust are bound to appear. 
When real sexual demands are made, requiring the transference 
of libido to the love-object, all the perverse fantasies are trans 
ferred to him, as we have seen. Hence the resistance against the 
object of love. The patient could not transfer her libido to him 
without inhibitions, and this precipitated the great emotional 
conflict. Her libido exhausted itself in struggling against her 
feelings of defence, which grew ever stronger, and which then 
produced the symptoms. Thus Freud can say that the symptoms 
represent nothing but the sexual activity of the patient. 

61 Summing up, we can formulate Freud's present view of hys 
teria as follows: 

a. Certain precocious sexual activities of a more or less per 
verse nature grow up on a constitutional basis. 

b. These activities do not lead at first to real hysterical 
symptoms. 

c. At puberty (which psychologically sets in earlier than 
physical maturity) the fantasies tend in a direction constellated 
by the infantile sexual activity. 

d. The fantasies, intensified for constitutional (affective) 
reasons, lead to the formation of complexes of ideas that are 
incompatible with the other contents of consciousness and are 
therefore repressed, chiefly by shame and disgust. 

e. This repression takes with it the transference of libido to 
a love-object, thus precipitating the great emotional conflict 
which then provides occasion for the outbreak of actual illness. 

/. The symptoms of the illness owe their origin to the strug 
gle of the libido against the repression; they therefore represent 
nothing but an abnormal sexual activity. 

62 How far does the validity of Freud's view go? This question 
is exceedingly difficult to answer. Above all, it must be emphati 
cally pointed out that cases which conform exactly to Freud's 
schema really do exist. Anyone who has learnt the technique 

22 



THE FREUDIAN THEORY OF HYSTERIA (igo8) 

knows this. But no one knows whether Freud's schema is ap 
plicable to all forms of hysteria (in any case, hysteria in children 
and the psychotraumatic neuroses form a group apart). For or 
dinary cases of hysteria, such as the nerve-specialist meets by the 
dozen, Freud asserts the validity of his views; my own experi 
ence, which is considerably less than his, has yielded nothing 
that would argue against this assertion. In the cases of hysteria 
which I have analysed, the symptoms were extraordinarily 
varied, but they all showed a surprising similarity in their psy 
chological structure. The outward appearance of a case loses 
much of its interest when it is analysed, because one then sees 
how the same complex can produce apparently very far-fetched 
and very remarkable symptoms. For this reason it is impossible 
to say whether Freud's schema applies only to certain groups of 
symptoms. At present we can only affirm that his findings are 
true of an indefinitely large number of cases of hysteria which 
till now could not be delimited as clinical groups. 

As to the detailed results of Freud's analyses, the violent op 
position they have met with is due simply to the fact that prac 
tically no one has followed the development of Freud's theory 
since 1896. Had his dream-analyses been tested and his rules 
observed, Freud's latest publications, particularly the "Frag 
ment of an Analysis of a Case of Hysteria," would not have been 
so difficult to understand. The only disconcerting thing about 
these reports is their frankness. The public can forgive Freud 
least of all for his sexual symbolism. In my view he is really 
easiest to follow here, because this is just where mythology, ex 
pressing the fantasy-thinking of all races, has prepared the 
ground in the most instructive way. I would only mention the 
writings of Steinthal 8 in the i86o's, which prove the existence 
of a widespread sexual symbolism in the mythological records 
and the history of language. I also recall the eroticism of our 
poets and their allegorical or symbolical expressions. No one 
who considers this material will be able to conceal from himself 
that there are uncommonly far-reaching and significant analo 
gies between the Freudian symbolisms and the symbols of poetic 
fantasy in individuals and in whole nations. The Freudian sym 
bol and its interpretation is therefore nothing unheard of, it is 

8 [Heymatm Steinthal (1825-99), German philologist and philosopher. Cf. Symbols 
of Transformation, index, s.v. EDITORS.] 

23 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



merely something unusual for us psychiatrists. But these diffi 
culties should not deter us from going more deeply into the 
problems raised by Freud, for they are of extraordinary im 
portance for psychiatry no less than for neurology. 



THE ANALYSIS OF DREAMS * 

64 In 1900, Sigmund Freud published in Vienna a voluminous 
work on the analysis of dreams. Here are the principal results 
of his investigations. 

6 5 The dream, far from being the confusion of haphazard and 
meaningless associations it is commonly believed to be, or a 
result merely of somatic sensations during sleep as many authors 
suppose, is an autonomous and meaningful product of psychic 
activity, susceptible, like all other psychic functions, of a sys 
tematic analysis. The organic sensations felt during sleep are 
not the cause of the dream; they play but a secondary role and 
furnish only elements (the material) upon which the psyche 
works. According to Freujljthejdr^^^ 

chic product, is a creation, a piece of worjc whxch.hasjts^ motives, 
its trains of antecedent associations; and like any considered 
action "it" is the outcome of a logical process, of the competition 
between various tendencies and the victory of one tendency 
over another. Di^nungJaas-a-i^ 

^ 



66 It may be objected that all empirical reality is against this 
Jjieory, since, the impression of incoherence and obscurity that 
dreams make upon us is notorious. Freud calls this sequence of 
contused ^images the manifest content of _the drearn; it is the 
facade behind which helooks for what is essentialnamely, the 
dream-thought or the latent content. One may ask what reason 
Freud has for thinking that the dream itself is only the facade 
of a vast edifice, or that it really has any meaning. His supposi 
tion is not founded on a dogma, nor on an a priori idea, but on 
empiricism alone namely, the common experience that no 
psychic (or physical) fact is accidental. It must have, then, its 

l [Written in French. Translated by Philip Mairet from "L'Analyse des rves," 
Annee psychologique (Paris), XV (1909), 160-67, and revised by R. F. C. Hull. 
EDITORS.] 

25 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



train o causes, being always the product of a complicated com 
bination of phenomena; for every existing mental element is 
the resultant of anterior psychic states and ought in theory to 
be capable of analysis. Freud applies to the dream the same 
principle that we always instinctively use when inquiring into 
the causes of human actions. 

6 7 He asks himself, quite simply: why does this particular per 
son dream this particular thing? He must have his specific rea 
sons, otherwise there would be a breakdown in the law of cau 
sality. A child's dream is different from an adult's, just as the 
dream of an educated man differs from that of an illiterate. 
There is something individual in the dream: it is in agreement 
with the psychological disposition of the subject. In what does 
this psychological disposition consist? It is itself the result of 
our psychic past. Our present mental state depends upon our 
history. In each person's past there are elements of different 
value which determine the psychic "constellation." The events 
which do not awaken any strong emotions have little influence 
on our thoughts or actions, whereas those which provoke strong 
emotional reactions are of great importance for our subsequent 
psychological development. These memories with a strong feel 
ing-tone form complexes of associations which are not only long 
enduring but are very powerful and closely interlinked. An ob 
ject which I regard with little interest calls forth few associa 
tions and soon vanishes from my intellectual horizon. An object 
in which, on the contrary, I feel much interest will evoke 
numerous associations and preoccupy me for a long while. Every 
emotion produces a more or less extensive complex of associa 
tions which I have called the "feeling-toned complex of ideas." 
In studying an individual case history we always discover that 
the complex exerts the strongest "constellating" force, from 
which we conclude that in any analysis we shall meet with it 
from the start. The complexes appear as the chief components 
of the psychological disposition in every psychic structure. In 
the dream, for example, we encounter the emotional compo 
nents, for it is easy to understand that all the products of psychic 
activity depend above all upon the strongest "constellating" 
influences. 

68 One does not have to look far to find the complex that sets 
Gretchen, in Faust, singing: 

26 



THE ANALYSIS OF DREAMS 



There was a king in Thule, 
True even to his grave 
To him his dying mistress 
A golden beaker gave. 

69 The hidden thought is Gretchen's doubt about Faust's fidel 
ity. The song, unconsciously chosen by Gretchen, is what we 
have called the dream-material, which corresponds to the secret 
thought. One might apply this example to the dream, and sup 
pose that Gretchen had not sung but dreamed this romance. 2 
In that case the song, with its tragic story of the loves of a far-off 
king of old, is the "manifest content" of the dream, its "facade." 
Anyone who did not know of Gretchen's secret sorrow would 
have no idea why she dreamt of this king. But we, who know the 
dream-thought which is her tragic love for Faust, can under 
stand why the dream makes use of this particular song, for it is 
about the "rare faithfulness" of the king. Faust is not faithful, 
and Gretchen would like his faithfulness to her to resemble that 
of the king in the story. Her dream in reality her song ex 
presses in a disguised form the ardent desire of her soul. Here 
we touch upon the real nature of the feeling-toned complex; it 
is always a question of a wish and resistance to it. Our life is 
spent in struggles for the realization of our wishes: all our ac 
tions proceed from the wish that something should or should 
not come to pass. 

7 It is for this that we work, for this we think. If we cannot 
fulfil a wish in reality, we realize it at least in fantasy. The re 
ligious and the philosophic systems of every people in every age 
are the best proof of this. The thought of immortality, even in 
philosophic guise, is no other than a wish, for which philosophy 
is but the fagade, even as Gretchen's song is only the outward 
form, a beneficent veil drawn over her grief. The dream repre 
sents her wish as fulfilled. Freud says that every dream represents 
the fulfilment of a repressed wish. 

7 1 Carrying our illustration further, we see that in the dream 

2 It might be objected that such a supposition is not permissible, as there is a 
great deal of difference between a song and a dream. But thanks to the researches 
of Freud we now know that all the products of any dreaming state have some 
thing in common. First, they are all variations on the complex, and second, they 
are only a kind of symbolic expression of the complex. That is why I think I am 
justified in making this supposition. 

27 



FREUD AND PS\ CHOANALYSIS 



Faust is replaced by the king. A transformation has taken place, 
Faust has become the far-off old king; the personality of Faust, 
which has a strong feeling-tone, is replaced by a neutral, leg 
endary person. The king is an association by analogy, a symbol 
for Faust, and the "mistress" for Gretchen. We may ask what is 
the purpose of this arrangement, why Gretchen should dream, 
so to speak, indirectly about this thought, why she cannot con 
ceive it clearly and without equivocation. This question is 
easily answered: Gretchen's sadness contains a thought that no 
one likes to dwell upon; it would be too painful. Her doubt 
about Faust's faithfulness is repressed and kept down. It makes 
its reappearance in the form of a melancholy story which, al 
though it realizes her wish, is not accompanied by pleasant feel 
ings. Freud says that the wishes which form the dream-thought 
are never desires which one openly admits to oneself, but desires 
that are repressed because of their painful character; and it is 
because they are excluded from conscious reflection in the wak 
ing state that they float up, indirectly, in dreams. 

72 This reasoning is not at all surprising if we look at the lives 
of the saints. One can understand without difficulty the nature 
of the feelings repressed by St. Catherine of Siena, which reap 
peared indirectly in the vision of her celestial marriage, and see 
what are the wishes that manifest themselves more or less sym 
bolically in the visions and temptations of the saints. As we 
know, there is as little difference between the somnambulistic 
consciousness of the hysteric and the normal dream as there is 
between the intellectual life of hysterics and that of normal 
people. 

73 Naturally, if we ask someone why he had such and such a 
dream, what are the secret thoughts expressed in it, he cannot 
tell us. He will say that he had eaten too much in the evening, 
that he was lying on his back; that he had seen or heard this or 
that the day before in short, all the things we can read in the 
numerous scientific books about dreams. As for the dream- 
thought, he does not and he cannot know it for, according to 
Freud, the thought is repressed because it is too disagreeable. 
So, if anyone solemnly assures us that he has never found in his 
own dreams any of the things Freud talks about, we can hardly 
suppress a smile; he has been straining to see things it is impos 
sible to see directly. The dream disguises the repressed complex 

28 



THE ANALYSIS OF DREAMS 



to prevent it from being recognized. By changing Faust into the 
King of Thule, Gretchen renders the situation inoffensive. 
Freud calls this mechanism, which prevents the repressed 
thought from showing itself clearly, the censor. The censor is 
nothing but the resistance which also prevents us, in the day 
time, from following a line of reasoning right to the end. The 
censor will not allow the thought to pass until it is so disguised 
that the dreamer is unable to recognize it. If we try to acquaint 
the dreamer with the thought behind his dream, he will always 
oppose to us the same resistance that he opposes to his repressed 
complex. 

74 We can now ask ourselves a series of important questions. 
Above all, what must we do to get behind the facade into the 
inside of the house that is, beyond the manifest content of the 
dream to the real, secret thought behind it? 

75 Let us return to our example and suppose that Gretchen is 
an hysterical patient who comes to consult me about a disagree 
able dream. I will suppose, moreover, that I know nothing about 
her. In this case I would not waste my time questioning her 
directly, for as a rule these intimate sorrows cannot be uncov 
ered without arousing the most intense resistance. I would try 
rather to conduct what I have called an "association experi 
ment," 3 which would reveal to me the whole of her love-affair 
(her secret pregnancy, etc.). The conclusion would be easy to 
draw, and I should be able to submit the dream-thought to her 
without hesitation. But one may proceed more prudently. 

7 6 I would ask her, for instance: Who is not so faithful as the 
King of Thule, or who ought to be? This question would very 
quickly illuminate the situation. In uncomplicated cases such 
as this, the interpretation or analysis of a dream is limited to a 
few simple questions. 

77 Here is an example of such a case. It concerns a man of whom 
I know nothing except that he lives in the colonies and happens 
at present to be in Europe on leave. During one of our inter 
views he related a dream which had made a profound impres 
sion on him. Two years before, he had dreamt that he was in a 
wild and desert place., and he saw, on a rock, a man dressed in 

3 Cf. my Studies in Word Association. 

29 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



black covering his face with both hands. Suddenly he set out 
towards a precipice^ when a woman,, likewise clothed in black, 
appeared and tried to restrain him. He flung himself into the 
abyss, dragging her with him. The dreamer awoke with a cry of 
anguish. 

7 8 The question, Who was that man who put himself in a dan 
gerous situation and dragged a woman to her doom? moved the 
dreamer deeply, for that man was the dreamer himself. Two 
years before, he had been on a journey of exploration across a 
rocky and desert land. His expedition was pursued relentlessly 
by the savage inhabitants of that country, who at night made at 
tacks in which several of its members perished. He had under 
taken this extremely perilous journey because at that time life 
had no value for him. The feeling he had when engaging in this 
adventure was that he was tempting fate. And the reason for his 
despair? For several years he had lived alone in a country with 
a very dangerous climate. When on leave in Europe two and a 
half years ago, he made the acquaintance of a young woman. 
They fell in love and the young woman wanted to marry him. 
He knew, however, that he would have to go back to the mur 
derous climate of the tropics, and he had no wish to take a 
woman there and condemn her to almost certain death. He 
therefore broke off his engagement, after prolonged moral con 
flicts which plunged him into profound despair. It was in such a 
state of mind that he started on his perilous journey. The anal 
ysis of the dream does not end with this statement, for the wish- 
fulfilment is not yet evident. But as I am only citing this dream 
in order to demonstrate the discovery of the essential complex, 
the sequel of the analysis is without interest for us. 

79 In this case the dreamer was a frank and courageous man. A 
little less frankness, or any feeling of unease or mistrust towards 
me, and the complex would not have been admitted. There are 
even some who would calmly have asseverated that the dream 
had no meaning and that my question was completely beside the 
point. In these cases the resistance is too great, and the complex 
cannot be brought up from the depths directly into ordinary 
consciousness. Generally the resistance is such that a direct in 
quiry, unless it is conducted with great experience, leads to no 
result. By creating the "psychoanalytic method" Freud has 

30 



THE ANALYSIS OF DREAMS 



given us a valuable instrument for resolving or overcoming the 
most tenacious resistances. 

80 This method is practised in the following manner. One 
selects some specially striking portion of the dream, and then 
questions the subject about the associations that attach them 
selves to it. He is directed to say frankly whatever comes into his 
mind concerning this part of the dream, eliminating as far as 
possible any criticism. Criticism is nothing but the censor at 
work; it is the resistance against the complex, and it tends to 
suppress what is of the most importance. 

8 * The subject should, therefore, say absolutely everything that 
comes into his head without paying any attention to it. This is 
always difficult at first, especially in an introspective examina 
tion when his attention cannot be suppressed so far as to elimi 
nate the inhibiting effect of the censor. For it is towards oneself 
that one has the strongest resistances. The following case demon 
strates the course of an analysis against strong resistances. 

82 A gentleman of whose intimate life I was ignorant told me 
the following dream: "/ found myself in a little room, seated at 
a table beside Pope Pius X, whose features were far more hand 
some than they are in reality, which surprised me. I saw on one 
side of our room a great apartment with a table sumptuously 
laid, and a crowd of ladies in evening-dress. Suddenly I felt a 
need to urinate, and I went out. On my return the need was 
repeated; I went out again, and this happened several times. 
Finally I woke up, wanting to urinate." 

83 The dreamer, a very intelligent and well-educated man, 
naturally explained this to himself as a dream caused by irrita 
tion of the bladder. Indeed, dreams of this class are always so 
explained. 

84 He argued vigorously against the existence of any compo 
nents of great individual significance in this dream. It is true 
that the facade of the dream was not very transparent, and I 
could not know what was hidden behind it. My first deduction 
was that the dreamer had a strong resistance because he put so 
much energy into protesting that the dream was meaningless. 

85 In consequence, I did not venture to put the indiscreet ques 
tion: Why did you compare yourself to the Pope? I only asked 
him what ideas he associated with "Pope." The analysis de 
veloped as follows: 

3 1 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



Pope. "The Pope lives royally . . ." (A well-known students' 
song,) Note that this gentleman was thirty-one and unmarried. 

Seated beside the Pope. "Just in the same way I was seated at the 
side o a Sheikh of a Moslem sect, whose guest I was in Arabia. The 
Sheikh is a sort of Pope/' 

86 The Pope is a celibate, the Moslem a polygamist. The idea 
behind the dream seems to be clear: "I am a celibate like the 
Pope, but I would like to have many wives like the Moslem." I 
kept silent about these conjectures. 

The room, and the apartment with the table laid. "They are 
apartments in my cousin's house, where I was present at a large din 
ner-party he gave a fortnight ago." 

The ladies in evening dress. "At this dinner there were also 
ladies, my cousin's daughters, girls of marriageable age." 

8 7 Here he stopped: he had no further associations. The ap 
pearance of this phenomenon, known as a mental inhibition, 
always justifies the conclusion that one has hit on an association 
which arouses strong resistance. I asked: 

And these young women? "Oh, nothing; recently one of them 
was at F. She stayed with us for some time. When she went away I 
went to the station with her, along with my sister." 

88 Another inhibition: I helped him out by asking: 

What happened then? "Oh! I was just thinking [this thought had 
evidently been repressed by the censor] that I had said something to 
my sister that made us laugh, but I have completely forgotten what 
it was." 

8 9 In spite of his sincere efforts to remember, it was at first im 
possible for him to recall what this was. Here we have a very 
common instance of forgetfulness caused by inhibition. All at 
once he remembered: 

"On the way to the station we met a gentleman who greeted us and 
whom I seemed to recognize. Later, I asked my sister, Was that the 
gentleman who is interested in [the cousin's daughter]?" 

9 (She is now engaged to this gentleman, and I must add that 
the cousin's family was very wealthy and that the dreamer was 
interested too, but he was too late.) 

3* 



THE ANALYSIS OF DREAMS 



The dinner at the cousin's house. "I shall shortly have to go to 
the wedding of two friends of mine." 

The Pope's features. "The nose was exceedingly well-formed and 
slightly pointed." 

Who has a nose like that? (Laughing.) "A young woman I'm tak 
ing a great interest in just now." 

Was there anything else noteworthy about the Pope's face? "Yes, 
his mouth. It was a very shapely mouth. [Laughing.] Another young 
woman, who also attracts me, has a mouth like that." 

91 This material is sufficient to elucidate a large part of the 
dream. The "Pope" is a good example of what Freud would call 
a condensation. In the first place he symbolizes the dreamer 
(celibate life), secondly he is a transformation of the polygamous 
Sheikh. Then he is the person seated beside the dreamer during 
a dinner, that is to say, one or rather two ladies in fact, the two 
ladies who interest the dreamer. 

92 But how comes it that this material is associated with the 
need to urinate? To find the answer to this question I formu 
lated the situation in this way: 

You were taking part in a marriage ceremony and in the pres 
ence of a young lady when you felt you wanted to pass water? "True, 
that did happen to me once. It was very unpleasant. I had been in 
vited to the marriage of a relative, when I was about eleven. In the 
church I was sitting next to a girl of my own age. The ceremony 
went on rather a long time, and I began to want to urinate. But I 
restrained myself until it was too late. I wetted my trousers." 

93 The association of marriage with the desire to urinate dates 
from that event. I will not pursue this analysis, which does not 
end here, lest this paper should become too long. But what has 
been said is sufficient to show the technique, the procedure of 
analysis. Obviously it is impossible to give the reader a compre 
hensive survey of these new points of view. The illumination 
that the psychoanalytic method brings to us is very great, not 
only for the understanding of dreams but for that of hysteria 
and the most important mental illnesses. 

94 The psychoanalytic method, which is in use everywhere, has 
already given rise to a considerable literature in German. I am 
persuaded that the study of this method is extremely important, 

33 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



not only for psychiatrists and neurologists but also for psychol 
ogists. The following works are recommended. For normal 
psychology: Freud, The Interpretation of Dreams, and "Jokes 
and Their Relation to the Unconscious/' For the neuroses: 
Breuer and Freud, Studies on Hysteria; Freud, "Fragment of an 
Analysis of a Case of Hysteria." For the psychoses: Jung, The 
Psychology of Dementia Praecox. The writings of Maeder in the 
Archives de psychologie also give an excellent summary of 
Freud's ideas. 4 

* [See the bibliography for fuller data. EDITORS.] 



34 



A CONTRIBUTION TO THE PSYCHOLOGY 
OF RUMOUR 1 

95 About a year ago the school authorities in N. asked me to 
furnish a report on the mental condition of Marie X., a thir 
teen-year-old school-girl. Marie had recently been expelled from 
the school because she was instrumental in originating an ugly 
rumour, spreading gossip about her class-teacher. The punish 
ment hit the child, and especially her parents, very hard, so 
that the school authorities were inclined to readmit her under 
the cover of a medical opinion. 

9 6 The facts of the case were as follows. The teacher had heard 
indirectly that the girls were telling an ambiguous sexual story 
about him. On investigation, it was found that Marie had one 
day related a dream to three girl-friends which ran somewhat 
as follows: 

The class was going to the bathing-place. I had to go with 
the boys because there was no more room. Then we swam a 
long way out in the lake. (Asked "Who?" Marie said: "Lina, 2 
the teacher, and me.") A steamer came along. The teacher asked 
us: "Do you want a ride?" We came to K. A wedding was going 
on. ("Whose?" "A friend of the teacher's.") We were allowed to 
take part in it. Then we went on a journey. ("Who?" "Me, Lina, 
and the teacher.") It was like a honeymoon trip. We came to 
Andermatt, and there was no more room in the hotel so we had 
to spend the night in a barn. There the woman got a child and 
the teacher became the godfather. 

97 This dream was told me by the child when I examined her. 
The teacher had also got her to tell the dream in writing. In this 
earlier version the obvious gap after "Do you want a ride?" was 

1 [Originally published as "Em Beitrag zur Psychologic des Geriichtes," Zentral- 
blatt fur Psychoanalyse (Wiesbaden), I (1910/11): 3, 81-90. Previously translated 
in Collected Papers on Analytical Psychology (London, 1916; and edn., London, 
1917, and New York, 1922). EDITORS.] 
J [Her sister. Cf. par. 119. EDITORS.] 

35 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



filled in by the words: "We got on it. Soon we felt cold. An old 
man gave us a blouse which the teacher put on." On the other 
hand, there was an omission of the passage about finding no 
room in the hotel and having to spend the night in the barn. 

98 The child told the dream immediately not only to her three 
friends but also to her mother. The mother repeated it to me 
with only trifling differences from the two readings given above. 
In his investigations, carried out with the deepest misgivings, 
the teacher failed, like myself, to discover any other, more dan 
gerous text. It is therefore very probable that the original story 
could not have been very different. (The passage about the cold 
and the blouse seems to be an early interpolation, as it tries to 
establish a logical relationship. Coming out of the water one is 
wet, has on only a bathing-dress, and therefore cannot take part 
in a wedding before putting on some clothes.) The teacher 
would not believe at first that it was simply a dream, he sus 
pected it was an invention. But he had to admit that the inno 
cent telling of the dream was apparently a fact, and that it would 
be unnatural to credit the child with sufficient guile to make 
sexual innuendoes in such a veiled form. For a time he wavered 
between the view that it was a cunning invention and the view 
that it was really a dream, harmless in itself, which had been 
given a sexual twist by the other children. When his first in 
dignation wore off he came to see that Marie's guilt could not 
be so great, and that the fantasies of her friends had contributed 
to the rumour. He then did something very praiseworthy: he 
placed Marie's schoolmates under supervision and made them 
all write out what they had heard of the dream. 

99 Before turning our attention to these accounts, let us first 
consider the dream analytically. To begin with, we must accept 
the facts and agree with the teacher that it really was a dream 
and not an invention the ambiguities are too great for that. 
Conscious invention tries to create unbroken transitions; the 
dream takes no account of this, but proceeds regardless of gaps, 
which, as we have seen, give rise to interpolations during the 
conscious revision. The gaps are very significant. In the bathing- 
place there is no picture of undressing, being unclothed, nor 
any detailed description of being together in the water. The 
lack of clothes on the steamer is compensated by the above- 
mentioned interpolation, but only for the teacher, which shows 

36 



A CONTRIBUTION TO THE PSYCHOLOGY OF RUMOUR 



that his nakedness was most urgently in need of cover. There is 
no detailed description of the wedding, and the transition from 
the steamer to the wedding celebration is abrupt. The reason for 
stopping overnight in the barn at Andermatt is undiscoverable 
at first. The parallel, however, is the lack of room in the bathing- 
place, which made it necessary for the girls to go to the men's 
section; the lack of room at the hotel again prevents the segrega 
tion of the sexes. The picture of the barn is very inadequately 
filled out: the birth follows suddenly and disconnectedly. The 
teacher as godfather is extremely ambiguous. Marie's role 
throughout the whole story is of secondary importance; she is 
no more than a spectator. 

100 All this has the appearance of a genuine dream, and those 
of my readers who have sufficient experience of dreams of girls 
of this age will certainly confirm this view. The interpretation of 
the dream is so simple that we can safely leave it to the chil 
dren themselves, whose statements now follow. 

Aural Witnesses 

101 (i) Marie dreamt that she and Lina went swimming with our 
teacher. When they had swum out pretty far in the lake, Marie said 
she could not swim any further, her foot hurt her so. Our teacher 
said, she could ride on my back. Marie got on and they swam out 
together. After a while a steamer came along and they got on it. It 
seems our teacher had a rope with him with which he tied Marie 
and Lina together, and so pulled them out into the lake after him. 
They went as far as Z., where they got out. But now they had no 
clothes on. The teacher bought a jacket, and Marie and Lina got a 
long thick veil, and all three walked up the street by the lake. This 
was when the wedding was going on. Soon they met. The bride had 
on a blue silk dress but no veil. She asked Marie and Lina if they 
would be so kind as to give her their veil. Marie and Lina gave it 
and in return were allowed to go to the wedding. They went to the 
Sun Inn. Afterwards they made a honeymoon trip to Andermatt, I 
don't know whether they went to the inn at Andermatt or at Z. 
There they were given coffee, potatoes, honey, and butter. I must 
not say any more, only that in the end the teacher became the god 
father. 

i* Here the roundabout story of lack of room at the bathing- 
place is missing; Marie goes swimming with the teacher right 

37 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



away. Their being together in the water is given a more per 
sonal relationship by the rope connecting the teacher and the 
two girls. The ambiguity about the "ride" 3 in the original story 
has already had consequences here, for the part about the 
steamer now takes second place, and first place is given to the 
teacher, who takes Marie on his back. (The delightful little slip 
"she could ride on my back"instead of /zw shows the narrator's 
inner participation in the scene.) This explains why she brings 
the steamer into action somewhat abruptly, in order to give the 
equivocal "ride" a familiar, harmless turn, like the anticlimax 
in a music-hall song. The passage about the lack of clothes, the 
ambiguity of which has already been noted, arouses her special 
interest. The teacher buys a jacket, the girls get a long thick 
veil, such as is worn only in case of death or at weddings. That 
the wedding is meant here in a wider sense is shown by the re 
mark that the bride had no veil: the one who has the veil is the 
bride! The narrator, a good friend of Marie, helps her to dream 
the dream further: the possession of the veil characterizes Marie 
and Lina as brides. Anything offensive or immoral in this situa 
tion is relieved by the girls' surrendering the veil; the narrator 
thus gives the story an innocent turn. The same mechanism is 
followed in the embellishment of the ambiguous situation at 
Andermatt: there is nothing but nice things, coffee, potatoes, 
honey, and butter, a reversion to the infantile on the well-known 
pattern. The conclusion seems to be very abrupt: the teacher 
becomes a godfather. 

103 (3) Marie dreamt that she went bathing with Lina and the 
teacher. Far out in the lake Marie told the teacher her leg was hurt 
ing. The teacher said she could ride on his back. I don't know now 
whether the last sentence was really told so, but I think it was. As 
there was a ship on the lake just then, the teacher said she should 
swim to the ship and then get in. I really don't remember any more 
how she told it. Then the teacher or Marie, I don't know which, 
said they would get out at Z. and run home. So the teacher called to 
two gentlemen, who had just been bathing, to carry the children 
ashore. Lina sat on one man's back and Marie on the other fat man, 

&[Aufsitzen in the original. The word (usually intransitive) means both to 'sit on 
a person's back' and to 'mount' a horse or vehicle. As applied to a steamer, its 
use is quite exceptional. The ambiguity can be preserved in English only by 
alternating between 'ride' and 'get on. 'TRANS,] 

38 



A CONTRIBUTION TO THE PSYCHOLOGY OF RUMOUR 

and the teacher held on to the fat man's leg and swam after them. 
When they landed they ran home. 

On the way the teacher met his friend, who had a wedding. 
Marie said, it was then the fashion to go on foot, not in a carriage. 
Then the bride said they could come along too. Then the teacher 
said it would be nice if the two girls gave the bride their black veil, 
which they had got on the way, I don't know where. The girls gave 
it to her, and the bride said they were nice generous children. Then 
they went on further and stopped at the Sun Inn. There they had 
something to eat, I don't know what. Then they went on the honey 
moon trip to Andermatt. They went into a barn and danced. All 
the men had taken off their coats except the teacher. The bride said 
he should take off. his coat too. The teacher refused, but at last he 
did. Then the teacher was . . . The teacher said he felt cold. I 
mustn't tell any more, it is improper. That's all I heard of the dream. 

104 The narrator pays special attention to the "ride," but is un 
certain whether in the original story it referred to the teacher 
or the steamer. This uncertainty is amply compensated by the 
elaborate story of the two strange gentlemen who took the girls 
on their backs. For her, the piggyback is too valuable a thought 
to be relinquished, only she is embarrassed at the idea of the 
teacher as its object. The lack of clothes likewise arouses strong 
interest. The bridal veil has now become black, like a veil of 
mourning (naturally in order to conceal anything indelicate). 
Here the innocent turn has even been given a virtuous accent 
("nice generous children"); the immoral wish has surreptitiously 
changed into something virtuous on which special emphasis is 
laid, suspect like every accentuated virtue. The narrator has 
exuberantly filled in the blanks in the scene of the barn; the 
men take off their coats, the teacher follows suit and is conse 
quently . . . naked, and feels cold. Whereupon it becomes too 
"improper." She has correctly recognized the parallels we con 
jectured above when discussing the original story, and has 
added the undressing scene which really belongs to the bathing 
scene-here, for it had to come out in the end that the girls were 
together with the naked teacher. 

105 (3) Marie told me she had dreamt: Once I went bathing but 
there was no more room. The teacher took me into his cabin. I un 
dressed and went bathing. I swam until I reached the bank. There 
I met the teacher. He said, wouldn't I like to swim across the lake 

39 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



with him? I went, and Lina also. We swam out and were soon in the 
middle of the lake. I did not want to swim any further. Now I can't 
remember it exactly. Soon a ship came along and we got on the 
ship. The teacher said, "I'm cold/' and a sailor gave us an old shirt. 
Each of us tore a piece off. I tied it round my neck. Then we left 
the ship and swam on to K. 

Lina and I did not want to go any further and two fat men took 
us on their backs. In K. we got a veil which we put on. In K. we went 
into the street. The teacher met his friend who invited us to his 
wedding. We went to the Sun Inn and played games. We also danced 
the polonaise. Now I don't remember exactly. Afterwards we went 
on the honeymoon trip to Andermatt. The teacher had no money 
with him and stole some chestnuts. The teacher told us, "I am so 
glad I can travel with my two pupils." Now comes something im 
proper which I will not write. Now the dream is finished. 

106 Here the undressing together takes place in the bathing- 
cabin. The lack of clothes on the ship gives rise to a new variant 
(old shirt torn into three pieces). Because of its uncertainty, the 
sitting on the teacher is not mentioned. Instead, the girls sit on 
the backs of two fat men. As "fat" is stressed in this and the 
previous version, it is worth mentioning that the teacher was 
more than a little plump. The substitution is typical: each of the 
girls has a teacher. Duplication or multiplication of person 
alities expresses their significance, i.e., their investment with 
libido. The same is true of the repetition of actions. 4 The sig 
nificance of this multiplication is especially clear in religion and 
mythology. (Cf. the Trinity and the two mystic formulae of 
confession: "Isis una quae es omnia," "Hermes omnia solus ct 
ter unus.") Proverbially we say: "He eats, drinks, or sleeps 'for 
two.' " Also, the multiplication of personality expresses an anal 
ogy or comparison: my friend has the "same aetiological value" 
as myself (Freud). In dementia praecox, or schizophrenia, to use 
Bleuler's broader and better term, the multiplication of per 
sonality is primarily the expression of libido investment, for it 
is invariably the person to whom the patient has a transference 
who is liable to multiplication. ("There are two Professor N's." 
"Oh, so you are Dr. Jung too. This morning another person 
came to see me who also called himself Dr. Jung.") It seems 

4 Cf. the duplication of attributes in dementia praecox in my "The Psychology 
of Dementia Praecox." 

40 



A CONTRIBUTION TO THE PSYCHOLOGY OF RUMOUR 



that, in keeping with the general tendency of schizophrenia, this 
splitting is an analytical depotentiation for the purpose of pre 
venting too powerful impressions. A further significance of the 
multiplication of personality, though it does not come exactly 
into this category, is the raising of some attribute to a living fig 
ure. A simple example is Dionysus and his companion Phales, 
Phales (phallos) being the personification of the penis of Diony 
sus. The so-called Dionysian train (satyrs, tityrs, Sileni, maenads, 
Mimallones, etc.) consists of personifications of Dionysian at 
tributes. 

107 The scene in Andermatt is portrayed with a nice wit, or more 
correctly, is dreamt further. "The teacher stole some chestnuts" 
is equivalent to saying that he did something prohibited. By 
chestnuts is meant roast chestnuts, which because of the split are 
known to be female sexual symbols. Hence the teacher's remark 
that he was "so glad to travel with his two pupils/' following di 
rectly on the theft of the chestnuts, becomes understandable. 
The theft of the chestnuts is certainly a personal interpolation, 
for it occurs in no other account. It shows how intense was the 
inner participation of her schoolmates in Marie's dream, i.e., it 
had the "same aetiological value" for them. 

108 This is the last of the aural witnesses. The story of the veil 
and the pain in the foot or leg are items which may well have 
been mentioned in the original narrative. Other interpolations 
are altogether personal and are based on inner participation in 
the meaning of the dream. 

Hearsay Evidence 

109 (i) The whole school went bathing with the teacher. Only Marie 
had no room to undress in the bathing-place. So the teacher said, 
"You can come into my room and undress with me." She must have 
felt very uncomfortable. When both were undressed they went into 
the lake. The teacher took a long cord and tied it round Marie. 
Then they both swam far out. But Marie got tired, so the teacher 
took her on his back. Then Marie saw Lina, she called out, "Come 
with me," and Lina came. They all swam out still further. They met 
a ship. Then the teacher asked, "May we get in? These girls are 
tired." The ship stopped and they all got in. I don't know exactly 
how they came ashore at K. Then the teacher got an old night-shirt. 
He put it on. Then he met a friend who was having a wedding. 

41 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



Teacher, Marie, and Lina were invited. The wedding was cele 
brated at the Crown in K. They wanted to dance the polonaise. The 
teacher said he would not do it. But the others said he might as 
well. He did it with Marie. Teacher said, "I will not go home any 
more to my wife and children. I love you best, Marie." She was very 
pleased. After the wedding there was a honeymoon trip. Teacher, 
Marie, and Lina were allowed to go with them. The trip was to 
Milan. Afterwards they went to Andermatt, where they could find 
no place to sleep. They went to a barn, where they could stop the 
night all together. I must not tell any more because it becomes very 
indecent. 

The undressing scene at the bathing-place is fully developed. 
The swim undergoes a simplification for which the story of the 
rope had paved the way: the teacher ties himself to Marie, but 
Lina is not mentioned here, she comes only later when Marie 
was already sitting on the teacher's back. Here the clothing is 
a night-shirt. The wedding celebrations are given a very direct 
interpretation: the teacher does not want to go home any more 
to his wife and children, he loves Marie best. In the barn they 
found a place "all together" and then it "became very indecent." 

(2) They said she had gone with the school to the bathing-place 
to bathe. But as the bathing-place was too full, the teacher called 
her to come with him. Then we swam out in the lake and Lina fol 
lowed us. Then the teacher took a cord and tied us together. I don't 
know exactly how they got separated again. But after a long time 
they suddenly arrived at Z. There a scene is said to have taken place 
which I would rather not tell, for if it was true it would be too 
shameful. Also I don't know exactly what is supposed to have hap 
pened as I was very tired. Only I have heard that Marie said she 
was always to remain with the teacher now, and that he hugged her 
again and again as his best pupil. If I knew exactly I would also tell 
the other thing, but my sister only said something about a little 
child that was born there, and the teacher was said to be the god 
father. 

Note that in this story the indecent scene is inserted at the 
wedding festivities, where it is just as appropriate as at the end, 
for the attentive reader will long ago have observed that it could 
also have taken place in the bathing-cabin. Actually, things have 
happened as they usually do in dreams: the final thought in a 
long series of dream-images contains precisely what the first 

4* 



A CONTRIBUTION TO THE PSYCHOLOGY OF RUMOUR 

image in the series was trying to represent. The censor pushes 
the complex away as long as possible by means of ever-renewed 
symbolical disguises, displacements, bowdlerizations, etc. Noth 
ing happens in the bathing-cabin, there is no piggyback in the 
water, on landing it is not on the teacher's back that the girls sit, 
it is another pair who get married, another girl has a child in 
the barn, and the teacher is only godfather. But all these situa 
tions and images lend themselves to representing the wish for 
coitus. Behind all these metamorphoses the action nevertheless 
takes place, and the result is the birth staged at the end. 

113 (3) Marie said: the teacher had a wedding with his wife, and 
afterwards they went to the Crown and danced together. Marie said 
all sorts of other wild things which I must not tell or write about, 
it is too embarrassing. 

114 Here pretty well everything is too improper to be told. Note 
that the wedding takes place with the "wife/* 

115 (4) The teacher and Marie went bathing, and he asked Marie if 
she wanted to come along too. She said yes. When they had gone 
out together they met Lina, and the teacher asked if she wanted to 
come with them. And they went further out. Then I heard that she 
said the teacher said that Lina and she were his favourite pupils. 
She also told us that the teacher was in his bathing-dress. Then they 
went to a wedding and the bride got a little child. 

* l6 The personal relationship to the teacher is strongly empha 
sized ("favourite pupils"), likewise the inadequate clothing 
("bathing-dress"). 

117 (5) Marie and Lina went bathing with the teacher. When Mari< 
and Lina and the teacher had swum a little way, Marie said 
"Teacher, I can't go any further, my foot hurts me." The teache 
told her to sit on his back and Marie did so. Then a little steame 
came along and the teacher got into the ship. The teacher had tw< 
ropes with him and tied the children to the ship. Then they all wen 
to Z. and got out there. The teacher bought himself a night-shir 
and put it on and the children put a towel over them. Teacher ha< 
a bride and they were in a barn. The two children were also wit 
the teacher and his bride in the barn and they danced. I must nc 
write the other thing for it is too awful. 

n8 Here Marie sits on the teacher's back. The teacher faster 
the two children to the ship with ropes, from which it can t 

43 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



seen how easily "ship" is substituted for "teacher." The night 
shirt again emerges as the article of clothing. It was the teacher's 
own wedding, and what is improper comes after the dance. 

J1 9 (6: Lina.) The teacher went bathing with the whole school. 
Marie could not find any room, and she cried. The teacher then 
told Marie she could come into his cabin. 

"I must leave out something here and there," said my sister, "for 
it is a long story.'* But she told me something more which I must 
tell in order to speak the truth. When they were in the water the 
teacher asked Marie if she would like to swim across the lake with 
him. She answered that if I came she would come too. Then we 
swam about halfway. Marie got tired and the teacher pulled her by 
a cord. At K. they went on shore and from there to Z. All this time 
the teacher is supposed to have been dressed as for swimming. 
There we met a friend who was having a wedding. We were invited 
to it by this friend. After the feast there was a honeymoon trip, and 
we went to Milan. We had to sleep one night in a barn and there 
something happened which I must not tell. The teacher said we 
were his favourite pupils, and he also kissed Marie. 

120 The excuse "I must leave out something here and there" re 
places the undressing scene. Special emphasis is laid on the 
teacher's inadequate clothing. The journey to Milan is a typical 
honeymoon trip. This passage likewise seems to be an independ 
ent fantasy due to inner participation. Marie clearly figures as 
the loved one. 

121 (7) The whole school and teacher went bathing. They all went 
into a room. Teacher also. Only Marie could find no room, so the 
teacher said to her, "I still have room." She went. Then the teacher 
said, "Lie on my back, I will swim out into the lake with you." I 
must not write any more, for it is so improper that I can hardly 
even say it. Except for the improper part which followed I know 
nothing more of the dream. 

!22 This narrator is getting down to the facts. Already at the 
bathing-place Marie was to lie on the teacher's back. Logically 
enough the narrator does not know anything of the rest of the 
dream except the improper part. 

123 (8) The whole school went bathing. Marie had no room and 
was invited into his cabin by the teacher. The teacher swam out 
with her and told her, straight, she was his darling or something like 

44 



A CONTRIBUTION TO THE PSYCHOLOGY OF RUMOUR 



that. When they came ashore at Z. a friend had just had a wedding 
and this friend invited them both in their bathing-costume. The 
teacher had found an old night-shirt and put it on over his swim 
ming-pants. He also kissed Marie a lot and said he would not go 
home to his wife any more. They were both invited on the honey 
moon trip. The journey went through Andermatt, where they could 
not find any place to sleep, and so had to sleep in the hay. A woman 
was there too, now cornes the dreadful part, and it is not at all right 
to laugh and joke about something so serious. This woman got a 
little child, but I will not say any more for it is too dreadful. 

124 The narrator is very downright ("he told her, straight, she 
was his darling," "he kissed her a lot" etc.). Her obvious indigna 
tion over the silly tattling tells us something special about her 
character. Subsequent investigations showed that this girl was 
the only one of all the witnesses who had been sexually enlight 
ened by her mother. 

Summary 

!25 So far as the interpretation of the dream is concerned, there 
is nothing for me to add; the children themselves have done all 
that is necessary, leaving practically nothing over for psycho 
analytic interpretation. The rumour has analysed and inter 
preted the dream. So far as I know, rumour has not been investi 
gated in this capacity up to now. Our case certainly makes it 
appear worth while to fathom the psychology of rumour from 
the psychoanalytic side. In presenting the material I have pur 
posely restricted myself to the psychoanalytic point of view, 
though I do not deny that my material offers numerous open 
ings for the invaluable researches of the followers of Stern, 
Claparde, and others. 

126 The material enables us to understand the structure of the 
rumour, but psychoanalysis cannot rest satisfied with that. We 
need to know more about the why and the wherefore of the 
whole phenomenon. As we have seen, the teacher was greatly 
affected by the rumour and was left puzzled by the problem of 
its cause and effect. How can a dream, which is notoriously 
harmless and never means anything (teachers, as we know, also 
have a training in psychology), produce such effects, such mali 
cious gossip? Faced with this question, the teacher seems to me 
to have hit instinctively on the right answer. The effect of the 

45 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



dream can only be explained by its being "le vrai mot de la 
situation"; that is to say, it gave suitable expression to something 
that was already in the air. It was the spark which fell into the 
powder-barrel. Our material affords all the necessary proofs of 
this view. Throughout, I have drawn attention to the inner 
participation of Marie's schoolmates in her dream, and to the 
points of special interest where some of them have added their 
own fantasies or day-dreams. The class consisted of girls be 
tween the ages of twelve and thirteen, who were therefore in 
the midst of the prodromata of puberty. The dreamer herself 
was almost fully developed sexually and in this respect ahead of 
her class; she was the leader who gave the watchword for the 
unconscious and so detonated the sexual complexes lying dor 
mant in her companions. 

2 7 As can easily be understood, the whole affair was most dis 
tressing for the teacher. The supposition that this, precisely, 
was what the girls secretly intended is justified by the psycho 
analytic axiom that actions are to be judged more by their re 
sults than by their conscious motives. 5 Accordingly, we would 
conjecture that Marie had been especially troublesome to her 
teacher. At first she liked this teacher most of all. In the course 
of the last six months, however, her position had changed. She 
had become dreamy and inattentive, she was afraid to go into 
the streets after dark because of bad men. On several occasions 
she talked about sex to her companions in a rather obscene way; 
her mother asked me anxiously how she was to explain the ap 
proaching menstruation to her daughter. Because of her be 
haviour she had forfeited the good opinion of her teacher, as 
was clearly evidenced for the first time by a bad report which 
she and some of her friends received a few days before the out 
break of the rumour. Their disappointment was so great that 
the girls indulged in all sorts of vengeful fantasies about the 
teacher; for instance, they might push him on to the rails so 
that the train would run over him. Marie was especially to the 
fore in these murderous fantasies. On the night following this 
great outburst of anger, when her former love for her teacher 
seemed quite forgotten, that repressed part of herself rose up in 
the dream, and fulfilled its wish for sexual union with the 

5 Cf. my "Psychic Conflicts in a Child." 



A CONTRIBUTION TO THE PSYCHOLOGY OF RUMOUR 

teacher as compensation for the hate which had filled the day. 6 
On waking, the dream became a subtle instrument of her 
hatred, because its wishful thinking was also that of her com 
panions, as it always is in rumours of this kind. Revenge cer 
tainly had its triumph, but the recoil upon Marie herself was 
even more severe. Such is the rule when our impulses are given 
over to the unconscious. Marie was expelled from school, but on 
my report was allowed to return. 

128 I am well aware that this short report is inadequate and un 
satisfactory from the point of view of exact science. Had the 
original story been accurately verified we could have demon 
strated quite clearly what we have now only been able to sug 
gest. This case, therefore, merely poses a question, and it re 
mains for more fortunate observers to collect really convincing 
evidence in this field. 

6 [It may be not without significance that, used transitively, the word aujsitzen 
literally, 'sit a person up' means 'to deceive/ 'to make a fool of/ someone, or, as 
we might say today in this context, 'to take him for a ride.' TRANS.] 



47 



ON THE SIGNIFICANCE OF NUMBER DREAMS 1 

12 9 The symbolism of numbers, which greatly engaged the philo 
sophic fantasy of earlier centuries, has acquired a fresh interest 
from the analytical researches of Freud and his school. In the 
material of number dreams we no longer discover conscious 
speculations on the symbolic connections between numbers, but 
rather the unconscious roots of number symbolism. As there is 
nothing fundamentally new to be offered in this field since the 
researches of Freud, Adler, and Stekel, we must content our 
selves with corroborating their experience by citing parallel 
cases. I have under observation a few cases of this kind which 
may be worth reporting for their general interest. 

l $ The first three examples are from a middle-aged man whose 
conflict of the moment was an extramarital love-affair. The 
dream-fragment from which I take the symbolical number is: 
. . . the dreamer shows his season ticket to the conductor. The 
conductor protests at the high number on the ticket. It was 247*7. 

w The analysis of the dream brought out a rather ungentle- 
manly reckoning up of the expenses of this love-affair, which 
was foreign to the dreamer's generous nature. His unconscious 
made use of this in order to resist the affair. The most obvi 
ous interpretation would be that this number had a financial 
significance and origin. A rough estimate of the expenses so far 
involved led to a number which in fact approached 2477 francs; 
a more careful calculation gave 2387 francs, a number which 
could only arbitrarily be translated into 2477. I then le fr the 
number to the free association of the patient. It occurred to him 
that in the dream the number appeared divided: 24 77. Per 
haps it was a telephone number. This conjecture proved in 
correct. The next association was that it was the sum of various 

i [Originally published as "Ein Beitrag mr Kenntnis des Zahlentraumes," Zen- 
tralblatt fur Psychoanalyse (Wiesbaden), I (1910/11), 5^7-72. Previously trans 
lated by M. D. Eder in Collected Papers on Analytical Psychology (London, 1916; 
2nd edn., London, 1917, and New York, 1922) .EDITORS.] 



ON THE SIGNIFICANCE OF NUMBER DREAMS 



other numbers. At this point the patient remembered telling 
me earlier that he had just celebrated the hundredth birthday 
of his mother and himself, since she was sixty-five and he was 
thirty-five. (Their birthdays fell on the same day.) In this way 
he arrived at the following series of associations: 

He was born on 26. II 2 

His mistress 28. VIII 

His wife i.III 

His mother (his father was long dead) 26. II 

His two children 29. IV 

13. VII 

He was born II. 75 8 

His mistress VIII. 85 

He was now 36 

His mistress 25 

132 If this series of associations is written down in the usual fig 
ures, we get the following sum: 

262 
288 

13 

262 

294 
137 

275 

885 

36 



2477 

33 This series, which includes all the members of his family, 
thus gives the number 2477. I ts composition led to a deeper 
layer of the dream's meaning. The patient was greatly attached 
to his family but on the other hand very much in love with his 
mistress. This caused him severe conflicts. The details of the 
"conductor's" appearance (omitted here for the sake of brevity) 
pointed to the analyst, from whom the patient both feared and 
wished firm control as well as sharp censure of his dependent 
state. 

2 [Bay and month.] & [Month and year.] 

49 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



*34 The dream that followed shortly afterwards ran (much ab 
breviated): The analyst asked the patient what he actually did 
when he was with his mistress. The patient said he gambled, 
and always on a very high number: 152. The analyst remarked: 
"You are sadly cheated.'' 

*35 Analysis once more revealed a repressed tendency to reckon 
up the costs of the affair. The monthly expenses amounted to 
close on 152 francs (actually between 148 and 158). The remark 
that he was being cheated alluded to the point at issue between 
himself and his mistress. She asserted that he deflowered her, but 
he was quite convinced that she was not a virgin and had al 
ready been deflowered by someone else at a time when he was 
seeking her favours and she was refusing him. The word "num 
ber" led to the association "size in gloves," "size of calibre." 
From there it was but a short step to the fact that he had noted 
at the first coitus a remarkable width of the opening instead of 
the expected resistance of the hymen. This seemed to him proof 
of deception. The unconscious naturally used this discovery as 
a most effective means of resistance against the relationship. The 
number 152 proved refractory at first to further analysis. But on 
a later occasion it led to the not so distant idea of a "house 
number/' followed by these associations: when he first knew her 
the lady lived at 17 X Street, then at 129 Y Street, then at 48 Z 
Street. 

*3 6 Here the patient realized that he had already gone far be 
yond 152, for the total was 194. It then occurred to him that, for 
certain reasons, the lady had left 48 Z Street at his instigation, 
so the total must be 194 - 48 = 146. She was now living at 6 A 
Street, hence it was 146 + 6:= 152. 

137 Later in the analysis he had the following dream: He re 
ceived a bill from the analyst charging him interest of i franc 
on a sum of 315 "francs for delay in payment from the jrd to the 
zpth September. 

is 8 This reproach of meanness and avariciousness levelled at the 
analyst covered, as analysis proved, a strong unconscious envy. 
There were several things in the analyst's life that might arouse 
the envy of the patient. One thing in particular had made an 
impression on him: the analyst had lately had an addition to 
his family. The disturbed relations between the patient and his 
wife unfortunately permitted no such expectation in his case. 

5 



ON THE SIGNIFICANCE OF NUMBER DREAMS 



There was therefore ample ground for invidious comparisons. 

139 As before, the analysis started by dividing the number 315 
into 3 i 5. The patient associated 3 with the fact that the 
analyst had 3 children, with the recent addition of another i. 
He himself would have had 5 children if all were living, as it 
was he had 3 _ i = 2, for 3 children were stillborn. But these 
associations were far from exhausting the number symbolism of 
the dream. 

HO The patient remarked that the period from the 3rd to the 
2gth September comprised 26 days. His next thought was to 
add this and the remaining numbers together: 26 + 315+1 
= 342- He then carried out the same operation on 342 as on 315, 
dividing it into 3 4 2. Whereas before it came out that the 
analyst had 3 children, with i in addition, and the patient would 
have had 5, now the meaning was: the analyst had 3 children, 
now has 4, but the patient only 2. He remarked that the second 
number sounded like a rectification of the wish-fulfilment of 
the first. 

*4* The patient, who had discovered this explanation for him 
self without my help, declared himself satisfied. His analyst, 
however, was not; to him it seemed that the above revelations 
did not exhaust the possibilities determining the unconscious 
products. In connection with the number 5, the patient had 
carefully noted that, of the 3 stillborn children, i was born in 
the gth and 2 in the 7th month. He also emphasized that his 
wife had had 2 miscarriages, i in the 5th week and i in the 7th. 
If we add these figures together we get the determination of the 
number 26: 

1 child 7 months 

7 

9 " 

2 miscarriages (5 + 7 weeks) =3 



It seems as if 26 were determined by the number of lost 
periods of pregnancy. In the dream the period of 26 days de 
noted a delay for which the patient was charged i franc interest. 
Owing to the lost pregnancies he did in fact suffer a delay, for 
during the time in which the patient knew him the analyst got 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



ahead by i child, i franc may therefore mean i child. We have 
already noted the patient's tendency to add together all his chil 
dren, including the dead ones, in order to outdo his rival. The 
thought that his analyst had outdone him by i child might in 
fluence even more strongly the determination of the number i. 
We shall therefore follow up this tendency of the patient and 
continue his number game by adding to 26 the 2 successful 
pregnancies of 9 months each: 26 -f 18 = 44. 
H3 Dividing the numbers again into integers we get 2 + 6 and 
4 + 4, two groups of figures which have only one thing in com 
mon, that each gives 8 by addition. It is to be noted that these 
figures are composed entirely of the months of pregnancy accru 
ing to the patient. If we compare them with the figures indi 
cating the progenitive capacity of the analyst, namely 315 and 
342, we observe that the latter, added crosswise, each gives a total 
of 9. Now 9 8 = i. Again it seems as if the thought of the 
difference of i were asserting itself. The patient had remarked 
earlier that 315 seemed to him a wish-fulfilment and 342 a rec 
tification. Letting our fantasy play round them, we discover the 
following difference between the two numbers: 

3 X i X 5 - 15 3X4X2 = 24 24 - 15 ~ 9 

M4 Once more we come upon the significant figure 9, which fits 
very aptly into this calculus of pregnancies and births. 

145 It is difficult to say where the borderline of play beginsnec 
essarily so, for an unconscious product is the creation of sportive 
fantasy, of that psychic impulse out of which play itself arises. 
It is repugnant to the scientific mind to indulge in this kind of 
playfulness, which tails off everywhere in inanity. But we should 
never forget that the human mind has for thousands of years 
amused itself with just this kind of game, so it would be no 
wonder if those tendencies from the distant past gained a hear 
ing in dreams. Even in his waking life the patient gave free rein 
to his number-fantasies, as the fact of celebrating the looth 
birthday shows. Their presence in his dreams is therefore be 
yond question. For a single example of unconscious determina 
tion exact proofs are lacking, only the sum of our experiences 
can corroborate the accuracy of the individual discoveries. In in 
vestigating the realm of free creative fantasy we have to rely, 

5* 



ON THE SIGNIFICANCE OF NUMBER DREAMS 



more almost than anywhere else, on a broad empiricism; and 
though this enjoins on us a high degree of modesty with regard 
to the accuracy of individual results, it by no means obliges us 
to pass over in silence what has happened and been observed, 
simply from fear of being execrated as unscientific. There must 
be no parleying with the superstition-phobia of the modern 
mind, for this is one of the means by which the secrets of the 
unconscious are kept veiled. 

146 It is particularly interesting to see how the problems of the 
patient were mirrored in the unconscious of his wife. His wife 
had the following dream: she dreamt and this is the whole 
dream Luke 137. Analysis of this number showed that she as 
sociated as follows: the analyst has got i more child. He had 3. 
If all her children (counting the miscarriages) were living, she 
would have 7; now she has only 3 1 = 2. But she wants 
i + 3 + 7 = l 1 ( a twin number, i and i), which expresses her 
wish that her two children had been pairs of twins, for then she 
would have had the same number of children as the analyst. Her 
mother once had twins. The hope of getting a child by her hus 
band was very precarious, and this had long since implanted in 
the unconscious the thought of a second marriage. 

*47 Other fantasies showed her as "finished" at 44, i.e., when she 
reached the climacteric. She was now 33, so there were only 11 
more years to go till she was 44. This was a significant number, 
for her father died in his 44th year. Her fantasy of the 44th year 
thus contained the thought of her father's death. The emphasis 
on the death of her father corresponded to the repressed fantasy 
of the death of her husband, who was the obstacle to a second 
marriage. 

*48 At this point the material to "Luke 137" comes in to help 
solve the conflict. The dreamer, it must be emphatically re 
marked, was not at all well up in the Bible, she had not read it 
for an incredible time and was not in the least religious. It 
would therefore be quite hopeless to rely on associations here. 
Her ignorance of the Bible was so great that she did not even 
know that "Luke 137" could refer only to the Gospel according 
to St. Luke. When she turned up the New Testament she opened 
it instead at the Acts of the Apostles. 4 As Acts i has only 26 

4 [Sometimes called in German Apostelgeschichte St Lucae. TRANS.] 

53 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



verses, she took the 7th verse: "It is not for you to know the 
times or the seasons, which the Father hath put in his own 
power." But if we turn to Luke i : 37, we find the Annunciation 
of the Virgin: 

35. The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the 
Highest shall overshadow thee: therefore also that holy thing which 
shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God. 

36. And, behold, thy cousin Elisabeth, she hath also conceived a 
son in her old age: and this is the sixth month with her, who was 
called barren. 

37. For with God nothing shall be impossible. 

*49 The logical continuation of the analysis of "Luke 137" re 
quires us also to look up Luke 13:7. There we read: 

6. A certain man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he 
came and sought fruit thereon, and found none. 

7. Then said he unto the dresser of his vineyard, Behold, these 
three years I come seeking fruit on this fig tree, and find none: cut 
it down; why cumbereth it the ground? 

!5o The fig-tree, since ancient times a symbol of the male geni 
tals, must be cut down on account of its unfruitfulness. This 
passage is in complete accord with the numerous sadistic fan 
tasies of the dreamer, which were concerned with cutting off or 
biting off the penis. The allusion to her husband's unfruitful 
organ is obvious. It was understandable that the dreamer with 
drew her libido from her husband, for with her he was impo 
tent, 5 and equally understandable that she made a regression to 
her father (". . . which the Father hath put in his own power") 
and identified with her mother, who had twins. By thus ad 
vancing her age she put her husband in the role of a son or 
boy, of an age when impotence is normal. We can also under 
stand her wish to get rid of her husband, as was moreover con 
firmed by her earlier analysis. It is therefore only a further 
confirmation of what has been said if, following up the material 
to "Luke 137," we turn to Luke 7 : 13: 

12. Now when he came nigh to the gate of the city, behold, there 
was a dead man carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was 
a widow . . . 

5 The husband's principal trouble was a pronounced mother complex. 

54 



ON THE SIGNIFICANCE OF NUMBER DREAMS 



13. And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and 
said unto her, Weep not. 

14. And he came and touched the bier: and they that bare him 
stood still. And he said, Young man, I say unto thee, Arise. 

15 1 In the particular psychological situation of the dreamer the 
allusion to the raising up of the dead man acquires a pretty 
significance as the curing of her husband's impotence. Then the 
whole problem would be solved. There is no need for me to 
point out in so many words the numerous wish-fulfilments con 
tained in this material; the reader can see them for himself. 

152 Since the dreamer was totally ignorant of the Bible, "Luke 
137" must be regarded as a cryptomnesia. Both Flournoy 6 and 
myself 7 have already drawn attention to the important effects 
of this phenomenon. So far as one can be humanly certain, any 
manipulation of the material with intent to deceive is out of the 
question in this case. Those familiar with psychoanalysis will 
know that the whole nature of the material rules out any such 
suspicion. 

153 I am aware that these observations are floating in a sea of 
uncertainties, but I think it would be wrong to suppress them, 
for luckier investigators may come after us who will be able to 
put them in the right perspective, as we cannot do for lack of 
adequate knowledge. 

QFrom India to the Planet Mars (1900); "Nouvelles Observations sur un cas de 
somnambulisme avec glossolalie" (1901). 
7 Cf. Psychiatric Studies, pp. 8iff. and 95*?. 



55 



MORTON PRINCE, "THE MECHANISM AND 

INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS": 

A CRITICAL REVIEW * 

154 I hope that all colleagues and fellow workers who, following 
in Freud's footsteps, have investigated the problem of dreams, 
and have been able to confirm the basic principles of dream- 
interpretation, will forgive me if I pass over their corroborative 
work and speak instead of another investigation which, though 
it has led to less positive results, is for that reason the more 
suited to public discussion. A fact especially worth noting is that 
Morton Prince, thanks to his previous work and his deep insight 
into psychopathological problems, is singularly well equipped 
to understand the psychology inaugurated by Freud. I do not 
know whether Morton Prince has sufficient command of Ger 
man to read Freud in the original, though this is almost a sine 
qua non for understanding him. But if he must rely only on writ 
ings in English, the very clear presentation of dream-analysis by 
Ernest Jones, in "Freud's Theory of Dreams/' 2 would have 
given him all the necessary knowledge. Apart from that, there 
are already a large number of articles and reports by Brill and 
Jones, and recently also by Putnam, 8 Meyer, Hoch, Scripture, 
and others, which shed light on the various aspects of psycho- 

1 [Originally published in the Jahrbuch fur psychoanalytische und psychopatholo- 
gische Forschungen f III (1911), 309-28. The article by Prince (1854-1929) was 
published in the Journal of Abnormal Psychology (Boston), V (1910), 139-95. For 
Prince's relations with the early psychoanalytical movement, see Jones, Life and 
Work, II, passim. EDITORS.] 

2 American Journal of Psychology, XXI (1910), sSsjff. 

3 1 should not omit to mention that James J. Putnam, professor of neurology in 
Harvard Medical School, has tested and made medical use of psychoanalysis. (See 
Putnam, "PersSnliche Erfahrungen mit Freuds psychoanalytischer Methode," 
1911.) [And Putnam's "Personal Impressions of Sigmund Freud and His "Work" 
(1909-10). Adolf Meyer, August Hoch, and Edward Wheeler Scripture also prac 
tised in America. EDITORS.] 

56 



A CRITICAL REVIEW OF MORTON PRINCE 



analysis (or "depth psychology," as Bleuler calls it). And, for 
full measure, there have been available for some time not only 
Freud's and my lectures at Clark University, 4 but several trans- 
lations of our works as well, so that even those who have no 
knowledge of German would have had ample opportunity to 
familiarize themselves with the subject. 

155 It was not through personal contact, of whose suggestive in 
fluence Professor Hoche 5 has an almost superstitious fear very 
flattering to us, but presumably through reading that Morton 
Prince acquired the necessary knowledge of analysis. As the Ger 
man-speaking reader may be aware, Morton Prince is the author 
of a valuable book, The Dissociation of a Personality, which 
takes a worthy place beside the similar studies of Binet, Janet, 
and Flournoy. 6 Prince is also, of course, the editor of the Journal 
of Abnormal Psychology, in almost every issue of which ques 
tions of psychoanalysis are discussed without bias. 

is 6 From this introduction the reader will see that I am not 
saying too much when I represent Morton Prince as an unpreju 
diced investigator with a firmly established scientific reputation 
and undisputed competence in judging psychopathological 
problems. Whereas Putnam is chiefly concerned with the thera 
peutic aspect of psychoanalysis and has discussed it with ad 
mirable frankness, Morton Prince is interested in a particularly 
controversial subject, namely, dream-analysis. It is here that 
every follower of Freud has lost his honourable name as a man 
of science in the eyes of German scientists. Freud's fundamental 

4 [The lectures were first published (in English translation) in the American Jour 
nal of Psychology, XXI (1910). For Freud's, see "Five Lectures on Psycho-Analysis," 
Standard Edn., XI. The three lectures by Jung, entitled "The Association 
Method," were republished in Collected Papers on Analytical Psychology (1916). 
For the first two, "The Association Method" and "The Familial Constellations," 
see Vol. 2 in the Collected Works; the third, "Psychic Conflicts in a Child," ap 
pears in Vol. 17 in its later, revised form of 1946. EDITORS.] 

5 As is well known, Professor Hoche, of Freiburg im Breisgau, described Freud and 
his school as afflicted with epidemic insanity. Participants in the congress ac 
cepted this diagnosis without rebuttal and with applause. [Alfred E. Hoche, 
"Eine psychische Epidemic unter Arzten," Versammlung Siid-West Deutscher 
Irrenarzte, Baden-Baden, May 1910. See Jones, Life and Work, II, 131 EDITORS.] 

6 It is especially to be regretted that the learned men or to be more accurate, 
the men who today go in for learning all too often have an interest which is 
merely national and stops at the frontier. It would be a great relief to psycho 
analysts if more Binet, Janet, and Flournoy were read in Germany. 

57 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



contribution, The Interpretation of Dreams, has been treated 
with irresponsible levity by the German critics. As usual, they 
were ready to hand with glib phrases like "brilliant mistake," 
"ingenious aberration/' etc. But that any of the psychologists, 
neurologists, and psychiatrists should really get down to it and 
try out his wit on Freud's dream-interpretation was too much to 
expect. 7 Perhaps they did not dare to. I almost believe they did 
not dare, because the subject is indeed very difficult less, I 
think, for intellectual reasons than on account of personal, sub 
jective resistances. For it is just here that psychoanalysis de 
mands a sacrifice which no other science demands of its adher 
ents: ruthless self-knowledge. It needs to be repeated again and 
again that practical and theoretical understanding of psycho 
analysis is a function of analytical self-knowledge. Where self- 
knowledge fails, psychoanalysis cannot flourish. This is a para 
dox only so long as people think that they know themselves. 
And who does not think that? In ringing tones of deepest con 
viction everyone assures us that he does. And yet it is simply 
not true, a childish illusion which is indispensable to one's self- 
esteem. There can be no doubt whatever that a doctor who 
covers up his lack of knowledge and ability with increased self- 
confidence will never be able to analyse, for otherwise he would 
have to admit the truth to himself and would become impossible 
in his own eyes. 

157 We must rate it all the higher, then, when a scientist of re 
pute, like Morton Prince, courageously tackles the problem and 
seeks to master it in his own way. We are ready to meet at any 
time the objections that spring from honest work of this kind. 
We have no answer only for those who are afraid of real work 
and are satisfied with making cheap academic speeches. But be 
fore taking up Prince's objections, we shall have a look at his 
field of inquiry and at hisin our sense positive results. Prince 
worked through six dreams of a woman patient who was capable 
of different states of consciousness and could be examined in 
several of these states. He used interrogation under hypnosis as 
well as "free association." We learn that he had already analysed 

7 Those who did so were the ones who openly sided with Freud. Isserlin, on the 
other hand, contented himself with criticizing the method a priori, having no 
practical knowledge of the matter. Bleuler did what he could, under the circum 
stances, to answer him ("Die Psychoanalyse Freuds," 1910). 

58 



A CRITICAL REVIEW OF MORTON PRINCE 



several dozen dreams. 8 Prince found that the method of free 
association "enables us by the examination of a large number of 
dreams in the same person to search the whole field of the un 
conscious, and by comparison of all the dreams to discover cer 
tain persistent, conserved ideas which run through and influence 
the psychical life of the individual/' 9 Using the "insane" psycho 
analytic method, therefore, the American investigator was able 
to discover, in the realm of the unconscious, something that 
perceptibly influences psychic life. For him the "method" is a 
method after all, he is convinced that there is an unconscious 
and all the rest of it, without being in any way hypnotized by 
Freud personally. 

158 Prince admits, further, that we must consider as dream-ma 
terial "certain subconscious ideas of which the subject had not 
been aware" (p. 150), thus recognizing that the sources of dreams 
can lie in the unconscious. The following passage brings im 
portant and emphatic confirmation of this: 

It was a brilliant stroke of genius that led Freud to the discovery 
that dreams are not the meaningless vagaries that they were previ 
ously supposed to be, but when interpreted through the method of 
psychoanalysis may be found to have a logical and intelligible mean 
ing. This meaning, however, is generally hidden in a mass of sym 
bolism which can only be unraveled by a searching investigation 
into the previous mental experiences of the dreamer. Such an in 
vestigation requires, as I have already pointed out, the resurrection 
of all the associated memories pertaining to the elements of the 
dream. When this is done the conclusion is forced upon us, I believe, 
that even the most fantastic dream may express some intelligent 
idea, though that idea may be hidden in symbolism. My own ob 
servations confirm those of Freud, so far as to show that running 
through each dream there is an intelligent motive; so that the dream 
can be interpreted as expressing some idea or ideas which the 
dreamer previously has entertained. At least all the dreams I have 
subjected to analysis justify this interpretation. 

8 In order to give the reader some idea of the experience the psychoanalyst pos 
sesses of dream analysis I would mention that, on average, I analyse eight dreams 
per working day. That makes about two thousand a year. Similar figures prob 
ably hold good for most psychoanalysts. Freud himself has immense experience 
in analysing dreams. 

9 "The Mechanism and Interpretation of Dreams," p. 145. 

59 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



*59 Prince is thus in a position to admit that dreams have a 
meaning, that the meaning is hidden in symbols, and that in 
order to find the meaning one needs the memory-material. All 
this confirms essential portions of Freud's dream interpretation, 
far more than the a priori critics have ever admitted. As a result 
of certain experiences Prince has also come to conceive hysteri 
cal symptoms "as possible symbolisms of hidden processes of 
thought." In spite of the views expressed in Binswanger's Die 
Hysteric, which might have prepared the ground, this has still 
not penetrated the heads of German psychiatrists. 

160 I have, as I said, begun with Prince's affirmative statements. 
We now come to the deviations and objections (p. 151): 

I am unable to confirm [Freud's view] that every dream can be 
interpreted as "the imaginary fulfillment of a wish," which is the 
motive of the dream. That sometimes a dream can be recognized as 
the fulfillment of a wish there can be no question, but that every 
dream, or that the majority of dreams are such, I have been unable 
to verify, even after subjecting the individual to the most exhaustive 
analysis. On the contrary I find, if my interpretations are correct, 
that some dreams are rather the expression of the non-fulfillment of 
a wish; some seem to be that of the fulfillment of a fear or anxiety. 

161 In this passage we have everything that Prince cannot accept. 
It should be added that the wish itself often seems to him not 
to be "repressed" and not to be so unconscious or important as 
Freud would lead us to expect. Hence Freud's theory that a re 
pressed wish is the real source of the dream, and that it fulfils 
itself in the dream, is not accepted by Prince, because he was 
unable to see these things in his material. But at least he tried 
to see them, and the theory seemed to him worth a careful 
check, which is definitely not the case with many of our critics. 
(I should have thought that this procedure would be an un 
written law of academic decency.) Fortunately, Prince has also 
presented us with the material from which he drew his conclu 
sions. We are thus in a position to measure our experience 
against his and at the same time to find the reasons for any mis 
understanding. He has had great courage in exposing himself in 
this commendable way, for we now have an opportunity to com 
pare our divergencies openly with his material, a procedure 
which will be instructive in every respect. 

60 



A CRITICAL REVIEW OF MORTON PRINCE 



162 In order to show how it is that Prince was able to see only 
the formal and not the dynamic element of the dreams, we must 
examine his material in more detail. One gathers, from various 
indications in the material, that the dreamer was a lady in late 
middle age, with a grown-up son who was studying, and ap 
parently that she was unhappily married (or perhaps divorced 
or separated). For some years she had suffered from an hysterical 
dissociation of personality, and, we infer, had regressive fanta 
sies about two earlier love-affairs, which the author, perhaps 
owing to the prudery of the public, is obliged to hint at rather 
too delicately. He succeeded in curing the patient of her dis 
sociation for eighteen months, but now things seem to be going 
badly again, for she remained anxiously dependent on the 
analyst, and he found this so tiresome that he twice wanted to 
send her to a colleague. 

163 Here we have the well-known picture of an unanalysed and 
unadmitted transference, which, as we know, consists in the 
anchoring of the patient's erotic fantasies to the analyst. The six 
dreams are an illustrative excerpt from the analyst's struggle 
against the clinging transference of the patient. 

164 Dream i: C [the patient's dream-ego] was somewhere and saw an 
old woman who appeared to be a Jewess. She was holding a bottle 
and a glass and seemed to be drinking whiskey; then this woman 
changed into her own mother, who had the bottle and glass, and ap 
peared likewise to be drinking whiskey; then the door opened and 
her father appeared. He had on her husband's dressing-gown, and 
he was holding two sticks of wood in his hand. [Pp. 1472.] 

165 Prince found, on the basis of copious and altogether con 
vincing material, 10 that the patient regarded the temptation to 
drink, and also the temptations of "poor people" in general, as 
something very understandable. She herself sometimes took a 
little whiskey in the evening, and so did her mother. But there 
might be something wrong in it. "The dream scene is therefore 
the symbolical representation and justification of her own be 
lief and answers the doubts and scruples that beset her mind" 
(p. 154). The second part of the dream, about the sticks, is cer 
tainly, according to Prince, a kind of wish-fulfilment, but he 
says it tells us nothing, since the patient had ordered fire- 

10 For the practised analyst the dream itself is so clear that it can be read directly. 

6l 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



wood the evening before. Despite the trouble expended on it 
(eight pages of print) the dream has not been analysed thor 
oughly enough, for the two most important items the whiskey- 
drinking and the sticks remain unanalysed. If the author would 
follow up those "temptations," he would soon discover that the 
patient's scruples are at bottom of a far more serious nature 
than a spoonful of whiskey and two bundles of wood. Why is 
the father who comes in, condensed with the husband? How is 
the Jewess determined other than by a memory of the previous 
day? Why are the two sticks significant and why are they in the 
hand of the father? And so on. The dream has not been analysed. 
Unfortunately its meaning is only too clear to the psychoanalyst. 
It says very plainly: "If I were this poor Jewess, whom I saw on 
the previous day, I would not resist temptation (just as mother 
and father don't a typical infantile comparison!), and then a 
man would come into my room with firewood naturally to 
warm me up." This, briefly, would be the meaning. The dream 
contains all that, only the author's analysis has discreetly stopped 
too soon. I trust he will forgive me for indiscreetly breaking 
open the tactfully closed door, so that it may clearly be seen 
what kind of wish-fulfilments, which "one cannot see," hide 
behind conventional discretion and medical blindness to sex. 

166 Dream 2: A hill-she was toiling up the hill; one could hardly get 
up; had the sensation of some one, or thing, following her. She said, 
"/ must not show that I am frightened, or this thing will catch me!' 
Then she came where it was lighter, and she could see two clouds 
or shadows, one black and one red, and she said, "My God, it is A 
and B\ If I don't have help I am lost." (She meant that she would 
change again i.e., relapse into dissociated personalities.) She began 
to call "Dr. Prince! Dr. Prince!" and you were there and laughed, 
and said, "Well, you will have to fight the damned thing yourself." 
Then she woke up paralysed with fright. [P. 156.] 

16 7 As the dream is very simple, we can dispense with any further 
knowledge of the analytical material. But Prince cannot see the 
wish-fulfilment in this dream, on the contrary he sees in it the 
"fulfilment of a fear." He commits the fundamental mistake of 
once again confusing the manifest dream-content with the un 
conscious dream-thought. In fairness to the author it should be 
remarked that in this case the repetition of the mistake was the 

62 



A CRITICAL REVIEW OF MORTON PRINCE 



more excusable since the crucial sentence ("Well, you will have 
to fight the damned thing yourself") is really very ambiguous 
and misleading. Equally ambiguous is the sentence "I must not 
show that I am frightened," etc., which, as Prince shows from 
the material, refers to the thought of a relapse into the illness, 
since the patient was frightened of a relapse. 

1 68 But what does "frightened" mean? We know that it is far 
more convenient for the patient to be ill, because recovery 
brings with it a great disadvantage: she would lose her analyst. 
The illness reserves him, as it were, for her needs. With her 
interesting illness, she has obviously offered the analyst a great 
deal, and has received from him a good deal of interest and pa 
tience in return. She certainly does not want to give up this 
stimulating relationship, and for this reason she is afraid of re 
maining well and secretly hopes that something weird and won 
derful will befall her so as to rekindle the analyst's interest. 
Naturally she would do anything rather than admit that she 
really had such wishes. But we must accustom ourselves to the 
thought that in psychology there are things which the patient 
simultaneously knows and does not know. Things which are ap 
parently quite unconscious can often be shown to be conscious 
in another connection, and actually to have been known. Only, 
they were not known in their true meaning. Thus, the true 
meaning of the wish which the patient could not admit was not 
directly accessible to her consciousness, which is why we call this 
true meaning not conscious, or "repressed." Put in the brutal 
form "I will have symptoms in order to re-arouse the interest of 
the analyst," it cannot be accepted, true though it is, for it is too 
hurtful; but she could well allow a few little associations and 
half-smothered wishes to be discerned in the background, such 
as reminiscences of the time when the analysis was so interest 
ing, etc. 

169 The sentence "I must not show that I am frightened" there 
fore means in reality "I must not show that I would really like 
a relapse because keeping well is too much trouble." "If I don't 
have help, I am lost" means "I hope I won't be cured too quickly 
or I cannot have a relapse." Then, at the end, comes the wish- 
fulfilment: "Well, you will have to fight the damned thing 
yourself." The patient keeps well only out of love for the analyst. 
If he leaves her in the lurch she will have a relapse, and it will 

63 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



be his fault for not helping her. But if she has a relapse she will 
have a renewed and more intense claim on his attention, and 
this is the point of the whole manoeuvre. It is altogether typical 
of dreams that the wish-fulfilment is always found where it 
seems most impossible to the conscious mind. The fear of a 
relapse is a symbol that needs analysing, and this the author has 
forgotten, because he took the fear, like the whiskey-drinking 
and the sticks, at its face value, instead of examining it scepti 
cally for its genuineness. His colleague Ernest Jones's excellent 
work On the Nightmare n would have informed him of the 
wishful character of these fears. But, as I know from my own 
experience, it is difficult for a beginner to remain conscious of 
all the psychoanalytic rules all the time. 

170 Dream 3: She was in the rocky path of Watts's, 12 barefooted, 
stones hurt her feet, few clothes, cold, could hardly climb that path; 
she saw you there, and she called on you to help her, and you said, 
"I cannot help you, you must help yourself." She said, "I can't, I 
can't." "Well, you have got to. Let me see if I cannot hammer it into 
your head." You picked up a stone and hammered her head, and 
with every blow you said, "I can't be bothered, I can't be bothered." 
And every blow sent a weight down into her heart so she felt heavy- 
hearted. She woke and I saw you pounding with a stone; you looked 
cross. [Pp. 



As Prince again takes the dream literally, he can see in it 
merely the "non-fulfillment of a wish." Once again it must be 
emphasized that Freud has expressly stated that the true dream- 
thoughts are not identical with the manifest dream-contents. 
Prince has not discovered the true dream-thought simply be 
cause he stuck to the wording of the dream. Now, it is always 
risky to intervene without knowing the material oneself; one 
can make enormous blunders. But it may be that the material 
brought out by the author's analysis will be sufficient to give us 
a glimpse of the latent dream-thought. (Anyone who has experi 
ence will naturally have guessed the meaning of the dream long 
ago, for it is perfectly clear.) 

The dream is built up on the following experience. On the 
previous morning the patient had begged the author for medi 
cal help and had received the answer by telephone: "I cannot 

11 [Orig, 1910. EDITORS.] 12 See Dream 5. 



A CRITICAL REVIEW OF MORTON PRINCE 

possibly come to see you today. I have engagements all the day 
and into the evening. I will send Dr. W, you must not depend 
on me" (p. 160). An unmistakable hint, therefore, that the ana 
lyst's time belonged also to others. The patient remarked: "I 
didn't say anything about it, but it played ducks and drakes with 
me the other night." She therefore had a bitter morsel to swal 
low. The analyst had done something really painful, which she, 
as a reasonable woman, understood well enough but not with 
her heart. Before going to sleep she had thought: "I must not 
bother him; I should think I would get that into my head after 
a while" (p. 161). (In the dream it is actually hammered into 
her head.) "If my heart was not like a stone, I should weep." 
(She was hammered with a stone.) 

As in the previous dream, it is stated that the analyst will not 
help her any more, and he hammers this decision of his into her 
head so that at every blow her heart became heavier. The situa 
tion that evening, therefore, is taken up too clearly in the mani 
fest dream-content. In such cases we must always try to find 
where a new element has been added to the situation of the 
previous day; at this point we may penetrate into the real mean 
ing of the dream. The painful thing is that the analyst will not 
treat the patient any more, but in the dream she is treated, 
though in a new and remarkable way. When the analyst ham 
mers it into her head that he cannot let himself be tormented 
by her chatter, he does it so emphatically that his psychotherapy 
turns into an extremely intense form of physical treatment or 
torture. This fulfils a wish which is far too shocking to be recog 
nized in the decent light of day, although it is a very natural 
and simple thought. Popular humour and all the evil tongues 
that have dissected the secrets of the confessional and the con 
sulting-room know it. ia Mephistopheles, in his famous speech 
about Medicine, 14 guessed it too. It is one of those imperishable 
thoughts which nobody knows and everybody has. 

is Analysis by rumour. Cf . supra, "A Contribution to the Psychology of Rumour." 
14 ["Learn how to handle women, that make sure, 

Since all the aches and sighs that come to vex 

The tender sex 

The doctor knows one little place to cure. 

A bedside manner sets their hearts at ease, 

And then they're yours for treatment as you please." 

Faust f Part One, trans, by Wayne, p. 98.] 

65 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



Z 74 When the patient awoke she saw the analyst still carrying 
out that movement: pounding 15 with a stone. To name an 
action for a second time is to give it special prominence. 16 As in 
the previous dream, the wish-fulfilment lies in the greatest dis 
appointment. 

*75 It will no doubt be objected that I am reading my own cor 
rupt fantasies into the dream, as is customary with the Freudian 
school. Perhaps my esteemed colleague, the author, will be indig 
nant at my attributing such impure thoughts to his patient, or 
at least will find it quite unjustified of me to draw such a far- 
reaching conclusion from these scanty hints. I am well aware 
that this conclusion, seen from the standpoint of yesterday's 
science, looks almost frivolous. But hundreds of parallel experi 
ences have shown me that the above data are really quite suf 
ficient to warrant my conclusion, and with a certainty that meets 
the most rigorous requirements. Those who have no experience 
of psychoanalysis can have no idea how very probable is the 
presence of an erotic wish and how extremely improbable is its 
absence. The latter illusion is naturally due to moral sex-blind 
ness on the one hand, but on the other to the disastrous mistake 
of thinking that consciousness is the whole of the psyche. This 
does not, of course, apply to our esteemed author. I therefore 
beg the reader: no moral indignation, please, but calm verifica 
tion. This is what science is made with, and not with howls of 
indignation, mockery, abuse, and threats, the weapons which 
the spokesmen of German science use in arguing with us. 

