Hannah - The Animus

Fhe S p ir it ol In n e r
T ru th in W o m e n
fíarbara líannah
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 DavúJ 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,
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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 lec-
tu 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 re-
sented here in two volumes. T h ese essays have been gleaned from
Barbara Hannahs handwritten notes, typed manuscripts, previ-
ously 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-
V III 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, under-
mining 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 straight-
forward 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 belong-
ing 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 per-
sonality, we are dealing with creative processes that are steeped
x 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
i gradually liberating on eself from th eir autonom ous, possessive
1 and irrational nature. Ju n g w rites in his m em oirs:
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 ani-
fest 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 con-
tribution 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 pub-
lished 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 exten-
sive 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 con-
ce 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.]
2 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 ani-

m 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 symp-
tom 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.
4 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 infi-
nitely 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 nineteenth-
centfiry rational ideas with which w e and our im m ediate forefa-
thers 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, invis-
ible 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 spir-
íts 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 read-
ing 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 en-
tion, 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 pari-
son, 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
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 at-
te 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 admit-
ting 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 num-
ber 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 quali-
ties 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.
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 obser-
vation 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 out-
side, 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 conscious-
ness (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 undertak-
ing. 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 back-
ground. 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 respon-
sible 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 connec-
tion 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 personi-
fied 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 reli-
10. 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 reli-
gion, 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 el-
low 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 experienc-
ing 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
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 over-
looked. As he also em phasizes in his writings, it is only a com p ara-
tively 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 con-

sciousness 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 psy-
chic 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 con-
sists 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 acquain-
12. 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 objec-
tive 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.\
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 au-
dessus 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 irra-
tional 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 bewil-
dering. 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
i6 The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women
Consulting this figure. At first, she certainly seem ed in a m ost envi-

able 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 omnipo-
ten 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 pro-
gressively 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 rnen-
tioned 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.
i8 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 previ-
ously 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 symbol-
ism 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 unsurpass-
able 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 cp*-
sinned against the child, the man who is really adult will
accept these sins as his own condition which has to be reck-
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.)
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 de-
veloped by Barbara Hannahs generation of colleagues are now employed in many contem-
porary 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 pro-
d 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 pas-
sage 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.
the answers are usually so far from w hat one could think o f con-
sciously 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 care-
fully 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 insubstan-
tial 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 infor-
mation 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.]
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 interest-
ing 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 is-
ing 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 facul-
ties at his disposal in o rd er that he m ay have the means o f express-
jn 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 nui-
sance 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 unquestion-
ably, 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 one-

sided. 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 interfer-
en 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.
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
âken 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 auto-
biographical; 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 cer-
tainly 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 contem-
porary 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 fífty 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 mul-
tiple 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 (1776-
1848), 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 de-
cisive 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.}
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, inter-
estingly 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 hap-
piest 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 arch-
bishop” 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 cer-
em on ies. (As b eco m es clear in th e acco u n t o f the exorcism , a spe-
cial 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 par-
43. (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 ]
3° 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 ini-
tially 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 hor-
rihle 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 exor-
cized. 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 con-
versations 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, unfor-
tunately, is n ot rep orted in detail— she cried out in anguish sev-
eral 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 spiri-
tual 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 vivid-
ness 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 dramati-
cally 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 estab-
lished 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), vol. IX (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton
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 environ-
m 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 pos-
sible “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. ]
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 t-
landish 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, grand-
father, 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
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 try-
ing to avoid. T h e spirits then behave in a way that is m ost ch arac-
teristic 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)
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 psy-
chologica] 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 oint-
m 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 autobio-
graphical 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 responsibil-
ity 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
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 uch-
d 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 humil-
ity 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 stand-
point. 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.
40 The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in W&men
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 psy-
ch 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 woriy-
ing 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 neu-
rosis, 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 ]
The Problem o f Contact w ith the Anim us 41 -
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 excep-
tional. . . 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
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 hand-
kerchief 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 for-
given 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 hand-
und Hausmãrchen d er Briider Grimm, vol. 2 (Leipzig, 1915).
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 apart-
rnent 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. ”
But the old king had no work fo r h er and knew o f noth-

