officer’s cap for sailing. Her uncle and aunt were important to Anna, as her only “family” apart from her parents and her brother—and to her brother she was not strongly attached.
If I had not been familiar with the idealizing tendencies of our adult years, I should have believed that the patient’s early childhood held no tedious or unpleasant interludes, but consisted entirelyof building castles of sand on the beach, and gliding along in her father’s yacht, under the blue sky, past the cliffs of the Black Sea coast; and that this happy state lasted interminably. In fact, these happy and vivid memories extended only to her fifth summer; for the shadow of the event which would bring a cruelly sudden expulsion from her paradise was already hanging over her—her mother’s death.
Her mother was in the habit of varying the tedium of the winter by making occasional visits to Moscow, for the shops, galleries and theatres. For Anna, there were two consolations: she had her father to herself, and her mother always came back laden with presents. This year, just before Christmas, she did not return with the expected gifts. Instead, a telegram arrived with the news of a fire that had destroyed the hotel in which she was staying. To Anna’s immature mind the news meant only that her mother would be away a few days longer. Yet, as she was being undressed for bed, she was disturbed by her nurse’s crying. She recalled lying awake, wondering where her mother could be, and listening to the storm which happened to be raging. Two of her recurrent hallucinations in adult life—a storm at sea, and a fire at a hotel—clearly related to this tragic event.
Her grief-stricken father withdrew more or less completely into his business affairs; and in any case preferred the company of his son, now old enough to hold a sensible conversation. Anna was left in the hands of her nurse and her governess. There were no more visits from her aunt and uncle, for by a melancholy coincidence her uncle also died, a few months later, of a heart attack. As a teacher, his income had not been large, and his still youthful widow was forced to sell her home, move into a cheap apartment, and make a meagre living by teaching the piano.Except for letters and occasional small gifts, the burdened and unhappy woman lost touch with her sister’s children. Neither she nor the patient’s father had ever remarried.
One may easily conceive the young girl’s loneliness and misery, deprived so cruelly of her mother, abandoned by her aunt and uncle (as it must have seemed), and treated indifferently by her father. Fortunately she was in the care of sensible and devoted attendants, particularly her governess. By the age of twelve or thirteen, Anna could speak three languages besides her native Ukrainian, was familiar with good literature, and demonstrated a considerable degree of talent in music. She enjoyed dancing, and was able to attend ballet classes at the lycée . This had the advantage of giving her an opportunity to form friendships, and she became, by her own account, quite sociable and popular. Altogether, then, she survived the loss of her mother better than many, or perhaps most, children would have done.
When she was fifteen, an unpleasant incident occurred which left its mark on her. There were political disturbances; an uprising of the fleet; violence and street demonstrations. The patient, with two friends, ventured imprudently into the docks area of the city, to observe events. Because of their genteel dress and appearance they were threatened and insulted by a group of insurgents. No physical harm was done to the girls, but they were badly frightened. What affected the patient more was the attitude of her father, when she returned home. Instead of comforting her, he coldly rebuked her for having exposed herself to danger. Perhaps he was merely hiding his concern, and was genuinely upset at the grave risk his daughter had run; but for the young
If I had not been familiar with the idealizing tendencies of our adult years, I should have believed that the patient’s early childhood held no tedious or unpleasant interludes, but consisted entirelyof building castles of sand on the beach, and gliding along in her father’s yacht, under the blue sky, past the cliffs of the Black Sea coast; and that this happy state lasted interminably. In fact, these happy and vivid memories extended only to her fifth summer; for the shadow of the event which would bring a cruelly sudden expulsion from her paradise was already hanging over her—her mother’s death.
Her mother was in the habit of varying the tedium of the winter by making occasional visits to Moscow, for the shops, galleries and theatres. For Anna, there were two consolations: she had her father to herself, and her mother always came back laden with presents. This year, just before Christmas, she did not return with the expected gifts. Instead, a telegram arrived with the news of a fire that had destroyed the hotel in which she was staying. To Anna’s immature mind the news meant only that her mother would be away a few days longer. Yet, as she was being undressed for bed, she was disturbed by her nurse’s crying. She recalled lying awake, wondering where her mother could be, and listening to the storm which happened to be raging. Two of her recurrent hallucinations in adult life—a storm at sea, and a fire at a hotel—clearly related to this tragic event.
Her grief-stricken father withdrew more or less completely into his business affairs; and in any case preferred the company of his son, now old enough to hold a sensible conversation. Anna was left in the hands of her nurse and her governess. There were no more visits from her aunt and uncle, for by a melancholy coincidence her uncle also died, a few months later, of a heart attack. As a teacher, his income had not been large, and his still youthful widow was forced to sell her home, move into a cheap apartment, and make a meagre living by teaching the piano.Except for letters and occasional small gifts, the burdened and unhappy woman lost touch with her sister’s children. Neither she nor the patient’s father had ever remarried.
One may easily conceive the young girl’s loneliness and misery, deprived so cruelly of her mother, abandoned by her aunt and uncle (as it must have seemed), and treated indifferently by her father. Fortunately she was in the care of sensible and devoted attendants, particularly her governess. By the age of twelve or thirteen, Anna could speak three languages besides her native Ukrainian, was familiar with good literature, and demonstrated a considerable degree of talent in music. She enjoyed dancing, and was able to attend ballet classes at the lycée . This had the advantage of giving her an opportunity to form friendships, and she became, by her own account, quite sociable and popular. Altogether, then, she survived the loss of her mother better than many, or perhaps most, children would have done.
When she was fifteen, an unpleasant incident occurred which left its mark on her. There were political disturbances; an uprising of the fleet; violence and street demonstrations. The patient, with two friends, ventured imprudently into the docks area of the city, to observe events. Because of their genteel dress and appearance they were threatened and insulted by a group of insurgents. No physical harm was done to the girls, but they were badly frightened. What affected the patient more was the attitude of her father, when she returned home. Instead of comforting her, he coldly rebuked her for having exposed herself to danger. Perhaps he was merely hiding his concern, and was genuinely upset at the grave risk his daughter had run; but for the young
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