The second contentious point was the nature of the numerous ailments which plagued Freud in the 1890s: migraines, nasal symptoms, gastro-intestinal symptoms, rapid mood swings and above all cardiac arrhythmia accompanied by dyspepsia and anginal pains. Concerning the cardiac symptoms which worried Freud, Breuer had been of the opinion that they were due to a ‘chronic myocardia’. As for Fliess, he considered them due to nicotine intoxication, and then diagnosed them with a nasal aetiology for which he prescribed his habitual cure: cocainisation of the nasal mucous membrane and turbinate operations. Others, such as Elisabeth Thornton,80 have suggested that they were due to effects of cocaine, which Freud, following Fliess’ advice, had taken initially to calm his migraines.81 From this perspective, Fliess’ cocaine therapy was an illness which it pretended to cure, as Karl Krauss once famously characterised psychoanalysis.82 Even to suggest such connections would have been unacceptable, given the level of concern over any mention of nasal therapy in the letters. Having previously accepted Max Schur’s (who was subsequently Freud’s personal physician) diagnosis of coronary thrombosis, Kris came to the conclusion that the cardiac and other symptoms were of a neurotic nature, which he explained in the first version of his introduction.
Kris, extract from the unpublished version of his introduction to the letters to Fliess: Freud did not indicate the immediate cause which induced him to his self-analysis. At the end of the half year which followed the death of his father, in spring 1897, he mentioned neurotic disturbances, in which Fliess ‘was drawn in’ (Letters 65ff). This is not the first occasion in which Freud touches on the theme of his own neurotic difficulties. Already in the year 1894 – thus at the time of the tense and conflictual collaboration with Breuer and often since that time – Freud reported fluctuations of health and moods. The heart complaints which Freud suffered from in these years and which Fliess tended to think led back to nicotine abuse were never certainly diagnosed.83 Freud’s own conception fluctuated; but the letters strengthen the impression that Freud was correct in his supposition of a psychic cause or a psychic contribution. This impression is strengthened by the success of the self-analysis. Already in the year 1898 Freud felt ‘much more normal’ and ‘healthier’.84
Anna Freud and Marie Bonaparte were strongly against any mention of a ‘neurosis’ of the founder, which risked giving weapons to the adversaries of psychoanalysis. So the official diagnosis remained one of organic cardiac symptoms. Anna Freud reprimanded her former analysand.
Anna Freud to Kris, 4 June 1947: But in all the sentences which refer to the self-analysis, one notices that you are still in an inner conflict, and with this there is too much explanation and apology and this arouses in the reader the impression, which you do not want to arouse: namely that with his thirst for knowledge, he found himself in forbidden territory. I think that we must solve the question of conscience before you give this paragraph its definitive form. We decided that it is not correct to convey certain points, since one must omit them. We decided in favour of the opposite, since there is no ground for the apology and the reader will find it more natural that he came to know these things.85
Anna Freud proposed to ask Max Schur to write a note on the diagnosis of thrombosis, explicitly citing the letter mentioning the myocardia postulated by Breuer (she added that this letter should not be cut).86 This would have undercut Kris’ construction, as it removed one of the reasons for the self-analysis. Shaken by this rebuff, Kris wrote several letter to plead his case and invoked other members of the Freudian family. He noted that Heinz Hartmann agreed with him that Freud suffered from a ‘cardiac neurosis’ and Felix Deutsch, who had been Freud’s doctor in the early 1920s, was also inclined to exclude a prior coronary incident. Even Schur had changed his opinion, as, after reading the letters, he ‘suddenly felt that he never really believed in the thrombosis of the 1890s’.87 Anna Freud was not disposed to give way.
Anna Freud to Kris, 12 November 1947: After the many fluctuations from one to another view, I feel that Schur’s opinion loses its value for the decision. Hartmann, who has no physical evidence, can know no more of it than any other reader of the letters. And Felix Deutsch is, as you know, not impartial on this point.88
There was nothing to do but to give in. The censor was now censored, and Kris removed references to Freud’s ‘feminine tendency’ and his various ‘neurotic’ symptoms, and only left a vague reference to his mood swings and the alternation of progress and resistance. Consequently, the reader remains in the dark as to precisely what Freud was cured of. The self-analysis, which Kris had brought to centre stage to provide a therapy for the errancy of the letters, now became a cure without an illness nor much in the way of discernable symptoms. The mystification of the origins of psychoanalysis was complete. It was only in 1966 that Max Schur discretely revealed some fragments from the unpublished parts of the correspondence89 and only in 1985 that the letters appeared intact, apart from anonymising the names of patients.90 However, the myth of the immaculate self-analysis had already taken root and become embedded and enshrined in the literature of psychoanalysis and spread to other disciplines, including in figures as sophisticated as Derrida and Ricoeur. The censors had won. To this day, how many people bother to read the complete edition of the letters to Fliess?