*7 6 It would really be incumbent on the author to present all 
the interim material which would finally establish the erotic 
meaning of the dream. Though he has not done it for this 
dream, everything necessary is said indirectly in the following 
dreams, so that my above-mentioned conclusion emerges from 
its isolation and will prove to be a link in a consistent chain. 

177 Dream 4: [Shortly before the last dream the subject] dreamt that 
she was in a great ballroom, where everything was very beautiful. 
She was walking about, and a man came up to her and asked, 
"Where is your escort?" She replied, "I am alone" He then said, 
"You cannot stay here, we do not want any lone women." In the 

15 A pounder is a pestle or club. 

16 Cf. "A Contribution to the Psychology of Rumour/' par. 106. 

66 



A CRITICAL REVIEW OF MORTON PRINCE 



next scene she was in a theater and was going to sit down, when 
someone came and said the same thing to her: "You can't stay here, 
we do not want any lone women here." Then she was in ever so 
many different places, but wherever she went she had to leave be 
cause she was alone; they would not let her stay. Then she was in 
the street; there was a great crowd, and she saw her husband a little 
way ahead, and struggled to get to him through the crowd. When 
she got quite near she saw . . . [what we may interpret as a sym 
bolical representation of happiness, says Prince.] Then sickness and 
nausea came over her and she thought there was no place for her 
there either. [P. 162.] 

The gap in the dream is a praiseworthy piece of discretion 
and will certainly please the prudish reader, but it is not science. 
Science admits no such considerations of decency. Here it is 
simply a question of whether Freud's maligned theory of dreams 
is right or not, and not whether dream-texts sound nice to im 
mature ears. Would a gynaecologist suppress the illustration of 
the female genitalia in a textbook of midwifery on grounds 
of decency? On p. 164 of this analysis we read: "The analysis of 
this scene would carry us too far into the intimacy of her life to 
justify our entering upon it.'* Does the author really believe 
that in these circumstances he has any scientific right to speak 
about the psychoanalytic dream-theory, when he withholds es 
sential material from the reader for reasons of discretion? By the 
very fact of reporting his patient's dream to the world he has 
violated discretion as thoroughly as possible, for every analyst 
will see its meaning at once: what the dreamer instinctively 
hides most deeply cries out loudest from the unconscious. For 
anyone who knows how to read dream-symbols all precautions 
are in vain, the truth will out. We would therefore request the 
author, if he doesn't want to strip his patient bare the next time, 
to choose a case about which he can say everything. 

Despite his medical discretion this dream too, which Prince 
denies is a wish-fulfilment, is accessible to understanding. The 
end of the dream betrays, despite the disguise, the patient's 
violent resistance to sexual relations with her husband. The rest 
is all wish-fulfilment: she becomes a "lone woman" who is so 
cially somewhat beyond the pale. The feeling of loneliness ("she 
feels that she cannot be alone any more, that she must have com 
pany") is fittingly resolved by this ambiguous situation: there 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



are "lone women" who are not so alone as all that, though cer 
tainly they are not tolerated everywhere. This wish-fulfilment 
naturally meets with the utmost resistance, until it is made clear 
that in case of necessity the devil, as the proverb says, eats even 
flies and this is in the highest degree true of the libido. This 
solution, so objectionable to the conscious mind, seems thor 
oughly acceptable to the unconscious. One has to know what the 
psychology of a neurosis is in a patient of this age; psychoanalysis 
requires us to take people as they really are and not as they pre 
tend to be. Since the great majority of people want to be what 
they are not, and therefore believe themselves identical with the 
conscious or unconscious ideal that floats before them, the indi 
vidual is blinded by mass suggestion from the start, quite apart 
from the fact that he himself feels different from what he really 
is. This rule has the peculiarity of being true of everybody else, 
but never of the person to whom it is being applied. 

180 I have set forth the historical and general significance of this 
fact in a previous work, 17 so I can spare myself the trouble of 
discussing it here. I would only remark that, to practise psycho 
analysis, one must subject one's ethical concepts to a total revi 
sion. It is a requirement which explains why psychoanalysis 
becomes intelligible to a really serious person only gradually 
and with great difficulty. It needs not only intellectual but, to 
an even greater extent, moral effort to understand the meaning 
of the method, for it is not just a medical method like vibro- 
massage or hypnosis, but something of much wider scope, that 
modestly calls itself "psychoanalysis." 

181 Dream 5: She dreamt that she was in a dark, gloomy, rocky 
place, and she was walking with difficulty, as she always does in her 
dreams, over this rocky path, and all at once the place was filled 
with cats. She turned in terror to go back, and there in her path was 
a frightful creature like a wild man of the woods. His hair was 
hanging down his face and neck; he had a sort of skin over him for 
covering; his legs and arms were bare and he had a club. A wild 
figure. Behind him were hundreds of men like him the whole place 
was filled with them, so that in front were cats and behind were 
wild men. The man said to her that she would have to go forward 

17 Symbols of Transformation. [The first part of the original, Wandlungen und 
Symbole der Libido, appeared in the same issue of the Jahrbuch as the present 
article. EDITORS.] 

68 



A CRITICAL REVIEW OF MORTON PRINCE 



through those cats, and that if she made a sound they would all 
come down on her and smother her, but if she went through them 
without making a sound she would never again feel any regret 
about the past . . . [mentioning certain specific matters which in 
cluded two particular systems of ideas known as the Z and Y com 
plexes, all of which had troubled her, adds the author]. She realized 
that she must choose between death from the wild men and the 
journey over the cats, so she started forward. Now, in her dream of 
course she had to step on the cats [the subject here shivers and shud 
ders], and the horror of knowing that they would come on her if 
she screamed caused her to make such an effort to keep still that the 
muscles of her throat contracted in her dream [they actually did 
contract, I could feel them, says Prince]. She waded through the 
cats without making a sound, and then she saw her mother and 
tried to speak to her. She reached out her hands and tried to say 
"O mamma!" but she could not speak, and then she woke up feel 
ing nauseated, frightened, and fatigued, and wet with perspiration. 
Later, after waking, when she tried to speak, she could only whisper. 
[Pp. i64f. A footnote adds: "She awoke with complete aphonia, 
which persisted until relieved by appropriate suggestion/'] 

182 Prince sees this dream partly as a wish-fulfilment, because 
the dreamer did after all walk over the cats. But he thinks: 
"The dream would rather seem to be principally a symbolical 
representation of her idea of life in general, and of the moral 
precepts with which she has endeavoured to inspire herself, and 
which she has endeavoured to live up to in order to obtain hap 
piness" (p. 168). 

183 That is not the meaning of the dream, as anyone can see 
who knows anything of dreams. The dream has not been ana 
lysed at all. We are merely told that the patient had a phobia 
about cats. What that means is not analysed. The treading on 
the cats is not analysed. The wild man wearing the skin is not 
analysed, and there is no analysis of the skin and the club. The 
erotic reminiscences Z and Y are not described. The significance 
of the aphonia is not analysed. Only the rocky path at the be 
ginning is analysed a little: It comes from a painting by Watts, 
"Love and Life/' A female figure (Life) drags herself wearily 
along the rocky path, accompanied by the figure of Love. The 
initial image in the dream corresponds exactly to this picture, 
"minus the figure of Love/' as Prince remarks. Instead there 
are the cats, as the dream shows and as we remark. This means 

69 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



that the cats symbolize love. Prince has not seen this; had he 
studied the literature he would have discovered from one of my 
earlier publications that I have dealt in detail with the question 
of cat phobia. 18 There he would have been informed of this 
conclusion and could have understood the dream and the cat 
phobia as well. 

18 4 For the rest, the dream is a typical anxiety dream which, in 
consequence, must be regarded from the standpoint of the sex 
ual theory, unless Prince succeeds in proving to us that the 
sexual theory of anxiety is wrong. Owing to the complete lack 
of any analysis I refrain from further discussion of the dream, 
which is indeed very clear and pretty. I would only point out 
that the patient has succeeded in collecting a symptom (aphonia) 
which captured the interest of the analyst, as she reckoned it 
would. It is evident that one cannot criticize the dream-theory 
on the basis of analyses which are not made; this is merely the 
method of our German critics. 

185 Dream 6: This dream occurred twice on succeeding nights. She 
dreamed she was in the same rocky, dark path she is always in 
Watts's pathbut with trees besides (there are always trees, or a hill 
side, or a canyon). The wind was blowing very hard, and she could 
hardly walk on account of something, as is always the case. Some 
one, a figure, came rushing past her with his hand over his (or her) 
eyes. This figure said, "Don't look, you will be blinded." She was 
at the entrance of a great cave; suddenly it flashed light in the cave 
like a flashlight picture, and there, down on the ground you were 
lying, and you were bound round and round with bonds of some 
kind, and your clothes were torn and dirty, and your face was cov 
ered with blood, and you looked terribly anguished; and all over 
you there were just hundreds of little gnomes or pigmies or brownies, 
and they were torturing you. Some of them had axes, and were 
chopping on your legs and arms, and some were sawing you. Hun 
dreds of them had little things like joss-sticks, but shorter, which 
were red hot at the ends, and they were jabbing them into you. It 
was something like Gulliver and the little creatures running over 
him. You saw C, and you said, "O Mrs. C, for heaven's sake get me 
out of this damned hole." (You always swear in C's dreams.) She 
was horrified, and said, "O Dr. Prince, I am coming/' but she could 
not move, she was rooted to the spot; and then it all went away, 
18 ["Association, Dream, and Hysterical Symptoms" (orig. 1906) (1918 edn., pp. 
378*:.) EDITORS.] 



A CRITICAL REVIEW OF MORTON PRINCE 



everything became black, as if she were blinded, and then it would 
flash again and illuminate the cave, and she would see again. This 
happened three or four times in the dream. She kept saying, "I am 
coming," and struggled to move, and she woke up saying it. In the 
same way she could not move when she woke up, and she could not 
see. [Pp. 



186 The author does not report the details o the analysis of this 
dream, "in order not to weary the reader." He gives only the 
following rsum: 

The dream proved to be a symbolic representation of the sub 
ject's conception of life (the rocky path), of her dread of the future, 
which for years she has said she dared not face; of her feeling that 
the future was "blind," in that she could not "see anything ahead"; 
of the thought that she would be overwhelmed, "lost," "swept away" 
if she looked into and realized this future, and she must not look. 
And yet there are moments in life when she realizes vividly the fu 
ture; and so in the dream one of these moments is when she looks 
into the cave (the future), and in the flash of light the realization 
comes she sees her son (metamorphosed through substitution of 
another person) tortured, as she has thought of him tortured, and 
handicapped (bound) by the moral "pin pricks" of life. Then fol 
lows the symbolic representation (paralysis) of her utter "helpless 
ness" to aid either him or anyone else or alter the conditions of her 
own life. Finally follow the prophesied consequences of this realiza 
tion. She is overcome by blindness and to this extent the dream is a 
fulfillment of a fear. [P. 171.] 

18 7 The author says in conclusion: "In this dream, as in the 
others, we find no 'unacceptable' and 'repressed wish/ no 'con 
flict* with 'censoring thoughts/ no 'compromise/ no 'resistance' 
and no 'disguise* in the dream-content to deceive the dreamer 
elements and processes fundamental in the Freud school of 
psychology" (p. 173). 

188 From this devastating judgment we shall delete the words 
"as in the others," for the other dreams are analysed so inade 
quately that the author has no right to pronounce such a judg 
ment on the basis of the preceding "analyses." Only the last 
dream remains to substantiate this judgment, and we shall 
therefore look at it rather more closely. 

!8g We shall not linger over the constantly recurring symbol of 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



the painting by Watts, in which the figure of Love is missing 
and was replaced by the cats in dream 5. Here it is replaced by 
a figure who warns the patient not to look or she will be 
"blinded/* Now comes another very remarkable image: the an 
alyst bound round and round with bonds, his clothes torn and 
dirty, his face covered with blood the Gulliver situation. Prince 
remarks that it is the patient's son who is in this agonizing situ 
ation, but withholds further details. Where the bonds, the 
bloody face, the torn clothes come from, what the Gulliver 
situation means of all this we learn nothing. Because the pa 
tient "must not look into the future," the cave signifies the 
future, remarks Prince. But why is the future symbolized by a 
cave? The author is silent. How comes it that the analyst is sub 
stituted for the son? Prince mentions the patient's helplessness 
with regard to the situation of the son, and observes that she is 
just as helpless with regard to the analyst, for she does not know 
how to show her gratitude. But these are, if I may say so, two 
quite different kinds of helplessness, which do not sufficiently 
explain the condensation of the two persons. An essential and 
unequivocal tertium comparationis is lacking. All the details of 
the Gulliver situation, especially the red-hot joss-sticks, are left 
unanalysed. The highly significant fact that the analyst himself 
suffers hellish tortures is passed over in complete silence. 

*9<> In Dream 3 the analyst pounded the patient on the head 
with a stone, and this torture seems to be answered here, but 
swelled out into a hellish fantasy of revenge. Without doubt 
these tortures were thought up by the patient and intended for 
her analyst (and perhaps also for her son); that is what the dream 
says. This fact needs analysing. If the son is really "tortured by 
the moral pin pricks of life," we definitely require to know why 
in the dream the patient multiplies this torture a hundred-fold, 
brings the son (or the analyst) into the Gulliver situation and 
then puts Gulliver in the "damned hole." Why must the analyst 
swear in the dreams? Why does the patient step into the ana 
lyst's shoes and say she is unable to bring help, when really the 
situation is the other way round? 

19* Here the way leads down into the wish-fulfilling situation. 
But the author has not trodden this path; he has either omitted 
to ask himself any of these questions or answered them much too 

7* 



A CRITICAL REVIEW OF MORTON PRINCE 



superficially, so that this analysis too must be disqualified as 
"unsatisfactory." 19 

192 With this the last prop for a criticism of the dream-theory 
collapses. We must require of a critic that he carry out his in 
vestigations just as thoroughly as the founder of the theory, and 
that he should at least be able to explain the main points of the 
dream. But in the author's analyses, as we have seen, the most 
important items are brushed aside. You cannot produce psycho 
analysis out of a hat, as everyone knows who has tried; unum- 
quemque movere lapidem is nearer the truth. 



193 Only after the conclusion of this review did I see the criti 
cism which Ernest Jones 20 lavished on Morton Prince's article. 
We learn from Prince's reply that he does not claim to have 
used the psychoanalytic method. In that case he might fairly 
have refrained from criticizing the findings of psychoanalysis, it 
seems to me. His analytical methods, as the above examples 
show, are so lacking in scientific thoroughness that the conclu 
sions he reaches offer no basis for a serious criticism of Freud's 
dream-theory. The rest of his remarks, culminating in the ad 
mission that he will never be able to see eye to eye with the 
psychoanalytic school, do not encourage me to make further 
efforts to explain the problems of dream-psychology to him or 
to discuss his reply. I confine myself to expressing my regret 
that he has even gone to the length of denying the scientific 
training and scientific thinking of his opponents. 

19 The dream is a typical fantasy of revenge for scorned love and contains in the 
torture (as in the pounding) scene the boundless gratitude of the patient. Hence 
the mysterious scene in the cave, which is so scandalous that she will be struck 
blind at the sight of it. Proof of this can be found in the details of the cave scene. 

20 "Remarks on Dr. Morton Prince's article, 'The Mechanism and Interpretation 
of Dreams' " (1910-11). 



73 



ON THE CRITICISM OF PSYCHOANALYSIS * 

J 94 It is a well-known fact to the psychoanalyst that laymen, even 
those with relatively little education, are able to understand the 
nature and rationale o psychoanalysis without undue intellec 
tual difficulty. It is the same with educated people, be they 
scholars, business-men, journalists, artists, or teachers. They can 
all understand the truths o psychoanalysis. They also understand 
very well why psychoanalysis cannot be expounded in the same 
convincing way as a mathematical proposition. Everyone of 
common sense knows that a psychological proof must necessarily 
be different from a physical one, and that each branch of science 
can only offer proofs that are suited to its material. It would be 
interesting to know just what kind of empirical proof our critics 
expect, if not proof on the evidence of the empirical facts. Do 
these facts exist? We point to our observations. Our critics, how 
ever, simply say No. What, then, are we to offer if our factual 
observations are flatly denied? Under these circumstances we 
would expect our critics to study the neuroses and psychoses as 
thoroughly as we have done (quite independently of the method 
of psychoanalysis), and to put forward facts of an essentially 
different kind concerning their psychological determination. We 
have waited for this for more than ten years. Fate has even 
decreed that all investigators in this field who have worked inde 
pendently of the discoverer of the new theory, but as thoroughly, 
have arrived at the same results as Freud; and that those who 
have taken the time and trouble to acquire the necessary knowl 
edge under a psychoanalyst have also gained an understanding 
of these results. 

>95 In general, we must expect the most violent resistance from 
medical men and psychologists, chiefly because of scientific 

i [Translated from "Zur Kritik liber Psychoanalyse," Jahrbuch fur psychoanaly- 
tische und psychopathologische Forschungen (Leipzig), II (1910), 743-46. EDITORS.] 

74 



ON THE CRITICISM OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



prejudices based on a different way of thinking to which they 
obstinately adhere. Our critics, unlike earlier ones, have pro 
gressed inasmuch as they try to be more serious and to strike a 
more moderate note. But they commit the mistake of criticizing 
the psychoanalytic method as though it rested on a priori prin 
ciples, whereas in reality it is purely empirical and totally lack 
ing in any final theoretical framework. All we know is that it is 
simply the quickest way to find facts which are of importance 
for our psychology, but which, as the history of psychoanalysis 
shows, can also be discovered in other more tedious and com 
plicated ways. We would naturally be happy if we possessed an 
analytical technique which led us to the goal even more quickly 
and reliably than the present method. Our critics, however, will 
scarcely be able to help us towards a more suitable technique, 
and one that corresponds better to the assumptions of psychol 
ogy up till now, merely by contesting our findings. So long as 
the question of the facts is not settled, all criticism of the method 
hangs in the air, for concerning the ultimate secrets of the as 
sociation process our opponents know as little as we do. It 
should be obvious to every thinking person that what matters 
is simply and solely the empirical facts. If criticism confines it 
self to the method, it may easily come one day to deny the 
existence of facts merely because the method of finding them 
betrays certain theoretical defects a standpoint that would car 
ry us happily back to the depths of the Middle Ages. In this 
respect our critics commit grave mistakes. It is the duty of in 
telligent people to point them out, for to err is human. 

Occasionally, however, the criticism assumes forms which 
arouse the interest of the psychological worker in the highest 
degree, since the scientific endeavour of the critic is thrust into 
the background in the most surprising way by symptoms of per 
sonal participation. Such critics make a valuable contribution 
to the knowledge of the personal undercurrents beneath so- 
called scientific criticism. We cannot deny ourselves the pleasure 
of making such a document humain accessible to a wider 
public. 



75 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



Review by Kurt Mendel 2 of an Exposition of 
the Freudian Standpoint 

The present reviewer, who has read many works of Freud and his 
followers, and has himself had practical experience of psychoanal 
ysis? must admit that he finds many things in this doctrine utterly 
repugnant, especially the latest additions concerning anal eroticism 
and the sexuality of children. After perusing the work under review, 4 
he stepped up to his youngest child, lying there innocently in his 
cot, and spoke as follows: "Poor little boy! I fancied you were pure 
and chaste, but now I know that you are depraved and full of sin! 
'From the first day of your existence you have led a sexual life' (p. 
184); now you are an exhibitionist, a fetishist, a sadist, a masochist, 
an anal-erotic, an onanist in short, you are 'polymorphous-per 
verse' (p. 185). 'There is scarcely a Don Juan among grown-ups 
whose erotic fantasies could be compared with the products of your 
infant brain' (p. 185). How, indeed, could it be otherwise? For you 
are corrupt from birth. Your father has the reputation of being un 
usually tidy and economical, and the Freudians say he is stubborn 
because he won't give full acceptance to their teachings. Unusually 
tidy, economical, and stubborn! A hopeless anal-erotic, therefore! 
(Cf. Freud, "Charakter und Analerotik," Psych.-neur. Wochenschr. 
IX: 51.) As for your mother, she cleans out the house every four 
weeks. 'Cleaning, and particularly spring-cleaning, is the specific 
female reaction to suppressed anal eroticism' (Sadger, "Analerotik 
und Analcharakter," Die Heilkunde, Feb. 1910). You are a congenital 
anal-erotic from your father's and your mother's side! And a little 
while ago, before going to bed, you would not 'empty the bowels 
when you were put on the pot, because you want to derive extra 
pleasure from defecation and therefore enjoy holding back your 
stool.' Previously your father simply told your mother on such occa 
sions: 'The boy is constipated, give him a pill I' Pfuil How shame 
lessly perverse I was then, a regular pimp and corrupter of youth! 
You'll get no good-night kiss from me any more, for a caress like that 
would only 'arouse your sexuality' (p. 191). And don't say your eve 
ning prayer to me again: 'I am small, my heart is pure'; 5 that would 
be a lie; you are dissipated, an exhibitionist, fetishist, sadist, mas- 

2 In Neurologisches Centralblatt (Leipzig), XXIX: 6 (March 16, 1910). 
8 My italics.-C. G. J. 

4 J. A. Haslcbacher, "Psychoneurosen und Psychoanalyse/' Correspondenzblatt ftir 
Schweizer Irzte (Basel), XL:y (March i, 1910), 184-96. 

5 "Ich bin klein, mein Herz ist rein." 



ON THE CRITICISM OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



ochist, anal-erotic, onanist, 'polymorphous-perverse' through me, 
through your mother, and through yourself! Poor little boy!" 

Freudians I I have repeatedly asserted that your teachings have 
opened up many new and valuable perspectives. But for heaven's 
sake make an end of your boundless exaggerations and nonsen 
sical fantasies! Instead of puns, give us proofs! Instead of books that 
read like comics, give us serious works to be taken seriously! Prove 
to me the truth of your squalid and slanderous statement (p. 187): 
"There is but one form of love, and that is erotic love"! Do not 
plunge our most sacred feelings, our love and respect for our parents 
and our happy love for our children, into the mire of your fantasies 
by the continual imputation of sordid sexual motives! Your whole 
argument culminates in the axiom: "Freud has said it, therefore it 
is so!" But I say with Goethe, the son of an anal-erotic (Sadger, 
op. cit): 

"A man who speculates 
Is like a beast upon a barren heath 
Led round in circles by an evil sprite, 
While all around lie pastures green and bright." 



77 



CONCERNING PSYCHOANALYSIS * 

Kusnacht, 28 January 
To the Editor. 
Sir, 

*97 Thank you for kindly inviting me to publish in your columns 
an epilogue to the series of articles in the Neue lurcher Zeitung. 
Such an epilogue could only be a defence either of the scientific 
truth which we think we can discern in psychoanalysis, and 
which has been so heavily attacked, or of our own scientific 
qualities. The latter defence offends against good taste, and is 
unworthy of anyone dedicated to the service of science. But a 
defence of the first kind can be carried out only if the discussion 
takes an objective form, and if the arguments used arise from 
a careful study of the problem, practical as well as theoretical. 
I am ready to argue with opponents like this, though I prefer 
to do so in private; I have, however, also done it in public, in 
a scientific journal. 2 

'9 8 I shall not reply, either, to scientific criticism the essence of 
which is: "The method is morally dangerous, therefore the 
theory is wrong," or: "The facts asserted by the Freudians do 
not exist but merely spring from the morbid fantasy of these 
so-called researchers, and the method used for discovering these 
facts is in itself logically at fault." No one can assert a priori 
that certain facts do not exist. This is a scholastic argument, and 
it is superfluous to discuss it. 

1 [Translated from "Zur Psychoanalyse," Wissen und Leben (Zurich; former title 
of the Neue Schweizer Rundschau), V (1912), 711-14. An introductory editorial 
note stated; "A series of communications pro and con Freudian theories in the 
Neue Zurcher Zeitung seems to prove that remarkable misunderstanding and 
prejudice with respect to modern psychology are the rule with the general public. 
Since all this impassioned wrangling was more likely to confuse than to enlighten, 
we have asked Dr. Karl Jung (sic) for a few closing words, which should be the 
more welcome for calming ruffled tempers." EDITORS.] 

2 [See the preceding article. EDITORS.] 

78 



CONCERNING PSYCHOANALYSIS 



199 It is repugnant to me to make propaganda for the truth and 
to defend it with slogans. Except in the Psychoanalytical Society 
and in the Swiss Psychiatric Society I have never yet given 
a public lecture without first having been asked to do so; simi 
larly, my article in Rascher's Yearbook 3 was written only at the 
request of the editor, Konrad Falke. I do not thrust myself upon 
the public. I shall therefore not enter the arena now in order to 
engage in barbarous polemics on behalf of a scientific truth. 
Prejudice and the almost boundless misunderstanding we are 
faced with can certainly prevent progress and the spread of 
scientific knowledge for a long time, and this is perhaps a neces 
sity of mass psychology to which one has to submit. If this truth 
does not speak for itself, it is a poor truth and it is better for it 
to perish. But if it is an inner necessity, it will make its way, 
even without battle-cries and the martial blast of trumpets, into 
the hearts of all straight-thinking and realistic persons and so 
become an essential ingredient of our civilization. 

200 The sexual indelicacies which unfortunately occupy a neces 
sarily large place in many psychoanalytic writings are not to be 
blamed on psychoanalysis itself. Our very exacting and respon 
sible medical work merely brings these unlovely fantasies to 
light, but the blame for the existence of these sometimes re 
pulsive and evil things must surely lie with the mendaciousness 
of our sexual morality. No intelligent person needs to be told 
yet again that the psychoanalytic method of education does not 
consist merely in psychological discussions of sex, but covers 
every department of life. The goal of this education, as I have 
expressly emphasized in Rascher's Yearbook, is not that a man 
should be delivered over helplessly to his passions but that he 
should attain the necessary self-control. In spite of Freud's and 
my assurances, our opponents want us to countenance "licen 
tiousness" and then assert that we do so, regardless of what we 
ourselves say. It is the same with the theory of neurosis the 
sexual or libido theory, as it is called. For years I have been 
pointing out, both in my lectures and in my writings, that the 
concept of libido is taken in a very general sense, rather like 
the instinct of preservation of the species, and that in psycho- 

S [Neue Bahnen der Psychologic, published in Raschers Jahrbuch fur Schweizer 
Art und Kunst (Zurich), 1912. Trans, as "New Paths in Psychology/' Two Essays 
on Analytical Psychology, pp. 243ff. EDITORS.] 

79 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



analytic parlance it definitely does not mean "localized sexual 
excitation" but all striving and willing that exceed the limits of 
self-preservation, and that this is the sense in which it is used. 
I have also recently expressed my views on these general ques 
tions in a voluminous work, 4 but our opponents wishfully 
decree that our views are as "grossly sexual" as their own. Our 
efforts to expound our psychological standpoint are quite use 
less, as our opponents want this whole theory to resolve itself 
into unspeakable banality. I feel powerless in the face of this 
overwhelming demand. I can only express my sincere distress 
that, through a misunderstanding which confuses day with 
night, many people are preventing themselves from employing 
the extraordinary insights afforded by psychoanalysis for the 
benefit of their own ethical development. Equally I regret that, 
by thoughtlessly ignoring psychoanalysis, many people are 
blinding themselves to the profundity and beauty of the hu 
man soul. 

No sensible person would lay it at the door of scientific re 
search and its results that there are clumsy and irresponsible 
people who use it for purposes of hocus-pocus. Would anybody 
of intelligence lay the blame for the faults and imperfections in 
the execution of a method designed for the good of mankind 
on the method itself? Where would surgery be if one blamed 
its methods for every lethal outcome? Surgery is very dangerous 
indeed, especially in the hands of a fool. No one would trust 
himself to an unskilled surgeon or let his appendix be removed 
by a barber. So it is with psychoanalysis. That there are not 
only unskilled psychiatrists but also laymen who play about in 
an irresponsible way with psychoanalysis cannot be denied, any 
more than that there are, today as always, unsuitable doctors 
and unscrupulous quacks. But this fact does not entitle anyone 
to lump together science, method, researcher, and doctor in a 
wholesale condemnation. 

* I regret, Sir, having to bore you and the readers of your 
paper with these self-evident truths, and I therefore hasten to 
a conclusion. You mu$t forgive me if my manner of writing is 

* [Presumably Wandlungen und Symbols der Libido, Part I of which appeared in 
the Jahrbuch in 1911. Part II, the second chapter of which is devoted to the con 
cept and the genetic theory of the libido, appeared early in 19 12. EDITORS.] 

80 



CONCERNING PSYCHOANALYSIS 



at times a little heated; but no one, perhaps, is so far above pub 
lic opinion as not to be painfully affected by the frivolous dis 
crediting of his honest scientific endeavours. 

Yours, etc., 

DR. JUNG 



81 



II 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 

[Written originally in German under the title Versuch einer Darstellung der 
psychoanalytischen Theorie and translated (by Dr, and Mrs. M. D. Eder and Miss 
Mary Moltzer) for delivery as a series of lectures under the present title at the 
medical school of Fordham University, New York, in September 1912. The Ger 
man text was published in the Jahrbuch fur psychoanalytische und psycho- 
pathologische Forschungen (Vienna and Leipzig), V (1913; reprinted as a book 
the same year); the English, in five issues of the Psychoanalytic Review (New 
York): I (1913/14) : 1-4 and II (1915) : i. The latter was then republished in the 
Nervous and Mental Disease Monograph Series, No. 19 (New York, 1915). The 
analysis of a child in the last chapter had been previously presented as "t}ber 
Psychoanalyse beim Kinde" at the First International Congress of Pedagogy, 
Brussels, August 1911, and printed in the proceedings of the Congress (Brussels, 
1912), II, 332-43- 

[A second edition of the German text, with no essential alterations, was pub 
lished in 1955 (Zurich). The present translation is made from this edition in 
consultation with the previous English version. 

[The text of the 1913 and 1955 editions in German is uninterrupted by head 
ings, but at the author's request the original division into nine lectures (ascer 
tained from an examination of the manuscript) has here been preserved. This 
arrangement differs from that of the previous English version, which is divided 
into ten lectures; the chapter and section headings there introduced have in 
general been retained, with some modifications. A number of critical passages 
inserted at a later stage into the original manuscript and included in the German 
editions were omitted from the previous English version, together with the foot 
notes. In the present version these passages are given in pointed brackets <>. 
EDITORS.] 



FOREWORD TO THE FIRST EDITION 

In these lectures I have attempted to reconcile my practical ex 
periences in psychoanalysis with the existing theory, or rather, 
with the approaches to such a theory. It is really an attempt to 
outline my attitude to the guiding principles which my hon 
oured teacher Sigmund Freud has evolved from the experience 
of many decades. Since my name is associated with psychoanal 
ysis, and for some time I too have been the victim of the whole 
sale condemnation of this movement, it will perhaps be asked 
with astonishment how it is that I am now for the first time 
defining my theoretical position. When, some ten years ago, it 
came home to me what a vast distance Freud had already trav 
elled beyond the bounds of contemporary knowledge of psycho- 
pathological phenomena, especially the psychology of complex 
mental processes, I did not feel in a position to exercise any 
real criticism. I did not possess the courage of those pundits 
who, by reason o their ignorance and incompetence, consider 
themselves justified in making "critical" refutations. I thought 
one must first work modestly for years in this field before one 
might dare to criticize. The unfortunate results of premature 
and superficial criticism have certainly not been lacking. Yet the 
great majority of the critics missed the mark as much with their 
indignation as with their technical ignorance. Psychoanalysis 
continued to flourish undisturbed and did not trouble itself 
about the unscientific chatter that buzzed around it. As every 
one knows, this tree has waxed mightily, and not in one hemi 
sphere only, but alike in Europe and America. Official critics 
meet with no better success than the Proktophantasmist in 
Faust, who laments in the Walpurgisnacht: 

Preposterous! You still intend to stay? 
Vanish at oncel You've been explained away. 

The critics have omitted to take it to heart that everything 
that exists has sufficient right to its own existence, and that this 

85 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



holds for psychoanalysis as well. We will not fall into the error 
of our opponents, neither ignoring their existence nor denying 
their right to exist. But this enjoins upon us the duty of apply 
ing a just criticism ourselves, based on a proper knowledge of 
the facts. To me it seems that psychoanalysis stands in need of 
this weighing-up from inside. 

It has been wrongly suggested that my attitude signifies a 
"split'* in the psychoanalytic movement. Such schisms can only 
exist in matters of faith. But psychoanalysis is concerned with 
knowledge and its ever-changing formulations. I have taken as 
my guiding principle William James's pragmatic rule: "You 
must bring out of each word its practical cash-value, set it at 
work within the stream of your experience. It appears less as a 
solution, then, than as a program for more work, and more par 
ticularly as an indication of the ways in which existing realities 
may be changed. Theories thus become instruments, not an 
swers to enigmas., in which we can rest. We don't lie back upon 
them, we move forward, and, on occasion, make nature over 
again by their aid." x 

In the same way, my criticism does not proceed from aca 
demic arguments, but from experiences which have forced 
themselves on me during ten years of serious work in this field. 
I know that my own experience in no wise approaches Freud's 
quite extraordinary experience and insight, but nonetheless it 
seems to me that certain of my formulations do express the ob 
served facts more suitably than Freud's version of them. At any 
rate I have found, in my teaching work, that the conceptions I 
have put forward in these lectures were of particular help to me 
in my endeavours to give my pupils an understanding of psycho 
analysis. I am far indeed from regarding a modest and tem 
perate criticism as a "falling away" or a schism; on the contrary, 
I hope thereby to promote the continued flowering and fructifi 
cation of the psychoanalytic movement, and to open the way to 
the treasures of psychoanalytic knowledge for those who, lacking 
practical experience or handicapped by certain theoretical pre 
conceptions, have so far been unable to master the method. 

For the opportunity to deliver these lectures I have to thank 
my friend Dr. Smith Ely Jelliffe, of New York, who kindly in- 

i [Pragmatism (1907), p. 53.] 

86 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



vited me to take part in the Extension Course at Fordham Uni 
versity, in New York. The nine lectures were given in Sep 
tember 1912. 1 must also express my best thanks to Dr. Gregory, 
of Bellevue Hospital, for his ready assistance at my clinical 
demonstrations. 

Only after the preparation of these lectures, in the spring of 
1912, did Alfred Adler's book Uber den nervosen Charakter 
[The Nervous Constitution] become known to me, in the sum 
mer of that year. I recognize that he and I have have reached 
similar conclusions on various points, but here is not the place 
to discuss the matter more thoroughly. This should be done 
elsewhere. 

C. G. J. 

Zurich, autumn 



FOREWORD TO THE SECOND EDITION 

Since the appearance of the first edition in 1913 so much time 
has elapsed, and so many things have happened, that it is quite 
impossible to rework a book of this kind, coming from a long- 
past epoch and from one particular phase in the development 
of knowledge, and bring it up to date. It is a milestone on the 
long road of scientific endeavour, and so it shall remain. It may 
serve to call back to memory the constantly changing stages of 
the search in a newly discovered territory, whose boundaries 
are not marked out with any certainty even today, and thus to 
make its contribution to the story of an evolving science. I am 
therefore letting this book go to press again in its original form 
and with no essential alterations. 

C. G. J. 
October 1954 



i. A REVIEW OF THE EARLY HYPOTHESES 

It is no easy task to lecture on psychoanalysis at the present 
time. I am not thinking so much of the fact that this whole 
field of research raises I am fully convinced some of the most 
difficult problems facing present-day science. Even if we put 
this cardinal fact aside, there remain other serious difficulties 
which interfere considerably with the presentation of the ma 
terial. I cannot offer you a well-established, neatly rounded doc 
trine elaborated from the practical and the theoretical side. 
Psychoanalysis has not yet reached that point of development, 
despite all the labour that has been expended upon it. Nor can 
I give you a description of its growth ab ovo, for you already 
have in your country, dedicated as always to the cause of prog 
ress, a number of excellent interpreters and teachers who have 
spread a more general knowledge of psychoanalysis among the 
scientifically-minded public. Besides this, Freud, the true dis 
coverer and founder of the movement, has lectured in your 
country and given an authentic account of his views. I, too, have 
already had the great honour of lecturing in America, on the 
experimental foundation of the theory of complexes and the 
application of psychoanalysis to education. 1 

In these circumstances you will readily appreciate that I am 
afraid of repeating what has already been said or already been 
published in scientific journals. Another difficulty to be con 
sidered is the fact that quite extraordinary misconceptions pre 
vail in many quarters concerning the nature of psychoanalysis. 
At times it is almost impossible to imagine what exactly these 
erroneous conceptions might be. But sometimes they are so pre 
posterous that one is astonished that anyone with a scientific 
background could ever arrive at ideas so remote from reality. 
Obviously it would not be worth while to cite examples of these 
curiosities. It will be better to devote time and energy to discuss 
ing those problems of psychoanalysis which by their very nature 
give rise to misunderstandings. 

i [The Clark Lectures. See par. 154, n. 4, supra. EDITORS.] 

88 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



THE TRAUMA THEORY 

205 Although it has been pointed out on any number of occa 
sions before, many people still do not seem to know that the 
theory of psychoanalysis has changed considerably in the course 
of the years. Those, for instance, who have read only the first 
book, Studies on Hysteria, 2 by Breuer and Freud, still believe 
that, according to psychoanalysis, hysteria and the neuroses in 
general are derived from a so-called trauma in early childhood. 
They continue senselessly to attack this theory, not realizing 
that it is more than fifteen years since it was abandoned and re 
placed by a totally different one. This change is of such great 
importance for the whole development of the technique and 
theory of psychoanalysis that we are obliged to examine it in 
rather more detail. So as not to weary you with case histories 
that by now are well known, I shall content myself with refer 
ring to those mentioned in Breuer and Freud's book, which I 
may assume is known to you in its English translation. You will 
there have read that case of Breuer's to which Freud referred in 
his lectures at Clark University, a and will have discovered that 
the hysterical symptom did not derive from some unknown 
anatomical source, as was formerly supposed, but from certain 
psychic experiences of a highly emotional nature, called trau 
mata or psychic wounds. Nowadays, I am sure, every careful 
and attentive observer of hysteria will be able to confirm from 
his own experience that these especially painful and distressing 
occurrences do in fact often lie at the root of the illness. This 
truth was already known to the older physicians. 

206 So far as I know, however, it was really Charcot who, prob 
ably influenced by Page's theory of "nervous shock," 4 first made 
theoretical use of this observation. Charcot knew, from his ex 
perience of the new technique of hypnotism, that hysterical 
symptoms can be produced and also be made to disappear by 

2 [First published 1895; partially trans, by A. A. Brill in Selected Papers on Hys 
teria and Other Neuroses (New York, 1909; later edns.); trans, in Standard Edn. 
of Freud, II (1955). EDITORS.] 

3 ["Five Lectures on Psycho-Analysis"; see par. 154, n. 4, supra. EDITORS.] 

4 [Probably Herbert W. Page, British psychiatrist, who published on this subject; 
see Bibliography. EDITORS.] 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



suggestion. He believed something of the kind could be ob 
served in those increasingly common cases of hysteria caused by 
accidents. The traumatic shock would be comparable, in a sense, 
to the moment of hypnosis, since the emotion it produced would 
cause, temporarily, a complete paralysis of the will during 
which the trauma could become fixed as an auto-suggestion. 

207 This conception laid the foundations for a theory of psycho- 
genesis. It was left for later aetiological researches to find out 
whether the same mechanism, or a similar one, existed in cases 
of hysteria which could not be called traumatic. This gap in our 
knowledge of the aetiology of hysteria was filled by the discov 
eries of Breuer and Freud. They showed that even in cases of 
ordinary hysteria which had not been regarded as traumatically 
conditioned the same traumatic element could be found, and 
that it seemed to have an aetiological significance. So it was 
very natural for Freud, himself a pupil of Charcot, to see in 
this discovery a confirmation of Charcot's views. Consequently, 
the theory elaborated out of the experience of that period, 
mainly by Freud, bore the imprint of a traumatic aetiology. It 
was therefore fittingly called the trauma theory. 

208 The new thing about this theory, apart from the truly ad 
mirable thoroughness of Freud's analysis of hysterical symp 
toms, is the abandonment of the concept of auto-suggestion, 
which was the dynamic element in the original theory. It was 
replaced by a more detailed conception of the psychological and 
psychophysical effects produced by the shock. The shock or 
trauma causes an excitation which, under normal conditions, 
is got rid of by being expressed ("abreacted"). In hysteria, how 
ever, the trauma is incompletely abreacted, and this results in 
a "retention of the excitation," or a "blocking of affect/' The 
energy of the excitation, always lying ready in potentia, is 
transmuted into the physical symptoms by the mechanism of 
conversion. According to this view, the task of therapy was to 
release the accumulated excitation, thereby discharging the re 
pressed and converted affects from the symptoms. Hence it was 
aptly called the "cleansing" or "cathartic" method, and its aim 
was to "abreact" the blocked affects. That stage of the analysis 
was therefore bound up fairly closely with the symptoms one 
analysed the symptoms, or began the work of analysis with the 
symptoms, very much in contrast to the psychoanalytical tech- 

9 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



nique employed today. The cathartic method and the theory 
on which it is based have, as you know, been taken over by 
other professional people, so far as they are interested in psycho 
analysis at all, and have also found appreciative mention in the 
text-books. 

209 Although the discoveries of Breuer and Freud are undoubt 
edly correct in point of fact, as can easily be proved by any case 
of hysteria, several objections can nevertheless be raised against 
the trauma theory. The Breuer-Freud method shows with won 
derful clearness the retrospective connection between the actual 
symptom and the traumatic experience, as well as the psycho 
logical consequences which apparently follow of necessity from 
the original traumatic situation. All the same, some doubt 
arises as to the aetiological significance of the trauma. For one 
thing, the hypothesis that a neurosis, with all its complications, 
can be related to events in the pastthat is, to some factor in 
the patient's predisposition must seem doubtful to anyone who 
knows hysteria. It is the fashion nowadays to regard all mental 
abnormalities not of exogenous origin as consequences of he 
reditary degeneration, and not as essentially conditioned by the 
psychology of the patient and his environment. But this is an 
extreme view which fails to do justice to the facts. We know 
very well how to find the middle course in dealing with the 
aetiology of tuberculosis. There are undoubtedly cases of tu 
berculosis where the germ of the disease proliferates from early 
childhood in soil predisposed by heredity, so that even under 
the most favourable conditions the patient cannot escape his 
fate. But there are also cases where there is no hereditary taint 
and no predisposition, and yet a fatal infection occurs. This is 
equally true of the neuroses, where things will not be radically 
different from what they are in general pathology. An extreme 
theory about predisposition will be just as wrong as an extreme 
theory about environment. 



THE CONCEPT OF REPRESSION 

210 Although the trauma theory gave distinct prominence to 
the predisposition, even insisting that some past trauma is the 
conditio sine qua non of neurosis, Freud with his brilliant em- 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



piricism had already discovered, and described in the Breuer- 
Freud Studies, certain elements which bear more resemblance 
to an "environment theory" than to a "predisposition theory," 
though their theoretical importance was not sufficiently appre 
ciated at the time. Freud had synthesized these observations in 
a concept that was to lead far beyond the limits of the trauma 
theory. This concept he called "repression." As you know, by 
"repression" we mean the mechanism by which a conscious con 
tent is displaced into a sphere outside consciousness. We call 
this sphere the unconscious, and we define it as the psychic ele 
ment of which we are not conscious. The concept of repression 
is based on the repeated observation that neurotics seem to have 
the capacity for forgetting significant experiences or thoughts 
so thoroughly that one might easily believe they had never ex 
isted. Such observations are very common and are well known 
to anyone who enters at all deeply into the psychology of his 
patients. 

As a result of the Breuer-Freud Studies, it was found that 
special procedures were needed to call back into consciousness 
traumatic experiences that had long been forgotten. This fact, 
I would mention in passing, is astonishing in itself, inasmuch as 
we are disinclined from the start to suppose that things of such 
importance could ever be forgotten. For this reason it has often 
been objected that the reminiscences brought back by hypnotic 
procedures are merely "suggested" and bear no relation to real 
ity. Even if this doubt were justified, there would certainly be 
no justification for denying repression in principle on that ac 
count, for there are plenty of cases where the actual existence 
of repressed memories has been verified objectively. Quite 
apart from numerous proofs of this kind, it is possible to demon 
strate this phenomenon experimentally, by the association test. 
Here we discover the remarkable fact that associations relating 
to feeling-toned complexes are much less easily remembered and 
are very frequently forgotten. As my experiments were never 
checked, this finding was rejected along with the rest. It was 
only recently that Wilhelm Peters, of the Kraepelin school, was 
able to confirm my earlier observations, proving that "painful 
experiences are very rarely reproduced correctly." 5 

5 ("Gefiihl und Erinnerung," in Kraepelin, Psychologische Arbeiten, VI, pt. 2, 
P- 2 37-> 

9* 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



212 As you see, then, the concept of repression rests on a firm 
empirical basis. But there is another side of the question that 
needs discussing. We might ask if the repression is due to a 
conscious decision of the individual, or whether the reminis 
cences disappear passively, without his conscious knowledge? In 
Freud's writings you will find excellent proofs of the existence 
of a conscious tendency to repress anything painful. Every psy 
choanalyst knows dozens of cases showing clearly that at some 
particular moment in the past the patient definitely did not 
want to think any longer of the content to be repressed. One 
patient told me, very significantly: "Je 1'ai mis de cot." On the 
other hand, we must not forget that there are any number of 
cases where it is impossible to show, even with the most careful 
examination, the slightest trace of "putting aside" or of con 
scious repression, and where it seems as if the process of repres 
sion were more in the nature of a passive disappearance, or even 
as if the impressions were dragged beneath the surface by some 
force operating from below. Patients of the first type give us 
the impression of being mentally well-developed individuals 
who seem to suffer only from a peculiar cowardice in regard to 
their own feelings. But among the second you may find cases 
showing a more serious retardation of development, since here 
the process of repression could be compared rather to an auto 
matic mechanism. This difference may be connected with the 
question discussed above, concerning the relative importance 
of predisposition and environment. Many factors in cases of the 
first type appear to depend on the influence of environment and 
education, whereas in the latter type the factor of predisposition 
seems to predominate. It is pretty clear where the treatment will 
be more effective. 

213 As I have indicated, the concept of repression contains an 
element which is in intrinsic contradiction with the trauma 
theory. We saw, for instance, in the case of Miss Lucy R., ana 
lysed by Freud, 6 that the aetiologically significant factor was not 
to be found in the traumatic scenes but in the insufficient readi 
ness of the patient to accept the insights that forced themselves 
upon her. And when we think of the later formulation in the 

6 [Studies on Hysteria* pp. io6ff.] 

93 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



Schriften zur Neurosenlehre? where Freud's experience obliged 
him to recognize certain traumatic events in early childhood as 
the source of the neurosis, we get a forcible impression of the 
incongruity between the concept of repression and that of the 
trauma. The concept of repression contains the elements of an 
aetiological theory of environment, while the trauma concept is 
a theory of predisposition. 

At first the theory of neurosis developed entirely along the 
lines of the trauma concept. In his later investigations Freud 
came to the conclusion that no positive validity could be at 
tributed to the traumatic experiences of later life, as their effects 
were conceivable only on the basis of a specific predisposition. It 
was evidently there that the riddle had to be solved. In pursuing 
the roots of hysterical symptoms, Freud found that the analyt 
ical work led back into childhood; the links reached backwards 
from the present into the distant past. The end of the chain 
threatened to get lost in the mists of earliest infancy. But it was 
just at that point that reminiscences appeared of certain sexual 
scenes active or passivewhich were unmistakably connected 
with the subsequent events leading to the neurosis. For the na 
ture of these scenes you must consult the works of Freud and 
the numerous analyses that have already been published. 



THE THEORY OF SEXUAL TRAUMA IN CHILDHOOD 

Hence arose the theory of sexual trauma in childhood, which 
provoked bitter opposition not because of theoretical objections 
against the trauma theory in general, but against the element 
of sexuality in particular. In the first place, the very idea that 
children might be sexual, and that sexual thoughts might play 
any part in their lives, aroused great indignation. In the second 
place, the possibility that hysteria had a sexual basis was most 
unwelcome, for the sterile position that hysteria either was a 
uterine reflex-neurosis or arose from lack of sexual satisfaction 

7 [By 1912, two volumes of Freud's Sammlungen kleiner Schriften zur Neurosen- 
lehre had appeared, in 1906 and 1909 (another in 1913). The various contents of 
these volumes were trans., regrouped, in the Collected Papers (1924 ff.)> and, 
further rearranged, in the Standard Edn. The precise reference here is unavail 
able. EDITORS.] 

94 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



had just been given up. Naturally, therefore, the validity of 
Freud's observations was contested. Had the critics confined 
themselves to that question, and not embellished their opposi 
tion with moral indignation, a calm discussion might have been 
possible. In Germany, for example, this method of attack made 
it impossible to gain any credit at all for Freud's theory. As soon 
as the question of sexuality was touched, it aroused universal 
resistance and the most arrogant contempt. But in reality there 
was only one question at issue: were Freud's observations true 
or not? That alone could be of importance to a truly scientific 
mind. I daresay his observations may seem improbable at first 
sight, but it is impossible to condemn them a priori as false. 
Wherever a really honest and thorough check has been carried 
out, the existence of the psychological connections established 
by Freud has been absolutely confirmed, but not the original 
hypothesis that it is always a question of real traumatic scenes. 

216 Freud himself had to abandon that first formulation of his 
sexual theory of neurosis as a result of increasing experience. 
He could no longer retain his original view as to the absolute 
reality of the sexual trauma. Those scenes of a decidedly sexual 
character, the sexual abuse of children, and premature sexual 
activity in childhood were later on found to be to a large extent 
unreal. You may perhaps be inclined to share the suspicion of 
the critics that the results of Freud's analytical researches were 
therefore based on suggestion. There might be some justifica 
tion for such an assumption if these assertions had been publi 
cized by some charlatan or other unqualified person. But anyone 
who has read Freud's works of that period with attention, and 
has tried to penetrate into the psychology of his patients as 
Freud has done, will know how unjust it would be to attribute 
to an intellect like Freud's the crude mistakes of a beginner. 
Such insinuations only redound to the discredit of those who 
make them. Ever since then patients have been examined under 
conditions in which every possible precaution was taken to ex 
clude suggestion, and still the psychological connections de 
scribed by Freud have been proved true in principle. We are 
thus obliged to assume that many traumata in early infancy are 
of a purely fantastic nature, mere fantasies in fact, while others 
do have objective reality. 

217 With this discovery, somewhat bewildering at first sight, the 

95 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



aetiological significance of the sexual trauma in childhood falls 
to the ground, as it now appears totally irrelevant whether the 
trauma really occurred or not. Experience shows us that fan 
tasies can be just as traumatic in their effects as real traumata. 
As against this, every doctor who treats hysteria will be able to 
recall cases where violent traumatic impressions have in fact 
precipitated a neurosis. This observation is only in apparent 
contradiction with the unreality, already discussed, of the in 
fantile trauma. We know very well that there are a great many 
more people who experience traumata in childhood or adult life 
without getting a neurosis. Therefore the trauma, other things 
being equal, has no absolute aetiological significance and will 
pass off without having any lasting effect. From this simple re 
flection it is perfectly clear that the individual must meet the 
trauma with a quite definite inner predisposition in order to 
make it really effective. This inner predisposition is not to be 
understood as that obscure, hereditary disposition of which we 
know so little, but as a psychological development which reaches 
its climax, and becomes manifest, at the traumatic moment. 



THE PREDISPOSITION FOR THE TRAUMA 

i w in n ow show you, by means of a concrete example, the 
nature of the trauma and its psychological preparation. It con 
cerns the case of a young woman who suffered from acute hys 
teria following a sudden fright. 8 She had been to an evening 
party and was on her way home about midnight in the company 
of several acquaintances, when a cab came up behind them at 
full trot. The others got out of the way, but she, as though spell 
bound with terror, kept to the middle of the road and ran along 
in front of the horses. The cabman cracked his whip and swore; 
it was no good, she ran down the whole length of the road, which 
led across a bridge. There her strength deserted her, and to 
avoid being trampled on by the horses she would, in her despera 
tion, have leapt into the river had not the passers-by restrained 
her. Now, this same lady had happened to be in St. Petersburg 
on the bloody 22nd of January [1905], in the very street which 

8 [This case is fully reported in Two Essays on Analytical Psychology, pars. 8ff., 

96 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



was being cleared by the volleys of the soldiers. All round her 
people were falling to the ground dead or wounded; she, how 
ever, quite calm and clear-headed, espied a gate leading into a 
yard, through which she made her escape into another street. 
These dreadful moments caused her no further agitation. She 
felt perfectly well afterwards-indeed, rather better than usual. 

219 This failure to react to an apparent shock is often observed. 
Hence it necessarily follows that the intensity of a trauma has 
very little pathogenic significance in itself; everything depends 
on the particular circumstances. Here we have a key to the 
' 'predisposition/' We have therefore to ask ourselves: what are 
the particular circumstances of the scene with the cab? The pa 
tient's fear began with the sound of the trotting horses; for an 
instant it seemed to her that this portended some terrible doom 
her death, or something as dreadful; the next moment she 
lost all sense of what she was doing. 

220 The real shock evidently came from the horses. The pa 
tient's predisposition to react in so unaccountable a way to this 
unremarkable incident might therefore be due to the fact that 
horses have some special significance for her. We might con 
jecture, for instance, that she once had a dangerous accident 
with horses. This was actually found to be the case. As a child 
of about seven she was out for a drive with the coachman, when 
suddenly the horses took fright and at a wild gallop made for 
the precipitous bank of a deep river-gorge. The coachman 
jumped off and shouted to her to do likewise, but she was in 
such deadly fear that she could hardly make up her mind. 
Nevertheless she managed to jump in the nick of time, while 
the horses crashed with the carriage into the depths below. That 
such an event would leave a very deep impression hardly needs 
proof. Yet it does not explain why at a later date such an insen 
sate reaction should follow a perfectly harmless stimulus. So 
far we know only that the later symptom had a prelude in child 
hood. The pathological aspect of it still remains in the dark. 

221 This anamnesis, whose continuation we shall find out later, 9 
shows very clearly the discrepancy between the so-called trauma 
and the part played by fantasy. In this case fantasy must pre 
dominate to a quite extraordinary degree in order to produce 

9 [See infra, pars. 297!! and 3558:. EDITORS.] 

97 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



such a great effect from so insignificant a stimulus. At first one 
is inclined to adduce that early childhood trauma as an expla 
nationnot very successfully, it seems to me, because we still do 
not understand why the effects of that trauma remained latent 
so long, and why they manifested themselves precisely on this 
occasion and on no other. The patient must surely have had 
opportunities enough during her lifetime of getting out of the 
way of a carriage going at full speed. The moment of deadly 
peril she experienced earlier in St. Petersburg did not leave be 
hind the slightest trace of neurosis, despite her being predis 
posed by the impressive event in her childhood. Everything 
about this traumatic scene has still to be explained, for, from 
the standpoint of the trauma theory, we are left completely in 
the dark. 

YOU must forgive me if I return so persistently to this ques 
tion of the trauma theory. I do not think it superfluous to do 
so, because nowadays so many people, even those closely con 
nected with psychoanalysis, still cling to the old standpoint, and 
this gives our opponents, who mostly never read our writings or 
do so only very superficially, the impression that psychoanalysis 
still revolves round the trauma theory. 

The question now arises: what are we to understand by this 
"predisposition/' through which an impression, insignificant 
in itself, can produce such a pathological effect? This is a ques 
tion of fundamental importance, and, as we shall see later, it 
plays a very important role in the whole theory of neurosis. We 
have to understand why apparently irrelevant events of the past 
still have so much significance that they can interfere in a dae 
monic and capricious way with our reactions in actual life. 



THE SEXUAL ELEMENT IN THE TRAUMA 

The early school of psychoanalysis, and its later disciples, 
did all they could to find in the special quality of those original 
traumatic experiences the reason for their later effectiveness. 
Freud went deepest: he was the first and only one to see that 
some kind of sexual element was mingled with the traumatic 
event, and that this admixture, of which the patient was gen 
erally unconscious, was chiefly responsible for the effect of the 

98 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



trauma. The unconsciousness of sexuality in childhood seemed 
to throw a significant light on the problem of the long-lasting 
constellation caused by the original traumatic experience. The 
real emotional significance of that experience remains hidden 
all along from the patient, so that, not reaching consciousness, 
the emotion never wears itself out, it is never used up. We might 
explain the long-lasting constellative effect of the experience as 
a kind of suggestion a tcheance, for this, too, is unconscious and 
develops its effect only at the appointed time. 

225 It is hardly necessary to give detailed examples showing that 
the real character of sexual activities in infancy is not recog 
nized. Doctors are aware, for instance, that open masturbation 
right up to adult life is not understood as such, especially by 
women. From this it is easy to deduce that a child would be even 
less conscious of the character of certain actions; hence the real 
meaning of these experiences remains hidden from conscious 
ness even in adult life. In some cases the experiences themselves 
are completely forgotten, either because their sexual signifi 
cance is quite unknown to the patient, or because their sexual 
character, being too painful, is not admitted, in other words, is 
repressed. 

226 As already mentioned, Freud's observation that the admix 
ture of a sexual element in the trauma is a characteristic con 
comitant having a pathological effect led to the theory of the 
infantile sexual trauma. This hypothesis means that the patho 
genic experience is a sexual one. 



INFANTILE SEXUAL FANTASY 

227 At first this hypothesis was countered by the widespread 
opinion that children have no sexuality at all in early life, thus 
making such an aetiology unthinkable. The modification of the 
trauma theory already discussed, that the trauma is generally 
not real at all but essentially just fantasy, does not make things 
any better. On the contrary, it obliges us to see in the patho 
genic experience a positive sexual manifestation of infantile 
fantasy. It is no longer some brutal accidental impression com 
ing from outside, but a sexual manifestation of unmistakable 
clearness actually created by the child. Even real traumatic 

99 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



experiences of a definitely sexual character do not happen to 
the child entirely without his co-operation; it was found that 
very often he himself prepares the way for them and brings 
them to pass. Abraham has furnished valuable proofs of great 
interest in support of this, which in conjunction with many 
other experiences of the same kind make it seem very probable 
that even real traumata are frequently aided and abetted by the 
psychological attitude of the child. Medical jurisprudence, quite 
independently of psychoanalysis, can offer striking parallels in 
support of this psychoanalytic assertion. 

228 The precocious manifestations of sexual fantasy, and their 
traumatic effect, now seemed to be the source of the neurosis. 
One was therefore obliged to attribute to children a much more 
developed sexuality than was admitted before. Cases of pre 
cocious sexuality had long been recorded in the literature, for 
instance of a two-year-old girl who was menstruating regularly, 
or of boys between three and five years old having erections and 
therefore being capable of cohabitation. But these cases were 
curiosities. Great was the astonishment, therefore, when Freud 
began to credit children not only with ordinary sexuality but 
even with a so-called "polymorphous-perverse" sexuality, and 
moreover on the basis of the most exhaustive investigations. 
People were far too ready with the facile assumption that all 
this had merely been suggested to the patients and was accord 
ingly a highly debatable artificial product. 

229 In these circumstances, Freud's Three Essays on the Theory 
of Sexuality 10 provoked not only opposition but violent in 
dignation. I need hardly point out that the progress of science 
is not furthered by indignation and that arguments based on 
the sense of moral outrage may suit the moralist for that is his 
business but not the scientist, who must be guided by truth 
and not by moral sentiments. If matters really are as Freud de 
scribes them, all indignation is absurd; if they are not, indigna 
tion will avail nothing. The decision as to what is the truth 
must be left solely to observation and research. In consequence 
of this misplaced indignation the opponents of psychoanalysis, 
with a few honourable exceptions, present a slightly comic pic 
ture of pitiful backwardness. Although the psychoanalytic school 

10 [First published in 1905,] 

1OO 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



was unfortunately unable to learn anything from its critics, as 
the critics did not trouble to examine our actual conclusions, 
and although it could not get any useful hints, because the psy 
choanalytic method of investigation was and still is unknown to 
them, it nevertheless remains the duty of our school to discuss 
very thoroughly the discrepancies between the existing views. 
It is not our endeavour to put forward a paradoxical theory con 
tradicting all previous theories, but rather to introduce a certain 
category of new observations into science. We therefore con 
sider it our duty to do whatever we can from our side to promote 
agreement. True, we must give up trying to reach an under 
standing with all those who blindly oppose us, which would be 
a waste of effort, but we do hope to make our peace with men 
of science. This will now be my endeavour in attempting to 
sketch the further conceptual development of psychoanalysis, 
up to the point where it reached the sexual theory of neurosis. 11 

11 [See Ch. 4. EDITORS.] 



101 



s. THE THEORY OF INFANTILE SEXUALITY 

2 3 As you have heard in the last lecture, the discovery of pre 
cocious sexual fantasies, which seemed to be the source of the 
neurosis, forced Freud to assume the existence of a richly de 
veloped infantile sexuality. As you know, the validity of this 
observation has been roundly contested by many, who argue 
that crude error and bigoted delusion have misled Freud and his 
whole school, alike in Europe and in America, into seeing things 
that never existed. We are therefore regarded as people in the 
grip of an intellectual epidemic. I must confess that I have no 
way of defending myself against this sort of "criticism/' For the 
rest, I must remark that science has no right to start off with 
the idea that certain facts do not exist. The most one can say is 
that they appear to be very improbable, and that more confirma 
tion and more exact study are needed. This is also our reply to 
the objection that nothing reliable can be learnt from the psy 
choanalytic method, as the method itself is absurd. No one be 
lieved in Galileo's telescope, and Columbus discovered America 
on a false hypothesis. The method may for all I know be full of 
errors, but that should not prevent its use. Chronological and 
geographical observations were made in the past with quite in 
adequate instruments. The objections to the method must be 
regarded as so many subterfuges until our opponents come to 
grips with the facts. It is there that the issue should be decided 
not by a war of words. 

23* Even our opponents call hysteria a psychogenic illness. We 
believe we have discovered its psychological determinants and 
we present, undaunted, the results of our researches for public 
criticism. Anyone who does not agree with our conclusions is at 
liberty to publish his own analyses of cases. So far as I know, 
this has never yet been done, at least in the European literature. 
Under these circumstances, critics have no right to deny our 
discoveries a priori. Our opponents have cases of hysteria just 
as we have, and these are just as psychogenic as ours, so there is 
nothing to prevent them from finding the psychological deter- 

102 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



minants. It does not depend on the method. Our opponents 
content themselves with attacking and vilifying our researches, 
but they do not know how to find a better way. 

232 Many of our critics are more careful and more just, and ad 
mit that we have made many valuable observations and that the 
psychic connections revealed by the psychoanalytic method very 
probably hold good, but they maintain that our conception of 
them is all wrong. The alleged sexual fantasies of children, with 
which we are here chiefly concerned, must not be taken, they 
say, as real sexual functions, being obviously something quite 
different, since the specific character of sexuality is acquired only 
at the onset of puberty. 

233 This objection, whose calm and reasonable tone makes a 
trustworthy impression, deserves to be taken seriously. It is an 
objection that has given every thoughtful analyst plenty of 
cause for reflection. 



THE CONCEPT OF SEXUALITY 

234 The first thing to be said about this problem is that the main 
difficulty resides in the concept of sexuality. If we understand 
sexuality as a fully developed function, then we must restrict 
this phenomenon to the period of maturity and are not justified 
in speaking of infantile sexuality. But if we limit our concep 
tion in this way, we are faced with a new and much greater diffi 
culty. What name are we then to give to all those biological 
phenomena correlated with the sexual function in the strict 
sense, such as pregnancy, birth, natural selection, protection of 
offspring, and so on? It seems to me that all this belongs to the 
concept of sexuality, although a distinguished colleague did 
once say that childbirth is not a sexual act. But if these things 
do pertain to the concept of sexuality, then countless psycholog 
ical phenomena must come into it too, for we know that an 
incredible number of purely psychological functions are con 
nected with this sphere. I need only mention the extraordinary 
importance of fantasy in preparing and perfecting the sexual 
function. Thus we arrive at a highly biological conception of 
sexuality, which includes within it a series of psychological func 
tions as well as a series of physiological phenomena. Availing 

103 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



ourselves of an old but practical classification, we might identify 
sexuality with the instinct for the preservation of the species, 
which in a certain sense may be contrasted with the instinct of 
self-preservation. 

*35 Looking at sexuality from this point of view, we shall no 
longer find it so astonishing that the roots of the preservation 
of the species, on which nature sets such store, go much deeper 
than the limited conception of sexuality would ever allow. Only 
the more or less grown-up cat catches mice, but even the very 
young kitten at least plays at catching them. The puppy's play 
ful attempts at copulation begin long before sexual maturity. 
We have a right to suppose that man is no exception to this rule. 
Even though we do not find such things on the surface in our 
well-brought-up children, observation of children of primitive 
peoples proves that they are no exceptions to the biological 
norm. It is really far more probable that the vital instinct for 
preservation of the species begins to unfold in early infancy than 
that it should descend at one fell swoop from heaven, fully- 
fledged, at puberty. Also, the organs of reproduction develop 
long before the slightest sign of their future function can be 
discerned. 

236 So when the psychoanalytic school speaks of "sexuality," this 
wider concept of the preservation of the species should be associ 
ated with it, and it should not be thought that we mean merely 
the physical sensations and functions which are ordinarily con 
noted by that word. It might be said that in order to avoid mis 
understandings one should not call the preliminary phenomena 
of early infancy "sexual." But this demand is surely not justified, 
since anatomical nomenclature is taken from the fully-developed 
system and it is not usual to give special names to the more or 
less rudimentary stages. 



IMPORTANCE OF THE NUTRITIVE FUNCTION 

237 Now although no fault can be found with Freud's sexual 
terminology as such, since he logically gives all the stages of 
sexual development the general name of sexuality, it has never 
theless led to certain conclusions which in my view are unten 
able. For if we ask ourselves how far the first traces of sexuality 

104 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



go back into childhood, we have to admit that though sexual 
ity exists implicity ab ovo it only manifests itself after a long 
period of extra-uterine life. Freud is inclined to see even in the 
infant's sucking at its mother's breast a kind of sexual act. He 
was bitterly attacked for this view, yet we must admit that it is 
sensible enough if we assume with Freud that the instinct for 
the preservation of the species, i.e., sexuality, exists as it were 
separately from the instinct of self-preservation, i.e., the nutri 
tive function, and accordingly undergoes a special development 
ab ovo. But this way of thinking seems to me inadmissible bio 
logically. It is not possible to separate the two modes of mani 
festation or functioning of the hypothetical life-instinct and 
assign each of them a special path of development. If we judge 
by what we see, we must take into consideration the fact that in 
the whole realm of organic nature the life-process consists for a 
long time only in the functions of nutrition and growth. We 
can observe this very clearly indeed in many organisms, for in 
stance in butterflies, which as caterpillars first pass through an 
asexual stage of nutrition and growth only. The intra-uterine 
period of human beings, as well as the extra-uterine period of 
infancy, belong to this stage of the life process. 

This period is characterized by the absence of any sexual 
function, so that to speak of manifest sexuality in infancy would 
be a contradiction in terms. The most we can ask is whether, 
among the vital functions of the infantile period, there are some 
that do not have the character of nutrition and growth and 
hence could be termed sexual. Freud points to the unmistakable 
excitement and satisfaction of the infant while sucking, and he 
compares these emotional mechanisms with those of the sexual 
act. This comparison leads him to assume that the act of sucking 
has a sexual quality. Such an assumption would be justifiable 
only if it were proved that the tension of a physical need, and 
its release by gratification, is a sexual process. But the fact that 
sucking has this emotional mechanism proves just the contrary. 
Consequently we can only say that this emotional mechanism is 
found both in the nutritive function and in the sexual function. 
If Freud derives the sexual quality of the act of sucking from 
the analogy of the emotional mechanism, biological experience 
would also justify a terminology qualifying the sexual act as a 
function of nutrition. This is exceeding the bounds in both 

105 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



directions. What is quite evident is that the act of sucking can 
not be qualified as sexual. 

239 We know, however, of other functions at the infantile stage 
which apparently have nothing to do with the function of nutri 
tion, such as sucking the finger and its numerous variants. Here 
is rather the place to ask whether such things belong to the 
sexual sphere. They do not serve nutrition, but produce pleas 
ure. Of that there can be no doubt, but it nevertheless remains 
disputable whether the pleasure obtained by sucking should be 
called by analogy a sexual pleasure. It could equally well be 
called a nutritive pleasure. This latter qualification is the more 
apt in that the form of pleasure and the place where it is ob 
tained belong entirely to the sphere of nutrition. The hand 
which is used for sucking is being prepared in this way for the 
independent act of feeding in the future. That being so, surely 
no one will beg the question by asserting that the first expres 
sions of human life are sexual. 

24 Yet the formula we hit on just now, that pleasure is sought 
in sucking the finger without serving any nutritive purpose, 
leaves us feeling doubtful whether it does belong entirely to 
the sphere of nutrition. We notice that the so-called bad habits 
of a child as it grows up are closely connected with early infan 
tile sucking, like putting the finger in the mouth, biting the 
nails, picking the nose, ears, etc. We see, too, how easily these 
habits pass over into masturbation later on. The conclusion that 
these infantile habits are the first stages of masturbation or of 
similar activities, and therefore have a distinctly sexual charac 
ter, cannot be denied: it is perfectly legitimate. I have seen many 
cases in which an indubitable correlation existed between these 
childish habits and masturbation, and if masturbation occurs in 
late childhood, before puberty, it is nothing but a continuation 
of the infantile bad habits. The inference from masturbation 
that other infantile habits have a sexual character appears natu 
ral and understandable from this point of view, in so far as they 
are acts for obtaining pleasure from one's own body. 

241 From here it is but a short step to qualifying the infant's 
sucking as sexual. Freud, as you know, took that step and you 
have just heard me reject it. For here we come upon a contra 
diction which is very hard to resolve. It would be fairly easy if 
we could assume two separate instincts existing side by side. 

106 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



Then the act of sucking the breast would be a nutritive act and 
at the same time a sexual act, a sort of combination of the two 
instincts. This seems to be Freud's conception. The obvious co 
existence of the two instincts, or rather their manifestation in 
the form of hunger and the sexual drive, is found in the life of 
adults. But at the infantile stage we find only the function of 
nutrition, which sets a premium on pleasure and satisfaction. 
Its sexual character can be argued only by a petitio principii, 
for the facts show that the act of sucking is the first to give pleas 
ure, not the sexual function. Obtaining pleasure is by no means 
identical with sexuality. We deceive ourselves if we think that 
the two instincts exist side by side in the infant, for then we 
project into the psyche of the child an observation taken over 
from the psychology of adults. The co-existence or separate 
manifestation of the two instincts is not found in the infant, for 
one of the instinctual systems is not developed at all, or is quite 
rudimentary. If we take the attitude that the striving for pleas 
ure is something sexual, we might just as well say, paradoxically, 
that hunger is a sexual striving, since it seeks pleasure by satis 
faction. But if we juggle with concepts like that, we should have 
to allow our opponents to apply the terminology of hunger to 
sexuality. This kind of one-sidedness appears over and over 
again in the history of science. I am not saying this as a reproach: 
on the contrary, we must be glad that there are people who are 
courageous enough to be immoderate and one-sided. It is to 
them that we owe our discoveries. What is regrettable is that 
each should defend his one-sidedness so passionately. Scientific 
theories are merely suggestions as to how things might be 
observed. 

242 The co-existence of two instinctual systems is an hypothesis 
that would certainly facilitate matters, but unfortunately it is 
impossible because it contradicts the observed facts and, if pur 
sued, leads to untenable conclusions. 



THE POLYMORPHOUS-PERVERSE SEXUALITY OF INFANCY 

243 Before I try to resolve this contradiction, I must say some 
thing more about Freud's sexual theory and the changes it has 
undergone. As I explained earlier, the discovery of a sexual 

107 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



fantasy-activity in childhood, which apparently had the effect of 
a trauma, led to the assumption that the child must have, in 
contradiction to all previous views, an almost fully developed 
sexuality, and even a polymorphous-perverse sexuality. Its sexu 
ality does not seem to be centred on the genital function and on 
the other sex, but is occupied with the child's own body, whence 
it is said to be autoerotic. If its sexual interest is directed out 
wards to another person, it makes but little difference to the 
child what that person's sex is. Hence the child may very easily 
be "homosexual." Instead of the non-existent, localized sexual 
function there are a number of so-called bad habits, which from 
this point of view appear as perverse actions since they have 
close analogies with subsequent perversions. 

244 As a result of this conception sexuality, ordinarily thought 
of as a unity, was decomposed into a plurality of separate drives; 
and since it was tacitly assumed that sexuality originates in the 
genitals, Freud arrived at the conception of "erogenous zones/' 
by which he meant the mouth, skin, anus, etc. 

245 The term "erogenous zone" reminds us of "spasmogenic 
zone." At all events the underlying idea is the same: just as the 
spasmogenic zone is the place where a spasm originates, the 
erogenous zone is the place from which comes an afflux of sexu 
ality. On the underlying model of the genitals as the anatomical 
source of sexuality, the erogenous zones would have to be con 
ceived as so many genital organs out of which sexuality flows. 
This state is the polymorphous-perverse sexuality of children. 
The term "perverse" appeared justified by the close analogy 
with later perversions which are, so to speak, simply a new edi 
tion of certain "perverse" interests in early infancy. They are 
frequently connected with one or other of the erogenous zones 
and cause those sexual anomalies which are so characteristic of 
children. 



SEXUAL COMPONENTS AS ENERGIC MANIFESTATIONS 

246 From this point of view the later, normal, "monomorphic" 
sexuality is made up of several components. First it falls into a 
homo- and a heterosexual component, then comes the autoerotic 
component, and then the various erogenous zones. This concep- 

108 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



tion can be compared with the position of physics before Robert 
Mayer, when only separate fields of phenomena existed, each 
credited with elementary qualities whose correlation was not 
properly understood. The law of the conservation of energy 
brought order into the relationship of forces to one another, at 
the same time abolishing the conception of those forces as hav 
ing an absolute, elementary character and making them mani 
festations of the same energy. The same thing will have to 
happen with this splitting of sexuality into the polymorphous- 
perverse sexuality of childhood. 

247 Experience compels us to postulate a constant interchange 
of individual components. It was recognized more and more 
that perversions, for instance, exist at the expense of normal 
sexuality, and that increased application of one form of sexual 
ity follows a decrease in the application of another form. To 
make the matter clearer I will give an example. A young man 
had a homosexual phase lasting for some years, during which 
time he had no interest in girls. This abnormal condition gradu 
ally changed towards his twentieth year, and his erotic interests 
became more and more normal. He began to take an interest in 
girls, and soon he had overcome the last traces of homosexuality. 
This lasted for several years, and he had a number of successful 
love-affairs. Then he wanted to marry. But here he suffered a 
severe disappointment, as the girl he adored threw him over. 
During the ensuing phase he gave up all idea of marriage. After 
that he experienced a dislike of all women, and one day he dis 
covered that he had become homosexual again, for young men 
once more had a peculiarly irritating effect upon him. 

248 If we regard sexuality as consisting of a fixed heterosexual 
and a fixed homosexual component we shall never explain this 
case, since the assumption of fixed components precludes any 
kind of transformation. In order to do justice to it, we must 
assume a great mobility of the sexual components, which even 
goes so far that one component disappears almost completely 
while the other occupies the foreground. If nothing but a change 
of position took place, so that the homosexual component lapsed 
in full force into the unconscious, leaving the field of conscious 
ness to the heterosexual component, modern scientific knowl 
edge would lead us to infer that equivalent effects would then 
arise from the unconscious sphere. These effects would have to 

109 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



be regarded as resistances to the activity o the heterosexual 
component, that is, as resistances against women. But in our 
case there is no evidence of this. Though faint traces of such 
influences existed, they were of such slight intensity that they 
could not be compared with the previous intensity of the homo 
sexual component. 

249 On the existing theory, it remains incomprehensible how 
the homosexual component, regarded as so firmly fixed, could 
disappear without leaving any active traces behind it. (Further, 
it would be very difficult to conceive how these transformations 
come about. One could, at a pinch, understand the development 
passing through a homosexual stage in the pubertal period in 
order to lay the foundation for normal heterosexuality later, in 
a fixed, definite form. But how are we then to explain that the 
product of a gradual development, to all appearances bound up 
very closely with organic processes of maturation, is suddenly 
abolished under the impact of an impression, so as to make 
room for an earlier stage? Or, if two active components are pos 
tulated as existing simultaneously side by side, why is only one 
of them active and not the other as well? One might object that 
the homosexual component in men does in fact show itself most 
readily in a peculiar irritability, a special sensitiveness in regard 
to other men. According to my experience the apparent reason 
for this characteristic behaviour, of which we find so many ex 
amples in society today, is an invariable disturbance in the rela 
tionship with women, a special form of dependence on them. 
This would constitute the "plus" that is counterbalanced by the 
"minus" in the homosexual relationship. (Naturally this is not 
the real reason. The real reason is the infantile state of the man's 
character.)} 

25 It was, therefore, urgently necessary to give an adequate ex 
planation of such a change of scene. For this we need a dynamic 
hypothesis, since these permutations of sex can only be thought 
of as dynamic or energic processes. Without an alteration in the 
dynamic relationships, I cannot conceive how a mode of func 
tioning can disappear like this. Freud's theory took account of 
this necessity. His conception of components, of separate modes 
of functioning, began to be weakened, at first more in practice 
than in theory, and was eventually replaced by a conception of 
energy. The term chosen for this was libido. 

110 



3- THE CONCEPT OF LIBIDO 

251 Freud had already introduced the concept of libido in his 
Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality,, where he says: 

The fact of the existence of sexual needs in human beings and ani 
mals is expressed in biology by the assumption of a "sexual instinct," 
on the analogy of the instinct of nutrition, that is of hunger. Every 
day language possesses no counterpart to the word "hunger/* but 
science makes use of the word "libido" for that purpose. 1 

252 In Freud's definition the term libido connotes an exclusively 
sexual need, hence everything that Freud means by libido must 
be understood as sexual need or sexual desire. In medicine the 
term libido is certainly used for sexual desire, and specifically 
for sexual lust. But the classical use of the word as found in 
Cicero, Sallust, and others was not so exclusive; there it is used 
in the more general sense of passionate desire. 2 I mention this 
fact now, because further on it will play an important part in 
our argument, and because it is important to know that the term 
libido really has a much wider range of meaning than it has in 
medicine. 

53 The concept of libidowhose sexual meaning in the Freud 
ian sense we shall try to retain as long as possible represents 
that dynamic factor which we were seeking in order to explain 
the shifting of the psychological scenery. This concept makes it 
much easier to formulate the phenomena in question. Instead of 
the incomprehensible exchanging of the homosexual compo 
nent for the heterosexual component, we can now say that the 
libido was gradually withdrawn from its homosexual applica 
tion and that it passed over in the same measure to a hetero 
sexual application. In the process the homosexual component 
disappeared almost completely. It remained only an empty pos 
sibility, signifying nothing in itself. Its very existence is quite 

1 [Standard Edn., VII, p. 135.] 

2 [Cf. the definition of libido in Symbols of Transformation, pars. 

Ill 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



rightly denied by the layman, just as he would deny the pos 
sibility that he is a murderer. The libido concept also helps to 
explain the reciprocal relationships between the various modes 
of sexual functioning. At the same time, it does away with the 
original idea of a plurality of sexual components, which sa 
voured too much of the old philosophical notion of psychic 
faculties. Their place is taken by libido, which is capable of the 
most varied applications. The earlier "components" represent 
only possible modes of action. The libido concept puts in the 
place of a divided sexuality split into many roots a dynamic 
unity, lacking which these once-significant components remain 
nothing but potential activities. This conceptual development 
is of the greatest importance; it accomplishes for psychology the 
same advance that the concept of energy introduced into physics. 
Just as the theory of the conservation of energy deprived the 
various forces of their elementary character and made them 
manifestations of a single energy, so the theory of libido deprives 
the sexual components of their elementary significance as psychic 
"faculties" and gives them a merely phenomenological value. 



THE ENERGIC THEORY OF LIBIDO 

254 This view is a far better reflection of reality than the theory 
of components. With the libido theory we can easily explain 
the case of the young man cited earlier. The disappointment he 
met with at the moment he wanted to marry drove his libido 
away from its heterosexual mode of application, with the result 
that it assumed a homosexual form again and thus reinduced the 
earlier homosexuality. Here I cannot refrain from remarking 
that the analogy with the law of the conservation of energy is 
very close. In both cases one has to ask, when one sees that a 
quantum of energy has disappeared, where this energy has re- 
emerged in the meantime? If we apply this point of view as an 
explanatory principle to the psychology of human conduct, we 
shall make the most surprising discoveries. We can then see that 
the most heterogeneous phases in an individual's psychological 
development are connected with one another in an energic 
relationship. Every time we come across a person who has a 
"bee in his bonnet," or a morbid conviction, or some extreme 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



attitude, we know that there is too much libido, and that the 
excess must have been taken from somewhere else where, con 
sequently, there is too little. From this point of view psycho 
analysis is a method which helps us to discover those places or 
functions where there is too little libido, and to restore the bal 
ance. Thus the symptoms of a neurosis must be regarded as ex 
aggerated functions over-invested with libido. 3 The energy used 
for this purpose has been taken from somewhere else, and it is 
the task of the psychoanalyst to discover the place it was taken 
from or where it was never applied. 

255 The question has to be reversed in the case of those syn 
dromes characterized mainly by lack of libido, for instance apa 
thetic states. Here we have to ask, where did the libido go? The 
patient gives us the impression of having no libido, and there 
are many doctors who take him at his face value. Such doctors 
have a primitive way of thinking, like a savage who, seeing an 
eclipse of the sun, believes that the sun has been swallowed and 
killed. But the sun is only hidden, and so it is with these pa 
tients. The libido is there, but it is not visible and is inaccessible 
to the patient himself. Superficially, we have here a lack of 
libido. It is the task of psychoanalysis to search out that hidden 
place where the libido dwells and where the patient himself 
cannot get at it. The hidden place is the "non-conscious/' which 
we may also call the "unconscious" without attributing to it any 
mystical significance. 



UNCONSCIOUS FANTASY SYSTEMS 

256 Psychoanalysis has taught us that there are non-conscious 
psychological systems which, by analogy with conscious fanta 
sies, can be described as unconscious fantasy systems. In states of 
neurotic apathy these unconscious fantasy systems are the ob 
jects of libido. We are fully aware that when we speak of uncon 
scious fantasy-systems we are speaking only figuratively. By this 
we mean no more than that we accept as a necessary postulate 
the conception of psychic entities outside consciousness. Experi 
ence teaches us, we might say daily, that there are non-conscious 

3 We meet with a similar view in Janet. 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



psychic processes which perceptibly influence the libido econ 
omy. Those cases known to every psychiatrist, in which a 
complicated system of delusions breaks out with comparative 
suddenness, prove that there must be unconscious psychic de 
velopments that have prepared the ground, for we can hardly 
suppose that such things come into being just as suddenly as 
they enter consciousness. 

2 57 I have allowed myself to make this digression concerning the 
unconscious in order to point out that, with regard to the chang 
ing localization of libidinal investments, we have to reckon not 
merely with the conscious but with another factor, the uncon 
scious, into which the libido sometimes disappears. We can now 
resume our discussion of the further consequences resulting 
from the adoption of the libido theory. 



