Details
FREUD, SIGMUND. A group of 48 letters and 3 telegrams to his nephew Edward L. Bernays in New York (comprising 23 autograph letters signed, 18 typed letters signed and 7 autograph postcards signed), [Vienna], September 1919 - May 1931, together 79 pages, 8vo-4to, on Freud's personal printed stationery, with 9 envelopes addressed by Freud, two letters (20 July 1920 and 4 Feb. 1921) with signatures cut away, a few short fold tears or marginal tears, occasional minor staining, in German and English; with xeroxed copies of Bernays's letters to Freud; and with two typed letters signed ("Doppelkusine Anna" and "Dpl. Anna") from Anna Freud, 22 and 24 July 1925, 3 pages, 4to, in German.
BRINGING FREUDIAN PSYCHOANALISIS TO AMERICA
Edward Bernays, Freud's nephew by marriage, had moved to the United States with his family [when still a child]. His pioneering work in advertising and ...; and he is generally considered the founder of the public-relations industry.
This extensive correspondence principally concerns the publication of Freud's Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis, the first book of Freud's to be published in the United States, and Bernays's related efforts to promote the understanding of Freudian psychoanalysis in this country. As such they throw light on Freud's attitudes toward publication and toward the popularization of his works, toward money in general and toward Americans, while documenting his sometimes rather confused grasp of publishing rights, and contrastingly careful attention to the problems of translation. They also trace the evolution of an exchange that began somewhat formally and with a tinge of mistrust or irritation from the older man, soon however overcome by affectionate respect and finally immense gratitude for Bernays's indefatigable and selfless efforts to make his uncle's work more widely known.
In July 1919, having opened an office in New York, Bernays proposed to Horace Liveright of Boni and Liveright that they publish a translation of Freud's Vorlesungen zur Entführung in die Psychanalyse, a series of lectures delivered at the University of Vienna in the winters of 1916 and 1917. As Bernays explains in his Biography of an Idea ( ) his aims were twofold: to earn extra money for Freud - although it was not until years later that Bernays learned of the gravity of the latter's financial difficulties during those years of accelerating inflation - and to dispel popular misconceptions of psychoanalysis while encouraging a growing interest in the new discipline. From the start Bernays acted wholly without recompense, and in spite of the considerable demands made on his time and patience during the first few years of his role as Freud's unofficial agent, every penny of the royalties was sent directly to his uncle. Boni and Liveright subsequently published several other books by Freud.
Freud's telegrammed consent to the project (not included in this correspondence) was subsequently qualified, in the first of the present letters, dated 27 September 1919, and even temporarily retracted in a telegram of 6 October; but these qualms were largely based on misunderstandings concerning the publishing rights and the projected form of publication, and Bernays quickly allayed them by sending his uncle an itemized description of projected expenses and income along with advance of $100. He had obtained for Freud a 15 royalty for this first edition of 3000 copies sold for $4 a copy. Many editions followed, for this proved the most accessible of Freud's works for the layman; translated into over 15 languages and equally successful in Germany and abroad, it became, as its author flatly stated six years after its first publication, "the only book which pays" (14 September 1923).
Freud's initial scruples concerning the publication of the lectures touch upon a recurring theme in his letters to his expatriate nephew, that is, his uncomprehending disdain for the "American way": "I heard from Mr. Hirsch that your intention was to have the translation published as part of the Sunday supplement of a newspaper, or in a weekly periodical. I cannot possibly give my consent to this. Altogether this would be too American for us over here, and even in America many would consider it as inconsistent with scientific practice." (27 September 1919). Bernays frequently acted as a sort of cultural interpreter between Freud and his American publishers, and underlying the discussions of business one discerns an ongoing argument between the European intellectual and his younger relation the American businessman (whose books on public relations Freud more than once ambiguously refers to as "truly American" (5 May 1927 and 2 March 1928). Bernays showed remarkable patience in defending the mores of his adopted country - and the ethics of his chosen publishers, whose every negotation was misconstrued as a manifestation of American greed - against the often vehement accusations of his uncle, who claimed "as an old relative...a certain prerogative to render myself unpleasant at times" (8 December 1923). - A privilege of which he at times took liberal advantage, repeatedly rebuffing Bernays's efforts to publicize his work through such modern public relations techniques as interviews with journalists, lecture tours, magazine articles, or even responses to written criticisms or misinterpretations.