A biography in search of an author
The Origins of Psychoanalysis appeared in German in 1950 and in English in 1954. However, this was only the first step in establishing the official history of psychoanalysis. In the same letter in which he sent Anna Freud his final correction, Kris announced the next task.
Kris to Anna Freud, 7 December 1947: The two ‘biographies,’ of which I have not read Ludwig’s, will hopefully have satiated the greedy interest so fully and have satisfied the hostility so fully, that the appearance of our volume will pass without sensation. Then Bernfeld will have the time to write a correct biography and we will have time to publish a selection of further letters or write the biography of psychoanalysis instead of Freud.91
Bernfeld to Kris, 11 July 1949: I received today the first installment [of Aus den Anfänge der Psychoanalyse], and have read through it in a hurry. My impression is that you have done a great job with the introduction. The biography of Freud starts to take shape.92
As we have seen,93 Freud had been profoundly allergic to any intrusion in his private life and his heirs shared this attitude, systematically refusing all cooperation with projects such as the fictional biography of Irving Stone,94 a Hollywood film planned by Anatole Litvak or the historical researches of Dr von Hattingberg of Baden-Baden.
Anna Freud to Eissler, 26 February 1952: I know about the plan of Hattingberg’s and have been asked to help him a year ago already. But I refused outright. I do not see how a complete stranger like Hattingberg has the right to write a biography, how he can have the knowledge to do so. It seems to me that he had much better be left to his own devices, and perhaps he will [illegible] so little that he will drop his plan.95
However, this rigorously obstructionist attitude became untenable when unauthorised biographies and memoirs began to appear. These threatened to diminish Freud’s public image. In 1946 and 1947, two critical biographies of Freud appeared, from Emil Ludwig96 and Helen Puner,97 soon followed by other incursions into Freud’s private life. Anna Freud was outraged by these. She described Ludwig’s work as ‘labour of hate’,98 while that of Puner was ‘horrible’;99 Erik Erikson’s article on the Irma dream in The Interpretation of Dreams ‘literally turn[ed] [her] stomach’;100 Leslie Adams, a New York psychiatrist who had done researches on Freud’s youth,101 was a ‘full-time crank’;102 Joseph Wortis deserved being taken to court for having published his memoirs of his analysis with Freud,103 and so on. Thus it was imperative to produce a ‘true biography’, as Kris described it, to form a bulwark against the proliferation of unauthorised accounts.
Heinz Hartmann to Anna Freud, 17 March 1947: There will be biographies of Freud. The question is only whether among these biograp
hies there will be a work which one can accept.104
Jones, preface to vol. 1 of his Freud biography: Freud’s family understandingly respected his wish for privacy, and indeed shared it. They often sheltered him from a merely inquisitive public. What changed their attitude later was the news of the many false stories invented by people who had never known him, stories which were gradually accumulating into a mendacious legend.105
But who should write the true life of Freud? On October 1946, Jones was contacted by Leon Shimkin, the director of Simon & Schuster, who wanted to know if he was interested in writing a biography of Freud.106 Jones immediately contacted Anna Freud, who was ambivalent about this prospect. Jones had recently taken sides against her in the conflict with Melanie Klein.107 He had never truly been part of the ‘family’ and she was not sure how much she could trust him. So she suggested that Jones collaborated with Siegfried Bernfeld, an old friend of her youth in Vienna,108 thinking that Bernfeld could direct the project or at least control his collaborator. Moreover, Bernfeld was particularly qualified for this task, as, following his emigration to the United States, he had begun to undertake very detailed investigations with his wife Suzanne of Freud’s youth and the intellectual context of his early work.109
Anna Freud to Kris, 13 March 1947: Jones is not averse to seeking collaborators, as he is not at all suited to do this work alone on account of his state of health. He himself had thought of Bernfeld, which is no bad idea, if the task can be divided . . . Somehow I do not believe in the reality of this project. I don’t consider Jones to be healthy enough. But if in this way his material could be preserved for us, it is probably worth the trouble to be interested in this matter. In any case I do not want to appear negative towards it . . . since I do not want to lose all influence on this affair.110
Anna Freud to Bernfeld, 4 March 1947: [Shimkin] is very interested in publishing a biography of my father and has been in connection here with Ernest Jones who is not unwilling to use the material (letters, personal memories, etc.) in his possession to write at least part of one if he can find somebody to co-operate with him. The idea was that you might be interested in the proposition of being that person and that you might like to write about the development of analytic thought in the manner in which you did it in your articles which have already been published.111
Bernfeld was more suspicious than Anna Freud of Jones. Furthermore, it is clear that he conceived of his historical articles as drafts of chapters of his own Freud biography,112 so a collaboration with Jones would come into conflict with his project. Nevertheless, he was willing to work with Jones.
