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Fhe S p ir it ol In n e r T ru th in W o m e n fĂ­arbara lĂ­annah


The Animus The Spirit o f Inner T ruth in W om en V o lu m e O n e

Barbara H annah

edlted by DavĂşJ ElJred and EmmanueL Kennedy-Xypolittld

Chiron Publications Wilmette, Ilhnois


© 2o n by Stiftung für Jung’sche Psychologie and Emmanuel Kennedy. Ali rights reserved. No part o f this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission o f the publisher, Chiron Publications, P. O. Box 68, W ilmette, Illinois 60091. From M EM ORIES, DREAMS, R E F L E C T IO N S by C. G. Jung, edited by Aniela JafTe, translated by Richard and Clara Winston, translation Copyright © 1961, 1962, 1963 and renewed 1989, 1990, 1991 by Random House, Inc. Used by permission of Pantheon Books, a division o f Random House, Inc. Jung, C. G .; C O L L E C T E D W O RKS O F C. G. JU N G . © 1977 Princeton University Press. Reprinted by permission o f Princeton University Press. Jung, C. G.; DREAM ANALYSIS. © 1984 Princeton University Press. Reprinted by permission o f Princeton University Press. Jung, C. G.; N IET Z SC H E ’S ZARATHUSTRA. © 1988 Princeton University Press. Reprinted by permission o f Princeton University Press. Jung, C. G.; VISIONS. © 1997 Princeton University Press. Reprinted by permis­ sion o f Princeton University Press. From Visions: N otes o f th e Setninar G iven in 1930-1934, C. G. Jung, Copyright © 1998 Routledge. Reproduced by permission of Taylor & Francis Books UK.

Book and cover design by P eter Altenberg. Cover art: landscape painting by Barbara Hannah. Printed in the United States o f America.

Library o f Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Hannah, Barbara. The animus : the spirit o f inner truth in women / Barbara Hannah ; edited by Emmanuel Kennedy and David Eldred. v. cm. — (Polarities o f the psyche)

Includes bibliogvaphical references and index. ISBN 978-1-888602-46-3 (vol. 1 : alk. paper) — ISB N 978-1-888602-47-0 (vol. 2 : alk. paper) 1. Animus (Psychoanalysis) 2. Women— Psychology. 3. Jungian psychology. I. Kennedy, Emmanuel. II. Eldred, David. III. Title. IV. Series. BF175.5.A 53H 36 2010 155.3’33— dc22 2010003379


Contentc1 F orew ord b y David E ld red v il F orew ord by E m m an u el Kennedy-Xypolitas IX T h e Prob lem o f C on tact with th e Animus 1 Animus arid E ro s 59 T h e Animus Problem in M o d em W o m en 97 Animus F igu res in L iteratu re and in M o d em Life 145 T h e B ron tes and M o d em W om en 237 Victims o f the C reative Spirit 261 T h e B rontes and Individuation 2 9 1 T h e Animus in C harlotte B ro n te ’s Strange E vents 2 97 A ppendix O ne: R e b e cca W e sts T h e H a rsh Voice 3 1 1 Appendix Two: T h e R egen t G eorge IV 3 13

A com prehensive bibliography and index for both volum es can b e found in volum e 2 .


Foreword

BARBARA H a n n a h w a s a s t r a i g h t f o r w a r d , m o d e s t , y e t grand w om an, a lover o f literature, a close affiliate and friend o f both C arl Gustav and E m m a Jung, and of M arie-Louise von Franz. She was a firs.t::.gener.ation Ju n gian psychologist, a m em ber o f the Psychological Club o f Zurich (1 9 1 6 to the p resen t), and amongjthe first lecturers of the |uiig Institute in Zurich. She lectu red both in S'f]-tzerland and En glan d and w rote several books on C. G. Jung and Jungian psychology. Barbara H annah’s psychological analysis of the animus is p resented here in two volumes. T h ese essays have been gleaned from Barbara Hannahs handwritten notes, typed manuscripts, previously published articles (as well as the handwritten notes o f those articles), h er own drafts o f her lectures, and the notes taken by participants at those lectures. B arbara. H annah_tackledjhe _them e o f the _animus .w ith .a^con:iprehe,nsiveness. unsurpassed inJ,ungi;:tn _Hterature*. H er insight and vigor stem d ire cly from a peisonal grappling with her own animus while integrating the experience and reflection o f many from the first and second generations of psychotherapists working directly with C. G. Jung. T he main objective of these two volumes is to present the read er with an all-inclusive synthesis o f the many and complex essays and lectures Barbara H annah presented on the them e of the animus while remaining as close as possible to the original texts. Authenticity and com prehensiveness have been set as the priori-


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The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

ties in the editing o f this work. But when lengthy passages repeat themselves identically from one presentation to the next, synthesis has been pursued. F o r example, Barbara Hannah discusses the animus in the case o f th e sixteenth-century nun Jeanne F e ^ in five different lectures and publications presented in these two volumes. The th em e o f the animus in the Book o f Tobit is found in seven lectures and essays. Some o f these lectures w ere given at th e C. G. Jung Institute in Zurich, others w ere presented to various audiences in Switzerland and England. Naturally, a great deal of the material in h er later lectures was repeated from earlier works, and much of this repetition is verbatim . I f every single sentence that she ever w rote on the animus was published ch ron oloically with no editorial adjustment, these volumes would be burdened with tedious repetition and b ecom e unmanageable in size, undermining the vitality of B arbara H annahs style and compromising the vivaciousness o f the works themselves. Nevertheless, when the presentation o f a them e would be negatively affected by such editing, repetition has been preserved from one essay to the next. N ot one single idea uttered by the author has been neglected. H and corrections, which she added to the pages o f h er lectures and the drafts o f h er publications, have been included directly in the text in order to render the straightforward m anner and unfussiness o f Barbara H annahs literary style. The editorial priority in these two volumes has been set to p re­ serve the excellence and comprehensiveness of h er work on the animus— that most com plex and vexing them e— while rendering the natural and wonderful spirit o f B arbara Hannah herself. It was Barbara H annahs express wish that references and com m ents be included as footnotes and not relegated to endnotes, and we have respected this wish. D avid E ld red Z urich A pril 201.0


The experience it,1e / fif the im portant thing, not it,1 inteLlectual c^difieatiw n, which p rovu m eaningful and heLpful only when the roaO to original experience if bWcked. —'C. G . J u n g T h e t w o p r e s e n t b o o k s o n t h e t h e m e o f t h e a n im u s

constitute the- third and fourth volum es o f the series Polaritíes of the Psyche. The first two w eré L ectu res on J u n g s Aion (2 0 0 4 ) by Barbara H annah and M arie-L ouise von F ran z and The A rch etyp al Sym bolism o f Anim als (2 0 0 6 ) by B arbara Hannah. C arl G ustav Jung regarded th e hum an psyche as belonging to the m ost obscure and m ysterious realm s w hich we can exp erien ce. W h en ev er Jung writes o r speaks o f the nature of the hum an psyche, he relies above all on his personal observations o f people. T h e anim a and the anim us, two o f Ju n g’s m ost well known con cep ts, w ere developed through em pirical observation and actual exp erien ce. As Jung_ em phasizes throughjQu£_his—w arks,_intteleçt. and theoretical knowledge, .alone. .do_not.sufficefor.th.e_ .assimilation [ unconscious contents .and.especially those unco.n.J2cious .contents o fan „arçh e^ ^ .al, transcendenJLnature. Only when such contents appear subjectively out o f the unconscious psyche o f the indi­ vidual can they b ecom e a profound experience o f reality. F o r in the process o f integration o f unconscious com ponents of our personality, we are dealing with creative processes that are steeped


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The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

in m ystery and can b e trnly grasped only by inner experience understood by Ju n g as “a p rocess o f assimilation w ithout which th ere would b e no understanding.” Ju n g thus considered such experience as the conditio sine qua non for bringing unconscious contents into con sciousness, truly understanding them , and gradually liberating on eself from th eir autonom ous, possessive 1 and irrational nature. Ju n g w rites in his m em oirs: i

To me there is no liberation à tous prix. I cannot be liberated from anything that I . . . have not experienced. Real libera­ tion becomes possible for me only when I have done all that I was able to do, when I have completely devoted myself to a thing and participated in it to the utmost. C om p lete devotion to and participation to th e u tm ost in the “terrifying work on the anim us” ch aracterizes Barbara H annah’s lifelong struggle to co m e to term s with the unconscious, an A u sein a n d ersetz u n g th a t b egan in 1 9 2 9 w hen she began analysis with Jung an^ lasted nearly sixty years to h e r death in 1 9 8 6 . This ch arism a df h e r w hole b ein g was evident and even palpable to those p eop le who w ere close to her. It is also m anifest w hen one reads certain parts o f h e r papers in this p resen t work. W h atev er B arb ara H annah said o r w rote on “the vitally im p ortan t arch etyp e o f th e anim us” was ascertained both from h er own subjective exp erien ce and from the actual exp erien ce of w om en she knew. Seen in this light, B arb ara H an n ah s truly creative writings on the com plex them e o f th e animus are a unique and m ajor contribution to analytical psychology. T h eir value lies in the fact that they stem out o f direct, personal, and original experience with the darker layers o f the psyche. B arbara H annah did not gloss over, avoid, or repress but chose the path o f experiencing uncon­ scious processes to the full, which, according to Jung, is the only way to liberate oneself. She thus created an indispensable vase, a vessel to receive. the contents o f h er unconscious with E ros, that is, h er feeling relatedness.


Foreword

XI

Through an honest and conscious confrontation with the unconscious (dream analysis, active imagination, painting, Cre­ ative w riting) B a rb ara H annah im m ersed h erself in the inner experience o f the pow erful a r c h e ^ ^ e o f the animus. As she once stated: “It is out o f my own exp erience— this little island and relatively firm p iece o f ground— that I am trying to w rite on the problem o f the anim us.” Analytic p ra ctice teach es us that the individual hum an being to w hom unconscious contents b eco m e conscious through experience is u nited with th e im personal cen te r o f psychic w holeness thus m aking the exp erien ced ce n te r into a spiritus re c to r, a driving force o f daily life. Various dream s o f and about B arb ara H annah indicate that at th e en d o f h e r life she achieved as m uch natural w holeness as an individual hum an being can attain in a lifetime. In such a state of being, the anim us, as it was on ce e p e r ie n c e d by B arb ara Hannah in an active im agination, transform s itself into th e h eart of the chthonic spirit o f truth. In this form the animus is a m ediator of the religious exp erien ce, a veritable m essenger o f “G od.” In the words of M arie-Louise von F ra n z , the animus b ecom es “the wise guide to spiritual truth . . . and th e incarnation o f m eaning.” E m m a n u el Kennedy-X ypolitas


The Problem o f Contact with theA nim w

Editor's Note: This essay on "The Problem of Contact with the Anim us" closely parallels Barbara Hannah's text which w as published under the sarne title by the Guild of Pastoral Psychology in 1951.1 This present version, however, includes some additional information found in her handwritten notes and preliminary drafts but which did not appear in the Guild publication. The discussion of Jean n e Fery, a nun from the sixteenth century, within this essay is a highly abbreviated version of Barbara Hannah's extensive analysis of this nun and animus possession, presented in volume 2 of this work.

In t r o d u c t io n

O ne often hears th e com plaint th at too m uch is said about the th eory o f Jungian psychology and too little about how this theory works out in everyday life. E v e n people who have b een studying Ju n g s works for years com plain about this im balance. This conce rn seem s •to m e particularly constellated at present, for it has n ever been m ore obvious that invisible forces are at w ork which hum an reason are totally unable to con trol.2As Jung has pointed out tim e and again, the only place w h ere th ere is any hope o f our being able to com e to term s with these forces is in th e individual. 1. Barbara Hannah, “The Problem of Contact with the Animus,” The Guild of Pastoral Psychology, lecture no. 70 (East Dulwich: H. H. Greaves Ltd., 1951). 2. [The initial drafts of this essay were written in the late 1940s. Ed.]


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The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in 'Wo/^ n

T h erefore it seem s indispensable to devote this p a p er o n th e anim u s a s m uch as possible to. the. p ractical im plerrientatio.npfJung s concepjs, B ut any re a d e r who has m ade such an attem p t lmows the enorm ous difficulties that such a venture entails. W e can only touch on a fragm ent o f the vast tangle o f problem s that confront us when we approach the th em e o f the animus. B y_the_ term_animu_s. l understand th e m asculine. spirit or u n co n scio u s_mind_of w om an. E m m a Ju n g pointed out recently that one should differentiate very carefully h ere betw een the anim a and the anim us. T he anim a, as is well lmown, is Ju n g ’s term for the fe m in in e soul o f man. B u t iU s.xeally a_ç_o.ii.tradiçtio.n inierms;_to,spe.ak q f the.anim us as th e.m asçulm e.soul Q w o m an . (This error was m ade in the early days o f Jungian psychology and is still often done today.) In_LatmJthe._w.orcLan.imu.sJU.eans intellect,. m em ory, çonsciousness, ch aracter,.an d spirit.. It is often equated_w.ith. “m ind’l ancLis_also,.used to m ean. courage, vivacity, bravery, and will. In Jungian psychology it is used primarily to denote the phenom enon o f “spirit” in w om en, and the contrast betw een the fem inine soul (anim a) and the masculine spirit (ani­ mus) gives us a valuable hint as to the difference betw een these two figures. In general the animus personifies the spirit in w om an while the anim a represents the soul in man. In general we can say that, at the m ore rudim entary leveis, th e animus in the w om an is the p rod u cer of opinions w hereas the anim a in man produces moods. But actually the p art o f the animus to w hich we can re act and with w hich w e can make con tact is the m erest fraction o f th e entity o f spirit in the w om an. In real life, w om en generally deal not with the en tire anim us b u t with that p art o f the anim us which is mostly an opinionating substitute for the depths o f the spirit. This would be the spirit o f rationalization which indefatigably occupies itself with making these opinions seem logical-— at least as seen from the point o f view o f the w om an or o f the collective society. Since a great deal o f the animus lies initially in the realm o f the unconscious, it is naturally entangled in the shadow, w hich is not, however, the sarne as the animus. M uch o f the shadow consists


The Problem o f C ontact with the Animus

^

3

o f personal repressions or o f that w hich has been forgotten. This m ore o r less corresponds to F re u d s co n cep t o f the entire uncon­ scious. Ju n g has noted that the unconscious is also the unfathom - fiAjtu., able wellspring o f creativity and ideas, the expression o f which w e can glim pse in works o f literature, art, music, or dance; in fairy tales and myths; in the prim itive, ancient, and contem porary religions, and so forth. T h e shadow is m ore or less the first part o f the unconscious which we en cou n ter w hen w e begin to take n otice o f ou r inner, unconscious lives. O ne might say that when a m an takes up the problem o f his anim a he is attem pting to fínd the “inherited collective im age o f wom an [which] exists in a m an s unconscious, with th e help o f which he apprehends the nature o f w om an .”3 At the sam e tim e, he finds his own unconscious function o f relationship. T h erefo re, in his search for the anima, th e goal of man is at bottom to find th e function o f relationship w hich he has always p rojected onto w om an. T h e goal o f w om an, on the oth er hand, is to find th e “inherited collective im age” o f the spirit or mind which she has always p rojected onto man. T h e m ind o f woman— inasm uch as it is unconscious— is autonom ous and p rojected onto man to an alm ost incredible extent, although she is usually totally unaware o f this fact. T h e problem o f m od em w om an in this respect is m ost clearly described in Ju n g’s article “W om an in E u ro p e ,” with ali the symptom s which surround us on every side proving that the masculine side o f wom an can no longer be den ied .4 In that essay, Jung says: Masculinity means knowing what one wants and doing what is necessaiy to achieve it. Once this has been lèamed it is so obvious that it can never again be forgotten without tremendous psychic loss. The independence and criticai judgment she acquires through this knowledge are positive 3. C. G. Jung, “The Relations Between the Ego and the Unconscious” (1928), in CW, vol. 7 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1953), par. 301. 4. C. G. Jung, “Woman in Europe” (1927), in CW, vol. 10 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1964), pars. 236-75.


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The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

values and are felt as such by the woman. She can never part with them again.5 If we are to avoid this “trem endous psychic loss,” we are obliged sooner or later to face the problem o f th e animus. T he spotlight in this p resen t p ap er is definitely on the ani­ mus and not on the anim a, for it is only of th e form er th at I can speak from direct personal exp erien ce (which is the only firm ground one has w hen one com es to th e practical side o f such them es). N evertheless, a good deal o f what is said also applies to the anima, particularly in regards to th e technique for com ing to term s with these figures. M y referen ces to Ju n gs article, “T h e Relation B etw een the E g o and the U nconscious,” for instance, are taken from a p lace w h ere Jung is speaking primarily o f the anima. T he main difference that one m ust always keep in mind is that a woman tends to re a ct with rigid opinions which go irritatingly beside the mark w hereas a man is inclined to react with moods o r with a peculiarly touchy vanity. In oth er words, a w om an’s unconscious reactions are inclined to be those o f a som ew hat inferior man and vice versa. It is only fair to say th at ali o f the Jungian psychology in this p ap er naturally com es from Jung and is “begged, borrow ed or stolen”! Undoubtedly the read er has read Ju ngs psychology infinitely b etter p resented in his books than here. T h e tíiing that I am attem pting to do then is to give a fragm entary report on how it seem s to m e that Ju n g s ideas work out w hen w om en attem pt to apply them in th eir own psychology. Now w hen a wom an writes o f th e animus, she is always up against the fact that the animus him self m ay have his own views on the matter. Jung on ce pointed out in a sem inar that, whereas portraits o f the anim a are exceedingly com m on in literature, good portraits of the animus are very rare. H e thought this might be because the animus to a great extent w rites the books o f w om en him self and prefers not to give him self away. (The anima, on the


The Problem o f Contact w ith the Anim us

5

contrary, seem s to be rath er fond o f sitting for h er p ortrait!) Thus w hen I w rite, I never feel quite sure how m uch the anim us, like a wily old fox, is obliterating his tracks with his brush! T h e P r e d o m in a n c e o f t h e U n c o n s c io u s in T H E P ER S O N A L IT Y

T h e First point on which we m ust ag reé before entering on our th em e is the fact that the psyche reaches f a r b ey o n d our con ­ scious knowledge. T h e idea that w e are really the m aster in our own house dies hard, and so be it with the pem icious slogan: “W h e re th ere is a will, th ere is a way.” I em phasize this because long after we have realized the existence o f both the personal and collective unconscious and are quite aw are that w e have a shadow and an animus or an anim a, we find ourselves behaving exactly as if we did not know it at ali. It is not easy to shake off nineteenthcentfiry rational ideas with which w e and our im m ediate forefathers grew up and which flourish around us as never before. W h en it com es to realizing th at the psyche itseíf extends far beyond our ego and its conscious knowledge, w e are eonfronted with the realization that we live, in p art, in an unknowri, invisible country. T h e re is indeed a g reat deal o f com parative m ate­ rial from which w e can gath er inform ation. T h e prim itives, for instance, have at b est one leg in outside reality while th e other stands in this invisible world. W h at they call the land o f the spiríts is indeed to them th e g reater reality o f the two, and studying th eir ways o f dealing with th eir spirits can be com p ared to reading a description o f the cou n tiy b efore undertaking a journey. W e can also find com parative m aterial in m any other fields. I m ention, for instance, tlie great religions, o f both the E a st and W est, the G nostic system s, alchem y, and, on a low er levei, w itchcraft and m agic. W e .may say, however, that ali secondhand accounts..of .what Ju n g ealls the collective unconscious have only a relative value. T h ey are absolutely invaluable in amplification and com parison, but the condtio sine qua n o n o f any real knowledge o f the unconscious is actual experience. It can n ot be em phasized too


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The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

often that psychology is an em pirical science. Jungian psychology is frequently m isunderstood as a philosophy or even a religion, bu t always by people who have had no experience o f the kind them selves and who th erefore find reports o f oth er p eop le’s actual experience so strange th at they assum e it m ust be a m atte r o f philosophical or m ystical speculation. T hey are m ore or less in the position o f people listening to an explorers account o f som e strange tribe w hose habits are so different from their own that the listener m ay involuntarily find him self thinking: “H e is pulling the long bow” o r “fisherm ans tales!” Som e people go even further and, w hen som ething from th e unconscious catches them and forces them to exp erien ce it, th ey think they are seeing “white m ice” or, like th e co m m en t o f th e man when he first saw the duck-billed platypus: “Why, th ere ain’t no such bird.” Yet, we have not veiy far to seek to find evidence that we are m oved by things within ourselves which differ from ou r conscious personality. How often do we say, “W h at possessed m e to do th a t?” O r we are angry with ourselves because we have done the exact opposite from that which we intended. Yet, som ehow we hate to draw the logical conclusion and even doubt the evidence o f ou r own senses rath er tlian face the alarm ing fact that th ere are “things” within us that can a ct independently and oblige us to carry out “their” intentions. T he following incident m ay illustrate the difficulty of admitting unusual facts. A storm on the Lake of Zurich on ce d etached a floating public bathing raft from its m oorings at the upper end o f the lake. It was on a w in ters night and it drifted right down th e lake nearly to Zurich before it was discovered the following day and tow ed back to its base. This p ecu liar incident was related at a dinner party that night and á young wom an exclaim ed with relief, “Why, I saw a bathing raft in the middle o f the lake from my window this m orning, but o f course I did not mention it because I knew it could not really be th e re !” T h e young lady was unable to assimilate the evidence before h er own eyes, so she simply rejected it until she was provided with a rational explanation. And


The Problem o f Contact w ith the Animus

like her, we constantly miss the m ost obvious psychic facts due to the sam e prejudice. In his sem inar on N ietzsche s Z arathustra, Jung on ce spoke of the realization that m an does not only consist o f consciousness but also o f the unconscious. And that o u r conscious will is constantly being crossed by unconscious wills in ourselves. H e said: It is as if you were ruler of a land which is only partially known to yourself, king of a country with an unknown number of inhabitants. You don’t lcnow who they are or what their condition may be; time and again you make the discovery that you have subjects in your country of whose existence you had no idea. Therefore you cannot assume the responsibility, you can only say: “I find myself as the ruler of a country which has unknown borders and unknown inhabitants, possessing qualities of which I am not entirely aware.” Then you are at once out of your subjectivity, and are confronted with a situation in which you are a sort of prisoner; you are confronted with unknown possibilities because those many uncontrollable factors at any time may influence ali your actions or decisions. So you are a funny kind of king in that country, a king who is not really a king, who is dependent upon so many unknown quantities and conditions that he often cannot carry through his own intentions. Therefore it is better not to speak of being a king at ali, and be only one of the inhabitants who has just a corner of that territory to rule. And the greater your experi­ ence, the more you see that your com er is infinitely small in comparison with the vast extent of the unknown against you.6 O n ce we have realized that w e are not the king o f our psyche, not the m aster in o u r own house, we are— paradoxically enough— in a m uch stronger position. W e have escaped from o u r subjectivity, that is, we have gained a tiny piece o f objective ground w here we can stand and look around us. A great deal that 6. C. G. Jung, N ietzsches Zarathustra: Notes o f th e Seminar Given in 1934-1939, 2 vols. (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1988), p. 390.


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The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

belongs in our own inner world has always been in projection. Ali those things which we do not see in ourselves are automatically projected onto ou r environm ent. W e do not m ake projections, but w e fin d pieces o f ourselves that we have not recognized projected onto our environm ent.7 IIow m any o f us have a favorite bête noire, a dark nasty beast, for instance, who conveniently carries ali the qualities that we do not want to recognize as our own. As I am sure you ali know, one does not p ro ject voluntarily. This observation is som ething which apparently one cannot rep eat enough, for one continually m eets people who know quite a lot o f Jungian psychology and yet still do not understand that we do not project voluntarily; in fact, we do nothing o f the kind. W e simply do not see som ething which is nevertheless a p art o f our own psyche. Since at first it is com pletely foreign to us, we m eet it for the first tim e in som eone else as a projection, and then slowly we becom e aware o f its existence also in ourselves.8 It is nearly seven hundred years since M eister E ck h art exclaim ed: “It is ali inside, not outside, for eveiything is inside.” B ut how few people have realized as yet what he m eant.

T h e Sh a d o w

W h en we exp erien ce the fact th at our conscious ego is only an inhabitant in a small c o m e r o f a vast territory, we naturally want to know som ething about the oth er inhabitants. As is well known, before Ju n gs tim e the unconscious was mainly regarded as repressed m aterial which could ju st as well be in consciousness (insofar as it was recognized at ali). T h e latter is at least theoretically true o f w hat Jung calls th e personal unconscious. In its personal asp ect, the shadow has its hom e in this layer o f the unconscious. It could th erefore be called ou r nearest neighbor in the vast expanse o f the unknown that surrounds us. It is clear that considerable knowledge o f the shadow is required before we 7. Ibid., pp. L493ff. S. See Barbara Hannah, The Archetypal Symbolism o f Animais (Wilmeíte, II).: Chirotl Publications, 2006), pp. 154f'.


The Problem. o f Contact with the Animus

9

are in a position to take up our problem with the m ore distance figures, including the animus. T h e shadow is a m inor figure in oneself, which is, in a way, the negative im age o f the co n scious personality. O ne usually regards it as som ething inferior and, in its m ost com m on form , it is com p osed o f ali the negative qualities w hich one does not w ant to see in oneself. B u t, in the case o f people who are living below their possibilities, the shadow can contain very positive qualities, “up to eighty p erce n t pure gold,” as Jung on ce said. T h e personal shadow is not ali that difficult to recognize. True, it can entail a long, weary, and an exceedingly painful undertaking. B ut the real challenge com es from the contam ination o f the shadow with th e figures o f the collective unconscious in the background. H ere is the great com plication o f the work. P eo p le with a sensitive con scien ce who see th eir dark side will som etim es lose th eir sense o f proportion and begin to m ake them selves responsible for the devil himself! It is thus o f u tm ost im portance to leam to discrim inate betw een the shadow in o n es personal sp here and the great figures o f the collective unconscious surrounding us.9 T h e figure which is nearest to th e ego and shadow is the anima o r animus. Jung often speaks o f a kind o f m arriage betw een the animus and the shadow, a com bination far stronger than the weak conscious ego. In a sem inar given in 1 9 3 2 , he goes into this aspect in considerable detail and points out that a w om an m ust be in possession o f h e r shadow— that is, aw are o f h er inferior side— in o rd er to be in a position to relate to h e r animus at ali. P eop le who tliink they are just too m arvelously good and thus deny their shadows altogether are as if possessed by devils. W om en then get ali eaten up by the anim us, and the anim us, in a way, grows fat, he is stren gth en ed by that excellent nourishm ent. H e gets so strong that he can overrule the conscious personality. Thus the connection o f the. animus with the shadow should be broken despite the fact that one arrives at the animus by way o f the shadow. In fact, you can never arrive at the anim us unless you see the shadow, 9. C. G. Jung, “The Psychology of the Transference" (1943), in CW, vol. 16 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1966), pars. 452 and 501ff.


IO

The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

unless you see your own inferior sides. W hen you see your shad­ ow, you can detach from th e animus, but as long as you don’t see it, you have not a ghost o f a ch a n ce.10 To put it still m ore simply: you have not got a ghost o f a ch an ce while the animus and shadow a re m arried, for the gam e always stands at two to one against the conscious ego. W e shall see in a late m edieval case what it m eans psychologically to, b e “possessed by devils,” and we shall also. return later to the role o f the shadow in our problem of contact-w ith the animus.

M AK IN C T H E ACQUAINTANCE W IT H T H E ANIM US

It is a well-known fact quite outside psychological circles that the soul (anim a) o f man frequently p resents herself in personified feminine form . I m ention only D a n te s B eatrice, P etrarch s Lau ra, and R ider H aggard s She. B ut the fact th at the spirit o f wom an presents itself in m asculine form seem s to m e m uch less well known. H ad anyone clearly drawn this conclusion until Ju n g recognized this counterpart to th e anim a in the unconscious o f w om en ?11 Now that w e have realized th e em pirical existence of this figure, this spontaneous p ro d u ct o f the unconscious, we can find traces o f it in m any places, albeit often in a negative form . The dem ons that possessed w om en, for instance, w ere usually o f the masculine sex. I m ention, for in stance, A sm odaeus, th e evil spirit th at possessed Sarah in the Book o f Tobit and killed h er seven husbands before Tobias, with the help o f th e archangel Raphael, exorcised the devil by m eans o f th e h eart and liver o f the físh. Or, for exam ple, the “little m aster” o f w ítches and the “G rand M aster” o f th eir covens w ere alm ost always m asculine. T he fact that the Christian God, particularly the Protestant God, is exclusively masculine presum ably m ade it m ore difficult for woman than for man to recognize h er individual spirit, for it was always projected, in its positive aspect, in the prevailing reli10. íbid. 11. [See Barbara Hannahs discussion of this theme in her article, “Animus Figures in Literatiire and in Modem Life” in this volume. Eí/.]


The Problem o f Contact with the Animus

11

gion. This m ay be one o f many reasons why w om an realized the existence o f h er m ale co u n terp art so m any centuries later than m an. I m ention this in passing, b ut it would lead us too far from o u r subject to continue this them e. It should be m entioned that, in earlier and m ore peaceful days, w hen the unconscious poured smoothly into the prevailing religion, the great m ajority o f people could find the answer to ali these questions— if indeed they w ere ever asked— within the tenets of their faith. T h ere are people today whose unconscious still fits in the fram ework o f som e established religion, and such fortunate people should be disturbed on no account, for in these chaotic days a real hold o f any kind in the invisible w orld is o f the greatest value not only to themselves but also to their surroundings. I exp erien ced this vividly last autum n when I w ent to a C atholic village in Switzerland for a w eekend. It contains an unusual n u m ber o f rest hom es for C atholics, largely for monks and nuns. I im m ediately exp erien ced a feeling o f the most extraordinary p e ace in the village w hich I at first attrib u ted to the herds o f cows, the m ountains, t)he autum nal leaves, and the m ellow O ctob er sun. H ow ever, shortly before, I had spent m y holiday in a place w here ali these things w ere p resen t w ithout experiencing anything o f this unusual feeling o f inner security. T h e friend I was with has considerable resistances to the C h u rch and was mildly grum bling about the n u m ber o f priests and nuns we m et. I was th erefore astonished to h ear h e r suddenly say: “I know why it is so peaceful: th eir religion is really containing the unconscious o f th ese people. T h ey are not split underneath a.s we a re .” But desirable as this condition may b e, it is unfortunately today rather th e exception than the rule. Particularly th e people who com e to psychology are usually suffering from som e kind o f disharmony within them selves. It is true that, in the m ajority o f cases, this dis­ h arm ony is p rojected onto the o u ter world. T h e difficulty is that they cannot g e t on with th eir environm ent in som e form or other. I rem em b er Jung saying som e fifteen years ago, when he was-*' still in the thick o f his p ractice, that a]m ost everyone cam e to him for a different reason. In the m ajority o f cases, it sufficed to give


12

The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

help with the ou ter difficulties, to open up a new attitude tow ard th em , for instance, o r to point out things that have been overlooked. As he also em phasizes in his writings, it is only a com p aratively small minority that is destined to tread the difficult inner way o f com ing to term s with th e collective unconscious,12 that jon gest o f ali paths, as th e alchem ists called it. It is this minority whom I have in mind when I speak o f th e problem o f con tact with th e animus. Jung notes that: only those individuais can attain to a higher degree of consciousness who are destined to it and called to it from the beginning, that is, who have a capacity and an urge for higher differentiation. In this matter men differ extremely, as also do the animal species, among whom there are conservatives and progressives. Nature is aristocratic, but not in the sense of having reserved the possibility of differentiation exclusively for species high in the scale. So too with the possibility of psychic development: it is not reserved for specially gifted indi­ viduais. In other words, in order to undergo a far-reaching psychological development neither outstanding intelligence nor any other talent is necessary, since in this development moral qualities can make up for intellectual shortcomings. It must not on any account be imagined that the treatment consists in a grafting upon people’s minds general formulae and complicated doctrines. There is no question of that. Each can take what he needs, in his own way and in his own language.13 O nce we have definitely realized that we have a shadow and are no longer naively projecting ali ou r own bad qualities on our unfortunate neighbors, and are also aw are that our consciousness is only an “infinitely small c o m e r in com parison with the vast extent o f the unknown against us,” we have gained a piece o f firm ground from which w e can begin the task o f making the acquain12. C. G. Jung, “On the Psychology of the Unconscious” (1943), in CW, vol. 7 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1966), par. 198. 13. Ibid.


The Problem o f Contact with the Anim us

13

tan ce o f o u r anim a 01* animus. On th e one hand, these figures have a personal aspect so th at we can talk o f m y animus o r y o u r anim a and, on the other, they are inhabitants o f the collective unconscious so th at it som etim es seem s far m ore c o rre c t to speak of the animus and the anim a.14 In quarrels betw een two w om en, for instance, th e m atter often b eco m es hopelessly confused if they m ake an attem p t to find out who was to blam e. And when they first study psychology and begin inform ing each o th er that they are quite willing to grant it was the o th e rs animus, th e m atter usually goes from bad to w orse! B u t in tim e, when they can see that th e w hole quarrel was arranged by the animus and that hoth w ere m ore or less his victims, they can often gain a p iece o f objective ground from w hich a real understanding can be reached. In th e spring term o f 1 9 3 8 in his sem inars on Z arathustra, Jung w ent into this m atter in som e d etail.15 H e was speaking o f th e p rojection o f the dark side and o f seeing the devil p rojected into som eon e else. H e pointed out that, in analysis, the patient is gradually convinced th at he can n ot assum e Mr. So-and-So to be th e ax-chdevil who can interfere seriously with his soul. B ut th e first result o f seeing this p rojection is often introjection: the patient assum es that h e him self is th e devil. N othing is gained by this, for, o f cou rse, th e patient is not th e devil either; so the latter— along with the projection— falls back into the sauce and dissolves th ere. T h en th e analyst has to say: “Now look h ere, in spite o f th e fact th at you say th ere is no terribíe devil, th ere is at least a psychological fact w hich you m ight call the devil. If you should not find a devil, then you had b e tte r construct one— and quickly— before he dissolves in your own system ” and eveiything to be gained by becom in g conscious o f y ou r shadow is lost.16 Jung goes on to say that one m ust actually 14. Jung, "The Psychology o f the Transference,” in CW, vol. 16, par. 469. 15. Jung, Nietz$che’s Zarathustra, pp. 1320ÍT. 16. Ibid., p. 1320. [Barbara Hannah notes that it should not be overiooked that Jung was speaking of Nietzsche‘s Zarathustra and pointing out that, as Nietzsche had constracted the figure o f Zarathustra, the light aspect of the Self, he should have constructed a counter shadow figure or tlie latter would—as indeed it did— fali into the “sauce” of his own psyche. She adds that naturally there is always a certain danger in quoting passages out of their context. Ed.\


The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

14

make a devil, say there is one, and if you doubt it, suppress your doubts as much as you can. For it is just as if you were building a house because you know you need one, and then conclude that there never was a house there and destroy whatever you have started to build; so of course you will never have a house. Therefore in order to construct a devil you must be convinced that you have to construct him, that it is absolutely necessary to construct that figure. Otherwise the thing dissolves in your unconscious right away and you are left in the same condition as before.17 A belief in the personification o f evil p er se is found in almost every form o f hum an society. A consensus gentium confirm s the existence of som e form o f devil.18 I f w e do not allow for the real­ ity o f the figures o f the collective unconscious, we shall either p roject collective forces onto our neighbors or introject them into ourselves. T herefore it seem s to m e o f vital im p ortan ce to never forget that the anim us— how ever personally we may take him— is also a figure o f th e collective unconscious. In another seminar, Jung pointed out that as soon as a woman begins controlling h er animus o r a m an his anim a they co m e up against the herd instinct in mankind. M an s original state was one o f overwhelming unconsciousness, and this condition still partially persists in us ali today. As soon as we attem pt to liberate ourselves from possession by the anim a o r animus we get into a different o rd er o f things, and this attem p t challenges the old order. If one sheep goes ahead o f the flock by itself, it is a th reat to the others and thus will be ostracized and exposed to attack. M oreover, no sooner do you get rid o f a devil than you have ali the devils against you. If a man makes a m odest attem p t at controlling his anima, he will be right away in a situation w here he is tested to the blood; ali the devils o f the world will try to get into his anim a in ord er to bring him back into the unconscious fold o f M other N ature. The 1 7 . Ib id .

IS. [Consensus gentium (Latin, "agreement of the peoples”): “That which is universal ainong men carnes the weight of truth.” K d. ]


The Problem. o f Contact with the Animus

15

sam e with a w om an. E v ery devil circulating within one hu ndred miles will do his best to get the goat o f h er animus. T h e truth o f these w ords will b e evident, I think, to any w om an who has m ade a serious atte m p t to co m e to term s with h e r anim us. T h e people in h e r environm ent are, on th e one hand, fascinated by th e fact that she has gained a standpoint audessus d e la m êlée, but, on the o th e r hand, their unconscious— particularly th eir animi— is irritated by th e fact th at som ething has b een done con tra naturam . T h e refo re she often finds h erself exposed to the m ost u n exp ected attacks, usually o f a very irrational nature. W h en w e first face th e fact, however, that w e are only co n ­ scious o f a small c o m e r o f our psyche and that we have to reckon with another will— or o th er wills— in ourselves, we usually feel we are up against a m ultitude, a confusion that is hopelessly bewildering. T h e greatest help in this confusion usually com es from dream s, and h ere it is o f the greatest value to turn to the experi­ en ce o f oth er people in ord er to le a m w hat is already known about this dark unknown realm in w hich our consciousness is set líke a small island o f light. It is obvious th at th e animus— as a figure with both indi­ vidual and collective characteristics— ris particularly suitable to b e a liaison officer, so to speak, b etw een consciousness and the unconscious. It is tru e that as w e first le a m to know him , he usu­ ally seem s to have little inclination to play such a helpful role. This depends quite a Iot on individual conditions. A w om an with a positive relation to h e r father, for instance, usually has a certain subjective readiness, th at is, an innate psychic stru ctu re for posi­ tive exp erien ce with th e m ale sex and with the animus. B u t this is often com pensated later in life with a peculiarly devilish animus w hose existence she has overlooked. T h e thing w e m ust never forget in dealing with the animus is that he is dual, he always has a negative and positive asp ect (a fact that, o f cou rse, also applies to th e anima). A w om an I m et som e years ago had a m ost helpful animus fig­ ure whom she called “Archibald.” She never did anything without


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The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

Consulting this figure. At first, she certainly seem ed in a m ost enviable position. H e always knew the right way even out of the most desperate situations, and when I once heard a long account o f his exploits, I admit I was very m uch im pressed. Ali the sam e, one could not help feeling even then that she was becom ing too depen^ dent on this figure, and one o r two o f us tried to w am h e r that it would do as well to also put a question mark against the omnipoten ce o f Archibald. H e had, however, already gained far m ore iníluence over her than could be reach ed by any human voice, and she went on trusting h erself w holeheartedly to his guidance. It ended, as one m ight expect, in h er becom ing m ore and m ore pos­ sessed by this figure whose previous positive effect b ecam e progressively negative. H ad she been able to keep a criticai standpoint o f h er own from which she could have recognized the dual nature o f this figure, she would not have fallen into this trap. It may seem strange to the read er that any sane woman_could personify her unconscious mind or spirit to such an extent that she could consult him about h er daily life and allude to him as Archibald. (As w e ^hall see later, it is indeed open to question w hether she was wise to involve him so m uch in her daily life.) B u t as Jung points out so clearly in his ch ap ter on the anim a and animus in “The Relation B etw een th e E g o and the U nconscious,” the anim a and the animus do m ake them selves felt in such a way that one can best apprehend their reality by treating them as j autonom ous personalities with a life and will o f their ow n.19Taking them in a very personal way helps us recognize their personality and makes it possible for us to make a relation to these figures.20 The experience o f o th er p eople, as m entioned before, is usu­ ally insufficient to convince us right away that we really have a personified unconscious m ind or spirit that is influencing us without our knowledge. T h erefore, w e should now briefly con sider how we can catch the anim us at work in ourselves and thus experience him firsthand. 19. Jung, ‘ The Relations Between the Ego and the Unconscious,” in CW vol. 7, pars. 296— 340. 20. lhid., pars. 321-25.


The Problem o f Contact w ith the Aw.rnus

Perhaps the m ost usual and least unp]eas£.nt way o f learning to know our animus is through our dream s. Ir dream s h e usually appears personified, and it is th ere that w e first le a m to regard him as a person. T h e m any forms h e can take are well known, both negative and positive, hum an and dem onic, anim al and divine. H e very often appears as an authoritative figure, as a priest or m onk, as a tea ch e r o r ruler. H e appears in dream s very often as actual m en w hom w e know o r knew, as the father— the first carrier o f his im age— or as the b rother, husband, lover, and so on. (And h e is particularly fond o f telling us w hat we sh o u ld do and of superim posing a netw ork o f opinions over our instincts.) T h e animus also very often appears as a plurality. Ju n g rnentioned C hristina Alb e r ta s F a th e r by H . G. W ells m ore than once in his sem inars as an excellent exam ple o f the way that th e animus works in w om en .21 T h e girl does ali sorts of nonsensical things duríng the day, but in the evening she holds a sort o f co u rt of con scien ce that tells h er exactly w hat she has really b een up to. This is a kind o f inexorable thinking which she can n ot get away from and is a good illustration o f th e autonom ous working o f the unconscious mind o f w om en. T h e parrot, Old Nick, in .G reen D olphin C o u n try by Elizabeth G oudge, plays a sim ilar ro le .22 H e is forever destroying M ariannes fictions about h erself and always reappears with som e crushing rem ark just as she hopes h e has succu m b ed in som e earthquake, war, o r fire. O ne o f th e techniques that Ju n g recom m ends for getting acquainted with our animus is to keep a sbarp lookout on o u r sp eech , in particular our thoughts, and to constantly question th em as they pass through our minds: “D id I ihink th a t? ” “W h ere did that thought co m e from ?” “W h o thought th at?” This is a most disagreeable technique, and w e always find good excuses to avoid 21. [See C. G. Jung, D ream Analysis: Notes o f the Sem inar Giixn in 1928-1930 (Princeton, N.J.; Princeton University Press, 19S4), p. 95. According to E. A. Bennet, the idea for this novel originated in a conversation between Jung and Wells; see E. A. Bennet, W hat Jung Really Said (London: Macdonald, 1966), p. 93. S e e also Jung, "The Reiatíons Between the Ego and the Unconscious,” in CW, vol. 7, pars. 284 and 332; and H. G. Wells, Christine A lbertas Father (London; Jonathon Cape Ltd., 1926). E d.] 22. Elizabeth Goudge, Green Dolphin Countnj (London: Hoclder and Stoughton, 1961). The book has been reissued with tlie title Green Dolphin Street.


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The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

it, such as never having th e tim e, and so on. B ut if we can force ourselves to p ractice it and to w rite down the ou tcom e— for we forget such thoughts alm ost before w e think th em — the results can b e exceedingly instructive. T he place w here th e animus usually makes us m ost unhappy is when he interferes in our relationships. As m entioned before, ' the leading principie o f w om en and th e anim a is E ro s, and that of m en and the animus is Logos. W h ereas E ro s w ishes_to.join and unite, the Logos wishes to discrim inate and for. that-purpose to separate.. T h e animus, th erefore, can have an exceedingly severing effect. I f th e relationship— to the husband, analyst, or som eone else— is im portant enough to us, we shall suffer a great deal in this resp ect. B u t this also form s an invaluable incentive to investigate and discover the animus. F o r it is often just here, in the experience o f the effects o f o u r animus on others, that we b ecom e convinced o f the reality o f this figure, a figure who previously was but theoretically acknowledged. W hen opinions which we have always taken for gospel sep arate us from som eone who is vital to our feeling life, we may, for the first tim e, be willing to question their validity. H ere it is a m a tter o f h eart and integrity, for logic and argum ent have no effect whatsoever. W e can find a good deal about this aspect in Ju n g s essay on “T h e Psychology o f the Transference” and also in A ion, his new work on the symbolism o f the Self, which has just b een published in G erm an .23 It is also in ou r vital relationships to m en that we usually first discover the animus in projection. As long as. the projectionufits, we are generally totally unaware that it exists. B u t sooner ordater, if the relationship is im portant enough, it is certain to give rise to trouble. This aspect o f ou r problem is described in an unsurpassable way by E m m a Jung in h er excellent article, “A Contribution to the Problem of the Anim us.”24 23. Jung, "The Psychology of the Transference,” in CW, vol. 16, pars. 353-539; and C. G. Jung, Aion: Besearches into the Phenomenology o f the S elf (1951), CVV, vol. 9ii (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1959), pars. 43-67. 24. Emma Jung, Animus and Anima: On the Naiure o f the Animus (New York: The Analytical Psychology Club of New York, 19S7), p. l lf , [This essay was read in an English translation at the Psychological Club of Zurich in November 1931 and appeared in spring 1941. When


The Problem o f Contact with the Anim us

ig

Although th ere are exceptions, m ost w om en who have exp e­ rienced th e reality o f th e animus beyond ali doubt feel exceed ­ ingly negative tow ard him. H e is apparently forever thwarting o u r intentions, spoiling our relationships, replacing o u r sound instincts and feelings with a m ere collection o f opinions, and altogeth er preventing us from living ou r lives naturally as w om en. This is only too tru e o f the animus in his negative asp ect. And w hen we only exp erien ce this side, w e are obliged sooner or later to ask ourselves, W hy do I know so little of my own mind? W hy axn I on such bad term s with my anim us? W h at am I doing that he always thw arts m e? Obviously, early experiences with the projected anim us— a negative father com plex, for instance— play a g reat role h ere and m ust always be taken into acco u n t.25 But, as Jung says ín Psychology a n d A lch em y : [N]o matter how much parents and grandparents may have sinned against the child, the man who is really adult will accept these sins as his own condition which has to be reck-

cp*-

oned with. Only a fool is interested in other peoples guilt since he cannot alter it. The wise man leam s only from his own guilt.. H e will ask himself: Who am I that ali this should happen to me? To find the answer to this fateful question, he will look into his own heart.26 If then w e d ecid e to grow up and b eco m e adult in th e sense that Jung m eans h ere, and if we w ant to put the “fateful question” to ourselves for which w e m ust look into our own depths, then w e shall not be in a position to answ er until w e have faced the A u sein a n d ersetzu n g with our own anim us.27 Emma Jung’s book was published in 1957, the essay was revised to correspond more closely to the German version. Ecl. ] 25. Barbara Hannah writes: I do not emphasize the father complex in this paper because its effects are comparatively well known, yet, as these are exceedingly far-reaching, it woufd be a great mistake to underestimate them. 26. C. G. Jung, Psychology and Alchemy (1944), CW, vol. 12 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1953), par. 152. 27. [AuseinandersetXung is used here to mean a fxill discussion and analysis o f a tbeme along with reaehing an agreement or a coming to terms. Ed.)


20

The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

As m entioned b efore, the animus is always dual. H e has a negative and a positive aspect. If w e constantly run up against the negative side, we m ay assume— as is usually also the case in our hum an relationships— that we are failing to see his point o f view. t

NEGO TIATIONS W IT H T H E ANIMUS

This brings us to a way o f com ing to term s with the animus which is recom m en d ed in the passage from “T h e Relationship B etw een the E g o and the U nconscious” m entioned above. In regards to the anim a, Jung says that a man would be singularly “right to treat the anim a as an autonom ous personality and to address personal questions to h er” and adds, “I m ean this as an actual technique. ”28 T hese conversations with the anim a o r animus are a form of so-called active im agination, a technique which is unsurpassed in providing a middle territory w here conscious and unconscious can unite.29 (It is altogeth er beyond th e limits o f this p ap er to tou ch m ore than the fringe o f this subject although it is intimately " con n ected with ou r th em e.) It is, however, not a technique for everybody and, m oreover, spould not be used lightly, for it has effects w hich one can n ot foresee. This actually applies to all forms o f meditation. It is well known, for instance, that the spiritual exercises o f St. Ignatius o f Loyola are so exhausting that certain people have to be sent away or are only given the exercises in a m itigated form .30 A nother aspect o f the same problem is evident 28. Jung, “The Relations Between the Ego and the Unconscious,” in CW, vol. 7, pars. 322f (emphasis in the original). 29. [The visualization methods of active imagination that were discovered by Jung and developed by Barbara Hannahs generation of colleagues are now employed in many contemporary and highly effective forms of trauma therapy. Ed.] 30. [Ignatius of Loyola (ca. 1491-1556) was the main creator and “father" of the Jesuits. Ignatiuss diplomacy and leadership qualities made him very useful to the Duke of Nájera and Viceroy of Naverra, under whom he served during numerous wars up until his thirtieth year of life. During several months of recovery following a severe injury, he began to study Christian works and then chose to lead a life of self-denying labor and to emulate the heroic deeds of Francis of Assisi along with other great monastic leaders. Upon recovery, he visited the Benedictine monastery of Monterrat, where he purportedly hung his milita1y vestments before an image of the Virgin Mary. He then spent several months in a cave in Cataloni, where he practiced the most rigorous asceticism. He begged his way on a journey to the Holy Land, as a way of self-denial and sacrifice. W hile in Paris, his spiritual preaching granted him some attention from the French Inquisition. The spiritual exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola


The Problem o f Contact with the Anim us

ai

in the lives o f the B ro n tê sisters. They gave m ost o f th eir energy to th e inner world and w ere correspondingly w eakened in the ou ter w orld.31 (It is tru e th at a m o d em w om an who faces her unconscious because h er life is disturbed by knowing too íittle o f h er own mind o r anim us, is in a very different position from th e B ron tes.) N everth eless, it can n o t be em phasized enough th at the tech n iq u e o f active im agination should b e used with th e utm ost seriousness or not at ali. M oreover, a relationship to a partner, an analyst, o r to som eon e else who will u nderstand and provide a hold on the o u te r w orld is indispensable. Perhaps fortunately, w e have— o r alm ost ali o f us have— th e g reatest resistances to using it. Very few p eop le to u ch it unless they are fo rced to do so. M ost p eop le think th at th ey are inventing the whole thing o r else th ey are afraid o f it from th e beginning. Som e people in d eed seem to use it with a sort o f fatal facility, they can prod u ce fantasies by the dozen w ithout it having any d irect effect on them at ali as far. as on e can see. This m ay o ccu r w hen people do not give them selves actively to it and th erefo re it rem ains ineffective both in a positive and negative sen se. Exam ples of a passive and active attitu d e tow ard fantasy can b e found in th e ch a p te r on ‘T h e T ech n iq u e o f D ifferentiation B etw een the E g o and the F ig u res o f th e U n con sciou s,” in “T h e Relationship B etw een th e E g o and th e U n con sciou s” in Ju n g s Two Essays on A nalytical P sychology.32 T h e form o f active imagination that Jung m entions in this passage is th at o f holding conversations with a personifíed anim a or animus. H e tells us h ere that the art consists in allowing o n es visà vis a voice and placing the m eans and the m edium o f expression at his o r h er disposal. This technique requires a lot o f practice. One m ust learn, for instance, to put a question actively and then to be com p letely passive until the answ er com es o f itself. After a bit, are a month-long program of meditations, prayers, and contemplative practices based in part in retreat and asceticism. Ed. ] 31. [Barbara Hannah, "Victims o f the Creative Spirit," The Guild of Pastoral Psychology, lecture no. 68 (East Dulwich: H. H. Greaves Ltd., 1950), included in this volume. Ed. j 32. Jung, "The Relations Between the Ego and tlie Unconscious,” in CW, vol. 7, pars. 342ff.


22

The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

the answers are usually so far from w hat one could think o f consciously that the question o f w hether or not one actually invents th e reply oneself disappears. O ne m ust always try to find out who is speaking and, when the conversation is over, weigh it very carefully as one does in a conversation with a hum an vis-à-vis. I have jound that one can leam things o f the g reatest value about on e’s animus, as well as o th er figures . . . if they appear. M oreover, this m ethod is the best one I know for really com ing to term s with the unconscious.33 O ne day, when a w om an who did a good deal o f active imagi­ nation was talking to h er anim us, she h eard him suddenly rem ark: “You and I are in a m ost awfully difficult position. W e are linked together like Siamese twins and yet belong to totally different realities. You know, your reality is just as invisible and ghostlike to m e as mine is to you.” T h e com m en t took h er by surprise. She had to adm it that she had never thought o f that before. She had naively assum ed that he saw everything in our reality as we do ourselves. In fact, som e o f his in terferen ce had given h er the impression that he saw it a good deal too clearly ^ d that this was the reason why he could so frequently outwit us. T he wom an then asked him , “B ut if our reality is so insubstantial to you, why do you so often in terfere?" H e replied, “I f you leave som ething undone, it makes a vacuum , and, w hether I want it or not, I am forced to intervene. B u t I can quite understand that in term s o f your world it m ay often be beside the m ark.” . Jung has often pointed out that when the animus interferes in our daily life, it is usually in a place w here we have not given the m atter our fullest conscious consideration and particularly w here we fail in the realm o f feeling. B u t it seem s to m e that the rem ark about the two realities is very enlightening. It shows us, for instance, that the animus is just as m uch in n eed o f information from us about our reality as we are from him about his 33. [Barbara Hannah writes: “By ‘this method’ I mean active imagination in general. The visual form in which the woman watches her animus objectively and learns to take a hand in the game herself is at least equally ,effective. Some women prefer to do things silently with their animus, just feeling his presence, and so on. The important thing is to find the way which suits the individual.” Ed.]


The Problem o f Contact w ith the Anim us

23

reality. M oreover, just as he can help us in the invisible w orld o f the collective unconscious, so— evidently— w e can help him in ou r reality. W e also see h ere the danger for the w om an with the anim us called Archibald o f Consulting him about ali o f the details o f h er daily life. W e find the sam e idea in an oth er form in a m ost interesting series o f dream s and active im aginations which E m m a Jung presents and interprets in the second part o f h er aforem entioned article on the animus. T h e animus, w hich appeared in the first dream as a bird-headed m onster with a bubblelike bodv, begins to lose its dangerous and destructive ch a ra cter in a dream w here he is living on the m oon as the ghostly lover o f a hum an girl. She m ust take a blood sacrifice to him each new m oon, although in betw een she m ay live freely on the earth as a hum an being. As the new m oon approaches, the ghostly lover tu m s h e r into a beast o f prey and, as the brute, she is forced to bring the sacrifice to her lover. Through the sacrifice, however, the ghostly lover him self is turned into a sacrificial bowl w hich, like the O uroboros, devours and renew s itself and out o f the smoke o f the burning blood o f the victim shoots forth a m any-colored flower.34 In a later fantasy, this sam e animus, whose narne interestingly enough is A m andus (literally, “to be loved”), entices th e girl to en te r his house, gives h er wine, and takes h er into a cellar with the purpose o f killing her. T h e girl is suddenly seized with a kind o f ecstasy, throws h er arm s round the m u rd erer in a loving em b race which robs him o f his whole pow er so that, after prom ising to stand by h er in the future as a helpful spirit, he dissolves into the air. E m m a Jung points out th at the ghostly pow er o f the m oon bridegroom is broken by the blood sacrifice (that is, by the gift o f libido) and the pow er o f the w ould-be m u rd erer by the loving em b race. As we are aspiring to deal with the strictly practical side, we should try to translate this into term s o f everyday life. W hat does it m ean to give libido and love to th e anim us? In the first p art of h er article, E m m a Jung has m ade this clear. It means to give him 34. Emma Jung, Animus and Anima, p. 33.


The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

energy, tim e, and attention, not only in ord er to get acquainted w ith him, b u t also that h e may have the opportunity to express through us his spiritual and m ental nature. W h en we give him libido and love, w e consciously and intentionally place our faculties at his disposal in o rd er that he m ay have the means o f expressjn g the values o f his reality in our reality. (This, o f cou rse, includes ali Creative work, which is difficult for m any w om en unless they have som e special gift.) In the first exam ple, th e girl is tu m e d into a b east o f prey. This is a p rocess that we can observe clearly both in life and in analysis, for exam ple, when we spoil an h our with the analyst, for instance, by getting into th e animus and letting him twist everything until it is ali just beside the point and w e are offended, angry, and so forth. W hen we go hom e, the animus goes on tem pting us: “T h e analyst should not have said this o r th at”; “he does not understand m e ”; “he has a p referen ce for so-and-so.” I f we give in to these ideas, it will not b e long before we are fired up and com pletely identícal with ou r em otions, that is, with our passionate shadow who, in tu m , identifíes with our animal nature. T h e animus opinions have tu m ed us into a beast o f prey. But if we admit and know that we let the animus catch us (in this case, facing the fact that w e have lost the hour and m ade a nuisance o f ourselves, if not w orse), we suffer the penalty and thus, by our sujferin g, give the blood that can transform the animus. If anything at ali is to be gained, then it is essential to real­ ize that it was the animus and his opinions that spoiled the hour against the wish o f the conscious ego. T h e animus. it is true, will always turn the tables very neatlv. and if h e fails in his endeavor to make a woman blam e tlie analyst, husband, partner, o r w hoever it b e, then he will attem pt to throw the ivhole balance on the woman herself. If she believes him , she will get into a state o f inferiority, which is just as destructive as h er em otion and rage. This blaming a woman for ali that he does him self is one o f his best trum p cards, for he thus blinds h er to his own existence and the thing for which she can really be blam ed: fa ilu re to know h e r own animus. In his untransform ed state we may always reckon with the fact that he is


The Problem o f Contact with the Anim us

*5

trying to get us back into the “unconscious fold o f m oth er nature” and to prevent any escap e from the old order. And w e also are veiy reluctant to leave the false security that pervades such an unconscious state o f possession. W e talk a lot o f love o f freedom , it is tru e, but this love is inclined to be rath er superficial and lukewarm. W e also love avoiding responsibility, particularly inner rcsponsibilíty. It is píeasant to be convinced that we know what to do— and no one is m ore convincing on this point than the ani­ m us— and if once we give up accepting his guidance unquestionably, we shall find ourselves in constant doubt. D oubt is indeed very lam ing to the young, but as Jung on ce rem arked in a seminar, later in life doubt is th e beginning o f w isdom .35 H e w rites: Doubt is the crown o f life and ali certainty is merely onesided. For in uncertainty and doubt, truth and error come together. Doubt is life, truth is often stagnation and death. When you are in doubt you have the greatest opportunity to unite the dark and the light sides o f life.36 ) E x tre m e certainty in th e anim us is always a sign that only one side o f him is constellated, for his real dual nature form s a m ost painful paradox. E n d u rin g this paradox is one o f the ch ief ways we can give the “blood” n eed ed to transform the animus. A situation such as m entioned above, w hen the animus has tw isted what has b een said until it is ali ju st beside th e mark, is often an excellent opportunity to begin a conversation with him. W e m ust keep an extrem ely open mind, however, for his logos principie is the direct opposite to relationship, and his interferen ce, though quite w rong from our point o f view, may be logical and even right from his. T h ese conversations, th erefore, are quite as difficult as any conversation in the ou ter world and dem and a total effo rt, for w e m ust see his point o f view while we stand firm in ou r own. 35. [See the essay “Animus and Eros” in this volume; see also Jung, Psychology and Alchemy, CW, vol. 12, par. S. Ed.] 36. Jung, Dream Analysis, p. 89.


The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

T h e A n im u s in a H u m a n L i f e (A C a s e o f S i x t e e n t h - c e n t u r y P o s s e s s i o n AND E X O R C IS M )

In ord er to get a real idea o f th e p ractical side of the animus, we m ust see him at work in a hum an life. F o r this purpose, I have ^aken the m aterial from a very im pressive d ocu m en t belonging to the second half of the sixteenth centuiy. It co n cem s the case o f a nun nam ed Jean n e F e ry who was possessed at a very early age and freed o f h er possession in h e r tw enties by m eans o f an extended period o f exorcism s. P art o f this docum ent is autobiographical; the wom an h erself describes h er experiences while she was possessed. T h e rem ainder is an accou n t o f the end o f th e case, including the long and w eary process o f the exorcism itself. T h e docum ent is signed by a lawyer in th e p resen ce o f the Archbishop o f C am brai as well by various confessors, doctors, and oth er eyewitnesses including m any o f the sisters in the convent w here Jeanne was a nun. Perhaps the read er will be surprised to find such outlandish m aterial in a pap er which claims to be dealing with our own daily con tact with the anim us.37 B u t the people in the Middle Ages still had a naive attitude tow ard these p h en om ena and w ere thus able to describe their experiences m uch m ore graphically and simply than our own rational prejudices would ever allow. This is certainly extrem e m aterial, and it is an extrem e case. M oreover, it is 37. [Dramatic and bizarre symptoms similar to that o f Jeanne Fery are to found in contemporary psychiatric case material in the areas o f severe and violent abuse issues. Now, in the twenty-first centuiy, the cause of such symptoms is readily suspected to lie in the realm of repetitive and/or prolonged abuse issues. At the time of Barbara Hannahs drafting of this text, less than fĂ­fty psychiatric disorders were recognized. Some forty to fifty years later, that is, as of the twentieth-first century, nearly four hundred disorders have been identified by the World Health Organization in theif International Classification o f Diseases and by the American Psychiatric Association in their Diagnostic and Statistical Manual o f Mental Disorders. The psychiatric dissociative identity disorders, or the more popularly known multiple personality disorder, first attained general professional acknowledgment towaTd tlie end of the previous century and were less known in psychiatric circles prior to this time. Thus, the association of such symptoms with possible physical or sexual abuse first became popularly acknowledged in psychological literature several decades after the formulation of this text. Nevertheless, this development has no detrimenta] affect on the content of Barbara Hannah's essays orv Jeavme Feiy. In volume 2 of this work, comprehensive essays and an analysis of the material from Jeanne Fery are presented; see the discussion of dissociative identity disorders in footnote 41 and in volume 2 of this work. Ed.]


The Problem o f Contact with the Anim us

27

rep orted from a totally diffcrent standpoint to that o f m o d em psy~ chology. B u t the case is actually invaluable, as the maln facts con cem in g th e nature o f the dem onlike figures o f Jean n e F e ry agree in essential dctails with the m anifestations o f the animus as w e observe th em from the standpoint o f Jungian psychology today. This case was evidently very fam ous in its day. Two editions o f the rep o rt w ere printed in Paris in 1 5 8 6 , and it was translated and printed in G erm an in M unich in 1 5 8 9 . Unfortunately, I have not yet been successful in obtaining a copy o f th e original docu m en t, but it is rep o rted in Joseph G õrres, D ie C h ristliche M ystik.38 This is, o f cou rse, a great disadvantage, bu t w e have ch ecked a good many o f th e rep orts given by G õrres with th e original in the Actci Sancto ru m and, though not infallible, w e have found him to be very reliable.39 G õrres goes into considerable detail, but I can only give a short rep ort o f the main line o f the case and then briefly point out th e resem blances b etw een Je a n n e ’s spirits and the ani­ mus as w e know him today. Jean n e F e ry was- b orn about 1 5 5 9 at Sore on th e Sam bre and later b ecam e a nun in a convent o f Black Sisters at M ons en H ainaut in the diocese o f C am b rai.40 Je a n n e s rep ort begins with » th e statem en t th at she knows it was th e cu rse o f h er father which delivered h e r over to the devil. (S h e evidently had a very bad relationship with him ; today w e vvould call it a severe negative 38. Josepl) Gõrres, D ie Christliche Mystik, Band V (Regensburg; Veríagsanstalt GJ Manz, 1836-42), pp. 176ff. [According to the C atholic E n ciclopédia, Johann Joseph Gõrres (17761848), a professor at the Universityof Heidelberg and later at the University of Munich, was one o f the most influential Catholic and political writers of the first balf o f the nineteenth oentury. D ie Christliche Mystik proved a strong stinudant to Christian faith and dealt a decisive blow to the superficial rationalisin prevailing in many religious matters at that time in Germany. Ed.] 39. {Barbara Hannah writes: “Just before the date that this manuscript was promised, the photostats of the origina] French edition arrived from the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris ("Histore Admirable e t Verítable des Choses advenuse à 1’endroict d'une Religieuse professe du convent des Soeurs noires . k Pasi, chez Gilles Blaise, Libraire au mont S. Hilaire, à 1'image Sainte Catherine. M.D. LXXXVI). Tiiere was only time to check very roughly, but I was thus able to confirm my previous impression that Gõrres gives a reliable aceount of the case. The original, however, is considerably longer, and therefore some interesting and subtle details have been omitted. The whole book would be worth further study.” In the extensive essay on Jeanne Fejy tJiat appears in volume 2, a discussion of information from the original documents is presented. Ed.) 40. [The diocese covers northeastern France and western Belgium. E d.}


28

The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

father com plex.) She goes on to say that the devil appeared to her w hen she was four years old in th e shape o f a handsom e young m an who offered to b ecom e h e r father.41 As he gave h er white bread and apples, she accep ted his suggcstion and cam e to regard him as h er real father. W hile she was a child, th ere w ere two o f ythese father figures, and the second always prevented h er from feeling the strokes when she was b eaten . This lasted until she was twelve years old, when, tired o f the convent w here she was being educated, she returned to h er m other. H e r m other, however, soon sent her away to Mons as an apprentice to a dressmaker. H ere she seem s to have b een left alm ost entirely to h er own devices. At this point, the first young man ap p eared to h er again and told h er that, as she had accep ted him as h er father, sh e.m ust now— being no longer a child— renounce h er baptism and ali th e cerem onies o f the Christian C hurch, ratify h er earlier agreem ent, and prom ise to live according to his will. H e told h er that eveiybody lived this way, although they did not say so. H e th reaten ed her with dire punishm ent if she refused and prom ised h er gold and silver and every delicious food she desired if she accep ted .42 After a short resistance, she agreed to everything, and im m ediately a.m ultitude of spirits appeared and forced h er to sign the co n tract with h er blood. (This was a shock to h er as she had never seen m ore than two o r at m ost th ree of these figures b efore.) The.y then enclosed the agreern.ent in a pom egranate and forced her to eat it. It was marvelously sw eet . . . up till th e last b ite whieh was m ore b itter than she could endure. F ro m that tim e on, she took a great disliking for th e C hurch. At tim es, h er feet w ere so heavy that she could barely reach the en tran ce door. N evertheless, she did not sever h er relationship with it. H er spirits did not insist on h er doing so, but she had to 41. [As mentioned above, Jeanne Ferys symptoms today would most likcly be ascribed to a dissociative identity disorder, multiple personality disorder, the symptorns of wViich tend to stem from multiple, severe, and extended childhood abuse issues. Such abuse practices— both violent and sexual in nature—were, according to French forensic experts, apparently common enough in earlier centuries. Ed. ] 42. [This is an apt description of an introjection of significant others, that is, the assimilation of the convictions, threats, and actual sentences of perpetrators whieVi is typical of victims of abuse. Ed. ]


The Problem o f Contact w ith the Anim us

give th em h er tongue so that they could con trol h er confessions. H e r ou ter confessions w ere naturally entirely falsified, but, interestingly enough, she apparently had to confess the exact truth to one o f h er spírits particularly con cern in g any pious action or prayer and was then forced to p erform severe pen an ce. She was also obliged to take th e host out o f h er m outh at Mass and hide it in h e r handkerchief, and then— although she tried to keep it in a clean p lace— it was spirited away.43 H e r spirits taught h er to despise every+bing to do with C hristianity and sco ff a t a God who could not save him self from th e cross. She believed them implicitly, thought C hrist w orse than th e thieves with w hom he was cru cified , and could no longer understand how people could rev ere such a God. T h ey persuaded h e r to think h erself the happiest and m ost privileged o f m ortais. A fter she en tered th e çonvent, she had to sign a new co n tract with th e spirits, pledge them both h e r soul and body forever, and oath was rep eated again on the night that she took h e r final vows as a nun. She also had to renounce th e pope and the “evil archbishop” to whom she had m ade h er Christian vows. T h e spirit in possession o f h er tongue m ade h er very bright and witty, and, in o rd er not to lose this gift, she gave on e spirit h er m em oiy, another h e r reason, and a third h e r will. As she says, they thus en tered and took up their abode in her, each in his own p lace.44 T h ey also took possession o f h er body, again appearing as a legion o f devils for this purpose. T h e so-called “spirit o f blood”— som etim es called the devil o r even th e god o f blood— played a great role in the cerem on ies. (As b eco m es clear in th e acco u n t o f the exorcism , a special devil seem s to have taken possession o f each p art o f h er body, and e a ch had to be driven out separately by the archbishop.) T hey m ad e h er take p art in m ock com m unions held in th eir own honor and gave h er “wonderful food” in th e days o f p en an ce while they m ad e h er fast during C hurch festivais. O ne spirit, who she par43. (These are examples o f dissociative fugue and splinter personality clusters typical of dissociative identity disorder. Ed. ] 44. [These are further diagnostic symptoms of dissociative identity disorder o r the more popularly known multiple personality disorder. Ed ]


The Animus; The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

ticularly liked, seem ed always to have b een with her. B u t som e o f them w ere very cruel. So she slowly b ecam e less w holehearted in h er veneration o f th em . She even cam e to think th at if a sign was vouchsafed h er as the sacram ents w ere being m ade by the devout, she then might worship C h rist as well as h er oth er gods. This m ade h er spirits very angiy. T h ey m ade h e r ta k e a p iece o f the host and obliged h er to p ierce it with a knife. She w rites thaLwheu she thus p ierced the host, blood flowed forth and the whoje room was filled with a bright radiancejw hich surrounded it. Then_she. was very.frightened, for ali her. spirits. fled with. terrible shrieks, and she was left alone exhausted on the floor. She now realized for the first tim e that she had b een deceived and, w hen she thought o f the visionary sign that had been granted her, she fell into despaír. T h e spirits then returned and, changing their tune, rep roach ed h er for h e r treatm en t o f th e tru e God— who they now said was also their G od— and told h er that h er sins would never be forgiven, so she had b etter follow the exam ple o f Judas Iscariot and hang h erself with her leath er girdle. She gave it into their hands and told th em to hang h er if they pleased. But, although they tried to kill h e r in every way they could, their attem pts w ere always thw arted. She also failed— despite a crowd o f spirits who w ere helping her— at several actual attem pts to kill herself. T hen a tim e of great suffering began for Jeanne. H er spirits prevented her from confessing to a priest. F o r the first tim e, the authorities began to notice that she was not what she should be as a Christian and a nun. The m atter was taken up by Louis de Berlaym ont who was Archbishop and D uke o f C am bria at that time. H e took a most active part in h er liberation, but although it was h er transference to him that eventually freed her, the spirits initially blinded h er to him. Although she had at once felt an impulse to take refuge with him, he seem ed to h er to be severe and terrible. She says that although the spirits torm ented h er with the most horrihle visions o f hell and so forth, M ary M agdalene appeared as her protector and never gave w ay Jeanne assures us that ali this really happened and was neither simply fantasy nor imagination.


The Problem o f Contact w ith the Anim us

T liere are still a few facts which w e m ust take from th e o th er part o f the d ocum ent. W e le a m th e re that, although she was exorcised at o n ce, h e r liberation actually required two years. It entailed the m ost rigorous efforts on th e p art o f th e exorcists, particularly o f the archbishop himself, and o f several o f th e sisters who assisted them in their work. In cred ib le efforts w ere actually dem anded from th e archbishop. A t on e point, he was fo rced by M ary M agdalene to take the nun into his house w here she stayed for a y e a r in th e face o f the m ost spiteful gossip from th e w hole diocese. Jean n e s own attitude varied. A vision o f M ary M agdalene, who, interestingly enough, first ap p eared w hen she threw h erself at Üie feet o f th e archbishop.. would stren gth en h er wish to be freed. T h e spirits, however, still had a g re a t deal o f p ow er over her, and m ost o f the tim e she showed the greatest obstinacy and resistance. H e r spirits pounded h e r with th eir advice to com m it suicide or, accord in g to Jean n e F ery , threw h er violently about the room and even out o f the window. She was always black and blue, and h er health suffered so severely th at one tim e h e r d o cto r and several oth ers w ere highly co n ce rn e d that she m ay actually not recover. At o th e r tim es, h er senses d eserted h er and she was practically out o f h e r mind. She was taken around to ali th e sacred relics within reach , bathed in holy w ater, and constantly exorcized. Slowly, th e evil spirits had enough o f such treatm en t and dep arted — ali excep t one: the original fath er figure. H e told h er that he had no intention o f deserting her. H e had done everything for h er— m ade h e r witty, intelligent, and so on— and th at if he left her, she w ould regress to a m ere child o f four, that is, th e age w hen she was first possessed. She Was also m ost unwilling to be parted from him and fell at the feet o f h e r exorcists, begging th em to leave h e r just this one tim e. W hen this req uest was refused, she cried: “O w hat a bitter separation” and was in com plete despair. She only co n sen ted w hen h e r main exorcist prom ised h e r that he would be h e r fath er and the archbishop h e r grandfather. W h en th e last spirit had left her, she lay exhausted, a natural simple child w ho could only say: “father,” “hou se,” and “p retty M ary.” It req u ired rep eated blessings from the archbishop to free


3^

The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Woinen

h er tongue and th e oth er m em bers of h er body, and even then she had to be reed u cated like a child. A year o f penance was then ord ered during which h er spirits constantly re tu m e d and tried to regain possession o f her. M ary M agdalene also reappeared severa! tim es, always with a strengthening effect. N evertheless, Jeanne f had constant relapses, and on ce the archbishop was so violently attacked by the spirits that we are told he was only just able to defend him self and escap e with his life.45 T h e final scen e (with which I would like conclu de this report) is particularly interesting from ou r point o f view. Jeanne asked ali the priests and sisters who had been helping her to gather around, and th en , in the p resen ce o f h er protecting saint M ary M agdalene, she began h er final co m b at with her spirits. She held a long conversation with them herself. (This is the only case I have m et so far w here the sufferer does the talldng herself. Such conversations are com m on in the books, bu t it is usually the exorcist who talks to the spirits.) D uring this conversation— w hich, unfortunately, is n ot rep orted in detail— she cried out in anguish several tim es, saying that the spjrits w ere torturing h er unbearably. She also begged for th e help o f ali those present. T hey prayed for h er unceasingly and at last, although com pletely exhausted, she purportedly em erged from th e fight healed and victorious. Shortly afterw ard, M ary M agdalene appeared to her o n ce again and assured h e r that th ere would be no return. Jean ne was finally able to return to a norm al life w ith the oth er nuns o f her convent with the condition that the archbishop him self (although freed from ali o u ter obligations) had to rem ain h er confessor and spiritual guide for the rest o f his life. As a good m any o f th e details rep orted border on w hat could seem to be the so-called supernatural, I would like to quote a 45. [No matter how one chooses to interpret these credibly documented events, the vividness of these psychie figures—even if theír source is strictly limited to the psyche of Fery herself—serves as a witness to the sheer force and the reality of psychie personifications independent of any personal or historical setting. That such psychic constellations dramatically affect others in the immediate environment can be witnessed today, for instanee, in observing how symptoms of personality disorders, dissociative identity disorders, or acute psychosis of one family member contaminate and distort the perceptions, convictions, and behavior of aíl other members of the family. E d.)