THE CONSERVATION OF LIBIDO 

*5 8 Freud has taught us, and we see it in the everyday practice 
of psychoanalysis, that there exist in early childhood, instead of 
the later normal sexuality, the beginnings of many tendencies 
which in later life are called "perversions." We have had to ad 
mit Freud's right to apply a sexual terminology to these tenden 
cies. Through the introduction of the libido concept, we see 
that in adults those elementary components which seemed to be 
the origin and source of normal sexuality lose their importance 
and are reduced to mere potentialities. Their operative princi 
ple, their vital force, so to speak, is the libido. Without libido 
these components mean practically nothing. Freud, as we saw, 
gives the libido an unquestionably sexual connotation, some 
thing like "sexual need." It is generally assumed that libido in 
this sense comes into existence only at puberty. How, then, are 
we to explain the fact that children have a polymorphous-per 
verse sexuality, and that the libido activates not merely one 
perversion but several? If the libido, in Freud's sense, comes 
into existence only at puberty, it cannot be held accountable 
for earlier infantile perversions unless we regard them as "psy 
chic faculties," in accordance with the theory of components. 
Quite apart from the hopeless theoretical confusion this would 
lead to, we would be sinning against the methodological axiom 

114 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



that "explanatory principles are not to be multiplied beyond the 
necessary/' 

259 There is no alternative but to assume that before and after 
puberty it is the same libido. Hence the infantile perversions 
arise in exactly the same way as in adults. Common sense will 
object to this, as obviously the sexual needs of children cannot 
possibly be the same as those of sexually mature persons. We 
might, however, compromise on this point and say with Freud 
that though the libido before and after puberty is the same it is 
different in its intensity. Instead of the intense sexual need after 
puberty there would be only a slight sexual need in childhood, 
gradually diminishing in intensity until, at about the first year, 
it is nothing but a trace. We could declare ourselves in agree 
ment with this from the biological point of view. But we should 
also have to assume that everything that comes within the realm 
of the wider concept of sexuality discussed in the previous lec 
ture is already present in miniature, including all those emo 
tional manifestations of psychosexuality, such as need for affec 
tion, jealousy, and many other affective phenomena, and by no 
means least the neuroses of childhood. It must be admitted, 
however, that these affective phenomena in children do not at 
all give the impression of being "in miniature"; on the contrary, 
they can rival in intensity those of an adult. Nor should we for 
get that, as experience has shown, the perverse manifestations of 
sexuality in childhood are often more glaring, and even seem to 
be more richly developed, than in adults. In an adult showing 
a similar state of richly developed perversion we could rightly 
expect a total extinction of normal sexuality and of many other 
important forms of biological adaptation, as is normally the case 
with children. An adult is rightly called perverse when his libido 
is not used for normal functions, and the same can reasonably 
be said of a child: he is polymorphous-perverse because he does 
not yet know the normal sexual function. 

* 6 These considerations suggest that perhaps the amount of 
libido is always the same and that no enormous increase occurs 
at sexual maturity. This somewhat audacious hypothesis leans 
heavily, it is clear, on the law of the conservation of energy, ac 
cording to which the amount of energy remains constant. It is 
conceivable that the peak of maturity is reached only when the 
infantile, subsidiary applications of libido gradually discharge 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



themselves into one definite channel of sexuality and are extin 
guished in it. For the moment we must content ourselves with 
these suggestions, for we must next pay attention to one point 
of criticism concerning the nature of the infantile libido, 

261 Many of our critics do not concede that the infantile libido 
is simply less intense but of essentially the same nature as the 
libido of adults. The libidinal impulses of adults are correlated 
with the genital function, those of children are not, or only 
in exceptional cases, and this gives rise to a distinction whose 
importance must not be underestimated. It seems to me that this 
objection is justified. There is indeed a considerable difference 
between immature and fully developed functions, just as there 
is between play and seriousness, between shooting with blank 
and with loaded cartridges. This would give the infantile libido 
that undeniably harmless character which is demanded by com 
mon sense. But neither can one deny that blank-shooting is 
shooting. We must get accustomed to the idea that sexuality 
really exists, even before puberty, right back into early child 
hood, and we have no grounds for not calling the manifestations 
of this immature sexuality sexual. 

262 This naturally does not invalidate the objection which, 
while admitting the existence of infantile sexuality in the form 
we have described, nevertheless contests Freud's right to desig 
nate as "sexual" early infantile phenomena such as sucking. We 
have already discussed the reasons which may have induced 
Freud to stretch his sexual terminology so far. We mentioned, 
too, how this very act of sucking could be conceived just as well 
from the standpoint of the nutritive function and that, on bi 
ological grounds, there was actually more justification for this 
derivation than for Freud's view. It might be objected that these 
and similar activities of the oral zone reappear in later life in 
an undoubtedly sexual guise. This only means that these activi 
ties can be used later for sexual purposes, but proves nothing 
about their originally sexual character. I must, therefore, admit 
that I can find no ground for regarding the pleasure-producing 
activities of the infantile period from the standpoint of sexual 
ity, but rather grounds to the contrary, It seems to me, so far as 
I am capable of judging these difficult problems correctly, that 
from the standpoint of sexuality it is necessary to divide human 
life into three phases. 

116 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



THE THREE PHASES OF LIFE 

263 The first phase embraces the first years of life; I call this 
period the presexual stage* It corresponds to the caterpillar 
stage of butterflies, and is characterized almost exclusively by 
the functions of nutrition and growth. 

264 The second phase embraces the later years of childhood up 
to puberty, and might be called the prepubertal stage. Ger 
mination of sexuality takes place at this period. 

265 The third phase is the adult period from puberty on, and 
may be called thq period of maturity. 

266 it w ili not have escaped you that the greatest difficulty lies 
in assigning limits to the presexual stage. I am ready to confess 
my great uncertainty in regard to this problem. When I look 
back on my own psychoanalytic experiences with children in 
sufficiently numerous as yet, unfortunately at the same time 
bearing in mind the observations made by Freud, it seems to me 
that the limits of this phase lie between the third and fifth year, 
subject, of course, to individual variation. This age is an im 
portant one in many respects. The child has already outgrown 
the helplessness of a baby, and a number of important psycho 
logical functions have acquired a reliable hold. From this period 
on, the profound darkness of the early infantile amnesia, or dis 
continuity of consciousness, begins to be illuminated by the 
sporadic continuity of memory. It seems as if, at this stage, an 
essential step forward is taken in the emancipation and cen 
tring of the new personality. So far as we know, the first signs 
of interests and activities which may fairly be called sexual also 
fall into this period, even though these indications still have the 
infantile characteristics of harmlessness and na'ivet. 



THE SEXUAL TERMINOLOGY 

I think I have sufficiently explained why a sexual terminol 
ogy cannot be applied to the presexual stage, so we may now 
consider the other problems from the standpoint we have just 

4 [Cf. Symbols of Transformation, par. 206.] 

117 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



reached. You will remember that we dropped the problem of 
decreased libido in childhood because it was impossible in that 
way to reach any clear conclusion. We now take up this ques 
tion once again, if only to see whether the energic conception 
fits in with our present formulations. 

268 We saw t h at t h e difference between infantile and mature 
sexuality can be explained, according to Freud, by the diminish 
ing intensity of sexuality in childhood. But we have just ad 
vanced reasons why it seems doubtful that the life-processes of 
a child, with the exception of sexuality, are any less intense than 
those of adults. We could say that, sexuality excepted, the affec 
tive phenomena, and the nervous symptoms if there are any, are 
quite as intense as in adults. Yet, on the energic view, they are 
all manifestations of libido. It is therefore difficult to believe 
that the intensity of libido can make the difference between ma 
ture and immature sexuality. Rather the difference seems to be 
conditioned by a change in the localization of libido (if such an 
expression be permitted). In contradistinction to its medical 
definition, the libido of a child is occupied far more with sub 
sidiary functions of a mental and physical nature than with 
local sexual functions. This being so, one is tempted to with 
draw the predicate "sexualis" from the term "libido" and to 
strike out the sexual definition of libido given in Freud's Three 
Essays on the Theory of Sexuality. The necessity for this be 
comes really urgent when we ask ourselves whether the intense 
joys and sorrows of a child in the first years of his life, that is, 
at the presexual stage, are conditioned solely by his sexual 
libido, 

* 6 9 Freud has pronounced himself in favour of this supposition. 
There is no need for me to repeat here the reasons which com 
pelled me to postulate a presexual stage. The caterpillar stage 
possesses an alimentary libido but no sexual libido; we have to 
put it like that if we want to retain the energic view which the 
libido theory offers us. I think there is nothing for it but to 
abandon the sexual definition of libido, or we shall lose what 
is valuable in the libido theory, namely the energic point of 
view. For a long time now the need to give the concept of libido 
breathing-space and to remove it from the narrow confines of 
the sexual definition has forced itself on the psychoanalytical 
school. One never wearied of insisting that sexuality was not to 

118 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



be taken too literally but in a wider sense; yet exactly how re 
mained obscure and so could not satisfy the serious critics. 

I do not think I am going astray if I see the real value of the 
concept of libido not in its sexual definition but in its energic 
view, thanks to which we are in possession of an extremely valu 
able heuristic principle. We are also indebted to the energic 
view for dynamic images and correlations which are of inestima 
ble value to us in the chaos of the psychic world. Freudians 
would be wrong not to listen to those critics who accuse our 
libido theory of mysticism and unintelligibility. We were de 
ceiving ourselves when we believed that we could make the 
libido sexualis the vehicle of an energic conception of psychic 
life, and if many of Freud's school still believe that they are 
in possession of a well-defined and, so to speak, concrete concep 
tion of libido, they are not aware that this concept has been put 
to uses which far exceed the bounds of any sexual definition. 
Consequently the critics are right when they object that the 
libido theory purports to explain things which do not properly 
belong to its sphere. This really does evoke the impression that 
we are operating with a mystical entity. 



THE PROBLEM OF LIBIDO IN DEMENTIA PRAECOX 

2? 1 In my book Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido I tried 
to furnish proof of these transgressions and at the same time to 
show the need for a new conception of libido which took ac 
count only of the energic view. Freud himself was forced to ad 
mit that his original conception of libido might possibly be too 
narrow when he tried to apply the energic view consistently to 
a famous case of dementia praecox the so-called Schreber case. 5 
This case is concerned among other things with that well-known 
problem in the psychology of dementia praecox, the loss of 
adaptation to reality, a peculiar phenomenon consisting in the 
special tendency of these patients to construct an inner fantasy 
world of their own, surrendering for this purpose their adapta 
tion to reality. 

272 One aspect of this phenomenon, the absence of emotional 

6 ["Psycho-Analytic Notes on an Autobiographical Account of a Case of Paranoia 
(Dementia Paranoides)."] 

"9 



TREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



rapport, will be well known to you, as this is a striking disturb 
ance of the reality function. By dint of much psychoanalytic 
work with these patients we established that this lack of adapta 
tion to reality is compensated by a progressive increase in the 
creation of fantasies, which goes so far that the dream world 
becomes more real for the patient than external reality. Schreber 
found an excellent figurative description for this phenomenon 
in his delusion about the "end of the world." He thus depicts 
the loss of reality in a very concrete way. The dynamic explana 
tion is simple: we say that libido has withdrawn more and more 
from the external world into the inner world of fantasy, and 
there had to create, as a substitute for the lost world, a so-called 
reality equivalent. This substitute is built up piece by piece, so 
to speak, and it is most interesting to see out of what psycholog 
ical material this inner world is constructed. 

273 This way of looking at the displacement of libido is based on 
the everyday use of the term, its original, purely sexual connota 
tion being very rarely remembered. In actual practice we speak 
simply of libido, and this is understood in so innocuous a sense 
that Clapar&de once remarked to me that one could just as well 
use the word "interest." The customary use of the term has de 
veloped, quite naturally and spontaneously, into a usage which 
makes it possible to explain Schreber's end of the world simply 
as a withdrawal of libido. On this occasion Freud remembered 
his original sexual definition of libido and tried to come to 
terms with the change of meaning that had quietly taken place 
in the meantime. In his paper on Schreber he asks himself 
whether what the psychoanalytic school calls libido and con 
ceives as "interest from erotic sources'' coincides with interest 
in general. You see that, putting the problem in this way, Freud 
asks himself the question which Claparde had already answered 
in practice. 

274 Freud thus broaches the question of whether the loss of real 
ity in schizophrenia, to which I drew attention in my "Psychol 
ogy of Dementia Praecox/' 6 is due entirely to the withdrawal 
of erotic interest, or whether this coincides with objective inter 
est in general. We can hardly suppose that the normal "fonction 
du r6el" (Janet) is maintained solely by erotic interest. The fact 

6 [The first paper in The Psychogenesis of Mental Disease, Collected Works, 
Vol. 3.] 

120 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



is that in very many cases reality disappears altogether, so that 
not a trace of psychological adaptation can be found in these 
patients. (In these states reality is replaced by complex contents.) 
We are therefore compelled to admit that not only the erotic 
interest, but all interest whatsoever, has got lost, and with it the 
whole adaptation to reality. 

275 Earlier, in my "Psychology of Dementia Praecox," I tried to 
get round this difficulty by using the expression "psychic en 
ergy," because I could not base the theory of dementia praecox 
on the theory of displacements of libido sexually defined. My 
experience at that time chiefly psychiatric did not permit me 
to understand this latter theory: only later did I come to realize 
its partial correctness as regards the neuroses, thanks to increased 
experiences in the field of hysteria and obsessional neurosis. 
Abnormal displacements of libido, quite definitely sexual, do in 
fact play a great role in these illnesses. But although very char 
acteristic repressions of sexual libido do take place in the neu 
roses, the loss of reality so typical of dementia praecox never 
occurs. In dementia praecox the loss of the reality function is so 
extreme that it must involve the loss of other instinctual forces 
whose sexual character must be denied absolutely, for no one is 
likely to maintain that reality is a function of sex, Moreover, i 
it were, the withdrawal of erotic interest in the neuroses would 
necessarily entail a loss of reality comparable to that which oc 
curs in dementia praecox. But, as I said before, this is not the 
case. 

s? 6 (Another thing to be considered as Freud also pointed out 
in his work on the Schreber case is that the introversion of 
sexual libido leads to an investment of the ego which might con 
ceivably produce that effect of loss of reality. It is indeed tempt 
ing to explain the psychology of the loss in this way. But when 
we examine more closely the various things that can arise from 
the withdrawal and introversion of sexual libido, we come to see 
that though it can produce the psychology of an ascetic an 
chorite, it cannot produce dementia praecox. The anchorite's 
whole endeavour is to exterminate every trace of sexual interest, 
and this is something that cannot be asserted of dementia 
praecox. 7 } 

T (It might be objected that dementia praecox is characterized not only by the 
introversion ot sexual libido but also by a regression to the infantile level, and 

121 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



*77 These facts have made it impossible for me to apply Freud's 
libido theory to dementia praecox. I am also of the opinion that 
Abraham's essay on this subject 8 is theoretically untenable from 
the standpoint of Freud's conception of libido. Abraham's be 
lief that the paranoid system, or the schizophrenic symptomatol 
ogy, is produced by the withdrawal of sexual libido from the 
outside world cannot be justified in terms of our present knowl 
edge. For, as Freud has clearly shown, a mere introversion or 
regression of libido invariably leads to a neurosis and not to 
dementia praecox. It seems to me impossible simply to transfer 
the libido theory to dementia praecox, because this disease 
shows a loss of reality which cannot be explained solely by the 
loss of erotic interest. 



THE GENETIC CONCEPTION OF LIBIDO 

The attitude of reserve which I adopted towards the ubiq 
uity of sexuality in my foreword to "The Psychology of De 
mentia Praecox," despite the fact that I recognized the psycho 
logical mechanisms pointed out by Freud, was dictated by the 
position of the libido theory at that time. Its sexual definition 
did not permit me to explain functional disturbances which 
affect the indefinite sphere of the hunger drive just as much as 
that of sex solely in the light of a sexual libido theory. Freud's 
libido theory had long seemed to me inapplicable to dementia 
praecox. In my analytical work I noticed that, with growing 
experience, a slow change in my conception of libido had taken 
place. Instead of the descriptive definition set forth in Freud's 
Three Essays, there gradually took shape a genetic definition of 
libido, which enabled me to replace the expression "psychic 
energy" by "libido." I had to tell myself: if the reality function 
consists nowadays to only a very small extent of sexual libido 

that this constitutes the difference between the anchorite and the schizophrenic. 
This is certainly correct, but it would still have to be proved that in dementia 
praecox it is regularly and exclusively the erotic interest which goes into a regres- 
sion. It seems to me rather difficult to prove this, because erotic interest would 
then have to be understood as the "Eros" of the old philosophers. But that can 
hardly be meant. I know cases of dementia praecox where all regard for self- 
preservation disappears, but not the very lively erotic interests.) 
8 ["The Psycho-Sexual Differences between Hysteria and Dementia Praecox."] 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



and to a far greater extent of other instinctual forces, then it is 
very important to consider whether, phylogenetically speaking, 
the reality function is not, at least very largely, of sexual origin. 
It is impossible to answer this question directly, but we can seek 
to approach it by a circuitous route. 

*79 A cursory glance at the history of evolution suffices to show 
that numerous complicated functions, which today must be de 
nied all trace of sexuality, were originally nothing but offshoots 
of the reproductive instinct. As we know, an important change 
occurred in the principles of reproduction during the ascent 
through the animal kingdom: the vast numbers of gametes 
which chance fertilization made necessary were progressively 
reduced in favour of assured fertilization and effective protec 
tion of the young. The decreased production of ova and sperma 
tozoa set free considerable quantities of energy for conversion 
into the mechanisms of attraction and protection of offspring, 
etc. Thus we find the first stirrings of the artistic impulse in ani 
mals, but subservient to the reproductive instinct and limited 
to the breeding season. The original sexual character of these 
biological phenomena gradually disappears as they become or 
ganically fixed and achieve functional independence. Although 
there can be no doubt that music originally belonged to the 
reproductive sphere, it would be an unjustified and fantastic 
generalization to put music in the same category as sex. Such a 
terminology would be tantamount to treating of Cologne cathe 
dral in a text-book of mineralogy, on the ground that it consisted 
very largely of stones. 

*8o Up to now we have spoken of libido as the instinct for propa 
gation or for the preservation of the species, and have kept with 
in the confines of a view which contrasts libido with hunger in 
the same way as the instinct for the preservation of the species 
is contrasted with the instinct for self-preservation. In nature, 
of course, this artificial distinction does not exist. There we see 
only a continuous life-urge, a will to live, which seeks to en 
sure the continuance of the whole species through the preserva 
tion of the individual. Thus far our conception of libido coin 
cides with Schopenhauer's Will, inasmuch as a movement 
perceived from the outside can only be grasped as the manifesta 
tion of an inner will or desire. Once we have arrived at the bold 
conjecture that the libido which was originally employed in the 

123 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



production of ova and spermatozoa is now firmly organized in 
the function of nest-building, for instance, and can no longer 
be employed otherwise, we are compelled to include every striv 
ing and every desire, as well as hunger, in this conception. There 
is no longer any justification for differentiating in principle be 
tween the desire to build nests and the desire to eat. 9 

281 I think you will already see where our argument is leading 
us. We are in the process of carrying through the energic point 
of view consistently, putting the energic mode of action in the 
place of the purely formal functioning. Just as the older sciences 
were always talking of reciprocal actions in nature, and this old- 
fashioned point of view was replaced by the law of the conserva 
tion of energy, so here too, in the realm of psychology, we are 
seeking to replace the reciprocal action of co-ordinated psychic 
faculties by an energy conceived to be homogeneous. We thus 
take cognizance of the justified criticism that the psychoanalytic 
school is operating with a mystical conception of libido. 

282 For this reason I must dispel the illusion that the whole 
psychoanalytic school has a clearly understood and concrete con 
ception of libido. I maintain that the libido with which we 
operate is not only not concrete or known, but is a complete X, 
a pure hypothesis, a model or counter, and is no more concretely 
conceivable than the energy known to the world of physics. Only 
in this way can we escape those violent transgressions of the 
proper boundaries, which happen time and again when we try 
to reduce co-ordinated forces to one another. (We shall never be 
able to explain the mechanics of solid bodies or of electromag 
netic phenomena in terms of a theory of light, for mechanics 
and electromagnetism are not light. Moreover, strictly speaking, 
it is not physical forces that change into one another, but the 
energy that changes its outward form. Forces are phenomenal 
manifestations; what underlies their relations with one another 
is the hypothetical idea of energy, which is, of course, entirely 
psychological and has nothing to do with so-called objective 
reality.) This same conceptual achievement that has taken place 
in physics we seek to accomplish for the libido theory. We want 
to give the concept of libido the position that really belongs to 
it, which is a purely energic one, so that we can conceive the 

9 [Pars. 278-80 and 274-75 reappear with certain modifications and additions in 
Symbols of Transformation, pars. 1 92 ff. EDITORS.] 

124 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



life-process in terms of energy and replace the old idea of recip 
rocal action by relations of absolute equivalence. We shall not 
be disturbed if we are met with the cry of vitalism. We are as 
far removed from any belief in a specific life-force as from any 
other metaphysical assertion. Libido is intended simply as a 
name for the energy which manifests itself in the life-process and 
is perceived subjectively as conation and desire. It is hardly nec 
essary to defend this view. It brings us into line with a powerful 
current of ideas that seeks to comprehend the world of appear 
ances energically. Suffice it to say that everything we perceive 
can only be understood as an effect of force. 

283 In the diversity of natural phenomena we see desire libido 
taking the most variegated forms. In early childhood it appears 
at first wholly in the form of the nutritive instinct which builds 
up the body. As the body develops, new spheres of activity are 
opened up successively for the libido. A definitive and extremely 
important sphere of activity is sexuality, which to begin with 
appears closely bound up with the function of nutrition (one 
has only to think of the influence of nutritional factors on propa 
gation in the lower animals and plants). In the sphere of sexu 
ality the libido acquires a form whose tremendous importance 
gives us the justification for using the ambiguous term "libido" 
at all. Here it appears at first in the form of an undifferentiated, 
primary libido, as the energy of growth that causes cell-division, 
budding, etc. in individuals. 

284 Out of this primary, sexual libido, which produces from one 
small organism millions of ova and spermatozoa, there devel 
oped, by a tremendous restriction of fertility, offshoots whose 
function is maintained by a specifically differentiated libido. 
This differentiated libido is now "desexualized" by being di 
vested of its original function of producing eggs and sperm, nor 
is there any possibility of restoring it to its original function. 
Thus the whole process of development consists in a progressive 
absorption of the primary libido, which produced nothing but 
gametes, into the secondary functions of attraction and protec 
tion of offspring. This development presupposes a quite differ 
ent and much more complicated relation to reality, a genuine 
reality function which is inseparably connected with the needs 
of reproduction. In other words, the altered mode of reproduc 
tion brings with it, as a correlate, a correspondingly enhanced 

125 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



adaptation to reality. This, of course, does not imply that the 
reality function owes its existence exclusively to the differentia 
tion in reproduction. I am fully aware of the indefinitely large 
role played by the nutritive function. 

285 In this way we gain some insight into the factors originally 
conditioning the reality function. It would be a fundamental 
error to say that its driving force is a sexual one. It was in large 
measure a sexual one originally, but even then not exclusively 
so. 

286 The process of absorption of primary libido into secondary 
functions probably always occurred in the form of "libidinal 
affluxes," that is to say sexuality was diverted from its original 
destination and part of it used for the mechanisms of attraction 
and protection of the young functions which gradually increase 
the higher you go in the phylogenetic scale. This transfer of 
sexual libido from the sexual sphere to subsidiary functions is 
still taking place. (Malthusianism, for instance, is an artificial 
continuation of the natural tendency.) Wherever this operation 
occurs without detriment to the adaptation of the individual 
we call it "sublimation," and "repression" when the attempt 
fails. 

287 The descriptive standpoint of psychoanalysis views the mul 
tiplicity of instincts, among them the sexual instinct, as partial 
phenomena, and, in addition, recognizes certain affluxes of li 
bido to nonsexual instincts. 

*88 The genetic standpoint is different. It regards the multiplic 
ity of instincts as issuing from a relative unity, the libido; it see 
how portions of libido continually split off from the reproduc 
tive function, add themselves as libidinal affluxes to the newly 
formed functions, and finally merge into them. 

289 From this point of view we can rightly say that the schizo 
phrenic withdraws his libido from the outside world and in 
consequence suffers a loss of reality compensated by an increase 
in fantasy activity. 



INFANTILE PERVERSIONS 

29 We shall now try to fit this new conception of libido into the 
theory of infantile sexuality, which is so very important for the 

126 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



theory of neurosis. In infants we find that libido as energy, as a 
vital activity, first manifests itself in the nutritional zone, where, 
in the act of sucking, food is taken in with a rhythmic movement 
and with every sign of satisfaction. With the growth of the in 
dividual and development of his organs the libido creates for 
itself new avenues of activity. The primary model of rhythmic 
movement, producing pleasure and satisfaction, is now trans 
ferred to the zone of the other functions, with sexuality as its 
ultimate goal. A considerable portion of the "alimentary li 
bido" has to convert itself into "sexual libido/' This transition 
does not take place quite suddenly at puberty, but only very 
gradually during the course of childhood. The libido can free 
itself only with difficulty and quite slowly from the modality of 
the nutritive function in order to pass over into the sexual 
function. 

29 1 In this transitional stage there are, so far as I am able to 
judge, two distinct phases: the phase of sucking, and the phase 
of displaced rhythmic activity. Sucking belongs by its very na 
ture to the sphere of the nutritive function, but outgrows it by 
ceasing to be a function of nutrition and becoming a rhythmic 
activity aiming at pleasure and satisfaction without intake of 
nourishment. At this point the hand comes in as an auxiliary 
organ. It appears even more clearly as an auxiliary organ in the 
phase of displaced rhythmic activity for pleasure, which then 
leaves the oral zone and turns to other regions. As a rule, it is 
the other body-openings that become the first objects of libidi- 
nal interest; then the skin, or special parts of it. The activities 
carried out in these places, taking the form of rubbing, boring, 
picking, pulling, and so forth, follow a certain rhythm and serve 
to produce pleasure. After lingering for a while at these stations, 
the libido continues its wanderings until it reaches the sexual 
zone, where it may provide occasion for the first attempts at 
masturbation. In the course of its migrations the libido carries 
traces of the nutritional phase into its new field of operations, 
which readily accounts for the many intimate connections be 
tween the nutritive and the sexual function. 10 This migration of 
libido takes place during the presexual stage, whose special dis 
tinguishing-mark is that the libido gradually sloughs off the 

10 [Pars. 290-91 likewise recur with small changes in Symbols of Transformation, 
par. 206. EDITORS.] 

127 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



character of the nutritive instinct and assumes that of the sexual 
instinct. 11 At the stage of nutrition, therefore, we cannot yet 
speak of a true sexual libido. 

292 In consequence, we are obliged to qualify the so-called poly 
morphous-perverse sexuality of early infancy. The polymor 
phism of libidinal strivings at this period can be explained as 
the gradual migration of libido, stage by stage, away from the 
sphere of the nutritive function into that of the sexual function. 
Thus the term "perverse," so bitterly attacked by our critics, 
can be dropped, since it creates a false impression. 

293 When a chemical substance breaks up into its elements, these 
elements are, under those conditions, products of disintegration. 
But it is not permissible to describe all elements whatsoever as 
products of disintegration. Perversions are disturbed products 
of a developed sexuality. They are never the initial stages of 
sexuality, although there is an undoubted similarity between 
the initial stage and the product of disintegration. As sexuality 
develops, its infantile stages, which should no longer be re 
garded as "perverse" but as rudimentary and provisional, re 
solve themselves into normal sexuality. The more smoothly the 
libido withdraws from its provisional positions, the more quickly 
and completely does the formation of normal sexuality take 
place. It is of the essence of normal sexuality that all those early 
infantile tendencies which are not yet sexual should be sloughed 
off as much as possible. The less this is so, the more perverse 
will sexuality become. Here the expression "perverse" is alto 
gether appropriate. The basic conditioning factor in perversion, 
therefore, is an infantile, insufficiently developed state of sexu 
ality. The expression "polymorphous-perverse" has been bor 
rowed from the psychology of neurosis and projected backwards 
into the psychology of the child, where of course it is quite out 
of place. 

11 (I must ask the reader not to misunderstand my figurative way of speaking. It 
is, of course, not libido as energy that gradually frees itself from the function of 
nutrition, but libido as a function, which is bound up with the slow changes of 
organic growth.) 



128 



4. NEUROSIS AND AETIOLOGICAL FACTORS 
IN CHILDHOOD 

294 Now that we have ascertained what is to be understood by 
infantile sexuality, we can follow up the discussion of the theory 
of neurosis, which we began in the first lecture and then 
dropped. We followed the theory of neurosis up to the point 
where we ran up against Freud's statement that the predisposi 
tion which makes traumatic experiences pathogenically effec 
tive is a sexual one. Helped by our reflections since then, we 
can now understand how that sexual predisposition is to be con 
ceived: it is a retardation, a check in the process of freeing the 
libido from the activities of the presexual stage. The disturb 
ance must be regarded in the first place as a temporary fixation: 
the libido lingers too long at certain stations in the course of its 
migration from the nutritive function to the sexual function. 
This produces a state of disharmony because provisional and, 
as it were, outworn activities still persist at a period when they 
should have been given up. This formula can be applied to all 
those infantile features which are so prevalent in neurotics that 
no attentive observer can have failed to notice them. In de 
mentia praecox the infantilism is so striking that it has even 
given a telltale name to one particular syndrome hebephrenia 
(literally, 'adolescent mind'). 

295 The matter is not ended, however, by saying that the libido 
lingers too long in the preliminary stages. For while the libido 
is lingering, time does not stand still, and the development of 
the individual is proceeding apace. Physical maturation height 
ens the discrepancy between the perseverating infantile activity 
and the demands of later years with their changed conditions 
of life. In this way the foundation is laid for a dissociation of the 
personality, and hence for a conflict, which is the real basis of a 
neurosis. The more the libido is engaged in retarded activities, 
the more intense will the conflict be. The particular experience 

129 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



best suited to make this conflict manifest is a traumatic or patho 
genic one. 

296 As Freud has shown in his early writings, one can easily 
imagine a neurosis arising in this way. It was a conception that 
fitted in quite well with the views of Janet, who attributed a 
neurosis to some kind of defect. From this standpoint one could 
regard neurosis as a product of retarded affective development, 
and I can easily imagine that this conception must seem self- 
evident to anyone who is inclined to derive the neuroses more 
or less directly from a hereditary taint or congenital degeneracy. 
Unfortunately the real state of affairs is much more compli 
cated. In order to give you some idea of these complications, I 
shall cite a very ordinary example of hysteria, which I hope will 
show you how characteristic and how extremely important they 
are theoretically. 

297 You will probably remember the case of the young hysteric 
I mentioned earlier, who, surprisingly enough, did not react to 
a situation which might have been expected to make a profound 
impression on her, and yet displayed an unexpected and patho 
logically violent reaction to a quite ordinary occurrence. We 
took this occasion to express our doubt as to the aetiological 
significance of the trauma, and to investigate more closely the 
so-called predisposition which rendered the trauma effective. 
The result of that investigation led to the conclusion just men 
tioned, that it is by no means improbable that the origin of a 
neurosis is due to a retardation of affective development. 

98 You will now ask in what way the patient's affective develop 
ment was retarded. The answer is that she lived in a world of 
fantasy which can only be described as infantile. It is unneces 
sary for me to give you a description of these fantasies, for, as 
neurologists or psychiatrists, you undoubtedly have a daily op 
portunity to listen to the childish prejudices, illusions, and emo 
tional demands of neurotics. The disinclination to face stern 
reality is the distinguishing feature of these fantasies; there is a 
lack of seriousness, a playfulness in them, which sometimes 
frivolously disguises real difficulties, at other times makes moun 
tains out of molehills, always thinking up fantastic ways of 
evading the demands of real life. We immediately recognize in 
them the intemperate psychic attitude of the child to reality, his 
precarious judgment, his lack of orientation, his dislike of un- 

130 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



pleasant duties. With such an infantile mentality all manner of 
wishful fantasies and illusions can grow luxuriantly, and this is 
where the danger comes in. By means of these fantasies people 
can easily slip into an unreal and completely unadapted atti 
tude to the world, which sooner or later must lead to catastrophe. 



THE TRAUMA THEORY CRITICIZED 

299 If we follow the patient's infantile fantasy-life back into 
earliest childhood, we find, it is true, many obviously outstand 
ing scenes which might well serve to provide fresh food for this 
or that fantastic variation, but it would be vain to search for the 
so-called traumatic elements from which something patholog 
ical, for instance her abnormal fantasy activity, might have orig 
inated. There were plenty of "traumatic" scenes, but they did 
not lie in early childhood; and the few scenes of early childhood 
which were remembered did not appear to be traumatic, being 
more like accidental experiences which passed by without hav 
ing any effect worth mentioning on her fantasies. The earliest 
fantasies consisted of all sorts of vague and half-understood im 
pressions she had received of her parents. All sorts of special 
feelings clustered round the father, fluctuating between fear, 
horror, aversion, disgust, love, and ecstasy. The case was like so 
many other cases of hysteria for which no traumatic aetiology 
can be found; they are rooted instead in a peculiar, premature 
fantasy activity which permanently retains its infantile char 
acter. 

300 You will object that it is just that scene with the bolting 
horses that represents the trauma, and that this was obviously 
the model for that nocturnal scene eighteen years later, when 
the patient could not get out of the way of the horses trotting 
along behind her and wanted to throw herself into the river, 
following the model of the horses and carriage plunging down 
the ravine. From this moment on she also suffered from hys 
terical twilight states. But, as I tried to show you in my earlier 
lecture, we find no trace of any such aetiological connection in 
the development of her fantasy system. It is as though the dan 
ger of losing her life, that first time with the bolting horses, 
passed by without noticeable effect. In all the years following 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



that experience there was no discernible trace of that fright, 
It was as though it had never happened. In parenthesis let me 
add that perhaps it never happened at all. There is nothing to 
prevent it from being sheer fantasy, for here I have only the 
statements of the patient to rely on. 1 

301 Suddenly, after eighteen years, this experience becomes sig 
nificant, is reproduced and acted out in all its details. The old 
theory says: the previously blocked affect has suddenly forced 
its way to the surface. This assumption is extremely unlikely 
and becomes still more inconceivable when we consider that the 
story of the bolting horses may not even be true. Be that as it 
may, it is almost inconceivable that an affect should remain 
buried for years and then suddenly explode at an unsuitable 
opportunity. 

302 It is very suspicious, too, that patients often have a pro 
nounced tendency to account for their ailments by some long- 
past experience, ingeniously drawing the analyst's attention 
away from the present to some false track in the past. This false 
track was the one pursued by the first psychoanalytical theory. 
But to this false hypothesis we owe an insight into the deter 
mination of neurotic symptoms which we should never have 
reached if the investigators had not trodden this path, guided 
into it, really, by the tendency of the patient to mislead. I think 
that only those who regard the happenings in this world as a 
concatenation of errors and accidents, and who therefore be 
lieve that the pedagogic hand of the rationalist is constantly 
needed to guide us, can ever imagine that this path was an aber 
ration from which we should have been warned off with a sign 
board. Besides the deeper insight into psychological determina 
tion, we owe to this "error" a method of inquiry of incalculable 
importance. It is for us to rejoice and be thankful that Freud 
had the courage to let himself be guided along this path. Not 
thus is the progress of science hindered, but rather by blind 
adherence to insights once gained, by the typical conservatism 
of authority, by the childish vanity of the savant and his fear of 
making mistakes. This lack of courage is considerably more 
injurious to the name of science than an honest error. When 

i (It may not be superfluous to remark that there are still people who believe that 
psychologists swallow the lies of their patients. That is quite impossible. Lies are 
fantasies, and we deal in fantasies.) 

132 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



will there be an end to the incessant squabbling about who is 
right? One has only to look at the history of science: how many 
have been right, and how few have remained right 1 



THE PARENTAL COMPLEX 

303 But to return to our case. The question that now arises is 
this: if the old trauma is not of aetiological significance, then 
the cause of the manifest neurosis is obviously to be sought in 
the retardation of affective development. We must therefore re 
gard the patient's statement that her hysterical twilight states 
were caused by the fright she got with the horses as null and 
void, although that fright was the starting-point for her mani 
fest illness. This experience merely seems to be important with 
out being so in reality, a formulation which is true of most 
other traumata. They merely seem to be important because they 
provide occasion for the manifestation of a condition that has 
long been abnormal. The abnormal condition, as we have al 
ready explained, consists in the anachronistic persistence of an 
infantile stage of libido development. The patients continue to 
hang on to forms of libido activity which they should have aban 
doned long ago. It is almost impossible to catalogue these forms, 
so extraordinarily varied are they. The commonest, which is 
scarcely ever absent, is an excessive fantasy activity charac 
terized by a thoughtless overvaluation of subjective wishes. Ex 
cessive fantasy activity is always a sign of faulty application of 
libido to reality. Instead of being used for the best possible 
adaptation to the actual circumstances, it gets stuck in fantastic 
applications. We call this state one of partial introversion when 
libido is used for the maintenance of fantasies and illusions in 
stead of being adapted to the actual conditions of life. 

304 A regular concomitant of this retardation of affective de 
velopment is the parental complex. When the libido is not used 
for purposes of real adaptation it is always more or less intro 
verted. 2 The material content of the psychic world consists of 

2 (Introversion does not mean that libido simply accumulates inactively. But it is 
used for the creation of fantasies and illusions when the introversion results in 
regression to an infantile mode of adaptation. Introversion can also lead to action 
on a rational plane.) 

133 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



memories, that is, of material from the individual's past (aside 
from actual perceptions). If the libido is partially or totally 
introverted, it invests to a greater or lesser degree large areas of 
memory, with the result that these reminiscences acquire a 
vitality that no longer properly belongs to them. The patients 
then live more or less entirely in the world of the past. They 
battle with difficulties which once played a role in their lives 
but which ought to have faded out long ago. They still worry, 
or rather are forced to worry, about things which should long 
since have ceased to be important. They amuse or torment them 
selves with fancies which, in the normal course of events, were 
once significant but no longer have any significance for adults. 

35 Among the things that were of the utmost significance at 
the infantile period the most influential are the personalities 
of the parents. Even when the parents have long been dead and 
have lost, or should have lost, all significance, the situation of 
the patient having perhaps completely changed since then, they 
are still somehow present and as important as if they were still 
alive. The patient's love, admiration, resistance, hatred, and 
rebelliousness still cling to their effigies, transfigured by affec 
tion or distorted by envy, and often bearing little resemblance 
to the erstwhile reality. It was this fact that compelled me to 
speak no longer of "father" and "mother" but to employ instead 
the term "imago," because these fantasies are not concerned any 
more with the real father and mother but with subjective and 
often very much distorted images of them which lead a shadowy 
but nonetheless potent existence in the mind of the patient. 

3 6 The complex of the parental imagos, that is, the whole tissue 
of ideas relating to the parents, provides an important field of 
activity for the introverted libido. I should mention in passing 
that the complex in itself leads but a shadowy existence if it is 
not invested with libido. In accordance with the earlier usage 
worked out in my Studies in Word Association, the word "com 
plex" denoted a system of ideas already invested with libido and 
activated by it. But this system also exists in potentia, ready for 
possible action, even when not temporarily or permanently in 
vested with libido. 



134 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



PARENTAL INFLUENCES ON CHILDREN 

37 At the time when psychoanalytic theory was still dominated 
by the trauma concept and, in conformity with that view, was 
inclined to look for the causa efficient of the neurosis in the past, 
it seemed to us that the parental complex was, as Freud called 
it, the "nuclear complex" of neurosis. The role of the parents 
seemed to be so powerful a factor that we were apt to blame 
them for all the subsequent complications in the life of the pa 
tient. Some years ago I discussed this in my paper, "The Signifi 
cance of the Father in the Destiny of the Individual." a Once 
again we had allowed ourselves to be guided by the tendency of 
the patient to revert to the past, following the direction of his 
introverted libido. This time, certainly, it was no longer an ex 
ternal, accidental experience or event which seemed to produce 
the pathogenic effect; it was rather a psychological effect appar 
ently arising out of the individual's difficulties in adapting to 
the conditions of the family milieu. The disharmony between 
the parents on the one hand and between the parents and the 
child on the other seemed especially liable to produce psychic 
currents in the child which were incompatible with his indi 
vidual way of life. 

S 8 In the paper just alluded to I cited a number of instances, 
taken from a wealth of material on this subject, which show 
these effects particularly clearly. The effects apparently ema 
nating from the parents are not limited to the endless recrimi 
nations of their neurotic offspring, who constantly lay the 
blame for their illness on their family circumstances or bad 
upbringing, but extend even to actual events in the life of the 
patients, where no such determining influence could have been 
expected. The lively imitativeness which we find in primitives 
as well as in children can give rise, in particularly sensitive chil 
dren, to a peculiar inner identification with the parents, to a 
mental attitude so similar to theirs that effects in real life are 
sometimes produced which, even in detail, resemble the per 
sonal experiences of the parents. 4 

3 [See infra, pars. 67off.] 

4 (I am discounting the inherited organic similarity which is naturally responsible 
for many things but by no means all.) 

135 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



39 For the empirical material on this subject, I must refer you 
to the literature, but should just like to remind you that one of 
my pupils, Dr. Emma Fiirst, has adduced valuable experimental 
proofs in regard to this problem. I have already referred to her 
researches in my lectures at Clark University. 5 By applying the 
association test to whole families, Dr. Fiirst established the great 
conformity of reaction type among all members of one family. 
These experiments show that very often there exists an uncon 
scious concordance of association between parents and children, 
which can only be explained as an intensive imitation or identi 
fication. The results of these researches indicate a far-reaching 
parallelism of biological tendencies that readily explains the 
sometimes astonishing similarity in the destinies of parents and 
children. Our destinies are as a rule the outcome of our psy 
chological tendencies. 

3*0 These facts enable us to understand why not only the pa 
tients themselves, but the theories that have been built on these 
researches, tend to assume that neurosis is the result of the char- 
acterological influence of the parents on the children. This as 
sumption is, moreover, supported by the experience which lies 
at the base of all education, namely, the plasticity of the child's 
mind, which is commonly compared with soft wax, taking up 
and preserving all impressions. We know that the first impres 
sions of childhood accompany us inalienably throughout life, 
and that, just as indestructibly, certain educational influences 
can keep people all their lives within those limits. In these cir 
cumstances it is not surprising that conflicts break out between 
the personality moulded by educational and other influences of 
the infantile milieu and one's own individual style of life. It is a 
conflict which all those must face who are called upon to live a 
life that is independent and creative. 

3 11 Owing to the enormous influence which childhood has on 
the later development of character, you will readily understand 
why one would like to attribute the cause of a neurosis directly 
to the influences of the infantile environment. I must confess 

5 [Fiirst, "Statistical Investigations on Word-Associations and on Familial Agree 
ment in Reaction Type among Uneducated Persons" (orig. 1905). Jung's discus 
sion of her work occurred in the second of the Clark Lectures under the title 
"Familial Constellations," and it appears as the latter part of "The Association 
Method" in Vol. 2. EDITORS.] 

136 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



that I have known cases in which any other explanation seemed 
to me less plausible. There are indeed parents whose own con 
tradictory nature causes them to treat their children in so un 
reasonable a fashion that the children's illness would appear to 
be unavoidable. Hence it is almost a rule among nerve special 
ists to remove neurotic children, whenever possible, from the 
dangerous family atmosphere and place them among more 
healthy influences, where, even without any medical treatment, 
they thrive much better than at home. There are many neurotic 
patients who were clearly neurotic as children and so have never 
been free from illness since childhood. In such cases the view 
outlined above seems generally valid. 



THE INFANTILE MENTALITY 

312 This knowledge, which for the time being seemed to us defin 
itive, was considerably deepened by the researches of Freud 
and the psychoanalytic school. The parent-child relationship 
was studied in all its details, since it was just this relationship 
which was considered aetiologically important. It was soon no 
ticed that these patients really did live partly or entirely in their 
childhood world, although themselves quite unconscious of this 
fact. On the contrary, it was the arduous task of psychoanalysis 
to investigate the psychological mode of adaptation so thor 
oughly that one could put one's finger on the infantile misun 
derstandings. As you know, a striking number of neurotics were 
spoiled as children. Such cases offer the best and clearest exam 
ples of the infantilism of their psychological mode of adaptation. 
They start out in life expecting the same friendly reception, 
tenderness, and easy success to which they were accustomed by 
their parents in their youth. Even very intelligent patients are 
incapable of seeing that from the very beginning they owe the 
complications of their lives as well as their neurosis to dragging 
their infantile emotional attitude along with them. The small 
world of the child, the family milieu, is the model for the big 
world. The more intensely the family sets its stamp on the child, 
the more he will be emotionally inclined, as an adult, to see in 
the great world his former small world. Of course this must not 
be taken as a conscious intellectual process. On the contrary, 

137 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



the patient feels and sees the difference between now and then, 
and tries as well as he can to adapt himself. Perhaps he will even 
believe himself perfectly adapted, since he may be able to grasp 
the situation intellectually, but that does not prevent his emo 
tions from lagging far behind his intellectual insight. 
5*3 It is scarcely necessary to give you examples of this phenom 
enon, for it is an everyday experience that our emotions never 
come up to the level of our insight. It is exactly the same with 
the neurotic, but greatly intensified. He may perhaps believe 
that, except for his neurosis, he is a normal person, fully adapted 
to the conditions of life. It never crosses his mind that he has 
still not given up certain infantile demands, that he still carries 
with him, in the background, expectations and illusions of 
which he has never made himself conscious. He indulges in all 
sorts of pet fantasies, of which he is seldom, if ever, so conscious 
that he knows that he has them. Very often they exist only as 
emotional expectations, hopes, prejudices, and so forth. In this 
case we call them unconscious fantasies. Sometimes they appear 
on the fringe of consciousness as fleeting thoughts, only to vanish 
again the next moment, so that the patient is unable to say 
whether he had such fantasies or not. It is only during psycho 
analytic treatment that most patients learn to retain and observe 
these fugitive thoughts. Although most fantasies were once con 
scious, for a moment, as fleeting thoughts, it would not do to 
call them conscious, because most of the time they are practically 
unconscious. It is therefore right to call them unconscious fan 
tasies, Of course there are also infantile fantasies which are 
perfectly conscious and can be reproduced at any time. 



5. THE FANTASIES OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 

3*4 The realm of unconscious infantile fantasies has become the 
real object of psychoanalytic research, for it seems to offer the 
key to the aetiology of neurosis. Here, quite otherwise than with 
the trauma theory, we are forced by all the reasons we have 
mentioned to assume that the roots of the psychological present 
are to be found in the family history of 'the patient. 

3*5 The fantasy systems which patients present on being ques 
tioned are mostly of a composite nature and are elaborated like 
a novel or a drama. But, despite their elaboration, they are of 
relatively little value in investigating the unconscious. Just be 
cause they are conscious, they defer too much to the demands 
of etiquette and social morality. They have been purged of all 
painful personal details, and also of everything ugly, thereby 
becoming socially presentable and revealing very little. The 
more valuable and evidently more influential fantasies are not 
conscious, in the sense previously defined, and so have to be dug 
out by the psychoanalytic technique. 

316 Without wishing to enter fully into the question of tech 
nique, I must here meet an objection that is constantly heard. 
It is that the so-called unconscious fantasies are merely sug 
gested to the patient and exist only in the mind of the analyst. 
This objection is on the same vulgar level as those which impute 
to us the crude mistakes of beginners. Only people with no psy 
chological experience and no knowledge of the history of psy 
chology are capable of making such accusations. No one with 
the faintest glimmering of mythology could possibly fail to see 
the startling parallels between the unconscious fantasies brought 
to light by the psychoanalytic school and mythological ideas. 
The objection that our knowledge of mythology has been sug 
gested to the patient is without foundation, because the psycho 
analytic school discovered the fantasies first and only then be 
came acquainted with their mythology. Mythology, as we know, 
is something quite outside the ken of the medical man. 

139 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



3*7 As these fantasies are unconscious, the patient is naturally 
unaware of their existence, and to question him about them di 
rectly would be quite pointless. Nevertheless it is said over and 
over again, not only by patients but by so-called normal per 
sons: "But if I had such fantasies, surely I would know it!" But 
what is unconscious is in truth something that we do not know. 
Our opponents, too, are firmly convinced that such things do 
not exist. This a priori judgment is pure scholasticism and has 
no grounds to support it. We cannot possibly rest on the dogma 
that consciousness alone is the psyche, for we have daily proof 
that our consciousness is only a part of the psychic function. 
When the contents of our consciousness appear they are already 
in a highly complex state; the constellation of our thoughts 
from the material contained in our memory is a predominantly 
unconscious process. We are therefore obliged to assume, 
whether we like it or not, the existence of a non-conscious psy 
chic sphere, even if only as a "negative borderline concept," 
like Kant's Ding an sich. Since we perceive effects whose origin 
cannot be found in consciousness, we are compelled to allow 
hypothetical contents to the sphere of the non-conscious, which 
means presupposing that the origin of those effects lies in the 
unconscious precisely because it is not conscious. This con 
ception of the unconscious can hardly be accused of "mysti 
cism." We do not pretend to know or to assert anything positive 
about the state of psychic elements in the unconscious. Instead, 
we have formulated symbolical concepts in a manner analogous 
to our formulation of conscious concepts, and this terminology 
has proved its value in practice. 



THE CONCEPT OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 

This way of thinking is the only possible one if we accept 
the axiom that "principles are not to be multiplied beyond the 
necessary." We therefore speak about the effects of the uncon 
scious just as we do about the phenomena of consciousness. 
Great objection was taken to Freud's statement: "The uncon 
scious can only wish." This was regarded as an unheard-of 
metaphysical assertion, something like a tenet from von Hart- 
mann's Philosophy of the Unconscious. The indignation was 

140 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



due simply to the fact that these critics, unknown to themselves, 
evidently started from a metaphysical conception of the uncon 
scious as an ens per se, and naively projected their epistemologi- 
cally unclarified ideas on to us. For us the unconscious is not an 
entity in this sense but a mere term, about whose metaphysical 
essence we do not permit ourselves to form any idea. In this we 
are unlike those arm-chair psychologists who are not only per 
fectly informed about the localization of the psyche in the brain 
and the physiological correlates of mental processes, but can as 
sert positively that beyond consciousness there are nothing but 
"physiological processes in the cortex." 

319 Such naivetes should not be imputed to us. When Freud 
says that the unconscious can only wish, he is describing in sym 
bolical terms effects whose source is not conscious, but which 
from the standpoint of conscious thinking can only be regarded 
as analogous to wishes. The psychoanalytic school is, moreover, 
aware that the discussion as to whether "wishing" is a suitable 
analogy or not can be reopened at any time. Anybody who 
knows a better one will be welcome. Instead of which, our op 
ponents content themselves with denying the existence of these 
phenomena or else, if certain phenomena have to be admitted, 
they abstain from all theoretical formulations. This last point is 
understandable enough, since it is not everyone's business to 
think theoretically. 

320 Once one has succeeded in freeing oneself from the dogma 
of the psyche's identity with consciousness, thus admitting the 
possible existence of extra-conscious psychic processes, one can 
not, a priori, either assert or deny anything about the potentiali 
ties of the unconscious. The psychoanalytic school has been ac 
cused of making assertions without sufficient grounds. It seems 
to us that the abundant, perhaps too abundant case-material 
contained in the literature offers enough and more than enough 
grounds, yet it does not seem sufficient for our opponents. There 
must be a good deal of difference as to the meaning of the word 
"sufficient" in regard to the validity of these grounds. So we 
must ask: Why does the psychoanalytic school apparently de 
mand far less exacting proofs of its formulations than its oppo 
nents? 

321 The reason is simple. An engineer who has built a bridge 
and calculated its load needs no further proof of its holding 

141 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



capacity. But a sceptical layman, who has no notion how a 
bridge is built, or what is the strength of the material used, will 
demand quite different proofs of its holding capacity, since he 
can have no confidence in it. It is chiefly the profound ignorance 
of our opponents about what we are doing that screws their de 
mands up to such a pitch. In the second place, there are the 
countless theoretical misunderstandings: it is impossible for us 
to know them all and to clear them up. Just as we find in our 
patients new and ever more astounding misconceptions about 
the ways and aims of psychoanalysis, so our critics display an 
inexhaustible ingenuity in misunderstanding. You can see from 
our discussion of the concept of the unconscious just what 
kind of false philosophical assumptions can vitiate understand 
ing of our terminology. Obviously a person who thinks of the 
unconscious as an absolute entity is bound to require proofs of 
a totally different kind, utterly beyond our power to give, as our 
opponents in fact do. Had we to offer proof of immortality, 
mountains of proofs of the weightiest nature would have to be 
furnished, very different from what would be required to dem 
onstrate the existence of plasmodia in a malaria patient. Meta 
physical expectations still bedevil scientific thinking far too 
much for the problems of psychoanalysis to be seen in their own 
frame of reference. 

322 But, in fairness to our critics, I must admit that the psycho 
analytic school has itself given rise to plenty of misunderstand 
ings, even though in all innocence. One of the principal sources 
is the confusion that reigns in the theoretical sphere. Regretta 
ble though it is, we have no presentable theory. You would 
understand this if you could see in concrete instances the enor 
mous difficulties we have to wrestle with. Contrary to the 
opinion of nearly all the critics, Freud is anything rather than 
a theorist. He is an empiricist, as anyone must admit who is 
willing to go at all deeply into Freud's writings and to try to see 
his cases as he sees them. Unfortunately, our critics are not 
willing. As we have repeatedly been told, it is "repulsive and 
disgusting" to see them as Freud does. But how can anyone learn 
the nature of Freud's method if he allows himself to be put off 
by disgust? Just because people make no effort to accommodate 
themselves to Freud's point of view, adopted perhaps as a neces 
sary working hypothesis, they come to the absurd conclusion 

142 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



that he is a theorist. They readily assume that Three Essays on 
the Theory of Sexuality is simply a theory, invented by a specu 
lative brain, and that everything is put into the patient's head 
by suggestion. But that is turning things upside down. This 
makes it easy for the critics, which is just what they want. They 
pay no attention at all to the "couple of case-histories" with 
which the psychoanalyst conscientiously documents his theoreti 
cal statements, but only to the theory and the formulation of 
technique. The weak spots of psychoanalysis are not to be found 
herefor psychoanalysis is essentially empirical though here, 
undoubtedly, is a large and insufficiently cultivated field where 
the critics can romp to their heart's content. In the field of 
theory there are many uncertainties and not a few contradic 
tions. We were conscious of this long before our learned critics 
began to honour us with their attentions. 



THE DREAM 

323 After this digression we will return to the question of uncon 
scious fantasies which occupied us before. Nobody, as we have 
seen, has the right to assert their existence or define their quali 
ties unless effects of unconscious origin are observed which can 
be expressed in terms of conscious symbolism. The only ques 
tion is whether effects can in fact be found that comply with this 
expectation. The psychoanalytic school believes it has discov 
ered such effects. I will mention the principal phenomenon at 
once: the dream. 

324 Of this it may be said that it enters consciousness as a com 
plex structure compounded of elements whose connection with 
each other is not conscious. Only afterwards, by adding a series 
of associations to the individual images in the dream, can we 
show that these images had their origin in certain memories of 
the recent past. We ask ourselves: Where have I seen or heard 
that? And then, by the ordinary process of association, comes 
the memory that certain parts of the dream have been con 
sciously experienced, some the day before, some earlier. So far 
there will be general agreement, for these things have been 
known for a long time. To that extent the dream presents itself 
to us as a more or less unintelligible jumble of elements not at 

143 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



first conscious and only recognized afterwards through their 
associations. 1 It should be added that not all parts of the dream 
have a recognizable quality from which their conscious char 
acter can be deduced; they are often, and indeed mostly, un 
recognizable at first. Only afterwards does it occur to us that we 
have consciously experienced this or that part of the dream. 
From this standpoint alone we may regard the dream as a prod 
uct of unconscious origin. 

325 The technique for exploring the unconscious origin is the 
one I have just mentioned, used as a matter of course long before 
Freud by every dream-investigator. We simply try to remember 
where the parts of the dream came from. The psychoanalytic 
technique of dream elucidation is based on this very simple 
principle. It is a fact that certain parts of the dream are derived 
from our waking life, from events which, on account of their 
obvious unimportance, would have fallen into oblivion and 
were already on the way to becoming definitely unconscious. It 
is just these parts that are the effects of "unconscious ideas." 
Exception has been taken to this expression too. Naturally we 
do not take things nearly so concretely, not to say ponderously, 
as our critics. Certainly this expression is nothing more than 
conscious symbolismwe were never in any doubt on that point. 
But it is perfectly clear and serves very well as a sign for an un 
known psychic fact. As I have said before, we have no alterna 
tive but to conceive the unconscious by analogy with the con 
scious. We do not pretend that we understand a thing merely 
because we have invented a sonorous and all-but-incomprehen 
sible name for it. 



THE METHOD OF DREAM-ANALYSIS 

3*6 The principle of psychoanalytic elucidation is, therefore, 
extraordinarily simple and has actually been known for a long 
time. The subsequent procedure follows logically along the 

i (This might be disputed on the ground that it is an a priori assertion. I must 
remark, however, that this view conforms to the one generally accepted working 
hypothesis concerning the origin of dreams: that they are derived from the ex 
periences and thoughts of the recent past. We are, therefore, moving on known 
ground.) 

144 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



same lines. If we get really absorbed in a dream which naturally 
never happens outside analysis we shall succeed in discovering 
still more reminiscences about the individual dream-parts. But 
we are not always successful in finding reminiscences about 
some of them. These must be put aside for the time being. 
(When I say "reminiscences" I do not mean only memories of 
actual experiences; I also mean the reproduction of meaningful 
associations and connections.) The reminiscences so gathered 
are called the "dream-material." We treat this material in ac 
cordance with a generally accepted scientific principle. If you 
have any experimental material to work up, you compare its 
individual parts and classify them according to their similarities. 
You proceed in exactly the same way with dream-material; you 
look for the common features, whether of form or content. 

327 In doing this one has to get rid, so far as possible, of certain 
prejudices. I have observed that the beginner is always looking 
for some special feature and then tries to force his material to 
conform to his expectations. I have noticed this particularly 
with colleagues who, because of the well-known prejudices and 
misunderstandings, were once passionate opponents of psycho 
analysis. If it was my fate to analyse them, and they at last 
obtained real insight into the method, the first mistake they 
generally made in their psychoanalytic work was to do violence 
to the material by their own preconceived opinions. That is, 
they now vented their previous attitude to psychoanalysis on 
their material, which they could not assess objectively but only 
in terms of their subjective fantasies. 

328 Once embarked on the task of examining the dream-ma 
terial, you must not shrink from any comparison. The material 
usually consists of very disparate images, from which it is some 
times very difficult to extract the tertium comparationis. I must 
refrain from giving detailed examples, as it is quite impossible 
to discuss such voluminous material in a lecture. I would, how 
ever, like to call your attention to a paper by Rank on "a dream 
which interprets itself." 2 There you will see how extensive is 
the material that must be taken into account for purposes of 
comparison. 

329 Hence, in exploring the unconscious, we proceed in the 

2 "Ein Traum, der sich selbst deutet" (1910). 

145 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



usual way when conclusions are to be drawn by the comparative 
method. It has often been objected: Why should a dream have 
any unconscious content at all? This objection is in my view 
about as unscientific as it could possibly be. Every psychological 
element has its special history. Every sentence I utter has, be 
sides the meaning consciously intended by me, its historical 
meaning, which may turn out to be quite different from its con 
scious meaning. I am expressing myself somewhat paradoxically 
on purpose: I do not mean that I could explain the historical 
meaning of every individual sentence. That is easier in the case 
of larger and more complex structures. Thus, it will be clear to 
everyone that, apart from the manifest content of a poem, the 
poem itself is especially characteristic of the poet in regard to 
its form, content, and manner of origin. While the poet merely 
gave expression in his poem to the mood of the moment, the 
literary historian will see things in it and behind it which the 
poet would never have suspected. The analysis which the liter 
ary historian makes of the poet's material is exactly comparable 
with the method of psychoanalysis, not excluding the mistakes 
that may creep in. 

33 The psychoanalytic method can be compared with historical 
analysis and synthesis in general. Suppose, for instance, we did 
not understand the meaning of the baptismal rite practised in 
our churches today. The priest tells us: baptism means the ad 
mission of the child into the Christian community. But this does 
not satisfy us. Why is the child sprinkled with water? In order 
to understand this ceremony, we must gather together from the 
whole history of ritual, that is, from mankind's memories of the 
relevant traditions, a body of comparative material culled from 
the most varied sources: 

1. Baptism is clearly a rite of initiation, a consecration. 
Therefore we have to collect all memories in which any initia 
tion rites are preserved. 

2. The act of baptism is performed with water. Foi this 
special form another series of memories must be collected, 
namely, of rites in which water is used. 

3. The person to be baptized is sprinkled with water. Here 
we have to collect all those rites in which the neophyte is sprin 
kled, immersed, etc. 

4. All reminiscences from mythology, folklore, as well as 

146 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



superstitious practices, etc., have to be recalled, in so far as they 
run in any way parallel to the symbolism of the baptismal act. 

33 * In this way we build up a comparative study of the act of 
baptism. We discover the elements out of which the baptismal 
act is formed; we ascertain, further, its original meaning, and at 
the same time become acquainted with the rich world, of myths 
that have laid the foundation of religions and help us to under 
stand the manifold and profound meanings of baptism. The 
analyst proceeds in the same way with a dream. He collects the 
historical parallels to every part of the dream, even the remotest, 
and tries to reconstruct the psychological history of the dream 
and its underlying meanings. Through this monographic elab 
oration we obtain, just as in the analysis of baptism, a profound 
insight into the marvellously delicate and meaningful network 
of unconscious determination an insight that may legitimately 
be compared with the historical understanding of an act which 
we had hitherto regarded in a very superficial and one-sided 
way. 

33 2 This excursus seemed to me unavoidable. In view of the nu 
merous misunderstandings of all those who constantly seek to 
discredit the psychoanalytic method, I felt obliged to give you a 
very general account of the method and its position within the 
methodology of science. I do not doubt that there are superficial 
and improper applications of this method. But an intelligent 
critic should not allow this to detract from the method itself, 
any more than a bad surgeon should be used to discredit the 
value of surgery in general. I do not doubt, either, that not all 
the expositions of dream-psychology by psychoanalysts are en 
tirely free from misunderstandings and distortions. But much 
of this is due to the fact that, precisely because of his training 
in the natural sciences, it is difficult for the medical man to get 
an intellectual grasp of a very subtle psychological method, even 
though he instinctively handles it correctly. 

S33 The method I have described is the one I adopt and the one 
to which I hold myself scientifically responsible. To give advice 
about dreams and to make direct attempts at interpretation is, 
in my opinion, absolutely wrong and scientifically inadmissible. 
It is not a methodological but a quite arbitrary proceeding 
which defeats itself by the sterility of its results, like every false 
method. 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



334 If I have made the attempt to illustrate the principles of the 
psychoanalytic method by means of dream-analysis it is because 
the dream is one of the clearest examples of psychic contents 
whose composition eludes direct understanding. When someone 
knocks in a nail with a hammer in order to hang something up, 
we can understand every detail of the action; it is immediately 
evident. It is otherwise with the act of baptism, where every 
phase is problematic. We call these actions, whose meaning and 
purpose are not immediately evident, symbolic actions, or sym 
bols. On the basis of this reasoning we call a dream symbolic, 
because it is a psychological product whose origin, meaning, and 
purpose are obscure, and is therefore one of the purest products 
of unconscious constellation. As Freud aptly says, the dream is 
the via regia to the unconscious. 



THE ASSOCIATION EXPERIMENT 

835 There are many products of unconscious constellation be 
sides dreams. In the association experiment we have a means of 
determining exactly the influence of the unconscious. We see 
these effects in the disturbances which I have called "complex 
indicators/' The task which the association test sets the subject 
of the experiment is so extraordinarily simple that even children 
can accomplish it without difficulty. It is all the more surprising 
that, despite this, so many disturbances of the intended action 
should be registered. The only things that can regularly be 
shown to be causes of these disturbances are the partly con 
scious, partly unconscious constellations caused by complexes. 
In the majority of cases the connection of these disturbances 
with feeling-toned complexes can be demonstrated without diffi 
culty. But very often we must have recourse to the psychoan 
alytic method in order to explain the connection; that is, we 
must ask the patient what associations he can give to the dis 
turbed reactions. 

336 In this way we obtain the historical material on which to 
base our judgment. It has been objected that the patient could 
then say whatever he liked in other words, any old nonsense. 
This objection is made, I believe, on the unconscious assump 
tion that the historian who gathers material for his monograph 

148 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



is an imbecile, incapable of distinguishing real parallels from 
apparent ones and authentic reports from crude falsifications. 
The professional has means at his disposal for avoiding clumsy 
mistakes with certainty and more subtle ones with some prob 
ability. For anyone who understands psychoanalytic work it is 
a well-known fact that it is not so very difficult to see where 
there is coherence and where there is none. In addition, fraudu 
lent statements are in the first place very significant of the per 
son who makes them, and secondly they are easily recognized as 
fraudulent. 

337 (There is, however, another objection to be considered, 
which is more worth mentioning. One can ask oneself whether 
the reminiscences subsequently produced were really the basis 
of a dream. If, in the evening, I read an interesting account of 
a battle, and at night dream of the Balkan War, and then during 
analysis remember by association certain details in the account 
of the battle, even the most rigorous critic will fairly assume 
that my retrospective association is right and true. As I men 
tioned earlier, this is one of the most firmly entrenched hypoth 
eses regarding the origin of dreams. All we have done is to apply 
this working hypothesis consistently to all the remaining associ 
ations relating to all other parts of the dream. Ultimately, we 
are saying no more than that this dream-element is linked with 
this association, that it therefore has something to do with it, 
that there is a connection between the two things. When a dis 
tinguished critic once remarked that, by means of psychoanalytic 
interpretations, one could even connect a cucumber with an 
elephant, this worthy showed us, by the very fact of associating 
"cucumber" with "elephant," that these two things somehow 
have an associative connection in his mind. One must have a lot 
of nerve and a magisterial judgment to declare that the human 
mind produces entirely meaningless associations. In this in 
stance, only a little reflection is needed to understand the mean 
ing of the association.) 

33 8 In the association experiment we can ascertain the extraor 
dinarily intense effects emanating from the unconscious precisely 
through the interference of complexes. The slips and faults in 
the experiment are nothing but prototypes of the mistakes we 
make in everyday life, the majority of which must be regarded 
as due to the interference of complexes. Freud has gathered 

149 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



this material together in his book The Psychopathology of 
Everyday Life. It includes the so-called symptomatic actions 
which from another point of view might equally well be called 
"symbolic actions' 'and real slips like lapses of memory, slips 
of the tongue, and so on. All these phenomena are effects of un 
conscious constellations and are therefore so many gateways to 
the realm of the unconscious. When they are cumulative, we 
have to call them a neurosis, which from this point of view looks 
like a dysfunction and must be understood as the effect of an 
unconscious constellation. 

339 Thus the association experiment is, not infrequently, a 
means of unlocking the unconscious directly, although mostly 
it is simply a technique for obtaining a wide selection of faulty 
reactions which can then be used for exploring the unconscious 
by psychoanalysis. At least, this is its most reliable form of appli 
cation at present. However, it is possible that it will furnish 
other, especially valuable facts which would give us direct 
glimpses of the unconscious, but I do not consider this question 
sufficiently ripe to speak about yet. 



150 



6. THE OEDIPUS COMPLEX 

34 After what I have told you about our method you may have 
gained rather more confidence in its scientific character, and 
will be inclined to agree that the fantasies which have been 
brought to light by psychoanalytic research are not just the 
arbitrary suppositions and illusions of psychoanalysts. Perhaps 
you will even be willing to listen patiently to what these prod 
ucts of unconscious fantasy can tell us. 

341 The fantasies of adults are, in so far as they are conscious, 
immensely varied and take the most strongly individual forms. 
It is therefore impossible to give a general description of them. 
But it is very different when we enter by means of analysis into 
the world of unconscious fantasies. The diversity of the fantasy- 
material is indeed very great, but we do not find nearly so many 
individual peculiarities as in the conscious realm. We meet here 
with more typical material which is not infrequently repeated 
in similar form in different individuals. Constantly recurring in 
these fantasies are ideas which are variations of those found in 
religion and mythology. This fact is so striking that we may say 
we have discovered in these fantasies the forerunners of religious 
and mythological ideas. 

342 I should have to enter into very much more detail to give 
you any adequate examples. For these problems I must refer you 
to my book Symbols of Transformation. Here I will only men 
tion that the central symbol of Christianity sacrifice plays an 
important part in the fantasies of the unconscious. The Viennese 
school knows this phenomenon under the ambiguous name of 
"castration complex." This paradoxical use of the term follows 
from the special attitude of the Viennese school towards the 
question of sexuality, which I discussed earlier. I have devoted 
special attention to the problem of sacrifice in the above-men 
tioned book. I must content myself with this passing reference 
and will now proceed to say something about the origin of 
unconscious fantasies. 

15* 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



343 In a child's unconscious the fantasies are very much simpler, 
as if scaled to the childish milieu. Thanks to the concerted 
efforts of the psychoanalytic school, we have discovered that the 
most frequent fantasy of childhood is the so-called Oedipus 
complex. This term, too, seems the most unsuitable one possible. 
We all know that the tragic fate of Oedipus consisted in his 
marrying his mother and slaying his father. This tragic conflict 
of adult life appears far removed from the psyche of a child, 
and to the layman it seems quite inconceivable that a child 
should suffer from this conflict. But, with a little reflection, it 
will become clear that the tertium comparationis lies precisely 
in the narrow restriction of the fate of Oedipus to his two 
parents. This restriction is characteristic of the child, for the 
fate of the adult is not limited to the parents. To that extent 
Oedipus is the exponent of an infantile conflict magnified to 
adult proportions. The term "Oedipus complex 5 * naturally does 
not mean conceiving this conflict in its adult form, but rather 
on a reduced scale suitable to childhood. All it means, in effect, 
is that the childish demands for love are directed to mother and 
father, and to the extent that these demands have already at 
tained a certain degree of intensity, so that the chosen object is 
jealously defended, we can speak of an "Oedipus complex." 

344 This weakening and reduction in scale of the Oedipus com 
plex should not be understood as a diminution of the total sum 
of affect, but as indicating the smaller share of sexual affect char 
acteristic of a child. To make up for this, childish affects have 
that peculiar intensity which is characteristic of the sexual affect 
in adults. The little son would like to have his mother all to 
himself and to be rid of his father. As you know, small children 
can sometimes force themselves between the parents in the most 
jealous way. In the unconscious these wishes and intentions as 
sume a more concrete and more drastic form. Children are small 
primitive creatures and are therefore quickly ready to kill a 
thought which is all the easier in the unconscious, because the 
unconscious is wont to express itself very dramatically. But as 
a child is, in general, harmless, this seemingly dangerous wish is 
as a rule harmless too. I say "as a rule/ 7 for we know that children 
can occasionally give way to their murderous impulses, not only 
indirectly, but in quite direct fashion. But just as the child is 
incapable of making systematic plans, so his intention to murder 

15* 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



is not all that dangerous. The same is true of his Oedipal in 
tention towards the mother. The faint hints of this fantasy in 
the child's consciousness can easily be overlooked; all parents 
are therefore convinced that their children have no Oedipus 
complex. Parents, like lovers, are mostly blind. If I now say 
that the Oedipus complex is in the first place only a formula for 
childish desires in regard to the parents and for the conflict 
which these desires evoke as every selfish desire must the mat 
ter may seem more acceptable. 

345 The history of the Oedipus fantasy is of special interest be 
cause it teaches us a great deal about the development of 
unconscious fantasies in general. People naturally think that 
the Oedipus problem is the problem of the son. But this, re 
markably enough, is an illusion. Under certain conditions, the 
sexual libido reaches its final differentiation, corresponding to 
the sex of the individual, only relatively late in puberty. Before 
this time it has a sexually undifferentiated character, which 
could also be termed bisexual. It is therefore not surprising if 
little girls have an Oedipus complex too. So far as we know, 
the first love of a child, regardless of sex, belongs to the mother. 
If the love for the mother is intense at this stage, the father is 
jealously kept away as a rival. Of course, for the child itself, the 
mother at this early stage of childhood has no sexual significance 
worth mentioning, and to that extent the term "Oedipus com 
plex" is not really suitable. At this period the mother still has 
the significance of a protecting, enfolding, nourishing being, 
who for this reason is a source of pleasure. 

34 6 (It is characteristic, too, that the babyish word for mother, 
"mamma," is the name for the maternal breast. As Dr. Bea 
trice Hinkle has informed me, interrogation of small children 
elicited the fact that they defined "mother" as the person who 
gives food, chocolate, etc. One could hardly assert that for chil 
dren of this age food is only a symbol for sex, though this is 
sometimes true of adults. A superficial glance at the history of 
civilization will show just how enormous the nutritive source 
of pleasure is. The colossal feasts of Rome in its decadence were 
an expression of anything you like, only not of repressed sexu 
ality, for that is the last thing one could accuse the Romans of 
in those days. There is no doubt that these excesses were some 
kind of substitute, but not for sexuality; they were far more a 

153 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



substitute for neglected moral functions, which we are too prone 
to regard as laws forced on man from outside. Men have the 
laws which they make for themselves.) 

347 As I explained earlier, I do not identify the feeling of pleas 
ure eo ipso with sexuality. Sexuality has an increasingly small 
share in pleasure-sensations the further back we go in child 
hood. Nevertheless, jealousy can play a large role, for it too is 
something that does not belong entirely to the sexual sphere, 
since the desire for food has itself much to do with the first stir 
rings of jealousy one has only to think of animals! Certainly 
it is reinforced by a budding eroticism relatively early. This 
element gains in strength as the years go on, so that the Oedipus 
complex soon assumes its classical form. The conflict takes on 
a more masculine and therefore more typical form in a son, 
whereas a daughter develops a specific liking for the father, with 
a correspondingly jealous attitude towards the mother. We could 
call this the Electra complex. As everyone knows, Electra took 
vengeance on her mother Clytemnestra for murdering her hus 
band Agamemnon and thus robbing her Electra of her be 
loved father. 

348 Both these fantasy complexes become more pronounced with 
increasing maturity, and reach a new stage only in the post- 
pubertal period, when the problem arises of detachment from 
the parents. This stage is characterized by the symbol we have 
already mentioned: the symbol of sacrifice. The more sexuality 
develops, the more it drives the individual away from his family 
and forces him to achieve independence. But the child has be 
come closely attached to the family by his whole previous his 
tory, and especially to the parents, so that it is often only with 
the greatest difficulty that the growing individual can free him 
self inwardly from his infantile milieu. If he does not succeed 
in this, the Oedipus (or Electra) complex will precipitate a 
conflict, and then there is the possibility of neurotic disturb 
ances. The libido, already sexually developed, pours into the 
Oedipal "mould" and gives rise to feelings and fantasies which 
prove beyond doubt the effectiveness of the complex, which 
till then had been unconscious and more or less inoperative. 

349 The first consequence is the formation of intense resistances 
against the "immoral" impulses stemming from the now active 
complex. This affects the conscious behaviour in two ways. 

154 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



Either the consequences are direct, in which case the son dis 
plays violent resistances against his father and a particularly 
affectionate and dependent attitude towards his mother; or they 
are indirect, that is to say compensated: instead of resistance to 
the father there is marked submissiveness coupled with an irri 
tated, antagonistic attitude towards the mother. Direct and com 
pensated consequences can sometimes alternate. All this is true 
also of the Electra complex. If the sexual libido were to get 
stuck in this form, the Oedipus and Electra conflict would lead 
to murder and incest. This naturally does not happen with 
normal people, nor in so-called "amoral" primitive communi 
ties, otherwise the human race would have perished long ago. 
On the contrary, it is in the natural order of things that familiar 
objects lose their compelling charm and force the libido to seek 
new objects; and this acts as an important regulative factor 
which prevents parricide and incest. The continuous develop 
ment of libido towards objects outside the family is perfectly 
normal and natural, and it is an abnormal and pathological 
phenomenon if the libido remains, as it were, glued to the 
family. Nevertheless, it is a phenomenon that can sometimes be 
observed in normal people. 



THE PROBLEM OF INCEST 

35<> (The unconscious fantasy of sacrifice, occurring some time 
after puberty, is a direct outcome of the infantile complexes. 
Of this I have given a circumstantial example in my book 
Symbols of Transformation. The fantasy of sacrifice means the 
giving up of infantile wishes. I have shown this in my book and 
at the same time have pointed out the parallels in the history 
of religion. It is not surprising that this problem plays an im 
portant role in religion, for religion is one of the greatest helps 
in the psychological process of adaptation. The chief obstacle 
to new modes of psychological adaptation is conservative ad 
herence to the earlier attitude. But man cannot leave his previ 
ous personality and his previous objects of interest simply as 
they are, otherwise his libido would stagnate in the past, and 
this would be an impoverishment for him. Here religion is a 
great help because, by the bridge of the symbol, it leads his 

155 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



libido away from the infantile objects (parents) towards the 
symbolic representatives of the past, i.e., the gods, thus facili 
tating the transition from the infantile world to the adult world. 
In this way the libido is set free for social purposes.) 
35* Freud has a special conception of the incest complex which 
has given rise to heated controversy. He starts from the fact that 
the Oedipus complex is usually unconscious, and he conceives 
this to be the consequence of a moral repression. It is possible 
that I am not expressing myself quite correctly if I give you 
Freud's view in these words. At any rate, according to him the 
Oedipus complex seems to be repressed, that is, displaced into 
the unconscious through the reactive effect of conscious tenden 
cies. It almost looks as if the Oedipus complex would rise to 
consciousness if the child's development were uninhibited and 
were not affected by cultural influences. 1 

352 Freud calls the barrier that prevents this acting out of the 
Oedipus complex the "incest barrier." He seems to believe, so 
far as one can gather from his writings, that the incest barrier is 
formed by the backwash of experience, that it is a correction by 
reality, since the unconscious strives for boundless and imme 
diate satisfaction without regard for others. In this he agrees 
with Schopenhauer, who says of the egoism of the blind World- 
Will that it is so strong that a man could slay his brother merely 
to grease his boots with his brother's fat. Freud considers that 
the psychological incest barrier can be compared with the incest 
prohibitions found even among primitives. He further con 
siders that these prohibitions are a proof that men really do 
desire incest, for which reason laws were framed against it even 
on the primitive level. He therefore takes the tendency towards 
incest to be an absolutely concrete sexual wish, for he calls this 
complex the root-complex, or nucleus, of the neuroses and is in 
clined, viewing this as the original one, to reduce practically 
the whole psychology of the neuroses, as well as many other phe 
nomena in the realm of the mind, to this one complex. 

J A view expressed most strongly by Stekd. 



156 



7. THE AETIOLOGY OF NEUROSIS 

353 With this new conception of Freud's we come back to the 
question of the aetiology of neurosis. We have seen that psycho 
analytic theory started from a traumatic experience in child 
hood, which later on was found to be partly or wholly unreal. 
In consequence, the theory made a change of front and sought 
the aetiologically significant factor in the development of ab 
normal fantasies. The investigation of the unconscious, con 
tinued over a period of ten years with the help of an increasing 
number of workers, gradually brought to light a mass of em 
pirical material which showed that the incest complex was a 
highly important and never-failing element in pathological 
fantasy. But it was found that the incest complex was not a spe 
cial complex of neurotic people; it proved to be a component 
of the normal infantile psyche. We cannot tell from its mere 
existence whether this complex will give rise to a neurosis or 
not. To become pathogenic, it must precipitate a conflict; the 
complex, which in itself is inactive, must be activated and in 
tensified to the point where a conflict breaks out. 

354 This brings us to a new and important question. If the in 
fantile "nuclear complex" is only a general form, not in itself 
pathogenic but requiring special activation, then the whole 
aetiological problem is altered. In that case we would dig in 
vain among the reminiscences of earliest childhood, since they 
give us only the general forms of later conflicts but not the 
actual conflict. (It makes no difference that there were already 
conflicts in childhood, for the conflicts of childhood are dif 
ferent from the conflicts of adults. Those who have suffered 
ever since childhood from a chronic neurosis do not suffer now 
from the same conflict they suffered from then. Maybe the 
neurosis broke out when they first had to go to school as chil 
dren. Then it was the conflict between indulgence and duty, 
between love for their parents and the necessity of going to 
school. But now it is the conflict between, say, the joys of a 

157 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



comfortable bourgeois existence and the strenuous demands of 
professional life. It only seems to be the same conflict. It is just 
as if the "Teutschen" of the Napoleonic wars were to compare 
themselves with the old Germans who rebelled against the 
Roman yoke.) 



UNCONSCIOUS DETERMINATION 

355 I think I can best make my meaning clear if I describe the 
subsequent development of the theory by using the example 
of the young lady whose story you have heard in the earlier 
lectures. As you will probably remember, we found in the 
anamnesis that the fright with the horses led to the reminis 
cence of a similar scene in childhood, in which connection we 
discussed the trauma theory. We found that we had to look for 
the real pathological element in her exaggerated fantasies, which 
arose from her retarded psychosexual development. We now 
have to apply the theoretical insight we have thus gained to the 
genesis of this particular illness if we want to understand how, 
just at that moment, that childhood experience was constel 
lated so effectively. 

35 6 The simplest way to find an explanation for that nocturnal 
occurrence would be to make an exact inquiry into the circum 
stances of the moment. The first thing I did, therefore, was to 
question the patient about the company she had been keeping 
at the time. From this I learnt that she knew a young man to 
whom she thought of getting engaged; she loved him and hoped 
to be happy with him. At first nothing more could be dis 
covered. But it would never do to be deterred from investiga 
tion by the negative results of the preliminary questioning. 
There are indirect ways of reaching the goal when the direct 
way fails. We therefore return to that singular moment when 
the lady ran headlong in front of the horses. We inquire about 
her companions and the sort of festive occasion she had just 
taken part in. It had been a farewell party for her best friend, 
who was going abroad to a health-resort on account of her 
nerves. This friend was married and, we are told, happily; she 
was also the mother of a child. We may take leave to doubt the 
statement that she was happy; for, were she really so, she would 

158 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



presumably have no reason to be "nervous" and in need of a 
cure. 

357 Shifting my angle of approach, I learnt that after her 
friends had caught up with her they took the patient back to 
the house of her host, as this was the nearest shelter. There 
she was hospitably received in her exhausted state. At this point 
the patient broke off her narrative, became embarrassed, fidg 
eted, and tried to change the subject. Evidently some disagree 
able recollection had suddenly bobbed up. After the most 
obstinate resistance had been overcome, it appeared that yet 
another very remarkable incident had occurred that night: the 
amiable host had made her a fiery declaration of love, thus pre 
cipitating a situation which, in the absence of the lady of the 
house, might well be considered both difficult and distressing. 
Ostensibly this declaration of love came to her like a bolt from 
the blue. A modicum of criticism teaches us, however, that these 
things never drop from the skies but always have their history. 
It was now the task of the next few weeks to dig out bit by bit 
a long love-story, until at last a complete picture emerged which 
I attempt to outline as follows: 

358 As a child the patient had been a regular tomboy, caring 
only for wild boys' games, scorning her own sex and avoiding 
all feminine ways and occupations. After puberty, when the 
erotic problem might have come too close, she began to shun 
all society, hated and despised everything that even remotely 
reminded her of the biological destiny of woman, and lived in 
a world of fantasy which had nothing in common with rude 
reality. Thus, until about her twenty-fourth year, she evaded 
all those little adventures, hopes, and expectations which ordi 
narily move a girl's heart at this age. Then she got to know 
two men who were destined to break through the thorny hedge 
that had grown up around her. Mr. A was her best friend's 
husband, and Mr. B was his bachelor friend. She liked them 
both. Nevertheless it soon began to look as though she liked 
Mr. B a vast deal better. An intimacy quickly sprang up be 
tween them and before long there was talk of a possible engage 
ment. Through her relations with Mr. B and through her friend 
she often came into contact with Mr. A, whose presence some 
times disturbed her in the most unaccountable way and made 
her nervous. 

159 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



359 About this time the patient went to a large party. Her friends 
were also there. She became lost in thought and was dreamily 
playing with her ring when it suddenly slipped off her finger 
and rolled under the table. Both gentlemen looked for it and 
Mr. B succeeded in finding it. He placed the ring on her finger 
with an arch smile and said, "You know what that means!" 
Overcome by a strange and irresistible feeling, she tore the ring 
from her finger and flung it through the open window. A pain 
ful moment ensued, as may be imagined, and soon she left the 
party in deep dejection. 