ing 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 squab-
blingflock.
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 45-
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 glisten-
ing golden hair.
So one evening after they had come home, Conrad
begged fo r a short audience with the aging king. In frustra-
tion, he expressed his wish to the king to be assigned another
assistant fo r pasturing the geese. The king inquired about the
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 47
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 deter-
mination 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 noth-
ing 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 adjoin-
ing 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
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 him-
self 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 ban-
quet 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 col-
lective unconscious and the anticipations o f individual ch aracter-
istics. 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 váeW-Qf
analytícal 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 con-
trary, 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
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 re-
dom 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 fol-
lows, 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
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 truthful-
ness 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_real-
ity 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.
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 ec-
tion 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
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 posses-
sion 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 con-
cealed 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 believ-
ing 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 reestab-
lish 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.
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 over-
reaches 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 differ-
en 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.inex-
haustible 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 ate-
rial...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 inexo-
rable 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 nev-
ertheless 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
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 a-
tive, 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
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.]
6o The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women
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 pho-
tostat 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 appar-
en 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 c-
2. [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.]
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-.Jeânne: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.hap-
pens 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 i-
cal 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.
A n im us and Eros 63 „
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 bright-
ness 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).
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, to„do_active.^naginatioon.7 B u t w hat is this desic-
cated 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 e’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 task-
The 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 uncon-
scious. In such awareness we experience ourselves concur-
rently as limited and eternal, as both the one and the other.
In teo\ving_ourselyes to_be 1_iigu^_iîour_ge.rsgriaj_ço_mbiiia-
:1c
tion— that is, ultimately limited— we. possess also the capac-
ity 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 con-
centrate-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 par-
ticularly 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. autono-
m ousT~.-<estm£±ive,ând_-unmanageable, .a _constellation— docu-
m 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.
than we realize today. T h ese collective figures are.._ârche^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^hemhê__pex.suades,.:us.itha:Lai^^.dê.._su!llir-
fici.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 suc-
ce 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 con-
sidering, 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 animus-
possessed 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
Anim us and Eros 67
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^Âe.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 syn-
ch 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.

“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 intel-
lect 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.
Anim us and Eros 69
subdues nature, nature rules over n atu re,” and that the one con-
taining 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 . superflui-
ties. 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 pro-
cess 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 alche-
m 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 arti-
ficer 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
13. Jung, Mysterium Coniunctionis, CW, vol. 14, par. 140.
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 cap-
tive.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 mod-
eration.” 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 favor-
able 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-rmeti-
c 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.
Anim us and Eros 7i
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 i-
urge 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 sulphur— as the arcan e substance— 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 man’s conscious-
ness 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 para-
doxes as th e H indu con cep tion o f th e A tm an, w hich on the one
15. Ibid., par. 145.

72 The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Wo^men
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
âmong 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 regard-
ed as analogous to the m ost sacrosanct figure o f alchem ical phi-
losophy. 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 consum-
ing 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. Ibid.
17. Ibid., par. 147.
18. Ibid., par. 148.
19. Ibid., par. 1.51.
Anim us and Eros 73
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 pro-
ce 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 a-
tion o f m y own experience. Jung particularly stresses the neces-
sity 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.]
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
more you are Everyman who has not yet discovered himself
t 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 facilita-
tive 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.
Anim us and Eros 75
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 er-
ing. 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 escap-
ing 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.
76 The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in W o ^ n
and touched with the hands, is w orthless or is even declared non-

existent. 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 every-
thing unique . . . . Yet the real carrier of life is the individual.
He alone feels happiness, he alone has virtue and responsibil-
ity 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 per-

suades 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.
Anim us and Eros 77
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 dedi-
ca 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 recog-
nized. 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 eces-
sary 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.]
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,
this is not my fault, it is yours.” I declined that responsibility,
and he answered with something like: “O f course, I do not
f
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.rnalig-

nity” m entioned in Philalethas te x t and shows, by several quota-
tions, 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 two-
fold in d re a m s, _it often m eans th at th ere is.som eth in g approach-
ing_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 insig-
30. Jung, Mysterium Coniunctionis, C\V, vol. 14, par. 195.

31. Ibid., par. 196.
Anim us and Eros 79
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 won-
dering 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 prob-
ably 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 “eighty-million strong nation” 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 all-
im 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 “the individual
succum bs to th e m adness that sooner o r later overtakes every
32. Ibid.
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 poi-
sonous 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 free-
dom 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.
Anim us and Eros
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 cul-
tu 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.]
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_.imagina-
tion 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 indi-
viduate 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 individu-
ation 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 crystal-
lization. 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 conscious-
ness 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 perma-
nently. Whenever this image is obscured, his life loses its
proper meaning and consequently its balance. So long as
University Press, 1968), pars. 325f.
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 mad-
ness 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.
Anim us and Eros 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 psy-
chological 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 sublu-
nary 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 dark-
ness to which she belongs, for the opposites not only flee

40. Jung, M emories, Dreams, Reflections, p. 330.
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 e-
riom 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).
An im us and Eros 87
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, representsân 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-after-
another 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
“exalted above measure.” The one-after-anothejr is a bear-
able 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 God’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.