The Problem. o f Contact with the Anim us

3a

short passage from Psychology a n d R eligion. Ju n g gives here a succinct statem en t as to the standpoint o f his psychology toward such m aterial. This standpoint, he w rites: is exclusívely phenomenological, that is, it is concemed with occurrences, events, experiments— in a word, with facts. Its truth is a fact and not a judgment. When psychology speaks, for instance, of the motif of the virgin birth, it is only con­ cem ed with the fact that there is such an idea, but it is not concemed with the question whether such an idea is true or false in any other sense. The idea is psychologically true inasmuch as it exists. Psychological existence is subjective in so far as an idea occurs in only one individual. But it is objective in so far as that idea is shared by a society— by a consensus gentium.46 T h ere is no doubt from the n u m b er o f witnesses, in whose p resen ce th e d ocu m en t was signed, th at this report was established by a consensus gentium . M oreover, this is only one o f hundreds, o r even thousands, o f such reports. T h erefore, w e are co n cern ed with th e fact that a consensus gen tiu m was convinced o f th e reality o f these phenom ena and not with the question of w h eth er the supernatural elem ents in th e case actually happened or not. It seem s to m e that Jean n es exp erien ce with h er spirits gives us an unusually clear p ictu re o f hovv the anim us can possess a w om an and wrap h er away from the world in a sort o f cocoon o f fantasies and opinions. B ut, as he represents h er unconscious m ind, he can sim ultaneously m ake h er very intelligent, and even witty, so that she can im press h er environm ent even though she can n ot relate to it. No one n oticed that th ere was anything wrong with Jean n e until the sign from th e host threw h er into a violent conflict. It was then, at that m om ent, that som ething was first noticed. It is very difficult for us to realize the extent to which 46. C. G. Jung, “Psychology and Religion” (1940), University Press, 1969), par. 4.

vol. IX (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton


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mankind is possessed and that a girl like Jeanne m ight easily escape detection b ecause she would not seem so very different than many other young gírls or w om en. O f course, w hen possession has an effect on the environm en t which passes a certain d egree— as was the case with Hitler, / for instance— it is evident to everyone who stands outside the ch arm ed circle. As Jung writes in his essay, “W otan,” in 1936: The impressive tliing about the German phenomenon is that one man, who is obviously “possessed,” has infected a whole nation to such an extent that eveiything is set in motion and has started rolling on its course towards perdition."17 T h ese words w ere w ritten in 1 9 3 6 and w ere am ply b o ra e out by subsequent events. B u t the faet th at such a thing was possible “in a civilized co u n tiy th at has long been supposed to have outgrow n th e M iddle A ges” is a sym ptom o f our m odern state o f mind which we can n ot afford to overlook.48To put th e blam e d e Vautre cô té d e la riv ière is w orse than useless, for by such > a p ro ced u re w e en co u rage the w hole problem to reinain in its pro jected form and forfeit ali ch a n ce o f doing anything about it in ourselves.49 M any w om en would be able to find certain parallels to Jeanne s childhood exp erien ce with h e r spirits if they looked back thoughtfully on th eir own childhood. Som e children still escape— when the ou ter world seem s cold, unsym pathetic, or unbearable— to an im aginary w orld peopled with figures not fully dissimilar to Je a n n e s spirits. This often seem s harm less enough and may even b ear w onderful fruit later in life if this inner world is subjected to hard Creative work as in the case o f the B ron tê siblings. B u t w hen it is indulged in too long o r is used as a m ere escap e from th e knocks and disappointm ents of outer 47. C. G. Jung, “Wotan” (1936), in C\Vr vol. 10 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1964), par. 388. 48. lbid., par. 373. 49. [”On the other bank of the river." Ed. ]


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life, it severs the child from h e r relatíonship to h e r environm ent and attracts a negative anim us sim ilar to Je a n n e s spirits, ou tlandish as this m edieval language seem s to ou r p resen t rational way o f thinking. P erh ap s w e can g et n e a re r to understanding if we re m e m b e r th at th e anim us is o u r unconscious m ind and th at m any o f his m anifestations are thoughts o r opinions. Revengeful thoughts, the feeling o f bein g m isunderstood o r u n ap p reciated , jealous thoughts, a “wait till I have a ch a n ce and I will show th e m ” sort o f altitu d e are ali m anifestations o f th e negative asp ect o f our unconscious m ind which is lying in w ait for us today ju st as it was in th e tim e o f Jean n e F ery . In a discussion at the E ran o s C o n feren ces in A scona, Jung o n ce p oín ted out th at th e anim us, in and o f itself, is n eith er good n or evil, b u t is a com pletely dual figure.50 H e only b eco m es infernal w hen he hooks onto egotistical dem ands in th e hum an being. Jean n e, it is tru e , evidently had unusuaíly few roots in the outside world. H e r negative fath er com p lex does not seem to have been co m p en sated by the m other, for ali we h ear about the latter is th at she soon sent h er away to a considerable distance. M oreover, she evidently took no trou b le to see that the girl was looked after, for Jean n e tells us she was left alm ost com pletely free while she lived with the dressm aker. H e r childish lapses would not have bound h er quite in the sam e m an n er if they had not b een ratified w hen she grew up. As I tried to point out in my p ap er on “T h e Problem o f W o m en ’s Plots in T h e E vil V in ey a rd ,” th ere are always recu rrin g m om ents when w e get a ch a n ce to ch an ge o u r .course,_to_see w hat the ani­ m us is doing.51 This ratification w ould rep resen t such a m om ent; 50. Barbara Hannah is probably referring here to Jun gi Jecture, “Zur Psychologies des Geistes,” that is, “The Phenomenology of the Spirit in Fairy Tales,” given at the 1945 Eranos meeting in Ascona, Switzeriand. The essay was later published in the Collected Works, vol. 9i, under the same title, were he states that “it can never be esfablished with one-hundred percent certainty whether the spirit-figures in dreams are morally good. Very often they show ali the signs of duplicity, i f not outright malice.” He then mentions more positive ani­ mus figures such as the wise old man, the doetor, the magician, the priest, the teacher, grandfather, helpful dwarves or animais, and so forth. H e also notes their role in the enantiodromia between good and evil. See C. G. Jung, “The Phenomenology of the Spirit in Faiiy Tales” (1948), in C\V vol. 9i (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1968), par. 397ff. 51. [Barbara Hannah, "The Problem of Womens Plots in The Evil Vineyard," The Guild of


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Jean n e evidently knew already h ere th at she was doing wrong, for we hear that she resisted for a tim e. It is interesting th at this resistance was directly followed by the appearan ce o f a “legion” o f spirits. In oth er words, she had ratificd h er agreem en t and thus set the seal to a continuance o f the infernal aspect o f h er animus. t To a lesser d egree, we can observe the sam e process in ourselves each tim e we give way to an animus opinion, for it is im m ediately followed by a chain o f o th er opinions. To re tu m for a m om ent to ou r previous exam ple o f spoiling an h ou r with the analyst by animus opinions. Unless w e can pull ourselves togeth er and see what we have d one, a whole chain o f resistances, opin­ ions, and argum ents will autom atically follow. And, as we saw, in no tim e we shall be identical with o u r animal shadow, th at is, com pletely unconscious and possessed by the animus m uch as Jeanne herself. Now, in ord er to keep h er witty tongue, she was obliged to give h er memory, reason, and will to th ree separate spirits. E v e iy read er who has had practical exp erien ce in the field o f analysis will, at ali events, recognize this m echanism . In som e cases, it really seem s as if what was said was twisted befo re it reaches the patients consciousness. This m echanism is particularly clear as regards memory. One often has th e feeling that som e little dem on is constantly at w ork taking away the im portant things and replacing them with inappropriate, clever, yet meaningless opinions. T he language o f those days seem s to m e particularly apt in this respect. Interestingly enough, the downfall o f Jean n e’s spirits and the first step toward h er recovery o ccu rs when she thinks that she might have Christ as well as h er oth er gods and then asks for a sign. T he sign, however, because it com es from th e opposite pole, throws h er into an unbearable conflict, into ali she had been trying to avoid. T h e spirits then behave in a way that is m ost ch aracteristic o f the animus; they throw over everything they have said before and reproach h er for having denied the true God. H ere Pastoral Psychology, lectwre no. 51 (East DuKvich: H. H. Greaves Ltd., 1948), included in volume 2 of this work. Ed)


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37

w e see Iiow brilliantly the animus can tu m the tables w hen it suits him to do so and how he can red u ce a w om an to a hopeless state o f inferiority. Such devious duplicity w hich puts the blam e 011 th e w om an no m a tte r what happens— particularly for w hat he has done him self— is really th e hallm ark o f the animus in his negatíve asp ect. It seem s to m e th at the m ost enlightening and certainly the m ost reassu rin g thing.about th e whole case is th e intervention o f M ary M agdalene, th e great sinner and th e g re at loyer. Je a n n e has to re a c h co m p lete despair, see h erself as Judas Iscariot, and try to d raw th e logical co n seq u en ce b efo re this figure is constellated. In o th e r w ords, she m ust go to th e brink o f desperation. In psychologica] language, M ary M agdalene w ould b e a configuration o f the Self. It is tru e that th ere is no shadow figure in the m aterial; Jean n e is, so to speak, living on th e shadow levei h erself so that it w ould b e, in any case, h e r b e tte r qualities w hich w ere repressed. M oreover, in th e earlier stages o f analysis, for instance, the figures o f th e shadow and S elf often ap p ear as one. T h e re are tw o im portant detaiüfs om itted by G õrres. F irst, it was a t th e m o m en t w hen Jean n e threw h erself at th e feet o f th e archbishop that M ary M agdalene first ap p eared in a vision, a gestu re th at recalls M ary M agdalene h erself w ashing the feet o f C h rist with h e r tears and anointing th em with the precious ointm en t (L u k e 7 :3 8 ). This shows us that it was Jean n e s tran sferen ce to th e archbishop that first released positive and healing forces in h e r own psyche. G õrres also om itted to note that th e autobiographical accou n t, which was said to have b een d ictated by M ary M agdalene, was w ritten in one sitting, an exam ple o f w hat m ay have b een au tom atic writing. M ary M agdalene fits the role o f th e re d e e m e r to p erfection . F irst, she rep resen ts the one who— as a prostitute— sinned and rep en te d or, in psychological language, a cce p te d the responsibility for h e r dark side. T h erefore h e r intervention points to the fact that Jean n e m ay n ot seek the easy way out. She m ust see w hat she has done and take the consequences. S econ d , M ary M agdalene, as the g re a t lover, represents w om ans best defense against being


The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

38

possessed by the animus. H ere, a w om an takes the heart as her guiding principie and listens to h e r tru e feelings instead o f having opinions about how she ought to feel. (Naturally, psychological types play a certain role h ere, b ut we have no tim e to en ter into this aspect.) f

W ith the intervention o f M aiy M agdalene, Jean n e can no longer function with such duplicity betw een the Catholic and dem on-possessed worlds. T h e approach o f any im age o f the Self always tears away the veils o f hypocrisy and illusion and confronts us with what we really are. As a C ath olic nun living nearly four hundred years ago, Jean n e was naturally in a very different posi­ tion to what we would b e today. T h e solution of exorcism , which is to drive out one opposite in o rd er to cling entirely to the other, naturally strikes us today as unsatisfactoiy. But at that tim e, it was presum ably the only solution, and even today th ere are a few cases w here people seem to be possessed by “alien spirits” from the col­ lective unconscious, that is, by som ething to which it is impossible for them to make any kind o f relationship. I have heard Jung say in m ore than one case that the only thing to b e done was to help the patient lock away a certain asp ect o f the animus. T h e practice o f exorcism is by no m eans so m uch on the shelf in C h u rch circles as one is inclined to assume. T he work o f the Capuchin monks in this direction, for instance, is well known and m uch resp ected , in Switzerland at any rate. I adm it, however, that I was agreeably surprised to leam from his biography that the late N ugent Hicks, Bishop o f Lincoln and form erly Vicar o f Brighton, had p racticed exorcism him self on m ore than one occasion. H e undoubtedly took the existence o f possessing dem ons seriously and sought the advice o f experts co n cem in g the problem o f what to do with the spirits after he had cast them ou t.52 This problem atical issue appears again and again in the medieval literature on the subject. Jean n e s tran sferen ce to the archbishop undoubtedly played the leading role in h er recovery. It is interesting that the positive 52. Bishop Nugent Hicks (1S72-1942); see Maurice Headlam, Bishop and Friend (London: Macdonald and Co., 1945), pp. 7Sf.


The Problem o f Contact with the Anim us

39'

asp ect o f th e anim us only ap p eared in p rojection. T h e re is no m ention in G õrres o f Christ o r o f any m ale saint. T h e archbishop was m ore or less in the sam e position as a m od ern analyst, but o f cou rse he m et the problem in th e co n tem p orary fram ew ork o f the C h u rch , and thus in a very different way than w e do today. It is interesting that h er spirits attacked him so intensely that h e could hardly defend him self (which was always a m uchd read ed effect o f exorcism ). T h e re are certain ly parallels today, but I should like to leave this point to th e g reater exp erien ce o f m ale analysts. T h e fact th a t Teanne h erself took such an active role in the final scene o f h er liberation agrees with m odern experience. Nothing can b e done if the will to b e cu red is lacking, if the patient h erself will not take an active role. M oreover, th e fact that Jean n e was now on such term s with the people around h er as to be able to ask them for their collaboration shows how far she had m oved from th e witty, intelligent but isolated girl who, according to h e r own account, àpparently wished so m uch to im press h er surroundings. She is now sufficiently related to h er environm ent to expose h erself in h er weakness and has gained sufficient humility to know that th e people who she w ished to outshine are really in a position to help herv T h e appearan ce o f M ary M agdalene “herself,” who tells Jean n e that she is fmally liberated, agrees with our own experi­ en ce , accord in g to which it is only with the help o f the Self that we can be freed from the animus in his possessive aspect. T h e Self, as is well known, represents a unique individual experi­ en ce, but at the sam e tim e, it also has a collective aspect in that ít reach es far beyond the com prehension o r experience o f any individual.53 Although the anim us can rep resen t the p rin cip ie o f individuation, he characteristically has a purely collective standpoint. Jung has often pointed out that the animus thinks in term s o f 1 1 ,0 0 0 virgins, that is, statistics and n u m b ers.54 W e can see 53. See Jung, Psychologij and Alchemy, CW, vol. 12, par. 329, note 452. 54. Jung wrote in 1940: "Optimists invariably hope that humanity learns by íts mistakes, and that things will be better after a particularly foolish enor. But history teaches us the opposite.


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this in our m aterial when he tells Jean n e— on the occasion o f h er signing h er first con tract with him—-that “ev ery o n e lives that way, although they, o f cou rse, do not say so.” Like ali m aterial from the past, the story o f Jean n e has mainly a com parative value. It shows us how that era regarded certain psych ic phenom ena and observable psychic facts, facts w hich appear ev er and again down through th e generations in new clothes. Perhaps the m ost striking difference is the attitude tow ard the opposites. A Jungian psychologist would presum ably have seen a value in that last spirit, realized his dual nature, and known how to help the girl transform him into a function betw een conscious and unconscious w here, as Jung often says, the animus and anima are in their right p lace.55 B ut in those days, the relativity o f good and evil was still entirely unrecognized.

T h e A rc h etypa l B ackground

In the case o f Jean n e F e iy we m ust, as it w ere, strip o ff a layer o f ou r con tem p orary rational prejudices. F o r h ere w e witness a fragm ent o f a hum an life in an age w hen the consensus gentium was entirely convinced of th e existence o f the invisible aspect oí life and o f th e inexorable reality o f com pelling forces which m otivate us— w ith o r without our knowledge. B ut in ord er to get m ore o f an idea o f the nature o f these forces and their effect on It swings from white to black and black to white and, when the cycle is fulfilled, it begins ali over again. Consciousness has increased but historical evidence shows that morality has not .........I am sure, however, that this is a wrong way of Jooldng at life. We should leam to think differently. . . . The individual should turn his attention to his own problem and stop woriying about the 11,000 virgins. They are really no business of otirs. It is thinldng in the wrong way to think statistically, and to wony about the State o f the world in twenty years time. Other people will live then and it will be their problem; we live now and are our own coneem. The modem way of thinking in terms of thousands and millions o f people is really a neurosis, we símply use it as an escape from the pròblem o f our own life. If someone really tries to answer the questions in his own life, he will have plenty to keep him employed and he will not need to interfere with other people." C. G. Jung, “The Process of lndividuation,” notes on lectures giveo at the Eidgenossische Technische Hochschule, Zurich, June 1939-March 1940, p. 120. [The notes from these lectures were prepared by Barbara Hannah. The lecture mentioned occurred on February 23, 1940. Ed. ] 55. C. C. Jung, Visions (London: Routledge, 1998), p. 1209. [For Jungis reference to the anima as a bridge between the two worlds, see also [une, N ietzsches Tjirathustra, vol. 1, p. 207. E d ]


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the hum an being, along w ith the possibilities o f how to cop e with th em , w e should attem p t to strip off an oth er layer, as it w ere, and try to see som ething o f the dual nature o f these forces that form the collective archetypal background o f each individual psyche. Jung has often pointed out how well we can see this background in the innum erable myths and fairy tales which are to be found ali over the world. And in this treasu re trove w e can find th e back­ ground o f m yriad aspects o f our problem portrayed ever again in innum erable guises. W e will take just one relatively simple fairy tale from the G rim m brothers to illustrate this point, titled “T he Goose G irl.” M arie-Louise von F ran z was kind enough to dravv my attention to this stoiy. It suits our purpose particularly well, for h ere the role of the shadow— which was missing in the m aterial of Jeanne F e ry — is clearly p ortrayed .56 T h e fairy tale goes som ething like this: Once upon a time, there was an old queen who had a beautiful daughter: She had long been widowed by h er late husband. 'When the princess grew up, she was betrothed to a prince who lived a great distance away. Now this queen loved h er child with ali h er heart. So when the princesss wedding day approached and h er jou m ey to that distant kingdom lay near, the elderly queen packed her most pre~ cious vessels o f silver and gold, her most costly trinkets and jewels, and gave everything she had to the royal dowry o f her beloved daughter. The queen arranged to send along a handmaiden to accompany the princess on the jo u m ey and present her to the bridgegroom. Each was given a horse fo r the joum ey, but Falada, the horse o f the kings daughter, was most exceptional. . . fo r he could talk.57 When the hour o f parting had 56. Barbara Hannah writes: Marie-Louise von Franz is our expert on fairy tales at the C. G. Jung Institute, Ziirich. I would like to express my gratitude to her here, for she has taught me practically ali that I know conceming this issue. 57. Barbara Hannah notes: the origin and meaning of the name Falada are unknown, but according to J. Bolzte and G. Palooka, the different versions of this horses name indicate that it was a stallion and not a mare. J. Bolzte and G. Polkoka, Anuierkungen zu cíen Kinder


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come, the elderly Çueen Mother went into her hedroom, took a small knife, and cut h er fin g er until it bled. Into a white handkerchief fell three drops o f blood, and it was this handkerchief that she gave to h er daughter saying: “Dear child, preserve this carefully, fo r it will be o f Service to you on your f

way.” So the princess put the white handkerchief to her bosom, mounted her horse, and, in sorrow, took her leave. After she had ridden half a day, she was overcome by a parching thirst and said to h er maid: “Dismount please and take the golden cup which you have brought fo r me. Do fetch some water from the stream, fo r I should like to drink. ” “I f you are thirsty,” snapped her maid, “then get o ff your horse and drink out o f the stream yourself. I am your maid, not your servant. ” So, in h er thirst, the princess alightedfrom Falada, bent down over the water in the stream, put her lips to the water, and drank, fo r she was not given the golden cup. Then she tum ed toward the sky above and said, “Ah, heaven,” and the three drops o f blood answered, “I f this your mother knew, her heart would hreak in two. ” But the kings daughter was humble, said nothing, and mounted her horse again. They rode many miles further, but the day was long, the sun scorching, and h er thirst great. So when they came again to a inountain stream, she asked her maid to dismount and fetch h er water in her golden cup, fo r she had long ago forgiven and forgotten the girls ill intent. But the maiden said even more haughtily that if she wished to drink, she could get it herself. Then, in her dire thirst, the kings daughter dismounted, bent over the flowing stream, put her lips to the water, and drank. And wept, turning again to the sky above and m urmured, “Ah, heaven.” And the drops o f blood again replied, “I f this your mother knew, her heart would break in two. ” As she was leaning over the stream to drink, her eyes closed in sorrow, só great were h er worries, and the handund Hausmãrchen d er Briider Grimm, vol. 2 (Leipzig, 1915).


The Problem o f Contact w ith the Anim us

kerchief fell out o f her bosom and floated away without h er noticing it. The maid, however, saw it and rejoiced, f o r she knew that she now had pow er over the bride. With the loss o f the handkerchief and the three drops o f blood, she knew that the princess had become weak and powerless. So when the princess retum ed to mount h er horse, the maid announced that Falada was more suitable f o r h e r and told the princess that she would do just fin e on the old nag. Then the maid dem anded that the princess exchange h e r royal apparel f o r h er own humble garments and compelled h er to take an oath by the heavens above that she would say not one w ord o f this to anyone at the royal court. For an oath to heaven broken would be dealt with swiftest death. Falada observed ali o f this and remained silent. Having donned the royal attíre, the maid now mounted Falada while the true bride mounted the nag in domestic clothes. Onward they traveled over mountain and dale until they arrived at the royal palace. Grçat rejoicings greeted them as they passed through the palace gates, and the youthful prince leapt forth, coming to the Service o f his bride-to-be. She was a bit more plumb than he had been told, a good bit older than he had imagined, but honorable as he toas, jud ged he not h er lack o f beauty, flinched he not an eye, but lifted h er fro m her stallion and escorted h e r up the broad stone stairway into the palace. The poor princess stood dumbfounded and mute, watching this ali fro m below. The prince^ father, a proud yet elderly king, happened to be looking out o f lhe window and there, standing forlorn in the courtyard below, was a delicate and most beautiful handmaiden. He immediately went into to the royal apartrnent and asked the bride-to-be about the girl who had accompanied h er and who was now standing down below. “Oh, I picked h er up on my way fo r a companton," was the answer. “Just give the girl something to work at so she may not stand idle. ”

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But the old king had no work fo r h er and knew o f nothing else better than to have the ■princess help a little boy tend the geese. Conrad was his name, and thus the true princess had to help a barefoot country boy take care o f the squabblingflock. Soon afterward, the false bride said to the young king, “My dearest husband, I beg you to do m ejust one smallfavor. I ask you so little. ” He answered, "I will certainly do so, and most willingly. ” “Then sen dfor the butcher and have the head o f the horse on which I rode cut ojf, fo r it vexed me maliciously on the way. ” She was, o f course, afraid that the horse might betray how she had mistreated the queen’s daughter. She continued thereafter to badger the prince until he promised, much against his will, that it would be done. Soon the faithful Falada was to die. This came to the ears o f the real princess who was deeply and hopelessly distraught. She knew there was nothing to be done, fo r she feared not only his certain death but, if she were to say anything at ali, h er own. So she secretly promised the butcher her most valuable coin o f pure gold ifh e would perform a small service f o r her. There was a large, darkened gateway in the shadows o f the town through which she passed each m om ing and evening, to and fro, with the geese. Would he be so good as to nail Faladas head above the archway so that she might see him coming and going every day. The butcher promised to do that. And thus he cut off the head, nailed itfast above that arch cast in shadow, and pocketed the gold coin. Early each moming, when she and Conrad drove their flock beneath this arch, she said: “Alas, my Falada, it causes me such sorrow to see you hanging there.” And the head would answer, “Alas, Young Queen, how ill you fare. I f this your mother knew, h er heart would break in two. ” Then Conrad and the princess left the town and drove their geese into the country side. When they had finally come to the meadow, she mounted a little hillock and sat down


The Problem o f Contact with the Animus

in the grasses to fr e e the lovely tresses o f h e r hair which toppled down like pure gold. Conrad, already infatuated in his assistant, delighted ali the more in the shining brightness o f her unraveling curls and could not resistfrom plucking a hair or two, But the princess wasfaster than this goose-herd and said, “Blow thou gentle wind I say, blow Conrad’s little hat away, and make him chase it here and there, untü Vve braided ali my h a ir. . . and bound it up again. ” And there came a gust o f wind which tossed Conrads hat ever fu rth er away, and it was his fa ther’s and even his grandfathers old shepherd’s cap with a lovely white feather, so o ffh e scurried to fetch it. When he finatty came back, she had long finished combing h er hair and had pinned it up again. And he could get nothing o f it. So Conrad fell into an irritated mood and refused to speak to her. And thus they watched the geese until they rose to return home in the evening. The next day, when they were driving the geese out through the dark gateway, the maiden said, “Alas, Falada, hanging there. ” Falada answered, “Alas, Young Quqen, how ill you fare. I f this your mother knew, her heart would break in two. ” And so the days and weeks passed. Out through the gates in the m oming, a word with Falada, then into the pastures and up on the hillock where she would begin to comb out h er hair. Conrad would try to clutch a handful, the princess would call the wind, and away his hat would fly. When he came back, her hair was tucked. up beneath h er bonnet and he could get not a single strand. Then the day would be spent in irritated silence and back through the arch they passed again in the evening. Day after day, Conrad was thwarted in his attempts to get a single strand o f h er glistening golden hair. So one evening after they had come home, Conrad begged fo r a short audience with the aging king. In frustration, he expressed his wish to the king to be assigned another assistant fo r pasturing the geese. The king inquired about the

45-


The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Wo^men

reason fo r his request, and Conrad answered, “Because she vexes me the whole day long.” The king was upset that this dainty girl could be so unruly, and wanting to protect the young lad who was always so dutiful with the royal geese, he commanded him to relate what it was that she did to him. So Conrad said, “ln the m om ing, when we pass beneath the dark gateway out o f the town, there is a horse’s head on the watt, and I have heard her say to this head, 'Alas, Falada, hanging there.’ And the head replies, ‘Alas, Young Queen, how ill you fare. I f this your mother knew, h er heart would break in two." Conrad went on to relate the other details o f what happened out in the fields with the geese and how she commanded a wind to come, and it c a u p so fast that he always had to chase his hat o r it would be gane forever. The elderly king, wizened in years, info^ned the boy that he himself would take the matter in hand and requested the boy to drive his flock out again as usual the next moming. As soon as dawn alit across the fields, the king placed hi-mself behind the curtains o f an opened window looking out over the dark archway, and he hi-mself then heard the maiden’s conversation with the head o f Falada. Disguised as a old hunchbacked shepherd, he hurried over a shorter route out into the pastures, hid h i ^ e l f in a thicket on the hillock, and watched as the goose girl and the goose herd approached with their flock. When she sat on a small flat stone in the meadow, she began to unravel h er hair. Then he heard her say, “Blow thou gentle wind I say, blow Conrad’s little hat away, and make him chase it here and there, until I ’ve braided all my hair . . . and bound it up again.” Then c a ^ that merry gust o f wind and carried off Conrad’s hat so very fa r away that he had to scurry like a rabbit if he had any hopes at all o f seeing it again. So the maiden unraveled h er m jestic tresses, which caught the sunlight like fireflies at night, so marvelous was the sun in her hair, and she quietly combed and. plaited her tresses and rolled it up under her bonnet. All o f this the king observed.


The Problem o f C ontact ivith the Anim us

Having seen enough o f such affairs in his lengthy years, and well understanding that something dire was amiss, he quietly slipped away. When the goose girl carne home in the evening, he called h er into the royal hall and asked why she did ali these things. The princess quickly tried to make up some story, but never imagining that she would have to stand befòre a king, she was entirely unprepared. It took a little seve-rity and determination with a bit o f that austere dignity o f a royal king to get h e r to loosen up h er tonguejust enough to say, “I dare not mention my sorrows to anyone at the court, f o r unto heaven above have I sworn silence to ali members and servants o f the royal family. I f l speak, 1 shall surely lose my life.” He left h er no peace, but true to h er vows, she refused to say a word. Much to his surprise, the king could draw nothing out o f her. Suspecting that such sovereignty in front o f a king could only be com ingfrom royalty ítself, he said, "lf you will not tell anything to the members o f the court, then crawl into the cool silence o f the cast-iron stove that heats the grand ballroom in uÁnter and speak your sorrows to yourself. ” A nd he exited the chamber. In despair and sorrow, and with such a dire need to speak freely h er sorrows even i f to a stove, she entered the ballroom, closed the door, and crept into the large iron oven, where she began to weep and lament, sobbingforth from the depths o fh e r heart, saying, “H ere am I deserted by the whole world, and yet l am a kings daughter, and a false maid has fo rced me to remove my royal attire, and she has taken my place with my bridegroom. But l o. . . I have sworn not to say a word u n der the heavens, and true will I be even i f l have to perform menial Service herding the geese until the daxj I die. Yet, if this my mother knew, her heart would break in two. ” The king, naturally, had positioned himself in an adjoining room and set his ear against the stovepipe so that he could carefully catch her every word. When h er sobbing had subsided, he entered the royal cham ber again and bade

47


The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

her come out o f the stove. Ladies-in-waiting were called to take her at once to the royal baths, garments o f a queen were brought f o r her, garlands offlowers set in h er hair, and soon h er true beauty was ever more marvélous to behold . . . fo r her suffering had made her a truly royal woman. The king summoned his son and revealed to him his true bride standing now before him. The young prince rejoiced with ali his heart when he saw h er beauty and her youth and grace. It was as i f a millstone fell from his chest, no doubt in relief and gratitude to have found his true bride. He promptly announced the immediate preparations o f a great feast to which good ministers and friends from ali the land were invited. Shortly thereafter, the prince sat at the head o f the table with the true princess on his left and his “bride to be" on the right. So haughty was this veritable maid, and so convinced was she o f h er unblemished path to glory, that she failed to take notice o f the golden-tressed woman sittingjust across the table. Naturally, h er oversight— or mayfre it was simply blurred Vision— was to an ample extent due to the assistance o f a good quantity o f ale and the fact that herfocus anyway converged not on the woman across the table but on the wild boar sizzling on the spit over oak splits crackling in the royal fireplace near the heaps o f potatoes, com , and pies on side tables. When ali had quenched their hunger and thirst to their hearts content— and the niaid’s heart was large indeed— the old king interrupted the ruckus and proclaimed atfull volume that the time had now come f o r a ridcUe to be asked, a duty that every king had to fulfill at the royal banquet in honor o f his future daughter-in-law. The self-acclaimed future queen ruffled herself up to the challenge o f a riddle and to the thrill o f being the center o f attention. “Now, when you take yourpost as queen,” asked the king, “what punishment would you serve to a person who betrayed you as royalty.forced you to the lowliest oflabors, humiliated you, and threatened to kill you i f you spoke a word. ”


The Problem o f Contact w ith lh e Anim us

49 ^

“You ask me what punishment merits a servant who thus threats h er queen?” she asked in brazen confidence. "Why such a scoundrel deserves afate no better than to be stripped naked infront o f the town, stuffed into a barrei studded with nails, hamessed to two white horses, and dragged through one Street after the next until she is dead. ” “A truly noble answer with which I hèartily agree,” answered the king, “and a better sentence His Majesty himself could not pronounce. I must say that we will always rem em ber the wisdom o f this, your one truly royal decree. It shall befulfilled to the letter, m y maiden, and this at once.” And off she was dragged, howling into the city square, desperately trying to understand what had gone wrong. Soon she was standing on a platform above the crowd, flailing about, trying to hide h er bountiful nakedness as the roar o f the crowd reached ever more inspiring leveis o f jubilation. One could soon hear the clippity-clopping o f white horses’ hooves and the thudding w rench and bounce o f the barrei battering along in the streets, while the nuptial banquet was celebrated with grandetir, grace, and love. With the sentence executed, the festivities closed, and the marriage night consummated, both prince and princess, fu tu re king and queen, reigned over their kingdom, flourishing in peace and happiness forever. As von F ra n z always points o u t in h e r lectu res on fairy tales and myths at the C. G. Jung In stitute in Z ü rich , one cannot take th e ch aracters directíy as p ieces o f an individual psychology.58 T h ey are rath er archetypal, basic stru ctu ral elem en ts o f the collective unconscious and the anticipations o f individual ch aracteristics. F ro m this standpoint, th e p rincess w ould rep resen t a kind o f prototyp e or archetypal foundation o f th e ego, the m aid would rep resen t th e shadow. C on rad w ould b e associated with the animus in his infantiíe and irresponsible asp ect, the p rin ce then 58. M.-L. von Franz, Archetypal Pattem s in Fairy Tales (Toronto: Inner City Books, 1997), p. 40.


5°

The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

representing the animus in his positive asp ect. T h e king would be seen as the animus in its w izened asp ect or as the collective ruling principie, and so on. Taking a look now at this faiiy tale from the point o f vĂĄeW-Qf analytĂ­cal psychology, we see that the princess has grow n up at t h e /c o u rt o f a queen, that is, in the realm o f the E ro s principie. W e h ear that h er father has long been dead and the only suggestion o f the male principie in the original condition is to be found in the talking horse, Falada. In o th er w ords, instinct and anim us are entirely undifferentiated and appear as one and the sam e. She must travei a long distance w ith this contam ination o f instinct and animus in ord er to find the p rin ce, h er cou n terp art and true animus, and to e n ter the realm o f th e Logos reigned over by the old king. The Q ueen M other sends h e r forth not only richly equipped with a dowry, that is, with all th e gifts and talents that she has bestow ed on her, but also with the maid, her shadow, originally in its right place as h er servant and follower. But the m other, as an experienced w om an and as a m ature personality, knows that this transitus from one principie to its opposite will be fraught with danger. So she takes a small knife, a symbol o f the logos principie tow ard which the girl will be journeying, and wounds h erself with it. T hus, through sacrifice and pain, she provides h e r daughter with th ree drops o f blood, the ju ice o f life, the essen ce o f the heart and o f feeling, as an elixir to p ro te ct her in all the dangers she m ay m eet. I would like to rem ind the re a d e r h ere o f the g reat pow er that the blood spirit had over Jean n e F e ry ; he even called-him self a god. But in that case, it was a sym ptom that th e a n im u s had invaded the veiy citadel o f the E ro s principie. H ere, on the contrary, the blood is in its right place and com es from th e body of the m other. In this connection, it is also interesting to rem em b er that it was by the help o f M ary M agdalene, in one asp ect the great lover, that Jean n e was first able to resist her spirits and to begin the work o f liberating h erself from th eir domination. T h e trouble with the shadow first begins when th e princess


The Problem o f Contact with the Anim us

does not insist on th e m aid fetch in g th e w ater from th e stream while she still had th e blood-sprinkled cloth and was thus in a position to do so. N ow w e know th at a stream o f w ater. at such tim es rep resen ts “th e river o f life.” It is only w hen one ap p roach es th e challenges o f life that th e shadow is çonstellated. As long as we keep ou t o f it, it is possible to keep our in n ocen ce and integrity. B u t w hen it is tim e to step o u t into life, then th e real personality, which includes th e shadow, is çonstellated. W e can observe the sam e weakness in ourselves each tim e w e do not take th e full responsibility for that w hich w e are, or for that w hich the situation dem ands. W e take th e p ath o f least resistance . ju st as th e princess did w hen she fetch e d the^water h erself ra th e r than take the trouble to assert h erself and keep. th e m aid in h e r right position. B u t we forget th at w e thus lose a p iece of ourselves which then falls into th e pow er o f the unconscious, in this case the shadow. This lowers ou r consciousness— as it did that o f the princess— and th e next tim e ou r attention w anders at the criticai m om ent, w e then lose our elixir, our p rotection against the p redom inance o f th e shadow, as th e princess lost the blood-sprinkled cloth. T h e p rotection is veiy beautifully symbolized h ere by the drops o f blood com ing from th e very h eart o f the E ro s principie. W h en th e princess loses this con n ection with the leading prin­ cipie of w om anhood, she delivers h e rse lf into the hands o f h er own shadow. She has given away the key to h e r position and it follows, as night th e day, that she m ust give everything else that she possesses— her dowiy, h e r clothes and even h er m ost valuable instinct and anim us— into th e hands o f h er shadow, who then takes over the leading role an d red u ces the prototype o f the ego to the rank o f h er maid. T h e princess th en does th e only thing she can do to save h er life. She hurnbly accep ts th e role o f the servant and prom ises never to tell anyone w hat has happened. W h en we have aliowed the shadow to take jover-the xeins.by neglectin g th e things that w e ought to have done, we can only follow the exam ple o f the princess and p ractice the virtue of co m p lete humility. W e m ust see w hat w e have done and accep t the con seq u en ces on the sam e principie that, in ord er to regain


52

The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

control o f a skidding car, w e m ust s te e r first into the skid. T h ere is no hope of regaining control over o u r shadow if we m ake m atters w orse by refusing to see what has happened. T h e princess is wise enough to a cce p t the situation. She behaved like a goose and she uncom plainingly becom es a “goose girl.” H e r situation, however, is now very bad. T h e animus and th e shadow are m arried which, as we saw, is the w orst thing that can happen. And h ere even her friendly instinct, Falada, is sent off to the butcher. T h e archetypal situation p ortrayed h ere is one which is frequently set in motion w hen a w om an loses the gam e to h er shadow. T he shadow not only m a m e s the animus but destroys the wom an s instinct as well. And ali the princess can rescue is the head. (Talking to a head is a well-known archetypal motif: W otan and M im irs head, for instance.) T h e h ead in this case represents, above ali, the natural mind, a kind o f inexorable ruthless truthfulness which exists in every wom an although she usually prefers to tu m a d eaf ear toward it. (This is the mind we have already m entioned as Christina A lbertas co u rt o f conscience and as the parrot, Old Nick, in G reen D olphin C o u n try .) T h e fact that the princess rescued this mind and allow ed it to speak to h er daily was the act that in the en d saved the situation. M any a w om an s whole life depends on w hether she can take this opportunity o r not, for this is the inner voice th at knows who she is and that will never allow h er to deceive herself. E very m om ing, as the princess drives h er geese under the dark gateway— the darkest and saddest place in h er via dolorosa— she greets F alad as head and expresses h e r regret that he m ust hang th e re .59 H e hails h er as “Young Q u een ” and rem inds h er that her m other s h eart would break if she knew what had happened. In o th er words, he pulls h e r up in h e r sin o f having taken the path o f least resistance and rem inds h er that h er humilitv as goose girl is no final solution. H e thus faces h er with h er w ho!e_reality which, as Jung emphasizes in Psychology a n d A lchem y, is the thing that we fear the m ost.60 As w e are especially told, the 59. [Via dolorosa, “path of pain or suffering." Ed. ] 60. Jung, Psychology and Alchemy, CW, vol. 12, par. 439; also pars. 240f, 325, 437n.


The Problem o f Contact with the Anim us

princess was very hum ble and th erefore hated to assert h erself with the maid. B u t she simply can n ot leave h er opposite quali­ ties— p rid e and worldly am bition— in th e hands o f h er shadow or they will inevitabJy destroy her. She m ust rem em b er who she is and take th e responsibility fo r h er position, o r she will break h er m o th e r’s h eart, that is, kill both th e very essence o f her being and the fem inine principie o f E ro s. This fairy'tale, also shows us a very beautiful p iece o f the archetypal foundations o f the whole invaluable technique o f holding conversations with our animus. If we can get things straight with our own unconscious, if we can reach the in n er truth, it will often radiate out into the ou ter world and set things straight th ere in a way th at we could never reach by oth er m eans. W h en th e princess has passed through the dark gateway o f suffering and allowed the voice o f truth to reach her, she has gathered sufficient strength to m eet th e further travails o f the day w ithout fear, She must herd h e r geese, that is, keep those fluttering, snattering, and militant animais together, see that they get enough food and drink, and not al}ow any o f them go astray. G eese are co n n ected with N em esis. for instance, the goddess o f fate, and with the Bussian arch-w itch B ab a Yaga. T h e princess, through losing the blood-sprinkled cloth, has lost h er con n ection with the positive m oth er figure, thus it m ay just have been inevitable th at she m ust b ecom e the servant o f a negative m oth er figure and h erd h er geese. T h e story o f com bing h e r h air contains som ething o f the sam e idea. In this case, h e r individual hairs w ould rep resen t h er thoughts. And C on rad , as th e infantile and irresponsible ani­ m us, naturally does everything h e can to g et h er thoughts into his p ow er and to pursue them for his own en d ; that would b e, for in stan ce, to fill h e r with anim us opinions. She lost the gam e to h e r shadow on h er jou rn ey to h e r positive animus and she m ust now d eal with him in a less favorable asp ect. Through h er conversations with F alad a, she rem ains in touch with enough o f the forces o f n atu re to help m ake it possible for the wind to assist h e r by blowing C o n rad s cap away every m orning so


54

The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

that he has to atten d to his own affairs and she can arrange h er thoughts u nm olested in p eace. T h e wind is perhaps the m ost prim ordial im age that exists o f th e spirit p e r se, and h ere again w e get a w onderful glim pse into th e archetypal background o f our p rob lem .61 W e see th at th e negative, infantile, teasing animus is pow erless against th e spirit itself and that, if we can rea ch th ese depths in our p sych e, w e can reach pow ers th at can help us w hen we are unable to help ourselves. I f th e princess, as the prototyp e o f the ego, had relied on rational and conscious m eans, she could only have q u arreled w ith C on rad , and he would certainly have b een able to obtain som e o f h e r hairs. This shows us that the d irect way o f argu m en t with the anim us is often unwise and only results in opinions and a hopeless feeling o f defeat. F u rth e rm o re , it gives us som e idea o f the total effort w hich is req u ired on the long p ath of reaching a m odus vivendi with ou r animus. It is interesting that C onrad, w hen he is defeated in his plans, is the one who makes the m atter known to the king at co u rt. T h us Conrad is indirectly the m eans tow ard th e solution. H e re w e see the dual role o f th e animus particularly clearly. If the princess had given way to this childish, teasing, and foolish aspect o f her animus and allowed him to steal h er hair, she would have been in the sam e position as Jeanne F e iy at the beginning o f h er possession w hen she, apparently harmlessly, accep ted the “apples and w hite bread” from the father figure. T h e princess would thus have taken the first step on a similar road to Jeanne F e ry and, if she had failed to pull herself to geth er and turn to Falada, the appar­ ently harm less, if teasing, C onrad may soon have taken on a m ore negative or even infernal aspect. But, as she standsJier-ground, C onrad is obliged to apply to a higher authority and the positive side o f the animus begins to co m e into play. This gives us som e idea o f th e vital issues that are lying concealed behind the apparently unim portant m atter o f the thoughts 61. Barbara Hannah writes: I would like to mention just one well-known example of "the rushing mighty wind” that preceded the cloven tongues of fire when the spirit entered the Apostles at Pentecost (Acts 2:2fí).


The Problem o f Contact with the Animus

55

which pass through o u r mind as we go about our daífy life. E very tim e we give way to an animus opinion, w e are allowing ou r little C onrad to steal a hair and thus we are m oving im perceptibly but surcly in the directíon o f Jean n e Fery. W h ereas each tim e w e can think o f a way o f preventing this theft, o f resisting the insinuating animus opinion, w e m ove a step n earer to the solution which is waiting for us ali— as it was for th e princess— although in each individual case it com es in a different form . W h en the king had tested C on rad s statem ents by concealing him self and listening to the girls conversation with F alad a, and after he had seen the wind grant h e r request, he sent for the goose girl and asked h er to tell him h er stoiy. She kept faith with th e shadow, however, and refused to break h er oath o f silence. This also gives us a valuable hint as to ou r dealings with our own shadow side. A great m any people rnake_ th e m istake o f believing that one can integrate. th e . shadow. by deliberately living its qualities. B u t this. m istak e.o n ly Jead s to identification with the shadow._We ch an ge roles, so to speak, and nothing is gained. But by keeping faith with the shadow, as th e princess does h e re , we gran t it its right to exist and pay o u r debt to it. For, after ali, the m aid had sp ared the princess s life w hen she had it in h er pow er to utterly destroy her. T h e king then persuades the princess to crawl into the iron stove and to tell it h er troubles. T h e stove h ere presents the m o th ers w om b into w hich she m ust cre e p for rebirth or the alchem ical stove w here the p rocess o f transform ation takes p lace.62 H e re the princess m ay speak, for she lays h er faith in the hands o f the Self so th at it, and not the ego, m ay decide. She also opens h erself to the possibilities o f a transform ation so that the king, who has listened through th e stovepipe, can now reestablish h e r in the royal rank to which she was born. H e dresses h er in royal apparel and arranges the w edding feast so that, at last, after m uch tribulation and error, she reach es th e positive animus figure in the person o f th e Idngs son. 62. Jung, Psychology an d Alchemy, CW, vol. 12, pars. 338, 449.


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The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

T h e false bride— the shadow— sits on his o th er side at the feast and pronounces h er own punishm ent under the impression that she is condem ning som eone else. T h e shadow thus overreaches itself and has to subm it to being depotentiated. She is dragged naked in a barrei though the streets until she is dead, that /i s , she is redueed to an inanim ate shadow that follows the ego as the ordinaiy shadow follows the body. (This m otif shows a differen ce betw een the archetypal events in faiiy tales and individual cases. Archetypes never really die, so the death o f an archetype m eans transform ation.) But the princess, as th e bride o f the kings son, m ust take over the responsibility for who she is and not allow h er naturally retiring disposition to mislead h er again into playing only a portion o f h er role.

CO N CLU SIO N

T he fairy tale has shown us an infinitesimal fragm ent o f the.inexhaustible com binations and possibilities which lie con cealed -in the archetypal foundation o f every individual. As Jung says in his epilogue to his article, “T h e Psychology o f the T ransference”: The series of pictures [from the Rosariumn Philosophorum] that serve as our “Ariadne thread” is one of many, so that we could easily set up several other working models which would display the process of transference each in a different light. But no single model would be capable of fully expressing the endless wealth of individual variations which ali have their raison d ’etre.<Xi T h e sam e applies to any story that one may attem pt to use as an “A riadne th read ” in the problem o f con tact with the animus. T h e endless wealth o f individual variations which e ach o f us m eets in our effort to m ake th e acquaintance o f the anim us (as well as in our negotiations with h im ).are simply inexhaustible. In a paper o f this length, it would be a hopeless task to show him 63. Jung, "The Psychology of the Transference," in CW, vol. 16, par. 538-


The Problem o f C ontact with the Animus

57

at work in th e life o f a m od em individual— to say nothing of the long case history that w ould also have to b e included. M oreover, archetry:py]_.materialhas one great advantage over personal m aterial...We. alLhave. the_sam.e_.arche.typa.hackgrou.nd,~athough,.i.tis constellated in a different way in each case. Jn personal m aterial, th ere is always a g reat tem ptation to identify with the details of th e o th e r p erson ’s life and thus take things out o f th eir context and apply th em in the w rong place. In conclusion, I w ould like to retu rn for a m om en t to our own e ra and give you a fragm ent o f a m odern d ream w hich shows the sam e problem in new clothes. It is p art o f a very interesting series w hich illustrates th e conflict b etw een th e collective point of view o f th e animus and the intensely personal standpoint o f the shad­ ow. It is w orth m entioning th at th e d ream er was n ot in analysis, w hich m eans that th e m aterial is then m o re naive and com plete. This d ream er was constantly torn in two in h e r dream s betw een an inexorably severe animus (who usually appeared as a m onk or a priest) and a passionate, childish shadow (who appeared as a child o r an excitable em otional w om an). On the one hand, she had to accep t th e ju st rem onstrances o f the inexorable animus, while on the other, she had to low er h erself to the level o f th e shadow against th e express orders o f the priest. In th e dream , from which I am taking th e following text, she was obliged to rem ain standing in the p resen ce of the priest but nevertheless sank down onto a b en ch b eside a despairing woman. She says that. she did not forget h er cle a r obligation to rem ain standing, n o r did she a ct from defiance, b u t she was com pelled by a com passion g re a te r than h erself to sit down beside this wom an. She then looked at th e p riest and th ere was m ercy in his face, b u t she knew he would punish h e r severely for w hat she had done. W h en th e tension was at. its height, she found h erself in a g reat cath ed ral with th e p riest behind h er and the w om an she had befrien d ed in front o f her. T h ey w ere all waiting for som e­ thing, seem ingly for som e sort o f ju d gm en t or decision. At last, a voice was h eard com ing from behind and above the priest. This voice was as m ajestic as th e cath ed ral itself, and they all listened


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in both fear and gladness. T h e voice was full o f com passion and y et the judgm ent was severe: “I f the child (or passionate w om an) recov ered from h er wounds, th e d ream er m ight go h e r way in p eace, but if not . . . .” T h e d ream er could not h ear th e altem ative, but the inference was that it was a sentence o f death. Severe /justice was thus tem p ered with m ercy in a way w hich could be accep ted by them all. I need add little to this w onderful dream , w hich shows us how ego, animus, and shadow m u st all sacrifice them selves to the will o f the Self. B u t the first sacrifice m ust com e from the side o f the ego w hich m ust m ake conscious all its egotistical demands p rojected onto the shadow. F o r as Jung said in his Eranos lecture on “T he Process ofT ran sform ation in the M ass,” w e can only sac­ rifice the things w e have.64 It is only if w e are willing to make the utm ost sacrifice ourselves that w e can hope to m ove our animus to sacrifice his autonom y and his au tocratic pow er over us and to low er him self to b ecom e a function betw een conscious and unconscious, subservient to the voice that com es from behind and above him, the voice o f the u n iter o f opposites, w h eth er we call it God o r the Self.

64. See also C. G. Jung, “Transformation Symbolism in tlie Mass" (1954), in CW, vol. 11 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1969), par. 390.


Animllcf and Erod

Editor's Note: Barbara Hannah interprets here a passage by the alchemist Philaletha, which Jung discusses in M y s te riu m Coniunctionis, volume 14 of his C ollected Works. Although it might be easier on the reader to present a less complex text at this point, due to the development of Barbara Hannah's thought, this essay fits nowhere better than immediately following "The Problem of Contact with the Animus."

LAST SEMESTER, I GAVE A SHORT COURSE ON THE ANIMUS AND in ten d ed to d evote th e last le ctu re to th e relation sh ip b etw een th e anim us and E ro s. B u t, as I am afraid is usual w ith m e, I had too m uch m aterial fo r only fo u r sessions, so I p ro m ised th e class th e n th at I w ould rep a ir this om ission as soon as p ossib le. T h e fo l­ low ing tw o-part le ctu re on “Anim us and E r o s ” is to re d e e m that p rom ise, b u t I also plan to m ake it in d ep en d en t o f th e previous anim us co u rse fo r the sake o f p eo p le w ho w ere not th ere. F o r this reason , I w ill also give a very sh ort resu m e o f th e m edieval case w hich o ccu p ied th ree o f tho se fo u r le ctu re s.1 T h e ca se in q u estio n involved a n u n n am ed Je a n n e F e r y w hose “d em o n ic p ossession ” and su b seq u e n t exorcism w ere l. [The resume that follows is a synopsis of the material presented in the previous chapter, “'The Problem of Contact with the Animus." Ed.]


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m uch acclaim ed around the years 1 5 8 4 and 1 5 8 5 . T h e whole possession and a lengthy accou n t o f the subsequent exorcism w ere w itnessed by m any well-known people and d ocu m en ted in detail by F e r y herself. T h e d o cu m en t, o f w hich I have a photostat from the B ibliotheque N ational de F ra n ce , w en t im m e/ diately into several editions an d was translated into G erm an at that tim e. P ossessed already as a child and living a com p lete fantasy life with several negative animus figures (called dem ons), Jeanne had to renew h er vows o f o b ed ien ce to them w hen she was twelve. A ccording to Fery, th ese dem ons gave h er' m any apparen t advantages, such as making h er clever and witty, so that she could impress h er environm ent, although she could n ot relate to it. She also said they gave h er rich food. It may seem surprising that these dem ons allowed h er to take h er vows as a nun, but this perm ission was only for w hat th ey could get out o f it. T hey m ade h er renounce the vows she had taken that very sam e evening and m ade h er renew h e r vows o f implicit obedience to them . It was F e ry ’s o^wn conviction that greed and ambition w ere the cause o f h e r originally becom in g th eir victim, and it was also the first step in h er release. W h en she h eard the oth er nuns praising Christ, she w on d ered if she should not have him— as well as h er o^wn “gods.” The dem ons had always m ade h er steal pieces of the host, and now they m ade h e r go even further and stab a host w afer with a knife. The room was im m ediately filled w ith.a bright radiance and the dem ons fled scream in g in terror. They then behaved with a tw isted duplicity ^typical o f the negative animus. They rep roach ed h e r for not having worshipped Christ while ignoring the fact th at th ey had always forbidden her to do so. And they assured h er he was also their god although they had taught h er to despise a god who could not save him self from the cross. T h eir reproach was so incessant that they drove Jeanne to the verge o f suicide. It was soon noticed that th ere was som ething w rong with this nun. Jeanne’s possession was acknow ledged, and the Archbishop o f Cam brai, Louis de Berlaym ont, im m ediately started the exor-


Anim us and Eros

6 J..

cism in th e A bbey at M ons, F ra n c e , a p roced u re d ocu m ented to have o ccu rre d during th e years 1 5 8 4 -1 5 8 5 . T he exorcism consum ed considerable tim e and energy not only from the archbishop but also from the priests w ho served as his assistants. T h e first hopeful sign was w hen Jean n e threw h erself at th e feet o f the archbishop (in essen ce, acknow ledging h e r tran sferen ce to him for the first tim e).2 M ary M agdalene then appeared in a vision and gradually took over the w hole exorcism . Incredible efforts w ere d em an d ed from the archbishop. At one point, h e was forced by M ary M agdalene to take the nun into his house, w h ere she stayed for a year in the face o f the m ost spiteful gossip from the whole diocese. T he demons slowly gave way, but the earliest father figure am ong th em was especially tenacious and claim ed that Jeanne had never spoken a w ord h erself but that it was h e r spirits who had always spoken through her. I f the archbishop insisted on exorcising him, then she would be reduced to the state o f a child o f four. T he priests insisted, and this father figure fulfilled his threat. The archbishop had to teach Jeanne to read , and he ed u cated h e r from the level o f a four-year-old.3 D uring this tim e the appearance o f M ary M agdalene b ecam e increasingly frequent, and at last she announced in the presen ce o f the bishop that if the oth er exorcists, m any im portant people from the diocese, and all o f th e nuns w ould m ost fervently pray, she would finally free Jeanne from h e r evil spirits. And this tim e th ere w ould be no relapse. T h e prayers w ere arranged and soon cam e to pass, and Jeanne was eventually able to retu rn to the norm al life o f h e r convent with the o th e r nuns. T h e archbishop him self rem ained h e r confessor and spiritual guide for the rest o f his life. I h ope it is clear to everyone that iL w as. b y .m ean s o f an . intervention o f th e Self— aptly sym bolized by th e.im ag e.o f M ary M agdalene— that Jean n e was drawn back into h e r E ros fu n c2. [This may have been Jeanne Fery’s earliest positive transference to a man who— due to his character and priesthood— she could fully trust. Ed.] 3. [This is the amnesia and the regression found in dissociative identity disorders. See the discussion of these symptoms in footnote 41 of the previous essay, “The Problem of Contact with the Animus.” Ed.]


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tion and was enabled to free h erself from the negative animus .symbolized by th e dem ons w ho both possessed h e r and lived th r o u g h h e r for th eir purposes instead o f h e r .o ^ . B u t w e could also p u t i t ^ e oth er way around an d ..say-thatJt_was-.Je^anne:S.. QWfi first gesture and advance to w a rd h e r. in ner .Eros.. principle_that cfOnstelIated this im age o f th e Self. I t w as at.thamoment-when-S-he threw h erself at the feet o f th e archbishop and be.ganJQ tJJJstand accep t h er tran sferen ce to him _Qiat th e first appearance o f Mary M agdalene o ccu rred , This shows us th e g reat im p ortan ce o f the tran sferen ce in analysis. You will recall the enorm ous p rice the archbishop had to pay to free Jean n e from th e devils. O f equally g re a tim p o rta n ce in _ev ery w o m aris life is relationship, fo r h e re . shtLexperiences the conditio sine qua non for freeing h erself from th e _;__l:yJ:"anny o f being possessed.by.the anim us, a p ossession w h ich often.happens entirely unkno-^ to th e w om an herself, f o r t h e opinions.he insinuates. destroy the flow o f all sp on tan eou slife. AII that w e learn from the study o f Jeanne F e ry in term s o f an encounter with the archetypes o f th e collective unconscious^ and above all from m y own experience, is confirm ed in the alchem ical text I want to study in this lecture. Jung has already in terp reted this text in his m ost exem plary m anner from th e m an’s point o f view, or rath er from the point o f view o f Logos. So our task is to study it from the point o f view o f w om en, that is, from the point o f view o f E ro s, w here it seem s to fit just as w ell—if not b etter— like so many o f these texts that com e from the unconscious. At the conclusion o f my last lectures, I suggested to those o f you who w ere th ere to read the appropriate chapters in Jung’s M ysterium Coniunctionis and consider it for yourselves from this latter standpoint. The, piece..of:work we will be coJlsidering as aguideline to o u r (h cm c o f animus, and E r o s i s _the. Jn^roit.us ap?.tlm . an alchem ical text by E iren aeu s Philaletha in th e Musae'l!:in}i!!..^neti0! :_m . You will.. find. it in Ju n g s . chapter, ..“The. ..P ersonification o f_the O pposites,” in M ysterium C on iu nctionis.4 It is quite short, so I 4. C. G. Jung, Mysterium Coniunctionis (1955-1956), CW, vol. 14 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1963), pars. 189-210.


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will read it first straight th rou gh , an d th en w e will exam ine it p iece by p iece as Ju n g has already d on e from the point o f view o f Logos. Jung has also q u o te d an oth er section from th e Introitus apertus th at co n cern s an infant h erm ap h rod ite who is bitten by a rabid d og.5 O n at least o n e im p ortan t point, w e shall have to refer back to this section w h ere it parallels th e text w e will study. B ut after careful consideration, I d e cid e d against taking both excerpts as it w ould certainly lead m e into m y ch ron ic vice o f ending up drow ned and con fu sed in a surfeit o f m aterial. I will give you here the full text and th èn will rep e a t it p oint by point as w e p ro ceed in th e interpretation. I f thou knowest how to moisten this dry earth with its o - ^ water, thou wilt loosen the pores of the earth, and this thief from outside will be cast out with the workers o f wickedness, and the water, by an admixture o f the true Sulphur, will be cleansed from the leprous filth and from the superfluous dropsical fluid, and thou wilt have in thy power the Fount of the Knight of Treviso, whose waters are rightfully dedicated to the maiden Diana. Worthless is this thief, armed with the malignity of arsenic, from whom the winged youth fleeth, shuddering. And though the central Water is his bride, yet dare he not display his most ardent love towards her, because o f the snares of the thief, whose machinations are in truth unavoidable. H ere may Diana be propitious to thee, who knoweth how to tame wild beasts, and w hose twin doves will tem per the malignity o f the air with their wings, so that the youth easily entereth in through the pores, and instantly shaketh the foundations o f the earth, and raiseth up a dark cloud. But thou wilt lead the waters up even to the brightness of the moon, and the darkness that was upon the face o f the deep shall be scattered by the spirit moving over the waters. Thus by God’s command shall the Light appear.6

5. Ibid., par. 182. 6. Ibid., pars. 189-210 (extracted).


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L e t us exam ine the text now sen ten ce for sen ten ce beginning with: I f thou knowest how to m oisten this d ry earth w ith its own water, thou wilt loosen the p ores o f the earth . . . . Jung points out that this dryness re fers to th e lack of f a n n v the com plete blank th at overtakes scL.many people. w.henjihey / t r y fo r.exam ple, toâ&#x20AC;&#x17E;do_active.^naginatioon.7 B u t w hat is this desiccated earth that m ust be m oistened w ith its ow n w a ter? Is it our com plete lack o f the sm allest inspiration? Jung does not go into this point h ere, for it b ecom es clear in the text itself. B u t since in the introduction to this course on the animus w e have already spoken o f this lack o f inspiration from the p ractical point o f view, I will talk about it here. I spoke th en o f m y o - ^ .exp erience over decades that th e b e s t way o f p u ttin g a stop to this. com plet aJ l.;ick o f fantasy, to this arid lack ofin sp iration,-is by con cen tratin g .o n th e -.unkno^n,_by.. attem ptingJo__ggLsoxnjae....:fainL.app:macfr to the infinite even if one can on ly c o n f e ss on eâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s. failm e. At the end of his chapter on life after death in M em ories, D ream s, Reflections, Jung says o f this taskThe decisive question for man is: Is he related to something infinite or not? That is the telling question of his life. Only if we know that the thing which truly matters is the infinite can we avoid fixing our interest upon futilities, and upon all kinds of goals which are not of real importance. Thus we demand that the world grant us recognition for qualities which we regard as personal possessions: our talent or our beauty. The more a man lays stress on false possessions, and the less sensitivity he has for what is essential, the less satisfying is his life. He feels limited because he has limited aims, and the result is envy and jealousy. If we understand and feel that here in this life we already have a link with the infinite, desires and attitudes change. In the final analysis, we count for [being somebody or] something only because of the essential we embody, and if we do not embody that, life is wasted. In oUr relationships to other men, too, the 7. Ibid., par. 190.


Anim us and Eros

crucial question is whether an elem ent o f boundlessness is expressed in the relationship. T h e feeling for the infinite, however, can b e attained only if we are bounded to the utmost. T h e greatest limitation for man is the “se lf’; it is manifested in the experience: “I am o n ly that!” Only consciousness o f our narrow confinement in the self forms the link to the limitlessness o f the unconscious. In such awareness we experience ourselves concurrently as limited and eternal, as both the one and the other. In teo\ving_ourselyes to_be 1_iigu^_i^iour_ge.rsgriaj_ço_mbiiia:1c tion— that is, ultimately limited— we. possess also the capacity for becoming conscious of the infinite.,„But only then!8 This , relatifin.,to etern ih ' proYid.es..o n e ’s.. “Qwn,jwaterl to .„still the. thirst o f th e d esiccated earth w hich in,_tum Jeads.tO-,the.xel©ase .of th e b lo ck a g e .a n d io Jh e .o g ^ n in g o f th e flo w o f fantasy. I f w e feel a com p lete lack o f fantasy, if we sit again and again in an attem p t, for exam ple, to do active im agination without results, I have found the_hes±:w.ay_toloosen u p Jh e block is to concentrate-on-thè ■unkn0wn, on the. infi nit©T_to.-wonder, for instance, ab on llilo after death, o r o u \vhatwe Imrnghl in lolife a to u r birth, or anotheLaspect.o^the-infinite_w hicb.interests..us. In m y experi­ en ce, this leads— sooner or later— to a breaking up o f the block. This animus. in terferen ce..on. th e ,outside.„has..s.e1:e x a L.asp ects . F i r s t he interferes b etw een us and th e outside w orld and particularly in._ou:r...xelationships. W i th.. ixxele,yanL,opinions_ he„,.cuts, us ..o f f^^n^j011rje.nvirjan]al.e.!ní,from re..alify,_and.i:r..Qm_mc..i^^tang which is iiear. dear. and im p o rta n tto us. His is not th e outside realm , but the inner. (L a te r w e shall see m ore o f the origin o f the poison he inserts.) T h e se_oood.aspÊGtJiGímrs.'Nhe.n.h.e.i&CQntaminated.hy,.figures belonging to .th e . collective unconscious a n d .becom es. autonom ousT~.-<estm£±ive,^and_-unmanageable, .a _constellation— docum en ted in th e ca se of Jean n e F e ry — which occurs far m ore often 8 . C. G. Jung, Memories, Dreamis, Reflections, A. Jaffé, ed. (New York: Vintage Books, 1965), p. 325.


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than we realize today. T h ese collective figures are.._^arche^fyp^^^d « a L in d iv id u aL p erso n alfig u res.an d com e in d eed .from “oiitside” th e p rop er bounds._o£th.e. individuaLanimus. H e m ust b e thrown out when these figures contam inate— or have b eco m e com pletely identical with— our own individual animus. W e saw from the l beginning o f Jean n e Fery's case that h e r dem ons w ere identical ‘ with the collective dem ons, indeed with the devil himself. In this stage w e can do nothing but throw him out. TheJhir.d.aspe.cU.isj^hemh^e__pex.suades,.:us.itha:Lai^^.d^e.._su!llirfici.a1itj.es are o f essential im p o r ta n c e d is tra c tíng ou r attention away from form ing a connection with th eín fin ite. This diversion is perhaps the way he does us the m ost harm . O u r relation to the infinite and E ro s m ust b e individual, w hat is m eaningful to us. It is precisely the individual that the anim us tries to “iron o u t,” that is, to flatten and replace with h eated collective opinions. In these th ree aspects w e m ust throw him out, for as long as he is th ere in his u nchanged state w e have no ch an ce o f uniting positive and negative or o f making them relative. And then he is indeed a “w orker o f w ickedness.” The following, however, should not b e overlooked. I f we succe e d in casting out. our. individuaLammus_.when,_as_.a...'..'..wo.rkex. of wickedness,” h ep oison s us.imthe.se outer_ways.wB_have been considering, th e n a Jo t.m o re .is .tossecLo.ut,with.,him, nam ely with all of the oth er “w orkers o f w ickedness.” This seem s to give us a gleam o f hope that our individual efforts m ay also have som e effect on the wickedness en d em ic to th e w hole world. Castmg_outJthis^-G0 l]ective..ammus..mayb.ethe_way...ab..oY£La,_th atw o^ £^ ^ a.h ^ elp ..t:o withstand.theLelas;h.o£the~opposites,. H olding out these opposites is the conditio sine qua n o n that m ight even avert the ever-present threat o f war. Too few people realize the danger th at animuspossessed w om en p rom ote in ou r contem porary situation. T h e text continues: a n d the water, by an adm ixture o f the tru e Sulphur, will be cleansed f r o m the leprous filth a n d fro m the s u p e flu o u s dropsical flu id . . , . T h e ch ap ter from which our text com es is devoted to sulphur, and before w e continue with our own text, we m ust briefly consider our “true sulphur” (as the

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alchem ists call it). In a footnote, Jung explains th at “our sulphur” refers, o f cou rse, to th e sym bolic m eaning set forth by the alch e­ m ists.9This ch ap ter on sulphur is one o f the best descriptions o f the opposites th a t Ju n g e v e r w ro te , an d I strongly recom m en d th at you read it, for I can only re fer to a few points. In alchemy: th ere is a i:ed agd a w hit_e_^^fr^^Ae.xedcLbem.g r^^^^cLas--the_a^Gti¥e-p.rincipIe_o£he-sun, th.e_white, as J J i a t o f th e m oon. B u t this dual quality also has an oth er m eaning w hich is th e m ore em phasized o f th e tw o. O n the one hand, sulphur is th e p rim a m ateria, burning and corrosive, hostile to th e “m atter o f the ston e.” H e re one sees th e corroding and burning nature ch aracteristic o f so m any anim us opinions. O n th e o th er hand, w hen “cleansed of all im purities,” sulphur itself is “th e m o th er o f th e sto n e.” H e re th e cleansing has to do w ith th e o u ter aspects o f th e animus in w om en (w hich w e have ju st b een considering), for in a w om an’s psychology sulphur is closely related to th e animus, both in his negative and positive aspects. W e m ust keep_ in mind th a t we_are..looking-for. theLteuesulphM .,thil,Lcan,deasfíJij.s,frQro all th ese superflu.Qus ,and destructi:v..e.raafoormatifins,.anjdili&§as.es. In alchemy, su lp h u ris th e m ost com m on active principie. It burns and consum es. It even blackens th e sun (consciousness) and consum es it. It causes th e putrefactio. Yet i tis a_lso. th e .“virtu.a,of a l l ^ r n g s ,” th e source o f illumination and o f all knowledge. The alchemists even say th at sulphur, in fact, knows everything. In o th e r w ords, they see w hat Jung called “absolute knowledge” in their sulphur. (You rem em b er th at in his article on synchronicity, Ju n g postulates an "absolute knowledge” in the unconscious, a fact th at he substantiates but also "knew ” from his own experience.) Absolute know ledge is considered. to .be„a„type_o£L“kno:wledge” o r “luminosity” in h e re n t i n t h e .unconscious and_accessible,. for instance, through .intuition,...d ream s, ..visions, foresight, and synch ronistic phenom enoii, I t is n ot a knowledge m ediated by the sense organs or by the ego, b u t rath er a self-subsistent, inborn, 9. Jung, Mysterium Coniunctionis, CW^ vo\. 14, par. 136n96.


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“unconscious” lmowledge, a quasi “perceiving” o f im ages that constitute form al factors in spontaneous fantasy products. Jung cites Chuang-tzu: “The state in which ego and non-ego are no longer opposed í

is called the pivot o f Tao . . . . Tao is obscured when you fix your eye on little segments o f existence only . . . . Outward hearing should not penetrate further than the ear; the intellect should not seek to lead a separate existence, thus the soul can become empty and absorb the whole world. This is Tao that fills this emptiness . . . . Use your inner eye, your inner ear, to pierce to the heart of things, and have no need of intellectual knowledge/’10 “O ur sulphur” o f th e alchem ists also has a d irect connection

with Venus (a personification o f w om an s principle o f E ro s). Jung quotes the alchem ist Rosinus (a corruption o f Zosim os): Our Venus is not the corpmon sulphur, which bums and is consumed with the combustion of the fire and of the corrup­ tion; but the whiteness of the Venus of the Sages is consumed with the combustion o f the white and the red . . . and this combustion is the entire whitening . . . of the whole work Therefore two sulphurs are mentioned . . . and they rejoice in one another, and the one contains the other. 11 Jung com m ents that the rejoicing in ea ch oth er com es from the famous axiom o f D em ocritu s: “N atu re rejoices in nature, nature 10. Richard Wilhelm, D(},S wahre Buch vom südlichen Blütenland, vol. l- (Jena: Eugen Diedrichs Verlag), p. 3. [See C. G. Jung, “Synchronicity: An Acausal Principle” (1952), in CH;; vol. 8 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1969), pars. 816-968, in particu­ lar pars. 923, 931, and 948. Similar concepts and principles are found, for instance in the Native American Iroquois concept of orenda, in practices and beliefs among the Australian Aborigine cultures, in Christian theology (for example, that of Giordano Bruno), in the philosophy of Leibnitz, and naturally in Chinese Taoism. For a more detailed discussion, see Barbara Hannah’s discussion of absolute knowledge in The Archettypal Symbolism o f Animals (Wilmette, Ill.: Chiron Publications, 2006), pp. 12ff. Ed.] 11. Jung, Mysterium COniunctiünis, CiV, vol. 14, par. 139.


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subdues nature, nature rules over n atu re,” and that the one containing th e o th er is an allusion to th e O uroboros.12 W e see from th e rejoicing o f the two sulphurs in the Philaletha text that th e “t:J.J1. e sulphur” drives out th e d.est m ctiv e . superfluities. I t is a.sulphur in which th e red (active principie o f th e sun) a n d t h § a)Yhite (o f the moon)._,;:i,re already united. presaging the union o f th e opposites, the totality, w hich is th e goal o f th e process o f alchem y as well as o f psychological individuation. Jung gives an oth er referen ce to sulphur and Venus from one o f the parables in the treatise o f “D e sulphure.” H ere an alchem ist is searching for the sulphur, and this quest leads him into the grove o f Venus w here a voice (Saturn) tells him that Sulphur has b e e n im prisoned by his own m o th er becau se he had b een too submissive to her. This has a very familiar sound in any psychologists ear. H ow often have we found too submissive sons being held a p risoner by the m other. W e even h ear o f m en over forty still living with th eir m oth ers, quite unable to g et away, and o f m en who lean tow ard hom osexuality (in h er h on or?) b ecau se, am ong oth er things, they cannot b e a r to put another w om an “in their m oth ers p lace.” T h e voice in the grove o f Venus praises Sulphur as: “T h e artificer o f a thousand things, as the h eart o f all things, as that which endows living things with understanding, as the b eg etter o f every flow er and blossom on herb and tre e , and finally as th e ‘painter o f all co lo rs.” '13 Jung com m en ts that this description o f sulphur m ight well be a description o f E ro s itself. So in ou r Philaletha te x t_ a lth o u g h it b ecom es even cle a re r later— we.filxeady catch a g lim p se.o f E ro s as the- red eem in g jílem en t, m ost especiajly. in a w om ató_psychology w h ere..E ro.siU h ê. th :in g jh ji rids .us. of.the. de.struct iye-..superfluo.us _s.ide._of. sulphur and _th e a n im u s . E ros, w o m an s tru e principle o f relationship, was the cathartic agent in th e history o f Jeanne Fery. F o r h ere, M ary M agdalene (Eros personified) along with Je a n n e ’s relationship to the archbishop 12. C. G. Jung, “Conceming Rebirth” (1950), in CW, vol. 9i (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1968), par. 234. 13. Jung, Mysterium Coniunctionis, CW, vol. 14, par. 140.


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team ed up to drive out th e dem ons thus transform ing th e wom an herself. B ut Philaletha was a m an; so it is clear th at this is also true for m en. M en n e e d th e E ro s side u rgen tlyeven -th ou gh lth ^ ^ ^ ^ in principle is Logos. Jung also com m ents that th e Rosinus text does not tell us who ;th e m o th er o f sulphur is, but presum ably it was Venus h erself who im prisoned h e r mischievous son, Cupid. This is corroborated by the fact that th e alchem ist did not know he was going to find Sulphur in th e grove of Venus (the woods usually have a m aternal significance) and that th e voice is that o f Saturn, who introduces him self as th e “governor o f th e prison” in w hich Sulphur is captive.14 L ater, after the voice has disappeared, th e alchem ist falls asleep and sees a fountain in th e grove of Venus w ith Sulphur personified nearby. T he vision ends with the coniunctio, with the em b race in th e bath. Jungjcomme^nts--that-V--€nus is-undoubtedly the a n w r sapientia (love _ofwisdgm), who..puts_an_e:ad ±o.the_. pro_miscuousness _of Cupids arrows and instead teach es him wisdom, the tru e love. This rem inds m e o f w hat Ju n g told m e after his retu rn from India. H e said th at he had. com e to the cQJO.clusion that the overwhelming im pression o f India could only be faced with the G reek adage: “E xagg erate nothing, all things in moderation.” T h e sapientia, w isdom , will th en tell us th e im portant things and save us from th e superfluities o f our animus opinions and will save a m an from th e prom iscuous arrows o f Cupid:..Eor_ the negatiye anim a loves to involve a m an w ith alo to £ w o m e n ..so st-.SLto_prevent.him _from . fm&ng..thaxeal.amor,sapievíifi^,...re-ãUQYye which will depontentiate th e anima.in,hei.pfiS§essi.Qn'»J.— e .man. W h en all the colors ap p ear in th e alchem ists retort— also referred to as the p eacock ’s tail— th ey regard it as the m ost favorable sign indicating that th e w ork is about to be com pleted. And indeed, in th e parable “D e sulphure" (in the M usaeum he-rmetic u m ), the appearance o f th e colors p recedes the union in the bath which is the symbol o f the coniunctio oppositorum . Jung then points out that th e sulphur, which is described as the “inner fire o f M ercurius," evidently partakes o f the latters most 14. Ibid., par. 140.


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dangerous and m ost evil nature (found personified, for instance, as th e dragon o r th e lion). H e speaks th en o f its resem blance to th e O uroboros w hose head devours its w hole body. H e also notes that, according to a G nostic view, C hrist took on the form o f th e serpent in paradise in o rd er to te a ch A dam and E v e to discrim inate so that they should see that th e work o f th e dem iurge was im p erfect, thus accounting for the im perfections o f creation . (This G nostic dem iurge was con sidered to be th e world creator.) Jung then docum ents th e work o f m any alchem ists who p u t sulphurâ&#x20AC;&#x201D; as the arcan e substanceâ&#x20AC;&#x201D; on a level with Christ. T h erefo re th e alchem ists m ost likely m eant som ething similar. Ju n g com m ents: We would tum away in disgust from such an absurdity were it not that this analogy sometimes in clear and sometimes in veiled form, was thrust upon them by the unconscious. Certainly there could be no greater disparity than that between the holiest conception kno^n to manâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s consciousness and sulphur with its evil-smelling compounds. The analogy therefore is in no sense evidential but can only have arisen through intense and passionate preoccupation with the chemical substance, which gradually formed a tertiu m co m p a r a tio n is in the alchemists mind and forced it upon

him with the utmost insistence.15 L ater, Ju n g points out th at th e Self, as a co n cep t o f hum an totality, is by definition g re a te r than th e ego-personality as it em b races th e ego as well as th e personal unconscious shadow and th e collective unconscious. (H e also points out that the unconscious seem s so unim portant to ego-consciousness that we are m istrustful and suspicious o f it and have great difficulty in granting it an autonom ous existen ce.) H e n ce th e psychic p h en om en a o f th e Self is as full o f paradoxes as th e H indu con cep tion o f th e A tm an, w hich on the one 15. Ibid., par. 145.


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hand em b races the universe and on th e oth er dwells “no bigger than a thum b in th e h e a rt.” The E a ste rn idea o f A tm an-Purusha corresponds psychologically to th e W estern figure o f C hrist, who is th e second person o f the Trinity and G od himself, but, as far as his hum an existence is co n cern ed , conform s exactly to the ;u f fe r in g servant o f God in Isaiah— from his birth in a stable ^among th e animals to his shameful d eath on the cross betw een two thieves.16 To show this paradox even m o re clearly in th e alchem istic symbol o f sulphur, Jung notes th at this substance was, on the one hand, one o f the custom ary attributes o f hell (hell is often said to smell o f sulphur and the devil), and on th e oth er hand it is regarded as analogous to the m ost sacrosanct figure o f alchem ical philosophy. In their attem p t to stress its malicious, dangerous, and uncanny nature, the alchem ists chose th e im ages used for Christ in th e patristic literature, such as the serpent, lion, eagle, fish, and so forth. As Jung points out, this strange usage is explained by the fact that m ost o f th e patristic analogies have a negative as well as a positive asp ect.17 Jung concludes by noting that th e “alchemists had discovered th e psychological existence o f a shadow w hich opposes and com pensates the conscious, positive figure.” 18 H e sums up his chapter on sulphur as follows: The unconscious dynamism would correspond to sulphur, for compulsion is the great mystery o f human life. It is the thwarting of our conscious will and of our reason by ' an inflammable element within us, appearing now as a consuming fire and now as life-giving warmth. 19 Compulsion, therefore, has two sources: the shadow and the Anthropos. This is sufficient to explain that paradoxical nature o f 16. 17. 18. 19.

Ibid. Ibid., par. 147. Ibid., par. 148. Ibid., par. 1.51.


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sulphur; as th e “corru p ter,” it has affinities w ith th e devil, while on th e o th e r hand it appears as a parallel o f C h rist.20 W e can see, m ore or less, w hat Philaletha m eans w hen he recom m en d s th e usage o f th e "tru e sulphur” in o rd er to cleanse th e w ater. Com pulsion, on th e one hand, is negative. It is the concupiscentia, a passionate desire for otdíer j h i n g s . w h eth er th ey have a m e a n in g in life_or n p t-21 T h ese things all belong to th e realm o f th e shadow w h ich , l é f t t o itself, is apt to be purely negative as w e saw in th e case o f th e dem ons o f Jean n e Frey. On th e o th e r hand, com pulsion has, a p o i t i ve_eiem ent..w h en it entails th e longing fo:r_ the. things, o f the _.AnthrQpos,_that is, th e S e lf, w hich_all belong to_ th e fundam ental and eternal. T h e Anthropos o r Self also has th e quality o f th e totality and o f w holeness. T h erefo re it includes.the..pas,sions-jQf_í]he._.shadow b u t m akes„±he^r.elative. C om pulsion and passionate desire are given an oth er slant so th at th e shadow is un d erstood as desiring th e fundam ental and eternal. T h ese con stitu te th e tru e basis o f all o u r desires— although th ese days m ost people seem to act as if th ey a re en tirely unfon sciou s o f th e fact. W e have seen enough o f sulphur and its paradoxical nature to have a good idea o f th e m eaning o f that “true sulphur” needed to “clean se th e w ater.” W e also see how sulphur is closely related to th e con cep t o f th e “own w ater” (“I f thou know est how to m oisten this dry ea rth w ith its ow n w a t e r . . . . ”). W ith this w ater w e m ust op en th e pores of our fantasy w hen, for exam ple, in trying to proce e d with active im agination w e only find stagnation. D iscovering this text m eant a great deal to m e, for it was a w elcom e confirm ation o f m y own experience. Jung particularly stresses the necessity o f considering what is actually behind all o f o u r passionate desirousness, or, as M eister E ck h art expresses it: our longing for 20. Ibid., par. 153. 21. [C. G. Jung and Barbara Hannah employ the term concupiscentia to encompass not only the more common usage, meaning avarice, covetousness, sexual desire, and voraciousness, but intense desire in general and Freud’s pleasure principle, in short: “an emblem of the vanity of the world and o f earthly principles” (C. G. Jung, Aion, CW, vol. 9ii (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1951), par. 174). See also C. G. Jung, “The State of Psychotherapy Today” (1934), CVV, vol. 10 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1964), par. 340. Ed.]


