129

IX

SYMPTOMATIC AND CHANCE ACTIONS

THE actions described so far, in which we recognize the execution of a-
unconscious intention, appeared as disturbances of other unintended ac-
tions, and hid themselves under the pretext of awkwardness. Chance
actions, which we shall now discuss, differ from erroneously carried-out
actions only in that they disdain the support of a conscious intention and
really need no pretext. They appear independently and are accepted be-
cause one does not credit them with any aim or purpose. We execute them
“without thinking anything of them,” “by mere chance,” “just to keep
the hands busy,” and we feel confident that such information will be quite
sufficient should one inquire as to their significance. In order to enjoy the
advantage of this exceptional position, these actions which no longer
claim awkwardness as an excuse must fulfill certain conditions: they
must not be striking, and their effects must be insignificant.
 

I have collected a large number of such “chance actions” from myself
and others, and after thoroughly investigating the individual examples, I
believe that the name “symptomatic actions” is more suitable. They give
expression to something which the actor himself does not suspect in them,
and which, as a rule, he has no intention of imparting to others, but aims
to keep to himself. Like the other phenomena considered so far, they
thus play the part of symptoms.
 

The richest output of such chance or symptomatic actions is above all
obtained in the psychoanalytic treatment of neurotics. I cannot deny my
self the pleasure of showing by two examples of this nature how far and
how delicately the determination of these plain occurrences is swayed
by unconscious thoughts. The line of demarcation between the sympto-
matic actions and the erroneously carried-out actions is so indefinite that
I could have disposed of these examples in the preceding chapter.
 

(a) During the analysis, a young woman reproduced this idea which
suddenly occurred to her. Yesterday, while cutting her nails, “she had
cut into the flesh while engaged in trimming the cuticle.” This is of so
little interest that we ask in astonishment why it is at all remembered and
 

130

PSYCHOPATHOLOGY OF EVERYDAY LIFE

mentioned, and therefore come to the conclusion that we deal with a
symptomatic action. It was really the finger upon which the wedding ring
is worn which was injured through this slight awkwardness. It happened,
moreover, on her wedding-
day, which thus gives to the injury of the
delicate skin a very definite and easily guessed meaning. At the same time,
she also related a dream which alluded to the awkwardness of her husband
and her feminine anesthesia. But why did she injure the ring finger of her
left hand when the wedding ring is worn on the right? Her husband is a
jurist, a “Doctor of Laws” ( Doktor der Rechte, literally a Doctor of
Rights), and her secret affection as a girl belonged to a physician who was
jokingly called Doktor der Linke (literally Doctor of Left). Incidentally,
a left-
handed marriage has a definite meaning.

(b) A single young woman relates: “Yesterday, quite unintentionally,
I tore a hundred-
dollar note in two pieces and gave half to a woman who
was visiting me. Is that, too, a symptomatic action?” After closer investi-
gation, the matter of the hundred-
dollar note elicited the following asso-
ciations: She dedicated a part of her time and her fortune to charitable
work. Together with another woman she was taking care of the rearing of
an orphan. The hundred dollars was the contribution sent her by that
woman, which she enclosed in an envelope and provisionally deposited on
her writing-
desk.

The visitor was a prominent woman with whom she was associated in
another act of charity. This woman wished to note the names of a number
of persons to whom she could apply for charitable aid. There was no
paper, so my patient grasped the envelope from her desk, and without
thinking of its contents, tore it in two pieces, one of which she kept and
gave the other to her visitor.

Note the harmlessness of this aimless occurrence. It is known that a
hundred-
dollar note suffers no loss in value when it is torn, provided all
the pieces are produced. That the woman would not throw away the piece
of paper was assumed by the importance of the names on it, and there was
just as little doubt that she would return the valuable content as soon as
she noticed it.

But to what unconscious thought should this chance action, which was
made possible through forgetfulness, give expression? The visitor in this
case had a very definite relation to my patient and myself. It was she who
at one time had recommended me as physician to the suffering girl, and if
I am not mistaken, my patient considered herself indebted for this advice.
Should this halved hundred-
dollar note perhaps represent a fee for her
mediation? That still remained enigmatic.

