Читать книгу The Autobiography of Wilhelm Stekel - The Life Story of a Pioneer Psychoanalyst - Wilhelm Stekel - Страница 10

In life as in the practice of a physician—the first steps decide.

—LICHTENBERG

IN UNDERTAKING to write my biography, I am fully conscious of the difficulty of the task. Even the intention to keep close to the truth unconditionally, and not to be hampered by prejudice or discretion, represents a conflicting situation. I feel that I have to overcome serious inhibitions in order to transform Goethe’s maxim, “Poetry and Truth,” into the more sober maxim, “Truth without Poetry.” Psychoanalysis has taught us to distrust our memories. Freud proved that there are screen memories, pictures of an apparently harmless nature behind which vitally important experiences lie hidden. How can one separate the chaff from the wheat, how distinguish false memories from accurate ones?

It is strange that most people know so little about their own childhood. Even more strange, most parents are blind to the experiences of their children. A person who is blind to his own childhood wears psychic blinders which prevent him from seeing many important qualities of his children, especially those qualities and events he himself has repressed.

The first child seen by the magnifying glass of psychoanalysis was “Little Hans”¹ whose initial conflicts Freud described in detail as the phobia of a boy of five years. It is wonderful to read how the youngster had to fight his first internal battle between craving and inhibition, between instincts and morals. Every week his parents took him to Freud and discussed with the master the events and the results of their observations. Thus, the boy had what may be called his first psychoanalysis.

Sixteen years later a young man came to Freud and introduced himself with the words, “I am ‘Little Hans.’ Yesterday I read the story of my childhood. It will interest you to know that I have forgotten everything except one insignificant detail. I have even forgotten that I came every week to see you.”

This happens to most people. Therefore, exceptions such as myself, who remember their first experiences clearly should enlighten humanity about the true nature of a child.

There are many biographies and “confessions.” You may ask whether it is absolutely necessary or desirable for me to supply the public with another life story. My book is unique in that it offers the confessions of a psychoanalyst who has placed his experiences beneath the magnifying glass of psychology in an attempt to induce important conclusions upon the pressing current problems of education. In my book, A Primer for Mothers,² I presented the fundamentals of a prophylactic education. The success of that book which has, in twenty-two languages, appealed to the minds and hearts of mothers, seems to show beyond question that it filled a gap.

From the numerous existing autobiographies I would comment only on Rousseau’s Confessions; for all the other autobiographies, and many autobiographic novels, neglect the first impressions of childhood and lack the truth regarding the important problems of sex life. I understand the reluctance these writers have of standing naked before the curious and leering eyes of misunderstanding observers. Many have left sincere diaries with the injunction that they should be published after a certain time. Alas, in spite of the explicit instructions in the last will of the authors, these books were never published. Sometimes they were destroyed, sometimes they were buried in some locked library.

I know people will vilify me and cast stones at me. But I know, too, that I am not different from other people, that I am perhaps better than some, that I show strength in not retouching the photo of my life or presenting myself as better than I am. Goethe once said: “I never heard of a crime I couldn’t have committed myself under certain circumstances.” What illuminating words! Perhaps we are all more or less alike.