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ou r “own way.” And h ere w e find a thirsting for the eternal which can never b e satisfied. Jung w rites: The more you cling to that which all the world desires, the t

more you are Everyman who has not yet discovered himself and stumbles through the world like a blind man leading the blind with somnambulistic certainty into the ditch. Everyman is always a multitude. Cleanse your interest o f that collective sulphur which clings to all like a leprosy. For desire only burns in order to burn itself out, and in and from this fire arises the tru e living s p ir it which generates life according to its own laws, and is not blinded by the shortsightedness of our intentions or the crude presumption of our superstitious belief in the will.22 O f th e Fo u n t o f the Knight ofT reviso in Philaletha’s text, Jung

says that the fountain is: the bath o f renewal . . . . The ever-flpwing fountain expresses a continual flow o f interest toward the unconscious, a kind of constant attention or “religio,” which might also be called d ev o tio n . The crossing o f the unconscious contents into con-

sciousness is thus made considerably easier, and this is bound to benefit the psychic balance in the long run. Diana as the numen and nymph of this spring is an excellent formulation o f the figure we know as the anima. I f attention is directed to the unconscious, the unconscious will yield up its contents, and these in tum will fructify the conscious like a fountain of living water. 23 F ro m the Logos— o r th e m an’s point o f view— the m aiden D iana is the anim a already in h er right place as the facilitative function betw een th e conscious and the unconscious. F o r w om en, D iana represents personified. E ro s _or t h e S e ] L which 22. Jung, Mysterium Coniunctionis, CW, vol. 14, par. 192; emphasis added by B. Hannah. 23. Ibid., par. 193; emphasis added by B. Hannah.


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leads us. h a c k fro m our im pris.onm ent in tho animus to o u r own fem inina, principie an d .to life.. T h e text continues: W orthless is this thief, a ^ n e d w ith the m alignity o f arsenic, f o r w hom the w in g ed y o u th fleeth , sh u d d ering. 24 W e see it was .th.e..lhie£ (for w om en, the negative animus) who stopped up th e fountain. H e not on ly_shu.L.us_Q.ff...fronL.Qur._ own-.principlo and_the. .S.elfrbuLalso.....ÍEom„the_,.pQSÍtive anim us, still_ com p letely . cut,.Q.f.fro.m_his-,,daEk_brolher,.._\w.ho„.thenjj.ust_ runs a w a y fro m him in horror. C utting us o ff from the positive aspects o f ou r animus can also be seen as an actual intention o f th e negative animus. It is only w hen E ro s reigns (along with the help o f the Self) that a w om an has any h ope o f dealing with h er animus. T h e ego is pow erless to achieve this, and w hen we try to do it in that way, the positive animus secretly steps back and escapes, n ot only from his dark negative b ro th er b ut also from ourselves. I w asted m any years b efore I discovered this fa ct from exp erien ce. T he e g o £onstandy_hficomes.„optimistic..Ju1 djhi.nks i t has ovITGO.me_the anim us, and-this-.is _the_sign;:i.l for th e th i e f to creep back in .a n d begin-his nefarious_w ork.-again,„,^^^m ust n e v e r b e sure .he isov ercom .e we ca n onI)L co n stan t l v k e e p ou r m ind on th e mfinite,_on th e Self, and h op e and pray that the Self will continually keep th e two approaches in o u r animus in their right p lace, unite th em and p reven t th em from fighting o r escaping from each other. This involves w orking on the' hiero s gamos (or “sacred m arriage”), th e only possible alternative to th e w ar b etw een the opposites. Jung co m m en ts h e re th at th e text turns back to the th ief at this point, indicating th e sh eer difficulty o f cleansing th e w ater from “leprous filth,” a real “labor o f H e rcu les.”25 H e speaks o f the th ief as “a kind o f self-robbery” and notes th at this com es from bad habits in ou r thinking (in the w om an, o f having opinions), which are unfortunately supported by tradition and ou r milieu. O ur conventional system o f edu cation supports us in thinking th at anything that can n o t b e utilized in som e way, or at least seen 24. Ibid., par. 193. 25. Ibid., par. 194.


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and touched with the hands, is w orthless or is even declared nonexistent. T h erefore we constantly u n derestim ate o r deny the soul. Jung notes th e ten d en cy for th e situation to w orsen when, in the hands o f m aterialistic philosophers, m an is red u ced to but a herd animal with exclusive recognition o f the categories o f hunger, /pow er, and sex. H e writes that w hen we succum b to th e hubris o f thinking in term s o f thousands and millions o f units: then naturally there are no questions more important than whom the herd belongs to, where it pastures, whether enough calves are born and sufficient quantities o f milk and meat are produced. In the face of huge numbers every thought o f individuality pales, for statistics obliterate everything unique . . . . Yet the real carrier of life is the individual. He alone feels happiness, he alone has virtue and responsibility and any ethics whatever. The masses and the state have nothing of the kind. Only man as an individual being lives; the state is just a system, a mere machine for sorting and tabulating the masses. Anyone . . . who thinks in terms o f men minus the individual, in huge numbers, atomizes him self and becomes a thief and a robber to himself. He is infected with the leprosy of collective thinking and has become an inmate of that insalubrious stud-farm called the totalitarian State. Our time contains and produces more than enough o f that “crude sulphur” which with “arsenical malignity” prevents man from discovering his true self.26 As we know, for w om en, it is th e animus above all who persuades us to be an E verym an , to care for the collective and ignore the individual. H e re we see th e vital im p ortan ce o f th e tru e sulphur, which the alchem ists even describe as “th e b eg etter o f every flow er and blossom on h erb and tre e ” and finally as the “painter o f all colors”; in o th er w ords, o f E ro s which drives out and replaces the opinions o f the anim us.27 T h at is, E ro s leads the 26. Ibid. 27. Ibid., par. 140.


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w om an b ack fro m th e anim us’s p o o r im itation and distortion o f m an ’s p rin cip ie L o go s, to h e r own p rin cip ie o f relatedness. T h e P h ilaleth a te x t says: a n d thou wilt have in thy p o w er the F o u n t o f th e K n ig h t o fT rev iso , w hose w aters a re rightfully dedica te d to th e m a id en D ia n a . H e re w e see exactly w hat-the .“true suIf!hu_!” caILd.Q_ to the_\Y_ater. I t not only cLeanses it, b u t i^now contains. th e e te m a l w ater, w hich.is dedicatedJ:o^]:;?ianaiwho,.. for w om en , is a sym bol o f E ro s an d th e Self. F o r th e tim e being, the negative anim us and his irrelevan t opinions have b een driven ou t, an d th e block th at c u t us o ff from th e unconscious has b een rem o v ed . T h e re fo re o u r atten tion can flow to the unconscious w hich can now also freely ap p roach o u r consciousness. Ju n g quotes G o eth e h e re : “T h at livingness I praise, which longs fo r flaming d e a th .”28 Ju n g sa y s that this m eans burning in y o u r own fire an d giving u p being-.a,.com e±,o.r.beaçoiLO _üightfor oth ers _ o r. sh q m n g . others. th e right_way.._w .th o u t. kn.Qwing_it_ f o r yourself. O n th e contra!)',. you_accepLthe-U!1 içpn§cious and. bend all v ou r efforts in an a^l:ternptfe) m m e to .terrns-.w ith.it In other wor<jls, to w ork tow ard a union o f th e opposites. O n e can clearly see h e re the nefarious side played by the negative animus. I t is especially th e animus that ignores the individual and thinks in term s o f th e 11,0 00 virgins for the next 1 0 ,0 0 0 years, as Jung on ce expressed it.29 In d eed we cannot take up a new spaper today w ithout seein g how so m any m en have enthusiastically a cce p te d and now p e rp e tra te this animus point o f view B u t th e fact that th ey a re constantly supported or even pushed into this nonsense by th eir w om en is far too little recognized. Ju n g often said th at th e greatest m erit w om en could attain is working on th eir own anim us, and now here is this m ore n ecessary than in ou r relationship to m en. A t th e beginning o f th e Second W orld W ar, I had a dream:

28. Ibid., par. 192. 29. C. G. Jung, “The Process oflndividuation,” notes on lectures given at the Eidgenossische Technische Hochschule, Zurich, June 1939-March 1940, p. 120. [The notes from these lectures were prepared by Barbara Hannah. The lecture mentioned occurred on February 23, 1940. Ed.]


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I was in Chichester Cathedral, where there used to be an unfinished chapel with its reserve o f building stones and so forth. Here I met the devil and said to him: “What a mess you are making o f the world with the war.” He said, “Excuse me,

f

this is not my fault, it is yours.” I declined that responsibility, and he answered with something like: “O f course, I do not mean you personally, I mean women, because women can deal with the dark side and with evil and, since they dont, it gets into the hands o f men wh:_o anyway can’t deal with the darker sides of life. I f the women worit try, then there are bound to be wars.”

Jung_speaksjof th e j).r s e n ic ,”. o r rather, the “arsenicalm.rnalignity” m entioned in Philalethas te x t and shows, by several quotations, that it by no m eans belongs exclusively to the masculine asp ect but is rath er herm aphroditic or even fe m in in e ;it belongs.. rather_to_the......mioo]! than^to_t:pe sun.30 I f it is accep ted by con­ sciousness— in w om en s psychology, if she is doing all she can to know h e r animus— then it works positively; if not, th en it works negatively and destructively. I f the figure is split into two— as it is h ere with the winged youth and th e thief— it m eans that it is partly accep ted and partly rejected . B oth aspects are personified and th erefore are taken for two different things. Jung often rem arked th a tw h e n things appear doubled or twofold in d re a m s, _it often m eans th at th ere is.som eth in g approaching_consciousness th a t,later,i f . we.pers.eMere, will be seen to be rçally, Qnc. Jung goes on to point ou t that the winged youth represents the true sulphur, “the spirit o f inner truth which m easures m an not by his relation to the mass but by his relation to the m ystery o f the p syche.”31 B u t the youth is obviously aw are o f his o^wn weakness, and shuddenng, he just flies away from the cru d e sulphur. The m ore overpowering the o u ter rational point of view, the m ore it threatens the inner truth. S om etim es it is only the seem ing insig30. Jung, Mysterium Coniunctionis, C\V, vol. 14, par. 195. 31. Ibid., par. 196.


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nificance o f a profound tru th that saves it. It is so small th at no one would notice if it w ere gone . . . w ere it n ot th e conditio sine q u a n o n o f in n er p eace and happiness. T he invisibility o f the winged youth should not be overlooked. In th ese days when th e totalitarian state is apparently encroaching and gaining ground everyw here, one cannot help som etim es wondering w hat would happen if it gained pow er over our o^wn hom es? H ow could we m eet it? Should it be approved w hen it would probably soon destroy us? Should one m ake concessions? It seem s to m e th ere is a third way for those o f us who realize the pow er of active imagination. W e can oppose it in that way, enduring th e ten sion b etw een the opposites, which will have far m ore effect than any ou ter action. And h ere w e are helped by the invisibility of the winged youth. W e can do active im agination and try to withstand the tension betw een the opposites without our opponents knowing that w e are opposing them . In the last resort, says Jung, it is: neither the â&#x20AC;&#x153;eighty-million strong nationâ&#x20AC;? nor the State that feels peace and happiness, but the fndividual. Nobody can ever get round the simple computation that a million [zeros] in a row do not add up to one, just as the loudest talk can never abolish the simple psychological fact that the larger the mass, the more nugatory is the individual.32 N o r is th e m ass m an ever able to add up to m ore than zero. B y believing in such fictions w e lose o u r own souls, that allim p ortan t treasure which is th reaten ed by, am ong other things, th e m aterialism o f our age. Jung often said th at w hen you get even on e h u n d red people together, th ey b eco m e little m ore than a large h ead filled with nothing but steam . T h e shy and delicate youth stands for everything that is w inged in th e psyche o r that would like to sprout wings. B ut if it dies from th e poison o f m ass m indedness, th en â&#x20AC;&#x153;the individual succum bs to th e m adness that sooner o r later overtakes every 32. Ibid.


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mass: the death-instinct o f th e lem m ings. In the political sphere, the nam e for this is war.”33 I hope it has b een clear that, in this warning against th e poisonous conviction that “th e mass o f mankind is m ore im portant than th e individual,” Jung has b een describing the nature o f both / the leprosy and how the th ief works. F ro m the w om ans point o f view, w e see h ere how th e animus works w hen h e is granted freedom to create his facts and opinions on the outside and not forced to search constantly for the inner truth. As w e saw, the positive animus is not m uch help on this point. F o r he just escapes, shuddering from what he considers to be the appalling fact that the thief, w hen purged from his extraneous character, will turn out to be his own dark shadow. T h e text continues: “A n d th o u gh the central W ater is his b rid e, yet d a re h e not display his ^nwst a rd en t love tow ards her, b eca u se o f the sna res o f th e thief, w hose m achinations a re in tru th u na vo id able.” A lthough th e w inged youth has a m uch higher ideal, th e banal im p ortan ce o f food and w arm th as the foundation o f bare existence cannot be denied. D esp ite his knowledge o f th e m ystery of th e living soul— that conditio sine qua n o n o f a m eaningful life saved from the overw helm ing pow er and brutality o f collective convictions— th e w inged youth can ­ not afford to escape his earthly, shadow opposite. Things cannot prosp er if th e opposites are so com p letely separated as they are at this point in our text. W e can n ot afford to do nothing and leave it all up to th e unconscious, fo r th en the opposites will fly apart or increasingly battle. It is very noticeable that th e decisive fight betw een the opposites is b etw een two m ale figures— evidently not only in Philalethas text (Philaletha was, o f course, a m an). W h at is o f interest to us h ere is that this fight is betw een two m ale figures in his unconscious and not b etw een th e m asculine and feminine, betw een th e m an and his anima. M y own experience goes to show that exactly the sam e thing happens in wom en. An analysis usually begins by working on the shadow and later our whole attention 33. Ibid., par. 197.


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is justifiably on the animus. B u t very often the last enem y, the real th ief and opponent o f the process o f individuation, is a piece o f th e shadow that has escap ed ou r notice. T hose o f you who h eard A ndrea D yke’s rep o rt on h e r thesis will re m e m b e r th at the w ord d a n g e r to C ecilia cam e from th e w itch and not the animus. Owing to h e r hush-hush tactics, it is the w itch w ho often escapes the w om an’s n otice. O f cou rse, the w itch is secretly encouraging the negative animus— she is even m arried to him in extrem e cases. B u t h ere it is the m asculine th ief w ho has stopped up and poisoned the very source o f Philalethas unconscious without him knowing it. In w om en, it is often a feminine figure who plays this role within her. Such a fem inine figure— in C ecilia’s case, the w itch— seem s even m ore difficult to d ete ct than the opinions o f th e animus. O ne is then faced with the task o f finding h er behind the anim us as she secretly en cou rages him in h e r opinions. Ju n g says o f this pair, th e w inged youth and th e thief: It is the age-old drama o f opposites, no matter what they are called, which is fought out in every human life. In our text it isobviously the struggle between the good and the evil spirit, expressed in alchemical language just as today we express it in conflicting ideologies.34 H e re I w ould like to rem in d you o f w hat Jung on ce said in a discussion at th e Psychological Club in Z ü rich w hen asked if th ere w ould be an atom ic war. H e replied th at he thought it w ould d ep en d on how m any people cou ld w ithstand the tension o f the opposites in them selves. I f enough cou ld w ithstand this tension, h e thou gh t ato m ic w ar m ight ju st b e avoided. (H ere Ju n g s statem en t parallels the principle o f the rainm aker o f K iautschou.)35 B u t if th at w ere n ot th e case and the atom bom b w ere to be used on a large scale, he had little doubt th at our cultu re w ould b e en tirely destroyed. 34. Ibid., par. 199. 35. Sir Herbert Read, Zum 85. Geburtstag von P rof DI'. Carl Gustav Jung (Zürich: Rascher Verlag, 1960), pp. 27f. [The details of the story are rendered below. Ed.]


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It is the winged youth who is b etroth ed to the central water, the fountain o f wisdom, th e sou rce o f the in n er life. T h e winged youth is evidently Sol and the cen tral w ater is L u n a , and he will n ever be whole until he has m arried her. H owever, as his fear o f the th ief separates him from her, it is clear th at h e m ust first I accep t his opposites right to existence before he can approach his bride. W h en he finds th e cou rage to do this— w hen w e have found the bit o f ou r shadow that is secretly thw arting us— th en he will have all the qualities that will enable him to win her. H ere we have the union o f opposites in potentia, but it only becom es real if m ortal and im m ortal can be united. Clearly the thief— through accep tan ce m ade relative— has to be included if the union in ou r actual lives is to be real. Particularly if w e are intuitive types, w e so often fly with the w inged youth, ignoring o r escaping from our oth er side, and then we have not really achieved anything at all. From . o.ur_point,ofview— th at is, the point o f view o f feminine psychology— Jung often^said thatJn_dxej^^ms_11ndjactive_.imagination the. animus .did first w hatever.the. wfflnan would later have to do herself. In o th er words, w e can n ot just passively let the animus do it for us w ithout our knowledge. W e have to be conscious that this split m ust be seen first in the animus, in our unconscious mind, and that later we m ust bring it into reality in our own lives. L e t us take, for exam ple, th e idea th at w e really do aspire to individuate and wish for this m ore than anything else, but we m ust realize at the sam e tim e th at we are m ore afraid o f sh eer individuation than anything else. I am rem inded h ere o f Ju n gs marvelous passage in Psychology a n d A lchem y: What is particularly noteworthy here is the consistent development of the central symbol [of the center]. We can hardly escape the feeling that the unconscious process moves spiral-wise round a center gradually getting closer, while the characteristics of the center grow more and more distinct. Or perhaps we' could put it the other way around and say that the center— itself virtually unknowable— acts like a magnet


Anim us and Eros

on the disparate materiais and processes of the unconscious and gradually captures them as in a crystal lattice. For this reason the center is . . . often pictured as a spider in its web, especially when the conscious attitude is still dominated by fear o f unconscious processes. But if the process is allowed to take its course . . . then the central symbol, constantly renewing itself, will steadily and consistently force its way through the apparent chaos o f the personal psyche and its dramatic entanglements . . . . Indeed, it seems as if all the personal entanglements and dramatic changes of fortune that make up the intensity oflife were nothing but hesitations, timid shrinkings, almost like petty complications and meticulous excuses for not facing the finality o f this strange and uncanny process of crystallization. Often one has the impression that the personal psyche is running around this central point, like a shy animal, at once fascinated and frightened, always in flight, and yet steadily drawing nearer.36 1

This is a good description o f w hat is happening in the case of thejpositive-animus in o u L te x t H e .is fascinated hyihe£o.urce,_yei he is in co n sta L flig h L frQ m .th e , negatryte.ammjus., the thief. And w e have to bring them to g eth er m ore or less intellectually as a prologue to a com plete union with our o^wn shadow, o f consciousness and th e unconscious. Ju n g says that the actual m eaning o f the union o f opposites transcends hum an imagination. Therefore the worldly-wise can dismiss such a “fantasy” without further ado . . . . But that doesn’t help us much, for we are dealing with an eternal image, an archetype, from which man can tum his mind for a time but never permanently. Whenever this image is obscured, his life loses its proper meaning and consequently its balance. So long as 36. C. G. Jung, Psychology and Alchemy (1944), CW, vol. 12 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1968), pars. 325f.


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84

he knows that he is the carrier o f hfe and that it is therefore important for him to live, then the mystery o f his soul lives also— no matter whether he is conscious o f it or not. But ifh e no longer sees the meaning of his hfe in its fulfillment, and no longer believes in man’s eternal right to this fulfillment, then he has betrayed and lost his soul, substituting for it a madness which leads to destruction, as our time demonstrates so 37

Ju n g th en turns to th e sta tem en t in th e text that says that the m achinations o f th e th ie f are unavoidable and som ehow we m ust co m e to grips w ith this form o f evil. In th e ch a p te r on his “L ate T h ou gh ts” in his m em oir, h e ^ i t e s : Light is followed by shadow, the other side o f the Creator. This development reached its peak in the twentieth century. The Christian world is now truly confronted by the principle o f evil, by naked injustice, tyranny, lies, slavery and coercion o f conscience. This manifestation of naked evil has assumed apparently permanent form in the Russian nation; but its first violent eruption came in Germany. The outpouring o f evil revealed to what extent Christianity has been undermined in the twentieth century. In the face o f that, evil can no lon­ ger be minimized by the euphemism of the p r iv a tio b o n i. Evil has become a determinant reality. It can no longer. be dismissed from the world by a circumambulation. We must learn how to handle it, since it is here to stay. How we can live with it without terrible consequences cannot for the present be conceived.38 G ood and evil w ithin ourselves, h e notes: are an integral part o f the fateful drama o f opposites, just as the shadow belongs to the light . . . . Evil cannot be eradicated 37. Jung, Mystevium Coniunctionis, CW'; vol. 14, par. 201. 38. Jung, M emones, Drearns, Reflections, pp, 328-29.


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85

once and for all; it is an inevitable component of life and is not to be had without paying for it [directly or indirectly]. The th ief whom the police do not catch has, nonetheless, robbed himself, and the murderer is his own executioner.39 To th ese observations, h e adds: Therefore the individual who wishes to have an answer to the problem o f evil, as it is posed today, has need first and foremost of self-knowledge, that is, the utmost possible knowledge o f his o^n wholeness. He must know relentlessly how much good he can do, and what crimes he is capable of, and must beware o f regarding the one as real and the other as illusion. Both are elements within his nature, and both are bound to come to light in him, should he wish— as he ought— to live without self-deception or self-delusion.40 ^h^!:L!P-ie!Jin our te x !:is arrqed„w ith -alL ev il,- h u L r gaUy it is ultim.at.elly _the. ...ego with .its shadow ‘‘w h ere th e abysmal dep^hs o f hum an n ature b egm jto appear. ”41 Jung th en goes into the psychological necessity o f ceasing to p ro ject th e shadow, as is being sham elessly done by th e w inged youth: One realizes, first o f all, that one cannot project ones shadow on to others, and next that there is no advantage in insisting on [another’s] guilt, as it is so much more important to know and possess ones own, because it is part o f one’s own self and a necessary factor without which nothing in this sublunary world can be realized. Though it is not said that Luna personifies the dark side, there is as we have seen something very suspicious about the new moon. Nevertheless the winged youth loves his moon-bride and hence the darkness to which she belongs, for the opposites not only flee 39. Jung, Mysterium Coniunctionis, CW, vol. 14, par. 202. 40. Jung, M emories, Dreams, Reflections, p. 330. 41. Jung, Mysterium Coniunctionis, CW, vol. 14, par. 203.


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one another but also attract one another. We all lmow that evil, especially if it is not scrutinized too closely, can be very attractive, and most o f all when it appears in idealistic garb. Ostensibly it is the wicked thief that hinders the youth in his love for the chaste Diana, but in reality the evil is already lurking in the ideal youth and in the darlmess o f the new moon, and his chief fear is that he might discover himself in the role of the common sulphur. This role is so shocking that the noble-minded youth cannot see him self in it and puts the blame on the wiles o f the enemy.42 H ere he m ust stop being so childish and dare to know him self w here— and to whom— th e dark side obviously belongs. T he text continues: H e re m ay D iana b e propitious to thee, w ho know eth how to tam e w ild beasts. H ere we are directly told that Diana, as th e symbol o f E ro s, is the only one w ho can help us. W e cannot unite th e opposites w ithout E ro s, and m oreover it is only she who can tam e th e wild beasts in us. As m any o f you know from experience, certainly for w om en, it is only love that can give us th e incentive to tam e ou r wild beasts, n ot only our personal rages and desires, but also th e ten d en cy to tu m away from the light o f the opposites in th e individual and let ourselves be possessed by mass m indedness. W e com e now to o f D iana who will tem p er the malignity o f the a ir w ith th eir w ings. Jung says th at, as a th eriom orphic symbol, it would b e possible to interpret th e d o e s “from above downward,” and indeed w e know now from Konrad Loren z that in reality doves a re often very cru el to each oth er and anything but p eacefu l.43 B u t Jung says th at it would b e w rong to interp ret th em negatively th at way h ere, for they are m eant as th e symbol o f innocence and m arital love, o f the hieros gam os in its highest form , for instance, C hrist and his virgin m other. Christ always speaks o f doves in a positive way, for instance: “B e ye wise as serpents and harm less as doves” (M att. 1 0 :1 6 ). All o f 42. Ibid. 43. K. Lorenz, On Aggression (London: Routledge Classics, 1966).


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P h ila le th a s asso ciatio n s to doves w ould presum ably have b een b a se d o n th e g e n e ra l positive, p eacefu l in terp retatio n o f them a t th a t tim e , a n d th e y w ou ld rep resen t th e exact opposite o f the thief. T h is p a ir o f op p osites, Jung says, represents^an attack from _bo__t:h_sides-(first th e o n e , th en th e o th er) qh r c s t ric tc d .h u n uni p<Tn.sclousness-,-Th e pu.r p nse.n fth i.s-a.ssaultf:t:r^Qill._both..sides~-is-the. w id en in g o f c o n s c io u s n ^ s . Ju n g com m en ts: It is obviously a moment of supreme possibilities both for good and evil. Usually, however, it is first one :and then th e other: the good man succumbs to evil, the sinner is converted to good, and that, to an uncritical eye, is the end o f the matter. B ut those endowed with a finer moral sense or deeper insight cannot deny that this seeming one-afteranother is in reality a happening o f events side-by-side, and perhaps no one has realized this more clearly than St. Paul, who knew that he bore a thorn in the flesh and that the m essenger of Satan smote him in the face lest he be â&#x20AC;&#x153;exalted above measure.â&#x20AC;? The one-after-anothejr is a bearable prelude to the deeper knowledge o f the side-by-side, for this is an incomparably more dif f i cult problem. Again, the view that good and evil are spiritual forces outside us, and that man is caught in the conflict between them, is m ore bearable by far than the insight that the opposites are the ineradicable and indispensable preconditions of all psychic life, so much so that life itself is guilt. Even a life dedicated to God is still lived by an ego which speaks of an ego and asserts an ego in Godâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s despite, which does not instantly merge itself with God but reserves for itself a freedom and a will which it sets up outside God and against him. How ca n it do this against the overwhelming might of God? Only through self-assertion, which is as sure o f its free will as Lucifer. All distinction from God is separation, estrangement, a falling away.44 44. Jung, Mysteriwn Coniunctionis, CW, vol. 14, par. 206.


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In a seminar, Jung on ce said that doubt was the cro -^ o f life and that all certain ty was m erely on e-sid ed. F o r in uncertainty and doubt, truth and e rro r com e together. D ou b t is life, truth is often stagnation and death. W h en you are in doubt, you have the greatest opportunity to unite the dark and the light sides o f life.45 / And indeed in my experience the m ost difficult thing to stand is never being s u re one was right in a decision. O ne m u st decide, and once decided, one m ust support on eself in the decision, and yet at the sam e tim e one m ust stand th e fact that one m ay have been quite wrong. Som ew here, as Jung told m e years before I understood this experience, one knows one had to decide that way, y et the doubt is ju st as real; one m ay have decided wrong. D irectly w hen one is too sure, th en only one opposite is being considered. T h at, as far as I understand it, is a tru e aspect o f the incom parably m ore difficult problem o f experiencing the oppo­ sites side by side. Evidently the “malignity o f the air” caused by the th ief has been tem p ered by the wings o f D iana’s doves. In o th er words, E ro s has prevailed sufficienüy for the hieros ga^rrws to proceed, for the text continues: so that the youth easily entereth in through the pores, a n d instantly shaketh the fo u n d a tio n s o f the earth, a nd raiseth u p a dark clo u d .46 Through the propitiousness o f D iana and h e r twin doves, E ros is sufficiently able to facilitate the relationship betw een the winged youth and his own dark side (the thief) so th at the youth is able to overcom e his fear and have the courage to approach and unite with the bride w hom he loves m ost ardently. M oreover, D iana’s doves have tem p ered the m alignity o f the air with their wings. T h at m eans that they have m ade the sh eer evil o f the thief relative so that the union o f consciousness and shadow could take place as the necessary prologue to the far d eep er union betw een the m ale and the fem ale, sun and m oon, spirit and earth. This stage is not depicted in the text but it m ust have taken place o r the 45. C. G. Jung, Dream.Analysis:.Notes o fth e Seminar Given in 1928-1930 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1984), p. 89. 46. Jung, Mysterium Coniunctionis, CW, vol. 14, par. 206.


Anim us and Eros

w inged youth would still be escaping from th e th ief and w ould not have th e m asculine initiative to unite with his bride. ln ou r t e x t th ^ Q 2B Í« n_rrto takes p la c e o f fs ta g e . so to sp ea k . InllCLthe^^mds.,J.t was b rou g h t f rth . by .ExQS_an;d.not by .th e . con sciou.s....ego_As E ro s .is in th e L r e a lm o f the, a n im a,.íh e. u nconsciou s f o r m an ^ th isjw ou lkL n ecessarily he_so, b u jJ . ,,do1bJ ^ M £th e>.s!:l!!le -is_, tru e fo r w qm en h ere. E ro s is w o m a n s o^ra p rin cip le o fw b ic h sh e c o uld c on stan tly.be conscious. ,au..d, she.aLso.needs.to be.Gons.cious o f ,the„opposites: a rd e n td o v e „ n d -fe a r. T h is c o n flict she h e rs e lf n eed s to b rin g in to h er conscious m in d . This union o f w in g e d y o u th and. th ie £ .h a p p e s.:b e ca u se _ ih e ro.alignii.y,„th.e..Jsh eer evil-th at the- th ie f has b een . spreading.in. the air,.h.as_be.en.,tempered,. Jth a tis ,its absolute, and extraneous quality_has been_cast_out. by.love. H is b ride, m oreover, is p erfectly capable o f accep tin g and dealing with his dark side, for only as a m ore com p lete and w hole being can he b e an ad equate partn e r fo r th e m oon with its dark and light sides. W e can see the m oon ’s dark side in th e age-old p ra ctice o f bow ing to th e new m oon an d turning ou r atten tion an d o u r en ergy tow ard h e r lest she b e d estructive and dash o u r joy in th e full m oon to w hom the gathering in o f th e harvest (th e harvest m oon) and th e success o f o u r hunting endeavors (the h u n ter’s m oon) have b een long attributed. W e .se e h e re what,the,,devil m e a n tin my.dream :w:h.en,he told 1m e. in _C h içh ester.C ath ed ral.that. the.w ar.w ^s,the. fault o f w om an because.shh!H:.ould.de,S„::w:i.th,evil,ía r more_ e a sily .th @ m an . E r o s is part,ofjQ!ixjv.:exy..nature— it is ou r principle, so to speak— a n d its chief. .sym hol,_the_^on,.,.has„dark..a n d lig h t, im its. cycle, wh e reas the ch i e f sym bol o f.L o g o s ,,.th e sun,_,is,,a lL lig h t ,when.ey£í,j,t .is.. g^m.s.ent, T h at is m an’s principle, th e Logos, o f which he is fully conscious w hen he unites with his bride, th e m oon. M an can only gradually in tegrate and transform such a onesided attitude to darkness and evil, far m ore gradually than w om an, for whom it is already to g eth er with the light in our fem inine principle. It is easier for w om an to b ecom e conscious of th e opposite in h er mind. N ew and upsetting ideas com e mucli


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m ore easily to hIT, Jung once said at a sem inar that if a m atchstick freed itself from the law o f gravity and quietly floated, every w om an in the room would excitedly crow d around to see the phenom enon w hereas all th e m en would initially try to deny it, and if this did not su cceed , th ey would escape out the door. On the / oth er hand, th e union o f the opposite sexes takes place m ore in the conscious o f m en. Jn n g w a s m o re than once struck b v th e lack o f con scious realization o f the innfir_meamng...oLs.exuah:f¥in-t;hew o m en ' he. m el. T h ey m ight marry, have several children, m ore than one love affair, yet lack conscious awareness o f the potential inner m eaning o f their sexual desires and pursuits. W e get an idea o f th e im penetrable m ystery o f the hieros gam os w hen we realize that th e youth unites not only with the etern al W ater b u t also with the bride for whom he feels ardent love, with the earth, and with th e m aiden D iana . . . a s if they w ere all one and the sam e thing. W hich indeed they are, for garrtos includesuill the oppositBsJHem_we.araalready.to-in.lhe.-realm-o f the absolute. and beyond o u r com prehension. Butit-is~jusfe-Gontem plating this.sort of.myste.ry. th at.produces .the.nece.ssary “o ^ w ater” that w e. saw at-the~begmningjo£.Q:ULÍe&.JLi_i&-t - h i ^ ^ n .w ater”.that enahles us.to establish a re la tio n to s omelthing.infiJ.Jite a n d helps J!s _answer whatJung...callsLthe decisiYe . question o f every life in th e a ffirm a tiy e .47 W e shall never understand rationally how the eternal water, the earth, and the m aiden D iana can be one and the sam e thing, b u t if we try to think o f it synchronistically, that is, in term s o f the u n u s m u n d u s, as an archetype that is constellated e v e ^ w h e re , we can get closer to it. T he renow ned Sinologist R ich ard W ilhelm tells the story o f a rainm aker from the province o f Schantung who was asked to com e to Kiautschou, w here a severe drought had long oppressed the land. As soon as the m an arrived he asked that a small hut be built for him at the edge o f the city. W h en the hut was com pleted he m oved in with the request that nobody disturb him. H e rem ained in this hut th ree days and th ree nights, and on the m orning o f th e fourth day a snow storm broke over the city, a type 47. Jung, Memories, Dreams, Reflections, p. 325.


Anim us and Eros

o f storm th at nobody had e v er exp erien ced at th at tim e o r season o f th e year. W h en W ilhelm h eard this story h e w ent to visit the rainm aker and asked him how he had m anaged to m ake it snow. T h e m an answ ered th at it was not he w ho had m ade it snow. H e was simply th e p erson w ho had co m e from Schantung w h ere everything was m ore or less in order. H e re in K iautschou, however, heaven and earth w ere separated, everything was wrong, and h e n eed ed th ree days and nights ju st to get him self in order. And in th e m om en t when he finally was able to get him self in order, then it began to rain and snow.48 R eferrin g to W ilhelm ’s story o f th e rainmaker, M arie-L ou ise von F ra n z recen tly p oin ted o u t th at th e m an had rea ch e d th e condition o f Tao w hen he to u ch ed this arch etyp e in th e col­ lective unconscious w hich is e v e ry w h e re . This accou n ts for his ap p aren t ability to break th e terrib le d rought as well as for its far-reach in g effect. It is interesting th at th e first resu lt o f th e hiero s ga^mos, th e sa cre d m arriage, is to. shake th e e a rth to its foundations and p ro du ce a black cloud. As Ju n g says, it is an “earthing” o f th e spirit and th e “spiritualizing o f th e e a rth .”49 Naturally, such an enorm ous chan ge does shake o n e’s previous consciousness to its foundations and p rod u ces a dark cloud. Consciousness has been darkened but also widened. O ne can no longer believe in th e victory o f light— in on e’s good intentions, for instance— b ecause th at is one-sided thinking, and in th e future w e have to try to w ithstand both the light a n d d ark side by side. I would like to rep eat a story I tell rath er often b ecause I think it m akes this passage in th e text clearer. M y m oth er died when I was fifteen, and h er g reat friend, my godm other— a real pillar o f th e ch u rch and state— th en used to co m e stay with us tw ice a year with th e excu se that she was com in g "to see if your fath er was behaving him self, my dear.” She could be a quite alarm ing lady in th e household, so I usually restrained m yself from making the m ost o f m y usual opportunities. O n ce I was quite angry with my 48. Read, Zum 85. Geburtstag von Professor Dr. Carl Gustav Jung, pp. 27f. 49. Jung, Mysterium Coniunctionis, CW, vol. 14, par. 207.


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father, whose horse had escaped its box and destroyed m y bicycle, because he refused to pay a penny o f the expensive repairs. My rage m ade m e tell m y god m oth er th e whole story. She looked very thoughtful and then asked m e how th e household books w ere handled: did I have to show them or only give th eir total? It was the / latter. “So it is quite sim ple,” she said, “you will simply add £ 1 .0 0 a w eek until th e bicycle is paid for.” I gasped and asked if th at would not be dishonest? She asked m e not to b e so stupid; it was not a m atter of dishonesty, b u t o f how to get on with a difficult man. At the tim e, I felt exactly as though the foundations o f my earth had b een shaken and a black cloud was obscuring m y p revious b elief that “honesry was always the b est policy.” W h atever I was, I was always undeviatingly honest! M y godm other shudd ered at this Logos conviction and p resen ted m e with the E ro s point of view. W h en I recovered , I followed h e r advice, and never again did m y father and I have a row about money, w hich then, naturally, greatly im proved our daily life and relationship. W h en I told Jung this story, he said: “N ow th at was a rem arkable woman. I should have liked to have known h er.” J T he text continues: B u t thou wilt lead th e w aters u p even to the brightness o f the m oon. Ju n g notes h ere th at w ater has the m eaning o f “fructifying in terest,” and this was exactly w hat my godm other had done for m e. She had, so to speak, led m y fructi­ fying interest up to th e m oon, to E ro s, to m y fem inine principle. I simply had not known b efore th at th e m ost im portant aspect of living with a m an, especially a difficult m an like m y father, was to keep life pleasant for him and for myself, and th at this was far m ore im portant than indulging m yself in the idiotic illusion of being unswervingly honest on such insignificant issues! This th e m e o f the w aters bein g led up to the m o o n -—instead of up to th e sun— is ra th e r surprising since it is com ing from a man and shows th at it arises out o f a d eep er layer o f the unconscious. F o r it also fits fem inine psychology perfectly. It is clear that m en m ust also b ecom e conscious o f - th eir E ros, w hich first entails becom ing conscious o f th eir anima, the m aiden Diana. F a r b etter than the sun, the m oon unites th e opposites with its phases from


Anim us and Eros

93.

dark and new m oon ( usually negative) and th e highly positive full m oon. T h e m ild light o f th e m oon is m o re suitable for seeing th e right way to re la te , w hereas th e pitiless intensity o f th e sun reveals every o b stacle. As P h ilaleth a was a m an, this m ust th en also be n ecessary for m en, although it is m u ch m o re clearly o u r way, th e way o f w om en. You should read w hat Ju n g says about this in “T h e M o o n -N atu re,” th e next ch a p te r o f M y steriu m C on iu n ctio n is, for h e re (as th ey say in G erm an ) I ca n only p ick a few raisins o u t o f th e cak e. O n this th e m e , Jung says: The error in our formulation lies in the fact, firstly, that we equated the moon with the unconscious as such, whereas the equation is true chiefly of the unconscious o f a man; and secondly, that we overlooked the fact that the moon is not only dark but is also a giver o f light and can therefore represent consciousness. This is indeed so in the case o f woman: he.r consciousness has a luna_r_ rather .h;i.n_a_solar_ character. Its light is the “mild” hght_of t±te moon, .\lllhich merges. things together .rather. than _sep.araies-.hem. 1It does not show up objects i11 all their pitiless iscreten ess .!!ndseparateness,Jike the harsh, glaring light of the day, but blends in a deceptive shimmer the near and the far, m aicallyJransform m g_httle things into big things, high into low, softeIJijag .alLcolors. into a bluish .haze, and blendiIJg. the nocturnal .landscap^mta-an unsuspected unity. _ For purely psychological reasons I have, in other o f my writings, tried to equate the masculine consciousness with the concept of Logos and the feminine with that of Eros. y

Logos I meant &scrimination, judgment,_insight, and by

Eros I meant the capacityto relate. I regarded both concepts as intuitive ideas which cannot be defined accurately or exhaustively. From the scientific point of view this is regrettable, but from a practical one it has its value, since the two concepts mark out a field of experience which it is equally difficult to define.50 50. Ibid., par. 224.


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Logos and Eros are intellectually formulated intuitive equivalents of the archetypal images of Sol and Luna. In my view the two luminaries are so descriptive and so superlatively graphic in their implications that I would prefer them to the more pedestrian terms Logos and Eros, although the latter /

do pin down certain psychological peculiarities more aptly than the rather indefinite “Sol and Luna.” The use of these images requires at any rate an alert and lively fantasy, and this is not an attribute of those who are inclined by temperament to purely intellectual concepts. These offer us something finished and complete, where as archetypal image has nothing but its naked fullness, which seems inapprehensible by the intellect. Concepts are coined and negotiable. values; images are life.51.. And finally: It needs a very moon-like consciousness indeed to hold a large family together regardless of all the differences, jand to talk and act in such a way that the harmonious relation of the parts to the whole is not only not disturbed but is actually enhanced. And where h e ditch.is_toq.deep, a ray of moonliglit sm oothesit over. A.clas_sic _exampleof this is the concilia^tmy_J2 r^osal_ of St. Catherine_of,Alexandria in Anatole France's_P€!.!gYÍt1.$?1r.1d.-_ .The heavenly council had come to a deadlock over the question of baptism, since although the penguins were animals they had been baptized by St. Mael. Therefore she says: ‘T h at is why, Lord, I entreat you to give old Mael’s penguins a human head and breast so that they can praise you worthily. And grant them also an immortal soul— but only a little one.”52 O ne_m ight even_say that. th e main.„:piarp.Qse..o£„WQrMng..on_the animus is to le a d our in terest b a c k to, the m o o n ,_ th a tjs ,b a ç k to 51. Ibid., par. 226. 52. Ibid., par. 227.


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a wom an’s o^wn p.d.JJ.çiple,_ELQ§,_SQj.:!,t^he m ay be.the .cQunterpart of man (and man the_ reafco u n terp art o f woman). and not s:i,_ weak imitation. T h e te x t ends with: A n d th e d a rk n ess that was u p o n th e fa c e o f th e d eep shall b e scattered by th e sp irit m oving o v e r th e w aters. T h u s b y G o d ’s c o m m a n d shall th e L ig h t appear. Ju n g com m en ts that: The eye that hitherto saw only the darkness and danger of evil turns towards the circle of the moon, where the ethereal realm o f the immortals begins, and the gloomy deep can be left to its own devices, for the spirit now moves it from within, convulses and transforms it.53 T h e result then is that “the unconscious is no longer so rem ote and strange and terrifying” and the w ay has been paved fo r an eventual union betw een the conscious and the unconscious.54 W h e n one rem em b ers that at the beginning o f the text, the w hole u nconscious was b locked off from consciousness by an evil spirit— th at is, by all o u r animus opinions— so that active im agination and any com m union b etw een conscious and the unconscious was virtually impossible, we shall realize w hat a com plete transform ation E ro s has brought about, and how different the situation is from the com plete block with w hich w e started. O n ce w^recove:r:fr.9 m t h e sh o ck .of.everythingbeingsh aken _!to U:s,.foundations- and- getm ore-u sed ~to-exp erien cin g,th e. opposites s^i^ie ?.y side, w e .find that it is indeed an illuniinatio n andthaL once m ore .w e have... exp erienced,.thatJthe_darkesLho,uccoraes ,b.efore dawn. I f you read Jung’s chapter on visions in Me^rrwries, Drea'ms, Reflections, you will see that a last union o f the opposites belongs rath er to life-after-death. W e shall probably never experience a lasting union o f the opposites in this world. Yet every tim e w e expe­ rience a bit o f it, o r try to face the unknown, o r withstand the ten ­ sion betw een the opposites, w e are contributing an infinitesimal 53. Ibid., par. 211. 54. Ibid.


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grain on the world scales. As Jung expressed it, it is both m odern m en and w om en as a whole and th e individual who is the “makeweight that tips the scales” to avoid another world conflagration.55 This well concludes w hat I w ould like to say about Philalethas text. Looked at as best I could from th e fem inine point o f view, I

.

p.,ould like to point out th at all o f th e activityLÍn_our.textthas. Jb e en e n acted by th e symbols o f S o l ,o f Logos. T h e machinationsja.nd general evil doing o f the thief, th- e-------m nn-----ing awav a full - tilt and O • ---" - o o ~ ------- — . . ü

th e sh u d d erin gof liisopposite, th e winged youth . . . all these are symbols o f the m asculine opposite. o f E ro s .. W h en at last the two unite, it is the male that takes the active role in the coniunctio. X h es^ ^ b o ls o£th e femininne.have all.been passive @ d receptive.;.they h a v e re m ^ n e d . st:iJ).. Diana, by being propitious and by sending h er pair o f doves to tem per the malignity o f the air with their wings, thus tem pers th e evil o f the th ief until it can be accepted by his opposite, the winged youth . .The earth,-moon,.- and. w ater.are aH.feminine s^ymbols,passiveby.nature, so theyalLgo.w.eU togeth er taki_n,g_up the passive role in the hiem s gamos. W o m e n wQuld be weli.,,advised_tó.-xeroemberjhis_and to..realize how m u ch m ore th ev .can contribute-in- cerl.ain ..situations bv keeping theaniN .us still. and. them selves-quiet-untilr.rem aining.in that stillness, they are able to h e a r. the. v o ice o£Go.od,~or_the_Sfilf, for h ere w e shallfind that th e u n con sciou sis able to approach.us w hen it wishes- As Jung o n ce told m e, if one can b e quiet for a tim e, th en th ere is a good chance o f one being able to say som ething really w orth while. T h e fem inine, as he said, overcom es by taking on and holding out suffering; th e masculine overcom es by being active and killing th e dragon. Logos is an active principie, E ro s receptive and passive.56 55. C. G. Jung, “The Undiscovered Self (Present and Future)” (1957), in CW, vol. 10 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1964), pars. 586-87. 56. [Neither Hannah nor Jung Uterally mean that men— per se— should solely challenge adversity in an active and assertive manner, women solely in a passive and receptive manner. She is addressing here two different ways of coping w th adversity— masculine and feminine, active and passive— neither of which is gender specific and both of which are open to men and women alike in accordance to the specific situation in which they are embroiled. She succinctly claiifies this point in her discussion on the symbolism of the lion in The Archetypal Symbolism ofAninwls (2006, p. 307). Ed.]


The AnimLM Problem in M odern Women

Editor's

Note: Barbara Hannahs tw o lectures,

"The Animus

Problem in Modern W o m en " (1962) and "Fem inine Psychology in Literature" (1957), w ere about ninety percent identical in structure and wording. In order to avoid redundancy, they have been synthesized here into one essay, integrating all the information. JI n t r o d u c t io n

W h e n I was asked to give a title to m y lectu res on the animus the last tim e I gave this co u rse, nine years ago, I suggested “The Animus C o co o n .” This_title hits the nail on the head, for it points to_ty'ojJlfiliLasgectspf£u:úmu§:,£i,çthiJ;).'.the way the animus isolates i_W.QlJlanJrQ.ill h er j3nvi,ronment b L lR Í n m n g a web o f opinions bejtw-een.hei::and.reality,,a n d jh e fa ct th at if th is ãs^accepted. and reaJiz.ed,_,thJ.su>:Ye b,-y e t,t1.1msL.out .to.have_free11.. a .co co o n in which th e ch rysalis oft;he ;-Yo[O_an\spmtcsin h atch out oi: tran sfarm in to a 'Y n g e ilb e in g . N ev erth eless, th e title was re je cte d

on the reason ab le

grounds th at it w ould b e co m p letely in com p reh en sib le to the gen eral public. It was, how ever, su ggested to m e th at th e course could have tw o n am es, an o u te r one p rin ted in the p ro g ram and an in n er one for th e class itself. T h e anim us co co o n really does convey th e m ain id ea o f th ese le ctu re s, and I should like you to b e a r it in m ind. H ow ever, as I d on ’t c a re for decking m yself in b o rro w ed feath ers, I should like to m ention th at the expres-


98

The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

sion “animus co coo n ” was originally co in ed by M arie-L o u ise von F ran z. T he animus prob lem is ind eed th e problem p ar excellence for every m odern woman. It is also a central issue— albeit indirectly— for every m odern m an, for this co n ce p t is a key which unlocks / a great m any puzzles for him in his w ifes (or o th er w om ens) incom prehensible behavior. In this lectu re, the anim a will also be discussed as th e counterp art of th e animus. In fact, in one o f th e books I may work on in this cou rse (T h e Evil V in e y a rd by M arie H ay), the m aterial continually lends itself to being considered not only from the ani­ mus but also from th e anim a point o f view.1 D espite this fact, it m ust yet be em phasized th at th e two are so d ifferent th at one can n ever draw d irect conclusions from one to the other. F o r instance, although I would confidently say, as Jung has often said before m e, that th e animus is th e m ain problem o f m odern wom an, I should hesitate to assert th at th e anim a is the m ain problem o f m odern m an; in fact, it w ould be com pletely misleading w ere I to do so. Iw Q u ld ra th e rs a y the a n im u s is the prim ary p ro h lem o f every wom an and-the anim a -a se c o n d ^ y — although nevertheless a vital-::p rob lem for every.. man, This com es from the fact th a t th ere have b een for several generations a surplus o f w om en (a fact th at I understand has already begun to turn into its opposite). N ature probably never does anything unnecessarily o r meaninglessly, and this apparent loss o f equilibrium has, as is well kno^wn, had the result o f making innum erable w om en leave th e tim e-honored p attern o f being exclusively wives and m others, o r at least aunts, in o rd er to en ter th e masculine professional sphere in every variation. B ecause o f this, .a ...woman m eets h e r anim us .problem as. a 12rim ary con sid eration in h e r w o r k -— as..w elLas i n h e r relation to m an a n d .family. M an, on th e o th er hand, still ten d s to have his work in a sphere relatively free o f th e anima. T h erefo re, th e anim a usually only begins to play a visible role w hen it 1. Marie Hay. The Evil Vineyard (London: Tauchnitz, 1923). See also “The Problem of Women’s Plots in Marie Hay’s The Evil Vineyard” in volume two. Ed.]


The Anim us Problem in Modern Women

99

com es to relating to w om en. T h e re fo re , m an usually-— although o f co u rse n o t always— b e co m e s aw are o f his anim a and o f the w o m e n ’s anim us to g e th e r, w h ereas w om an, „usu& Uy-:again_not always,;^tumbles~_Qver„,hg,r a n im u s. lon g ..h efoxtL sh e.. b e c o m e s . aw are o f m a n s anima."' T h e anim a, o f cou rse, is ju st as great a 11ow er and jan oxe.i::w helm ing jnfluence._in_men'.s lives as .the^animu&in w o m en ’s. I am only speaking o f th e way w e usually first b ecom e aw are o f th e se tw o figures. T he m o re obtrusive o f the tw o is the animus am ong m o d em w om an, th erefore she finds h erself confronted w ith an enorm ous problem that, ad m ittedly can only be solved within herself. T h e standpoint from w hich th e m aterial in this lectu re is discussed will slightly change planes in th at I shall speak less exclusively o f the anim us and m ore o f th e whole psychology o f w om en. N evertheless, th e animus plays such a leading role in the w riting o f w om en s books that the spotlight is bound to fall upon him w hen w e com e to w om en authors. H e is indeed such a vital prob lem for wqm en th at Jung on ce told- m e that the m ost m eritorious thing a w om an could do was work upon h er own animus. It is hardly possible, however, for h e r to do this until she has— to som e exten t— dealt with th e problem o f th e shadow. T h e size o f this problem appears very clearly in !F o - d je a ro s,I had w hen I was just beginning to prep are for one o f my earliest sem inars on the anim us. T h e first o f th ese dream s cam e directly after a course I had held on “E g o and Shadow”: I w a s w a lk in g a b o u t so m e b u ild in g s o r la b o r a to r ie s w h e r e I a p p a ren tly w o rk ed . It w a s in a s k y s c r a p e r o f sorts, a n d a t o n e p o in t th e ceilin g w a s o p e n rig h t u p to t h e top o f th e r o o f I th en fo u n d th a t a ll m y thin gs h a d b e e n m o v e d in to this ar ea , w h ic h w a s evid en tly b ein g a r r a n g e d a s m y n ew office. I w a s in d ig n an t a n d a s k ed , h o w w a s su ch a th in g p o ssib le? I ex p la in ed th a t 1 w a s v ery h a p p y in m y sm all s q u a r e o ffic e a n d h a d n o in ten tion o f m oving. B u t I w a s i n f o m e d th a t, as m y n ext su b ject w a s th e an im u s, it w a s im p o ssib le f o r m e to


ÍOO

The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Wo^men

w o r k a n y w h ere sm aller, f o r th e r e w o u ld th en b e n o t en o u g h r o o m f o r h im to enter.

As you can im agine, this d ream had anything but a ch eering effect. I felt then (and still feel today) awfully inadequate to my pask. And, as so often happens, th e sam e idea was rubbed in independently a few weeks later w hen Jung hap pened to say in my presence that the p art o f the animus that w e could contact and relate to was the m ere fraction o f a figure that reach ed far, far beyond w hat we could ever apprehend. My unconscious picked up th ere on ce m ore and I d ream ed that night o f a m ale figure, the size o f a m an, in front o f a m u ch larger figure, who in its tu m had a larg er one behind it, and so ad infinitum, far out o f my sight and reach. Now, o f cou rse, I have long known this fact intellectually. I have constantly said in m y lectu res that, theoretically, th ere is no reason why the shadow should not b e m ade en tirely co n ­ scious, for it consists o f p erson al, hum an m aterial th at w e have rep ressed o r forgotten. T h e re fo re , naturally, one could work on it in a small square room . In th e shadow problem , the only great difficulty— apart from th e disagreeable personal aspects— is its contam ination with th e archetypal figures such as th e anim a and anim us, but above all w ith the collective shadow, w hich is popularly called the devil. B y h ard w ork this contam ination can, for the m ost p art, be cle a re d up. I have often pointed out that the anim a and anim us a re _ .fig u res_o n .te_h o rd eis.o £ih e_co llective unconscious, w hich h asjboth, a p a rso n alL an d . a c om pletely çg lle ctiv e .a w e ct. As you know, exp erien ce justifies one in s p e a in g o f “m y ani­ m us” and “your anim a,” but it is often m uch n earer the m ark to speak o f “th e” animus and “th e ” anima. W h y then did I have these d ream s? F o r apparently th ey tell m e things o f w hich I was already aware, and experience has taught us that this is seldom the case; a dream tells one som ething one does not know. The first dream suggests a totally different approach to the topic o f the animus than to the topic o f the shadow. T h e lectures


The A n im us Problem in M odern Women

1O 1,

for th e form er are not lectu res p re p a re d in a study room but require laboratory work u n d ertak en by us all. W e are working on a practically unknown subject, and it needs all our exp erien ce to deal with it. O u r th e m e has only o p en ed up very recently. In his Visions sem inar in 1 9 3 1 , Ju n g speaks o f four stages o f anim a d evelopm ent, describing th eir sym bolic representations as: E v e (Chaw w a), H elen o f Troy, Mary, and Sophia (an animus analogy w ould be: Phallus, H usband, H ero , and Psychopom p).2 A ccord in g to th e G nostic idea, th ese four stages w ere personified by th ese four fam ous w om en. A diagram looks som ew hat like th e following:

4 3 2

1

ANIMA Sophia Mary Helen Cha^wa/Eve

ANIMUS Hermes I Psychopomp Lover Husband Phallus

Jung goes on to say that: I have been asked to present the development o f the ani­ mus in a similar way. You see, all these fragments of old philosophy— philosophy was then psychology— have been made by men. Chinese philosophy, for instance, which is really a sort of psychology, was an entirely masculine invention, because women at that time played no role in the world o f men, excepting indirectly, by influence. In antiquity and in all primitive societies, “c h e r c h e z la fe m m e ” was an eternal truth, but [women] were not recognized, and when men set to work on psychological matters they overlooked the existent of women completely. So no wonder that we have a classification of the development of the anima from a deeper source— it is more than two thousand years old— and we 2. C. G. Jung, Visions (London: Routledge, 1998), pp. 489f. [In the Aramaic script of the Semitic languages, Chawwa denotes the primordial serpent. The name Eva in the Old Testament is thought to have evolved directly from Chawwa. Ed.]


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know practically nothing about the animus, or even about the existence of an animus. Men have only cursed women for their argumentative ways, but they never thought of making a science of it. It was not dignified enough to be made an object of science, it was merely the bad moods and irrational l

ideas of Mrs. Professor, who had nothing to do with the lecture her husband was giving. But one can speculate about the animus and really produce a similar scheme for it. H ere again, however, it is a man who does it, so I beg your pardon— I mean o f the female part of my audience— if I am intruding upon a field which is not entirely my own. You are quite free to suggest a different classification, so please do consider my point of view only as a proposition based upon a certain experience and spiced with more or less benevolence.3 Jung then goes on to explain th at th e Gnostic classification of

th e anim a begins.“at th e b o tto m l.w itk Chawwa, the earth. They did not m ean th e physical earth anym ore than th e furro}-V in the field in n eed o f fertilization was strictly th e physical earth p e r se. Ihe_sym holic_m eaning is _cen tral. H e re i t really has. the m eaning o f th e fem ale gem jtalsjt„is th e yo11i. So one could call this lowest stage th e yoni stage. In certain G nostic texts it is also called E v e . T he second stage is H elen o f Troy; th e third is Mary, the M oth er o f God; and th e fourth is Sophia. T h ere is a G nostic text called th e Pis"ts..JS.gphia, th e “Gnosis o f th e L igh t,” Pistis m eaning som ething along th e lines o f fidelity, confidence, trust, loyalty, o r m aybe better, faith.4 T h e Pistis Sophia was discovered in the 3. Ibid. 4. The Pistis Sophia, dating from approximately 250-300 A.D., relates the Gnostic teachings of the transfigured Jesus to the assembled disciples, also including Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of Jesus, and Martha. According to this doctrine, Christ arisen lived eleven years on earth during which he revealed the complex structures and hierarchies of heaven familiar in Gnostic teachings. The title Pistis Sophia is obscure, sometimes translated “Faith Wisdom” or “Wisdom in Faith,” and involves the Gnostic faith in Sophia, who is a consort and, fi.guratively speaking, a divine syzygy of Christ. She can also be seen as God’s wife, the so-called theotokos, the mother of God (as in Greek Orthodoxy). Certain Gnostics held that she was the mother of the spiritual, not corporeal, Jesus, the spiritual Jesus descending into him when he was baptized by John, being born out of Sophia. See_G.__R.J^Mead,


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rafters o f a C optic ch u rch in old Cairo. T h e re are referen ces to th a t book— and I think also abstracts— in M ead’s F ra gm en ts o f a Faith F o rg o tten .5 Ju n g also notes th at th e corresp on d in g stages o f th e animus w ould b e an analogy o f sorts, o r b e tte r p ut, m erely a con stru ct b ased upon o u r exp erien ce o f th e anim a. T h e sym bol c o rre ­ sponding to th e yoni w ould b e th e phallus. Phallus worship in prim itive religions— and still in o u r days— is prim arily a fertility cu lt o f w om en . W om en who are b arren still anoint th e “lingam ” ston e in hopes o f b ecom in g p reg n an t and thus alleviating th eir suffering. T h ey usually use a sort o f reddish ston e o f an oblong form and set it in a ^type o f olive press w h ere th e re is a round m old with a little channel o u t o f w hich th e oil flows. In tourist m arkets in India, one still e n co u n ters th e se stones in m any small form s. Lingam s are also used as a sa cred sym bol in tem p les, and th ey are often anointed w ith b u tte r in o rd er to obtain fertility. It is a rem n an t o f th e old phallic w orship, th e w orship o f the gen erative power. 6 A fter th e phallus com es th e secon d stage, and this w ould be th e husband. T h e third stage is th e lover, and th e fourth w e could designate as som ething like H erm es, th e psychopom p, th e lead er o r shepherd o f souls. T h e Pistis Sophia w ould call this stage the C hrist, the P erfe ct Savior. B e fo re w e leave Jungls. proposition, w e m ust h ear a little of how h e explained th ese four stages o f th e animus. H e p ro p o ses th a t :these four _stages .of m asculine. figures correspond. to four. stages o f understanding., On th e low est stage, a m an is not seen by w om en as a personality at all; h e only exists in as m u ch as he is a generative factor. T h e w om an says to herself: “I w ant a child, Fragm ents o f a (Kila, Mont.: Kessinger Publishing, 1992); also see C. G. Jung, N ietzsches Zarathustra— -Notes o fth e Sem inar Given in 1934-1939, 2 vols. (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1988), p. 442. Ed. 5. Jung, Visions, p. 490. [Another version of the Pistis Sophia was discovered in the ar- ^ chaeological excavations near Nag Hammadi in 1945. The translation of the numerous texts of the Nag Hammadi library completed in the 1970s, which provided a major reevaluation of early Christian histoiy and the nature of Gnosticism, was unavailable to Barbara Hannah at the time of this lecture. Ed.] 6. Ibid.


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theref.or..g_~LneecLa .m an,” thinking h ere pretty„.much..any„,m.an, since that is the way a child com es into h e r life. In as m uch as he provides the seed that conceives, the m an functions as that generating phallus and pretty m uch nothing m ore. If he provides som ething else as well, h e just m ay be noticed, o r then again not; / th ere is little reflective p ercep tion . This is ch aracteristic in ce r­ tain cultures of prim itive w om en, and it is m u ch th e sam e with m any anim als.7 T h e.secon d sta g ein tro d u ces th fth 1Jm a:o.elem en t so to....s.peak. The.m aIl who provides the child b ecom es “m y m an,” and he is the husband, the one who is about the tent, the shelter, o r the hom e and who is a m ore or less friendly o r unfriendly presence. H e is also m ore o r less the m an who just happens to b e there. Perhaps he is the m an who paid for th e cow and obtained perm ission to visit h er in h er shelter. It could be p retty much any o th er man, but since he is the man who paid for the cow and might be able to afford another one, so . . . well . . . . O r maybe she has actually m arried him, although that is pretty m uch the whole o f it. W hat kind o f individual he m ay be is not o f m uch im port, it is enough that he is “m y m an/’8 Jung rem arks that E v g /C h a ^ w a /E a rth mainlv represents !4 e b od y and_ its functions. Genuine, conscious differentiatiQn.be.gms with the H elen and M ary phases, .w hich _mayJ?euasy....!Q.._.!!!Í5;understand. W e m ust realize that these are not literal but symbolic nam es for stages o f inner developm ent. H elen represents a polygamous stage in m en, in particular, a stage o f relationship that is not too confining, w hereas w om en tend to like a steady relationship, and they by nature generally like to stick to one man, to family, security, and so forth. L ove is disturbed and darkened by autonom ous sex for man. B u t for w om an, it is troubled by m aterial aim s, by desiring a secure, luxurious existence. T h erefo re these first two stages re p resen t sim ilar stages o f inner develop m ent for both m en and w om en. 7. Ibid., p. 491. 8. Ibid.


The Anim us Problem in M odern Women

10g

Follow ing.. th e husband . comes_„the. Jo y e r. T h e ... hus.band-._is already. .v e r y .psychological b e ca u se -th e re •is a . ■definite ch oice,. th ere is exclusiveness.JN ow he is supposed to b e focused on the w om an, and he is very specific to h e r b ecau se h e is not m erely the provid er o r the fertilizer, and he is no lon g er an objective p rese n ce like a p iece o f f u m itu re. Ke_.§:iq:,]1-c:;itlymej::tnsm|ier i_a!!9c _.fil?:e e:iq2.lic .it]y i.r ic .ans.hirn, s o i t i s , an exclusive ch oice that alrea.<!x.goesto th e c o r n o f things. Itg o e s _ to th e s o u l o f t h e w om an. T h erefo re h e is th e one who prep ares th e next step , w hich is H erm es. H e re , th e god already appears foreshadow ed in th e lover. In the Yoga text you would say th at from this low er cen ter, or from the lover, you are already looking upw ard.9 You b e h p Id th e Jig u re o fjh e .g Q d fro m th e. position. o f t h e lover, jusJL.as.yQU m a y _ h íu h ls js _ s e e ttb.e lovejrfm m .th e .pos i tion ..ofthe h u sb an d .Y ou are not y etth ere., .but you c an see fro :g jh is cen Je r the . next stage o f the god. T h ese four form s o f the anim us could be said to correspond to those o f the anim a, and th ere m ust b e som e such corresp on den ce, otherw ise m an and w om an w ould not fit. A m an’s anima m ust fit th e w om an som ew here, or such a figure never would have originated; and likewise a w om an’s anim us m ust fit the man. O therw ise the w om an could n ev er conform to a m an, nor the man to a w om an. E a c h stage foreshadow s th e next, b u t each in a very p eculiar way. T his lover stage rep resen ts a higher effort for w om an, for to really love she m ust give up h e r egotistic aims th at she im presses on th e m an. H usband and lover can easily flow from one into the other, b u t if she insists on m aterial aims with a lover, she then regresses back down to the secon d level. O ne can easily see how the tw o low er stages fit, b u t the following stage, the lover and M ary, are m ore difficult. L o v e is a principle, c a n t a s ,. and a m an learns this in relation sh ip to M ary; h e r e she has a religious-attribu te, for w ith M a ry one,has love an d relationship entirelyw ithout -Sex, ju st& s.th e JoY£X..S.ag1;_fQr women. must, b e w ithout m aterial aims, If you con tem p late the fact th at prostitution is financially 9. C. G. Jung, Die Psychologie des Kundalini-Yoga. Nach Aufzeichnungen des Seminars 1932 (Zürich: Walter Verlag, 1988).


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supported prim arily by m arried m en (and by the state), then you can understand why th e husband parallels H elen, who can be seen in those fascinating w om en o f the street. Ju n g then asks: Is there any more beautiful love story than the love story of I

Mary? Wonderfully secret, divine, it is the only love affair of God that we know about. He is the illegitimate divine lover who produces the Redeemer. So these two stages are absolutely parallel; the lover always sees .m-theJbeloy.ed_§pmething_ l k - the_Mother. oLGo.d,jand..the Io:0cng_:,yoman sj^s in_her lover the bringer of the div_:igie message. The Hermes stage is the perfect, divine accomplishment, which is again beyond human grasp. Now that is my proposition, but I leave it to the ladies to invent something better or to argue this proposition.10 Jung lay down this challenge in 1 9 3 1 , and I feel very strongly that not enough has been done about it since. In individual analysis it has perhaps b een applied by both m en and w om en analysts, but I, at al\ events, have h eard little o f oth er people’s results. It is, of course, very difficult for a w om an to take up this challenge, for Logos is not h e r principle and obviously the discrimination of stages is m ainly a m atter o f Logos. She is th erefo re only too likely to lose the gam e to h er animus w henever she m ust translate this “proposition” into E ro s term s, a subject to which we will return later. (As the actual proposition is a p rod u ct o f Logos, we _shall be badly in n eed o f th e cooperation and help o f the m en. They will b e of the greatest value h ere as they naturally look at the animus som ewhat differently, and nothing can be m ore helpful than a give and take in these circu m stan ces.) Unlike .the anima, j t is very difficult. to find goo.d.m aterial in which to see the animus at work. W h en I lectu red on “The Animus in L iteratu re” in 1 9 5 7 , I read a great many books by w om en with this point in view. I m ust break it to you that the harvest in literature has, on the face o f it, been exceedingly disappointing. Personifications o f th e animus are very rare, particularly 10. Jung, Visions-, p. 492.


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in w om en ’s books. T h e re a re a few, but n ot many, and n ev er one th at is really first rate. I asked m yself th erefore w here th e animus was in such a w om an as Jan e A usten? Although h e does n ot portray him self, h e can n ot help from bowing into the gam e som ew here. In prep arin g and reading th e literatu re for this cou rse, I cam e upon a passage in Ju n g’s 1 9 3 2 sem inars th at gave m e a lead. H e re h e rem ark ed th at '.\Te very seldom h a v e to do with .the. real animus^who-haSlheroiCjdiyine, annd d em on ic qualities. O ne has to ^ J in h l o n g and h ard .fo xh im . ,butin..,ev,.eryday life we m e e t w ith a very u nreal anim us,..@.. ''gpj,nÍQn,atip.g_í^ufestitute.”11 This led m e to th e i d e a _.that..one,.-Would have.. ttxlo.QJkfojLthe. an i:^u sii!!_J:Ilostjvifp,men:§.._h.Qoks„^and per.haps_.g e tQ n Jiis._ti:ail, by an alw in g_th e animus opinions that ( reate the_acci;ioQP.,in . a,J:?fiok£" aiJ.Ild.gbs§,rve, how n a tu ra l g r o ^ th is iropeded. At this point, I fortunately had th e ch an ce to discuss the m atter with Jung. H e agreed it m ight b e possible to discover a direcfing _spirit„_£^up,iriíMs...re£í.ox as h e called iit.behind.the. ,nQvels_o£.w..Q.J.1Jen- H e asked: “D o you think o f th e animus_characte:dstics as.belonging.to. the. m e n in.the boQk,_orbeJonging,tQ .theirauthorh.erse.lf?” Regretfully— for I say how m u ch m ore com plicated it m ade o u r task— I adm itted th at I thou gh t it m ust b e the autho r s a n imus who was the real§pir.iíY:s. re cto r, and Jung _replied tliat this was also his impression. In o rd er to have a possibili.tvofcbecking up on this propositi on. it will naturally_eutaiLl.ea.di.ng m or.e.Jhan .on£\:LUoU_hy.._a. wom an author. As several long books would overflow th e limits of ou r tim e, I shall first very briefly take foj^ULhorLstQries^by Rehejcc.a.Westin_The_Harni_VQice in o rd e r to show you what I am d rivin g at.12 W e will try not to linger too long over these short stories and then tu m to The Evil Vineyard bv M arie Ilav. which Jung introduced to m e and said that it was the best exam ple o f a w om an’s plot he had ever m et. This book shows the spiritus recto r particularly clearly. And then, if w e have tim e, I should like to consider th e books o f Mary Webb.. particularly PrgQ.om11. Ibid., p. 612. 12. Rebecca West, The Harsh Voice (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1937). See also “Animus Figures in Literature and in Modem Life" in this volume.


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B a ne, w h ic h is th e best anim us stoiy ! know with the exceptíon o f W u therin g H tá ^ ts . I am often asked why I do not use m en ’s books in describing the animus o r w om ens books in describing the anim a. D. H. Law ren ce, for instance, gives an apparently p erfect figure o f the / animus in som e o f his short stories, 'T h e L ad y Bird” (M rs. Singer) being one exam ple, and E m ily B ro n te o f the anima, in W uthering H eights (C atherine). How ever, w hen you com e to exam ine the m aterial m ore closely, it does not work out, for a m an always portrays a masculine psyche and a wom an a feminine one. This is probably due to the different ways in which m en and wom en w rite. A man writes with his conscious mind; he can hold the line o f his plot and his anim a creates the atm osphere o r the feeling tone o f the book. W h ereas a wom an usually is quite at hom e in the feeling tone and can hold it consciously herself, but the life of the book, the plot, is in the hands o f h e r spiritus rector. To give a practical example: w hen G oethe was writing The Sorrow s o f W erth er as a young m an, he was conscious o f being absolutely certain that the plot as he conceived it could only end with the suicide o f W erth er; y et w hen h e cam e to write that part, h e got into an em otional crisis about it and even w rote in a lette r th at if he had to let W e rth e r die, he would rath er first shoot him self.13 G oethe got so em otionally upset that h e b ecam e com pletely identified with W e rth e r and fully possessed by an anima m ood. H e describes in a letter how h e carried a pistol about in his pocket for th ree days while th e conflict lasted; an d h e writes o f the relief it was to him w hen at last h e was able to w rite and describe W erth er shooting himself. N ot for one m om ent had G oeth e’s conscious mind w avered in th e fact that the only logical end o f his plot was suicide, b u t the anim a got him into such an em otional tizzy that he lost his feeling judgm ent and even his instinct o f self-preservation alm ost completely. 13. [In 1773, Goethe published the historical play Gotz von Berlichingen— his first notable work— which roused patriotic enthusiasm in Germany and launched the Sturm und Drang movement exalting the genius of the human spirit, particularly in the arts. He met Charlotte Buff at that time, and his passion for her found expression in The So^ows ofW erther ( 1774), a work which spread his reputation in a sensational fa shion throughout Europe. Ed.]


The Anim us Problem in M odern Women

io q

Now I simply can n o t im agine a w om an in the sam e position, carrying a pistol around in h e r p ock et for th ree days b ecau se she was u n certain w h eth er it was she o r h e r h eroin e who should die. This is partly b ecau se she is far m ore cle a r sighted in th e field o f relationship values than m an and partly b ecau se it. is not h e r conscious m ind th at is th e origin o f h e r plots but h e r spiritus recto r. T h erefore, h e r conscious mind w ould not hold fast to the logical line o f th e plot, as G o e th e s did, an d then, w hen she had to w rite it, she w ould n ot g et into an em otional tizzy but rather, if she d o u b ted th e point, she w ould m ove from one opinion to the next about th e d en o u em en t o f h er story all b ased on w hat one calls in G erm an W eltanschauliche B e tra c h tu n g e n .14 A w om an auth or w ould b e m ore inclined to ponder, for instance, if suicide was ev er justifiable, o r w h eth er one should n ot find an o th er end to th e story, and she also m ight w rite m any letters about it and discuss all th e possible philosophic opinions on the subject with h e r friends. I h op e this exam ple makes my p oint clear. T h e anim us, as srpiritus recto r, creates th e stru ctu re o f w om en’s plots, w hereas the anim a leaves this to m an’s conscious m ind and provides the atm osphere and feeling ton e o f his book. Wi^Laapolagies.to. Mxs..._Singer, _this is clear in such a w riter as D .H . Law ren ce. T h ere is always.a strong_emotion.aL,under.Gurxent o r a tm o sp h erejn his_sto.D£S_which b etray s.a very powerful.anim a. H is a rt rem ains in his conscious hands, and I freely adm it that his stories are m asterpieces— even works o f genius— from th e artistic point o f view but, being som ew hat allergic to the anim a, they always leave m e with rath e r a nasty taste in m y m outh, m u ch like w om en’s books w here th e animus is too overpowering. B efo re w e turn to any m aterial, I shQJuld.iikce_ta,.examine the anim us p e r se as Jung talks_ about it in h issem in ars and also as !}e appears in everyday.life. as th ee m p irica l problem .of.every In re-read in g all th e m any places in th e sem inars w here Jung spoke o f th e anim us, I picked out a few w hich seem ed to m e the 14. [W eltanschauliche Betrachtungen: ideological, moral, and philosophical considerations. E d]


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m ost im portant for ou r th em e, and I will read a few short extracts for you and try to illustrate th em w henever I can from my own p ractical experience. As you know, th e sim plest definition o f the animus as we experience him in everyday life, th e one th at appears again and ,again in Jung’s books and sem inars, is th e one that describes him "as the p rod u cer o f opinions in a w om an. (Just as th e anima is the p rod u cer o f m oods in a m an, as w e saw in th e exam ple o f G oeth es W erther.) T he _ernpmcaL&fference.batweem...a»j^ma..and_animnsis_ th eJo g ical result o f their natures^ _For, a^ v o u know, the animus represents th e buried m ale .charaçteristics o f a w om an and the anim a represents .the uncons.cÍQ.us.,femalechqr,a£:te.Eͧti.cs..o£;_manThis is indicated a iso in th eir verynam es,-. fo r anim a íue.an ssoul and animus spirit_The o n e has. .to„do .with relationshipp s a n d E ro s . the oth er with discrim ination and L og os. Jung describes th e difference m ost poignantly: The conscious man and the anima [can be] identical; if a man is anima possessed, for instance, he is instantly transformed into a woman. And so inasmuch as the woman is possessed by the animus she becomes naturally a male . . . . A man possessed by his emotions is possessed by his anima, and when he thinks through his emotions it is ju st as if he were a woman; he talks exactly like a woman and will produce the same animus stuff. A woman, however, produces the animus stuff quite directly . . . . W hen a-woman. has_a_ rnoodJt is_becaus.eLshefiirst .as-an-anijmu^idea_e>r anopinion which inilmnlly .siiggest.s a certa.in em.oti.on. whi-l€-in_an_aman it works the reverse. w ayjfirst he has a mood and then he has an opinion. One can see it in this way: if you tell a man he is in a bad mood, he says: ‘‘No I am not, decidedly not/’ And when you say to a woman: “But you have an opinion, a prejudice,” she replies: “No, I have n o t’— she has no opin­ ions, none whatever. But if you say she is in a mood, she will admit it. As when one says to a man who is talking out of his emotions that he is uttering such and such an opinion,


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he cannot help seeing it. A woman cannot help seeing an em otion or a mood, because it is quite obvious to h er that she has a certain emotion; while to a man it is not obvious because he hates to admit that emotion. This is o f course a bit complicated but if you have a clear idea o f the relation o f the ego to the animus or the anima, you can easily draw the conclusion as to the nature o f the masculine or feminine figure in a man or woman.15 Jung has often d escribed how irritating a w om anâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s opinions are to a m an, how they always go beside th e m ark, how they are never the actual, original, individual thoughts o f that w om an but are generally collective truths that just make nonsense o f the specific individual situation and thus destroy hum an con tact. It is as if they blow from som ew here into th e head o f th e w om an and then take possession o f her. B u t th e wom an's m ind and h e r animus are not always so simple to tell apart. Actually, Ju n g points out that, under certain conditions, th e mind is actually th e animus. It takes only a slight shift and th e anim us is th en in a w ay h e r mind. This is also tru e o f th e m an. T h e anim a rules over his function o f relatedness and E ro s and thus is a p art o f him. W h e n she controls him , and h e does not con trol her, it b ecom es anim a possession, and then the anim a is autonom ous and in a sense rules th e situation. W h e n a p sychological com p lex o r aJ;IBart o f ou rse lv e sb e co m e s autono: nious, tluni it is_g..uiHn;tlly Jâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;o u iid in so iiie personified form. In fact, com plexes and any oth er part o f ou r psyches b eco m e personified in th e m om en t th ey b eco m e dissociated, that is, w hen they take over for them selves. T he early F re n c h psychologists described this well. Jung points out that: The mind or the human psyche has the peculiarity that every part o f it is personal, not in the sense of being like the person who has the complex, but a personality in itself. It is as if you cut off a little finger and it continues to live quite independently; it would then be a little finger personality, it would be 15. Jung, Nietzscheâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Zarathustra, p. 731.


