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VI

MISTAKES IN READING AND WRITING

THAT the same view-
points and observation should hold
true for mistakes in reading and writing as for lapses in
speech is not at all surp-
rising when one remembers the
inner relation of these functions. I shall here confine
myself to the reports of several carefully analysed exam-
ples and shall make no attempt to include all of the
phenomena.

A. LAPSES IN READING

(a) While looking over a number of the Leipziger
Illustrierten, which I was holding obliquely, I read as the
title of the front-
page picture, “A Wedding Celebration
in the Odyssey.” Astonished and with my attention
aroused, I moved the page into the proper position only
to read correctly, “A Wedding Celebration in the Ostsee
(Baltic Sea).” How did this senseless mistake in reading
come about?

Immediately my thoughts turned to a book by Ruth,
Experimental Investigations of “Music Phantoms,” etc.,
with which I had recently been much occupied, as it
closely touched the psychologic problems that are of
interest to me. The author promised a work in the near
future to, be called Analysis and Principles of Dream
Phenomena. No wonder that I, having just published an
Interpretation of Dreams, awaited the appearance of this
book with the most intense interest. In Ruth’s work

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concerning music phantoms I found an announcement in
the beginning of the table of contents of the detailed
inductive proof that the old Hellenic myths and traditions
originated mainly from slumber and music phantoms,
from dream phenomena and from deliria. Thereupon I
had immediately plunged into the text in order to find
out whether he was also aware that the scene where
Odysseus appears before Nausicaa was based upon the
common dream of nakedness. One of my friends called
my attention to the clever passage in G. Keller’s Grünem
Heinrich, which explains this episode in the Odyssey as
an objective representation of the dream of the mariner
straying far from home. I added to it the reference to
the exhibition dream of nakedness.¹⁾

(b) A woman who is very anxious to get children
always reads storks instead of stocks.

(c) One day I received a letter which contained very
disturbing news. I immediately called my wife and
informed her that poor Mrs. Wm. H. was seriously ill and
was given up by the doctors. There must have been a
false ring to the words in which I expressed my sympathy,
as my wife grew suspicious, asked to see the letter, and
expressed her opinion that it could not read as stated by
me, because no one calls the wife by the husband’s name.
Moreover, the correspondent was well acquainted with
the Christian name of the woman concerned. I defended
my assertion obstinately and referred to the customary
visiting-
cards, on which a woman designates herself by
the Christian name of her husband. I was finally com-
pelled to take up the letter, and, as a matter of fact, we
read therein “Poor W. M.” What is more, I had even
overlooked “Poor Dr. W. M.” My mistake in reading

¹⁾ The Interpretation of Dreams, p. 208.

84

(d) Both irritating and laughable is a lapse in reading
to which I am frequently subject when I walk through
the streets of a strange city during my vacation. I then
read antiquities on every shop sign that shows the slightest
resemblance to the word; this displays the questing spirit
of the collector.

(e) In his important work¹⁾ Bleuler relates: “While
reading I once had the intellectual feeling of seeing my
name two lines below. To my astonishment I found only
the words blood corpuscles. Of the many thousands of
lapses in reading in the peripheral as well as in the central
field of vision that I have analysed, this was the most
striking case. Whenever I imagined that I saw my name,
the word that induced this illusion usually showed a
greater resemblance to my name than the word blood-
corpuscles. In most cases all the letters of my name had
to be close together before I could commit such an error.
In this case, however, I could readily explain the delusion
of reference and the illusion. What I had just read was
the end of a statement concerning a form of bad style in
scientific works, a tendency from which I am not entirely
free.”

¹⁾Bleuler, Affektivitat Suggestibilitat, Paranoia, p. 121. Halle.
Marhold, 1906.

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B. LAPSES IN WRITING.