But other material was added to this beginning. Several days before,
a woman mediator of a different sort had inquired of a relative whether
the gracious young lady wished to make the acquaintance of a certain

131

gentleman, and that morning, some hours before the woman’s visit, the
wooing letter of the suitor arrived, giving occasion for much mirth. When
therefore the visitor opened the conversation with inquiries regarding the
health of my patient, the latter could well have thought: “You certainly
found the right doctor for me, but if you could assist me in obtaining the
right husband (and a child), I should be still more grateful.”

Both mediators became fused into one in this repressed thought, and
she handed the visitor the fee which her phantasy was ready to give the
other. This resolution became perfectly convincing when I add that I had
told her of such chance or symptomatic actions only the previous evening.

She then took advantage of the next occasion to produce an analogous
action.

We can undertake a grouping of these extremely frequent chance and
symptomatic actions according to their occurrence as habitual, regular
under certain circumstances, and as isolated ones. The first group (such
as playing with the watch-
chain, fingering one’s beard, and so on), which
can almost serve as a characteristic of the person concerned, is related to
the numerous tic movements, and certainly deserves to be dealt with in
connection with the latter. In the second group, I place the playing with
one’s cane, the scribbling with one’s pencil, the jingling of coin’s in one’s
pocket, kneading dough and other plastic materials, all sorts of handling
of one’s clothing and many other actions of the same order.

These playful occupations during psychoanalytic treatment regularly
conceal sense and meaning to which other expression is denied. Generally
the person in question knows nothing about it; he is unaware whether he
is doing the same thing or whether he has imitated certain modifications
in his customary playing, and he also fails to see or hear the effects of
these actions. For example, he does not hear the noise which is produced
by the jingling of coins, and he is astonished and incredulous when his
attention is called to it. Of equal significance to the physician, and worthy
of his observation, is everything that one does with his clothing, often
without noticing it. Every change in the customary attire, every little neg-
ligence, such as an unfastened button, every trace of exposure means to
express something that the wearer of the apparel does not wish to say
directly; usually he is entirely unconscious of it.

The interpretation of these trifling chance actions, as well as the proof
for their interpretation, can be demonstrated every time with sufficient
certainty from the surrounding circumstances during the treatment, from
the themes under discussion, and from the ideas that come to the surface
when attention is directed to the seeming accident. Because of this con-
nection, I will refrain from supporting my assertions by reporting ex-
amples with their analyses; but I mention these matters because I believe
that they have the same meaning in normal persons as in my patients.

132

I cannot, however, refrain from showing by at least one example how
closely an habitually accomplished symbolic action may be connected
with the most intimate and important part of the life of a normal indi-
vidual.¹

“As Professor Freud has taught us, the symbolism in the infantile life
of the normal plays a greater rôle than was expected from earlier psycho-
analytic experiences. In view of this, the following brief analysis may be
of general interest, especially on account of its medical aspects.

“A doctor, on rearranging his furniture in a new house, came across a
straight, wooden stethoscope, and, after pausing to decide where he
should put it, was impelled to place it on the side of his writing-desk in
such a position that it stood exactly between his chair and the one re-
served for his patients. The act in itself was certainly odd, for in the first
place, the straight stethoscope served no purpose as he invariably used a
binaural one; and in the second place, all his medical apparatus and in-
struments were always kept in drawers, with the sole exception of this
one. However, he gave no thought to the matter until one day, it was
brought to his notice by a patient who had never seen a wooden stetho-
scope, asking him what it was. On being told, she asked him why he kept
it there. He answered in an offhand way that that place was as good as any
other. This, however, started him thinking, and he wondered whether
there had been an unconscious motive in his action. Being interested in
the psychoanalytic method, he asked me to investigate the matter.

“The first memory that occurred to him was the fact that when a medi-
cal student, he had been struck by the habit his hospital interne had of
always carrying a wooden stethoscope in his hand on his ward visits, al-
though he never used it. He greatly admired this interne, and was much
attached to him. Later on, when he himself became an interne, he con-
tracted the same habit, and would feel very uncomfortable if by mistake
he left the room without having the instrument to swing in his hand. The
aimlessness of the habit was shown, not only by the fact that the only
stethoscope he ever used was a binaural one, which he carried in his
pocket, but also in that it was continued when he was a surgical interne
and never needed any stethoscope at all.