Freud's remarks on America range from the bemused ("I now rejoice in the success of the book, 4325 copies [sold] bearing witness to the attention it found in your queer country..." [4 April 1921]), to the indignant. In a long letter of 19 December 1920, in which Freud rejects as ridiculously low an offer to spend six months lecturing in the United States and treating patients for a minimum guarantee of $10,000, he turns down in vehement terms one of many requests relayed by Bernays for a magazine article: "In your other offer contained in your letter...the difficulty is not money. I concede $800 is good payment for a paper of 3000 words, not much more than 8 pages...But the insurmountable obstacle is the different way an American and a European editor will handle the same question. If an author of good esteem offered a contract to a German publisher he would be glad to accept it and would not let it depend on the success of the first article whether to take a second one or not. This absolute submission of your editors to the rotten taste of an uncultivated public is the cause of the low level of American literature and to be sure the anxiousness to make money is at the root of this submission. A German publisher would not have dared to propose to me on what subjects I had to write. In fact the subjects brought forward in your letter are so commonplace, so far out of my field that I could not give them my attention and my pen. An [sic] European editor would have shown more respect to an author he appreciates. You often assured me I was highly considered in your country and the public was ready to accept from me whatever I give them. Now this instance is good to show how little is found behind this pleasant affirmation. Had I considered regards like those of your editor from the beginning of my career I am sure I would not have become known at all neither in America nor in Europe. So we have to drop this business altogether."
Freud was always attentive to questions of translation. From the outset of this correspondence, he expresses his concern with the difficulties inherent in any translation of his work: "I must also insist that the translator carry certain guarantees. Not only should he have an intimate acquaintance with both languages but no less with the subject matter of psychoanalysis. He ought to be an analyst himself, otherwise the translation might do great harm" (27 September 1919). Bernays did manage to unearth a Ph.D. in psychology from Columbia University, a Miss Hoch, but her lack of psychoanalytical background led to a crucial problem, spelled out by Freud in a later letter: "I have noted a number of misprints and misunderstandings which I am listing and shall put at your disposal for a second edition. You may tell the translator that I understand the difficulties which exist in rendering errors and dreams into another language, but I do not consider the expedient he used of inventing similar examples to be the correct method. Such inventions do injustice to the author and deprive the presentation of its plausibility. The only proper thing to do would have been to substitute for the untranslatable examples of slips of the tongue, puns in dreams, etc., other examples based on his own analytical experience, and occasionally to annotate the German example. But then the translator would, of course, have had to be an analyst, as for instance Dr. Brill [Dr. Abraham A. Brill, Freud's American disciple and translator of some of his earlier papers and books]. I am afraid that the reviewers will not fail to emphasize this shortcoming...For example, I note the use of the word 'Suppression' for 'Verdrängung'. In the literature in England, it has been agreed to translate this as 'Repression'." (20 July 1920).
Although the letters principally revolve around Bernays's efforts to promote psychoanalysis, family matters take up more of Freud's attention after the death of Bernays's father in the fall of 1923. The correspondents occasionally request favors of each other, usually on behalf of a third party. In May 1931 Bernays asks Freud to consider treating Scofield Thayer, the editor of The Dial, "rather a nervous type, highly intellectual" (Bernays to Freud, 31 May 1921, photocopy). Freud replies: "I see you provide me not only with dollars but also with patients", and posed certain conditions to the treatment of Scofield, adding that "the further decision will depend on the nature of his case. He ought to write me and state what it is. For example, I would not take him if he be a homosexual and desired to be changed etc." (19 June 1921).