(a) On a sheet of paper containing principally short
daily notes of business interest, I found, to my surprise,
the incorrect date, “Thursday, October 20th,” bracketed
under the correct date of the month of September. It was
not difficult to explain this anticipation as the expression
of a wish. A few days before I had returned fresh from
my vacation and felt ready for any amount of professional
work, but as yet there were few patients. On my arrival
I had found a letter from a patient announcing her arrival
on the 20th of October. As I wrote the same date in
September I may certainly have thought “X. ought to be
here already; what a pity about that whole month!” and
with this thought I pushed the current date a month
ahead. In this case the disturbing thought can scarcely
be called unpleasant; therefore after noticing this lapse in
writing, I immediately knew the solution. In the fall of
the following year I experienced an entirely analogous
and similarly motivated lapse in writing. E. Jones has
made a study of similar cases, and found that most mis-
takes in writing dates are motivated.

(b) I received the proof sheets of my contribution to
the annual report on neurology and psychiatry, and I was
naturally obliged to review with special care the names
of authors, which, because of the many different national-
ities represented, offer the greatest difficulties to the
compositor. As a matter of fact, I found some strange-
sounding names still in need of correction; but, oddly
enough, the compositor had corrected one single name
in my manuscript, and with very good reason. I had
written Buckrhard, which the compositor guessed to be
Burckhard. I had praised the treatise of this obstetrician

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entitled The Influence of Birth on the Origin of Infantile
Paralysis, and I was not conscious of the least enmity
toward him. But an author in Vienna, who had angered
me by an adverse criticism of my Traumdeutung, bears the
same name. It was as if in writing the name Burckhard,
meaning the obstetrician, a wicked-
thought concerning
the other B. had obtruded itself. The twisting of the
name, as I have already stated in regard to lapses in
speech, often signifies a depreciation.¹⁾

(c) The following is seemingly a serious case of lapsus
calami, which it would be equally correct to describe as
an erroneously carried out action. I intended to withdraw
from the postal savings bank the sum of 300 crowns,
which I wished to send to an absent relative to enable
him to take treatment at a watering-
place. I noted that
my account was 4,380 crowns, and I decided to bring it
down to the round sum of 4,000 crowns, which was not
to be touched in the near future. After making out the
regular cheque I suddenly noticed that I had written not
380 crowns, as I had intended, but exactly 438 crowns.
I was frightened at the untrustworthiness of my action.
I soon realised that my fear was groundless, as I had not
grown poorer than I was before. But I had to reflect for
quite a while in order to discover what influence diverted
me from my first intention without making itself known
to my consciousness.

First I got on a wrong track: I subtracted 380 from
438, but after that I did not know what to do with the

¹⁾A similar situation occurs in Julius Cæsar, iii. 3:
“Cinna. Truly, my name is Cinna.
“Burgher. Tear him to pieces! he is a conspirator.
“Cinna. I am Cinna the poet! not Cinna the conspirator.
“Burgher. No matter; his name is Cinna; tear the name out
of his heart and let him go.”

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MISTAKES IN READING AND WRITING

difference. Finally an idea occurred to me which showed
me the true connection. 438 is exactly 10 per cent. of the
entire account of 4,380 crowns! But the bookseller, too,
gives a 10 per cent. discount! I recalled that a few days
before I had selected several books, in which I was no
longer interested, in order to offer them to the bookseller
for 300 crowns. He thought the price demanded too
high, but promised to give me a final answer within the
next few days. If he should accept my first offer he would
replace the exact sum that I was to spend on the sufferer.
There is no doubt that I was sorry about this expenditure.
The emotion, at the realization of my mistakes can be
more easily understood as a fear of growing poor through
such outlays. But both the sorrow over this expense and
the fear of poverty connected with it were entirely foreign
to my consciousness; I did not regret this expense when
I promised the sum, and would have laughed at the idea
of any such underlying motive. I should probably not
have assigned such feelings to myself had not my psycho-
analytic practice made me quite familiar with the repressed
elements of psychic life, and if I had not had a dream a few
days before which brought forth the same solution.

(d) Although it is usually difficult to find the person
responsible for printers’ errors, the psychologic mechan-
isms underlying them are the same as in other mistakes.
Typographical errors also well demonstrate the fact that
people are not at all indifferent to such trivialities as
“mistakes,” and, judging by the indignant reactions of
the parties concerned, one is forced to the conclusion that
mistakes are not treated by the public at large as mere
accidents. This state of affairs is very well summed up in
the following editorial from the New York Times of April
14, 1913. Not the least interesting are the comments of

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the keen-witted editor, who seems to share our views:—

“A BLUNDER TRULY UNFORTUNATE.”