“From this, it was evident that the idea of the instrument in question
had in some way or other become invested with a greater psychic signifi-
cance than normally belonged to it—in other words, that to the subject it
stood for more than it does for other people. The idea must have become
unconsciously associated with some other one which it symbolized, and
from which it derived its additional fullness of meaning. I will forestall
the rest of the analysis by saying what this secondary idea was—namely,

¹⁾“Beitrag zur Symbolik im Alltag” by Ernest Jones, Zentralb. f. Psychoanalyse,
3, 1911.

133

a phallic one; the way in which this curious association had been formed
will presently be related. The discomfort he experienced in hospital on
missing the instrument, and the relief and assurance the presence of it
gave him, was related to what is known as a ‘castration complex’—namely,
a childhood fear, often continued in a disguised form into adult life, lest
a private part of his body should be taken away from him, just as play-
things so often were. The fear was due to paternal threats that it would
be cut off if he were not a good boy, particularly in a certain direction.
This is a very common complex, and accounts for a great deal of general
nervousness and lack of confidence in later years.

“Then came a number of childhood memories relating to his family
doctor. He had been strongly attached to this doctor as a child, and during
the analysis, long-buried memories were recovered of a double phantasy
he had in his fourth year concerning the birth of a younger sister—
namely, that she was the child (1) of himself and his mother, the father
being relegated to the background, and (2) of the doctor and himself; in
this, he thus played both a masculine and feminine part.¹ At the time,
when his curiosity was being aroused by the event, he could not help
noticing the prominent share taken by the doctor in the proceedings, and
the subordinate position occupied by the father: the significance of this
for his later life will presently be pointed out.

“The stethoscope association was formed through many connections.
In the first place, the physical appearance of the instrument—a straight,
rigid, hollow tube, having a small bulbous summit at one extremity and a
broad base at the other—and the fact of its being the essential part of the
medical paraphernalia, the instrument with which the doctor performed
his magical and interesting feats, were matters that attracted his boyish
attention. He had had his chest repeatedly examined by the doctor at the
age of six, and distinctly recollected the voluptuous sensation of feeling
the latter’s head near him pressing the wooden stethoscope into his chest,
and of the rhythmic to-
and-fro respiratory movement. He had been struck
by the doctor’s habit of carrying his stethoscope inside his hat; he found
it interesting that the doctor should carry his chief instrument concealed
about his person, always handy when he went to see patients, and that he
only had to take off his hat (i.e., a part of his clothing) and ‘pull it out.’
At the age of eight, he was impressed by being told by an older boy that
it was the doctor’s custom to get into bed with his women patients. It is
certain that the doctor, who was young and handsome, was extremely
popular among the women of the neighborhood, including the subject’s
own mother. The doctor and his ‘instrument’ were therefore objects of
great interest throughout his boyhood.

¹Psychoanalytic research, with the penetration of infantile amnesia, has shown that
this apparent precocity is a less abnormal occurrence than was previously supposed.

134

“It is probable that, as in many other cases, unconscious identification
with the family doctor had been a main motive in determining the sub-
ject’s choice of profession. It was here doubly conditioned (1) by the
superiority on certain interesting occasions of the doctor to the father, of
whom the subject was very jealous, and (2) by the doctor’s knowledge of
forbidden topics¹ and his opportunity for illicit indulgence. The subject
admitted that he had on several occasions experienced erotic temptations
in regard to his women patients; he had twice fallen in love with one, and
finally had married one.

“The next memory was of a dream, plainly of a homosexual-
ochistic nature; in it a man, who proved to be a replacement figure of the
family doctor, attacked the subject with a ‘sword.’ The idea of a sword, as
is so frequently the case in dreams, represented the same idea as was
mentioned above to be associated with that of a wooden stethoscope. The
thought of a sword reminded the subject of the passage in the Nibelung
Saga, where Sigurd sleeps with his naked sword (Gram) between him and
Brunhilda, an incident that had always greatly struck his imagination.