As the letters clearly reveal, Freud's distrust of Americans and violent scorn for their obsession with lucre never prevented him for keeping a sharp eye out for his own interests. Bernays having related a dinner party encounter with J. Pierpont Morgan's librarian Belle da Costa Green, who had mentioned having spoken enthusastically of Freud with the Viennese psychoanalyst Paul Federn, Freud responds: "When you wrote me about your meeting with Miss Green...I suddenly remembered what I had been told by Dr. Federn. According to him she had the intention at that time of buying my manuscripts for the Morgan collection. Federn, who is not completely reliable, thought she really meant this seriously. Then the war came anyway. I would not object at all if the lady renewed her proposal. I cannot imagine what the value of such manuscripts might be. For me, at all events, they are worth nothing [indeed, to spite future biographers he was in the habit of periodically burning them] and I am quite ready to turn them into tangible assets, should a connoisseur turn up. But of course, it would have to be worth the trouble, if only for the sake of prestige" (27 November 1924, in German). Nothing came of this incident, and when Bernays met Miss Green again a few years later, she politely changed the subject, Freud being, as he wryly put it, "out of fashion that year" (Biography of an Idea", p. []).
In the last years of the correspondence, Freud was struggling with cancer, and his letters grew shorter but no less opinionated. In July 1929, Bernays informed him that "a publisher," i.e., Liveright, was interested in publishing Freud's autobiography and was willing to offer an advance of $5000, although Bernays recommended that he ask for more. On August 10 Freud shot back: "It is of course totally impossible. An autobiography is justified only on two conditions. In the first place if the person in question has had a share in interesting events, important to all. Secondly, as a psychological study. Outwardly my life has transpired quietly and without content and can be dismissed with a few dates. A psychologically complete and sincere life recital would, however, demand so many indiscreet revelations about family, friends, adversaries (most of them alive) with me as everyone else, that it is precluded from the outset. What makes all autobiography worthless is, in fact, its lying. Besides, it is really an example of your American editor's naïveté to believe that he could get a hitherto decent man to commit such an outrageous act for $5000. Temptation would begin for me at a sum a hundred times as great and even then the offer would be rejected after half an hour."
Extracts from the correspondence are published in Edward Bernays, Biography of an Idea, . (53)
BRINGING FREUDIAN PSYCHOANALISIS TO AMERICA
Edward Bernays, Freud's nephew by marriage, had moved to the United States with his family [when still a child]. His pioneering work in advertising and ...; and he is generally considered the founder of the public-relations industry.
This extensive correspondence principally concerns the publication of Freud's Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis, the first book of Freud's to be published in the United States, and Bernays's related efforts to promote the understanding of Freudian psychoanalysis in this country. As such they throw light on Freud's attitudes toward publication and toward the popularization of his works, toward money in general and toward Americans, while documenting his sometimes rather confused grasp of publishing rights, and contrastingly careful attention to the problems of translation. They also trace the evolution of an exchange that began somewhat formally and with a tinge of mistrust or irritation from the older man, soon however overcome by affectionate respect and finally immense gratitude for Bernays's indefatigable and selfless efforts to make his uncle's work more widely known.
In July 1919, having opened an office in New York, Bernays proposed to Horace Liveright of Boni and Liveright that they publish a translation of Freud's Vorlesungen zur Entführung in die Psychanalyse, a series of lectures delivered at the University of Vienna in the winters of 1916 and 1917. As Bernays explains in his Biography of an Idea ( ) his aims were twofold: to earn extra money for Freud - although it was not until years later that Bernays learned of the gravity of the latter's financial difficulties during those years of accelerating inflation - and to dispel popular misconceptions of psychoanalysis while encouraging a growing interest in the new discipline. From the start Bernays acted wholly without recompense, and in spite of the considerable demands made on his time and patience during the first few years of his role as Freud's unofficial agent, every penny of the royalties was sent directly to his uncle. Boni and Liveright subsequently published several other books by Freud.
