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THE RED BOOK: LIBER NOVUS

THE RED BOOK
LIBER NOVUS
C.G. JUNG
EDITED by SONU SHAMDASANI
PREFACE by MARK KYBURZ, JOHN PECK, and SONU SHAMDASANI
A publication in arrangement with the Foundation of the Works of C.G. Jung. Zurich

In recent years a number of religio-psychological cults have arisen which are attempting to rescue the spiritual values in psychology from the rank materialism of most academic practitioners in the field. It is possible that one of the reasons why scientific psychology has not lived up to the hopes and expectations of its enthusiasts is, that in borrowing its principles from the ancient temples, too much of the religious and philosophical parts of the doctrine were rejected and ignored.
-- The Divine Art, by Manly P. Hall

Table of Contents:


THE YEARS, OF WHICH I HAVE SPOKEN TO YOU, when I pursued the inner images, were the most important time of my life. Everything else is to be derived from this. It began at that time, and the later details hardly matter anymore. My entire life consisted in elaborating what had burst forth from the unconscious and flooded me like an enigmatic stream and threatened to break me. That was the stuff and material for more than only one life. Everything later was merely the outer classification, the scientific elaboration, and the integration into life. But the numinous beginning, which contained everything, was then.
-- C.G. Jung, 1957

Preface

Since 1962, the existence of C.G. Jung's Red Book has been widely known. Yet only with the present publication is it finally accessible to a broad public. Its genesis is described in Jung's Memories, Dreams, Reflections, and has been the subject of numerous discussions in the secondary literature. Hence I will only briefly outline it here.

The year 1913 was pivotal in Jung's life. He began a self-experiment that became known as his "confrontation with the unconscious" and lasted until 1930. During this experiment, he developed a technique to "get to the bottom of [his] inner processes," "to translate the emotions into images," and "to grasp the fantasies which were stirring ... 'underground.'" He later called this method "active imagination." He first recorded these fantasies in his Black Books. He then revised these texts, added reflections on them, and copied them in a calligraphic script into a book entitled Liber Novus bound in red leather, accompanied by his own paintings. It has always been known as the Red Book.

Jung shared his inner experiences with his wife and close associates. In 1925 he gave a report of his professional and personal development in a series of seminars at the Psychological Club in Zurich in which he also mentioned his method of active imagination. Beyond this, Jung was guarded. His children, for example, were not informed about his self-experiment and they did not notice anything unusual. Clearly, it would have been difficult for him to explain what was taking place. It was already a mark of favor if he allowed one of his children to watch him write or paint. Thus for Jung's descendants, the Red Book had always been surrounded by an aura of mystery. In 1930 Jung ended his experiment and put the Red Book aside -- unfinished. Although it had its honored place in his study, he let it rest for decades. Meanwhile the insights he had gained through it directly informed his subsequent writings. In 1959, with the help of the old draft, he tried to complete the transcription of the text into the Red Book and to finish an incomplete painting. He also started on an epilogue, but for unknown reasons both the calligraphic text and epilogue break off in midsentence.

Although Jung actively considered publishing the Red Book, he never took the necessary steps. In 1916 he privately published the Septem Sermones ad Mortuos (Seven Sermons to the Dead), a short work that arose out of his confrontation with the unconscious. Even his 1916 essay, "The Transcendent Function," in which he described the technique of active imagination, was not published until 1958. There are a number of reasons why he did not publish the Red Book. As he himself stated, it was unfinished. His growing interest in alchemy as a research topic distracted him. In hindsight, he described the detailed working out of his fantasies in the Red Book as a necessary but annoying "aestheticizing elaboration." As late as 1957 he declared that the Black Books and the Red Book were autobiographical records that he did not want published in his Collected Works because they were not of a scholarly character. As a concession, he allowed Aniela Jaffe to quote excerpts from the Red Book and the Black Books in Memories, Dreams, Reflections -- a possibility which she made little use of.

In 1961, Jung died. His literary estate became the property of the descendants, who formed the Society of Heirs of C. G. Jung. The inheritance of Jung's literary rights brought an obligation and challenge to his heirs: to see through the publication of the German edition of his Collected Works. In his will, Jung had expressed the wish that the Red Book and the Black Books should remain with his family, without, however, giving more detailed instructions. Since the Red Book was not meant to be published in the Collected Works, the Society of Heirs concluded that this was Jung's final wish concerning the work, and that it was an entirely private matter. The Society of Heirs guarded Jung's unpublished writings like a treasure; no further publications were considered. The Red Book remained in Jung's study for more than twenty years, entrusted to the care of Franz Jung, who had taken over his father's house.

In 1983 the Society of Heirs placed the Red Book in a safe-deposit box, knowing that it was an irreplaceable document. In 1984 the newly appointed executive committee had five photographic duplicates made for family use. For the first time, Jung's descendants now had the opportunity to take a close look at it. This careful handling had its benefits. The Red Book's well-preserved state is due, among other things, to the fact that it has only rarely been opened in decades.

When, after 1990, the editing of the German Collected Works -- a selection of works -- was drawing to a conclusion, the executive committee decided to start looking through all the accessible unpublished material with an eye to further publications. I took up this task, because in 1994, the Society of Heirs had placed the responsibility for archival and editorial questions on me. It turned out that there was an entire corpus of drafts and variants pertaining to the Red Book. From this it emerged that the missing part of the calligraphic text existed as a draft and that there was a manuscript entitled "Scrutinies," which continued where the draft ended, containing the Seven Sermons. Yet whether and how this substantial material could be published remained an open question. At first glance, the style and content appeared to have little in common with Jung's other works. Much was unclear and by the mid-1990s there was no one left who could have provided first-hand information on these points.