“The meaning of the symptomatic act now at last became clear. The
subject had placed his wooden stethoscope between him and his patients,
just as Sigurd had placed his sword (an equivalent symbol) between him
and the maiden he was not to touch. The act was a compromise-forma-
tion; it served both to gratify in his imagination the repressed wish to
enter into nearer relations with an attractive patient (interposition of
phallus), and at the same time, to remind him that this wish was not to
become a reality (interposition of sword). It was, so to speak, a charm
against yielding to temptation.

“I might add that the following passage from Lord Lytton’s Richelieu
made a great impression on the boy:

‘Beneath the rule of men entirely great
The pen is mightier than the sword.’²

and that he became a prolific writer and uses an unusually large fountain
pen. When I asked him what need he had of this pen, he replied in a
characteristic manner, ‘I have so much to express.’

“This analysis reminds us of the profound views that are afforded us
in the psychic life through the ‘harmless’ and ‘senseless’ actions, and how
early in life the tendency to symbolization develops.”

I can also relate an experience from my psychotherapeutic practice in
which the hand, playing with a mass of bread-crumbs, gave evidence of an
eloquent declaration. My patient was a boy not yet thirteen years of age,
who had been very hysterical for two years. I finally took him for psycho-

¹The term “medical questions” is a common periphrasis for “sexual” questions.

²Cf. Oldham’s “I wear my pen as others do their sword.”

138

analytic treatment, after a lengthy stay at a hydrotherapeutic institution
had proved futile. My supposition was that he must have had sexual ex-
periences, and that, corresponding to his age, he had been troubled by
sexual questions; but I was cautious about helping him with explanations
as I wished to test further my assumption. I was therefore curious as to
the manner in which the desired material would evince itself in him.

One day, it struck me that he was rolling something between the fingers
of his right hand; he would thrust it into his pocket and there continue
playing with it, then would draw it out again, and so on. I did not ask
what he had in his hand; but as he suddenly opened his hand, he showed
it to me. It was bread-crumbs kneaded into a mass. At the next session, he
again brought along a mass, and in the course of our conversation, al-
though his eyes were closed, modelled a figure with an incredible rapidity
which excited my interest. Without doubt, it was a manikin like the
crudest prehistoric idols, with a head, two arms, two legs and an ap-
pendage between the legs which he drew out to a long point.

This was scarcely completed when he kneaded the manikin together
again: later, he allowed it to remain, but modelled an identical appendage
on the flat of the back and on other parts in order to veil the meaning of
the first. I wished to show him that I had understood him, but at the same
time I wanted to deprive him of the evasion that he had thought of
nothing while actively forming these figures. With this intention, I sud-
denly asked him whether he remembered the story of the Roman king
who gave his son’s envoy a pantomimic answer in his garden.

The boy did not wish to recall what he must have learned so much more
recently than I. He asked if that was the story of the slave on whose bald
skull “the answer was written. I told him, “No, that belonged to Greek
history,” and related the following: “King Tarquinius Superbus had in-
duced his son Sextus to steal into a Latin city. The son, who had later
obtained a foothold in the city, sent a messenger to the king, asking what
steps he should take next. The king gave no answer, but went into his
garden, had the question repeated there, and silently struck off the heads
of the largest and most beautiful poppies. All that the messenger could
do was to report this to Sextus, who understood his father, and caused the
most distinguished citizens of the city to be removed by assassination.”

While I was speaking, the boy stopped kneading, and as I was relating
what the king did in his garden, I noticed that at the words “silently
struck” he tore off the head of the manikin with a movement as quick as
lightning. He therefore understood me, and showed me that he was also un-
derstood by me. Now I could question him directly, and gave him the
information that he desired, and in a short time, the neurosis came to an
end.