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a he or she, it would give itself a name and talk out o f its own

mind. As when one asks children how they know something, they might say their little finger told them, as if that were a living thing in itself. So certain thoughts that escape from control, that dissociate themselves, instantly assume an ego form.16

I

Jung then beautifully describes the archetypal qualities o f the anim a and animus: ^^^Kly-can_realize_arL archa^pe-withouthav.ingr-hee;aiden±i-fied^^^it-fir-st; I f you even touch the animus or anima, the most vulgar archetypes o f all, you are they, and you cannot realize them without having been thoroughly caught by them. Nowoman will realize w hatthe animusis withouthafc ing been identical with him, and no man will realize what _the anima is without having been filled by the anima, In speaking i

of such things, I say: “as if.” It is as if these archetypes were each of them stronger than the ego. They easily catch hold of you and you are possessed as if they were lions or bears, say— primitive forces which are quite definitely stronger than you. You see, our prejudice is that we are sitting on top of the mountain with our conscious and our will, and nothing can get at us; and then the unconscious catches us from below. People call the thing that is below “the subconscious” instead o f “the unconscious"; it sounds so much better. The subcon­ scious is the cellar, something below your feet, and you are St. George standing upon the dragon. But if you descend into that world, you encounter a figure which is definitely stron­ ger that your ego complex. Therefore, quite naively, Rider Haggard speaks o f “She-that-must-be-obeyed.” Nothing doing otherwise, you have to obey It is quite self-evident that she is the stronger part . . . . Sometimes the dragon is overcome, so we can assume that itis not always so strong. But there are plenty of whale-dragons that attack and overcome

16. Jung, Visions, p. 1216f


The Anim us Problem in Modern Women

the hero, proving that the dragon is much the stronger— until the hero makes the attack from within.17 J ung c ontinues this discussion several pages later, saying that a w om an m ust m ake a d ifferen ce b etw een h erself and th e flow of thoughts w hich go through h er head. She can’t assum e th at other people think th e sam e b ecau se h er thoughts are actually in her­ self. A_wo_man m u s.t_criticizesu ch _ath ou gh t.an d ..see, w h eth er it is actu ally h e r own. W h e n _a..b ad an im u s_caseproduces-^a__:marvelr Qü2 opinÍQB, on& m ust.sayL‘lIs.,t.hatrei!llyyourself? D o you really ^iliill_d_Jhehind-~this~-thought2-A r e ..y a 1L.co:nvinced_that. things, are r e ally like th atS” T hen a w om an will cl.ten realize.th at.sh e actually_does-nQt-reallyJ:hink..that,herself.„ and.x>ne„ has to _ask w hose opinion it is.18A w om an will th en perhaps find out that h e r father had said it or som e o th er authority; or m aybe she has read it in th e new spaper. W h en ...a m an like Jung benevolently_points such things out tp__you,then-it~ is quite h e lp fu l,.ju st.a sit,is helpful to _a m an if..a... w o IT Ja can.show him how. sentim ental ,a n d u n realh isan im a,erQ s_ icaa,be...-.But it has to be done by th e hum an being, in a very hum an way, o r else it only m akes confusion, or w orse, a confounded fight betw een th e two. And unfortunately, th e anim a usually constellates th e anim a and vice versa; th e w hole thing then usually takes p lace destructively. T h e re is another story in one o f Jung’s sem inars w hich shows th e background o f this phenom enon very well: A happy couple make up their mind to go to the theater the next day to see an interesting play. It is Monday when they discuss the plan and they are looking forward to it with great pleasure. Then Tuesday the wife has forgotten to tell the girl to clean a certain pair o f boots for her husband; and that pair o f boots is important because he has a sort o f vanity and thinks he looks particularly smart in them, so they are a bit 17. Jung, Nietzsches Zarathustra, pp. 155f. 18. Ibid., pp. 22lf.


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taboo, and only on certain days ought he to wear them. The theater in the evening is such an occasion, therefore those boots should be cleaned, the wife has promised her husband to have them done, and it should not be forgotten. The girl always forgets them, because she dimly feels they are taboo. I f she is so immoral as to allow herself to be consciously in love with her master, she will clean those boots everyday and put them before his door; but if she is a bit moral she always forgets them, and then it is the duty o f his wife to remind her o f them. But on account of that very secret complication, the wife is also quite inclined to forget them, and through that systematic forgetting she arouses the wrath o f her husband. He comes out of his room and looks for his shoes and there are the wrong pair. Then he says: “But didn’t I tell you?” And she says: “I thought you wanted th e s e boots, you always prefer them when you go to the theater.” Now that is not true at all and she never has thought it, but in that moment the devil catches hold o f her because she has forgotten some­ thing, and then [the animus] thinks. And she says it with a tone of absolute conviction, perhaps she is even offended by the foolish idea of her husband that on such days he should wear his taboo shoes, that he suddenly declares now that he wants them. So with aplomb she assures him that he has often told her that he wanted to wear the other boots on the day when he is proceeding to any important action. Then there is trouble, she has forgotten, she has omitted some­ thing, and that omission is sufficient to tum her mind into an autonomous function so that instantly the animus comes up and saying: “I thought.” W henever a woman begins like that you know she has not thought, just not, and that is most irritating to a man’s mind because he feels that she was thoughtless about a most important matter. Unfortunately it hits him on a sore spot, the fatal spot being that the shoes are taboo. He has a sort of complex to look smart on such a day, he knows it is ridiculous but his anima persuades him that he looks so smart in those shoes, she says: D on’t you


The Anim us Problem in M odern W om en

rem em ber when you saw them in the shop window you said: “I f I were standing in those shoes I would look marvelous?” and so you bought them .” That is the kind of thing that the anima does. So the anima character o f that particular object upsets his wife and calls forth the animus in her, and she is quite likely to becom e dissociated whenever the shoes turn up. You see things are as secret as that, it is a secret game going on all the time. Appaxendy_itk..alLnojnsensÊ, and whe .11 gatients. tell such stories_YQu thinkjhey_ara_fools-to .worry abaut-such. small things._But,obj.ects..aEe.performíng.t:he.psycholQgical_mysteiy. ‘ It might be a certain chair, a table, a bottle o f W ne, a picture, and it sounds perfectly absurd, but if you go carefully into the story, you find that those are all symbolic objects, objects of secret animus or anima cults; and since animus and anima were originally deities, everything belonging to them is exceedingly important. One should always go into the secret history o f such cases in order to find out the value of apparently quite unimportant little things, for they have some secret value and powerful m a g c effects. You see itn eed s very httitlQehange_a.m inim to„_an„anim us;then after a while it is just as if that animus were snapping back into place and it becomes controllable again; it is then as if the woman were picking up the thread, she sees what the thing is in reality. It was like a must before, she couldn’t quite understand; therefore women o íten afterward deny having said. or .meant ananimus...opinion. “But.whydid.yousay so ?” "Oh. I thought iLwas...so.” W heniÉ..thmksT.the_case.is._hapeless.,fox_±he_±ime ,being,...there is no correction in the moment, one always has to wait until the mind is re-established, and the animus has gone back into its own place. It is the same with the anima o f course; when a man has inadequate foolish feelings, the woman just has to wait until they have snapped back into the right place.19 19. Jung, Vísions, pp. 1216ff.

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H erein lies th e real trouble, and this is just w hat w e always forget. T h e a n im a an d .a n im u s -we:re-ŠrigmaUy-deitie.s, and as Ju n g notes: It is owing to [their] divine qualities that women are so completely under the spell o f the animus, utterly helpless victims of his power, and o f course the more they identify with him, the more they are done for. The same thing is true o f the anima. They are gods in the antique sense o f the word. Spjteler calls the anima a goddess; she j s really. a_..queen, her power is indubitable-and~overwhelming,.Andwhenthe. animus appears in his divine form, he .has ju s t that- quality, he is the. stuff out of whieh.the.-gQds ,$ e r e ,made. As people advance in consciousness and understanding, they discover more and more what an extraordinary power the animus represents. It is a miracle if a woman can escape it. It is like the power of a neurosis, a phobia, or a compulsion. You think such a symptom is morbid and should not be, you despise it and think it is ridiculous, yet what seems so ridiculously small and unimportant is perhaps the more important thing in your life. It hinders you in every moment, it spoils your life, yet you go on saying it is nothing but a neurosis, a perfectly ridiculous symptom. It is as if you regarded [World War I] as a great mistake on the part of certain people . . . . But that is the neurosis, and you make the tremendous mistake of not realizing that what is apparently so insignificant is really a great power. And so it is with the animus and the anima. They are divine as the ancient deities were divine, having the quality of being beyond good and evil. They can never be envisaged from any moral point of view.20 If looked at from this angle, the history o f religion is very enlightening. O ne can study the entanglem ents o f the gods and learn a lot of useful things in daily life. T h ere are num erous exam ples, just think o f all the jealousies betw een gods and god20. Ibid., pp. 778f.


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117

desses in th e G reek Pantheon. ^Qn.ejclassi_cal examp.le_isjhef-ur.y o f a goddess if she isfo rg o tte n in the_sacrifice. A ncient G reek w riters often explain epidem ics and similar things by associating th em to th e fury o f som e n eglected god o r goddess. T h eir first th ought was: "H av e we forgotten o r offended a god o r a goddess?” p o r instance, A gam em non had offended A rtem is and she stopped th e sailing o f his ships to Troy, which led to th e sacrifice o f his daughte r Iphigeneia. 21 And th at is why th e re is suddenly a “taboo-like ” o r num inous quality in th e room w hen th e anim a o r animus are constellated (w hether w e “know” it o r n ot), aiíhaugh-you.thm k thci,tJnJ.ung’&,slQry,there .is n o th in g b u ta .p i r .of shoes. Although th e anim a with h er vanity was th e original source o f th e trou b le with th e shoes, ably seconded by the animus, certainly it is at least as often th e o th er way round. T h ere are innum erable exam ples. T h e o u te r right may. w ell be o n th e woman’s side and _ is_ m!c\kes i t a l l th e.w orse and m o re difficult, for the woman to see th at it _is ju st.h e r. anim us rightness w hich is.. s o .horribly w rq!!g.,M othexs can d e stro y th e irso n s.b y such.CQntortions,_wiyes th eir husbands. T h e re is a wonderful description in Ju n g’s seminar in analytical psychology, held in 1 9 2 5 , w here h e describes how he first realized th e existence o f th e anim a em pirically in himself.22 W hen h e first found out that th e unconscious— in the so-called normal as well as in th e insane— was working out enorm ous collective fan ­ tasies and he had m ade his first am azingly successful experiment s with active imagination, th e m atter was threatening to becom e uncanny until h e realized th ere was som ething he could do about it; th at is, w rite it all down in sequence. As he was doing this and w ondering w hat it was, for h e says he was sure it was not science 21. [Agamemnon gathered the Greek forces to sail for an assault on Troy. According to Aeschylus, Agamemnon incurs the wrath of Artemis for his willingness to sacrifice so man young men in battle. In Sophocles' drama Electra, Agamemnon slays an animal sacred to Artemis and subsequently boasts that he is the goddesss equal in the hunt Be it cold blood ed power or hubris, subsequent misfortunes prevent the army from sailing. The wrath of the goddess can only be propitiated by the sacrifice of Agamemnons own daughter, Iphigeneia Her death appeases Artemis, and the Greek army sets out for Troy. Ed.] 22. C. G. Jung, Memories, D r e a s , Reflections, A. Jaffe, ed. (New York: Vintage Books 1965), p. 186.


ii8

The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

a voice said to him: “T h at is art.” H e w ondered if the unconscious was form ing another personality in him w hich was insisting on expression, for, w ithout knowing exactly why, h e was sure this voice was feminine. A living w om an m ight have said it in just the sam e way because she would be uninterested in the discrim ina/io n th at she was tram pling under foot. Obviously it was not sci­ e n ce, so it must be art, as if those w ere the only alternatives in th e world. Jung says: “T h at is the w ay a w om an’s mind works.”23 T h e argum ent continued, Jung was certain she was wrong, but she w ent on insisting it was art. This was Jung’s first experien ce o f the cunning insinuations w hich the anima can press on a m an, giving things a false slant and tem pting him away from reality. I f he had believed h e r and thought he was a m isunderstood artist, he would have b een in h e r pocket and w henever she liked she could then have brought in the reverse: “D o you really im agine th at this nonsense is art?” T h at is the way one can be ground to pieces by both anima and animus in the dram a o f enantiodrom ia phenom ena. B ecau se Jung stood his ground, refused ^ e r suggestion, and yet granted h er reality and the right to speak and defend h e r point o f view, he was able to build a piece o f ground w here they could m eet satisfactorily and discuss the m atter. Now, o f course, a very similar technique can also be em ployed with th e animus, but it is rath e r dangerous for w om en to im itate it too closely. W h ereas a m an is working with his own conscious principle, Logos, w hich can discrim inate— for instance, w hen h e tells his anim a it is ju st not art— w e have to avoid the d irect parallel im itation in a w om an, for she would be working with the principle and in th e m edium o f the animus and it is certain that h e will be able to b eat h e r at that gam e, for it is a field w here he is m ore at hom e than she. In his Zarathustra seminar, Jung deals with the subject o f the vase that one requires so th at one can give a form to th e contents o f th e unconscious. In speaking o f the problem o f sentim entality o f m en, he says: 23. Ibid., pp. 185f.


The A nim us Problem in M odern Women

1.1.9

sentimentality gets on one’s nerves and rightly so; one should be shocked by sentimentality because it is so wrong. It is quite correct when women are shocked by the anima sen­ timentality o f men, for it is just the wrong expression. But that is simply unfortunate; it comes just from the fact that there are unconscious mental contents for which there are no conscious forms. They can be couched- in other terms than sentiment. A man is possessed by the anima on account o f the fact that his mind does not offer an opportunity to his unconscious. He has no vessel, no form, into which he receives its contents. The anima is pregnant and he is merely sentimental about it. He is like old Joseph who is a' somewhat regrettable figure; he looks at Mary and says, "Oh yes, it is very wonderful that you are pregnant by the Holy Ghost; yes, I will be a patron saint to you. I will help you. I will go with you to Egypt.” But it is a regrettable situation, very awkward; he gets awfully sentimental about it. And that is exactly a man's situation whose mind does not provide that form, that hermetic vase, in which to receive the contents of his unconscious. In that way, by understanding it, you might becom e perhaps quite tolerant and lenient with a mans sentimentality. But he really deserves a spanking nevertheless, and women with instinct will never hesitate to provide it; they cannot help punishing a man for this kind of unreal sentimentality. For a man ought to take his mind seriously and to provide the necessary vase in which to receive those contents o f his unconscious.24 It was about 1 9 1 6 w hen Jung realized th at the unconscious was form ing a personality th at was n ot him self and was behaving like a w om an. W h en he treated h e r as he m ight have done a real w om an and e n te re d into discussion with her, his mind offered a h erm etic vessel to th e unconscious, w hich suited it and led to the discovery not only o f the anim a b u t o f the collective unconscious and th e archetypal world behind her. 24. Jung, Nietzsche’s Zarathustra, p. 738f.


The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Wor^ n

12 0

In Zarathustra, Jung continues: It is the same with women; it is of course not expressed there in terms of pregnancy, but in masculine terms. It is the log os spe-^naticos that plays the same role in a women, the seed

word. Her playful mind is not sentimental— well, you know what an animus is, I don’t need to repeat it. It is irritating to a man and he is rightly irritated and is quite right in beating back . . . . brutality is always aroused by the, animus of a women, but she needs and wants it, her unço:—cãpus cannot come-to. itself i f she.is_ noi...anhandLedJLiULsay;. th.at is the.reason why the. animus drives him quitema2c BULin that wrong form ,ofthe :'!1liIDus . thergis a k em el.of truth,.there is something for which, a.wojnen should find_ the.rightTQrm. There i&.a_form"but,itis..oOyin.herjeros and n.ot.Ín.,her.mind, she cannot make it through her..mind,,only through„;her _feelj ^ J o u see, a woman’s eros is inspiring to a man provided that it is not animus; if it is animus he beats it back and he is quite right to do so. As a woman is quite right in refusing that slimy sticky sentimentality a man produces. But that wrongness is pregnant, as the animus is full o f seed.25 H e re we com e to a real cru x for w om en who are trying to work on the animus and on th e unconscious. W e cannot just copy Jung’s o r man’s way o f dealing with it, and yet the vessel we know o f is m ade by th e Logos, and to som e extent it is m ore o r less inevitable th at we use it. I doubt, for instance, if it would even be possible for a wom an to have discovered the existence of the animus in h erself in the way Jung discovered the existence of the anim a in himself. T h e.an im u s is origmaUy_enfue^.ide.n.üeaL w ith-W Q m ans-m m d and.would_álmos.t ,cej±amlyJha\le.....p^pre.Y.:^£d h er from,. drawing. th e cond.usioiL.thatLLpe:i;:so,ndity_was..ibrming_ or even- already. existed_wi^in..her..which„. .was.„.nowJ^^mgjta_her like a man. A t all events,„as.Jar as m y.experience goesx theani,m us w oukLcertainly h a v e m a d e th e -m atter m uch. too mistyJQor the 2,5. Ibid., p. 739.


The Anim us Problem in M odern Women

w om an t o b e capabl e o f such chscrimmationa\ritho_utthc_co,.g>peration_of-h er animus. Personally, I am convinced that we would have never discovered the anim us for ourselves. Anyone with experience in this field will agree th at it well fits th e in n er facts. H ow ever, it is still a borrow ed Logos con cep t, so clearly it cannot be fully adequate for a w om an’s needs and is not yet th e right form as alluded to in the above passage from the Z a rathu stra seminar. _A jw o m a n },^ ”' v e ssel can n ot b e m ade bv th e m in d b u tm u s tb e form ed by E ro s. _by. ^ ^ ^ d n e s s . Obviously it w ould be very difficult to describe such a form , b ecau se expression by w ord is Logos and thought, so th at one is trying to d escribe E ro s in term s o f its exact opposite, and that is an impossible task. I can only give you a hint o r two from m y own experien ce (m yself and o th e r w om en ) and leave you to decide w h eth er th ese agree with or con trad ict your own experience. Although I recognized that th e co n ce p t o f the animus really fit the facts, I m ust-adm it th at I w asted a lot o f tim e, years in fact, trying to ch ase him intellectually. O f cou rse, he was always too clever for m e and fooled m e again and again. At last I realized that th ere was a certain eros reaction— how can I describe it?— perhaps a feeling o f frustration, o f unreality, o f not having my feet on th e earth , o f being out o f relation with my surroundings. W h en ev er the anim us spoke o r thought, I then had a feeling o f it not being m y "ow n” voice or thinking. I learned to recognize this condition and slowly to know it beyond any doubt, and then for the first tim e I had the beginning o f a form with w hich I could approach the unconscious. To p u t it in oth er words: if the animus had told m e, as in Jung’s case, that w hat I was doing was “art” (m ore likely he would have called it scien ce), I might have begun to argue with him on a Logos basis, b u t very soon he would have su cceeded in inserting some irrelevant opinions into me which would have hidden the real issue at point. (This is the same bewildering mixture o f archetypal and hum an elem ents referred to above.) B u t i£ l.h a d b e e n a b le to realize how it struck m e in relatio n to itselfjm d m y enyironm ent, I


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would have kno-^ beyond doubt th a t the suggestion jh d n Q tclick , that I could.not relate. to it. Then I would have had firm ground under my feet in a place w here the animus could not confuse m e, for E ros is not his principle. O f course, he constantly swallows impulses o f relatedness that one is not too sure about, but that is ,b ecau se one does not stand by them . In the case of a w ell-tried E ro s experience, like th e one I spoke of, I gradually learned to know w hen the animus was interfering. W hen Q n ejdeals.w ith-hi- through Exosjelatedness,_dhe!! he can do.very m uch less, and w hats m ore, one. gr.ad!J.ally.lga:r:w,s that he doesn’t even want to do m u c h o f what..hj3_gets4 nvolvedin. It seem s to be actually m ore satisfactory to him when he cannot put us in his pocket but rather w hen w e can behave like w om en, w hen w e can m eet his Logos with our E ro s. W hen it works the oth er way, that is, th e wrong way, then w e end up with a statem ent like Gill M artins in H ogg’s Confessions o f a Justified S in n er w here he incites the protagonist R obert to com m it m urder and says: “I have attached m yself to your w a^vard fortune and it has been my ruin as well as th in e.”26

|

.A w o rd h e re m ight.be -u sefu lo n ± h e.L ogos.an d E rosp rin cip les. It. is a com m on e rro c to . identify Logos with. .thinking jmd-.ErQs. with feeling. T he erro r is easy to make because it isactually easier to think._thanJo.feel .about logos— or perhaps one is really m ore in th e habit o f doing so— and _aasiejjtofeeLwhatEros..isJ:han-io-thmk about it. B ut actually Logos .and E r o s j r e _prm ciples by which_we can orient oiirselves _in the,.world„withman.àwithout,*and-alLfour functions are. requiredto..guza.us...a.Jull piçtum.frQnLthe_5tândpoint o f eith erp rin cip le. It is just as possible to live one’s life by signposts that exist in relationships as it is to live it by the signposts in discriminating knowledge. P e rh a p s ju n g s c le a re st and m ost amusing definition of Logos and E ro s is found in l:1n . ea_:rly sem inar from the sum m er o f l 9 3 0 . H e sa id th e re that Logos and E ro s are really a herm aphrodite. In the case o f m en, Logos has the lead and is the guidingprinciple in 26. [See James Hogg, Confessions o fa Justified Sinner (London: David Campbell Publishers, 1992). Ed.]


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123

the outside.w orld; E ro s is -o n th e inside, in th e unconsciaus.,^-With w o m a n it is E lP S th at lead.s her_( or. sh ou ld Jead her). in th e outside w orld, and Logos.is.irtside i..nthe.uncol1 sciOJ.Js. Ju n g w rites that: the Logos_elem^^^heing.1L principl^e..-0^£...dis^^^mtLon, . not only allows one but forces one to give equal dignity to any object o f thinking or observation. It enables a man to devote him self with almost religious concentration to the classification o f lice, or to the different qualities o f faeces, to put it quite drastically as well as to counting the stars. To make a picture o f it, suppose there are a series o f laboratories. In No. 1 is the observatory of a man who has devoted him self for years to astronomical researches. In the next laboratory is the man who is classifying lice, sixty thousand different specimens, a most interesting enterprise. And in the third is a man tremendously interested in the different qualities of faeces, a very unsavory undertaking. Yet every man is working with the same concentration, the same spirit. .Now what.is.-Ero-s,..represented b):„l!.W..QIDítti^_dQÍng.irL^tha^,..s.iW^tÍQn_l^^t_us^ say_she is the charwoman m-the place.. She.. finds t t e ,.astrnn.Q.IIler a terribly disagreeable.man,.hardand cold;. he nev.ergives her a. tip, and naturally he is a bachelor, Mr. Professor Üoncernedwith-lice _\YrJ1d„he-..qUÍte .a.,nice..man if he. .were jjo ;t always interested _in thqsfuglythjng§;_he..occasiQnídly giyes .her a tip, he. iLmarried and has very nice .children, he is_perfe_ctly respectable and he has a great-uncle somewhere. She.. knows all that.,_JhãL iíuXell:).tednes:,, you. see. It. is.an. entirely,different aspect of the_woddJThe man devoted to the stars, who sits there passionately attending to his work, is absolutely unaware of the fact that he can fall in love with a woman. He thinks that falling in love is a kind of illness which happens in early youth and which one combats by marrying. As a man said to me: “Just in order to get through with the damned thing." That is Logos. One could say that both principles play a tremendous role in the history of the thought of redemption, which is really a


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psychological affair. For instance, in Christianity it is not only Logos that plays the role o f redeemer, it is also Eros in the form o f the principle o f love. There again one sees the incorporation of the two principles. I m a add here that-the-ideal /

Logos can only be when itconíaii:1 uthe_Er.Qs;,o!_he^f\Yisejh.e Logos is notdynamic, atall. _A_man. with.onIyLogos..may^-1aY:e i a very sh^arp inteUect,_but-iLis_.no±hing~-but~di,y--ratíonalissm. And Eros withoutthe Logos inside never understands, there is nothing but blind relatedness. Such people can be related to God knows what— like certain women who are dissolved completely in little happy families— cousins, relations— and there is nothing in the whole damned thing, it is all perfectly empty. Exactly.hke the..9w.so:r.to£Logos..peopLe.,_thQs..e...çtasr sifying fellows w ith a JLow.understandiIJ.g.;l7 As_w e are ,living in a .tim e whe.n L o g o s is Ql!. t Qp, w om en have

m ore_difficulty in. th is.resp ect. In th e first ch ap ter o f th e G ospel o f John, the Logos is identified w ith C hrist, the m ed iato r and red eem er. Y et at th e sam e tim e th a t this gospel was w ritten , th at is, in late R om an and G reek syn cretism , th e god E ro s was reg a rd e d as the g re a t m ediator. T h e kinship o f opposites can be seen particularly clearly in the m ythological background o f these two con cep ts o f Logos and E ro s , but w e shall retu rn to this later. As you know, one o f the g reat difficulties of our tim e in the relations betw een m en and w om en is th e fact th at they seem increasingly unable to rem ain w ith th eir own principle. (W e have already m et this in the problem discussed above o f how the ani­ mus gets the anima and vice versa.) In his_VisÍQns_seminar, Jung _expresses this as being a problem o f m od ern civilization^where.too many w om en have .lost their m stincts altogeth er and ..only live by w hat is useful and.applicable, getting som eth in gin th eir .head that simply. overtakes-them in. the. low est,o£ ways. This. could also be expressed as too m any w om enliving by a pseudo Logos instead o f b y th e ir oYVI;ti_prinçiplegff E ro s. Jung reports o f one w om an who: 27. C. G. Jung, Dream Analysis: Notes o f the Seminar Given in 1928-1930 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1984), pp. 700f.


The Anim us Problem in M odern Women

1.25

committed the most atrocious offence against good taste and morality, through a sacred [animus] conviction that it was wholesome and reasonable— like mothers who torture their children because they think that is what ought to be done. It is appalling what the animus can do. I f such an animusridden woman gets it into her head that to go without clothes is wholesome and decent, then she just goes about naked and is not in the least disturbed by it, disregarding the fact com­ pletely that she is not beautiful, that she is an old hag. That woman had three sons and she walked about the house before them, and then marveled that they went wrong and had sex fantasies. And that was a well-meaning woman who always tried to be hygienic, to eat the right kind of salad, and all that stuff. She was liberal and full of the ideas o f social service, she helped along everything under the sun that was of public use. And to wear no clothes was much cheaper and so wonderfully clean, and why should the body be ugly? . . . Mind you, she was an Englishwoman, not even a German; I could have forgiven her if she had been German. That is what the animus can do, cruel nonsense. So a woman can prostitute herself if it suits the animus, not to suit herself, but to do the right thing or the usual thing, never considering her own instincts.28 B ecau se o f the confusion that is so o ften visible in ordinary speech b etw een m an and anim a and b etw een w om an and animus, it som etim es seem s well nigh hopeless for a w om an to stick to h e r E ro s and a m an to stick to his Logos w h en they are dealing with each other. F o r exam ple, in the face o f th e m an ’s irrational em otionality, the w om an m ust distance h e rse lf from animus rem arks, digs, and jibes. A nd in the face o f th e w om an's irrational “facts” and shots below the belt, the m an m u st distance him self from his em otionality and moods and rem ain sensible. At least I know I have often b een n ear to despair in this resp ect. O n ce, in speaking o f m an and w om an’s difficulty in understanding each other, Jung said: 28. Jung, Visions, pp. 316f.


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The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

The difficulty o f understanding does not lie where people who have no experience assume. It is rather the difficulty o f understanding oneself. I f a man could only understand the difference between him self and his anima, he would under­ stand himself; then he would know what a man is, and then /

he would know by instinct what a woman is. I f he thinks via the anima about himself, he never will discover him self but stay caught in illusions. And inasmuch as a woman does not know herself—and if she thinks through her animus she certainly does not know h erself— she will never know a man, she will be forever bewildered. N atu rally , she will project her opinion upon a man, he ought to be this and that. So the real difficulty is not in the object, where such blindfolded people always suppose the darkness to be. A man thinks the difficulty is that he doesn’t understand the woman; no, he doesn’t understand himself. W henever one has to treat such a condition, the whole course o f the analysis, as dictated by dreams, always leads the patient to himself; and if they can once understand something of themselves, they understand other people. One cannot learn it through the object because one invariably sees only one’s own face in the object; one stares into the cloud and it becomes a mirror. It is finally one’s own face. It is a general truth that one only understands anything in as much as one understands oneself.29 T he problem o f being forever bew ildered about the oth er sex,

which can only end when one knows oneself, is particularly evident to m e at least in this m atter o f the E ro s and Logos principles. I f one’s relatedness can pass th e test o f on e’s own animus, who is th e m aster in the art of destroying it, w e can be p retty sure that it will also prove reliable with m en in th e outside w orld. B u t if the animus can d estroy it, it is a sign that w e still know ourselves too little and that w e shall see ou r own face in the ob ject instead o f the object as it really is itself. 29. Jung, Nietzsche’s Zarathustra, p. 742.


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T h e p oint I w ant to m ake is that, as far as m y exp erien ce goes, this looking for th e trou b le in on eself very m uch includes looking for o n e ’s own principle; in th e case o f a w om an, for E ro s. In my own exp erien ce, observed both in o th er w om en and myself, w hen one only tries to be related and fem inine outside, for instance, with a m em b er o f th e opposite sex, on e is especially exposed to anim us opinions. H e whispers: “N ow you should show feeling,” “N ow b e en tirely passive,” and th en quick as lightning, h e whis­ p ers, “C o m e, co m e , you are not fem inine at all.” O r: “H ow could you say this o r th a t?” . . . and already th e w hole situation has landed in th e devils kitchen. All spontaneity and naturalness is exclu d ed . B u t if on e tries it out inside, if one finds out th e places w h ere one can stand by o n es feeling o f relatedness against on es animus, th en you g et to know w here one is safe from him , and you find a p iece o f ground w here h e also can n ot attack and destroy one’s outside relationship. I do n ot m ean th at th e m atter can possibly b e settled entirely inside. In pointing out N ietzsch es problem , Jung says in th e sam e sem inar that: you cannot really get into a serious conflict with yourself when you are [vacationing in the Alps] with nothing around but an elderly landlady. Only when the contrast becomes personified do things get hot; a_reaL fire_can_. never burst forth withouL a_p..exrsQnified_o....Qp.posite. The .other_side ..must. ajso haye.. body,- and-because-it cannot haave-your.. o:wn,..it will take som ebodyelse s. I f your opposite appears simply as your inner enemy, it is perfectly abstract because it has no body . . . . And then you may think it is merely your imagination; or you may admit that you have very bad qualities and confess all your sins with much sentiment before God, but if anybody also should tell you that you had such sins you would swear hell and the devil against it. You would not accept it, particularly not if that person had a hand in your system. So a conflict only becom es real when the other side is projected into somebody. Then it fills a body, then your own opposite is


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projected into somebody who is perhaps forced to play a role in opposition to you.30 T h ere is no incentive to have it out with the animus unless there is fire enough in on e’s relationship to som eone o f the other /s e x so that one is in despair w hen things go w rong. _Notàing but. despair or a g r e a t enough love w ill g:ive one the Tier-p^saiy impulses. to -Carry_through_ _^^„mosLdisagreeablfi--job-©Lha^v.ing it out with the animus. T h e two (outside and inside) go hand in hand; one usually makes one experience outside and searches for the disturbing factor within. X_emphasize_the. -d istu rb in ^ ^ c^ ^ ie c a u s e - it i.S -tl4' -^ ^ m .th m g s ..g o.w ro n g th a t m o stp e o p le see the iieçessity ofdoing.anythiiig about them selves. Actually, when things go )¥ell,.we are usually in even_greate:r:_dang.er0„Therefore Jung speaks o f “suffering a su ccess” and points out that success is really harder to stand than failure. W h en a relationship is going specially well, for exam ple, then w hat a chance for the animus to whisper “. . . it must always be like this now” or to insinuate that one happy hour is just the prom ise o f another, thus delivering the wom an over into the full pow er o f the concupiscentia. W e will return to this problem later. It is clear that it is necessary while working on on eself to real­ ize clearly that th ere is an ou ter and an inner world and to distinguish betw een the two, a task, w hich on accou n t o f projection, is by no means easy. In the Visions seminar, Jung says: For practical uses, it is really best— though terribly shocking, I admit— to assume that everything has a double existence: a known tangible surface and at the same time an invisible, unknown existence. And you can call the unconscious and unknown side of a thing its soul, as the unconscious invis­ ible life in us is called soul or essence or whatever term you like to use— an old-fashioned idea, as old as the world, and therefore shocking for the modern man. We are the people who think they have discovered the right picture of the world 30. Ibid., p. 726.


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after all these centuries, so it looks as if we were making a most awful regression in fetching that old image of a double world from the depths of history. But I assure you it is most practical to do so; otherwise you will never understand the meaning of the animus and the anima. The best thing is .. ,t o r ' assume that we are standingl!!_n between two w orld j a visible tangible world, and tlie o ther invisibU;world. which somehow has a peculiar qu@ ty ofg(bbstanp.ali_!:y; butyeryjsubtle, ..a.sor.t ^^^atter.that.is_nQt^bYipus_anjdÃs_n.Qt.vtsib^e,.thatpenetrates bodies. and_ apparently eid.sts _outside .ot.Üme. and jpaqe. It is here and. everywhere at the same time, and yet nowhere because it has no extension; it is a complete annihilation ofspace and time which makes it a very different thing from our conception of an obvious world. But these are merely philosophical considerations which have not necessarily to enter your practical conception. Your...pr:actiCaLconceptLon, I rep.eatonceJ11ore,jho@ld_,be„to thmk that_everything has a sort of double existence.31 As you know, th e animus is in his right place only w hen he is functioning in that unknown invisible existence w here he belongs. In m any _e_laces j n books and seiiiimus. Ju n g sa y s-th a tth e animus is _Hk e^ naturaI^br idge„hetween.„us^.and..this. invisible.world. i t ,is_a kind ní’ niedialingfhiiction b e tw e e n th e IJw.Q, Jn _ ^ 3 3 Ju -n g -w id ened th is i d ^ i n a very enlightening way. In his Visions seminar, he says: the country o f lh e animus . . . would be the collective uncon­ scious, for the animus is normally a function; <m.eeQ:^uld_caLLit the semiconscious fringe ofTthe woman’s]m ind ^ w h ic h she pgrcer^-the-eo-nective-unconscious . . . Yes, the animus would carry the transcendent function, it would be a sort of p sy ch o p om p os, because the animus and the mind of a woman are those functions in which the data of the unconscious and of the conscious can be united. Therefore 31. Jung, Visions, p. 206.


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the Logos element would carry the transcendent function in a woman, as the Eros would function in a man. His Eros, his personal relatedness, together with the animus, carry the symbol which unties the data of the unconscious and the conscious, and thus makes the transcendent function possible. The function of the animus, like that of the anima . . . [is that of a] bridge; so he is on the side of the collective uncon­ scious and not on the side of the obvious so-called material world. But there is always a certain danger that the animus falls backward, so to speak, disappears into the collective unconscious, and then for a while the connection with the unconscious would be cut off. It is like a draw-bridge, which has its moorings in the unconscious; when it is dra^rc up, the gate to the unconscious is shut. That would be about the right image of the animus, because it really belongs more to the unconscious than to the conscious. You see, the animus is not created by conscious, it is a creation o f the unconscious, and therefore it is a personification of the unconscious. It is & e gate to the collective unconscious, and by a certain attitude one can provoke that function to appear; but if it returns to itself, pulls up the bridge, that locks the gate . . . . The anima and animus have not been just invented by the conscious; they have been fo u n d by the conscious. It is nothing that we have done in the conscious in order to build a bridge to the unconscious; it is rather that the collective unconscious came to us in the form of an anima or an animus; and, of course, when we became aware o f it, we reached out for that figure and thus established the relationship.32 It s e e m s t o m e that we have an ever in çre a sin g _ ch a n çe to develop our m inds.the_more.we are able.to exp.el.the_.animu;5.from the_personal world. That is, w e can dismiss.him tQ hisJboig1 e— as it w ere— by stren g th en in g p u r.hold on th e E ro s p r m ç ip h s o .th a tit becom es our natural way o f functioning. T h e cosm ic elem ent also 32. Ibid., p. 1209 and p. 208, respectively.


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appeared in my second dream . This point is not ably dealt with in E m m a Jung’s excellent p ap er on th e animus, although I wish to refer you to this essay so th at you can see th e w om an’s point o f view in this m ost practical but extrem ely vital p rob lem .33 W e find perhaps th e m ost illuminating o f all the things Jung has said about th e animus in his Visions seminar, and in particular in his co m m en t about th e figure o f th e w om an w hen she found a rough black stone in a fish that had cast itself at h e r feet. She rubbed th e stone against h e r breast— that is, gave it libido— and it tu rn ed to am ber. T h en she says: Within the amber I saw a face of suffering . . . Then I felt the amber beating with a strong pulse, and I felt tired and lay do^n on the ground. There it beat like a great heart and soon the ground and the trees about me beat also. I began to feel the pulsation eve^rywhere.34 She felt th e necessity o f freeing th e face from the am ber. At last she realized this could only b e done b y giving h e r blood to it, so she cu t h er breast, and w hen she did this the am ber vanished and a m an bound with thongs and p ierced with arrows stood in the jew el’s p la ce.35 This man is naturally th e animus, and this explains the suffering: first his face is suffering and then hers as she cuts h erself to give the m an h er blood. H e re she has had to fe tte r h er masculinity. This is w here Jung says th at th e real form o f the ani­ mus is a hero with som ething divine, b u t we always have to deal with an opinionating substitute. Jung continues: For this woman was beset with many animus devils, they were all over the place, and then through the whole procedure of these visions, the process o f transformation, her mind . . . became imprisoned in the earth, in the up-coming Yin 33. Emma Jung, Animus and Anima (New York: The Analytical Psychology Club of New York, 1957), pp. 39ff. 34. Jung, Visions, p. 605 and 608. 35. Ibid., p. 611.


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material, in the female, the mother, and slowly her animus was suppressed. She no longer had opinions about things as she assumed they should be, but gave the material a chance to speak its own mind. So things began to happen to her, thoughts came to her, and she stopped having opinions about things which ou g h t to come to her, not seeing what actually was happening. That unreal negative animus prevents the accurate perception o f psychological facts, always putting an opinion in the place of the actual perception. As soon as a woman perceives a thing, the animus steps in and says it is something quite different, and thus the actual experience is secretly falsified. Instead o f a real experience a mere empty opinion is substituted about what it ought to be, or what it possibly might be. Now she has learned to experience objectively, to see the things which really happen, and that has imprisoned her animus.36 You see these qualities in the o u te r world and in o u r ou ter personal lives as well as w hen we try to understand ou r dreams o r do active imagination. This is w here this unreal opinionating substitute is all over the place, preventing us from experiencing psychic reality exactly as “h e ” (the animus) fills us with illusions about ou ter reality. T h is passage b y .Jung,.si;e..ms_.j;u...me..Xí£»param ount im pQ rtance.foorJt j3.mphasizes the.. following: learning. to reahty and to exp e rie n ce w h a t ^ t h e r e directlyw ith nq distorting veil of opinions_ in bet\yeen. ^ ^ _ ru ie n ta tio n .in outeLr.eality imprisons ou r anim us and stops h im fro m fining..us..with..opinions. The tendency to distort reality on the part o f both animus and anima is perhaps the m ost com m on reason why people have such difficulty with active imagination. T h ey have not yet su cceed ed in im prisoning their animus, he is still all over the place, and he succeeds in distorting any d irect experience o f the inner world until it seem s too silly to be taken seriously at all. As to not seeing reality, one sees this problem in M oyzisch’s “O peration C ice ro .”37 36. Ibid ., p. 612, 3 7. [Elyesa Bazna, code-named “Cicero,” spied for the German government in World War


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: 33

H e co m es to th e con clu sion th a t th e failure to face reality, to u nd erstan d w hat th e w orld was really like, was perhaps th e greate s t single stupidity o f th e Nazi lead ers. Ju n g con tin u es his lin e o f th o u g h t and speaks about the anim a. H e says: The. motive ofth e imprisonment oftheanim us, has. its coun,. ten>arj:jn mascuHne psychojogxjn the_.i.mp.ri:,onmenLpf,the anima, b u tjtjs naturajly different .in thaHt is cpnçemed with emotions and moods. When a man is able to make a difference between the objective situation and his mood, when he no longer allows his mood to blindfold his mind, when he can set it apart, acknowledge that he has a peculiar mood, that is the beginning of the imprisonment of the anima. After a while he will be able to say to his mood: “You have no right to exist, I will put you into a test tube and you shall be analyzed.” Of course this means a great sacrifice, it can only be done with blood,-it requires a superhuman effort to bottle up the anima. So I quite Jrecognize what an extraordinary accomplishment it is for a woman to put the animus aside, to say, “I will put you into a test tube for later analysis.”38 Ju s t as a m an can say to his m ood w h ich is ob scu rin g th e face o f reality, “you have no rig ht to ex ist,” and thus p u t th e m ood in a te st tu b e, a w om an has to b an ish th e opinions b etw een h er­ s e lf and reality to a fem in in e eq u iv a len t o f a te s t tube. T h e fact t h a t i t is aG tu allv a m b e r th a tc o n ta in s th e im p.risoued .anirm .isin this_visÍQni_gives_js„ã_Ya.JJ.aMe.hinLi:lL J S _ t h e . d ifferen ce b etw een t h e p r o c e d u r e _o f the. tw:o„s_e:x:es in t h i s jm atter. .T h e id ea for the II, serving as valet to Sir Hughe Knatchbull-Hugessen, British ambassador in Turkey. Cícero purportedly photographed secret documents at night while his employee dined and played the piano, and he sold them to the Germans in 1943-1944, earning an exorbitant amount. He is acclaimed to be the highest paid spy in history at that time. He left his job undetected in April 1944 and remained unknown until his former German contact, Ludwig Moyzisch, at the German embassy inAnkara, published his memoir in 1950. See Richard Wires, The C ícero Spy Affair: Ge^nan Access to British Secrets in World War II (Westport, Conn.: Praeger, 1999). Ed.] 38. Jung, Visions, pp. 612f.


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anim a may be th at as the anim a was pushed out o f h er world by h er seeing reality as it is, she fell into a sticky mass like resin w hich gradually h ardened and im prisoned her, and she ends up cap tu red in the “u p -com in g Yin m aterial” as Ju n g expresses it in /

th e seminar. T h ere is som ething of the sam e idea in the old G nostic legend o f Nous and Physis: when Nous was adm iring his reflection in the w ater on earth , Physis (a personification o f nature) caught him in such a strong em b race that she drew him right into the earth w here he has b een im prisoned ever since. As you know, it is his liberation that is the main co n cern o f the alchem ists. As far as I can see, the only way w e can effectively put the ani­ m us in a “test tube” is by following the principle o f life as it flows and changes— always curbing any opinions about it. I learned this practically by the way that my anim us was always trying to pass judgm ents on such things as im portant conversations, contact with people who m atter to m e, and so on. I learned to say to him: “You shut up and stay shut up. Only tim e will show w hether it was right o r w rong. I will discuss it w ith you later, but go away now. W e don’t know yet how it will tu m o u t.” It w orked for m e; it stopped the anim us, and th en I could ju d ge by resu lts, by real­ ity, by the flow o f life itself, and in as far as I could do this, the animus got stuck as it w ere in the resin o f life. In this w om ans vision the resin seem s to symbolize th e feminine equivalent of th e form m ade by m an’s Logos. B u t a discussion then and there with the animus is seldom if ever successful, for if he is free and all over the place, he can kill life with his opinions just as a bullet, an arrow, or a spear can kill any living creatu re. W e still have to ask ourselves: ‘W h y was it am b er in this vision?” A m ber is the fossilized resin, that is, the crystallized sap o r lifeblood primarily o f pine trees. It com es from the old forests that b ecam e subm erged in the sea. Although it hardens completely, you can m elt it down with hot oil so that it becom es quite tacky. It also has m agnetic -features. W hen hardened, this resin results in a ^ p e o f gem stone that arises not from minerals


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but o u t o f the essence o f the tree, o f vegetable life. 39 So the quick, spearlike, unreal opinions o f the animus, w hich always shoot beside the mark, are slowed down by th e sticky substance o f the essen ce o f nature. They are thus forced to m elt and mingle with the resin, with the essence o f vegetative life, and an irrelevant or even destructive opinion about life is rep laced by an experience o f life w hich in tu m leads to a type o f spiritual understanding. As M arie-Louis von F ran z expressed it w hen we w ere discussing this subject, the resin, the gum arabic, turns into Gnosis, into spiritually exp erien ced life and thus the opposition betw een spirit and instinct is gradually united. In alchem y, it is M aria Prophetissa, the legendary wom an alchem ist, who emphasizes the im portance o f gum in the process, and as a w om an she points in a similar direction. H e r maxim, “M arry gum with gum in tru e m arriage,” is repeatedly quoted by the later alchem ists. In Psychology a n d A lchem y, Jung com m ents th at “originally it was gum arabic, and it was used here as a secret nam e for the transform ing substance.”40 T h e gum , in particular, is th e ingredient for fixing the elusive M ercurius. Jung quotes a Latin p oem in Psychology a n d A lch em y w ritten by a com m entato r on M aria Prophetissa w hich translates as: Maria utters b rief wanders because such are the things that she thunders. She fixes what runs to the bottom with double strong gums . . . 39. [Amber is made from the resin, for instance, of the now-extinct pinus succinifera and many other trees throughout the world. Sources of amber are found not only in India and China, but in Poland, England, Mexico, and the Dominican Republic. Its age varies from about 20 to 60 million years old, it appears in a variety of colors from honey yellow to redyellows, and as opposed to mineral gems, is surprisingly light and warm to the touch. It is easily formed into jewelry and can be burned as incense with the aroma of pine wood. In some places along the coast of the southeastern Baltic region, amber washes up onto the beach in almost limitless quantities, coming from the resins of ancient trees lying beneath the sea. Amber readily produces static electricity when rubbed; a feature particularly fascinating to earlier cultures. It was called electron in ancient Greek, from which the words electron and electricity are derived. Ed.] 40. C. G. Jung, Psychology and Alchemy (1944), CW, vol. 12 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1953), par. 209.


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This daughter of Pluto unites love's affiniti.es, Dehghting in everything s o ^ , roasted, assembled by threes.41 Maria Prophetissa’s m arriage o f gum to gum is m eant to sub/lim a te the elusive, fugitive M ercurius, n ear cousin o f the animus H erm es, the two being practically synonymous. H erm es, rem em ber, is set at the highest stage in Jung’s four levels o f developm ent. Although p resen t from the beginning, M ercurius is initially the negative asp ect o f H erm es, who, as you know, was a great stealer o f cattle and altogether a dubious ch aracter. T h e elusive and fugitive animus loves to make sweeping statem ents that miss reality, that rush past it in a m addening way. B ut here M aria glues him to the bottom o f reality in the resins w here he can no longer rush past anything but m ust stay put and transform — w h eth er he likes it or not. It is the same idea again as that o f Nous caught in the em b race o f Physis. Quite... practically. now :_,W hat w ould b e the.. difíerence .here betw een th e vase. m ade. by Logos. and. th at .hy,.E.ms?....-The_:man im piisons,..the_aninia,by, discrim ination. H e .s e e s ,h a h a s .a. mo.od, for. instance, and puts the m o o d in .a test tube. by,his„íli.scrto.ination. B u Jh h e animus fao w s a trick w orth t:wo o f th a t. J o u c a t c h yourself o uMn. an opinion,. for instance, .and.that.. works, y o u d ispossess_him..and experien ce spontaneous. life;.you think._"N°W _! have it,” and apply it again the next day. B ut by th e ne:x:t day it has b ecom e a formula.that. you. im pose, o n . theJlow„,Qf-life,. Thus the animus has already got out o f his test tube and used th e truth of yesterday as an opinion o f today. I would like to give an exam ple o f how it works out practically. A woman living below h er possibilities w ent to see a male analyst. She was m uch im pressed by him, felt really understood and felt he was an honest, decent man. However, like lightning, there cam e the animus. She thought: “I am a m arried woman. I m ay fall in love with him.” So she decided against analysis and rem ained stuck w here she was. If she had not let herself be possessed by that idea, 41. Ibid., par. 209, n81.


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if she had thought about it, she would have seen that she suspected the analyst o f wanting to seduce h er and could have seen the absurdity o f h e r suspicion. T he animus in this case had put a generally recognized truth that m en and w om en should not have affairs into a totally different individual situation. If she could have stood up to h er original feeling that the analyst was a d ecen t m an and said: “N ow you just wait, w e’ll see what this m an really is or isn't,” then she could have had the chance to p u t th e animus in th e resin until th e analysis showed what was behind it. JungjpQ m tSjautthat: putting. th e.thing into. a_test tube.,_or into a. cauldron, is. the. be^nning_ofthe. alchemistic procedure; the imprisonment of the animus or of the anima is for the purpose of transformation. This is a real process of sublimation. There is no sublimation of sex, that is imagination. This is a transformation, not of sex, but of forms, of experiences. Through imprisonment, the animus becomes peculiarly changed, he is stripped of his world, for

when a thing is in a test tube . . . externai influences are excluded and the thing [remains] undisturbed inside. And so it does not disturb one’s surroundings; in that way the most dangerous microbes can be kept in one’s room without infection, because nothing can get into the test tube and nothing can get out. So when the animus cannot get out into the external atmosphere, he has no object and then he has time to transform. [T]he main point in this transformation is that one takes objects away from those animus or anima devils. They only have objects if you allow yourself to indulge in something. Concupiscentia is the term for that in the church, you find it chiefly in St. Augustine; or convoitise in French; or desirousness in English; or Begehrlichkeit in German. That is the point at which all the great religions come together. In Buddhism it is the fire of desirousness that must be combated, and it is the same in Brahmanism, in the Tantric philosophy, in Manichaeism, in Christianity, and it is a term in psychology [as well].42 42. Jung, Visions, pp. 613f.


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Obviously if desirousness is the m eetin g point o f all the great religions, we can be sure it com es close to being the v ery crux in hum an nature. This is probably the m ost difficult em otion of all to forego. T he answ er o f the Christian C hurchâ&#x20AC;&#x201D; renunciationâ&#x20AC;&#x201D; though an absolutely necessary stage in hum an developm ent, has / in the long run proved to be too one-sided. T h e rep ressed oth er side has broken all bounds in o u r day and confronts us with the task o f finding another answer. Jung continues: When you indulge in desirousness, whether your desire is towards heaven or towards hell, you give the animus or anima an object; then they are extraverted into the world, they are not within, so the thing that ought to be of the night is o f the day, and the thing that should be under your feet is on top of you. But when you can say: Yes, I desire it, yet I do not indulge in it; I'll make up my mind to have it, I will try to get it, or if I make up my mind to renounce it, I shall renounce it; if your conscious attitude is such, then there is no chance for the animus or for the anima. But if you are drawn by your own desires, naturally you are possessed.43 Although th e whole realm o f th e concupiscentia is red hot, increasing the difficulty o f the task a hundredfold, the attitude that will be effective tow ard it does not differ essentially from the one we have ju st considered tow ard the animus or for animus opinions in general. T h e only w ay that I know o f keeping desire in hand is confronting it with reality. I f you make up you r mind to try to g et w hatever it is you want (the first o f Jung's alternatives), you m ust face the position as it is, take every disagreeable consequence and the full responsibility fo r standing up for w hat one desires. This is very disagreeable, especially for w om en, for pride has to be thrown out along with m any vain illusions. (Naturally, it is similar for m en with the anima.) Or, if you make up your mind to renounce it, th ere can be no sour grapes. O ne m ust take the

full_pain_of_doing_without it and perhaps the knowledge that one 4.3. Ibid., p. 613.


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1 39

lacked th e cou rage to push it through, th at is, one m ust take the responsibility for n ot trying. A s f a r as my experience goes, a-desi.re onlybecQ m es an object for th e animus _i£— m _one .:way._orJ:he.-.othe;r__.W<ui§._RStJi:i,kingi th e iu íl responsibilityfor i t a n d a r e indulging infiantasies ab o u tit. Som etim es it is m ost definitely not a cle a r case o f trying to g et it or renouncing it, b u t o f following the stream o f life as it leads first to one alternative and th e n th e other. T h e re everything depends on not indulgittgJ.nJ:hedesir%but-onweighin.g..the--reality-and-seeing which altem ative fits th e h ere and now in .an y one given m om en t. A young d o c to rw h o had ju st begun his ca re e r as an analyst told m e o f his difficulties with a case o f a fifty-year-old w om an as he was w orried th e case was going w rong. T he dream s soon revealed a pow erful sex tran sferen ce in th e w om an. I asked him how he exp erien ced th e whole thing. H e said he had read our sem inar on th e anim us, and after having con fronted h e r with reality as h e saw it, tried to help h e r stand up to w hat she w anted. H e also tried to find-the reason for th e unconscious producing such a seem ingly hopeless thing o r to helpj h e r renounce w hat she desired— knowing th at h e r pain would provide the sam e opportunity to suffer. B u t w h ich ever way th e dream s w ent, he was always confron ted with th e sam e refusal from this w om an to face reality. A secretive sort o f smile revealed that she was not believing a w ord o f th e reality he was describing, o r perhaps the grapes w ere too sour if renunciation w ere to com e on th e vine. In o th er words, the w om an indulged h e r desire and every kind o f fantasy and plot and refu sed all his efforts to bring it down to brass tacks. The animus got fa tter and fatter, possessed h e r daily m ore com pletely, until th e analysis en d ed in disaster. Personally, I don’t believe this analyst could have done a thing. I f a w om an will not face reality, no one can help her. Ju n g continues: A woman can be possessed by a real man, but that is only because there is an animus projection, as a man can be really possessed by a woman through an anima projection. So it


140

The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

boils down to the subjective condition in oneself; it is due to your indulgence in your desires. If you haveput your anima. oqQuL..l!!!.imus into <!. bottle,_you are free from possession, though there is of course a bad time inside and you will feel it, because when your devil has a bad time you will have a bad time. Yuu nnislknow.whcthcr it is your good spirit ox. yourJhad. spirit for if the negaü,Ye_ammusLÍ^ha^g_a_bad tima^oo.u.._&a1Le.:QjQyJ±, Of course he will rumble in your entrails, but you can always see that it is right after a while. You .slowly_getjquieLandJ:ransfQrm,„andjyo:u^aIL.d!isc^ill:'e thatin-.thaLbottle_grows.J:he.. _slone^^^^mher^_or_th_e_lapis. In other words, that solidification or crystallization means that the situation has become habitual, and in as much as the self-control, or non-indulgence has become a habit, it is a stone. The more it has become a habit, the harder, the stronger, that stone will be, and when it has become a fait accompli it is a diamond. Then you are no longer conscious of your concupiscentia.44 I bring this idea o f Jung’s here because it throws an interesting light on the diamond, which is one o f the symbols o f the Self, particularly in the E ast, w here the making of the so-called “diamond body” is so im portant. However, it would lead us m uch too far afield to go further into this aspect at present. In the w om ans vision, we h ear later th at the m an who com es out o f the am ber: is a different kind of animus. The wrong animus has been a substitute for the real animus. The real animus should not be bottled up. The conservation of the animus inside a bottle is transitory. It must be so until one is absolutely safe, because when there is a remnant of the old concupiscentia and one opens the bottle, then out comes the evil spirit and takes pos­ session of one and d o -^ one goes again. But if the situation is fairly safe; if the stone has been made, then one can open 44. Ibid., pp. 613f.


The Anim us Problem in Modern Women

1^

the bottle and out comes the new animus. Then one can see how he behaves and what he does.45 W e w ere told in th e w om an’s vision th at the m an could only g et out o f the am b er w hen th e w om an spilled h e r blood upon it. I m ust rem ind you fu rth er th at he cam e out bound w ith thongs and p ierced with many arrows. She drew out th e arrow s as gently as she could and freed him o f his fetters. Ju n g com m en ts th at the w om an had to fe tte r th e old opinionating anim us so as to stop his opinions and take things for w hat they really are.46 In this im age, the arrows can- b e seen as the insights th a t p ierce th e opinionating veil o f th e animus. W h m _ o n e ...te lk th e .anim us ±Oi.wizjt,_ one fetters o.:r_ glues him dQ...\YU.Butwhen one makes.. a ru le to -tu m .h is .sp ears.an d arro w s b a c k .o n . him , .J:hen,..h.e~ is. p en etrated by. th em . as.in. ...the„.vision. F o r instance, take the w om an w ho let h erself be ch eated o f h e r analysis. She could not only have told him to wait, thus binding o r gluing him down, but she could have tu rn ed his insinuations back on him and said to him : “You have a m ind like a sewer, full o f the filthiest opinions. You suspect Dr. So-and-So o f being a heartless D on Juan— con trary to everything one hears o f him , and th en you insinuate th at I will betray m y husband w ithout th e faintest evid en ce. You are ju st an ill-natured, lying gossip.” T h en back com es his spear and he gets it instead o f th e w om an. Ju n g notes later: Don't forget that tQ.be.poss.e.ssed_by.h.fi.animus _orjthe .anima was the original çonditÍQn.otman. We :wsre_rul .po!isesse::d, we were slayes.»_ai..® e~ .are not ..entirdy.-XeeJro^m...slav.ery,-.the main rjeason. being th a t.w e .re _ makin,g- effQ:r:tss...all-the_ tiine „ t o ~ _get back.into...slavery. We don’t know to what extent we are possessed; it is probable that our liberation is very relative. So the suppression of the anima or the animus is an act of extreme violence and cruelty; only being hard and cruel can one suppress even to that relative degree. And naturally the 45. Ibid., p. 614. 46. Ibid., pp. 6 llf.


The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

animus through such a process gets quite sore and has to be made whole afterwards. All those attempts at tying him do^n have caused specific wounds which must be relieved. It is as if one had to make the animus conscious o f the fact that he is now different, he is now healed after the very harsh treatf

ment he received.47 A vitally im portant point, and one w e are apt to b e very sen­

tim ental' about, is the fact that it requires cruelty to glue down th e animus. W e have depended on him , spoiled and pam pered him without realizing it, and thus it requires downright heroism to tu rn against him. I will rep eat a story which I have told before b ecause it is such a clear exam ple o f th e issue at hand. M any years ago when I was on holiday in England, Miss W olff had w ritten to m e that I should bring back m y fath ers small car with m e.48 At first I was furious and thought it utterly impossible, knowing what store m y father set in his cars and how difficult it was even to get perm ission to use one o f th em w hen I was th ere. A-Storm o f \veUrknown convictions fired on m y argum ents with-Miss W olff and whirled around in m y head afterw ard. However, I s.ucçeeded in g lu in g th e m d ow n an d , with fear and courage, having decided to tackle the issue, I approached him as ca^ily.as._pQssibIe. A nd. to m y great. surprise he.gave. m e .th e c a r with no p ro b lem .atall. I have always b een grateful to Toni W olff, for th at incident taught m e in a co n crete p ro jected exam ple th e terrific difficulty o f going against the animus and his fixed, irrefutable convictions. B ut it m ust be done o r he will always rem ain the old opinionating devil, and he will never transform . However, as we have seen, nothing ever rem ains as it was with the unconscious— the tru th o f yesterday is the form ula o f today— and w h e n th e animus h a s b een im prisQne d long enough, ,when~. th ere . is a good chance th at, he.-has.xe.all}': lra n s fo m )e l .w h m the situation is fairly safe, th e, p roced u re has to be rey ersed and the 47. Ibid., pp. 615f. 48. [Toni Wolff was a companion and colleague of C. G. Jung and a participant in many of the seminars. Ed.]


The Anim us Problem in M odern Women

143

:,V°II1 9 - n has toJ1eal.h im o£.his.w:ounds_and re le a s a h im ,h.y_gmng_ her„sjecy.^blDQd..£Qr,.th.e.p.!!fPQse. W hen-.e~is-..f'reed-ha_prom ptly mns_away_and-Cries. out, like.Icl!m s,_“Iw iU flx:!lA n d . she.answ ers, “A n d ,Jik e . Icarus,- y o u will ..be-küled.”í?.Then. .h e.tu m s.sad ly_an d knefils..beside her. L ater, in th e sam e seminar, the results o f this animus submission b eco m e clear. T he w om an now has to take the entire responsibility for herself. Jung notes that being forced to assum e responsibility for on eself is a m ost awkward and despicable situation. O ne fears this responsibility and does not w ant to see things as they are. W e generally p refer not to know w hat is happening in the next room , for then we must take a stand. H e re one can no longer deceive oneself and claim th at one doesn’t know w hat is going on. It is naturally all monkey business, but it is indigenous to hum an nature such that one can hardly rid oneself o f it. Tim e and again it is.the sam e: l£ 1 d o n ’tk n o w a b o u t it,- how_can.Lb&,responsibleB.We can all.knowit, o f course, i£ w e w a n tto . T he m om en tth e.an im u s is, . obedient...we.have.. to. assum e .responsibüity. .W e-then-have- to Jive, see,.andil,ç.t ^ajl three„o,Jwhich are.exceedingly difficult. Things are so m uch easier w hen one doesn’t see through th em ; th en everything runs m ore o r less smoothly, and one always claims that it was simply by ch an ce that such and such a thing happened. B u t w hen one ca rt.‘fullyst.udi.e.s..oiieseir. one sees jtis altogether. too.cleg,:rjust how som ething in us p re a rra n g e d m u c h o £ th e . show. 50 So we don’t know exactly w hat troubles will b e com ing our way. B u t w e can be sure th at if we are controlling our anima or animus, w e will get into a situation th at is exceedingly difficult; we will be p u t to th e test for sure. This challenge will always. o ccu r in reality, for w hen a. m an Controls .hisumimf:l., a w om an h er animus, th ey endeayor to dosom ething-that-nobodyw ould dream. o[d o in g . Since th e w orld began, hum ankind has b een possessed, and w hen you dare to dispossess yourself, th en you get into a different o rd er o f things w hich m eans an outright challenge to the old order. N o sooner have you rid yourself o f one devil then 49. Jung, Visions, p. 616. 50. Ibid., p. 624.


14 4

The A n ii^ s: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Wo-men

you have all th e devils against you. I f a m an m odestly attem pts to control his anima, he will then right away be in a situation w here he is torm en ted and tested by all the devils o f the world who will do anything to bring him back to the blindfold o f m other nature. H e gets out o f the ordinary level o f the flock if he even tries to /Ilake such an attem p t. T h e sam e is naturally true o f a woman. Every-available. devil circulating within a hundred_mües_OL.so_^.:will do his b e s tto g e th e r goat. Ç Q ntrollm gjh eanim us-oran im aás.like creatgiLg^Yacuum. W h en you lift yourself ou t o f a certain volume o f space, it leaves a vacuum and th en everything rushes in to fill the gap. People who make an attem p t to take control over these figures m eet oth er conditions th at alm ost force them back to th eir form er state. It actually works quite automatically.51 As Jung expressed it on an oth er occasion, if one sheep leaves the h erd and no longer grazes and m oves along with his com pany o f sheep, the others— seeing it alone— will no longer recognize it. T hey will think that it is an anim al th at is in the habit o f moving alone by itself— such as a w olf o r b ear— and will actually regard it as a com m on enemy. W e see h ere very clearly how o u r progress in analysis so often seem s like a circle. W e com e back to the sam e w eary old place tim e and again. B u t I m ust say from the experience o f w om en w ho work on them selves earnestly, th e course is not really a circle but a spiral. W e im prison th e animus, but then b eco m e afraid o f the responsibility, o f th e u n exp ected implications. W e let him out and he regresses to an opinionating dem on. B u t in tim e we actually do shorten his rein as an unreal opinionating substitute. And if we are in earnest and take a little m ore o f the responsibil­ ity for ourselves, th en we can stand th e tension a little bit longer. Probably it is m uch too optim istic to hope th at one will ev er stand it all the tim e. T h ese changes in hum an nature take generations, if not centuries, to m ature. B ut at least we are contributing som e­ thing to what seem s to be one o f th e m ost essential problem s o f ou r age. And, as Jung rem arks, to work on the anima, o r the animus, is a m an’s o r w om ans g reatest m erit. 51. Ibid.


A n im w Figured in L iterature and in M odern L ife

Editor's Note: The following essay is based on a compilation of stenographic notes taken primarily by Ulma G. Thomas during a series of tw elve lectures given at the C. G. Jung Institute in ZĂźrich between October 26, 1953, and February 22, 1954. Ms. Thomas writes that her rtotes are by no means complete, nor have they been revised by Barbara Hannah. They are, nevertheless, extensive. She also expresses the hope that errors have not crept inadvertently into the text. As Ms. Thomas did not know at first that she would be sharing her notes with others, her annotations on the first lecture are brief and incomplete, comprising little more than one page, but enough of Barbara Hannah's presentation is otherwise documented so that the first lecture has been reconstructed in a form accordant to the rest of the series. The notes of several lecture participants, in particular a man identified only as Dr. Fellowes, w ere also employed. Quite a bit of the material from the previous essay repeat them selves in the opening lectures of this series.


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The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

Le c t u e One

As w e all well know, th e animus personifies the spirit in woman while the anim a represents the soul in man. In general w e can say that, at the m ore rudim entary levels, th e animus in the w om an is the p rod u cer o f "opinions” w hereas th e anim a in m an produces ^ o o d s . B u t actually the p art o f th e animus to w hich w e can react and with which w e can make co n ta ct is the m erest fraction o f the entity o f spirit in th e w om an. In real_ life,__WQmffil_generalIy deal n o t_ w ith jh e e n tire .animus h u t.w ith -th atp ^ ± .o £th e_an im u s that is__mostly an opinionating. substitute. for the- dep_ths_pf_ the spirit. _ This would b e “th e spirit o f rationalization” which indefatigably occupies itself with making th ese opinions seem logical— at least as seen from the point o f view o f th e w om an or o f th e collec­ tive society. Sinçe_a..great.deaLc£the.anim us4ies4nitiany-inthÊxeia.lnLofthe unconscious,. .itjs_naturallyentangledin-.the_shadonw,._.whLchJ.snot, however, th e sa.me._asL.th e a n im u s. M u ch o f the shadow consists o f personal repressions o r o f that w hich has been forgotten. This m ore o r less corresponds to F re u d ’s co n cep t o f the entire uncon­ scious. Jung has noted that th e unconscious is also th e unfathom able wellspring o f creativity and ideas, the expression o f which w e can glimpse in works o f literature, art, music, o r dance, in fairy tales and myths, in the prim itive, an cient, and contem porary religions, and so forth. T h e shadow is m ore or less the first part of th e unconscious that we en cou n ter when w e begin to take notice o f ou r inner, unconscious lives. T h e first_ encountersL.withL.the -.unconsciaus_.be.ccme' difficult w h e n th e shadow is contam inated_w ithçollective _figures_(heroes, dem ons,..an d the lik e)- a n d .w ith arche^typal fig u re s su c h as the animus and. anima. T h e differentiation o f the animus from the rest o f the shadow (that is, from th e rest o f the unconscious) is a lifelong task. Som e two thousand years ago, the Gnostic religions (in particular the Valentinian school) form ulated four stages in the individuation o f the animus and anima, or o f the individuals relationship to the spirit and th e soul. T h ese Gnostics determ ined the four stages as follows:


Anim us Figures in Literature and in M odern L ife

4 3 2 1

ANIMA Sophia M ^y Helen Cha^wa/ Eve

147

ANIMUS Hermes I Psychopomp Lover Husband Phallus

T h e initial level in th e anim a is Chawwa, the prim ordial serp en t, an undifferentiated, all-encom passing potential o f the fem inine, o r E v e , o r the earth , th e furrow, th e yoni an d sexuality. This level corresponds to th e initial level o f the developm ent of th e animus, which is the phase o f th e phallus. T h e second level is that o f H elen; in th e anim us, the husband. T h e third is Mary; in th e anim us, th e lover. A nd th e h ighest level of individuation of th e anim a is Sophia. F o r th e animus, this is the psychopom p, for exam ple, H erm es, th e guide o f souls.1 T h e a n im u s J n J h e lite ra r y works o f women- ser:vesvery m uch ind eed as a form o f t_he Spirit,.the_spmlttus_rnçíQ£,_th e.m lin g _spiri.t o f tlio work so to speak. T h e literary “spirit” o f a w om an’s novel has individually recognizable featu res. M oreover, the protagonisjts ten d to retain som e com m on featu res throughout a given au th ors works. Such jto r ie s can natur J y _ b e coilsidere<;l to be a form of activeim agm .ation. p n th e p a r t o f .the author. O ne sees th e spiritus re c to r clearly in works o f authors such as Agatha C hristie, G eorge E lio t (M ary Ann Evan s), G eorge Sand, E lizab eth G oudge, J n e A usten, M a^^W eJhb, and R e p e cca . W est, Some. o f the features m ay b e .b io g ra p h ica l,a n d iL w o u ld .b e -in te re stin g __then_to._obtain the. b iographic .d g ta ü s o f a n au th ors life, B u t oth er characteristics ca:ri_be_.seeJl as “m irror. im ages” o f t h e .a u th o rs. animus. B efo re th e M iddle A ges, the anim us is but scarcely docum ented. T h e anim us o f w om en had little ch an ce to differentiate itself and develop, a s itw a s so well con tain ed by projection onto m en— husbands,_warriors, priests, .statesm en, and th e.Iik e. At best, we find prototypes o f the animus prefigured in religious, mythological, and fairy-tale figures. T he m asculine features o f the animus 1. See Barbara Hannahs essay in this volume, “The Animus in Modem Women,” for a more detailed description of these four stages. Ed.]


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(or spirit) are evidenced, for instance, in various details o f the personalities o f the gods and h e ro e s._M ore d ire c t exam ples. o fth e animus _can. b e seen~m-the~p©rsonality„anthdeeds~of.Judith..ini:he Book o fJu d ith _or_in. S.arah_and_ _A_smodaem. m_the-B.nok_aLlObit. T he animus, in a dem onic form , was known to possess w om en ) a s w e witness with the sixteenth-century nun Jean n e F ery ) or appeared in the form o f the G rand M aster am ong w itches. B u t all in all, little on the animus is to b e found. T he anim a in possessed form was identified prior to the M iddle Ages.2 B u t b efo re Jung identified the animus, little was recognized o f this cou n terp art to the anim a in the unconscious o f w om en. I personally w asted m any years trying with intellectual m eans to catch the animus at work in myself. This is som ew hat like the dog chasing its own tail. O ne never. catches. the animus w h e n h e is constellated throJ1 gh_writing,_spee_ch, . o r thouggh.t,. for these are to o ls o f th e .spj.rit...Jt..was. first, through E roJ Lth atX.got_a_ glimpse o f a feelmg.©f.a.eertain_mreality.„:whe:n_the.„^imus..w..as,,a.r:Qund; for exam ple, in m y opinions, in a feeling o f frustration, o r o f being out o f relation with m y surroundings. I slowly learned to recognize this condition and to know beyond doubt w hen it was constellated, and thus for the first tim e I had a small and m odest beginning o f a form with which I could approach the unconscious. T he animus does his b est to swallow you and then despises you w hen he succeeds. Logos and E ro s are principles by w hich we can orien t ourselves in the world, b u t all four functions (thinking, feeling, intuition, and sensation) are required to give a full p icture from the standpoint o f eith er principle. I t is ju st as possible to live by the feeling nuances in the signposts o f a relationship as by th e rational standpoint o f discrimination. In a seminar, on dream analysis in the sum m er o f 1 9 3 0 , Jung said that:

2. [Examples such as the Sirenen, Helen of Troy, Cleopatra, or later examples such as Dantes Beatrice, Petrarch’s Laura, and Rider Haggard’s “She” are mentioned in the introductoiy essay of volume two of this work. Ed.]


Anim us Figures in Literature and in M odern L ife

Logos i s the principie of discrimination in contrast to Eros which is the principie o f relatedness. _Er.os_.b:ri.ngs J h ings together, establishes dynamic relationships between things, while the relations that Logos brings about. are perhaps analogies or logical conclusions, but it is ^pical for the Logos that. his i-elations are deyoid o f emotional dynamics.3 E ro s w ith o u tL o g o s does. n ot understand OL.CQ.ropxehend.Jt is b u t blind relatednessT-..-a...Índ..of.relationship-.sfie.n,-fQr~mstance. in w om en w ho are q_isso1vedjinto_h::i,ppy..little_families. _Logos-and ErOiLare, re;ilJy, o f a herm aphroditic. n atu re, _ap. integration o f two different y etço m p le m e n ta ry principies. .W omen should b e guided b y JE ro s Jn .the. outside w orld an d led b y Logos (spiritual realization) withrn th e .unconscious. I f the anim us can take ap art and tear do^rc th e ob ject, it is a sign th at w e are actually only seeing our o ^ n faces in the object, and w e are failing to p erceive th e object itself. W hen. a_woman sets the goal o f trying to be related..and fem inine with a m em b er o f th e ^oth er sex, ..she can n ot avoid the trap of.becQ roing.esp ecm llyob sessed with an im u s.opinions. T h e anim us whispers: “Now you should show this feeling o r th at . . . ” and th e whole situation lands in the devils kitchen. .Spontaneity is excluded.- B u t if a w om an can try it out inside and find h e r own place o f relatedness with h er own anim us, she can g et to a place w h ere relationships can n ot b e destroyed. This is similarly true with L ogos; ge_!!uine_l,,ggqsmust_haveJ5ros within.

L e c t u r e "T w o

I w ould like to begin with th ree additional observations from the m aterial I p resen ted in the initial lectu re last week. F irst, I would like to em phasize that althpugh the. shadow is. certainly unpleasan t and disagreeable to adm it and co n fro n t,. it. is in -no w ay. as difficult as th e setzung with the animus. F o r here w e have that very real. and oftentim es painful en cou n ter w here a w om an must 3. C. G. Jung, Dream Analysis: Notes o ft h e Seminar- Given in 1928-1930 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1984), p. 700.


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grapple_Y.>'.ith, analyz.e,. act, ..re a ct,.and . eventually. c o m e to -te rro s with the configuration. o f h er in11er_spiri.LSecond, I m ention ed th e spiritus recto r o f w om en authors and would like to point out that, generally, it is e a sy _ to sp Q tJh _an im u s_o £.th e..h exo iae_Y et w hen w e look b eneath and into th e background, ofthisJigure^jw g ?an also identify. the W eltanschauung,thatis,.the,w .o.dd\dew o£the au th ors animus. And finally, the w om an’s discriminating function stem s from— o r is in the hands o f— h er animus. Thus, in active im agination as well as in daily life, th e animus has the to.QlsJ_n.his hands to fool the w om an .at any tim e, ,Only an m n e rfe e lin g , that is, an eros reaction, is u p Jo ch allen gin gth e logicaLcertaioties.and rational convictions. perpetrate.d.by the animus. Picking up w here w e ended last w eek, I would like to begin by pointing out that the principles o f eith er Logos or E ro s alone are dry and sterile unless the o th er is contained within. It is the task o f both w om an and m an to go beyond these potentially sterile forms o f their own principles and, by integrating the opposite, change them into whole and living forms. W h en difficulties arise betw een m en and w om en, each looks at the o th er to find the cause. B ut the difficulty lies in the fact th at it is so difficult to understand ourselves, to see ou r own faces o r ou r own inner lives. Looking for the sou rce o f the trouble in ourselves m eans searching for on e’s o^wn principle. N othing but despair o r great love will provide a w om an with the necessary im petus to have it out with h e r animus. W h en things are going well for us, w e are usually il). even g re a te r danger o f identification with the animus. This led Jung to speak o f “suffering su ccess,” som ething that is in one w ay even hard er to take than failure. W h e n a relationship is going well, then there is a particularly good ch an ce for the animus to whisper that it m ust always continue like this now; the happy hour must continue on forever. W h en a w om an works on herself, she m ust clearly realize that there is an inner and an ou ter world. T h e animus is in its right place w hen functioning in the unknown and invisible inner exis­ ten ce w here it belongs.' The w om an and h er animus are joined to geth er like Siam ese twins, but neither can see the reality o f the


Anim us Figures in Literature and in M od em Life

other. T h e anim us is like a natural bridge betw een us and the inner w orld. Ju n g n otes that: the animus is meant to be cosmic; it is a function which should widen out the spiritual or mental possibilities into infinite space, as it were, into the infinity of the collective mind. Inasmuch as the animus is expanding into the great unconscious cosmos, he is really in his own elementâ&#x20AC;&#x201D; there he belongs, that is his home.4 T h .e m o re we...can. expftl.the anim us fro m. fue p ersQ n alw orld by s tre n g th e m n g o u r h o ld o n .th e . Eros.p_rinciple,,them o xe,.Qhançe w e_.haYe.Qf Ldevek>ping.our.,min.ds.5 T h e real form o f th e anim us is th at o f a h e ro w ith som ething o f the divine in him , but this h ero w e do n ot deal with at first in ord in ary life b ecau se th e re w e are dealing w ith an opinionating substitute. Jung, analyzing th e dream s and visions o f a w om an in his Visions seminar, notes: ) F o r this woman was beset with many animus devils, they were all over the place, and then through the whole procedure of these visions, the process of transformation, her mind . . . became imprisoned in the earth, in the up-coming Yin material, in the female, the mother, and slowly her animus was suppressed. She no longer had opinions about things as she assumed they should be, but gave the material a chance to speak its own mind. So things began to happen to her, thoughts came to her, and she stopped having opinions about things which ought to come to her, not seeing what actually was happening. That unreal negative animus prevents the accurate perception of psychological facts, always putting an opinion in the place of the actual perception. As soon as 4. C. G. Jung, Visions (London: Routledge, 1998), p. 1228. 5. Emma Jung, Animus and Anima (New York: The Analytical Psychology Club of New York, 1957), pp. 39ff; first published in a slightly expanded version in C. G. Jung, W irklichkeit d er Seele (Zurich: Rascher Verlag, 1934).


