The below remarks were sent to a website correspondent. Obviously, the comments are in a somewhat jocular spirit, though the quotes from Freud are accurate.
Glad to hear you were able to get and read Glory Reflected, by Freud’s son—quite a “glory” huh? Of course you are right about the names Freud called his children (i.e., “monkey” and “vermin”), but did you miss his most common name for them—which is “worms.”? He uses this term a number of times. If you were one of his children which term would you like best, do you think, as you daddy’s pet name, “vermin” or “worms”?
I think Freud was right, “worms” is a catchy and charming pet name for one’s children, don’t you think? Freud says he “is longing for his ‘worms’ when he means children (p. 360 Masson). Of course, Martha was “a vain little worm” (Letter 39 to Martha, pg. 100, March 19, 1884, The Letters of Sigmund Freud, Ernst Freud, editor). Sometimes she was just an “unsuspecting worm”, i.e., Letter 73, ibid, “Do you remember, you unsuspecting worm?” But to be fair to our self-confessed “tyrant” (p. 18), these might have been occasions when he had “strange creatures billeted in my brain.” (ibid, p. 68). Or, he could just have been “crazy with exhaustion” (p.40) probably from work “on my real profession, ‘flaying of animals or torturing human beings.’” (p. 7). But, at least, you will admit, for all his faults, he is not one of “the masses. . .who could not survive with their thick skins and easy going ways.” (p. 51). And, I think, you will agree, we can all be thankful for that, at least!
Naturally he rebuked his “captive” wife for misjudging him, who wouldn’t? Why the little nut attributed to him qualities he didn’t have. “I think you are misjudging me because we are so far apart, and ascribe to me a measure of kindliness and decency that I never possessed, never will possess, and which you could hardly have found in me when we were together.” (p. 89). I’m glad he straightened her out about that! Imagine how you would feel if your wife attributed such qualities to you—qualities alien to you and that you never had and will never have. She’s lucky he allowed her to even survive, if you ask me.
But, do you know what really pissed him off? Take a guess, give up? OK, it was when he had a bout of sciatica. That’s right. “Be prepared for the most unlikely thing you ever heard. In the morning I lay there in the vilest pain and looked at myself in the mirror till I shuddered at the sight of my wild beard. My rage rose and rose until it boiled over. I decided not to have sciatica anymore, to become human again, and abandoned the luxury of being ill.” (p. 100).
As to Amalie, now there is a sweetheart if there ever was one for a mother. She is reported by her children to be stone cold. She thought only of herself and her pleasures. She did not show any emotion on the death of her daughter or grandchildren. Freud, in one of his letters, tells his mother something to the effect “at times like these, it is permissible to feel a little.” The day after Freud’s daughter Sophie died (I think she was about 20 or so), Freud gave permission to his mother to mourn her passing. “I hope you will take it calmly; tragedy after all has to be accepted. But to mourn this splendid, vital girl, who was so happy with her husband and children is of course permissible. I greet you fondly, You Sigm.” (p. 327). So Freud wasn’t such a cold fish after all, he gave his mother permission to mourn her granddaughter’s death, didn’t he? What a guy! I think he might well have gotten a Nobel Prize for that alone.
You won’t find these things in the index. But as to Freud’s children, not a bad way to get a little revenge on the old Masterd, don’t you think? And imagine the letters they had to destroy as not fit for public (human?) consumption. Take care.
ELM
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