360 Not long after this, so-called chance brought it about that 
she should spend her summer holidays at a health resort where 
Mr. and Mrs. A were also staying. Mrs. A then began to grow 
visibly nervous, and frequently stayed indoors because she felt 
out of sorts. The patient was thus in a position to go out for 
walks alone with Mr. A. On one occasion they went boating. 
So boisterous was she in her merriment that she suddenly fell 
overboard. She could not swim, and it was only with great diffi 
culty that Mr. A pulled her half-unconscious into the boat. And 
then it was that he kissed her. With this romantic episode the 
bonds were tied fast. To excuse herself in her own eyes she 
tried all the more energetically to get herself engaged to Mr. B, 
telling herself every day that it was Mr. B whom she really 
loved. Naturally this curious little game had not escaped the 
keen glances of wifely jealousy. Mrs. A, her friend, had guessed 
the secret and fretted accordingly, so that her nerves only got 
worse. Hence it became necessary for Mrs. A to go abroad for 
a cure. 1 

36* The farewell party presented a dangerous opportunity. The 
patient knew that her friend and rival was going off the same 
evening, and that Mr. A would be alone in the house. Of course 
she did not think this out logically and clearly, for some women 
have a remarkable capacity for thinking purely with their feel 
ings, and not with their intellects, so that it seems to them as if 
they had never thought certain things at all. At any rate she 
had a very queer feeling all the evening. She felt extraordinarily 
nervous, and when Mrs. A had been accompanied to the station 
and had gone, the hysterical twilight state came over her on the 

1 [Of. Two Essays, pars. nf. and 420. For the first two instalments of the story 
see supra, pars. 2i8ff. and 2973. EDITORS.] 

160 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



way back, I asked her what she had been thinking or feeling 
at the actual moment when she heard the horses coming along 
behind her. Her answer was that she had only a feeling of panic, 
the feeling that something dreadful was approaching which she 
could no longer escape. The consequence was, as you know, 
that she was brought back exhausted to the house of her host, 
Mr. A. 

36* To the simple mind this denouement seems perfectly obvi 
ous. Every layman will say, "Well, that is clear enough, she only 
intended to return by one way or another to Mr. A J s house." 
But the psychologist would reproach the layman for his incor 
rect way of expressing himself, and would tell him that the 
patient was not conscious of the motives of her behaviour, and 
that we cannot therefore speak of her intention to return to 
Mr. A's house. There are, of course, learned psychologists who 
could find any number of theoretical reasons for disputing the 
purposiveness of her action reasons based on the dogma of the 
identity of consciousness and psyche. But the psychology in 
augurated by Freud recognized long ago that the purposive sig 
nificance of psychological acts cannot be judged by conscious 
motives but only by the objective criterion of their psychological 
result. Today it can no longer be contested that there are un 
conscious tendencies which have a great influence on a person's 
reactions and on the effect he has on others. 

363 What happened at Mr. A's house bears out this observation. 
Our patient made a sentimental scene, and Mr. A felt obliged 
to react to it with a declaration of love. Looked at in the light 
of these concluding events, the whole previous history seems to 
be very ingeniously directed towards precisely this end, though 
consciously the patient was struggling against it all the time. 

3 6 4 The theoretical gain from this story is the clear recognition 
that an unconscious "intention" or tendency stage-managed the 
fright with the horses, very probably using for this purpose 
the infantile reminiscence of the horses galloping irresistibly 
towards disaster. Seen in the light of the whole material, the 
nocturnal scene with the horses the starting point of the illness 
seems to be only the keystone of a planned edifice. The fright 
and the apparently traumatic effect of the childhood experience 
are merely staged, but staged in the peculiar way characteristic 
of hysteria, so that the mise en scene appears almost exactly 

161 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



like a reality. We know from hundreds of experiences that 
hysterical pains are staged in order to reap certain advantages 
from the environment. Nevertheless these pains are entirely 
real. The patients do not merely think they have pains; from 
the psychological point of view the pains are just as real as those 
due to organic causes, and yet they are stage-managed. 



THE REGRESSION OF LIBIDO 

3 6 5 This utilization of reminiscences for staging an illness or an 
ostensible aetiology is called a regression of libido. The libido 
goes back to these reminiscences and activates them, with the 
result that an apparent aetiology is simulated. In this instance, 
according to the old theory, it might seem as if the fright with 
the horses were due to the old trauma. The resemblance be 
tween the two scenes is unmistakable, and in both cases the 
patient's fright was very real. At all events, we have no reason 
to doubt her assertions in this respect, as they fully accord with 
our experiences of other patients. The nervous asthma, the 
hysterical anxiety-attacks, the psychogenic depressions and exal 
tations, the pains, the cramps, etc. are all quite real, and any 
doctor who has himself suffered from a psychogenic symptom 
will know how absolutely real it feels. Regressively reactivated 
reminiscences, however fantastic they may be, are as real as 
recollections of events which have actually happened. 

3 66 As the term "regression of libido' ' indicates, we understand 
by this retrograde mode of application a reversion to earlier 
stages. From our example we can see very clearly how the proc 
ess of regression takes place. At that farewell party, which pre 
sented a good opportunity for her to be alone with her host, the 
patient shrank from the idea of turning this opportunity to her 
advantage, but let herself be overpowered by desires which 
hitherto she had never admitted. The libido was not used con 
sciously for that purpose, nor was this purpose ever acknowl 
edged. In consequence, the libido had to carry it out by means 
of the unconscious, under the cover of panic in face of over 
whelming danger. Her feelings at the moment when the horses 
approached illustrate our formulation very clearly: she felt as 
if something inescapable now had to happen. 

162 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



3 6 7 The process of regression is beautifully illustrated in an 
image used by Freud. The libido can be compared with a river 
which, when it meets with an obstruction, gets dammed up and 
causes an inundation. If this river has previously, in its upper 
reaches, dug out other channels, these channels will be filled up 
again by reason of the damming below. They appear to be real 
river-beds, filled with water as before, but at the same time they 
have only a provisional existence. The river has not perma 
nently flowed back into the old channels, but only for as long 
as the obstruction lasts in the main stream. The subsidiary 
streams carry the water not because they were independent 
streams from the beginning, but because they were once stages 
or stations in the development of the main river-bed, passing 
possibilities, traces of which still exist and can therefore be used 
again in times of flood. 

368 This image can be applied directly to the development of 
the uses of libido. The final direction, the main river-bed, has 
not yet been found at the time of the infantile development of 
sexuality. Instead, the libido branches out into all sorts of sub 
sidiary streams, and only gradually does the final form appear. 
But when the river has dug out its main bed, all the subsidiary 
streams dry up and lose their importance, leaving only traces of 
their former activity. Similarly, the importance of the child's 
preliminary exercises at sexuality disappears almost com 
pletely as a rule, except for a few traces. If later an obstruction 
occurs, so that the damming up of libido reactivates the old 
channels, this state is properly speaking a new and at the same 
time an abnormal one. The earlier, infantile state represents a 
normal application of libido, whereas the reversion of libido to 
infantile ways is something abnormal. I am therefore of the 
opinion that Freud is not justified in calling the infantile sex 
ual manifestations "perverse," since a normal manifestation 
should not be designated by a pathological term. This incorrect 
usage has had pernicious consequences in confusing the scien 
tific public. Such a terminology is a misapplication to normal 
people of insights gained from neurotic psychology, on the 
assumption that the abnormal by-path taken by the libido in 
neurotics is still the same phenomenon as in children. 

369 The so-called "amnesia of childhood/' which I would like to 
mention in passing, is a similar illegitimate "retrograde" appli- 

163 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



cation of terms from pathology. Amnesia is a pathological con 
dition, consisting in the repression of certain conscious contents, 
and this cannot possibly be the same as the anterograde amnesia 
of children, which consists in an incapacity for intentional 
memory-reproduction, such as is also found among primitives. 
This incapacity for memory-reproduction dates from birth and 
can be understood on quite obvious biological grounds. It 
would be a remarkable hypothesis if we were to assume that this 
totally different quality of infantile consciousness could be re 
duced to sexual repressions on the analogy of a neurosis. A neu 
rotic amnesia is punched out, as it were, from the continuity of 
memory, whereas memory in early childhood consists of single 
islands in the continuum of non-memory. This condition is in 
every sense the opposite of the condition found in neurosis, so 
that the expression "amnesia" is absolutely incorrect. The "am 
nesia of childhood" is an inference from the psychology of neu 
rosis, just as is the "polymorphous-perverse" disposition of the 
child. 



THE PERIOD OF SEXUAL LATENCY 

37 This error in theoretical formulation comes to light in the 
peculiar doctrine of the so-called "period of sexual latency" in 
childhood. Freud observed that the early infantile sexual mani 
festations, which I call phenomena of the presexual stage, dis 
appear after a time and reappear only much later. What Freud 
calls "infantile masturbation" that is, all those quasi-sexual 
activities which we spoke about before is said to return later as 
real masturbation. Such a process of development would be 
biologically unique. In conformity with this theory we would 
have to assume, for instance, that when a plant forms a bud from 
which a blossom begins to unfold, the blossom is taken back 
again before it is fully developed, and is again hidden within 
the bud, to reappear later on in a similar form. This impossible 
supposition is a consequence of the assertion that the early in 
fantile activities of the presexual stage are sexual phenomena, 
and that the quasi-masturbational acts of that period are genu 
ine acts of masturbation. Here the incorrect terminology and 
the boundless extension of the concept of sexuality take their 

164 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



revenge. Thus it was that Freud was compelled to assume that 
there is a disappearance of sexuality, in other words, a period of 
sexual latency. What he calls a disappearance is nothing other 
than the real beginning of sexuality, everything preceding it 
being but a preliminary stage to which no real sexual character 
can be attributed. The impossible phenomenon of sexual la 
tency is thus explained in a very simple way. 

371 The theory of the latency period is an excellent example of 
the incorrectness of the conception of infantile sexuality. But 
there has been no error of observation. On the contrary, the 
hypothesis of the latency period proves how exactly Freud ob 
served the apparent recommencement of sexuality. The error 
lies in the conception. As we have already seen, the prime error 
consists in a somewhat old-fashioned conception of a plurality 
of instincts. As soon as we accept the idea of two or more in 
stincts existing side by side, we must necessarily conclude that, 
if one instinct is not yet manifest, it is still present in nuce, in 
accordance with the old theory of encasement. 2 Or, in physics, 
we should have to say that when a piece of iron passes from the 
condition of heat to the condition of light, the light was already 
present in nuce (latently) in the heat. Such assumptions are arbi 
trary projections of human ideas into transcendental regions, 
contravening the requirements of the theory of cognition. We 
have therefore no right to speak of a sexual instinct existing in 
nuce, as we would then be giving an arbitrary interpretation of 
phenomena which can be explained otherwise, in a much more 
suitable manner. We can only speak of the manifestation of the 
nutritive function, of the sexual function, and so on, and then 
only when that function has come to the surface with unmis 
takable clarity. We speak of light only when the iron is visibly 
glowing, but not when the iron is merely hot. 

372 Freud as an observer sees quite clearly that the sexuality of 
neurotics cannot really be compared with infantile sexuality, 
just as there is a great difference, for instance, between the un- 
cleanliness of a two-year-old child and the uncleanliness of a 
forty-year-old catatonic. The one is normal, the other exceedingly 

2 [Einschachtelung: "An old theory of reproduction which assumed that when the 
first animal of each species was created, the germs of all other individuals of the 
same species which were to come from it were encased in its ova/' Century Dic 
tionary (1890). TRANS.] 

165 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



pathological. Freud inserted a short passage in his Three 
Essays? stating that the infantile form of neurotic sexuality is 
either wholly, or at any rate partly, due to regression. That is, 
even in those cases where we can say that it is still the same old 
infantile by-path, the function of this by-path is intensified by 
the regression. Freud thus admits that the infantile sexuality of 
neurotics is for the greater part a regressive phenomenon. That 
this must be so is evidenced by the researches of recent years, 
showing that the observations concerning the childhood psy 
chology of neurotics hold equally true of normal people. At any 
rate we can say that the historical development of infantile 
sexuality in a neurotic is distinguished from that of normal 
people only by minimal differences which completely elude sci 
entific evaluation. Striking differences are exceptional. 



THE AETIOLOGICAL SIGNIFICANCE OF THE ACTUAL PRESENT 

373 The more deeply we penetrate into the heart of the infantile 
development, the more we get the impression that as little of 
aetiological significance can be found there as in the infantile 
trauma. Even with the acutest ferreting into their respective his 
tories we shall never discover why people living on German soil 
had just such a fate, and why the Gauls another. The further we 
get away, in analytical investigations, from the epoch of the 
manifest neurosis, the less can we expect to find the real causa 
efficient, since the dynamics of the maladjustment grow fainter 
and fainter the further we go back into the past. In constructing 
a theory which derives the neurosis from causes in the distant 
past, we are first and foremost following the tendency of our 
patients to lure us as far away as possible from the critical pres 
ent. For the cause of the pathogenic conflict lies mainly in the 
present moment. It is just as if a nation were to blame its miser 
able political conditions on the past; as if the Germany of the 
nineteenth century had attributed her political dismemberment 
and incapacity to her oppression by the Romans, instead of seek 
ing the causes of her difficulties in the actual present. It is 
mainly in the present that the effective causes lie, and here alone 
are the possibilities of removing them. 

a Standard Edn., p. 232. 

166 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



374 The greater part of the psychoanalytic school is still under 
the spell of the conception that infantile sexuality is the sine qua 
non of neurosis. It is not only the theorist, delving into child 
hood simply from scientific interest, but the practising analyst 
also, who believes that he has to turn the history of infancy in 
side out in order to find the fantasies conditioning the neurosis. 
A fruitless enterprise! In the meantime the most important 
factor escapes him, namely, the conflict and its demands in the 
present. In the case we have been describing, we should not 
understand any of the motives which produced the hysterical 
attacks if we looked for them in earliest childhood. Those remi 
niscences determine only the form, but the dynamic element 
springs from the present, and insight into the significance of the 
actual moment alone gives real understanding. 

375 It may not be out of place to remark here that it would never 
occur to me to blame Freud personally for the innumerable mis 
understandings. I know very well that Freud, being an empiri 
cist, always publishes only provisional formulations to which 
he certainly does not attribute any eternal value. But it is 
equally certain that the scientific public is inclined to make a 
creed out of them, a system which is asserted as blindly on the 
one hand as it is attacked on the other. I can only say that from 
the sum total of Freud's writings certain average conceptions 
have crystallized out, which both sides treat far too dogmatically. 
These views have led to a number of undoubtedly incorrect 
technical axioms the existence of which cannot be postulated 
with any certainty in Freud's own work. We know that in the 
mind of a creator of new ideas things are much more fluid and 
flexible than they are in the minds of his followers. They do 
not possess his vital creativity, and they make up for this de 
ficiency by a dogmatic allegiance, in exactly the same way as 
their opponents, who, like them, cling to the dead letter because 
they cannot grasp its living content. My words are thus addressed 
less to Freud, who I know recognizes to some extent the final 
orientation of the neuroses, than to his public, who continue to 
argue about his views. 

37 6 From what has been said it should be clear that we gain in 
sight into the history of a neurosis only when we understand 
that each separate element in it serves a purpose. We can now 
understand why that particular element in the previous history 

167 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



of our case was pathogenic, and we also understand why it 
was chosen as a symbol. Through the concept of regression, the 
theory is freed from the narrow formula of the importance of 
childhood experiences, and the actual conflict acquires the sig 
nificance which, on the empirical evidence, implicitly belongs 
to it. Freud himself introduced the concept of regression, as I 
have said, in his Three Essays, rightly acknowledging that ex 
perience does not permit us to seek the cause of a neurosis ex 
clusively in the past. If it is true, then, that reminiscences be 
come effective again chiefly because of regressive activation, we 
have to consider whether the apparently determining effects of 
the reminiscences can be traced back solely to the regression of 
libido. 

377 As you have heard already, Freud himself in the Three Es 
says gives us to understand that the infantilism of neurotic 
sexuality is for the most part due to regression. This statement 
deserves considerably more emphasis than it received there. 
(Actually Freud did give it due emphasis in his later works.) 
The point is that the regression of libido abolishes to a very 
large extent the aetiological significance of childhood expe 
riences. It had seemed to us very peculiar anyway that the 
Oedipus or Electra complex should have a determining influ 
ence in the formation of a neurosis, since these complexes are 
actually present in everyone, even in people who have never 
known their father and mother and were brought up by foster- 
parents. I have analysed cases of this kind, and found that the 
incest complex was as well developed in them as in other pa 
tients. This seems to me a good proof that the incest complex is 
much less a reality than a purely regressive fantasy formation, 
and that the conflicts resulting from it must be reduced rather 
to an anachronistic clinging to the infantile attitude than to 
real incestuous wishes, which are merely a cover for regressive 
fantasies. Looked at from this point of view, childhood experi 
ences have a significance for neurosis only when they are made 
significant by a regression of libido. That this must be so to a 
very large extent is shown by the fact that neither the infantile 
sexual trauma nor the incest complex present in everyone 
causes hysteria. Neurosis occurs only when the incest complex 
is activated by regression. 

168 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



FAILURE OF ADAPTATION 

378 This brings us to the question: why does the libido become 
regressive? In order to answer this, we must examine more 
closely the conditions under which a regression arises. In dis 
cussing this problem with my patients I generally give the fol 
lowing example: A mountain-climber, attempting the ascent of 
a certain peak, happens to meet with an insurmountable ob 
stacle, for instance a precipitous rock-face whose ascent is a 
sheer impossibility. After vainly seeking another route, he will 
turn back and regretfully abandon the idea of climbing that 
peak. He will say to himself: "It is not in my power to get over 
this difficulty, so I will climb an easier mountain." 

379 Here we see a normal utilization of libido: the man turns 
back when he meets an insurmountable difficulty, and uses his 
libido, which could not attain its original goal, for the ascent 
of another mountain. 

380 Now let us imagine that the rock-face was not really un- 
climbable so far as the man's physical abilities were concerned, 
but that he shrank back from this difficult undertaking from 
sheer funk. In this case two possibilities are open: 

1. The man will be annoyed by his own cowardice and will 
set out to prove himself less timid on another occasion, or per 
haps he will admit that with his timidity he ought never to 
undertake such daring ascents. At any rate, he will acknowledge 
that his moral capacity is not sufficient to overcome the difficul 
ties. He therefore uses the libido which did not attain its orig 
inal aim for the useful purpose of self-criticism, and for evolving 
a plan by which he may yet be able, with due regard to his 
moral capacity, to realize his wish to climb a mountain. 

2. The second possibility is that the man does not admit his 
cowardice, and flatly asserts that the rock face is physically un- 
climbable, although he can very well see that, with sufficient 
courage, the obstacle could be overcome. But he prefers to de 
ceive himself. This creates the psychological situation which is 
of significance for our problem. 

3 Sl At bottom the man knows perfectly well that it would be 
physically possible to overcome the difficulty, and that he is 
simply morally incapable of doing so. But he pushes this thought 

169 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



aside because of its disagreeable character. He is so conceited 
that he cannot admit his cowardice. He brags about his courage 
and prefers to declare that things are impossible rather than 
that his own courage is inadequate. In this way he falls into 
contradiction with himself: on the one hand he has a correct 
appreciation of the situation, on the other he hides this knowl 
edge from himself, behind the illusion of his bravery. He 
represses his correct insight and tries to force his subjective illu 
sions on reality. The result of this contradiction is that his libido 
is split and the two halves fight one another. He pits his wish to 
climb the mountain against the opinion, invented by himself 
and supported by artificial arguments, that the mountain is un- 
climbable. He draws back not because of any real impossibility 
but because of an artificial barrier invented by himself. He has 
fallen into disunion with himself. From this moment on he 
suffers from an internal conflict. Now the realization of his 
cowardice gains the upper hand, now defiance and pride. In 
either case his libido is engaged in a useless civil war, and the 
man becomes incapable of any new enterprise. He will never 
realize his wish to climb a mountain, because he has gone thor 
oughly astray in the estimation of his moral qualities. His effi 
ciency is reduced, he is not fully adapted, he has become in a 
word neurotic. The libido that retreated in face of the diffi 
culty has led neither to honest self-criticism nor to a desperate 
struggle to overcome the difficulty at any price; it has been used 
merely to maintain the cheap pretence that the ascent was abso 
lutely impossible and that even heroic courage would have 
availed nothing. 



REVERSION TO THE INFANTILE LEVEL 

3 8 * This kind of reaction is called infantile. It is characteristic 
of children, and of naive minds generally, not to find the mis 
take in themselves but in things outside them, and forcibly to 
impose on things their own subjective judgment. 

383 This man, therefore, solves the problem in an infantile way; 
he substitutes for the adapted attitude of the first climber a 
mode of adaptation characteristic of the child's mind. That is 
what we mean by regression. His libido retreats before the ob- 

176 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



stacle it cannot surmount and substitutes a childish illusion for 
real action. 

384 Such cases are a daily occurrence in the treatment o neu 
rosis. I would only remind you of all those young girls who sud 
denly become hysterically ill the moment they have to decide 
whether to get engaged or not. As an example, I will present 
the case of two sisters. The two girls were separated by only a 
year in age. In talents and also in character they were very much 
alike. They had the same education and grew up in the same 
surroundings under the same parental influences. Both were 
ostensibly healthy, neither showed any noticeable nervous 
symptoms. An attentive observer might have discovered that 
the elder daughter was rather more the darling of her parents 
than the younger. Her parents* esteem was due to the special 
kind of sensitiveness which this daughter displayed. She de 
manded more affection than the younger one, was somewhat 
more precocious and forthcoming than she. Besides, she showed 
some delightfully childish traits just those things which, be 
cause of their contradictory and slightly unbalanced character, 
make a person specially charming. No wonder father and mother 
had great joy in their elder daughter. 

385 When the two sisters became of marriageable age, they both 
made the acquaintance of two young men, and the possibility of 
their marriages soon drew near. As is generally the case, there 
were certain difficulties in the way. Both girls were quite young 
and had very little experience of the world. The men were fairly 
young too, and in positions which might have been better; they 
were only at the beginning of their careers, nevertheless both 
were capable young men. The two girls lived in social surround 
ings which gave them the right to certain expectations. It was a 
situation in which doubts as to the suitability of either marriage 
were permissible. Moreover, both girls were Insufficiently ac 
quainted with their prospective husbands, and were not quite 
sure of their love. Hence there were many hesitations and 
doubts. It was noticed that the elder sister always showed greater 
waverings in all her decisions. On account of these hesitations 
there were some painful moments with the two young men, who 
naturally pressed for a definite answer. At such moments the 
elder sister showed herself much more agitated than the younger 
one. Several times she went weeping to her mother, bemoaning 

171 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



her own uncertainty. The younger one was more decided, and 
put an end to the unsettled situation by accepting her suitor. 
She thus got over her difficulty and thereafter events ran 
smoothly. 

386 As soon as the admirer of the elder sister heard that the 
younger one had given her word, he rushed to his lady and 
begged passionately for her final acceptance. His tempestuous 
behaviour irritated and rather frightened her, although she was 
really inclined to follow her sister's example. She answered in a 
haughty and rather offhand way. He replied with sharp re 
proaches, causing her to answer still more tartly. At the end 
there was a tearful scene, and he went away in a huff. At home, 
he told the story to his mother, who expressed the opinion that 
the girl was obviously not the right one for him and that he had 
better choose someone else. The quarrel had made the girl pro 
foundly doubtful whether she really loved him. It suddenly 
seemed to her impossible to leave her beloved parents and fol 
low this man to an unknown destiny. Matters finally went so far 
that the relationship was broken off altogether. From then on 
the girl became moody; she showed unmistakable signs of the 
greatest jealousy towards her sister, but would neither see nor 
admit that she was jealous. The former happy relationship with 
her parents went to pieces too. Instead of her earlier child-like 
affection she put on a sulky manner, which sometimes amounted 
to violent irritability; weeks of depression followed. While the 
younger sister was celebrating her wedding, the elder went to a 
distant health-resort for nervous intestinal catarrh. I shall not 
continue the history of the illness; it developed into an ordinary 
hysteria. 

3 8 7 In the analysis of this case great resistance was found to the 
sexual problem. The resistance was due to numerous perverse 
fantasies whose existence the patient would not admit. The 
question as to where these perverse fantasies, so unexpected in 
a young girl, could come from led to the discovery that once, as a 
child of eight years old, she had found herself suddenly con 
fronted in the street by an exhibitionist. She was rooted to the 
spot by fright, and for a long time afterwards the ugly image 
pursued her in her dreams. Her younger sister had been with 
her at the time. The night after the patient told me about this, 
she dreamt of a man in a grey suit, who started to do in front of 

172 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



her what the exhibitionist had done. She awoke with a cry of 
terror. 

388 Her first association to the grey suit was a suit of her father's, 
which he had been wearing on an excursion she had made with 
him when she was about six years old. This dream, without any 
doubt, connects the father with the exhibitionist. There must 
be some reason for this. Did something happen with the father 
that might possibly call forth such an association? This question 
met with violent resistance from the patient, but it would not 
let her alone. At the next interview she reproduced some very 
early reminiscences, in which she had watched her father un 
dressing; arid one day she came, terribly embarrassed and 
shaken, to tell me that she had had an abominable vision, abso 
lutely distinct. In bed at night, she suddenly felt herself once 
again a child of two or three years old, and she saw her father 
standing by her bed in an obscene attitude. The story was gasped 
out bit by bit, obviously with the greatest internal struggle. 
Then followed wild lamentations about how dreadful it was 
that a father should do such a terrible thing to his child. 

389 Nothing is less probable than that the father really did this. 
It is only a fantasy, presumably constructed in the course of the 
analysis from that same need for causality which once misled 
the analysts into supposing that hysteria was caused merely by 
such impressions. 

39 This case seems to me perfectly designed to demonstrate the 
importance of the regression theory, and to show at the same 
time the sources of the previous theoretical errors. Originally, 
as we saw, there was only a slight difference between the two 
sisters, but from the moment of their engagement their ways 
became totally divided. They now seemed to have two entirely 
different characters. The one, vigorous in health, and enjoying 
life, was a fine courageous girl, willing to submit to the natural 
demands of womanhood; the other was gloomy, ill-tempered, 
full of bitterness and malice, unwilling to make any effort to 
lead a reasonable life, egotistical, quarrelsome, and a nuisance 
to all around her. This striking difference was brought out only 
when one of the sisters successfully got over the difficulties of 
the engagement period, while the other did not. For both, it 
hung by a hair whether the affair would be broken off. The 
younger, somewhat more placid, was the more decided, and she 

173 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



was able to find the right word at the right moment. The elder 
was more spoiled and more sensitive, consequently more influ 
enced by her emotions, so that she could not find the right word, 
nor had she the courage to sacrifice her pride to put things 
straight afterwards. This little cause had a great effect, as we 
shall see. Originally the conditions were exactly the same for 
both sisters. It was the greater sensitiveness of the elder that 
made all the difference. 



SENSITIVENESS AND REGRESSION 

39 1 The question now is, whence came this sensitiveness which 
had such unfortunate results? Analysis demonstrated the exist 
ence of an extraordinarily well-developed sexuality with an in 
fantile, fantastic character; further, of an incestuous fantasy 
about the father. Assuming that these fantasies had long been 
alive and active in the patient, we have here a quick and very 
simple solution of the problem of sensitiveness. We can easily 
understand why the girl was so sensitive: she was completely 
shut up in her fantasies and had a secret attachment to her 
father. In these circumstances it would have been a miracle if 
she had been willing to love and marry another man. 

392 The further we pursue the development of these fantasies 
back to their source, following our need for causality, the greater 
become the difficulties of analysis, that is, the greater become 
the "resistances," as we called them. Finally we reach that im 
pressive scene, that obscene act, whose improbability has al 
ready been established. This scene has exactly the character of 
a later fantasy-formation, Therefore, we have to conceive these 
difficulties, these "resistances/* not at least in this stage of the 
analysisas defences against the conscious realization of a pain 
ful memory, but as a struggle against the construction of this 
fantasy. 

393 You will ask in astonishment: But what is it that compels 
the patient to weave such a fantasy? You will even be inclined 
to suggest that the analyst forced the patient to invent it, other 
wise she would never have produced such an absurd idea. I do 
not venture to doubt that there have been cases where the ana 
lyst's need to find a cause, especially under the influence of the 

174 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



trauma theory, forced the patient to invent a fantasy of this 
kind. But the analyst, in his turn, would never have arrived at 
this theory had he not followed the patient's line of thought, 
thus taking part in that retrograde movement of libido which 
we call regression. He is simply carrying out to its logical con 
clusion what the patient is afraid to carry out, that is, a regres 
sion, a retreat of libido with all the consequences that this 
entails. 

$94 Hence, in tracing the libido regression, the analysis does not 
always follow the exact path marked out by the historical de 
velopment, but often that of a subsequently formed fantasy, 
based only in part on former realities. In our case, too, the 
events were only partly real, and they got their enormous signifi 
cance only afterwards, when the libido regressed. Whenever the 
libido seizes upon a certain reminiscence, we may expect it to 
be elaborated and transformed, for everything that is touched 
by the libido revives, takes on dramatic form, and becomes sys 
tematized. We have to admit that by far the greater part of the 
material became significant only later, when the regressing 
libido, seizing hold of anything suitable that lay in its path, had 
turned all this into a fantasy. Then that fantasy, keeping pace 
with the regressive movement of libido, came back at last to the 
father and put upon him all the infantile sexual wishes. Even so 
has it ever been thought that the golden age of Paradise lay in 
the past! 

595 As we know that the fantasy material brought out by analysis 
became significant only afterwards, we are not in a position to 
use this material to explain the onset of the neurosis; we should 
be constantly moving in a circle. The critical moment for the 
neurosis was the one when the girl and the man were both ready 
to be reconciled, but when the inopportune sensitiveness of the 
patient, and perhaps also of her partner, allowed the opportu 
nity to slip by. 



IS SENSITIVENESS PRIMARY? 

It might be saidand the psychoanalytic school inclines to 
this viewthat the critical sensitiveness arose from a special psy 
chological history which made this outcome a foregone conclu- 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



sion. We know that in psychogenic neuroses sensitiveness is 
always a symptom of disunion with oneself, a symptom of the 
struggle between two divergent tendencies. Each of these tend 
encies has its psychological prehistory, and in our case it can 
clearly be shown that the peculiar resistance at the bottom of 
the patient's critical sensitiveness was in fact bound up histori 
cally with certain infantile sexual activities, and also with that 
so-called traumatic experience things which may very well cast 
a shadow on sexuality. This would be plausible enough, were it 
not that the patient's sister had experienced pretty much the 
same things including the exhibitionist without suffering the 
same consequences, and without becoming neurotic. 

397 We would therefore have to assume that the patient experi 
enced these things in a special way, perhaps more intensely and 
enduringly than her sister, and that the events of early child 
hood would have been more significant to her in the long 
run. If that had been true in so marked a degree, some violent 
effect would surely have been noticed even at the time. But in 
later youth the events of early childhood were as much over and 
done with for the patient as they were for her sister. Therefore, 
yet another conjecture is conceivable with regard to that critical 
sensitiveness, namely, that it did not come from her peculiar 
prehistory but had existed all along. An attentive observer of 
small children can detect, even in early infancy, any unusual 
sensitiveness. I once analysed a hysterical patient who showed 
me a letter written by her mother when the patient was two 
years old. Her mother wrote about her and her sister: she the 
patient was always a friendly and enterprising child, but her 
sister had difficulties in getting along with people and things. 
The first one in later life became hysterical, the other catatonic. 
These far-reaching differences, which go back into earliest child 
hood, cannot be due to accidental events but must be regarded 
as innate. From this standpoint we cannot assert that our pa 
tient's peculiar prehistory was to blame for her sensitiveness at 
the critical moment; it would be more correct to say that this 
sensitiveness was inborn and naturally manifested itself most 
strongly in any unusual situation. 

39*1 This excessive sensitiveness very often brings an enrichment 
of the personality and contributes more to its charm than to the 
undoing of a person's character. Only, when difficult and un- 

176 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



usual situations arise, the advantage frequently turns into a 
very great disadvantage, since calm consideration is then dis 
turbed by untimely affects. Nothing could be more mistaken, 
though, than to regard this excessive sensitiveness as in itself a 
pathological character component. If that were really so, we 
should have to rate about one quarter of humanity as patho 
logical. Yet if this sensitiveness has such destructive conse 
quences for the individual, we must admit that it can no longer 
be considered quite normal. 

399 We are driven to this contradiction when we contrast the 
two views concerning the significance of the psychological pre 
history as sharply as we have done here. In reality, it is not a 
question of either one or the other. A certain innate sensitive 
ness produces a special prehistory, a special way of experiencing 
infantile events, which in their turn are not without influence 
on the development of the child's view of the world. Events 
bound up with powerful impressions can never pass off without 
leaving some trace on sensitive people. Some of them remain 
effective throughout life, and such events can have a determin 
ing influence on a person's whole mental development. Dirty 
and disillusioning experiences in the realm of sexuality are 
especially apt to frighten off a sensitive person for years after 
wards, so that the mere thought of sex arouses the greatest 
resistances. 

4 As the trauma theory shows, we are too much inclined, know 
ing of such cases, to attribute the emotional development of a 
person wholly, or at least very largely, to accidents. The old 
trauma theory went too far in this respect. We must never forget 
that the world is, in the first place, a subjective phenomenon. 
The impressions we receive from these accidental happenings 
are also our own doing. It is not true that the impressions are 
forced on us unconditionally; our own predisposition conditions 
the impression. A man whose libido is blocked will have, as a 
rule, quite different and very much more vivid impressions than 
one whose libido is organized in a wealth of activities. A person 
who is sensitive in one way or another will receive a deep im 
pression from an event which would leave a less sensitive per 
son cold. 

401 Therefore, in addition to the accidental impression, we have 
to consider the subjective conditions seriously. Our previous 

177 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



reflections, and in particular our discussion of an actual case, 
have shown that the most important subjective condition is 
regression. The effect of regression, as practical experience 
shows, is so great and so impressive that one might be inclined 
to attribute the effect of accidental occurrences solely to the 
mechanism of regression. Without any doubt, there are many 
cases where everything is dramatized, where even the traumatic 
experiences are pure figments of the imagination, and the few 
real events among them are afterwards completely distorted by 
fantastic elaboration. We can safely say that there is not a single 
case of neurosis in which the emotional value of the antecedent 
experience is not intensified by libido regression, and even when 
large tracts of infantile development seem to be extraordinarily 
significant (as for instance the relationship to the parents), it is 
almost always a regression that gives them this value. 

402 The truth, as always, lies in the middle. The previous his 
tory certainly has a determining value, and this is intensified by 
regression. Sometimes the traumatic significance of the previous 
history comes more to the forefront, sometimes only its regres 
sive meaning. These considerations naturally have to be applied 
to infantile sexual experiences as well. Obviously there are cases 
where brutal sexual experiences justify the shadow thrown on 
sexuality and make the later resistance to sex thoroughly com 
prehensible. (I would mention, by the way, that frightful im 
pressions other than sexual can leave behind a permanent feel 
ing of insecurity which may give the individual a hesitating 
attitude to reality.) Where real events of undoubted traumatic 
potency are absent as is the case in most neuroses the mecha 
nism of regression predominates. 

403 It might be objected that we have no criterion by which to 
judge the potential effect of a trauma, since this is an extremely 
relative concept. That is not altogether true; we have such a 
criterion in the average normal person. Something that is likely 
to make a strong and abiding impression on a normal person 
must be considered as having a determining influence for neu 
rotics also. But we cannot attribute determining importance, in 
neurosis either, to impressions which normally would disap 
pear and be forgotten. In most cases where some event has had 
an unexpected traumatic effect, we shall in all probability find a 
regression, that is to say, a secondary fantastic dramatization. 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



The earlier in childhood an impression is said to have arisen, 
the more suspect is its reality. Primitive people and animals 
have nothing like that capacity for reviving memories of unique 
impressions which we find among civilized people. Very young 
children are not nearly as impressionable as older children. The 
higher development of the mental faculties is an indispensable 
prerequisite for impressionability. We can therefore safely as 
sume that the earlier a patient places some impressive experi 
ence in his childhood, the more likely it is to be a fantastic and 
regressive one. Deeper impressions are to be expected only from 
experiences in late childhood. At any rate, we generally have to 
attribute only regressive significance to the events of early in 
fancy, that is, from the fifth year back. In later years, too, regres 
sion can sometimes play an overwhelming role, but even so one 
must not attribute too little importance to accidental events. In 
the later course of a neurosis, accidental events and regression 
together form a vicious circle: retreat from life leads to regres 
sion, and regression heightens resistance to life. 



THE TELEOLOGICAL SIGNIFICANCE OF REGRESSION 

404 (Before pursuing our argument further, we must turn to the 
question of what teleological significance should be attributed 
to regressive fantasies. We might be satisfied with the hypothe 
sis that these fantasies are simply a substitute for real action and 
therefore have no further significance. That can hardly be so. 
Psychoanalytic theory inclines to see the reason for the neurosis 
in the fantasies (illusions, prejudices, etc.), as their character 
betrays a tendency which is often directly opposed to reasonable 
action. Indeed, it often looks as if the patient were really using 
his previous history only to prove that he cannot act reasonably, 
whereupon the analyst, who, like everyone else, is easily in 
clined to sympathize with the patient (i.e., to identify with him 
unconsciously), gets the impression that the patient's arguments 
constitute a real aetiology. In other cases the fantasies have more 
the character of wonderful ideals which put beautiful and airy 
phantasms in the place of crude reality. Here a more or less 
obvious megalomania is always present, aptly compensating for 
the patient's indolence and deliberate incompetence. But the 

179 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



decidedly sexual fantasies often reveal their purpose quite 
clearly, which is to accustom the patient to the thought of his 
sexual destiny, and so help him to overcome his resistance. 

45 If we agree with Freud that neurosis is an unsuccessful at 
tempt at self-cure, we must allow the fantasies, too, a double 
character: on one hand a pathological tendency to resist, on 
the other a helpful and preparatory tendency. With a normal 
person the libido, when it is blocked by an obstacle, forces him 
into a state of introversion and makes him reflect. So, too, with 
a neurotic under the same conditions: an introversion ensues, 
with increased fantasy activity. But he gets stuck there, because 
he prefers the infantile mode of adaptation as being the easier 
one. He does not see that he is exchanging his momentary 
advantage for a permanent disadvantage and has thus done 
himself a bad turn. In the same way, it is much easier and more 
convenient for the civic authorities to neglect all those trouble 
some sanitary precautions, but when an epidemic comes the sin 
of omission takes bitter revenge. If, therefore, the neurotic 
claims all manner of infantile alleviations, he must also accept 
the consequences. And if he is not willing to do so, then the 
consequences will overtake him. 

4<>6 It would, in general, be a great mistake to deny any teleolog- 
ical value to the apparently pathological fantasies of a neurotic. 
They are, as a matter of fact, the first beginnings of spiritualiza- 
tion, the first groping attempts to find new ways of adapting. 
His retreat to the infantile level does not mean only regression 
and stagnation, but also the possibility of discovering a new life- 
plan. Regression is thus in very truth the basic condition for 
the act of creation. Once again I must refer you to my oft-cited 
book Symbols of Transformation.) 



180 



8. THERAPEUTIC PRINCIPLES 
OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 

407 With the concept o regression, psychoanalysis made prob 
ably one of the most important discoveries in this field. Not 
only were the earlier formulations of the genesis of neurosis 
overthrown or at least considerably modified, but the actual 
conflict received, for the first time, its proper valuation. 

4<> 8 In our earlier case of the lady and the horses, we saw that the 
symptomatological dramatization could only be understood 
when it was seen as an expression of the actual conflict. Here 
psychoanalytic theory joins hands with the results of the asso 
ciation experiments, of which I spoke in my lectures at Clark 
University. The association experiment, when conducted on a 
neurotic person, gives us a number of pointers to definite con 
flicts in his actual life, which we call complexes. These com 
plexes contain just those problems and difficulties which have 
brought the patient into disharmony with himself. Generally 
we find a love-conflict of a quite obvious character. From the 
standpoint of the association experiment, neurosis appears as 
something quite different from what it seemed to be from the 
standpoint of earlier psychoanalytic theory. From that stand 
point, neurosis seemed to be a formation having its roots in 
earliest infancy and overgrowing the normal psychic structure; 
considered from the standpoint of the association experiment, 
neurosis appears as a reaction to an actual conflict, which nat 
urally is found just as often among normal people but is solved 
by them without too much difficulty. The neurotic, however, 
remains in the grip of the conflict, and his neurosis seems to be 
more or less the consequence of his having got stuck. We can 
say, therefore, that the results of the association experiment 
argue strongly in favour of the regression theory. 

181 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



THE EVALUATION OF NEUROTIC FANTASIES 

409 With the help of the earlier, ' 'historical" conception of neu 
rosis, we thought we could understand why a neurotic with a 
powerful parental complex has such great difficulties in adapt 
ing himself to life. But now that we know that normal persons 
have exactly the same complexes and, in principle, go through 
the same psychological development as a neurotic, we can no 
longer explain neurosis by the development of certain fantasy 
systems. The really explanatory approach now is a prospective 
one. We no longer ask whether the patient has a father or 
mother complex, or unconscious incest fantasies which tie him 
to his parents, for we know today that everybody has them. It 
was a mistake to believe that only neurotics have such things. 
We ask rather: What is the task which the patient does not 
want to fulfil? What difficulty is he trying to avoid? 

41 If a person tried always to adapt himself fully to the condi 
tions of life, his libido would always be employed correctly and 
adequately. When that does not happen, it gets blocked and 
produces regressive symptoms. The non-fulfilment of the de 
mands of adaptation, or the shrinking of the neurotic from diffi 
culties, is, at bottom, the hesitation of every organism in the 
face of a new effort to adapt. (The training of animals provides 
instructive examples in this respect, and in many cases such an 
explanation is, in principle, sufficient. From this standpoint 
the earlier mode of explanation, which maintained that the 
resistance of the neurotic was due to his bondage to fantasies, 
appears incorrect. But it would be very one-sided to take our 
stand solely on a point of principle. There is also a bondage to 
fantasies, even though the fantasies are, as a rule, secondary. 
The neurotic's bondage to fantasies (illusions, prejudices, etc.) 
develops gradually, as a habit, out of innumerable regressions 
from obstacles since earliest childhood. All this grows into a 
regular habit familiar to every student of neurosis; we all know 
those patients who use their neurosis as an excuse for running 
away from difficulties and shirking their duty. Their habitual 
evasion produces a habit of mind which makes them take it for 
granted that they should live out their fantasies instead of ful 
filling disagreeable obligations. And this bondage to fantasy 

182 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



makes reality seem less real to the neurotic, less valuable and 
less interesting, than it does to the normal person. As I ex 
plained earlier, the fantastic prejudices and resistances may 
also arise, sometimes, from experiences that were not intended 
at all; in other words, were not deliberately sought disappoint 
ments and suchlike.) 

The ultimate and deepest root of neurosis appears to be the 
innate sensitiveness, 1 which causes difficulties even to the infant 
at the mother's breast, in the form of unnecessary excitement 
and resistance. The apparent aetiology of neurosis elicited by 
psychoanalysis is actually, in very many cases, only an inventory 
of carefully selected fantasies, reminiscences, etc., aiming in a 
definite direction and created by the patient out of the libido 
he did not use for biological adaptation. Those allegedly aetio- 
logical fantasies thus appear to be nothing but substitute for 
mations, disguises, artificial explanations for the failure to 
adapt to reality. The aforementioned vicious circle of flight 
from reality and regression into fantasy is naturally very apt to 
give the illusion of seemingly decisive causal relationships, 
which the analyst as well as the patient believes in. Accidental 
occurrences intervene in this mechanism only as "mitigating 
circumstances." Their real and effective existence must, how 
ever, be acknowledged. 

I must admit that those critics are partly right who get the 
impression, from their reading of psychoanalytic case histories, 
that it is all fantastic and artificial. Only, they make the mistake 
of attributing the fantastic artefacts and lurid, far-fetched sym 
bolisms to the suggestion and fertile imagination of the analyst, 
and not to the incomparably more fertile fantasy of his patients. 
In the fantasy material of a psychoanalytic case history there is, 
indeed, very much that is artificial. But the most striking thing 
is the active inventiveness of the patient. And the critics are not 
so wrong, either, when they say that their neurotic patients have 
no such fantasies. I do not doubt that most of their patients are 
totally unconscious of having any fantasies at all. When it is in 
the unconscious, a fantasy is "real" only when it has some de 
monstrable effect on consciousness, for instance in the form of 
a dream. Otherwise we can say with a clear conscience that it is 
i (Sensitiveness is naturally only one word for it. We could also say "reactivity" or 
"lability." As we know, there are many other words hi circulation.) 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



not real. So anyone who overlooks the almost imperceptible ef 
fects of unconscious fantasies on consciousness, or dispenses with 
a thorough and technically irreproachable analysis of dreams, 
can easily overlook the fantasies of his patients altogether. We 
are therefore inclined to smile when we hear this oft-repeated 
objection. 

4*3 Nevertheless, we must admit that there is some truth in it. 
The regressive tendency of the patient, reinforced by the atten 
tions of the psychoanalyst in his examination of the unconscious 
fantasy activity, goes on inventing and creating even during the 
analysis. One could even say that this activity is greatly increased 
in the analytical situation, since the patient feels his regressive 
tendency strengthened by the interest of the analyst and pro 
duces even more fantasies than before. For this reason our critics 
have often remarked that a conscientious therapy of the neu 
rosis should go in exactly the opposite direction to that taken by 
psychoanalysis; in other words, that it is the first task of therapy 
to extricate the patient from his unhealthy fantasies and bring 
him back again to real life. 

414 The psychoanalyst, of course, is well aware of this, but he 
knows just how far one can go with this extricating of neurotics 
from their fantasies. As medical men, we should naturally never 
dream of preferring a difficult and complicated method, assailed 
by all the authorities, to a simple, clear, and easy one unless 
for a very good reason. I am perfectly well acquainted with 
hypnotic suggestion and Dubois' method of persuasion, but I 
do not use them because they are comparatively ineffective. For 
the same reason, I do not use "reeducation de la volont<" di 
rectly, as psychoanalysis gives me better results. 



ACTIVE PARTICIPATION IN THE FANTASY 

415 But, if we do use psychoanalysis, we must go along with the 
regressive fantasies of our patients. Psychoanalysis has a much 
broader outlook as regards the evaluation of symptoms than 
have the usual psychotherapeutic procedures. These all start 
from the assumption that neurosis is an entirely pathological 
formation. In the whole of neurology hitherto, no one has ever 
thought of seeing in the neurosis an attempt at healing, or, con- 

184 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



sequently, of attributing to the neurotic formations a quite 
special teleological significance. But, like every illness, neurosis 
is only a compromise between the pathogenic causes and the 
normal function. Modern medicine no longer considers fever 
as the illness itself but as a purposive reaction of the organism. 
Similarly, psychoanalysis does not conceive the neurosis as anti- 
natural and in itself pathological, but as having a meaning and 
a purpose. 

4 l6 From this follows the inquiring and expectant attitude of 
psychoanalysis towards neurosis. In all cases it refrains from 
judging the value of a symptom, and tries instead to understand 
what tendencies lie beneath that symptom. If we were able to 
destroy a neurosis in the same way, for instance, as a cancer is 
destroyed, we would be destroying at the same time a large 
amount of useful energy. We save this energy, that is, we make 
it serve the purposes of the drive for recuperation, by pursuing 
the meaning of the symptoms and going along with the regres 
sive movement of the patient. Those unfamiliar with the essen 
tials of psychoanalysis will certainly have some difficulty in 
understanding how a therapeutic effect can be achieved when 
the analyst enters into the "harmful" fantasies of his patients. 
Not only the opponents of psychoanalysis but the patients them 
selves doubt the therapeutic value of such a method, which 
concentrates attention on the very things that the patient con 
demns as worthless and reprehensible, namely his fantasies. 
Patients will often tell you that their former doctors forbade 
them to have any concern with their fantasies, explaining that 
they could only consider themselves well when they were free, 
if only temporarily, from this terrible scourge. Naturally they 
wonder what good it will do when the treatment leads them 
back to the very place from which they consistently tried to 
escape. 

4 1 ? This objection can be answered as follows: it all depends on 
the attitude the patient takes towards his fantasies. Hitherto, 
the patient's fantasying was a completely passive and involun 
tary activity. He was lost in his dreams, as we say. Even his so- 
called "brooding" was nothing but an involuntary fantasy. What 
psychoanalysis demands of the patient is apparently the same 
thing, but only a person with a very superficial knowledge of 
psychoanalysis could confuse this passive dreaming with the 

185 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



attitude now required. What psychoanalysis asks of the patient 
is the exact opposite of what the patient has always done. He is 
like a man who has unintentionally fallen into the water and 
sunk, whereas psychoanalysis wants him to act like a diver. It 
was no mere chance which led him to fall in just at that spot. 
There lies the sunken treasure, but only a diver can bring it to 
the surface. 

418 That is to say, when the patient judges them from a rational 
standpoint, he regards his fantasies as worthless and meaning 
less. In reality, however, they exert their great influence just 
because they are of such great importance. They are sunken 
treasures which can only be recovered by a diver; in other words 
the patient, contrary to his wont, must now deliberately turn his 
attention to his inner life. Where formerly he dreamed, he must 
now think, consciously and intentionally. This new way of 
thinking about himself has about as much resemblance to his 
former state of mind as a diver has to a drowning man. His 
former compulsion now has a meaning and a purpose, it has 
become work. The patient, assisted by the analyst, immerses 
himself in his fantasies, not in order to lose himself in them, but 
to salvage them, piece by piece, and bring them into the light of 
day. He thus acquires an objective vantage-point from which to 
view his inner life, and can now tackle the very thing he feared 
and hated. Here we have the basic principle of all psychoanalytic 
treatment. 



THE TASK OF ADAPTATION 

419 Previously, because of his illness, the patient stood partly or 
wholly outside life. Consequently he neglected many of his 
duties, either in regard to social achievement or in regard to his 
purely human tasks. He must get back to fulfilling these duties 
if he wants to become well again. By way of caution, I would 
remark that "duties" are not to be understood here as general 
ethical postulates, but as duties to himself, by which again I do 
not mean egocentric interests for a human being is also a social 
being, a fact too easily forgotten by individualists. A normal 
person feels very much more comfortable sharing a common 
virtue than possessing an individual vice, no matter how seduc- 

186 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



tive it may be. He must already be a neurotic, or an otherwise 
unusual person, if he lets himself be deluded by special interests 
of this kind. 

420 The neurotic shrank from his duties and his libido turned 
away, at least partly, from the tasks imposed by reality. Conse 
quently it became introverted, directed towards his inner life. 
Because no attempt was made to master any real difficulties, his 
libido followed the path of regression, so that fantasy largely 
took the place of reality. Unconsciouslyand very often con 
sciouslythe neurotic prefers to live in his dreams and fantasies. 
In order to bring him back to reality and to the fulfilment of 
his necessary tasks, psychoanalysis proceeds along the same 
"false" track of regression which was taken by the libido of the 
patient, so that at the beginning the analysis looks as if it were 
supporting his morbid proclivities. But psychoanalysis follows 
the false tracks of fantasy in order to restore the libido, the 
valuable part of the fantasies, to consciousness and apply it to 
the duties of the present. This can only be done by bringing up 
the unconscious fantasies, together with the libido attached to 
them. Were there no libido attached, we could safely leave these 
unconscious fantasies to their own shadowy existence. Unavoid 
ably the patient, feeling confirmed in his regressive tendency 
by the mere fact of having started the analysis, will, amid in 
creasing resistances, lead the analyst's interest down to the 
depths of his unconscious shadow-world. 

421 It will readily be understood that every analyst, as a normal 
person, will feel in himself the greatest resistances to the re 
gressive tendency of the patient, as he is quite convinced that 
this tendency is pathological. As a doctor, he believes he is act 
ing quite rightly not to enter into his patient's fantasies. He is 
understandably repelled by this tendency, for it is indeed re 
pulsive to see somebody completely given up to such fantasies, 
finding only himself important and admiring himself unceas 
ingly. Moreover, for the aesthetic sensibilities of the normal per 
son, the average run of neurotic fantasies is exceedingly dis 
agreeable, if not downright disgusting. The psychoanalyst, of 
course, must put aside all aesthetic value-judgments, just like 
every other doctor who really wants to help his patient. He 
must not shudder at dirty work. Naturally there are a great 
many patients who are physically ill and who do recover through 

187 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



the application of ordinary physical methods, dietetic or sug 
gestive, without closer exploration and radical treatment. But 
severe cases can be helped only by a therapy based on an exact 
investigation and thorough knowledge of the illness. Our psy- 
chotherapeutic methods hitherto were general measures of this 
kind; in mild cases they do no harm, on the contrary they are 
often of real use* But a great many patients prove inaccessible 
to these methods. If anything helps here, it is psychoanalysis, 
which is not to say that psychoanalysis is a cure-all. This is a 
sneer that comes only from ill-natured criticism. We know very 
well that psychoanalysis fails in certain cases. As everybody 
knows, we shall never be able to cure all illnesses. 

422 The "diving" work of analysis brings up dirty material, 
piece by piece, out of the slime, but it must first be cleaned be 
fore we can recognize its value. The dirty fantasies are value 
less and are thrown aside, but the libido attached to them is of 
value and this, after the work of cleaning, becomes serviceable 
again. To the professional psychoanalyst, as to every specialist, 
it will sometimes seem that the fantasies have a value of their 
own, and not just the libido. But their value is no concern of 
the patient's. For the analyst these fantasies have only a scien 
tific value, just as it may be of special interest to the surgeon to 
know whether the pus contains staphylococci or streptococci. 
To the patient it is all the same, and so far as he is concerned 
it is better for the analyst to conceal his scientific interest, lest 
the patient be tempted to take more pleasure than necessary in 
his fantasies. The aetiological significance which is attributed to 
these fantasies incorrectly, to my mind explains why so much 
space is given up to the extensive discussion of all forms of fan 
tasy in the psychoanalytic literature. Once one knows that in 
this sphere absolutely nothing is impossible, the initial estima 
tion of fantasies will gradually wear itself out, and with it the 
attempt to discover in them an aetiological significance. Nor will 
the most exhaustive discussion of case histories ever succeed in 
emptying this ocean. Theoretically the fantasies in each case are 
inexhaustible. 

423 In most cases, however, the production of fantasies ceases 
after a time, from which one must not conclude that the pos 
sibilities of fantasy are exhausted; the cessation only means that 
no more libido is regressing. The end of the regressive move- 

188 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



ment is reached when the libido seizes hold of the actualities of 
life and is used for the solution of necessary tasks. There are 
cases, and not a few of them, where the patient continues to 
produce endless fantasies, whether for his own pleasure or be 
cause of the mistaken expectations of the analyst. Such a mistake 
is especially easy for beginners, since, blinded by psychoanalytic 
case histories, they keep their interest fixed on the alleged 
aetiological significance of the fantasies, and are constantly en 
deavouring to fish up more fantasies from the infantile past, 
vainly hoping to find there the solution of the neurotic diffi 
culties. They do not see that the solution lies in action, in the 
fulfilment of certain necessary obligations to life. It will be ob 
jected that the neurosis is entirely due to the incapacity of the 
patient to carry out these tasks, and that, by analysing the un 
conscious, the therapist ought to enable him to do so, or at least 
give him the means of doing so. 

424 Put in this way, the objection is perfectly true, but we have 
to add that it is valid only when the patient is really conscious 
of the task he has to fulfil conscious of it not only academically, 
in general theoretical outline, but also in detail. It is charac 
teristic of neurotics to be wanting in this knowledge, although, 
because of their intelligence, they are well aware of the general 
duties of life, and struggle perhaps only too hard to fulfil the 
precepts of current morality. But for that very reason they know 
all the less, sometimes nothing at all, about the incomparably 
more important duties to themselves. It is not enough, there 
fore, to follow the patient blindfold on the path of regression, 
and to push him back into his infantile fantasies by an untimely 
aetiological interest. I often hear from patients who have got 
stuck in a psychoanalytic treatment: "My analyst thinks I must 
have an infantile trauma somewhere, or a fantasy I am still re 
pressing." Apart from cases where this conjecture happened to 
be true, I have seen others in which the stoppage was caused by 
the fact that the libido, hauled up by the analysis, sank back 
again into the depths for want of employment. This was due to 
the analyst directing his attention entirely to the infantile 
fantasies and his failure to see what task of adaptation the pa 
tient had to fulfil. The consequence was that the libido always 
sank back again, as it was given no opportunity for further 
activity. 

189 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



425 There are many patients who, quite on their own account, 
discover their life-tasks and stop the production of regressive 
fantasies fairly soon, because they prefer to live in reality rather 
than in fantasy. It is a pity that this cannot be said of all pa 
tients. A good many of them postpone the fulfilment of their 
life-tasks indefinitely, perhaps for ever, and prefer their idle 
neurotic dreaming. I must emphasize yet again that by ''dream 
ing" we do not mean a conscious phenomenon. 

426 In consequence of these facts and insights, the character of 
psychoanalysis has changed in the course of the years. If in its 
first stage psychoanalysis was a kind of surgery, which removed 
the foreign body, the blocked affect, from the psyche, in its later 
form it was a kind of historical method, which tried to investi 
gate the genesis of the neurosis in all its details and to trace it 
back to its earliest beginnings. 



THE TRANSFERENCE 

4 2 7 There is no doubt that this method owed its existence not 
only to a strong scientific interest but also to the personal 
"empathy" of the analyst, traces of which can clearly be seen in 
the psychoanalytic case material. Thanks to this personal feel 
ing, Freud was able to discover wherein lay the therapeutic 
effect of psychoanalysis. While this was formerly sought in the 
discharge of the traumatic affect, it was now found that the fan 
tasies brought out by analysis were all associated with the person 
of the analyst. Freud called this process the transference^ be 
cause the patient transferred to the analyst the fantasies that 
were formerly attached to the memory-images of the parents. 
The transference is not limited to the purely intellectual sphere; 
rather, the libido that is invested in the fantasies precipitates 
itself, together with the fantasies, upon the analyst. All those 
sexual fantasies which cluster round the imago of the parents 
now cluster round him, and the less the patient realizes this, the 
stronger will be his unconscious tie to the analyst. 

428 This discovery is of fundamental importance in several ways. 
Above all, the transference is of great biological value to the 
patient. The less libido he gives to reality, the more exaggerated 
will be his fantasies and the more he will be cut off from the 

190 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



world. Typical of neurotics is their disturbed relationship to 
reality that is to say, their reduced adaptation. The trans 
ference to the analyst builds a bridge across which the patient 
can get away from his family into reality. He can now emerge 
from his infantile milieu into the world of adults, since the 
analyst represents for him a part of the world outside the family. 

429 On the other hand, the transference is a powerful hindrance 
to the progress of the treatment, because the patient assimilates 
the analyst, who should stand for a part of the extrafamilial 
world, to his father and mother, so that the whole advantage of 
his new acquisition is jeopardized. The more he is able to see 
the analyst objectively, to regard him as he does any other in 
dividual, the greater becomes the advantage of the transference. 
The less he is able to see the analyst in this way, and the more 
he assimilates him to the father imago, the less advantageous 
the transference will be and the greater the harm it will do. The 
patient has merely widened the scope of his family by the addi 
tion of a quasi-parental personality. He himself is, as before, 
still in the infantile milieu and therefore maintains his infan 
tile constellation. In this manner all the advantages of the trans 
ference can be lost. 

430 There are patients who follow the analysis with the greatest 
interest without making the slightest improvement, remaining 
extraordinarily productive in their fantasies although the whole 
previous history of their neurosis, even its darkest corners, seems 
to have been brought to light. An analyst under the influence 
of the historical view might easily be thrown into confusion, 
and would have to ask himself: What is there in this case still 
to be analysed? These are just the cases I had in mind before, 
when I said it is no longer a matter of analysing the historical 
material, but of action, of overcoming the infantile attitude. 
The historical analysis would show over and over again that the 
patient has an infantile attitude to the analyst, but it would not 
tell us how to alter it. Up to a certain point, this serious disad 
vantage of the transference applies to every case. It has gradually 
proved, even, that the part of psychoanalysis so far discussed, 
extraordinarily interesting and valuable though it may be from 
a scientific point of view, is in practice far less important than 
what now has to follow, namely, the analysis of the transference 
itself. 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



CONFESSION AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 

43 1 Before I discuss in detail this especially important part of 
the analysis, I should like to draw attention to a parallel be 
tween the first stage of psychoanalysis and a certain cultural 
institution. By this I mean the religious institution of confes 
sion. 

432 Nothing makes people more lonely, and more cut off from 
the fellowship of others, than the possession of an anxiously 
hidden and jealously guarded personal secret. Very often it is 
"sinful" thoughts and deeds that keep them apart and estrange 
them from one another. Here confession sometimes has a truly 
redeeming effect. The tremendous feeling of relief which usu 
ally follows a confession can be ascribed to the readmission of 
the lost sheep into the human community. His moral isolation 
and seclusion, which were so difficult to bear, cease. Herein lies 
the chief psychological value of confession. 

433 Besides that, however, it has other consequences: through 
the transference of his secret and all the unconscious fantasies 
underlying it, a moral bond is formed between the patient and 
his father confessor. We call this a "transference relationship." 
Anyone with psychoanalytic experience knows how much the 
personal significance of the analyst is enhanced when the patient 
is able to confess his secrets to him. The change this induces in 
the patient's behaviour is often amazing. This, too, is an effect 
probably intended by the Church. The fact that by far the 
greater part of humanity not only needs guidance, but wishes 
for nothing better than to be guided and held in tutelage, justi 
fies, in a sense, the moral value which the Church sets on con 
fession. The priest, equipped with all the insignia of paternal 
authority, becomes the responsible leader and shepherd of his 
flock. He is the father confessor and the members of his parish 
are his penitent children. 

434 Thus priest and Church replace the parents, and to that ex 
tent they free the individual from the bonds of the family. In 
so far as the priest is a morally elevated personality with a nat 
ural nobility of soul and a mental culture to match, the institu 
tion of confession may be commended as a brilliant method of 
social guidance and education, which did in fact perform a tre- 

192 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



mendous educative task for more than fifteen hundred years. So 
long as the medieval Church knew how to be the guardian of 
art and science a role in which her success was due, in part, to 
her wide tolerance of worldly interests confession was an ad 
mirable instrument of education. But it lost its educative value, 
at least for more highly developed people, as soon as the Church 
proved incapable of maintaining her leadership in the intellec 
tual sphere the inevitable consequence of spiritual rigidity. 
The more highly developed men of our time do not want to be 
guided by a creed or a dogma; they want to understand. So it is 
not surprising if they throw aside everything they do not under 
stand; and religious symbols, being the least intelligible of all, 
are generally the first to go overboard. The sacrifice of the in 
tellect demanded by a positive belief is a violation against which 
the conscience of the more highly developed individual rebels. 
435 So far as analysis is concerned, in perhaps the majority of 
cases the transference to and dependence on the analyst could 
be regarded as a sufficient end with a definite therapeutic effect, 
provided that the analyst was a commanding personality and 
in every way capable of guiding his patients responsibly and 
being a "father to his people." But a modern, mentally de 
veloped person strives, consciously or unconsciously, to govern 
himself and stand morally on his own feet. He wants to take the 
helm in his own hands; the steering has too long been done by 
others. He wants to understand; in other words, he wants to be 
an adult. It is much easier to be guided, but this no longer suits 
intelligent people today, for they feel that the spirit of the age 
requires them to exercise moral autonomy. Psychoanalysis has 
to reckon with this requirement, and has therefore to reject the 
demand of the patient for constant guidance and instruction. 
The analyst knows his own shortcomings too well to believe that 
he could play the role of father and guide. His highest ambition 
must consist only in educating his patients to become inde 
pendent personalities, and in freeing them from their uncon 
scious bondage to infantile limitations. He must therefore an 
alyse the transference, a task left untouched by the priest. 
Through the analysis the unconsciousand sometimes con 
scioustie to the analyst is cut, and the patient is set upon his 
own feet. That, at least, is the aim of the treatment. 2 

2 [Cf. the "Psychology of the Transference" for a more detailed study.] 

193 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



ANALYSIS OF THE TRANSFERENCE 

43 6 The transference introduces all sorts of difficulties into the 
relationship between analyst and patient because, as we have 
seen, the analyst is always more or less assimilated to the family. 
The first part of the analysis, the discovery of complexes, is 
fairly easy, thanks to the fact that everyone likes to unburden 
himself of his painful secrets. Also, he experiences a particular 
satisfaction in at last finding someone who has an understand 
ing ear for all those things to which nobody would listen before. 
For the patient it is a singularly agreeable sensation to be un 
derstood and to have a doctor who is determined to understand 
him at all costs, and is willing to follow him, apparently, through 
all his devious ways. There are patients who even have a special 
"test" for this, a special question which the analyst has to go 
into; if he cannot or will not do this, or if he overlooks it, then 
he is no good. The feeling of being understood is especially 
sweet to all those lonely souls who are insatiable in their demand 
for "understanding." 

437 For patients with such an obliging disposition, the beginning 
of the analysis is, as a rule, fairly simple. The therapeutic effects, 
often considerable, which may appear about this time are easy 
to obtain, and for that reason they may seduce the beginner into 
a therapeutic optimism and analytical superficiality which bear 
no relation to the seriousness and peculiar difficulties of his task. 
The trumpeting of therapeutic successes is nowhere more con 
temptible than in psychoanalysis, for no one should know bet 
ter than the psychoanalyst that the therapeutic result ultimately 
depends far more on the co-operation of nature and of the pa 
tient himself. The psychoanalyst may legitimately pride himself 
on his increased insight into the essence and structure of neu 
rosis, an insight that greatly exceeds all previous knowledge in 
this field. But psychoanalytic publications to date cannot be 
acquitted of the charge of sometimes showing psychoanalysis in 
a false light. There are technical publications which give the 
uninitiated person the impression that psychoanalysis is a more 
or less clever trick, productive of astonishing results. 

438 The first stage of the analysis, when we try to understand, 
and in this way often relieve, the patient's feelings, is responsi- 

194 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



ble for these therapeutic illusions. The improvements that may 
appear at the beginning of an analysis are naturally not really 
results of the treatment, but are generally only passing allevia 
tions which greatly assist the process of transference. After the 
initial resistances to the transference have been overcome, it 
turns out to be an ideal situation for a neurotic. He does not 
need to make any effort himself, and yet someone comes to meet 
him more than halfway, someone with an unwonted and pe 
culiar wish to understand, who does not allow himself to get 
bored and is not put off by anything, although the patient some 
times does his utmost to rile him with his wilfulness and child 
ish defiance. This forbearance is enough to melt the strongest 
resistances, so that the patient no longer hesitates to set the 
analyst among his family gods, i.e., to assimilate him to the in 
fantile milieu. 

439 At the same time, the patient satisfies another need, that is, 
he achieves a relationship outside the family and thus fulfils a 
biological demand. Hence the patient obtains a double ad 
vantage from the transference relationship: a personality who 
on the one hand is expected to bestow on him a loving atten 
tion in all his concerns, and to that extent is equated with father 
and mother, but who, on the other hand, is outside the family 
and thus helps him to fulfil a vitally important and difficult duty 
without the least danger to himself. When, on top of that, this 
acquisition is coupled with a marked therapeutic effect, as not 
infrequently happens, the patient is fortified in his belief that 
his new-found situation is an excellent one. We can readily ap 
preciate that he is not in the least inclined to give up all these 
advantages. If it were left to him, he would prefer to remain 
united with the analyst for ever. Accordingly, he now starts to 
produce numerous fantasies showing how this goal might be 
attained. Eroticism plays a large role here, and is exploited and 
exaggerated in order to demonstrate the impossibility of sep 
aration. The patient, understandably enough, puts up the most 
obstinate resistance when the analyst tries to break the trans 
ference relationship. 

44 We must not forget, however, that for a neurotic the acquisi 
tion of an extrafamilial relationship is one of life's duties, as it 
is for everyone, and a duty which till then he has either not 
fulfilled at all or fulfilled in a very limited way. At this point I 

195 



must energetically oppose the view one so often hears that an 
extrafamilial relationship always means a sexual relationship. 
(In many cases one would like to say: it is precisely not that. It 
is a favourite neurotic misunderstanding that the right attitude 
to the world is found by indulgence in sex. In this respect, too, 
the literature of psychoanalysis is not free from misrepresenta 
tions; indeed there are publications from which no other con 
clusions can be drawn. This misunderstanding is far older than 
psychoanalysis, however, and so cannot be laid altogether at its 
door. The experienced medical man knows this advice very well, 
and I have had more than one patient who has acted according 
to this prescription. But when a psychoanalyst recommends it, 
he is making the same mistake as his patient, who believes that 
his sexual fantasies come from pent-up ("repressed") sexuality. If 
that were so, this recipe would naturally be a salutary one. It is 
not a question of that at all, but of regressive libido which ex 
aggerates the fantasies because it evades the real task and strives 
back to the infantile level.) If we support this regressive tend 
ency at all points we simply reinforce the infantile attitude 
from which the neurotic is suffering. He has to learn the higher 
adaptation which life demands from mature and civilized peo 
ple. Those who have a decided tendency to sink lower will pro 
ceed to do so; they need no psychoanalysis for that. 

44 1 At the same time, we must be careful that we do not fall in 
to the opposite extreme of thinking that psychoanalysis creates 
nothing but quite exceptional personalities. Psychoanalysis 
stands outside traditional morality; for the present it should 
adhere to no general moral standard. It is, and should be, only 
a means for giving the individual trends breathing-space, for 
developing them and bringing them into harmony with the rest 
of the personality. It should be a biological method, whose aim 
is to combine the highest subjective well-being with the most 
valuable biological performance. As man is not only an indi 
vidual but also a member of society, these two tendencies in 
herent in human nature can never be separated, or the one 
subordinated to the other, without doing him serious injury. 

442 The best result for a person who undergoes an analysis is 
that he shall become in the end what he really is, in harmony 
with himself, neither good nor bad, just as he is in his natural 
state. Psychoanalysis cannot be considered a method of educa- 

196 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



tion, if by education we mean the topiary art of clipping a tree 
into a beautiful artificial shape. But those who have a higher 
conception of education will prize most the method of culti 
vating a tree so that it fulfils to perfection its own natural con 
ditions of growth. We yield too much to the ridiculous fear that 
we are at bottom quite impossible beings, that if everyone were 
to appear as he really is a frightful social catastrophe would 
ensue. Many people today take "man as he really is" to mean 
merely the eternally discontented, anarchic, rapacious element 
in human beings, quite forgetting that these same human beings 
have also erected those firmly established forms of civilization 
which possess greater strength and stability than all the anarchic 
undercurrents. (The strengthening of his social personality is 
one of the essential conditions for man's existence. Were it not 
so, humanity would cease to be. The selfishness and rebellious 
ness we meet in the neurotic's psychology are not "man as he 
really is" but an infantile distortion. In reality the normal man 
is "civic-minded and moral"; he created his laws and observes 
them, not because they are imposed on him from without that 
is a childish delusion but because he loves law and order more 
than he loves disorder and lawlessness.) 



RESOLUTION OF THE TRANSFERENCE 

443 In order to resolve the transference, we have to fight against 
forces which are not merely neurotic but have a general signifi 
cance for normal human beings. In trying to get the patient to 
break the transference relationship, we are asking of him some 
thing that is seldom, or never, demanded of the average person, 
namely, that he should conquer himself completely. Only cer 
tain religions demanded this of the individual, and it is this 
that makes the second stage of analysis so very difficult. 

444 {As you know, it is an habitual prejudice of children to think 
that love gives them the right to make demands. The infantile 
conception of loving is getting presents from others. Patients 
make demands in accordance with this definition, and thus be 
have no differently from most normal people, whose infantile 
cupidity is only prevented from reaching too high a pitch by 
their fulfilling their duties to life and by the satisfaction this 

197 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



affords the libido, and also because a certain lack o tempera 
ment does not incline them from the start to passionate be 
haviour. The basic trouble with the neurotic is that, instead of 
adapting himself to life in his own special way, which would 
require a high degree of self-discipline, he makes infantile de 
mands and then begins to bargain. The analyst will hardly be 
disposed to comply with the demands the patient makes on him 
personally, but circumstances may arise in which he will seek to 
buy his freedom with compromises. For instance, he might 
throw out hints of moral liberties which, if turned into a maxim, 
would bring about a general lowering of the cultural level. But 
in that way the patient merely sinks to the lower level and be 
comes inferior. Nor is it, in the end, a question of culture at all, 
but simply of the analyst buying his way out of the constricting 
transference situation by offering other, alleged advantages. It 
goes against the real interests of the patient to hold out these 
compensating advantages so enticingly; at that rate he will never 
be freed from his infantile cupidity and indolence. Only self- 
conquest can free him from these. 

445 The neurotic has to prove that he, just as much as a normal 
person, can live reasonably. Indeed, he must do more than a 
normal person, he must give up a large slice of his infantilism, 
which nobody asks a normal person to do. 

44 6 Patients often try to convince themselves, by seeking out 
special adventures, that it is possible to go on living in an in 
fantile way. It would be a great mistake if the analyst tried to 
stop them. There are experiences which one must go through 
and for which reason is no substitute. Such experiences are often 
of inestimable value to the patient. 

447 Nowhere more clearly than at this stage of the analysis will 
everything depend on how far the analyst has been analysed 
himself. If he himself has an infantile type of desire of which he 
is still unconscious, he will never be able to open his patient's 
eyes to this danger. It is an open secret that all through the anal 
ysis intelligent patients are looking beyond it into the soul of 
the analyst, in order to find there the confirmation of the heal 
ing formulae or its opposite. It is quite impossible, even by 
the subtlest analysis, to prevent the patient from taking over 
instinctively the way in which his analyst deals with the prob 
lems of life. Nothing can stop this, for personality teaches more 

198 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



than thick tomes full of wisdom. All the disguises in which he 
wraps himself in order to conceal his own personality avail 
him nothing; sooner or later he will come across a patient who 
calls his bluff. An analyst who from the first takes his profession 
seriously is faced with the inexorable necessity of testing out the 
principles of psychoanalysis on himself as well. He will be aston 
ished to see how many apparently technical difficulties vanish 
in this way. Note that I am not speaking of the initial stage of 
analysis, which might be called the stage of unearthing the com 
plexes, but of this final, extraordinarily tricky stage which is 
concerned with the resolution of the transference. 

448 I have frequently found that beginners look upon the trans 
ference as an entirely abnormal phenomenon that has to be 
"fought against." Nothing could be more mistaken. To begin 
with we have to regard the transference merely as a falsification, 
a sexualized caricature, of the social bond which holds human 
society together and which also produces close ties between peo 
ple of like mind. This bond is one of the most valuable social 
factors imaginable, and it would be a cruel mistake to reject 
absolutely these social overtures on the part of the patient. It is 
only necessary to purge them of their regressive components, 
their infantile sexualism. If that is done, the transference be 
comes a most convenient instrument of adaptation. 

449 The only danger and it is a great oneis that the unac 
knowledged infantile demands of the analyst may identify them 
selves with the parallel demands of the patient. The analyst can 
avoid this only by submitting to a rigorous analysis at the hands 
of another. He then learns to understand what analysis really 
means and how it feels to experience it on your own psyche. 
Every intelligent analyst will at once see how much this must 
redound to the benefit of his patients. There are analysts who 
believe that they can get along with a self-analysis. This is 
Munchausen psychology, and they will certainly remain stuck. 
They forget that one of the most important therapeutically ef 
fective factors is subjecting yourself to the objective judgment 
of another. As regards ourselves we remain blind, despite every 
thing and everybody. The analyst, of all people, must give up 
all isolationist tactics and autoerotic mystification if he wants 
to help his patients to become socially mature and independent 
personalities. 

199 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



45 I know that I am also at one with Freud when I set it up as a 
self-evident requirement that a psychoanalyst must discharge 
his own duties to life in the proper way. If he does not, nothing 
can stop his unutilized libido from automatically descending on 
his patients and in the end falsifying the whole analysis. Imma 
ture and incompetent persons who are themselves neurotic and 
stand with only one foot in reality generally make nothing but 
nonsense out of analysis. Exempla sunt odiosa! Medicine in the 
hand of a fool was ever poison and death. Just as we demand 
from a surgeon, besides his technical knowledge, a skilled hand, 
courage, presence of mind, and power of decision, so we must 
expect from an analyst a very serious and thorough psycho 
analytic training of his own personality before we are willing to 
entrust a patient to him. I would even go so far as to say that 
the acquisition and practice of the psychoanalytic technique 
presuppose not only a specific psychological gift but in the very 
first place a serious concern with the moulding of one's own 
character.) 

45 1 The technique for resolving the transference is the same as 
the one we have already described. The problem of what the 
patient is to do with the libido he has withdrawn from the per 
son of the analyst naturally occupies a large place. Here too the 
danger for the beginner is great, as he will be inclined to sug 
gest or to give advice. For the patient the analyst's efforts in this 
respect are extremely convenient, and therefore fatal. At this 
important juncture, as everywhere in psychoanalysis, we have 
to let the patient and his impulses take the lead, even if the path 
seems a wrong one. Error is just as important a condition of 
life's progress as truth. 



THE PROSPECTIVE FUNCTION OF DREAMS 

45* In this second stage of analysis, with its hidden reefs and 
shoals, we owe an enormous amount to dreams. At the begin 
ning of the analysis, dreams helped us chiefly to discover the 
fantasies; but here they are often extremely valuable guides to 
the use of libido. Freud's work laid the foundation for an im 
mense increase in our knowledge in regard to the determination 
of the manifest dream content by historical material and wish- 

200 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



ful tendencies. He showed how dreams give access to a mass of 
subliminal material, mostly memories that have sunk below the 
threshold. In keeping with his genius for the purely histori 
cal method, Freud's procedure is predominantly analytical. Al 
though this method is incontestably of great value we ought 
not to adopt this standpoint exclusively, as a one-sided historical 
view does not take sufficient account of the teleological signifi 
cance of dreams (stressed in particular by Maeder 3 ). Uncon 
scious thinking would be quite inadequately characterized if we 
considered it only from the standpoint of its historical deter 
minants. For a complete evaluation we have unquestionably to 
consider its teleological or prospective significance as well. If we 
pursued the history of the English Parliament back to its earli 
est beginnings, we should undoubtedly arrive at an excellent 
understanding of its development and the way its present form 
was determined. But that would tell us nothing about its pro 
spective function, that is, about the tasks it has to accomplish 
now and in the future. 

453 The same is true of dreams, whose prospective function 
alone was valued in the superstitions of all times and races. 
There may well be a good deal of truth in this view. Without 
presuming to say that dreams have prophetic foresight, it is 
nevertheless possible that we might find, in this subliminal ma 
terial, combinations of future events which are subliminal sim 
ply because they have not yet attained the degree of clarity 
necessary for them to become conscious. Here I am thinking of 
those dim presentiments we sometimes have of the future, which 
are nothing but very faint, subliminal combinations of events 
whose objective value we are not yet able to apperceive. 

454 The future tendencies of the patient are elaborated with the 
help of these teleological components of the dream. If this work 
is successful, the patient passes out of the treatment and out of 
the semi-infantile transference relationship into a life which has 
been carefully prepared within him, which he has chosen him 
self, and to which, after mature deliberation, he can declare 
himself committed. 

["Die Symbolik in den Legenden, Marchen, Gebr^uchen und TrSumen" (1908). 
EDITORS.] 



201 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



FUTURE USES OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



455 As will readily be understood, psychoanalysis can never be 
used for polyclinical work. It must always remain in the hands 
of the few who, because of their innate educative and psy 
chological capacities, have a particular aptitude and a special 
liking for this profession. Just as not every doctor makes a good 
surgeon, not everyone is fitted to be a psychoanalyst. The pre 
dominantly psychological nature of the work will make it diffi 
cult for the medical profession to monopolize it. Sooner or later 
other branches of science will master the method, either for 
practical reasons or out of theoretical interest. So long as ortho 
dox science excludes psychoanalysis from general discussion as 
sheer nonsense, we cannot be surprised if other departments 
learn to master the material before the medical profession does. 
This is all the more likely as psychoanalysis is a general method 
of psychological research and a heuristic principle of the first 
rank in the domain of the humane sciences. 

45 6 It is chiefly the work of the Zurich school that has demon 
strated the applicability of psychoanalysis as a method of in 
vestigation in mental disease. Psychoanalytic investigation of 
dementia praecox, for instance, has given us most valuable in 
sights into the psychological structure of this remarkable disease. 
It would lead me too far afield to go at all deeply into the results 
of these investigations. The theory of the psychological deter 
minants of this disease is a sufficiently vast territory in itself, and 
if I were to discuss the symbolistic problems of dementia prae 
cox I would have to put before you a mass of material which 
I could not hope to deploy within the framework of these lec 
tures, whose purpose is to provide a general survey. 

457 The question of dementia praecox has become so extraor 
dinarily complicated because the recent incursion of psycho 
analysis into the domains of mythology and comparative religion 
has afforded us deep insight into ethnological symbolism. Those 
who were familiar with the symbolism of dreams and of de 
mentia praecox were astounded by the parallelism between the 
symbols found in modern individuals and those found in the 
history of the human race. Most startling of all is the parallelism 
between ethnic and schizophrenic symbols. The complicated 

202 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



relations between psychology and mythology make it impossible 
for me to discuss in detail rny views on dementia praecox. For 
the same reason I must refrain from discussing the results of the 
psychoanalytic investigation of mythology and comparative re 
ligion. The principal result of these investigations at present is 
the discovery of far-reaching parallels between ethnic and indi 
vidual symbolisms. We cannot yet see what vast perspectives 
this ethnopsychology may open out. But, from all we know at 
present, we may expect that psychoanalytic research into the na 
ture of subliminal processes will be enormously enriched and 
deepened by a study of mythology. 



203 



g. A CASE OF NEUROSIS IN A CHILD 

45 8 In these lectures I have had to confine myself to giving you 
a general account of the nature of psychoanalysis. Detailed dis 
cussion of the method and theory would have required a mass 
of case material, exposition of which would have detracted from 
a comprehensive view of the whole. But, in order to give you 
some idea of the actual process of psychoanalytic treatment, 
I have decided to present a fairly short analysis of an eleven- 
year-old girl. The case was analysed by my assistant, Miss Mary 
Moltzer. I must preface my remarks by saying that this case is 
no more typical of the length or course of an ordinary psycho 
analysis than one individual is typical of all others. Nowhere is 
the abstraction of generally valid rules so difficult as in psycho 
analysis, for which reason it is better not to make too many 
formulations. We must not forget that, notwithstanding the 
great uniformity of conflicts and complexes, every case is unique, 
because every individual is unique. Every case demands the 
analyst's individual interest, and in every case the course of 
analysis is different. 

459 In presenting this case, therefore, I am offering but a small 
section of the infinitely varied world of the psyche, showing all 
those apparently bizarre and arbitrary peculiarities which the 
whim of so-called chance scatters into a human life. It is not my 
intention to withhold any of the more interesting psychoan 
alytic details, as I do not want to evoke the impression that 
psychoanalysis is a rigidly formalistic method. The scientific 
needs of the investigator prompt him always to look for rules 
and categories in which the most alive of all living things can 
be captured. The analyst and observer, on the other hand, must 
eschew formulas and let the living reality work upon him in all 
its lawless profusion. Thus I shall try to present this case in its 
natural setting, and I hope I shall succeed in showing you how 
differently an analysis develops from what might have been ex 
pected on purely theoretical grounds. 

204 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



The case in question is that of an intelligent eleven-year-old 
girl of good family. 



