49

V

MISTAKES IN SPEECH

ALTHOUGH the ordinary material of speech of our mother
tongue seems to be guarded against forgetting, its application,
however, more often succumbs to another disturbance which
is familiar to us as “slips of the tongue.” What we observe
in normal persons as slips of the tongue gives the same
impression as the first step of the so-
called “paraphasias”
which manifest themselves under pathologic conditions.

I am in the exceptional position of being about to refer
to a previous work on the subject. In the year 1895 Meringer
and C. Mayer published a study on Mistakes in Speech
and Reading, with whose view-
points I do not agree. One
of the authors, who is the spokesman in the text, is a
philologist actuated by a linguistic interest to examine the
rules governing those slips. He hoped to deduce from these
rules the existence “of a definite psychic mechanism,”
“whereby the sounds of a word, of a sentence, and even
the words themselves, would be associated and connected
with one another in a quite peculiar manner” (p. 10).

The authors grouped the examples of speech-
mistakes
collected by them first according to purely descriptive view-
points, such as interchangings (e.g., the Milo of Venus
instead of the Venus of Milo), as anticipations (e.g., the
shoes made her sorft . . . the shoes made her feet sore),
as echoes and post positions, as contaminations (e.g., “I
will soon him home,” instead of “I will soon go home and
I will see him”), and substitutions (e.g., “he entrusted his
money to a savings crank,” instead of “a savings bank”).¹
Besides these principal categories there are some others of
lesser importance (or of lesser significance for our purpose).

¹The examples are given by the editor.

50

PSYCHOPATHOLOGY OF EVERYDAY LIFE

In this grouping it makes no difference whether the trans-
position, disfigurement, fusion, etc., affects single sounds
of the word or syllables, or whole words of the concerned
sentence.

To explain the various forms of mistakes in speech,
Meringer assumes a varied psychic value of phonetics. As
soon as the innervation affects the first syllable of a word,
or the first word of a sentence, the stimulating process
immediately strikes the succeeding sounds, and the following
words, and in so far as these innervations are synchronous
they may effect some changes in one another. The stimulus
of the psychically more intensive sound “rings” before
or continues echoing, and thus disturbs the less important
process of innervation. It is necessary therefore to determine
which are the most important sounds of a word. Meringer
states: “If one wishes to know which sound of a word
possesses the greatest intensity he should examine himself
while searching for a forgotten word, for example, a name.
That which first returns to consciousness invariably had the
greatest intensity prior to the forgetting (p. 160). Thus the
most important sounds are the initial sound of the root-
syllable and the initial sound of the word itself, as well
as one or another of the accentuated vowels” (p. 162).

Here I cannot help voicing a contradiction. Whether or
not the initial sound of the name belongs to the most
important elements of the word, it is surely not true that
in the case of the forgetting of the word it first returns to
consciousness; the above rule is therefore of no use. When
we observe ourselves during the search for a forgotten
name we are comparatively often forced to express the
opinion that it begins with a certain letter. This conviction
proves to be as often unfounded as founded. Indeed, I
would even go so far as to assert that in the majority of
cases one reproduces a false initial sound. Also in our
example Signorelli the substitutive name lacked the initial
sound, and the principal syllables were lost; on the other

51

hand, the less important pair of syllables elli returned to
consciousness in the substitutive name Botticelli.

How little substitutive names respect the initial sound of
the lost names may be learned from the following case.
One day I found it impossible to recall the name of the small
country whose capital is Monte Carlo. The substitutive
names were as follows: Piedmont, Albania, Montevideo,
Colico. In place of Albania Montenegro soon appeared,
and then it struck me that the syllable Mont (pronounced
Mon) occurred in all but the last of the substitutive names.
It thus became easy for me to find from the name of Prince
Albert the forgotten name Monaco. Colico practically
imitates the syllabic sequence and rhythm of the forgotten
name.

If we admit the conjecture that a mechanism similar to
that pointed out in the forgetting of names may also play
a part in the phenomena of speech-
blunders, we are then
led to a better founded judgment of cases of speech-
blunders. The speech disturbance which manifests itself as a speech-
blunder may in the first place be caused by the influence
of another component of the same speech, that is, through
a fore-sound or an echo, or through another meaning
within the sentence or context which differs from that which
the speaker wishes to utter. In the second place, however,
the disturbance could be brought about analogously to the
process in the case Signorelli, through influences outside
this word, sentence or context, from elements which we did
not intend to express, and of whose incitement we became
conscious only through the disturbance. In both modes
of origin of the mistake in speech the common element
lies in the simultaneity of the stimulus, while the differentiating
elements lie in the arrangement within or without the same
sentence or context.

The difference does not at first appear as wide as when
it is taken into consideration in certain conclusions drawn
from the symptomatology of speech-mistakes. It is clear,

52

however, that only in the first case is there a prospect of
drawing conclusions from the manifestations of speech-
blunders concerning a mechanism which connects together
sounds and words for the reciprocal influence of their
articulation; that is, conclusions such as the philologist
hopes to gain from the study of speech-blunders. In the
case of disturbance through influence outside of the same
sentence or context, it would before all be a question of
becoming acquainted with the disturbing elements, and then
the question would arise whether the mechanism of this
disturbance cannot also suggest the probable laws of the
formation of speech.