“Typographical errors come only too frequently from
even the best-regulated newspaper presses. They are
always humiliating, often a cause of anger, and occasionally
dangerous, but now and then they are distinctly amusing.
This latter quality they are most apt to have when they
are made in the office of a journalistic neighbour, a fact
that probably explains why we can read with smiling
composure an elaborate editorial apology which appears
in the Hartford Courant.

“Its able political commentator tried the other day to
say that, unfortunately for Connecticut, ‘J. H. is no longer
a Member of Congress. Printer and proof-
reader com-
bined to deprive the adverb of its negative particle.’ At
least, the able political commentator so declares, and
we wouldn’t question his veracity for the world; but
sorrowful experience has taught most of us that it’s safer
to get that sort of editorial disclaimer of responsibility into
print before looking up the copy, and perhaps-
just
perhaps-
the world-enlightener, who knows that he wrote
unfortunate, because that is what he intended to write,
didn’t rashly chance the discovery of his own guilt before
he convicted the composing-
room of it.

“Be that as it may, the meaning of the sentence was
cruelly changed, and a friend was grieved or offended.
Not so long ago a more astonishing error than this one
crept into a book review of ours—a very solemn and
scientific book. It consisted of the substitution of the
word ‘caribou’ for the word ‘carbon’ in a paragraph
dealing with the chemical composition of the stars. In

89

that case the writer’s fierce self-exculpation is at least
highly plausible, as it seems hardly possible that he wrote
‘caribou’ when he intended to write ‘carbon,’ but even
he was cautious enough to make no deep inquiry into
the matter.”

(e) I cite the following case contributed by Dr. W.
Stekel, for the authenticity of which I can vouch: “An
almost unbelievable example of miswriting and misreading
occurred in the editing of a widely circulated weekly. It
concerned an article of defence and vindication which
was written with much warmth and great pathos. The
editor-in-chief of the paper read the article, while the
author himself naturally read it from the manuscript and
proof-sheets more than once. Everybody was satisfied,
when the printer’s reader suddenly noticed a slight error
which had escaped the attention of all. There it was,
plainly enough: ‘Our readers will bear witness to the fact
that we have always acted in a selfish manner for the good
of the community.’ It is quite evident that it was meant
to read unselfish. The real thoughts, however, broke
through the pathetic speech with elemental force.”

(f) The following example of misprinting is taken from
a Western gazette: The teacher was giving an instruction
paper on mathematical methods, and spoke of a plan “for
the instruction of youth that might be carried out ad
libidinem.”

(g) Even the Bible did not escape misprints. Thus we
have the, “Wicked Bible,” so called from the fact that the
negative was left out of the seventh commandment. This
authorized edition of the Bible was published in London
in 1631, and it is said that the printer had to pay a fine of
two thousand pounds for the omission.

Another biblical misprint dates back to the year 1580,

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and is found in the Bible of the famous library of Wolfen-
büttel, in Hesse. In the passage in Genesis where God
tells Eve that Adam shall be her master and shall rule
over her, the German translation is “Und er soll dein
Herr sein.” The word Herr (master) was substituted by
Narr, which means fool. Newly discovered evidence
seems to show that the error was a conscious machination
of the printer’s suffragette wife, who refused to be ruled
by her husband.

(h) Dr. Ernest Jones reports the following case con-
cerning A. A. Brill: “Although by custom almost a tee-
totaller, he yielded to a friend’s importunity one evening,
in order to avoid offending him, and took a little wine.
During the next morning an exacerbation of an eye-strain
headache gave him cause to regret this slight indulgence,
and his reflection on the subject found expression in the
following slip of the pen. Having occasion to write the
name of a girl mentioned by a patient, he wrote not Ethel
but Ethyl.¹ It happened that the girl in question was
rather too fond of drink, and in Dr. Brill’s mood at the
time this characteristic of hers stood out with conspicuous
significance.”²

(i) A woman wrote to her sister, felicitating her on the
occasion of taking possession of a new and spacious
residence. A friend who was present noticed that the
writer put the wrong address on the letter, and what was
still more remarkable was the fact that she did not address
it to the previous residence, but to one long ago given up,
but which her sister had occupied when she first married.
When the friend called her attention to it the writer

¹ Ethyl alcohol is, of course, the chemical name for ordinary
alcohol.