ANAMNESIS 

4 g i The clinical history is as follows: She had to leave school 
several times on account of sudden nausea and headaches, and 
was obliged to go to bed. In the morning she sometimes refused 
to get up and go to school. She suffered from bad dreams, was 
moody and unreliable. I informed the mother, who came to 
consult me, that these might be the signs of a neurosis, and that 
something special might be hidden behind them about which 
one would have to ask the child. This conjecture was not an 
arbitrary one, for every attentive observer knows that if children 
are so restless and bad-tempered something is worrying them. 

462 The child now confessed to her mother the following story. 
She had a favourite teacher, on whom she had a crush. During 
this last term she had fallen behind with her work, and she 
thought she had sunk in her teacher's estimation. She then be 
gan to feel sick during his lessons. She felt not only estranged 
from her teacher, but even rather hostile to him. She directed 
all her friendly feelings to a poor boy with whom she usually 
shared the bread she took to school. She now gave him money as 
well, so that he could buy bread for himself. Once, in conversa 
tion with this boy, she made fun of her teacher and called him 
a goat. The boy attached himself to her more and more, and 
considered that he had the right to levy an occasional tribute 
from her in the form of a little present of money. Then she be 
came afraid that the boy would tell the teacher she had called 
him a goat, and she promised him two francs if he would give 
her his solemn word never to say anything to the teacher. From 
that moment the boy began to blackmail her; he demanded 
money with threats, and persecuted her with his demands on 
the way to school. She was in despair. Her attacks of sickness 
were closely connected with this story; yet, after the affair had 
been settled as a result of this confession, her peace of mind was 
not restored as we would have expected. 

4 6 3 Very often, as I mentioned in the previous lecture, the mere 
relation of a painful episode has a favourable therapeutic effect. 

205 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



Generally this does not last very long, although on occasion it 
may be maintained for a long time. Such a confession is natu 
rally a long way from being an analysis, despite the fact that 
there are many nerve specialists nowadays who believe that an 
analysis is only a somewhat more extensive anamnesis or con 
fession. 

464 Not long afterwards, the child had a violent attack of cough 
ing and missed school for one day. After that she went back to 
school for one day and felt perfectly well. On the third day a 
renewed attack of coughing came on, with pains on the left 
side, fever and vomiting. She had a temperature of 103 F. The 
doctor feared pneumonia. But the next day everything had 
disappeared again. She felt quite well, and there was no trace of 
fever or nausea. 

4^5 But still our little patient wept the whole time and did not 
wish to get up. From this strange course of events I suspected a 
serious neurosis, and I therefore advised analytical treatment. 



FIRST INTERVIEW 

4 66 The little girl seemed nervous and constrained, now and 
then giving a disagreeable forced laugh. She was first of all given 
an opportunity to talk about what it felt like to be allowed to 
stay in bed. We learn that it was especially nice then, as she 
always had company. Everybody came to see her; best of all, 
she could get herself read to by Mama, from a book with the 
story in it of a prince who was ill and only got well again when 
his wish was fulfilled, the wish being that his little friend, a poor 
boy, might be allowed to stay with him. 

i 6 7 The obvious relation between this story and her own little 
love-story, as well as its connection with her sickness, was 
pointed out to her, whereupon she began to weep, saying that 
she would rather go with the other children and play with them, 
or they would run away. This was at once allowed, and away 
she ran, but came back again in no time, somewhat crestfallen. 
It was explained to her that she had not run away because she 
was afraid her playmates would run away, but that she herself 
wanted to run away because of resistances. 

206 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



SECOND INTERVIEW 

468 At the second interview she was less anxious and inhibited. 
The conversation was led round to the teacher, but she was too 
embarrassed to speak about him. Finally came the shamefaced 
admission that she liked him very much. It was explained to 
her that she need not be ashamed of that; on the contrary, her 
love was a guarantee that she would do her very best in his les 
sons. "So then I may like him?" asked the little patient with a 
happier face. 

469 This explanation justified the child in her choice of a love- 
object. She had, it seemed, been afraid to admit to herself her 
feelings for the teacher. It is not easy to explain why this should 
be so. It was previously assumed that the libido has great diffi 
culty in seizing upon a person outside the family because it still 
finds itself caught in the incestuous bond a very plausible view 
indeed, from which it is difficult to withdraw. On the other 
hand, it must be emphasized that her libido had taken vehement 
possession of the poor boy, and he too was someone outside the 
family, so that the difficulty cannot lie in transferring libido to 
an extra-familial object, but in some other circumstance. Her 
love for the teacher was for her a more difficult task, it demanded 
much more from her than her love for the boy, which did not 
require any moral effort on her part. The hint dropped in the 
analysis that love would enable her to do her best brought the 
child back to her real task, which was to adapt to the teacher. 

470 Now if the libido draws back from a necessary task, it does 
so for the very human reason of indolence, which is particularly 
marked not only in children but also in primitives and animals. 
Primitive inertia and laziness are the primary reason for not 
making the effort to adapt. The libido which is not used for this 
purpose stagnates, and will then make the inevitable regression 
to former objects or modes of adaptation. The result is a strik 
ing activation of the incest complex. The libido withdraws from 
the object which is so difficult to attain and which demands such 
great efforts, and turns instead to the easier ones, and finally to 
the easiest of all, the infantile fantasies, which are then elab 
orated into real incest fantasies. The fact that, whenever there 
is a disturbance of psychological adaptation, we always find an 

207 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



excessive development of these fantasies must likewise be con 
ceived, as I pointed out before, as a regressive phenomenon. 
That is to say, the incest fantasy is of secondary and not of causal 
significance, while the primary cause is the resistance of human 
nature to any kind of exertion. Accordingly, drawing back from 
certain tasks cannot be explained by saying that man prefers 
the incestuous relationship, rather he falls back into it because 
he shuns exertion. Otherwise we would have to say that re 
sistance to conscious effort is identical with preference for the 
incestuous relationship. This would be obvious nonsense, since 
not only primitive man but animals too have a mighty dislike 
of all intentional effort, and are addicted to absolute laziness 
until circumstances prod them into action. Neither of primi 
tive people nor of animals can it be asserted that preference for 
incestuous relationships is the cause of their aversion to efforts 
at adaptation, for, especially in the case of animals, there can be 
absolutely no question of an incestuous relationship. 

47 1 Characteristically, the child expressed joy not at the prospect 
of doing her best for the teacher but at being allowed to love 
him. That was the thing she heard first, because it suited her 
best. Her relief came from the confirmation that she was justi 
fied in loving him even without making any special effort first. 

472 The conversation then went on to the story of the blackmail, 
which she told again in detail. We learn, furthermore, that she 
tried to force open her money-box, and when she did not suc 
ceed she tried to steal the key from her mother. She also made 
a clean breast of the other matter: she had made fun of the 
teacher because he was much nicer to the other girls than to her. 
But it was true that she had got worse at his lessons, especially 
in arithmetic. Once she did not understand something, but had 
not dared to ask for fear of losing the teacher's esteem. Conse 
quently she made mistakes, fell behind, and really did lose it. 
As a result, she got into a very unsatisfactory position with her 
teacher. 

473 About this time it happened that a girl in her class was sent 
home because she felt sick. Soon after, the same thing happened 
to her. In this way, she tried to get away from school, which she 
no longer liked. The loss of her teacher's esteem led her, on the 
one hand, to insult him and, on the other, into the affair with 
the little boy, obviously as a compensation for her lost relation- 

208 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



ship with the teacher. The explanation she was now given was 
a simple hint: she would be doing her teacher a good turn if 
she took pains to understand his lessons by asking questions in 
time. I may add that this hint had good results; from that mo 
ment the little girl became the best pupil and missed no more 
arithmetic lessons. 

A point worth stressing in the story of the blackmail is its 
compulsive character and the lack of freedom it shows in the 
girl. This is a quite regular phenomenon. As soon as anyone 
permits his libido to draw back from a necessary task, it be 
comes autonomous and, regardless of the protests of the subject, 
chooses its own goals and pursues them obstinately. It is there 
fore quite common for a person leading a lazy and inactive life 
to be peculiarly prone to the compulsion of libido, that is, to all 
kinds of fears and involuntary constraints. The fears and super 
stitions of primitives furnish the best proof of this, but the his 
tory of our own civilization, especially the civilization of an 
tiquity, provides ample confirmation as well. Non-employment 
of the libido makes it ungovernable. But we must not believe 
that we can save ourselves permanently from the compulsion of 
libido by forced efforts. Only to a very limited extent can we 
consciously set tasks for the libido; other natural tasks are 
chosen by the libido itself because it is destined for them. If 
these tasks are avoided, even the most industrious life avails 
nothing, for we have to consider all the conditions of human 
nature. Innumerable neurasthenias from overwork can be traced 
back to this cause, for work done amid internal conflicts creates 
nervous exhaustion. 



THIRD INTERVIEW 

175 The girl related a dream she had had when she was five years 
old, which made an unforgettable impression on her. "I'll never 
forget the dream as long as I live," she said. I would like to add 
here that such dreams are of quite special interest. The longer 
a dream remains spontaneously in the memory, the greater is 
the importance to be attributed to it. This is the dream: "I was 
in a wood with my little brother, looking for strawberries. Then 
a wolf came and jumped at me. I fled up a staircase^ the wolf 

209 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



after me. I fell down and the wolf bit me in the leg. I awoke in 
deadly fear/' 

47 6 Before we take up the associations given us by the little girl, 
I will try to form an arbitrary opinion as to the possible con 
tent of the dream, and then see how our results compare with 
the associations given by the child. The beginning of the dream 
reminds us of the well-known fairytale of Little Red Riding- 
hood, which is, of course, known to every child. The wolf ate 
the grandmother first, then took her shape, and afterwards ate 
Little Red Ridinghood. But the hunter killed the wolf, cut 
open the belly, and Little Red Ridinghood sprang out safe and 
sound. 

477 This motif is found in countless myths all over the world, 
and is the motif of the Bible story of Jonah. The meaning im 
mediately lying behind it is astro-mythological: the sun is swal 
lowed by the sea monster and is born again in the morning. Of 
course, the whole of astro-mythology is at bottom nothing but 
psychology unconscious psychology projected into the heav 
ens; for myths never were and never are made consciously, they 
arise from man's unconscious. This is the reason for the some 
times miraculous similarity or identity of myth-forms among 
races that have been separated from each other in space ever 
since time began. It explains, for instance, the extraordinary 
distribution of the cross symbol, quite independently of Chris 
tianity, of which America offers specially remarkable examples. 
It is not possible to suppose that myths were created merely in 
order to explain meteorological or astronomical processes; they 
are, in the first instance, manifestations of unconscious im 
pulses, comparable to dreams. These impulses were actuated by 
the regressive libido in the unconscious. The material which 
comes to light is naturally infantile material fantasies con 
nected with the incest complex. Thus, in all these so-called 
solar myths, we can easily recognize infantile theories about 
procreation, birth, and incestuous relations. In the fairytale of 
Little Red Ridinghood it is the fantasy that the mother has to 
eat something which is like a child, and that the child is born 
by cutting open the mother's body. This fantasy is one of the 
commonest and can be found everywhere. 

47 8 From these general psychological considerations we can con 
clude that the child, in this dream, was elaborating the problem 

210 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



of procreation and birth. As to the wolf, we must probably put 
him in the father's place, for the child unconsciously attributed 
to the father any act of violence towards the mother. This motif, 
too, is based on countless myths dealing with the violation of 
the mother. With regard to the mythological parallels, I would 
like to call your attention to the work of Boas, 1 which includes 
a magnificent collection of American Indian sagas; then the 
book by Frobenius, Das Zeitalter des Sonnengottes; and finally 
the works of Abraham, Rank, Riklin, Jones, Freud, Maeder, 
Silberer, and Spielrein, 2 and my own investigations in Symbols 
of Transformation. 

479 After these general reflections, which I give here for theo 
retical reasons but which naturally formed no part of the treat 
ment, we will go on to see what the child has to tell us about 
her dream. Needless to say, she was allowed to speak about her 
dream just as she liked, without being influenced in any way. 
She picked first on the bite in the leg, and explained that she 
had once been told by a woman who had had a baby that she 
could still show the place where the stork had bitten her. This 
expression is, in Switzerland, a variant of the widespread sym 
bolism of copulation and birth. Here we have a perfect paral 
lelism between our interpretation and the association process of 
the child. For the first association she produced, quite uninflu 
enced, goes back to the problem we conjectured above on theo 
retical grounds. I know that the innumerable cases published in 
the psychoanalytic literature, which were definitely not influ 
enced, have not been able to quash our critics' contention that 
we suggest our interpretations to the patients. This case, too, 
will convince no one who is determined to impute to us the 
crude mistakes of beginners or, what is worse, falsification. 

480 After this first association the little patient was asked what 
the wolf made her think of. She answered, "I think of my father 
when he is angry." This, too, coincides absolutely with our 
theoretical considerations. It might be objected that these con 
siderations were made expressly for this purpose and therefore 
lack general validity. I think this objection vanishes of itself as 
soon as one has the requisite psychoanalytic and mythological 

i [The anthropologist Franz Boas (1858-1942); see especially his Indianische Sagen 
(1895). EDITORS.] 2 [See Bibliography.] 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



knowledge. The validity of a hypothesis can be seen only on 
the basis of the right knowledge, otherwise not at all. 
4 Sl The first association put the stork in the place of the wolf; 
the association to the wolf now brings us to the father. In the 
popular myth the stork stands for the father, for he brings the 
children. The apparent contradiction between the fairytale, 
where the wolf is the mother, and the dream, where the wolf is 
the father, is of no importance for the dream or the dreamer. 
We can therefore dispense with a detailed explanation. I have 
dealt with this problem of bisexual symbols in my book. 3 As 
you know, in the legend of Romulus and Remus both animals, 
the bird Picus and the wolf, were raised to the rank of parents. 

482 Her fear of the wolf in the dream is therefore her fear of the 
father. The dreamer explained that she was afraid of her father 
because he was very strict with her. He had also told her that 
we have bad dreams only when we have done something wrong. 
She then asked her father, "But what does Mama do wrong? 
She always has bad dreams/' 

483 Once her father slapped her because she was sucking her 
finger. She kept on doing this despite his prohibition. Was this, 
perhaps, the wrong she had done? Hardly, because sucking the 
finger was simply a rather anachronistic infantile habit, of little 
real interest at her age, and serving more to irritate her father 
so that he would punish her by slapping. In this way she re 
lieved her conscience of an unconf essed and much more serious 
"sin": it came out that she had induced a number of girls of her 
own age to perform mutual masturbation. 

484 It was because of these sexual interests that she was afraid 
of her father. But we must not forget that she had the wolf 
dream in her fifth year. At that time these sexual acts had not 
been committed. Hence we must regard the affair with the other 
girls at most as a reason for her present fear of her father, but 
that does not explain her earlier fear. Nevertheless, we may ex 
pect that it was something similar, some unconscious sexual 
wish in keeping with the psychology of the forbidden act just 
mentioned. The character and moral evaluation of this act are 
naturally far more unconscious to a child than to an adult. In 
order to understand what could have made an impression on 

3 [Cf. Symbols of Transformation, particularly par. 547.] 

212 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



the child so early, we have to ask what happened in her fifth 
year. That was the year in which her younger brother was born. 
So even then she was afraid of her father. The associations al 
ready discussed show us the unmistakable connection between 
her sexual interests and her fear. 

485 The problem of sex, which nature connects with positive 
feelings of pleasure, appears in the wolf dream in the form of 
fear, apparently on account of the bad father, who stands for 
moral education. The dream was therefore the first impressive 
manifestation of the sexual problem, obviously stimulated by 
the recent birth of a younger brother, when as we know all these 
questions become aired. But because the sexual problem was con 
nected at all points with the history of certain pleasurable phys 
ical sensations which education devalues as "bad habits," it 
could apparently manifest itself only in the guise of moral guilt 
and fear. 

486 This explanation, plausible though it is, seems to me super 
ficial and inadequate. We then attribute the whole difficulty to 
moral education, on the unproven assumption that education 
can cause a neurosis. This is to disregard the fact that even peo 
ple with no trace of moral education become neurotic and suffer 
from morbid fears. Furthermore, moral law is not just an evil 
that has to be resisted, but a necessity born from the innermost 
needs of man. Moral law is nothing other than an outward 
manifestation of man's innate urge to dominate and control 
himself. This impulse to domestication and civilization is lost 
in the dim, unfathomable depths of man's evolutionary history 
and can never be conceived as the consequence of laws imposed 
from without. Man himself, obeying his instincts, created his 
laws. We shall never understand the reasons for the fear and 
suppression of the sexual problem in a child if we take into ac 
count only the moral influences of education. The real reasons 
lie much deeper, in human nature itself, perhaps in that tragic 
conflict between nature and culture, or between individual 
consciousness and collective feeling. 

487 Naturally, it would have been pointless to give the child a 
notion of the higher philosophical aspects of the problem; it 
would certainly have had not the slightest effect. It was sufficient 
to remove the idea that she was doing something wrong in being 
interested in the procreation of life. So it was made clear to her 

213 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



how much pleasure and curiosity she was bringing to bear on 
the problem of generation, and how her groundless fear was 
only pleasure turned into its opposite. The affair of her mas 
turbation met with tolerant understanding, and the discussion 
was limited to drawing the child's attention to the aimlessness 
of her action. At the same time, it was explained to her that her 
sexual actions were mainly an outlet for her curiosity, which she 
might satisfy in a better way. Her great fear of her father ex 
pressed an equally great expectation, which because of the birth 
of her little brother was closely connected with the problem of 
generation. These explanations justified the child in her curi 
osity. With that, a large part of the moral conflict was removed. 



FOURTH INTERVIEW 

4 88 The little girl was now much nicer and much more confid 
ing. Her former constrained and unnatural manner had quite 
disappeared. She brought a dream which she dreamt after the 
last interview. It ran: "I am as tall as a church-spire and can see 
into every house. At my feet are very small children, as small as 
flowers are. A policeman comes. I say to him, 'If you dare to 
make any remark, I shall take your sword and cut off your 
head: " 

489 In the analysis of the dream she made the following remark: 
"I would like to be taller than my father, because then he would 
have to obey me." She at once associated the policeman with her 
father, who was a military man and had, of course, a sword. The 
dream clearly fulfils her wish. As a church-spire, she is much 
bigger than her father, and if he dares to make a remark he will 
be decapitated. The dream also fulfils the natural wish of the 
child to be "big," i.e., grown-up, and to have children playing 
at her feet. In this dream she got over her fear of her father, and 
from this we may expect a significant increase in her personal 
freedom and feeling of security. 

49 On the theoretical side, we may regard this dream as a clear 
example of the compensatory significance and teleological func 
tion of dreams. Such a dream must leave the dreamer with a 
heightened sense of the value of her own personality, and this 
is of great importance for her personal well-being. It does not 

214 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



matter that the symbolism was not clear to the consciousness of 
the child, for the emotional effect of symbols does not depend 
on conscious understanding. It is more a matter of intuitive 
knowledge, the source from which all religious symbols derive 
their efficacy. Here no conscious understanding is needed; they 
influence the psyche of the believer through intuition. 



FIFTH AND SIXTH INTERVIEWS 

49 1 The child related the following dream which she had dreamt 
in the meantime: "I was standing with my whole family on the 
roof. The windows of the houses on the other side of the valley 
shone like fire. The rising sun was reflected in them. Suddenly 
I saw that the house at the corner of our street was really on fire. 
The fire came nearer and nearer and took hold of our house. 
I ran into the street, and my mother threw all sorts of things 
after me. I held out my apron, and among other things she threw 
me a doll. I saw that the stones of our house were burning, but 
the wood remained untouched/' 

492 The analysis of this dream presented peculiar difficulties and 
had to be extended over two sittings. It would lead me too far 
to describe the whole of the material this dream brought forth; 
I shall have to limit myself to what is most essential. The salient 
associations began with the peculiar image of the stones of the 
house burning but not the wood. It is sometimes worth while, 
especially with longer dreams, to take the most striking images 
and analyse them first. This is not the general rule but it may 
be excused here by the practical need for abbreviation. 

493 "It is queer, like in a fairytale/' said the little patient about 
this image. She was shown, with the help of examples, that fairy 
tales always have a meaning. "But not all fairytales," she 
objected. "For instance, the tale of Sleeping Beauty. What could 
that mean?" It was explained to her that Sleeping Beauty had 
to wait for a hundred years in an enchanted sleep until she 
could be set free. Only the hero whose love overcame all diffi 
culties and who boldly broke through the thorny hedge could 
rescue her. Thus one often has to wait for a long time before 
one obtains one's heart's desire. 

494 This explanation was suited to the child's understanding, 

215 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



and on the other hand was perfectly in accord with the history 
of this fairytale motif. The tale of Sleeping Beauty has obvious 
connections with an ancient spring and fertility myth, and at 
the same time contains a problem which has a remarkably close 
affinity with the psychological situation of a rather precocious 
little girl of eleven. It belongs to a whole cycle of legends in 
which a virgin, guarded by a dragon, is rescued by a hero. With 
out wishing to embark on an interpretation of this myth, I 
would like to emphasize its astronomical or meteorological com 
ponents, clearly brought out in the Edda. The earth, in the 
form of a maiden, is held prisoner by the winter, and is covered 
with ice and snow. The young spring sun, the fiery hero, melts 
her out of her frosty prison, where she had long awaited her 
deliverer. 

495 The association given by the little girl was chosen by her 
simply as an example of a fairytale without a meaning, and not 
as a direct association to the dream-image of the burning house. 
About this she only made the remark, "It is queer, like in a 
fairytale/ 1 by which she meant impossible; for to say that stones 
burn is something completely impossible, nonsensical, and like 
a fairytale. The explanation she was given showed her that 
"impossible" and "like a fairytale" are only partly identical, 
since fairytales do have a great deal of meaning. Although this 
particular fairytale, from the casual way it was mentioned, seems 
to have nothing to do with the dream, it deserves special atten 
tion because it appeared, as though by chance, while the dream 
was being analysed. The unconscious came out with just this 
example, and this cannot be mere chance but is somehow char 
acteristic of the situation at that moment. In analysing dreams 
we have to look out for these seeming accidents, for in psychol 
ogy there are no blind accidents, much as we are inclined to 
assume that these things are pure chance. You can hear this 
objection as often as you like from our critics, but for a really 
scientific mind there are only causal relationships and no acci 
dents. From the fact that the little girl chose Sleeping Beauty as 
an example we must conclude that there was some fundamental 
reason for this in the psychology of the child. This reason was 
the comparison or partial identification of herself with Sleeping 
Beauty; in other words, in the psyche of the child there was a 
complex which found expression in the Sleeping Beauty motif. 

216 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



The explanation given to the child took account of this infer 
ence. 

496 Nevertheless, she was not quite satisfied, and still doubted 
that fairytales have a meaning. As a further example of an in 
comprehensible fairytale she cited Snow White, who lay en 
closed in a glass coffin, in the sleep of death. It is not difficult 
to see that Snow White belongs to the same cycle of myths as 
Sleeping Beauty. It contains even clearer indications of the myth 
of the seasons. The myth material chosen by the child points 
to an intuitive comparison with the earth, held fast by the win 
ter's cold, awaiting the liberating sun of spring. 

497 This second example confirms the first one and the explana 
tion we have given. It would be difficult to maintain that the 
second example, accentuating as it does the meaning of the first, 
was suggested by the explanation. The fact that the little girl 
gave Snow White as another example of a meaningless fairytale 
proves that she did not realize the identity of Snow White and 
Sleeping Beauty. We may therefore conjecture that Snow White 
arose from the same unconscious source as Sleeping Beauty, 
namely, from a complex concerned with the expectation of com 
ing events. These events may be compared exactly with the 
deliverance of the earth from the prison of winter and its fer 
tilization by the rays of the spring sun. As you know, from 
ancient times the fertilizing spring sun was associated with the 
symbol of the bull, the animal embodying the mightiest pro- 
creative power. Although we cannot yet see the connection be 
tween these insights and the dream, we will hold fast to what 
we have gained and proceed with our analysis. 

49 8 The next dream-image shows the little girl catching the doll 
in her apron. Her first association tells us that her attitude and 
the whole situation in the dream reminded her of a picture she 
knew, showing a stork flying over a village } with little girls stand 
ing in the street holding out their aprons and shouting to the 
stork to bring them a baby. She added that she herself had long 
wanted a baby brother or sister. This material, given spontane 
ously, is clearly related to the myth-motifs already discussed. It 
is evident that the dream was in fact concerned with the same 
problem of the awakening reproductive instinct. Of course, 
nothing of these connections was mentioned to the child. 

499 Then, abruptly, after a pause, came the next association: 

217 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



"Once, when I was five years old, I lay down in the street and a 
bicycle passed over my stomach." This highly improbable story 
proved to be, as might be expected, a fantasy, which had be 
come a paramnesia. Nothing of the kind had ever happened, 
but on the other hand we learn that at school the little girls 
used to lie crosswise over each other's bodies and trample with 
their legs. 

500 Anyone who has read the analyses of children published by 
Freud and myself 4 will recognize in this childish game the same 
basic motif of trampling, which we considered must have a sex 
ual undercurrent. This view, demonstrated by our earlier work, 
was borne out by the next association of our little patient: "I 
would much rather have a real baby than a doll." 

5i All this highly remarkable material brought out by the stork 
fantasy suggests the typical beginnings of an infantile sexual 
theory, and at the same time shows us the point round which 
the little girl's fantasies were revolving. 

52 It may be of interest to know that the motif of treading or 
trampling can be found in mythology. I have documented this 
in my book on libido. 5 The use of these infantile fantasies in 
the dream, the paramnesia about the bicyclist, and the tense 
expectation expressed in the Sleeping Beauty motif all show 
that the child's inner interest was dwelling on certain problems 
that had to be solved. Probably the fact that her libido was at 
tracted by the problem of generation was the reason why her 
interest flagged at school, so that she fell behind in her work. 
How very much this problem fascinates girls of twelve and thir 
teen I was able to show in a special case, published in "A Con 
tribution to the Psychology of Rumour." 6 It is the cause of all 
that smutty talk among children, and of mutual attempts at 
enlightenment which naturally turn out to be very nasty and 
often ruin the child's imagination for good. Even the most care 
ful protection cannot prevent them from one day discovering 
the great secret, and then probably in the dirtiest way. It would 
be far better for children to learn the facts of life cleanly and in 
good time, so that they would not need to be enlightened in 
ugly ways by their playmates. 

4 [Cf. "Psychic Conflicts in a Child/' pars, tfft.] 

5 [Sy?nbols of Transformation, pars. 370, 480.] 

6 [Cf. supra, pars, 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



53 These and other indications showed that the moment had 
come for a certain amount of sexual enlightenment. The little 
girl listened attentively to the talk that followed, and then asked 
very seriously: "So then I really can't have a child?" This ques 
tion led to an explanation about sexual maturity. 



SEVENTH INTERVIEW 

54 The little girl began by remarking that she perfectly under 
stood why it was not yet possible for her to have a child; she 
had therefore renounced all idea of it. But this time she did not 
make a good impression. It turned out that she had lied to her 
teacher. She had been late to school, and told the teacher that 
she had had to go somewhere with her father and had therefore 
arrived late. In reality, she had been too lazy to get up in time. 
She told a lie because she was afraid of losing the teacher's 
favour by confessing the truth. This sudden moral defeat re 
quires an explanation. According to the principles of psycho 
analysis, a sudden and striking weakness can only come about 
when the analysand does not draw from the analysis the con 
clusions that are necessary at the moment, but still keeps the 
door open to other possibilities. This means, in our case, that 
though the analysis had apparently brought the libido to the 
surface, so that an improvement of personality could occur, for 
some reason or other the adaptation was not made, and the li 
bido slipped back along its old regressive path. 



EIGHTH INTERVIEW 

55 The eighth interview proved that this was indeed the case. 
Our patient had withheld an important piece of evidence in 
regard to her ideas of sex, and one which contradicted the ana 
lyst's explanation of sexual maturity. She had not mentioned a 
rumour current in the school that a girl of eleven had got a baby 
from a boy of the same age. This rumour was proved to be 
groundless; it was a fantasy, fulfilling the secret wishes of girls 
of this age. Rumours often start in this way, as I have tried to 
show in my paper on the psychology of rumour. They air the 

219 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



unconscious fantasies, and in this function they correspond to 
dreams and myths. This rumour kept another way open: she 
need not wait, she could have a child already at eleven. The 
contradiction between the accepted rumour and the analyst's 
explanation created resistances against the latter, as a result of 
which it was immediately devalued. All the other information 
and instruction fell to the ground at the same time, giving rise 
to momentary doubt and uncertainty. The libido then took to 
its former path and became regressive. This moment was the 
moment of the relapse. 



NINTH INTERVIEW 

506 This interview contributed some important details to the 
history of her sexual problem. First came a significant dream 
fragment: "I was with other children in a clearing in a wood, 
surrounded by beautiful fir-trees. It began to rain, there was 
thunder and lightning, and it grew dark. Then I suddenly saw 
a stork in the air/' 

57 Before we start analysing this dream, I must mention its 
parallels with certain mythological ideas. To anyone familiar 
with the works of Adalbert Kuhn and Steinthal, to which Abra 
ham 7 has recently drawn attention, the curious combination of 
thunderstorm and stork is not at all surprising. Since ancient 
times the thunderstorm has had the meaning of an earth-fecun 
dating act, it is the cohabitation of Father Heaven and Mother 
Earth, where the lightning takes over the role of the winged 
phallus. The stork in flight is just the same thing, a winged 
phallus, and its psychosexual meaning is known to every child. 
But the psychosexual meaning of the thunderstorm is not known 
to everyone, and certainly not to our little patient. In view of 
the whole psychological constellation previously described, the 
stork must unquestionably be given a psychosexual interpreta 
tion. The fact that the thunderstorm is connected with the stork 
and, like it, has a psychosexual meaning seems difficult to ac 
cept at first. But when we remember that psychoanalytic re 
search has already discovered a vast number of purely mytholog- 

7 [See Symbols of Transformation^ index, s.w. EDITORS.] 

220 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



ical connections in the unconscious psychic products, we may 
conclude that the psychosexual link between the two images is 
present also in this case. We know from other experiences that 
those unconscious strata which once produced mythological 
formations are still active in modern individuals and are un 
ceasingly productive. Only, the production is limited to dreams 
and to the symptomatology of the neuroses and psychoses, as the 
correction by reality is so strong in the modern mind that it 
prevents them from being projected upon the real world. 

508 To return to the analysis of the dream: the associations that 
led to the heart of this image began with the idea of rain during 
a thunderstorm. Her actual words were: "I think of water my 
uncle was drowned in the water it must be awful to be stuck 
in the water like that, in the dark but wouldn't the baby drown 
in the water, too? Does it drink the water that is in the stomach? 
Queer, when I was ill Mama sent my water to the doctor. I 
thought he was going to mix something with it like syrup, which 
babies grow from, and Mama would have to drink it." 

59 We see with unquestionable clearness from this string of as 
sociations that the child connected psychosexual ideas specifi 
cally relating to fertilization with the rain during the thunder 
storm. 

5 10 Here again we see that remarkable parallelism between my 
thology and the individual fantasies of our own day. This series 
of associations is so rich in symbolical connections that a whole 
dissertation could be written about them. The symbolism of 
drowning was brilliantly interpreted by the child herself as a 
pregnancy fantasy, an explanation given in the psychoanalytic 
literature long ago. 



TENTH INTERVIEW 

5 11 The tenth interview was taken up with the child's spon 
taneous description of infantile theories about fertilization and 
birth, which could now be dismissed as settled. The child had 
always thought that the urine of the man went into the body 
of the woman, and that from this the embryo would grow. 
Hence the child was in the water, i.e., urine, from the begin 
ning. Another version was that the urine was drunk with the 

221 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



doctor's syrup, the child grew in the head, the head was then 
split open to help the child grow, and one wore hats to cover 
this up. She illustrated this by a little drawing, showing a child 
birth through the head. This idea is archaic and highly myth 
ological. I need only remind you of the birth of Pallas Athene, 
who came out of her father's head. The fertilizing significance 
of urine is also mythological; we find excellent proofs of this in 
the Rudra songs of the Rig-veda. 8 I should also mention some 
thing which the mother corroborated, that once the little girl, 
long before the analysis, declared that she saw a jack-in-a-box 
dancing on her younger brother's head a fantasy which may 
well be the origin of this birth-theory. 

512 The drawing had a remarkable affinity with certain artefacts 
found among the Bataks of Sumatra. They are called magic 
wands or ancestor-columns, and consist of a number of figures 
standing one on top of another. The explanation given by the 
Bataks themselves of these columns, and generally regarded as 
nonsense, is in remarkable agreement with the mentality of a 
child, still caught in the infantile bonds. They assert that these 
superimposed figures are members of a family who, because they 
committed incest, were entwined by a snake while being bitten 
to death by another snake. This explanation runs parallel with 
the assumptions of our little patient, for her sexual fantasies, 
too, as we saw from the first dream, revolved round her father. 
Here, as with the Bataks, the primary condition is the incest 
relationship. 

5*3 A third version was the theory that the child grew in the 
intestinal canal. This version had its own symptomatic phe 
nomenology thoroughly in accord with Freudian theory. The 
girl, acting on her fantasy that children were "sicked up/' fre 
quently tried to induce nausea and vomiting. She also per 
formed regular pushing-exercises in the water-closet, in order 
to push the child out. In this situation it was not surprising that 
the first and most important symptoms in the manifest neurosis 
were those of nausea. 

5*4 We have now got so far with our analysis that we can cast a 
glance back at the case as a whole. We found, behind the neu 
rotic symptoms, complicated emotional processes that were un- 

8 [Cf. Symbols of Transformation, par. 322 .] 

222 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



doubtedly connected with these symptoms. If we may venture 
to draw general conclusions from such limited material, we can 
reconstruct the course of the neurosis somewhat as follows. 

$15 At the gradual approach of puberty, the libido of the child 
produced in her an emotional rather than an objective attitude 
to reality. She developed a crush on her teacher, and this senti 
mental indulgence in starry-eyed fantasies obviously played a 
greater role than the thought of the increased efforts which such 
a love really demanded. Consequently, her attention fell off, and 
her work suffered. This upset her former good relationship 
with the teacher. He became impatient, and the girl, who had 
been made over-demanding by conditions at home, grew resent 
ful instead of trying to improve her work. As a result, her libido 
turned away from the teacher as well as from her work and fell 
into that characteristically compulsive dependence on the poor 
young boy, who exploited the situation as much as he could. 
For when an individual consciously or unconsciously lets his 
libido draw back from a necessary task, the unutilized (so-called 
"repressed") libido provokes all sorts of accidents, within and 
without symptoms of every description which force themselves 
on him in a disagreeable way. Under these conditions the girl's 
resistance to going to school seized on the first available oppor 
tunity, which soon presented itself in the form of the other girl 
who was sent home because she felt sick. Our patient duly 
copied this. 

5 l6 Once out of school, the way was open to her fantasies. Owing 
to the libido regression, the symptom-creating fantasies were 
aroused in real earnest and acquired an influence which they 
never had before, for previously they had never played such an 
important role. But now they took on a highly significant con 
tent and seemed themselves to be the real reason why the libido 
regressed to them. It might be said that the child, with her 
fantasy-spinning nature, saw her father too much in the teacher, 
and consequently developed incestuous resistances against him. 
As I explained earlier, I think it is simpler and more probable 
to assume that it was temporarily convenient for her to see her 
teacher as the father. Since she preferred to follow the secret 
promptings of puberty rather than her obligations to the school 
and her teacher, she allowed her libido to pick on the little boy, 
from whom, as we saw in the analysis, she promised herself 

223 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



certain secret advantages. Even if the analysis had proved she 
really did have incestuous resistances against her teacher owing 
to the transference of the father-imago, these resistances would 
only have been secondarily blown-up fantasies. The prime 
mover would in any case be laziness or convenience, or, to put 
it in more scientific language, the principle of least resistance. 

5*7 (I think there are cogent reasons for assuming I mention 
this only in passing that it is not always a perfectly legitimate 
interest in sexual processes and their unknown nature that ac 
counts for the regression to infantile fantasies. For we find the 
same regressive fantasies even in adults who have long known 
all about sex, and here there is no legitimate reason. It is also 
my impression that young people in analysis often try to keep 
up their alleged ignorance, despite enlightenment, in order to 
direct attention there rather than to the task of adaptation. Al 
though there is no doubt in my mind that children do exploit 
their real or pretended ignorance, it must on the other hand 
be stressed that young people have a right to be sexually en 
lightened. As I said before, for many children it would be a 
distinct advantage if this were decently done at home. 

518 Through the analysis it became clear that independently of 
the progressive development of the child's life a regressive move 
ment had set in, which caused the neurosis, the disunion with 
herself.) By following this regressive tendency, the analysis dis 
covered a keen sexual curiosity, circling round quite certain 
definite problems. The libido, caught in this labyrinth of fan 
tasies, was made serviceable again as soon as the child was freed 
from the burden of mistaken infantile fantasies by being en 
lightened. This also opened her eyes to her own attitude to 
reality and gave her an insight into her true potentialities. The 
result was that she was able to look at her immature, adolescent 
fantasies in an objective and critical way, and to give up these 
and all other impossible desires, using her libido instead for a 
positive purpose, in her work and in obtaining the goodwill of 
her teacher. The analysis brought her great peace of mind, as well 
as marked intellectual improvement in school; for the teacher 
himself confirmed that the little girl soon became the best pupil 
in his class. 

5*9 (In principle, this analysis is no different from that of an 
adult. Only the sexual enlightenment would be dropped, but its 

224 



THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



place would be taken by something very similar, namely, en 
lightenment concerning the infantilism of his previous attitude 
to reality and how to acquire a more reasonable one. Analysis 
is a refined technique of Socratic maieutics, and it is not afraid 
to tread the darkest paths of neurotic fantasy.) 

520 I hope that with the help of this very condensed example I 
may have succeeded in giving you some insight not only into 
the actual course of treatment, and into the difficulties of tech 
nique, but no less into the beauty of the human psyche and its 
endless problems. I have deliberately stressed certain parallels 
with mythology in order to indicate some of the uses to which 
psychoanalytic insights may be put. At the same time, I would 
like to point out the implications of this discovery. The marked 
predominance of mythological elements in the psyche of the 
child gives us a clear hint of the way the individual mind 
gradually develops out of the "collective mind" of early child 
hood, thus giving rise to the old theory of a state of perfect 
knowledge before and after individual existence. 

5* 1 (These mythological references which we find in children 
are also met with in dementia praecox and in dreams. They 
offer a broad and fertile field of work for comparative psycho 
logical research. The distant goal to which these investigations 
lead is a phylogeny of the mind, which, like the body, has at 
tained its present form through endless transformations. The 
rudimentary organs, as it were, which the mind still possesses 
can be found in full activity in other mental variants and in 
certain pathological conditions.) 

522 With these hints I have now reached the present position of 
our research, and have sketched out at least those insights and 
working hypotheses which define the nature of my present and 
future work. (I have endeavoured to propound certain views, 
which deviate from the hypotheses of Freud, not as contrary 
assertions but as illustrations of the organic development of the 
basic ideas Freud has introduced into science. It would not be 
fitting to disturb the progress of science by adopting the most 
contradictory standpoint possible and by making use of an en 
tirely different nomenclature that is the privilege of the very 
few; but even they find themselves obliged to descend from 
their lonely eminence after a time and once more take part in 
the slow progress of average experience by which ideas are 

225 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



evaluated. I hope, also, that my critics will not again accuse me 
of having contrived my hypotheses out of thin air. I would never 
have ventured to override the existing ones had not hundreds 
of experiences shown me that my views fully stand the test in 
practice. No great hopes should be set on the results of any scien 
tific work; yet if it should find a circle of readers, I hope it will 
serve to clear up various misunderstandings and remove a num 
ber of obstacles which bar the way to a better comprehension of 
psychoanalysis. Naturally my work is no substitute for lack of 
psychoanalytic experience. Anyone who wishes to have his say 
in these matters will have, now as then, to investigate his cases 
as thoroughly as was done by the psychoanalytic school.) 



226 



Ill 



GENERAL ASPECTS OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



PSYCHOANALYSIS AND NEUROSIS 



SOME CRUCIAL POINTS IN 
PSYCHOANALYSIS 



PREFACES TO "COLLECTED PAPERS ON 
ANALYTICAL PSYCHOLOGY" 



GENERAL ASPECTS OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 1 

5 2 3 Psychoanalysis today is as much a science as a technique. 
From the results of the technique there has grown up, in the 
course of the years, a new psychological science which could be 
called "analytical psychology/' I would willingly use Bleuler's 
expression "depth psychology" instead, if this kind of psychol 
ogy were concerned only with the unconscious. 

5 2 4 Psychologists and doctors in general are by no means con 
versant with this particular branch of psychology, owing to the 
fact that its technical foundations are as yet comparatively un 
known to them. The main reason for this is that the new method 
is of an essentially psychological nature, and therefore belongs 
neither to the realm of medicine nor to that of philosophy. The 
medical man has, as a rule, but little knowledge of psychology, 
and the philosopher has no medical knowledge. Consequently, 
there is a lack of suitable soil in which to plant the spirit of this 
new method. Furthermore, the method itself appears to many 
persons so arbitrary that they cannot reconcile its use with their 
scientific conscience. The formulations of Freud, the founder 
of the method, laid great stress on the sexual factors; this aroused 
strong prejudice and repelled many scientific men. I need hardly 
remark that such an antipathy is not a logical reason for reject 
ing a new method. In psychoanalysis, moreover, there is much 
discussion of case-histories, but little discussion of principle. 
This, too, has naturally led to the method being little under 
stood and therefore to its being regarded as unscientific. For if 
we do not acknowledge the scientific character of the method, 
we cannot acknowledge the scientific character of its results. 

i [Originally written in German with the title "AUgemeine Aspekte der Psycho 
analyse," translated (anonymously) into English, and read before the Psycho- 
Medical Society, London, Aug. 5, 1913. With the title "Psycho-Analysis/' the 
translation was published in the Transactions of the Psycho-Medical Society 
(Cockermouth), 1913, and reprinted in Collected Papers on Analytical Psychology 
(London, 1916; 2nd edn., London, 1917, New York, 1920). The present translation 
is made hi consultation with the original German manuscript. EDITORS.] 

229 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



525 Before discussing the principles of the psychoanalytic 
method, I must mention two common prejudices against it. The 
first is that psychoanalysis is nothing but a rather deep and 
complicated form of anamnesis. Now it is well known that an 
anamnesis is based on the statements made by the patient's fam 
ily, and on his own conscious self-knowledge in reply to direct 
questions. The psychoanalyst naturally makes his anamnesis as 
carefully as any other specialist. But this is merely the patient's 
history and must not be confused with analysis. Analysis is the 
reduction of actual contents of consciousness, ostensibly of a 
fortuitous nature, to their psychological determinants. This 
process has nothing to do with the anamnestic reconstruction 
of the history of the illness. 

526 The second prejudice, which is based, as a rule, on a super 
ficial knowledge of psychoanalytic literature, is that psycho 
analysis is a method of suggestion, by which some kind of sys 
tematic teaching is instilled into the patient, thereby effecting 
a cure in the manner of mental healing or Christian Science. 
Many analysts, especially those who have practised psychoanal 
ysis for a long time, previously used suggestion therapy, and 
therefore know very well what suggestion is and what it is not. 
They know that the psychoanalyst's method of working is dia 
metrically opposed to that of the hypnotist. In direct contrast 
with suggestion therapy, the psychoanalyst does not attempt to 
force anything on his patient which the latter does not see for 
himself and find plausible with his own understanding. Faced 
with the constant demand of the neurotic for suggestions 
and advice, the analyst just as constantly endeavours to get him 
out of this passive attitude and make him use his common sense 
and powers of criticism in order to equip him for an inde 
pendent life. We have often been accused of forcing interpre 
tations upon patients, interpretations that are often quite arbi 
trary. I wish one of these critics would try forcing arbitrary 
interpretations on my patients, who are very often persons of 
great intelligence and highly cultured indeed, not infrequently 
my own colleagues. The impossibility of such an undertaking 
would quickly be demonstrated. In psychoanalysis we are en 
tirely dependent on the patient and on his powers of judgment, 
for the reason that the very nature of analysis consists in lead 
ing him to a knowledge of himself. The principles of psycho- 

230 



GENERAL ASPECTS OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



analysis are so utterly different from those of suggestion therapy 
that on this point the two methods cannot be compared. 

527 An attempt has also been made to compare psychoanalysis 
with the ratiocinative method of Dubois, 2 which is an essentially 
rational procedure. But this comparison does not hold good, for 
the psychoanalyst strictly avoids reasoning and arguing with his 
patients. Naturally he has to listen to their conscious problems 
and conflicts and take note of them, but not for the purpose of 
fulfilling their desire to obtain advice or instruction with regard 
to the conduct of their lives. The problems of a neurotic cannot 
be solved by advice and conscious reasoning. I do not doubt 
that good advice at the right time can produce good results, but 

1 do not know how anyone can believe that the psychoanalyst 
can always give the right advice at the right moment. The neu 
rotic conflict is frequently, indeed usually, of such a nature that 
advice cannot possibly be given. Furthermore, it is well known 
that the patient only wants authoritative advice in order to 
shuffle off the burden of responsibility, referring himself and 
others to the opinion of a higher authority. So far as reasoning 
and persuasion are concerned, their effect as a method of therapy 
is as little to be doubted as that of hypnosis. What I would like 
to stress here is simply its difference in principle from psycho 
analysis. 

5 28 In contradistinction to all previous methods, psychoanalysis 
endeavours to overcome the disorders of the neurotic psyche 
through the unconscious, and not from the conscious side. In 
this work we naturally have need of the patient's conscious con 
tents, for only in this way can we reach the unconscious. The 
conscious content from which our work starts is the material 
supplied by the anamnesis. In many cases the anamnesis pro 
vides useful clues which make the psychic origin of his symp 
toms clear to the patient. This, of course, is necessary only when 
he is convinced that his neurosis is organic in origin. But even 
in those cases where the patient is convinced from the start of 
the psychic nature of his illness, a critical survey of the anam 
nesis can be of advantage, for it discloses a psychological context 
of which he was unaware before. In this way problems that need 
special discussion are frequently brought to the surface. This 
work may occupy many sittings. Finally, the elucidation of the 

2 [See par. 41, n. 6, above. EDITORS.] 

231 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



conscious material comes to an end when neither the analyst 
nor the patient can contribute anything further of decisive im 
portance. In the most favourable cases the end comes with the 
formulation of the problem which, very often, proves insoluble. 

5 2 9 Let us take the case of a man who was once healthy but de 
veloped a neurosis between the ages of thirty-five and forty. His 
position in life was secure, and he had a wife and children. 
Parallel with his neurosis he developed an intense resistance to 
his professional work. He observed that the first symptoms of 
neurosis became noticeable when he had to overcome a particu 
lar difficulty in his career. Later they got worse with each suc 
cessive difficulty that arose. Passing ameliorations occurred 
whenever fortune favoured him in his work. The problem that 
presented itself after a critical discussion of the anamnesis was 
as follows: the patient knew that he could improve his work and 
that the satisfaction resulting from this would bring about the 
much-desired improvement in his neurotic condition. But he 
was unable to do his work more efficiently because of his great 
resistance to it. This problem is rationally insoluble. Psycho 
analytic treatment must therefore start at the critical point, his 
resistance to his work. 

53 Let us take another case. A woman of forty, mother of four 
children, became neurotic four years ago after the death of one 
of them. A new pregnancy, followed by the birth of another 
child, brought a great improvement in her condition. She now 
thought that if she could have yet another child she would be 
helped still further. She knew, however, that she could not have 
any more children, so she tried to devote her energies to philan 
thropic interests. But she failed to obtain the least satisfaction 
from this work. She noticed a distinct alleviation whenever she 
succeeded in giving real interest to something, however fleet- 
ingly, but she felt quite incapable of discovering anything that 
would bring her lasting interest and satisfaction. The rational 
insolubility of the problem is clear. Psychoanalytic work must 
begin with the question of what prevented the patient from de 
veloping any interest beyond her longing for a child. 
531 Since we cannot pretend that we know from the outset what 
the solution of such problems is, we have to rely on the clues 
furnished by the individuality of the patient. Neither conscious 
questioning nor rational advice can aid us in the discovery of 

232 



GENERAL ASPECTS OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



these clues, for the obstacles which prevent us from finding them 
are hidden from the patient's consciousness. There is, there- 
fore, no clearly prescribed way of getting at the unconscious 
obstacles. The only rule that psychoanalysis lays down in this 
respect is: let the patient talk about anything that comes into 
his head. The analyst must observe carefully what the patient 
says and, to begin with, simply take note of it without attempt 
ing to force his own opinions upon him. We notice, for instance, 
that the first-named patient began by talking about his mar 
riage, which we had been told was normal. We now learn that 
he has difficulties with his wife and does not understand her in 
the least. This prompts the analyst to remark that evidently the 
patient's professional work is not his only problem, and that his 
relation to his wife also needs reviewing. This starts a train of 
associations all relating to the marriage. Then follow associa 
tions about the love-affairs he had before he was married. These 
experiences, recounted in detail, show that the patient was al 
ways rather peculiar in his more intimate relations with women, 
and that his peculiarity took the form of a childish egoism. This 
is a new and surprising point of view for him, and explains to 
him many of his misfortunes with women. 

55 2 We cannot in every case get as far as this on the principle of 
simply letting the patient talk; few patients have their psychic 
material so much on the surface. Furthermore, many patients 
have a real resistance against speaking freely about what occurs 
to them on the spur of the moment, some because it is too pain 
ful for them to tell it to an analyst whom they may not entirely 
trust, others because apparently nothing occurs to them and 
they force themselves to talk of things about which they are 
more or less indifferent. This trick of not talking to the point 
does not prove that the patient is consciously concealing certain 
painful contents; it can also occur quite unconsciously. In such 
cases it sometimes helps the patient to tell him that he need not 
force himself, but need only seize on the very first thoughts that 
come to him, no matter how unimportant or ridiculous they 
may seem. In certain cases even these instructions are of no use, 
and then the analyst has to resort to other measures. One of 
these is the association experiment, which usually gives apt in 
formation concerning the main tendencies of the patient at that 
moment. 

233 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



533 A second expedient is the analysis of dreams; this is the real 
instrument of psychoanalysis. We have already experienced so 
much opposition to dream analysis that a brief exposition of its 
principles may not be out of place. The interpretation of 
dreams, as well as the meaning given to them, is, as we know, 
in bad odour. It is not long since oneiromancy was practised 
and believed in; nor is the time long past when even the most 
enlightened persons were still under the spell of superstition. 
It is therefore comprehensible that our age should still entertain 
a lively fear of superstitions that have been only partially over 
come. This nervousness in regard to superstition is largely re 
sponsible for the opposition to dream-interpretation, but psy 
choanalysis is in no way to blame for this. We select the dream 
as an object not because we pay it the homage of supersti 
tious admiration, but because it is a psychic product that is 
independent of consciousness. We ask for the patient's free 
associations, but he gives us little or nothing, or else something 
forced or irrelevant. A dream is a free association, a free fantasy, 
it is not forced, and is just as much a psychic phenomenon as an 
association. 3 

534 I cannot disguise the fact that in practice, especially at the 
beginning of an analysis, we do not under all circumstances 
make complete and ideal analyses of the dreams. Usually we 
gather the dream-associations together until the problem which 
the patient is hiding from us becomes so clear that he can recog 
nize it himself. This problem is then worked through con 
sciously until it is cleared up as far as possible and we are once 
again confronted with an unanswerable question. 

535 You will now ask what is to be done when the patient does 
not dream at all. I can assure you that hitherto all patients, even 
those who claimed never to have dreamed before, began to 
dream when they went through analysis. On the other hand it 
frequently happens that patients who began by dreaming viv 
idly are suddenly no longer able to remember their dreams. 
The empirical and practical rule which I have adopted is that 
the patient, if he does not dream, still has sufficient conscious 
material which he is keeping back for certain reasons. A com 
mon reason is: "I am in the analyst's hands and am quite willing 

3 [The passage which here follows in the original is identical with "The Theory 
of Psychoanalysis," supra, pars. 324-31. EDITORS.] 

834 



GENERAL ASPECTS OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



to be treated by him. But the analyst must do the work, I shall 
remain passive in the matter." Sometimes there are resistances 
of a more serious nature. For instance, patients who cannot ad 
mit certain moral defects in themselves project them upon the 
analyst, calmly assuming that since he is more or less deficient 
morally they cannot communicate certain unpleasant things to 
him. 

53 6 If, then, a patient does not dream from the beginning or 
ceases to dream, he is keeping back material which would be 
capable of conscious elaboration. Here the relationship between 
analyst and patient may be considered one of the chief obstacles. 
It can prevent them both, the analyst as well as the patient, 
from seeing the situation clearly. We must not forget that as 
the analyst shows, and must show, a searching interest in the 
psychology of his patient, so the patient, if he has an active mind, 
feels his way into the psychology of the analyst and adopts a 
corresponding attitude towards him. The analyst is blind to the 
attitude of his patient to the exact extent that he does not see 
himself and his own unconscious problems. For this reason I 
maintain that a doctor must himself be analysed before he prac 
tises analysis. Otherwise analysis may easily be a great disap 
pointment to him, because he can, under certain circumstances, 
get absolutely stuck and then lose his head. He is then readily 
inclined to assume that psychoanalysis is nonsense, so as to avoid 
having to admit that he has run his vessel aground. If you are 
sure of your own psychology you can confidently tell your pa 
tient that he does not dream because there is conscious material 
still to be dealt with. I say you must be sure of yourself at such 
moments, for the criticisms and unsparing judgments to which 
you sometimes have to submit can be excessively disturbing to 
one who is unprepared to meet them. The immediate conse 
quence of the analyst's losing his balance is that he begins to 
argue with his patient in order to maintain his influence over 
him. This, of course, renders all further analysis impossible. 

537 I have told you that, in the first instance, dreams need be 
used only as a source of material for analysis. At the beginning 
of an analysis it is not only unnecessary, but at times unwise, to 
give a so-called complete interpretation of a dream. A complete 
and really exhaustive interpretation is very difficult indeed. The 
interpretations you sometimes come across in the psychoanalytic 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



literature are very often one-sided and, not infrequently, con- 
testable formulations. I include among these the one-sided 
sexual reductions of the Viennese school. In view of the myriad- 
sidedness of the dream-material one must beware of all one-sided 
formulations. The many-sided meaning of a dream, rather than 
its singleness of meaning, is of the utmost value especially at the 
beginning of the treatment. Thus, a patient had the following 
dream not long after her treatment had begun. She was in a 
hotel in a strange city. Suddenly a fire broke out. Her husband 
and her father, who were with her, helped her in the rescue 
work. 

53 8 The patient was intelligent, extraordinarily sceptical, and 
absolutely convinced that dream-analysis was nonsense. I had 
the greatest difficulty in inducing her to give it even one trial. 
I selected the fire, the most conspicuous event in the dream, as 
the starting-point for associations. The patient informed me 
that she had recently read in the newspapers that a certain hotel 
in Zurich had been burnt down; that she remembered the hotel 
because she had once stayed there. At the hotel she had made 
the acquaintance of a man, and from this a somewhat ques 
tionable love-affair developed. In connection with this story the 
fact came out that she had already had quite a number of similar 
adventures, all of them decidedly frivolous. This important bit 
of past history was brought out by the very first association. In 
her case it would have been pointless to make clear to her the 
very obvious meaning of the dream. With her frivolous atti 
tude, of which her scepticism was only a special instance, she 
would have coldly repelled such an attempt. But after the fri 
volity of her attitude had been recognized and demonstrated to 
her from the material she herself had furnished, it was possible 
to analyse the dreams which followed much more thoroughly. 

539 It is, therefore, advisable in the beginning to use dreams for 
getting at the critical material through their associations. This 
is the best and most cautious procedure, especially for the be 
ginner in psychoanalysis. An arbitrary translation of the dreams 
is exceedingly inadvisable. That would be a superstitious prac 
tice based on the assumption that dreams have well-established 
symbolic meanings. But there are no fixed symbolic meanings. 
There are certain symbols that recur frequently, but we are not 
in a position to get beyond very general statements. For in- 

236 



GENERAL ASPECTS OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



stance, it is quite incorrect to assume that a snake, when it ap 
pears in dreams, always has a merely phallic meaning; just as 
incorrect as it is to deny that it may have a phallic meaning in 
some cases. Every symbol has at least two meanings. The very 
frequent sexual meaning of dream-symbols is at most one of 
them. I cannot, therefore, accept the exclusively sexual inter 
pretations which appear in certain psychoanalytic publications, 
as little as I can accept the interpretation of dreams as wish- 
fulfilments, for my experience has led me to regard these for 
mulations as one-sided and inadequate. As an example I will 
tell you a very simple dream of a young man, a patient of mine. 
It was as follows: I was going up a flight of stairs with my mother 
and sister. When we reached the top I was told that my sister 
was going to have a baby. 

54 First I will show how, in accordance with the hitherto pre 
vailing point of view, this dream may be translated sexually. We 
know that incest fantasies play a prominent role in the life of 
a neurotic, hence the image "with my mother and sister" could 
be understood as a hint in this direction. "Stairs" are alleged to 
have a well-established sexual meaning: they represent the sex 
ual act because of the rhythmic climbing. The baby the sister 
is expecting is nothing but the logical consequence of these 
premises. Thus translated, the dream would be a clear fulfil 
ment of so-called infantile wishes, which, as you know, are an 
important part of Freud's dream-theory. 

54 1 I have analysed this dream on the basis of the following rea 
soning. If I say that stairs are a symbol for the sexual act, by 
what right do I take the mother and sister and baby as real, 
that is, not symbolically? If, on the strength of the assertion that 
dream-images are symbolic, I assign a symbolic value to certain 
of these images, what right have I to exempt certain others? If 
I attach a symbolic value to the ascent of the stairs, I must also 
attach a symbolic value to the images called mother, sister, and 
baby. I therefore did not "translate" the dream but really ana 
lysed it. The result was surprising. I will give you the patient's 
associations to the individual dream-images word for word, so 
that you can form your own opinion of the material. I should 
say in advance that the young man had finished his studies at 
the university a few months previously, that he had found the 
choice of a profession too difficult to make, and that he there- 

237 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



upon became neurotic. In consequence of this he gave up his 
work. His neurosis took, among other things, a manifestly homo 
sexual form. 

542 His associations to mother were as follows: "I have not seen 
her for a long time, a very long time. I must really reproach 
myself for this, it is wrong of me to neglect her so." 

543 Mother, then, stands for something that is neglected in an 
irresponsible manner. I asked the patient: "What is that?" and 
he replied, with considerable embarrassment: "My work." 

544 Associations to sister: "It is years since I have seen her. I 
long to see her again. Whenever I think of her I always remem 
ber the moment I said good-bye. I kissed her with real affection, 
and at that moment I understood for the first time what love for 
a woman can mean." It was at once clear to the patient that 
"sister" stood for "love for a woman." 

545 Associations to stairs: "Climbing upgetting to the top mak 
ing a careergrowing up, becoming great." 

546 Associations to baby: "Newborn renewal rebirth becom 
ing a new man." 

547 One has only to hear this material to understand at once that 
the dream represents not so much the fulfilment of infantile 
wishes as the fulfilment of biological duties which the patient 
has neglected because of his neurotic infantilism. Biological 
justice, which is inexorable, often compels us to make up in 
dreams for the duties we have neglected in real life. 

548 This dream is a typical example of the prospective and fi 
nally-oriented function of dreams in general, especially stressed 
by my colleague Maeder. If we adhered to a one-sided sexual 
interpretation the real meaning of the dream would escape us. 
Sexuality in dreams is, in the first instance, a means of expres 
sion and by no means always the meaning and aim of the dream. 
The discovery of its prospective or final meaning is particularly 
important when the analysis is so far advanced that the eyes of 
the patient are turned more readily to the future than to his 
inner world and the past. 

549 As regards the handling of the symbolism, we learn from 
this example that there can be no dream-symbols whose mean 
ings are fixed in every detail, but, at most, a frequent occur 
rence of symbols with fairly general meanings. So far as the 

238 



GENERAL ASPECTS OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



specifically sexual meaning of dreams is concerned, experience 
has led me to lay down the following practical rules: 

550 If dream-analysis at the beginning of the treatment shows 
that the dreams have an undoubtedly sexual meaning, this 
meaning is to be taken realistically; that is, it proves that the 
sexual problems of the patient need to be subjected to a careful 
review. For instance, if an incest fantasy is clearly shown to be 
a latent content of the dream, one must subject the patient's 
infantile relations with his parents and brothers and sisters, as 
well as his relations with other persons who are fitted to play 
the role of father or mother, to a thorough investigation. But 
if a dream that comes at a later stage of the analysis has, let us 
say, an incest fantasy as its essential content a fantasy that we 
have reason to consider disposed of concrete value should not 
under all circumstances be attached to it; it should be regarded 
as symbolic. The formula for interpretation is: the unknown 
meaning of the dream is expressed, by analogy, through a fan 
tasy of incest. In this case symbolic and not real value must be 
attached to the sexual fantasy. If we did not get beyond the 
real value we should keep reducing the patient to sexuality, and 
this would arrest the progress of the development of his per 
sonality. The patient's salvation does not lie in thrusting him 
back again and again into primitive sexuality; this would leave 
him on a low cultural level whence he could never obtain free 
dom and complete restoration to health. Retrogression to a state 
of barbarism is no advantage at all for a civilized human being. 

55 1 The above-mentioned formula, according to which the sex 
uality of a dream is a symbolic or analogical expression of its 
meaning, naturally applies also to dreams occurring at the be 
ginning of an analysis. But the practical reasons that have im 
pelled us not to take the symbolic value of these sexual fantasies 
into consideration arise from the fact that a genuine realistic 
value must be attached to the abnormal sexual fantasies of a 
neurotic in so far as he allows his actions to be influenced by 
them. The fantasies not only hinder him in adapting better to 
his situation, they also lead him to all manner of real sexual 
acts, and occasionally even to incest, as experience shows. Under 
these circumstances, it would be of little use to consider the sym 
bolic content only; the concrete aspect must be first dealt with. 

552 These statements are based, as you will have observed, on a 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



different conception of the dream from that put forward by 
Freud. Indeed, experience has forced a different conception 
upon me. For Freud, the dream is essentially a symbolic disguise 
for repressed wishes which would come into conflict with the 
aims of the personality. I am obliged to regard the structure of 
a dream from a different point of view. For me the dream is, 
in the first instance, a subliminal picture of the actual psycho 
logical situation of the individual in his waking state. It gives 
us a resume of the subliminal associative material constellated 
by the psychological situation of the moment. The volitional 
content of the dream, which Freud calls the repressed wish, is 
for me essentially a means of expression. 

553 The activity of consciousness represents, biologically speak 
ing, the individual's struggle for psychological adaptation. Con 
sciousness tries to adjust itself to the necessities of the moment, 
or, to put it differently: there are tasks ahead which the individ 
ual must overcome. In many cases the solution is, in the nature 
of things, unknown, for which reason consciousness always tries 
to find the solution by way of analogous experiences. We try to 
grasp the unknown future on the model of our experience in 
the past. We have no reason to suppose that the subliminal 
psychic material obeys other laws than the "supraliminal" ma 
terial. The unconscious, like the conscious, mobilizes itself 
round the biological tasks and seeks solutions on the analogy of 
what has gone before, just as consciousness does. Whenever we 
wish to assimilate something unknown, we do so by means of 
analogy. A simple example of this is the well-known fact that 
when America was discovered by the Spaniards the Indians took 
the horses of the conquerors, which were unknown to them, 
for large pigs, because only pigs were familiar in their experi 
ence. This is the way we always recognize things, and it is also 
the essential reason for the existence of symbolism: it is a process 
of comprehension by means of analogy. The dream is a sublimi 
nal process of comprehension by analogy. The apparently re 
pressed wishes are volitional tendencies which supply the un 
conscious dream-thought with a verbal means of expression. On 
this particular point I find myself in entire agreement with the 
views of Adler, another pupil of Freud's. As to the fact that the 
unconscious expresses itself by means of volitional elements or 

240 



GENERAL ASPECTS OF PSYCHOANALYSIS 



tendencies, this is due to the archaic nature of dream-thinking, 
a problem I have discussed elsewhere. 4 

554 Owing to our different conception of the structure of dreams, 
the further course of analysis assumes a rather different aspect. 
The symbolic evaluation of sexual fantasies in the later stages 
necessarily leads, not to a reduction of the personality to primi 
tive tendencies, but to a broadening and continuous develop 
ment of the patient's attitude; that is, it tends to make his 
thinking richer and deeper, thus giving him what has always 
been one of man's most powerful weapons in the struggle for 
adaptation. By following this new course consistently, I have 
come to the realization that the religious and philosophical 
driving forces what Schopenhauer calls the "metaphysical 
need" of man must receive positive consideration during the 
analytical work. They must not be destroyed by reducing them 
to their primitive sexual roots, but made to serve biological 
ends as psychologically valuable factors. In this way these driv 
ing forces assume once more the function that has been theirs 
from time immemorial. 

555 Just as primitive man was able, with the help of religious 
and philosophical symbols, to free himself from his original 
condition, so too the neurotic can free himself from his illness. 
It is hardly necessary for me to remark that I do not mean in 
oculating him with belief in a religious or philosophical dogma; 
I mean simply that there must be built up in him that same 
psychological attitude which was characterized by the living 
belief in a religious or philosophical dogma on earlier levels of 
culture. A religious or philosophical attitude is not the same 
thing as belief in a dogma. A dogma is a temporary intellectual 
formulation, the outcome of a religious and philosophical atti 
tude conditioned by time and circumstances. But the attitude 
itself is a cultural achievement; it is a function that is exceed 
ingly valuable from a biological point of view, for it gives rise 
to incentives that drive human beings to do creative work for 
the benefit of a future age and, if necessary, to sacrifice them 
selves for the welfare of the species. 

556 Thus man attains the same sense of unity and wholeness, 
the same confidence, the same capacity for self-sacrifice in his 

* [Cf. Symbols of Transformation, p. 21, par. 25. EDITORS.] 

241 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



conscious existence that belong unconsciously and instinctively 
to wild animals. Every reduction, every digression from the path 
that has been laid down for the development of civilization, 
does nothing more than turn the human being into a crippled 
animal; it never makes a so-called natural man of him. I have 
had numerous successes and failures in the course of my ana 
lytical practice which have convinced me of the inexorable 
rightness of this kind of psychological orientation. We do not 
help the neurotic by relieving him of the demands made by 
civilization; we can help him only by inducing him to take an 
active part in the strenuous work of carrying on its develop 
ment. The suffering he undergoes in performing this service 
takes the place of his neurosis. But whereas the neurosis and the 
troubles that attend it are never followed by the pleasant feel 
ing of good work well done, of duty fearlessly performed, the 
suffering that comes from useful work and from victory over 
real difficulties brings with it those moments of peace and satis 
faction which give the human being the priceless feeling that 
he has really lived his life. 



242 



PSYCHOANALYSIS AND NEUROSIS * 

557 After many years' experience I now know that it is extremely 
difficult to discuss psychoanalysis at public meetings and at con 
gresses. There are so many misconceptions of the matter, so 
many prejudices against certain psychoanalytic views, that it is 
an almost impossible task to reach mutual understanding in a 
public discussion. I have always found a quiet conversation on 
the subject much more useful and fruitful than heated argu 
ments coram publico. However, having been honoured by an 
invitation from the Committee of this Congress to speak as a 
representative of the psychoanalytic movement, I will do my 
best to discuss some of the fundamental theoretical problems of 
psychoanalysis. I must limit myself to this aspect of the subject 
because I am quite unable to put before my audience all that 
psychoanalysis means and strives for, and its various applica 
tions in the fields of mythology, comparative religion, philoso 
phy, etc. But if I am to discuss certain theoretical problems 
fundamental to psychoanalysis, I must presuppose that my 
audience is familiar with the development and the main results 
of psychoanalytic research. Unfortunately, it often happens that 
people think themselves entitled to judge psychoanalysis who 
have not even read the literature. It is my firm conviction that 
no one is competent to form an opinion on this matter until he 
has studied the basic writings of the psychoanalytic school. 

55 8 In spite of the fact that Freud's theory of neurosis has been 
worked out in great detail, it cannot be said to be, on the whole, 
very clear or easy to understand. This justifies my giving you a 
short abstract of his fundamental views on the theory of neurosis. 

559 You are aware that the original theory that hysteria and the 
related neuroses have their origin in a trauma or sexual shock 

1 [Originally read in English before the i7th International Medical Congress, 
London, 1913, under the title "On Psychoanalysis." First published in Collected 
Papers on Analytical Psychology (London, 1916; 2nd edn., London, 1917, and New 
York, 1920), pp. 226-35. The present version is a stylistic revision of this. EDITORS.] 

243 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



in early childhood was given up about fifteen years ago. It soon 
became evident that the sexual trauma could not be the real 
cause of the neurosis, for the simple reason that the trauma was 
found to be almost universal. There is scarcely a human being 
who has not had some sexual shock in early youth, and yet com 
paratively few develop a neurosis in later life. Freud himself 
soon realized that many of the patients who related an early 
traumatic experience had only invented the story of the so- 
called trauma; it had never occurred in reality, but was a mere 
creation of fantasy. Moreover, on further investigation it be 
came quite obvious that even if a trauma had actually occurred 
it was not always responsible for the whole of the neurosis, al 
though it does sometimes look as if the structure of the neurosis 
depended entirely on the trauma. I a neurosis were the in 
evitable consequence of the trauma it would be quite incom 
prehensible why neurotics are not incomparably more numerous 
than they are. 

5 6 The apparently heightened effect of the shock was clearly 
due to the exaggerated and morbid fantasy of the patient. Freud 
also saw that this same fantasy activity manifested itself rela 
tively early in bad habits, which he called infantile perversions. 
His new conception of the aetiology of neurosis was based on 
this insight, and he traced the neurosis back to some sexual 
activity in early infancy. This conception led to his recent view 
that the neurotic is "fixated" to a certain period of his early 
infancy, because he seems to preserve some trace of it, direct or 
indirect, in his mental attitude. Freud also makes the attempt 
to classify or to differentiate the neuroses, as well as dementia 
praecox, according to the stage of infantile development in 
which the fixation took place. From the standpoint of this 
theory, the neurotic appears to be entirely dependent on his 
infantile past, and all his troubles in later life, his moral con 
flicts and his deficiencies, seem to be derived from the powerful 
influences of that period. Accordingly, the main task of the 
treatment is to resolve this infantile fixation, which is con 
ceived as an unconscious attachment of the sexual libido to 
certain infantile fantasies and habits. 

5 61 This, so far as I can see, is the essence of Freud's theory of 
neurosis. But it overlooks the following important question: 
What is the cause of this fixation of libido to the old infantile 

244 



PSYCHOANALYSIS AND NEUROSIS 



fantasies and habits? We have to remember that almost everyone 
has at some time had infantile fantasies and habits exactly cor 
responding to those of a neurotic, yet he does not become fixated 
to them; consequently, he does not become neurotic later on. 
The aetiological secret of the neurosis, therefore, does not lie in 
the mere existence of infantile fantasies but in the so-called 
fixation. The numerous statements of neurotics affirming the 
existence of infantile sexual fantasies are worthless in so far as 
they attribute an aetiological significance to them, for the same 
fantasies can be found in normal individuals as well, a fact 
which I have often proved. It is only the fixation which seems 
to be characteristic. 

562 It is therefore necessary to demand proof of the reality of 
this infantile fixation. Freud, an absolutely sincere and pains 
taking empiricist, would never have evolved this hypothesis had 
he not had sufficient grounds for it. These grounds are furnished 
by the results of psychoanalytic investigations of the uncon 
scious. Psychoanalysis reveals the unconscious presence of nu 
merous fantasies which have their roots in the infantile past and 
are grouped round the so-called "nuclear complex," which in 
men may be designated as the Oedipus complex, in women as 
the Electra complex. These terms convey their own meaning 
exactly. The whole tragic fate of Oedipus and Electra was acted 
out within the narrow confines of the family, just as a child's 
fate lies wholly within the family boundaries. Hence the Oedi 
pus complex, like the Electra complex, is very characteristic of 
an infantile conflict. The existence of these conflicts in infancy 
has been proved by means of psychoanalytic research. It is in 
the realm of this complex that the fixation is supposed to have 
taken place. The extremely potent and effective existence of 
the nuclear complex in the unconscious of neurotics led Freud 
to the hypothesis that the neurotic has a peculiar fixation or 
attachment to it. Not the mere existence of this complex for 
everybody has it in the unconscious but the very strong at 
tachment to it is what is typical of the neurotic. He is far more 
influenced by this complex than the normal person; many ex 
amples in confirmation of this can be found in every one of the 
recent psychoanalytic histories of neurotic cases. 

5 6 3 We must admit that this view is a very plausible one, because 
the hypothesis of fixation is based on the well-known fact that 

245 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



certain periods of human life, and particularly infancy, do some 
times leave determining traces behind them which are perma 
nent. The only question is whether this is a sufficient explana 
tion or not. If we examine persons who have been neurotic 
from infancy it seems to be confirmed, for we see the nuclear 
complex as a permanent and powerful agent throughout life. 
But if we take cases which never show any noticeable trace of 
neurosis except at the particular time when they break down, 
and there are many such, this explanation becomes doubtful. 
If there is such a thing as fixation, it is not permissible to erect 
upon it a new hypothesis, claiming that at times during certain 
periods of life the fixation becomes loosened and ineffective, 
while at others it suddenly becomes strengthened. In these cases 
we find that the nuclear complex is as active and potent as in 
those which apparently support the theory of fixation. Here a 
critical attitude is justifiable, especially when we consider the 
oft-repeated observation that the moment of the outbreak of 
neurosis is not just a matter of chance; as a rule it is most criti 
cal. It is usually the moment when a new psychological adjust 
ment, that is, a new adaptation, is demanded. Such moments 
facilitate the outbreak of a neurosis, as every experienced neu 
rologist knows. 

5 6 4 This fact seems to me extremely significant. If the fixation 
were indeed real we should expect to find its influence constant; 
in other words, a neurosis lasting throughout life. This is obvi 
ously not the case. The psychological determination of a neu 
rosis is only partly due to an early infantile predisposition; it 
must be due to some cause in the present as well. And if we 
carefully examine the kind of infantile fantasies and occur 
rences to which the neurotic is attached, we shall be obliged to 
agree that there is nothing in them that is specifically neurotic. 
Normal individuals have pretty much the same inner and outer 
experiences, and may be attached to them to an astonishing 
degree without developing a neurosis. Primitive people, espe 
cially, are very much bound to their infantility. It now begins 
to look as if this so-called fixation were a normal phenomenon, 
and that the importance of infancy for the later mental attitude 
is natural and prevails everywhere. The fact that the neurotic 
seems to be markedly influenced by his infantile conflicts shows 
that it is less a matter of fixation than of the peculiar use which 

246 



PSYCHOANALYSIS AND NEUROSIS 



he makes of his infantile past. It looks as if he exaggerated its 
importance and attributed to it a wholly artificial value. Adler, 
a pupil of Freud's, expresses a very similar view. 

5 6 5 It would be unjust to say that Freud limited himself to the 
hypothesis of fixation; he was also aware of the problem I have 
just discussed. He called this phenomenon of reactivation or 
secondary exaggeration of infantile reminiscences "regression." 
But in Freud's view it appears as if the incestuous desires of the 
Oedipus complex were the real cause of the regression to in 
fantile fantasies. If this were the case, we should have to postu 
late an unexpected intensity of the primary incestuous tenden 
cies. This view led Freud to his recent comparison between 
what he calls the psychological ' 'incest barrier" in children and 
the "incest taboo" in primitive man. He supposes that a desire 
for real incest led primitive man to frame laws against it; while 
to me it looks as if the incest taboo were only one among nu 
merous taboos of all kinds, and were due to the typical super 
stitious fear of primitive man a fear existing independently of 
incest and its prohibition. I am able to attribute as little strength 
to incestuous desires in childhood as in primitive humanity. I 
do not even seek the reason for regression in primary incestuous 
or any other sexual desires. I must admit that a purely sexual 
aetiology of neurosis seems to me much too narrow. I base this 
criticism not on any prejudice against sexuality but on an inti 
mate acquaintance with the whole problem. 

5 66 I therefore suggest that psychoanalytic theory should be 
freed from the purely sexual standpoint. In place of it I should 
like to introduce an energic viewpoint into the psychology of 
neurosis. 

5^7 All psychological phenomena can be considered as manifesta 
tions of energy, in the same way that all physical phenomena 
have been understood as energic manifestations ever since 
Robert Mayer discovered the law of the conservation of energy. 
Subjectively and psychologically, this energy is conceived as 
desire. I call it libido > using the word in its original sense, which 
is by no means only sexual. Sallust uses it exactly as we do here 
when he says: "They took more pleasure in handsome arms and 
war horses than in harlots and revelry." 2 

2"Magis in armis et militaribus equis quam in scortis et conviviis libidinem 
habebant." Gatilina, 7, trans, by Rolfe, pp. 14-15. 

247 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



568 From a broader standpoint libido can be understood as vital 
energy in general, or as Bergson's elan vital. The first manifesta 
tion o this energy in the infant is the nutritive instinct. From 
this stage the libido slowly develops through numerous variants 
of the act of sucking into the sexual function. Hence I do not 
consider the act of sucking a sexual act. The pleasure in sucking 
can certainly not be considered as sexual pleasure, but as pleas 
ure in nutrition, for it is nowhere proved that pleasure is sexual 
in itself. This process of development is continued into adult 
life and is accompanied by constantly increasing adaptation to 
the external world. Whenever the libido, in the process of 
adaptation, meets an obstacle, an accumulation takes place 
which normally gives rise to an increased effort to overcome the 
obstacle. But if the obstacle seems to be insurmountable, and 
the individual abandons the task of overcoming it, the stored-up 
libido makes a regression. Instead of being employed for an 
increased effort, the libido gives up its present task and reverts 
to an earlier and more primitive mode of adaptation. 

569 The best examples of such regressions are found in hysterical 
cases where a disappointment in love or marriage has precipi 
tated a neurosis. There we find those well-known digestive dis 
orders, loss of appetite, dyspeptic symptoms of all sorts, 
etc. In these cases the regressive libido, turning back from the 
task of adaptation, gains power over the nutritive function and 
produces marked disturbances. Similar effects can be observed 
in cases where there is no disturbance of the nutritive function 
but, instead, a regressive revival of reminiscences from the dis 
tant past. We then find a reactivation of the parental imagos, 
of the Oedipus complex. Here the events of early infancy never 
before important suddenly become so. They have been regres- 
sively reactivated. Remove the obstacle from the path of life 
and this whole system of infantile fantasies at once breaks down 
and becomes as inactive and ineffective as before. But let us not 
forget that, to a certain extent, it is at work all the time, influ 
encing us in unseen ways. This view, incidentally, comes very 
close to Janet's hypothesis that the "parties suprieures" of a 
function are replaced by its "parties inf&ieures." I would also 
remind you of Claparde's conception of neurotic symptoms as 
emotional reflexes of a primitive nature. 

570 For these reasons I no longer seek the cause of a neurosis in 

248 



PSYCHOANALYSIS AND NEUROSIS 



the past, but in the present. I ask, what is the necessary task 
which the patient will not accomplish? The long list of his in 
fantile fantasies does not give me any sufficient aetiological ex 
planation, because I know that these fantasies are only puffed 
up by the regressive libido, which has not found its natural out 
let in a new form of adaptation to the demands of life. 

57 1 You may ask why the neurotic has a special tendency not to 
accomplish his necessary tasks. Here let me point out that no 
living creature adjusts itself easily and smoothly to new condi 
tions. The law of inertia is valid everywhere. 

572 A sensitive and somewhat unbalanced person, as a neu 
rotic always is, will meet with special difficulties and perhaps 
with more unusual tasks in life than a normal individual, who 
as a rule has only to follow the well-worn path of an ordinary 
existence. For the neurotic there is no established way of life, 
because his aims and tasks are apt to be of a highly individual 
character. He tries to go the more or less uncontrolled and half- 
conscious way of normal people, not realizing that his own 
critical and very different nature demands of him more effort 
than the normal person is required to exert. There are neurotics 
who have shown their heightened sensitiveness and their re 
sistance to adaptation in the very first weeks of life, in the diffi 
culty they have in taking the mother's breast and in their exag 
gerated nervous reactions, etc. For this peculiarity in the 
neurotic predisposition it will always be impossible to find a 
psychological aetiology, because it is anterior to all psychology. 
This predisposition you can call it "congenital sensitiveness" 
or what you like is the cause of the first resistances to adapta 
tion. As the way to adaptation is blocked, the biological energy 
we call libido does not find its appropriate outlet or activity, 
with the result that a suitable form of adaptation is replaced by 
an abnormal or primitive one. 

573 In neurosis we speak of an infantile attitude or of the pre 
dominance of infantile fantasies and wishes. In so far as infantile 
impressions are of obvious importance in normal people they 
will be equally influential in neurosis, but they have no aetiolog 
ical significance; they are reactions merely, being chiefly sec 
ondary and regressive phenomena. It is perfectly true, as Freud 
says, that infantile fantasies determine the form and the subse 
quent development of neurosis, but this is not an aetiology. 

249 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



Even when we find perverted sexual fantasies whose existence 
can be demonstrated in childhood, we cannot consider them of 
aetiological significance. A neurosis is not really caused by in 
fantile sexual fantasies, and the same must be said of the sexu- 
alism of neurotic fantasy in general. It is not a primary phe 
nomenon based on a perverted sexual disposition, but merely 
secondary and a consequence of the failure to apply the stored- 
up libido in a suitable way. I realize that this is a very old view, 
but this does not prevent it from being true. The fact that the 
patient himself very often believes that his infantile fantasies 
are the real cause of his neurosis does not prove that he is right 
in his belief, or that a theory based on this belief is right either. 
It may look as if it were so, and I must admit that very many 
cases do have that appearance. At all events, it is perfectly easy 
to understand how Freud arrived at this view. Everyone who has 
any psychoanalytic experience will agree with me here. 

574 To sum up: I cannot see the real aetiology of neurosis in the 
various manifestations of infantile sexual development and the 
fantasies to which they give rise. The fact that these fantasies 
are exaggerated in neurosis and occupy the foreground is a con 
sequence of the stored-up energy or libido. The psychological 
trouble in neurosis, and the neurosis itself, can be formulated as 
an act of adaptation that has failed. This formulation might 
reconcile certain views of Janet's with Freud's view that a neu 
rosis is, in a sense, an attempt at self-cure a view which can be 
and has been applied to many other illnesses. 

575 Here the question arises as to whether it is still advisable to 
bring to light all the patient's fantasies by analysis, if we now 
consider them of no aetiological significance. Hitherto psycho 
analysis has set about unravelling these fantasies because they 
were considered aetiologically important. My altered view of 
the theory of neurosis does not affect the psychoanalytic pro 
cedure. The technique remains the same. Though we no longer 
imagine we are unearthing the ultimate root of the illness, we 
have to pull up the sexual fantasies because the energy which . 
the patient needs for his health, that is, for adaptation, is at 
tached to them. By means of psychoanalysis the connection be 
tween his conscious mind and the libido in the unconscious is 
re-established. Thus the unconscious libido is brought under 
the control of the will. Only in this way can the split-off energy 

250 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



become available again for the accomplishment of the necessary 
tasks of life. Considered from this standpoint, psychoanalysis no 
longer appears as a mere reduction of the individual to his 
primitive sexual wishes, but, if rightly understood, as a highly 
moral task of immense educational value. 



SOME CRUCIAL POINTS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS 
A CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN DR. JUNG AND DR. LOY * 

Foreword 

A few words may suffice to explain the reasons which led to this 
correspondence, and the purpose in publishing it. 

After being introduced to the theory and practice of suggestion 
therapy by Professor Forel, I practised it for many years and still 
use it in suitable cases. When I became aware of the great signifi 
cance of Freud's psychoanalytic works, I studied them and gradually 
began to take up analysis myself. I made contact with the nearest 
centre of psychoanalytic research, which was Zurich. Yet in technical 
matters I had, in the main, to rely on myself. Hence, when I met 
with failures, I had to ask myself who or what was to blame, I alone, 
because I did not know how to apply the "correct psychoanalytic 
method/* or perhaps the method itself, which might not be suitable 
in all cases. A special stumbling-block for me was the interpretation 
of dreams: I could not convince myself that there was a generally 
valid symbolism, and that this symbolism was exclusively sexual, as 
many psychoanalysts declared. Their interpretations often seemed to 
me to bear the stamp of arbitrariness. 