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.
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 qual-
ity_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 part-
n 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 suc-
cess 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 1-
m 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_ôn,.,.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 one-
sided 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
m ore easily to hIT, Jung once said at a sem inar that if a m atch-
stick 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 phe-
nom 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;he-
w 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-Gon-
tem 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 con-
stellated 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, howev-
er, 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.
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 han-
dled: 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 re-
vious b elief that “honesry was always the b est policy.” W h atever
I was, I was always undeviatingly honest! M y godm other shud-
d 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 sec-
ondly, 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 regret-
table, 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.
Logos and Eros are intellectually formulated intuitive equiv-

alents 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 fin-
ished 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 moon-
liglit sm oothesit over. A.clas_sic _exampleof this is the con-
cilia^tmy_J2 rôsal_ 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.
Anim us and Eros 95
a wom an’s o^wn p.d.JJ.çiple,_ELQ§,_SQj.:!,t^he m ay be.the .cQunter-

part 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 agina-
tion and any com m union b etw een conscious and the unconscious
was virtually impossible, we shall realize w hat a com plete trans-
form 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
sîîe ?.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.
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 “make-
weight 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
O • ----
evil doing
" - - o
o f the thief, th- e--------
m nn------
ing awav a full - tilt
o ~ ------- — - ü . .
and
.
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..real-
ize 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 e-
thing 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 synthe-
sized 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 ãsâccepted. 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-
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 indirect-
ly— 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 coun-
terp 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 mak-
ing 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 .theânimu&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 eri-
torious 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 inde-
pendently 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 llec-
tive 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:
ANIMA ANIMUS
4 Sophia Hermes I Psychopomp
3 Mary Lover
2 Helen Husband
1 Cha^wa/Eve 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 inven-
tion, 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.]
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 lec-
ture her husband was giving.
But one can speculate about the animus and really pro-
duce 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 low-
est 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 teach-
ings 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 descend-
ing into him when he was baptized by John, being born out of Sophia. See_G.__R.J^Mead,
The Anim us Problem in M odern Women 103
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.
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 sym-
bolic 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 res-
e 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.goes-
to 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-attri-
bu 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).
io 6 The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women
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 abso-
lutely 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 analy-
sis 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 disap-
pointing. Personifications o f th e animus are very rare, particularly
10. Jung, Visions-, p. 492.
The Anim us Problem in Modern Women 107_
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 por-
tray him self, h e can n ot help from bowing into the gam e som e-
w 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_íûfestitute.”11
This led m e to th e i d e a _.that..one,.-Would have.. ttxlo.QJkfojLthe.
an i:û sii!!_J:Ilostjvifp,men:§.._h.Qoks„ând 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 fortu-
nately 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„_£ûp,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 proposi-
ti 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 fojÛLhorLstQries^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.om-
11. 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.
io 8 The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women
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 let-
te 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 logi-
cal 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 Soôws 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 artis-
tic 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]
11O The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women
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.EÍ§ti.cs..o£;_man-
This 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 trans-
formed 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 pro-
duce 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-anijmuîdea_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,
The Anim us Problem in Modern Women 111
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 an’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 J’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 indepen-
dently; it would then be a little finger personality, it would be
15. Jung, Nietzsche’s Zarathustra, p. 731.
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
I form.16
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^^ît-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
of such things, I say: “as if.” It is as if these archetypes were
i 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 over-
come, 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-â__:marvelr
Qü2 opinÍQB, on& m ust.sayL‘lIs.,t.hatrei!llyyourself? D o you really
îliill_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 actu-
ally_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 constel-
lates 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.
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 pre-
fer 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 115
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 pic-
ture, 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.