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a woman perceives a thing, the animus steps in and says it is something quite different, and thus the actual experience is secretly falsified. Instead of a real experience a mere empty opinion is substituted about what it ought to be, or what it possibly might be. Now she has learned to experience objec/

tively, to see the things which really happen, and that has imprisoned her animus. [It is an] extraordinary accomplishment . . . for a woman to put the animus aside, to say, “I will put you into a test tube for later analysis.” Now putting the thing into a test tube, or into a cauldron, is the beginning of the alchemical procedure; the imprisonment of the animus or of the anima is for the purpose of transformation. This is a real process of sublima­ tion; there is no sublimation of sex, that is imagination. This is a transformation, not of sex, but of forms, of experiences. Through imprisonment, the animus becomes peculiarly changed, he is stripped of his world, for when a thing is in a test tube . . . with a stopper, externai influences are excluded and the thing is undisturbed inside. And so it does not disturb one’s surroundings; in that way the most dangerous microbes can be kept in one’s room without infection, because nothing can get into the test tube and nothing can get out. Sowhen the gnirous. cannot get out into the externai atgiosphexe, and he hasno object,then he has}im e tqJransform. You see, the main point in this transformation is that one takes objects away from these animus and anima devils. They are only interested in objects if you allow yourself to indulge in something. Concupiscentia is the term for that in the church, it was particularly stressed by St. Augustine; or convoitise in French; or “desire” in English; or Begehrlichkeit in German. It is the point at which all the great religions come together. The fire of desirousness is the element that must be fought against in Buddhism, in Brahmanism, in Tantrism, in Manichaeism, in Christianity, and it is a term in psychology [as well]. You see, when you indulge in desirousness, whether your desire is towards heaven or towards hell, you are giving the animus


Anim us Figures in Literature and in M odern L ife

or anima an object; they are then turned out into the world instead of staying in their place within, so what s h o ld be of the night is of the day, and what should be under your feet is on top of you . . . . But if you are governed by your„.desires you are naturally possessed. A w qm anm axbe possessed. by a real man, b u tth at is only because there is an.animus projection [just] asain an may be possessed hy a real womanthrough. an ^ m y 3roje£.t;i,çJl. So it boils down to the subjective condition in yourself: it is due to your indulgence in your desires. If you have put your animus or anima into a bottle, you are free from possession, though there is of course a bad time inside and you will feel it because when your devil is having a bad time, you will have a bad time. You must know whether it is your good spirit or your bad spirit, for if the negative animus is having a bad time, you can enjoy it. Of course he will rumble in your entrails, you can always see that it is right after a time. You slowly get quiet and transform, and you wiU discover that in that bottle grows the stone— the amber, or the Lapis. In other words, that solidification or crystallization simply means that the situation has become a habit, it is a stone. The more it has become a habit, the harder, the stronger that stone will be, and when it has become afait accompli, it is a diamond. Then you are no longer conscious of your concupiscentia . . . . The man who comes out of the stone is a different kind of animus. The wrong animus has been a substitute for the real one. The real animus should not be bottled up. The conservation of the animus inside a test tube is transitory. It must be so until one is absolutely safe, because if one opens the bottle when there is anything still left of the old concupis­ centia, out comes the evil spirit and takes possession of one, and down one goes again. But if the situation is fairly safe, if the stone has been made, then one can open it and the new animus appears. Then one can see how he behaves and what he does . . . . Women usually do not understand the animus at all, it is as if they were completely blind. It is really true that there is a mental f unction in women that prevents her

153,


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The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

from looking things in the face . . . . Our patient went at the animus, catching him and tying him down until she arrived at an immediate experience. The animus is a sort of film between reality and a woman’s mind, she always talks about things as they should be, so when she says a thing is really so, it is really not so at all . . . . The animus is like a mist before her eyes and it needs a careful systematic self-education to penetrate that illusive mist.6 W h en we try to do active imagination, these opinions are all j over the place, blocking and preventing us from 1 proceeding. W hai. imprisons. ou r aniinus__is._seeing.real i,ty, lea m in g to experie n ce what is. tra e without t h e ..d estm ctive.yeils_oL op in ion s in betw een. This ten d en çy .to.,i..§torti§, .the. reason .why.people.haYe such . difficulty in. active im agination... T h e animus succeeds in distorting until it seems to be silly to continue at all. To imprison the anim a or animus m eans a great sacrifice. It is an extraordinary accom plishm ent for a wom an to say to h er animus: “I will put you in a test tube fo r later exam ination.” A wom an has to banish opinions that com e betw een h er and reality. In the vision quoted above, Jung mentions that it is am ber that contains the impersonal animus, and this gives us a valuable hint regarding the difficulty in the p rocedure. M en make a vessel for the unconscious with their minds, and w om en with E ro s and the feeling o f relationship. Am ber com es from the old forests w hich becam e subm erged in the sea. Although it hardens com pletely, you can m elt it down with hot oil, so that it b ecom es quite tacky. It is also a m agnet. T h erefore, thejdeam a:Y-be-thata.s the_animus.was -pushed-out o £ that~patientsworld---by.her--.seemg reality-as itis , he felLinto a sticky mass,.like resin, which gradually im prisoned him. In alchemy, it is the m ost famous w om an alchemist, M aria Prophetissa, who talks o f m arrying gum with gum "in true m arriage,” gum h ere originally being gum arabic, “used as a secret nam e for the transform ing substance on accou n t o f its 6. Jung, Visions, pp. 612ff.


A nim us Figures in Literature and in M odern L ife

155

adhesive qualities."7 P resum ably gum is used h ere as it fixes the illusive M ercu riu s. T hus w e can see two vases, on e m ad e by Logos and the o th er by E ro s . The__man .nails, .dQwn_Qr..:iunprisQns” th e anJ.ma b y . i s c!im iu ation . B u t. the. . w o m an s anim us.has a trick...or_two up. his . slee\l€l.-You ca tch you rself o u t and think: “N ow I have finally got it," b u t already it is a form ula w hich you im pose on th e flow o f life. T h e animus has got out o f his test tube and has taken a truth proved y esterd ay and m ad e it into an opinion o f todav. T h e onlv way to p u t the.. anim us. in :i_te.st tu b e is b y following the. principle oflife_-as_itfl()'Y'iL,ãíld fh an g es, ajways mindful o£ its reality and re fo sin g .to aI19..vy_ourselves. any_opinion about it.8 I learn ed this, by th e way, in m y conversations w ith p eople w ho really m attered to m e. A t last, I learn ed to say to th e animus: “Shut up now, and stay shut up. T im e will show. W e do not know y et how it will tu m out, so take your opinions and g o ." And this w orked. It freed m e th en to judge n ot by opinion and conviction but by results, by reality, by th e flow o f life itself. In so far as I su cceed ed , the ani­ m us got stuck in th e resin o f life. I f th e animus is free and all over the place, h e ca n kill life w ith his opinions m uch like an arrow or spear can kill any living creatu re. W h e n you have th e feeling that som ething is not quite natural, th en very often an opinion has slipped in and is preventing you from em otionally standing on real ground. T h e animus always cuts you off. Resin is th e sap, th e lifeblood o f trees, the very essence o f tre e s and vegetative life. So thejstickyLSubstanee-is th e essen ce ofrn atu re, th at unhurried essence. H .slows d o '^ . the.. spearlike opinions o f th ea n im u s. Irrelev an t and d estructive opinions about7. C. G. Jung, Psychology and Alchemy (1944), CW, vol. 12 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1953), par. 209. 8 . [Barbara Hannah’s point here roughly corresponds with the Buddhist concept of satipatthana or “mindfulness,” where one attempts to observe and detach oneself from the polarities of strife, physical suffering, the emotions, and so forth and seeks a form of union beyond the worldly rêalm of animus and anima opinions, ego convictions, and the like. However, the activity of satipatthana, that is, mindful detachment, is not simply passive withdrawal but definitely fulfills the desire for awakening. In essence, Barbara Hannah has defined some­ thing similar here. There are no known instances of her having access to or having studied such Buddhist concepts. Ed.]


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relationships-and-thadaiIy:..going&ronin the_w odd.are-replaced.by the actual experience o f M e. Animus-opinions, are,transform ed-hy &e,_“gum ” or “resin” into spiritual exp erience; spirit an d in stin ct are gradual!}': united. Thus M aria Prophetissa speaks o f the coni­ unctio o f “gum with gum ” as a “spiritual m arriage.” I W om en, who in the old days u sed to be submissive to m en, may find them selves in the position today o f being submissive to the animus. W h en speaking ab ou t how the animus m anipulates a woman, Jung m entions the exam ple o f a girl who, when looked at by a man, im m ediately translates th at look into the en tire history o f h er life and ends up seeing h erself as an old grandm other. This m ay have som e natural and instinctual elem ents o f desire in it, because desirousness is the cru x o f n atu re, but a way o f keeping desire in hand is by confronting it w:ith reality, w hereas here the animus twists that reality into images that cause h er to im m edi­ ately cu t off relatedness and distance h erself and close h erself off from the man. I am rem inded h ere o f a w om an w ho, dissatisfied w:ith a Freu d ian analysis, w ent to a m ale Jungian analyst and cam e away feeling for oncp very m uch understood. H ere was a psychoanalyst who she felt could help her. B u t then she thought: “I am a m arried woman, and I might fall in love . . . , ” and this prospect was so awful that she got all u p set and decided to leave m atters be and forgo the analysis, thus forfeiting w hat may have been a valuable experience. N evertheless, a way o f keeping desirousness in hand is by confronting it w:ith reality. You m ust face the situation as it is, take every disagreeable con seq u en ce, carry every responsibility, and stand up for what one wants and needs. B u t if we make up our minds to renounce, then we m ust also stand to that. T h ere must be no sour grapes. One m ust realize that perhaps one actually lacks the courage to carry som ething through.J£we,,dQL.nQt.take full ::tndclearresponsibility, th e anim us.can get hold o f it w hether itis....somethmg.,We a re .try n g to g e t o r to..renounce. Som etim es it is a case o f following the stream o f life as it leads us first to one alternative and then the other. T h en one m ust look at reality and see which alternative fits the h ere and now at the tim e.


Anim us Figures in L iterature and in M od em L if e

57

L ectu re T h ree

W e left o ff last w eek with th e am ber. W e spoke about how the vision d iscussed by Jung in his Visions sem inar gave us a hint as to how w e could im prison the anim us. A nd we discussed the thesis from M aria Prophetissa about gum m arrying gum. T h at is, in “the natural sap o f th e tre e ,” we can stop o u r opinions about everything in ou r daily life. In th ese sam e seminar's, Jung continues in his discussion o f the im ages: We have the man bound by thongs and pierced by arrows. An arrow is a thing which goes swiftly and penetrates, like thoughts: they are shafts of light, or of insight that pierce the veil of the animus. A woman must pierce and penetrate because she is always held in mid-air by that mirage between herself and reality. This woman has pierced the mist, for this is the real animus. She says: “I drew the arrows forth as gently as I could and freed him of this fetters.”9 T h e T ibetan B ook o f the D ead speaks o f the icicle and o f the psychic bolt sent out with the intent to kill. B u t th ere are also m any primitive stories about the w itch d octor sending out the icicle o r the bolt to h u rt his enem ies and afterward having to be careful b ecau se the bolt always com es back. Jung m entions a sham an -w itch d octor who hung up his co at on a scarecrow out in a field so th at the angry bolt would retu rn to it instead o f to him. O n ce it arrives back, he “w orries it” until it gets tired. B y working on the “bolt” o r “boom erang” o r “icicle,” the evil spirit is rem oved and thus can n ot hurt him. Only then does he put it back in his pock et for future u se.10W h e re the animus tries to disrupt a pleasant co n tact o r interview, one can then tell him to wait until w e can talk it out. B u t when one makes. it a rule to turn the negativity back on him , then he gets wounded, the arrows are turned back on him as though one had said to him: “You have a m ind like the main sewage line, full o f horrible suspicions.” T h en the spear is bent 9. Jung, Visions, p. 615. 10. Ibid., p. 367.


The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

i5 8

back on him, inflicting a wound. O ne would feel bad th at one had such an animus, b u t that is far b e tte r than identifying with him. Since the animus has been w ounded, the w om an should make him whole. In his Visions seminar, Ju n g notes that this healing is im plied in the idea o f drawing out the arrow s. H e w rites:

/

For what one has to do to the animus is thorough, it is violence. Don’t forg e t that to_be possessed bythe animus or the anima was !he ig[iginaLcondition .o£. man..-Wa :werjLall. pos­ sessed, we_ were. slaves, .ançLwg.file .I to dayl.n ot_.<3ntirely.free from slavery .All the tíme we are matóng efforts to__get back into slavery We don't know to what extent we are possessed, it is probably that liberation is very relative. So the suppression of the anima or the animus is an act of extreme violence and cruelty, only by being hard and cruel can one suppress these powers completely— relatively completely that is. And the animus through such a process gets quite sore and has to be made whole afterwards; all those attempts at tying him do^n have caused specific wounds which must be relieved or healed. It is as if one had to make the animus conscious of the fact that he is now different, he is now healed of the very harsh treatment he received before. This is a vitally impor­ tant point and one we are apt to be very sentimental about. One feels the most extraordinary disloyalty.11

M any years ago, as I was on holiday in England, I received a lette r from Ms Toni W olff suggesting th at I ask my fath er to give m e his smallest ca r to bring back w ith m e to Switzerland. A t first I was furious. Such a request was absolutely futile. She had no idea how m uch he was set on all of his cars. And she had no idea what would be in store for m e if I w ere to approach m y father on such an issue. It was terribly difficult to get him to give m e perm ission even to drive one o f his cars w hen I was with him th ere. I could well imagine the em otionality and th e reproach if I w ere to ask him for this particular favor. I spent days going back and forth 11. Ibid., p. 615.


Anim us Figures in Literature and in M odern L ife

i 59_

on w h eth er o r n ot to ask. I finally got up th e cou rage to risk the em otional b lo ^ ^ p . To m y g reat surprise, he simply and kindly just gave m e th e car. H e re was a step in m y overcom ing the animus p rojected onto m y father. B ack to th e Visions seminar, Jung continues: After she had freed him from his fetters he ran with great fleetness away from me until he came to a great precipice. Then he called like Icarus “I will fly.” I answered: “And like Icarus you will be killed.” Slowly and with great sorrow he walked back toward me and knelt down beside me. So the animus tries to run away, to take his former position in the world of things, he wants to jump out into space and fill space again with his illusions. And he wants to reach the impossible, the sun. But she tells him: “No chance for you to fly about and create more illusions; you stay right here, no opinionating here,” and so he obediently lies down beside her. 12

.

L ater, in th e sam e sem inar, th e result o f this submission o f the animus b ecom es ç le a r ) i e :;omam;aoOW. has..to. .take th e entire respQUsibiliry:. fo ch erself. O ne is in a m ost aw ^vard and loathsom e situation w hen forced to assum e th e responsibility for oneself. T hat is w hat one is afraid of, and th e reason why one doesn’t want to see things. It is m:uch-better-no:ttO-know_what.is-happemngin_thanextxox>m,_fo.r one is then not respons ib k :;jrt]e a st o n e c a n deceive o n e se lfa n d say one d oesn ’t know th e reason for it. O f course, it is all monkey tricks, but it is so m uch in the hum an grain that one can hardly get rid o f it. It is always the sam e, again and again. P eople say, "I did not know w hat he was going to do, how could I be responsible?” O f course anybody could know it if they only w anted to. So in the m om en t th at th e animus is obedient, this w om an has to assume responsibility. T h en she has to live with seeing eyes, w hich is exceedingly difficult. Things are so much easier apparently when 12. Ibid., p. 616.


i6o

The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

one doesn’t see through them ; th en everything runs m ore or less smoothly, and one always can say it was ju st by ch an ce that such and such a thing happened. B u t w hen one sees, it is altogether too clear how one prearranged the w hole show. So we don’t exactly know h ere w hat the trouble will be, but / we can be quite sure that if she is controlling h er anim us, she will g et into a situation that is exceedingly difficult, because h e will be put to a test. T hat is always so in reality. It is like a challenge. F o r when a m an controls his anim a, o r a w om en h e r animus, they are doing som ething nobody would dream o f doing, b ecause since eternity, since the world began, mankind has b een possessed. And when you dare to dispossess yourself, you g et into a differen t ord er o f things, which m eans a challenge to the old order; no sooner do you get rid o f a devil than you have all the devils against you. If a m an makes a m odest a ttem p t at controlling his anima, he will be right away in a situation w here he is tested to the blood; all the devils o f the world will try to get into his anim a in ord er to bring him back into the fold o f m oth er nature. F o r h e gets out o f the ordinary level o f th e flock if he even tries to m ake such an attem pt. T he sam e with a w om an; every available devil circulating within one hundred miles will do his best to g et the goat of the animus. Controlling the animus o r anim a is like creating a vacuum and everything m ust rush in to fill it. T h erefore people who make an attem p t to be in con trol over these figures m eet o th er conditions which alm ost force them back to their form er state. It works quite autom atically.13 As Jung expressed it on another occasion, if one sheep leaves the h erd and no longer lives in the com pany o f the others, the rest o f the h erd will not recognize it as a sheep but will regard it as an animal moving by itself and thus a com m on enem y. G retch en , in Faust, laughs at the girl who is going to have a baby and afterward sees how she acted as one o f th e h erd and how easy it was to blam e the oth er and just be one o f th e pack. As Jung says above: “I t works automatically.” W e try to . co n trol it, and_yet g et back into slavery, get into the sam e w eary p lace again a d Hgain,_bBt jj;j_s not 13. Ibid., p. 624.


Anim us Figures in Literature and in Modern L ife

really a_e;ircle, it is a spiral. W e im prison th e animus, and th en get afraid, an d le t him out, and h e regresses. B u t if we are in earnest, w e shorten his period. T h ese ch an ges takes th o u sa n d so f years to m atu re, b u L a tle a s tw e .are.con trib u tin g so m eth in g . t o .what.seem s to _b e-th e -m ost-essen tiaL p ro b lem o f .our„age._Jung rem ark ed o f sqJ!!eoneL^At.leastshejs_.trying.to_wQrk_.Qn.her.animu11.andthatis th e m ost m eritorious .thing th at anyone c a n _do.” R e b e cca W est I w ould now like to tu m to th e role played by th e anim us in books w ritten by w om en. T h e first author who I w ould like to discuss is R e b e c c a W est, a pseudonym for C icely Isabel Fairfield. She was b orn to Scottish-Irish parents in L on d on on D e ce m b e r 2 5 , 1 8 9 2 . H e r father, C harles Fairfield, was a journalist who died w hen she was fou rteen years old. 14 W est grad u ated from G eorge W atson s Lad ies C ollege in Edinburgh and began h er w riting c a re e r by joining th e staff o f th e fem inist p ap er F re e w o m a n in 1 9 1 1 . Shortly th ereafter, she b ecam e th e leading political w riter for th e socialist m agazine C larion, writing as well for T h e Star, Daily N ew s, and N ew Sta tesm a n .15 W e st’s subjects spanned social issues to book reviews. In 1 9 1 3 , she w ro te about th e suffragist E m ily D avidson, who th rew h erself in front o f th e king’s horse at th e D erby. T h e essay “T h e S terner Sex” (1 9 1 3 ) records h er thoughts at th e w edding o f h e r cousin, h e r sym pathy for th e w om en working for th e A rm y Clothing 14. [Her father was the very image of the vainglorious Anglo-Irish squire and was a fig­ ure of legend to his daughter. See Richard Tillinghast, “Rebecca West and the Tragedy of Yugoslavia,” T he New Criterion 10 (June 1992), p. 12. Ed.] 15. [Although Rebecca 'West was hailed by Time magazine as “the world’s number one woman’s writer,” the diversity and generic indeterminacy of her writings make it difficult to assess her literary status. She is probably better known for her nonfiction— reportage, travel, history, biography, literary criticism— than for her sometimes overintellectualized novels. Her writing showed a brilliance of intellect and a lucidity of style. Her distinction was to write about the factual world with formidable erudition, but also with an imaginative awareness of its ambiguities. Although Wests range and versatility might suggest a protean liter­ ary personality, her writing voice was, at any time and in any genre, instantly recognizable, and her preoccupying myths remained largely the same throughout her long life. First and foremost she was a writer— of rhythmic, majestic, epiphanic, occasionally narcissistic prose. See Richard Tillinghast, “Rebecca West and the Tragedy of Yugoslavia,” The New Criterion 10 (June 1992), p. 12. Ed.]


The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in "Women

E m p loyees’ U nion, and h er anger: “I saw a world o f w om en struggling— as do th e A m erican capitalist m en o f today— to maintain a parasitic sex th at is at on ce its tyrant as well as its delight.” W ests first book in 1 9 1 6 — she was tw enty-four— was about the w riter H en ry Jam es. I In th e autum n o f 191 3 , at th e age o f tw enty-one, W est started h er turbulent love affair with H . G. W ells, although she had previously called him “the old maid am ong novelists.” W est’s friends included such renow n figures as th e feminist ghost-story w riter Violet H unt, th e author and renow n p ainter W yndham Lewis, G eorge B ern ard Shaw, and a nu m b er o f o th er intellectuals. T. S. E liot she called a fake. Charlie C haplin and newspaper m agnate M ax Beaverbrook w ere am ong h e r m any intim ate relations. W est broke with W ells in 1923. She started seeing a Freudian psychoanalyst in 1 9 2 7 , later writing th at it was a terribly intricate and com plex business bound up with h e r father. In 1930, when she was thirty-eight, she m arried th e banker H enry M^axwell Andrews with whom she rem ained happily m arried. W est continued to write books and political and literary reviews during a period o f nearly fifty years and was influential in international politics, having form al co n tact with B ritish politicians and royalty as well as m any A m erican political figures including J. E d g a r Hoover, th en d irector o f th e F B I . She spoke adam antly and vehem ently against dictators and th e com m unist Bolsheviks, w hose totalitarianism she foresaw decades in advance. H e r literary works w ere characterized by a brilliance o f intellect and a lucidity o f style which at tim es attained poetic heights as seen in h e r docum entary accounts, for exam ple, o f th e B altic states. 16 16. Rebecca West (1892-1983) came of age during World War I, was disillusioned, at times angered, by the attitude of Western society toward women, was sobered by the difficulties that ended her first relationship, to H. G. Wells; and spoke out decisively against the fa scism enveloping Europe in the 1930s as well as against the looming prospects of Nazism. During World War II, W est was a “talks supervisor” at the BBC in London. Her writings on the Nuremberg trials were collected in A Train o f Pow der (1955); essays on Britons who worked for Germany during World War II appeared in The Meaning o f Treason (1949). Although West had written for socialist newspapers in the-beginning of her career, she actively supported the crusade against Communists in the United States in the 1950s. She explored theories of creativity and cognition in her nonfiction work The Strange Necessity (1928), and in St. Augustine (1933) she explores Augustine’s impact on Western thought. Richard


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T h e book we will be dealing with isir^ W - r a r s h Y ü ic e ) a collection o f fourshor:t:J'itpnes.17 In th re e o f th e m , the animus destroys the m an. T h e fourth story then proves a b it difficult for us because this w hole l:lieme i_s reversed,_and,here_w e have m ore o f an anima ta le . B u t in the first th ree stories, the pow erful animus is out to exalt th e w om an and ruin the m an. In th e first story the m an m anages to survive although the relationship is déstroyed. In the second story, the m an is financially ruined by the shadow, not by the heroine. A nd in the third, the w om an sees h erself as p e rfect and destroys h e r husband by inducing him to b ecom e a m urderer. As an aside, in the fourth story, the m an m akes a lot o f m oney from a m ine in th e W est. H e has m arried a w om an o f his own class who loves him and does h e r b est to help him su cceed socially. In so doing, she exhausts herself while she helps him climb to the top of the social ladder. O nce th ere, he decides that a younger w om an w ould b e m ore appropriate for him , and in so seeking, becom es infatuated w ith a chorus girl who bleeds him dry w ithout, however, quite destroying him . H e loses his fortune and slumps tow ard ruin, landing in the position o f ha'f]-ng to tell h er she m ust go. She apparently loves him enough to sell all o f the jewels he has given h e r and re n t a sm aller flat, but when his wife then has a stroke and is hopelessly ill, she makes him in penniless. Convinced o f the com p lete destruction o f his life, the two decide to co m m it suicide to g eth er b u t are held back by a sudden turn o f events. H e makes a brilliant speech at a board m eetin g and is given an excellent Tillinghast writes: “To read West is to encounter the tradition of English prose at its kinetic and sensuous best: she breathes life into a sentence . . . [her] roots reaching back to Sir Thomas Browne, Shakespeare, and Cicero— and she is philosophically grounded in English empiricism. On every page one finds simple sentences that evoke a wholesome sense of materiality . . . At times the writing elevates itself into poetry” (“Rebecca West and the Tragedy of Yugoslavia, The New Criterion 10 (June 1992), p. 12). Her literary career spanned more than seventy years. At the end of her life, she was England’s foremost woman of letters, receiving the title Dame Commander of the Order of the British Empire in 1959. West died in London on 15 March 1983 at age ninety-nine. One of her more famous quotes is “I myself have never been able to find out what feminism is; I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat or a prostitute. Ed.] 17. [In order to elucidate Barbara Hannah’s text, a short synopsis of West’s four stories can be found in Appendix 1. See also the literary review by Edith H. Walton (New York Tines, February 3, 1935), which adds ample evidence to complement Barbara Hannahs discussion of the animus. Ed.]


The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

post with a high salary G reatly relieved, he returns to h e r apartm ent full o f gratitude and plans to red eem th eir lives, b u t then he notices those awful wrinkies that she has acquired. So off h e goes again thinking he would like som ebody younger. N one o f the relationships..last;__alL en d .in _d estm ctio n ..18 Sh_e fmphasiz.es. in each storv the hQpeless and unbridgeable cleft o f understanding.betw een hum an ..beings who simply can n o tm id erstand each ather. I would like to reflect h ere on th e W e ltans.chauung o f the author. First, one is struck by the_enormo.us_role th a tm o n e y p l^ s in allfou r stories . .None. o fth e relationships w ork, and none o f the eharacters d evelop /T h ey eith er rem ain exactly as they w ere at the beginning o f the narrative o r they actually degenerate. M oreover, there is a m arked lac k o f inner m ystery in these stories which is, at best, replaced by the dirty tricks o f the various characters. In one story, the m an m urders his wife with no thought as to the consequences; in another, the couple opts for suicide apparently thinking that this would be an appropriate end. (D espite the dismal and morbid nature o f these storijes, w e do know that the author w rote a book on St. Augustine w hen she was in h e r late thirties, detailing a life caught in rationalism w hich was then red eem ed and con verted through em otional exp erience.) .We__have . to_attemp...L„tQ.Se.e_whethe^er.J:h^e...factu^^^^íLSJ^des _llre b rou ght about by animus attitudes and opinions. ,_As_aiLopinionating sub.stltute,.-.....the-_ammnsJs_alwayys....:totally.....dismtereste^^ a._mystery of an y kind. W h at then was the urge of the author in writing th ese stories? C an w e see the p rocess o f individuation anywhere in th em ? This process is extrem ely clear in W u th erin g H eights or, for instance, A lls Well That E n d s 'Well. Shakespeare produces certain stages o f developm ent in tlie process. Probably the act o f individuation plays a g re a te r role than we can tell in o th er o f his plays. This m ay have a great deal to do with w hat we consider to be the genius o f a writer. B u t .here . ther.ejse.ems to. be 18. [In a rather caustic assertion, presumably reflecting the nature of the relationships she was involved in at one time, she wrote: “There is no such thing as conversation. It is an illusion. There are intersecting monologues, that is all” (Tillinghast, “Rebecca West and the Tragedy of Yugoslavia,” The New Cdterion 10 (June 1992), p. 12). Ed.]


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n o_si^ ^ jo £n d M d u atio n .in ± h ese stories b y.R e.becca.W est._T here is no develop m en t w h atsoever and no legitim ate quaternity. JI If th ere is no developm en t, th en we can..conclude_thatthe-anim .us h as iio t b c c - i n the JIrí—in ,— : tuas n ot b een tr-.--...isfc-i:rne;cl,^£m d th ere---' fore know s.nothing h im self oL ch an ge, I f he had, he w ould bring creative,'dynam ic m aterial such as one sees in W u th erin g H eights. IfjhJ2 L 2_ÍL^lliL.S}:'.mbol QLajcr.eat:iY.e_^rche^íe, such as a double m arriage o r a convincing description o f a change in a hum an being, w e ca n safely assum e th at the animus in q u estion is the_ old opinionating substitute.w ho. wil.l.deliver static form ulas ..that w ork §lli^9_prisoon.instead_Qf,leading.to_n.ew:foQ]p:n.s,o,f hfe. In conclusion for today, I w ould like to add th at the animus in these stories appears to be heavily influenced by n in eteen th -cen tury m aterialism and the spirit o f those tim es, w hich gave birth to the psychologies o f m en such as Sigm und F re u d and Alfred Adler. M issing in th ese stories is the “middle way,” characteristic o f Ju n g and o f the freely m oving creative spirit. (It is also interesting to note th at R e b e cca W est, in m ore re ce n t years, has turned to nonfiction rep ortag e.)

L ecture F our

T h e question was asked about the e ffect th at a mild and indulgen t fath er would have on a d au gh ter’s animus. T h e answ er is th at h e could produce a kind o f F a th e r C hristm as animus, and the daughter w ould be likely to rem ain infantile. Such a daughter n ever believes a “n o .” E v e n w hen a m an says “N o !” to her, she is still convinced th at eventually he will say “Yes.” I f you have a negative anim us, it is difficult to believe in the positive, and with a positive animus, it is equally problem atical to a cce p t the nega­ tive. Ju n g on ce used the rath e r brash m etaphor likening a wom an w ith a F a th e r C hristm as animus to a tick waiting on a bush for a w arm -b lood ed animal to pass u n derneath so it could drop on it. It could w ait for many years, n ever even thinking o f giving up. W ith both th e very positive and very negative animus the wom an is cut off from reality.


i6 6

The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

T he animus has num erous facets and tends to project itself onto the m en who correspond to th em . O n the oth er hand, he m ay also p ro ject onto his opposite, but this depends on the W eltanschauung o f the animus. Som e w om en’s animi project with the purpose o f obtaining a relationship, but this m ay not be phrough th e feeling principle. T he anim us appears how and w hen he wants. As an aside h ere, two points: first, one is often driven to the conclusion in w om en’s books that th e animus is obliterating his own traces and stage-m anaging th e w hole thing; and second, it is often difficult, if not impossible, to discover th e anim us in books w ritten by w om en prior to the nineteenth century, for example, authors such as Fan n y B u rn ey or M aria E d gew orth .19 ILirL. a. b ook th e re .is. no developm ent _in . t h e . ch aracters, we can be pretty sure.th.at \Ye are dealing wij:p an anim us vv.ho. ,is an opinionating su b stitu te .H e has n ot b een , so to speak, in the resin. Vital c r c.ativity.willbe ab.sent.in such books.,. and.they,leave~aflat, unpleasant taste in th e mputh, Since th ey do not depict real life, one is left with a thw arted kind o f feeling. A fter reading a book, it is therefore necessary to ask, “W h at sort o f a taste has this book left m e w ith?” Or, “D o I feel related to this book?” This seem s to link up with th e case w h ere the anim us is left in the outside world. No book can be entirely lacking in archetypal figures, thus in the R eb ecca W est stories th e archetypal m ale and fem ale would perhaps be M ars and Venus, with M ars very m uch in th e foreground. T he seven teen th -cen tu ry English alchem ist and theolo19. [Frances Burney (1752-1840) was a novelist, diarist, and pla^ywright. In total, she wrote four novels, eight plays, one biography, and twenty volumes of journals and letters in which she explored the lives of English aristocrats and satirized their social pretensions and per­ sonal foibles. She directed her eye to larger questions such as the politics of womans identity. Maria Edgeworth (1768-1849) was an eminent Irish literary intellectual, educationist, and writer on class, race, and gender. Her mother died when Maria was six. As the eldest child, she was close to her father, the Anglo-Irishman Richard Lovell Edgeworth, who was a writer, scientist, and educationist. He saw that she got an excellent education and profoundly influenced her work, reading and editing almost everything she produced while he was alive. One of Edgeworths first publications was her feminist essay, Letters f o r Literary Ladies (1795), a plea for reform.in women’s education. She was a pioneer of social realism and the historical novel, producing numerous literary works and influencing younger writers such as William Makepeace Thackeray and Jane Austen. Ed.]


Anim us Figures in Literature and in M od em Life

l6 7

gian John Pord age w rote to th e alchem ist Jane L ea d e (his “mystical sister”) regarding th e coniunctio and the opus. H e describes the ch aracteristics o f M ars and the type o f coniunctio M ars needs. M ars, he notes, is choleric, h e is too sharp and too fiery. H e is quick to anger, oftentim es w rathful and jealous. His fire tends to dry up and b u m . Juxtaposed to him , the love-fire o f Venus has the qualities o f th e right and the tru e fire. P o rd age w rites: Accordingly, if you think to become a learned artist, look with earnestness to the union of your own Mars and Venus, that the nuptial knot be rightly tied and the marriage between them well and truly consummated. You must see to it that they lie together in the bed of their union and live in sweet harmony; then the virgin Venus will bring forth her pearl, her water-spirit in you to soften the fiery spirit of Mars, and the wrathful fire of Mars will sink quite willingly in mildness and love, into the love-fire of Venus, and thus both qualities, as fire and water, will mingle together, agree, and flow into one another; and from their agreement and union there will proceed the first conception of the magical birth which we call tincture, the love-fire tincture. Now although the tincture is conceived in the womb of your humanity and is awakened to life, yet there is still a great danger, and it is to be feared that, because it is still in the body or womb, it may yet be spoiled by neglect.20 P ord ag e goes on to w rite th at this union o f Venus and M ars, this “love-fire tin ctu re ,” goes through a terrible exp erien ce o f dark­ ness an d is tem p ted by L u cife r and th e million devils who dwell in th e w rath o f M ars. A nd_only_Ínjhis._ençount.çr—:through a boutxYith.. terrible darkness—rcan. th_e_wom:in_begintotransform. (This te x t is, o f cou rse, w ritten by a m an and actually describes anim a psychology. )21 20. C. G. Jung, “The Psychology of the Transference” (1946), in CW, vol. 16 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1966), par. 509. 21. Ibid., par. 510.


i6 8

The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

I n T 'h e _H a rsh Voice, M ars’s voice is so loud that.V enus_ça!l hardly be h eard at all. In_seaxching-. for-thespirifcs-r.:ector_ÍQ _a WQman’s b o o k , .the ch aracters o f th e men, would, o f course,_be ig n o re d .Jn these stories, the m en are, on the w hole, m ore pleasant than the w om en. H ere, personal exp erience o f m en m ay play ff role. W e m ight hazard a guess that, at the tim e o f the publication o f these stories, R eb ecca W est had not y et m e t a m an who was up to h e r and who could fe tte r h e r animus and push him “into the resin .” I f this is so, it w ould be an o th er reason why she has such a pow erful opinionating substitute. All these stories end badly. In a way, th erefore, I think this shows that she is considerably less the animus dupe than th e novelist who only goes as far as the w edding and makes that th e happy end. H e re , in just this one thing, h er animus does not deceive her. T h erefore I would say that she is p retty well possessed by the animus and lets him m anage the stories offstage y et is n ot quite identical with him. One could say: “B u t she is a good w riter; and life- actu allyis as..sh o :n in h e r stories. T h in g s o fte n w o rk o u tth a t.w a y ,” „But.this is really the deceptive thing about the animus.- H e always tells half-truths. In the first story, it is suggested that the whole relationship was w reck ed by the fact that the m an funked, that is, shrank back from his m arriage and w anted to stop the whole thing. B u t that is both true and not true. I f the w om an had really b een properly rooted in h er relationship, she would have accep ted his apology on the wedding night and we would have h eard no m ore. about it, that is, if h e r love had b een stronger than h e r pow er urge. The animus opinion quite ignores the d eep er layers. I think this is a responsibility to w hich authors, especially w om en, have not really woken up since such stories have an enorm ous influence on adolescent girls. At bottom , R eb e cca W e st does not describe relationships as she actually exp erien ced th em , for the W eltanschauung o f the animus com es in betw een. Jung on ce said that w om an s E ro s is like a natural, m eandering, yet rath er sm utty little stream , infested by the usual insects and lined by beautiful flowers. T h at m eandering stream m ust be treated with the greatest respect. M en are inclined to want


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to cu t a line through it and say: “M y dear, you should go to the university” o r read such and such a book. W om en w an t to. look on th e m an ’s E ro s as though it w ere th eir o^ ^ , a n d .th e _man at the w om a n s L o g o s .a s i f it.w e re his.to determ ine..and direct. This ten d en cy is cle a r in Re_becca_W ests books. ^ e J r i e s . to_cla}::ify rejationships in an inflexible way, and th at is always, a sign ..of the anim us. O ne talks about things.instead o f hnm bly adm itting that one_does n ot know_and then letting th e facts.show. In this .w a y th e animus takes over, and he le a v e s n o roqm for.thediying mystery. A bit o f an exaggerated exam ple o f this was the daughter o f a p ro ­ fessor o f philosophy who always b rou gh t out h e r fath ers opinions a t th e w rong m om en t and ab orted discussions in this way. Y et I also know o f a m an who had a m ost awful m oth er com plex, and for him everything was the m oth ers womb. H e took it to such an e xtrem e that on ce h e even held up his hand and loudly stated th at this was the “m o th ers w om b,” w hich then caused everyone to break out in laughter. T hese are, o f cou rse, extrem e exam ples. As th e m oth er seem s to be the first carrier o f projections for th e son, sq the fath er is for the daughter. A w om an gets an opinion about a situation and believes she is being bossed about w hen actually she is bossy herself. T h e animus seem s to take the opportunity w hen som eone else p resen ts the hook. Th.e_animus is th§. facto r that form s projections. T h e sam e applies to a_rnan, b u H n jthejcasfi. o £ the_.am m a.itis. .a.mo.od_or a resen tm ent. If the co n ten t is conscious, then it can n ot be p rojected . P ractical experi­ en ce consists o f a m ultitude o f possible relationships; w om an is com p en sated by a m asculine being, th erefo re h e r unconscious has m asculine characteristics. Animus. m e a n s .“m ind” or. “spirit”e and_carrespcinds....tQ_the...pa.ternaLLogos. T he m an’s anim a perform s th e sam e function. F a r be it for m e to give these two intuitive con cep ts an all too specific definition. I use the term s E ro s and L ogos as a m eans by w hich to describe the fact th at the. consciou5n e s s .o f w om an.. is_m ore_ch ara .ct.erized ,by_the.., relating quahry.o.f..Eros.„th a n..by.the discrim inating, and cognitive quality üLL.O-gos... E ro s is an expression o f w om an’s true nature, while h er Logos m ay be so undeveloped th at it may be little m ore than


1J0

The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Wo^men

a regrettable in terferen ce. T h ese opinions are based on a priori assumptions that claim to be absolute truths. A m an can argue in a highly e motional way, but that is w hen h e . is possessed by.the amgia,.Y.Yhotakes over his function_o£.natural .reasoning.and.his Logos p rin cip le th e n b ecom es highly.irrational. ^ fith .su ch .m en , f t is principally a question o f vanity _:ind, hypers.ensitiY!S':- But women. are. authorities;;_.on.Erosão J o speak,. .their.._vaani.ty, being cared for by.the dressmaker.,and, the. .hairdresser.. T h e father plays a big role in w om en’s argum ents. I f she is ridden by the animus, no logic on earth can convince her, no m atter how friendly and willing h er E ro s m ay be. In m any cases, the m an has the feeling that only physical force can have any effect on his wife and does not realize that a dram atically ch arged situation would soon fali to pieces if he would leave the field o f battle to his wife and just walk out. B u t this healing idea rarely gets through to him because no m an can carry on a conversation with the animus (for even the shortest tim e) without im m ediately falling victim to his anima. If he listened with detachm ent, h e would realize how com m onplace the discussion is. A recording o f the conversation would be most enlightening. This apparently extraordinary situation is due to the fact that when animus and anima m eet, the animus seizes his sword o f pow er and the anim a sprays h er poison. B oth are under the delusion that the age-old platitudes they u tter are co m ­ pletely unique. W h eth er positive o r negative, the anim us-anim a relationship is always em otional and thus rooted in the collective unconscious, and this brings it down to a general instinctive basis. T h e m en becom e sentimental p1: re.sentfu]. and.the..w om enJulI.of o^ n ion s.ap d insinuations. The w om an (as well as the m an) is in the family cocoon , as is the daughter, who is “the only one who understands the father”— and she is rem oved to a land o f sheep w here she is tended to by the animus. T he positive animus can function as interm ediary to the unconscious. In principle, th e effect. of. the. anim a and the. animus. on..the ego are similar. It is difficult to elim inate them partly on account o f the authority,they hold and p artly because they are projected. I am inclined to consider the archetype to be responsible for this


Anim us Figures in Literature and in M odern Life

effect w hich is indeed p resent. And it is this fact th at explains the totally irrational moods and opinions w hich do not lay them selves open to discussion o f any kind. T he notorious impossibility o f influencing th ese moods and opinions is due to the fascination o f th e archetype, which hypnotizes and imprisons consciousness. Som etim es th e ego feels this as a m oral defeat, and the feeling o f inferiority is in creased so as to p reven t relationship. Through education, w e have already learn ed th at w e are not one hund red p e rce n t p u re gold. It seem s natural th at w om en should have opin­ ions and m en m oods. This situation has an instinctive foundation. N ature is conservative and is not easy to disturb, and animus and anim a d efend their rights to th e last ditch. Having a profound doubt as to th e wisdom o f forcing som ething upon nature with w hich it w ould have b een b e tte r not to in terfere, we then perhaps feel as if w e should not bring things to consciousness. T h e majority o f people have difficulty understanding the animus and anim a b ecau se th ese lie beyond th e sphere o f th e ordinary. This arouses prejudices and taboos. W h en w e decide that w e m ust take back| our projections, th en w e are en terin g unexplored territory. This has far-reaching effects. B y no m eans are all contents o f animus and anim a projecte d ; m any can be m ade conscious by dream s, active im agina­ tion, and so forth. T hese show th at thoughts, feelings, and affects exist in us with w hich we had not reckoned. Anyone who him self has n ot had such an experien ce finds such a possibility absolutely fantastic since a norm al person “knows w hat he thinks.” H ow ever, should h e su cceed in realizing these things, he cannot fail to be deeply im pressed. Nowadays th e grow ih o f such knowledge is extrem ely rare. One usually needs to pay for it with a neurosis or som ething w orse.22 H id d en in th e figures o f th e anim us and anim a is the autonom y o f th e collective unconscious. T h ey personify its contents which, w hen no lon ger p rojected , can be in tegrated into consciousness. To this exten t, th e animus a n d ..anim afigUi:§L£1 lso function as tran sm itters-.o£-th e. contents. of. the collective unconscious. I f a 22. C. G. Jung, Aion, CW, vol. 9ii (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1951), par. 39.


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state o f blockage arises b etw een consciousness and th e uncon­ scious, they m ay fail in this function. If tension arises, this hitherto harm less function confronts consciousness in a personified form and behaves m ore o r less like a split in th e ego, that is, a fragm ent o f the soul. This com parison is actually inadequate inasm uch as /n o th in g w hich could have belonged to the ego has b een cu t off, but ra th e r both figures (eith er anim a or anim us) form a new psych ic com plex that then can b eco m e disturbing. Such a possibility is due to th e fact that th e contents o f th e animus and anim a can be integrated— since the two are archetypes and thus the founda­ tion stones o f the psychic totality— but th ey them selves cannot be assimilated p er se. T hey . tran scen d cons.ciousness_.....ancLcan never b ecom e fully conscious ... T h ey are. therefore_autonom o.us, and their autonom y m ust always be b orn e in mind. F r o m a therapeutic. standpoint. this is extraordinarily im portanLsm ce^constant observation p av sth at ve!Y tribute to the; unconscio!ls _wP.içhreciprocates \Y!th çooperation. One can n ever settle w ith th e uncon­ scious once and for all. Symptoms and processes o f unconscious contents m ust be carefully observed since th ere is constantly the danger o f th e conscious becom ing one-sided, making use o f wellw orn paths and running into a cu l-d e-sac. Only under entirely ideal circum stances (that is, w here life is simple and unconscious enough that the instincts have full play) can a natural form of unconscious com pensation m eet with entire success. T h e m ore civilized and com plicated on e’s life, th e m ore inaudible the voice o f nature. 23

L e c t u r e F iv e

I would like to begin today’s lectu re with a rem ark regarding R eb e cca W est. I have b een given an article of hers th at shows quite an interesting developm ent. She seem s to have acquired a m uch m ore balanced style than at the tim e she w rote T h e H arsh Voice, even though the hum an in terest h ere has alm ost vanished. H e re , she portrays two figures, one o f w hom is a spy. T h e whole 23. Ibid., par. 40.


Anim us Figures in Literature and in M odern L ife

17 3

em phasis is on the background o f th e story, y et I m ust say th at this is extrem ely well done. C ontinuing our translation last w eek o f Jung’s discussion in Aion o f th e anim us and anim a, I w ould like to point out th at Jung speaks vividly o f th e extraordinarily fatal, even tragic influence on h u m an fate lying in the hands o f th ese forces o f th e unconscious. T h ey really are the father and m oth er o f all disastrous entanglem ents o f fate and have b een known as such since antiquity. O ur forefathers, realizing th eir pow ers, rightly called th em gods. This pair o f gods thus moves into th e ce n te r o f the psychological field— w h ere they belong— w h eth er w e recognize this fact or not. Jung notes th at by calling th em by this nam e w e grant them th e cen tral position in th e sp ectru m o f psychological values that has always b een theirs, w h eth er o r not it is acknow ledged.24 T h ^ less aw are w e-are_o£jh em .,..th.íUjnQEeJKe„ aJ..er_undqr th e ir,.influ­ e n ce , for their p o w er grows in prop.o:d.iop.to _th,e d egree. to which th ey rem ajn unconscious. H e states that we know th em even in C hristianity as C hrist and his bride, th e C hurch. Such parallels, he notes, are extrem ely helpful w hen w e try to realize th e value o f these figures. It is only w hen we cast light into the dark depths and tortuous ways o f m an’s fate that w e see the full magnitude o f th e influence o f th ese two figures w hich com p lem en t hum an consciousness. Jung sums up by saying th at the integration of th e shadow, th at is, the making conscious o f the personal uncon­ scious, is th e first step in th e analytical process, w hereas it is im possible to realize either animus o r anima until considerable w ork has b een done on th e shadow. T h e shadowcan_only.-be.realized_by means._o£a..visJt vis who can b e o f e ith e o e x ,,.b u t for. the anim us..and,the anim a, som eon e of. the .opposite sex is gen erally req u ired .foi:: the. p ro je c tio n to _b e fully effective. 25 I w ould like to conclude this discussion o f R eb ecca W est noting first that th e c_oJ}scious....I.ec.ognitiqn of. the anim a o r animus gives rise to a triad. In m an, one. third.is. the m asculine .subject, one th ird is the. op p osin gfem in in e subject vis à vis, and the final 24. Ibid., par. 41. 25. Ibid., par. 42.


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third is _the tran scend en t anima. W ith a w om an th e situation is reversed. T h e missmg fou rj:h elem en t thM_WO.uld_make.the triad a quaternity is, in a m n ^ th e a rc h e ^ p e o f th e W ise Old M an, an d in a woman. the Qhtlw.mcJMotheT, 26 T h ese four constitute a quaternity that is half im m anent, that is, rem aining o r operating within a p.omain o f reality having existence only within ego consciousness, while the o th er half is tran scen d en t. T h e whole th en constitutes a quaternity, an archetype th at Ju n g has called the “m arriage quaternio.”27 This quaternity is a p attern o f the Self reflected , for instance, in cross-cousin m arriages in earlier cultures. T h e Self is an im age o f G od, indistinguishable from G od himself. E arly Christians such as .C lem ent o£'Alèxandnâ' show cognizance o f this fact when they say things such as: “H e who lmows him selflm ow s G o d ” And it is this self-im age, this quaternio, that is gravely missing in these works o f R eb e cca W est. Ja n e A u sten I would now like to turn to th e author Jan e Austen, beginning with a short biographical sketch anql then moving on to a discus­ sion o f h er literary works. Jan e A usten was born on 16 D e ce m b e r 1 7 7 5 at Steventon, H am pshire, England. She was th e seventh o f eight children and the second o f two daughters. H e r father, the R everend G eorge A usten (1 7 3 1 -1 8 0 5 ), was a clergym an o f the local C hurch of England. This was the e ra o f the A m erican W ar o f Independence, the F re n ch Revolution, and the victories and defeats o f Napoleon. The reign o f G eorge III was a political nightm are, his m ental health already stretch ed to th e breaking point after struggles with F ra n ce . Then there was the d efeat o f the British troops in Yorktown in the A m erican colonies and a fiery in tem al strife with his own prim e minister, W illiam Pitt. As his m ental health d eteriorated and he b ecam e all b u t a buffoon on the throne, his son G eorge was appointed to the undaunting position o f R egent, w here he attem pted to rule in th e face o f the increasingly erratic 26. Ibid. 27. Ibíd.


A n imus Figures in L ite rature and in Modern L if e

and hum iliating nature o f his fath ers condu ct. T h e final years o f Jan e A u sten s life w ere thus spent u n d er the reign o f the P rin ce R egen t G eorge w ho, after the death o f his father, b ecam e G eorge IV.28 A lthough Jan e A usten was highly unpopular with som e people, G eorge IV was a great ad m irer and kept a set o f h e r books at each o f his residences. Ja n e ’s brother, w ho b écam e ill in London, was treated by the sam e d octor who treated th e P rin ce R egen ts librarian, and through this d o cto r his Royal H orior passed the m essage on to Jan e granting h e r perm ission to dedicate h e r next book personally to him. She deferred, claiming th at the m anner in which h e treated his wife C aroline was unacceptable. B u t Jane was th e re a fte r inform ed that the “perm ission” could be understood as royal com m and. T h e F re n c h Revolution took p lace w hen Jane was in h er youth; M aria A ntoinette and Louis IV w ere guillotined w hen she was eighteen. H e r first cousin, E liza, was m arried to a F re n ch aristo crat who was similarly b eh ead ed , and a cousin o f E liza mar­ ried Ja n e s fourth brother, H enry; th e F re n c h Revolution thus closely tou ch ed the A usten family. Y et all of Jan e A ustens books have such p e a c e f ul settm gs, and .they.. lack. g re a tp o lit j caL events althQugh-íhe_A m eriçan .an d _Fr ençh. Rev.o!utiq11s, .the.N apoleonic W ars, and_th e J3 a ttle o fW a te rlo o o ccu rred within h e r lifetim e. H e r fath er had b een a re c to r o f the C h u rch o f England for fifteen years prior to h e r birth and rem ain ed in that position for forty years, Jan e living with him until she was twenty-five. Mr. A usten h im self was known as a cultivated m an and an excellent scholar. Jan e undoubtedly ow ed h e r unrivalled literary style and use o f th e English language to h e r father. H e was not wealthy, bu t th eir family was certainly well off. Jan e was, in fact, well conn e cte d on h e r m o th ers side o f the family as well. She was ed u cated for only a few short years at two differe n t boarding schools b efore the age o f nine, as she insisted on accom panying h er old er sister to school. H e r m o th er said that if C assandra was “going to have h er head cut off,” then Jane 28. [For a short elucidation on the Prince Regent George, see Appendix 2. Ed.]


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could insist on sharing h er fate. T h ey attended th eir first school in Southam pton for a short tim e b efore an epidem ic o f “putrid fever” broke o u t.29 B oth w ere brought h om e ill by th eir aunt, a Mrs. C ooper, who also cau gh t th e fever and died. T h e girls then attended the Abbey Boarding School in Reading (w hich appari n t l y bore som e resem blance to M rs. G oddard’s casual school in Emima), b u t their education th ere was soon concluded. T h ereafter they w ere ed u cated at hom e, learning to draw, play th e piano, and so forth. Jan e Austen did a fair am ount o f reading o f both the serious and the popular literature o f the day (h e r fath er had a library o f five hundred books by 1 8 0 1 ), and she was familiar w ih eigh teen th -cen tury novels. As she said, she and h e r family w ere great novel readers and not asham ed o f being so. H e r father took on o th er pupils to educate with his own sons and apparently saw to it that h er general education was n ot neglected. T h ere is no authentic p ortrait o f Jan e Austen. A t twelve, she was not particularly pretty b u t prim , whimsical, and affected. H e r nephew describes h er as having an attractive figure, being rather tall and slender, and says that h e r step was light and firm. She had a small m outh and nose, light hazel eyes, and brow n hair that was naturally curly; h er com plexion was that o f a clear brunette. H e r real charm lay obviously in h e r expression w hich, naturally, varied. Childhood, happy and vital,. resem bled.the-liives o f m ost o f the heroines in- h er novels. T h ere was a great deal o f social life; balls in neighboring towns w ere the great events, and .we can say that the setting o f h er books lies within h er own experience. Jane Austen enjoyed social events, and h er early letters tell o f dances and parties she atten d ed in H am pshire and also o f visits to London, Bath, and Southam pton, w here she attended plays and o th er social affairs. T h ere is a fam ous statem en t by one Mrs. M itford that Jane was the “the prettiest, silliest, m ost affected, husband-hunting butterfly she e v er rem em b ers.” (H ow ever, Mrs. Mitford seem s to have harbored a personal jealousy o f Jane, and it is hard to reconcile this description with the Jane Austen who w rote The T h ree Sisters before she was eighteen.XD es.pite a cou29. [TTyphus or diphtheria. Ed.]


Anim us Figures in Literature and in M odern L ife

17:1

p lejo £m en in .w h o m .sh e-sh o w ed s o m a in te re s t, she n ever found a re la tio n sh ip Jo which. she cou M .eom m ith ers.elf. C assandra E lizab eth was Ja n e ’s only sister and h e r closest confidante. H undreds o f letters exchanged b etw een the two show the intim acy and ca re th ey shared. C assandra’s fiancé, Thom as Fow le, a m ilitary chaplain, died o f yellow fever in th e C aribbean in 1797. T h ey h ad n o t b e e n able to m arry du e to financial restrictions, and after his d eath C assandra was n ever en gaged again. F iv e o f h er six b roth ers m arried (two w ere adm irals in th e British Navy), four o f th em ^vice, so th a t h e r b roth ers had a total o f nine wives. B oth sisters w ere keen on th eir status as aunts and always em phasized th e im p o rtan ce o f th eir role am ong th eir nieces and nephews. Jan e frequently visited h e r b ro th ers and th eir families as well as o th er relatives and friends. Probably only C assandra knew why Jane never m arried. In h e r la te r years, C assandra o p e n e d up to a lim ited exten t to h e r nephew s and sh ared som e o f h e r m em ories, and we know a little from Jan e’s letters. Sh e had a friend, a M rs. Lefroy, who was la te r killed by a fall from h e r horse, an in cid en t w e find in one of, Jan e ’s few poem s. W h e n Jan e was twenty, she had a considerable^ flirtation with M rs. L e fro y s nephew, Tom, b ut it is difficult to assess how m u ch this m ean t to her. It seemingly lacked serious co m m itm e n t on his side, for h e n ever retu rn ed to his aunts. Jane said w hen h e left th at “th e day is co m e on which I am to flirt my last w ith Tom Lefroy, and w hen you will receive this [letter] it will b e over. M y tears flow at th e m elancholy idea.” B u t w hether this was m ean t seriously o r sarcastically is difficult to tell. (Like h e r sister, she laughed openly at th e absurd w herever she found it.) H ow ever, any seriousness on his p art may have b een stymied by th e fact th at h e could not afford to indulge his hopes because h e was not financially in th e position to m arry Jane. (H e eventually m arried an Irish lady who was quite wealthy. M any years later, after he had b eco m e C h ief Ju stice o f Ireland, he confessed to his nephew th at he had had a “boyish love” for Jan e Austen.) D uring th e years w hen h e r father had retired to Bath, the family w en t to the seaside every sum m er, and it was while on one


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o f these holidays that Jane A ustens m ost mysterious rom antic incident occu rred . All that is known is w hat C assandra told various nieces years after Jane A ustens death. W hile th e family was staying som ew here on the coast (probably in south D evonshire, w est o f L ym e), Jane Austen m et a young m an who seem ed to /C a ssa n d ra to have quite fallen in love with Jane. C assandra later spoke highly o f him and thought he would have b een a successful suitor. Accordingly, "they p arted— but he m ade it plain he should seek h e r out again.” How ever, shortly afterw ard they heard of his death! T h ere is no evidence as to how seriously this disappointm ent affected Jane, b u t a n u m b er o f people have w ondered w h eth er or not Jan e A ustens 1 8 1 7 novel, P ersuasion, might not reflect this experience to som e d egree w h ere life is transm uted into art. Jan e Austen would have b een tw enty-seven (the age of Anne Elliot, the heroine o f P ersuasion) during 1 8 0 2 -1 8 0 3 , and a crucial scen e in Persuasion takes place in L ^ n e . In conclusion for today, I would like to add a thought that E m m a Jung shared with m e. D uring the sum m er holidays, she read E m m a Gljl.skell’s L ife o fC h a rlo tte B ronte and Jan e A ustens E m m a and noted that their fathers w ere m ore than one could b e a r.I can th in k o fn o female. E n g H sh w riterw h ow asn ot_affah er’s daughter. Fan n y Burney was also a fath ers daughter, backed up by a cortège o f oth er father figures such as Sam uel Jackson and "D addy (Sam uel) C risp.” A fter they died, she m arried a F re n ch aristocrat a good deal older than herself. M aria E d gew orth gave h er whole life to helping h er fath er and w rote h e r first book in collaboration with him. T h en th ere w ere the B rontes, G eorge Eliot, and M ary W ebb. Editor's Note: Lectures six through nine entailed an analysis of the material on Jeanne Fery and Sarah in the Book of Tobit. The material on Jeanne Fery has already been presented in the first two essays of this volume, and lengthy essays analyzing the mate­ rial on both women, along with a study of women's plots, can be found in volume 2.


Anim us Figures in L iterature and in M odern L ife

i-zg

L ec tu re T en

T h e m aterial I have to give you today is so difficult th at I would like to have had an oth er six m onths to study it b efo re I say any­ thing, for I feel th at w hat I have to say is insufficient. T h e re is on e authentic story th at throw s quite a revealing light on J a n e A usten, for although she w rites w ith such apparently easy m astery o f love situations, th e story goes to show th at w hen it ca m e to h e r own affairs o f th e h eart, she was exceedingly un certain . A gentlem an o f good ch aracter, connection, and position in life was anxious to m arry her. She and h e r sister had com e from B ath to stay w ith h e r b rother, who h ad su cceed ed their fath er as R e c to r o f Steventon. W h ile they w ere at th eir b ro th ers re c to ry som e neighbors visited w hom th ey h ad both known for a n u m b er o f years, nam ely th e B ig g-W ith er family. O ne m orning, th ey ap p roach ed th eir b ro th er in g re a t excitem en t and insisted on being driven straight back to their father in Bath. L a te r it cam e ou t th at H arris B igg-W ither had proposed to h e r and she had accep ted , but th e next m orning she deeply re g re tte d this decision and w ithdrew h e r accep tan ce. H e r n iece, w riting o f this incident m any years afterw ard, said: “I g ath ered from letters th at it was in a m om entary fit o f self-delusion th at A unt Jan e accep ted Mr. W ith e rs proposal and th at w hen it was all settled and th e negative decision given, she was m u ch relieved. I think th e affair vexed h er a good deal, but I am sure she had no attachm ent to h im .” R . W . C hapm an, who was th e ed ito r o f h e r collected works in 1 9 2 3 and who gave th e C lark lectu res on h e r life and work in C am bridge in 1 9 4 8 , is convinced th at both sisters shared th e sam e fate, th at is, they only loved once, and in both cases the m an died. Probably n one o f th ese stories are very im portant. _G:irls with such m onum entaLfather_com plexes can_seldom open thernselv.es- to a love..aff^^™ ih_a_m arriageableryaungjm an.__ A j ât hex-com plex, w hen th e daughter stays at hom e as Jane did h e r en tire life, often giyes a, se cre tin ce stu o u s ^twist tQ .the-capacity fo.r_passio,n..for.'~the other- sex~because.it. is-accom panied b:)La fefilingjof-guilt. T h erefo re it frequently occu rs th at if th e libido m oves away from th e fath er at all, it is p rojected onto a m arried


i8 o

The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

m an, or a m an with a serious barrier who is in som e way unsuitable, o r a m an doom ed to die young. G eorge E ljo t, fo r instance, also had a powerful father com plex, although it w en t over into th e negative aspect afterward. A fter her__fathexsji<3ath_jshaJi^:d formi:l.ny years._with a married- m an, a M r. Lew es, although .she I com pensated for this by .a IIlpstawiuL,mDraHt)LJn_herÍTOgks. In T h e Ml2-.I)n_the....EZoss, for instance, M aggier Tulliver m anaged to destroy m any people as she rushed headlong into h e r feelings and then w ithdrew into inhum an morality and retu rn ed to stand by h er first move. She got herself com prom ised and then walked out. Instead o f getting the penny o r the cake, she got neither. C harlotte B ron te, another parson’s daughter (about forty years later than Jan e A usten), also had terrible difficulties in this respect. She evidently fell in love with Mr. H éger, a m arried man in Brussels, who had a dragon o f a wife, which she described in h er novelVil/erte, .It is a controversial subject in B ron te literature, but in my opinion h er letters to him are clear. Like the B rontes, Jane had w ritten works as a child. She dabbled in writing ju st as h er sister, Cassandra, did in drawing, their talents considered equal for a long tim e. H e r first truly creative period was from th e age o f tw enty-one to twenty-five while the two still lived at Steventon. D uring this period the first drafts o f P ride a nd P reju d ice, Sense a n d Sensibility and N o rth a n g e r A b bey w ere w ritten. A fterw ard th ere was a pause for nine years during w hich she revised and began a few books but never finished them . She m ade one abortive attem p t to publish N o rth a n g er A b bey under the title o f “Susan.” A publisher bought it for £ 1 0 .0 0 but n ever published it, and her b ro th er eventually bought it back w hen she had b ecom e famous. H e r fath ers retirem en t was a great relief to Jane. O n the o th er hand, when told that they w ere going to m ove to Bath, she is said to have fainted. Anything h er father did was always done in a great hurry with little consideration for anyone else but him self. Jan e seem s to have disliked Bath. T h e years th ere w ere clouded by C assan d ras depression over the death o f h er fiancé and possibly o f Jan e’s as well. H e r father died four o r five years


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later, w hich again was a relief, y et m any m onths o f un certain ty followed. In July 1 8 0 6 , th e two w om en finally left B ath and m oved to Southam pton, a p leasant tow n at th at tim e. A bout th ree years later th eir b ro th er offered th em a cottage in C haw ton, w here he had a large estate. T h ey a ccep ted th e offer, and in 1 8 0 9 , w hen Jane was nearly thirty-four, M rs. A usten, h e r two daughters and a friend, M artha, m oved in. M artha was a sister o f a sister-in-law and eventually m arried one o f Ja n e s b rothers. Jane rem ain ed in C haw ton for eight years, up until a few weeks p rior to h er death, presum ably from A disons disease, w hen she was m oved to W in ch ester for- b e tte r m edical atten tion .30 She died at th e age o f forty-one on July 18, 1 8 1 7 . Steventon and Chaw ton w ere h e r only two hom es, both o f w hich w ere in th e country. Mrs. A usten and C assandra rem ained at C haw ton until th eir deaths. Jan e m ade th e final revisions o f h e r first th ree novels— Pride a n d P reju d ice, Sense a n d Sensibility, and N o rth a n g er A b b ey — w hen at Chaw ton and also w rote h e r last th ree th ere, namely, M ansfield Park, E m m a , and Persuasion, b ut N o rth a n g er A b bey and Persuasion w ere only published after h e r death. It was for h er a tim e full o f creative w ork during w hich she gradually b ecam e famous. She had b een anxious to rem ain anonymous, but one of h e r b roth ers gave th e show away, m uch to h e r annoyance, as he was so enthusiastic and p rou d o f his sister.31 She took no advan30. [Adisons disease is an endocrine illness in which an autoimmune attack on the adrenal glands leaves them irrevocably damaged and no longer able to support either the bodys defense system or the regulation of the salt and water levels in the body. The adrenal glands have great influence on the bodys functions during physical and mental exertion. It is a chronic disease, today treatable but incurable, where the person suffers primarily from fatigue and muscular weakness, low blood pressure, weight loss, nausea and vomiting, a craving for salt or salty foods, and skin pigmentation problems. Ed.] 31. [Encouraged by this success, Jane Austen turned to revising “First Impressions,” that is, Pride an d Prejudice. Her “own darling child" (as she called it) was published in January 1813. She had already started work on Mansfield Park by 1812 and worked on it during 1813. It was during 1813 that knowledge of her authorship started to spread outside her family. In a letter regarding her brother, she writes: “Henry heard P. & P. warmly praised in Scotland by Lady Robert Kerr and another Lady; what does he do in the warmth of his brotherly vanity and love, but immediately tell them who wrote it!" Since she had sold the copyright to Pride and Prejudice outright for £110 (presumably in order to receive a convenient pay ment up front, rather than having to wait for the profits on sales to trickle in), she did not receive any­ thing more when a second edition was published later in 1813. A second edition of Sense and Sensibility was also published in October 1813. In May 1814, Mansfield Park appeared and


The Animus: The Spirit of Inner Truth in Women

tage o f h e r fam e and, w hen invited to m eet M m e G erm aine de Stael, she declined to go.32 She was m odest about h er books and am azed at the am ount paid for th em , although we would think it very little. She thought it w onderful to get anything for things which cost h e r nothing. She was less m odest about h e r charac/ ters. She said o f Elizabeth B e n n e t in P ride a n d P rejudice that she thought “she was as delightful a creatu re as ev er appeared in prin t.” She was also fond o f "m y E lin o r” in Sense a n d Sensibility and alluded to E m m a as "a h eroine w hom no one b u t m yself will m uch like.” W h en asked if she had taken any o f h e r characters from life, she denied it— w hich seem s to have b een quite true. She w orked very m uch from reality, although she did n ot make actual portraits. She once said th at she was far too p rou d o f h er gentlem en ever to adm it that they w ere dra^wn from life! She liken ed h er books to m iniatures on "a little bit o f ivory, two inches wide, on which I work with as fine a brush as produces little effect after m uch labour.” _She,,,certamly. regard ed .m arriage as. by fa r.th e b e stfo rm .o £ 1 ife , but. this avenue was blocked f * reasons o f which she was. apparently unaw are, H e r father com plex, particularly as she stayed at hom e for so long, would make m arriage for such a girl difficult. I on ce spoke to Jung about a friend o f m ine who could not accep t any o f h er m any lovers, and he explained that !>he_had sta yed._at h om e to o lo n g , so m uch so .that h e r sex H b id o h ad .h eço rv ein c< ^ tuous and she could not acce p t it in that form . T h e sam e thing seem s to hold true for Jane A usten, w ho got eaught m a situation w hich was painful for her. B u t as she was a realist, she accep ted was sold out in six months; she had aiready started work on E m ^ . Her brother Henry, who then conveniently lived in London, often acted as Jane Austens go-between with publishers, and on several occasions she stayed with him in London to revise proof sheets. See the Jane Austen Web site www.pemberley.com. Ed.] 32. [Mme Gernimne d eStael (1766-1817) resided at her renown chateau residence at Coppet— “the salon ofEurope”— situated beside Lake Geneva where, in palatial surroundings, she entertained the most distinguished personages of England and the Continent. Famous for attracting intellectuals, writers, and nobility, Mme de Stael’s guests gathered to discuss topics of current social and political interest and were entertained with music, poetry readings, and plays. Mme de Stael was considered to be the toast of Europe and has been described as the “first female ambassador,” an unofficial title conferred upon her for her legendary role as a hostess and wiiter. Ed.]


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18-3

this difficult situation as well and th en extolled th e im portance o f being an aunt. She was always ready to help h er brothers w ith th eir ch ild ren and was im m easurably popular with h e r nieces and nephews. H e r niece, C aroline Austen, w rote: “I believe m y two aunts w ere not acco u n ted as very good dressers, and w ere thought to have taken to th e garb o f m iddle age unnecessarily soon— but they w ere particularly neat, and th ey held all untidy ways in great disesteem .” A nd she also w rote: “O f th e tw o, Aunt Jane was by far m y favorite— I did not dislike A unt C assandra, but if m y visit had at any tim e ch a n ce d to fall out during h er absence, I don’t think I w ould have m issed her, w hereas not to have found A unt Jane at C haw ton w ould have b e e n a blank indeed.” H e r biographies are full o f praise from nephew s an d nieces. C aroline said, again: “I was very fond o f her. H e r literary fam e, at th e close o f h e r life, was only just spreading, but [h er b roth ers] w ere proud o f h e r talents w hich they even th en estim ated highly; proud o f h er h om e virtues, o f h er cheerful spirit, o f h er pleasant looks, and afterw ards e ach loved to fancy a resem blance in som e daughter o f his own to th e d ear A unt Jane w hose p e rfect equal th ey never exp ected to se e .” N ot only had Jan e th e difficulty o f th e father, but she evidently had six b roth ers with tran sferen ces to her, w hich kept h e r busy and c e n te re d on h er first family rath er than setting out to begin h er own. Although h er w riting m ean t a g reat deal to h er— she called h er books h e r children— she was inclined to put th e claim s of life b efore h er work. In C haw ton, for instance, she had no sitting room o f h e r own and w rote in th e dining room w here the hinges o f t h e d oor squeaked. B u t she was m u ch opposed to th em being rem ed ied as it gave h er w arning th at som eone was approaching and tim e enough to hide th e pages she was working on. ( She prote c te d h e r anonym ity until well into h e r career.) O ne can im agine the difficult circu m stan ces u n d er w hich books w ere w ritten! P ride a n d P reju d ice she evidently regard ed as h er m asterpiece for a long tim e and, in 1 8 1 3 , speaks o f th e “playfulness and epigram m atism o f its style,” contrasting it with th e dull books she was then writing. I think we are justified in taking th at book as our main


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exam ple o f h e r earlier work. L ater, I propose contrasting it with h e r last work, Persuasion. Ja n e A u sten ’s P rid e a n d P reju d ice Pride a n d P rejudice was first w ritten at Steventon w hen Jane /A usten was about tw enty-tw o years old. It was at first titled “F irst Im pressions” and was considerably revised and renam ed before its publication during h e r earlier years at Chaw ton. Jane “lop’t and crop ’t it,” shortening it to a length similar to Sense and Sensibility. It is no exaggeration to say that the style is playful and epigram m atic, and it is an exceedingly witty book.33 It begins with the rem ark that all young single m en with good incom es are well k no^n to be in need o f a wife and th en describes the excitem ent in the neighborhood at th e arrival o f a young single m an supposed to have an annual incom e o f four thousand pounds. T h e main figures are the B ennet family. Mr. B en n et is an amusing m an who had m arried a vulgar girl, causing considerable disappointment and leading him later in life to b ecom e d etached and witty. The busindss o f Mrs. B en n et’s life entails relaxing, visiting, gossiping, and getting h er daughters m arried. O f h e r five daughters, Jane, twenty-two years old, is exceedingly beautiful; Elizabeth, twenty, has a lively playful disposition, witty and attractive; and Mary, a year o r so younger, is th e plainest and, unable to com p ete with h er older sisters, pretends to be learned. T h e two youngest sisters have no ideas in their heads beyond th eir noses. W e will go into considerable detail com paring th e realism that distinguishes Jan e A ustens literary style with the “creativemysticism” characteristic o f M ary W ebb, whose literary works will

33. R. W. Chapmann and Deirdre LeFaye, eds., Jan e A u s t e n L e t t e r s (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), letter dated February 4, 1813. [In a letter to her sister Cassandra immediately after its publication, Jane Austen writes: “Upon the whole . . . I am well satisfied enough. The work is rather too light, and bright, and sparkling; it wants shade; it wants to be stretched out here and there with a long chapter of sense, if it could be had; if not, of solemn specious nonsense, about something unconnected with the story: an essay on writing, a critique on Sir Walter Scott, or the history of Bonaparte, or anything that would form a contrast and bring the reader with increased delight to the playfulness and epigrammatism of the general style.” Ed.]


Animus Figures in Literature and in Modern Life

be looked at next.34 T h e introductory paragraphs o f Jane Austen’s P ride a n d P rejudice exem plify the realism typical o f A usten’s works and give an excellent exam ple o f w hat Jan e Austen cajled “delightful playfulness” and “epigram m atism ,” which sagacious, witty, and often paradoxical. Excerpt from the first pages of Pride and Prl3judice: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession o f a good fortune must be in want o f a wife. However little known the feelings or views o f such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds o f the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property o f some one or other o f their daughters. “My dear Mr. Bennet,” said his lady to him one day, “have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?” Mr. Bennet replied that he had not. “But it is,” re tu m ed she; ‘fo r Mrs. Long has just been here, and she told me all about it.” Mr. Bennet made no answer. “Do not you want to know who has taken it?” cried his wife impatiently. ‘You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it.” This was invitation enough. “Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long says that Netherfield is taken by a young man o f largefortune from the north o f England; that he came down on Monday in a chaise and fo u r to see the place, and was so much delighted with it that he agreed with Mr. Morris immediately; that he is to take possession before Michael^Ms, and some ofhis servants are to be in the house by the end o f next week.” “What is his nam e?” 34. [Mary Webb (1881-1927) was an English romantic novelist of the early twentieth cen­ tury whose novels are set chiefly in the pastoral Shropshire countryside, which she knew well and loved. Ed.]


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“Bingley.” “Is he married or single?” “Ohl single, my dear, to be sure! A single man o f large fortune; fo u r or five thousand a year. What a fin e thing fo r our girls!” “How so? how can it affect them ?” “My dear Mr. Bennet,” replied his wife, “how can you be so tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of his ma^rrying one o f them.” “Is that his design in settling h ere?” “Design! nonsense, how can you talk sol But it is very likely that he may fall in love with one o f them, and therrefoore you must visit him as soon as he comes.” “I see no occasion fo r that. You and the girls may go, or you may send them by the’mselves, which perhaps will be still better; for, as you are as handsome as any o f them, Mr. Bingley might like you the best o f the party.” “My dear, you flatter me. I certainly have had my share ofbeauty, but I do not pretend to be any thing extraordinary now. When a woman has five grown up daughters, she ought to give over thinking o f her own beauty.” “In such cases, a woman has not often much beauty to think o f ” “But, my dear, you must indeed go and see Mr. Bingley when he comes into the neighbourhood.” “It is more than I engage for, I assure you.”

.

“But consider your daughters. Only think what an establishment it would be f o r one o f them. Sir William and Lady Lucas are determined to go, merely on that account, fo r in general you know they visit no new comers. Indeed you must go, fo r it will be impossible fo r us to visit him if you do not.” “You are over-scrupulous surely. I dare say Mr. Bingley will be very glad to see you; and I will send a few lines by you to assure him of my hearty consent to his marrying which ever he chuses of the. girls; though I must throw in a good word fo r my little Lizzy.”