We cannot maintain that Meringer and Mayer have
overlooked the possibility of speech disturbance through
“complicated psychic influences,” that is, through elements
outside of the same word or sentence or the same sequence
of words. Indeed, they must have observed that the theory
of the psychic variation of sounds applies, strictly speaking,
only to the explanation of sound disturbances as well as
to fore-sounds and after-sounds. Where the word dis-
turbances cannot be reduced to sound disturbances, as,
for example, in the substitutions and contaminations of
words, they, too, have without hesitation sought the cause
of the mistake in speech outside of the intended context,
and proved this state of affairs by means of fitting examples.¹
According to the author’s own understanding it is some
similarity between a certain word in the intended sentence
and some other not intended, which allows the latter to
assert itself in consciousness by causing a disfigurement,
a composition, or a compromise formation (contamination).

Now, in my work on the Interpretation of Dreams I have
shown the part played by the process of condensation in
the origin of the so-called manifest contents of the dream
from the latent thoughts of the dream. Any similarity of

¹Those who are interested are referred to pp. 62, 73, and 97
of the author’s work.

53

objects or of word-
presentations between two elements of
the unconscious material is taken as a cause for the formation
of a third, which is a composite or compromise formation.
This element represents both components in the dream
content, and in view of this origin it is frequently endowed
with numerous contradictory individual determinants. The
formation of substitutions and contaminations in speech-
mistakes is, therefore, the beginning of that work of con-
densation which we find taking a most active part in the
construction of the dream.

In a small essay destined for the general reader,¹⁾ Meringer
advanced a theory of very practical significance for certain
cases of interchanging of words, especially for such cases
where one word is substituted by another of opposite mean-
ing. He says: “We may still recall the manner in which
the President of the Austrian House of Deputies opened the
session some time ago: ‘Honoured Sirs ! I announce the
presence of so and so many gentlemen, and therefore declare
the session as “closed”!’” The general merriment first
attracted his attention and he corrected his mistake. In
the present case the probable explanation is that the President
wished himself in a position to close this session, from which
he had little good to expect, and the thought broke through
at least partially—a frequent manifestation—resulting in his
use of “closed” in place of “opened,” that is, the opposite
of the statement intended. Numerous observations have
taught me, however, that we frequently interchange con-
trasting words; they are already associated in our speech
consciousness; they lie very close together and are easily
incorrectly evoked.

Still, not in all cases of contrast substitution is it so simple
as in the example of the President as to appear plausible
that the speech-mistake occurs merely as a contradiction
which arises in the inner thought of the speaker opposing

¹⁾ Neue Freie Presse, August 23, 1000: ¿ “Wie man sich ver-
sprechen kann.”

54

the sentence uttered. We have found the analogous mechan-
ism in the analysis of the example aliquis; there the inner
contradiction asserts itself in the form of forgetting a word
instead of a substitution through its opposite. But in order
to adjust the difference we may remark that the little word
aliquis is incapable of a contrast similar to “closing” and
“opening,” and that the word “opening” cannot be subject
to forgetting on account of its being a common component
of speech.

Having been shown by the last examples of Meringer and
Mayer that speech disturbance may be caused through the
influence of fore-sounds, after-sounds, words from the same
sentence that were intended for expression, as well as through
the effect of words outside the sentence intended, the stimulus
of which would otherwise not have been suspected, we shall
next wish to discover whether we can definitely separate
the two classes of mistakes in speech, and how we can dis-
tinguish the example of the one from a case of the other class.

But at this stage of the discussion we must also think
of the assertions of Wundt, who deals with the manifestations
of speech-mistakes in his recent work on the development
of language.¹⁾ Psychic influences, according to Wundt, never
lack in these as well as in other phenomena related to them.
“The uninhibited stream of sound and word associations
stimulated by spoken sounds belongs here in the first place
as a positive determinant. This is supported as a negative
factor by the relaxation or suppression of the influences
of the will which inhibit this stream, and by the active
attention which is here a function of volition. Whether that
play of association manifests itself in the fact that a coming
sound is anticipated or a preceding sound reproduced, or
whether a familiar practised sound becomes intercalated
between others, or finally, whether it manifests itself in the
fact that altogether different sounds associatively related to
the spoken sounds act upon these—all these questions

¹⁾ Völker psychologie, vol. i., pt. i., p. 371, etc., 1900.

55

MISTAKES IN SPEECH

designate only differences in the direction, and at most
in the play of the occurring associations but not in the
general nature of the same. In some cases it may be also
doubtful to which form a certain disturbance may be
attributed, or whether it would not be more correct to refer
such disturbance to a concurrence of many motives, following
the principle of the complication of causes¹ (cf. pp. 380–81).”

I consider these observations of Wundt as absolutely
justified and very instructive. Perhaps we could emphasize
with even greater firmness than Wundt that the positive
factor favouring mistakes in speech (the uninhibited stream
of associations, and its negative, the relaxation of the
inhibiting attention) regularly attain synchronous action, so
that both factors become only different determinants of
the same process. With the relaxation, or, more unequivocally
expressed, through this relaxation, of the inhibiting attention
the uninhibited stream of associations becomes active.

Among the examples of the mistakes in speech collected
by me I can scarcely find one in which I would be obliged
to attribute the speech disturbance simply and solely to
what Wundt calls “contact effect of sound.” Almost in-
variably I discover besides this a disturbing influence of
something outside of the intended speech. The disturbing
element is either a single unconscious thought, which comes
to light through the speech-blunder, and can only be brought
to consciousness through a searching analysis, or it is a
more general psychic motive, which directs itself against
the entire speech.

(Example a) Seeing my daughter make an unpleasant face
while biting into an apple, I wished to quote the following
couplet:—

“The ape he is a funny sight,
When in the apple he takes a bite.”

But I began: “The apel . . .” This seems to be a con-
tamination of “ape” and “apple” (compromise formation),

¹ Italics are mine.