Bernfeld to Anna Freud, 19 March 1947: Confidentially: I am concerned about Jones’ contribution. In England – back in 1937 – Jones made some remarks on Freud’s personality and life which shocked me, not only because they were made in a hostile and careless way at the dinner table but mainly because they reveal that Jones, at that time, lacked the kind of sympathy and reverence for Freud which is essential for an objective historian. I know that he doesn’t like me a bit and I doubt therefore whether he would be able to cooperate with me. I don’t like him either but I have sufficient appreciation of his contributions to psychoanalysis to be willing to try.113
Anna Freud to Bernfeld, 26 March 1947: Jones’ negative attitude, as it revealed itself to you, is no secret and only too well known to me. But I believe it was mainly the result of jealousy and a feeling that he was not appreciated enough and it has probably greatly diminished since my father’s death . . . I do not know whether he will really have the strength and length of life to finish anything of the kind, but I feel sure that his material is very valuable and that he should at least collect it and thereby prepare the way for further work on it. But that is, of course, not the way in which one could present the task to him.114
Several months later, however, Jones wrote a preface for Freud’s study The Question of Lay Analysis which did not please Anna Freud. The issue was one where Jones had disagreed with Freud, and he referred to Freud’s anti-medical prejudices. On 16 May, she asked Kris to inform Shimkin that she was considering withdrawing her agreement to Jones as Freud’s biographer.115 In reply, Shimkin proposed entrusting Bernfeld with the role, aided by Anna Freud herself.116 As she did not want to participate directly in it, she proposed instead a collaboration between Bernfeld and Kris, with Jones reduced to being an informer.117 Finally, in September, the publisher decided to offer Jones a contract for a volume of 300,000 words.118 The project appears to have lain fallow for two and a half years, until Jones wrote to Bernfeld on 23 March 1950 to ask for his collaboration, in line with the original project.119 Jones wondered how he could integrate the work in Bernfeld’s already published articles into his biography. Bernfeld, faithful to the promise which he had made to Anna Freud, reassured him on this point and offered to place his published and unpublished researches at Jones’ disposal.
Bernfeld to Jones, 24 April 1950: I do not see how my studies could possibly interfere with your work and I do not see why you could not or should not use my publications exactly in the way they fit into your plan. If you wish to quote paragraphs or pages of my publication this can be arranged with the bearer of the copyright . . . I shall be glad to cooperate when you wish to receive unpublished information from me.120
As their correspondence between 1950 and 1953 reveals, their collaboration was very close, and much greater than one would have been led to imagine by Jones’ acknowledgement in the first volume.121
Peter J. Swales: volume one of the Jones Biography was very largely a rewrite of Bernfeld, who was the very first to do genuine historical research on Freud . . . Bernfeld was the true illuminator . . . Chunks of Jones’s book are just an out and out plagiarism of Bernfeld.122
Jones questioned Bernfeld on all sorts of questions, such as Freud’s date of birth, his disguised autobiographical essay on ‘Screen memories’,123 and his relations with Brentano and Meynert. Bernfeld gave detailed answers or undertook researches to help Jones. He corrected the drafts of chapters which Jones sent him, as did James Strachey, who was another concealed collaborator on the biography. In return, Bernfeld asked Jones about matters which he could perhaps answer with the documents to which he had access: what was the distance between Freud’s birthplace, 117 Schlossergasse, and the market? Were there police records about Freud’s nanny who was reported for theft by his half-brother? What was known of the criminal activities of his uncle, Josef Freud? When did Freud go to Wandsbeck to visit his fiancée during his researches on cocaine? (Jones’ reply: Freud’s train arrived at Hamburg station on 2 September 1884 at 5.45 in the morning.)