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“I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit better than the others; and I am sure she is not halfso handsome as Jane, nor half so good humoured as Lydia. But you are always giving h er the preference.” “They have none o f them much to recommend them ,” replied he; “they are all silly and ignorant like other girls; but Lizzy has something more o f quickness than h er sisters. ” “M r Bennet, how can you abuse your own children in such way? You take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion on my poor nerves. ‘You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect fo r your nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these twenty years at least.” “Ah! you do not know what I suffer.” “But I hope you will get over it, and live to see many young men o f fo u r thousand a year co^me into the neighbourhood.” “It will be no use to us i f twenty such should come, since you will not visit them .” “Depend upon it, my dear, that when there are twenty, I will visit them all. ” Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture o f quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice, that the experience o f three and twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife under­ stand his character.. H er m ind was less difficult to develope. She was a woman o f mean understanding, little info^nation, and uncertain tem per When she was discontented she fancied herself nervous. The business o f h er life was to get h er daughters married; its solace was visiting and news. A t th e beginning o f the work th ere is an amusing description o f th e N eth erfield ball at M eryton during w hich th e m en o f the book are introduced. C harles Bingley, tw enty-tw o, com es to the ball and turns out to be an extraverted young m an, handsom e and delightful to everybody. H e is accom p an ied by F i t ^ i l l i a m D arcy, tw enty-eight (known in th e book simply as D arcy), tall in person,


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handsom e and noble in m ien (yet notoriously proud). W ithin five m inutes after his en tran ce the w ord is about that he has an annual incom e o f ten thousand pounds. As cold as he is proud, he refuses to dance with anybody at the ball. Charles Bingley is bedazzled by Jan e and tries to persuade / D arcy to dance with Elizabeth. B u t D arcy looks at her, finds h er m erely tolerable in com parison to h e r sister, and declares that she is not attractive enough to tem p t him, adding th at he certainly is not in the h u m or to dance with a lady already slighted by an oth er man. Elizab eth is am used b u t angry. She thinks him most disagreeable and is quite ready to believe the lies told o f him by G eorge W ickham (the son o f Old W ickham , the form er steward to the eld er and d eceased Mr. D arcy Senior o f Pem berley). In fact, everybody in the M eryton neighborhood is pleased to think how m uch they had always disliked Mr. D arcy b efore they had known anything about him. W h ereas E lizabeth finds him to be the only m an at the ball lacking a single admirable feature, D arcy will soon begin to fall in love with h er. L a te r in the story, D arcy confesses how his love fo r h e r ha)> overcom e his sense that a marriage to h er— due to h er inferior family— would be degrading. His arrogance inflames Elizabeth, w ho curtly rejects his proposal: h ere h e r p rid e and his p reju d ice. W h en D arcy notices that Bingley is falling in love with Jan e, he thinks it wise to rem ove him and whisks him off the day after the ball. Jane is left badly hurt b u t shows nothing o f it. T h e R everen d W illiam Collins, tw enty-five years old, R e cto r of H unsford in K en t, cousin and h eir to Mr. B en n et, visits the Longbourne estate o f th e B en n et family. H e proposes marriage to his cousin Elizabeth after being denied his wish to m arry Jan e (since, according to h e r m other, she is already practically engaged). In one o f the m ost amusing scenes in English litera­ tu re, he proposes to Elizabeth who answers him in the negative. Since he has m ore m oney than she does and will inherit the very estate, he can ’t conceive o f any grounds why she should reject him and thus persistently disbelieves h e r refusal, imagining h er rep eated denials as coquetry. C harlotte L ucas, a close friend of


Animus Figures in Literature and in Modern Life

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Elizab eth and a realistic girl, helps “Lizzy” get over the difficulty w ith Collins. M arriage, she say, is a lottery, and at tw enty-seven it w ould b e ju st as well to be m arried, and Collins is not any sillier than anyone else, so she decides to m arry him herself, m uch to E lizab eth s am azem en t th at a m an should propose to two girls within th e space o f th ree days. Jan e B en n et, still unhappy, spends m ost o f the w inter in Lon d on while E lizabeth goes to stay in K en t w ith C h arlotte L u cas, now wife o f the R everen d Collins. T h e patron o f the Collins family, L ad y C ath erin e de B ourgh (D a rcy s glacial aunt), now com es to stay. Elizab eth is furious with D arcy 'because she is con vin ced that he is the source o f Ja n e ’s despair, seeing as it was he w ho whisked C harles Bingley away from h e r sister. A nger and the prejudice induced by W ickham prevents h e r from realizing th at D arcy is in love with her. D a rcy s ensuing proposal affords a wonderful scene in w hich h e speaks o f love b u t also to an equal exten t o f the inferiority o f h e r background and connections. H e goes on for quite a while and evidently has no doubt w hatsoever th at she was waiting to catch him. She refuses him , and w hen he presses for a reason, she says th a t she co u ld n ot love a m an who has ru in ed the happiness o f h e r sister and tre a te d Mr. W ickham so atrociously. Elizabeth says straight out th at his offer could not have been m ade to h e r in any form in w hich she could have been even tem p ted to a cce p t it. T h e next day, he gives h e r a letter in w hich he m akes it clear that she was m isinform ed as to his behavior tow ard W ickham . Elizab eth also has the honesty to see that h e could not have noticed how m uch in love Jan e was with C harles Bingley because Jan e had b een so reticen t in showing h e r feelings. She feels nei­ th er friendly nor any re g re t for having refu sed him , but she slowly realizes that she has been a bit unjust. E lizab eth s aunt and uncle then take h e r to P em b erley to visit D arcy ’s estate. She can find no way out o f accom panying them but finds ou t from a maid in advance that the family is away. As the entourage approaches the grounds they m eet D arcy com ing out o f the stables and, to E lizab eth s am azem ent, she notices that she


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finds him quite am enable. H e asks h er uncle to join him fishing and brings his young sister to call on her, relating to Elizabeth that he has truly no hard feelings about the past. B ut everything erupts sky high when they discover that Lydia— h er own youngest sister— has now run away with G eorge W ickham . / Elizabeth notices for the first tim e that perhaps she would have liked to have a ccep ted D arcy ’s proposal after all, but thinks it now hopeless. She then discovers that D arcy has swiftly pursued W ickham and bribed him to m arry Lydia. L a te r D arcy com es to see the Bennets with Bingley, who he now encourages to m arry Jane. And he, in turn, proposes to E lizabeth again, the book ending with th ree daughters m arried and Mrs. B en n et quite accom plished in the business o f h e r life. Jane Austen seem s to have lived in a kind o f active im agn ation _in h er books. She could usually tell h er family exactly what happ en ed to h er characters even beyond the beginnings and endings o f h er stories, although, in the books them selves, none o f this inform ation appears. W ithin the fram ew ork Qf the_characte.rsLÍn Pri.cl<raná P rejudice, for instance, she later narrated th at.th eJw o younger B ennet girls m arried: Kitry, was b e tr o th e d to . a. pa:t:son near Pem berley, while M ay)/was. satisfied w ith a .solicitors clerk, he being the largest toad in a small pond. In London, Jan e Austen w rites that she found a portrait o f Jane Bingley and thus she now knows exactly what she looked like, but continues that she was not fortunate enough to find a portrait o f D arcy and thus supposes that he did not want the eyes o f th e m ultitude to look upon him o r his beloved. Apparently h er fictitious characters w ere quite real for her. Turning now ..to our discussion, I w ould first like to consider the animus as he appears in this particular story. S om eon e noted last w eek that D arcy seem s to be an animus and not a hufl).an figure. D arcy lacks the clivi,ne o r dem onic qualities o f Heathdiff. in W u thering H eights, for instance, but at bottom he is a wishful filntasy figure.. H e lacks m asculine pursuits or interests. N one o f th e th re e m ain m ale figures have any profession. Darcy, it is true, is spoken o f as a good landlord, so presum ably he looks after his


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estate; b u t th e P em b erley estate has an agent, so th at w ork can n ot b e all too strenuous. Jan e A usten said th at she n ever knew w hat m en talked about w hen th ey w ere alone am ong them selves, so she n ever le t th e m do this in h e r books in case she m ade mistakes. T h e Je a d in g m e n in this b o o k seem to, la c k a n y m a so u lin e in te rr (2sts_an.djthey, seem to have th eir whole energy. d irected to.â&#x20AC;&#x17E;the pursuitQ f th eir brides,. w hich is exactly w hat every.SQro.an wpWd l.Q.ve to believe. D arcy also in terferes in an amazingly fem inine way with Bingleys love affairs and plots sham elessly to m arry him to his own sister, G eorgiana D arcy. I think h e is-unreaLbecause D a rc y is a.gi_a.n dra^TC w ithout an anim a, as is s h q w f f j n & t a n c e , by h e fact th at.sh e.n ever..trip s.h im up. C an yQ u im agine .a real m an behaYing-.as-he . does after. he_ has .proposed. to E lizab eth ? Think o f w hat w e know about his m other: she was the sister of L ad y C ath erin e de Bourgh, who is adm ittedly haughty. Talking about his parents, D arcy says th at th ey had good principies, but he only really praises his father. W e know little about his m other, but w hat we do know shows th at she resem bled h e r sister, and she w ould probably have criticized Elizab eth m uch as L ady O atherine does. B u t this does not happen after th e first few days. Som eone rem ark ed th at Jane A ustenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s books m ust have b een a substitute for th e life she could not live owing to h e r father com plex, and in spite o f h e r m any attractions, she could not get out into life itself. U ndoubtedly th e re is tru th in this. I had a great deal o f difficulty with D arcy w hen I was eighteen years old. H e had an outright pernicious effect on m e: I u sed to com p are every young m an I m et to him and o f co u rse they n ever passed the test! How ever, I got an inferiority com p lex from com paring m yself with Elizab eth . E ven von F ra n z said rath er wistfully th at D arcy was sympathetically m asculine in his way o f courting Elizabeth but added that he rem inded h e r of the divine figure o f W och p e, the beautiful one, whom Paul Radin told us about.35 T h e Indian 35. [The cosmology of the Lakota Sioux is replete with mythological references to divine female powers such as arè found in the goddess Wochpe. According to their cosmology, Wochpe was the daughter of the sun and moon, and when she fell to earth as a star, she presented herself to the Lakota as the White Buffalo Calf Woman. She brought to a starving Lakota nation the calf pipe, an instrument of prayer that serves to mediate their lives with


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m en o f h er tribe idolized her, and th e w om en b ecam e jealous, particularly w hen th e m en d ream t o f her, b ecause a m ere w om an cannot com p ete with a goddess. W e should say a_W.o;r:.d. h e re .a b o u t .M:r:. ,l}en:qet, .fqL.Elizabeth and all h er w it and objectivity co m e .fro m him. D isappointed in /h is wife and thinking that his daughters w ere all incredibly silly— excepting Elizabeth— Mr. B e n n e t had b ecom e a kind o f onlooker in the gam e o f life, taking on as small a role in family affairs as possible. H e was, however, proud o f th e quickness o f E lizabeths wit, which he felt red eem ed her. Jan e Austen describes him as an odd m ixture o f quick parts, sarcastic humor, reserve and caprice. H g_ n ot-.011ly~persomfi.es-one _aspe.c.t..Q£. Ehzabeths__@ im u s .but also a p a r t o f Jan e A ustens o ^ n animus that, w e sh all.see, plays a central role in h er works, although B en n et is by no means. its only personification . T h e m aterial in this book is n ot all too congenial to m e, but certain roots o f th e animus are to be found in respectable surfaces with incestuous s e cre t influences working underneath. Personally, I should say th at .the_Juncojm áncing_thingaboutJ:he w om en in Pride and,Er:..ejyq,jce is t h a tjh e tw o. eldest sisters have all th e virtues ,a n d .th e .th re e youngest carry the whole shadow. T he silly animus opinions p ron ou n ced by M ary are alm ost like the p arrot’s in G reen D olphin C o u n try .36 B u t it is awfully difficult for Jane A usten not to have ideal heroines, for she h erself was so idealized by h e r family, in p articular h er b roth ers. N o one saw foibles m ore clearly than Jan e Austen excep t those o f h er heroes and heroines. She apparently draws th e world as it is, but D arcy and Elizabeth are the exceptions in P ride a n d P rejudice. —L h a s— interested m e that m em bers o f the ,class_have,reacted...by.J^!y;: ing that Elizabeth and D arcy do n ot g iv e.th e im pression. of.reqJ people. This does not conform with the general opinion o f the public as a rule because o f h er ultrarealistic m inor characters. T he younger girls run after m en , to say nothing o f th eir friend C harlotte L ucas. W h en C h arlotte talks about Jane w ith Elizabeth, higher powers whenever they are experiencing hardship and danger. Ed.] 36. Elizabeth Goudge, Green Dolphin Country (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1961).


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she com m en ts: “It m ay perhaps be pleasant to b e able to im pose on th e public in such a case, b u t it is som etim es a disadvantage to be so very guarded. I f a w om an con ceals h er affection w ith the sam e skill from the o b ject o f it, she m ay lose th e opportunity of fixing him and it will th en be b u t p oor consolation to believe the world equally in th e dark.” This is realistic and m uch m ore in accord an ce with th e facts. Jane A usten c:lid. a J o t o f h arm to m ygene.Lation and p ro b a b ly to ot:he r generations^ .in_ spreaq.ip.gjhe, .jdeajthat_man..was-.atho;m&,in the.-Em s_principleand that th e . Eros,side.o£.reaIity_couldh&-safely J ^ f r t a h i m J t is not m an’s principle; he is initially blind in it, and it is th e business and objective right o f w om en to help him there. She is th e one w ho ought to be able to see how the relationship works, and, in my opinion, Jan e A ustens wishful fantasy did a considerable am ount o f h arm h ere. .ThíLjnen_areJike,-,'m en.w lm ^I!!QY.eL.under_the.,principle o f Eros.. a n d n o tu n d e r theprinGÍple,.of .Lo,gOS_When I first read P ride a n d P rejudice, it was a trem endous relief to m e. I thought th at it was w onderful th at m en w ere really like this. T h e only oth er tim e I had this feeling was in Tunis. I had b een having a particularly difficult tim e in Paris, and w hen I woke up in th e morning in Tunis, it was as if everything had been set right, everything seem ed to co m e together, nothing could fall ap art again, and that feeling en d u red throughout my six m onths’ stay in N orth Africa. I did not understand it at all until I heard Jung say th a t th e M oham m edan tradition is based on E ro s, unlike th e Christian tradition w hich is based on Logos. In answ er to a question, som eone pointed o u t th at M rs. B en n et probably typified Jan e A ustens relationship with h e r m other. W e m ay have a point h ere, b u t m ore likely it typifies an unconscious figure within her. O th er m o th er figures w ould have to be taken into account, such as M rs. D ashw ood in Sense a n d Sensibility and M rs. M orland in N o rth a n g er A b b ey . I doubt if Jan e A usten’s m o th e r was as efficient as Mrs. B en n et. I f so, it would be rath er rem arkable th at both h e r daughters rem ain ed unm arried. To put it unkindly, Jan e A usten’s books consist o f visits and gossip. It is a pure w om ans world o f that tim e. In Pride a nd P rejudice, with


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all h er vulgarity, the person w ho really achieves h e r objective is M rs. B en n et. I am quite sure th at Jan e A usten did n ot realize how m u ch h er b eloved E lizabeth ow ed to h e r vulgar, silly m oth er. W e are told that she had b een m ore beautiful than all h e r daughters and that otherw ise she had b een like Lydia. T h at is, subtract/in g the vulgarity and silliness, an instinctive w om an knowing the pig in h erself without the im peding influence o f good manners and decency. Jung said to m e that w hat was really n eed ed in these days is indubitably d e ce n t w om en who also a cce p t the pig in them selves. M rs. B e n n e t was not so very d ecen t, but she had accep ted the pig. H e re w e should re m e m b e r the R egency period o ccu rred prior to the V ictorian E ra . Jan e A usten w rote in the reign o f G eorge II I and his R eg en t son w hen m orals w ere by no m eans so very strict. W e have always had dreadfully strict tim es like the Victorians and free tim es like the R egency, but the English always have a peculiar attitude to the body. Bryant, in “English Saga,” quotes R og et’s T hesaurus, which cam e ou t about the sam e tim e as Jane A u sten s works: everything is catalogued in it excep t the parts o f the body; you can find only “sto m ach ” und er “recep tacle” and “genitals” u n d er “p rod u ction.” Elizabeth n eed ed this vulgar e arth m oth er and h e r impossible Lydia shadow to attract D arcy at all, although I doubt if Jane A usten was at all conscious o f this fact. And this brings us to a m uch discussed point in Jan e Austen, nam ely h e ra ttitu d e t^ vard _ _passion._ It only actually appears in Lydia B en n et and M aria Rushw orth in M ansfield Park, two definitive shadow figures. B u t it is m erely nam ed in D a rcy s le tte r to Elizabeth: he sru.d that it required the utm ost forces o f passion to make him p u t aside his objection to h er family and inferior social status. Undoubtedly, we m ust not forget that Jan e Austen was a fath ers daughter and, w orse still, a parson’s child. I do not im agine that M rs. Austen, although she was well con n ected , was an attractive woman. Probably m ost o f Mr. A usten s anim a was p rojected onto Jane, for C assandra did m anage to g et h erself engaged. I f Jan e had been able to g et o u t o f h e r fath er com plex, she might have had to com e in on Lydia’s level, w here she might then have gotten the


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thing straight, for she could not possibly have started on th e truly high level w here she puts Elizabeth. Naturally, she was unable to a cce p t h er Lydia shadow, so she just rep ressed the whole thing. C h arlotte B ron te goes into passion m uch m ore in h e r books, som etim es a little farth er than one feels she knows w hat she is talking about. B u t she h ad a m uch wilder tem p eram en t— and .less cu ltu re— than Jane Austen. Old Mr. B ron te was a farm er’s son, so it is likely th at she was naturally m u ch clo se r to the earth. I think we can see v ery w ell in P ride a n d P rejudice how it req u ired th e vulgarity o f Lydia B en n et for Ja n e A usten e v e r to have let h erse lf go. T h e E nglish g en tlem en ideal is responsible for an incredible state o f things, underneath o f w hich vulgarity is the least. 1l'- "a turallyJ:heuabsence„Q f sexu.ality a n d .p a s s io n o n -h e . one endjoLhe_s_c_ale„m eanslhaLhere is also no p oetry o r mysticism on th e o th er. E v e n C hapm an, h er ard en t adm irer, speaking- of h er critics says that all th e hostile criticism o f Jane A usten am ounts to little niore than this: th at she was not a poet. I w ould like ju st to say a few words m ore about P ride a nd P rejud ice b efore w e pass on to Persuasion. Speaking o f h e r books as a whole, C hapm an notes th at h er creative imagination w orked m ost freely within a fram ew ork fixed for h e r by small points of co n ta ct with reality. It is as though she had m ade a very small fram e in P ride a n d P rejudice and refused to allow anything fantastic to enter. W ithin that fram e, how ever, h e r spiritus re c ­ to r takes a pretty free hand, at all events in h e r early books, and produces such a pair as D arcy and E lizabeth. ,l£one~really_thinks about_ th e relationships _and_Iove-affaãrs between. h e r heroes. and heroínes, h e r e i$ijaonsiderableflav.or_oCthe..animus _about them : “you should . . . , ” “yoi!_shoouldn’t . . . . ” D arcy is never tripped up by his own anim a, and E lizabeth can overcom e h e r early idiotic prejudices with no loss o f prestige. I subm it th a tD a r c y and Ehzabeh-a.rejeally___arçhetypâLfigur e.s,_.he.ja.nirous_and.ihe.anima, mç:yirigjinja-World-of-Eros-as-5ee:B~by-the-ammus. The Mr. B en n et asp ect o f h er anim us p rod u ced th e h u m or and the realistic side o f th e book. It is a striking fact that although Jane A usten was unm arried, th ere is— as far as I rem em b er— only one portrait of


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an old maid in all o f h e r novels, nam ely Ms. B ates in E m m a . Jane A usten seem s to be a g reat m atchm aker and m arries off all h er ch aracters, and h e r h eroes and heroines usually seem to have a reasonably good ch an ce o f making a good job o f it. B u t it is striking that the actual m arried pairs in h e r books are as a rule by no ;ta e a n s happy, and this with few exceptions such as th e G ardeners in P ride a n d Prejudice. Ja n e A u sten ’s Persuasion M ost o f Jan e A usten’s books have th e sam e plot. T h e village, one family and th eir f riends, th e arrival o f interlopers who do or do not m arry into th e family, and about th ree weddings at the end. T h ere are two villages in Persuasion, the first being Som erset. T h ere is a silly b aronet: Sir W alter Elliot o f Kellynch Hall. His wife was a charm ing and intelligent w om an, and we are told that if we forgive h e r youthful folly in marrying Sir W alter, w e shall not have to forgive h e r anything else. She dies, how ever, before the story has begun, leaving behind th ree daughters. It is th e middle daughter, A nne, who is th e heroine. She resem bles th e m other, and the shadow is again carried by th e sisters, seen in the eldest daughter Elizabeth, who is handsom e, haughty, and otherwise like h er father, and th e youngest, Mary, who is m arried, silly, and selfish. T h e extravagance o f Sir W alter and his daughter Elizabeth make it necessary to lease th eir h om e, Kellynch Hall, to Admiral C roft. W e then learn that eight years ago Anne, as a pretty girl o f n in eteen , had been engaged to th e b ro th er o f M rs. C roft. Anne had allowed h erself to be persuaded that the m atch was im prudent: W entw orth C roft— although a prom ising young officer in the navy— had not yet m ade a c a re e r and his family cam e from a class lower than th e E lliot’s. W entw orth, who was furious when A nne failed to stand by h e r love for him , left England, m ade good in his profession, and is now on leave, a naval captain and a rich man. Anne has by no m eans forgotten him and is m uch agitated at th e thought o f m eeting him again. W hen his brother-in-law takes Kellynch Hall, she at first avoids m eeting him and then has th e m ortification o f hearing that he would not have known h er


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Ti

and realizes th at she will probably have to see him m arry som eone else, nam ely one o f h e r brother-in-law s sisters. T h e way she accep ts h e r suffering is w ell d escrib ed . L a te r they all go off to L ym e Regis w here a gentlem an— looking invigorated by the sea breezes— notices A nne and regard s h e r w ith g reat adm iration. C aptain W entw orth notices this exchange betw een A nne and the gentlem an, and his old feelings for h e r are on ce again aroused. B u t this tim e, he is in a different situation: th e girl he has b een flirting with has had an accid en t in L ym e Regis, and W entw orth realizes th a t he is regard ed as being practically engaged to her. Anne suffers even m ore this tim e as she loses W entw orth again. L ater, in B ath , she m eets W illiam E lliot, h e r fath ers heir, and recognizes him as th e adm iring gentlem an o f Lym e R egis. His adm iration in creases and w hen C aptain W entw orth— now freed by th e girls en gag em en t to an oth er naval m an— com es to Bath, he finds everyone expecting A nne’s en g agem en t to W illiam Elliot. A nne, however, still loves C aptain W en tw orth but has to give him a lot o f help before he dares to propose. T h e book ends, as usual, with th ree weddings. I t i s an interesting_fagt that. for t e first tim e Jane Austen has cons.iderable.. difficulty. ren d erin g th e sce.ne.w here Captain Wentworth~proposes~to~-Anne. She had to w rite it tw ice, and the second version is by no m eans good. You feel th at she is_writi!!g ^ m e t h i n g o f w hich she is n o lo n g e r cQnvinced. W e^ ^ ro rth -is~ a-.f^ ^ m o re hum an figure than D a rc ^ Logos and n o t E ro,s..is..his...principle. Uis.-profession-is m ore irnportant toj him_ t h a n A n }a__a nd resen ts A nne’s treatm en t o fh im to th e e x te n tth a th e tr ie s . .to c u t h e r out ofrhis. Jife. altogethe.r. W h en he returns, he decides he should m arry anyone but Anne E lliot. A nne als.o. app.ears to .be a goo d .d ealm o reh u m an _th an . Eli:z;abeth. B en n et. She has to suffer a g reat deal from W en tw orth s anim a an d h e r own weakness, and she has to accep t an alm ost intolerable lot. Only years later is she rew arded. She is m uch n e a re r to life as it really is. Jan e A usten evidently..leam edto~accept-.sufferm gin„a.psych9Oogj c a lw a y — th ere being no b e tte r— bu.t A n n e _is.st.iU.too. ideal,.

j


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and h e rsiste rs have to c a rry the shadow. Emmai^s...th€-©nl:)l--fig--UI:e in, J.aneA usten who,_to som e extent. m anages to carry her. oyVIli. shadow. .. Jane Austen describes h e r as a heroine who “no one b u t m yself will m uch like.” She m ust have seen m ore o f w om an’s shadow in life than she p u t into h e r books. A fter all, /sh e lived one hundred years before Stevenson’s Jekyll a n d H y d e and the idea o f accepting the shadow was still in th e future. Psychologically considered, Persuasion represents a notable victory over Jane A ustens earlier books, but it is not at all as interesting as P ride a n d P rejudice. Virginia W oolf says that she finds a peculiar beauty, as well as g reat dullness, in Persuasion. W e m ust really ask ourselves why Jane A ustens books are classics, how it is possible that M acaulay should have com pared h er to Shakespeare, and the reason why Scott had such a deep adm iration o f h er as a genius.37Q ^ ^ ^ ^^ & m osti® teresting_t:hm gsjsjhat, although she. describes awomi:tni_wodd,~meJJ--like.her_books.q u ite as m uch as w om en. Virginia W oolf.alsa.rem arkedjth at o f alLgreat writers, she is the m ostdifficultU o ca tch .Jn .th e, act„o£greatness. And no one has been able, as far as I know, to provide a convincing reason why. U ndoubtedly such ideal figures as D arcy and Elizabeth have a certain numinous quality which will always be fascinating. B ut to venture a hypothesis, I am inclined tn-w onderjw h £therihexeal fascination oi'theso..books.does...no.LlieJn.._the fac t .that they may be attempts,_as.it,iLwre,_to,put..the..amm.usJn,_.the,resin.._In „a .w ay one co u ld j5ay ,that,Jane_A usten continually , caught, h e r ornrumi:: mus in the t e s t tu b e .a n d fo ijc e d h im in ta th e je s in . gfheLrnality. I base this hypothesis on the extraordinary difference b etw een h er first pair, Elizabeth and Darcy, and h er last pair, W entw orth and Anne. (T here are variations in betw een which I have no tim e to go into.) E ven D arcy is reality itself com pared with the heroes o f the wom en writers who p reced ed Jane Austen such as Fanny 37. [Thomas Macaulay (1800-1859), author, historian, and politician, played a central role in the abolishment of slavery in the British colonies. Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832) was a leading novelist of the early nineteenth century and a pioneer in the art of the historical novel. His special interest was Scotland’s history and culture. Ed.]


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Burney, Maria Edgew orth, and Ann Radcliffe.38 Jane Austen depicts a woman’s world o f gossip but, in h e r early books, a world seen through the eyes o f th e animus. As I see it, she m ade an attem p t to put h er animus in the resin thus partially humanizing this w om ans world. She narrow ed h er field to very small dim ensions on h er “little bit o f ivory.” She threw out everything not in h e r im m ediate experience. This included vital parts o f the whole hum an being such as passions, sexuality, poetry, and mysticism. T h ere is little even about religion, although h e r b ro th er w rites in the first biographical note th a t she rem ained com pletely orthodox. Usjaa_.J:h.^field.G0EFeGt]y,..shefiought an-epi^battl—with_her animus in h er small .andlimitexLfield. O ne could call it a heroic struggle in a teacup. The_nejme1,.!_paJrr!: g f h er animus to coI!seÍQUSness i s depicted,- to-som e .e x te n t..by. Mr. B ennet, armeA.with_.the “d iv in g L ^ ^ ty -•o£~humor.” (You rem em b er that Schopenhauer said th at h u m or was the only divine quality in m an.) T h e back­ ground and subordinate figures are com pletely realistic from the beginning, and this realism advances closer to the main figures in each book until som ething like a victory isjobtained in Persuasion, which was h er final book published in the year o f h e r death. But the playfulness that makes P ride a n d Prejudice so delightful is largely in abeyance, and M rs. B en n ets business in life still has the upper hand. Jung once m ade the observation in a seminar that people who have managed to get an objective attitude to the things that still possess and worry them have th e greatest fascination, and it is in my opinion that Jane A ustens fascination is due to a certain extent to th e fact that she was able to overcom e something, even if but a small aspect o f the animus, by which everyone else was still com ­ pletely possessed. The animus, speaking from the standpoint of happiness, may have su cceed ed in ruining h er life, but w e should probably never have heard o f Jane Austen had she su cceed ed 38. [The books of Ann Radcliffe (1764-1823) tended to involve innocent, but heroic young women who found themselves in gloomy, mysterious castles ruled by even more mysterious barons with dark pasts replete with vivid descriptions of exotic and sinister locales. A learung exponent of the historical Gothic novel, her works were extremely popular among the upper class and the growing middle class, especially among young women. See also note 19. Ed.]


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in a happy m arriage. F o r only_su£fering„p f. a m ost_acute nature could have fo rc e d h e r to w rite as s h e i d . It m ay even have killed her, for although w e are u ncertain o f the cause o f h e r death, the symptoms described may. have arisen in part from psychological conditions; in any case, she certainly died young. I

Jane Austen was a true child o f h er times and pursued the tendency o f her age, w hich was “reality at all costs.” It was the tim e when science was beginning to develop and w hen alchem y had already split into two parts, chem istry and mysticism. She only saw the one side o f w om ans problem with h er creative mind and fought fantastic illusion with all h er might. She did n ot see that there was also a value in th e very fantasy that she was opposing. It is no w onder that C harlotte B ron te is the one em inent nineteen th -cen tury author w ho rejects Jane Austen, for the Brontes w ere mainly con cern ed with th e oth er side o f the creative spirit, the side which Jane Austen opposed. In the age in which she lived, it m ust have required an enormous self-discipline and self-denial to give up wishful thinking to the extent sh o^ n in the difference betw een D arcy and W entw orth. T herefore I think the im portance o f h er admittedly one-sided contribution can hardly be exaggerated. One might say th at she cleaned the mind o f one wom an (her own) to a great exten t o f superfluities, and she brought a certain “scientific conscience” into w om ans w ork for the first tim e that I know of. You wilLreroemher...the great value Jung sets on reality as. a ça rre çtip n to ,am m us.apioions,,_It is., h ere in p articu lar.th at we can leam from Jane.. A usten .and.find her. o f the m ostpractical^use i^_our o ^ p ro b le m with. the animus.

L ectu re E lev en

I am quite glad to have finished the lecture on Jane Austen, for h er extrem e realism gives an intuitive feeling o f im prisonm ent and makes it difficult to do justice to her. On thinking it over, however, I am inclined to conclüde that it. was just narrowness— the feel­ ing I had o f being imprisoned— that constituted~o.ne.of. ±he_chief


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fe a tu r e s x f J a n e A ustens spiritus rertoJ:. I was irritated by the very thing I had b e e n trying to see, namely, what h e r animus had done to h er books. H e seem s to have narrow ed the field to such an exten t as to alm ost exclude th e unconscious altogether. H e focused h e r eyes to such a d egree on everyday experience as to m ake it easy for him to insert figures su ch as D a rcy and Elizabeth— ani­ m us and anim a figures— in a way that escapes not only th e atten ­ tion o f th e author, but also that o f th e general reader. I pointed . o u t J n th e last lectu re t h a t this narrowing. . o L t e fie!d_had_a_transform ing- -effect on h e r .Jigures__and . th a t.A n n e a n d ^ ^ in tw o rth in Persuasion are fu!" m o r e h u m a n jh a n ^ I a r c y ^ ^ ^ E h ^ A e jth . lLfonns_ai^^^interesting_example...oLtt;h^.„paradoxi:: Q .a ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ -th e _ a n im u s . ^Qn_h.e_m&.._sidfi,...it kept_out,. io_sm ne extent,_theJ:xeasures.Q£the unconscious, w hich are plentiful in the B ook o f Tobit and which we shall see in rich m easure in our next exam ple from M ary W ebb. B .u zon the. other. hand, th e anim us approach ed h e hum a n r c ahn itself and_ beca.me occupied with the details_of hup:1 anJife. in a .w ay that, as far as L^now,.is^almost w itlrnutparaileL in- literat-ure. A w om an’s writing is, to som e extent, a “having it out” with h er animus, or in m ore ordinary language, h e r creative spirit. That is, “h e ” puts th e ideas into h er head and she accepts or rejects them . A nd if she rejects them , he m ay likely resort to cheating h e r on a small or, som etim es, on a grand scale. Look ed at from this point of view, as Jung has said, th e animus or anim a approaches a person, as a rule, for one o f two purposes: to bring som ething up from the unconscious o r to learn som ething from us about the outer world o r consciousness. W e m ight therefore venture the hypothesis that Jane A usten’s creative spirit (that is, h er animus) was m ore interested in learning about h er world than he was in bringing h e r the w ider treasures o f th e unconscious, and in ord er to do this, he narrow ed the field m uch as w e also try to do in an effort to grasp som ething o f the invisible world o f th e unconscious. T he departure from hum an reality, such as w e found in th e figures o f D arcy and Elizabeth, would then, as it w ere, be accounted for by the animus’s difficulty


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in seeing our reality. The gradual humanizing of hero and heroine can be said to reflect the amount of the human world he assimilated during his partnership with Jane Austen. N ev e rth e le ss,I think the M ary W eb b ’s]rerecious_B ane, the book I wish now to tu rn Jo ,.g iy ^ the best .description .o f an animus. th a t I. .have ever / read jn _ modern_ literature, _ w i th th e , exception o f . H eathcliff m W ytherjng. Heights.. M ary W ebb Mary Gladys M eredith was born at Leighton, Shropshire (near the center of Great Britain not far from the border of W ales), on 25 M arch 1881. George Edw ard M eredith, her father, was a country gentleman, nature enthusiast, poet, painter, and a tutor proud of his W elsh-Celtic heritage. Marys mother, Sarah Alice, was the only child o f W alter Scott, a rich Edinburgh surgeon (of the family of his famous namesake). Mary was the first child o f George Edward and Sarah Alice and the eldest by six years of the other Meredith children (two sisters and three brothers). It was at her childhood home, the Grange, where her f a th e d a n Oxford M.A.) expanded his boarding school for boys and kept a hom e farm. H e :w:as„not .Qnly_ajcuI. t

e

©d.. m an , h L . _was, .Jmow»-t o . ~ - be..gener.Q:^^hümorous,

an d .aiaye..o£n atu xe. H e was„ adoredJhy.. his oldest.daughter, sharing- with.her.hikdeep. n o w le d g e o f. jthe cotijitivsitlo and introducmg.her.to- th e-history, fo lH ore,_ad lege.nd_oLS_h^opshire. Taught in her father’s school, and later by a governess, M ^ y ’s . studies included Shakespeare, Milton, the Rom antic poets, the Brontes, and many other works of English and classical literature. H er deep bond with the Shropshire countryside, seen in some o fh e r earliest poems, was a molding influence on her mind and spirit.39 Like Emily Bronte, who would never go away from the moors, she always pined for Shropshire. She is another of these fathers daughters. But such father-daughter relationships seem absolutely necessary seeing as there are apparently no wom en authors who are not. She describes her father in the person of John Arden 39. [For a succinct profile of Mary Webb, see Gladys M. Coles, “Mary Webb” (2003), retrieved from ^^^.literaryheritage.org.uk Ed.]


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in The G olden A rrow . She cam e from a parsonic family, but her father lived as a teach er and a small country squire. And she lived at hom e until h er m arriage at the age o f thirty-one. H er governess, who rem ained a lifelong friend, said that M ary was already writing as a child (albeit not terribly enthusiastically) primarily because her father w rote poem s, and M ary copied everything he did. At the age o f twenty, she developed Graves disease, an incurable th):I_oid disorder from which she suffered m uch o f h er life. It engendered the ^ p ical protrusion o f the eyes and goiter, causing h er to b ecom e self-conscious and motivating h er to retreat into her_ own.solita!}'. world, reJyi.Sg.§.y.er mor;e _on the Joy and solace sh e fo u n cLin-u.ature. It was during__this~iliness_h§t she.seriously. beganJü_^write_poems_.and.essays. Although she recovered som ew hat from the illness, she had a recu rren ce at the age o f twentyeight, when her father died in 1909. In 1910, Mary m et H enry B. L. W ebb, a young Cam bridge graduate, who cam e to live at M eole B race. Henry, too, was a teacher, cultured, kind, and charm ing, a w riter and a lover o f nature; thus h er future husband shared many ^ t h ^ e r y q u a l i t i e s that M ary had loved in h erfatlior. They- m arried-in-1912 .._Soon a£terw ard ......§jbÊ.b.egan...w:ritlng_!\oveJs, published

1916.:.. ^[^w ugh unhappy w henever she was, away

from Shropshire (she was even miserable in C hester som e forty miles away), she~nnvertheless-went~to- live_m .Lond onJn_.1921, w here she becam e involved in the circles o f authors and publishers from which she undoubtedly profited. But she was only happy on h er short visits to the Shropshire cottage.40 Biographers have likened h er to St. Francis o f Assisi (without intending the negative aspects o f the comparison). She was unable to stop herself from giving m oney away to beggars, and 40. Shropshire, a county in the West Midlands region of England bordering Wales, is known for its wild and picturesque landscapes, its hill ranges, pine forests, small pastoral valleys in the south, sweeping agricultural plains in the north, and numerous significant historical, geographical, and geological landmarks. The Shropshire Hills Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty covers about a quarter of the county. It is one of Englands most rural and sparsely populated counties. Mary Webb’s cottage was outside of the village of Bayston Hill, a few miles south of Shrewsbury. Ed.]


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she herself died o f undernourishment. She and h er husband literally lived on bread and scrape. She would complain that her publishers did not pay h er sufficiently for h er writings, but this was incorrect. She would go to a farm house and ask what the people there would like for Christm as and then buy them a piano. ,Mfhen she went to London, she purportedly thought she could be o f some help to all of the poor people there. At the end of her novel G one to E arth is a description o f Hazel W oodus’s devotion to a fox. She worships the animal, and although she m arries and has a lover as well, nobod y approaches the place in h er heart held by the smooth white personality o f Foxy. (She does, however, set the animal out into nature and its fate.) T he book concludes with unbearable tensions betw een H azel, h er husband, and h er lover and the approaching hounds o f the fox hunt. Foxy com es to her in the woods, she picks him up and flees, but she cannot run fast enough to get hom e. Everyone yells to h er to put the fox down, but she imagines the animal caught by the hounds and th e huntsman, knows how it will shriek in suffering, imagines the look in the anim als eyes, and cannot b ear the agony o f its impending death. Thus she flees on foot and accidentally plum m ets into an abandoned mine shaft to h er death— with Foxy in h er arms. Anyone who has had a pet can understand her feelings. B ut if one cannot face the facts o f nature and life, then one is not quite capable of living. One has not enough instinct for self-preservation, and evidently that was lacking in M ary W ebb. B ecause she could not face the eyes o f the beggars with their look of reproach and suffering, she preferred to give everything away. Suffering from Graves disease, an illness in which the sufferer requires good nutrition and which today is fully treatable (but not curable), she in essence starved herself to death. After a dream o fm y a w n , I realized. th a t,jn general, people are. divided into. those .whc_are not quite capable. o f living and.who. cannot face, being..:WXong, neglectful, or unkind to others, and those who car e . littíe.abQut others. and . press . themselves through, taking everything. W hat is needed is som eone who can function on both sides; and such people are rare.


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In 1 9 2 7 M arys health was deteriorating, h er m arriage was failing, and she retu rn ed to Shropshire alone. H er final novel, A rm o u r W he r ein H e Trusted, was unfinished but published posthumously. She spent the sum m er alone at Spring C ottage and in late Septem ber traveled to Sussex to visit h er form er governess in a nursing hom e. She died th ere on th e 8th o f O ctober at the age o f forty-six. Although h er literary output was com paratively small, she leaves a rich legacy o f intense creativity and natural mysticism. Authors such as R eb ecca W est hailed h er as a genius. M ary W eb b ’s P recious B a n e Precious B a n e ^was published in 1924, M ary W eb b s final com pleted novel and undoubtedly her m asterpiece.41 Remarkable above all for its rich, _ard en t._szyle_and irreduc ible in its .spiritual ikis....n.ow_regarde<Las a_ classic _of the gennre _of the m ral novel. Yet, like all great art, it transcends categories. The story is extraordinarily rooted in the culture and soil o f N orth Shropshire, England. W eb.b_ac.cepts.m stmctto ah iglL d egr£es-so-naturally~.t:he othe!:.§jndja£.the_scale,_myst:icism, jsjalSQ. presfillt. The opposites are drawn m uch wider than with Jane Austen, and the personal world and the conscious realm are m uch less pressed into the mold o f reality. W ebb relates a story o f the soil and its yeoman farm ers o f agricultural England, unchanged for centuries, a story set in th e tim e o f the Napoleonic wars and W aterloo, th e very tim e that Jane Austen was living. And although the background is m uch m ore apparent than in Jane A ustens writings, the book is singularly timeless. T he introductory paragraphs o f Precious B a n e give an excellent exam ple o f the lucidity and m agnificence o f M ary W ebb’s literary style.

41. [Precious Bane won the Prix Femina in Paris for 1924-25, an honor to which the book was “pre.eminently entitled.” Gladys M. Coles considers the book to be one of the outstandingly successful novels of the century and further notes that in P recous Bane, Webb creates a half-real, half-fantasy world, uniquely her own. Such is the pace, the passion, the sincerity and persuasiveness of her writing that, in spite of the occasional extravagances and melodrama, she compels readers into her world and keeps them there. Retrieved from ^^w. literaryheritage.org.uk. Ed.]


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Excerpt from the first pages of Mary Webb’s Precious Bane: It was at a love-spinning that I saw Kester firs t. And if, in these new fangled days, when strange inventions crowd upon us, when I hear tell there is even a m achine coming into f

use in some parts o f the country fo r reaping and mowing, if those that mayhappen w ill read this d ont know w hat a lovespinning was, they shall hear in good time . . . . Kester says that a ll tales, true tales, or romancings, go farth er back than the days o f the child; aye, farth e r even than the little babe in its cot o f rushes. Maybe you never slept in a cot of rushes; but a ll o f us did at Sam . There is such a plenty o f rushes at Sam , and old Beguildy’s Missus was a great one fo r plaiting them on rounded barrel-hoops. Then they’d be set on rockers, and a nice clean cradle they made, soft and green, so that the babe could fee l as big-sorted as a little Caterpillar (painted butterflies-as-is-to-be, Kester calls them ) sleeping in its cocoon. Resters very set about such things. N ever w ill he say caterpillars. H e íl say, ‘There’s a lpt o f butter-flies-as-isto-be on our cabbages, Prue.’ He w on t say l t ’s w inter.’ H e’ll say, ‘Sum m ers sleeping.’ And there's no bud little enough nor sad-coloured enoughfo r Kester not to callen it the beginnings of the blow [blossoming]. But the time is not yet come fo r speaking o f Kester. It is the story o f us a ll at Sam , o f M other and Gideon and me, and Jan cis (that was so beautiful), and W izard Beguildy, and the two or three otherfo lk that lived in those parts,. that I did set out to tell. There were but a few , and maybe alw ays w ill be, fo r there’s a discouragement about the place. It may be the w ater lapping, year in and year out— everywhere you look and listen, w ater; o r the big trees w aiting and considering on your right hand and on your left; or the unbreathing quiet of the place, as if it was created but an hour gone, and not created fo r us. O r it m ay be that the soil is very poor and m arshy, w ith little nature or goodness in the grass, w hich is ever so where reeds and rushes grow in plenty, and the flo w er o f the


Animus Figures in Literature and in Modern Life

paigle. Happen you call it cowslip, but we alw ays named it the paigle, o r keys o f heaven. It was a w onderful thing to see our meadows at Sarn when the cow slip was in blow. Goldover they were, so that you w ould think not even an angels fee t were good enough to w alk there. You could make a tossyb all before a thrush had gone over his song tw ice, fo r yo u d only got to sit down and gather w ith both hands. Eve ry w ay you looked there was naught but gold, saving towards Sarn, where the woods began, and the great str etch o f grey water, gleam ing and w incing in the sun. N either woods nor w ater looked darksome in th at fin e spring weather, w ith the leaves com ing new, and buds the colour o f corn in the b irch-tops. O nly in our oak wood there was alw ays a look o fthe back-end o f the year, th eir young leaves being so brown. So there was alw ays a breath o f October in our M ay. Bu t it was a pleasant thing to sit in the meadows and look aw ay to the fa r hills. The larches spired up in th e ir quick green, and the cowslip gold seemed to get into you r heart, and even Sarn M ere was noth­ ing but a blue m ist in a yellow m ist o f birch-tops. And there was such a dream on the place that if a w ild bee came by, let alone a bumble, it startled you like a shout. I f a bee comes in at the w indow now to m y ja r o f gillyflow ers, I can see it a ll in clear colours, w ith Plash lyin g under the sunset, beyond the woods, looking like a jagged piece o f bottle glass. Plash M ere was bigger than Sarn, and there w asnt a tree by it, so where there w ere no h ills beyond it you could see the clouds rooted in it on the fa r side, and I used to think they looked like the w hite w ater-lilies that lay round the m argins o f Sarn h alfth e sum m er through. There was nothing about Plash that was differen t from any other lake or pool. There was no troubling o f the w aters, as at Sarn, nor any village sounding its bells beneath the furth est deeps. It was true, w hat folks said o f Sarn, that there was summat to be fe lt there.

P recious B a n e is about a family o f small yeom an farmersâ&#x20AC;&#x201D; sturd y honest, and trustworthy, the salt of the earth. The village


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of Sam M ere, with the small farmhouse o f Prudence Sam , seems to have been a terribly gloomy place. There was always a hint of autumn even in the heart o f spring. There was “a discouragement about the place” as Prudence, the narrator, says. (Stanley Baldwin, one o f Mary W ebb’s admirers, wrote a warm appreciation of her jin the preface to Precious B ane. H e says that the strength o f the book lies in the fusion o f the elem ents o f nature and man, as observed in this rem ote countryside by a woman even m ore alive to the changing moods o f nature than o f man.) There had been something queer about the family ever since Timothy Sam was struck by “forkit lightning.” Timothy w ent against his folk and the counsels o f a man o f God and took up with the wrong side— we are not told what that meant— and so he was struck by lightning. H e was counseled by the man o f God to espouse the safe side and avoid lightning, but he kept to his side, and as he was coming hom e under the oak wood, he was struck again. And that all occurred a century or two before the beginning o f the story. The lightning then seemingly got into his blood and the Sam family was said to have had the lightning in their blood ever since. The fact that the family has this quality is important. The second picture in “A Study in the Process of Individuation” shows where the lightning detaches the round stone. Jung cites numerous examples o f symbolic references to lightning and notes that lightning signifies a sudden, unexpected, and overwhelming change in psychic condition.42 (This reference is to this particular case, since here lightning dislodges and detaches the round stone making individuation possible.) Jung then quotes Jakob Boehm e who evidently regarded lightning as something very dangerous, for in one place he likens it to a “furious serpent that rages and raves as if it wanted to split up nature,” but in another place he also says that “in the spirit of lighting there is a great almighty life” and that out of lightning arises the birth o f light and the light of majesty.43 Boehm e adds that although he sees and knows lightning 42. C. G. Jung, "A Study in the Process of Individuation” (1950), in CW, vol. 9i (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1968), par. 533. 43. Ibid., par. 534.


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well, if he could but com prehend it in the flesh of his o ^ n body then he would be transfigured and his body would no longer resem ble the animal body but that o f an angel of God. St. Paul also experienced the blinding flash of light from Heaven. Perhaps that is sufficient to show us that the Sam family had something in their blood that called them to individuation. If they carried lightning in their blood and did not turn around their lives, as their ancestor Tim othy S am would not, it might well work itself out as described in the book, as a sort of curse on land and family. At all events, it would rem ain a curse until som eone could accept it and thus give a chance to th e m ore positive possibilities that B oehm e also mentions. Ihe_-8.^ms....helonged to.. a family. that, for many generations, was thought to be out o f the ordinary In other words, they had a sullied and difficult inheritance. Ih e p re se n L fa m ily consists o f a father,r~a~mother,.and.,tw.Q children. The father is so like his son, Gideon, that we need not bother to describe him. The m other is a tiny little thing, delicate and kind; she is said to be “like a mole that hqlds up its hands in prayer.” .P m d en ce— the daughter and the stoiys narrator— is fifteen years. old.-at.the.ometQ.fihe.. story.. H e r brQther,..Gideon,.. is.two-years. older. On the evening when th e story begins, the parents had been busy with a b ee swarm and the children had been sent to church. They only had church once a m onth, so their parents had been extrem ely firm about attendance. But instead o f going to church, the two took a “dog's leave.” W hen they retu m ed hom e and were unable to te ll.th e . them e o f the-serm on, .the.oldfath.er had. such. an _.attack..Qf,.rage that he had a stroke and med. Funerals took place at night. T h ere is a vivid description of the funeral procession going along to the churchyard in Sam . W hen they arrive, the old custom o f sin eating was supposed to take place. In those days th ere was always a sin eater who took on th e job o f “eating” all the sins o f the dead.44 B ut sin eaters 44. [A sin eater was a man who took upon himself the sins of a deceased person. In England, generally each village had its official sin eater to whom notice was given as soon as a death occurred. He immediately went to the deceased’s house, sat down in the vicinity of the death chamber, and was given a crust of bread and portion of ale which he ate and drank. When


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here asked a large sum, and Gideon was too cheap to pay it. So Gideon says th a th e will take on the burden o f his fathers sin if his m other win give him the farm an d give up all o f her rights to Ít..P ru e narrates: “Gideon was very like father then, and m ore like him every year, both to look at him and in his mind. Saving that /le was less tem persom e and m ore set in his ways, he was fathers very marrow.” This extraordinary likeness presumably indicates that Gideon, if we take him as P ru e’s animus (which w e will be justified in doing), will represent the brothers aspect o f the ani­ mus— and to a great extent that o f her father as well— so we may expect a powerful figure. The sin eater has to eat a small crust and drink a glass o f wine or ale on the coffin and say: “I give easem ent and rest now to thee, dear man, that ye walk not over the fields nor down the by-ways. And for thy peace I pawn my own soul.” Gideon changed this slightly and said: “C om e not down the lanes nor in our meadows,” and Prue said it was like somebody warning off a trespasser. Presumably this old rite was a rem nant o f one of the numberless old primitive rites intended to prevent the dead from walking about a^night. But it goes a bit further to p a^ n one’s soul, not that would be the first tim e for Gideon who did it as a boy o f seven when they w ere beaten once m uch earlier for taking a “dog’s leave” from church. Gideon had said then: “I do will and wish to be a M aister Beguildy’s son and the devil shall have my soul.” (Maister Beguildy was the local sorcerer.) Thus as_a boy.of seven he had called upon the devil,„establishing, adink betw een the personal side and the arch e^ p al devil. This soul, a.s_we_shall see, represents G ideon’s chance..of,hecom inghum an, that. is,.jof individuating, CIe_arlyeyeqthing-must.becom<2Lhum anor entirely go to thtLde.:v.:il.,Ia]<ing as the animus o£a.woman, itw ou ld m ean that h er unconscious m indw ould have decided against relation­ ship and individuation, and instead chosen evil— the great separator. Prue— who has as many virtues as Sarah in the Book o f Tobit, finished, he pronounced that the sins of the deceased were upon him and the deceased could now rest in peace. Sin eaters generally asked for a trivial sum. The custom was once common in many parts of Britain .and smvived until recent years in several places; relics of the tradi­ tion are also to be found in Bavaria, the Balkans Peninsula, in Dutch tradition, and thus even in earlier centuries in the United States. Ed.]


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wise, steadfast, and exceedingly honorable— is shown h ere in an unfortunate and th reaten in g position, for evil is m enacing, plotting to take possession o f h er m ind and, through that, h er soul. And w ithout th ese virtues P ru e would have no chance. A fter th e funeral fe a st, G ideon says it is not worthwhile to go to b ed , and th e tw o clim b up into the old pippin trees where. they have a favorite hiding place. G ideon.im folds his p la n .o f^ o rk in g h a rd a n d th en .sel]ingthe..farm fo;i: a top. prj.çe, .aud_b.u)1ng a.big hou,s.e..5-o .th a t Pn.ie can b eco m e f!.,,great lady, he--a»grand- gentleman,_ P ru e asks w here their m other com es in. B u t Gidepftsuxazy., ambitiçm..i_s.to b e th e .b ig ch iefam on g the„ten.thousand. P rue wonders if this is th e lightning in him, and says: “His eyes would be all o f a blaze, but cold too. And h e ’d make you feel as if you wanted w hat h e w anted, though you didna.” It,is,„thfiLanimus,whomakes you feel y o u w a n t som eth in gw h ich , deepei_within,.,you actually do..not. H e i s a past m aster_at.this, andhis.ppinions_hayeLa...s,trange fascination for u s; they. are .t.erobiy...h a.rd,Ja. xesist, W e sometimes struggle wildly for som ething and then afterward w onder why. It is really th e essence o f th e so-called plots, and woman has great difficulty in knowing h er goal and what is necessary to achieve it. In ‘W om an. in .E u ro p e/L Ju n g says t h a t “maseulinity means knowing. what. one wants. and, dQing.what is,neçessary., to achieve it.Zií Naturally, this masculinity is com pletely in the animus in any unconscious w om an, and it is one o f the hardest things to leam in analysis. P rue.is clearly-introverted. Itjs,,the..suhject>.,the inner. thing~that~eounts-w ith her, so her- animus -will. be .. extraver.ted. Those o f you who w ere at th e Hugh de St. Victor lectures will rem em b er it was the sam e for him. H e was exceptionally intro­ verted and naturally insisted on the inner things, and his anima was extraverted. Prue is naturally rather blind outside and liable to possession there. The introvert is always liable to possession on th e ou ter side and th e extravert on the inner. It is the woman herself who has respect for things as they are. Gideon holds the revolutionary quality and only wants to make money out of Sam 45. C. G. Jung, ‘Woman in Europe” (1927), in CW, vol. 10 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1964), par. 260.


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and then get rid o f the old place, w hereas Prue is traditional and wants to keep it. Von Fran z gave the following example o f the natural mind: a couple was taking a walk along a lovely country road and the woman says something like: “Oh darling, what wonderful country. I f one o f us dies I shall com e and live h ere!” In !fly paper on The Evil Vineyard, I try to show how unconscious Mary, the protagonist o f the story, was o f h er goal.46 H ere we have a m ore conscious situation. Prue is closer to h e r m ^ c u li1 1 it:y jh j Mary. She becom es aware o f th e goal h ere, that is, it enters h er cgnsçiousRess ....She cloes nqtJtfi.rsta.gJ:§e. It is just as though such an idea com es up in our heads and we push it back, realizing that it is not really what we want. B ut then Gideon gets at h er on h er most vulnerable point. H e plays another animus trick and brings to her consciousness a thing she has always known but not realized, namely, that she has a hare lip. Gideon says: “Being as how things are, you’ll never marry, Prue.” She rejects him, answering: “N ot wed, G ideon? Oh, ah! r l l wed for sure.” But he has fully underm ined h er instinctual reaction and wounded h er deeply in her self-worth. | In local superstition, a hare lip is regarded as the devil’s mark and the infallible sign o f a witch. It was supposed to b e caused by a hare crossing the path o f a pregnant woman. O r a bad fright was also thought to cause a w om an to have a child with a hare lip. W henever Prue's m other looked at her, she said, “C an I help it that a hare crossed my path?” But Prue had not realized the.implication before, and Gideon’s com m ent no doubt convinced her that no one would m arry a “hare schotten” girl. Psychologically, the hare lip would imply something extrem ely primitive in her makeup. Jung says that in schizophrenic conditions th ere is usu­ ally a piece o f the most extraordinary archaic primitiveness which the person has failed to integrate, a piece that all but refuses to be integrated. There would clearly be such a piece in a family like the Sams who have lightning in their blood. But the question is: can it be integrated? And a partial answer to this question we will 46. Barbara Hannah, “The Problem of Womens Plots in The Evil Vineyard”; see volume 2 of this work


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find at the end o f the book. P ru e has a beautiful figure and is otherwise a good-looking girl, but she has to carry this disfigurem ent and, m uch worse, the stigma of being a witch. W h en she was only five, h er animus considered selling its soul to the devil, and at seventeen he has actually pa^wned it. .^^^thaas-semehow-marked Üiis. familyv,ancl,Erue’ssh areis.th e.h areJip . E ith er the family curse will force itself through, or it will have to be red eem ed . P ru e has the mark; even before h er birth she was m arked for a special fate. Tlie. old .negative. anim usdov.es,t o .point. out. and critiGize any physical shortcom ing in a wom an.as though she_were~a.cow.-to-be sold. at the m a rk e t. If he.succee.ds.rn d 0 jg ra tta g .h .ix !!L JhiS-roan-.. ner,_ th e JYom anusually projects it ontq,me.n.apd.says_that.they are criticizing her. T h e animus is ruthless in these things. H e always attacks a girl’s self-confidence in love. Any little failure, such as a dance w here she is not especially successful, is im m ediately generalized and exaggerated for his own purpose. In Asmodaeus, the dem on in Tobit, w e see th e tendency o f the animus to keep the girl entirely for himself, and h ere G ideon is entirely in the ch aracter o f such an animus. 'The .@im us,.w hich.is,set.on,w orldly E..Q.WJ,JdBI...l!St.tdestroy_th-e^possibility.ofJov.e..in-a-.woman.... F.ro12j.£j§ great ■e.nemy, J o r o n iy w hen J o v e . is . abandoned can. pow er usurp. the field. One o f his best tricks is talking about love, or rather as if he m eans love, while he is actually treating love as though it w ere a career. T h ere is an excellent description o f this in E sth er H arding’s T h e Way o f All W om en. J:Iaving im planted the doubt, he follows it up with subtly manipulative sympathy: 'T m main sorry for you, P ru e," he says, and prom ises to make her a rich lady and buy her an expensive surgical cure, the only way by which she can achieve h er desire both for a husband and an infant child, who she sees before her as “grand and solemn in a rush crad le.” Qideon persuades her; only. th rou gh .undaunted.obediençe. to_him_will she ever have any chance o f .getting rich and. fulfilling.her h earts. desire: the simple., jnatural-pleasure of. m arriage and a_child. P ru e says she thought about G ideons offer a bit while the w ater lapped on th e banks at th e foot o f th e orchard, and then she


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said that she would do as he wanted. But he m ade her swear on the family Bible so that she shouldn’t think better o f it afterward. She has to say: “I promise and vow to obey my brother, Gideon Sam , and to hire myself out to him as a sarvant, for no money, until all that he will be done. And I’ll be biddable as a prentice, a ^ ife , and a dog. I swear it on the Holy Bible. Am en.” "So I said it,” she adds, and then Gideon said: “I swear to keep faith with my sister, Prue Sam , and share all with her when we’ve won through, and give her money up to fifty pound when w e’ve sold Sam, to cure her. A m en.” She concludes that after he’d done it, she felt as if Sam M ere was flowing right over her, and she shivered as if she’d caught a chill and fever. There.are,e:rigless-.parallels. ta±heJ'llatif,o£,sw§:aring±Q_Qbey_the, animus., Jeanne F e ry was possessed when she was four but has to swear at twelve and, as with Prue, her spirits swear to give her worldly advantages. W e find the same them e in a great many fairy tales so that it is necessarily an archetypal motif. But when Prue takes an oath to obey him, she really gives up h er instinct, which had told her quite clearly that she would wed. It would never occu r to a purely unconscious woman, quite close to h er instinct, not to marry. Pm eioses- the-gam e-right here_by.helie:ving_Gideon againsther instinct, thus.givin g.u p .h erfaijhin herself. W e women are only too apt to do the same and to constantly believe the animus, and thus we lose our own precious feminine instinct. Too_muchemphasis can n ot belaid, on the poweriwherent in the negative, animus that can be wielded. to make one. give_up oneself. In this case, it was the individual animus w ith ad u b io u s relatio n to the deYiL..But if, as is certainly the case, this p act with the devil is anarchetypal motif, then it presum ably also occurs in _ the lives o fm o d e m women, .This loss of instinct always happens when a woman gives up doubt and conflict within herself. I once said to Jung in earlier days how wonderful it must be for him to always know what to do. H e answered that he never really knew for sure, that he always took the risk knowing that he might be wrong. Accepting doubt is the thing that keeps us nearest the paradoxical Self. The great conflict for a wom an is always between


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h er animus and h e r fem inine instinct. Thg.paf-tis m ade when thg woman b e tra y s h e r o ^ n principies. and d(?Gidg.$. .to Jiv e b y m ans principle. T h en she loses h e r instinctive certainty so that she gives in and capitulates. She is th en apt to swear to obey h er animus. In _o u rm ascu lin e-o rien ted world it can even seem right to. haYe_ ajane-sided goal_ and to a v o id doubt. I ’d like to give you an exam ple o f a girl who I knew when I was young and who I have kept up with throughout ou r lives. She was m uch like Prue; the one aim o f h e r life, the one thing she w anted, was a husband and a child. She fell in love at seventeen with a m an of w hom her parents disapproved, as he was socially not quite up to h er level. W h en she cam e hom e, she found that h er parents had a plan to m arry h er to a duke. Naturally, she failed in h er objective for her h eart was untouched, and fortunately the duke was not such a fool as to be deceived. T h e plebian lover was also disgusted and th en m arried in his own class. She reacted by rejecting society and insisting on going to Cam bridge, for which she had no real bent. Going to Cam bridge m eant a terrific fight in those days, but she m anaged it with an energy worthy of a b etter cause. phe thus th rew over h er own principle o f E ro s, and h er right to live as a woman, and plunked everything onto a university career, that is, Logos. In those days, this m eant living like a man. T he result was a gradual but com plete animus possession that carried over into a lifelong homosexuality, although she had little or no natural disposition for this. She had decided that m en w ere too painful and th e conflict too hard.

L e c t u r e "Tw ELVE

W e spoke last week o f P ru e’s fatal p act with h er brother Gideon when she promised to obey him in each and every one o f his dem ands. Aftenvard she felt, as she said, “as if Sam M ere was flowing right over us, and I shivered as if I’d got an ague.” This is not extraordinary since she had just slain h er own feeling and h er relatedness so that it was natural that she felt deadly cold. She has just given in to the animus and sold herself to the cold inhu-


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man mind, so no wonder she shivered. W hen she feels as if Sam M.ere were flowing right over h e r,itlo o fa as though s h e had fallen righ tin and was possessed by the animus, but the one redeem ing .featu rejs th a t j h e ..notices it. In th e m om ent that you know you are possessed— and Prue always rem em bered that she had made ^ i s vow and enslaved herself—you are no longer quite identical with the animus. Gideon and Prue then go and have their breakfast by the fire. “So I went in and lit the fire, and set the table as nice as I could, for it seem ed a bit of com fort in a dark place.” T here is the same m otif of the warm, quieting fire in W uthering H eights w here the animus, Heathcliff, also gets the upper hand. W h en instinct has been pushed into the cold away from th e animal and hum an herd, a craving for a warm and glowing fire is natural. B y the fireplace, Gideon goes m ore fully into his plans. Prue will have to work for him exactly like a man, only harder. T he only consolation is that, in order to save money, she is to learn to read, write, and do accounts, which was something rare in those days for the farming class. Sq she was to go to the local wizard, paying for h er lessons by still more work. Now, in learning to read _and write, .P ru e is given a weapol). that plays an im portant role ,later in .w in n m g h e rfre e d o m . It is_ clear that by accepting ones masculinity, by developJng ones mind, one acquires spiritualfreedom and in d e p e n d e n ce .h a tis also liberation from possession.. This is a great gain, and .if you go right through with it, you can win back the Eros side as well so that you have both Logos and Eros. Thus animus possession, negative as it is in itself, can in the end turn out to be a great gain. It is difficult to reach your mind without going through a period of animus possession. Learning to use it is well described in Em m a Jungs excellent paper on the problem of the animus.47 Nothing helps more than this ^ p e o f possession, for the animus is primarily her unconscious mind. It may sound peculiar that Gideon gets her as a slave and at the same tim e gives h er something that she 47. Emma Jung, Animus and Aninuz (New York: The Analytical Psychology Club of New York, 19,57), pp. llf.


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wants so badly. But the animus is com pletely paradoxical. If one can stand the test and not go com pletely under— which P ru e succeeds in doing— then one can gain a lot even from such an animus as Gideon. Then Prue rem em bers that they have not yet told th e rooks that there had b een a death on the place. She says:

It’s an old custom to tell them. Folk say if you dunna, a discontent comes over them, and they fall into a melancholy and forget to come home. So in a little while there are your ellums with the next still dark fruit on the sky, but all silent and deserted. And although rooks do a deal of mischief, it is very unlucky to lose them, and the house they leav e never has as prosperation after. So I remember Gideon of this, and we went to the rookery. Evidently they are not falling com pletely out o f nature despite the ambitiousness o f G ideon’s plans. Rooks are symbols o f the spirit, o f the Logos side, so th ey com e in aptly after the victory o f the animus.48 Von Fran z related to m e a legend about Apollo and the nymph Coronis, the parents o f Asclepius, th at legendaary G reek god of m edicine. During C oronis’s pregnancy she is supposed to have had an affair with a man whose nam e m eant “strength.” Apollo curses h er and, although previously white, he turns h er into a black crow or rook. She is then burnt, but Apollo saves Asclepius from h er womb. T he rook, crow, and raven often have to do with the initial onset o f individuation and a sign o f the direction it m ay take. Apollo was the god o f D elphi and th e raven was his bird, their flight patterns studied for divinatory purposes. So these birds would be related to the sorceress quality that Prue shows throughout the book and which M ary W ebb also had. This prophetic spirit lies near 48. [Rooks, Corvus frugilegus, are a glossy black member of the corvus family (crow, raven, etc.), bare faced, long beaked, with distinct thigh feathers giving the impression that the bird is wearing “baggy trousers.” Ed.]


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instinct, and this property will probably turn out to help h er make her way back to h er lost instinct and soul. Now, Prue learns to read and write from M aister Beguildy who is the local wizard. H e has a daughter, Jancis, a beautiful young woman, who plays the role o f P ru e’s shadow. Two years )ater, Gideon (against all his principles) falls in love with her. Prue is jealous of h er from the beginning. E ven as a child she says:

She’d got a very white skin, creamy white without any colour unless she was excited or shy, and her face was dimpled and soft, and just the right plumpness. She'd got a red, smiling mouth and when she smiled the dimples ran each into the other. Times I would almost have strangled her for that smile. As Prue slowly learns how h er hare lip cuts her off from men, she naturally finds it m ore and m ore difficult not to hate Jancis for h er beauty although h er natural kindness prevents h er from doing any direct harm. The old wizard recognizes P ru e’s cleverness and accepts her as a pupil. The b etter your mind, the more difficult it is not to fall a victim to the animus, and Prue is a clever girl. Beguildy does not want his beautiful daughter to m arry but wants to keep her as a sort of prostitute for the rich m en o f the neighborhood, which he thinks will bring in m ore money. Although Beguildy dabbles in all kinds of magic, Prue considers him to be less harmful than is usually supposed. It is really quite in ch aracter that Prue should get h er learning from a wizard, because in animus possession, the woman is often attracted to the occult. I can remind you of M adame Blavatsky, a p ro to ^ p e o f the animus-possessed wom­ an. 49 Then there is also Anna Kingsford, about whom Aniela Jaffé 49. [Helena Blavatsky (1831-1891), apparently endowed from childhood with notable psychic powers, was the founder of Theosophy and the Modem Theosophical Society in the United States in 1875. She was purportedly an authority on the doctrines of Eastern rehgious, philosophical, and occult concepts which— she claimed—she had derived from the fountainhead himself in Tibet. She argued that all major religions are derived from one original religious philosophy and did much for the introduction of primarily Buddhist and Brahmanic theories to the We st, in particular those of pantheistic evolution, karma and reincarnation. A controversial figure, she was purportedly able to perform physical and mental


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is lecturing, who was also attracted to th e occult.50 T h e religious instinct is, so to speak, w arped by animus possession, and then the w om an is easily attracted to th e occu lt or magic. M oreover, it all fits in with the p attern o f the h are lip and particularly with the rooks, those birds o f divination. P ru e has to have it out w ith evil, and in this resp ect she is spared little. She learns reading, writing, and arithm etic, but no magic. C onsciously she always refused to have anything to do with his spells. P ru e is aware that she is called the “b arn-door savage o f S am ” but consoles herself with the thought o f th e riches th at they are to have and th e operation on h er hare lip, that is, with the prom ises o f h er animus and the fulfi llm ent of worldly goals. B u t for all h er animus possession, she never loses h er deep love o f nature and of things that are frail and weak. She is also glad to learn to w rite becau se it will give her a hold over G ideon, who is too harsh with both h er and her m other. In..spite„.o£her..vow,.she,is...by,.no_m.eans identical with her. animus,. and. this slight independence shows itself in aplhm she. makes to cu re h er h a re .lip_without waiting for his help T h e waters at S am w ere supposed to be “troubled” in the m onth o f August and also to cu re disease every seven years (here like th e waters at Bethesda, although those waters healed every year). P ru e thinks she will try to overcom e h er fear o f those w aters w here usually harlots w ere ducked or a witch brought to the ducking stool. She plans to lower herself into the waters o f the psychic feats that included levitation, clairvoyance, out-of-the-body projection, telepathy, and the materialization of physical objects out of nothing. She was not without skeptics and critics. See also C. G. Jung, Nietzsche's 'Zarathustra—Notes o f the Seminar Given in 1934­ 1939, 2 vols. (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1988), p. 653n. Ed.] 50. [Anna Bonus Kingsford (1846-1888), one of the first female British physicians, was an advocate of women's rights, animal rights, and vegetarianism. She established Theosophy in England. She promoted a Western, Christian, and Hermetic esotericism that diverged with the Oriental esotericism of Helena Blavatsky as well as a more feminist interpretation of the Bible. Kingsford claimed that she had received mystical insights in trance states and in her sleep. Her “revelations” were published posthumously in the book Clothed with the Sun. By comparing and contrasting the great world religions in the book The Perfect Way (1890), Kingsford and co-author Edward Maitland hoped to arrive at a “scientific” understanding of the principies and “eternal truths” that the great religions of the world have in common. Their interpretation of the Christian Bible is inspired by a mixture of traditiona! Christianity, the Cabbala, Hinduism, Islam, astrology, ancient Egyptian, Greek, and Roman religions, classica! Greek and Roman philosophy, and modern scientific ideas. Ed.]


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m ere in sight o f all the folks at the funeral wake with the hopes that she will then be healed. W hen she speaks o f this to Gideon and her mother, neither likes the idea, so she gives in and runs away to the attic o f the house w here she cries for a long time. Then, in that enigmatic style o f M ary W ebb, she says: I

It being very still there, with the fair shadows of the apple trees peopling the orchard outside, that was void, as were the meadows, Gideon being in the far field making haycocks, which I also should have been doing, there came to me, I cannot tell whence, a most powerful sweetness that had never come to me afore. It was not religious, like the goodness of a text heard at a preaching. It was beyond that. It was as if some creature made all of light had come on a sudden from a great way off, and nestled in my bosom. On all things there came a fair, lovely look, as if a different air stood over them. It is a look that seems ready to come sometimes on those gleamy mornings after rain, when they say, “so fair the day, the cuckoo is gèing to heaven.” Only this was not of the day, but o summat beyond it. I cared not to ask what it was. F or when the nut-hatch comes into her own tree, she dunna ask who planted it, nor what name it bears to me. For the tree is all to the nut-hatch, and this was all to me . . . . For though it was so quiet, it was a miracle, and it changed my life; for when I was lost for something.to tum to, I’d run to the attic, and it was a core of sweetness in much bitter. T he apples w ere kept in the attic, and Prue speaks of their participation in the miracle which seldom cam e. But the taste of it was always in the attic. Three or four months later, she says:

I fell to thinking how all this blessedness of the attic came to me though being curst. For if I hadna had a hare lip to frighten me awayinto my own lonesome soul, this would never have come to me. The apples would have crowded all in vain


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to see a marvel, for I should never have known the glory that came from the other side of silence. Even while I was thinking this, out of nowhere suddenly came that lovely thing, and nestled in my heart, like a seed from the core of love. W e can endorse a good deal o f her own interpretation. F o r instance, that it was only h er curse which drove h er inward in ord er to lead to this m iraculous m ystical experience. It may have b een like a seed from th e co re o f love, from the lost E ros principle. T he experience is very like the description o f the unio mystica and, as such, goes beyond what I would like to deal with in words. Psychologically, we might assume that it is somewhere related to th e divine aspect o f the Self. I felt quite unable to deal with this terrific experience until I spoke to von Franz. She said that although th e experience is not visual, the author uses images as illustrations which give valuable hints as to the essence o f this indescribable experience, such as the nuthatch in its tree and the apples that crow ded around. The nuthatch is a small, nimbly-creeping, tree-clim bing bird which lives close to the house and can be tam ed.51 These images, as von Franz points out, lend them selves to discussion m uch b etter than the main mystical experience. I f I have understood him correctly, Jung has often said that in the case o f animus possession, a woman can­ not directly return to h er instinct. She cannot com e down from th e attic and onto the main road except slowly and carefully. An animus-possessed woman cannot return to h er instinct directly but m ust go through the spiritual side o f the animus and reach the instinct again by that route. W hen we talked about the rooks, we tou ch ed on this aspect, and with the image of the nuthatch and the apples it becom es much clearer. In the attic, so to speak, she becom es a â&#x20AC;&#x153;bird with wings.â&#x20AC;? That is, she is back in nature, but 51. [Nuthatch (of the Sittidae family) is a common name for about twenty species of birds widely distributed in the northern hemisphere. Noted for their arboreal dexterity, they move about on vertical surfaces of tree trunks and even on the undersides of branches, using their powerful feet and long claws; they are the only tree-climbing birds that move head downward. They probe the bark for adult insects, larvae, and eggs. They also feed on grain and nuts, breaking them by pecking at the hard outer coatings with their bills. Ed.]


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here on the spiritual side, not yet on the m ore earthly feminine side. F ro m this point of view, the nuthatch might be a new form of the rook, a spirit that has its own special tree; it has gained a hom e with roots in the earth. The fact that Prue says she feels like the nuthatch, which has com e to its own tree, justifies us in assumption that it is, in a way, Prue herself who is creeping back to an existence which has roots, even though they belong to h er tree and not to her personally. The p act with the animus has made h er a bird which does not find a place for greater growth. She has to reach the instinct again, but she cannot go straight back to what she was before she made h er pact with Gideon, and she can only go forward via the bird. She has to go via the Logos toward individuation. In the case of the apples, one thinks o f the Garden o f Eden. They represent the gnosis, the knowledge o f good and evil, which one could say is one of the main them es of the book. Both her biographers say that the mystical experience conferred on Prudence S am was actually based on W eb b’s own knowledge and bears the obvious stamp o f the truth o f experience lived. After Prue’s insightful incident in the attic, or possibly as an emanation from it, Gideon begins to fall seriously in love with Jancis. The C om Laws w ere passed just after W aterloo, which m ade Gideons prospects o f riches m ore feasible.52 H e and Prue worked harder than ever, but his plans w ere now seriously hindered by his love for Jancis. (Gideon naturally wants everything: Jancis, the large house, and the luxuries.) The two work incredibly hard, getting up at four in the morning and working till after dark. Jancis is m ore like a fairy than a human girl, but she can also be seen as G ideons anima— as well as a shadow figure o f Prue— 52. [The Com Laws, imposing duties on imported com, passed in 1815, were designed to preserve the abnormally high profits of the Napoleonic war years and to safeguard farmers from the consequences of their wartime euphoria when farms had changed hands at exorbitant prices, loans and mortgages having been accepted on impossible terms. Tlie Corn Laws, however, resulted in skyrocketing costs for food, depressed the domestic market for manufactured goods (people spent the bulk of their earnings on food rather than commodities), and caused great distress among the working classes and manufacturers in the towns. After more than thirty years of heatedly debated revisions and reforms, they were repealed in 1848. Ed.]


Animus Figures in Literature and in Modern Life

being perfectly confident in her power to attract men. B u t she is also bone lazy. It was the loss o f confidence that led Prue to accep t the p act with Gideon so that we should expect to find this missing value in the pow er o f the animus. T h at Gideon falls in love is, on the one side, a positive thing, since it humanizes the animus and shadow, that sort o f “twoto -o n e” against consciousness. Prue therefore has to overcom e a good deal in herself before she can accept Jancis as a “sisterin-law.” She definitely places herself on the side o f Jancis and overcom es h er jealousy, as least as far as consciousness is concern ed , and this attitude is richly rew arded, for it is at Jancis’s love-spinning that she meets the man whom she is to marry. All the neighbors com e and spin for nothing for the bride so that the w eaver shall have enough yam . ^ e^ falls .in love >Yijth Keste_.r, _the -»7e a y ^ ^ t-firstsig h t,_say .in g , “H ere was my lover and my lord, and behold I was hare-shotten.” W e u su ally.expl^nJove at-f i rst. sightas_a projection of the. animus. EvidentlyPi:.ue..'.s.anim usis not wholly_contained.in..:.Gideon, or a part that was in him transfers over onto the weaver. As a m atter o f fact it is the normal develop­ m ent, first the father, then the brother, and then the loved man. K ester represents primarily the positive animus or, as he is very human, the real man onto whom the animus is projected. T h e.fa cL th a t-h e .is a w eaver is_ m o stim p ortan t. The woman spins the yam , but the weaving o f the whole design and the bringing together o f the threads is done by the weaver. In mythology this is always done by the daughters father (that is, within the realm o f the feminine). The only example o f a man assuming this role that von Fran z knew of is the story o f King Thrushbeard w here he com es to the court as a beggar and attracts the atten­ tion o f the prince with a golden spinning wheel. In her book The F em in in e in Fairy Tales, von Franz notes that the activity o f spin­ ning is related to fantasy and wishful thinking. Figures like Odin are the ^ p ical spirit o f such magical thought, and Odin is the lord of wishes. W ishes turn the wheels of thought. Both the activity o f the spinner and the spinning wheel are proper to Odin, but in the King Thrushbeard tale the girl has to spin to help support


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her husband. Thrushbeard, here the animus, rules over what the woman as such should do. H e has taken possession even of the properly feminine activity in her. 53 Therefore, the Eros principle can be seen as being still in the hands of the animus, although K ester is a highly positive figure. / The fact that the w eaver com es on the scene saves the situa­ tion and prevents the possibility of animus and shadow becoming too strong for consciousness. T h ere is not a definite quatem ity with Prue and Gideon on one side as possessed animus and anima and the weaver Kester and Jancis on th e other. At first only Prue, Gideon, and Jancis are related and this through the negative animus. There is a certain relationship betw een Prue and Jancis, but the relationship is mainly through Gideon. It is a lifeline for Prue when the w eaver appears, and she connects immediately with her experience in the attic. This is really her link with reality, for the weaver is a very human figure whereas Gideon and Jancis are almost figures of the unconscious. But there is a fatal barrier here: Prue is still bound to Gideon by h er oath, and then there is her hare lip. Although she sees the weaver at the love-spinning, she hides from him, and he does not see her. But then again something happens that initiates a link on the other side. The old wizard has prom ised to “raise Venus” in all her naked glory for the local squire’s son for five pounds. Venus is, of course, to be Jancis. She com es in tears to Prue, for if Gideon hears o f it, he will immediately break off the engagem ent. As there is to be little light, Prue says that she will replace Jancis on the promise of com plete secrecy, unless Gideon hears o f it, in which case, he alone is to be told the truth of who actually played Venus rising. Prue says: As I came up clear of the trap, and hung there in the rosy light, the young squire started forward in his chair and held out his hands like a child at a pastry shop. But I knew he 53. For discussions on the theme of spinning, see M.-L. von Franz, Animus and Aninw. in Fairy Tales (Toronto: Inner CityBooks, 2002), pp. 98, lOlf, 105ff. See also von Franz, The Intepretation o f Fairy Tales (Boston: Shambhala, 1996), p. 172; for the fairy tale of King Thrushbeard, pp. 168f.


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was under solemn oath not to stir from his chair. I thought it must be strange for men to go through life holding out their hands on this side and on that, to be always the pastry cake in the window with hungry eyes on it. Then all of a sudden I heard a movement on the other side of the room, and turning that way I could have cried aloud, for- there sat Kester Woodseaves . . . . He was leaning forward Ike the young squire, and he made to hold his arms out and then drew back and gave a sigh, and I know that the desire of woman was stirring within him, it came on me then with great joy that it was my own self and no other that had made him hold out his arms. F o r in that place he could not see my curse, he could only see me gleaming pale as any woman would. L a te r she says: “I took my crum b, and behold it was the L ord ’s Supper.” T h e squire, who thinks it was Beguildy's daughter, then offers the wizard a large sum for a night with Jancis. H e r father tells her that she m ust either consent o r go to the hiring fair, which m eant being engaged by somebody as dairymaid or tótchen w ench and being bonded for th ree years. So Jancis com es crying to P rue and Gideon. P ru e says that she knew this was “his hour of choice” and consciously tried to influence him in Jancis’s favor. B ut there are signs o f jealousy in P ru e, and Gideon does not understand. M oreover, what has m ade the squire so eager all of a sudden? Jancis’s eyes implore P ru e to speak out, but she is afraid that if she does it m ight get around to the w eavers ears. Afterward, she herself thinks that if she had spoken, it would have turned the scale in Jancis’s favor. B u t as it is, Gideon refuses to save Jancis by im m ediate m arriage and decides for the hiring fair. On th e day o f the fair, another link is forged in the fate of K ester and Prue. T h ere is to be a bullbaiting with dogs, a cruel sport that used to be com m on in England. K ester, who is devoted to animals, does not want it to take place. H e tries to stop it at the price o f taking on all the dogs himself. H e is very f riendly with animals and has a special relationship with them , and he has made


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friends with most o f the dogs on market days. H e ties them all up except the last one, a fierce dog that does not know him. It is Grimbleâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s new dog. H e manages to tie him up, but before he can get far enough away the dog flies at his throat. Prue had greatly feared for him, so she had hidden a knife and enlisted the aid / o f the apothecary. She is able, just in tim e, to slit open the dogâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s throat, kill it, and get the apothecary to Kester, and thus she saves K esters life. Theneces.sity ofcom m g.toth e. aid ofthe.po.s.itiv.e.aniHHis fits in with our_o'-Yffij elP.elieP.:çe,fo9r.although. ih e.negative_.^m us_functions . autonoJ!lQuslythe,.positive- animus.. requires,repeated_effort on our part. .Now, K ester was able to overcom e all the other dogs, so symbolically he could be seen as the symbol of relationship. B ut there was one strange dog which could only be killed by the knife. This is the tool o f Logos, which is far nearer to P ru es own hands, and it is connected with the fact that she has accepted her animus1possession and is still more in connection with the bird. She cam e to the Self as a bird to its tree, and therefore she has a certain right to use the knife. Symbolically, dogs are often found in the context of human relationship, so it is no w onder that Kester could deal with them . But the dog that is too fierce for this treatm ent represents a pattern throughout the whole book. As we shall see at the end, the problem o f evil meets with no definitive solution. H ere, the w orst and fiercest aspect o f an instinct is killed. This is a certain aspect that is just too evil for the woman to deal with. It can only be locked up, or in this case killed, a fact that nearly costs Prue h er own life. Symbolically she will have to pay the entire price for w hat she does, and this m otif could be connected with the them e o f either sacrificing part o f the instinct or sublimating it. A part can be legitimately sublimated, although we now have to com e to term s with the scapegoat o f Leviticus which was driven out to the desert and killed (Leviticus 1 6 :5 -1 0 ). Such a dog could be seen as representing the wildest emotions and affects. W e must dis-identify with such wild emotion. E m m a Jung said in a seminar that there are times when one should use emotion. Jung added


Animus Figures in Literature and in M odem Life

that this was true, but one should never be its slave. O ne should only use em otion when one is not identical with it, when one can just as well do without it. I f th e dog had been left alive, the posi­ tive side o f P ru es animus would have been killed and thus h er only chance o f getting back to h e r own principle would have been destroyed. Practically speaking, one must sacrifice such emotions in order to relate to those who one loves.54 P ru es m other now takes a hand in th e game. W hen she hears o f P ru es action with the dog, she is sure that h er daughter loves K ester and sends for the weaver. Still determ ined to hide h er hare lip, Prue goes away while he is there, but old Mrs. Sam praises h er in th e highest term s to th e weaver, who says, “W ell, single I am, and single shall stay, I believe. B ut if ever I did think o f asking to wed, it ud be just such another as th a tn .” Prue is thus supported to the utm ost by h er m other, although Prue usually speaks o f her rath er as a child. Yet h er m other turns out to be the kind o f earth a girl can root in, and thus she helps Prue to m eet the curse o f the Sams, her paternal inheritance. The fact that Prue runs away and leaves all activity to h er m other is far fr^m ideal. She does not stand to h er own feminine nature, which is due to the fact that the animus has indentured the Eros and she is still possessed by Gideon. T he feminine side waves, as it w ere, behind her back. In the m eantim e, Gideon and Jancis are corresponding but by means o f both Prue and the weaver, who write their letters for them . H ere, Prue begins to use her writing skills for herself, for the letters she writes for Jancis are actually love letters to Kester, and his responses w ritten in the name o f Gideon are m ore for Prue than for Jancis. Jancis also tells Kester th at P ru e was Venus, and he has also learned that Prue saved his life. But Prue i s c onvinced-thatther.hare.lip is a.fatal. barrier, H e re th e shadow,,aswell •íis tlie:! m other functio n, is still behind her back, and she remains convincedthy._Gide.Qn’s opinion that h e r h a re lip will p re y e n th e r fromjSYe.Ltaking an. active. part. in. a relationship. 54. [See also Barbara Hannahs chapter on the sublimation and transformation of the lion in The Archetypal Symbolism o f Animais (2006), pp. 32lff. Ed.]