56

or it may be also conceived as an anticipation of the prepared
“apple.” The true state of affairs, however, was this: I
began the quotation once before, and made no mistake
the first time. I made the mistake only during the repetition,
which was necessary because my daughter, having been
distracted from another side, did not listen to me. This
repetition with the added impatience to disburden myself
of the sentence I must include in the motivation of the
speech-
blunder, which represented itself as a function of
condensation.

(b) My daughter said, “I wrote to Mrs. Schresinger.”
The woman’s name was Schlesinger. This speech-
blunder
may depend on the tendency to facilitate articulation. I
must state, however, that this mistake was made by my
daughter a few moments after I had said apel instead of
ape. Mistakes in speech are in a great measure contagious;
a similar peculiarity was noticed by Meringer and Mayer
in the forgetting of names. I know of no reason for this
psychic contagiousness.

(c) “I sut up like a pocket-knife,” said a patient in the
beginning of treatment, instead of “I shut up.” This suggests
a difficulty of articulation which may serve as an excuse
for the interchanging of sounds. When her attention was
called to the speech-blunder, she promptly replied, “Yes,
that happened because you said ‘earnesht’ instead of
‘earnest.’” As a matter of fact I received her with the
remark, “To-day we shall be in earnest” (because it was
the last hour before her discharge from treatment), and I
jokingly changed the word into earnesht. In the course of
the hour she repeatedly made mistakes in speech, and I
finally observed that it was not only because she imitated
me but because she had a special reason in her unconscious
to linger at the word earnest (Ernst) as a name.¹

¹It turned out that she was under the influence of unconscious
thoughts concerning pregnancy and prevention of conception.
With the words “shut up like a pocket knife,” which she uttered

57

MISTAKES IN SPEECH

(d) A woman, speaking about a game invented by her
children and called by them “the man in the box,” said
“the manx in the boc.” I could readily understand her
mistake. It was while analysing her dream, in which her
husband is depicted as very generous in money matters
—just the reverse of reality—that she made this speech-
blunder. The day before she had asked for a new set of
furs, which her husband denied her, claiming that he could
not afford to spend so much money. She upbraided him
for his stinginess, “for putting away so much into the strong-
box,” and mentioned a friend whose husband has not nearly
his income, and yet he presented his wife with a mink coat
for her birthday. The mistake is now comprehensible. The
word manx (manks) reduces itself to the “minks” which
she longs for, and the box refers to her husband’s stinginess.

(e) A similar mechanism is shown in the mistake of another
patient whose memory deserted her in the midst of a long-
forgotten childish reminiscence. Her memory failed to
inform her on what part of the body the prying and lustful
hand of another had touched her. Soon thereafter she
visited one of her friends, with whom she discussed summer
homes. Asked where her cottage in M. was located, she
answered, “Near the mountain loin” instead of “mountain
lane.”

(f) Another patient, whom I asked at the end of her
visit how her uncle was, answered: “I don’t know, I only
see him now in flagranti.”

The following day she said, “I am really ashamed of
myself for having given you yesterday such a stupid answer.
Naturally you must have thought me a very uneducated
person who always mistakes the meaning of foreign words.
I wished to say en passant.” We did not know at the time
consciously as a complaint, she meant to describe the position
of the child in the womb. The word “earnest” in my remark
recalled to her the name (S. Ernst) of the well-known Vienna
business firm in Kärthner Strasse, which used to advertise the
sale of articles for the prevention of conception.

59

forgotten its name and could only recall it through a round-
about method. The name Matthew, which kept my attention,
is thus a substitutive name for the forgotten name of the
street. It is more suitable than the name Merchant, for
Matthew is exclusively the name of a person, while Merchant
is not. The forgotten street, too, bears the name of a person:
Radetzky.

(i) A patient consulted me for the first time, and from her
history it became apparent that the cause of her nervousness
was largely an unhappy married life. Without any encourage-
ment she went into details about her marital troubles. She
had not lived with her husband for about six months, and
she saw him last at the theatre, when she saw the play
Officer 606. I called her attention to the mistake, and she
immediately corrected herself, saying that she meant to say
Officer 666 (the name of a recent popular play). I decided
to find out the reason for the mistake, and as the patient
came to me for analytic treatment, I discovered that the
immediate cause of the rupture between herself and husband
was the disease which is treated by “606.”¹⁾

(k) Before calling on me a patient telephoned for an
appointment, and also wished to be informed about my
consultation fee. He was told that the first consultation
was ten dollars; after the examination was over he again
asked what he was to pay, and added: “I don’t like to owe
money to any one, especially to doctors; I prefer to pay
right away.” Instead of pay he said play. His last voluntary
remarks and his mistake put me on my guard, but after a
few more uncalled-for remarks he set me at ease by taking
money from his pocket. He counted four paper dollars
and was very chagrined and surprised because he had no
more money with him, and promised to send me a cheque
for the balance. I was sure that his mistake betrayed him,
that he was only playing with me, but there was nothing

¹⁾Similar mistakes dealing with Officer 666 were recently reported
to me by other psycho-analysts.

60

to be done. At the end of a few weeks I sent him a bill for
the balance, and the letter was returned to me by the post-
office authorities marked “Not found.”

(l) Miss X. spoke very warmly of Mr. Y., which was rather
strange, as before this she had always expressed her in-
difference, not to say her contempt, for him. On being
asked about this sudden change of heart she said: “I really
never had anything against him; he was always nice to me,
but I never gave him the chance to cultivate my acquain-
tance.” She said “cuptivate.” This neologism was a con-
tamination of cultivate and captivate, and foretold the
coming betrothal.