The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Wo^men
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-©rigmaUy-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 god-
20. Ibid., pp. 778f.
The Anim us Problem in M odern Women
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 daugh-
te 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 er-
able 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 real-
ized 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 satisfacto-
rily 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 neverthe-
less, 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.
12 0 The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Wor^ n
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 _feel-
j ^ 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 wrong-
ness 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_wiîn..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.
w om an t o b e capabl e o f such chscrimmationa\ritho_utthc_co,.g>pera-

tion_of-h er animus.
Personally, I am convinced that we would have never discov-
ered 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 real-
ized 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
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 inter-
fering. 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 sign-
posts 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.]
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
principlê..-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 classifica-
tion 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 speci-
mens, 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,..rep-
resented 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 Üoncerned-
with-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,differ-
ent 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
124 The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Tnith in Women
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 incor-
poration 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 shârp 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 animus-
ridden 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 wonder-
fully 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 o-
tionality, 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 under-
standing each other, Jung said:
28. Jung, Visions, pp. 316f.
1.26 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 evi-
dent 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.
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 any-
body 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
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 distin-
guish 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.
The Anim us Problem in M odern Women 129--
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
^^âtter.that.is_nQt^bYipus_anjdÃs_n.Qt.vtsibê,.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 of-
space 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:ûld_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.
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.
The Anim us Problem in M od em Women
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 proce-
dure 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.
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 objec-
tively, 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£»para-
m 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 distort-
ing 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
The Anim us Problem in M odem Women : 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 great-
e 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 differ-
ence 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 ana-
lyzed.” 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 accom-
plishment 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.]
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
The Anim us Problem in M odern Women 135'
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 spiritu-
ally 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 enta-
to 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 red-
yellows, 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 fas-
cinating to earlier cultures. It was called electron in ancient Greek, from which the words
electron and electricity are derived. Ed.]
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 fugi-
tive 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.ina-
tion. 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 is-
possess_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.
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 gener-
ally 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 exclud-
ed 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 desir-
ousness 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 com-
bated, and it is the same in Brahmanism, in the Tantric phi-
losophy, in Manichaeism, in Christianity, and it is a term in
psychology [as well].42
138 The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Wo-men
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 hurch— renunciation—
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 con-
sequence 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.
The Anim us Problem, in M odern Women 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 opportu-
nity 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
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
timaôo.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:uâIL.d!iscîll:'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, par-
ticularly 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 evi-
d 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.
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 treat-
f 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 caîly.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.]
:,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 submis-
sion b eco m e clear. T he w om an now has to take the entire respon-
sibility for herself. Jung notes that being forced to assum e respon-
sibility 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 âjl three„o,Jwhich are.exceedingly difficult. Things are
so m uch easier w hen one doesn’t see through th em ; th en every-
thing 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

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 Zürich
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, exten-
sive. 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 recon-
structed 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.
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 147
ANIMA ANIMUS
4 Sophia Hermes I Psychopomp
3 M ^y Lover
2 Helen Husband
1 Cha^wa/ Eve 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 ent-
ed. 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, mythologi-
cal, 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.]
(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.„îmus..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 our-
selves in the world, b u t all four functions (thinking, feeling, intu-
ition, 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 intro-
ductoiy 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 realiza-
tion) 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 ôth 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 unpleas-
an 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.
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 element— 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 proce-
dure 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).
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 153,
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
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 experi-
e 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 valu-
able 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 alche-
mist, 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 about-
8 . [Barbara Hannah’s point here roughly corresponds with the Buddhist concept of satipat-
thana or “mindfulness,” where one attempts to observe and detach oneself from the polari-
ties 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.]
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 psycho-
analyst 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 every-
thing 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 sha-
m 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 pleas-
ant 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

10. Ibid., p. 367.
i5 8 The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women
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 vio-
lence. 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 suppres-
sion 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 posi-
tion 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 differ-
en 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 condi-
tions 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!!eoneLÂt.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 aware-
ness 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 strug-

gling— 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 pre-
viously 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 psycho-
analyst 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 Mâxwell 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 totalitari-
anism 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 sup-
ported 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
Anim us Figures in Literature and in M odern L ife 163
T h e book we will be dealing with isir^ W - r a r s h Y ü ic e ) a collec-

tion 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 an-
ages to survive although the relationship is déstroyed. In the sec-
ond 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, howev-
er, 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 ma-
teriality . . . 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.]
post with a high salary G reatly relieved, he returns to h e r apart-