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Thus far, the shadow has functioned positively. But Prue has left too m uch to her shadow, and Jancis now behaves as the shad­ ow always does in such circum stances. She throws aside h er work before her three years o f indentured servitude are finished and com es back to the Sams. She cleverly puts the blame on her masJte r’s son who, she claims, tried to sexually abuse her. B u t the old wizard, her father, is angry with her— as well as with Gideon— and swears that he will prevent their m arriage at all costs. Gradually, Prue becom es assured that the w eaver would actually love her if it w ere not for h er hare lip. H er passionate fascination with nature is expressed, for example, as she says: “So I, finding m a own person and my own life not to my mind, took m y pleasures w here I could” (that is, in the natural surroundings o f Sam M ere as she stares out o f the cottage window noting that she does not like her “hom e”). Curiously enough, pursuing h er instinctive love of nature led her to the one place w here she could learn to accept herself ( the way to oneself is serpentine and passes over many detours and wrong turnings). j One of P ru e’s greatest pleasures was watching the metam orphosis of the chrysalis of the dragonfly. T he “eth er’s mon” or “eth er’s nild” they called them at Sam , for it was supposed that an ether (that is, an adder) lay hidden in the grass beneath where the dragonfly hovered, the dragonflies thus giving a warning from above. While Prue was watching them , Kester com es to thank her for saving his life, and for the first time they stand face to face. Prue tries to run away, but he prevents her. H e as much as tells h er that he loves her but needs a year to settle w hether o r not he should marry her. In their happiness, they quite forget the poisonous snakes in the grass. E ven worse, K ester tells Prue that if one thinks rightly about sin, it just isn’t there. H e is convinced that evil is the m ere absence of good, but this conviction is dangerous for someone who has signed a pact with the evil side of h er animus and who has the lightning in h er blood, that is, the actual destiny o f having it out with evil. Nevertheless, afterward she applies this conviction to her lip, claiming it was her sin even if but a kind of innocent wickedness. And she concludes that all the rest of her is


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righteous and in glory. At this m om ent, a rushing happiness passes through her which helps her win back som e o f her confidence in herself. But it also brings h er perilously close to an inflation. T h e harvest that year is th e best on record, and when all the fields are cut, they celebrate the so-called “love carriage,” that is, the neighborhood farmers com e with their wagons and give free service. Kester, the weaver, com es as well arid goes further in prom ising him self to Prue, explaining that he is going to London for a year to learn color weaving and will com e back to say som e­ thing to h er then. At this point, the quaternity is very, near setting itself through. T he harvest is gathered in, Gideon and Jancis are to be m arried within a week, K ester and P ru dence in a year. But it is a dangerous sign that th e negative animus and the shadow are to m arry first. Then, what seem s to be a small omission on the p art o f Prue turns up again, as is so often th e case in- life, for the individuation process entails a dynamic progression and finds every weakness in the retort. It is just in the m om ent when m om entous events in- th e individuation process are çonstellated that one m ust take the greatest precaution. T he m ost dangerous tim e is when one gets closely involved with such events and when one thinks: “Now I am safe.” Prue has refused Jancis’s plea to tell Gideon about Venus, and Gideon now insists on sleeping with Jancis before their wedding in order to set his doubts to rest. Prue earlier refused to let Jancis tell him because she was afraid that th e w eaver would hear, but now she is aware that the w eaver knows. Still she does not inter­ fere, thinking that it is only a week before th e wedding, and she is glad that Gideon should show any human feeling at all. It does not sound like m uch, but it turns out to be a fatal omission. To tell w ould have been a great sacrifice, but it would have borne b etter fruit. F o r Gideon’s behavior leads to a chain o f disasters. The old wizard com es hom e unexpectedly and finds his daughter and Gideon in his bed. H e had always been against the marriage, but now he has a real grievance against Gideon. H e sets fire to Gideon’s ricks and the whole harvest is reduced to ashes in a few hours.

,


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W e have to ask what th e wizard represents in Prue’s psychol­ ogy. In Gideons first fight with his father, he wished he could be Beguildys son and the devil could have his soul. W e said that Gideon thus opened up a connection with evil in its collective aspect. The wizard is a figure par excellence who works in the / realm o f collective evil. Prue has always underestim ated the evil in the wizard somewhat along those lines possibly implied by Kester when he claims that if you think the right way about sin, well, then it is just not there. Although K ester is such a positive figure, the situation is always explosive when the woman “thinks the right way” and is not living by her own principle o f Eros. Fu rtherm ore, the fact that the wizard is able to destroy everything they possess is connected with Eros actually being here in the hands of the animus. The weaving would seem safe enough in K ester’s hands, but the animus is always dual (that is, positive and negative), and the wizard can also be regarded as the fully unconscious and dark side of' the weaver. As von Fran z points out, the act of spinning is often associated with wishful thinking. Odin is the typical spirit o f such magical thoughts, and he is the lord o f wishes. Thers:1 was a lot o f wishful thinking in K esters and Prue’s exchange. Evil is explained away, the adder under the dragonfly is forgotten, and all the darkness repressed and ignored falls into the hands o f the wizard. H e spins the wishful fantasy, sets it into m otion, and causes the conflagration. This happens when we forget the dark side and unconsciously help evil with our left hand, that is, play into the hands o f the very evil that we consciously oppose. I once served on a com m ittee that was, in m y opinion, taking a line o f action that was absolutely fatal, and yet it was pushed through. W hat I did not see until afterward was that my m anner o f opposition had been inadvertently and unconsciously fostering it along. Despite my convictions to the opposite, I had actually helped it along. W hen one is adamantly positive on the one side, one must be careful o f what is hidden on the other. Gideon, that is, the m ore individual aspect o f P rue’s negative animus, is really the one who allows the concupiscentia to burst and thus destroys the quaternity. As we know, “all haste is of the


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devil,” and Gideon is the one to let loose in haste. H e thinks that the squire has had Jancis, so why should he not take her as well. H e even acts partly to forestall a possible action o f the squire’s. This again is som ething we often see in real life: an animus con ­ viction that som eone will actually carry out this or that stirs us into foolish hasty action which we afterward see was brought about simply by the animus him self having inserted the idea. T he squire is not really after Jancis at all; she is a bit short and plump. H e is actually looking for a tall graceful figure (Prue). And P ru es silence, o f course, is also a typical sort of hook. She had not said that it was she whom he was really after. That silence seems like such a small hook, yet first the individual negative animus (Gideon) followed by the m ore collective negative animus (the wizard) w ere able to radically inflate the em otion precisely on this hook and initiate the conflagration that woke Prue to the convic­ tion that the L ast Judgm ent had com e. Afterw ard, one disaster follows the other. Gideon sets out to m urder the wizard, but Prue prevents him by sending the police to arrest Beguildy.

“They’ll take Beguildy to prison,” I said. “You munna have murder on your soul, lad, things be bad enough without that.” “It would have eased me,” he answered with a strange look “Its all damned up within, choking, choking me. ‘Twould have eased me to kll un. I’Hnever mend of it now.” I t is, o f cou rse, positive that Prue prevents the m urder and that she appeals to law and ord er in h er psyche. B u t, G ideons pessimism is also justified, and things go from bad to worse. f i r s t he oyerthrows-Jancis._and then „murdeI.J1 his .own. m other just b ecau se. she. is. an-expense„and.,cann.ot.W0.rk. Prue is seem ingly ignorant o f this at the tim e, yet in one com partm ent o f her mind she knows o f it, or at least is in no way surprised when she is later told. Jancis. com es with he.rjbahyto-make-one last-effort,but Gideon scom s th e m .a n d Ja n cis.d ro w n sh e rse lfw ith h eçh ild . Prue makes


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an attem pt to leave Gideon, saying that m urder cancels all vows, but she cannot bring herself to go because Gideon shows signs of mental derangem ent. E ven before Janciss suicide, P ru e suspected him o f seeing th e ghost o f their mother. One evening when he is intensely haunted, he follows the ghost o f Jancis out to the /m e re , and here he is also dro^ned. Thus this pair can be said to have fallen into the unconscious. T he m other, also dead, returns to the unconscious. As with Gideon, it is ^ p ical o f th e negative animus that when the whole outer action is left in his hands he fails to stand to what he has done. In this story, this failure is a d irect result both o f ani­ mus possession and the fact that P ru e has prom ised to obey him in every particular. Gideon promised marriage to Jancis and even got her with child, but the fatal twist com es when he denies his promises and behaves as if it had never happened. Being utterly inhuman, he is even capable o f murder. B ut Prue leaves her m other unprotected. She does not actively stand by h er m other along with the w eaver but runs away instead due to an animus assumption concerning h er hare lip. The animus likes to slip in w here we leave something undone. Jung_saysthat a w om anonly finds her way through to in&yiduationJ)y_.goi!}g_ th ro u g h t(u th e bitter end with her animus. But, as with Gideon, an animus left to him self will never go through to the bitter end. W hen Gideon voluntarily disappears,_the....Yowâ&#x20AC;&#x17E; is .cancelled, and P m e js n o Jo n g e r possessed by the_n.egative,.anim\l.s,.^J}li.S-Can be seen.as a gain.in th e .m id s to f m u ch lo ss. Before disappearing, Gideon may well have inflicted a lasting blow. One could wonder if he has not killed the m other within Prue (as a symbolically logical conclusion that he has not only killed his own mother, but the m other o f his child as well). Throughout the book, P ru e repeatedly talks o f her happy old age with Kester. B ut no children are mentioned (and M ary W ebb herself was childless). Originally, it was the child m ore than the husband who Prue longed for. But you do not swear to obey an ambitious worldly animus unscathed. \Ve can look at her syinbolically as having been sterilized, so to speak, through the loss o f h er anim uss own child. Looked at


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subjectively and symbolically, she has killed h er own chance of becom in g a mother. As soon as the positive animus is reduced, we are confronted with th e responsibility for our o ^ n lives. P ru e is now left in sole possession o f the farm with responsibility for everything. It is already a m onth after the date K ester prom ised to return, and the deeply rooted opinion concerning h er hare lip begins to ride h er again. She has no idea o f w h ere to go, but after one night spent alone with h e r m em ories in the old family house, she determ ines never to spend another night there again. Taking up life alone in the old stead is m ore than she can stand, so she decides to leave the farm to its fate. This is typical o f how a m odern woman often reacts w hen she finds h erself freed from animus possession. She just walks away, a sort of: “I did not do it. T h erefore it has nothing to do with m e /’ It is understandable, yet exceedingly unconscious, for w e now have the task o f leam ing to take responsibility for what our animus is doing . . . or has done. T h e tendency o f wom en just to walk away is particularly clear h ere in P ru e’s simply leaving the farm to its fate. T h e next day th ere is a big fair on the banks o f the Sam M ere, the only day in the year when anybody from the outside world com es to Sam . Prue grabs the opportunity to sell all the livestock on the farm and thus attends the fair com pletely unaware o f what awaits h er there. W e have heard before o f Grimble and Huglet, two particularly rough m en, and these two are still angry with K ester. Grimble is in fact also angry with P ru e for having knifed and killed his dog, and he seizes the opportunity for revenge. Pru e, he says, is' a hare-shotten witch, and he lays every disaster that has happened at h er door. H e says that she was friendly with the wizard because she was a witch, that all the m ischief in the neighborhood cam e from her, and that she incited Beguildy to incinerate Gideons ricks; that she was the one who poisoned h er m other, she killed Jancis and the baby, and last night, in order to possess herself o f all the S am property, she pushed Gideon into the m ere. Grimble’s words alone would hardly have been taken by the crow d, but he has produced Tivvy, the sexton’s daughter and


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household help at Sam (whose ears P ru e once boxed) to support him. She is now expecting Gideon’s child and she hopes to whiten herself by blackening Prue. This is T iw y’s m ost im portant appearance in the story except when she was trying to blackmail Gideon into marrying her with the very real evidence that he had poi/Soned his m other. Now, o f course, she twists it around and claims that Prue did it. Before Prue realizes what is happening she finds herself tied up as a witch to the ducking stool and is already half in the w ater when K ester turns up and learns o f her predicam ent. \Ve must consider the fact that she was actually tied to the witch’s stool. The vow to Gideon was the old archetypal pattern, and when such a thing is started, it can seldom be prevented from running its course to the end. Being tied to the w itch’s stool is being pinned down to what she has done. Gideon would have been quite powerless to put through his ambitious schem es if she had withheld her consent. In the M alleus M aleficarum , it is repeatedly emphasized that the devil cannot do anything without a human instrument to assist him.55 Pr-1-e is pinned down only after being freed from h er vow, which corresponds with m odern experience. W hile possessed, we cannot realize what we have done. This only happens after the possession has passed, which gives rise to many a feeling of injured innocence. The fact that it went to this length, however, is directly connected with Prue’s having abandoned S am and with h er rejecting the responsibility for h er own situation. H ad.she not 55. [The Malleus Maleficarum (Latin for “The Witches’ Hammer”) is a famous treatise on witches published in 1487 by two Inquisitors of the Catholic Church. The main purpose of the Malleus was to refute systematically skepticism about the reality of witches and to educate magistrates on the procedures that expose and convict them. Miso^gyn, that is, the hatred of women, runs rampant. The treatise singled out women as specifically inclined for witchcraft, they being susceptible to demonic temptations due to their manifold weaknesses. The Malleus Maleficarum accuses witches of such things as infanticide, cannibalism, casting evil spells to harm their enemies, sending young women to seduce older men, having the power to steal men’s penises, and so forth. Accounts of witches committing these crimes are “well documented.” Its success was due not only to the tendency of the human mind to see the shadow in others (here, priests in the object of their dire interest, women), but also to Gutenbergs invention of the printing press and the innovations that followed, which enabled the treatise to be disseminatedrapidly throughout Europe. Estimates of the number accused and executed, mostly women, range from 100,000 to 900,000. The book made its way across the Atlantic and was employed in the Salem witch trials. Ed.]


Anim us Figures in Literature and in Modern Life

w anted to sell the livestock, she would have had no need to go to the fair. It was not until th e people saw h er that they b ecam e so hostile. T herefore w e m ay assume that w hat she might have done voluntarily is done to her. She is pinned d o ^ n by the judgm ent o f the crowd. I had a repetitive d ream as a child that fits well into this them e. I had to leave the H ouse o f C om m ons, pass through the front portals, and walk out into a crow d o f people who w ere shouting and k llin g each other, m uch as in the F re n ch Revolution, and I knew that if I had the courage to go out unarm ed, the revolution and the fighting would stop o f its own accord. I always woke up uncertain, trying to gather the courage to do so. In another variation, I was carried through the crow d in a small carriage and knew that I was going to be hanged. I never knew w hether the crowd was friendly or if they would tu m hostile tow ard m e. Jung said that I had to go out voluntarily into the opposites and then the shouting would stop, and if I did not, then I would be hanged betw een the opposites, which had to be faced. P ru e -d o e s-n o t-ta k e on this responsibility consciously, so it is_done_. to h er, She _is p u t.o n to th e w itch â&#x20AC;&#x2122;s stool. As a collective judgm ent, it naturally goes beside the mark and makes its accusation in an iniquitous way. T h e individual elem ent is lacking, and because it exists, the positive animus can rescue h er at the last m om ent from the judgm ent o f the crow d. K ester arrives and uses the sam e tactics as in the bullbaiting. H e offers to wrestle with anybody there and ends up doing so with the strongest man. The n e tre s u lt o f t h e book is that _:eme_.s.erves .her . .sentence foLthe_siILo:^LtheL..pac:twith_the~ negative.. animus, _suffers.. almost unhearably a n d tln isw iiis through to a ..much fre.e r.relatiQinhip withjhe_.positiye_creative.. animus. This is .one .way, ifn o U h e most. difficuL^way,_ihat_a_wo.mam.may.take. on .th e . path.tow ard. femi­ nine. individuation. We.havealready-no.ted.how._difficult it.isfo r a wpI(lan_toJ;ake .up_ h e rcre a tiv e ability.and-whatan enorm ous step, itre p re sn ts. In conclusion o f these lectures, I would like to note here that this book was M ary W ebbâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s m asterpiece and h er last com plete


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work. W e can assume that it represents the place which she her­ self had reached when she w rote the manuscript. Prudence is left with a positive and creative animus, and the weaving is in his hands. Yet she does not have h er principle in h er o ^ n hands, and no quatem ity is established. It is impossible to predict what would /h a v e happened had M ary W ebb lived longer. She died about th ree years after the com pletion of the work. Von Fran z told me that most o f the gods and goddesses connected with spinning and weaving belong to the beyond, the land of the dead. Therefore, the wea ver in this story might represent— beyond his creative activity— a psychic activity that is already preparing to weave her into a wider pattern that might reach beyond the limits of this world into the life beyond death.


The Bronte°d and Modera Women

Editor's Note: This text is based on Barbara Hannah's lecture on the Bronte family given in 1951 and 1959. She goes into great detail on the Bronte siblings in her book, Striving Towards W holeness (New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1971; reprinted by Chiron Publications, 2001).

I HAVE NEVER READ ANYTHING ABOUT THE THREE BRONTE sisters that did not begin with an apology for adding to the vast amount of material which has already collected around their names. This particular form of apology is hardly necessary here in Zürich, for they seem to be little known outside of Englishspeaking countries. But I would like to admit my foolhardiness in venturing to say anything about such a bewilderingly difficult subject. In order to orient ourselves in this family, I would like to begin with a short sketch of their background. Patrick Brunty was born in 1777 at Emdale, Drumballyroney, County Down, Ireland, the eldest of ten children. Initially, he was apprenticed to a blacksmith, but his aptitude toward autodidactic education allowed him to pursue a university education. This was a significant achieve;ment considering his father was an agricultural laborer of most modest financial means. In October 1802, just twenty-five years old, he registered as a student at St. John’s College, Cambridge, and changed his name from Brunty to Bronte. Despite persistent financial struggles, he was academically always in the top of his class. He was awarded a bachelor


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o f Arts degree in April 1 8 0 6 and was ordained in the Church of England in 1807, w here he took up a num ber of term s o f office as a curate, that is, a reverend. On 29 D ecem b er 1812, Patrick Bronte m arried Maria Branwell, and they had six children. In 18 2 0 , Patrick was appointed a perm anent position as curate and r1noved his family to H aw orth, but within a year o f moving into their new home, his wife Maria was stricken with can cer and died. Patrick eventually found the strain o f bringing up a large family difficult and decided to send Maria, Elizabeth, Charlotte, and Em ily to the recently opened Clergy D aughters' School at Cowan Bridge. The harsh regim e, the cold, and the poor food took their toll on the children, who w ere eventually rem oved. Maria and Elizabeth died soon after returning to Haworth. His remaining four children becam e authors and poets and passed away around the middle of the century. In 1847, Patrick cam paigned strongly for improved education in the district and, two years later, for improvements in the w ater supply. Improvements in education and sanitation for local people w ere realized within his lifetime. On O ctober 30, 1859, Patrick Bronte preached his last sermon from the pulpit o f Haworth Church. On June 7, 1861, he died at age eighty-four, outliving his wife and all o f his children. His wife, Maria, was born in 1783, the eighth o f eleven children o f Thomas Branwell and Anne C am e o f Penzance, Cornwall, a prosperous m erchant family with extensive property holdings in the town. T he family was involved in local politics as well as trade, M arias brother Benjamin serving as the to^wns mayor in 1809. The Branwells and the Carnes w ere leading m em ­ bers o f the Wesleyan Methodist com m unity in Penzance, the Branwells being instrumental in the building o f the townâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s first official Wesleyan chapel in 1814. Maria was petite, plain, intelligent, and well-read with a ready wit, yet lived a sheltered and cultured existence in a family of pious Methodists. Mrs. Elizabeth Gaskell, who w rote the first and classic biography of Charlotte Bronte, gives a lively description o f the township of Penzance with its haunted houses, witches, smuggling, cockfights, and the like, but adds proudly: â&#x20AC;&#x153;In the Branwell family itself


The Brontes and M odem Women

the violence and irregularity o f nature did not exist.”1 One supposes that this was what led Maria Branwell to find herself a husband in w hom th ese qualities also existed, and in no small measure. And Patrick B ron te was a parson, a profession which could readily be swallowed by h erself and h er M ethodist ancestors. She m et th e Reverend Patrick B ronte in 1812, and he prom pdy began a short but determ ined courtship (he repeatedly walked a twenty-four-m ile round trip simply to take M aria out for a stroll). H e was exceptionally good looking as well, so it was easy to forget his simple Irish ancestors with their wild tem peram ents and their tu rf huts, and Ireland was conveniently far away. N ot th at she probably had m uch choice in the matter. She w ent to Yorkshire on a visit to an uncle when Patrick Bronte was a curate in th e neighborhood, and the courtship quickly evolved. The two w ere m arried before th e end o f the year. In 1814 their first child, Maria, was born, and Elizabeth cam e in 1815, the year he was appointed curate at Thornton near Bradford, where his next three daughters— C harlotte (1 8 1 6 ), Em ily (1 8 1 8 ), and Anne (1 8 2 0 )— and his only son, Branwell (1 8 1 7 ), were' born. M,aria m ade friends easily, and those whom the Brontes m et in their years in Thornton rem ained lifelong friends to Patrick and his children. Maria’s only extant written work, apart from private correspondence, is the tract, “T h e Advantages o f Poverty, In Religious Concerns,” but it was never published. It was about seven years into the marriage that Mr. Bronte was given the curacy o f Haworth in Yorkshire (which he then held for forty years), and there within a year M aria was afflicted with can cer (probably o f the uterus) and, following a harrowing seven-and-a-half-m onth illness, she died on 15 Septem ber 1821. The Bronte children w ere raised there in H aw orth, where they lived m ost o f their short lives. The small, 1. [E liz a b e th G a sk e ll, The Life o f Charlotte Bronte (L o n d o n : S m ith , E ld e r an d C o ., 1 8 5 7 ). T h is w o rk is a p io n e e r in g b io g ra p h y o f o n e g re a t V icto ria n w o m an n ov elist by an oth er. G a sk e ll w as a p e rs o n a l frie n d o f C h a rlo tte and, h av in g b e e n in v ited to w rite th e o fficial biograph y, d e te rm in e d b o th to te ll th e tru th an d to h o n o r h e r frie n d . S h e c o n ta c te d th o se w h o h ad k now n C h arlo tte , an d sh e trav eled exten sively in E n g la n d and B e lg iu m to g a th er m ate rial. S h e w ro te fro m a la rg e accu m u latio n o f le tte r s, in terv iew s, and p e rso n a l o b serv a tio n s e s ta b lish in g th e d e tails o f C h a rlo tte ’s life and c re a tin g a v ital sen se o f th e w o m a n s life p rev iou sly h id d e n fro m th e w o rld . Ed.]


The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

bleak village on the edge o f the vast Yorkshire moors was their life and their cem etery. 'rhe_ihin^^^^aLways..stcikes_me most-in-reading..th&.noy,ek. o L th e ...Bronte sistersis thei.rmodprrnity. treated in_them-are-o.uLpmblems.....t:oday. Com ing events cast their shadpiws before, but there is an unusually concrete quality about this shadow in the case o f th e Brontes. I puzzled over this for a long tim e, and then I realized that, by a curious combination of circum stances— and within their narrow limits and in spite of their early Victorian background— the Bronte family m et with just those problems that have b ecom e worldwide today. To begin with, and perhaps most im portant of all, there were five sisters and one brother. The two eldest sisters died as children, it is true, but even then it was three to one. This is, o f course, com mon enough, but it is usually to some extent compensated in the environment. This was not the case with the Brontes for they were unusually confined within their own limits. Mr. Bronte was exceedingly unsociable, and his parishioners w ere much o f the same mind. “W hat sort o f a parson have you got?” someone once asked a Yorkshire man at that time. “A rare good one,” was the reply, “he minds his own business and never troubles himself with ours.” Mr. Bronte was excellent at minding his own business, but he lived in a constant struggle to fit his tem peram ent into his parsons coat. One outlet he devised for himself was to fire pistols in rapid succession out of the back door; this must have discouraged any callers there might have been. As the children grew up, the efforts of Charlotte, the sociable one of the family, did to some extent mitigate their rigid seclusion; but even so, their male society was exceedingly limited and mainly confined to curates. And it is only necessary to read Charlottes Shirley in order to discover what the Bronte girls thought of curates!2 At home, and in their short flights into the outside world, the female sex was always in a large majority. 2. [Shirley is s e t in Y o rk sh ire in th e la te r y ears o f th e N a p o le o n ic w ars a n d th e tim e o f th e L u d d ite rio ts, w h ich w e re ca u se d b y th e in tro d u ctio n o f n ew m a ch in e s th a t re p la c e d h u m a n labor. I t follow s th e tre n d o f th e lite ra tu re o f m id d le d ecad es o f th e n in e te e n th cen tu ry , such as se e n in D ick en s and D isra e li, a n d tack les issues s u ch as social class co n flic t an d th e n e e d fo r u se fu l em p lo y m en t fo r w o m en . Ed. J


The Brontes and Modern Women

F u rth erm o re, Yorkshire was and still is a m anufacturing county. I t lives mainly by its textile trade. T h e com ing o f the industrial age and th e rep lacem en t o f hand laborers by industrial textile looms affected Yorkshire earlier and far m ore gravely than m ost o f th e rest o f England. T h e fam ous riots and the wholesale destruction o f m achinery took place before the B rontes’ tim e. In 181 1 , a group o f w orkers in En glan d form ed a secret organization whose targets w ere th e w ide-fram e textile stocking m achines, labor-saving devices th at caused falling wages and widescale unem ploym ent am ong laborers in the Midlands. In the first year o f th e riots, over a thousand m achines w ere smashed. T h e movem en t spread from N ottingham shire to Lancashire and Cheshire and later to Yorkshire. F o r c e was then used to p rotect m achines: 1 2 ,0 0 0 troops w ere stationed, for instance, in Yorkshire, and governm ent agents spied on everyone. B etw een 1811 and 1817, many leaders of th e revolt w ere imprisoned, shot, hanged, beheaded, or shipped off to Australia. B y the tim e the Brontes arrived, th e population had suffered severely, and earning one’s living was no easy m atter, a problem that would eventually defeat Branwell, the only B ron te boy. By that tim e, it was already the survival o f th e fittest, and Branwell was anything but the fittest. I t was in Branw ell that th e Bronte sisters saw the Faustian problem o f good and evil played to a fatal conclusion. In th e breast o f the clergym ans son his fath ers ancestors (hard drinking and free living) fought against his m others gentle, pious Methodist forefathers. T he battlefield was too weak, and Branwell, apparently losing his head over a peculiarly foolish love affair, and— under his sisters eyes— headed to his death unrem ittingly addicted to opium and drink. T h e B ron te sisters, for all the conventions o f the age in which they lived, never for a m om ent believed th at the problem o f evil could be stam ped out or ignored. It was the most burning of all problems to them , and they tackled it valiantly, each in their o^ n way. They also tackled the problem o f superfluous women; there is very little o f that Victorian “running into the safe haven o f matrimony” in their books. Marriage is recognized as the center o f


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the ocean, exposed to every wind and weather, and they realized that unm arried wom en m ust learn to navigate that ocean as well. They recognized the tem ptation for a woman to stay safely in harbor if there was no man at hand to navigate her boat. But, life m ust be lived and— whateverryour-, Gircufflstances-=liyed_as_£ully fo-sLpossible. ThisLÍs;-±he~underlying-note.~that-puIses.th-Eough-all-Qf th e Bronfô^iaokr... It would b e easy to say that they failed to fully live their own lives themselves, but I think this would be a superficial judgment. It is true that the outer events o f their lives do not amount to very m uch, or at least not as we know them . T here w ere a few not overly successful efforts m ade to earn their living as governesses, and Em ily and Charlotte, in their mid-twenties, spent some time at the Pensionnat H eger in Brussels, a finishing school, to learn F ren ch and German. B ut their real life never left the parsonage walls. Em ily evidently realized that it was hopeless to fight against this fate. W hereas Charlotte and Anne beat valiantly on the bars o f their cage for some years,_§_milyLturneclinward~almo&t.at.oJ1 çe, pursuing what we might isay was,her_o.wn fo,rm_of mysticism- She therefore penetrated far m ore deeply into the unconscious, and h er work is the m uch m ore interesting o f the three. She had the extraordinary and rare sense to live fully in the banalities of life. H er bread was the lightest in the countryside and h er ironing could com pete with our m ore up-to-date laundries. By this she escaped— to some extent— the fate o f m ost mystics who lose themselves in introversion. Em ily and Anne died of pulmonary tuberculosis in their late twenties, and Charlotte. left alone with h er fiercely egotistical father, was also forced by s h e e r m is e r y to tum in w ard ,-but-her realization in-this. field„,never w ent very.deep. I th in k one can say thaL±hejmode^e.m_quaht:yLm_Chad0tte ’s_and.Ann&s_box>.ks_springs_ mamly_fromJhese_u.uter.iacts. They found themselves in a world which apparently had no need o f them ; they w ere not asked to bear children or to be hetaeras. Their employers w ere exceed­ ingly dissatisfied with their efforts as governesses, and although they wanted to start a school, nobody wanted to send them their


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children. F o r years they search ed vainly for publishers, and when at last these w ere found, th eir books w ere greeted with cold contem p t or disagreeable scorn. Only C h arlotte lived long enough to go over into h er own opposite. She b e ca m e exceedingly famous, but she did not like th at any b e tte r; in fact, she hated it. It drove h er to the last step th at she ev er exp ected to take: at the age o f thirty-seven, she m arried a cu ra te .3 All h er life C harlotte was troubled by a recu rrin g dream in w hich she was carrying a crying child in h er arms and could n ot quiet it. B u t she describes herself as having th e m ost painful sense o f pity for the little thing lying inert, as sick children do, while she walked about in some gloomy place with it, such as th e aisle of H aw orth C hurch. She believed th at this dream was always a prem onition o f trouble. It is th ere­ fore an interesting fact th at she died in the early stages o f h er first pregnancy nine months after h er marriage.

Anne’s novels have no literary merit whatsoever, yet a bored public still swallows her two intolerably dull novels in practically every new popular edition of thè world’s classics. F o r M ay Sinclair, Anne Bronte represents, if nothing else, the restless misery o f w om en born into the Victorian age before their tim e.4 Anne, rigid in Victorian Puritanism and at the same time saturated with Victorian sentim ent, belongs, in the spirit and the essence o f h er work— even m ore than Charlotte or Emily— to the tw entieth century.5 T h ere are scenes and situations in The Tenant o f W ildfell Hall which for their audacity stand alone in early Victorian literature and hold their own in the literature of the revolt th at followed th e Victorian era. 3 . [T h e R eve r e n d A rth u r B e l l N ic h ° lls , w h o serv ed a t th a t tim e as an a ssistan t clerg y m a n to th e ir fa th e r a t H aw orth . E d .] 4 . [M a y S in cla ir, The Three Brontes (L o n d o n : H u tsch in so n , 1 9 1 4 ). M ay Sin cla ir w as th e p s e u d ony m o f M a ry A m e lia S t. C la ir ( 1 8 6 2 - 1 9 4 6 ), a po p u lar B ritish w riter. S h e was know n f o r h e r s h o r t sto rie s, p o etry, a n d a b o u t tw o d o zen novels. S h e was an active suffragist and m e m b e r o f th e W o m a n W rite rs ' S u ffra g e L e a g u e . S h e was also a significan t critic in th e a re a o f m o d e r n is t p o e try a n d p r o s e a n d to o k an activ e in te re s t in psychoanalytic th o u g h t an d p sy ch ica l re s e a rc h . E d.] 5 . [A n n e B ro n t e w as b o rn th e sa m e y e a r as Q u e e n V ictoria. E d . ]


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Sinclair notes that Anne’s writing has an astonishing lucidity. An author such as Thackeray would have shrunk from relating Mrs. Huntingions ultimatum to h er husband. The slamming of that bedroom door resounds through th e long emptiness o f A nne’s novel. F o r when Anne slammed the door o f Mrs. H untingtons }5edroom , she slammed it in th e face o f all existing moralities and conventions. One can well imagine Mrs. Huntington sitting quietly outside that door, with an air of integrity, h er hands folded in h er lap, and vowing to Mrs. Grundy that she knows nothing about any noise or disturbance o f any kind. Anne B ronte stands up against the Victorian dogmas; against eternal punishment; against the w om ans vow o f obedience in marriage. She is actually taking a stand against the m arriage laws and traditions (although presumably she would have died rather than own up to it). And thus Mrs. Huntington may be acknowledged as one o f the first insurgent m odern heroines.6 Perhaps Sinclair’s reflections may serve to give som e idea of w hat broke through into Anne B ro n tes novels in spite o f herself. F o r she was no rebel in h er conscious life, and she alone among the three sisters seems to have been designed by nature to make the ideal parson’s wife. On reading the B ronte literature, one is forced to the conclusion that A nne, unlike h er sisters, spent her youth secretly awaiting th e heralding dawn o f h er own curate. H er books seem to have been written as she was waking up to the fact that she was living in an age that did not produce enough curates as "good husbands” to go around. Dull though they are, h er books are a treasure trove to anyone who is interested in how the m ediocre woman reacts to m odern conditions. The books o f Charlotte Bronte are a totally different proposition. They have infinitely m ore literary m erit than Annes, and Ja n e 6. [A n n e B r o n te h a s b e e n r e m e m b e r e d p rim arily as th e m e e k th ird B r o n te sister. T h is has o ccu rre d to a larg e ex te n t b e c a u s e A n n e is d iffe re n t b o th as a p e rs o n an d as a w rite r fro m

Agnes Grey Persuasion th an to C h a rlo tte B r o n te s Jan e Eyre. T h e p ain stak in g re alism and social criticism o f The Tenant o f WíldfeU Hall d ire ctly co u n te rs t h e ro m a n ticize d v io le n c e o f Wuthering Heights. A n n e’s religio u s c o n c e r n s , r e fle c te d in h e r b o o k s and ex p resse d d irectly in h e r p o em s, w e re ap p aren tly n ot co n c e r n s sh a re d by h e r sisters. Ed.]

h e r sisters C h a rlo tte and E m ily . T h e c o n tro lle d , re fle c tiv e ca m e ra ey e o f A nn e's is c lo s e r to Ja n e A u sten's


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245

E y re is anything b u t dull. It belongs rath er to the best-seller type, and indeed it has steadily rem ained a best seller for one hundred years. C harlotte h erself was shocked beyond m easure when she discovered th at the popularity o f Ja n e E y re sprang mainly from the fact th at it was regarded as so delightfully improper. This novel has a hackneyed them e: love springs up betw een Jane E y re , a plain little governess o f eighteen, and M r. Rochester, h e r w orld-w eary employer. B u t th ere is an elem ent that redeem s the story, and that is Jan e E y re â&#x20AC;&#x2122;s pow er of seeing and accepting reality even when it collides with h er unshakable principles or h e r own interests. Mr. R och ester is am azed ab h er steadfastness, which gives him hope and new life. H e can speak to her, for instance, about his opera m istress, and she can fully understand him. T h e way that she does this is not just a female ruse but springs from an in-depth understanding and love. Some of the dialogues betw een th e two com e very near to genius. B ut R och ester reads h er shrewdly; he knows th at although she can understand, she wiU. not act against h er principles, so he conceals the fact that he has a lunatic wife still very m uch alive and chooses bigamy instead. T h e m arriage is stopped at the last m om ent, and again Jane E y re gives no moral ju dgm ent and does not turn against Rochester. B u t she knows h er own limitations and that she cannot live if she betrays her own sense o f right and wrong; and just as she w ent beyond herself for the sake o f love, so now she overcom es h erself again for the sake o f h er principles. W hen I first read th e book, I thought her an inhuman prig, but later in life one ca n o n ly mai::"el at the strength an d reality which she displays . _Such-a-sense.o f m oralitv i.san unsvm pathetic thing;. .but. what. an t?nonnocm^ fo * e ÂŤ 4 tis _ Ja n e E v re faces staryation and risks herself ?JJdtha~maiLsbeJ,oyesjbr. it. T h ere is a driving sincerity in the way Charlotte Bronte draws h er heroines that is in striking contrast to the rest of the conten t o f her books. These wom en are not able to break the Ten Com m andm ents themselves, but they suffer the tortures of the dam ned in keeping them . They preach piously at times, but on the whole they keep their own sense of right and wrong without being


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prigs. They know the passionate animal in themselves, and one cannot doubt that they believe in its right to exist. O ne feels that they say to it: 'W e are awfully sorry to have to repress you, but take a look at the world we live in and how we w ere brought up; what else can we do?” And what else could they do then in the Victorian fige and in the outer world without destroying themselves entirely? I admit that I find it rather difficult to read Charlotte B ron tê’s books. The end o f Ja n e E y re, for instance, has a sort o f virtuous trium phant note that is quite unfounded and is actually irritating, and it hints at the possibility that Charlotte, in spite o f h er infinitely greater literary ability, had barely m ore o f an idea o f what she was talking about than Anne. B u t all the sam e, consciously and unconsciously, I think that she does make an exceedingly positive contribution to the problem o f m odern woman. H er heroines are an honest attem pt to reconcile the truly conventional woman with her primitive, impassioned sister, and one should not allow oneself to be deceived by that Victorian moralizing whitewash with which at times she tries to hide her genuine but, to her, very disconcerting discoveries. W ith Fm ilv. this m atter becom es infinitely m ore difficult and also m uch m ore interesting. She.is-unusual soil,-aw om a& m ystic who h a sle ftu s one novel and a handfuLof poems. I will read you h er last poem , “No Coward Soul Is M ine,” written just before her death, because it seems to m e to be a p ro of that she searched for th e secret of life and reached tow ard m uch the sam e essential truths as other such seekers in all ages o f history.

No coward soul is mine, No trembler in the worlds storm-troubled sphere I see Heaven’s glories shine, And Faith shines equal arming me from Fear O God within my breast. Almighty ever-present Deity Life, that in me hast rest As I Undying Life, have power in thee


The Brontes and Modern Women

2 4 7-

Vain are the thousand creeds That move men’s hearts, unutterably vain, Worthless as withered weeds Or idlest froth amid the boundless main To waken doubt in one Holding so fast by thy infinity So surely anchored on The steadfast rock of Immortality With wide-embracing love Thy spirit animates eternal years Pervades and broods above, Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates and rears Though Earth and moon were gone And suns and universes ceased to be And thou wert left alone Every Existence would exist in thee

,

There is not room for Death Nor atom that his might could render void Since thou art Being and Breath And what thou art may never be destroyed.7 “Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates and rears” might surely have been w ritten by an old alchemist about the lapis stone. I f the work o f Em ily Bronte is really concerned with the prob­ lem o f th e stone, there is a hard task before us. Such a process lies deep in the earth o f a book, and it is as difficult to extract as that famous root o f the mandrake. The upper stratosphere, moreover, is filled with brilliant opportunities o f the animus. W uthering Heights is of outstanding literary merit. The Irish poet W. B. Yeats goes so far as to call it the greatest novel in the English language. I am glad that a man has said this, because I 7 . E m ily B r o n te , The Complete P oers (L o n d o n : P e n g u in B o o k s , 1 9 9 2 ), p. 182.


The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

need only add that I know of no oth er English novel that I would care to back as a rival. Bits o f W uthering H eights rem ind m e of a Rem brandt drawing. H e with a few strokes and she with but a few words can make a ch aracter o r landscape com e alive before one’s eyes. As an example I would like to draw your attention to /th e following sketch of old Joseph, the m anservant at the Heights: “H e was, and is yet m ost likely, the wearisomest, self-righteous Pharisee that ever ransacked a Bible to take the promises to him­ self and fling the curses to his neighbors.” T he outstandingquality of the book— and the one that is o f the greatest interest to the them e o f this lecture— is .thaj:_!:ge main e:_!!Whi:i.s!s,JuldeverLth.e_ae;tio^o£the.bQok,Ge;H£eEs-€>M:1 .a^^^úE:. It is long— in fact, too long— and has a com plicated form which makes it exceedingly difficult to condense into a short synopsis. There are bewilderingly countless characters, and worst still, their names are con fusingly similar or som etim es even identical. I have tried to get over this difficulty by means of the following chart. 8 The story is told by a Mr. Lockwood, a stranger from the south o f England, who has recently on “idle whim” rented Thrushcross Grange, a large and lonely place on the Yorkshire moors. H e goes over to visit his landlord and describes the house as follows: Wuthering Heights is the name of Mr. Heathcliffs dwelling. “Wuthering” being a significant provincial adjective, descriptive of the atmospheric tumult to which its station is exposed in stormy weather. Pure, bracing ventilation they must have up there at all times, indeed; one may guess the power of the north wind blowing over the edge, by the excessive slant of a few stunted firs at the end of the house; and by a range of gaunt thorns all stretching their limbs one way, as if craving alms of the sun. Happily, the architect had foresight to build it strong; the narrow windows are deeply set in the wall, and the comers defended with large jutting stones.9

8. [T h is ch art is u n av ailable. E d .] 9. E m ily B r o n te , Wuthering Heights (N ew York: P e n g u in , 1 9 5 9 ), p. 10.


The Brontes and Modern Women

Mr. L o c^ ^ o od is w eather-bound for a night at the Heights by a snow storm , and he reads som e old diaries and then dream s him ­ self into th e c e n te r o f th e pecu liar d ram a that involved the inhab­ itants o f Thrushcross G range and W uthering Heights through two generations. At th e first gleam o f dawn, Mr. Lockw ood escapes in te rro r from the naked emotions o f th e living and the dead at W uthering H eights, but h e pays for his bad night floundering in th e snow and becom ing ill. Then, while suffering a long illness, Nelly D ean, th e childrens old nurse and present-day housek eeper at th e Thrushcross G range, tells him the rest o f the story. T h e story falls into two parts, and if we follow the alchemistic analogy, w e might say that Em ily makes two attempts to throw th e story into th e m elting pot and to produce the stone, that is, to p rod u ce a totality o f the hum an personality. T he first o f these attem pts is the history o f Catherine Earnshaw o f W uthering Heights. H er nurse, Nelly D ean, describes her as “a wild, wicked slip” with spirits “always at high-water mark, her tongue always going— singing, laughing, and plaguing everybody who would not do th e sam e.” B ut Nelly D ean adds:

A wild, wicked slip she was— but she had the bonniest eye, and sweetest smile, and lightest foot in the parish; and, after all, I believe she meant no harm; for when once she made you cry in good earnest, it seldom happened that she would not keep you company, and oblige you to be quiet that you might comfort her.10

nn this .Cath.eriuR.-.but-three-of.the-othe.r.ehaxacters. through their: relations h ip to her. beGome. increasingfyim portant. Qn_this_chart. I have. underlined th e se ch a ra cte rs.in green, as, with Catherine h erselfth ey -forrn the first quatem ity.or attem p t atindividuation. As Catherine grows up she becom es m ore and more torn by h er relationship to two of these people. First, Heathcliff, her adopted brother, a dark foundling who had been picked up in the 1 0 . Ib id ., p p . 4 5 - 4 6 .


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streets o f Liverpool by old Mr. Earnshaw, C ath erin es father. And second, E d gar Linton, th e fair but rath er weak and effeminate hero of sorts, heir to Thrushcross Grange. Old Mr. Eam sh aw was devoted to Heathcliff, which aroused the fierce jealousy o f his own worthless son, Hindley, C atherines brother. H indley took fa dire revenge upon his fathers death and degraded H eathcliff to the rank o f a ploughboy. Catherine, though convinced that she is really wrong, marries E d g ar Linton. T he day she becom es engaged, she confides in Nelly Dean:

“If I were in heaven, Nelly, I should be extremely miserable . . . . . I dreamt once that I was there . . . . heaven did not seem to be my home, and I broke my heart with weeping to come back to earth; and the angels were so angry that they flung me out into the middle of the heath on the top ofWuthering Heights, where I woke sobbing for joy . . . . Ive no more business to marry Edgar Linton than I have to be in heaven; and if the wicked man [Hindley] in there had not brought Heathcliff so low, I shouldn’t have thought of it. It would degrade me to marry Heathcliff now; so he shall never know how I love him; and that, not because he’s handsome, Nelly, but because he's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same; and Lintons is as dif­ ferent as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire . . . . My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I’m well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath— a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliffl He’s always, always in my mind—not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being/’11 This speech shows an amazing insight. Heathcliff, the penniless foundling, so dark as to be open to the question o f black blood, is recognized by Catherine as the m ost valuable thing: “m ore myself than I am.” 11. Ibid., pp. 82-84.


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B ut in spite o f this insight, and a severe illness brought on by the abrupt departure o f H eathcliff (who had overheard som e o f h er conversation with Nelly D ean), she carries through with her project. H eathcliff vanishes for three years, and when he returns, C atherine is Mrs. Linton o f Thrushcross G range. T h ere is no trace o f Victorianism— or o f any age— in the scenes that follow. T hey are a passionate and, one could say, tim eless attem pt to get down to the fundamentals o f human nature . . . and especially o f feminine nature. C atherine had no idea of giving up either' relationship; and it is really rem arkable that a clergym ans daughter could achieve the objectivity with which Em ily Bronte writes this part o f her novel. Conventions are never forgotten (all the Brontes w ere deeply im pressed by their authority), but w hereas C harlotte and Axine w ere always fussing and w o r m u ^ itbonttlie purity o f th eir heroines, Em ilyneyerm ention s th R siihje.nt. T he co nventions are thrownJntQ_the,.melting got with. the . rest, and they must stam p w h at th e y c a n a s th e ir own. Although Catherine is a Titan, th ere is too much weakness within, t ^ fire o f the retort is too hot,. and she is unable to stand the strain‘. In other words, Em ily draws h er on too generous and too masculine lines. She is never cowardly, abject, envious, or m ean, qualities which appear in her sister-in-law, Isabella Linton. Isabella develops a foolish, unreal, schoolgirl Schwô^rmerei12 for H eathcliff, illusions which Catherine endeavors to dispel (and h ere Nelly D ean adds that she seem ed to speak sincerely) . and says:

“Heathcliff is— an unreclaimed creature, without refinement, without cultivation; an arid wilderness of f urze and whinstone. I’d as soon put that little canary into the park on a winters day, as recommend you to bestow your heart on him! It is deplorable ignorance of his character, child, and nothing else, which makes that dream enter your head. Pray, don’t imagine that he conceals depths of benevolence and affection beneath a stem exterior! He’s not a rough diamond— a 12. [Schivãmmerei: rave, crush. Ed.]


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pearl-containing oyster of a rustic: he’s a fierce, pitiless, wolfish man. I never say to him, ‘Let this or that enemy alone, because it would be ungenerous or cruel to harm them’; I say, ‘Let them alone, because I should hate them to be wronged’; and he’d crush you hke a sparrow’s egg, Isabella, if he found you a troublesome charge. I know he couldn’t love a Linton, and yet he’d be quite capable of marrying your fortune and expectations—avarice is growing with him a besetting sin. There’s my picture; and I’m his friend— so much so, that had he thought seriously to catch you, I should, perhaps, have held my tongue, and let you fall into his trap . . . . Banish him from your thoughts . . . . He's a bird of bad omen: no mate for you.”13

But Catherine speaks to deaf ears, so she turns h er attention to Heathcliff. She forbids him to m arry Isabella and adds, “Abstract your mind from the subject at present, you are too prone to covet your neighbors goods; rem em b er this neighbors goods are m ine.” She entirely forgets that it was she who first coveted the Linton goods and that she was the original robber. N e llv D e a n . who judged w iththe- ju d gm en t oLthe collective,. .repeatedly identified t{eath cliffw ith -th e devil;-but...up-.toj:his time _Catherine herself had^rernained conscious o f his-value. By projecting . the-robher onto him, .. howeyer, Catherine . eclipses., this cqnsciousness,,and vvi.thin_a_few, days w e-find h e r alluding.,to. He::i,thçliff.ias Satan. N atundy, .:with±his, attitude.. she„loses,her,influence on him,, .a,[ld he _then marries Isabellasforfeuneand ©xpectations. Heathcliff scorns Isabella; he says to Nelly Dean: ‘W as it not the depth of absurdity— o f genuine idiocy, for that pitiful, slavish, m ean-m inded brach to dream that I could love her.”14 H e also treats h er with incredible cruelty, saying himself: “I have no pity! I have no pity! The m ore the worms writhe, the m ore I yearn to crush out their entrails! It is a moral teething; and I grind with greater energy, in proportion to the increase of pain.” 13. B r o n te , Wuthering Heights, pp. 1 0 3 - 4 . 14. [Brach : fem a le dog, “b itc h .” E d .]


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W hen Catherine finds that H eathcliff will not obey h e r regarding Isabella, and th a t h er w eak husband will really shut his door against H eathcliff in consequence, she falls ill, always h er refuge when crossed. She does this on purpose, but she is far too frank about it. ( Catherine is always too frank.) After a scene with H eath cliff. which it is h ey o n d m v pow er Io describe, she dies .in ch iM b i^ ^ b ean n g a premature_chilcL A11d J n .the histo;IY-of that child_^mily_.B^onté picks up h er broken pieces . and makes .her sgcon.d_attempt_at redem ption. W hat has happened to the first quaternity? W hy are th ere only broken pieces left? This quaternity seem s to have been form ed around C atherine’s consciousness o f the value o f H eathcliff being “m ore herself than she is.” Perhaps we could say that H eathcliff was the inferior function, and that while C atherine held firmly to this “most despised thing,” h er consciousness form ed a m agnetic light that attracted the two auxiliary functions: Edgar Linton and his sister Isabella. H eathcliff himself, who idolized C atherine with the whole force o f his passionate nature, admits that “they w ere full o f stupid adm iration” for her,, and Nelly D ean com pares C atherine to a thorn tree and the two Lintons to honeysuckle plants em bracing the tree. But when C atherine allowed the col­ lective point o f view to eclipse this consciousness, it fell into the unconscious, and Isabella Linton, as shadow, imm ediately seized upon it and pursued H eathcliff on h er own account. T h e individ­ ual effort had becom e the shadow plot, which naturally w recked this first quaternity and th e initial attem pt at individuation. W e are now con cern ed with the second attem pt, with the secon d quaternity, w hich I have underlined h ere in red. It is an interesting fa c t-th at the heroine o f this p art o f the book is also called Catherine, but it is exceedingly confusing from a practical point o f view. She was, however, called “Cathy,” so I thought we had b e tte r adopt this name in ord er to form a distinction from h er mother, our original Catherine, whom we m eet again at the en d o f the book. T he next chapters are concerned with the long childhood o f Cathy Linton at Thrushcross Grange. This part o f the book,


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though the weakest from a literary point o f view, is interesting in being a far m ore comp^^aitempLtb:Lpradncee__a_whQleJemk nine b ein& .C athy is_a combinat ion o f her,_mQiher and _her aunt Is .a e lla .__.She. is.Jugh=spiriled,_c.a.urageo.us,„l!nd beayJi£uL_JB.ut. unlike her_mother, she-is_often . a f r i d and„can„be...yecy_ .deceitful indrnean,She-has-thequaUtyoffrr^^mess,..but.it.is.alwaysjS..ubordinated±o,her.fem inine purpose. T he form o f W uthering H eights depends mainly on a network o f interrelations. Looked at from the point o f view of cause and effect, these seem to be haphazard and unaccountable, leading only to a senseless cruelty, suffering, and loss o f life. But the energic or final point o f view sheds m ore light upon them . The conclusion o f the book then appears as a m agnet, drawing all o f the threads together, and the story falls into a purposeful and serene pattern. The counterm ovem ent, that is, H eathcliffs plan of revenge, is seen most clearly when regarded from the point o f view o f cause and effect. Already in his youth he works out how to possess all the property both o f his oppressor and “brother” Hindley Earnshaw and o f his rival E dgar Linton, and as an adult he faithfully adheres to this plan o f retribution. It is not essential in so short a synopsis to describe H eath cliffs vengeance regarding Hindley Earnshaw . It will suffice to say that C atherin es daughter C athy Linton grows up, and H eathcliff becom es the owner o f W uthering H eights, employing as his ploughboy H areton Earnshaw, Hindleys son. (And on ce again retribution is achieved.) Isabella dies, and h er son, Linton Heathcliff, also com es to live at W uthering Heights. Heathcliff now turns his attention to working out his retri­ bution on E d gar Linton. H e could not, however, have carried through with this plan had it not been for Cathy Linton’s plot. She played into his hands again and again. T he chapters which begin with her adolescence are an excellent picture o f the way the animus seizes on the threads o f a wom an’s plot and wea ves them into his plan. H e knows his goal while h er purpose is unconscious; he follows a settled pattern, she a rom antic inclination.


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C ath y h ad a rom antic inclination fQor the sicklX,. puls.m gLinton H eathcliff. It is just a sort o f :-,;veak f a n c y b u t into this.farrcy she pours a:whole_plot. This plot, like. most. female plots,_hasits.fim ^clfilnetaLbasis in th e .archet)!p..je.jD£±he_umon o£.the.opposites and th e b jr th o f a child. I have ceased to be surprised at the hooks such plots are hung on, but it would be difficult to find a m ore unsuitable hook than Linton H eath cliff This is a different type o f plot than that o f C athy’s mother. W ith Catherine we had the shadow pursuing th e real object, and h ere we have the shadow pursuing th e unreal ob ject . ..C athyreallydeeplyloyes. her.lather. E d g a r L inton. H e. naturally enou gh ih as forbidden h e r t o g o. to W nthering Heights or to hold. a n y com m unication with H eathcli f f o r hisson. Yet such is the m ag n elicfo rce o fsu ch a plot: Cathy deneiveg- disobeys. and, one can almost sav. wminds h er father to.. d e a th Jn .ordertQ.jcantinu.e her . so-called _“roín an ce.” This naturally suits H eathcliffs plan, for if Cathy m arries his dying son, all o f the Linton property :will eventually fall into his hands. C athy.uncQ nscipusof her ploJLand filled with philanthropiç. plans .for. the.w.elfare.oLth§_poor invalid, falls into H eathcliffs snare. O nce m ore Em ily B ron te throws h er .story..into th e.m eltin g . pot, but Cathy does n o th r e a k h e r e but stays. aliye, .M ive,hut.not m u c h m ore, for.j.er_fath er,an d .hr.h\ji^.ll;)and^^^a:^ _-d^(;!jai.dl H eath cliíf has w orked his rev e n g e .. anthCathy..finds, herself.. his :widowed daughter-indaw,,?-prisoner atJrhe.HeightS and entirely d ependent on nieathcliffs charity. Cathy’s m em ories o f h er fathers and husbands deathbeds, com plicated by th e incredible cruelties o f Heathcliff, b u m her day and night as she chafes against h er im prisonment and dependence. H ad she followed in her m others footsteps, she might have escaped by marrying the rich Mr. Lockwood, who was now tenant of th e G range. But, one could say, she remains voluntarily in the retort; and slowly the childishness and rebellion are burnt away and she accepts h er all but intolerable fate. H er cousin, H areton Earnshaw, Hindley’s son, is still living at the Heights and working for H eathcliff as a farmhand. H eathcliff


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himself, speaking to Nelly D ean, says: “H areton is gold put to the use o f paving stones.” And, in h er new attitude of acceptance, Cathy discovers the gold under the ignorance and boorishness that had hopelessly repelled her before. She sets herself the task o f educating H areton and o f liberating him from his burden of ;inferiority and ignorance. But when H eathcliff becom es aware of this, he says to her: “I f I see H areton Earnshaw listen to you, I’U send him to beg his bread where he can get it. Your love will make him an outcast and a beggar.” By their human efforts.alone, Catby. and-H.ar.eton,. could not h aveb rok en Jle.atb<;:Mfs_.p®0er,_But..the..divine-aid-noW".p,pe.ara), withoutwhich_the.alche.mists..say.tbat.. tbe-wor-kcan.never.h.e_completed. T w en tyyearsb efore, w h en Catherine .di12d,the.despairi:Q.g_ Heathcliff says:

“And I pray one prayer—I repeat it till my tongue stiffens— Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living! You said I killed you—haunt me, then! The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe— I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always— take any form— drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!”15 This prayer is now granted, and C atherine, always in the background, draws H eathcliffs interest entirely away from all material things. H e says to Nelly Dean:

“An absurd termination to my violent exertions? . . . My old enemies have not beaten me; now would be the precise time to revenge myself on their representatives— I could do it, and none could hinder me. But where is the use? I don’t care for striking, I can’t take the trouble to raise my hand! That sounds as if I had been labouring the whole time, only to exhibit a fine trait of magnanimity. It is far from being the 1 5 . B r o n te , Wutheríng Heights, pp. 16^3-64.


The Brontes and Modern Women

case— I have lost the faculty of enjoying their destruction, and I am too idle to destroy for nothing.”16 W h at has happened h e re ? W hy has H eathcliff lost his wish to destroy? H e has, as h e him self says, “ . . . ground with the greater energy in proportion to the increase o f pain.” Perh aps-w^-could

He has not torturcd ..f'or...tortures ..sakn-but- m-order. to destrovall that is destructible and to produce the. indestmetiblfi.. “For whom the Lord loveth he chastenenth” (Hebrews 12:6). But when C athy aç£epts_her_p^^^th.e_inG©ntüe_disappears-, Heathcliffs task i s completed,_and he.is_freejto,xejom_.CatherineJn..th&beyond. C atherine’s sin has evidently been redeem ed. W e saw that she allowed the collective point of view to overcom e her, but what then has Cathy’s attitude b een toward H eathcliff? H e him self says to her: “To you I have been worse than the devil.” W hen Cathy m arries Linton, the son o f H eathcliff and Isabella, and goes to live at W uthering Heights, Nelly D ean reports with horror: “She seem ed to make up h er mind to en ter into the spirit of h er ffuure family and to draw pleasure from the griefs of h er enem ies.” This is an unusually intelligent attitude. F o r as we know, the b est way o f understanding anything is to find the corresponding place in yourself. She carries this attitude a step further through h er love for H areton Earnshaw. H areton had been brought up by H eathcliff and had never questioned his position. Cathy was anxious to enlighten him, but he tells h er that he “will not suffer a word to be uttered in H eathcliffs disparagement, it does not signify [that] if he w ere the devil, he [H areton] would stand by him .” And Nelly D ean adds: “I don’t believe Cathy has ever b reath ed a syllable in H areton's hearing against h er oppressor 1 6 . Ib id ., p . 3 0 6 . 1 7 . [Deus absconditus: a lc h e m ic a l te r m fo r th e g o d h id d e n i n m a tte r. I n G r e e k m y th olo gy a n d alch em y , th is is th e d iv in e N ou s w h o c o m e s dow n to P h y sis a n d is lo st in h e r e m b ra c e . T h e m y stery o f th e g o d w h o h as b e c o m e p h y sical u n d e rlie s t h e lap is o f cla ssica l a lc h e m y an d m an y o th e r sp iritu al m a n ifesta tio n s o f H e lle n is tic s y u cretism . S e e C . G . Ju n g , ‘T h e V isio n s o fZ o s im o s ” ( 1 9 5 4 ), in CW, vol. 13 (P r in c e to n , N .J.: P r in c e to n U n iv ersity P re s s , 1 9 6 7 ) , par. 1 3 8 . Ed.]


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since.” H areton is a sort o f Parsifal figure, beyond the opposites, the stone which does not know it is the stone. It is through him that Cathy learns to see the positive side o f Heathcliff. Catherine. e____.appears m ore— and —m o re__distinctly__b efum H eathcliffs..eyes. _He_ forgets_ to ea t, _and fmally he forgets to Jbreathe as heJiu.i^]de.stowaric1Jier^ thrQughjhe,.gates_QfjJ;:j|Jth ...T h e lands are thus restored to their hereditary owners, th e opposites o f H eathcliff and C atherine are united in the beyond in the unconscious, and the opposites o f H areton and Cathy are united on earth in consciousness. This is an individuation process which takes place in the unconscious, a state clearly found in a verse o f Em ily B ron tes poem , “My C om forter”: So stood I, in Heavens glorious sun, And in the glare of Hell; My spirit drank a mingled tone, Of seraph’s song, and demon’s moan; What my soul ^ r e , my soul alone Within itself may tell!18 The opposites tear her soul, her psyche apart. It is not happening to her conscious but to her unconscious personality. Thus we are forced to the conclusion that Em ily Bronte herself had no idea o f the psychological significance o f what she had written in W uthering Heights, but rather that the story was written, so to speak, through her and not by her. In conclusion I should like to quote a short extract from Charlotte Brontes “Biographical N otice” o f her sister, Emily, because I think it well shows that such a process,- even when entirely unconscious, must be dimly reflected in the conscious personality: The details of her illness are deep-branded in my memoty, but to dwell on them, either in thought or narrative, is not in my power. Never in all her life had she lingered over any 18. B r o n te , The Complete Poems, p. 3 0 .


The Brontes and Modern Women

task that lay before her, and she did not linger now. She sank rapidly. She made haste to leave us. Yet, while physically she perished, mentally she grew stronger than we had yet known her. Day by day, when I saw with what a front she met suf­ fering, I looked on her with an anguish of wonder and love. I have seen nothing like it; but, indeed, I have never seen her parallel in anything. Stronger than a man, simpler than a child, her nature stood alone.19

1 9 . B r o n te , Wuthering Heights, p . xlviii.


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Victim1

o f the Creative Spirit

A Contri6 utw n to the P.1ychofogy o f the B ron t& from the Jungian P o in t o f View

Editor's Note: The following essay is based on Barbara Hannah's typed and hand-corrected manuscript as well as its subsequent pub­ lication following her lecture at the Guild of Pastoral Psychology. The style of this essay, which differs somewhat from the previous essay on the Brontes, is maintained according to the Guild publication.

Thee, ever-present, phantom thing; My slave, my comrade, and my king, Speak, God o f visions, plead fo r ■me, And tell why I have chosen thee!

—Emily Bronte, “Plead for Me”

I n t r o d u c t io n

W hen I first considered the enormous am ount of material which lies at our disposal when speaking o f the Bronte family, and then o f the vast field of Jungian psychology, I frankly own that I bitterly regretted my foolhardiness in venturing to say anything of the form er from the standpoint o f the latter in so short a space. However, having com m itted m yself to this venture, I will attem pt to limit the field to one single aspect in order to reduce the risk o f getting lost in our material.

1


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Perhapsthe-m ostinteresting-aspect-o£the-Brontes__from -the standpoint of Jungian psychology is th eir relation to the collec-tive unconscious, G erhard Adler recently pointed out that “the concepts of the collective unconscious and the archetypes are still open to considerable misunderstanding.”1 The readers of these jEuild pamphlets are probably familiar with these term s, so I will only briefly rem ind them that the term collective unconscious refers to the com m on foundation o f th e psyche below all per­ sonal differences or repressed material. In “Analytical Psychology and W eltanschauung,” Jung says that it is “the mighty deposit of ancestral experience accum ulated over millions of years.”2 And further: “The unconscious is not m erely conditioned by history, but is the very source of the creative im pulse.”3 Jung has com ­ pared the archetypes to the “axial system which determ ines only the . . . structure but not the con crete form of the individual crystal.”4 The archetypes have no m aterial existence of their own but are the great formative influences in hum an fate. The archetype itself is beyond our com prehension, but we can apprehend its reality by the images and symbols which it produces. The collective unconscious is the sum total o f all the archetypes and therefore the basic structure of all our psychic reactions. My particular interest in the Bronte material is that it comes from the psychology of women and thus gives us an exceptional opportunity to study the collective unconscious as it appears in feminine psychology.5 Jung’s concept o f the animus, that.is, the 1. Gerhard Adler, “A Contribution of Clinical Material,” British Journal o f Medicai Psychology 22 (1949): 16-22. 2. C. G. Jung, “Analytical Psychology and Weltanschauung” (1931), in CW'. vol. 8 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1969), par. 729. 3. C. G. Jung, “The Structure of the Psyche” (1931), in CW, vol. 8 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1969), par. 339. [Jung discusses the creative impulse and the collective unconscious in detail in “Psychology and Literature” (1950), in CW, vol. 15 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1966), pars. 158ff. Ed.] 4. C. G. Jung, “Psychological Aspects of the Mother Archetype” (1954), in CW, vol. 9i (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1968), par. 155. 5. [The four Bronte children who published were Charlotte, born in 1816; Patrick Branwell, born in 1817; and their sisters Emily and Anne, born in 1818 and 1820. In 1820, the Bronte family moved to Haworth. Mrs. Bronte died the following year; the two eldest daughters, Maria and Elizabeth, died in 1824; Emily and Branwell died in 1848; Anne died in 1849; and Charlotte died in 1854. Ed.]


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im age o f th e masculine spirit or unconscious mind of woman, appears here in a particularly interesting way. T he aninJJL ofien acts _like a “possessing demon,:_„especially-in-wrom ^^whQ_ane unconscious o f his existence. B u t,in th e _ case _o f .creative. w om en, he can also be a sort oO collaborator between..the.woman.and.,!‘the Very^o^!!!fJ!_ofthecreative imp_111sLs:in,the.colJ,e(:;tiye, unconscious.6 Bv the ti^m a m m u s - T..understand-the_m asculin^^pirií„or unconscious mind o f woman. The anima, as is well kno^wn, is Jung’s term for th e fem in in e soul o f man. B u t it is really a contradiction in térm s to speak o f the animus as the m asculine soul o f w om an. (This erro r was m ade in th e early days o f Jungian psy­ chology and is still often done today.) In L atin. .tha.word. animus m eans intellect- memoI)', consciousness, character, and ..spirit; it is often equated with “m ind” and is_ als.o_used_^!D^.JJ1 ean_courage_. vivacítv. brave :ry..,__ and will. In Jungian_psycholo^t it is used primarily to denote. _the phenome:rion o f .“sp iriC in women,„a:n.d the con trast betw een the feminine so u l (anima) an d .th e.m asçu Hne spirit .í animus) gives,_,us_.a-valuable. hi n t a s to !:he dífference betw een these two figures.7 M ost of the com parative material from the past that Jung uses in his books com es from masculine psychology. D irect material from the past that is actually supplied by w om en is not so very abundant. T h ere are indeed considerable fields that have hardly y et been touched upon, such as the psychology o f wom en saints, particularly the mystics, but h ere we are somewhat handicapped by th e fact that th e m aterial has usually been edited (naturally by m en). St. Theresa o f Avila, for instance, says at the beginning of th e prologue to h er autobiography that she wishes that she had been allowed to speak distinctly and in detail o f her “grievous sins and wicked life.”8 And in a letter w ritten by Juan o f Avila— 6. [On the animus as mediator between the conscious and the unconscious, see C. G. Jung, “Psychological Aspects of the Kore” (1951), in CW, vol. 9i (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1968), par. 350. See also Jungs early description of the animus in “Mind and Earth” (1931), in CW, vol. 10 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1964), pars. 80-92. E d ] 7. [See Barbara Hannah's essay, ‘T h e Problem of Contact with the Animus,” in this volume. Ed.] 8. [St. Theresa of Avila, Spain (1515-1582) was a highly popular Roman Catholic mystic and


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who reports on this autobiography during St. Theresas life— he writes: “This book is not fit to be in the hands o f everybody, for it is necessary to correct the language in som e places and explain it in others.” W ithout criticizing this attitude, I should like to point out that it gives a one-sided picture, the whole emphasis being set C/fi the light while the shadow is missing. W e m eet with the reverse of this picture in another field full o f valuable material, namely, the history o f witches. This material has again been edited by the Inquisitors and others so that in this case it is often only the dark that has been left to us. To a certain extent this was no doubt deserved, but it is obvious that it lowers the value o f the material from the standpoint o f the m odem psychologist. W ith the Brontes, on the other hand, there has been little or no such editing. No enthusiastic biographer could explain away the dark side o f W uthering H eights or, for that matter, o f Ja n e E y re or The Tenant o f Wildfell Hall . . . to say nothing o f the rem arkable events in what Fannie R atchford calls “the com plete­ ly amoral world o f Angria.”9 Thus the Brontes w ere writing well before us with their genepal human heritage o f darkness and light.

DANGERS AND ADVANTAGES O F AN O P E N DO O R TO T H E C o l l e c t i v e U n c o n s c io u s

The story o f the childhood o f th e Brontes is well kno^^. The Brontes’ hom e was at the parsonage in H aw orth.10 Gaskell .writes that th e traveler on his way to th e village of Haworth can see it to

miles b efore he arrives, “for it is situated on the side o f a

monastic reformer. See The Life o f Saint Teresa ofAvila by Herself J. M. Cohen, trans. (New York: Penguin, 1988); see also The Life o f Teresa o f Jesus: The Autobiography o f Teresa o f Avila, E. A. Peers, ed. and trans. (New York: Image, 1991). Ed.] 9. [Angria was a kingdom on the coast of Africa that the four Bronte children founded in their fantasy games. Later, Branwell and Charlotte continued with the Angrian Chronicles; Emily and Anne founded their own kingdom on the islands of Gonda! and Gaaldine. Fannie E. Ratchford, The Brontes Web o f Childhood: The Miscellaneous and Unpublished Writings o f Charlotte and Patrick Branwell Bronte (New York: Columbia University Press, 1941), pp. 93 and 102; see also Charlotte Bronte, Tales o f Angria (London: Penguin Classics, 2006) . Ed.]

10. [Their house in Haworth, close to Leeds just northwest of Bradford, is now open to the public as a museum and library. Ed.]


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pretty steep hill, with a background o f dun and purple m oors, rising and sweeping away yet higher than th e church, which is built at the very summit o f the long narrow street.” Subsistence farming o f a few acres along with “take-in” from the moors was com bined with hand-loom weaving or wool com bing. This dom estic system o f w orsted m anufacture was changing to factory production with w ater-pow ered machinery. The mills built from 1 7 9 0 along the river w ere well established when the Bronte family arrived. O ther occupations included quarrying and building and crafts, but' th ere w ere few professional people. Baptist and W esleyan chapels flourished, and together with the church, provided the village with education and a focus for social life. Gaskell further notes that there w ere no sewers; the w ater supply, polluted and inadequate, contributed to a high mortality rate. T h ere w ere 1 ,3 4 4 burials in the churchyard betw een 1 8 4 0 and 185 0 and the average age at death was twenty-five years.11 Against these m ortality figures, the Bronte deaths w ere unremarkable. During the Bronte period, Haworth was a crowded industrial township located not far from the p resent city of Leeds. The population doubled betw een 1801 and 1851 to some 3 ,4 0 0 souls. T h ere the Reverend Patrick Bronte served as curate from 1820 until his death in 1861, outliving his wife and all o f his children, and th ere his extraordinary daughters and son lived and died. Their mother, Maria, passed away in 182 1; little is known of h er life. T he children’s m other died o f ca n ce r when the eldest child, Maria, was only eight years old. This event is o f th e utm ost im portance, for the children lacked th e m aternal earth th at is indispensable for providing a rooted existence in the ou ter world. T herefore their father was the dom inant figure in their lives and was an influence that can hardly be overestim ated. His wild Irish tem p eram en t can never have fitted very smoothly into his parson’s coat, to which his well-known habit o f firing pistols out o f the back door (or, in oth er versions, his bedroom window) bears witness. And in his later years, C harlotte could always drive out his bad moods and depressions by describing the strange weap11. [Forty-one percent of infants died before reaching their sixth birthday. Ed.]


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ons at the London armory. In a discussion in Zürich not long ago, Jung em phasized that the child whose parents failed in developing their creative side has to carry a particularly heavy burden. I own that I suspect both the Bronte parents o f having com m itted this "sin” against their children. Old Mr. B ronte w rote poems, put he seems to have taken little trouble to develop this side of himself. Charlotte was immensely struck by h er m oth ers letters, written to Mr. Bronte during their engagem ent. Moreover, Mrs. Bronte wrote an essay on "The Advantage o f Poverty in Religious C oncerns,” which was first published som e eighty years after h er death (unfortunately I have not yet been able to get hold o f this docum ent). 12 At all events, an urge to express themselves by drawing or writing certainly took possession o f all four children who survived, an urge that expressed itself at an awfully early age. Jung has d ra^n attention in many places to the fact that children pass the first years of their lives am ong the images of the col­ lective unconscious (see, for exam ple, his sem inar on children’s dream s).13 W e find the sam e idea in oth er places, for instance, in W ordsw orths "Intimations of Im m ortality.”14 This poem contains a description— founded, as the poet says, on recollections of his own childhood— o f the very process that Jung describes 12. [In the collection at the Brotherton Library, University of Leeds, one can get a glimpse of Maria Bronte s religious thinking in the apparently unpublished manuscript of her somewhat severe essay on “The Advantage of Poverty in Religious Concerns,” which finds spiritual gain in material loss. Their mother writes: “What is poverty . . . Nothing—or rather a something which, with the assistance, and blessing of our Gracious Master, will greatly promote our spiritual welfare, and tend to increase, and strengthen our efforts to gain that Land of pure delight.” Francis O’Gorman, “Editorial Introduction: 'Gaskell and the Brontes, Literary Manuscripts of Elizabeth Gaskell (1810-1865) and the Brontes from the Brotherton Library, University of Leeds (Wiltshire: Adam Matthew Publications, n.d., ^^w. adam-matthew-publications.co.uk). O’Gorman notes that the “Land of pure delight” was not the parsonage of Haworth, which suffered severe impoverished conditions. Ed.] 13. C. G. Jung, Kindertraum Seminar, Winter 1940-1941 (Zurich: Schippert and Co.). 14. William Wordsworth (1770-1850). The opening stanza of his 536th Ode, titled “Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood,” offers a good descrip­ tion of the archetypal world of the collective unconscious typical of childhood: “There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, I The earth, and every common sight, f To me did seem, I ApparelTd in celestial light, I The glory and the freshness of a dream. I It is not now as it hath been of yore;— I Tum wheresoeer I may, I By night or day, I The things which I have seen I now can see no more.” Ed.]


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in m ore scientific language as leaving the images o f the collec­ tive unconscious in ord er to grow up into the adult duties o f the outside world. T he little Bronte girls— left mainly to their own devices after their m oth ers death— lived almost entirely among the images o f the collective unconscious. One o f their greatest pleasures was roam ing about the moors, which seem ed to them , as to W ordsworth, “apparell’d in celestial light, th e glory and the freshness of a dream .” They lived, as is well lmown, in an imaginary world of their own. 15 They lived in this world together and strengthened each other in remaining with the collective images long after th e age that other children have forgotten all about them in the excitem ent o f gam es, school, and so on. All readers of the early works o f the Brontes know that Charlotte and Branwell shared a life in Angria until after they w ere grown up. Em ily and Anne w ent on still longer with the so-called “Gondal C hronicles.” T here are references in both Em ily’s and A nnes “birthday notes,” written in 18 4 5 , showing that they w ere still sharing a life in Gondal at that tim e, namely, a few years before their early ^ a th s . The writing career o f the Brontes began when they w ere chil­ dren in th e composition o f miniature books entailing volumes of tales and adventures closely transcribed in tiny handwriting so as to be illegible to their aunt and father. It was only Em ily who maintained this script into h er adult years, a minute, cram ped hand readable practically only w th a magnifying glass, a script that signaled the private world of Gondal. Gondal was the imaginary realm o f desire, adventure, and struggle that Em ily invented as a child with h er sister Anne and that she preserved as a narrative and poetic framework into her adult work. In contrast to the other, m ale-dom inated imaginary worlds invented by the young Brontes, Gondal was a world ruled by powerful and treacherous female figures. The “Gondal Chronicles”— prose stories com posed by Em ily and Anne as the narrative o f the saga— are now unfortunately lost, but the poem s survive.16 15. Ratchford, The Brontes’ Web o f Childhood. 16. [Steven Vine, “Emily Bronte” (2001), Literary Encyclopedia, http://^^w.litencyc.com. Ed.]


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This continued connection with the figures o f the collective unconscious was indeed their greatest pleasure and is perhaps the main reason for the extraordinary interest o f the m aterial from the standpoint o f Jungian psychology. B u t from the point o f view of the Brontes them selves, it also represented a great danger. / T h ere is a so-called “dream -story” o f C h arlottes th at depicts their position vividly. I am not sure o f its date, but this fragm ent certainly belongs to h er juvenile period and, from internal evidence, m ust have been founded on an actual dream . She writes that she was in the “Mines o f C racon e,” under th e floor o f the sea.