(m) An illustration of the mechanisms of contamination
and condensation will be found in the following lapsus
linguæ. Speaking of Miss Z., Miss W. depicted her as a
very “straitlaced” person who was not given to levities,
etc. Miss X. thereupon remarked: “Yes, that is a very
characteristic description, she always appealed to me as
very ‘straicet-brazed.’” Here the mistake resolved itself
into straitlaced and brazen-faced, which corresponded to
Miss W.’s opinion of Miss Z.

(n) I shall quote a number of examples from a paper
by my colleague, Dr. W. Stekel, which appeared in the
Berlin Tageblatt of January, 1904, entitled “Unconscious
Confessions.”

“An unpleasant trick of my unpleasant thoughts was
revealed by the following example: To begin with, I may
state that in my capacity as a physician I never consider
my remuneration, but always keep in view the patient’s
interest only: this goes without saying. I was visiting a
patient who was convalescing from a serious illness. We
had passed through hard days and nights. I was happy to
find her improved, and I portrayed to her the pleasures
of a sojourn in Abbazia, concluding with: ‘If, as I hope,
you will not soon leave your bed.’ This obviously came from
an unconscious selfish motive, to be able to continue treating

61

MISTAKES IN SPEECH

this wealthy patient, a wish which is entirely foreign to my
waking consciousness, and which I would reject with
indignation.”

(o) Another example (Dr. W. Stekel): “My wife engaged
a French governess for the afternoons, and later, coming
to a satisfactory agreement, wished to retain her testimonials.
The governess begged to be allowed to keep them, saying,
‘Je cherche encore pour les après-midis—pardons, pour les
avant-midis.’ She apparently intended to seek another place
which would perhaps offer more profitable arrangements
—an intention which she carried out.”

(p) I was to give a lecture to a woman. Her husband,
upon whose request this was done, stood behind the door
listening. At the end of my sermonizing, which had made a
visible impression, I said: “Good-bye, sir!” To the ex-
perienced person I thus betrayed the fact that the words
were directed towards the husband; that I had spoken to
oblige him.

(q) Dr. Stekel reports about himself that he had under
treatment at the same time two patients from Trieste, each
of whom he always addressed incorrectly. “Good morning,
Mr. Peloni!” he would say to Askoli, and to Peloni, “Good
morning, Mr. Askoli!” He was at first inclined to attribute
no deeper motive to this mistake, but to explain it through
a number of similarities in both persons. However, he
easily convinced himself that here the interchange of names
bespoke a sort of boast—that is, he was acquainting each
of his Italian patients with the fact that neither was the only
resident of Trieste who came to Vienna in search of his
medical advice.

(r) Two women stopped in front of a drug-store, and one
said to her companion, “If you will wait a few moments
I’ll soon be back,” but she said movements instead. She
was on her way to buy some castoria for her child.

(s) Mr. L., who is fonder of being called on than of calling,
spoke to me through the telephone from a nearby summer

62

resort. He wanted to know when I would pay him a visit.
I reminded him that it was his turn to visit me, and called
his attention to the fact that, as he was the happy possessor
of an automobile, it would be easier for him to call on me.
(We were at different summer resorts, separated by about
one half-hour’s railway trip.) He gladly promised to call,
and asked: “How about Labour Day (September 1st), will
it be convenient for you?” When I answered affirmatively,
he said, “Very well, then, put me down for Election Day”
(November). His mistake was quite plain. He likes to visit
me, but it was inconvenient to travel so far. In November
we would both be in the city. My analysis proved correct.

(^t) A friend described to me a nervous patient, and wished
to know whether I could benefit him. I remarked: “I believe
that in time I can remove all his symptoms by psycho-
analysis, because it is a durable case,” wishing to say
“curable” !

(^u) I repeatedly addressed my patient as Mrs. Smith,
her married daughter’s name, when her real name is Mrs.
James. My attention having been called to it, I soon dis-
covered that I had another patient of the same name who
refused to pay for the treatment. Mrs. Smith was also my
patient and paid her bills promptly.

(^v) A lapsus linguæ sometimes stands for a particular
characteristic. A young woman, who is the domineering
spirit in her home, said of her ailing husband that he had
consulted the doctor about a wholesome diet for himself,
and then added: “The doctor said that diet has nothing
to do with his ailments, and that he can eat and drink
what I want.”

(^w) I cannot omit this excellent and instructive example,
although, according to my authority, it is about twenty
years old. A lady once expressed herself in society—the
very words show that they were uttered with fervour and
under the pressure of a great many secret emotions: “Yes,
a woman must be pretty if she is to please the men. A man

63

is much better off. As long as he has five straight limbs,
he needs no more !”

This example affords us a good insight into the intimate
mechanisms of a mistake in speech by means of condensation
and contamination (cf. p. 72). It is quite obvious that we
have here a fusion of two similar modes of expression:—

“As long as he has his four straight limbs.”
“As long as he has all his five senses.”

Or the term “straight” may be the common element of the
two intended expressions:—

“As long as he has his straight limbs.”
“All five should be straight.”

It may also be assumed that both modes of expression
–viz., those of the five senses and those of the straight
five-
have co-operated to introduce into the sentence
about the straight limbs first a number and then the
mysterious five instead of the simple four. But this
fusion surely would not have succeeded if it had not ex-
pressed good sense in the form resulting from the mistake; if
it had not expressed a cynical truth, which, naturally, could
not be uttered unconcealed, coming as it did from a woman.