The symptomatic actions which we observe in inexhaustible abundance

136

in healthy as well as in nervous people are worthy of our interest far more
than one reason. To the physician, they often serve as valuable indications
for orienting himself in new or unfamiliar conditions; to the keen ob-
server, they often betray everything, occasionally even more than he cares
to know. He who is familiar with its application sometimes feels like King
Solomon, who, according to the Oriental legend, understood the language
of animals.

One day, I was to examine a strange young man at his mother’s home.
As he came towards me, I was attracted by a large stain on his trousers,
which by its peculiar stiff edges, I recognized as one produced by albumen.
After a moment’s embarrassment, the young man excused this stain by
remarking that he was hoarse and therefore drank a raw egg, and that
some of the slippery white of the egg had probably fallen on his clothes.
To confirm his statements, he showed the eggshell which could still be
seen on a small plate in the room. The suspicious spot was thus explained
in this harmless way; but as his mother left us alone, I thanked him for
having so greatly facilitated the diagnosis for me, and without further
procedure, I took as the topic of our discussion his confession that he was
suffering from the effects of masturbation.

Another time, I called on a woman as rich as she was miserly and
foolish, who was in the habit of giving the physician the task of working
his way through a heap of her complaints before he could reach the simple
cause of her condition. As I entered, she was sitting at a small table en-
gaged in arranging silver dollars in little piles: as she arose, she tumbled
some of the pieces of money to the floor. I helped her pick them up, but
interrupted the recitation of her misery by remarking: “Has your good
son-in-law been spending so much of your money again?” She bitterly
denied this, only to relate a few moments later the lamentable story of the
aggravation caused by her son-in-law’s extravagances. And she has not
sent for me since. I cannot maintain that one always makes friends of
those to whom he tells the meaning of their symptomatic actions.

He who observes his fellow-men while at table will be able to verify in
them the nicest and most instructive symptomatic actions.

Dr. Hans Sachs relates the following:

“I happened to be present when an elderly couple related to me partook
of their supper. The lady had stomach trouble and was forced to follow a
strict diet. A roast was put before the husband, and he requested his wife,
who was not allowed to partake of this food, to give him the mustard. The
wife opened the closet and took out the small bottle of stomach drops, and
placed it on the table before her husband. Between the barrel-shaped
mustard glass and the small drop bottle, there was naturally no similarity
through which the mishandling could be explained; yet the wife only

131

noticed the mistake after her husband laughingly called her attention to
it. The sense of this symptomatic action needs no explanation.”

For an excellent example of this kind which was very skillfully utilized
by the observer, I am indebted to Dr. Bernh. Dattner:

“I dined in a restaurant with my colleague H., a doctor of philosophy.
He spoke about the injustice done to probationary students, and added
that even before he finished his studies, he was placed as secretary to the
ambassador, or rather the Minister plenipotentiary to Chile. ‘But,’ he
added, ‘the minister was afterwards transferred, and I did not make any
effort to meet the newly appointed.’ While uttering the last sentence, he
was lifting a piece of pie to his mouth, but he let it drop as if out of awk-
-
wardness. I immediately grasped the hidden sense of this symptomatic
action, and remarked to my colleague, who was unacquainted with psy-
-
choanalysis, ‘You really allowed a very choice morsel to slip from you.’
He did not realize, however, that my words could equally refer to his
symptomatic action, and he repeated the same words I uttered with a
peculiarly agreeable and surprising vividness, as if I had actually taken
the words from his mouth: ‘It was really a very choice morsel that I al-
-
lowed to get away from me.’ He then followed this remark with a detailed
description of his clumsiness which has cost him this very remunerative
position.

“The sense of this symbolic action becomes clearer if we remember that
my colleague had scruples about telling me, almost a perfect stranger,
concerning his precarious material situation, and his repressed thought
took on the mask of symptomatic action which expressed symbolically
what was meant to be concealed, and the speaker thus got relief from his
unconscious.”

Chance or symptomatic actions occurring in affairs of married life have
often a most serious significance, and could lead those who do not concern
themselves with the psychology of the unconscious to a belief in omens.
It is not an auspicious beginning if a young woman loses her wedding ring
on her wedding tour, even if it is only mislaid and soon found.

I know a woman, now divorced, who in the management of her business
affairs frequently signed her maiden name many years before she actually
resumed it.

