(p) I was to give a lecture to a woman. Her husband, upon whose request this was done, stood behind the door listening. At the end of my sermonizing, which had made a visible impression, I said: “Good-bye, sir!” To the experienced person I thus betrayed the fact that the words were directed towards the husband; that I had spoken to oblige him.
(q) Dr. Stekel reports about himself that he had under treatment at the same time two patients from Triest, each of whom he always addressed incorrectly. “Good morning, Mr. Peloni!” he would say to Askoli, and to Peloni, “Good morning, Mr. Askoli!” He was at first inclined to attribute no deeper motive to this mistake, but to explain it through a number of similarities in both persons. However, he easily convinced himself that here the interchange of names bespoke a sort of boast—that is, he was acquainting each of his Italian patients with the fact that neither was the only resident of Triest who came to Vienna in search of his medical advice.
(r) Two women stopped in front of a drug-store, and one said to her companion, “If you will wait a few moments I’ll soon be back,” but she said movements instead. She was on her way to buy some castoria for her child.
(s) Mr. L., who is fonder of being called on than of calling, spoke to me through the telephone from a nearby summer resort. He wanted to know when I would pay him a visit. I reminded him that it was his turn to visit me, and called his attention to the fact that, as he was the happy possessor of an automobile, it would be easier for him to call on me. (We were at different summer resorts, separated by about one half-hour’s railway trip.) He gladly promised to call, and asked: “How about Labour Day (September 1st), will it be convenient for you?” When I answered affirmatively, he said, “Very well, then, put me down for Election Day” (November). His mistake was quite plain. He likes to visit me, but it was inconvenient to travel so far. In November we would both be in the city. My analysis proved correct.
(t) A friend described to me a nervous patient, and wished to know whether I could benefit him. I remarked: “I believe that in time I can remove all his symptoms by psychoanalysis, because it is a durable case,” wishing to say “curable”!
(u) I repeatedly addressed my patient as Mrs. Smith, her married daughter’s name, when her real name is Mrs. James. My attention having been called to it, I soon discovered that I had another patient of the same name who refused to pay for the treatment. Mrs. Smith was also my patient and paid her bills promptly.
(v) A lapsus linguæ sometimes stands for a particular characteristic. A young woman, who is the domineering spirit in her home, said of her ailing husband that he had consulted the doctor about a wholesome diet for himself, and then added: “The doctor said that diet has nothing to do with his ailments, and that he can eat and drink what I want.”
(w) I cannot omit this excellent and instructive example, although, according to my authority, it is about twenty years old. A lady once expressed herself in society—the very words show that they were uttered with fervour and under the pressure of a great many secret emotions: “Yes, a woman must be pretty if she is to please the men. A man is much better off. As long as he has five straight limbs, he needs no more!”
This example affords us a good insight into the intimate mechanisms of a mistake in speech by means of condensation and contamination (cf. p. 72). It is quite obvious that we have here a fusion of two similar modes of expression:—
“As long as he has his four straight limbs.”
“As long as he has all his five senses.”