Finally, we shall not hesitate to call attention to the fact
that the woman’s saying, following its wording, could just
as well be an excellent witticism as a jocose speech-
blunder. It is simply a question whether she uttered these words
with conscious or unconscious intention. The behaviour
of the speaker in this case certainly speaks against the
conscious intention, and thus excludes wit.

(x) Owing to similarity of material, I add here another
case of speech-
blunder, the interpretation of which requires
less skill. A professor of anatomy strove to explain the
nostril, which, as is known, is a very difficult anatomical
structure. To his question whether his audience grasped
his ideas he received an affirmative reply. The professor,

64

known for his self-esteem, thereupon remarked: “I can
hardly believe this, for the number of people who under-
stand the nostril, even in a city of millions like Vienna,
can be counted on a finger–pardon me, I meant to say
on the fingers of a hand.”

(γ) I am indebted to Dr. Alf. Robitsek, of Vienna, for
calling my attention to two speech-blunders from an old
French author, which I shall reproduce in the original.

Brantôme (1527–1614), Vies des Dames galantes, Discours
second: “Si ay-je cogneu une très belle et honneste dame
– de par le monde, qui, devisant avec un honneste gentilhomme-
de la cour des affaires de la guerre durant ces civiles, elle
luy dit: ‘J’ay ouy dire que le roy a faiet rompre tous les
c– de ce pays là.’ Elle vouloit dire le ponts. Pensez
que, venant de coucher d’avec son mary, ou songeant à
son amant, elle avoit encor ce nom frais en la bouche;
et le gentilhomme s’en eschauffer en amours d’elle pour
ce mot.

“Une autre dame que j’ai cogneue, entretenant une
autre grand dame plus qu’elle, et luy louant et exaltant ses
beautez, elle luy dit après: ‘Non, madame, ce que je vous
en dis, ce n’est point pour vous adultérer; voulant dire
adulater, comme elle le rhabilla ainsi: pensez qu’elle songeoit
à adultérer.’”

In the psychotherapeutic procedure which I employ in
the solution and removal of neurotic symptoms, I am often
confronted with the task of discovering from the accidental
utterances and fancies of the patient the thought contents,
which, though striving for concealment, nevertheless un-
intentionally betray themselves. In doing this the mistakes
often perform the most valuable service, as I can show
through most convincing and still more singular examples.

For example, patients speak of an aunt and later, without
noting the mistake, call her “my mother,” or designate
a husband as a “brother.” In this way they attract my
attention to the fact that they have “identified” these persons

66

PSYCHOPATHOLOGY OF EVERYDAY LIFE

with a certain amount of diverted attention, the causes of
speech-
blunder may be easily limited to the definite law of
Meringer and Mayer. However, in a number of examples
gathered by these authors a more complicated solution is
quite apparent.

In some forms of speech-blunders we may assume that
the disturbing factor is the result of striking against obscene
words and meanings. The purposive disfigurement and
distortion of words and phrases, which is so popular with
vulgar persons, aims at nothing else but the employing of
a harmless motive as a reminder of the obscene, and this
sport is so frequent that it would not be at all remarkable
if it appeared unintentionally and contrary to the will.

I trust that the readers will not depreciate the value of
these interpretations, for which there is no proof, and of
these examples which I have myself collected and explained
by means of analysis. But if secretly I still cherish the
expectation that even the apparently simple cases of speech-
blunder will be traced to a disturbance caused by a half-
repressed idea outside of the intended context, I am tempted
to it by a noteworthy observation of Meringer. This author
asserts that it is remarkable that nobody wishes to admit
having made a mistake in speaking. There are many intelli-
gent and honest people who are offended if we tell them that
they made a mistake in speaking. I would not risk making
this assertion as general as does Meringer, using the term
“nobody.” But the emotional trace which clings to the
demonstration of the mistake, which manifestly belongs
to the nature of shame, has its significance. It may be
classed with the anger displayed at the inability to recall
a forgotten name, and with the surprise at the tenaciousness
of an apparently indifferent memory, and it invariably
points to the participation of a motive in the formation of
the disturbance.

The distorting of names amounts to an insult when done
intentionally, and could have the same significance in a

67

whole series of cases where it appears as unintentional speech-
blunders. The person who, according to Mayer’s report,
once said “Freuder” instead of “Freud,” because shortly
before he pronounced the name “Breuer” (p. 38), and who
at another time spoke of the “Freuer-Breudian” method
(p. 28), was certainly not particularly enthusiastic over
this method. Later, under the mistakes in writing, I shall
report a case of name disfigurement which certainly admits
of no other explanation.¹

As a disturbing element in these cases there is an inter-
mingling of a criticism which must be omitted, because
at the time being it does not correspond to the intention
of the speaker.

Or it may be just the reverse; the substituted name, or
the adoption of the strange name, signifies an appreciation
of the same. The identification which is brought about
by the mistake is equivalent to a recognition which for
the moment must remain in the background. An experience
of this kind from his schooldays is related by Dr. Ferenczi:—

¹It may be observed that aristocrats in particular very frequently
distort the names of the physicians they consult, from which we
may conclude that inwardly they slight them, in spite of the polite-
ness-
with which they are wont to greet them. I shall cite here
some excellent observations concerning the forgetting of names
from the works of Professor E. Jones, of Toronto: Papers on
Psycho-analysis, chap. iii. p. 49:—

