Authors: D. M. Thomas
The White Hotel (2 page)
We had fed the heart on fantasies,
The heart’s grown brutal from the fare;
More substance in our enmities
Than in our love…
—W. B. Yeats,
“Meditations in Time of Civil War”
Prologue
Standish Hotel,
Worcester
,
Massachusetts
,
U.S.A.
8 September 1909
Dearest Gisela
,
I give you a warm bear-hug from the new world! What with the journey, the hospitality, the lectures, the honours
(
mostly to Freud naturally and, to a lesser extent, Jung
),
there has hardly been time to blow one’s nose, and my mind is in a whirl. But it’s already more than clear that America is eager to receive our movement. Brill and Hall are excellent fellows, and everyone at Clark University has overwhelmed us with kindness and compliments. Freud astonished even me with his masterly skill, by delivering five lectures without any notes—composing them during a half-hour’s walk beforehand in my company. I need hardly add that he made a deep impression. Jung also gave two fine lectures, about his own work, without once mentioning Freud’s name! Though on the whole the three of us have got on splendidly together, in rather trying circumstances
(
including, I may say, attacks of diarrhoea in New York…!
),
there has been a little tension between Jung and Freud. Of that, more in a moment
.
But you will want to hear about the voyage. It was fine—but we saw almost nothing! A great midsummer mist descended almost at once. Actually it was not unimpressive. Jung especially was gripped by the conception of this “prehistoric monster” wallowing through the daylight-darkness towards its objective, and felt we were slipping back into the primeval past. Freud teased him for being a Christian, and therefore mystical
(
a fate he regards the Jews as having escaped
),
but confessed to feeling some sympathy for the idea as he gazed at the blank cabin window and listened to what he called “the mating cry of the foghorns”! New York was all the more impressive and unbelievable, rising out of this darkness. Brill met us, and showed us many fine things—but none finer than a moving picture, a “movie”! Despite my wretched stomach I found it highly diverting, it consisted mainly of comical policemen pursuing even more comical villains through the streets. Not much of a plot, but the people actually do move in a very convincing and lifelike way. Freud, I think, was not greatly impressed!
Yes, I must tell you of the rather extraordinary occurrence in Bremen, on the eve of our departure. We were heartily thankful to have made a successful rendezvous, and naturally excited by the adventure lying ahead of us. Freud was host at a luncheon in a very luxurious hotel, and we persuaded Jung to abandon his customary abstemiousness and join us in drinking wine. Probably because he was not used to drinking he became unusually talkative and high-spirited. He turned the conversation to some “peat-bog corpses” that apparently have been found in northern Germany. They are said to be the bodies of prehistoric men, mummified by the effect of the humic acid in the bog water. Apparently the men had drowned in the marshes or been buried there. Well, it was mildly interesting, or would have been had not Jung talked on and on about it. Finally Freud burst out several times: “Why are you so concerned with these corpses?” Jung continued to be carried away by his fascination with the story, and Freud slipped off his chair in a faint
.
Jung, poor fellow, was most upset by this turn of events—as was I—and couldn’t understand what he’d done wrong. When he came round, Freud accused him of wanting him out of the way. Jung, of course, denied this in the strongest terms. And he is really a kind, lively companion, much more pleasant than those gold-rimmed glasses and that close-cropped head suggests
.
Another brief disagreement occurred on the ship. We were entertaining ourselves
(
in the fog!
)
by interpreting each other’s dreams. Jung was greatly taken by one of Freud’s, in which his sister-in-law
(
Minna
)
was having to toss bundles of corn at harvest time, like a peasant, while his wife looked idly on. Jung, somewhat tactlessly, kept pressing him for further information. He made it clear that he thought the dream had to do with Freud’s warmth of feeling for his wife’s younger sister. I was staggered that he had so much knowledge of Freud’s domestic affairs. Freud was naturally very put out, and refused to “risk his authority,” as he put it, by revealing anything more personal. Jung said to me later that at that moment Freud had
lost
his authority, as far as he was concerned. However, I think I managed to smooth over the matter, and they are on good terms again. But for a while I felt like a referee in a wrestling contest! All very difficult. Keep this under your hat
.