m 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 er-
stand 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 conse-
quences; in another, the couple opts for suicide apparently think-
ing 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_whetheêr.J:hê...factu^^^^íLSJ^des
_llre b rou ght about by animus attitudes and opinions. ,_As_aiLopin-
ionating 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 il-
lusion. There are intersecting monologues, that is all” (Tillinghast, “Rebecca West and the
Tragedy of Yugoslavia,” The New Cdterion 10 (June 1992), p. 12). Ed.]
Anim us Figures in L iterature and in Modern L if e 165
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 interest-
ing 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 indul-
gen 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.
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 fore-
ground. T he seven teen th -cen tu ry English alchem ist and theolo-
19. [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 “mysti-
cal 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 pro-
ceed 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.
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 pleas-
ant 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 publica-
tion 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 consider-
ably 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 an-
age 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 ado-
lescent girls. At bottom , R eb e cca W e st does not describe relation-
ships 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 eander-
ing, 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
Anim us Figures in Literature and in M o d em L ife 169
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 per-
form 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 major-
ity 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 pro-
jecte 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.
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 psy-
ch 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 thera-
peutic. standpoint. this is extraordinarily im portanLsm ce^constant
observation p av sth at ve!Y tribute to the; unconscio!ls _wP.içhrecip-
rocates \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 well-
w 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 entangle-
m 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 psychologi-
cal 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.real-
ized_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 not-
ing 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.
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 quater-
nity 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 miss-
ing 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 under-
stood 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 con-
n 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 differ-
e 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.]
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 appar-
i 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 cou-
29. [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 con-
fidante. 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 eventu-
ally 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 fam-
ily w en t to the seaside every sum m er, and it was while on one
1.78 The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women
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 vari-
ous 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 disap-
pointm 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 appar-
ently 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 posi-
tion 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-capac-
ity 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 unsuit-

able, 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 feel-
ings 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 dab-
bled 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
Anim us Figures in Literature and in M odern Life 181..
later, w hich again was a relief, y et m any m onths o f un certain ty fol-

lowed. 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 advan-
30. [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 fa-
tigue and muscular weakness, low blood pressure, weight loss, nausea and vomiting, a crav-
ing 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 lik-
en 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. appar-
ently 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 surround-
ings, 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.]
Animus Figures in Literature and in Modern Life 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 pro-
te 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
184 The Animus: The Spirit of Inner Truth in Women
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 “creative-
mysticism” 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 satis-
fied 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.]
“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^rry-
ing 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 estab-
lishment 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.”
Animus Figures in Literature and in M odem Life 187,
“I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit bet-

ter 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 com-
passion 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 neighbour-
hood.”
“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 fan-
cied 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,
1.88 The Animus: The Spirit of Inner Truth in Women
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 cer-
tainly 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 mar-
riage to h er— due to h er inferior family— would be degrading.
His arrogance inflames Elizabeth, w ho curtly rejects his pro-
posal: 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 i 8g
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 sil-
lier 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
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 end-
ing 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 hap-
p 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
Animus Figures in Literature and in Modern Life 191
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.„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 usten’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
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 sur-
faces 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).
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
Î!!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
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 man-
ners 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
Animus Figures in Literature and in Modern Life 1.95
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 idi-
otic 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
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 strik-
ing 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 pru-
dent: 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
Ti
and realizes th at she will probably have to see him m arry som e-
one 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. j
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.psych9-
Oogj c a lw a y — th ere being no b e tte r— bu.t A n n e _is.st.iU.too. ideal,.
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 vic-
tory over Jane A ustens earlier books, but it is not at all as inter-
esting 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 clas-
sics, 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 ira-
tion 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 convinc-
ing 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.]
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 en-
sions 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 ortho-
dox. 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!seÍQUS-
ness 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.]
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 ten-
dency 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 nine-
teen 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 enor-
mous self-discipline and self-denial to give up wishful think-
ing 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 con-
science” 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 ostpracticalûse 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
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^^înteresting_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,.isâlmost
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
in seeing our reality. The gradual humanizing of hero and heroine

can be said to reflect the amount of the human world he assimi-
lated 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, shar-
ing- with.her.hikdeep. n o w le d g e o f. jthe cotijitivsitlo and introduc-
mg.her.toth e-history, fo lH ore,_ad lege.nd_oLS_hôpshire. 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 abso-
lutely 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.]
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 govern-
ess, 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 incur-
able 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 e-
w hat from the illness, she had a recu rren ce at the age o f twenty-
eight, 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 publish-
ers 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 (with-
out 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.]
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 hunts-
man, 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-preserva-
tion, 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.
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 post-
humously. 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 out-
standingly 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.]
206 The Animus: The Spirit of Inner Truth in Wo men
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 love-
spinning 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-is-
to-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 creat-
ed 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
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. Gold-
over 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 tossy-
b 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 farmers—

sturd y honest, and trustworthy, the salt of the earth. The village
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 com-
ing 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,
43. Ibid., par. 534.
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
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 separa-
tor. 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.]
Animus Figures in Literature and in Modern Life 21.1.
wise, steadfast, and exceedingly honorable— is shown h ere in an