“Few people can avoid feeling a twinge of resentment when
they find that their name has been forgotten, particularly if it
is by some one with whom they had hoped or expected it would
be remembered. They instinctively realize that if they had made
a greater impression on the person’s mind he would certainly
have remembered them again, for the name is an integral part of
the personality. Similarly, few things are more flattering to most
people than to find themselves addressed by name by a great
personage where they could hardly have anticipated it. Napoleon,
like most leaders of men, was a master of this art. In the midst
of the disastrous campaign of France in 1814, he gave an amazing
proof of his memory in this direction. When in a town near
Craonne, he recollected that he had met the mayor, De Bussy,
over twenty years ago in the La Fère Regiment. The delighted
De Bussy at once threw himself into his service with extraordinary
zeal. Conversely, there is no surer way of affronting some one

68

“While in my first year at college I was obliged to recite
a poem before the whole class. It was the first experience
of the kind in my life, but I was well prepared. As soon as
I began my recitation I was dismayed at being disturbed
by an outburst of laughter. The professor later explained
to me this strange reception. I started by giving the title
‘From the Distance,’ which was correct, but instead of
giving the name of the real author, I mentioned—my own.
The name of the poet is Alexander Petöfi. The identity
of the first name with my own favoured the interchange of
names, but the real reason was surely the fact that I identified
myself at that time with the celebrated poet-
hero. Even consciously I entertained for him a love and respect which
verged on adoration. The whole ambition-
complex hides itself under this faulty action.”

A similar identification was reported to me concerning
a young physician who timidly and reverently introduced
himself to the celebrated Virchow with the following words:
“I am Dr. Virchow.” The surprised professor turned to
him and asked, “Is your name also Virchow?” I do not
know how the ambitious young men justified his speech-
blunder, whether he thought of the charming excuse that

than by pretending to forget his name; the insinuation is thus
conveyed that the person is so unimportant in our eyes that we
cannot be bothered to remember his name. This device is often
exploited in literature. In Turgentev’s Smoke (p. 255) the following
passage occurs: “ ‘So you still find Baden entertaining, M’sieur-
Litvinov.’ ” Ratmirov always uttered Litvinov’s surname with
hesitation, every time, as though he had forgotten it, and could
not at once recall it. In this way, as well as by the lofty flourish
of his hat in saluting him, he meant to insult his pride.’ The
same author, in his Fathers and Children (p. 107), writes: ‘The
Governor invited Kirsanov and Bazarov to his ball, and within
a few minutes invited them a second time, regarding them as
brothers, and calling them Kisarov.’ Here the forgetting that he
had spoken to them, the mistake in the names, and the inability
to distinguish between the two young men, constitute a culmina-
tion of disparagement. Falsification of a name has the same
signification as forgetting it; it is only a step towards complete
amnesia.”

69

he imagined himself so insignificant next to this big man
that his own name slipped from him, or whether he had
the courage to admit that he hoped that he, too, would
some day be as great a man as Virchow, and that the
professor should therefore not treat him in too disparaging
a manner. One or both of these thoughts may have put
this young man in an embarrassing position during the
introduction.

Owing to very personal motives I must leave it undecided
whether a similar interpretation may also apply in the case
to be cited. At the International Congress in Amsterdam,
in 1907, my theories of hysteria were the subject of a lively
discussion. One of my most violent opponents, in his
diatribe against me, repeatedly made mistakes in speech
in such a manner that he put himself in my place and spoke
in my name. He said, for example, “Breuer and I, as is
well known, have demonstrated,” etc., when he wished to
say “Breuer and Freud.” The name of this opponent does
not show the slightest sound similarity to my own. From
this example, as well as from other cases of interchanging
names in speech-
blunders, we are reminded of the fact
that the speech-
blunder can fully forego the facility afforded
to it through similar sounds, and can achieve its purpose
if only supported in content by concealed relations.

In other and more significant cases it is a self-
criticism,
an internal contradiction against one’s own utterance,
which causes the speech-
blunder, and even forces a con-
trasting substitution for the one intended. We then observe
with surprise how the wording of an assertion removes
the purpose of the same, and how the error in speech lays
bare the inner dishonesty. Here the lapsus linguæ becomes
a mimicking form of expression, often, indeed, for the expres-
sion of what one does not wish to say. It is thus a means
of self-
betrayal.

Brill relates: “I had recently been consulted by a woman
who showed many paranoid trends, and as she had no

70

relatives who could co-operate with me, I urged her to
enter a State hospital as a voluntary patient. She was quite
willing to do so, but on the following day she told me that
her friends with whom she leased an apartment objected
to her going to a hospital, as it would interfere with their
plans, and so on. I lost patience and said: ‘There is no
use listening to your friends who know nothing about your
mental condition; you are quite incompetent to take care
of your own affairs.’ I meant to say ‘competent.’ Here
the lapsus linguæ expressed my true opinion.”

Favoured by chance the speech material often gives
origin to examples of speech-blunders which serve to bring
about an overwhelming revelation or a full comic effect,
as shown by the following examples reported by Brill:—

“A wealthy but not very generous host invited his friends
for an evening dance. Everything went well until about
11.30 p.m., when there was an intermission, presumably
for supper. To the great disappointment of most of the
guests there was no supper; instead, they were regaled with
thin sandwiches and lemonade. As it was close to Election
day the conversation centred on the different candidates;
and as the discussion grew warmer, one of the guests, an
ardent admirer of the Progressive Party candidate, remarked
to the host: ‘You may say what you please about Teddy,
but there is one thing—he can always be relied upon; he
always gives you a square meal,’ wishing to say square deal.
The assembled guests burst into a roar of laughter to the
great embarrassment of the speaker and the host, who fully
understood each other.”

“While writing a prescription for a woman who was
especially weighed down by the financial burden of the
treatment, I was interested to hear her say suddenly: ‘Please
do not give me big bills, because I cannot swallow them.’
Of course she meant to say pills.”