However it is clear that the main direction of the information flow was from Bernfeld to Jones, who knew little about Freud’s infancy and youth. The situation started to change when Jones gained the confidence of the family, after showing his first chapters to Anna Freud.
Jones to Strachey, 27 October 1951: It is amazing how converted to enthusiasm the whole Freud family have become for the Biography. They keep pouring in information.124
In April 1952, the family agreed to show Jones the Betrothal Letters – nearly 2,000 letter between Freud and Martha Bernays during their four-year engagement, and then their ‘secret journal’, which was a supreme mark of confidence. Bernfeld was impatient to know what they contained, and asked Jones to send him a microfiche of the Betrothal Letters and offered to transcribe them. However, Jones could not oblige, as he said that they had been sent to him ‘only after heartbreaking discussions and after exacting all kinds of pledges . . . not another living soul . . . etc.’.125 The truth was that, as Jones’ stock with Anna Freud rose, Bernfeld’s fell. For reasons that are not entirely clear but appear to have been connected to her relations with Suzanne Bernfeld, Anna Freud thought that his wife exercised a bad influence on him and led his researches towards what was sensational. Already in 1947, Anna Freud was disturbed that Kris had promised to show the Fliess letters to Bernfeld, arguing that one couldn’
t count on the discretion of his wife.126 Two years later, when Bernfeld had announced his intention to publish an article with his wife on Freud’s self-analysis, Anna Freud wrote to Kris to ask him to ask Bernfeld not to cite the letters to Fliess without authorisation and to send them a draft ‘for criticism’.127 But the final straw was that Bernfeld had mentioned that he was researching on Freud’s uncle Josef, of whom Freud had written in The Interpretation of Dreams that he had run-ins with the law, to Kurt Eissler, which the latter indiscretely passed to Anna Freud (at that time, neither Bernfeld nor Jones knew that he had been found guilty in a counterfeit money scandal, in which Freud’s elder brothers were also suspected).
Bernfeld to Eissler, 4 January 1951: What criminal acts did Uncle Josef, the brother of Jakob Freud, commit? When? What was his sentence?128
This was too much. Anna Freud was ‘appalled’129 by this intrusion into the secret of the Freud family, and she decided no longer to reply to Bernfeld’s requests for information.130 As Bernfeld was writing an article on Freud’s experiences with cocaine, the embargo of the Betrothal Letters which covered this period was highly irritating. Just as he had told Jones, who was surprised to learn this, the young Freud published an article in July 1884 in which he championed the use of cocaine, which had recently been introduced on the market, for diverse ailments, such as gastric disorders, seasickness, neurasthenia, facial neuralgias, asthma and exhaustion. Freud also wrote that he had succeeded in completely detoxing a patient with morphinomania through orally administering cocaine, and he repeated this in a talk given in March 1885 and published the following month. Here, he also recommended administering cocaine with subcutaneous injections, adding that ‘no addiction to cocaine developed; on the contrary, a growing antipathy was evident’.131 Albrecht Erlenmeyer, a specialist in morphinomania, tested this on some of his patients. In May 1886, he published an article which was extremely critical of Freud. He argued that administering cocaine did not lead to a withdrawal from morphine, and, furthermore, that it resulted in an addiction to cocaine. He concluded that Freud had unleashed a ‘third blight’132 on humanity, after alcohol and morphine. In a rejoinder to Erlenmeyer, Freud attributed Erlenmeyer’s results to the fact that the latter had administered cocaine subcutaneously rather than orally, as Freud had recommended. This was clearly misleading, as Freud had indeed recommended the first method in his article of April 1885. Apart from some veiled allusions in The Interpretation of Dreams, where he evoked the figure of a ‘very dear friend’ who had become intoxicated by cocaine through administering injections contrary to his advice,133 Freud never mentioned this embarrassing episode in his writings, preferring to recount how he just failed to be the first to discover the anaesthetic properties of cocaine, which his friend Carl Koller did through following up some of Freud’s indications, whilst Freud went to visit his fiancée.134
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