And so, when I read the following statement by Freud in the 
Zentralblatt fur Psychoanalyse, in June 1912, the words seemed to 
come from my own heart: "Some years ago I gave as an answer to the 
question of how one can become an analyst: 'By analysing one's own 
dreams,' This preparation is no doubt enough for many people, but 
not for everyone who wishes to learn analysis. Nor can everyone suc 
ceed in interpreting his own dreams without outside help. I count it 
as one of the many merits of the Zurich school of analysis that they 

1 [Originally published as Psychotherapeutische Zeitfragen; Ein Briefwechsel mit 
Dr. C. G. Jung, edited by Dr. R. Loy (Leipzig and Vienna, 1914). Translated (ex 
cept for Dr. Loy's foreword) by Mrs. Edith Eder as "On Some Crucial Points in 
Psychoanalysis/' in Collected Papers on Analytical Psychology (London, 1916; 2nd 
edn., London, 1917; New York, 1920). The present translation is based on this. 
EDITORS.] 

252 



CRUCIAL POINTS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS (jUNG AND LOY) 

have laid increased emphasis on this requirement, and have em 
bodied it in the demand that everyone who wishes to carry out anal 
yses on other people shall first himself undergo an analysis by some 
one with expert knowledge. Anyone who takes up the work seriously 
should choose this course, which offers more than one advantage; the 
sacrifice involved in laying oneself open to another person without 
being driven to it by illness is amply rewarded. Not only is one's aim 
of learning to know what is hidden in one's own mind far more 
rapidly attained and with less expense of affect, but impressions and 
convictions will be gained in relation to oneself which will be sought 
in vain from studying books and attending lectures.' 1 2 

Dr. Jung declared himself ready to undertake my analysis. A 
great obstacle arose, however: the distance between us. Thus, many 
questions which had come up in the analytical interviews and could 
not be discussed sufficiently thoroughly were settled by correspond 
ence. 

When the correspondence reached its present proportions I asked 
myself whether other colleagues might not find it as stimulating as 
I had done: psychoanalysts who were just beginning and who needed 
a guiding thread through the mounting tangle of psychoanalytic 
literature, practising physicians who perhaps knew of psychoanalysis 
only through the violent attacks it has had to endure (often from 
quite unqualified persons who have no experience of it). 

I could only answer this question in the affirmative. I asked Dr. 
Jung to give his consent to my publishing the correspondence, which 
he readily did. 

I do not doubt that the reader will, like me, give him the thanks 
that are his due; for a more concise and easily understandable ac 
count of the psychoanalytic method and of some of the problems it 
raises does not, to my knowledge, exist. 

DR. R. LOY 

Sanatorium UAbri, Montreux-Territet, 
1 December 



From Dr. Loy 

12 January 1913 

576 What you said at our last interview was extraordinarily 
stimulating. I was expecting you to throw light on the interpre 
tation of my own and my patients' dreams from the standpoint 

2 "Recommendations to Physicians Practising Psycho-Analysis" (orig. 1912), pp. 
n6f. 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



of Freud's dream interpretation. Instead, you put before me 
an entirely new conception: the dream as a means, produced 
by the subconscious, of restoring the moral balance. That is 
certainly a fruitful thought. But still more fruitful, it seems to 
me, is your other suggestion. You conceive the tasks of psycho 
analysis to be much deeper than I had ever imagined: it is no 
longer a question of getting rid of troublesome pathological 
symptoms, but of the analysand learning to know himself com 
pletelynot just his anxiety experiences and on the basis of 
this knowledge building up and shaping his life anew. But he 
himself must be the builder; the analyst only furnishes him with 
the necessary tools. 

577 To begin with, I would ask you to consider what justifica 
tion there is for the original procedure of Breuer and Freud, 
now entirely given up both by Freud himself and by you, but 
practised by Frank, for instance, as his only method: the "abre- 
action of inhibited affects under light hypnosis." Why did you 
give up the cathartic method? Please explain. More particularly, 
has light hypnosis in psychocatharsis a different value from sug 
gestion during sleep, long practised in suggestion therapy? 
That is, has it only the value which the doctor attributes, or says 
he attributes to it, the value which the patient's faith gives it? 
In other words, is suggestion in the waking state equivalent to 
suggestion in the hypnoid state, as Bernheim now asserts, after 
having used suggestion for many years in hypnosis? You will 
tell me that we must talk of psychoanalysis, not of suggestion. 
What I really mean is this: is not the suggestion that psycho- 
catharsis in the hypnoid state will produce a therapeutic effect 
(with limitations, naturally, the age of the patient, etc.) the 
main factor in the therapeutic effects of psychocatharsis? Frank 
says in his Affektstorungen: "These one-sided attitudes, sug 
gestibility and suggestion, are almost entirely in abeyance in 
psychocatharsis under light sleep, so far as the content of the 
ideas reproduced is concerned." 3 Is that really true? Frank 
himself adds: "How can ruminating on the dreams of youth in 
itself lead to discharge of the stored-up anxiety, whether in the 
hypnoid state or any other? Must we not rather suppose that 
ruminating on them would make the anxiety states even 

3Ludwig Frank, Affektstorungen: Studien uber ihre Aetiologie und Therapie 

254 



CRUCIAL POINTS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS (jUNG AND LOY) 

greater?" (I have noticed this myself, far more than I liked.) Of 
course one says to the patient, " First we must stir up, then 
afterwards comes peace." And it does come. But does it not 
come in spite of the stirring-up process, because gradually, by 
means of frequent talks apart from light hypnosis, the patient 
gains such confidence in the analyst that he becomes susceptible 
to the direct suggestion that an improvement and then a cure 
will follow? I go still further: in an analysis in the waking state, 
is not the patient's faith that the method employed will cure 
him, coupled with his growing confidence in the analyst, a main 
cause of his cure? And I go still further: in every therapeutic 
method systematically carried out is not faith in it, confidence 
in the doctor, a main cause of its success? I won't say the only 
cause, for one cannot deny that physical, dietetic, and chemical 
procedures, when properly selected, have their own effect in 
bringing about a cure, over and above the striking effects pro 
duced by indirect suggestion. 



From Dr. Jung 

28 January 1913 

578 With regard to your question concerning the applicability 
of the cathartic procedure, I can say that I adopt the following 
standpoint: every procedure is good if it helps. I therefore 
acknowledge every method of suggestion including Christian 
Science, mental healing, etc. "A truth is a truth, when it works/' 
It is another question, though, whether a scientifically trained 
doctor can square it with his conscience to sell little bottles of 
Lourdes water because this suggestion is at times very helpful. 
Even the so-called highly scientific suggestion therapy employs 
the wares of the medicine-man and the exorcising shaman. And 
why not? The public is not much more advanced either and 
continues to expect miraculous cures from the doctor. And in 
deed, we must rate those doctors wise worldly-wise in every 
sense who know how to surround themselves with the aura of 
a medicine-man. They have not only the biggest practices but 
also get the best results. This is because, apart from the neu 
roses, countless physical illnesses are tainted and complicated 
with psychic material to an unsuspected degree. The medical 
exorcist betrays by his whole demeanour his full appreciation of 

255 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



that psychic component when he gives the patient the opportuni 
ty of fixing his faith firmly on the mysterious personality of the 
doctor. In this way he wins the sick man's mind, which from 
then on helps him to restore his body to health. The cure works 
best when the doctor himself believes in his own formulae, other 
wise he may be overcome by scientific doubt and so lose the 
proper convincing tone. I myself practised hypnotic suggestion- 
therapy for a time with enthusiasm. But then there befell me 
three dubious incidents which I would like to bring to your 
attention. 

579 One day a withered old peasant woman of about 56 came to 
me to be hypnotized for various neurotic troubles. She was not 
easy to hypnotize, was very restless, and kept opening her eyes 
but at last I did succeed. When I woke her up again after 
about half an hour she seized my hand and with many words 
testified to her overflowing gratitude. I told her, "You are by 
no means cured yet, so keep your thanks till the end of the treat 
ment." "I'm not thanking you for that," she whispered, blush 
ing, "but because you were so decent" She looked at me with 
a sort of tender admiration and departed. I gazed for a long 
time at the spot where she had stood. So decent? I asked myself, 
flabbergastedgood heavens, surely she hadn't imagined . . . ? 
This glimpse made me suspect for the first time that possibly 
the old reprobate, with the atrocious directness of feminine (at 
the time I called it "animal") instinct, understood more about 
the essence of hypnosis than I did with all my knowledge of the 
scientific profundity of the text-books. My innocence was gone. 

5 80 Next came a pretty, coquettish, seventeen-year-old girl with 
a very harassed-looking mama. She had suffered since early 
childhood from enuresis nocturna (which she used, among other 
things, to stop herself being sent to a finishing school in Italy). 
At once I thought of the old woman and her wisdom. I tried to 
hypnotize the girl; she went into fits of laughter and held up 
the hypnosis for twenty minutes. I kept my temper and thought: 
I know why you laugh, you have already fallen in love with me, 
but I will give you proof of my decency as a reward for wasting 
my time with your provocative laughter. At last I put her un 
der. The effect was immediate. The enuresis stopped, and I 
thereupon informed the young lady that, instead of Wednesday, 
I would not see her again for hypnosis till the following Satur- 

256 



CRUCIAL POINTS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS (JUNG AND LOY) 

day. On Saturday she arrived with a cross face, boding disaster. 
The enuresis had come back again. I thought of my wise old 
woman and asked, "When did it come back?" She (unsuspect 
ing): "Wednesday night.' ' I thought to myself: There we have 
it, she wants to prove to me that I absolutely must see her on 
Wednesdays too; not to see me for a whole long week is too 
much for a tender loving heart. But I did not intend to pander 
to this annoying romance, so I said, "It would be quite wrong 
to continue the treatment under these circumstances. We must 
drop it altogether for three weeks, to give the enuresis a chance 
to stop. Then come again for treatment." In my malicious heart 
I knew that I would be away on holiday and the course for 
hypnotic treatment would be finished. After the holiday my 
locum tenens told me that the young lady had been there with 
the news that the enuresis had vanished, but her disappoint 
ment at not seeing me was very keen. The old woman was right, 
I thought. 

581 The third case gave my joy in suggestion therapy its death 
blow. This case really was the limit. A 65-year-old lady came 
hobbling into the consulting-room on a crutch. She had suffered 
from pain in the knee-joint for seventeen years, and this at times 
kept her chained to her bed for many weeks. No doctor had 
been able to cure her, and she had run through all the cures of 
present-day medicine. After letting the stream of her narrative 
pour over me for ten minutes, I said, "I will try to hypnotize 
you, perhaps that will do you good." "Oh yes, please do!" she 
said, then leaned her head to one side and fell asleep before 
ever I said or did a thing. She passed into somnambulism and 
showed every form of hypnosis you could possibly desire. After 
half an hour I had the greatest difficulty in waking her; when at 
last she was awake she jumped up: "I am well, I am all right, 
you have cured rne!" I tried to raise timid objections, but her 
praises drowned me. She could really walk. I blushed, and said 
embarrassed to my colleagues: "Behold the marvels of hypnotic 
therapy!" That day saw the death of my connection with ther 
apy by suggestion; the notoriety aroused by this case shamed 
and depressed me. When, a year later, the good old lady re 
turned, this time with a pain in her back, I was already sunk in 
hopeless cynicism; I saw written on her brow that she had just 

257 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



read in the paper the notice of the reopening of my course on 
hypnotism. That tiresome romanticism had provided her with 
a convenient pain in the back so that she might have a pretext 
for seeing me, and again let herself be cured in the same spec 
tacular fashion. This proved true in every particular. 
582 AS you will understand, a man possessed of a scientific con 
science cannot digest such cases with impunity. I was resolved 
to abandon suggestion altogether rather than allow myself to be 
passively transformed into a miracle-worker. I wanted to under 
stand what really goes on in people's minds. It suddenly seemed 
to me incredibly childish to think of dispelling an illness with 
magical incantations, and that this should be the sole result of 
our efforts to create a psychotherapy. Thus the discovery of 
Breuer and Freud came as a veritable life-saver. I took up 
their method with unalloyed enthusiasm and soon recognized 
how right Freud was when, at a very early date, indeed as far 
back as Studies on Hysteria, he began to direct a searchlight on 
the circumstances of the so-called trauma. I soon discovered 
that, though traumata of clearly aetiological significance were 
occasionally present, the majority of them appeared very im 
probable. Many traumata were so unimportant, even so normal, 
that they could be regarded at most as a pretext for the neurosis. 
But what especially aroused my criticism was the fact that not 
a few traumata were simply inventions of fantasy and had never 
happened at all. This realization was enough to make me scep 
tical about the whole trauma theory. (I have discussed these 
matters in detail in my lectures on the theory of psychoanaly 
sis.) I could no longer imagine that repeated experiences of 
a fantastically exaggerated or entirely fictitious trauma had a 
different therapeutic value from a suggestion procedure. It is 
good if it helps. If only one did not have a scientific conscience 
and that hankering after the truth! I recognized in many cases, 
particularly with intelligent patients, the therapeutic limita 
tions of this method. It is merely a rule of thumb, convenient 
for the analyst because it makes no particular demands on his 
intellect or his capacity to adapt. The theory and practice are 
delightfully simple: "The neurosis comes from a trauma. The 
trauma is abreacted." If the abreacting takes place under hyp 
notism or with other magical accessories (dark room, special 

258 



CRUCIAL POINTS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS (jUNG AND LOY) 

lighting, etc.), I think at once of my clever old woman, who 
opened my eyes not only to the magical influence of the mes 
meric passes but to the nature of hypnotism itself. 

583 What alienated me once and for all from this comparatively 
effective, indirect method of suggestion, based as it is on an 
equally effective false theory, was the simultaneous recognition 
that behind the bewildering and deceptive maze of neurotic 
fantasies there is a conflict which may best be described as a 
moral one. With this there began for me a new era of under 
standing. Research and therapy now joined hands in the effort 
to discover the causes and the rational solution of the conflict. 
For me this meant psychoanalysis. While I was arriving at this 
insight, Freud had built up his sexual theory of neurosis, thus 
posing a mass of questions for discussion, all of which seemed 
worthy of the deepest consideration. I had the good fortune to 
collaborate with Freud for a long time, and to work with him 
on the problem of sexuality in neurosis. You know perhaps from 
some of my earlier works that I was always rather dubious about 
the significance of sexuality. This has now become the point on 
which I am no longer altogether of Freud's opinion. 

5 8 4 I have preferred to answer your questions in a somewhat in 
consequential fashion. I will now catch up on the rest: light 
hypnosis and total hypnosis are simply varying degrees of in 
tensity of unconscious susceptibility to the hypnotist. Who can 
draw sharp distinctions here? To a critical intelligence it is un 
thinkable that suggestibility and suggestion can be avoided in 
the cathartic method. They are present everywhere as general 
human attributes, even with Dubois 4 and the psychoanalysts, 
who all think they are working on purely rational lines. No 
technique and no self-effacement avails here; the analyst works 
willy-nilly, and perhaps most of all, through his personality, 
i.e., through suggestion. In the cathartic method, what is of far 
more importance to the patient than the conjuring up of old 
fantasies is the experience of being together so often with the 
analyst, his trust and belief in him personally and in his method. 
The belief, the self-confidence, perhaps also the devotion with 
which the analyst does his work, are far more important to the 

4 [See supra, par. 41, n. 6.] 

259 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



patient (imponderabilia though they may be) than the rehears 
ing of old traumata. 5 

5 8 5 It is time we learnt from the history of medicine everything 
that has ever been of help, then perhaps we shall discover the 
really necessary therapythat is, psychotherapy. Did not even 
the old apothecaries' messes achieve brilliant cures, cures which 
faded only with the belief in their efficacy?! 

586 Because I know that, despite all rational safeguards, the pa 
tient does attempt to assimilate the analyst's personality, I have 
laid it down as a requirement that the psychotherapist must be 
just as responsible for the cleanness of his hands as the surgeon. 
I even hold it to be an indispensable prerequisite that the psy 
choanalyst should first submit himself to the analytical process, 
as his personality is one of the main factors in the cure. 

5 8 7 Patients read the analyst's character intuitively, and they 
should find in him a man with failings, admittedly, but also a 
man who strives at every point to fulfil his human duties in the 
fullest sense. Many times I have had the opportunity of seeing 
that the analyst is successful with his treatment just so far as he 
has succeeded in his own moral development. I think this an 
swer will satisfy your question. 



From Dr. Loy 

2 February 1913 

5 88 You answer several of my questions in a decidedly affirmative 
tone, taking it as proved that in cures by the cathartic method 
the main role is played by faith in the analyst and his method 
and not by "abreacting" the real or imaginary traumata. I think 
so too. Equally I agree with your view that the old "apothecaries' 
messes," as well as the Lourdes cures or those of the mental 
healers, Christian Scientists, and persuasionists, are to be at 
tributed to faith in the miracle-worker rather than to any of the 
methods employed. 

589 But now comes the ticklish point: the augur can remain an 

5 Thus a woman patient, who had been treated by a young colleague without 
entire success, once said to me: "Certainly I made great progress with him 
and I am much better than I was. He tried to analyse my dreams. It's true he 
never understood them, but he took so much trouble over them. He is really a 
good doctor." 

260 



CRUCIAL POINTS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS (jUNG AND LOY) 

augur so long as he himself believes that the will of the gods is 
made manifest by the entrails of the sacrificial beast. When he 
no longer believes, he can ask himself: Shall I continue to use 
my augur's authority to promote the welfare of the State, or 
shall I make use of my newer, and I hope truer, convictions of 
today? Both ways are possible. The first is called opportunism, 
the second the pursuit of truth and scientific honesty. For the 
doctor, the first way perhaps brings therapeutic success and 
fame, the second brings the reproach that such a man is not to 
be taken seriously. What I esteem most highly in Freud and his 
school is just this passionate desire for truth. On the other hand 
some people pronounce a different verdict: "It is impossible for 
a busy practitioner to keep pace with the development of the 
views of this investigator and his initiates" (Frank, Affektstor- 
ungen, Introduction, p. 2). 

590 One can easily disregard this little quip, but self-criticism 
needs to be taken more seriously. One can after all ask oneself: 
Since science is in continual flux, have I the right to ignore on 
principle any method or combination of methods by which I 
know I can get therapeutic results? 

59 1 Looking more closely at the fundamental reason for your 
aversion to the ancillary use of hypnosis (or semi-hypnosis; the 
degree matters nothing) in treatment by suggestion (which as 
you say every doctor and every therapeutic method makes use 
of willy-nilly, no matter what it is called), one must say that 
what has disgusted you with hypnotism is at bottom nothing 
but the so-called "transference" to the doctor, which you, with 
your purely psychoanalytic procedure, can eliminate as little as 
anybody else, and which actually plays an essential part in the 
success of the treatment. Your requirement that the psycho 
analyst must be responsible for the cleanness of his handshere 
I agree unreservedly is the logical conclusion. But is the possi 
ble recourse to hypnosis in a psychotherapeutic procedure any 
more "augurish" than the unavoidable use of the "transference 
to the analyst" for therapeutic purposes? In either case we bank 
on faith as the healing agent. As for the feeling which the pa 
tientwhether man or woman entertains for the analyst, is 
there never anything in the background save a conscious or un 
conscious sexual wish? In many cases your impression is cer 
tainly correct, and more than one woman has been frank enough 

261 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



to confess that the beginning of hypnosis was accompanied by 
a voluptuous sensation. But it is not true in all instances or 
how would you explain the underlying feeling in the hypnotiz 
ing of one animal by another, e.g., snake and bird? Surely you 
would say that here the feeling of fear prevails, which is an in 
version of libido, whereas in the hypnoid state that comes over 
the female before she succumbs to the male it is the pure libido 
sexualis that predominates, though possibly still mixed with 
fear. 

592 However that may be, from your three cases I cannot draw 
any ethical distinction between "susceptibility to the hypnotist" 
and "transference to the analyst" that would condemn a pos 
sible combination of hypnosis with psychoanalysis, as an aux 
iliary. You will ask why I cling so much to the use of hypnosis, 
or rather of the hypnoid state. It is because I think there are 
cases that can be cured much more quickly in this way than by a 
purely psychoanalytic procedure. For example, in no more than 
five or six interviews I completely cured a fifteen-year-old girl 
who had suffered from enuresis nocturna even since infancy, 
but was otherwise perfectly sound, gifted, first in her class, etc. 
Previously she had tried all sorts of treatment without any 
result. 

593 Perhaps I ought to have sought out the psychoanalytic con 
nections between the enuresis and her psychosexual disposition, 
explained it to her, etc., but I couldn't, the girl had only the 
short Easter holidays for treatment: so I just hypnotized her and 
the trouble vanished. 

594 In psychoanalysis I use hypnosis to help the patient overcome 
"resistance." 

595 Further, I use semi-hypnosis in conjunction with psycho 
analysis to accelerate the "reconstruction" stage. 

59 6 To take an example, a patient afflicted with a washing mania 
was sent to me after a year's psychocathartic treatment with 
Dr. X. The symbolic meaning of her washing ceremonies had 
previously been explained to her, but she became more and 
more agitated during the "abreaction" of alleged traumata in 
childhood, because she had persuaded herself by auto-sugges 
tion that she was too old to be cured, that she saw no "images," 
etc. So I used hypnosis to help her reduce the number of wash 
ings "so that the anxiety feeling would stay away" and to 

262 



CRUCIAL POINTS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS (jUNG AND LOY) 

train her to throw things on the floor and pick them up again 
without washing her hands afterwards, etc. 

597 In view of these considerations I should, if you feel disposed 
to go further into the matter, be grateful if you would furnish 
me with more convincing reasons why the hypnotic procedure 
is to be condemned, and explain how to do without it, or what 
to replace it with in such cases. Were I convinced, I would give 
it up as you have done; but what convinced you has not, so far, 
convinced me. Si duo faciunt idem., non est idem. 

598 I would now like to go on to another important matter to 
which you alluded, but only cursorily, and to put one question: 
Behind the neurotic fantasies there is almost always (or always) 
a moral conflict belonging to the present. That is perfectly clear 
to me. Research and therapy coincide; their task is: to seek the 
causes and the rational solution of the conflict. 

599 Good. But can the rational solution always be found? "Rea 
sons of expediency" so often bar the way, varying with the type 
of patient (children, young girls and women, from "pious" 
hypocritical! Catholic or Protestant families). Again that ac 
cursed opportunism! A colleague of mine was perfectly right 
when he began to give sexual enlightenment to a young French 
boy who was indulging in masturbation. Whereupon, like one 
possessed, in rushed a bigoted grandmother, and a disagreeable 
scene ensued. How to act in these and similar cases? What to do 
in cases where there is a moral conflict between love and duty 
(conflicts in marriage) or in general between instinct and 
moral duty? What to do in the case of a girl afflicted with hys 
terical or anxiety symptoms, who is in need of love and has no 
chance to marry, or cannot find a suitable man, and, because she 
comes of "good family," wants to remain chaste? Simply try to 
get rid of the symptoms by suggestion? But that is wrong as soon 
as one knows of a better way. 

600 How is one to reconcile one's two consciences: that of the 
man who does not want to confine his fidelity to truth intra 
muros, and that of the doctor who must cure, or if he dares not 
cure according to his real convictions (owing to opportunist 
motives), must at least provide some alleviation? We live in the 
present, but with the ideas and the ideals of the future. That is 
our conflict. How to resolve it? 

263 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



From Dr. Jung 

4 February 1913 

601 ... You have put me in a somewhat embarrassing position 
with your question in yesterday's letter. You have rightly 
guessed the spirit which dictated my last. I am glad you, too, 
acknowledge this spirit. There are not very many who can boast 
of such liberalism. I should deceive myself if I thought I was a 
practising physician. I am above all an investigator, and this 
naturally gives me a different attitude to many problems. In 
my last letter I purposely left the practical needs of the doctor 
out of account, chiefly in order to show you on what grounds 
one might be moved to give up hypnotic therapy. To anticipate 
a possible objection, let me say at once that I did not give up 
hypnosis because I wanted to avoid dealing with the basic forces 
of the human psyche, but because I wanted to battle with them 
directly and openly. When once I understood what kind of 
forces play a part in hypnotism I gave it up, simply to get rid 
of all the indirect advantages of this method. As we psychoana 
lysts find to our cost every day and our patients also we do 
not work with the "transference to the analyst/' 6 but against it 
and in spite of it. Hence we do not bank on the faith of the pa 
tient, but on his criticism. So much I would say for now about 
this delicate question. 

602 As your letter shows, we are at one in regard to the theoreti 
cal aspect of treatment by suggestion. We can therefore apply 
ourselves to the further task of reaching agreement on practical 
questions. Your remarks on the doctor's dilemma whether to 
be a magician or a scientist bring us to the heart of the matter. 
I strive not to be a fanatic though there are not a few who 
accuse me of fanaticism. I struggle merely for the recognition 
of methods of research and their results, not for the application 
of psychoanalytic methods at all costs. I was a medical practi 
tioner quite long enough to realize that practice obeys, and 
must obey, other laws than does the search for truth. One might 
almost say that the practitioner must submit first and foremost 

6 Defined in the Freudian sense as the transference to the analyst of infantile and 
sexual fantasies. A more advanced conception of the transference perceives in it 
the important process of empathy, which begins by making use of infantile and 
sexual analogies. 

264 



CRUCIAL POINTS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS (jUNG AND LOY) 

to the law of expediency. The investigator would be doing him 
a great wrong if he accused him of not using the "one true" 
scientific method. As I said to you in my last letter: "A truth is 
a truth, when it works." On the other hand, the practitioner 
must not reproach the investigator if in his search for truth and 
for new and perhaps better methods he tries out unusual pro 
cedures. After all, it is not the practitioner who will have to bear 
the brunt, but the investigator and possibly his patient. The 
practitioner must certainly use those methods which he knows 
how to apply to the greatest advantage and which give him rela 
tively the best results. My liberalism, as you see, extends even to 
Christian Science. But I deem it most uncalled for that Frank, 
a practising doctor, should cast aspersions on research in which 
he cannot participate the very line of research to which he owes 
his own method. It is surely high time to stop this running 
down of every new idea. No one asks Frank and his confreres 
to be psychoanalysts. We grant them their right to existence, 
why should they always seek to curtail ours? 

603 As my own "cures" show you, I do not doubt the effect of 
suggestion. I merely had the feeling that I might be able to dis 
cover something still better. This hope has been justified. Not 
for ever shall it be said: 

If ever in this world we reach what's good 
We call what's better just a plain falsehood! T 

604 I frankly confess that if I were doing your work I should 
often be in difficulties if I relied on psychoanalysis alone. I can 
scarcely imagine a general practice, especially in a sanatorium, 
with no other auxiliaries than psychoanalysis. It is true that at 
Bircher's sanatorium in Zurich the principle of psychoanalysis 
has been adopted, at least by several of the assistants, but a whole 
series of other important educative influences are also brought 
to bear on the patients, without which things would probably go 
very badly. In my own purely psychoanalytic practice I have 
often regretted that I could not avail myself of other methods 
of re-education that are naturally at hand in an institution but 
only, of course, in special cases where one is dealing with par 
ticularly uncontrolled, untrained patients. Which of us would 

7 [Faust, Part I, The Night Scene.] 

265 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



assert that he has discovered the panacea? There are cases where 
psychoanalysis works worse than any other method. But who has 
ever claimed that psychoanalysis should be used always and 
everywhere? Only a fanatic could maintain such a view. Patients 
for whom psychoanalysis is suitable have to be selected. I un 
hesitatingly send cases I think unsuitable to other doctors. This 
does not happen often, as a matter of fact, because patients have 
a way of sorting themselves out. Those who go to a psychoana 
lyst usually know quite well why they go to him and not to 
someone else. Moreover there are very many neurotics excel 
lently suited for psychoanalysis. In these matters all schematism 
is to be abhorred. It is never quite wise to run your head against 
a brick wall. Whether simple hypnotism, or cathartic treatment, 
or psychoanalysis shall be used must be determined by the con 
ditions of the case and the preference of the doctor. Every doc 
tor will obtain the best results with the instrument he knows 
best. 

605 But, barring exceptions, I must say definitely that for me, as 
well as for my patients, psychoanalysis works better than any 
other method. This is not merely a matter of feeling; from mani 
fold experiences I know many cases can still be helped by psy 
choanalysis that are refractory to all other methods of treatment. 
I know many colleagues whose experience is the same, even men 
engaged exclusively in practical work. It is scarcely credible that 
an altogether inferior method would meet with so much sup 
port. 

606 When once psychoanalysis has been applied in a suitable 
case, it is imperative that rational solutions of the conflicts 
should be found. The objection is at once advanced that many 
conflicts are intrinsically insoluble. People sometimes take this 
view because they think only of external solutions which at 
bottom are not solutions at all. If a man cannot get on with his 
wife, he naturally thinks the conflict would be solved if he mar 
ried someone else. When such marriages are examined they are 
seen to be no solution whatever. The old Adam enters upon the 
new marriage and bungles it just as badly as he did the earlier 
one. A real solution comes only from within, and then only 
because the patient has been brought to a different attitude. 

So? If an external solution is possible no psychoanalysis is neces 
sary; but if an internal solution is sought, we are faced with the 

266 



CRUCIAL POINTS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS (jUNG AND LOY) 

peculiar task of psychoanalysis. The conflict between "love and 
duty" must be solved on that level o character where "love and 
duty" are no longer opposites, which in reality they are not. 
Similarly, the familiar conflict between "instinct and conven 
tional morality" must be solved in such a way that both factors 
are taken sufficiently into account, and this again is possible 
only through a change of character. This change psychoanalysis 
can bring about. In such cases external solutions are worse than 
none at all. Naturally, expediency determines which road the 
doctor must ultimately follow and what is then his duty. I re 
gard the conscience-searching question of whether he should 
remain true to his scientific convictions as a minor one in com 
parison with the far weightier question of how he can best help 
his patient. The doctor must, on occasion, be able to play the 
augur. Mundus vult decipibut the curative effect is no decep 
tion. It is true that there is a conflict between ideal conviction 
and concrete possibility. But we should ill prepare the ground 
for the seed of the future were we to forget the tasks of the 
present, and sought only to cultivate ideals. That would be but 
idle dreaming. Do not forget that Kepler once cast horoscopes 
for money, and that countless artists are condemned to work for 
a living wage. 



From Dr. Loy 

9 February 1913 

608 The same passion for truth possesses us when we think of 
pure research, and the same wish to cure when we consider 
therapy. For the researcher, as for the doctor, we desire the 
fullest freedom in all directions complete freedom to choose 
and practise the methods which promise the best fulfilment of 
their ends at any moment. On this last point we are at one, but 
it remains a postulate which we must prove to the satisfaction 
of others if we want recognition for our views. 

609 First and foremost there is one question that must be an 
swered, an old question already asked in the Gospels: "What 
is truth?" I think clear definitions of fundamental ideas are 
everywhere necessary. How shall we contrive a working defini 
tion of the concept "Truth?" Perhaps an allegory may help us. 

610 Imagine a gigantic prism in front of the sun, so that its rays 

267 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



are broken up, but suppose man entirely ignorant of this fact. 
(I disregard the chemical, invisible, ultra-violet rays.) Men liv 
ing in the blue-lit region will say, "The sun sends forth blue 
light only/' They are right and yet they are wrong: from their 
standpoint they are capable of perceiving only a fragment of 
the truth. And so too with the inhabitants of the red, yellow, 
and intermediate regions. And they will all scourge and slay 
one another to force their fragmentary truth on the others 
until, grown wiser through travelling in each other's regions, 
they come to the unanimous view that the sun sends out light 
of different colours. That is a more comprehensive truth, but it 
is still not the truth. Only when a giant lens has recombined 
the split-up rays, and when the invisible, chemical, and heat 
rays have given proof of their specific effects, will a view arise 
more in accordance with the truth, and men will perceive that 
the sun emits white light which is split up by the prism into 
different rays with different qualities, and that these rays are 
recombined by the lens into a beam of white light. 

611 This example serves to show that the road to Truth leads 
through a series of comparative observations, the results of 
which must be controlled with the help of freely selected experi 
ments until seemingly well-grounded hypotheses and theories 
can be put forward; but these hypotheses and theories will fall 
to the ground as soon as a single new observation or a single 
new experiment contradicts them. 

6l * The way is toilsome, and in the end all we ever attain is a 
relative truth. But such relative truth suffices for the time being 
if it serves to explain the most important concatenations of fact 
in the past, to light up those of the present, and to predict those 
of the future, so that we are in a position to adapt through our 
knowledge. Absolute truth, however, would be accessible only 
to omniscience, having knowledge of all possible concatenations 
and combinations; but that is not possible for us, because the 
number of concatenations and combinations is infinite. Accord 
ingly, we shall never know more than an approximate truth. 
Should new concatenations be discovered, new combinations be 
built up, the picture changes and with it the whole range of 
knowledge and action. To what new revolutions in daily life 
does not every new scientific discovery lead: how absurdly small 

268 



CRUCIAL POINTS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS (jUNG AND LOY) 

was the beginning of the first theory of electricity, how incon 
ceivably great the results! 

613 These are commonplaces, but one must continually repeat 
them when one sees how life is always made bitter for the inno 
vators in every scientific field, and now especially so for the 
followers of the psychoanalytic school. Everyone admits these 
commonplaces so long as it is a matter of "academic" discussion, 
but only so long; as soon as a concrete case has to be considered, 
sympathies and antipathies rush to the forefront and darken 
judgment. Therefore the investigator must fight tirelessly, ap 
pealing to logic and honesty, for freedom of research in all 
fields, and must not allow despots of whatever political or re 
ligious persuasion to advance "reasons of expediency" in order 
to destroy or even restrict this freedom. Reasons of expediency 
may be and are in place elsewhere, but not here. Finally, we 
must make an end of the dictum of the Middle Ages, philoso- 
phia ancilla iheologiae, as well as the founding of university 
chairs in favour of this or that political or religious party. All 
fanaticism is the enemy of science, which above all things must 
be independent. 

614 And when we turn from the search for Truth back to thera 
peutics, we see immediately that here again we are in agreement. 
In practice expediency must rule: the doctor from the yellow 
region must adapt himself to the patients in the yellow region, 
as must the doctor in the blue region to his patients; both have 
the same object in view. And the doctor who lives in the white 
light must take into consideration the past experiences of pa 
tients from the yellow or blue region, in spite or rather because 
of his wider knowledge. In such cases the way to healing will be 
long and difficult, may indeed lead more easily to a cul-de-sac 
than in cases where he has to deal with patients who, like him 
self, have already attained knowledge of the white light, or, in 
other words, when his patients have already "sorted themselves 
out." With these sorted-out patients the psychoanalyst is per 
mitted to work exclusively with the methods of psychoanalysis; 
he can consider himself lucky that he does not need to "play 
the augur." 

6*5 Now, these methods of psychoanalysis, what are they? If I 
understand you aright, it is by and large a question of working 
directly and openly with the fundamental forces of the human 

269 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



psyche, to the end that the patient, be he sick or sound or in 
some stage in between for sickness and health flow into each 
other imperceptiblyshall have his mental eyes opened to the 
drama that is being enacted within him. He must learn to know 
the automatisms that are hostile to the development of his per 
sonality, and through this knowledge he must learn gradually 
to free himself from them; but he must also learn how to ex 
ploit and strengthen the favourable automatisms. He must learn 
to make his self-knowledge real and to control the workings of 
his mind so that a balance may be struck between feeling and 
reason. How large a part is played in all this by suggestion! I 
can hardly believe that suggestion can be avoided altogether till 
the patient feels really freed. This freedom, it goes without say 
ing, is the main thing to strive for, and it must be an active 
freedom. The patient who simply obeys a suggestion obeys it 
only so long as the "transference to the analyst" remains in 
force. 

616 But in order to adjust himself to all circumstances the pa 
tient must have strengthened himself "from within/' He should 
no longer need the crutches of faith but must be capable of 
tackling all theoretical and practical problems critically and of 
solving them himself. That is your view, isn't it, or have I not 
understood you correctly? 

61 7 I next ask, must not every single case be treated differently 
within the limits of the psychoanalytic method? For if every 
case is a case by itself, it must surely require individual treat 
ment. 

618 "II n'y a pas de maladies, il n'y a que des malades," said a 
French doctor whose name escapes me. But broadly speaking, 
what course, from a technical point of view, does analysis take, 
and what deviations occur most frequently? That I would gladly 
learn from you. I take it for granted that all "augur's tricks," 
darkened rooms, masks, chloroform, etc., are out of the question. 

61 9 Psychoanalysis purged so far as is humanly possible of sug 
gestive influence appears to have one essential difference from 
psychotherapy a la Dubois. With Dubois, all talk about the past 
is prohibited from the outset, and "moral reasons for recovery" 
are placed in the forefront; whilst psychoanalysis uses the sub 
conscious material from the patient's past and present to pro 
mote self-knowledge. Another difference lies in the conception 

270 



CRUCIAL POINTS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS (jUNG AND LOY) 

of morality: morals are above all "relative." But what forms (in 
broad outline) should one give them at times when suggestion 
cannot be avoided? Expediency must decide, you will say. 
Agreed, as regards old people or grown-ups who have to live in 
a not very enlightened milieu. But if one is dealing with chil 
dren, the seed of the future, isn't it a sacred duty to enlighten 
them about the shaky foundations of the so-called moral con 
ceptions of the past, which have only a dogmatic basis, and to 
educate them to full freedom by courageously unveiling the 
truth? I ask this not so much with respect to the analysing doc 
tor as with respect to the educator. Should not the founding of 
progressive schools be regarded as a task for the psychoanalyst? 



From Dr. Jung 

11 February 1913 

620 The relativity of "truth" has been known for ages and does 
not stand in the way of anything, and if it did would merely 
prevent belief in dogmas and authority. But it does not even 
do that. 

621 You ask me or rather tell me what psychoanalysis is. Be 
fore considering your views, permit me first to try to mark out 
the territory and give a definition of psychoanalysis. 

622 Psychoanalysis is first of all simply a method but a method 
complying with all the rigorous requirements which the con 
cept of a "method" implies today. Let me say at once that psy 
choanalysis is not an anamnesis, as those who know everything 
without learning it are pleased to believe. It is essentially a way 
of investigating unconscious associations which cannot be got 
at by exploring the conscious mind. Again, psychoanalysis is not 
a method of examination in the nature of an intelligence test, 
though this mistake is common in certain circles. Nor is it a 
method of catharsis for abreacting, with or without hypnosis, 
real or imaginary traumata. 

623 Psychoanalysis is a method which makes possible the analyti 
cal reduction of psychic contents to their simplest expression, 
and for discovering the line of least resistance in the develop 
ment of a harmonious personality. In neurosis there is no uni 
form direction of life because contrary tendencies frustrate and 
prevent psychological adaptation. Psychoanalysis, so far as we 

271 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



can judge at present, seems to be the only rational therapy of 
the neuroses. 

624 No programme can be formulated for the technical applica 
tion of psychoanalysis. There are only general principles, and 
working rules for individual analysis. (For the latter I would 
refer you to Freud's work in Vol. I of the Internationale Zeit- 
scrift fur drztliche Psychoanalyse. 8 ) My only working rule is to 
conduct the analysis as a perfectly ordinary, sensible conversa 
tion, and to avoid all appearance of medical magic. 

625 The main principle of psychoanalytic technique is to analyse 
the psychic contents that present themselves at a given moment. 
Any interference on the part of the analyst, with the object of 
forcing the analysis to follow a systematic course, is a gross mis 
take in technique. So-called chance is the law and order of psy 
choanalysis. 

626 At the beginning of the analysis the anamnesis and diagnosis 
naturally come first. The subsequent analytic procedure de 
velops quite differently in every case. To give rules is almost 
impossible. All one can say is that very frequently, right at the 
beginning, a number of resistances have to be overcome, re 
sistances against both the method and the analyst. Patients who 
have no notion of psychoanalysis must first be given some un 
derstanding of the method. With those who already know some 
thing of it there are very often misconceptions to be set right, 
and also all those objections to be answered which are levelled 
by scientific criticism. In either case the misconceptions are due 
to arbitrary interpretations, superficiality, and gross ignorance 
of the facts. 

627 If the patient is himself a doctor his habit of knowing better 
may prove extremely tiresome. With intelligent colleagues a 
thorough theoretical discussion is worth while. With the unin 
telligent and bigoted ones you begin quietly with the analysis. 
In the unconscious of such folk you have a confederate who 
never lets you down. The very first dreams demonstrate the 
wretched inadequacy of their criticism, so that from the whole 
beautiful edifice of supposedly scientific scepticism nothing re 
mains over but a little heap of personal vanity. I have had very 
amusing experiences in this respect. 

8 ["On Beginning the Treatment (Further Recommendations on the Technique 
of Psycho- Analysis I)" (19 13). EDITORS.] 

272 



CRUCIAL POINTS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS (jUNG AND LOY) 

628 it is best to let the patients talk freely and to confine yourself 
to pointing out a connection here and there. When the conscious 
material is exhausted you go on to dreams, which give you the 
subliminal material. If people have no dreams, as they allege, 
or forget them, there is usually still some conscious material that 
ought to be produced and discussed, but is kept back owing to 
resistances. When the conscious is emptied then come the 
dreams, which as you know are the chief object of analysis. 

629 How the analysis is to be conducted and what is to be said 
to the patient depends, first, on the material to be dealt with; 
second, on the analyst's skill; and third, on the patient's capacity. 
I must emphasize that no one should undertake an analysis ex 
cept on the basis of a sound knowledge of the subject, and this 
means a thorough knowledge of the existing literature. With 
out this, the work will only be bungled. 

63 I do not know what else to tell you beforehand. I must wait 

for further questions. 
63* As to the question of morality and education, let me say that 

these things belong to a later stage of the analysis, when they 

find or should findtheir own solution. You cannot make 

recipes out of psychoanalysis! 



From Dr. Loy 

16 February 1913 

632 You write that a sound knowledge of the literature is neces 
sary for an introduction to psychoanalysis. I agree, but with one 
reservation: the more one reads of it the more clearly one sees 
how many contradictions there are among the different writers, 
and less and less does one know until one has had sufficient 
personal experience to which view to give adherence, since 
quite frequently assertions are made without any proof. For 
example, I had thought (strengthened in this view by my own 
experience of suggestion therapy) that the transference to the 
analyst might be an essential condition of the patient's cure. But 
you write: "We psychoanalysts do not bank on the patient's 
faith, but on his criticism" As against this Stekel writes ("Aus- 
gange der psychoanalytischen Kuren," Zentralblatt ]ur Psycho 
analyse, III, 1912-13, p. 176): "Love for the analyst can become 
a force conducive to recovery. Neurotics never get well for love 

273 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



of themselves, they get well for love of the analyst. They do it 
to please him . . ." Here again; surely, the accent is on the 
power of suggestion? And yet Stekel, too, thinks he is a psycho 
analyst pure and simple. On the other hand you remark in your 
letter of January 28: "The personality of the analyst is one of 
the main factors in the cure." Should not this be translated as: 
When the analyst inspires respect in the patient and is worthy 
of his love, the patient will follow his example in order to please 
him, and will endeavour to get over his neurosis so as to fulfil 
his human duties in the widest sense of the word? 

6 33 I think one can only emerge from all this uncertainty when 
one has gained sufficient personal experience, and then one will 
also know which procedure is best suited to one's own person 
ality and gives the best therapeutic results. This is another rea 
son for submitting to an analysis oneself, to find out what one 
is. I am very much in agreement with your definition of psycho 
analysis in its negative sense: psychoanalysis is neither an anam 
nesis nor a method of examination like an intelligence test, nor 
yet a psychocatharsis. But your definition in the positive sense, 
that "psychoanalysis is a method for discovering the line of least 
resistance in the development of a harmonious personality," 
seems to me to apply only to the laziness of the patient, but not 
to the releasing of sublimated libido for a new aim in life. 

6 34 You say that in neurosis there is no uniform direction be 
cause contrary tendencies prevent psychic adaptation. True, but 
will not psychic adaptation turn out quite differently according 
to whether the patient, now cured, re-directs his life simply to 
the avoidance of pain (line of least resistance) or to the attain 
ment of the greatest pleasure? In the first case he would be more 
passive, and would simply reconcile himself to the "soberness 
of reality" (Stekel, p. 187). In the second case he would be "filled 
with enthusiasm" for something or other, or for some person. 
But what determines whether he will be more active or more 
passive in his "second" life? In your opinion, does this deter 
mining factor appear spontaneously in the course of analysis, 
and should the analyst carefully avoid tilting the balance to one 
side or the other by his influence? Or will he, if he does not re 
frain from canalizing the patient's libido in a definite direction, 
have to renounce the right to be called a psychoanalyst at all, 
and is he to be regarded as a "moderate" or a "radical"? (Fiirt- 

274 



CRUCIAL POINTS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS (jUNG AND LOY) 

muller, "Wandlungen in der Freud'schen Schule," Zentralblatt, 
III, p. 191.) But I think you have already answered this ques 
tion in advance when you write in your letter of February 1 1 : 
"Any interference on the part of the analyst is a gross mistake 
in technique. So-called chance is the law and order of psycho 
analysis." But, torn from its context, perhaps this sentence does 
not quite give your whole meaning. 

635 With regard to enlightening the patient about the psycho 
analytic method before beginning the analysis, you appear to be 
in agreement with Freud and Stekel: better too little than too 
much. For knowledge pumped into a patient remains half- 
knowledge anyway, and half-knowledge begets "wanting to know 
better," which only impedes progress. So, after a brief explana 
tion, first let the patient talk, pointing out a connection here 
and there, then, after the conscious material is exhausted, go on 
to the dreams. 

6 3 6 But here another obstacle stands in my way, which I have 
already mentioned at our interview: you find the patient adopt 
ing the tone, language, or jargon of the analyst (whether from 
conscious imitation, transference, or plain defiance, so as to fight 
the analyst with his own weapons) how then can you prevent 
his starting to produce all manner of fantasies as supposedly real 
traumata of early childhood, and dreams which are supposedly 
spontaneous but in reality, whether directly or indirectly, albeit 
involuntarily, are suggested? 

6 37 I told you at the time that Forel (in Der Hypnotismus) made 
his patients dream just what he wanted, and I myself have easily 
repeated this experiment. But if the analyst wants to suggest 
nothing, must he keep silent most of the time and let the patient 
talk except that, when interpreting the dreams, he may put his 
own interpretation to the patient? 



From Dr. Jung 

18 February 1913 

I cannot but agree with your observation that confusion 
reigns in psychoanalytic literature. Just at this moment different 
points of view are developing in the theoretical assessment of 
analytic results, not to mention the many individual deviations. 
Over against Freud's almost entirely causal conception there 

275 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



has developed, apparently in absolute contradiction to Freud, 
Adler's purely finalist view, though in reality it is an essential 
complement to Freud's theory. I hold rather to a middle course, 
taking account of both standpoints. It is not surprising that 
great disagreement prevails with regard to the ultimate ques 
tions of psychoanalysis when you consider how difficult they are. 
In particular, the problem of the therapeutic effect of psycho 
analysis is bound up with the most difficult questions of all, so 
that it would indeed be astonishing if we had already reached 
final certitude. 

6 39 Stekel's remark is very characteristic. What he says about 
love for the analyst is obviously true, but it is simply a state 
ment of fact and not a goal or a guiding principle of analytical 
therapy. If it were the goal, many cures, it is true, would be pos 
sible, but also many failures might result which could be 
avoided. The goal is to educate the patient in such a way that 
he will get well for his own sake and by reason of his own de 
termination, and not in order to procure his analyst some kind 
of advantagethough of course it would be absurd from the 
therapeutic standpoint not to allow the patient to get well be 
cause he simply wants to do his analyst a good turn. The patient 
should know what he is doing, that's all. It is not for us to pre 
scribe for him the ways by which he should get well. Naturally 
it seems to me (from the psychoanalytic point of view) an ille 
gitimate use of suggestive influence if the patient is forced to 
get well out of love for his analyst. This kind of coercion some 
times takes a bitter revenge. The "y u must and shall be saved" 
attitude is no more to be commended in the therapy of the neu 
roses than in any other department of life. Besides, it contradicts 
the principles of analytic treatment, which shuns all coercion 
and tries to let everything grow up from within. I am not op 
posed, as you know, to suggestive influence in general, but 
merely to doubtful motivations. If the analyst demands that his 
patient shall get well out of love for him, the patient may 
easily reckon on reciprocal services, and will without doubt 
try to extort them. I can only utter a warning against any such 
practice. A far stronger motive for recovery also a far healthier 
and ethically more valuable one is the patient's thorough in 
sight into the real situation, his recognition of things as they are 
and how they should be. If he is worth his salt he will then real- 

276 



CRUCIAL POINTS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS (jUNG AND LOY) 

ize that he can hardly remain sitting in the morass of neurosis. 

340 I cannot agree with your interpretation of my remarks on 
the healing effect of the analyst's personality. I wrote 9 that his 
personality had a healing effect because the patient reads the 
personality of the analyst, and not that he gets well out of love 
for the analyst. The analyst cannot prevent him from beginning 
to behave towards his conflicts as he himself behaves, for nothing 
is finer than the empathy of a neurotic. But every strong trans 
ference serves this purpose too. If the analyst makes himself 
amiable to the patient, he simply buys off a lot of resistances 
which the patient ought to have overcome, and which he will 
quite certainly have to overcome later on. So nothing is gained 
by this technique; at most the beginning of the analysis is made 
easier for the patient, though in certain cases this is not without 
its uses. To have to crawl through a barbed-wire fence without 
having some enticing end in view testifies to an ascetic strength 
of will which you can expect neither from the ordinary person 
nor from the neurotic. Even Christianity, whose moral demands 
are set very high, has not scorned to dangle before us the king 
dom of heaven as the goal and reward of earthly endeavour. In 
my view the analyst is entitled to speak of the advantages which 
follow from the ardours of analysis. Only, he should not repre 
sent himself or his friendship, by hints or promises, as a reward, 
unless he is seriously resolved to make it so. 

'4 1 As to your criticism of my tentative definition of psycho 
analysis, it must be observed that the road over a steep moun 
tain is the line of least resistance when a ferocious bull awaits 
you in the pleasant valley road. In other words, the line of least 
resistance is a compromise with all eventualities, not just with 
laziness. It is a prejudice to think that the line of least resist 
ance coincides with the path of inertia. (That's what we thought 
when we dawdled over our Latin exercises at school.) Laziness 
is a temporary advantage only and leads to consequences which 
involve the worst resistances. On the whole, therefore, it does 
not coincide with the line of least resistance. Nor is life along 
the line of least resistance synonymous with the ruthless pursuit 
of selfish desires. Anyone who lived like that would soon re 
alize with sorrow that he was not following the line of least 

9 [Presumably a reference to par. 587, or to an unpublished letter. EDITORS.] 

277 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



resistance, because man is also a social being and not just a bun 
dle o egoistic instincts, as some people pretend. You can see 
this best with primitives and domestic animals, who all have a 
well-developed social sense. Without some such function the 
herd could not exist at all. Man as a herd-animal, too, has not by 
any manner of means to subordinate himself to laws imposed 
from without; he carries his social imperatives within himself, 
a priori, as an inborn necessity. Here, as you see, I place myself 
in decided opposition to certain views quite unjustified, in my 
opinion which have been expressed here and there inside the 
psychoanalytic school. 

6 42 Accordingly the line of least resistance does not signify eo 
ipso the avoidance of pain so much as the just balancing of pain 
and pleasure. Painful activity by itself leads to no result but 
exhaustion. A man must be able to enjoy life, otherwise the 
effort of living is not worth while. 

6 43 What direction the patient's life should take in the future is 
not ours to judge. We must not imagine that we know better 
than his own nature, or we would prove ourselves educators of 
the worst kind. (Fundamental ideas of a similar nature have also 
been worked out by the Montessori school. 10 ) Psychoanalysis is 
only a means for removing the stones from the path of develop 
ment, and not a method (as hypnotism often claims to be) of 
putting things into the patient that were not there before. It is 
better to renounce any attempt to give direction, and simply 
try to throw into relief everything that the analysis brings to 
light, so that the patient can see it clearly and be able to draw 
suitable conclusions. Anything he has not acquired himself he 
will not believe in the long run, and what he takes over from 
authority merely keeps him infantile. He should rather be put 
in a position to take his own life in hand. The art of analysis 
lies in following the patient on all his erring ways and so gather 
ing his strayed sheep together. Working to programme, on a 
preconceived system, we spoil the best effects of analysis. I must 
therefore hold fast to the sentence you object to: "Any inter 
ference on the part of the analyst is a gross mistake in technique. 
So-called chance is the law and order of psychoanalysis." 

644 As you must know, we still cannot give up the pedantic preju- 

10 [Dr. Maria Montessori (1870-1952) published The Montessori Method in 1912. 
EDITORS.] 

278 



CRUCIAL POINTS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS (JUNG AND LOY) 

dice of wanting to correct nature and force our limited "truths" 
on her. But in the therapy of the neuroses we meet with so many 
strange, unforeseen and unforeseeable experiences that all hope 
should vanish of our knowing better and being able to pre 
scribe the way. The roundabout way and even the wrong way 
are necessary. If you deny this you must also deny that the mis 
takes of history were necessary. That is the pedant's-eye view of 
the world. This attitude is no good in psychoanalysis. 

645 The question as to how much the analyst involuntarily sug 
gests to the patient is a very ticklish one. It certainly plays a 
much more important role than psychoanalysis has so far ad 
mitted. Experience has convinced me that patients rapidly be 
gin to make use of ideas picked up from psychoanalysis, as is 
also apparent in their dreams. You get many impressions of this 
sort from StekeFs book Die Sprache des Traumes. I once had 
a very instructive experience: a very intelligent lady had from 
the beginning long-drawn-out transference fantasies which ap 
peared in the usual erotic guise. But she absolutely refused to 
admit their existence. Naturally she was betrayed by her dreams, 
in which, however, my person was always hidden under some 
other figure, often rather difficult to make out. A long series of 
such dreams finally compelled me to remark: "So, you see, it's 
always like that, the person you are really dreaming about is 
replaced and masked by someone else in the manifest dream." 
Till then she had obstinately denied this mechanism. But this 
time she could no longer evade it and had to admit my working 
rule but only to play a trick on me. Next day she brought me 
a dream in which she and I appeared in a manifestly lascivious 
situation. I was naturally perplexed and thought of my rule. 
Her first association to the dream was the malicious question: 
"It's always true, isn't it, that the person you are really dream 
ing about is replaced by someone else in the manifest dream?" 

646 Clearly, she had made use of her experience to find a pro 
tective formula by which she could express her fantasies openly 
in a quite innocent way. 

6 47 This example shows at once how patients use insights they 
have gained from analysis. They use them for the purpose of 
symbolization. You get caught in your own net if you believe 
in fixed, unalterable symbols. That has happened to more than 
one psychoanalyst. It is therefore a fallacious and risky business 

279 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



to try to exemplify any particular theory with dreams aris 
ing from an analysis. Proof can only come from the dreams of 
demonstrably uninfluenced persons. In such cases one would 
have to exclude at most telepathic thought-reading. But if you 
concede this possibility, you would have to subject many other 
things to a rigorous scrutiny, including judicial verdicts. 

6 4 8 Although we must pay full attention to the element of sug 
gestion, we should not go too far. The patient is not an empty 
sack into which we can stuff whatever we like; he brings his 
own particular contents with him which stubbornly resist sug 
gestion and push themselves again and again to the fore. Ana 
lytic "suggestions" merely distort the expression, but not the 
content, as I have seen countless times. The expression varies 
without limit, but the content is fixed and can only be got at 
in the long run, and then with difficulty. Were it not so, sug 
gestion therapy would be in every sense the most effective and 
rewarding and easiest therapy, a true panacea. Unfortunately 
it is not, as every honest hypnotist will readily admit. 

6 49 To come back to your question as to whether it is possible 
for patients to trick the analyst by making deceptive use per 
haps involuntarily of his mode of expression, this is indeed a 
very serious problem. The analyst must exercise all possible 
care and self-criticism not to let himself be led astray by his 
patient's dreams. One can say that patients almost invariably 
use in their dreams, to a greater or lesser extent, the mode of 
expression learnt in analysis. Interpretations of earlier symbols 
will themselves be used again as fresh symbols in later dreams. 
It often happens, for instance, that sexual situations which ap 
peared in earlier dreams in symbolic form will appear "un 
disguised" in later ones once more, be it noted, in symbolic 
form as analysable expressions for ideas of a different nature 
hidden behind them. Thus the not infrequent dream of inces 
tuous cohabitation is by no means an "undisguised" content, 
but a dream as freshly symbolic and capable of analysis as all 
others. You can only arrive at the paradoxical idea that such a 
dream is "undisguised" if you are pledged to the sexual theory 
of neurosis. 

6 5<> That the patient may mislead the analyst for a longer or 
shorter time by means of deliberate deception and misrepre 
sentation is possible, as in all other branches of medicine. But 

280 



CRUCIAL POINTS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS (JUNG AND LOY) 

the patient injures himself most, since he has to pay for every 
deception or subterfuge with an aggravation of his symptoms, 
or with fresh ones. Deception is so obviously disadvantageous 
to himself that he can scarcely avoid relinquishing such a course 
for good. 

651 The technique of analysis we can best postpone for oral 
discussion. 



From Dr. Loy 

23 February 1913 

652 From your letter of 18 February I would like first to single 
out the end, where you so aptly assign the element of sugges 
tion its proper place in psychoanalysis: "The patient is not an 
empty sack into which we can stuff whatever we like; he brings 
his own particular contents with him, with which you have 
always to reckon afresh" [sic]. With this I fully agree, as my 
own experience confirms it. And you add: involuntary analytic 
suggestions will leave this content intact, but the expression, 
Proteus-like, can be distorted without limit. Hence it would 
be a kind of "mimicry," by which the patient seeks to escape 
the analyst who is driving him into a corner and for the mo 
ment seems to him an enemy. Until at last, through the joint 
work of patient and analyst the former spontaneously yielding 
up his psychic content, the latter only interpreting and explain 
ingthe analysis succeeds in bringing so much light into the 
darkness of the patient's psyche that he can see the true relation 
ships and, without any preconceived plan of the analyst's, draw 
the right conclusions and apply them to his future life. This 
new life will follow the line of least resistance or should we 
not rather say of least resistances as a "compromise with all 
eventualities," in a just balancing of pain and pleasure. It is not 
for us to decide arbitrarily for the patient how matters stand 
and what will benefit him; his own nature decides. In other 
words, we should take over approximately the role of a mid 
wife, who can only bring out into the light of day a child al 
ready alive, but who has to avoid a number of mistakes if the 
child is to remain alive and the mother is not to be injured. 

6 53 All this is very clear to me because it is only an application 
to psychoanalytic procedure of a principle which should be 

281 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



generally valid: Never do violence to Nature! Hence I also see 
that the psychoanalyst must follow his patient's apparently 
"erring ways" if the patient is ever to arrive at his own convic 
tions and be freed once and for all from infantile reliance on 
authority. We ourselves as individuals have learnt and can only 
learn by making mistakes how to avoid them in the future, and 
mankind as a whole has created the conditions for its present 
and future stages of development quite as much by following 
the crooked path as by keeping to the straight one. Have not 
many neurotics I do not know if you will agree, but I think 
so become ill partly because their infantile faith in authority 
has gone to pieces? Now they stand before the wreckage of their 
faith, weeping over it, and terrified because they cannot find a 
substitute which would show them clearly where they have to 
turn. So they remain stuck between the infantilisms they are 
unwilling to renounce and the serious tasks of the present and 
future (moral conflict). I also see, particularly in such cases, 
how right you are in saying that it would be a mistake to try 
to replace their lost faith in authority by another faith in au 
thority, which would be useful only as long as it lasted. This 
passes a verdict on the deliberate use of suggestive influence in 
psychoanalysis, and on regarding the "transference to the ana 
lyst" as the goal of analytic therapy. I no longer contest your 
dictum: "Every interference on the part of the analyst is a 
gross mistake in technique. So-called chance is the law and or 
der of psychoanalysis. " Further, I am in entire agreement when 
you say that altruism [sic] must necessarily be innate in man as 
a herd-animal. The contrary would be the thing to wonder at. 
<>54 I am very much inclined to assume that not the egoistic but 
the altruistic instincts are primary. Love and trust of the child 
for the mother who feeds it, nurses, cherishes and pets it; love 
of man for wife, regarded as absorption in another's personality; 
love for offspring, care of them; love for kinsfolk, etc. Whereas 
the egoistic instincts owe their existence only to the desire for 
exclusive possession of the object of love, the desire to possess 
the mother exclusively, in opposition to the father and brother 
and sisters, the desire to have a woman for oneself alone, the 
desire for jewellery, clothes, etc. . . . But perhaps you will say 
I am being paradoxical and that the instincts, whether altruistic 
or egoistic, arise together in the heart of man, and that every 

282 



CRUCIAL POINTS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS (jUNG AND LOY) 

instinct is ambivalent by nature. But I ask: are our feelings and 
instincts really ambivalent? Are they perhaps bipolar? Can the 
qualities of emotions be compared at all? Is love really the op 
posite of hate? 

655 Be that as it may, it is lucky that man carries his social im 
peratives within himself as an inborn necessity, otherwise our 
civilized humanity would be in a bad way, having to submit to 
laws imposed only from without: when the earlier religious 
faith in authority died out we would rapidly and infallibly fall 
into complete anarchy. We would then have to ask ourselves 
whether it would not be better to try to maintain by force an 
exclusively religious belief in authority, as the Middle Ages 
did. For the benefits of civilization, which strives to grant every 
individual as much outward freedom as is consistent with the 
freedom of others, would be well worth such a sacrifice as the 
sacrifice of free research. But the age of this use of force against 
nature is past, civilized mankind has abandoned these erroneous 
ways, not out of caprice, but obeying an inner need, and there 
fore we may look forward with joyful anticipation to the future. 
Mankind, advancing in knowledge and obeying its own law, will 
find its way across the ruins of faith in authority to the moral 
autonomy of the individual. 



From Dr. Jung 

March 1913 

656 At various places in your letters it has struck me that the 
problem of the "transference" seems to you particularly critical 
Your feeling is entirely justified. The transference is indeed at 
present the central problem of analysis. 

657 You know that Freud regards the transference as a projection 
of infantile fantasies upon the analyst. To that extent it is an 
infantile-erotic relationship. However, seen from outside, and 
superficially, the thing does not always look like an infantile- 
erotic relationship by any means. So long as it is a case of a 
so-called positive transference, you can as a rule recognize the 
infantile-erotic content of the transference without much diffi 
culty. But if it is a so-called negative transference, you see noth 
ing but violent resistances which sometimes disguise themselves 
in theoretical, seemingly critical or sceptical forms. In a certain 

283 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



sense the determining factor in these relationships is the pa 
tient's relationship to authority, that is, in the last resort, to his 
father. In both forms of transference the analyst is treated as if 
he were the father either with affection or with hostility. Ac 
cording to this view of the transference it acts as a resistance as 
soon as the question arises of resolving the infantile attitude. 
But this form of transference must be destroyed in so far as the 
aim of analysis is the patient's moral autonomy. 
6 5 8 A lofty aim, you will say. Lofty indeed, and far off, but still 
not altogether so remote, since it actually corresponds to one 
of the predominating trends of our stage of civilization the 
urge towards individualization, which might serve as a motto 
for our whole epoch. (Cf. Miiller-Lyer, The Family.} Anyone 
who does not believe in this ultimate aim but still adheres to 
the old scientific causalism will naturally tend to take only the 
hostile element out of the transference and let the patient re 
main in a positive relationship to the father, in accordance with 
the ideals of a past epoch. As we know, the Catholic Church is 
one of the most powerful organizations based on this tendency. 
I do not venture to doubt that there are very many people who 
feel happier under the coercion of others than when forced 
to discipline themselves (see Shaw's Man and Superman). None 
the less, we would be doing our neurotic patients a grievous 
wrong if we tried to force them all into the category of the co 
erced. Among neurotics, there are not a few who do not require 
any reminders of their social duties and obligations, but are 
born and destined rather to be bearers of new cultural ideals. 
They are neurotic as long as they bow down before authority 
and refuse the freedom to which they are destined. As long as 
we look at life only retrospectively, as is the case in the psy 
choanalytic writings of the Viennese school, we shall never do 
justice to these persons and never bring them the longed-for 
deliverance. For in this way we train them only to be obedient 
children and thereby strengthen the very forces that made them 
ill their conservative backwardness and submission to author 
ity. Up to a point this is the right way to take with people suf 
fering from an infantile insubordination who cannot yet adapt 
to authority. But the impulse which drives the others out of 
their conservative father-relationship is by no means an infan 
tile wish for insubordination; it is a powerful urge to develop 

284 



CRUCIAL POINTS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS (jUNG AND 

their own personality, and the struggle for this is for them an 
imperative duty. Adler's psychology does much greater justice 
to this situation than Freud's. 

659 For one type of person (called the infantile-rebel) a posi 
tive transference is, to begin with, an important achievement 
with a healing significance; for the other (the infantile-obedient) 
it is a dangerous backsliding, a convenient way of evading life's 
duties. For the first a negative transference denotes increased 
insubordination, hence a backsliding and an evasion of life's 
duties, for the second it is a step forward with a healing signifi 
cance. (For the two types see Adler, "Trotz und Gehorsam," 
Monatshefte fur Pddagogik und Schulpolitik,, VIII, 1910.) 

660 So the transference must, as you see, be evaluated quite dif 
ferently according to the type of case. 

661 The psychological process of transference whether negative 
or positive consists in a "libidinal investment" of the personal 
ity of the analyst, that is to say he stands for an emotional value. 
(As you know, by libido I mean very much what the ancients 
meant by the cosmogonic principle of Eros, or in modern lan 
guage, "psychic energy/') The patient is bound to the analyst 
by ties of affection or resistance and cannot help following and 
imitating his psychic attitude. By this means he feels his way 
along (empathy). And with the best will in the world and for 
all his technical skill the analyst cannot prevent it, for empathy 
works surely and instinctively in spite of conscious judgment, 
be it never so strong. If the analyst himself is neurotic and in 
sufficiently adapted to the demands of life or of his own per 
sonality, the patient will copy this defect and reflect it in his 
own attitudes: with what results you can imagine. 

66 * Accordingly I cannot regard the transference merely as a 
projection of infantile-erotic fantasies. No doubt that is what it 
is from one standpoint, but I also see in it, as I said in an earlier 
letter, a process of empathy and adaptation. From this stand 
point, the infantile-erotic fantasies, in spite of their undeniable 
reality, appear rather as a means of comparison or as analogical 
images for something not yet understood than as independent 
wishes. This seems to me the real reason why they are uncon 
scious. The patient, not knowing the right attitude, tries to 
grasp at the right relationship to the analyst by way of com 
parison and analogy with his infantile experiences. It is not 

285 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



surprising that he gropes back to just the most intimate rela 
tionships of his childhood in the attempt to discover the ap 
propriate formula for his relationship to the analyst, for this 
relationship is very intimate too but differs from the sexual 
relationship as much as does that of a child to its parents. This 
latter relationship child to parent which Christianity has 
everywhere set up as a symbolic formula for human relation 
ships in general, serves to restore to the patient that direct feel 
ing of human fellowship of which he has been deprived by the 
incursions of sexual and social valuations (valuations from the 
standpoint of power, etc.). The purely sexual and other more or 
less primitive and barbaric valuations militate against a direct, 
purely human relationship, and this creates a damming up of 
libido which may easily give rise to neurotic formations. 
Through analysis of the infantile content of the transference 
fantasies the patient is brought back to a remembrance of the 
childhood relationship, which, stripped of its infantile qualities, 
gives him a clear picture of a direct human relationship over 
and above merely sexual valuations, etc. I can only regard it as a 
misconception to judge the child-relationship retrospectively as 
a merely sexual one, even though a certain sexual content can 
not be denied. 

> 6 3 Recapitulating, I would like to say this of the positive trans 
ference: 

The patient's libido fastens on the person of the analyst in 
the form of expectation, hope, interest, trust, friendship, and 
love. The transference first produces a projection of infantile 
fantasies, often with a predominantly erotic tinge. At this stage 
it is, as a rule, of a decidedly sexual character, even though 
the sexual component remains relatively unconscious. But this 
emotional process serves as a bridge for the higher aspect of 
empathy, whereby the patient becomes conscious of the inade 
quacy of his own attitude through recognition of the analyst's 
attitude, which is accepted as being adapted to life's demands 
and as normal. Through remembrance of the childhood rela 
tionship with the help of analysis the patient is shown the way 
which leads out of the subsidiary, purely sexual or power values 
acquired in puberty and reinforced by social prejudice. This 
road leads to a purely human relationship and to an intimacy 
based not on the existence of sexual or power factors but on the 

286 



CRUCIAL POINTS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS (jUNG AND LOY) 

value of personality. That is the road to freedom which the 
analyst should show his patient. 

664 I ought not to conceal from you at this point that the stub 
born assertion of sexual values would not be maintained so 
tenaciously if they did not have a profound significance for that 
period of life in which propagation is of primary importance. 
The discovery of the value of human personality is reserved for 
a riper age. For young people the search for personality values 
is very often a pretext for evading their biological duty. Con 
versely, the exaggerated longing of an older person for the 
sexual values of youth is a short-sighted and often cowardly eva 
sion of a duty which demands recognition of the value of per 
sonality and submission to the hierarchy of cultural values. The 
young neurotic shrinks back in terror from the expansion of 
life's duties, the old one from the dwindling of the treasures he 
has attained. 

66 5 This view of the transference is, as you will have observed, 
closely connected with the acceptance of biological "duties/* By 
this I mean the tendencies or determinants that produce cul 
ture in man with the same logic as in the bird they produce the 
artfully woven nest, and antlers in the stag. The purely causal, 
not to say materialistic views of the last few decades seek to 
explain all organic formation as the reaction of living matter, 
and though this is undoubtedly a heuristically valuable line 
of inquiry, as far as any real explanation goes it amounts only 
to a more or less ingenious postponement and apparent mini 
mizing of the problem. I would remind you of Bergson's excel 
lent criticism in this respect. External causes can account for at 
most half the reaction, the other half is due to the peculiar attri 
butes of living matter itself, without which the specific reaction 
formation could never come about at all. We have to apply this 
principle also in psychology. The psyche does not merely react, 
it gives its own specific answer to the influences at work upon it, 
and at least half the resulting formation is entirely due to 
the psyche and the determinants inherent within it. Culture 
can never be understood as reaction to environment. That shal 
low explanation can safely be left to the past century. It is just 
these determinants that appear as psychological imperatives, and 
we have daily proof of their compelling power. What I call 
"biological duty" is identical with these determinants. 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



666 In conclusion, I must take up one point which seems to have 
caused you uneasiness. That is the moral question. Among our 
patients we observe so many so-called immoral impulses that 
the thought involuntarily forces itself on the psychotherapist 
how it would be if all these desires were gratified. You will have 
seen from my earlier letters that these desires should not be 
taken too seriously. Mostly they are boundlessly exaggerated 
demands which are thrust to the forefront by the patient's 
dammed-up libido, usually against his will. The canalizing of 
libido for the fulfilment of life's simple duties is in most cases 
sufficient to reduce the pressure of these desires to zero. But in 
certain cases it is a recognized fact that "immoral" tendencies 
are not got rid of by analysis, but appear more and more clearly 
until it becomes evident that they belong to the biological du 
ties of the individual. This is particularly true of certain sexual 
demands aiming at an individual evaluation of sexuality. This 
is not a question for pathology, it is a social question of today 
which imperatively demands an ethical solution. For many it is 
a biological duty to work for a solution of this question, i.e., to 
find some sort of practical solution. (Nature, as we know, is not 
satisfied with theories.) Nowadays we have no real sexual moral 
ity, only a legalistic attitude to sexuality; just as the Middle Ages 
had no real morality of money-making but only prejudices and 
a legalistic point of view. We are not yet far enough advanced 
to distinguish between moral and immoral behaviour in the 
realm of free sexual activity. This is clearly expressed in the 
customary treatment, or rather ill-treatment, of unmarried 
mothers. All the repulsive hypocrisy, the high tide of prostitu 
tion and of venereal diseases, we owe to the barbarous, whole 
sale legal condemnation of certain kinds of sexual behaviour, 
and to our inability to develop a finer moral sense for the 
enormous psychological differences that exist in the domain of 
free sexual activity. 

66 7 The existence of this exceedingly complicated and signifi 
cant contemporary problem may serve to make clear to you why 
we so often find among our patients people who, because of 
their spiritual and social gifts, are quite specifically called to 
take an active part in the work of civilization that is their bi 
ological destiny. We should never forget that what today seems 
to us a moral commandment will tomorrow be cast into the 

288 



CRUCIAL POINTS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS (jUNG AND LOY) 

melting-pot and transformed, so that in the near or distant fu 
ture it may serve as a basis for new ethical formations. This 
much we ought to have learnt from the history of civilization, 
that the forms of morality belong to the category of transitory 
things. The finest psychological tact is needed with these sensi 
tive natures if they are to turn the dangerous corner of infantile 
irresponsibility, indolence, or licentiousness, and to give the 
patient a clear and unclouded vision of the possibility of mor 
ally autonomous behaviour. Five per cent on money lent is fair 
interest, twenty per cent is despicable usury. We have to apply 
this view to the sexual situation as well. 

668 So it comes about that there are many neurotics whose inner 
decency prevents them from being at one with present-day 
morality and who cannot adapt themselves so long as the moral 
code has gaps in it which it is the crying need of our age to fill. 
We deceive ourselves greatly if we think that many married 
women are neurotic merely because they are unsatisfied sexu 
ally or because they have not found the right man or because 
they have an infantile sexual fixation. The real reason in many 
cases is that they cannot recognize the cultural task that is wait 
ing for them. We all have far too much the standpoint of the 
"nothing but" psychology, that is, we still think that the new 
future which is pressing in at the door can be squeezed into the 
framework of what is already known. And so these people see 
only the present and not the future. It was of profound psycho 
logical significance when Christianity first proclaimed that the 
orientation to the future was the redeeming principle for man 
kind. In the past nothing can be altered, and in the present lit 
tle, but the future is ours and capable of raising life's intensity 
to the highest pitch. A little span of youth belongs to us, all the 
rest belongs to our children. 

669 Thus your question about the significance of the loss of faith 
in authority answers itself. The neurotic is ill not because he 
has lost his old faith, but because he has not yet found a new 
form for his finest aspirations. 



289 



PREFACES TO "COLLECTED PAPERS ON 
ANALYTICAL PSYCHOLOGY" 1 

First Edition 

6 7 This volume contains a selection of articles and pamphlets 
on analytical psychology written at intervals during the past 
fourteen years. 2 These years have seen the development of a 
new discipline and, as is usual in such a case, have involved many 
changes of viewpoint, conception, and formulation. 

6 7* It is not my intention to present the fundamental concepts 
of analytical psychology in this book. The volume does, how 
ever, throw some light on a certain line of development which 
is especially characteristic of the Zurich school of psychoanalysis. 

6 ?s As is well known, the merit of discovering the new analytical 
method of general psychology belongs to Professor Freud of 
Vienna. His original views have had to undergo many impor 
tant modifications, some of them owing to the work done at 
Zurich, in spite of the fact that he himself is far from agreeing 
with the standpoint of this school. 

6 73 I cannot here explain the fundamental differences between 

1 [Published in Collected Papers on Analytical Psychology, edited by Dr. Con 
stance E. Long (London, 1916; 2nd edn., London, 1917, and New York, 1920). The 
prefaces were probably written in German and translated by Dr. Long; they are 
published here with minor revisions. EDITORS.] 

2 [Contents of ist edition and location in the Coll. Works: "On the Psychology 
and Pathology of So-called Occult Phenomena" (Vol. i); "The Association 
Method": Lecture I, untitled, and Lecture II, "The Familial Constellations" 
(Vol. 2); Lecture III, "The Psychic Life of the Child" (Vol. 16, as "Psychic Con 
flicts in a Child"); "The Significance of the Father in the Destiny of the Indi 
vidual," "A Contribution to the Psychology of Rumour," and "On the Signifi 
cance of Number Dreams" (Vol. 4); "A Criticism of Bleuler's 'Theory of 
Schizophrenic Negativism' " (Vol. 3); "Psychoanalysis" and "On Psychoanalysis" 
(Vol. 4, as "Concerning Psychoanalysis" and "Psychoanalysis and Neurosis"); "On 
Some Crucial Points in Psychoanalysis" (Vol. 4); "On the Importance of the Un 
conscious in Psychopathology" (Vol. 3); "A Contribution to the Study of Psycho 
logical Types" (Vol. 6); "The Psychology of Dreams" (Vol. 8, as "General Aspects 
of Dream Psychology"); "The Content of the Psychoses" (Vol. 3); and "New Paths 
in Psychology" (Vol. 7, appendix; see n. 4, infra). EDITORS.] 

290 



PREFACES TO "COLLECTED PAPERS" 



the two schools but would mention only the following: The 
Viennese School adopts an exclusively sexualistic standpoint 
while that of the Zurich School is symbolistic. The Viennese 
School interprets the psychological symbol semiotically, as a 
sign or token of certain primitive psychosexual processes. Its 
method is analytical and causal. The Zurich School recognizes 
the scientific possibility of such a conception but denies its ex 
clusive validity, for it does not interpret the psychological sym 
bol semiotically only but also symbolistically, that is, it attri 
butes a positive value to the symbol. 

674 The value of the symbol does not depend merely on histori 
cal causes; its chief importance lies in the fact that it has a 
meaning for the actual present and for the future, in their 
psychological aspects. For the Zurich School the symbol is not 
merely a sign of something repressed and concealed, but is at 
the same time an attempt to comprehend and to point the way 
to the further psychological development of the individual. Thus 
we add a prospective meaning to the retrospective value of the 
symbol. 

675 The method of the Zurich School, therefore, is not only ana 
lytical and causal but synthetic and prospective, in recognition 
of the fact that the human mind is characterized by fines (aims) 
as well as by causae. This deserves particular emphasis, because 
there are two types of psychology, the one following the princi 
ple of hedonism, the other the power principle. The philosophi 
cal counterpart of the former type is scientific materialism and 
of the latter the philosophy of Nietzsche. The principle of the 
Freudian theory is hedonism, while the theory of Adler (one 
of Freud's earliest personal pupils) is founded on the power 
principle. 

676 The Zurich School, recognizing the existence of these two 
types (also remarked by the late Professor William James), con 
siders that the views of Freud and Adler are one-sided and valid 
only within the limits of their corresponding type. Both prin 
ciples exist in every individual though not in equal proportions. 

677 Thus, it is obvious that every psychological symbol has two 
aspects and should be interpreted in accordance with both prin 
ciples. Freud and Adler interpret in the analytical and causal 
way reducing to the infantile and primitive. Thus with Freud 
the conception of the "aim" is the fulfilment of the wish, while 

291 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



with Adler it is the usurpation of power. In their practical ana 
lytical work both authors take the standpoint which brings to 
light only infantile and grossly egoistic aims. 

6 78 The Zurich School is convinced that within the limits of a 
diseased mental attitude the psychology is such as Freud and 
Adler describe. It is, indeed, just on account of such an impos 
sible and childish psychology that the individual is in a state of 
inner dissociation and hence neurotic. The Zurich School, there 
fore, in agreement with them so far, also reduces the psychologi 
cal symbol (the fantasy-products of the patient) to his funda 
mental infantile hedonism or infantile desire for power. Freud 
and Adler content themselves with the result of mere reduction, 
which accords with their scientific biologism and naturalism. 

6 79 But here a very important question arises. Can man obey 
the fundamental and primitive impulses of his nature without 
gravely injuring himself or his fellow beings? He cannot assert 
either his sexual desire or his desire for power unlimitedly in 
the face of limits which are very restrictive. The Zurich School 
has in view the end-result of analysis, and it regards the funda 
mental thoughts and impulses of the unconscious as symbols, 
indicative of a definite line of future development. We must 
admit, however, that there is no scientific justification for such 
a procedure, because our present-day science is based wholly on 
causality. But causality is only one principle, and psychology 
cannot be exhausted by causal methods only, because the mind 
lives by aims as well. Besides this controversial philosophical ar 
gument we have another of much greater value in favour of our 
hypothesis, namely that of vital necessity. It is impossible to live 
according to the promptings of infantile hedonism or according 
to a childish desire for power. If these are to be given a place 
they must be taken symbolically. Out of the symbolic applica 
tion of infantile trends there evolves an attitude which may be 
termed philosophic or religious, and these terms characterize 
sufficiently well the lines of the individual's further develop 
ment. The individual is not just a fixed and unchangeable 
complex of psychological facts; he is also an extremely variable 
entity. By an exclusive reduction to causes the primitive trends 
of a personality are reinforced; this is helpful only when these 
primitive tendencies are balanced by a recognition of their sym 
bolic value. Analysis and reduction lead to causal truth; this by 

292 



PREFACES TO "COLLECTED PAPERS" 



itself does not help us to live but only induces resignation and 
hopelessness. On the other hand, the recognition of the intrin 
sic value of a symbol leads to constructive truth and helps us to 
live; it inspires hopefulness and furthers the possibility of fu 
ture development. 

680 The functional importance of the symbol is clearly shown 
in the history of civilization. For thousands of years the religious 
symbol proved a most efficacious device in the moral education 
of mankind. Only a prejudiced mind could deny such an obvi 
ous fact. Concrete values cannot take the place of the symbol; 
only new and more effective symbols can be substituted for 
those that are antiquated and outworn and have lost their ef 
ficacy through the progress of intellectual analysis and under 
standing. The further development of the individual can be 
brought about only by means of symbols which represent some 
thing far in advance of himself and whose intellectual mean 
ings cannot yet be grasped entirely. The individual unconscious 
produces such symbols, and they are of the greatest possible 
value in the moral development of the personality. 

681 Man almost invariably has philosophic and religious views 
concerning the meaning of the world and of his own life. There 
are some who are proud to have none. But these are exceptions 
outside the common path of mankind; they lack an important 
function which has proved itself to be indispensable to the hu 
man psyche. 

6 8s In such cases we find in the unconscious, instead of modern 
symbolism, an antiquated, archaic view of the world and of life. 
If a necessary psychological function is not represented in the 
sphere of consciousness it exists in the unconscious in the form 
of an archaic or embryonic prototype. 

683 This brief r6sum may show the reader what he may expect 
not to find in this collection of papers. The essays are stations 
on the way toward the more general views developed above. 

Kiisnacht I Zurich^ January 



Second Edition 

684 In agreement with my honoured collaborator, Dr. C. E. 
Long, I have made certain additions to the second edition of 

293 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



this book. It should especially be noted that a new chapter on 
"The Concept of the Unconscious" 3 has been added. This is a 
lecture I gave early in 1916 to the Zurich Society for Analytical 
Psychology. It provides a general survey of a most important 
problem in practical analysis, namely the relation of the ego to 
the psychological non-ego. Chapter XIV, "The Psychology of 
the Unconscious Processes/' 4 has been fundamentally revised, 
and I have taken the opportunity to incorporate an article 5 that 
describes the results of more recent researches. 

685 In accordance with my usual method of working, my descrip 
tion is as generalized as possible. My habit in daily practice is 
to confine myself for some time to studying the human material. 
I then abstract as general a formula as possible from the data 
collected, obtaining from it a point of view and applying it in 
my practical work until it has been either confirmed, modified, 
or else abandoned. If it is confirmed, I publish it as a general 
viewpoint without giving the empirical material. I introduce 
the material amassed in the course of my practice only in the 
form of example or illustration. I therefore beg the reader not 
to consider the views I present as mere fabrications of my brain. 
They are, as a matter of fact, the results of extensive experience 
and ripe reflection. 