The following example illustrates a rather serious case
of self-betrayal through a mistake in talking. Some accessory

71

details justify full reproduction as first printed by Dr.
A. A. Brill.¹⁾

“While walking one night with Dr. Frink we accidentally
met a colleague, Dr. P., whom I had not seen for years,
and of whose private life I knew nothing. We were naturally
very pleased to meet again, and on my invitation he accom-
panied us to a café, where we spent about two hours in
pleasant conversation. To my question as to whether he
was married he gave a negative answer, and added, ‘Why
should a man like me marry ?’ ”

“On leaving the café, he suddenly turned to me and
said: ‘I should like to know what you would do in a case
like this: I know a nurse who was named as co-respondent
in a divorce case. The wife sued the husband for divorce
and named her as co-respondent, and he got the divorce.’
I interrupted him, saying, ‘You mean she got the divorce.’
He immediately corrected himself, saying, ‘Yes, she got the
divorce,’ and continued to tell how the excitement of the
trial had affected this nurse to such an extent that she
became nervous and took to drink. He wanted me to advise
him how to treat her.”

“As soon as I had corrected his mistake I asked him
to explain it, but, as is usually the case, he was surprised
at my question. He wanted to know whether a person
had no right to make mistakes in talking. I explained to
him that there is a reason for every mistake, and that if
he had not told me that he was unmarried, I would say
that he was the hero of the divorce case in question, and
that the mistake showed that he wished he had obtained the
divorce instead of his wife, so as not to be obliged to pay
alimony and to be permitted to marry again in New York
State.”

“He stoutly denied my interpretation, but his emotional

¹⁾Zentralb. f. Psychoanalyse, ii., Jahrg. 1. Cf. also Brill’s
Psychoanalysis: Its Theories and Practical Application, p. 202.
Saunders, Philadelphia and London.

72

agitation, followed by loud laughter, only strengthened my
suspicions. To my appeal that he should tell the truth ‘for
science’ sake,’ he said, ‘Unless you wish me to lie you must
believe that I was never married, and hence your psycho-
analytic interpretation is all wrong.’ He, however, added
that it was dangerous to be with a person who paid attention
to such little things. Then he suddenly remembered that
he had another appointment and left us.

“Both Dr. Frink and I were convinced that my inter-
pretation of his lapsus linguæ was correct, and I decided to
corroborate or disprove it by further investigation. The
next day I found a neighbour and old friend of Dr. P.,
who confirmed my interpretation in every particular. The
divorce was granted to Dr. P.’s wife a few weeks before,
and a nurse was named as co-respondent. A few weeks later
I met Dr. P., and he told me that he was thoroughly con-
vinced of the Freudian mechanisms.”

The self-betrayal is just as plain in the following case
reported by Otto Rank:—

A father who was devoid of all patriotic feeling and
desirous of educating his children to be just as free from
this superfluous sentiment, reproached his sons for partici-
pating in a patriotic demonstration, and rejected their
reference to a similar behaviour of their uncle with these
words: “You are not obliged to imitate him; why, he is
an idiot.” The astonished features of the children at their
father’s unusual tone aroused him to the fact that he had
made a mistake, and he remarked apologetically, “Of
course, I wished to say patriot.”

When such a speech-blunder occurs in a serious squabble
and reverses the intended meaning of one of the disputants,
at once it puts him at a disadvantage with his adversary–
a disadvantage which the latter seldom fails to utilize.

This clearly shows that although people are unwilling to
accept the theory of my conception and are not inclined
to forego the convenience that is connected with the tolerance

73

of a faulty action, they nevertheless interpret speech-
blunders and other faulty acts in a manner similar to the one presented
in this book. The merriment and derision which are sure
to be evoked at the decisive moment through such linguistic
mistakes speak conclusively against the generally accepted
convention that such a speech-blunder is a lapsus linguæ
and psychologically of no importance. It was no less a
man than the German Chancellor, Prince Bülow, who
endeavoured to save the situation through such a protest
when the wording of his defence of his Emperor (November,
1907) turned into the opposite through a speech-blunder.

“Concerning the present, the new epoch of Emperor
Wilhelm II, I can only repeat what I said a year ago, that
it would be unfair and unjust to speak of a coterie of responsible
advisers around our Emperor (loud calls, ‘Irresponsible !’)
—to speak of irresponsible advisers. Pardon the lapsus
linguæ” (hilarity).

A nice example of speech-blunder, which aims not so
much at the betrayal of the speaker as at the enlightenment
of the listener outside the scene, is found in Wallenstein
(Piccolomini, Act I, Scene 5), and shows us that the poet
who here uses this means is well versed in the mechanism
and intent of speech-blunders. In the preceding scene Max
Piccolomini was passionately in favour of the ducal party,
and was enthusiastic over the blessings of the peace which
became known to him in the course of a journey while
accompanying Wallenstein’s daughter to the encampment.
He leaves his father and the Court ambassador, Questenberg,
in great consternation. The scene proceeds as follows:—

QUESTENBERG. Woe unto us ! Are matters thus ? Friend,
should we allow him to go there with this false opinion, and not
recall him at once in order to open his eyes instantly.
OCTAVIO (rousing himself from profound meditation). He has
already opened mine, and I see more than pleases me.
QUESTENBERG. What is it, friend ?
OCTAVIO. A curse on that journey !
QUESTENBERG. Why ? What is it ?

74

OCTAVIO. Come! I must immediately follow the unlucky
trail, must see with my own eyes—come— (Wishes to lead him
away.)
QUESTENBERG. What is the matter? Where?
OCTAVIO (urging). To her!
QUESTENBERG. To—?
OCTAVIO (corrects himself). To the duke! Let us go, etc.