Once I was the guest of a newly married couple and heard the young
woman laughingly relate her latest experience, how, on the day succeed-
-
ing her return from the wedding tour, she had sought out her single sister
in order to go shopping with her as in former times, while her husband was
attending business. Suddenly she noticed a man on the opposite side of the
street; nudging her sister she said, “Why, that is surely Mr. L.” She for-
-
got that for some weeks this man had been her husband. I was chilled at
this tale, but I did not dare draw any inferences. The little story came

138

back to me only several years later, after this marriage had ended most
unhappily.

A friend who has learned to observe signs related to me that the great
actress Eleanore Duse introduced a symptomatic action into one of her
rôles which shows very nicely from what depth she drew her acting. It
was a drama dealing with adultery; she had just been in discussion with
her husband and now stood soliloquizing before the seducer made his ap-
pearance. During this short interval, she played with her wedding ring;
she pulled it off, replaced it and finally took it off again. She was now
ready for the other.

I know of an elderly man who married a young girl, and instead of
starting at once on his wedding tour, he decided to spend the night in a
hotel. Scarcely had they reached the hotel, when he noticed with fright
that he was without his wallet, in which he had the entire sum of money
for the wedding tour; he must have mislaid or lost it. He was still able to
reach his servant by telephone; the latter found the missing article in
the coat discarded for the travelling clothes and brought it to the hotel to
the waiting bridegroom, who had thus entered upon his marriage without
means.

It is consoling to think that the “losing of objects” by people is merely
an unsuspected extension of a symptomatic action, and is thus welcome at
least to the secret intention of the loser. Often it is only an expression of
slight appreciation of the lost article, a secret dislike for the same, or per-
haps for the person from whom it came, or the desire to lose this object
was transferred to it from other and more important objects through
symbolic association. The loss of valuable articles serves as an expression
of diverse feelings; it may either symbolically represent a repressed
thought—that is, it may bring back a memory which one would rather
not hear—or it may represent a sacrifice to the obscure forces of fate, the
worship of which is not yet entirely extinct even with us.¹

¹Here is another small collection of various symptomatic actions in normal and
neurotic persons. An elderly colleague who does not like to lose at cards had to pay
one evening a large sum of money in consequence of his losses; he did this without
complaint, but with a peculiarly constrained temper. After his departure, it was dis-
covered that he had left practically everything he had with him at this place, spec-
tacles, cigar case and handkerchief. That would be readily translated into the words:
“You robbers, you have nicely plundered me.” A man who suffers from occasional
sexual impotence, which has its origin in the intimacy of his infantile relations to his
mother, relates that he is in the habit of embellishing pamphlets and notes with an S,
the initial of his mother’s name. He cannot bear the idea of having letters from home
come in contact with other unsanctified correspondence, and therefore finds it neces-
sary to keep the former separate. A young woman suddenly flings open the door of
the consulting room while her predecessor is still present. She excuses herself on the
ground of “thoughtlessness”; it soon comes to light that she demonstrated her curiosity
which caused her at an earlier time to intrude into the bedroom of her parents. Girls
who are proud of their beautiful hair know so well how to manipulate combs and
hairpins, that in the midst of conversation, their hair becomes loosened. During the

139

SYMPTOMATIC AND CHANCE ACTIONS

These as well as other similar experiences have caused me to think that
the actions executed unintentionally must inevitably become the source
of misunderstanding in human relations. The perpetrator of the act, who
is unaware of any associated intention, takes no account of it, and does
not hold himself responsible for it. On the other hand, the second party,
having regularly utilized even such acts as those of his partner to draw
conclusions as to their purpose and meaning, recognizes more of the
stranger’s psychic processes than the latter is ready either to admit or
believe that he has imparted. He becomes indignant when these conclu-
sions drawn from his symptomatic actions are held up to him; he declares
them baseless because he does not see any conscious intention in their
execution, and complains of being misunderstood by the other. Samuel
Butler, whose psychological insight was truly remarkable, expressed the
same views long before Professor Freud came on the scene.¹ Speaking
of conscious and unconscious knowers, he states (Life and Habit, p. 27):

