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Freud in Love

There is something about reading the love letters of the great thinkers, artists, politicians. This probably has to do with the very way of how we see Love. Although it can be not always happy or tender, we do expect it to make people who experience it tenderer and happier. And even if we know that those great people may have had the character difficult to live with, or were indeed powerful and even authocratic, in their love letters they suddenly appear to be just as vulnerable, insecure and hopelessly devoted, as we expect a lover to be.

Sigmund and Martha Freud

This is precisely the case of Sigmund Freud, whose letters to his future wife span the years from 1882 (their engagement) till 1886 (the year of marriage). This is the Freud we barely know: insecure, passionate, yet certain about one thing: if he is to marry the love of his life, he’d better do the best of his research. Freud, as we can trace through some of his letters to his bride, had some inklings about the importance of his research, yet again he could hardly imagine that almost 70 years after his death (he died in 1939) people would still be making up their mind about his findings. Yet in his early letters to the girl five years his junior he is still at the threshold of his research, and one can safely say after reading the letters that Love made Freud.

Freud met his future wife, Martha Bernays, at the house of his parents. Martha’s grandfather, Isaac Bernays (1792-1849) was the chief rabbi in Hamburg. In his letter from Hamburg on 23 July 1882, which begins with a citation from Lessing’s poem, Freud narrates the story of his visit to the Jewish printer who kindly agreed to produce specially monogrammed writing paper for Freud and his wife-to-be: the paper was to bear the initials “S” and “M”. The printer happened to have known the Bernays family (he had grown up with Isaac Bernays’s sons), and Freud meticulously retells everything he had heard from the old man.

The original 1968 German edition of Freud’s letters to Martha (edited by Ernst Freud for Fischer).

Freud’s “despotism”, which he acknowledged in that very letter, consisted particularly in the fact that he wanted Martha to use this specially produced paper to write to him. But then is it not also particularly romantic, especially bearing in mind the fact that at the time Freud’s research was still in its birthpangs, and he was yet unable to sustain his family life? What comes across as despotism at first glance, at second looks more like a complete devotion – something that we may have lost these days.

His love for Martha was instant. I have recently read a short autobiographical essay by Thomas Mann, in which he tells, in very similar to Freud’s terms, about his meeting, falling in love and marrying his wife, with whom he was to live for a very long time. The long period of solitary life, Mann says, didn’t let him learn to hide his feelings. Freud states precisely the same in one of the letters, and all the letters breathe with the hitherto unused language of love, affection and friendship.

The latter – friendship – is important to underline, for, as Freud correctly points out in his letter from Vienna on September 25th, 1882, those in love must be ready to share with one another their concerns, heartaches, they must be mutually trustful, mutually reliable, and to realise that to live together is no pleasant thing, but an everyday labour.

Martha Bernays was receiving letters from her beloved from all over Europe: in the volume there are letters not only from Germany and Austria (1882-1884), but the Alps (1885) and France (1885-86). As such, the letters are an indispensable resource for researchers, even – unexpectedly – for those interested in Parisian fin-de-siecle, particularly, theatre. Several times Freud narrates, in a very comic way, of his sufferings for the sake of culture in the hot and stuffy atmosphere of a Parisian theatre. However, his troubles somehow turn out to be well worth themselves, for on one occasion he happened to see Sarah Bernhardt in Fedora (Theodora) by Victorien Sardou (a letter from Paris per November 8th, 1885).

The love for Martha virtually gave Freud a focus – not that he didn’t know what to do with his life, but the necessity to make his work and research successful in order to be able to marry the girl he loved and to ensure her love for him changed him altogether. This is noticeable in the change of the tone of the letters: in 1882, when Freud is 26, he is insecure yet determined, he is laying the foundations for his happy marriage by writing long letters in which he professes his love and teaches his future wife how to love him. However, his spirits are not yet soaring. It should be correct to say that they never quite get to soar, for even by 1886, the year of marriage, Freud is still not sure of many things. But the influence of Martha is clear in that, while he is not sure of the income, he is sure of his love, or better, he is sure that his love is requited. Several times between 1882 and 1884 Freud noted that knowing Martha had made him determined and taught to respect himself. If in 1882 or 1884 he could occasionally reproach his bride for not writing regularly or in much detail, by 1886 he had to apologise himself for not being able to compose lengthy letters. Moreover, as time went on, the young scientist began to dream, as the letter per 20th of June, 1885, plainly manifests:

Princess, my little Princess,

Oh, how wonderful it will be! I am coming with money and staying a long time and bringing something beautiful for you and then go on to Paris and become a great scholar and then come back to Vienna with a huge, enormous halo, and then we will soon get married, and I will cure all the incurable nervous cases and through you I shall be healthy and I will go on kissing you till you are strong and gay and happy – and “if they haven’t died, they are still alive today”.

Last but not least, the letters contain meditations on life, art, philosophy, as well as Freud’s reflections on himself. At no point does he seem to be totally aware of himself – of his talents, abilities, the traits of character. It is quite possible, however, that this lack of awareness, and hence the lack of self-security, the compensation for which he found in his love for Martha, was precisely the driving force behind his research.

More on Freud-Bernays relationship:

Young Dr Freud – Family: Wife

Sigmund Freud Museum in Vienna

The image is courtesy of Sigmund Freud Museum.

The Song of My 2010 Summer

When I went to Carmarthen for a week three years ago all radio stations were playing a song with the chorus “Take a look at my girlfriend, she’s the only one I’ve got“. I doubt it had any relevancy to my life at that point, so it was simply peculiar to hear this summer hit everywhere I went.

