Frank Tallis: Vienna Secrets

Professor Freud finally emerged from the lecture hall and was now standing on the other side of the room. He was engaged in conversation with a short, spindly youth with closely cropped black hair. Liebermann immediately excused himself from his father’s group.

“Professor.”

Freud shook Liebermann’s hand.

“Delighted you could come.” He gestured toward his companion. “Are you acquainted? No. Then allow me to introduce Dr. Gabriel Kusevitsky, a recent convert to our cause. Dr. Kusevitsky-Dr. Max Liebermann.”

The youth smiled and inclined his head. He looked far too young to be a doctor.

Liebermann congratulated Freud on his talk, but the professor was dissatisfied. “I should have said more about infant sexuality-but to do so invariably arouses resistances, hostility. Even the scant allusions I made this evening managed to offend some of our little congregation. Had I been addressing a professional body, I would have been more courageous. Still, the audience may yet have derived some benefit.”

Liebermann and Kusevitsky were quick to protest.

“The audience will almost certainly have benefited!”

“The dream theory could not have been explained more clearly!”

“Nobody in the audience-at least no thinking person-will ever be able to wake from a dream again without pondering its significance!”

Yes, he might have said more about infant sexuality, but he had surely said enough-given that the audience was mostly laymen.

Freud was gratified by their response but maintained a show of glum indifference. The imposture, however, could not be sustained, and his sober attitude was subverted by the appearance of a sly, almost coy smile.

Their subsequent conversation did not last long. Almost immediately, a plump gentleman with an officious manner approached and said that Freud was needed elsewhere. The second lodge committee (of which Freud was an important member) was having an impromptu meeting by the punch bowl. Freud apologized to his acolytes and allowed the official to whisk him away.

Liebermann and Kusevitsky exchanged pleasantries, praised Freud’s genius, and in due course spoke of their respective situations.

It transpired that Kusevitsky had only just completed his medical training and had been awarded a prestigious research scholarship at a private teaching hospital. The post was funded by the Rothenstein foundation.

Kusevitsky nodded discreetly toward the banker. “I have that gentleman to thank. It is a great opportunity.”

“And what area have you chosen to study?” asked Liebermann.

“Symbolism in dreams,” said Kusevitsky. “Professor Freud has suggested that, when interpreting dreams, we must discover what a certain object represents to the dreamer by examining where it stands with respect to his or her unique cluster of experiences and associations. Thus, a horse may represent different things to different people.” Kusevitsky had dark, intelligent eyes that floated behind thick spectacle lenses. A tapering wispy beard covered his receding chin. “At the same time,” Kusevitsky continued, “Professor Freud has also noted some intriguing regularities, elements that appear and reappear in the dreams of many of his patients and that psychoanalysis has shown us have the exact same meaning. For example, an emperor and empress are often found to represent the dreamer’s parents; a prince or princess, the dreamer him-or herself; and so on… I find these common symbols extremely interesting, and believe that they arise from a deeper level of mind.”

Liebermann tilted his head quizzically.

“Perhaps,” said Kusevitsky, “we possess not only a personal unconscious, in which all our idiosyncratic memories are stored, but in addition a cultural unconscious, in which we find the inherited distillations of ancestral experience. We encounter these distillations in the form of symbols, which sometimes emerge in our dreams; however, they can also be identified in other contexts-for example, in our storytelling. Emperors and empresses, princes and princesses frequently appear in myths, legends, and fairy tales.”

“You are already familiar, no doubt, with the work of the romantic philosophers,” said Liebermann. “Didn’t von Schubert propose something very similar almost a hundred years ago?”

“Indeed he did. But von Schubert could only speculate. We are in a different position today. We have psychoanalysis, which equips us with new tools. I believe that Professor Freud’s methods can be used to probe and explore the cultural unconscious.”

“That is very ambitious. In effect, you are aiming to analyze not just one man but all mankind.”

“Well, let us say one race to begin with. The psychiatric patients at the private hospital are mostly Jews. They will be my first subjects.”

“What does Professor Freud think of your proposal?”

“He is very enthusiastic. Apparently he was intrigued by what he called endopsychic myths many years ago, and I understand he discussed the possible existence of ancestral memories with a colleague…”

“Fleiss, probably.”

“He was writing The Interpretation of Dreams at the time and never gave the topic his full attention. He assures me, however, that one day he intends to revisit the area. Until then, he gave me his blessing and said that he was looking forward to reading the results of my investigation.”

“Yes, I can see how the idea of archaic remnants embedded deep in the psyche would appeal to Professor Freud. He has always loved archaeology. Have you been to his apartment yet?”

“No.”

“It’s full of ancient artifacts: little statues, stelae, amulets, and urns…”

The bald university professor who had been talking so passionately to Rothenstein earlier raised his hand, capturing Kusevitsky’s notice.

“I’m sorry,” said Kusevitsky. “You will have to excuse me. I am being summoned by Professor Priel. Until we will meet again…”

Kusevitsky bowed and joined the animated professor, who welcomed him into his group with an expansive embracing gesture.

Liebermann was not sure what he thought of Kusevitsky. He was a pleasant enough young man, but somewhat over earnest. Liebermann also wasn’t convinced of the value of his research-even if Freud did approve of it.

The cultural unconscious, endopsychic myths, archaic remnants.

It was all a little too arcane for Liebermann’s tastes.

Could ancient memories really be passed on, from generation to generation?

He was abruptly roused from his meditation by a hand falling heavily on his shoulder.

“Have you had any cake yet?”

It was his father. He was holding a piece of guglhupf over a small dish. The sponge was sweetly fragrant and dense with raisins.

“No.”

“You should try some.” He held the slice up, creating a little shower of icing sugar. “It’s from Grodzinksi’s shop. He supervised the baking himself.”

“In which case…”

At least there were some things that he and his father could still agree on.

The Zaddik-rebbe Elimelech Ben Solomon Barash-was a thickset man with craggy features, a long black beard, and uncut sideburns that had been styled into springlike coils. He wore a somber frock coat-lined with fur-a white shirt, and slippers without buckles or laces. White tassels hung from his waist (each individual thread knotted five times to represent the five books of Moses). His large head was shaven, but shadowed with enough spiky stubble to keep his velvet skullcap firmly in place. He was enthroned on a quilted armchair with a high back.

In front of the zaddik was gathered a group of young men-about ten in number-sitting cross-legged on the floor. Each wore an ornately embroidered shawl draped around his shoulders. Prayer books were scattered among them on the Persian rug. Like their master, they had shaven heads and their sideburns hung in uncut ringlets or braids.