unfortunate and th reaten in g position, for evil is m enacing, plot-
ting 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- gentle-
man,_ 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 won-
ders 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
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 won-
derful 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.impli-
cation 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
find at the end o f the book. P ru e has a beautiful figure and is oth-
erwise 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
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
Animus Figures in Literature and in Modern Life Zl5
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-
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 primar-
ily 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.
Animus Figures in Literature and in M odern Life 21.7
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 suc-
ceeds 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 dis-
content 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.]
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 re-
incarnation. A controversial figure, she was purportedly able to perform physical and mental
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.]
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 hay-
cocks, 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 fright-
en me awayinto my own lonesome soul, this would never
have come to me. The apples would have crowded all in vain
to see a marvel, for I should never have known the glory that
came from the other side of silence. Even while I was think-
ing 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 “bird with wings.” 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 down-
ward. 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.]
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 hin-
dered 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 farm-
ers 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 commodi-
ties), 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.]
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 “two-
to -o n e” against consciousness. Prue therefore has to overcom e
a good deal in herself before she can accept Jancis as a “sister-
in-law.” She definitely places herself on the side o f Jancis and
overcom es h er jealousy, as least as far as consciousness is con-
cern 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 bring-
ing 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
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.
A nim us Figures in Literature and in M odem L ife 22 5_
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 turn-
ing 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
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
Grimble’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 dog’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_func-
tions . 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 ask-
ing to wed, it ud be just such another as th a tn .” Prue is thus sup-
ported 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 on-
vinced-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.]
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 mas-
Jte 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 or-
phosis 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 poison-
ous 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
Animus Figures in Literature and in Modern Life 229 ,
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 inth 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.
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 opposi-
tion 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
Animus Figures in Líterature and in Modern Life 231...
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
232 The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Wo^men
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 suspect-
ed 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....Yow„ 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 logi-
cal 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 repeat-
edly 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
Anim us Figures in Literature and in M odem Life 233
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
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 appear-
ance 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 ac-
cused 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 por-
tals, 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 uncer-
tain, 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 ’s stool. As a collective
judgm ent, it naturally goes beside the mark and makes its accusa-
tion 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 ebb’s m asterpiece and h er last com plete
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 English-
speaking 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 autodi-
dactic 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 academi-
cally always in the top of his class. He was awarded a bachelor
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 town’s first
official Wesleyan chapel in 1814. Maria was petite, plain, intel-
ligent, 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 biogra-
phy of Charlotte Bronte, gives a lively description o f the township
of Penzance with its haunted houses, witches, smuggling, cock-
fights, and the like, but adds proudly: “In the Branwell family itself
The Brontes and M odem Women
the violence and irregularity o f nature did not exist.”1 One suppos-
es 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, fol-
lowing 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.]
bleak village on the edge o f the vast Yorkshire moors was their
life and their cem etery.
'rhe_ihin^^^âLways..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 shad-
piws 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 cir-
cum 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 exceed-
ingly 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 move-
m 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 it-
tingly 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 mat-
rimony” in their books. Marriage is recognized as the center o f
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 Bronfôîaokr...
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±hejmodeê.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
The Brontes and M odern Women 243
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 con-
tem 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 practi-
cally 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 . ]
244 The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Wo'men
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 proposi-
tion. 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
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
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
is c lo s e r to Ja n e A u sten's
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 ti-
cize 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.]
The Brontes and Modern Women 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 ’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 steadfast-
ness, which gives him hope and new life. H e can speak to her,
for instance, about his opera m istress, and she can fully under-
stand 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 « 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 con-
ten 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
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 infi-
nitely 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 her-
oines 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 white-
wash 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.
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;tioô£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, descrip-
tive 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.
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 house-
k 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 .
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.
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 e-
less 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 author-
ity), 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 refine-

ment, 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 affec-
tion beneath a stem exterior! He’s not a rough diamond— a
12. [Schivãmmerei: rave, crush. Ed.]
pearl-containing oyster of a rustic: he’s a fierce, pitiless, wolf-

ish 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 .]
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_.Bônté 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,
though the weakest from a literary point o f view, is interesting

in being a far m ore comp^âitempLtb: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..ubor-
dinated±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 pos-
sess 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 regard-
ing 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.
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. natu-
rally 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^^â:^ _-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 depen-
dence. 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
256 The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Troth in Women
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_com-
pleted. 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 back-

ground, 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.
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 suf-
fer 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.]
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 happen-
ing 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 .
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.