² Jones, Psychoanalysis, p. 66.

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remarked, “You are right; but what in the world made
me do this?” to which her friend replied: “Perhaps you
begrudge her the nice big apartment into which she has
just moved because you yourself are cramped for space,
and for that reason you put her back into her first resi-
dence, where she was no better off than yourself.” “Of
course I begrudge her the new apartment,” she honestly
admitted. As an after-thought she added, “It is a pity
that one is so mean in such matters.”

(k) Ernest Jones¹⁾ reports the following example given
to him by Dr. A. A. Brill. In a letter to Dr. Brill a patient
tried to attribute his nervousness to business worries and
excitement during the cotton crisis. He went on to say:
“My trouble is all due to that d– frigid wave; there
isn’t even any seed to be obtained for new crops.” He
referred to a cold wave which had destroyed the cotton
crops, but instead of writing “wave” he wrote “wife.”
In the bottom of his heart, he entertained reproaches
against his wife on account of her marital frigidity and
childlessness, and he was not far from the cognition that
the enforced abstinence played no little part in the causa-
tion of his malady.

Omissions in writing are naturally explained in the
same manner as mistakes in writing. A remarkable
example of omission which is of historic importance was
reported by Dr. B. Dattner.¹ In one of the legal articles
dealing with the financial obligations of both countries,
which was drawn up in the year 1867 during the re-
adjustment between Austria and Hungary, the word “effec-
tive” was accidentally omitted in the Hungarian transla-
tion. Dattner thinks it probable that the unconscious
desire of the Hungarian law-makers to grant Austria the

¹Zentralbl. f. Psychoanalyse, i. 12.

92

least possible advantages had something to do with this
omission.

Another example of omission is the following related
by Brill: “A prospective patient, who had corresponded
with me relative to treatment, finally wrote for an appoint-
ment for a certain day. Instead of keeping his appoint-
ment he sent regrets which began as follows: ‘Owing to
foreseen circumstances I am unable to keep my appoint-
ment.’ He naturally meant to write unforeseen. He finally
came to me months later, and in the course of the analysis
I discovered that my suspicions at the time were justified;
there were no unforeseen circumstances to prevent his
coming at that time; he was advised not to come to me.
The unconscious does not lie.”

Wundt gives a most noteworthy proof for the easily
ascertained fact that we more easily make mistakes in
writing than in speaking (loc. cit., p. 374). He states: “In
the course of normal conversation the inhibiting function
of the will is constantly directed toward bringing into
harmony the course of ideation with the movement of
articulation. If the articulation following the ideas
becomes retarded through mechanical causes, as in
writing, such anticipations then readily make their
appearance.”

Observation of the determinants which favour lapses
in reading gives rise to doubt, which I do not like to leave
unmentioned, because I am of the opinion that it may
become the starting-point of a fruitful investigation. It is a
familiar fact that in reading aloud the attention of the
reader often wanders from the text and is directed toward
his own thoughts. The results of this deviation of atten-
tion are often such that when interrupted and questioned
he cannot even state what he has read. In other words,

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he has read automatically, although the reading was
nearly always correct. I do not think that such conditions
favour any noticeable increase in the mistakes. We are
accustomed to assume concerning a whole series of
functions that they are most precisely performed when
done automatically, with scarcely any conscious attention.
This argues that the conditions’ governing attention in
mistakes in speaking, writing, and reading must be
differently determined than assumed by Wundt (cessation
or diminution of attention). The examples which we have
subjected to analysis have really not given us the right to
take for granted a quantitative diminution of attention.
We found what is probably not exactly the same thing, a
disturbance of the attention through a strange obtruding
thought.