The slight speech-blunder to her in place of to him is
meant to betray to us the fact that the father has seen through
his son’s motive for espousing the other cause, while the
courtier complains that “he speaks to him altogether in
riddles.”

Another example wherein a poet makes use of a speech-
blunder was discovered by Otto Rank in Shakespeare. I
quote Rank’s report from the Zentralblatt für Psycho-
analyse, I. 3.

“A poetic speech-blunder, very delicately motivated and
technically remarkably well utilized, which, like the one
pointed out by Freud in Wallenstein (Zur Psychopathologie
des Alltagslebens, 2nd Edition, p. 48), not only shows that
poets knew the mechanism and sense of this error, but also
presupposes an understanding of it on the part of the hearer,
can be found in Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice (Act III,
Scene 2). By the will of her father, Portia was bound to
select a husband through a lottery. She escaped all her
distasteful suitors by lucky chance. When she finally found
in Bassanio the suitor after her own heart, she had cause
to fear lest he, too, should draw the unlucky lottery. In
the scene she would like to tell him that even if he chose
the wrong casket, he might, nevertheless, be sure of her
love. But she is hampered by her vow. In this mental
conflict the poet puts these words in her mouth, which were
directed to the welcome suitor:—

‘There is something tells me (but it is not love),
I would not lose you; and you know yourself
Hate counsels not in such a quality.
But lest you should not understand me well

76

she ultimately marries, but from a mixture of motives he
stands aloof.

“In the soliloquy Clara speaks as follows: ‘If some noble
gentleman could see me as I am and not disdain to aid
me! Oh! to be caught out of this prison of thorns and
brambles. I cannot tear my own way out. I am a coward.
A beckoning of a finger would change me, I believe. I
could fly bleeding and through hootings to a comrade.

. . . Constantia met a soldier. Perhaps she prayed and
her prayer was answered. She did ill. But, oh, how I love
her for it! His name was Harry Oxford. . . . She did not
waver, she cut the links, she signed herself over. Oh, brave
girl, what do you think of me? But I have no Harry
Whitford; I am alone. . . .’ The sudden consciousness
that she had put another name for Oxford struck her a
buffet, drowning her in crimson.

“The fact that both men’s names end in ‘ford’ evidently
renders the confounding of them more easy, and would
by many be regarded as an adequate cause for this, but
the real underlying motive for it is plainly indicated by
the author. In another passage the same lapsus occurs,
and is followed by the hesitation and change of subject
that one is familiar with in psycho-
analysis when a half-
conscious complex is touched. Sir Willoughby patronizingly
says of Whitford: ‘False alarm. The resolution to do any
thing unaccustomed is quite beyond poor old Vernon.’
Clara replies: ‘But if Mr. Oxford—Whitford . . . your
swans, coming sailing up the lake; how beautiful they look
when they’ are indignant! I was going to ask you, surely
men witnessing a marked admiration for some one else
will naturally be discouraged?’ Sir Willoughby stiffened
with sudden enlightenment.

“In still another passage Clara, by another lapsus, betrays
her secret wish that she was on a more intimate footing with
Vernon Whitford. Speaking to a boy friend, she says,
‘Tell Mr. Vernon—tell Mr. Whitford.’”

77

The conception of speech-blunders here defended can be
readily verified in the smallest details. I have been able
to demonstrate repeatedly that the most insignificant and
most natural cases of speech-blunders have their good
sense, and admit of the same interpretation as the more
striking examples. A patient who, contrary to my wishes
but with firm personal motives, decided upon a short trip
to Budapest, justified herself by saying that she was going
for only three days, but she blundered and said for only
three weeks. She betrayed her secret feeling that, to spite
me, she preferred spending three weeks to three days in
that society which I considered unfit for her.

One evening, wishing to excuse myself for not having
called for my wife at the theatre, I said: “I was at the
theatre at ten minutes after ten.” I was corrected: “You
meant to say before ten o’clock.” Naturally I wanted to
say before ten. After ten would certainly be no excuse.
I had been told that the theatre programme read, “Finished
before ten o’clock.” When I arrived at the theatre I found
the foyer dark and the theatre empty. Evidently the per-
formance was over earlier and my wife did not wait for me.
When I looked at the clock it still wanted five minutes to
ten. I determined to make my case more favourable at
home, and say that it was ten minutes to ten. Unfortunately,
the speech-blunder spoiled the intent and laid bare my
dishonesty, in which I acknowledged more than there really
was to confess.

This leads us to those speech disturbances which can no
longer be described as speech-blunders, for they do not
injure the individual word, but affect the rhythm and
execution of the entire speech, as, for example, the stam-
mering and stuttering of embarrassment. But here, as in
the former cases, it is the inner conflict that is betrayed to
us through the disturbance in speech. I really do not believe
that any one will make mistakes in talking in an audience
with His Majesty, in a serious love declaration, or in

78

defending one’s name and honour before a jury; in short,
people make no mistakes where they are all there, as the
saying goes. Even in criticizing an author’s style we are
allowed and accustomed to follow the principle of explana-
tion, which we cannot miss in the origin of a single speech-
blunder. A clear and unequivocal manner of writing shows
us that here the author is in harmony with himself, but
where we find a forced and involved expression, aiming
at more than one target, as appropriately expressed, we can
thereby recognize the participation of an unfinished and
complicated thought, or we can hear through it the stifled
voice of the author’s self-criticism.¹⁾

“Ce qu’on conçoit bien
S’énonce clairement,
Et les mots pour le dire
Arrivent aisément.”
Boileau, Art Poétique.