CHAPTER II THE MILLER PHANTASIES
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Jung, C. G. (Carl Gustav) and Hinkle, Beatrice M.
We know, from much psychoanalytic experience, that whenever one recounts his phantasies or his dreams, he deals not only with the most important and intimate of his problems, but with the one the most painful at that moment.[57]
Since in the case of Miss Miller we have to do with a complicated system, we must give our attention carefully to the particulars which I will discuss, following as best I can Miss Miller’s presentation.
In the first chapter, “Phénomènes de suggestion passagère ou d’autosuggestion instantanée,” Miss Miller gives a list of examples of her unusual suggestibility, which she herself considers as a symptom of her nervous temperament; for example, she is excessively fond of caviar, whereas some of her relatives loathe it. However, as soon as any one expresses his loathing, she herself feels momentarily the same loathing. I do not need to emphasize especially the fact that such examples are very important in individual psychology; that caviar is a food for which nervous women frequently have an especial predilection, is a fact well known to the psychoanalyst.
Miss Miller has an extraordinary faculty for taking other people’s feelings upon herself, and of identification; for example, she identifies herself to such a degree in “Cyrano” with the wounded Christian de Neuvillette, that she feels in her own breast a truly piercing pain at that place where Christian received the deadly blow.
From the viewpoint of analytic psychology, the theatre, aside from any esthetic value, may be considered as an institution for the treatment of the mass complex. The enjoyment of the comedy, or of the dramatic plot ending happily is produced by an unreserved identification of one’s own complexes with the play. The enjoyment of tragedy lies in the thrilling yet satisfactory feeling that something which might occur to one’s self is happening to another. The sympathy of our author with the dying Christian means that there is in her a complex awaiting a similar solution, which whispers softly to her “hodie tibi, cras mihi,” and that one may know exactly what is considered the effectual moment Miss Miller adds that she felt a pain in her breast, “Lorsque Sarah Bernhardt se précipite sur lui pour étancher le sang de sa blessure.” Therefore the effectual moment is when the love between Christian and Roxane comes to a sudden end.
If we glance over the whole of Rostand’s play, we come upon certain moments, the effect of which one cannot easily escape and which we will emphasize here because they have meaning for all that follows. Cyrano de Bergerac, with the long ugly nose, on account of which he undertakes countless duels, loves Roxane, who, for her part unaware of it, loves Christian, because of the beautiful verses which really originate from Cyrano’s pen, but which apparently come from Christian. Cyrano is the misunderstood one, whose passionate love and noble soul no one suspects; the hero who sacrifices himself for others, and, dying, just in the evening of life, reads to her once more Christian’s last letter, the verses which he himself had composed.
“Roxane, adieu, je vais mourir!
C’est pour ce soir, je crois, ma bien-aimée!
J’ai l’âme lourde encore d’amour inexprimé.
Et je meurs! Jamais plus, jamais mes yeux grisés,
Mes regards dont c’était les frémissantes fêtes,
Ne baiseront au vol les gestes que vous faites;
J’en revois un petit qui vous est familier
Pour toucher votre front et je voudrais crier—.
Et je crie:
Adieu!—Ma chère, ma chérie,
Mon trésor—mon amour!
Mon coeur ne vous quitta jamais une seconde,
Et je suis et je serai jusque dans l’autre monde
Celui qui vous aime sans mesure, celui—”
Whereupon Roxane recognizes in him the real loved one. It is already too late; death comes; and in agonized delirium, Cyrano raises himself, and draws his sword:
“Je crois, qu’elle regarde....
Qu’elle ose regarder mon nez, la camarde!
(Il lève son épée.)
Que dites-vous?... C’est inutile!
Je le sais!
Mais on ne se bat pas dans l’espoir du succès!
Non! Non! C’est bien plus beau, lorsque c’est inutile!
—Qu’est-ce que c’est que tous ceux-là?—Vous êtes mille?
Ah! je vous reconnais, tous mes vieux ennemis!
Le mensonge!
(Il frappe de son épée le vide.)
Tiens, tiens, ha! ha! les Compromis,
Les Préjugés, les Lâchetés!...
(Il frappe.)
Que je pactise?
Jamais, jamais!—Ah, te voilà, toi, la Sottise!
—Je sais bien qu’à la fin vous me mettrez à bas;
N’importe: je me bats! je me bats! je me bats!
Oui, vous m’arrachez tout, le laurier et la rose!