Freud's telegrammed consent to the project (not included in this correspondence) was subsequently qualified, in the first of the present letters, dated 27 September 1919, and even temporarily retracted in a telegram of 6 October; but these qualms were largely based on misunderstandings concerning the publishing rights and the projected form of publication, and Bernays quickly allayed them by sending his uncle an itemized description of projected expenses and income along with advance of $100. He had obtained for Freud a 15 royalty for this first edition of 3000 copies sold for $4 a copy. Many editions followed, for this proved the most accessible of Freud's works for the layman; translated into over 15 languages and equally successful in Germany and abroad, it became, as its author flatly stated six years after its first publication, "the only book which pays" (14 September 1923).
Freud's initial scruples concerning the publication of the lectures touch upon a recurring theme in his letters to his expatriate nephew, that is, his uncomprehending disdain for the "American way": "I heard from Mr. Hirsch that your intention was to have the translation published as part of the Sunday supplement of a newspaper, or in a weekly periodical. I cannot possibly give my consent to this. Altogether this would be too American for us over here, and even in America many would consider it as inconsistent with scientific practice." (27 September 1919). Bernays frequently acted as a sort of cultural interpreter between Freud and his American publishers, and underlying the discussions of business one discerns an ongoing argument between the European intellectual and his younger relation the American businessman (whose books on public relations Freud more than once ambiguously refers to as "truly American" (5 May 1927 and 2 March 1928). Bernays showed remarkable patience in defending the mores of his adopted country - and the ethics of his chosen publishers, whose every negotation was misconstrued as a manifestation of American greed - against the often vehement accusations of his uncle, who claimed "as an old relative...a certain prerogative to render myself unpleasant at times" (8 December 1923). - A privilege of which he at times took liberal advantage, repeatedly rebuffing Bernays's efforts to publicize his work through such modern public relations techniques as interviews with journalists, lecture tours, magazine articles, or even responses to written criticisms or misinterpretations.
Freud's remarks on America range from the bemused ("I now rejoice in the success of the book, 4325 copies [sold] bearing witness to the attention it found in your queer country..." [4 April 1921]), to the indignant. In a long letter of 19 December 1920, in which Freud rejects as ridiculously low an offer to spend six months lecturing in the United States and treating patients for a minimum guarantee of $10,000, he turns down in vehement terms one of many requests relayed by Bernays for a magazine article: "In your other offer contained in your letter...the difficulty is not money. I concede $800 is good payment for a paper of 3000 words, not much more than 8 pages...But the insurmountable obstacle is the different way an American and a European editor will handle the same question. If an author of good esteem offered a contract to a German publisher he would be glad to accept it and would not let it depend on the success of the first article whether to take a second one or not. This absolute submission of your editors to the rotten taste of an uncultivated public is the cause of the low level of American literature and to be sure the anxiousness to make money is at the root of this submission. A German publisher would not have dared to propose to me on what subjects I had to write. In fact the subjects brought forward in your letter are so commonplace, so far out of my field that I could not give them my attention and my pen. An [sic] European editor would have shown more respect to an author he appreciates. You often assured me I was highly considered in your country and the public was ready to accept from me whatever I give them. Now this instance is good to show how little is found behind this pleasant affirmation. Had I considered regards like those of your editor from the beginning of my career I am sure I would not have become known at all neither in America nor in Europe. So we have to drop this business altogether."