But in the midst of all this magnificence I felt an indescribable sense of fear and terror, for the sea raged above us, and by the awful and tumultuous noises of roaring winds and dashing waves, it seemed as if the storm was violent. And now the massy pillars groaned beneath the pressure of the ocean, and the glittering arches seemed about to be overwhelmed. When I heard the rushing waters and saw a mighty flood rolling towards me I gave a loud shriek of terror.” The dream changes: I am in a desert full of barren rocks and high mountains, where I see “by the light of his own fiery eyes a royal lion rousing himself from his kingly slumbers. His terrible eye was fixed upon me, and the desert rang, and the rocks echoed with the tremendous roar of fierce delight which he uttered as he sprang towards me.”17 The first p art o f this dream story gives a vivid picture o f the situation that Jung describes as the danger o f being overwhelmed by the collective unconscious of which the sea is one o f the most frequent symbols. O f all the “perils o f th e soul,” this is the greatest one that confronts our weak ego-consciousness. W hen the collec­ tive unconscious breaks in and com pletely submerges conscious­ ness, the result is, as a rule, psychosis or death. 17. May Sinclair, The Three Brontes (London: Hutschinson, 1914), pp. 101f. [The full text is also available on the Internet from Project Gutenberg e-books. Ed.]


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W e see from this dream picture the enormous danger to which the Brontes w ere exposed. Charlotte does not even have an island to stand on, she is under the sea, and the roof is groaning under the weight of th e waters. It even seems to have given way som ew here, for she hears the roiling waters and sees a mighty flood advancing tow ard her. As often happens in dream s, when an impossible impasse is reach ed , then th ere is an enantiodromia, that is, the situation turns into its own opposite. T he desert is indeed another symbol o f the collective uncon­ scious, and the lion is rushing tow ard h er as the waves w ere before. But the situation has b ecom e m ore differentiated. Instead o f being u n d e r the sea, she is on the earth. And whereas the waves represent th e totality o f th e unconscious, the lion is already a dif­ ferentiated symbol o r im age. In analyzing a similar dream in his sem inar on children’s dream s, Jung calls the lion the im age o f the instinctive life in a particularly fiery form that cannot possibly be controlled by the child.18 T he goddess Kali has teeth like a beast o f prey and is often represented as riding on a lion. T he lion rep­ resents th e m onth o f August in the zodiac when all vegetation is burnt up by the sun, a symbol em phasized in C harlottes dream by th e desert. 19 Mrs. Gaskell tells us that “Charlotte w atched over h er younger sisters with the jealous vigilance o f som e wild creature that chang­ es h er very nature if danger threatens h er young. ”20 The death of h er m other and then o f h er two elder sisters left Charlotte, at the age o f nine, in the impossible role o f being a m other when she had hardly experienced having a m oth er herself. It is no wonder that h er instinctive life would take on such a threatening form. In the second, som ew hat m ore positive dream picture, we see that a situation o f the utm ost danger is again portrayed. T he lion roars indeed with fierce delight, but we are left in doubt as to w hether this is a roar o f w elcom e or one o f joy when spotting a providen18. Jung, Kindertraum Seminar; pp. 28-35. 19. [For a detailed discussion on the symbol of the lion, see Barbara Hannah, The Archetypal Synibolism o f Animais (Wilmette, IIL: Chiron Publications, 2006), pp. 26^ 343. Ed.] 20. Elizabeth Gaskell, The Life o f Charlotte Bronte (London: Smith, Elder and Co., 1857).


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tial meal appearing in the arid desert. And nothing seem s to be provided for the dream er but the desert; no food, no shade, and no companionship. This dream actually foreshadows C h arlottes whole fate: She will either be overwhelmed by the waves o f the unconscious or ^ e must m eet the wild passionate animal in herself, as helpless as a child, with h er b are hands. And like th e hero in the myths, she finds herself cu t off from hum an companionship as in a desert. It is a grim and appalling choice. H er life tells us that she chose the latter alternative and paid the full price. I think we can take this dream o f C h arlottes as depicting not only her own situation but also, to a great extent, that of h er broth­ er and sisters. At any rate, w e shall not go far wrong if we assume that they w ere all in a situation w here th e sea o f the unconscious might close over them at any time. W e g et hints o f this danger in their books. I m ention, for instance, th e first Mrs. R och ester in Ja n e E y r e who was a lunatic with a frenzied determ ination to set the house on fire, suggesting here a wild, passionate nature p refigured in the roaring lion. This figure is also foreshadowed in h er earlier writings. T he elder C atherine in W uthering H eights also had fits o f frenzy, and it was in part C h arlottes unstable mental health that brought about an early death. Fortunately the healthy elem ents in the books predom inate as they did in the Bronte wom en themselves. I have called th is je c tu r e “Victims o f the Creative_ Spirit," h u L L m igh t4u stasw © ll, have_ called it “R esçued ^

the ..Creative

-Spirit," as - h e - -creative- sp irifcd ik e e v e ry other.. manifestation_ of th e„^ ^ o n sciou s— is-.dual, .. negative-and-positive,... d€-monic.„and divine.. .It was. .tQ-0..Lm uchfo:,.theJrail.bQ díes o f the :eronte s ,.it was to o . dem onic,__too inhuman, too pos.S.essive jto_:Q.Qtice th a t it.was destro^ng the yesseH t.fille.d-B u t, on the_other handr these~hints of insanity in. .their.-b.Qoks as w ell as. .the_.fate_o£_Br.anwelL.teach us how much worsetheiLdes.tiny_.co11ld , .h a v e . heen.without th eir creative. work. I recently saw a similar psychic constellation in the case o f a young artist who had let her creative work slip and allowed


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her whole energy to pour into a love affair. W hen this cam e to a rath er bad conclusion, it looked as if an earlier suicidal tendency m ight reassert itself beyond control. B ut fortunately, it was the creative spirit that reasserted itself, and she painted a long and amazingly interesting series o f pictures based on visions and dream s quite unlike her form er work. O f course she suffered a great deal, but at least it kept her afloat during the worst tim e of readjustm ent . . . to say nothing o f the psychoanalytic value o f the pictures them selves.

B r a n w e l l B r o n t e ( 1 8 1 7 —18 48 )

W e can learn a similar lesson from the fate o f Branwell.21 H e was regarded as the m ost gifted, as the very genius of the family. This gift and this conviction w ere his misfortune, for it is very difficult to live up to such expectations. Branwell B ronte was the fourth o f the six Bronte children. As th e only Bronte son, Branwell was slated to be successful and provide support for his sisters. H e was a nftural scholar yet received no formal education, although he was tutored in the classics by his father. Branwell also received painting lessons, and in 1838 he set out to be a portrait painter. H e indulged in the composition o f Gondal stories with his sisters, produced several volumes of his own work, and also enjoyed writing with Charlotte. O f a similarly gifted psychic disposition as his sisters— and a poet as well— his path in life was m ore hapless. H e becam e prone to indulgence in alcohol and opium, was dismissed from one position after the next, and am assed considerable debts. After a lengthy period of mental decline, he died o f chronic bronchitis and pulmonary tuberculosis at the age o f thirty-one. But his real trouble seems to have been that he— unlike his sisters— was somewhat lazy and self-indulgent. Carlyle defined genius in Frederick the Great as an “infinite capacity for taking trouble,” and such an attitude is certainly th e best defense against 21. See Victor A, Neufeldt, The Works o f Patrick Branwell Bronte, vol. 1 (New York: Garland Publishing, 1997).


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the invasion o f the dem onic side o f the creative urge. Branwell undoubtedly lacked this defense, perhaps because th e loss of his m other— bad as it was for the girls— was possibly even more disastrous for him. Jung has pointed out that men can usually w eather disasters that com e from the outside world b etter than ,women, but that m en m ore often fall victim to moods which com e from within. This is indeed obvious in th e very term s anim a and anim us. The interm ediary figure betw een a m an and th e collective unconscious is feminine, naturally a frailer figure than the masculine counterpart in women. M oreover, the anima in her role o f Maya, the world, is always trying to entangle a man in the outside world, whereas the animus tries to cu t a woman out o f her natural eras entanglements with h er environment and to direct her attention to the inner world and to th e animus himself. W hereas the animus, particularly in the case o f Emily, proved a strong bulwark against the waves o f the threatening collec­ tive unconscious, the anima, in the case o f Branwell, apparently attem pted to solve the problem according to h er nature by entangling him in the world. She eventually becam e projected onto Mrs. Robinson, the wife o f his employer. Mrs. Robinson was a woman who, incapable o f carrying the projection, took it personally. 22 Not that one can judge her for that, but still there have been women who— although they knew no psychology— have somehow instinctively realized that they w ere a m ere transitory vessel and that it was the young m an’s soul that was at stake. I rem ind the reader, for instance, o f B ernard Shaw’s Candida, who played this role to perfection in the case of young Marchbank. And in real life, o f M adam e Berny, who was so helpful to the young Balzac in this resp ect.23 22. [Barbara Hannah notes: When the anima; the feminine soul of man, is not realized as a psychic reality, the whole magic and fascination of the archetype usually appears projected onto some real woman. The attraction of the latter thus becomes irresistible to the man, for she is not only a woman but becomes a goddess in his eyes. And also: It is evident that if a woman such as Mrs. Robinson could see that a young man such as Branwell was at bottom in search of his own soul, she would be in a much stronger position and more capable of dealing with the situation. Unfortunately vanity can be a great misleader in this respect. Ed.] 23. [The French novelist Honore de Balzac (1799-1859) met Laure de Berny in 1821 when he gave lessons to her son. Laure was twenty-three years older than Balzac. Their


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In order to deal with the outside world at all, a man needs roots, and h ere Branwell was probably hopelessly handicapped from the start. A verse in one o f his poem s gives us perhaps the key:

And often has my mother said, ^While on her lap I laid my head, She feared for time I was not made, But for etemity.24 T he first carrier of the anima figure for m en ;is naturally the m other, and this aspect o f Branwells anima seems to have fol­ lowed his actual m other into the beyond so that one might almost say he had had little chance from the beginning. I must own that my interest in Branwell is o f rather recen t date, but I think he would be worth further study from the point o f view of the dif­ feren t reactions o f the animus and anima to the circumstances involving the collective unconscious.25

ANNE B r o n t e (1 8 2 0 -1 8 4 9 )

T h e animus, as the spirit o f the unconscious mind of wom an, is characterized by opinions that naturally go beside the m ark and which are, as Jung has often pointed out, peculiarly irritating, especially to a man. Like every other manifestation of the unconscious, this exceedingly negative m echanism has also its positive side, for these readym ade opinions som etim es catch up the m ani­ festation of the unconscious and prevent it from sweeping away a too weak consciousness. W e can observe a typical reaction o f the animus to the threatening waves o f the unconscious in the case liaison—considered by some to be outrageous—lasted some twelve years. Laure freed young Balzac from his oppressing family and inspired, encouraged, and supported him with the writing of his novels. Barbara Hannah notes that she owes this reference from a lecture on Balzac to Aniela Jaffé. Ed. ] 24. Gaskell, The Life o f Charlotte Bronte, vol. 1, p. 165. 25. [Barbara Hannah pursued this study of Branwell and also of Anne Bronte in her book Striving Towards Wholeness, pp, 148-64. Ed.]


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o f Anne.26 He built, as it w ere, a wall o f opinions around her and caught the dual, paradoxical nature of th e unconscious in a net, w here he sorted it out into right and wrong, you should or you shouldn’t, and so on before he allowed it to actually approach her. In contrast to her sisters, her books contain little of the collective /unconscious p er se. W e cannot learn m uch of direct value to our them e from them and, as they contain next to nothing o f the magic o f the unconscious, they would probably have been long forgotten w ere it not for the connection to h er sisters. All th e same, they are o f im m ense indirect value to our them e, and, like Branwell, they might well b e worth further investigation. Another point about Anne that should not be overlooked is that she must have been an im m ense com fort to h er m ore brilliant sisters. Emily, in particular, undoubtedly owed a great deal to Anne’s unfailing patience and tact. One m ore or less com m onplace m em ber was really a necessity to such an unusually gifted family.

'

C h a r l o t t e B r o n t e ( 1 8 1 6 — 18 5 4 )

Ryhuilding up a.life in th e outside world. Charlotte seem s to me to bl:l. the, only Bronte who made. a.real and. su stam ed .effort.to m eet the fJood.of images from the unconscious. She had at least two friends outside the family, Ellen Nussey (a lifelong friend) and Mary Taylor, both o f whom m eant a great deal to her. H er strong tie to her father made her relationship to the male sex problematical, and she seem s to have developed remarkable ani­ mus opinions in this respect. Mrs. Gaskell tells us that she never got over an idee fix e that she was exceedingly ugly and unattractive. Charlotte once said to her: “I notice that after a stranger has once looked at my face, he is careful not to let his eyes wander to that part o f the room again!” Mrs. Gaskell evidently did her best to show her that this was sheer nonsense, but soon she had to acknowledge her im potence against such an animus opinion (although, o f course, she did not call it by this name). 26. C. G. Jung, ‘Woman in Europe” (1927), in CW, vol. 10 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1964), par. 245.


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U nfortunately w e can only touch on a few points in C h arlo ttes life. T h e tie to h er father and to th e countryside around H aw orth acted as a m agnet during h e r m any flights o u t into the world. H e r h eroines, Jane E y re and L u cy Snowe, both o f whom , interestingly enough, a re d ep icted as alone in th e world with no hom e ties, give us som e idea o f how C harlotte would have m et the world had it not b een for th e lure of h e r hom e. Jan e E y re , with h er passionate n atu re and h er im m ensely strong and genuine sense o f morality, gives us perhaps the b est idea of the fight which C h arlotte m ust have m aintained against the lion o f h er earlier dream in his passionate, instinctive aspect. As has often b een pointed out, the creation o f Jane E y re h erself was a startling innovation in early V ictorian days, w hen passion was only associated in literature with so-called “fallen w om en,” to say nothing o f the role which passion plays in m any o f C h arlo ttes early writings. The figure o f th e a n im u s in C h arlotte’s_ books. has a totally different ch aracte r than that in the writings o f Emily. C harlotte ) çharaG ter-s-^e-infim tely-m orahum an. TheyLhaYejLOlJhe_p_urely deID_@^Lcharacte r...thatm akes..Heathcliff.such- a marvelous portrait oL±ha..animus, This m ore hum an ch aracter points to the probability that C harlotte experienced the animus mainly in pro­ je cte d form , that is, he presum ably exercised his strongest fasci­ nation upon h er through the m edium o f real m en. This brings us to an interesting contrast in th e lives o f the two sisters. E m il^ as I hope to show, spent almost th e whole o f h er life am ong the images o f the collective unconscious. She h a d _ £ a L £ ^ B rx a a ts Jn the . outside world than C harlotte. E m ily s main defense against inundation seem s to have b een a kind o£ ,perSQnifi,edçreatiye spirit— a positive animus figure— w ithjw hom sh ew as_..Qn_^nazr in g ly g o o d term s. She.spgaks o f h im Jn h er poem s as.the “strange ^ w e r ” i o r lw h o m she w aits,” as ^her “radiant angel,” and an “ever-present phantom . thing—m y .slave,. m y _comra.de., and__my king” . . . and so on.


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Plead for Me Oh, thy bright eyes must answer now, When Reason, with a scomful brow, Is mocking at my overthrow! Oh, thy sweet tongue must plead for me And tell, why I have chosen thee! Stem Reason is to judgment come, Arrayed in all her forms of gloom: Wilt thou, my advocate, be dumb? No, radiant angel, speak and say, Why I did cast the world away. Why I have persevered to shun The common paths that others run, And on a strange road journeyed on, Heedless, alike, of wealth and power— Of glory’s wreath and pleasure’s flpwer. These, once, indeed, seemed Beings Divine; And they, perchance, heard vows of mine, And saw my offerings on their shrine; But, careless gifts are seldom pm;ed, And mine were worthily despised. So, with a ready heart I swore To seek their altar-stone no more; And gave my spirit to adore Thee, ever-present, phantom thing; My slave, my comrade, and my king, A slave, because I rule thee still; Incline thee to my changeful will, And make thy influence good or ill:


Victiims o f the Creative Spirit

A comrade, for by day and night Thou art my intimate delight,— My darling pain that wounds and sears And wrings a blessing out from tears By deadening me to earthly cares; And yet, a king, though Prudence well Have taught thy subject to rebel. And am I wrong to worship, where Faith cannot doubt, nor hope despair, Since my own soul can grant my prayer? Speak, God of visions.. plead for me, And tell why I have chosen thee!27 She is always inviting him to visit her. E m ily _undoubtediy:had a most _unusually_courageous attitude. .toward_difi.__uncQrisçious or, one could, alsQsay^thejc;p.nfidence_o£a,child.in^this re sp e c...The unconscious responds positively to such an attitude, for as Jung says: “W e know that the mask of the unconscious is not rigid— it reflects the face w e tu m towards it. Hostility lends it a threatening aspect, friendliness softens its features.”28 Charlotte, on .th e other hand,_was_in~soma„j£spects afraid of the .unconscious.. (This is, of course, no criticism, for had she had Emily’s confidence, she would never have found her way into the outside world at all.) In a letter to Mrs. Gaskell, M a y Taylor tells us o f an incident similar to one described in the beginning o f Jane E y re .29 H ere, Jane was terrified by a light which she believed to be the forerunner of some apparition, an incident that actually hap­ pened to Charlotte when she was about eighteen while working as a teach er at Roe Head School. Subsequently, Charlotte suffered a terrible depression o f her spirits. As late as 1 853— two years prior 27. Emily Bronte, The Complete Poems (London: Penguin Books, 1992), pp. 22-23. 28. C. G. Jung, Psychology and, Alchemy (1944), CVS, vol. 12 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1953), par. 29. 29. Gaskell, The Life o f Charlotte Bronte, vol. 1, pp. 111f.


The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

to h er death— Charlotte stopped Mrs. Gaskell, who was going to relate a ghost story, and told her that she was unable to control the thoughts of ominous gloom that such stories suggested to her. 30 These incidents are enough to show us that Charlotte— unlike Em ily— was alarm ed at the slightest suggestion of autonomous /activity on the part of the unconscious. I f we com pare C harlottes attitude here with that o f H eathcliff toward the ghost of Catherine Earnshaw in Em ily’s W uthering H eights, we may perhaps assume that there was a fundamental difference between the two sisters in this respect. Charlotte certainly loved h er imaginary world quite as much as Emily, but whereas the latter w atched and recorded with an amazing objectivity, it seems to me that Charlotte was much m ore inclined to take over the role of stage m anager and to keep her figures as m uch as possible under control. The fact that she so often recreated Branwells figures in their early writings seems to point in the same direction. There is, however, no doubt that the unconscious played a great role in the composition of C harlottes books. Mrs. Gaskell even likens C harlottes state when she wrote to that of one o f “possession.” She adds, however, that Charlotte never allowed this condition to interfere with her daily duties and would always interrupt it for any outside call.31 W e see here that Charlotte had strengthened h er walls against the threatening waves of the unconscious by forcing herself to regard the calls of the outer world as the greater reality of the two. The creative spirit was allowed to approach h er— a fragment written at Roe Hill tells us that his visits were her greatest pleasure— but even he had to modulate his visits to suit oth er demands. M oreover, she m et and curbed him m ore and m ore with an uncompromising sense o f reality. She says herself in the preface to The Professor: “I _have got over any such taste as I might once have had for ornamental and redundant composition and com e to prefer what is plain and homely. ” This “plain and homely” com m on sense in Charlotte was her most valuable defense against being swept away by h er genius. 30. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 290. 31. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 8.


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^-79

W e can w atch it getting stronger and stronger throughout her works. F o r instance, in Ja n e E y re one feels that it just holds its ground, w hereas in Villette it is definitely gaining the upper hand. I f C harlotte had lived longer and had rem ained under the influence o f the Reverend A rthur Bell Nicholls, I w onder w hether it m ight not have got too strong and thus excluded the m agic of the unconscious which gives her books th eir g reat fascination. 32 H er rath er peculiar lack of appreciation o f Jane A usten looks alm ost as if she felt some danger in this resp ect herself, for what was right for the genius o f a Jane Austen would have been a prison to the m ore elem ental genius o f a B ro n te .33 B u t as Jung often says, there is no profit in considering what would have happened had the old Rom ans known the use of gunpowder! Fannie R atchford writes:

It has become the fashion to exalt Emily and debase Charlotte, in utter ignorance that their genius— the ability to realize the imaginative with the vivid intensity of the actual—was identical, and that Emilys one point of superiority was her full surrender to the creative spirit which Charlotte fought with all the strength of her tyrannical conscience.34 32 . [The Rev. Arthur BeU. Nicholls, who was serang s curate (assistant cler^ ^ an) of Haworth as of 1845, proposed marriage to Charlotte in 1852. The Rev. Patrick Bronte objected strongly, and Charlotte, who was not in love, refused him. Nicholls left Haworth in the following year, the same in which Charlotte’s Villette was published. By 1854, however, Mr. Bronte s opposition to the proposed marriage had weakened, and Charlotte and Nichols became engaged. Nicholls retam ed as curate at Haworth, and they were married, although Charlotte apparently admired but s ^ did not love him. David Cody, assistant professor of English at Hartwick College, notes that Charlotte then caught pneumonia in 1854 while expecting a child. He proposes tliat it was an illness that could have been cured, but she seems consciously or un­ consciously to have taken this opportunity to end her life; she died after a lengfry and painful illness, possibly of dehydration. See www.victorianweb.or^authorsfàrontê/cbronté. Ed.] 33. [Jane Austen's style is delightful, playful, epigrammatic, terse, sagacious, witty, and of­ ten paradoxical, but it is dedicated to the goings-on of outer reality to such an extent that she practically excludes the unconscious altogether. One can say that every sentence of her work focuses on a brilliant rendition o f everyday experience. Any departure from worldly reality, such as seen in the figures of Darcy and Elizabeth in PHde and Prejudice, can be accounted for by Austen’s personal lack of understanding of male-female relationships and need not necessarily be ascribed to inspiration tapped from the invisible realms o f the collec­ tive unconscious. See Barbara Hannahs discussion of the works of Jane Austen in her essay, “Animus Figures in Literature and in Modem Life” in this volume. Ed.] 34. See Ratchford, The Bronte s Web o f Childhood , p. x.


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While fully agreeing with Miss Ratchford, I should like to suggest that C harlottes lack o f “full surrender” was also motivated by a well-founded fear of being subm erged by the flood of figures that w ere always pressing in upon her from the collective unconscious, and that it was likewise conditioned by h er character. W hereas /E m ily was aloof and willing to “live and let live,” Charlotte clearly liked to control h er environment as m uch as possible, particularly her younger sisters and brother, whom she also had to mother.

E m i l y B r o n t e ( 1 8 1 8 -1 8 4 8 )

W e now com e to Emily, of whom we know the least of all. Charlotte destroyed almost all o f Em ily’s writings, and Emily, who was exceedingly reserved, apparently had no friends outside the family. 35 H er life at Haworth did indeed give h er a firm— if but tiny— piece o f ground, and all o f her roots w ere there. She adored the moors and kept a certain projected relationship to nature and her own instincts through her walks and many animal friends. Charlbtte tells us that although she had a benevolent interest in her neighbors at Haworth, she avoided them , observing them only from afar. She must have been tiresom ely opinionated when obliged to deal with the outside world. I m ention only h er habit o f wearing the hideous gigot sleeves long after they w ere out of fashion.36 And she refused to alter her opinion about some railway shares— although Charlotte had obtained expert advice— which eventually led to financial loss (although not until after h er death). 35. [Barbara Hannah notes, in Striving Towards W holeness, that Emily was extremely introverted (p. 193). Mrs. Gaskell, however, notes that Charlotte was shy whereas Emily extreme­ ly reserved. “I distinguish reserve from shyness, because I imagine shyness would please if it knew how; whereas reserve is indifferent whether it pleases or not” (Gaskell, The L ife o f Charlotte Bronte, p. 99). Barbara Hannah notes that after the appearance o f Wuthering Heights there was a rumor mruntained that the book had been written by Branwell on the premise that no woman who had lived such a circumscribed life could have written such a passionate story. Ed.] 36. [Gigot or “leg of mutton” sleeves, in fashion in the 1820s and 1830s, were puffed sleeves, appearing somewhat in the form o f a leg o f lamb; narrow at the wrist and wide at the top, finely pleated into a low, off-thé-shoulder armhole with a strip of gathered glazed cotton; they sometimes had whalebone, stuffed pads, or even hoops at the edge, which held the sleeves out on the arms. Ed.]


Victi^ms o f the Creative Spirit

Em ily was always an enigma to Charlotte, a fascinating enig­ ma, clothed with all th e magic of the world o f the unconscious. Mrs. Gaskell was o f th e impression that “Em ily must have been a rem nant o f the Titans, a great-grand daughter of the giants who used to inhabit the earth .” Mrs. Gaskell can be seen here as telling us that Em ily rem ained in the a rch e ^ p a l world. It would hardly be going too far to say that Em ily was never really born into the outer world at all. In fact, Em ily tells us as m uch herself in the first lines of some o f h er best-known “Stanzas”:

Often rebuked, yet always back retuming To those first feelings that were born with me, And leaving busy chase of wealth and learning For idle dreams of things which cannot be.37 H ere we see the exact reverse o f C harlottes efforts to m eet the flood o f the images of the collective unconscious by building up defenses against them in the outer world. Em ily refused to enter the “shades o f the prison house” which “begin to close on th e growing boy” as W ordsworth expresses it in his poem “Intimations.” She simply remained where she was. In h er lines beginning, “Tell me, tell m e, smiling child,” she sees the future of the child:

Tell me tell me smiling child What the past is like to thee? An Autumn evening soft and mild With a wind that sighs moumfully Tell me what is the present hour? A green and flowery spray Where a young bird sits gathering its power To mount and fly away And what is the future, happy one? A sea beneath a cloudless sun 37. Bronte, T he C om plete P oem s, p. 198.


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282

A mighty glorious dazzling sea Stretching into infini^8 If we com pare this image with th eth reaten in g sea in C h a rlo tte s early dream, we get another valuable hint as to th e differeJJ.ce_.in / attitude betw een the two sisters. Em ily’s attitude was m uch more fruitful from our point o f view, for she brings her m aterial from the collective unconscious in a far m ore com plete form than her sisters. But, from her own point of view, it was m uch too optimistic. It is extraordinary that, under such abnormal conditions, she kept her sanity and, even to a great extent, her physical health until she was twenty-nine. She can only have achieved this by limiting h er ou ter field as m uch as possible to Haworth and by remaining am ong things and people who w ere m ore or less in the same position. E m ily has often been called a mystic, and with considerable justification. H er com plete preoccupation with the inner life was very similar to that of mystics. The striking difference is that in almost every case the mystics have searched for the inner life within the dogma of their faith._Emily Bronteiseem s to have been quite unmoved by any consideration of dogma in her attem pt to find “new spheres of discovery” on h er inward yoyage. She evideiitly, found.. relating to p eople...very difficult, while her relationship to animals was deep and distinctive.39 B u t when Branwells death tore open the family defenses against the waves of the sea of the unconscious, Em ily was the first to succumb; she followed Branwell to the grave in less than three months tim e.40 Anne’s defenses w ere a little stronger and held another six months, but only C harlottes w ere strong enough to w eather the storm and hold for another six years, during which she entered another phase and went through considerable development. The hypothesis that Em ily was never really born into this world (or, in her own words, that she rem ained faithful to “those first 3 8 . Ib id ., p. 33. 3 9 . H an n ah , Stríving Tow ard Wholeness, pp. 2 0 0 - 2 . 4 0 . [E m ily left h o m e fo r th e la st tim e on 2 4 S e p te m b e r 1 9 4 8 to a tte n d B r a n w e lls fu n e ra l s e n á c e . S h e ca u g h t a s e v e re co ld w h ich d e v elo p ed in to an in fla m m a tio n o f th e lungs. S h e died th re e m on th s la te r o f tu b ercu lo sis on D e c e m b e r 1 9 , 1 8 4 8 . Ed.]


Victims o f the Creative Spirit

feelings which w ere born with her”) would explain h er rem oteness, the fascination she exercised on Charlotte, and why no one could make a real relationship to her. It would also explain Ellen Nusseys statem ent that Emily, unlike Charlotte and Anne, was quite indifferent to the impression that she made on other peo­ ple. 41 Moreover, it throws a light on the extraordinary story o f her last three months and h er bew ilderm ent when faced with death. It will be rem em bered that M. H éger in Brussels rated Em ily’s genius considerably above C harlottes, although he evidently greatly preferred the latter as a hum an being, saying that “Emily was exacting and egotistical com pared to Charlotte who was always unselfish.”42 Speaking again of Emily, he notes that “she should have been a man— a great navigator, her powerful reason would have deduced new spheres from the knowledge of the old and her strong imperious will would never have been daunted by opposition or difficulty; never would have given way but with life.”43 If we com pare this with Charlottes beautiful epitaph on her sister, “Stronger than a man, simpler than a child, her nature stood alone . . . ,” we can get some idea of her psychology. She was never really born into the world as a woman; on this side she rem ained “sim­ pler than a child.” B n ta tta ch e d to her, as _theJ!£Y£L.present.phantom_thing,”.was.an u n seenm asculm e.spm t -which~Emüy.Galls:-“My slave. niy CQmrade a n d m y ki ng.” W e cQuld.calldiisnnstee.n .spirit her_^^ius_or,j;(iJungian.language,_heI.jfflimus...^e_wa&xeally. the instrument o f this spirit, completely.pQssessedby.it. Bu..tJb_ecause she had '.‘an infinite capacity. for taking .trouble’’ and was always ready to make any ■amount ofeffort, it did not becom e a possessing dem on but worked as a creative spirit of the highest caliber. As I suggested before, it also seems to have been her protection against the engulfing waves o f the collective unconscious until she had written some incomparable poems and what has often been called 41. Gaskell, The Life o f Charlotte Bronte, vol. 1, p. 178. 42. [In order to study languages, Emily and Charlotte spent 1842 at the Pensionnat Héger in Brussels, a finishing school. Following their years stay, both girls were offered positions at the Pensionnat, but only Charlotte returned in 1843. She went home the following year because, it is thought, she had fallen love with M. Héger and had aroused the jealousy of Mme Héger. Ed.] 43. Gaskell, The Life o f Charlotte Bronte, vol. 1, p. 254:


The Animus: The Spirit of Inner Truth in Women

the finest novel in the English language. But, as an inhuman force, it had no pity on her frail physique and eventually— if Charlotte is right about her reluctance to die— she becam e its victim as the inevitable result o f making too few roots in the outer world that one can then use to help fight back against the pull o f death.44

/ T h e A r c h e t y p a l F o u n d a t io n s o f W u t h e r in g H e i g h t s

W e com e now to the m ost interesting question: W hy did “the very source o f creative impulse” in the collective unconscious run so high in the case o f the Brontes? Was there any special arche^ p e , any “great formative influence” pushing its way up toward consciousness? W e must turn to to find the answer to this question, for this book contains an unmistakable projected process o f individuation. As is well known, the process o f individuation is Jungs term for the developm ent of the originally one-sided personality toward a totality consisting both of consciousness and the unconscious. This process is m irrored in fdreams and other unconscious products in the form o f a so-called mandala quaternary which is often represented by four figures. Strictly speaking, there can be no process o f individuation without an individual. But, just as the old alchemists naively projected this psychic process into their substances, so Em ily naively projects this formative influence into her story and gives us an amazing anticipation of the process o f individuation as we know it through Jungian psychology today. In order to see this process at work, we must p roceed on Jungian lines as we should with a dream or other unconscious material. That is, we will take all the characters as parts o f a total personality. The elder and younger Catherine, for instance, more or less represent the projected ego, and the other characters in the story represent various autonomous figures that also have their place in the totality o f the psyche. 44. [Barbara Hannah quotes a letter from Charlotte where she wrote that Emily “was tom conscious, panting, reluctant, though resolute, out of a happy life." See Clement Shorter, The Brontes: L ife and Letters, vol. 2 (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1908), pp. 16f. Ed.]


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285

Space forbids m e to give m ore than the m erest outline, a sort o f suggestion as to what can be found if one examines the m ate­ rial carefully enough, although this unfortunately entails omitting m uch o f the evidence. T he extraordinarily com plicated structure o f this novel— although it all fits in marvelously when examined in detail— makes it almost impossible to deal with in a few words. I m ust om it the whole framework o f the story and only point out the significance o f the fact that th e .s to y .is ~ to lib y _ r._ L o c fe o o d , a.rfrQ.nger in_those.pa.rts._This in, t u m p oin ts,_on jh eon e .hand, to the Qbj.ectiviryo£,.Emily’s animus. as. author. and,. on. the. other, to h er_Q ^~Eem oteness- from» her- material. She never en tered her own psychic drama as an actor, as she tells us herself in her poem “My C om forter”:

So stood I, in Heaven's glorious sun, And in the glare of Hell; My spirit drank a mingled tone, Of seraph’s song, and demons moan, What my soul bore, my soul alone Within itself may tell!45 In W uthering H eights, her soul does tell what it bore within itself, which, in m y opinion, gives the book its unique character. T he psychic dram a into which Mr. L ock n ood reads and dream s him self that storm y night at W uthering Heights had begun som e thirty years before when old Mr. Earnshaw returned from a journey to Liverpool, reentering the ordinary life o f his family carrying the child Heathcliff, a dirty, ragged, black-haired orphan. H e says to his wife: "I was never so beaten with anything in my life. B u t you m ust . . . take it as a gift from God, though it’s as dark almost as if it cam e from the devil.” Old Mr. Earnshaw thus brings in the elem ent that is to change the whole consciousness, not only o f Wuthering Heights, but also the estate o f Thrushcross Grange, four miles distant and at that time quite cut off from W uthering Heights. Mr. Earnshaws words, 45. Bronte, T he C om plete P oem s. p. 30.


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moreover, hit the mark exactly. Right through the action, it seems as if the adult H eathcliff cam e from the devil, as if revenge and destruction for love rebuked w ere his only aims, and it is only at the end— when the transformation has been brought about— that we see that old Mr. Eam shaw was right after all. Heathcliff was a /gift from God in that he represents the principle o f individuation, for without him there would have been no change, and everything would have continued on the same old, unconscious ancestral lines. Heathcliff is one of the best— if not the best— representation of the figure of the animus that I know in literature. Inexorably cruel to everything that is weak and destructive, yet he serves the purpose of purifying the product and brings out the elem ents that are indestructible. As he says himself: “I have no pity! I have no pity! The m ore the worms w rithe, the m ore I yearn to crush out their entrails. It is a moral teething, and I grind with greater energy in proportion to the increase in pain.” U tterly inhuman, demonic like the animus itself, it is yet a “moral teething." Childishness and weakness are burnt away in H eathcliffs neighborhood. His victims are either destroyed or becom e themselves indestructible in the heat of the fire o f suffering. In this connection, I would like to quote a few lines from Jung's 1938 Eranos lecture:

The stirring up of conflict is a Luciferian virtue in the true sense of the word. Conflict engenders fire, the fire of affects and emotions, and like every other fire it has two aspects, that of combustion and that of creating light. On the one hand, emotion is the alchemical fire whose warmth brings everything into existence and whose heat burns all superfluities to ashes . . . . But on the other hand, emotion is the moment when steel meets flint and a spark is struck forth, for emotion is the chief source of consciousness. There is no change from darkness to light or from inertia to movement without emotion.46 46. C. G. Jung, “Psychological Aspects of the Mother Archetype” (1954), in CW vol. 9i (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1968), par. 179.


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287

This might almost have been written about our story! W uthering H eights falls into two parts. T here are two attem pts to bring about the transformation, that is, a totality o f the human personality, and th ese are based on four main figures. The first quaternity consists o f two pairs: H eathcliff and th e elder Catherine at W uthering Heights, E d g ar and Isabella Linton down the road at Thrushcross G range. At first the two pairs are entirely separate. B u t when they are still children, the young H eathcliff persuades C atherine to escape with him from the washhouse at W uthering Heights (where they had been locked up for a childish m isdemeanor) and go for a scam per on the moors, during which they peep in at the windows of Thrushcross Grange. This led in tim e to C atherine’s m arriage to the rich and handsom e E d g ar Linton and to H eathcliff marrying E d g ar’s sister Isabella. In this first quaternity, as m entioned before, C atherine is m ore or less the representative o f th e ego, and it is h er ambition, faithlessness, and egotism even m ore than the cruelty of her b rother that originally forces H eathcliff into such a negative role. In her conversation with Nelly D ean on th e night o f h er engagem ent, she speaks of H eathcliff as th e “one who com prehends in his person my feelings for E d gar and myself . . . . H e is m ore m yself than I am .” And eventually: “Nelly, I am H eathcliff.” This is a clear avowal that H eathcliff is her animus, but Catherine throws over her own spirit, prodded on by h er brother, Hindley, who had reduced H eathcliff to a ploughboy, saying, “It would degrade her to marry him now.” Thus she refuses Heathcliff, marries E d gar Linton, and seals the fate o f the first quaternity. Through the entirety of W uthering Heights, we repeatedly m eet this paradox and, although this denial of Heathcliff was the betrayal o f her own spirit, Catherine enlarges ego-consciousness, as it w ere, by drawing in the two Lintons. B u t obviously, the pairing was too problem atical, and above all, there was too much unknow n weakness in Catherine. W e could apply Mrs. Gaskell’s impression of Em ily to the elder Catherine: “A rem nant of the Titans, a great-granddaughter o f the giants who used to inhabit the earth .” B ut she lacked the ordinary human qualities without which


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we cannot survive. Therefore, the inferior personality— the shad­ ow— was entirely autonomous and appears in Isabella, who then falls com pletely under the power of Heathcliff. 47 T he unconscious thus becom es too strong for Catherine, and (to use alchemist language) the retort bursts. In the second part o f the story, our author ^icks up her broken pieces and makes a second attempt. This second attem pt succeeds, that is, in so far as it is possible for the process to succeed in a purely projected form. T h e younger Catherine— although she has H eathcliff s negative aspect to deal with, his hatred instead of his love— proves stronger than h er mother. She has many of her m other’s qualities but also those of her aunt Isabella. She is both a Linton and an Earnshaw. Although she and all her possessions fall into H eathcliffs power, she nevertheless overcom es in the end by accepting her emotion and suffering. H er childishness and rebellion are burnt away in the heat of the retort. At the sam e tim e, she discovers that gold in the nature of h er cousin H areton, who has also produced inde­ structible qualities in his contact with Heathcliff. The human pair alone could not have overcom e the dem onic aspect of Heathcliff. B ut when they have done all that is possible, the supernatural aid appears, without which the alchemists say the work cannot be completed. W hen the elder Catherine died— twenty years earlier— the despairing H eathcliff had prayed one prayer:

Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living; you said I killed you—haunt me—then! The murdered do haunt their murderers, I believe. I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always— take any form— drive me mad! Only do not leave me in the abyss where I cannot find you! Oh, God! It is unutterable! I cannot live without my life. I cannot live without my soul! 47. [Barbara Hannah writes in a footnote that what Jung calls the “shadow”’ is, roughly speak­ ing, the negative o f the conscious'personality: all those qualities which belong to the personal side of our human nature and which we do not see in ourselves fall into the shadow. They usually first reappear projected into someone in our environment. Ed.]


Victi'ms o f the Creative Spirit

This prayer is now granted, and the elder Catherine— always in the background— appears m ore and m ore distinctly before H eathcliffs eyes. His task on earth is com pleted, he has burnt out the destructible and produced the indestructible and is now free to join C atherine in the beyond. T he two estates are thus restored to their rightful owners, and the two pairs o f opposites are united: H eathcliff and the elder Catherine in the beyond, and H areton and the younger Catherine on earth. A quaternity is thus established on the alchem ists model: th e royal pair in the unconscious and the hum an pair in consciousness. It must be emphasized, however, that th ere is no quinta essentia, no product o f the whole process that unites the four again into one, for this would require a conscious individual in whom th e process was integrated.

CONCLUSION

O nce we have seen the archetypal image, .the. .'.‘great fo rm ativ e influeno^” that reveals itself so c le a d y in W uthering Heights, w e can verify our hypothesis in th e other Bronte material. In C h arlottes J a n e E y re, for instance, we have a similar underlying structure: Jane and her three cousins, the Reeds, appear as the warring elem ents at the beginning o f the book; they are on the worst o f term s. Then Rochester, as the animus, also transforms by suffering. And then we have a harmonious quaternity at the end o f th e book: Jane and her three cousins on the one side, and th e Rivers on good term s on the other. B u t the developm ent is far less com p lete: R ochester is outside the quaternities, and here there is only th e one im portant m arriage at the end. And this is indeed only to be exp ected when we think o f the attitude toward th e unconscious o f the two sisters. B ut the m otif of the quaternity— in the form of the double m arriage— appears at the end of no less than three o f the other novels. T he best example is in C harlottes Shirley, w here the four ch ief characters take part in an actual double wedding. In Villette, D r. John marries “Little Polly,” and L u cy and Paul Em anuel are engaged. B u t here we find the well-known uncertainty about the


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fourth. It is left uncertain w hether M. E m anuel will com e home or be drowned in the storm, that is, symbolically speaking, return to the unconscious. T he double marriage m otif also appears at the end o f A nne’s The Tenant o f Wildfell Hall. Gilbert Markam goes straight from the marriage o f H elen’s brother Fred erick L aw ren ce and her friend E sth er Hargrave to find H elen herself, and this m eeting then leads to the second marriage. The m otif o f the quaternity also appears very clearly in Em ilys poem “The Philosopher” as the “three gods that are warring night and day within this little fram e” and the separate spirit that is standing alone with th e three rivers running round his feet; or in the four Genii of their earliest writings; and in many other places.48 It is often said that the Brontes w ere born before their time. If the hypothesis is co rrect that the process of individuation was constellated by the high tide in the collective unconscious which broke into this gifted family, then they did, from their o ^ u point o f view, live before there was a possibility o f either understanding or coming to term s with the arch e^ p al images of this process. But, from our point of view, they lived at exactly the right time, when the images of this archetype w ere again rising to the surface as they have done so often in other forms during the history of mankind. The Bronte sisters paid a heavy price and w ere perhaps its victims, but they bore their witness nobly, each in her own way.

48. [Four Genii-Princes, fantasy figures capable of darkest destruction, were created by the young Bronte children and described by Charlotte in her diary. Ed.]


The Brontêd and IndivSuatwn

P A T TERNS OF BEHAVIOR-WHICH ARE INBORN IN THE ANIMAL kingdom— are now fully recognized and even enjoy considerable popularity. But Jungs contribution to this field— pointing out that the human infant is also not born a tabula rasa but has its own archetypal patterns— is still by no means generally accepted; in feet, it is often bitterly opposed. This is undoubtedly partly due to the fact that the lower the living being (to use that rather suspect word) is in its individual intelligenceand development, the easier it is to recognize its pattern of behavior. It is in the insect world above all that it is so plain that it cannot be misused or opposed. If we consider the instincts to be found in the animal world, we will see that the element of learning is sometimes totally absent. In certain cases, it is impossible to conceive how any learning and practice could ever have come about. An interesting example that Jung refers to is the incredibly refined instinct of propagation found in the yucca moth. The flowers of the yucca plant open for one night only. On this night, the moth takes the pollen from one of the flowers and kneads it into a little pellet. Then it calls on a second flower, cuts open the pistil, lays its eggs between the ovules, and then stuffs the pellet into the funnel-shaped opening of the pistil. Only once in its life does the moth can y out this operation.1 Jung later notes that:

l. C. G. Jung, “Instincts and the Unconscious” (1948), in CW, vol. 8 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1969), par. 268.


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Just as conscious apprehension gives our actions form and direction, so unconscious apprehension through the archetype determines the form and direction of instinct. If we call instinct “refined,” then the “intuition” which brings the instinct into play, in other words the apprehension by means of the arche^pe, must be something incredibly pre­ cise. Thus the yucca moth must carry within it an image, as it were, of the situation that “triggers off’ its instinct. This image enables it- to “recognize” the yucca flower and its structure.2

After this pattern is com plete, the m oth takes no further interest in the fate of its eggs; in fact, it usually dies long before they have hatched. But after the tiny caterpillars crawl out of their eggs and, through metamorphosis, evolve into moths— they then follow that same innate pattern of behavior. Jung writes that:

If we could look into the psyche of the ^ cca moth, for instance, we could find in it a pattern of ideas, of a numinous or fascinating character, which not only compels the moth to carry out its fertilizing activity on the yucca plant, but helps it to “recognize” the total situation. Instinct is anything but a blind and indefinite impulse, since it proves to be attuned and adapted to a definite externai situation. 3 Another example is the leaf-cutting ant. It too acts instinctually to fulfill an image, and the image has fixed qualities: ant, tree, leaf, cutting, transport, and the little ant-garden o f fungi. If any one o f these conditions is lacking, the instinct does not function because it cannot exist without its total pattern or without the outer physical images. Jung notes that it is inborn in the ant prior to any activity, for there can be no activity at all unless an instinct of corresponding pattern initiates and makes it possible. 2. Ibid., par. 277. 3. C. G. Jung, “The Undiscovered Self (Present and Future)" (1957), in CW, vol. 10 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1964), par. 547.


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Now, clearly, the example of the yucca moth can be understood by everyone, and nobody will wish to deny it. But as you go up the scale of developm ent in the animal world, such patterns b ecom e m ore and m ore difficult, to be sure, for in even. the most humble o f the warm -blooded vertebrates, the young are born dependent on their m others or, at the very least, on substitute adult parents of the sam e species. Then, naturally, the question arises: H ow m uch is taught to the young creatures as they grow up by their parents and how m uch do they know from innate pat­ terns o f behavior? A lot o f fascinating research has been undertaken in this field. I will only m ention one example which is pretty sure to b e known to all of you, and that is the lioness E lsa who is the heroine, so to speak, in the books B orn F re e and Living Free. She is also the m other o f the cubs who then figure in the last— and in m y opinion least satisfactory— publication, that is, the television series F o rev er F ree, all written by Jo yA d am so n . E lsa also appears briefly in G eorge Adam sons book, which just appeared this year: A Lifetim e with Lions. The only thing that concerns usj here is the fact that the lioness was only with h er parents for a few days, then with her sisters for the first months, but was entirely brought up in sole companionship of human beings. It is therefore out o f the ques­ tion that she was taught any of the arts of survival in the bush by h er parents or any other lions. Yet when the Adamsons decided to readapt h er to life in the bush, there w ere many patterns o f behav­ ior innate in h er that they could not possibly have taught nor could she have learned them elsewhere. True, she needed a great deal of help to support herself at first, but she nevertheless knew how to hunt and kill a d eer exactly like h er wild fellow lions, for instance, and from the beginning she dragged h er kills in the approved, ageold lion fashion. Through h er mating with a wild lion, she cam e into contact with h er own kind, but that was m uch later, when she was far down the road o f being able to support herself in the bush. This is still a comparatively simple example o f innate patterns o f behavior; this is not likely to be disputed. Jungs schem a holds true o f all instincts and is found in identical form in all individu-


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als of the same species. T he same holds true for human beings; we have in us these a priori instinct-types and instinct-images which provide the occasion and the pattern for many o f our most fundam ental activities. As biological beings, we have no choice but to act in a specifically human way and fulfill our pattern of beh avior.4 But when it com es to the hum an being— especially to the so-called civilized human being— they do b ecom e m ore dif­ ficult to recognize because they do not manifest in such simple physical facts. This m eans— to employ once m ore the simile o f the spectrum — that the instinctual image is to be located not at the red end but at the violet end of the color band. T h e dynamism of instinct is lodged, as it w ere, in the infrared part of the spectrum , w hereas the instinctual image lies in the ultraviolet part. in stin ct - in frared arche^type (dynamic instinct)

ultraviolet (image of dynamic instinct)

Consciousness can move anywhere along the scale betw een the infrared and the ultraviolet. L a te r Jung adds that the realization and assimilation of instinct never takes place at the red end, that would be by “absorption” into the instinctual sphere, but only through integration of the image that signifies and evokes the instinct, although the form is quite different from the one we m eet on the biological level.”5 There is, however, one simple basic archetypal pattern of human behavior that can be found in all times and places, and that is the pattern of the process of individuation. Jung used to say that if you dig deep enough under every kind of human effort you will always find the search for the meaning of life or the attem pt to express our innate totality, for the archetype of the process of individuation is the most com prehensive o f all of the archetypes effecting our lives. Jung has even stated that the archetype of indi4. C. G. Jung, "On the Nature of the Psyche" (1954), in CW, vol. 8 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1969), par. 398. 5. Ibid., par. 414.


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viduation contains all other archetypes. You all know how conclusively he has shown that the process, projected into “the retort,” is the foundation of the old alchemists' work. And most o f you are acquainted with the quaternities and double quaternities from the writings o f the Gnostics, which Jung brings in the fourteenth chapter o f A io n .6 And it is just as m uch to be found in the founda­ tions of all the religions from the m ost primitive to the m ore differentiated. The principal symbol is th e mandala, with which you are all acquainted. It manifested as the archetypal im age in the earliest days and places— such as the old Mayan culture— where all connections through transmigration are out o f the question. Pythagoras, already in the sixth century B.C.E., drew attention in words to the fact that the num ber four— the basis of the mandala— was the best possible expression for the totality o f man. As far as I know, this is the first conscious and docum ented formulation o f the process o f individuation, the earlier images being produced unconsciously in the same m anner that animals and insects carry out their patterns o f behavior. One can see the same thing in the drawings o f children today, and they could certainly tell you nothing in words about the process of individuation. Yet mandalas and quaternities appear very often in their drawings. I rem em b er myself, as a small child, the great satisfaction it gave m e to do drawings in circular or square forms. I was especially fond o f drawing these on clean blotting paper, an activity for which I was often scolded— in vain. B ut o f course I had not the slightest idea what I was doing or representing until I cam e d o ^ here to Zürich in my late thirties. T hen this habit reasserted itself— or possibly had never stopped— and Toni W olff drew my attention to what I was doing. It is, therefore, not surprising that we also find this basic pattern o f behavior in literature. It is a kind o f unconscious searching for one’s lost wholeness. E very child goes through a period of wholeness when it is very young, certain undisturbed primitives even rem ain in this state all o f their lives. B ut the child who is raised 6. C. G. Jung, Aion, CW, vol. 9ii (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1951), pars. 347^21.


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in our so-called civilization is soon called out of this paradise and educated m ore and m ore to fit into our one-sided world, which no longer has m uch o f an idea o f wholeness. O ur civilization, for example, suffers from the loss o f the paradox, thus it is not surprising that— long before m odem psychology— many individuals Really lived their whole lives in an unconscious search for their lost wholeness. This struck m e so m uch that I have m ade it the them e of a book called Striving Towards W holeness. I took there the example of six individuals in order to illustrate this them e, all of them authors. R obert Louis Stevenson shows the first stage of this search in an unsurpassable way, the search for the lost dual nature of m an, which would be, in the language of psychology, ego and shadow. B y far the best known o f his efforts is Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, but you will find the same them e in many other places in his writings and most particularly in his own life. M ary W ebb is taken as the second example; in h e r most famous and last com plete novel, Precious B ane, she very nearly establishes a quatem ity with h er four principle characters that would have been indeed a paradoxical whole, uniting those two opposites that give us the most trouble: good and evil. B ut just as one is enthralled watching how perfectly the process of indi­ viduation has succeeded in projecting itself into her story, her Christian upbringing takes fright at the dark qualities o f two of her characters, and she lets the whole thing fall apart and depicts the triumph of the light over its opposite the dark. Although h er attem pt to unite the opposites and to produce a lasting image of the process of individuation fails, there is a great deal to be learned form her very failure, especially if one com pares it vvith the far m ore successful attem pt of Em ily B ron te in W uthering Heights. In fact, there is no doubt that— as far as my knowledge goes— we can find the best and clearest examples of the totality of the process o f individuation— and its efforts to manifest itself— in the Bronte family. Like M ary W ebb, Branwell’s failure can teach us quite as much as his three sisters and their varying degrees of success. Therefore, I took all four Brontes in my book as four of six examples of attem pts at individuation.


The AnimLM in CharWtte Bronte S tran ge E ven ts

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P e RHAP§„THE. MO S T IL L UMINATING MOME.NT IN MY- LjONG-AND often w earisom e .■myestigation..into..the.em .pirical natu re.o f the anim us was..the.follow ing:Qne-day.as.1.was.doing an_active im agin aü o n ,.m y animus .ma.de_a totally u nexp ected remark: “You and I are in a v e ry difficult .position,_boundtogetherdikeSiam ese-tw ins, a n d yet in to ta lly different realities.” H e w ent on to explain that my reality was as invisible and nebulous to him as his is to me, b ut that w hen I created a vacuum by leaving som ething undone, unsaid, o r unthought, h e was obliged to fill it. H e was quite willing to believe that th e result was often u nfortunate, even disastrous, b u t h e was groping in th e dark. C o m in g to term s m th the anim us— that mostdifficul1Lo£tasks fur w om en— involves th e utmost. effo rt to understand,_ as m uch .as possible, his reality— th eu !!çom çiou §.— <md_to_ h eJp . him under-, stand_ our own,, A curious d ocum ent that I want to bring to th e read er’s notice, en titled Strange Events, throws som e light on this su bject. It was w ritten w hen C harlotte B ro n te was about fourteen, at a tim e w hen th e ju venile productions o f th e fou r B ro n te children w ere at th eir height. It should perhaps first b e explained that, partially due to th eir isolated situation, the four B ro n te children lived in an in n er a realm o f m ake-believe (as the reasonable world would call it) or, in m ore psychological language, they rem ained for longer than norm al in the original childhood state that is at


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hom e in the world of the archetypal images of the unconscious. They produced endless magazines in which they described their experiences, often identifying with the famous m en o f the day. Charlotte often w rote in the nam e o f som e famous man, usually as one o f the two sons of the Duke o f Wellington. It is a remarkable fa ct that C harlotte always w rote as a man until well after h er stay in Brussels (when she was about thirty); in fact, until about the tim e that she w rote Ja n e E y re. She w rote Strange Events in the person of L ord Charles Wellesley, the younger son o f the D uke o f Wellington. “H e ” introduces the work by saying: “I fell into the strangest train o f thought that ever visited even my mind, eccen tric and unstable as it is said by some insolent puppies to b e .”1 “H e ” continues: It seemed as if I was a non-existent shadow— that I nei­ ther spoke, ate, imagined, or lived of myself, but I was a mere idea, of some other creatures brain. The Glass Town seemed so likewise. My father, Arthur, and everyone with whom I am acquainted passed into a state of annihilation; but suddenly I thought again that I and my relatives did exist and yet not us but our minds and our bodies with­ out ourselves.2 I should like to consider this

experience— presum ably

C harlottes own— from two differing vie^points, that is, from the standpoint of those “Siamese twins.” Apparently C harlotte is, to some extent, seeing our everyday reality as the animus himself sees it. The human being appears as a “non-existent shadow” and is a “m ere idea, o f some other creatu res brain.” One is vividly rem inded o f the dreams reported by C. G. Jung in M em ories, D ream s, Reflections. Jung writes:

1. Fannie E. Ratchford, The Brontes’ Web o f Childhood: The Miscellaneous and Unpublished Writings o f Charlotte a id Patrick Branwell Bronte (New York: Columbia University Press, 1941), pp. 40f. 2. Ibid.


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The thomy problem of the relationship between eternal man, the self, and earthly man in time and space was illuminated by two dreams of mine. In one dream, which I had in October 1958, I caught sight from my house of two lens-shaped metaUicaüy gleaming disks which hurtled in a narrow arc over the house and d o ^ to the lake. They were two UFOs (Unidentified Flying Objects). Then another body came flying directly toward me. It was a perfectly circular lens, like the objective of a telescope. At a distance of four or five hundred yards it stood still for a moment, and then flew off. Immediately afterward, another came speeding through the air: a lens with a metallic extension which led to a box—a magic lantern. At a distance of sixty or seventy yards it stood still in the air, pointing straight at me. I awoke with a feeling of astonishment. Still half in the dream, the thought passed through my head: ‘We always think that the UFOs are projections of ours. Now it turns out that we are their projections. I am projected by the magic lantern as C. G. Jung. But who manipulates the apparatus?” I had dreamed once before of the problem of the self and the ego. In that earlier dream I was on a hiking trip. I was walking along a little road through a hilly landscape; the sun was shining and I had a wide view in all directions. Then I came to a small wayside chapel. The door was ajar, and I went in. To my surprise there was no image of the Virgin on the altar, and no crucifix either, but only a wonderful flower arrangement. But then I saw that on the floor in front of the altar, facing me, sat a yogi—in lotus posture, in deep meditation. When I looked at him more closely, I realized that he had my face. I started in profound fright, and awoke with the thought: “Aha, so he is the one who is meditating me. He has a dream, and I am in it.” I knew that when he awakened, I would no longer be.3 3. C. G. Jung, Merrwries, Dreams, Reflections, A. Jaffé, ed. (New York: Vintage Books, 1965), p .322-23.


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It is clear that Jung’s dreams belong to a totally different stage and personality, full o f positive creativeness, whereas the statem ent in C harlottes fantasy has a certain annihilating, negative quality that is very characteristic o f the autonomous animus. B u t the meaning is the same. In both cases the human being is the ^ o je ctio n , dream , o r idea o f the eternal man. At first C harlottes animus entirely annihilates our reality, and particularly L o rd Charles’s own relatives, but then a grain of humanity creeps in: “I thought again that I and m y relatives did exist and yet not us but our minds and our bodies without ourselves.” T he mind and th e body are seen as two separate entities pointing to the fact that, when things appear double in dreams, it is often a sign that something which has been deeply uncon­ scious is just com ing up over the b ord er o f consciousness; they will eventually be seen as one but at first they appear as two. ‘W ith o u t ourselves” seems to be a faint realization o f the insubstantiality of the ego without the Self, but this becom es clearer in the next sentence. H ere she seems to catch a glimpse o f what we would call, in Jungian term s, the archetype o f the Self, or the t o t l i t y o f the personality. Presum ably this is the “oth er cre a tu re ” whose “idea” is the hum an being. The pronouns w e and us are very suggestive: “W hen we (the subject) are m ere shadows without 'us’ (the ob ject).” Jung often speaks o f th e Self and the unconscious as the “objective p syche” and th e ego and its consciousness as the “subject.” And the “beings that really lived in a tangible shape . . . called by our names . . . from whom we had been copied” contains just the same idea as w e have already seen in Jung’s dream , when the yogi, whose dream or m editation was Jung’s whole life, had the same features as his earthly body. Presum ably these beings are soul or psyche, and already a union of the two oppo­ sites, mind and body, for the psyche unites— or is— both spirit and matter. These beings dem onstrate th e idea of the Self being present from the beginning as the framework o f the crystal in the solution; but which is then only seen “dimly and indistinctly at


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th e end o f a long vista.”4 It is the work of a whole lifetime to see it at all distinctly— as Jung saw the yogi in his dream — or, in other words, for th e crystal to take the shape o f the unique individual. F rom the point o f view o f the animus, it is quite clear that, w hereas th e original minds and bodies o f human beings are “with­ out ourselves” (that is, flimsy and unsubstantial, personal but not yet individual) it is quite different with the “beings in a tangible shape.”5 This agrees with our o ^ n experience o f the animus. H e plays ducks and drakes with the ego and its personal wishes but when the Self is constellated, he is far m ore willing to cooperate.6 I once saw this very clearly with a girl who was out to get mar­ ried at all costs. She got on particularly well with m en, unless they w ere m arriageable. Then the animus always interfered and the man retreated in alarm. She decided to go into analysis and work out her problem. She did this very honestly and at last reach ed a genuine sacrifice o f her m arriage plot and decided that life would be bearable even if she rem ained unmarried. A few years later a young m an approached her and told her he had long w anted to m arry her, but something had ^lways stopped him from proposing. Evidently h er sacrificed m arriage plot had constellated som e­ thing o f the Self— which is a unio oppositorum — and now there w ere two opposites on her horizon— m arriage and single life— so th e animus was no longer tem pted to destroy it, for it had gained in substance and was now visible also from his reality. It is m y considered opinion that the ego alone can do very little with the animus, for he is always too clever for it. One sees that he is leading one do^wn the garden path and avoids that trap, only to find he has cleverly led one down another. If one really wants to change the old negative, opinionating animus, one is forced to turn to th e eternal “beings” in C h arlottes vision, for only the Self can really transform the animus. The vision continues: 4. Ratchford, The Brontes’ Web o f Childhood, p. 40. 5. Ibid. 6. [“Playing ducks and drakes" usually means to behave irresponsibly or recklessly, to squander one's wealth, or to heedlessly throw away something of value. Also the game of skipping flat stones along the surface of water. Ed.]


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Another world formed part of this reverie in which was no Glass Town or British Realm in Africa except Hindoostan, India, Calcutta. England was there but totally different in manners, law, customs, inhabitants—governed by a sailor— my Father Prime Minister. I and Arthur, young noblemen living at Strathaeye, or something with a name like that— visionary fairies, elves, brownies, the East Wind, and wild Arab-broken horses—shooting in moors with a fat man who was a great book. But I am lost, I cannot get on. 7

I should explain that the Glass To^wn, o f which this is the second m ention, was the capital o f the Angrian kingdom that all four children founded on the coast o f Africa in their fantasy games. L a te r only Branwell and Charlotte continued with the Angrian chronicles; Em ily and Anne founded their own kingdom on the islands o f Gondal and Gaaldine. On the whole this passage seems to be a rather confused attem pt to describe something o f the collective unconscious, which she calls “another world.” There is a hint o f order in the fact that she sees four places— Hindoostan, India, Calcutta, and England— and that she is struck by the fourth of these being so “totally different.” B u t, as she says herself, “I am lost, I cannot get on .” W e will just rem em ber th e “fat man who was a great book” and return to him later. It continues:

For hours I continued in this state striving to fathom a bottomless ocean of Mystery, till at length I was roused by a loud noise above my head. I looked up and thick obscurity was before my eyes. Voices—one like my own but larger and dimmer (if sound may be characterized by such epithets) and another, which sounded familiar, yet I had never, that I could remember, heard it before—murmuring unceasingly in my ears.8 7. Ratchford, The Brontes’ Web o f Childhood, p. 40. 8. Ibid., p. 41.


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Up until now the vision was visual, but here sound enters in and sight is im peded by thick obscurity. A nother sense is approached, just like a hiatus in a dream wherein another image is used to get over som ething incomprehensible to the dreamer. C harlotte can­ not see enough . . . but can she h ear? At first it is just a loud noise, but then she distinguishes voices, one like h er own and another familiar yet never heard before. This is a very apt description of psychic contents which are ourselves, although we have never b ecom e aware o f them before. T h e beginning o f this fantasy seem ed a definite removal from the hum an realm, which is then seen through the eyes o f the animus. B ut h ere— although the whole is w ritten in the nam e of L o rd Charles— one feels that C harlotte is somewhat returning to herself. T he thick obscurity above is m ore how the hum an being experiences such things. It is as if the appeal to the second human sense and the loud noise are waking h er up. B ut this is much clearer in the next passage:

I saw books removing from the top shelves and retuming, apparently of their own accord. By degrees the mistiness cleared off. I felt myself raised suddenly to the ceiling, and ere I was aware, beheld two immense sparkling bright blue globes within a few yards of me. I was in a hand wide enough almost to grasp the Tower of all Nations, and when it lowered me to the floor I saw a huge personification of myself . . . . 9 O ne asks oneself of their own accord and is rem inded of the “fat man” out shooting in the m oors who was “a great book.” Evidently one aspect o f h er animus is presumably identical with a book because writing was h er creative outlet and she was not only producing volume after volume in h er childhood but was destined later to w rite a few o f the most famous novels in the English lan­ guage. I should like to rem ind the reader here that Jung once divided novels into two classes. The first are psychological novels, and this m ay be why it was just books that w ere moving about 9. Ibid.


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w ritten from the conscious. And the second are visionary novels that com e mainly from the unconscious.10 T he fact that the books are moving about o f their own accord strikes m e as a hint that C harlottes books may belong mainly to the second class, a fact that is born out not only in the books them í^lves but also in what Mrs. Gaskell tells us o f the way in which she w rote. F o r example, M rs. Gaskell says that when C harlottes publishers w ere pressing her for Villette, she w rote to them :

It is not at all likely that my book will be ready at the time you mention. If my health is spared, I shall get on with it as fast as is consistent with its being done, if not well, yet as well as I can do it. Not one whit faster. When the mood leaves me (it has left me now without vouchsafing so much as a word or a message when it will return), I put by the manuscript and wait till it comes back again. God knows I sometimes have to wait.long—very long it seems to me.11 One wonders how a m od em publisher would react to this line of argument. But “all haste is o f the devil,” as the Rosarium Philosophorum says, a wise saying that was far m ore understood years ago than it is today, and C h arlottes publishers apparently understood such things very generously however m uch their program was disrupted. Returning to h er vision, she notes that by degrees the. mistiness clears off and later she realizes that she is raised up above the ground and is standing on a huge hand. I would say that this is the main indication that she is no longer identical with the animus but is now undergoing the experience m ore in her human shape and size. I would hazard a guess that the being in tangible shape, which she first perceived at the end o f a long vista as through the eyes of her animus, has now been realized 10. C. G. Jung, “Psychology an<i Literature” (1950), in CW, vol. 15 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1966), par. 139. 11. Elizabeth Gaskell, The Life o f Charlotte Bronte, vol. 2 (London: Smith, Elder and Co., 1857), p. 237.


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enough, for it is now able to take her on its hand, and the shape has becom e tangible enough for her to stand on. It is as though the being, called by her name and from whom she has been copied, has lifted her up to a higher and m ore objective standpoint. The first result is that she sees two “immense sparkling bright blue globes within a few yards” o f her. I am inclined to think that these. two globes may represent the two realities, our reality and that o f the animus or the unconscious— in other words: outer and inner life. This does not contradict the fact that in dream s things often appear as two when they are com ing over the threshold o f consciousness, for the two realities— inner and outer— are still only on th e threshold o f human consciousness. They are in the state o f the alchem istic separatio, and in our materialistic age we must discriminate them from the original oneness in order to realize the reality o f the inner world at all. B u t it is probable that, as our consciousness increases, the two may well be seen to be one after all. F o r the present, they are two, as Charlotte can now see while she is raised on the hand from the ground. must be very high up in the stratosphere to see our own earth as a sphere. The sun and m oon are always seen as round objects but we only know the earth is round, ordinarily we never see it as such. W hen Jung saw the earth in “global shape” in his 1 9 4 4 vision— and even then he did not see the whole earth— he afterward calculated that he would have had to have been approxim ately one thousand miles above the earth to have such an extensive view.12 So the great hand m ust have lifted Charlotte to a vast height, a near parallel to Ezekiel 3 :1 4 , but such visions are often characterized by exaltation. In the middle o f his great vision, for example, Ezekiel says: “So the spirit lifted m e up and took m e away and I went in bitterness, in the heat o f my spirit; but the hand o f the L o rd was strong upon m e.” Charlotte sees her two globes as equal in every respect. H er perception is neither from the ego point o f view, w here the unconscious is indistinct or even invisible, nor from that o f the animus, w here our reality is apparently indistinct or even nonexis12. Jung, Memories, Dreams, Reflections, pp. 289f.


The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

tent, but from a standpoint lent her by the tangible psychic being, the “eternal man” or "god-m an” in herself. But like all exalted visions it only lasts for a m om ent, then she is lowered to the ground again. She is no longer in the hand o f the eternal being but down on the earth looking at the latter. ^vidently she has now returned to h er o^wn human size, standing on her own reality, with her feet on the ground, seeing th e being who is “called by her name” and with h er own features as a figure "hundreds of feet high— standing against the great Oriel.” This is a m ost amazing image o f the small but definite human ego gazing up at the great archetypal Self whose “idea” makes up our hum an life. One can scarcely doubt here th at it is Charlotte herself who had this vision and that she is here seeing through her own eyes and not— as at the beginning— through those of her animus alone. B ut this point o f view com es back in the next and concluding paragraph:

This filled me with a weight of astonishment greater than the mind of man ever before had to endure, and I was now perfectly convinced of my non-existence except in another corporeal frame which dwelt in the real world, for ours I thought was nothing but idea.13 As mentioned before, we have indeed evidence, including that of Jung’s dream of the yogi dream ing Jung’s whole life, th at she is quite right in assuming that the hum an being is the idea o f the eternal being. It is the "nothing but” that reveals the animus with his original devilish opinion of the com plete unim portance and meaninglessness of this world. Jung com m ents on his yogi dream:

I had this dream after my illness in 1944. It is a parable: My self retires into meditation and meditates my earthly form. To put it another way: it assumes human shape in order to enter threè-dimensional existence, as if someone were 13. Gaskell, The Life ofC harlotte Bronte, p. 41.


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putting on a diver’s suit in order to dive into the sea. When it renounces existence in the hereafter, the self assumes a religious posture, as the chapei in the dream shows. In earthly form it can pass through the experiences of the threedimensional world, and by greater awareness take a further step toward realization.14 H ere— as in many oth er places— Jung emphasizes th e great im portance o f our reality, of the h ere and now, the im portance indeed for the Self to be able to en ter “three dimensional exis­ ten ce” in order to gain greater awareness and thus realize itself further than ever before. SpeaMng o f the dead, who are clearly also in the unconscious, Jung says in th e same chapter:

It seems to me as if they were dependent on the living for receiving answers to their questions, that is, on those who have survived them and exist in a world of change: as if omniscience or, as I might put it, omni-consciousness, were not at their disposal, but could flow only into the psyphe of the living, into a soul bound to a body. The mind of the‘living appears, therefore, to hold an advantage over that of the dead in at least one point: in the capacity for attaining clear and decisive cognitions. As I see it, the three-dimensional world in time and space is like a system of co-ordinates; what is here separated into ordinates and abscissae may appear "there,” in space-timelessness, as a primordial image with many aspects, perhaps as a diffuse cloud of cognition surrounding an archetype. Yet a system of coordinates is necessary if any distinction of discrete contents is to be possible. Any such operation seems to us unthinkable in a state of diffuse omniscience or, as the case may be, of subjectless consciousness, with no spatio-temporal demarcations. Cognition, like generation, presupposes an opposition, a here and there, an above and below, a before and after.15 14. Jung, Memories, Dreams, Reflections, pp. 323[ 15. Ibid., p. 308.


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H ere Jung speaks o f the two worlds as equal opposites: “A here and there, an above and below, before and after.” B u t the animus, in his original form, always tries to belittle the importance o f the three-dimensional world, and h ere he reduces it to his favorite formula: “nothing but.” Naturally, he wants the woman to see his ^ality, for very few see it at all and— according to his statem ent to m e in active imagination— he is naturally tem pted to ignore ours because he has the same difficulty in realizing it as we have with his. So it is really not at all surprising that Charlotte is not able to hold her vision of two equal globes, for this is a realization that takes a great deal o f effort and a long tim e to attain. Yet despite h er limited opportunities, she probably eventually w ent as far as she could toward this realization. The inner world was always by far the most real to all the Brontes, but Charlotte was the only one who later m ade the m ost valiant efforts to get her roots into the here and now. F o r years she regarded the inner world— the realm o f imaginative fantasy— as a secret and fought it with all the strength o f a tyrannical conscience. W e already had a hint that a much m ore m ate­ rial phase would follow the animus’s denial o f the reality o f this world seen in the fatness o f the man on the moors who was also a book. This indicated substance and weight, which w ere bound in time to make themselves felt. The “nothing but,” which was pointed in our vision toward outer life, was afterward directed against inner life which she has seen h ere as the only real world. If she was to be true to h er vision o f two equal spheres, then such an enantiodromia was inevitable, for at first it is only possible to see one at a time. It is the nature o f the animus, in his negative aspect, to move from one opposite to the other in— from human standards— a completely irresponsible way. H e will assure the woman o f one thing on one occasion, only to condem n it utterly on the next. The anima— allowing for the differences in h er nature— behaves in m uch the same way. Jung tells us from his o^ n experience in his description of the anima trying to persuade him that his first fantasies w ere art. lf he had believed her, he writes:


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She would in all probability have said to me one day, “Do you imagine the nonsense you're engaged in is really art? Not a bit.” Thus the insinuations of the anima, the mouthpiece of the unconscious, can utterly destroy a man. In the final analysis the decisive factor is always consciousness which can understand the manifestations of the unconscious and take up a position toward them.16 It was these “insinuations” of th e destructive side of her ani­ mus that w ere to torm ent Charlotte for most of h er subsequent life. B ut the positive, creative side o f h er animus was always at least equally strong as h er books still testify. And it strikes me as rem arkable that a fourteen-year-old girl, well over a hundred years ago, was able to see as m uch of th e "manifestations o f the unconscious” and record them so objectively and faithfully.

16. Ibid., pp. 185f.


/


Appendi^ One: fa-becca Wec1t J The H arsh V oice

to E d i t h H. W a l t o n , o n l y a v e r y g o o d craftsm an could have written The H arsh Voice." One is perpetually aware that these tales are contrived, and contrived for a maxi-

Ac c o r d in g

mum dram atic effect. They do not p roceed simply and naturally with the rhythm o f life, but respond to expert guidance from the author who is always stationed watchfully in the wings. Nothing is left to ch an ce. T h e read er is led firmly and with precision to the desired point and is forced to react in just the fashion Ms. W est has so carefully planned. W alton further notes that such cleverness can overreach itself, as in “T h ere Is No Conversation.” A F ren ch aristocrat, pitiably hollow and vain, tells the story of his ruin to a friend. As a casual am usem ent, he had m ade life glamorous for a dowdy middle-aged A m erican woman on holiday in Paris, not knowing at first that she was an im portant railway executive. W hen she discovered that he did not really love her, she used her financial power to wreck the railroad in which he held stock and so destroyed him utterly. The wom an who hears this story becom es obsessed with the thought o f a frustrated passion that could take such implacable revenge. W hen she goes to N ew York, she makes it her business to m eet the ruthless American and learns from her the startling and bitter facts. T h e true tale, as told n av ely by the American, leaves the * Edith H Walton, "Review of A Harsh Voice by Rebecca West,” New York Times, Febmary 3, 1935.


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The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women

unfortunate Fren ch m an no shred o f dignity or pride. In his blindness and conceit, he had m isinterpreted the affair completely. So far, so good— but W est tacks on a twist o f an ending which is utterly unforeseen. Surprising and effective as it is, it quite destroys the integrity o f the story and leaves one saying, “H ow clever” instead of, “H ow tragic.” T h ere is the sam e sense o f artificiality in “T he Abiding Vision.” This story has a certain am ount of warm th and vigor, but the ironic them e is dragged in once m ore at the end with a pat abruptness that is destructive of illusion. This then is the essay that Barbara Hannah refers to in h er lecture. “The Abiding Vision” pretends to be straightforward, yet it turns out to be tricky. “T he Salt of the E arth ” is m ore successful because its trickiness and ingenuity are apparent from the start. An implacably good woman, selfrighteous and determ ined to interfere with the lives of others, prepares h er own doom. H er husband, after a final desperate attem pt to make her m end h er ways, quietly m urders h er because he sees no other way to prevent h er from spreading destruction. It is a curiohsly fascinating yarn, which compels itself on its o^n special terms and makes its heroine so obnoxious that one gleefully assents to the murder. The fourth of the stories also has an A m erican background. R eb ecca W est in her off moments is still, in a sense, R ebecca West. She is incapable o f slovenly writing, o f being anything but witty and entertaining. Nevertheless, it seems a pity that she should squander her fine gifts on a book so inconsiderable as T he Harsh Voice.


Appendix Two: The f e g ent Georg e IV

BY 1811 , THE RECURRENT MENTAL ILLNESS OF ENGLAND’S King George III reached the point where his son George, Prince of Wales, was appointed Regent. It was the Prince Regent who personally set the tone for this period, known for its lavish expenditures, material and social extravagance, a lifestyle bordering on the indolent, and above all, for wonderful romance found today in so many pulp fiction love stories of that time. The Regency period was the heyday of the Romantic poets, best known for the works of Byron, Shelley, and Keats and by authors such as Wordsworth and Sir Walter Scott. Despite the glamour and frivolousness, the miserable conditions of life in the slums— so vividly described by authors of the subsequent Victorian era such as Charles Dickens— apply equally to the misery reigning during this time. Social reformers struggled to upgrade the prisons and rewrite the laws for paupers, and the destitute evangelical religious groups gained popularity, breaking from the Anglican Church. Growing agitation for political reform came from both the rising middle class and the laborers themselves. It was during this period that Jane Austen delighted the country with her timeless accounts of the manners and morals of the Regency period. The Regent ascended to the throne and became George IV upon the death of his father in 1820. He actually reigned as king for only ten years until his death in 1830. His daughter, Princess Victoria, took over the throne in 1837, ushering in the Victorian era, which prevailed until her death in 1901.


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G eorge IV was the antithesis o f his father. H e was conservative and disinterested— or, at best, infrequent— in his political involvement yet active in licentious affairs of the heart. As Prince Regent, he had many mistresses until he secretly m arried Maria Fitzherbert, a Catholic widow fully unacceptable as royalty on the throne. G eorge III had her dismissed from court and forced his son to m arry Caroline of Brunswick. The couple detested each other. Caroline took their only child to Italy and returned only when George succeeded to th e throne, and this only to claim her right to her position as queen. G eorge barred h er from his coronation and from all duties. Bright, effervescent, extravagantly generous, and able on the one hand, indolent, spoiled, indulged, and lazy on the other, G eorge IV was scandalous with his mistresses and uncontrolled in his spending. Yet he was a patron of the arts who left many wonderfu! artifacts— in particular libraries o f books— for posterity. G eorge’s amorous relationships w ere highly controversial, and here Jane Austen took him to task. Nevertheless, the Duke of Wellington considered him to be a m ost extraordinary compouríd of talent, wit, buffoonery, obstinacy, and good feelings, a m edley of the most opposite qualities, with a great preponderance of good.


O t h e r bo o ks b y B a r ba r a H ann ah

C. G. Ju n g : His Life a nd Work (Chiron Publications) Striving Towards W holeness (Chiron Publications) E ncounters with the Soul: A ctive Imagination (Chiron Publications) T he Cat, Dog, and H orse L ectures (Chiron Publications) T he In n e r J o u m e y : L ectures a n d Essays on Ju n gia n Psychology (Inner City Books) L ectures on J u n g s Aion (Chiron Publications) T h e A rchetypal Symbolism o f Animals (Chiron Publications)

Barbara hannah the spirit of inner truth in women  
Barbara hannah the spirit of inner truth in women  
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