treatment (in a reclining position) some men scatter change from their pockets and
thus pay for the hour of treatment; the amount scattered is in proportion to their
estimation of the work. Whoever forgets articles in the doctor’s office, such as eye-
glasses, gloves, handbags, generally indicates that he cannot tear himself away and is
anxious to return soon. Ernest Jones says: “One can almost measure the success with
which a physician is practising psychotherapy, for instance, by the size of the col-
lection of umbrellas, handkerchiefs, purses and so on, that he could make in a month.
The slightest habits and acts performed with a minimum of attention, such as the
winding of a clock before retiring to sleep, the putting out of lights before leaving
the room and similar actions, are occasionally subject to disturbances which clearly
demonstrate the influence of the unconscious complex, and what is thought to be the
strongest habits.”
In the journal, Caenobium, Maeder tells about a hospital physician who, on
account of an important matter, desired to get to the city that evening, although he
was on duty and had no right to leave the hospital. On his return, he noticed, to his
surprise, that there was a light in his room. On leaving the room, he had forgotten to
put it out, something that had never happened before. But he soon grasped the motive
of this forgetting. The hospital superintendent who lived in the same house must
have concluded from the light in his room that he was at home. A man over-
burdened
with worries and subject to occasional depressions assured me that he regularly forgot
to wind his watch on those evenings when life seemed too hard and unfriendly. In
this omission to wind his watch, he symbolically expressed that it was a matter of
indifference to him whether he lived to see the next day. Another man who was per-
sonally unknown to me wrote: “Having been struck by a terrible misfortune, life
appeared so harsh and unsympathetic that I imagined that I had not sufficient
strength to live to see the next day. I then noticed that almost every day I forgot to
wind my watch, something that I never omitted before. I had been in the habit of
doing it regularly before retiring in an almost mechanical and unconscious manner.
It was only very seldom that I thought of it, and that happened when I had some-
thing important for the next day which held my interest. Should this be considered
a symptomatic action? I really cannot explain it.” Whoever will take the trouble
like Jung (The Psychology of Dementia Praecox, translated by Brill), or Maeder
(“Une voie nouvelle en psychologie—Freud et son école,” Caenobium, Lugano,
1906), to pay attention to melodies which one hums to himself aimlessly and un-
consciously, will regularly discover the relation of the melody’s text to a theme which
occupies the person at that time.

¹Given by Editor.

140

“Another example may be taken from Bacon of the manner in which
sayings which drop from men unconsciously, give the key of their inner
thoughts to another person, though they themselves know not that they
have such thoughts at all; much less that these thoughts are their only
true convictions. In his Essay on Friendship the great philosopher writes:
‘Reading good books on morality is a little flat and dead.’ Innocent, not
to say pathetic, as this passage may sound, it is pregnant with painful
inferences concerning Bacon’s moral character. For if he knew that he
found reading good books on morality a little flat and dead, it follows he
must have tried to read them; nor is he saved by the fact that he found
them a little flat and dead; for though this does indeed show that he had
begun to be so familiar with a few first principles as to find it more or less
exhausting to have his attention directed to them further—yet his words
prove that they were not so incorporate with him that he should feel the
loathing for further discourse upon the matter which honest people com-
monly feel now. It will be remembered that he took bribes when he came
to be Lord Chancellor.”

Close examination shows that such misunderstandings are based on the
fact that the person is too fine an observer and understands too much.
The more “nervous” two persons are, the more readily will they give each
other cause for disputes, which are based on the fact that one as definitely
denies about his own person what he is sure to accept about the other.

And this is, indeed, the punishment for the inner dishonesty to which
people grant expression under the guise of “forgetting,” of erroneous ac-
tions and accidental emotions, a feeling which they would do better to
confess to themselves and others when they can no longer control it. As a
matter of fact, it can be generally affirmed that everyone is continually
practising psychoanalysis on his neighbors, and consequently, learns to
know them better than each individual knows himself. The road following
the admonition γνῶθι σεαυτὸν leads through the study of one’s own ap-
parently casual commissions and omissions.