Reminiscences of Freud

Although he had been ill for over fifteen years, the death of Sigmund Freud in September 1939 was a great shock when the sad news came. Once, on my parting from him, he said, 'This is the last time I shall see you'. I replied saying, 'No, you will live as long as your mother did'. She lived ninety-five years. Despite his chronic illness and his age—he was eighty-three years old—I could not believe his death was imminent.

Through his death the world has lost one of its foremost figures, science has lost one of its most earnest workers, and his pupils are bereft of a great teacher, a spiritual father. Our only consolation is that he has left us a great heritage: his Gesammelte Schriften, his great work, through which we can still commune with him.

To attempt an evaluation of Freud's life and personality is no simple task for one who was in close contact with him for thirty-two years. His life was beset with many trials but with no small measure of satisfaction. It was certainly a very busy and full life. Most of his years were punctuated with hardships and annoyances; but being a realist, he learned to adapt himself to all circumstances. He never complained in adversity, he accepted his lot with fortitude. Nor was he overjoyed when finally he achieved recognition. I was with him on a few occasions when he was sorely troubled. I was deeply moved, but when I looked at him his face mirrored the unclouded clearness and the exalted serenity of the true sage. One must not however picture him as imperturbably placid. He was not always calm. He had often to contend with great difficulties and annoyances, and he reacted appropriately. He once said to me, 'I can scold and fight as well as anyone'. But even in his most trying disappointments he never lost his temper.

I cannot help recalling that he was deeply disappointed in some of his pupils, and in the treatment accorded him by the academic world which failed to understand him. There was,