79

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 surprising when one remembers the
inner relation of these functions. I shall here confine myself
to the reports of several carefully analysed examples 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 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

80

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 compelled 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 signified a spasmodic effort, so to
speak, to turn the sad news from the man towards the
woman. The title between the adjective and the name did
not go well with my claim that the woman must have been
meant. That is why it was omitted in the reading. The
motive for this falsifying was not that the woman was less
an object of my sympathy than the man, but the fate of this
poor man had excited my fears regarding another and
nearer person who, I was aware, had the same disease.

(d) Both irritating and laughable is a lapse in reading
to which I am frequently subject when I walk through the

¹ The Interpretation of Dreams, p. 208.

81

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 bloodcorpuscles. 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.”

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.

¹⁾ Bleuler, Affektivität Suggestibilität, Paranoia, p. 121, Halle.
Marhold, 1906.

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PSYCHOPATHOLOGY OF EVERYDAY LIFE

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 mistakes 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 nationalities
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 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 Traum
deutung, 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

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

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 realized 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 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 psychoanalytic 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 mechanisms

84

underlying them are the same as in other mistakes. Typo-
graphical 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 con-
cerned, 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 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 combined
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.

85

MISTAKES IN READING AND WRITING

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 ‘carbon’ in a paragraph dealing with the
chemical composition of the stars. In 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 given 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.

86

Another biblical misprint dates back to the year 1580,
and is found in the Bible of the famous library of Wolfenbuttel,
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 concerning
A. A. Brill: “Although by custom almost a teetotaler, 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 remark-
able 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 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

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

²Jones, Psycho-
analysis, p. 66.

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MISTAKES IN READING AND WRITING

put her back into her first residence, where she was no
better off than yourself.” “Of course I begrudge her the
new apartment,” she honestly admitted. As an afterthought
she added, “It is a pity that one is so mean in such matters.”
(k) Ernest Jones 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 excite-
ment 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 causation 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 readjustment between Austria
and Hungary, the word “effective” was accidentally omitted
in the Hungarian translation. Dattner thinks it probable
that the unconscious desire of the Hungarian law-makers
to grant Austria the 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 appointment
for a certain day. Instead of keeping his appointment he
sent regrets which began as follows: ‘Owing to foreseen
circumstances I am unable to keep my appointment.’ He
naturally meant to write unforeseen. He finally came to
me months later, and in the course of the analysis I dis-

¹Zentralbl. f. Psychoanalyse, i. 12.

88

covered 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 attention
are often such that when interrupted and questioned he
cannot even state what he has read. In other words, 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.