The case with Travie McCoy’s tour de force is slightly different because, even though I don’t dream of being a billionaire just for the sake of it, I recognise that money matters, as well as the circle of friends. And just as these two articles are beginning to enter my life more and more frequently, I listen to Travie’s song with the same attention as I’d give to Zizek and the like. Never mind occasional irony, I find it meaningful that this song became a hit this summer.

The Day I Met Billy Connolly

There are many great people I have already met, yet I want to meet even more. I’d even like to meet Lady Thatcher. I want to know how they think, how they live, etc. And whilst I’m waiting for opportunities to come along, I’m studying their lives and their work. All this is the part of “thinking big”.

And now I can testify that thinking big can work wonders… like, walking into Billy Connolly in the shop.

When this lovely man passed me by, I couldn’t help but exclaiming: “You look like Billy Connolly!” To which he turned around and said to me that he was, indeed. A Billy Connolly look alike.

Over at Barely Connolly you can find many photos of Bob Lucas, along with the story of his celebrated career. We had a lovely chat about Billy, Bob, and their beards (for the record, Bob had also once dyed his beard), at the end of which I simply had to ask a store worker to take a picture of us. So, here goes… Billy, you’re next!

Bob Lucas (aka Barely Connoly) and I

Une Rose Pour Vous

An Essex Rose

It isn’t often that one gets to capture Beauty in all its delicacy – and I believe this is exactly what I managed to do with the photo of this rose in Essex. What baffles me is the tenderness and sexuality that fill the image. With all the photos of flowers I’d taken previously, I’ve never achieved anything similar.

And just as I was about to publish the post, I thought I’d look up “la rose” online. I’ve found this lovely website – Vive la Rose – clicked on “bouquets”, and instantly found a wonderful ‘Antigua’ arrangement of pink roses and white orchids. I love roses, there was a time when I preferred dark coloured ones, but now I started loving bright (yellow, orange) and white coloured kinds.

Bouquet: Antigua

And as I’m going away again for a week when I will not have access to the Internet I thought I’d leave all of you something lovely to look at…

The Purple Lily of Essex

The cinema fans will have instantly recognised a paraphrase of Woody Allen’s film, The Purple Rose of Cairo, in the post’s title. Personally, I have never seen a purple calla lily, so I had to take a photo (and I only had a phone on me, hence the picture’s grainy quality). And a few years ago I wrote a post about lilies, as immortalised by Dante Gabriel Rossetti and by Robert Mapplethorpe.

Felice Compleanno al Mio Migliore Amico

As I was thinking of doing something special for my best friend who is celebrating his birthday today, I was thinking about a Leo. Leo represents passion, creativity, self-confidence, determination, success, beauty, and love for spectacle and joyful pleasures. Somehow Blondie’s Atomic seemed to be a great present. And sometimes, as well, it pays off to trust horoscopes. We had been working for a week at the same company, but the horoscope for February 14, 2007 predicted that I would meet a special person somewhere very close, maybe on the bus. Although we’d chatted a couple of times at work, in the morning of February 14 it was the first time we had a proper talk, and it was on the bus. This was followed by a few months of commute that we undertook together, both to and from Warrington, and that planted the seeds of ongoing friendship. Recently my Italian friend has done a lot for me, and I can’t help pointing out that we often approach tough times from the wrong angle. We get too negative about the bad things happening, whereas in reality they are a real blessing in disguise. They test you, your values and your way of life; and they also test people around you. It means a lot to me to have such a friend.

I’m somewhat cautious with displaying my appreciation publicly, especially when it comes to sending birthday greetings. I see it as a kind of commitment because birthday is personal, and to me it wouldn’t make sense to send greetings one year and to forget about it the year after. The latter happens, of course, which is why the circle of people whom I greet year after year is quite narrow. On the upside, those who receive my greetings every year know that they mean a world. And this is exactly how I want to make them feel.

Happy birthday and baci, mio caro amico!

Sylvie Vartan – Proud Mary

Who would’ve thought that one could turn Proud Mary into a pop song, complete with a disco outfit and a mane of blonde hair? Well, this is what you have to do if you’re Sylvie Vartan. The show took place on the date I was born, albeit a few years earlier.

The Tide Is High – Blondie

Sometimes it pays off to be away from the place where you’ve almost laid roots. Because when you come back from a road trip, get to cross the road and this Blondie’s song starts playing at the second-hand shop on the opposite, you know that it is for you. You just know. Especially because the song was written in the year I was born. Manchester may be gloomy and gray (unlike Essex), but when it greets you with this song you can’t help but loving it with all your heart. And when literally the next day after you’ve come from one road trip you are sent to another one, you absolutely know: it’s all for you.

Essex – Wheat Field


Essex – Wheat Field, originally uploaded by loscuadernosdejulia.

One of my earliest childhood memories is very poetic, if not cinematographic: I am walking, all excited, towards a wheat field in the Russian countryside. I was about 4 years old, or even younger. For a couple of summers we stayed at my gran’s sister’s country house (one of those famous dachas), and the field was not far from it.

So, when I drove past the wheat field in Essex with my colleagues I was determined to relive that experience. The new experience involved a pathetic jump across a rather deep, although narrow, moat, and a quick walk in the field. Seeing and touching the wheat was wonderful. All those years ago we brought back a few wheat ears; this time I only took a photo.

Are They Paying You to Wear This Shirt?

Just in case you’ve forgotten what I look like… here is me in one of my favourite shirts. The reason why I share this photo from my road trip is simple: someone did actually ask me this question. And before that a teenage guy asked me where I bought it. Sadly, it’s not new at all, although I look after it well, but the question from the boy took me by surprise. I mean, it’s a female blouse, after all…

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