-
/
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 bit-
terly 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
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 arche-
type 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,
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
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.]
Victims o f the Creative Spirit 263
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
Veryô^!!!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 con-
tradiction 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_cour-
age_. 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
264 The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Wo-men
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.]
Victi^ms o f the Creative Spirit 265
pretty steep hill, with a background o f dun and purple m oors, ris-
ing 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 b-
ing. 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, pro-
vided the village with education and a focus for social life.
Gaskell further notes that there w ere no sewers; the w ater sup-
ply, 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 par-
son’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 weap-
11. [Forty-one percent of infants died before reaching their sixth birthday. Ed.]
ons at the London armory. In a discussion in Zürich not long ago,

Jung em phasized that the child whose parents failed in develop-
ing 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 sur-
vived, 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 con-
tains 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.]
V ic tir s o f the Creative Spirit 267
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 imagi-
nary 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 imagi-
nary 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 narra-
tive 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.]
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 frag-
m 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 indescrib-

able 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 roll-
ing 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.]
Victi'ms o f the Creative Spirit 269
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 providen-
18. 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).
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 re-
figured 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
Victi-ms o f the Creative Spirit 271
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 pro-
vide 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).
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 collec-
tive 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 entan-
gling 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 per-
sonally. 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
Victims o f the Creative Spirit
273
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 uncon-
scious, 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.]
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 unattract-
ive. 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
Victims o f the Creative Spirit 275
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-ê-infim tely-m orahum an. TheyLhaYejLOlJhe_p_urely
deID_@^Lcharacte r...thatm akes..Heathcliff.such- a marvelous por-
trait 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.
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
29. Gaskell, The Life o f Charlotte Bronte, vol. 1, pp. 111f.
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 lik-
ens 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.
Victims o f the Creative Spirit ^-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 influ-
ence 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 actu-
al—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 opposi-
tion 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.orâuthorsfàrontê/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.
While fully agreeing with Miss Ratchford, I should like to sug-

gest 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 intro-
verted (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 grow-
ing 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.
282 The Animus: The Spirit of Inner Truth in Wo'men
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 optimis-
tic. 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 differ-
ence 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 yoy-
age. 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 ote-
ness, 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 opposi-
tion 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.phan-
tom_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_^îus_or,j;(iJungian.language,_heI.jfflimus...ê_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 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 origi-
nally 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.]
Victiims o f the Creative Spirit 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.
286 Th e Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women
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 inhu-
man, demonic like the animus itself, it is yet a “moral teething."
Childishness and weakness are burnt away in H eathcliffs neigh-
borhood. 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 super-
fluities 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

Victiims o f the Creative Spirit 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 hand-
som 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 ambi-
tion, 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 engage-
m 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 pair-
ing 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
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 lan-
guage) the retort bursts. In the second part o f the story, our author
îcks 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 young-
er 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 estab-
lished 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
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.
Just as conscious apprehension gives our actions form and

direction, so unconscious apprehension through the arche-
type 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 instinctu-

ally 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
The Brontes and Individuation 293
Now, clearly, the example of the yucca moth can be under-

stood 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, age-
old 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-
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 spec-
trum — 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 ultraviolet

(dynamic instinct) (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 indi-
4. C. G. Jung, "On the Nature of the Psyche" (1954), in CW, vol. 8 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton
5. Ibid., par. 414.
The Brontes and Individuation - *95
viduation contains all other archetypes. You all know how conclu-
sively 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 dif-
ferentiated. 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 atten-
tion 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 for-
mulation 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 whole-
ness 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.
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 sur-
prising 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 d
S tran ge E ven ts
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 agi-
n 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 will-
ing to believe that th e result was often u nfortunate, even disas-
trous, 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
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 ” intro-
duces 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.
The Animus in Charlotte Brontê’s Stran ge E ven ts 2 99
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 gleam-
ing 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 medita-
tion. 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.
It is clear that Jung’s dreams belong to a totally different stage

and personality, full o f positive creativeness, whereas the state-
m 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 insub-
stantiality 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 sugges-
tive: “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” con-
tains 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
The Animus in Charlotte Bronte’s Stran ge E ven ts 301
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 propos-
ing. 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 squan-
der one's wealth, or to heedlessly throw away something of value. Also the game of skipping
flat stones along the surface of water. Ed.]
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 bot-