686 These additions will enable the reader of the second edition 
to familiarize himself with the recent views of the Zurich 
School. 

687 As regards the criticism encountered by the first edition of 
this work, I was pleased to find my writings were received with 

3 [This was a translation of the original version of "The Relations between the 
Ego and the Unconscious." Later in 1916 the German original was translated into 
French under the title "La Structure de I'inconscient." See Two Essays on Analyt 
ical Psychology, pp. 12 iff. and 2635. EDITORS.] 

4 [A revised and expanded version of "New Paths in Psychology" (orig. in 
Raschers Jahrbuch fur Schweizer Art und Kunst, Zurich, 1912). In 1926 it was 
again expanded and published under the title Das Unbewusste im normalen und 
kranken Seelenleben. A revised and expanded version of this appeared in 1942 as 
Uber die Psychologic des Unbewussten. See Two Essays on Analytical Psychology, 
pp. 3ff. and 243 ff. EDITORS.] 

5 [Part II, untided, of "The Content of the Psychoses," Ch. XIII in the Collected 
Papers. This was originally written in English and published as "On Psycholog 
ical Understanding," Journal of Abnormal Psychology (Boston), IX (1915). Later 
in 1914, translated into German and published as a supplement to Der Inhalt 
der Psy chose. See The Psychogenesis of Mental Disease, pp. 1790% EDITORS.] 

294 



PREFACES TO "COLLECTED PAPERS' 



much more open-mindedness among English critics than was 
the case in Germany, where they are met with the silence born 
of contempt. I am particularly grateful to Dr. Agnes Savill for 
an exceptionally understanding criticism in the Medical Press. 
My thanks are also due to Dr. T. W. Mitchell for an exhaustive 
review in the Proceedings of the Society for Psychical Research* 
This critic takes exception to my heresy respecting causality. He 
considers that I am entering upon a perilous, because unscien 
tific, course when I question the sole validity of the causal view 
point in psychology. I sympathize with him, but in my opinion 
the nature of the human mind compels us to take the fmalistic 
view. It cannot be disputed that, psychologically speaking, we 
are living and working day by day according to the principle 
of directed aim or purpose as well as that of causality. A psy 
chological theory must necessarily adapt itself to this fact. What 
is plainly directed towards a goal cannot be given an exclusively 
causalistic explanation, otherwise we should be led to the con 
clusion expressed in Moleschott's famous dictum: "Man ist was 
er isst" (Man is what he eats). We must always bear in mind that 
causality is a point of view. It affirms the inevitable and im 
mutable relation of a series of events: a-b-c-z. Since this relation 
is fixed, and according to the causal point of view must neces 
sarily be so, looked at logically the order may also be reversed. 
Finality is also a point of view, and it is empirically justified by 
the existence of series of events in which the causal connection 
is indeed evident but the meaning of which only becomes intel 
ligible in terms of end-products (final effects). Ordinary life 
furnishes the best instances of this. The causal explanation must 
be mechanistic if we are not to postulate a metaphysical entity 
as first cause. For instance, if we adopt Freud's sexual theory 
and assign primary importance psychologically to the function 
of the genital glands, the brain is seen as an appendage of the 
genital glands. If we approach the Viennese concept of sexu 
ality, with all its vague omnipotence, in a strictly scientific man 
ner and reduce it to its physiological basis, we shall arrive at the 
first cause, according to which psychic life is for the most, or the 
most important part, tension and relaxation of the genital 
glands. If we assume for the moment that this mechanistic 

6 [Savill, "Psychoanalysis" (1916); Mitchell (1916). EDITORS.] 

295 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



explanation is ''true/' it would be the sort of truth which is ex 
ceptionally tiresome and rigidly limited in scope. A similar state 
ment would be that the genital glands cannot function without 
adequate nourishment, the inference being that sexuality is a 
subsidiary function of nutrition. The truth of this forms an 
important chapter in the biology of the lower forms of life. 

688 But if we wish to work in a really psychological way we shall 
want to know the meaning of psychological phenomena. After 
learning what kinds of steel the various parts of a locomotive 
are made of, and what iron-works and mines they come from, 
we do not really know anything about the locomotive's function, 
that is to say its meaning. But "function" as conceived by mod 
ern science is by no means exclusively a causal concept; it is 
especially a final or "ideological" one. For it is impossible to 
consider the psyche from the causal standpoint only; we are 
obliged to consider it also from the final point of view. As Dr. 
Mitchell remarks, it is impossible to think of causal determina 
tion as having at the same time a finalistic reference. That would 
be an obvious contradiction. But the theory of cognition does 
not need to remain on a pre-Kantian level. It is well known that 
Kant showed very clearly that the mechanistic and the teleologi 
cal viewpoints are not constituent (objective) principles as it 
were, qualities of the object but that they are purely regula 
tive (subjective) principles of thought, and, as such, not mutu 
ally inconsistent. I can, for example, easily conceive the fol 
lowing thesis and antithesis: 

Thesis: Everything came into existence according to mecha 
nistic laws. 

Antithesis: Some things did not come into existence accord 
ing to mechanistic laws only. 

Kant says to this: Reason cannot prove either of these principles 
because a priori the purely empirical laws of nature cannot give 
us a determinative principle regarding the potentiality of events. 

^9 As a matter of fact, modern physics has necessarily been con 
verted from the idea of pure mechanism to the finalistic concept 
of the conservation of energy, because the mechanistic explana 
tion recognizes only reversible processes whereas the actual 
truth is that the processes of nature are irreversible. This fact 
led to the concept of an energy that tends towards relief of ten 
sion and hence towards a definitive final state. 

296 



PREFACES TO "COLLECTED PAPERS" 



6 9 Obviously, I consider both these points of view necessary, 
the causal as well as the final, but would at the same time stress 
that since Kant's time we have come to realize that the two view 
points are not antagonistic if they are regarded as regulative 
principles of thought and not as constituent principles of the 
process of nature itself, 

6 9 l In speaking of the reviews of this book I must mention some 
that seem to me wide of the mark. I was once again struck by the 
fact that certain critics cannot distinguish between the theoreti 
cal explanation given by the author and the fantastic ideas pro 
duced by the patient. One of my critics is guilty of this confusion 
when discussing "On the Significance of Number Dreams/' The 
associations to the quotation from the Bible in this paper are, 
as every attentive reader will perceive, not arbitrary explana 
tions of my own but a cryptomnesic conglomeration emanating 
not from my brain at all but from that of the patient. Surely it 
is not difficult to see that this conglomeration of numbers cor 
responds exactly to the unconscious psychological function from 
which the whole mysticism of numbers originated, Pythagorean, 
cabalistic, and so forth, back to very early times. 

6 9* I am grateful to my serious reviewers, and should like here 
to express my thanks also to Mrs. Harold F. McConnick for her 
generous help in the production of this book. 

June 



297 



IV 



THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE 

FATHER IN THE DESTINY OF 

THE INDIVIDUAL 



INTRODUCTION TO KRANEFELDT'S 
"SECRET WAYS OF THE MIND" 



FREUD AND JUNG: CONTRASTS 



THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE FATHER IN THE 
DESTINY OF THE INDIVIDUAL * 

Foreword to the Second Edition 

This little essay, written seventeen years ago, ended with the words: 
"It is to be hoped that experience in the years to come will sink 
deeper shafts into this obscure territory, on which I have been able 
to shed but a fleeting light, and will discover more about the secret 
workshop of the daemon who shapes our fate." Experience in later 
years has indeed altered and deepened many things; some of them 
have appeared in a different light, and I have seen how the roots 
of the psyche and of fate go deeper than the "family romance/' and 
that not only the children but the parents, too, are merely branches 
of one great tree. While I was working on the mother-complex in 
my book Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido, 2 it became clear to 
me what the deeper causes of this complex are; why not only the 
father, but the mother as well, is such an important factor in the 
child's fate: not because they themselves have this or that human 
failing or merit, but because they happen to be by accident, so to 
speak the human beings who first impress on the childish mind 
those mysterious and mighty laws which govern not only families 
but entire nations, indeed the whole of humanity. Not laws devised 
by the wit of man, but the laws and forces of nature, amongst which 
man walks as on the edge of a razor. 

I am letting this essay appear in unaltered form. There is noth 
ing in it that is actually wrong merely too simple, too naive. The 

1 [First published as "Die Bedeutung des Vaters fur das Schicksal des Einzelnen," 
Jahrbuch fur psychoanalytische und psychopathologische Forschungen (Leipzig), 

1 (1909), 155-73. This was translated by M. D. Eder under the present title and 
published in Collected Papers on Analytical Psychology (London, 1916; 2nd edn., 
London, 1917, and New York, 1920). The German original was reprinted (1909) 
as a pamphlet, and a second edition in this form appeared (Vienna, 1927) with a 
brief foreword. A third edition, much revised and expanded, with a new fore 
word, was published in 1949 (Zurich). The present version is a translation of the 
third edition. Passages which the author added to that version are given in 
pointed brackets { ) in the text, while any of significance which they replaced, or 
which were omitted, are given in square brackets [ ] in the footnotes (as translated 
from the 1909 version). EDITORS.] 

2 [Revised (1952) and translated as Symbols of Transformation. EDITORS.] 

3 01 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



Horatian verse, which I then placed at the end, points to that 
deeper, darker background: 

"Scit Genius natale comes qui temperat astrum, 
Naturae deus humanae, mortalis in unum, 
Quodque caput, vultu mutabilis, albus et ater." 3 

C. G. J. 

Kusnacht, December 1926 



Foreword to the Third Edition 

This essay was written nearly forty years ago, but this time I did 
not want to publish it in its original form. Since that time so many 
things have changed and taken on a new face that I felt obliged to 
make a number of corrections and additions to the original text. 
It was chiefly the discovery of the collective unconscious that raised 
new problems for the theory of complexes. Previously the person 
ality appeared to be unique and as if rooted in nothing; but now, 
associated with the individually acquired causes of the complex, 
there was found to be a general human precondition, the inherited 
and inborn biological structure which is the instinctual basis of 
every human being. From it proceed, as throughout the whole ani 
mal kingdom, determining forces which inhibit or strengthen the 
more or less fortuitous constellations of individual life. Every nor 
mal human situation is provided for and, as it were, imprinted on 
this inherited structure, since it has happened innumerable times 
before in our long ancestry. At the same time the structure brings 
with it an inborn tendency to seek out, or to produce, such situa 
tions instinctively. A repressed content would indeed vanish into 
the void were it not caught and held fast in this pre-established in 
stinctual substrate. Here are to be found those forces which offer 
the most obstinate resistance to reason and will, thus accounting for 
the conflicting nature of the complex. 

I have tried to modify the old text in accordance with these 
discoveries and to bring it, in some degree, up to the level of our 
present knowledge. 

C. G. J. 
October 1948 

3 "[(Why this should be so) only the Genius knows that companion who rules 
the star of our birth, the god of human nature, mortal though he be in each 
single life, and changeful of countenance, white and black." Horace, Epistles, 
II, ii, 187-89 TRANS.] 



THE FATHER IN THE DESTINY OF THE INDIVIDUAL 

The Fates lead the willing, 
but drag the unwilling. 
CLEANTHES 

693 Freud has pointed out that the emotional relationship of the 
child to the parents, and particularly to the father, is of a decisive 
significance in regard to the content of any later neurosis. This 
relationship is indeed the infantile channel along which the 
libido 4 flows back when it encounters any obstacles in later 
years, thus reactivating the long-forgotten psychic contents of 
childhood. It is ever so in life when we draw back before too 
great an obstacle, say the threat of some severe disappointment 
or the risk of some too far-reaching decision. The energy stored 
up for the solution of the task flows back and the old river-beds, 
the obsolete systems of the past, are filled up again. A man dis 
illusioned in love falls back, as a substitute, upon some senti 
mental friendship 5 or false religiosity; if he is a neurotic he 
regresses still further back to the childhood relationships he has 
never quite forsaken, and to which even the normal person is 
fettered by more than one chain the relationship to father and 
mother. 

694 Every analysis carried out at all thoroughly shows this regres 
sion more or less plainly. One peculiarity which stands out in 
the works of Freud is that the relationship to the father seems 
to possess a special significance, (This is not to say that the father 
always has a greater influence on the moulding of the child's 
fate than the mother. His influence is of a specific nature and 
differs typically from hers. 6 ) 

695 The significance of the father in moulding the child's psyche 
may be discovered in quite another field the study of the fam 
ily. 7 The latest investigations show the predominating influence 
of the father's character in a family, often lasting for centuries. 

4 [Orig. footnote: Libido is what earlier psychologists called "will'* or "tendency." 
The Freudian expression is a denominatio a potiori. Jahrbuch, I (1909), 155.] 

5 [In orig., also: masturbation.] 

6 (I have discussed this question on two occasions: Symbols of Transformation 
(in regard to the son), and "Psychological Aspects of the Mother Archetype" (in 
regard to the daughter).) 

7 Sommer, Famihenforschung und Vererbungslehre (1907); Joerger, "Die Familie 
Zero" (1905); Ziermer, "Genealogische Studien uber die Vererbung geistiger 
Eigenschaften" (1908). 

33 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



The mother seems to play a less important role. If this is true 
of heredity, we may expect it to be true also of the psychological 
influences emanating from the father. 8 The scope of the prob 
lem has been widened by the researches of my pupil, Dr. Emma 
Fiirst, on the similarity of reaction-type within families. 9 She 
conducted association tests on 100 persons coming from 24 
families. From this extensive material, so far only the results for 
nine families and 37 persons (all uneducated) have been worked 
out and published. But the calculations already permit some 
valuable conclusions. The associations were classified on the 
Kraepelin-Aschaffenburg scheme as simplified and modified by 
me, and the difference was then calculated between each group 
of qualities in a given subject and the corresponding group in 
every other subject. We thus get mean figures of the differences 
in reaction-type. 

Non-related men 5.9 

Non-related women 6.0 

Related men 4.1 

Related women 3.8 

6 9 6 Relatives, especially if they are women, therefore have on 
average a similar reaction-type. This means that the psychologi 
cal attitude of relatives differs but slightly. Examination of the 
various relationships yielded the following results: 

6 97 The mean difference for husband and wife amounts to 4.7%. 
But the dispersion value for this mean figure is 3.7, which is 
high, indicating that the mean of 4.7 is composed of a very wide 
range of figures: there are married couples with great similarity 
in reaction-type and others with less. 

6 9 8 On the whole, fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, stand 
closer together: 

Difference for fathers and sons: 3.1 

Difference for mothers and daughters: 3.0 

8 [Orig.: These experiences, and those gained more particularly in an analysis 
carried out conjointly with Dr. Otto Gross, have impressed upon me the sound 
ness of this view.] [For Gross, cf. Jones, Freud: Life and Work, II, p. 3 3. EDITORS.] 

9 "Statistical Investigations on Word-Associations and on Familial Agreement in 
Reaction Type among Uneducated Persons" (orig. 1907). 

34 



THE FATHER IN THE DESTINY OF THE INDIVIDUAL 

699 Except for a few cases of married couples (where the differ 
ence dropped to 1.4), these are among the lowest figures. Ftirst 
even had one case where a 45-year-old mother and her 1 6-year- 
old daughter differed by only 0.5. But it was just in this case 
that the mother and daughter differed from the father's reac 
tion-type by 11.8. The father was a coarse, stupid man and a 
drinker; the mother went in for Christian Science. In accord 
ance with this, mother and daughter exhibited an extreme 
value-predicate type of reaction, 10 which in my experience is an 
important sign of a conflicting relationship to the object. Value- 
predicate types show excessive intensity of feeling and thus be 
tray an unadmitted but nonetheless transparent desire to evoke 
answering feelings in the experimenter. This view agrees with 
the fact that in Fiirst's material the number of value-predicates 
increases with the age of the subject. 

7<x> The similarity of reaction-type in children and parents pro 
vides matter for thought. For the association experiment is 
nothing other than a small segment of the psychological life of 
a man, and everyday life is at bottom an extensive and greatly 
varied association experiment; in principle we react in one as 
we do in the other. Obvious as this truth is, it still requires some 
reflection and limitation. Take the case of the 45-year-old 
mother and her 1 6-year-old daughter: the extreme value-predi 
cate type of the mother is without doubt the precipitate of a 
whole life of disappointed hopes and wishes. One is not in the 
least surprised at a value-predicate type here. But the 16-year- 
old daughter had not really lived at all; she was not yet married, 
and yet she reacted as if she were her mother and had endless 
disillusions behind her. She had her mother's attitude, and to 
that extent was identified with her mother. The mother's atti 
tude was explained by her relationship to the father. But the 
daughter was not married to the father and therefore did not 
need this attitude. She simply took it over from the environ 
mental influences and later on will try to adapt herself to the 
world under the influence of this family problem. To the extent 
that an ill-assorted marriage is unsuitable, the attitude resulting 
from it will be unsuitable too. In order to adapt, the girl in later 

10 By this I mean reactions where the response to the stimulus-word is always 
a subjectively toned predicate instead of an objective relationship, e.g., flower / 
nice, frog / horrible, piano / frightful, salt / bad, singing / sweet, cooking f useful. 

305 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



life will have to overcome the obstacles of her family milieu; if 
she does not, she will succumb to the fate to which her attitude 
predisposes her. 

70 1 Clearly such a fate has many possibilities. The glossing over 
of the family problem and the development of the negative of 
the parental character may take place deep within, unnoticed 
by anyone, in the form of inhibitions and conflicts which she 
herself does not understand. Or, as she grows up, she will come 
into conflict with the world of actualities, fitting in nowhere, 
until one stroke of fate after another gradually opens her eyes 
to her own infantile, unadapted qualities. The source of the 
infantile disturbance of adaptation is naturally the emotional 
relation to the parents. It is a kind of psychic contagion, caused, 
as we know, not by logical truths but by affects and their physi 
cal manifestations. 11 In the most formative period between the 
first and fifth year all the essential characteristics, which fit ex 
actly into the parental mould, are already developed, for experi 
ence teaches us that the first signs 12 of the later conflict between 
the parental constellation and the individual's longing for inde 
pendence occur as a rule before the fifth year. 

702 I would like to show, with the help of a few case-histories, 
how the parental constellation hinders the child's adaptation. 13 



Case i 

73 A well-preserved woman of 55, dressed poorly but carefully, 
with a certain elegance, in black; hair carefully arranged; a 
polite, rather affected manner, fastidious in speech, devout. The 
patient might be the wife of a minor official or shopkeeper. She 
informed me, blushing and dropping her eyes, that she was the 
divorced wife of a common peasant. She had come to the clinic 
on account of depression, night terrors, palpitations, and nerv 
ous twitches in the arms typical features of a mild climacteric 
neurosis. To complete the picture, the patient added that she 
suffered from severe anxiety-dreams; some man was pursuing 
her, wild animals attacked her, and so on. 

11 Vigouroux and Juquelier, La Contagion mentale (1904), ch. 6. 

12 [Orig.: ... of the struggle between repression and libido (Freud) . . .] 

13 [Orig.: It must suffice to present only the chief events, i.e., those of sexuality.] 

306 



THE FATHER IN THE DESTINY OF THE INDIVIDUAL 

704 Her anamnesis began with the family history. (So far as pos 
sible I give her own words.) Her father was a fine, stately, rather 
corpulent man of imposing appearance. He was very happily 
married, for her mother worshipped him. He was a clever man, 
a master craftsman, and held a dignified position. There were 
only two children, the patient and an elder sister. The sister 
was the mother's and the patient the father's favourite. When 
she was five years old her father suddenly died of a stroke at the 
age of forty-two. She felt very lonely, and also that from then on 
she was treated by her mother and sister as the Cinderella. She 
noticed clearly enough that her mother preferred her sister to 
herself. The mother remained a widow, her respect for her hus 
band being too great to allow her to marry a second time. She 
preserved his memory "like a religious cult" and taught her 
children to do likewise. 

75 The sister married relatively young; the patient did not 
marry till she was twenty-four. She had never cared for young 
men, they all seemed insipid; her mind turned always to more 
mature men. When about twenty she became acquainted with 
a "stately" gentleman of over forty, to whom she was much 
drawn, but for various reasons the relationship was broken off. 
At twenty-four she got to know a widower who had two chil 
dren. He was a fine, stately, rather corpulent man, with an 
imposing presence, like her father; he was forty-four. She mar 
ried him and respected him enormously. The marriage was 
childless; his children by the first marriage died of an infectious 
disease. After four years of married life her husband died of a 
stroke. For eighteen years she remained his faithful widow. But 
at forty-six (just before the menopause) she felt a great need of 
love. As she had no acquaintances she went to a matrimonial 
agency and married the first comer, a peasant of about sixty 
who had already been twice divorced on account of brutality 
and perverseness; the patient knew this before marriage. She 
remained five unbearable years with him, then she also obtained 
a divorce. The neurosis set in a little later. 

706 For the reader with psychological 14 experience no further 
elucidation is needed; the case is too obvious. I would only em 
phasize that up to her forty-sixth year the patient did nothing 

14 [Orig.: psychanalytical.] 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



but live out a faithful copy of the milieu of her early youth. 
The exacerbation of sexuality at the climacteric led to an even 
worse edition of the father-substitute, thanks to which she was 
cheated out of the late blossoming of her sexuality. The neu 
rosis reveals, flickering under the repression, the eroticism of 
the aging woman who still wants to please (affectation). 15 



Case 2 

7<>7 A man of thirty-four, of small build, with a clever, kindly 
expression. He was easily embarrassed, blushed often. He had 
come for treatment on account of ' 'nervousness." He said he 
was very irritable, readily fatigued, had nervous stomach-trou 
ble, was often so deeply depressed that he sometimes thought 
of suicide. 

708 Before coming to me for treatment he had sent me a circum 
stantial autobiography, or rather a history of his illness, in order 
to prepare me for his visit. His story began: "My father was a 
very big and strong man." This sentence awakened my curiosity; 
I turned over a page and there read: "When I was fifteen a big- 
lad of nineteen took me into a wood and indecently assaulted 
me/' 

709 The numerous gaps in the patient's story induced me to ob 
tain a more exact anamnesis from him, which led to the follow 
ing disclosures: The patient was the youngest of three brothers. 
His father, a big, red-haired man, was formerly a soldier in the 
Swiss Guard at the Vatican; later he became a policeman. He 
was a stern, gruff old soldier, who brought up his sons with mili 
tary discipline; he issued commands, did not call them by name, 
but whistled for them. He had spent his youth in Rome, and 
during his gay life there had contracted syphilis, from the con 
sequences of which he still suffered in old age. He was fond of 
talking about his adventures in early life. His eldest son (con 
siderably older than the patient) was exactly like him, a big, 
strong man with red hair. The mother was an ailing woman, 
prematurely aged. Exhausted and tired of life, she died at forty 
when the patient was eight years old. He preserved a tender and 
beautiful memory of his mother. 

*5 [Orig.: . . , but dares not acknowledge her sexuality.] 

308 



THE FATHER IN THE DESTINY OF THE INDIVIDUAL 

7 10 At school he was always the whipping-boy and always the 
object of his schoolfellows' mockery. He thought his peculiar 
dialect might be to blame. Later he was apprenticed to a, strict 
and unkind master, with whom he stuck it out for over two 
years, under conditions so trying that all the other apprentices 
ran away. At fifteen the assault already mentioned took place, 
together with several other, milder homosexual experiences. 
Then fate packed him off to France. There he made the ac 
quaintance of a man from the south, a great boaster and Don 
Juan. He dragged the patient to a brothel; he went unwillingly 
and out of fear, and found he was impotent. Later he went to 
Paris, where his eldest brother, a master-mason and the replica 
of his father, was leading a dissolute life. The patient stayed 
there a long time, badly paid and helping his sister-in-law out 
of pity. The brother often took him along to a brothel, but he 
was always impotent. 

7 11 One day his brother asked him to make over to him his in 
heritance, 6,000 francs. The patient consulted his second 
brother, who was also in Paris, and who urgently tried to dis 
suade him from handing over the money, because it would only 
be squandered. Nevertheless the patient went and gave his in 
heritance to his brother, who naturally ran through it in the 
shortest possible time. And the second brother, who would have 
dissuaded him, was also let in for 500 francs. To my astonished 
question why he had so light-heartedly given the money to his 
brother without any guarantee he replied: well, he asked for it. 
He was not a bit sorry about the money, he would give him 
another 6,000 francs if he had it. The eldest brother afterwards 
went to the bad altogether and his wife divorced him. 

7 1 * The patient returned to Switzerland and remained for a year 
without regular employment, often suffering from hunger. Dur 
ing this time he made the acquaintance of a family and became 
a frequent visitor. The husband belonged to some peculiar sect, 
was a hypocrite, and neglected his family. The wife was elderly, 
ill, and weak, and moreover pregnant. There were six children, 
all living in great poverty. For this woman the patient developed 
a warm affection and shared with her the little he possessed. She 
told him her troubles, saying she felt sure she would die in child 
bed. He promised her (although he possessed nothing) that he 
would take charge of the children and bring them up. The 

39 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



woman did die in childbed, but the orphanage interfered and 
allowed him only one child. So now he had a child but no family, 
and naturally could not bring it up by himself. He thus came to 
think of marrying. But as he had never yet fallen in love with 
a girl he was in great perplexity. 

713 It then occurred to him that his elder brother was divorced 
from his wife, and he resolved to marry her. He wrote to her 
in Paris, saying what he intended. She was seventeen years older 
than he, but not averse to his plan. She invited him to come to 
Paris to talk matters over. But on the eve of the journey fate 
willed that he should run an iron nail into his foot, so that he 
could not travel. After a while, when the wound was healed, 
he went to Paris and found that he had imagined his sister-in- 
law, now his fiancee, to be younger and prettier than she really 
was. The wedding took place, however, and three months later 
the first coitus, on his wife's initiative. He himself had no desire 
for it. They brought up the child together, he in the Swiss and 
she in the Parisian fashion, as she was a French woman. At the 
age of nine the child was run over and killed by a cyclist. The 
patient then felt very lonely and dismal at home. He proposed 
to his wife that they should adopt a young girl, whereupon she 
broke out into a fury of jealousy. Then, for the first time in his 
life, he fell in love with a young girl, and simultaneously the 
neurosis started with deep depression and nervous exhaustion, 
for meanwhile his life at home had become a hell. 

7*4 My suggestion that he should separate from his wife was dis 
missed out of hand, on the ground that he could not take it 
upon himself to make the old woman unhappy on his account. 
He obviously preferred to go on being tormented, for the mem 
ories of his youth seemed to him more precious than any present 
joys. 

7*5 This patient, too, moved all through his life in the magic 
circle of the family constellation. The strongest and most fateful 
factor was the relationship to the father; its masochistic-homo 
sexual colouring is clearly apparent in everything he did. Even 
the unfortunate marriage was determined by the father, for the 
patient married the divorced wife of his elder brother, which 
amounted to marrying his mother. At the same time, his wife 
was the mother-substitute for the woman who died in childbed. 
The neurosis set in the moment the libido was withdrawn from 

310 



THE FATHER IN THE DESTINY OF THE INDIVIDUAL 

the infantile relationship and for the first time came a bit nearer 
to an individually determined goal. In this as in the previous 
case, the family constellation proved to be by far the stronger, 
so that the narrow field of neurosis was all that was left over for 
the struggling individuality. 



Case 3 

7* 6 A 36-year-old peasant woman, of average intelligence, 
healthy appearance, and robust build, mother of three healthy 
children. Comfortable economic circumstances. She came to the 
clinic for the following reasons: for some weeks she had been ter 
ribly wretched and anxious, slept badly, had terrifying dreams, 
and also suffered by day from anxiety and depression. She stated 
that all these things were without foundation, she herself was 
surprised at them, and had to admit that her husband was quite 
right when he insisted that it was all "stuff and nonsense." Never 
theless, she simply could not get over them. Often strange 
thoughts came into her head; she was going to die and would 
go to hell. She got on very well with her husband. 

7*7 Examination of the case yielded the following results. Some 
weeks before, she happened to take up some religious tracts 
which had long lain about the house unread. There she was 
informed that people who swore would go to hell. She took this 
very much to heart, and ever since then had been thinking that 
she must stop people swearing or she would go to hell too. About 
a fortnight before she read these tracts her father, who lived 
with her, had suddenly died of a stroke. She was not actually 
present at his death, but arrived only when he was already dead. 
Her terror and grief were very great. 

7 l8 In the days following his death she thought much about it 
all, wondering why her father had to die so suddenly. During 
these meditations she suddenly remembered that the last words 
she had heard her father say were: "I am one of those who have 
got into the devil's clutches/' This memory filled her with 
trepidation, and she recalled how often her father had sworn 
savagely. She also began to wonder whether there was really a 
life after death, and whether her father was in heaven or hell. 
It was during these musings that she came across the tracts and 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



began to read them, until she came to the place where it said 
that people who swore would go to hell. Then great fear and 
terror fell upon her; she covered herself with reproaches, she 
ought to have stopped her father's swearing and deserved to be 
punished for her negligence. She would die and would be con 
demned to hell. From that hour she was filled with sorrow, grew 
moody, tormented her husband with her obsessive ideas, and 
shunned all joy and conviviality. 

?!9 The patient's life-history was as follows: She was the young 
est of five brothers and sisters and had always been her father's 
favourite. Her father gave her everything she wanted if he pos 
sibly could. If she wanted a new dress and her mother refused 
it, she could be sure her father would bring her one next time 
he went to town. Her mother died rather early. At twenty-four 
she married the man of her choice, against her father's wishes. 
The father flatly disapproved of her choice although he had 
nothing particular against the man. After the wedding she made 
her father come and live with them. That seemed the obvious 
thing, she said, since the others had never suggested having him 
with them. He was, as a matter of fact, a quarrelsome, foul- 
mouthed old drunkard. Husband and father-in-law, as may 
easily be imagined, did not get on at all. There were endless 
squabbles and altercations, in spite of which the patient would 
always dutifully fetch drink for her father from the inn. All the 
same, she admitted her husband was right. He was a good, pa 
tient fellow with only one failing: he did not obey her father 
enough. She found that incomprehensible, and would rather 
have seen her husband knuckle under to her father. When all's 
said and done, a father is still a father. In the frequent quarrels 
she always took her father's part. But she had nothing to say 
against her husband, and he was usually right in his protests, 
but even so one must stand by one's father. 

720 Soon it began to seem to her that she had sinned against her 
father by marrying against his will, and she often felt, after one 
of these incessant wrangles, that her love for her husband had 
died. And since her father's death it was impossible to love him 
any more, for his disobedience had usually been the cause of 
her father's fits of raging and swearing. At one time the quar 
relling had become too much for the husband, and he induced 
his wife to find a room for her father elsewhere, where he lived 

312 



THE FATHER IN THE DESTINY OF THE INDIVIDUAL 

for two years. During this time husband and wife lived together 
peaceably and happily. But by degrees she began to reproach 
herself for letting her father live alone; in spite of everything he 
was her father. And in the end, despite her husband's protests, 
she fetched her father home again because, as she said, at bot 
tom she loved her father better than her husband. Scarcely was 
the old man back in the house than the strife broke out again. 
And so it went on till the father's sudden death. 

721 After this recital she broke into a string of lamentations: she 
must get a divorce from her husband, she would have done so 
long ago but for the children. She had committed a great wrong, 
a grievous sin, when she married her husband against her 
father's wishes. She ought to have taken the man her father 
wanted her to have; he, certainly, would have obeyed her father, 
and then everything would have been all right. Oh, she wailed, 
her husband was not nearly as nice as her father, she could do 
anything with her father, but not with her husband. Her father 
had given her everything she wanted. And now she wanted most 
of all to die, so that she could be with her father. 

722 When this outburst was over, I asked curiously why she had 
refused the husband her father had proposed? 

723 It seems that the father, a small peasant on a lean little hold 
ing, had taken on as a labourer, just at the time when his young 
est daughter was born, a wretched little boy, a foundling. The 
boy developed in a most unpleasant fashion: he was so stupid 
that he could not learn to read or write, or even to speak prop 
erly. He was an absolute blockhead. As he approached manhood 
a series of ulcers developed on his neck, some of which opened 
and continually discharged pus, giving this dirty, ugly creature 
a truly horrible appearance. His intelligence did not grow with 
his years, so he stayed on as a farm-labourer without any recog 
nized wage. 

724 To this oaf the father wanted to marry his favourite daughter. 

725 The girl, fortunately, had not been disposed to yield, but 
now she regretted it, for this idiot would unquestionably have 
been more obedient to her father than her good man had been. 

726 Here, as in the foregoing case, it must be clearly understood 
that the patient was not at all feeble-minded. Both possessed 
normal intelligence, although the blinkers of the infantile 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



constellation kept them from using it. That appears with quite 
remarkable clearness in this patient's life-story. The father's 
authority is never even questioned. It makes not the least differ 
ence to her that he was a quarrelsome old drunkard, the obvious 
cause of all the bickering and dissension; on the contrary, her 
husband must bow down before this bogey, and finally our pa 
tient even comes to regret that her father did not succeed in 
completely destroying her life's happiness. So now she sets about 
destroying it herself, through her neurosis, which forces on her 
the wish to die so that she may go to hell whither, be it noted, 
her father has already betaken himself. 

727 If ever we are disposed to see some demonic power at work 
controlling mortal destiny, surely we can see it here in these 
melancholy, silent tragedies working themselves out, slowly and 
agonizingly, in the sick souls of our neurotics. Some, step by 
step, continually struggling against the unseen powers, do free 
themselves from the clutches of the demon who drives his un 
suspecting victims from one cruel fatality to another; others rise 
up and win to freedom, only to be dragged back later to the old 
paths, caught in the noose of the neurosis. You cannot even 
maintain that these unhappy people are always neurotics or 
"degenerates." If we normal people examine our lives, 16 we too 
perceive how a mighty hand guides us without fail to our des 
tiny, and not always is this hand a kindly one. 17 Often we call 
it the hand of God or of the devil, (thereby expressing, uncon 
sciously but correctly, a highly important psychological fact: 
that the power which shapes the life of the psyche has the char 
acter of an autonomous personality. At all events it is felt as 
such, so that today in common speech, just as in ancient times, 
the source of any such destiny appears as a daemon, as a good or 
evil spirit. 

16 [Orig.: . . . from the psychanalytic standpoint . . ,] 

17 "Throughout we believe ourselves to be the masters of our deeds. But review 
ing our lives, and chiefly taking our misfortunes and their consequences into 
consideration, we often cannot account for our doing this act and omitting that, 
making it appear as if our steps had been guided by a power foreign to us. There 
fore Shakespeare says: 

'Fate show thy force: ourselves we do not owe; 

What is decreed must be, and be this sol' " 

Schopenhauer, "On Apparent Design in the Fate of the Individual," Parerga 
and Paralipomena (trans, by Irvine, p. 26). 



THE FATHER IN THE DESTINY OF THE INDIVIDUAL 

728 (The personification of this source goes back in the first place 
to the father, for which reason Freud was of the opinion that all 
' 'divine" figures have their roots in the father-imago. It can 
hardly be denied that they do derive from this imago, but what 
we are to say about the father-imago itself is another matter. 
For the parental imago is possessed of a quite extraordinary 
power; it influences the psychic life of the child so enormously 
that we must ask ourselves whether we may attribute such magi 
cal power to an ordinary human being at all. Obviously he pos 
sesses it, but we are bound to ask whether it is really his property. 
Man "possesses" many things which he has never acquired but 
has inherited from his ancestors. He is not born as a tabula 
rasa, he is merely born unconscious. But he brings with him 
systems that are organized and ready to function in a specifically 
human way, and these he owes to millions of years of human de 
velopment. Just as the migratory and nest-building instincts of 
birds were never learnt or acquired individually, man brings 
with him at birth the ground-plan of his nature, and not only 
of his individual nature but of his collective nature. These in 
herited systems correspond to the human situations that have 
existed since primeval times: youth and old age, birth and death, 
sons and daughters, fathers and mothers, mating, and so on. 
Only the individual consciousness experiences these things for 
the first time, but not the bodily system and the unconscious. 
For them they are only the habitual functioning of instincts 
that were preformed long ago. "You were in bygone times my 
wife or sister," says Goethe, clothing in words the dim feelings of 
many. 

729 (I have called this congenital and pre-existent instinctual 
model, or pattern of behaviour, the archetype. This is the 
imago that is charged with the dynamism we cannot attribute 
to an individual human being. Were this power really in our 
hands and subject to our will, we would be so crushed with re 
sponsibility that no one in his right senses would dare to have 
children. But the power of the archetype is not controlled by us; 
we ourselves are at its mercy to an unsuspected degree. There 
are many who resist its influence and its compulsion, but equally 
many who identify with the archetype, for instance with the 
patris potestas or with the queen ant. And because everyone is 

315 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



in some degree "possessed" by his specifically human preforma- 
tion, he is held fast and fascinated by it and exercises the same 
influence on others without being conscious of what he is doing. 
The danger is just this unconscious identity with the archetype: 
not only does it exert a dominating influence on the child by 
suggestion, it also causes the same unconsciousness in the child, 
so that it succumbs to the influence from outside and at the 
same time cannot oppose it from within. The more a father 
identifies with the archetype, the more unconscious and irre 
sponsible, indeed psychotic, both he and his child will be. In 
the case we have discussed, it is almost a matter of "folie a 
deux/'} 18 

73 In our case, it is quite obvious what the father was doing, 
and why he wanted to marry his daughter to this brutish crea 
ture: he wanted to keep her with him and make her his slave 
for ever. What he did is but a crass exaggeration of what is done 
by thousands of so-called respectable, educated parents, who 
nevertheless pride themselves on their progressive views. The 
fathers who criticize every sign of emotional independence in 
their children, who fondle their daughters with ill-concealed 
eroticism and tyrannize over their feelings, who keep their sons 
on a leash or force them into a profession and finally into a "suit 
able 5 * marriage, the mothers who even in the cradle excite their 
children with unhealthy tenderness, who later make them into 
slavish puppets and then at last ruin their love-life out of jeal 
ousy: they all act no differently in principle from this stupid, 
boorish peasant. (They do not know what they are doing, and 
they do not know that by succumbing to the compulsion they 
pass it on to their children and make them slaves of their parents 
and of the unconscious as well. Such children will long continue 
to live out the curse laid on them by their parents, even when 

18 [Orig.: ... for the power of the infantile constellation has provided highly 
convincing material for the religions in the course of the millennia. 

[All this is not to say that we should cast the blame for original sin upon our 
parents. A sensitive child, whose sympathies are only too quick to reflect in his 
psyche the excesses of his parents, bears the blame for his fate in his own char 
acter. But, as our last case shows, this is not always so, for the parents can (and 
unfortunately only too often do) instil the evil into the child's soul, preying 
upon his ignorance in order to make him the slave of their complexes.] 

316 



THE FATHER IN THE DESTINY OF THE INDIVIDUAL 

the parents are long since dead. "They know not what they do/' 
Unconsciousness is the original sin.) 19 



Case 4 

731 An eight-year-old boy, intelligent, rather delicate-looking, 
brought to me by his mother on account of enuresis. During the 
consultation the child clung all the time to his mother, a pretty, 
youthful woman. The marriage was a happy one, but the father 
was strict, and the boy (the eldest child) was rather afraid of 
him. The mother compensated for the father's strictness by a 
corresponding tenderness, to which the boy responded so much 
that he never got away from his mother's apron-strings. He 
never played with his school-fellows, never went alone into the 
street unless he had to go to school. He feared the boys' rough 
ness and violence and played thoughtful games at home or 
helped his mother with the housework. He was extremely jeal 
ous of his father, and could not bear it when the father showed 
tenderness to the mother. 

19 [Orzg.: It will be asked, wherein lies the magic power of the parents to bind 
their children to themselves, often for the whole of their lives? The psychoanalyst 
knows that it is nothing but sexuality on both sides. 

[We are always trying not to admit the child's sexuality. But this is only be 
cause of wilful ignorance, which happens to be very prevalent again just now.* 

[I have not given any real analysis of these cases. We therefore do not know 
what happened to these puppets of fate when they were children. A profound 
insight into the living soul of a child, such as we have never had before, is given 
in Freud's contribution to the present semi-annual volume of the Jahrbuch 
["Analysis of a Phobia in a Five-year-old Boy"]. If I venture, after Freud's mas 
terly presentation, to offer another small contribution to the study of the child- 
psyche, it is because psychoanalytic case-histories seem to me always valuable. 

[* Orzg. footnote: This was seen at the Amsterdam Congress in 1907 [First 
International Congress of Psychiatry and Neurology; cf. the second paper in this 
vol. EDITORS], when an eminent French savant assured us that Freud's theory 
was nothing but "une plaisanterie." This gentleman had evidently read neither 
Freud's latest writings nor mine, and knew far less about the subject than a little 
child. This pronouncement, so admirably grounded, met with the approbation 
of a well-known German professor in his report to the Congress. One can but 
bow before such thoroughness. At the same Congress a noted German neurolo 
gist immortalized his name with the following brilliant argument: "If in Freud's 
view hysteria really does rest on repressed affects, then the whole German army 
must be hysterical."] 

317 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



732 I took the boy aside and asked him about his dreams. Very 
often he dreamt of a black snake that wanted to bite his face. 
Then he would cry out, and his mother had to come to him 
from the next room and stay by his bedside. 

733 In the evening he would go quietly to bed. But when falling 
asleep it seemed to him that a wicked black man with a sword 
or a gun was lying on his bed., a tall thin man who wanted to 
kill him. The parents slept in the next room. The boy often 
dreamt that something dreadful was going on in there, as if 
there were great black snakes or evil men who wanted to kill 
Mama. Then he would cry out, and Mama came to comfort 
him. Every time he wet his bed he called his mother, who 
would then have to change the bedclothes. 

734 The father was a tall thin man. Every morning he stood 
naked at the wash-stand in full view of the boy, to perform a 
thorough ablution. The boy also told me that at night he often 
started up from sleep at the sound of strange noises in the next 
room; then he was always horribly afraid that something dread 
ful was going on in there, a struggle of some kind, but his 
mother would quiet him and say it was nothing. 

735 It is not difficult to see what was happening in the next room. 
It is equally easy to understand the boy's aim in calling out for 
his mother: he was jealous and was separating her from the 
father. He did this also in the daytime whenever he saw his 
father caressing her. Thus far the boy was simply the father's 
rival for his mother's love. 

73 6 But now comes the fact that the snake and the wicked man 
threaten him as well: the same thing happens to him as hap 
pens to his mother in the next room. To that extent he identi 
fies with his mother and thus puts himself in a similar relation 
ship to the father. This is due to his homosexual component, 
which feels feminine towards the father. (The bed-wetting is in 
this case a substitute for sexuality. Pressure of urine in dreams 
and also in the waking state is often an expression of some other 
pressure, for instance of fear, expectation, suppressed excite 
ment, inability to speak, the need to express an unconscious 
content, etc. In our case the substitute for sexuality has the sig 
nificance of a premature masculinity which is meant to compen 
sate the inferiority of the child. 

737 (Although I do not intend to go into the psychology of 

318 



THE FATHER IN THE DESTINY OF THE INDIVIDUAL 

dreams in this connection, the motif of the black snake and of 
the black man should not pass unmentioned. Both these terrify 
ing spectres threaten the dreamer as well as his mother. "Black" 
indicates something dark, the unconscious. The dream shows 
that the mother-child relationship is menaced by unconscious 
ness. The threatening agency is represented by the mythological 
motif of the * 'father animal"; in other words the father appears 
as threatening. This is in keeping with the tendency of the child 
to remain unconscious and infantile, which is decidedly dan 
gerous. For the boy, the father is an anticipation of his own 
masculinity, conflicting with his wish to remain infantile. The 
snake's attack on the boy's face, the part that "sees," represents 
the danger to consciousness (blinding).} 20 

73 8 This little example shows what goes on in the psyche of an 
eight-year-old child who is over-dependent on his parents, the 
blame for this lying partly on the too strict father and the too 
tender mother. (The boy's identification with his mother and 
fear of his father are in this individual instance an infantile neu 
rosis, but they represent at the same time the original human 
situation, the clinging of primitive consciousness to the uncon 
scious, and the compensating impulse which strives to tear con 
sciousness away from the embrace of the darkness. Because man 
has a dim premonition of this original situation behind his 
individual experience, he has always tried to give it generally 
valid expression through the universal motif of the divine hero's 
fight with the mother dragon, whose purpose is to deliver man 
from the power of darkness. This myth has a "saving," i.e., 
therapeutic significance, since it gives adequate expression to the 
dynamism underlying the individual entanglement. The myth 
is not to be causally explained as the consequence of a personal 
father-complex, but should be understood teleologically, as an 
attempt of the unconscious itself to rescue consciousness from 
the danger of regression. The ideas of "salvation" are not sub 
sequent rationalizations of a father-complex; they are, rather, 

20 [Orzg.; It is not difficult to see, from the Freudian standpoint, what the bed- 
wetting means in this case. Micturition dreams give us the clue. Here I would 
refer the reader to an analysis of this kind in my paper "The Analysis of Dreams" 
(cf. supra, pars. 8af.). Bed-wetting must be regarded as an infantile sexual substi 
tute, and even in the dream-life of adults it is easily used as a cloak for the 
pressure of sexual desire.] 

319 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



archetypally preformed mechanisms for the development of 
consciousness.) 21 

739 What we see enacted on the stage of world-history happens 
also in the individual. The child is guided by the power of the 
parents as by a higher destiny. But as he grows up, the struggle 
between his infantile attitude and his increasing consciousness 
begins. The parental influence, dating from the early infantile 
period, is repressed and sinks into the unconscious, but is 
not eliminated; by invisible threads it directs the apparently 
individual workings of the maturing mind. Like everything 
that has fallen into the unconscious, the infantile situation still 
sends up dim, premonitory feelings, feelings of being secretly 
guided by otherworldly influences. (Normally these feelings are 
not referred back to the father, but to a positive or negative 

21 [Orig.: The infantile attitude, it is evident, is nothing but infantile sexuality. 
If we now survey all the far-reaching possibilities of the infantile constellation, 
we are obliged to say that in essence our life's fate is identical with the fate of 
our sexuality. If Freud and his school devote themselves first and foremost to 
tracing out the individual's sexuality, it is certainly not in order to excite piquant 
sensations but to gain a deeper insight into the driving forces that determine the 
individual's fate. In this we are not saying too much, but rather understating 
the case. For, when we strip off the veils shrouding the problems of individual 
destiny, we at once widen our field of vision from the history of the individual 
to the history of nations. We can take a look, first of all, at the history of religion, 
at the history of the fantasy systems of whole peoples and epochs. The religion 
of the Old Testament exalted the paterfamilias into the Jehovah of the Jews, 
whom the people had to obey in fear and dread. The patriarchs were a stepping- 
stone to the Deity. The neurotic fear in Judaism, an imperfect or at any rate 
unsuccessful attempt at sublimation by a still too barbarous people, gave rise to 
the excessive severity of Mosaic law, the compulsive ceremonial of the neurotic.* 
Only the prophets were able to free themselves from it; for them the identifica 
tion with Jehovah, complete sublimation, was successful. They became the 
fathers of the people. Christ, the fulfiller of their prophecies, put an end to this 
fear of God and taught mankind that the true relation to the Deity is love. Thus 
he destroyed the compulsive ceremonial of the law and was himself the exponent 
of the personal loving relationship to God. Later, the imperfect sublimations of 
the Christian Mass resulted once again in the ceremonial of the Church, from 
which only those of the numerous saints and reformers who were really capable 
of sublimation were able to break free. Not without cause, therefore, does modern 
theology speak of the liberating effect of "inner'* or "personal" experience, for 
always the ardour of love transmutes fear and compulsion into a higher, freer 
type of feeling. 

[* Orig. footnote: Cf. Freud, Zeitschrift fur Religionspsychologie (1907).] [I.e., 
"Obsessive Acts and Religious Practices." EDITORS.] 

320 



THE FATHER IN THE DESTINY OF THE INDIVIDUAL 

deity. This change is accomplished partly under the influence 
of education, partly spontaneously. It is universal. Also, it re 
sists conscious criticism with the force of an instinct, for which 
reason the soul (anima) may fittingly be described as naturaliter 
religiosa. The reason for this development, indeed its very pos 
sibility, is to be found in the fact that the child possesses an 
inherited system that anticipates the existence of parents and 
their influence upon him. In other words, behind the father 
stands the archetype of the father, and in this pre-existent arche 
type lies the secret of the father's power, just as the power which 
forces the bird to migrate is not produced by the bird itself but 
derives from its ancestors. 

74 It will not have escaped the reader that the role which falls 
to the father-imago in our case is an ambiguous one. The threat 
it represents has a dual aspect: fear of the father may drive the 
boy out of his identification with the mother, but on the other 
hand it is possible that his fear will make him cling still more 
closely to her. A typically neurotic situation then arises: he 
wants and yet does not want, saying yes and no at the same time. 

74 1 This double aspect of the father-imago is characteristic of 
the archetype in general: it is capable of diametrically opposite 
effects and acts on consciousness rather as Yahweh acted towards 
Job ambivalently. And, as in the Book of Job, man is left to 
take the consequences. We cannot say with certainty that the 
archetype always acts in this way, for there are experiences which 
prove the contrary. But they do not appear to be the rule.) 22 

742 An instructive and well-known example of the ambivalent 
behaviour of the father-imago is the love-episode in the Book of 
Tobit. 23 Sara, the daughter of Raguel, of Ecbatana, desires to 
marry. But her evil fate wills it that seven times, one after the 

22 [Orig.: These are the roots of the first religious sublimations. In the place of 
the father with his constellating virtues and faults there appears on the one hand 
an altogether sublime deity, and on the other hand the devil, who in modern 
times has been largely whittled away by the realization of one's own moral re 
sponsibility. Sublime love is attributed to the former, low sexuality to the latter. 
As soon as we enter the field of neurosis, this antithesis is stretched to the limit. 
God becomes the symbol of the most complete sexual repression, the devil the 
symbol of sexual lust. Thus it is that the conscious expression of the father- 
constellation, like every expression of an unconscious complex when it appears in 
consciousness, acquires its Janus face, its positive and its negative components.] 
23Chs. 3 : 7ff. and 8: iff. 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



other, she chooses a husband who dies on the wedding-night. It 
is the evil spirit Asmodeus, by whom she is persecuted, that kills 
these men. She prays to Yahweh to let her die rather than suffer 
this shame again, for she is despised even by her father's maid 
servants. The eighth bridegroom, her cousin Tobias, the son of 
Tobit, is sent to her by God. He too is led into the bridal cham 
ber. Then old Raguel, who had only pretended to go to bed, 
goes out and thoughtfully digs his son-in-law's grave, and in the 
morning sends a maid to the bridal chamber to make sure that 
he is dead. But this time Asmodeus' role is played out, for 
Tobias is alive. 

743 (The story shows father Raguel in his two roles, as the in 
consolable father of the bride and the provident digger of his 
son-in-law's grave. Humanly speaking he seems beyond re 
proach, and it is highly probable that he was. But there is still 
the evil spirit Asmodeus and his presence needs explaining. If 
we suspect old Raguel personally of playing a double role, this 
malicious insinuation would apply only to his sentiments; there 
is no evidence that he committed murder. These wicked deeds 
transcend the old man's daughter-complex as well as Sara's 
father-complex, for which reason the legend fittingly ascribes 
them to a demon. Asmodeus plays the role of a jealous father 
who will not give up his beloved daughter and only relents 
when he remembers his own positive aspect, and in that capacity 
at last gives Sara a pleasing bridegroom. He, significantly 
enough, is the eighth: the last and highest stage. 24 Asmodeus 
stands for the negative aspect of the father archetype, for the 
archetype is the genius and daemon of the personal human 
being, "the god of human nature, changeful of countenance, 
white and black." 25 The legend offers a psychologically correct 
explanation: it does not attribute superhuman evil to Raguel, 
it distinguishes between man and daemon, just as psychology 
must distinguish between what the human individual is and 
can do and what must be ascribed to the congenital, instinctual 
system, which the individual has not made but finds within him. 
We would be doing the gravest injustice to Raguel if we held 

24 (Cf. the axiom of Maria and the discussion of 3 and 4, 7 and 8, in Psychology 
and Alchemy, pars, soiff. and 209.) 

25 (Horace, Epistles, II, 2, 187-89.) 



THE FATHER IN THE DESTINY OF THE INDIVIDUAL 

him responsible for the fateful power of this system, that is, of 
the archetype. 

744 (The potentialities of the archetype, for good and evil alike, 
transcend our human capacities many times, and a man can 
appropriate its power only by identifying with the daemon, by 
letting himself be possessed by it, thus forfeiting his own hu 
manity. The fateful power of the father complex comes from 
the archetype, and this is the real reason why the consensus 
gentium puts a divine or daemonic figure in place of the father. 
The personal father inevitably embodies the archetype, which 
is what endows his figure with its fascinating power. The arche 
type acts as an amplifier, enhancing beyond measure the effects 
that proceed from the father, so far as these conform to the 
inherited pattern.) 26 

26 [Orig.: Unfortunately medical etiquette forbids me to report a case of hysteria 
which fits this pattern exactly, except that there were not seven husbands but 
only three, unluckily chosen under all the ominous signs of an infantile constella 
tion. Our first case, too, belongs to this category, and in our third case we see 
the old peasant at work, preparing to dedicate his daughter to a like fate. 

[As a pious and dutiful daughter (cf. her prayer in Tobit, ch. 3), Sara has 
brought about the usual sublimation and splitting of the father-complex, on the 
one hand elevating her infantile love into the worship of God, and on the other 
turning the obsessive power of the father into the persecuting demon Asmodeus. 
The story is beautifully worked out and shows father Raguel in his two roles, as 
the inconsolable father of the bride and the provident digger of his son-in-law's 
grave, whose fate he foresees. 

[This pretty fable has become a classic example in my analytical work, for we 
frequently meet with cases where the father-demon has laid his hand upon his 
daughter, so that her whole life long, even when she does marry, there is never 
a true inward union, because her husband's image never succeeds in obliterating 
the unconscious and continually operative infantile father-ideal. This is true not 
only of daughters, but also of sons. An excellent example of this kind of father- 
constellation can be found in Brill's recently published "Psychological Factors in 
Dementia Praecox" (1908). 

[In my experience it is usually the father who is the decisive and dangerous 
object of the child's fantasy, and if ever it happened to be the mother I was able 
to discover behind her a grandfather to whom she belonged in her heart. 

[I must leave this question open, because my findings are not sufficient to 
warrant a decision. It is to be hoped that experience in the years to come will 
sink deeper shafts into this obscure territory, on which I have been able to shed 
but a fleeting light, and will discover more about the secret workshop of the 
demon who shapes our fate, of whom Horace says: 

"Scit Genius natale comes qui temperat astrum, 
Naturae deus humanae, mortalis in unum, 
Quodque caput, vultu mutabilis, albus et ater."] 

323 



INTRODUCTION TO KRANEFELDT'S 
"SECRET WAYS OF THE MIND' 7 * 

745 At the present time, one can well say, it is still quite impos 
sible to draw up a comprehensive and hence a proper picture of 
all that commonly goes by the much abused name "psycho 
analysis." What the layman usually understands by "psycho 
analysis' 'a medical dissection of the soul for the purpose of 
disclosing hidden causes and connectionstouches only a small 
part of the phenomena in question. Even if we regard psycho 
analysis from a wider angle in agreement with Freud's concep 
tion of it as essentially a medical instrument for the cure of 
neurosis, this broader point of view still does not exhaust the 
nature of the subject. Above all, psychoanalysis in the strictly 
Freudian sense is not only a therapeutic method but a psycho 
logical theory, which does not confine itself in the least to the 
neuroses and to psychopathology in general but attempts also 
to bring within its province the normal phenomenon of the 
dream and, besides this, wide areas of the humane sciences, of 
literature and the creative arts, as well as biography, mythology, 
folklore, comparative religion, and philosophy. 

74 6 It is a somewhat curious fact in the history of science but 
one that is in keeping with the peculiar nature of the psycho 
analytic movement that Freud, the creator of psychoanalysis 
(in the narrower sense), insists on identifying the method with 
his sexual theory, thus placing upon it the stamp of dogmatism. 
This declaration of "scientific" infallibility caused me, at the 
time, to break with Freud, for to me dogma and science are 
incommensurable quantities which damage one another by 
mutual contamination. Dogma as a factor in religion is of ines- 

i [Originally published in W. M. Kranefeldt's Die Psychoanalyse (Berlin and 
Leipzig, 1930). Translated by Ralph M. Eaton in the English version of the 
volume, Secret Ways of the Mind (New York, 1932; London, 1934). The present 
translation is of the original, but reference was made to the Eaton version. 
EDITORS.] 

324 



ON KRANEFELDTS SECRET WAYS OF THE MIND" 

tunable value precisely because of its absolute standpoint. But 
when science dispenses with criticism and scepticism it degener 
ates into a sickly hot-house plant. One of the elements necessary 
to science is extreme uncertainty. Whenever science inclines 
towards dogma and shows a tendency to be impatient and fanati 
cal, it is concealing a doubt which in all probability is justified 
and explaining away an uncertainty which is only too well 
founded. 

747 I emphasize this unfortunate state of affairs not because I 
want to make a critical attack on Freud's theories, but rather 
to point out to the unbiased reader the significant fact that 
Freudian psychoanalysis, apart from being a scientific endeavour 
and a scientific achievement, is a psychic symptom which has 
proved to be more powerful than the analytical art of the master 
himself. As Maylan's book on "Freud's tragic complex" 2 has 
shown, it would not be at all difficult to derive Freud's tendency 
to dogmatize from the premises of his own personal psychology 
indeed, he taught this trick to his disciples and practised it 
more or less successfully himselfbut I do not wish to turn his 
own weapons against him. In the end no one can completely 
outgrow his personal limitations; everyone is more or less im 
prisoned by them especially when he practises psychology. 

74 8 I find these technical defects uninteresting and believe it is 
dangerous to lay too much stress on them, as it diverts attention 
from the one important fact: that even the loftiest mind is most 
limited and dependent just at the point where it seems to be 
freest. In my estimation the creative spirit in man is not his 
personality at all but rather a sign or symptom of a contem 
porary movement of thought. His personality is important only 
as the mouthpiece of a conviction arising out of an unconscious, 
collective background a conviction that robs him of his free 
dom, forces him to sacrifice himself and to make mistakes which 
he would criticize mercilessly in others. Freud is borne along 
by a particular current of thought which can be traced back to 
the Reformation. Gradually it freed itself from innumerable 
veils and disguises, and it is now turning into the kind of psy 
chology which Nietzsche foresaw with prophetic insight the dis 
covery of the psyche as a new fact. Some day we shall be able to 

2 [Freuds tragischer Komplex: Eine Analyse der Psychoanalyse (1929). EDITORS.] 

325 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



see by what tortuous paths modern psychology has made its way 
from the dingy laboratories of the alchemists, via mesmerism 
and magnetism (Kerner, Ennemoser, Eschimayer, Baader, Pas- 
savant, and others), to the philosophical anticipations of Scho 
penhauer, Cams, and von Hartmann; and how, from the native 
soil of everyday experience in Liebeault and, still earlier, in 
Quimby (the spiritual father of Christian Science), 3 it finally 
reached Freud through the teachings of the French hypnotists. 
This current of ideas flowed together from many obscure 
sources, gaining rapidly in strength in the nineteenth century 
and winning many adherents, amongst whom Freud is not an 
isolated figure. 

749 What is designated today by the catchword "psychoanalysis" 
is not in reality a uniform thing, but comprises in itself many 
different aspects of the great psychological problem of our age. 
Whether or not the public at large is conscious of this problem 
does not alter the fact of its existence. In our time the psyche has 
become something of a problem for everyone. Psychology has 
acquired a power of attraction which is really astounding. It 
explains the surprising, world-wide spread of Freudian psycho 
analysis, which has had a success comparable only to that of 
Christian Science, theosophy, and anthroposophy comparable 
not only in its success but also in its essence, for Freud's dogma 
tism comes very close to the attitude of religious conviction that 
characterizes these movements. Moreover, all four movements 
are decidedly psychological. When we add to this the almost un 
believable rise of occultism in every form in all civilized parts 
of the Western world, we begin to get a picture of this current 
of thought, everywhere a little taboo yet nonetheless compelling. 
Similarly, modern medicine shows significant leanings towards 
the spirit of Paracelsus, and is becoming increasingly aware of 
the importance of the psyche in somatic diseases. Even the tra 
ditionalism of criminal law is beginning to yield to the claims 
of psychology, as we can see from the suspension of sentences 
and the more and more frequent practice of calling in psycho 
logical experts. 

750 So much for the positive aspects of this psychological move- 

3 [Phineas Parkhurst Quimby (1802-66), American hypnotist and mental healer, 
consulted by Mary Baker Eddy, whose ideas he is thought to have influenced. 
EDITORS.] 

336 



ON KRANEFELDT'S "SECRET WAYS OF THE MIND" 

ment. But these aspects are balanced on the other side by equally 
characteristic negative ones. Already at the time of the Reforma 
tion the conscious mind had begun to break away from the meta 
physical certainties of the Gothic age, and this separation be 
came more acute and widespread with every passing century. At 
the beginning of the eighteenth century the world saw the truths 
of Christianity publicly dethroned for the first time, and at the 
beginning of the twentieth the government of one of the largest 
countries on earth is making every effort to stamp out the Chris 
tian faith as if it were a disease. Meanwhile, the intellect of the 
white man as a whole has outgrown the authority of Catholic 
dogma, and Protestantism has succeeded in splitting itself into 
more than four hundred denominations through the most trivial 
quibbles. These are obvious negative aspects, and they explain 
why people increasingly flock to any movement from which they 
expect a helpful truth to come. 

15 l Religions are the great healing-systems for the ills of the soul. 
Neuroses and similar illnesses arise, one and all, from psychic 
complications. But once a dogma is disputed and questioned, it 
has lost its healing power. A person who no longer believes that 
a God who knows suffering will have mercy on him, will help 
and comfort him and give his life a meaning, is weak and a prey 
to his own weakness and becomes neurotic. The innumerable 
pathological elements in the population constitute one of the 
most powerful factors that lend support to the psychological 
tendencies of our time. 

752 Another and by no means unimportant contingent is formed 
by all those who, after a period of belief in authority, have 
awakened with a kind of resentment and find a satisfaction 
mixed with self-torture in advocating a so-called new truth 
which is destructive of their old, still-smouldering convictions. 
Such people can never keep their mouths shut and, because of 
the weakness of their conviction and their fear of isolation, must 
always flock together in proselytizing bands, thus at least mak 
ing up in quantity for their doubtful quality. 

753 Finally, there are those who are earnestly searching for some 
thing, who are thoroughly convinced that the soul is the seat of 
all psychic sufferings and at the same time the dwelling-place of 
all the healing truths that have ever been announced as glad 
tidings to suffering humanity. From the soul come the most 

327 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



senseless conflicts, yet we also look to it for a solution or at least 
a valid answer to the tormenting question: why? 

754 One does not have to be neurotic to feel the need of healing, 
and this need exists even in people who deny with the deepest 
conviction that any such healing is possible. In a weak moment 
they cannot help glancing inquisitively into a book on psychol 
ogy, even if only to find a recipe for adroitly bringing a refrac 
tory marriage partner to reason. 

755 These entirely different interests on the part of the public 
are reflected in the variations on the theme of "psychoanalysis/' 
The Adlerian school, which grew up side by side with Freud, 
lays particular stress on the social aspect of the psychic problem 
and, accordingly, has differentiated itself more and more into a 
system of social education. It denies, not only in theory but in 
practice, all the essentially Freudian elements of psychoanalysis, 
so much so that with the exception of a few theoretical princi 
ples the original points of contact with the Freudian school are 
almost unrecognizable. For this reason Adler's "individual psy 
chology" can no longer be included in the concept of "psycho 
analysis." It is an independent system of psychology, the expres 
sion of a different temperament and a wholly different view of 
the world. 

75 6 No one who is interested in "psychoanalysis" and who wants 
to get anything like an adequate survey of the whole field of 
modern psychiatry should fail to study the writings of Adler. 
He will find them extremely stimulating, and in addition he 
will make the valuable discovery that exactly the same case of 
neurosis can be explained in an equally convincing way from 
the standpoint of Freud or of Adler, despite the fact that the 
two methods of explanation seem diametrically opposed to one 
another. But things that fall hopelessly apart in theory lie close 
together without contradiction in the paradoxical soul of man: 
every human being has a power instinct as well as a sexual in 
stinct. Consequently, he displays both of these psychologies, and 
every psychic impulse in him has subtle overtones coming from 
the one side as much as the other. 

757 Since it has not been established how many primary instincts 
exist in man or in animals, the possibility at once arises that an 
ingenious mind might discover a few more psychologies, appar 
ently contradicting all the rest and yet productive of highly 

328 



ON KRANEFELDT'S ''SECRET WAYS 01 THE MIND" 

satisfactory explanations. But these discoveries are not just a sim 
ple matter of sitting down and evolving a new psychological sys 
tem out of, shall we say, the artistic impulse. Neither Freud's 
nor Adler's psychology came into existence in this way. Rather, 
as if they were fated by an inner necessity, both investigators 
confessed their ruling principle, putting on record their own 
personal psychology and hence also their way of observing other 
people. This is a question of deep experience and not an intel 
lectual conjuring-trick. One could wish that there were more 
confessions of this sort; they would give us a more complete 
picture of the psyche's potentialities. 

75 8 My own views and the school I have founded are equally 
psychological, and are therefore subject to the same limitations 
and criticisms that I have allowed myself to urge against these 
other psychologists. So far as I myself can pass judgment on my 
own point of view, it differs from the psychologies discussed 
above in this respect, that it is not monistic but, if anything, 
dualistic, being based on the principle of opposites, and pos 
sibly pluralistic, since it recognizes a multiplicity of relatively 
autonomous psychic complexes. 

759 It will be seen that I have deduced a theory from the fact 
that contradictory and yet satisfactory explanations are possible. 
Unlike Freud and Adler, whose principles of explanation are 
essentially reductive and always return to the infantile condi 
tions that limit human nature, I lay more stress on a construc 
tive or synthetic explanation, in acknowledgment of the fact 
that tomorrow is of more practical importance than yesterday, 
and that the Whence is less essential than the Whither. For all 
my respect for history, it seems to me that no insight into the 
past and no re-experiencing of pathogenic reminiscences how 
ever powerful it may be is as effective in freeing man from the 
grip of the past as the construction of something new. I am of 
course very well aware that, without insight into the past and 
without an integration of significant memories that have been 
lost, nothing new and viable can be created. But I consider it 
a waste of time and a misleading prejudice to rummage in the 
past for the alleged specific causes of illness; for neuroses, no 
matter what the original circumstances from which they arose, 
are conditioned and maintained by a wrong attitude which is 
present all the time and which, once it is recognized, must be 

329 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



corrected now and not in the early period of infancy. Nor is it 
enough merely to bring the causes into consciousness, for the 
cure of neurosis is, in the last analysis, a moral problem and not 
the magic effect of rehearsing old memories. 

760 My views differ further from those of Freud and Adler in 
that I give an essentially different value to the unconscious. 
Freud, who attributes an infinitely more important role to the 
unconscious than Adler (this school allows it to disappear com 
pletely into the background), has a more religious temperament 
than Adler and for this reason he naturally concedes an autono 
mous, if negative, function to the psychic non-ego. In this re 
spect I go several steps further than Freud. For me the uncon 
scious is not just a receptacle for all unclean spirits and other 
odious legacies from the dead past such as, for instance, that 
deposit of centuries of public opinion which constitutes Freud's 
"superego/' It is in very truth the eternally living, creative, 
germinal layer in each of us, and though it may make use of 
age-old symbolical images it nevertheless intends them to be 
understood in a new way. Naturally a new meaning does not 
come ready-made out of the unconscious, like Pallas Athene 
springing fully-armed from the head of Zeus; a living effect is 
achieved only when the products of the unconscious are brought 
into serious relationship with the conscious mind. 

7 Sl In order to interpret the products of the unconscious, I also 
found it necessary to give a quite different reading to dreams 
and fantasies. I did not reduce them to personal factors, as 
Freud does, but and this seemed indicated by their very na 
tureI compared them with the symbols from mythology 
and the history of religion, in order to discover the meaning 
they were trying to express. This method did in fact yield ex 
tremely interesting results, not least because it permitted an 
entirely new reading of dreams and fantasies, thus making it 
possible to unite the otherwise incompatible and archaic tend 
encies of the unconscious with the conscious personality. This 
union had long seemed to me the end to strive for, because neu 
rotics (and many normal people, too) suffer at bottom from a 
dissociation between conscious and unconscious. As the uncon 
scious contains not only the sources of instinct and the whole 
prehistoric nature of man right down to the animal level, but 
also, along with these, the creative seeds of the future and the 

330 



ON KRANEFELDT'S "SECRET WAYS OF THE MIND" 

roots of all constructive fantasies, a separation from the uncon 
scious through neurotic dissociation means nothing less than a 
separation from the source of all life. It therefore seemed to me 
that the prime task of the therapist was to re-establish this lost 
connection and the life-giving co-operation between conscious 
and unconscious. Freud depreciates the unconscious and seeks 
safety in the discriminating power of consciousness. This ap 
proach is generally mistaken and leads to desiccation and ri 
gidity wherever a firmly established consciousness already exists; 
for, by holding off the antagonistic and apparently hostile ele 
ments in the unconscious, it denies itself the vitality it needs 
for its own renewal. 

762 Freud's approach is not always mistaken, however, for con 
sciousness is not always firmly established. This presupposes a 
good deal of experience of life and a certain amount of maturity. 
Young people, who are very far from knowing who they really 
are, would run a great risk if they obscured their knowledge of 
themselves still further by letting the "dark night of the soul" 
pour into their immature, labile consciousness. Here a certain 
depreciation of the unconscious is justified. Experience has con 
vinced me that there are not only different temperaments 
("types"), but different stages of psychological development, so 
that one can well say that there is an essential difference between 
the psychology of the first and the second half of life. Here again 
I differ from the others in maintaining that the same psycholog 
ical criteria are not applicable to the different stages of life. 

7 6 3 If, to all these considerations, one adds the further fact that 
I distinguish between extraverts and introverts, and again dis 
tinguish each of them by the criterion of its most differentiated 
function (of which I can clearly make out four), it will be evi 
dent that hitherto my main concern as an investigator in the 
field of psychology has been to break in rudely upon a situation 
which, seen from the other two standpoints, is simple to the 
point of monotony, and to call attention to the inconceivable 
complexity of the psyche as it really is. 

7 6 4 Most people have wanted to ignore these complexities, and 
have frankly deplored their existence. But would any physiol 
ogist assert that the body is simple? Or that a living molecule 
of albumen is simple? If the human psyche is anything, it must 
be of unimaginable complexity and diversity, so that it cannot 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



possibly be approached through a mere psychology of instinct. 
I can only gaze with wonder and awe at the depths and heights 
of our psychic nature. Its non-spatial universe conceals an un 
told abundance of images which have accumulated over mil 
lions of years of living development and become fixed in the 
organism. My consciousness is like an eye that penetrates to the 
most distant spaces, yet it is the psychic non-ego that fills them 
with non-spatial images. And these images are not pale shadows, 
but tremendously powerful psychic factors. The most we may 
be able to do is misunderstand them, but we can never rob them 
of their power by denying them. Beside this picture I would 
like to place the spectacle of the starry heavens at night, for the 
only equivalent of the universe within is the universe without; 
and just as I reach this world through the medium of the body, 
so I reach that world through the medium of the psyche. 

765 Thus I cannot regret the complications introduced into psy 
chology by my own contributions, for scientists have always de 
ceived themselves very thoroughly when they thought they had 
discovered how simple things are. 

7 66 In this introduction I hope I have conveyed to the reader that 
the psychological endeavours summed up in the layman's idea 
of "psychoanalysis" ramify very much further historically, so 
cially, and philosophically than the term indicates. It may also 
become clear that the field of research presented in this book is 
far from being a distinct, easily delimited territory. On the 
contrary it is a growing science, which is only just beginning to 
leave its medical cradle and become a psychology of human 
nature. 

7 6 7 The exposition that now follows is not intended to describe 
the whole range of present-day psychological problems. It con 
fines itself to surveying the beginnings of modern psychology 
and the elementary problems which fall chiefly within the prov 
ince of the physician. I have included in my introduction a 
number of wider considerations so as to give the reader a more 
general orientation. 



332 



FREUD AND JUNG: CONTRASTS 1 

7 68 The difference between Freud's views and my own ought 
really to be dealt with by someone who stands outside the orbit 
of those ideas which go under our respective names. Can I be 
credited with sufficient impartiality to rise above my own ideas? 
Can any man do this? I doubt it. If I were told that someone 
had rivalled Baron Munchausen by accomplishing such a feat, 
I should feel sure that his ideas were borrowed ones. 

7 6 9 It is true that widely accepted ideas are never the personal 
property of their so-called author; on the contrary, he is the 
bondservant of his ideas. Impressive ideas which are hailed as 
truths have something peculiar about them. Although they come 
into being at a definite time, they are and have always been 
timeless; they arise from that realm of creative psychic life 
out of which the ephemeral mind of the single human being 
grows like a plant that blossoms, bears fruit and seed, and then 
withers and dies. Ideas spring from something greater than the 
personal human being. Man does not make his ideas; we could 
say that man's ideas make him. 

77<> Ideas are, inevitably, a fatal confession, for they bring to 
light not only the best in us, but our worst insufficiencies and 
personal shortcomings as well. This is especially the case with 
ideas about psychology. Where should they come from ex 
cept from our most subjective side? Can our experience of the 
objective world ever save us from our subjective bias? Is not 
every experience, even in the best of circumstances, at least 
fifty-per-cent subjective interpretation? On the other hand, the 
subject is also an objective fact, a piece of the world; and what 

1 [Originally published as "Der Gegensatz Freud und Jung," Kolnische Zeitung 
(Cologne), May 7, 1929, p. 4. Reprinted in Seelenprobleme der Gegenwart (Zurich, 
1931), and translated by W. S. Dell and Gary F. Baynes, under the present title, 
in Modern Man in Search of a Soul (London and New York, 1933). The original 
German text is retranslated here, though reference has been made to the 1933 
translation .EDITORS .] 

333 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



comes from him comes, ultimately, from the stuff of the world 
itself, just as the rarest and strangest organism is none the less 
supported and nourished by the earth which is common to all. 
It is precisely the most subjective ideas which, being closest to 
nature and to our own essence, deserve to be called the truest. 
But: "What is truth?" 

77* For the purposes of psychology, I think it best to abandon 
the notion that we are today in anything like a position to make 
statements about the nature of the psyche that are "true" or 
"correct." The best that we can achieve is true expression. By 
true expression I mean an open avowal and detailed presenta 
tion of everything that is subjectively observed. One person 
will stress the forms into which he can work this material, and 
will therefore believe that he is the creator of what he finds 
within himself. Another will lay most weight on what is ob 
served; he will therefore speak of it as a phenomenon, while 
remaining conscious of his own receptive attitude. The truth 
probably lies between the two: true expression consists in giving 
form to what is observed. 

772 The modern psychologist, however ambitious, can hardly 
claim to have achieved more than this. Our psychology is the 
more or less successfully formulated confession of a few indi 
viduals, and so far as each of them conforms more or less to a 
type, his confession can be accepted as a fairly valid description 
of a large number of people. And since those who conform to 
other types none the less belong to the human species, we may 
conclude that this description applies, though less fully, to them 
too. What Freud has to say about sexuality, infantile pleasure, 
and their conflict with the "reality principle," as well as what 
he says about incest and the like, can be taken as the truest ex 
pression of his personal psychology. It is the successful formula 
tion of what he himself subjectively observed. I am no opponent 
of Freud's; I am merely presented in that light by his own 
short-sightedness and that of his pupils. No experienced psy 
chiatrist can deny having met with dozens of cases whose psy 
chology answers in all essentials to that of Freud. By his own 
subjective confession, Freud has assisted at the birth of a great 
truth about man. He has devoted his life and strength to the 
construction of a psychology which is a formulation of his own 
being. 

334 



FREUD AND JUNG: CONTRASTS 



773 Our way of looking at things is conditioned by what we are. 
And since other people have a different psychology, they see 
things differently and express themselves differently. Adler, one 
of Freud's earliest pupils, is a case in point. Working with the 
same empirical material as Freud, he approached it from a to 
tally different standpoint. His way of looking at things is at 
least as convincing as Freud's, because he too represents a psy 
chology of a well-known type. I know that the followers of both 
schools flatly assert that I am in the wrong, but I may hope that 
history and all fair-minded persons will bear me out. Both 
schools, to my way of thinking, deserve reproach for over 
emphasizing the pathological aspect of life and for interpreting 
man too exclusively in the light of his defects. A convincing 
example of this in Freud's case is his inability to understand 
religious experience, as is clearly shown in his book The Future 
of an Illusion. 

774 For my part, I prefer to look at man in the light of what in 
him is healthy and sound, and to free the sick man from just 
that kind of psychology which colours every page Freud has 
written. I cannot see how Freud can ever get beyond his own 
psychology and relieve the patient of a suffering from which 
the doctor himself still suffers. It is the psychology of neurotic 
states of mind, definitely one-sided, and its validity is really 
confined to those states. Within these limits it is true and valid 
even when it is in error, for error also belongs to the picture 
and carries the truth of a confession. But it is not a psychology 
of the healthy mind, and this is a symptom of its morbidity- 
it is based on an uncriticized, even an unconscious, view of the 
world which is apt to narrow the horizon of experience and 
limit one's vision. It was a great mistake on Freud's part to turn 
his back on philosophy. Not once does he criticize his assump 
tions or even his personal psychic premises. Yet to do so was 
necessary, as may be inferred from what I have said above; for 
had he critically examined his own foundations he would never 
have been able to put his peculiar psychology so naively on 
view as he did in The Interpretation of Dreams. At all events, 
he would have had a taste of the difficulties I have met with. I 
have never refused the bitter-sweet drink of philosophical criti 
cism, but have taken it with caution, a little at a time. All too 
little, my opponents will say; almost too much, my own feeling 

335 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



tells me. All too easily does self-criticism poison one's nai'vet^, 
that priceless possession, or rather gift, which no creative per 
son can do without. At any rate, philosophical criticism has 
helped me to see that every psychology my own includedhas 
the character of a subjective confession. And yet I must prevent 
my critical powers from destroying my creativeness. I know well 
enough that every word I utter carries with it something of my 
selfof my special and unique self with its particular history 
and its own particular world. Even when I deal with empirical 
data I am necessarily speaking about myself. But it is only by 
accepting this as inevitable that I can serve the cause of man's 
knowledge of man the cause which Freud also wished to serve 
and which, in spite of everything, he has served. Knowledge 
rests not upon truth alone, but upon error also. 

775 It is perhaps here, where the question arises of recognizing 
that every psychology which is the work of one man is subjec 
tively coloured, that the line between Freud and myself is most 
sharply drawn. 

77 6 A further difference seems to me to consist in this, that I try 
to free myself from all unconscious and therefore uncriticized 
assumptions about the world in general. I say "I try," for who 
can be sure that he has freed himself from all of his unconscious 
assumptions? I try to save myself from at least the crassest preju 
dices, and am therefore disposed to recognize all manner of 
gods provided only that they are active in the human psyche. I 
do not doubt that the natural instincts or drives are forces of 
propulsion in psychic life, whether we call them sexuality or 
the will to power; but neither do I doubt that these instincts 
come into collision with the spirit, for they are continually col 
liding with something, and why should not this something be 
called "spirit"? I am far from knowing what spirit is in itself, 
and equally far from knowing what instincts are. The one is as 
mysterious to me as the other; nor can I explain the one as a 
misunderstanding of the other. There are no misunderstandings 
in nature, any more than the fact that the earth has only one 
moon is a misunderstanding; misunderstandings are found only 
in the realm of what we call "understanding." Certainly instinct 
and spirit are beyond my understanding. They are terms which 
we posit for powerful forces whose nature we do not know. 

336 



FREUD AND JUNG: CONTRASTS 



777 My attitude to all religions is therefore a positive one. In 
their symbolism I recognize those figures which I have met with 
in the dreams and fantasies of my patients. In their moral teach 
ings I see efforts that are the same as or similar to those made 
by my patients when, guided by their own insight or inspira 
tion, they seek the right way to deal with the forces of psychic 
life. Ceremonial ritual, initiation rites, and ascetic practices, in 
all their forms and variations, interest me profoundly as so 
many techniques for bringing about a proper relation to these 
forces. My attitude to biology is equally positive, and to the 
empiricism of natural science in general, in which I see a her 
culean attempt to understand the psyche by approaching it from 
the outside world, just as religious gnosis is a prodigious attempt 
of the human mind to derive knowledge of the cosmos from 
within. In my picture of the world there is a vast outer realm 
and an equally vast inner realm; between these two stands man, 
facing now one and now the other, and, according to tempera 
ment and disposition, taking the one for the absolute truth by 
denying or sacrificing the other. 

778 This picture is hypothetical, of course, but it offers a hy 
pothesis which is so valuable that I will not give it up. I con 
sider it heuristically and empirically justified and, moreover, it 
is confirmed by the consensus gentium. This hypothesis cer 
tainly came to me from an inner source, though I might imagine 
that empirical findings had led to its discovery. Out of it has 
grown my theory of types, and also my reconciliation with views 
as different from my own as those of Freud. 

779 I see in all that happens the play of opposites, and derive 
from this conception my idea of psychic energy. I hold that 
psychic energy involves the play of opposites in much the same 
way as physical energy involves a difference of potential, that is 
to say the existence of opposites such as warm and cold, high 
and low, etc. Freud began by taking sexuality as the only psychic 
driving force, and only after my break with him did he take 
other factors into account. For my part, I have summed up the 
various psychic drives or forces all constructed more or less 
ad hoc under the concept of energy, in order to eliminate the 
almost unavoidable arbitrariness of a psychology that deals 
purely with power-drives. I therefore speak not of separate 

337 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



drives or forces but o "value intensities." 2 By this I do not 
mean to deny the importance of sexuality in psychic life, though 
Freud stubbornly maintains that I do deny it. What I seek is to 
set bounds to the rampant terminology of sex which vitiates all 
discussion of the human psyche, and to put sexuality itself in its 
proper place. 

7 8 Common-sense will always return to the fact that sexuality 
is only one of the biological instincts, only one of the psycho- 
physiological functions, though one that is without doubt very 
far-reaching and important. But what happens when we can no 
longer satisfy our hunger? There is, quite obviously, a marked 
disturbance today in the psychic sphere of sex, just as, when a 
tooth really hurts, the whole psyche seems to consist of nothing 
but toothache. The kind of sexuality described by Freud is that 
unmistakable sexual obsession which shows itself whenever a 
patient has reached the point where he needs to be forced or 
tempted out of a wrong attitude or situation. It is an over 
emphasized sexuality piled up behind a dam, and it shrinks at 
once to normal proportions as soon as the way to development 
is opened. Generally it is being caught in the old resentments 
against parents and relations and in the boring emotional tan 
gles of the "family romance" that brings about the damming 
up of life's energies, and this stoppage unfailingly manifests it 
self in the form of sexuality called "infantile." It is not sexuality 
proper, but an unnatural discharge of tensions that really be 
long to quite another province of life. That being so, what is 
the use of paddling about in this flooded country? Surely, 
straight thinking will grant that it is more important to open 
up drainage canals, that is, to find a new attitude or way of life 
which will offer a suitable gradient for the pent-up energy. 
Otherwise a vicious circle is set up, and this is in fact what 
Freudian psychology appears to do. It points no way that leads 
beyond the inexorable cycle of biological events. In despair we 
would have to cry out with St. Paul: "Wretched man that I am, 
who will deliver me from the body of this death?" And the spir 
itual man in us comes forward, shaking his head, and says in 
Faust's words: "Thou art conscious only of the single urge," 
namely of the fleshly bond leading back to father and mother or 

2 Cf. "On Psychic Energy," pars. 148. 

338 



FREUD AND JUNG: CONTRASTS 



forward to the children that have sprung from our flesh "incest" 
with the past and "incest" with the future, the original sin of 
perpetuation of the "family romance." There is nothing that 
can free us from this bond except that opposite urge of life, the 
spirit. It is not the children of the flesh, but the "children ol 
God/' who know freedom. In Ernst Barlach's tragedy The Dead 
Day, the mother-daemon says at the end: "The strange thing is 
that man will not learn that God is his father." That is what 
Freud would never learn, and what all those who share his out 
look forbid themselves to learn. At least, they never find the key 
to this knowledge. Theology does not help those who are look 
ing for the key, because theology demands faith, and faith can 
not be made: it is in the truest sense a gift of grace. We moderns 
are faced with the necessity of rediscovering the life of the spirit; 
we must experience it anew for ourselves. It is the only way in 
which to break the spell that binds us to the cycle of biological 
events. 