Freud was always attentive to questions of translation. From the outset of this correspondence, he expresses his concern with the difficulties inherent in any translation of his work: "I must also insist that the translator carry certain guarantees. Not only should he have an intimate acquaintance with both languages but no less with the subject matter of psychoanalysis. He ought to be an analyst himself, otherwise the translation might do great harm" (27 September 1919). Bernays did manage to unearth a Ph.D. in psychology from Columbia University, a Miss Hoch, but her lack of psychoanalytical background led to a crucial problem, spelled out by Freud in a later letter: "I have noted a number of misprints and misunderstandings which I am listing and shall put at your disposal for a second edition. You may tell the translator that I understand the difficulties which exist in rendering errors and dreams into another language, but I do not consider the expedient he used of inventing similar examples to be the correct method. Such inventions do injustice to the author and deprive the presentation of its plausibility. The only proper thing to do would have been to substitute for the untranslatable examples of slips of the tongue, puns in dreams, etc., other examples based on his own analytical experience, and occasionally to annotate the German example. But then the translator would, of course, have had to be an analyst, as for instance Dr. Brill [Dr. Abraham A. Brill, Freud's American disciple and translator of some of his earlier papers and books]. I am afraid that the reviewers will not fail to emphasize this shortcoming...For example, I note the use of the word 'Suppression' for 'Verdrängung'. In the literature in England, it has been agreed to translate this as 'Repression'." (20 July 1920).
Although the letters principally revolve around Bernays's efforts to promote psychoanalysis, family matters take up more of Freud's attention after the death of Bernays's father in the fall of 1923. The correspondents occasionally request favors of each other, usually on behalf of a third party. In May 1931 Bernays asks Freud to consider treating Scofield Thayer, the editor of The Dial, "rather a nervous type, highly intellectual" (Bernays to Freud, 31 May 1921, photocopy). Freud replies: "I see you provide me not only with dollars but also with patients", and posed certain conditions to the treatment of Scofield, adding that "the further decision will depend on the nature of his case. He ought to write me and state what it is. For example, I would not take him if he be a homosexual and desired to be changed etc." (19 June 1921).
As the letters clearly reveal, Freud's distrust of Americans and violent scorn for their obsession with lucre never prevented him for keeping a sharp eye out for his own interests. Bernays having related a dinner party encounter with J. Pierpont Morgan's librarian Belle da Costa Green, who had mentioned having spoken enthusastically of Freud with the Viennese psychoanalyst Paul Federn, Freud responds: "When you wrote me about your meeting with Miss Green...I suddenly remembered what I had been told by Dr. Federn. According to him she had the intention at that time of buying my manuscripts for the Morgan collection. Federn, who is not completely reliable, thought she really meant this seriously. Then the war came anyway. I would not object at all if the lady renewed her proposal. I cannot imagine what the value of such manuscripts might be. For me, at all events, they are worth nothing [indeed, to spite future biographers he was in the habit of periodically burning them] and I am quite ready to turn them into tangible assets, should a connoisseur turn up. But of course, it would have to be worth the trouble, if only for the sake of prestige" (27 November 1924, in German). Nothing came of this incident, and when Bernays met Miss Green again a few years later, she politely changed the subject, Freud being, as he wryly put it, "out of fashion that year" (Biography of an Idea", p. []).
In the last years of the correspondence, Freud was struggling with cancer, and his letters grew shorter but no less opinionated. In July 1929, Bernays informed him that "a publisher," i.e., Liveright, was interested in publishing Freud's autobiography and was willing to offer an advance of $5000, although Bernays recommended that he ask for more. On August 10 Freud shot back: "It is of course totally impossible. An autobiography is justified only on two conditions. In the first place if the person in question has had a share in interesting events, important to all. Secondly, as a psychological study. Outwardly my life has transpired quietly and without content and can be dismissed with a few dates. A psychologically complete and sincere life recital would, however, demand so many indiscreet revelations about family, friends, adversaries (most of them alive) with me as everyone else, that it is precluded from the outset. What makes all autobiography worthless is, in fact, its lying. Besides, it is really an example of your American editor's naïveté to believe that he could get a hitherto decent man to commit such an outrageous act for $5000. Temptation would begin for me at a sum a hundred times as great and even then the offer would be rejected after half an hour."
Extracts from the correspondence are published in Edward Bernays, Biography of an Idea, . (53)