tomless 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.
The Animus in Charlotte B ron tes Strange E ven ts 303
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.
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 pro-
gram was disrupted.
Returning to h er vision, she notes that by degrees the. misti-
ness 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
11. Elizabeth Gaskell, The Life o f Charlotte Bronte, vol. 2 (London: Smith, Elder and Co.,
1857), p. 237.
The Animus in Charlotte B rontes Strange E ven ts 305
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 nonexis-
12. Jung, Memories, Dreams, Reflections, pp. 289f.
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.
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 three-
dimensional 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 arche-
type. Yet a system of coordinates is necessary if any distinc-
tion 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.
308 The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Woimen
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
âlity, 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 tyran-
nical 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:
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
Ac c o r d in g
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 perpetu-
ally aware that these tales are contrived, and contrived for a maxi-
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.
3 12 The Animus: The Spirit o f Inner Truth in Women
unfortunate Fren ch m an no shred o f dignity or pride. In his blind-

ness 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 iron-
ic 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, self-
righteous 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 glee-
fully 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 expen-
ditures, 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.
G eorge IV was the antithesis o f his father. H e was conserva-

tive 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 coro-
nation 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 poster-
ity. 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 ed-
ley 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)

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Fhe S p ir it ol In n e r

edlted by DavúJ ElJred and EmmanueL Kennedy-Xypolittld

From M EM ORIES, DREAMS, R E F L E C T IO N S by C. G. Jung, edited by Aniela

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

Jung, C. G.; DREAM ANALYSIS. © 1984 Princeton University Press. Reprinted by

Jung, C. G.; N IET Z SC H E ’S ZARATHUSTRA. © 1988 Princeton University Press.

Jung, C. G.; VISIONS. © 1997 Princeton University Press. Reprinted by permis­

Book and cover design by P eter Altenberg.

Library o f Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

BF175.5.A 53H 36 2010

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 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

in m ystery and can b e trnly grasped only by inner experience

To me there is no liberation à tous prix. I cannot be liberated

C om p lete devotion to and participation to th e u tm ost in the

Through an honest and conscious confrontation with the

Editor's Note: This essay on "The Problem of Contact with the

T h erefore it seem s indispensable to devote this p a p er o n th e ani-

o f personal repressions or o f that w hich has been forgotten. This

Masculinity means knowing what one wants and doing what

If we are to avoid this “trem endous psychic loss,” we are obliged

contrary, seem s to be rath er fond o f sitting for h er p ortrait!) Thus

often that psychology is an em pirical science. Jungian psychology

It is as if you were ruler of a land which is only partially

O n ce we have realized that w e are not the king o f our

6. C. G. Jung, N ietzsches Zarathustra: Notes o f th e Seminar Given in 1934-1939, 2 vols.

7. Ibid., pp. L493ff.

are in a position to take up our problem with the m ore distance

gion. This m ay be one o f many reasons why w om an realized the

only those individuais can attain to a higher degree of con-

O nce we have definitely realized that we have a shadow and

tan ce o f o u r anim a 01* animus. On th e one hand, these figures

A belief in the personification o f evil p er se is found in almost

sam e with a w om an. E v ery devil circulating within one hu ndred

Consulting this figure. At first, she certainly seem ed in a m ost envi-

Perhaps the m ost usual and least unp]eas£.nt way o f learning

it, such as never having th e tim e, and so on. B ut if we can force

Although th ere are exceptions, m ost w om en who have exp e­

If then w e d ecid e to grow up and b eco m e adult in th e sense

As m entioned b efore, the animus is always dual. H e has a

t NEGO TIATIONS W IT H T H E ANIMUS

in the lives o f the B ro n tê sisters. They gave m ost o f th eir energy

reality. M oreover, just as he can help us in the invisible w orld o f

energy, tim e, and attention, not only in ord er to get acquainted

trying to get us back into the “unconscious fold o f m oth er nature”

Doubt is the crown o f life and ali certainty is merely one-

rep orted from a totally diffcrent standpoint to that o f m o d em psy~

38. Josepl) Gõrres, D ie Christliche Mystik, Band V (Regensburg; Veríagsanstalt GJ Manz,

give th em h er tongue so that they could con trol h er confessions.

ticularly liked, seem ed always to have b een with her. B u t som e o f

T liere are still a few facts which w e m ust take from th e o th er

h er tongue and th e oth er m em bers of h er body, and even then

short passage from Psychology a n d R eligion. Ju n g gives here a

is exclusívely phenomenological, that is, it is concemed with

T h ere is no doubt from the n u m b er o f witnesses, in whose

Jung, C. G.; VISIONS. © 1997 Princeton University Press. Reprinted by permis

Although th ere are exceptions, m ost w om en who have exp e