7 Sl My position on this question is the third point of difference 
between Freud's views and my own. Because of it I am accused 
of mysticism. I do not, however, hold myself responsible for the 
fact that man has, always and everywhere, spontaneously de 
veloped a religious function, and that the human psyche from 
time immemorial has been shot through with religious feelings 
and ideas. Whoever cannot see this aspect of the human psyche 
is blind, and whoever chooses to explain it away, or to "en 
lighten" it away, has no sense of reality. Or should we see in 
the father-complex which shows itself in all members of the 
Freudian school, and in its founder as well, evidence of a notable 
release from the fatalities of the family situation? This father- 
complex, defended with such stubbornness and oversensitivity, 
is a religious function misunderstood, a piece of mysticism ex 
pressed in terms of biological and family relationships. As for 
Freud's concept of the "superego," it is a furtive attempt to 
smuggle the time-honoured image of Jehovah in the dress of 
psychological theory. For my part, I prefer to call things by the 
names under which they have always been known. 

7 82 The wheel of history must not be turned back, and man's 
advance toward a spiritual life, which began with the primitive 
rites of initiation, must not be denied. It is permissible for 
science to divide up its field of inquiry and to operate with 

339 



FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 



limited hypotheses, for science must work in that way; but the 
human psyche may not be so parcelled out. It is a whole which 
embraces consciousness, and it is the mother of consciousness. 
Scientific thought, being only one of the psyche's functions, can 
never exhaust all its potentialities. The psychotherapist must 
not allow his vision to be coloured by pathology; he must never 
allow himself to forget that the ailing mind is a human mind 
and that, for all its ailments, it unconsciously shares the whole 
psychic life of man. He must even be able to admit that the ego 
is sick for the very reason that it is cut off from the whole, and 
has lost its connection not only with mankind but with the 
spirit. The ego is indeed the "place of fears/' as Freud says in 
The Ego and the Id, but only so long as it has not returned to 
its "father" and "mother." Freud founders on the question of 
Nicodemus: "How can a man be born when he is old? Can he 
enter the second time into his mother's womb, and be born?" 
(John 3:4). History repeats itself, for to compare small things 
with great-the question reappears today in the domestic quar 
rel of modern psychology. 

7 8 3 For thousands of years, rites of initiation have been teaching 
rebirth from the spirit; yet, strangely enough, man forgets again 
and again the meaning of divine procreation. Though this may 
be poor testimony to the strength of the spirit, the penalty for 
misunderstanding is neurotic decay, embitterment, atrophy, 
and sterility. It is easy enough to drive the spirit out of the door, 
but when we have done so the meal has lost its savour the salt 
of the earth. Fortunately, we have proof that the spirit always 
renews its strength in the fact that the essential teaching of the 
initiations is handed on from generation to generation. Ever 
and again there are human beings who understand what it 
means that God is their father. The equal balance of the flesh 
and the spirit is not lost to the world. 

784 The contrast between Freud and myself goes back to essen 
tial differences in our basic assumptions. Assumptions are un 
avoidable, and this being so it is wrong to pretend that we have 
no assumptions. That is why I have dealt with fundamental 
questions; with these as a starting-point, the manifold and de 
tailed differences between Freud's views and my own can best 
be understood. 

340 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 

A. LIST OF PERIODICALS CITED, 
WITH ABBREVIATIONS 

Amer. J. Psychol. American Journal of Psychology. Baltimore. 

Arch. Psychol. Suisse rom. = Archives de psychologie de la Suisse 
romande. Geneva. 

Arch. Rass. u. GesBiol. =2 Archiv filr Rassen- und Gesellschaftsbio- 
logie. Leipzig and Berlin. 

Berl. klin. Wschr. = Berliner klinische Wochenschrift. Berlin. 

/. abnorm. Psychol. = Journal of Abnormal Psychology. Boston. 

Jb. psychoanal. psychopath. Forsch. Jahrbuch filr psychoanaly- 
tische und psychopathologische Forschungen. Vienna and Leipzig. 

Med. Khnik = Medizinische Klmik. Vienna and Berlin. 

Med. Pr. = Medical Press. London. 

Munch, med. Wschr. = Munchener medizinische Wochenschrift. 
Munich. 

Monatshefte filr Padagogik und Schulpolitik. Vienna. 

Proc. Soc. psych. Res., Lond. = Proceedings of the Society for Psy 
chical Research. London. 

Psychiat.-neurol. Wschr. = Psychiatrisch-neurologische Wochen 
schrift. Halle. 

Z. ReligPsychol. = Zeitschrift fur Religionspsychologie. Halle. 

Z. Volkerpsychol. Sprachw. = Zeitschrift filr Volkerpsychologie und 
Sprachwissenschaft. Berlin. 

Zbl. Nervenheilk. =: Zentralblatt fur Nervenheilkunde und Psychi- 
atrie. Berlin. 

Zbl. Psychoan. = Zentralblatt fur Psychoanalyse. Wiesbaden. 

343 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 

. GENERAL BIBLIOGRAPHY 

ABRAHAM, KARL. Dreams and Myths. Translated by William Alanson 
White. (Nervous and Mental Disease Monograph Series, 15.) New 
York, 1913. 

. "The Psycho-Sexual Differences between Hysteria and Demen 
tia Praecox." In: Selected Papers. Translated by Douglas Bryan 
and Alix Strachey. (International Psycho-Analytical Library, 13.) 
London, 1927. 

ADLER, ALFRED. The Neurotic Constitution. Translated by B. Glueck 
and J. E. Lind. London, 1921. (Original: Uber den nervosen Char- 
akter. 1912.) 

. "Trotz und Gehorsam," Monatshefte fur Padagogik und 

Schulpolitik (Vienna), VIII (1910). Also in: ADLER and FURTMUL- 
LER, CARL (eds.). Heilen und Bilden. Munich, 1914. 

ASCHAFFENBURG, GUSTAV. "Die Bcziehungcn des sexuellen Lebens zur 
Entstehung von Nerven- und Geisteskrankheiten," Munch, med. 
Wschr.; LIII (1906), 1793-98. 

BARLACH, ERNST. Der Tote Tag. Berlin, 1912; 2nd edn., 1918. 

BINET, ALFRED. Alterations of Personality. Translated by Helen 
Green Baldwin. London, 1896. (Original: Les Alterations de la per- 
sonnalite. 1892.) 

BINSWANGER, OTTO LUDWIG. "Freud'sche Mechanismen in der Symp- 
tomatologie von Psychosen," Psychiat.-neurol. Wschr., VIII (1906). 

. Die Hysterie. (Specielle Pathologic und Therapie, edited by 

Herman Nothnagel et al., 12, First Half, Part 2.) Vienna, 1904. 

BLEULER, EUGEN. "Die Psychoanalyse Freuds," Jb. psychoanal. psy 
chopath. Forsch., II (1910), 623-730, 

BOAS, FRANZ. Indianische Sagen von der Nord-pacifischen Kuste 
Amerikas. Berlin, 1895. 

BREUER, JOSEF, and FREUD, SIGMUND. Studies on Hysteria. Translated 
by James and Alix Strachey. (Complete Psychological Works of 
Sigmund Freud, Standard Edition, 2.) London, 1955. (Original: 
Studien iiber Hysterie. 1895.) 

BRILL, A. A. "Psychological Factors in Dementia Praecox: an Analy 
sis," /. abnorm. PsychoL, III (1908), 219. 

FLOURNOY, THEODORE. From India to the Planet Mars. Translated by 

344 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 



D. B. Vermilye. New York, 1900. (Original: Des Indes a la planete 
Mars. 1900.) 
. "Nouvelles observations sur un cas de somnambulisme avec 



glossolalie," Arch. Psychol. Suisse rom., I (1901), 101-255. 

FOREL, AUGUSTE. Hypnotism: or, Suggestion and Psychotherapy. 
Translated from the 5th German edn. by H. W. Armit. London 
and New York, 1906. (Original: Der Hypnotismus. 1889.) 

FRANK, LUDWIG. Affektstorungen. Studien ilber ihre Atiologie und 
Therapie. (Monographien aus dem Gesamtgebiete der Neurologic 
und Psychiatric, 4.) Berlin, 1913. 

FREUD, SIGMUND. "Character and Anal Erotism." Translated by R. C. 
McWatters. In: Standard Edn.,* 9. 1959. (Original: "Charakter 
und Analerotik," Psychiat.-neurol. Wschr., IX (1907).) 

. Collected Papers. (International Psycho-Analytical Library, 

7-10, 37.) London, 1924-50. 5 vols. 

. "The Defence Neuro-Psychoses." Translated by John Rick- 
man. In Collected Papers, q.v., i. (To appear in the Standard 
Edn.,* 3.) (Original: Die Abwehrneuropsy chosen. 1894.) 

The Ego and the Id. Translated by Joan Riviere. (Interna 



tional Psycho-Analytical Library, 12.) London, 1927. (To appear in 
the Standard Edn.,* 19.) (Original: Das Ich und das Es. 1923.) 
"Five Lectures on Psycho-Analysis.' ' (Delivered on the Occa 



sion of the Celebration of the Twentieth Anniversary of the Foun 
dation of Clark University, Worcester, Mass., September 1909.) 
Translated by James Strachey. In: Standard Edn.,* 11. 1957. (Orig 
inal: Ueber Psychoanalyse. 1910.) 

-. "Fragment of an Analysis of a Case of Hysteria." Translated 



by Alix and James Strachey. In: Standard Edn.,* 7. 1953. (Original: 
"Bruchstiicke einer Hysterie-Analyse." 1905.) 

. "Freud's Psycho-Analytic Procedure/' Translated by J. Ber- 

nays. In: Standard Edn.,* 7. 1953. (Original: "Die Freud'sche Psy- 
choanalytische Methode." 1904.) 

-. The Future of an Illusion. Translated by W. D. Robson-Scott. 



London, 1928. (International Psycho-Analytical Library, 15.) (To 
appear in the Standard Edn.,* 21.) (Original: Die Zukunft einer 
Illusion. 1927.) 

* The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, 
translated under the general editorship of James Strachey. London. 

345 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 



. The Interpretation of Dreams. Translated by James Strachey. 

Standard Edn.,* 4, 5. 1953. (Original: Die Traumdeutung. 1900.) 
-. Jokes and Their Relation to the Unconscious. Standard Edn.,* 



8. 1960. (Original: Der Witz und seine Beziehung zum Unbe- 
wussten. 1905.) 

-. "Obsessive Acts and Religious Practices." Translated by R. C. 



McWatters. In: Standard Edn.,* 9. 1959. (Original: "Zwangshand- 
lungen und Religionsiibung," Z. ReligPsychoL, I (1907).) 

-. "On Beginning the Treatment (Further Recommendations on 



the Technique of Psycho-Analysis I)." In: Standard Edn.,* 12. 
1958. 

"On Psychotherapy." Translated by J. Bernays. In: Standard 



Edn.,* 7. 1953. (Original: "t)ber Psychotherapie." 1904.) 

. "The Origin and Development of Psychoanalysis." See "Five 

Lectures on Psycho-Analysis." 

-. "Psycho-Analytic Notes on an Autobiographical Account of a 



Case of Paranoia (Dementia Paranoides)." Translated by Alix and 
James Strachey. In: Standard Edn.,* 12. 1958. (Original: "Psycho- 
analytische Bemerkungen liber einen autobiographisch beschrie- 
benen Fall von Paranoia (Dementia Paranoides)." 1911.) 

The Psychopathology of Everyday Life. Translated by A. A. 



Brill. In: Basic Writings of Sigmund Freud. New York, 1938. (To 
appear in Standard Edn.,* 6.) (Original: Zur Psychopathologie des 
Alltagslebens. 1901.) 

-. "Recommendations to Physicians Practising Psycho-Analysis." 



Translated by Joan Riviere. In: Standard Edn.,* 12. 1958. (Orig 
inal: "Ratschlage fur den Arzt bei der psychoanalytischen Be- 
handlung." 1912.) 

-. Sammlung kleiner Schriften zur Neurosenlehre. Vienna, 1906- 



22. 5 vols. (Mostly translated in Collected Papers, q.v.) 

"Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality/' Translated by 



James Strachey. Standard Edn.,* 7. 1953. (Original: Drei Abhand- 
lungen zur Sexualtheorie. 1905.) 

FROBENIUS, LEO. Das Zeitalter des Sonnengottes. Vol. I (no more pub 
lished). Berlin, 1904. 

FURST, EMMA. "Statistical Investigations on Word-Associations and 
on Familial Agreement in Reaction Type among Uneducated Per- 

346 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 

sons/' In: C. G. JUNG (ed.). Studies in Word-Association. Trans 
lated by M. D. Eder. London, 1918; New York, 1919. 

FURTMULLER, CARL. "Wandlungen in der Freud'schen Schule," Zbl. 
Psychoan.,111 (1912-13), 189-201. 

GOETHE, JOHANN WOLFGANG VON. Faust: Part One. Translated by 
Philip Wayne. (Penguin Classics.) Harmondsworth, 1956. 

. Werke. (Gesamtausgabe.) Edited by Ernst Beutler. Zurich, 

1948-54. 24 vols. (For the poem quoted on p. 315, see Vol. II, p. 43.) 

HARTMANN, CARL ROBERT EDUARD VON. Philosophy of the Uncon 
scious. Translated by W. C. Coupland. London, 1931. 

HASLEBACHER, J. A., "Psychoneurosen und Psychoanalyse," Corre- 
spondenzblatt fur Schweizer Arzte (Basel), XL:7 (Mar. i, 1910). 

HOCHE, ALFRED E. "Eine psychische Epidemic unter Aerzten," Med. 
Klinik, VI (1910), 1007-10. 

HORACE. Satires, Epistles, and Ars Poetica. With an English transla 
tion by H. Rushton Fairclough. (Loeb Classical Library.) London 
and New York, 1929. 

JAMES, WILLIAM. Pragmatism. London and Cambridge (Mass.), 1907. 

JANET, PIERRE. Les Nevroses. Paris, 1898. Later edn., 1909. 

JONES, ERNEST. "Freud's Theory of Dreams,'* Amer. J. PsychoL, XXI 
(1910), 283-308. 

. On the Nightmare. (International Psycho-Analytical Library, 

20.) London, 1931. 

. "Remarks on Dr Morton Prince's article 'The Mechanism and 



Interpretation of Dreams/ " /. abnorm. Psychol.,V (1910-11), 328 

. Sigmund Freud: Life and Work. London, 1953-57. 3 vols. 

(Also pub. New York separately. Refs. are to the London edn.) 
JORGER, J. "Die Familie Zero," Arch. Rass. u. GesBiol. (Leipzig and 

Berlin), II (1905), 494~559- 
JUNG, CARL GUSTAV. "The Association Method." In: Experimental 

Researches. (Collected Works, 2.*) (Alternative source: Collected 

Papers on Analytical Psychology, q.v.) 
. Collected Papers on Analytical Psychology. Edited by Con- 

* For details of the Collected Works of C. G. Jung (especially volumes yet unpub 
lished, cited here without date) see the end of this volume. 

347 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 



stance Long, translated by various persons. London, 1916; 2nd 
edn., London, 1917, New York, 1920. 

-. "The Familial Constellations." In: Experimental Researches. 



(Collected Works, 2.*) (Alternative source: Collected Papers on 
Analytical Psychology, q.v.) 

. "New Paths in Psychology." In: Two Essays on Analytical Psy 
chology, q.v. 

-. "On Psychic Energy." In: The Structure and Dynamics of the 



Psyche. (Collected Works, 8.) 1960. 

-. "On Psychological Understanding." In: The Psychogenesis of 



Mental Disease, q.v. 

-. "Psychic Conflicts in a Child." In: The Development of Per 



sonality. (Collected Works, 17.) 1954. 

The Psychogenesis of Mental Disease. (Collected Works, 3.) 



1960. 

"Psychological Aspects of the Mother Archetype." In: The 



Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious. (Collected Works, 9, 
part i.) 1959. 

Psychological Types. (Collected Works, 6.*) (Alternative 



source: translation by H. G. Baynes, London and New York, 1923.) 

. Psychology and Alchemy. (Collected Works, 12.) 1953. 

-. "The Psychology of Dementia Praecox." In: The Psychogene- 



sis of Mental Disease, q.v. 

-. "Psychology of the Transference." In: The Practice of Psycho 



therapy. (Collected Works, 16.) 1954. 

Studies in Word- Association. In: Experimental Researches. 



(Collected Works, 2.*) (Alternative source: Studies in Word-Asso 
ciation. . . . under the direction of C. G. Jung. Translated by 
M. D. Eder. London, 1918; New York, 1919.) 

. Symbols of Transformation. (Collected Works, 5.) 1956. 

. Two Essays on Analytical Psychology. (Collected Works, 7.) 



. Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido. Leipzig and Vienna, 

1912. 
KUHN, FRANZ FELIX ADALBERT. Mythologische Studien. Gutersloh, 

1886-1912. 2 vols. 
MAEDER, ALFRED. "Contributions & la psychologic de la vie quoti- 

348 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 

dienne," Arch. Psychol. Suisse rom., VI (1906-7), 148 ff., and VII 
(1907-8), 283 ff. 

. "Essai d'interprtation de quelques reves," Arch. Psychol. 

Suisse rom., VI (1906-7), 354 flE. 

. "Die Symbolik in den Legenden, Marchen, Gebrauchen und 

Traumen," Psychiat.-neurol. Wschr. (Halle), X (1908). 

MAYLAN, CHARLES E. Freuds tragischer Komplex: Eine Analyse der 
Psychoanalyse. Munich, 1929. 

MITCHELL, T. WEIR. Review of "Collected Papers on Analytical Psy 
chology," Proc. Soc. psych. Res.,, Lond., XXIX (1916), 191-95. 

MULLER-LYER, FRANZ. The Family. Translated by F. W. Stella 
Browne. London, 1931. (Original: Die Familie. 1912.) 

OPPENHEIM, H. "Thatsachliches und Hypothetisches iiber das Wesen 
der Hysteric," Berl. klin. Wschr., XXVII (1890), 553. 

PAGE, H. W. "Shock from Fright." In: HACK TUKE. Dictionary of Psy 
chological Medicine. London, 1892. 

. Injuries of the Spine and Spinal Cord without Apparent 

Mechanical Lesions, and Nervous Shock Their Surgical and 
Medico-Legal Aspects. London and Philadelphia, 1883. 

PETERS, WILHELM. "Gefiihl und Erinnerung." In: EMIL KRAEPELIN. 
Psychologische Arbeiten. Leipzig and Berlin, 1914. (Vol. 6, pt. 2, 
pp. 197-260.) 

PRINCE, MORTON. The Dissociation of a Personality. New York and 
London, 1906. 

. "The Mechanism and Interpretation of Dreams," /. abnorm. 

Psychol.,V (1910-11), 139-95. 

PUTNAM, JAMES J. "Personal Impressions of Sigmund Freud and His 
Work, with special reference to His Recent Lectures at Clark Uni 
versity/' /. abnorm. Psychol.., IV (1909-10), 393, 372. 

. "Personliche Erfahrungen mit Freud's psychoanalytischer 

Methode," Zbl. Psychoan., I (1910-11), 533-48. 

RANK, OTTO. The Myth of the Birth of the Hero. Translated by Wil 
liam Alanson White. (Nervous and Mental Disease Monograph 
Series, 18.) New York, 1914. 

. "Ein Traum, der sich selbst deutet," Jb. psychoanal. psycho 
path. Forsch., II (1910), 465-540. 

RIKLIN, FRANZ. Wishfulfilment and Symbolism in Fairy Tales. Trans- 

349 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 

lated by William Alanson White. (Nervous and Mental Disease 

Monograph Series, 21.) New York, 1915. 
SADGER, ISIDOR, "Analerotik und Analcharakter," Die Heilkunde 

(Vienna), Feb. 1910. 
SALLUST (C. Sallustius Crispus). [Works.] With an English translation 

by J. C. Rolfe. (Loeb Classical Library.) London and New York, 

1921. 

SAVILL, AGNES. "Psychoanalysis/' Med. Pr., CLII (1916), 446-48. 
SCHOPENHAUER, ARTHUR. Transcendent Speculations on the Apparent 

Design in the Fate of the Individual Translated by David Irvine. 

London, 1913. (Original: "Uber die anscheinende Absichtlichkeit 

im Schicksale des Einzelnen," Sdmmtliche Werke, ed. Julius Frau- 

enstadt, 2nd edn., Leipzig, 1877, Vol. V [Parerga und Paralipo- 

mena> Vol. II], 222-23.) 

SHAW, GEORGE BERNARD. Man and Superman. London, 1903. 
SILBERER, HERBERT. "Phantasie und Mythos," Jb. psychoanal. psycho 
path. Forsch., II (1910), 541-622. 
. Problems of Mysticism and Its Symbolism. Translated by 

Smith Ely Jelliffe. New York, 1917. 
SOMMER, ROBERT. Familienforschung und Vererbungslehre. Leipzig, 

1907. 
SPIELMEYER, WALTER. Untitled note in ZbL Nervenheilk., XXIX 

(1906), 322-24. 
SPIELREIN, SABINA. "Uber den psychologischen Inhalt eines Falls von 

Schizophrenic," Jb. psychoanal. psychopath. Forsch., Ill (1912), 

329-400. 
STEINTHAL, HEYMANN. "Die Sage von Simson," Z. VolkerpsychoL 

Sprachw., II (1861), 129-78. 
STEKEL, WILHELM. "Ausgange der psychoanalytischen Kuren," ZbL 

Psychoan., Ill (1912-13), 175-88. 

. Die Sprache des Traumes. Wiesbaden, 1911. 

VIGOUROUX, A., and JUQUELIER, P. La Contagion mentale. (Bibli- 

otheque Internationale de psychologic.) Paris, 1904. 
ZIERMER, MANFRED. "Genealogische Studien iiber die Vererbung 

geistiger Eigenschaften," Arch. Rass.- u. GesBioL, V (1908), 178- 

220, 327-63. 



350 



INDEX 



INDEX 



abasia, 5 

Abraham, Karl, 100, 122, 211, 220 

abreaction, 11, 14, go, 254, 258, 262 

accidents, 223; apparent, 216; and 
emotional development, 177, 179; 
hysteria and, go 

activity, and passivity, 274 

Acts of the Apostles, 53 

adaptation, 137, 182, 186^ 248; ab 
normal, 249; failure in, 250; in 
fantile, 137; new, and neurosis, 
246; psychological, 271, 274; re 
duced, in neurotics, 191; resistance 
to, infantile, 249; transference 
and, 199, 285 

Adler, Alfred, 48, 87, 240, 247, 276, 
285,291/^328,335 

advice, 231 

affection, need for, 114 

affects: aetiological significance in 
hysteria, lof; blocking of, 12, 90; 
children's, intensity of, 152; dis 
placement of, 13; effects of trau 
matic, i2/; in normal persons, 11; 
retardation of development of, 
130 

affluxes, libidinal, 126 

Agamemnon, 154 

aims, and causes, 291 f 

albumen, 331 

alchemists, 326 

altruism, 282 

ambivalence: of father-imago, 321; 
of instincts, 283 

America: cross symbol in, 210; psy 
choanalysis in, 88 

amnesia: of childhood/ infantile, 
117, i63/; neurotic, 164 



Amsterdam Congress (1907), 31771 

anal eroticism, 20, 21, 76 

analogy, 240 

analysis, 250; fantasy invention dur 
ing, 184; first stage, ig4/; second 
stage, 197, 200; of transference, 
194$; see also dream-analysis; psy- 
chanalysis; psychoanalysis 

analyst: analysis of, ig8/, 235, 253, 
260, 274; fear of loss of, 63; inter 
ference by, 272, 275; loss of bal 
ance by, 235; personality of, 198^ 
260, 274, 277; possibility of deceiv 
ing, 280; procedure of, 272; rela 
tion to patient, 193, 235, 285; re 
quirements for, 202; resistances of, 
187; transference relation to, 191, 
see also transference 

analytical psychology, 229 

anamnesis, 97; and psychoanalysis, 
2 3o/, 271 

anarchy, 283 

ancestor-columns, 222 

anchorite, 121 

Andennatt, 35$ 

animals, 242; artistic impulse in, 123; 
gradual change in reproductive 
principles, 123; hypnosis in, 262; 
laziness in, 208; and remembered 
impressions, 179; social sense in, 
278; training of, 182 

Annunciation, 54 

ant, queen, 315 

anthroposophy, 326 

antlers, 287 

anxiety attacks, 162 

apathy, neurotic, 113 

aphonia, 5, 69, 70 

"apothecaries' messes," 260 



353 



INDEX 



appetite, loss of, 248 

archetype, 315^ 32 2/; of father, 321, 
322 

artistic instinct, in animals, 123 

ascetic practices, 337 

Aschaffenburg, Gustav, %ff f ion, 304 

Asmodeus, 322, 32371 

association(s): chains of, and com 
plex, 16; concordant, in families, 
136; and dreams, 17, i43/; and 
dream material, 238; free, 15, 58/; 
and number dreams, 49; and re 
pression, 92 

association experiments, 233; and 
families, 136, 304; and neurosis, 
181; and psychanalysis, 7; and un 
conscious, 148 ff 

assumptions: basic, 340; uncon 
scious, 336 

asthma, nervous, 162 

astro-mythology, 210 

attitude: change of, and conflict, 
266; infantile, 249; patient's, to in 
terpretation, 236; and reaction- 
type, 305; religious and philosoph 
ical, 241; see also emotional atti 
tude 

attraction, 125/ 

attributes, personification of, 40^ 

aufsitzen, 3872, 4772 

augur, a6o/, 267 

authority: faith in, 282, 283; submis 
sion to, 284 

auto erotism, 108 

automatisms, unconscious psychic, 
and hysteria, 10 

autonomy: individual, 283, 284; 
moral, 288, 289 

auto-suggestion, 6f f 90 

B 

Baader, 326 

baptism, i46/, 148 
barbarism, 239 
Barlach, Ernst, 339 
barn, 35^ 
Bataks, 222 



bathing-place, 

bed-wetting, see enuresis 

Bergson, Henri, 248, 287 

Bernheim, H., 254 

Bible, 53, 55 

bicycle, 218 

Binet, Alfred, 57 

Binswanger, Ludwig, 10 8c n, 60 

biography, 324 

biology, 337 

Bircher, 265 

bird(s), 287, 315, 321 

blackmail, 205, 208, 209 

black man (dream-symbol), 3i8/ 

bladder, irritation of, and dreams, 

31,318 

Bleuler, Eugen, 40, 57, 5872, 229 
"blinded," 7o/, 72 
blinding, 319 
Boas, F., 211 
body-openings, 127 
Breuer, Josef, 10, 11, 90^ 254; "Anna 

O." case, 11; Studies on Hysteria, 

11, i2n,34, 89, 92, 258 
bridge, 1417 
Brill, A. A., 56, 32371 
brooding, 185 
bull, 217 
butterfly (-ies), 105, 117 



cab, 96 

Carus, K. G., 326 

castration complex, 151 

caterpillar(s), 105, 117, 118 

catharsis /cathartic method, 259/7 
and hysteria, go/; and neurosis, 14, 
254/; psychoanalysis and, 271, 274 

Catherine of Siena, St., 28 

Catholic Church, 284 

cats, 6Sff, 72 

causalism, 284 

causality: and dreams, 26; need for, 
and fantasy formation, 173; psy 
chology and, 292, 295 

cause(s): and aims, 29 if; first, 295 

cave, 7o/ 



354 



INDEX 



censor, 29, 31,43 

chance, and psychoanalysis, 272, 275, 
278, 282 

Charcot, J.-M., 8gf 

chestnuts, 40, 41 

childbirth, 103 

children: parental influences on, 
135$7 sexuality in, 94, 98^ see also 
sexuality 

Christ, 32on 

Christianity, 277, 286, 289, 327 

Christian Science, 230, 255, 260, 265, 
326 

Church, the, ig2/; see also Catholic 
Church 

church-spire, 214 

Cicero, 111 

civilization, 283, 288; history of, sym 
bols in, 293 

Claparede, Edouard, 45, 120, 248 

Clark University, 57 

Cleanthes, 303 

climacteric, 306^ 

Clytemnestra, 154 

coercion, 284 

cognition, theory of, 165, 296 

Columbus, Christopher, 102 

compensation, 155 

complex(es): association experiment 
and, 181; father-, Freud's, 339; 
feeling-toned, 26; nuclear, 157, 
245/; resolution of, i$fj tendency 
to reproduction, 16; see also cas 
tration complex; Electra complex; 
incest complex; Oedipus complex; 
parental complex 

complex indicators, 148 

"components/' of sexuality, 109, 111 

conation, 125 

condensation, ssj, 62 

7 UJ 7 

confession, 192^ 205/; formulas of, 
40; subjective, psychology as, 336 

conflict(s), 129, 157; actual, 181; 
child and adult, 157; external and 
internal solutions, 266/; infantile, 
245; instinct /conventional moral 
ity, 267; love/duty, 267; moral, 
259> * 6 3* 282 



consciousness: and adaptation, 240; 
individual, and unconscious, 315; 
infantile, 164; and infantile atti 
tude, struggle, 320; not whole of 
psyche, 66, 140; primitive, 319; 
psyche and, 340; psychological de 
terminants of, 230 

constellation (s): affective, i6/; anal 
ysis of, in association experiment, 
18; of childhood sexuality, 99; psy 
chic, elements of, 26; unconscious, 
148 

contagion, psychic, 306 

context, importance in psychology, 6 

conversion of excitation, 12, 90 

coughing, 206 

cramps, 162 

creation, regression and, 180 

criticism of psychoanalysis, and per 
sonal undercurrents, 75 

cross, 210 

cryptomnesia, 55 

cucumber, 149 

culture, 198, 287; and nature, 213 

cure: faith and, 254; necessity to at 
tempt, 263 



D 



daemon, 514, 322; 

dark night of the soul, 331 

"decent," 256 

deception, of analyst, 275, 281 

degeneration /degeneracy, heredi 
tary, 91, 130 

delusions, 114 

dementia praecox, 4on, 244; infan 
tilism in, 129; libido in, 119$; 
mythology and, 225; psychoanaly 
sis and, 202; see also schizophre 
nia; Schreber case 

depressions, psychogenic, 162 

depth psychology, 57, 229 

desire, 125, 247; see also libido 

destiny: biological, 288; and psycho 
logical tendency, 136; source of, 
personification, 

determinants, 287 



355 



INDEX 



determination: causal and final, 296; 
unconscious, 158^ 

devil, 314, 32 in 

diagnosis of facts, experimental, 7 

digestive disorders, 248 

dinner-party, 32 

Dionysus, 41 

disgust, 19, 2 if 

disintegration, chemical, 128 

dissociation: inner, 291; psychic, and 
hysteria, 10 

divine, the, and father-imago, 315 

doctor, as analysand, 272 

dogma, 193, 241, 324^ 327 

"Dora analysis/' Freud's, 977 

dragon, 216; hero's fight with, 319 

dream(s), i43ft alleged absence of, 
234/; analysis of, see dream-analy 
sis; archaic thinking in, 241; 
Freud and, 14, 17, 25ft Freud's vs. 
Jung's views, 240, 330; and hys 
terics, 28; of incestuous cohabita 
tion, 280; interpreted by rumour, 
45; manifest and latent content, 
25; meaningfulness of, 25/; no 
fixed meanings, 236, 238; and 
number fantasies, 48ft and par 
ticular theories, 280; and past ex 
periences, 143^; prospective func 
tion, 20O/, 238; psychoanalysis of, 
see dream-analysis; and reminis 
cence, 149; in second stage of 
analysis, 200; sexuality in, 238ft as 
subliminal picture of dreamer's 
waking state, 240; suggested, 275; 
symbolism in, 252; technique of 
elucidation, 144; teleological sig 
nificance, 201, 214; unconscious 
origin, 144; undisguised, 280; use 
in analysis, 273; as wish-fulfilment, 
27, 62ft see also fear; resistance; 
INSTANCES OF DREAMS (in order of 
occurrence in text): black-clothed 
man dragging woman over preci 
pice, 2g/; need to urinate felt in 
presence of Pope Pius X, 31; girls' 
bathing expedition and journey 



with teacher, 35ft season ticket 
numbered 2477, 48/; gambling on 
number 152, 50; analyst's bill with 
interest, 50^; "Luke 137," 53; Jew 
ess drinking whisky, 61; toiling up 
hill, 62; rocky path and hammer 
ing with stone, 64; woman alone 
in ballroom, theatre, etc., 66/; cats 
and wild man on rocky path, 68/; 
gnomes in cave, 7o/; exhibitionist 
in grey suit, i72/; girl bitten by 
wolf while looking for strawber 
ries, 209/7 tall girl who meets 
policeman, 214; house on fire, 215; 
stork in fir-wood, 220; fire in hotel, 
236; mounting stairs with mother 
and sister, 237; lady in lascivious 
situation with Dr Jung, 279; black 
snake seeking to bite boy's face, 
318; black man on boy's bed, 318 

dream-analysis, 31, 234; method, 
i44ft 234 

dream-material, 27, 145; many-sided 
ness of, 236 

dream-thought and content, confu 
sion, 62, 64 

drives, sexual, plurality of, 108; see 
also instinct (s) 

drowning, 221 

Dubois, Paul, 15 & n, 184, 231, 259, 
270 

duplication, of personalities, 40 

duty(-ies), i86/; biological, 287, 288; 
and love, conflict, 267; neglected, 
and dreams, 238 

dyspepsia, 248 



356 



Edda, 216 

Eddy, Mary Baker, 32671 

education: moral, 213; and neurosis, 
213; psychoanalysis and, ig6/; psy 
choanalytic, 79; social, 328 

educative method, 15 



INDEX 



ego: "place of fears," 340; relation to 

non-ego, 294 
egoism: and altruism, 282; childish, 

233 

elan vital, 248 

Electra complex, 154^ 168, 245 

electricity, 269 

electromagnetism, 124 

elephant, 149 

emotional attitude, infantile, and 

neurosis, 137 
emotional rapport, lack of, i ig/ 

empathy, 190, 264^ 277, 285, 286 

encasement, 165 

"end of the world/' 120 

energic viewpoint, 247 

energy, 124; conservation of, 109, 
111, 112, 115, 247, 296; hypotheti 
cal idea of, 124; physical, and 
libido, compared, 124; psychic, 
121, 122, 247, 285, 337; single, in 
physics, 111 

enlightenment, sexual, 8, 219, 224 

Ennemoser, J., 326 

enthusiasm, 274 

enuresis, 256^ 262, 317 

environment: culture and, 287; see 
also neurosis 

envy, patient's, of analyst, 50 

erection, in children, 100 

erogenous zones, 108 

Eros, 122ft, 285 

eroticism: in analysis, 195; see also 
anal eroticism 

error, value of, 200 

Eschimayer, 326 

ethnopsychology, 203 

evolution, 123 

exaltations, psychogenic, 162 

excitation: retention of, 90; see also 
affect, blocking of 

excitement, suppressed, 318 

exhibitionist, i72/ 

expectation, 286, 318 

expediency, 263, 265, 267, 269 

experience, inner, 32071 

expression, true, 334 

extraversion, 331 



"faculties," psychic, 111, 114 

fairytales, 2i5/ 

faith, 339; in authority, 282, 289; 
patient's, 254^ s6o/ 

Falke, Konrad, 79 

family: analyst assimilated to, 194; 
conformity of reaction type in, 
136; father's significance in, 303^; 
reaction- types in, 3O4/ 

family milieu, and neurosis, 135$ 

family romance, 301, 338, 339 

fanaticism, 269 

fantasy (-ies) : aetiological significance, 
188, 245, 2487; artificiality of, 183; 
bondage to, 182; cessation of, 188; 
conscious, 139, 151; defecation, 
2O/; in dementia praecox, 120; of 
father in obscene attitude, 173; in 
hysterics, 19$, 130$; infantile, 138, 
249; , transference and, 283; 
murderous, 146; and neurosis, 157, 
244; neurotic, evaluation of, iSsff; 
in neurotics, 138; patient's atti 
tude to, i85/; perverse, in case of 
hysteria, i72/; "reality" of, 183/7 
reasons for inventing, i74/; sex 
ual, in children, 103; and sexual 
function, 103; transference, erotic, 
279, 285; traumatic effect of, 96, 
97/; unconscious, 138, i%gff, 151$; 
, origin of, 152$; value of, 188; 
see also incest fantasies 

fantasy activity, excessive, 133; see 
also hypnosis 

fantasy systems, unconscious, ii3/ 

fate, of child, restricted to parents, 

152 

father: analyst as, 284; animal, 319; 
and personification of destiny, 
315; relation to, and neurosis, 
303; significance of, 30 1#; wolf as 
symbol of, 2ii/; see also Oedipus 
complex; parents 

father-imago, see imago 

Faust, see Goethe 

fear, 318; dream as fulfilment of, 60, 



357 



INDEX 



fear (cont.): 

62, 70; of father, 2iiff, see also 
father; and hypnosis, 262; in Ju 
daism, 32071 

fertilization: chance and assured, 
123; child's theories of, 221 

fever, 185 

fig-tree, barren, 54 

finality, 295 

finger-sucking, 106, 212 

fire, dream-symbol, 215, 236 

firewood, 62 

flesh and spirit, balance, 340 

Flournoy, Theodore, 55, 57 

folie a deux, 316 

folklore, 146, 324 

"fonction du re'el," 120 

food, and mother, 153 

Fordham University, 87 

Forel, Auguste, 252, 275 

forgetfulness, and inhibition, 32 

forgetting, 6, 92 

foster-children, 168 

Frank, Ludwig, 254, 261, 265 

freedom, 270, 287 

Freud, Sigmund, 40, 56, 64, 74, 76, 
85, 88, 104, 105, 122, 130, 132, 137, 

148, l6l, l8o, 190, 200, 211, 225, 

229, 252, 275/, 290, 324$; on analy 
sis of one's own dreams, 252; de 
velopment of his views, iSff; "Dora 
analysis," 977; and dreams, z$ff, 
2Oo/, 240; German criticism of, 
57/; and incest complex, 156; and 
infantile sexuality /sexual trau 
mata, 13, 94/., 98, 114, 118; and 
latency period, i64/; and libido 
concept, 111; "Lucy R." case, 93; 
misunderstandings of, 167; and 
number symbolism, 48; and paren 
tal complex, 135; and regression, 
163, 168; on relationship to father, 
33 3*5; ai *d repression, 9i/; and 
Schreber case, 119; theory of hys 
teria/neurosis, $ff, ioff f 22, go/, 
243^ 259; and transference, 283; 
and unconscious, 140, 141; see also 
sexuality; WORKS: "Analysis of a 



Phobia in a Five-year-old Boy," 
31771; "Bruchstiick einer Hysteric- 
analyse," 371; "Charakter und Ana- 
lerotik," 76; Collected Papers, 
9477; "The Defence Neuro-Psycho- 
ses/' 12, 13; The Ego and the Id, 
340; "Five Lectures on Psycho- 
Analysis," 5777; "Fragment of an 
Analysis of a Case of Hysteria," 
377, 977, 1472, 17, 18, 23, 24; "Freud's 
Psycho-Analytic Procedure," 1477; 
The Future of an Illusion, 335; The 
Interpretation of Dreams, 14, 17, 

S5& 34> 5 8 > 335 >' "J okes and their 
Relation to the Unconscious," 34; 

"Obsessive Acts and Religious 
Practices," 3 2 on; "On Beginning 
the Treatment," 27277; "On Psy 
chotherapy," 1471; "Psycho-Analy 
tic Notes on an Autobiographical 
Account of a Case of Paranoia," 
11971; Psychopathology of Every 
day Life,, 150; "Recommendations 
to Physicians Practising Psycho- 
Analysis," 25371; Sammlung klei- 
ner Schriften zur Neurosenlehre f 
9471; Studies on Hysteria, 11, 1277,, 
13, 34, 89, 92, 9377; "Three Essays 
on Sexuality," 17, 18, 100, 111, 
118, 122, 143, 166, 168 

friendship, 286 

Frobenius, L., 211 

function(s): development from re 
productive instinct, 123; especially 
a final concept, 296; four, 331; im 
mature and developed, 116; psy 
chological, necessary, 293; reli 
gious, 339; see also nutritive func 
tion; reality function 

Fiirst, Emma, 304^ 136 

Furtmiiller, C., 



358 



Galileo, 102 

gametes, reduction in number, 123 
genital organs, and sexuality, 108 
German army, 31777 



INDEX 



Germans, 158 

Germany, 166, 295; Freudian theory 
and, 57/, 95 

"getting stuck," 133, 180, 181, 189, 
*99> 235 

girls: hysteria in, lyi/; Oedipus com 
plex in, 153 

glands, genital, 295 

gnomes, 70 

God, 32171,327, 340 

gods, 156 

Goethe, J. W. von, 315; Faust, 26ft 
65, 77, 85, 265, 338 

grandfather, 32371 

Gregory, Dr, 87 

Gross, Otto, 30471 

Gulliver situation, 70, 72 



H 



habits, bad, in children, 106, 108, 

213, 244 

hammering, 64^ 72 
hand, 127 

Hartmann, C. R. E. von, 140, 326 
Haslebacher, J. A., 7671 
headaches, 205 
healing, need of, 328 
heaven, kingdom of, 277 
hebephrenia, 129 
hedonism, 29 if 
Hermes, 40 

hero-dragon myth, 2 16, 319 
Hinkle, Beatrice, 153 
Hoch, August, 56 
Hoche, Alfred E., 57 & n 
homosexuality, 108, log/, 112 
hope, 286 

Horace, 302, 32272, 32371 
horse(s): American Indians and, 240; 

trotting, shock from, 97, 131, 158^ 
hotel (dream-symbol), 236 
human situation, original, 315, 319 
hunger, 107, 111, 123; importance in 

psychology, 4 
hypnosis /hypnotism, 89, 231, 254$, 

278; as auxiliary to psychoanalysis, 

262; light and total, 259, 261; and 



reminiscences, 92; see also sugges 
tion 

hypnotists, French, 326 

hysteria, 130, 168, 248; applicability 
of Freudian view to, 23; cause and 
symptom in, io/; and childhood 
trauma, 89, 94; fantasy-activity in, 
19; Freudian theory, loft , 
Aschaffenburg and, 3ft , histori 
cal survey of, loff; and hidden 
thought-processes, 60; psychogene- 
sis of, 90; as psychogenic illness, 4, 
10, 102; and sexuality, 4^ 13, 19, 94; 
traumatic, limits of, 5; in young 
girls, i7ift see also affects; neuro 
sis; suggestion 



idea(s), 333; gained in analysis, use 
of, 279; initial, as symbol of com 
plex, 16; subjective, 333^ 

ideal, identity with, 68 

identification: of analyst with pa 
tient, 179; of children with par 
ents, i35/ 

images, psychic, 332 

imago: father-, 315, 321; parental, 

*34> ^o 

imitativeness, 135 

immoral impulses, 288 

immortality, 27, 142 

impotence, 54/ 

impressions: conditioned by predis 
position, 177; early, 136; , sus 
pect reality of, 179 

incest, 155, 156, 157, 222; complex, 
207, 210; see also Oedipus com 
plex; fantasies, 208, 237, 239; ta 
boo, 247 

incest barrier, 156, 247 

independence, child's desire for, 306 

Indians, American, 240 

indignation, uselessness of, 100 

individual, variability of, 292 

individualization, urge to, 284 

individual psychology, 328 

indolence, 207, 289 



359 



INDEX 



inertia, 207, 249 

infantile-insubordinate type, 285 
infantile level, reversion to, 170^ 
infantile-obedient type, 285 
influences, parental, on children, 

135/F 

inhibition, mental, 32 

initiation, rites of, 146, 337, 339, 340 

insight: and emotions, 138; gained 
in analysis, use of, 279 

instinct(s), 336; ambivalence of, 283; 
co-existence in child, 107; multi 
plicity/plurality of, 126, 165; nu 
tritive, 248; preformed, 315; pri 
mary, 328; sexual, in, see also 
sexuality 

insurance money, and hysteria, 5 

intelligence test, 271, 274 

intention, unconscious, 161 

interest, i2O/, 232, 286; erotic, 12O/ 

interpretations: complete, some 
times unwise, 235/; Freudian, al 
leged arbitrary character, 6, 230; 
in Freudian analysis, 15,* use as 
symbols in later dreams, 280; see 
also dreams 

intestinal canal, 222 

intra-uterine period, 105 

introversion, 133*1, 180, 331; of li 
bido, 187 

intuition, 215 

inventiveness, 183 

investment, libidinal, of analyst, 285 

irresponsibility, 289 

irritability, no 

Isis, 40 

isolation, moral, 192 

Isserlin, M., 5871 



jack-in-the-box, 222 

James, William, 86, 291 

Janet, Pierre, 10, 57, 11371, 120, 130, 

248, 250 

jealousy, 114, 154, 172 
Jehovah, 32072, 339; see also Yahweh 



Jelliffe, Smith Ely, 86 

Jewess, 6 if 

Job, Book of, 321 

John, Gospel of, 340 

Jonah, 210 

Jones, Ernest, 377, ion., 56 and n, 

64,73, 211,30471 
Jorger, J., 3037* 

Journal of Abnormal Psychology, 57 
Judaism, 32071 
Jung, Carl Gustav: 

CASES IN SUMMARY (in order of 

presentation, numbered for ref 

erence): 
[i] Psychotic hysteric, with com 

pulsive defecation fantasies. 

20/ 

[2] Young woman, suffering from 
hysteria after fright from cab- 
horses. $6f, 130$, 158$ 

[3] Young man, returned to ho 
mosexuality after disappoint 
ment in love. 109, 112 

[4] Two sisters, illustrating diffi 
culties of engagement period. 



360 



[5] Schoolgirl, "blackmailed" by 
boy fellow-pupil after making 
fun of teacher. 205^ 
[6] Neurotic, in late thirties, with 
resistance to his professional 
work. 232 

[7] Woman, 40, who developed 
neurotic lack of interest after 
childbearing period. 232 
[8] Peasant woman, thanked Dr 
Jung for his "decency" after 
hypnotic treatment. 256 
[9] Girl, enuretic, with romantic 

approach to hypnosis. 256 
[10] Woman, 65, with knee pains, 

"cured" by hypnosis. 257/ 
[n] Woman, 55, with climacteric 
neurosis, illustrating search for 
father-substitute in unsatisfac 
tory marriage. 306$ 
[12] Man, 34, with nervous stom 
ach trouble, illustrating effect of 



INDEX 



masochistic-homosexual rela 
tionship to father. 308^ 
[13] Woman, 36, with anxiety, de 
pression, and guilt-feeling for 
marrying against father's will. 



[14] Boy, 8, enuretic, illustrating 
over-dependence on mother and 
fear of father. 3 1 jff 
WORKS: "Association, Dream, and 
Hysterical Symptoms," yon; 
"The Association Method/' 
57n; Collected Papers on Ana- 
lytical Psychology, tfn; Diag- 
nostische Assoziationsstudien^ 
jn; "The Familial Constella 
tions/' 57n; "New Paths in Psy 
chology," 7971; "On Psychic En 
ergy," 33871; Psychiatric Studies, 
5571; "Psychic Conflicts in a 
Child," 46n, vfln, 218*1; "Psycho 
analyse und Assoziationsexperi- 
ment," 7n; "Psychoanalysis and 
Association Experiments," 7n; 
The Psychogenesis of Mental 
Disease, laorc; "Psychological 
Aspects of the Mother Arche 
type," 30371; Psychology and Al 
chemy, 32277; "The Psychology 
of Dementia Praecox," 34, 4071, 
i20/, 122; "Psychology of the 
Transference/' 19371; Studies in 
Word Association, 777, 2grr, 134; 
Symbols of Transformation, 
6Sn, 11 in, 11771, 12471, 151, 155, 

l8o, 211, 212, 2l8n, 22On, 22271., 

24071, 301, 303; Two Essays on 
Analytical Psychology, 7971, 9671, 
i6on; Wandlungen und Sym- 
bole der Libido, Son, 119, 301 



K 

Kant, Immanuel, 140, 296 
Kepler, J., 9, 267 
Kerner, J., 326 
knowledge, perfect, 225 



Kraepelin, Emil, 92, 304 
Kuhn, Adalbert, 220 



lability, i8$n 



361 



latency, sexual, 

law, criminal, 326 

laziness, 207/, 224, 274, 277 

least resistance, law of, 274, 277^ 281 

libido, i8/, 79/, no, 303; alimentary, 
118, 127; bisexuality of, 153; 
change in author's conception of, 
i22/; compulsion of, 209; conser 
vation of, ii^-ff; damming up of, 
163, 286; in dementia praecox, 
119$; desexualized, 125; displace 
ments of, abnormal, 121; dreams 
and use of, 200; energic theory, 
112 ff; excess of, and human acts, 
ii2/; fixation of, see fixation; 
genetic conception, 122^; a hy 
pothesis, 124; infantile, nature of, 
116; intensity, in children, 115, 
118; investment of, 19, 285; local 
ization of, 118; migration of, 127/; 
non-sexual conception of, n8/; 
primary and secondary, i25/; re 
gression of, see regression; re 
pressed, 223; sexual, introversion 
of, 12 if; sexualis, and hypnosis, 
262; splitting of, 170; transference 
to extra-familial object, 207; and 
unconscious, 114; unconscious, in 
analysis, 250; use of term, 111, 285; 
various forms, 125 

licentiousness, 79, 289 

Lidbeault, A.-A,, 326 

life, first and second half of, 331 

life-force, 125 

life-instinct, two modes of function 
ing, 105 

life-urge, 123 

light, 124 

literature, psychoanalytic: confusion 
in, 275; need of knowledge of, 273 

Little Red Ridinghood, 210 



INDEX 



locomotive, 296 

loneliness, 67 

Lourdes cures/water, 255, 260 

love, 32071; of analyst, 273/, 276, 286, 
see also transference; disappoint 
ments in, 248; infantile concep 
tion, 197 

Lowenfeld, L., 17 

Loy, R., Jung's correspondence with, 



M 



Maeder, Alfred, 34, 201, 211, 238 

maenads, 41 

magnetism, 326 

maieutics, 225 

Malthusianism, 126 

"mamma," 153 

"man as he really is," 197 

man, normal, 197 

Maria, Axiom of, 32271 

marriage difficulties, 233 

masculinity, premature, 318 

Mass, the, 3 2 on 

mass therapy, and psychanalysis, 17 

masturbation, 20, 21, 99, 106, 127, 
212, 214, 263; infantile, 164 

materialism, scientific, 291 

maturation, 111, 129 

maturity, 115; period of, 117 

Mayer, Robert, 109, 247 

Maylan, C. E., 32571 

mechanics, 124 

medicine, and psychoanalysis, 229 

medicine-man, 255 

megalomania, 179 

memories(-y), 134; continuity of, 117; 
lapses of, 150; see also reminis 
cences 

memory-reproduction, 164 

Mendel, Kurt, 76 

menstruation, in child, 100 

mental healing/healers, 230, 255, 
260 

mentality, infantile, 1 37^ 

mesmerism, 326 

metaphysical need, man's, 241 



362 



method(s): choice of, 266; Freudian, 
as auto-suggestion, 6/; , develop 
ment of, i4/; , and hysteria, 5/; 
, theoretical foundations, 15; 
psychoanalysis a, 271; psychoana 
lytic, 30/, 229; , purely empiri 
cal, 75 

Meyer, Adolf, 56 

Middle Ages, 283, 288 

Milan, 42, 44 

Mimallones, 41 

mimicry, 281 

mind, collective, 225 

misconceptions, patients', 272 

mistakes, 149, 279, 282 

misunderstanding, 336 

Mitchell, T. W., 295, 296 

Moleschott, J., 295 

Moltzer, Mary, 204 

money-box, 208 

money-making, 288 

Montessori, Maria, 278?! 

moral balance, dreams and restora 
tion of, 254 

moral defects, admission of, 235 

morality /morals: Aschaffenburg on, 
8; psych(o)analysis and, 78, 196, 
271, 288; religion and, 337; sexual, 
current, 288; transitoriness of 
forms of, 289 

Mosaic law, 32071 

mother(s): and child's fate, 303; cut 
ting open body of, 210; as food- 
giver, 153; significance to child, 
153; unmarried, 288; violation of, 
211; see also parents 

mountain-climber, 169 

Miiller-Lyer, 284 

Munchausen, Baron, 333 

murder, 155 

music, 123 

mysticism, 140, 339 

mythology, 210, 22O/, 225, 324, 330; 
and baptism, 146; psychoanalysis 
and, 202; and psychology, 203; 
sexual symbolism in, 23; and un 
conscious fantasies, 139, 151; see 
also astro-mythology 



INDEX 



myth(s): fertility, 216; solar, siio; 
therapeutic significance of, 319; 
see also hero-dragon myth. 



N 



natural selection, 103 

nature, collective, man's, 315 

nausea, 205, 222 

necessity, vital, 292 

nest, 287; building, 124, 315 

Neue Zilrcher Zeitung, 78 

neurosis (-es): aetiological factors in 
childhood, i2g/, 157$; association 
experiment and, 181; of child 
hood, 114, 157; and childhood en 
vironment, 135$; and childhood 
trauma, 89, 156; climacteric, 306; 
and displacements of libido, 121; 
energic viewpoint, 247; and fan 
tasies, 157; Freud's theory of, see 
Freud; introversion of libido and, 
122; Janet's view, 130; libido the 
ory of, 79/, 113; moment of out 
break, 246; no uniform direction 
in, 271, 274; obsessional, 12; and 
parental influence, 136; and past 
events, 91, 94, 244; predisposition 
and environment, 91^7 prospec 
tive explanation, 182; psychoanal 
ysis and, 184^ 231^; psychogenic, 
two groups, 12; purpose in histori 
cal elements of, 167; purposive- 
ness of, 185; and retardation of af 
fective development, 130; and 
unconscious constellation, 150; as 
unsuccessful attempt at self-cure, 
180, 250; see also hysteria 

neurotics: infantile sexuality of, 166; 
often spoiled as children, 137 

New Testament, 53 

Nietzsche, Friedrich, 291, 325 

Nicodemus, 340 

non-conscious psychic processes, 113^ 

"nothing but" psychology, 289 

numbers: mysticism of, 297; symbol 
ism of, 48$ 

nutritive function, 116, 125; impor- 



363 



tance, 104^; libido and, 127; and 
pleasure, 106; and sexual function, 
io5/, 127 



O 



occultism, 326 

Oedipus complex, 152$, 245, 247; 
and neurosis, 156, 168; reactiva 
tion of, 248; see also girls 

offspring, protection of, 103, 125/ 

Old Testament, 32071 

oneiromancy, 234 

one-sidedness, scientific, 107 

Oppenheim, H., 1 1 

opportunism, 263 

opposites: play of, 337; principle of, 

3*9 
oral zone, 116; see also nutritive 

function; sucking 
over-determination, 17 
overwork, 209 



Page, Herbert W., 89 

pain: avoidance of, 274, 278; hyster 
ical, 162 

Pallas Athene, 222, 330 

Paracelsus, 326 

paramnesia, 218 

parental complex, 133^ 182 

parents: detachment from, 154; in 
fluence of, and neurosis, 136; neu 
rotic, 137; slavery to, 316; see also 
Oedipus complex 

Paris, 310 

Parliament, English, 201 

parricide, 155 

parties supe'rieures et inferieures, 
248 

Passavant, J. K., 326 

passivity, see activity 

past: reversion to, 135; see also pres 
ent 

path, rocky, 64, 68, 7o/ 

pathology, 340 

patient: doctor as, 272; imitation of 



INDEX 



patient (cont.): 

analyst, 275; type of, and expedi 
ency, 263; use of ideas gained 
from analysis, 279 

patris potestas, 315 

Paul, St., 338 

personality: of analyst, see analyst; 
autonomous, destiny as, 314; disso 
ciation of, 61, 129; harmonious, 
271, 274; multiplication of, 4of; 
value of, 287; see also duplication; 
individual 

persuasion, 1577, 184 

perversion(s), 18, 19, 109, 128; and 
childhood "bad habits," 108; in 
fantile, ii4/, 126/, 244; see also 
polymorphous-perverse sexuality 

Peters, Wilhelm, 92 

Phales, 41 

phallus, winged, 220 

phases, three, of life, 117 

philosophy, and psychoanalysis, 229, 

241, 3^4 

phobia, of cats, 70 
phylogeny, of mind, 225 
physics, 109, 124, 165, 296 
Picus, 212 
pigs, 240 
Pius X, Pope, 31 
play: in animals, 104; with numbers, 

52 

pleasure, 106, 274, 278; and sexual 
ity, relation, 107, 154 

poem, meaning of, 146 

poetry, erotic symbolism in, 23 

polygamy, 32 

polymorphous-perverse sexuality, 
100, 107;, ii4/, 128, 164 

Pope, dream-figure, 31$ 

potential, difference of, 337 

pounding, see hammering 

power principle, 29 1/, 336 

predisposition, 96^7 see also neuro 
sis 

preformation, 3i5/ 

pregnancy, 103 

prepubertal stage, 117 

present: aetiological significance of, 



3 6 4 



166 ff; psychological, as result of 
past, 16, 26 

presentiments, 201 

preservation of species, and sexual 
ity, 104, 105 

presexual stage, 117; and libido, 118, 
127 

priest, 192 

primitives: amnesia among, 164; 
children among, 104; fears of, 209; 
imitativeness among, 135; incest 
among, 156, 208; and infantility, 
246; libido among, 155; religion 
and philosophy among, 241; and 
remembered impressions, 179; so 
cial sense in, 278; and taboos, 247 

prince, 206 

Prince, Morton, 56$ 

prism, 267/ 

procreation: divine, 340; infantile 
theories, 210 

projection: of erotic fantasies, in 
transference, 286; of moral defects 
on analyst, 235 

proof, difference of physical and psy 
chological, 74 

propagation, 287 

prophets, 32071 

Protestantism, 327 

psychanalysis, %ff; nature of, 14$; 
value as therapy, 8/ 

psyche: complexity of, 33 1/; not 
wholly conscious, see conscious 
ness; roots of hysteria in, 4; sexu 
ality in, 4; and somatic illness, 255 

psychoanalysis: and adaptation, 137; 
change in character, 190; criticism 
of, 74/; definition of, 27 1/; and 
dream interpretation, 59; failures 
of, 188; future uses, 202^; goal of, 
277; illustration of method, 31$; 
lay understanding of, 74, 80; and 
libido balance, 113; method of, 
139, 144^; misunderstandings re 
garding, i40/; need of moral effort 
to understand, 68; negative defini 
tion, 271, 274; prejudices against, 
230, 243; Prince's criticisms, 73; in 



INDEX 



sanatoria, 265; as science, 229; and 
other sciences, 202; scope of, 324; 
and self-knowledge, 48; and sexu 
ality, 79; suggestion in, 280, 281; 
suitability for, 266; and symptoms, 
184; technical application, 272; 
therapeutic effect, 190, 276; see 
also analysis; psychanalysis 

Psychoanalytical Society, 79 

psychocatharsis, 274; see also cathar 
sis 

psychology, 229; two types, 291; see 
also analytical psychology; depth 
psychology; individual psychology 

psychoneuroses, sexuality and, %ff 

puberty: and development of hys 
terical psychosis, 2i/; libido and, 
114; and objectification of sexual 
goal, 19; reactivation of childhood 
traumata at, 13 

puppy, 104 

purposiveness, 161 

Putnam, James J., 56, 57 



Quimby, Phineas P., 326 & n 
R 



Raguel, 

Raimann, Emil, 13 & n 

Rank, Otto, 145, 211 

Hatcher's Yearbook, 79 

ratiocinative method, 231 

reactions, value-predicate, 305 

reaction-types, similarity in families, 

34 
reactivation, of parental images, 248 

reactivity, 18371 

reality: adaptation to, enhanced, 
12 6; , loss of, 119, 120; disappear 
ance of, 121; flight from, 183; neu 
rotics and, 191; no loss of in neu 
roses, 121; soberness of, 274 

reality "function, and sexuality, 122/f 

reality principle, 334 

reconstruction stage, 262 



3 6 5 



recovery, motives for, 276 

reduction, 292 

reeducation de la volont6, 184 

reflexes, emotional, 248 

Reformation, 325, 327 

regression, 121-2277, 181, 207, 224, 
247, 303; conditions of, i69/; effect 
of, 178; end of, i88/; of libido, 
162^, 187, 248; teleological signifi 
cance, i79/ 

relapse, 6$f 

relationship: analyst-patient, 193, 
235, 285, see also transference; ex 
tra-familial, i95/; parent-child, 
137, 286, see also parents; transfer 
ence, see transference 

relatives, and association reactions, 

304 

religion, 330; in analysis, 241; com 
parative, 324; , psychoanalysis 
and, 202, 203; and dogma, 324; 
Freud and, 335; history of, and 
fantasies, 32072; infantile constel 
lations and, 31671; sacrifice in, 155; 
symbolism of, 337; unconscious 
fantasies and, 151; see also symbol, 
religious 

reminiscences, 11, 14, 134, 162, 168, 
248; and dreams, 145, 149; excited 
by hypnosis, 92; transformation 
into fantasies, 175 

repetition, significance of, 40 

repression, 12, giff, 99, 126; con 
scious, 93; and dreams, 28f; and 
hysteria, 19, 21; of Oedipus com 
plex, 156; sexual, God and, 32171 

reproduction, evolutionary change 
in principles, 123, 125/ 

reproductive organs, development 
of, 104 

resistance (s), no, 174, 235, 2&3/; of 
analyst, 187; to complex, 16, 154^; 
in dreams, sSff; hypnosis and, 262; 
to hysterical fantasies, 19; initial, 
in analysis, 195, 272; to sexual 
problem, 172; to wish-fulfilment, 
68; to work, 232 

retrogression, 239 



INDEX 



revenge, 73 

reversion, to infantile level, 170$ 
rhythmic movement, 127 
rigidity, spiritual, 193 
Rig-veda, 222 
Riklin, Franz, 7, s i 1 
ring, 160 
ritual, 146, 337 
river, 163 
Rome, 153 

Romulus and Remus, 2 1 2 
rumour: analysis by, 6$n; fantasy as, 
2ig/; psychology of, 35$ 



sacrifice, 151, 154, 155 

Sadger, I., 76, 77 

St. Petersburg, 96, 98 

Sallust, 111, 247 

salvation, 319 

Sara, 32 1/, 32371 

satyrs, 41 

Savill, Agnes, 295 

schizophrenia, 40^, 126; see also de 
mentia praecox 

schools, progressive, 271 

Schopenhauer, Arthur, 123, 156, 241, 
314^326 

Schreber case, 119$ 

science: and dogma, 325; and hy 
potheses, 339; and independence, 
269 

Scripture, Edward Wheeler, 56 

sea-monster, 210 

seasons, myth of, 217 

secrets, 192 

self-analysis, 199 

self -conquest, 197, 198 

self-control, 79 

self-criticism, 169, 261, 336 

self-cure, neurosis as, 180, 250 

self-knowledge, 58, 230, 270 

self-preservation, 104, 105, 123; de 
mentia praecox and, 12271; see also 
nutritive function 

self-sacrifice, 241 

sensitiveness, 171, 174$, 183; con- 



genital, 249; excessive, i76/; in 
born, 176; symptom of disunion, 
176 

sexuality: components of, mobility, 
i09/; concept of, 103^ 151; in 
dreams, 238$; fate of, and life's 
fate, 32071; formation of normal, 
128; and formation of psychoneu- 
roses, 3#, 13; Freud's concept, i8/, 
94/; importance of, 338; individ 
ual evaluation, 288; infantile, 99$, 
io2#, 1 14$, 338; , Freud and, 13;, 

*9> 7 6 /' 9 8 ^ 1L 4' l6 5fr > and libi - 
do, i26/; -, not perverse, 163; and 
libido, 125; mature and immature, 
118; monomorphic, 108; and nu 
trition, 296; in older persons, 287; 
and parental authority, 317; per 
mutations of, no; and pleasure, 
107; as plurality of drives, 108; 
polymorphous-perverse, see poly 
morphous-perverse sexuality; "re 
pressed," 196; and three phases of 
life, 117; see also hysteria; pleasure 

shame, 19, 2i/ 

Shaw, G. Bernard, 284 

sheikh, 32 . 

ship, see steamer 

shock, nervous, 89; see also trauma 

Silberer, Herbert, 211 

Sileni, 41 

sin, original, 316*2 

skin, 127 

Sleeping Beauty. 215$ 

slips: in association experiment, 149; 
of the tongue, 150 

smutty talk, 218 

snake, 222; and bird, 262; as dream 
symbol, 237, 3i8f 

Snow White, 217 

social sense, in animals and primi 
tives, 278 

Sommer, Robert, 30371 

somnambulism, 257 

soul, 327/; dark night of the, 331; 
naturally religious, 321 

spasmogenic zones, 108 

speech, inhibition of, 318 



INDEX 



Spielmeyer, Walter, 9 

Spielrein, $., 211 

spirit, 336, 340 

spiritualization, 180 

splitting of consciousness, 1 1 

spoiling of children, 137 

sprinkling, 146 

stag, 287 

stairs, dream-symbol, 237/ 

steamer, 35$ 

Steinthal, Heymann, 23, 220 

Stekel, Wilhelm, 48, 15671, 273^ 276, 

279 

Stern, 45 
stone(s), 64^ 72; burning, 215; 

Stork, 211, 212, 217, 2l8, 220 

strawberries, 209 

style of life, 136 

sublimation, 19, 126, 32on; religious, 



submissiveness, 155 

substitute formations, 183 

sucking, 127, 248; as sexual act, 
116 

suggestion (s), 95, 270, 280; and ca 
thartic method, 14; hypnotic, 184; 
and hysteria, 10, 89/, 255^7 invol 
untary, to patient, 279; and mor 
als, 271; psychoanalysis and, 230, 
270, 281; therapy, 230, 252, 254/; 
in waking and hypnoid states, 
254; see also auto-suggestion; hyp 
nosis 

sun, 210, 216, 267/; eclipse of, 113 

superego, 330, 339 

superstition, 234 

surgery, 80 

swearing, 311 

Swiss Psychiatric Society, 79 

Switzerland, 211 

sword, 214 

symbols, 148, 155, 202, 280; bisexual, 
212; double meaning of, 237, 291; 
dreams and, 330; effect of, emo 
tional, 215; ethnic and schizo 
phrenic, 202; functional impor 
tance, 293; interpretation of, 291; 



prospective meaning, 291; reli 
gious, 293 

symbolism: in dreams, 28, 59, 236^, 
252; of religion, 337; sexual, Freud 
and, 23/ 

symbolization, 279 

symptomatic actions, 150 

symptoms: evaluation of, 184; hys 
terical, as abnormal sexual activ 
ity, 22; , analysis of, 90/7 -, and 
trauma, 5, 91; neurotic, and li 
bido, 113; psychic, Freudian psy 
choanalysis as, 325; psychic origin 
of, 231; psychogenic, reality of, 162 



taboos, 247 

teacher, ^05^ 219, 223; dream-fig 
ure, 



367 



technique, psychoanalytic, 139, 229, 
250 

telepathy, 280 

terminology, sexual, 117$ 

Teutschen, 158 

theology, 339 

theory, lack of, in psychoanalysis, 
141 

theosophy, 326 

thunderstorm, 22of 

tityrs, 41 

Tobias, 322 

Tobit, Book of, 32 if 

tomboy, 159 

torture, 70^ 72 

tracts, 311 

train, Dionysian, 41 

trampling, 218 

transference, 190^ 264*1, 270, 277, 
283^; analysis of, 192, 193^; and 
faith, 26i/, 273; positive and nega 
tive, 283^; relationship, 192; reso 
lution of, 197^; unanalysed, 61; 
working against, 264 

trauma: childhood, g^ff; and hyste 
ria, 13, 89, 90, 243;, 258; intensity 
unimportant, 97; measurement of 
effect of, 178; past, and neurosis, 



INDEX 



trauma (cont.): 

91, 94; predisposition for, g6ff; 

real, child's part in producing, 

99/; as root of most neuroses, 4; 

sexual element in, g8/; theory, 

89$; criticism of, i$iff 
treading, 218 

treatment, individual, 270 
Trinity, 40 
trust, 286 
truth: pragmatic, 255, 265; relative 

and absolute, 267^, 271 
tuberculosis, aetiology of, 91 
twilight states, 11, 131, 133, 160 
types, 331, 337 



U 



uncertainty, science and, 325 

unconscious, 109, ii3/, 139$, 231, 
245; black as symbol of, 319; "can 
only wish," 14O/; collective, 302; 
definition, 92; depreciation of, 
331; parental influence and, 320; 
as source of dreams, 59; symbols 
and, 293; union with conscious, 
330; views of Adler, Freud, and 
Jung, 330; see also fantasies 

unconsciousness, original sin, 317 

understanding, 194 

unity, 241 

urination, need for, dream of, 31, 33 

urine: and fertilization, 22i/; pres 
sure of, 318 

usury, 289 



verbal expression, 17 
Viennese school, 151, 284, 291 
Vigouroux, A., and Jaquelier, P., 
on 



vitalism, 125 



W 



wands, magic, 222 

washing mania, 

water, and baptism, 146 

Watts, G. F., 64, 68, 70, 72 

wedding, 35^ 

whiskey, 6i/ 

wholeness, 241 

widow's son, raising of, 54/ 

wild man, 68 

will, 123, 156, 250; paralysis of, 90; 

to power, see power principle 
wind, 70 
wish(es): erotic, 66; infantile, 237; 

repressed, 240 
wish-fulfilment: dream as, 27, 55, 

6ff> 67, 237; Freud and, 291; and 

number symbolism, 5 1 
wishing, unconscious and, 140^ 
wolf, 209/, 21 if 
words, double meanings, 1 7 
world, a subjective phenomenon, 

177 



Yahweh, 321, 322 



value intensities, 338 
veil, 



Ziermer, Manfred, 30371 
Zurich, 236, 252, 265 
Zurich school, 202, 290$ 



THE COLLECTED WORKS OF 

C. G. JUNG 



JL.HE PUBLICATION of the first complete collected edition, in English, of the 
works of C. G. Jung has been undertaken by Routledge and Kegan Paul, 
Ltd., in England and by the Bollingen Foundation, through Pantheon 
Books Inc., in the United States. The edition contains revised versions of 
works previously published, such as Psychology of the Unconscious, which 
is now entitled Symbols of Transformation; works originally written in 
English, such as "Psychology and Religion"; works not previously trans 
lated, such as Aion; and, in general, new translations of the major body of 
Professor Jung's writings. The author has supervised the textual revision, 
which in some cases is extensive. Sir Herbert Read, Dr. Michael Fordham, 
and Dr. Gerhard Adler compose the Editorial Committee; the translator is 
R. F. C. Hull. 

Every volume of the Collected Works contains material that either has not 
previously been published in English or is being newly published in revised 
form. In addition to Aion, the following volumes will, entirely or in large 
part, be new to English readers: Psychiatric Studies; The Archetypes and the 
Collective Unconscious; Alchemical Studies; My sterium Coniunctionis; The 
Spirit in Man, Art, and Literature; and The Practice of Psychotherapy. 

The volumes are not being published in strictly consecutive order; but, 
generally speaking, works of which translations are lacking or unavailable 
are given precedence. The price of the volumes varies according to size; they 
are sold separately, and may also be obtained on standing order. Several of 
the volumes are extensively illustrated. Each volume contains an index and, 
in most cases, a bibliography; the final volumes will contain a complete 
bibliography of Professor Jung's writings and a general index of the entire 
edition. Subsequent works of the author's are being added in due course. 

*i. PSYCHIATRIC STUDIES 

On the Psychology and Pathology of So-CaUed Occult Phenomena 

On Hysterical Misreading 

Cryptomnesia (continued) 

* Published 1957. 

3 6 9 



i. (continued}: 

On Manic Mood Disorder 

A Case of Hysterical Stupor in a Prisoner in Detention 
On Simulated Insanity 

A Medical Opinion on a Case of Simulated Insanity 
A Third and Final Opinion on Two Contradictory Psychiatric Diag 
noses 
On the Psychological Diagnosis of Facts 

8. EXPERIMENTAL RESEARCHES 

STUDIES IN WORD ASSOCIATION 

The Associations of Normal Subjects (by Jung and Riklin) 

Experimental Observations on Memory 

On the Determination of Facts by Psychological Means 

An Analysis of the Associations of an Epileptic 

The Association Method 

Reaction-Time in Association Experiments 

On Disturbances in Reproduction in Association Experiments 

The Significance of Association Experiments for Psychopathology 

Psychoanalysis and Association Experiments 

Association, Dream, and Hysterical Symptoms 

PSYCHOPHYSICAL RESEARCHES 

On Psychophysical Relations of the Association Experiment 
Psychophysical Investigations with the Galvanometer and Pneumo- 

graph in Normal and Insane Individuals (by Peterson and Jung) 
Further Investigations on the Galvanic Phenomenon and Respirations 

in Normal and Insane Individuals (by Ricksher and Jung) 

*3. THE PSYCHOGENESIS OF MENTAL DISEASE 

The Psychology of Dementia Praecox 

The Content of the Psychoses 

On Psychological Understanding 

A Criticism of Bleuler's Theory of Schizophrenic Negativism 

On the Importance of the Unconscious in Psychopathology 

On the Problem of Psychogenesis in Mental Disease 

Mental Disease and the Psyche 

On the Psychogenesis of Schizophrenia 

Recent Thoughts on Schizophrenia 

Schizophrenia 

* Published 1960. 

37 



. FREUD AND PSYCHOANALYSIS 

Freud's Theory of Hysteria: A Reply to Aschaffenburg 

The Freudian Theory of Hysteria 

The Analysis of Dreams 

A Contribution to the Psychology of Rumour 

On the Significance of Number Dreams 

Morton Prince, "Mechanism and Interpretation of Dreams": A Critical 

Review 

On the Criticism of Psychoanalysis 
Concerning Psychoanalysis 
The Theory of Psychoanalysis 
General Aspects of Psychoanalysis 
Psychoanalysis and Neurosis 

Some Crucial Points in Psychoanalysis; The Jung/Loy Correspondence 
Prefaces to "Collected Papers on Analytical Psychology" 
The Significance of the Father in the Destiny of the Individual 
Introduction to Kranefeldt's "Secret Ways of the Mind" 
Freud and Jung: Contrasts 

5. SYMBOLS OF TRANSFORMATION Illustrated 

PART I 

Introduction 

Two Kinds of Thinking 

The Miller Fantasies: Anamnesis 

The Hymn of Creation 

The Song of the Moth 

PART II 

Introduction 

The Concept of Libido 

The Transformation of Libido 

The Origin of the Hero 

Symbols of the Mother and of Rebirth 

The Battle for Deliverance from the Mother 

The Dual Mother 

The Sacrifice 

Epilogue 

Appendix: The Miller Fantasies 

6. PSYCHOLOGICAL TYPES 

Introduction (continued) 

* Published 1961. 
f Published 1956. 

371 



6. (continued) 

The Problem of Types in Classical and Medieval Thought 

Schiller's Ideas upon the Type Problem 

The Apollonian and the Dionysian 

The Type Problem in the Discernment of Human Character 

The Problem of Types in Poetry 

The Type Problem in Psychiatry 

The Problem of Typical Attitudes in Aesthetics 

The Problem of Types in Modern Philosophy 

The Type Problem in Biography 

General Description of the Types 

Definitions 

Conclusion 

Four Papers on Psychological Typology 

7. TWO ESSAYS ON ANALYTICAL PSYCHOLOGY 

The Psychology of the Unconscious 

The Relations between the Ego and the Unconscious 

Appendix: New Paths in Psychology: The Structure of the Uncon 
scious 

f8. THE STRUCTURE AND DYNAMICS OF THE PSYCHE 
On Psychic Energy 
The Transcendent Function 
A Review of the Complex Theory 

The Significance of Constitution and Heredity in Psychology 
Psychological Factors Determining Human Behaviour 
Instinct and the Unconscious 
The Structure of the Psyche 
On the Nature of the Psyche 
General Aspects of Dream Psychology 
On the Nature of Dreams 

The Psychological Foundation of Belief in Spirits 
Spirit and Life 

Basic Postulates of Analytical Psychology 
Analytical Psychology and Weltanschauung 
The Real and the Surreal 
The Stages of Life 
The Soul and Death 
Synchronicity: An Acausal Connecting Principle 

* Published 1953. 
f Published 1960. 

372 



*9. PART i. THE ARCHETYPES AND THE COLLECTIVE 
UNCONSCIOUS 

Archetypes of the Collective Unconscious 

The Concept of the Collective Unconscious 

Concerning the Archetypes, with Special Reference to the Anima 

Concept 

Psychological Aspects of the Mother Archetype 
Concerning Rebirth 
The Psychology of the Child Archetype 
The Psychological Aspects of the Kore 
The Phenomenology of the Spirit in Fairytales 
On the Psychology of the Trickster-Figure 
Conscious, Unconscious, and Individuation 
A Study in the Process of Individuation 
Concerning Mandala Symbolism 

*g. PART n. AION 

RESEARCHES INTO THE PHENOMENOLOGY OF THE SELF 

The Ego 

The Shadow 

The Syzygy: Anima and Animus 

The Self 

Christ, a Symbol of the Self 

The Sign of the Fishes 

The Prophecies of Nostradamus 

The Historical Significance of the Fish 

The Ambivalence of the Fish Symbol 

The Fish in Alchemy 

The Alchemical Interpretation of the Fish 

Background to the Psychology of Christian Alchemical Symbolism 

Gnostic Symbols of the Self 

The Structure and Dynamics of the Self 

Conclusion 

10. CIVILIZATION IN TRANSITION 

Present and Future (The Undiscovered Self) 

The Role of the Unconscious 

Mind and Earth 

Archaic Man 

The Spiritual Problem of Modern Man (connnued) 

* Published 1959. 

373 



lo. (continued) 

The Meaning of Psychology for Modern Man 

A Psychological View of Conscience 

Good and Evil in Analytical Psychology 

The Love Problem of a Student 

Woman in Europe 

The State of Psychotherapy Today 

Wotan 

After the Catastrophe 

The Fight with the Shadow 

Epilogue to "Essays on Contemporary Events" 

Flying Saucers: A Modern Myth 

Reviews of Keyserling's "America Set Free" and 

"La Revolution Mondiale" 
Complications of American Psychology 
The Dreamlike World of India 
What India Can Teach Us 
The Swiss Line in the European Spectrum 
Introduction to Wolff's "Studies in Jungian Psychology" 
Contemporary Events: A Rejoinder to Dr. Bally 

*n. PSYCHOLOGY AND RELIGION: WEST AND EAST 

WESTERN RELIGION 

Psychology and Religion (The Terry Lectures) 

A Psychological Approach to the Dogma of the Trinity 

Transformation Symbolism in the Mass 

Forewords to White's "God and the Unconscious" and Werblowsky's 

"Lucifer and Prometheus" 
Brother Klaus 

Psychotherapists or the Clergy 
Psychoanalysis and the Cure of Souls 
Answer to Job 

EASTERN RELIGION 

Psychological Commentaries on "The Tibetan Book of the Great Lib 
eration" and "The Tibetan Book of the Dead" 
Yoga and the West 

Foreword to Suzuki's "Introduction to Zen Buddhism" 
The Psychology of Eastern Meditation 

The Holy Men of India: Introduction to Zimmer's "Der Weg zum Selbst" 
Foreword to the "I Ching" 

* Published 1958. 

374 



*is. PSYCHOLOGY AND ALCHEMY 

Introduction to the Religious and Psychological Problems of Alchemy 
Individual Dream Symbolism in Relation to Alchemy 
Religious Ideas in Alchemy 
Epilogue 

13. ALCHEMICAL STUDIES 

Commentary on "The Secret of the Golden Flower" 

The Spirit Mercurius 

Some Observations on the Visions of Zosimos 

Paracelsus as a Spiritual Phenomenon 

The "Arbor philosophica" 

14. MYSTERIUM CONIUNCTIONIS 
The Components of the Coniunctio 
The Paradox 

The Personification of Opposites 
Rex and Regina 
Adam and Eve 
The Conjunction 

15. THE SPIRIT IN MAN, ART, AND LITERATURE 

Paracelsus 

Paracelsus the Physician 

Sigmund Freud: A Cultural Phenomenon 

Sigmund Freud: An Obituary 

Richard Wilhelm: An Obituary 

Psychology and Literature 

On the Relation of Analytical Psychology to the Poetic Art 

Picasso 

"Ulysses" 

fi6. THE PRACTICE OF PSYCHOTHERAPY 

GENERAL PROBLEMS OF PSYCHOTHERAPY 

Principles of Practical Psychotherapy 

What Is Psychotherapy? 

Some Aspects of Modern Psychotherapy 

Aims of Modern Psychotherapy 

Problems of Modern Psychotherapy 

Psychotherapy and a Philosophy of Life (continued) 

* Published 1953. t Published 1954. 

375 



1 6. (continued) 

Medicine and Psychotherapy 

Psychotherapy Today 

Fundamental Questions of Psychotherapy 

SPECIFIC PROBLEMS OF PSYCHOTHERAPY 

The Therapeutic Value of Abreaction 
The Practical Use of Dream-Analysis 
Psychology of the Transference 

*i7. THE DEVELOPMENT OF PERSONALITY 

Psychic Conflicts in a Child 

Introduction to Wickes's "Analyse der Kinderseele" 

Child Development and Education 

Analytical Psychology and Education: Three Lectures 

The Gifted Child 

The Significance of the Unconscious in Individual Education 

The Development of Personality 

Marriage as a Psychological Relationship 

Final Volumes. MISCELLANEOUS WORKS, BIBLIOGRAPHY, 
AND GENERAL INDEX 

SELECTED LETTERS AND SEMINARS 
REVIEWS, SHORT ARTICLES, INTRODUCTIONS, ETC. 
BIBLIOGRAPHY OF C. G. JUNG'S WRITINGS 
GENERAL INDEX OF THE COLLECTED WORKS 

* Published 1954. 



376 



THE COLLECTED WORKS OF C. G. JUNG 

This edition, in eighteen or more volumes, will contain 
revised versions of earlier works by Jung, works not 
previously translated, and works originally written in 
English. In general, it will present new translations of 
the major body of Jung's writings. The entire edition 
constitutes No. XX in Bollingen Series. 

1 . Psychiatric Studies Published 7957, $3.75 

2. Experimental Researches 

3. The Psychogenesis of Mental Disease 

Published 7 960, $4.50 

4. Freud and Psychoanalysis 

Published 19 61, $5. 00 

5. Symbols of Transformation 

Published 1956, $5. 00 

6. Psychological Types 

7. Two Essays on Analytical Psychology 

Published 7 953, $3.75 

8. The Structure and Dynamics of the Psyche 

Published I960, $6. 00 

9. PART I. The Archetypes and the Collective Uncon 
scious Published 1 959, $7.50 

9. PART 11. Aion: Researches into the Phenomenology 
of the Self Published 1 959, $4.50 

1 0. Civilization in Transition 

1 1. Psychology and Religion: West and East 

Published 7 958, $6.00 

12. Psychology and Alchemy Published 1 953, $5.00 

13. Alchemical Studies 

14. Mysterium Coniunctionis 

1 5. The Spirit in Man, Art, and Literature 

1 6. The Practice of Psychotherapy 

Published 7 954, $4 .50 

17. The Development of Personality 

Published 7 954, $3.75 

Final Volumes: Miscellaneous Works, Selected Letters 
and Seminars, Bibliography, and General Index 

PRINTED IN THE U.S.A. 



1 04 594 



72 

' r*