However, since Jung's time, the history of psychology had been gaining in importance and could now offer a new approach. While working on other projects I had come in contact with Sonu Shamdasani. In extensive talks we discussed the possibility of further Jung publications, both in general terms as well as with regard to the Red Book. The book had emerged within a specific context with which a reader at the turn of the twenty-first century is no longer familiar. But a historian of psychology would be able to present it to the modern reader as a historical document. With the help of primary sources he could embed it in the cultural context of its genesis, situate it within the history of science, and relate it to Jung's life and works. In 1999 Sonu Shamdasani developed a publication proposal following these guiding principles. On the basis of this proposal the Society of Heirs decided in spring 2000 -- not without discussion -- to release the Red Book for publication and to hand over the task of editing it to Sonu Shamdasani.

I have been asked repeatedly why, after so many years, the Red Book is now being published. Some new understandings on our part played a major role: Jung himself did not -- as it had seemed -- consider the Red Book a secret. On several occasions the text contains the address "dear friends"; it is, in other words, directed at an audience. Indeed, Jung let close friends have copies of transcriptions and discussed these with them. He did not categorically rule out publication; he simply left the issue unresolved. Moreover, Jung himself stated that he had gained the material for all his later works from his confrontation with the unconscious. As a record of this confrontation the Red Book is thus, beyond the private sphere, central to Jung's works. This understanding allowed the generation of Jung's grandchildren to look at the situation in a new light. The decision-making process took time. Exemplary excerpts, concepts, and information helped them to deal more rationally with an emotionally charged matter. Finally, the Society of Heirs decided democratically that the Red Book could be published. It was a long journey from that decision to the present publication. The result is impressive. This edition would not have been possible without the cooperation of many people who devoted their skill and energy to a common goal. On behalf of the descendants of C.G. Jung, I would like to express my sincere thanks to all the contributors.

APRIL, 2009
Ulrich Hoerni
Foundation of the Works of C.G. Jung

Abbreviations and a Note on Pagination

[HI] -- Historiated initial: an initial filled with a miniature representation of a single figure or complete scene.

IMAGE 000 -- Indicates the page number on which the image appears on the facsimile plates.

Where passages in the notes are cited from the Corrected Draft, words deleted are given in strikeout, and words added are given in square brackets.

[2] -- "Layer two" added in the Draft.

{00} -- Subdivisions added in long sections for ease of reference

OB -- Ornamental border

BP -- Bas de page

Analytical Psychology -- C. G. Jung, Analytical Psychology: Notes of the Seminar Given in 1925, ed. William McGuire, Bollingen Series (Princeton: Bollingen Series, Princeton University Press, 1989).

CFB -- Cary Baynes Papers, Contemporary Medical Archives, Wellcome Library, London.

CW -- The Collected Works of C. G. Jung, ed. Sir Herbert Read, Michael Fordham, Gerhard Adler, tr. R.F.C. Hull (Princeton: Bollingen Series, Princeton University Press, 1953-1983), 21 vols.

JA -- Jung collection, History of Science Collections, Swiss Federal Institute of Technology Archive, Zurich.

JFA -- Jung family archives

Letters -- C.G. Jung Letters, sel. and ed. by Gerhard Adler in collaboration with Aniela Jaffe, tr. R.F.C. Hull (Princeton: Bollingen Series, Princeton University Press, 1973, 1975), 2 vols.

Memories -- Memories, Dreams, Reflections, C. G. Jung/Aniela Jaffe, tr. Richard and Clara Winston, (London: Flamingo, 1962/1983).

MP -- Protocols of Aniela Jaffe's interviews with Jung for Memories, Dreams, Reflections, Library of Congress, Washington D.C., (original in German).

MAP -- Minutes of the Association for Analytical Psychology, Psychological Club, Zurich, (Original in German)

MZS -- Minutes of the Zurich Psychoanalytical Society, Psychological Club, Zurich, (original in German).

To facilitate moving between the facsimile and the translation, the following devices are used:

In the Liber Primus translation, the numbers at the end of the left-hand running head refer to the folios of the facsimile. For instance, fol. ii(v)/fol. iii(r) indicates the material in the translation is from folio ii, verso, and folio iii, recto, of the facsimile. The break from one page to the next in the facsimile is indicated by a red slash / in the text of the translation and the folio numbers divided by a red slash in the margins of the page.

In Liber Secundus, page numbers are used: 3/5 in the running head refers to pages 3 through 5 of the facsimile. A red slash in the text and 3/4 in the margin indicate the break between pages 3 and 4 of the facsimile.

Acknowledgments

Given the unpublished copies in circulation, the Red Book would in all likelihood have eventually entered the public domain at some stage, in some form. In what follows, I would like to thank those who have enabled the present historical edition to come about. A number of people collaborated and they have each in their own way contributed to its realization.

The former Society of Heirs of C. G. Jung (dissolved in 2008) decided in spring 2000 after intensive discussion to release the work for publication. On the behalf of the Society of Heirs, Ulrich Hoerni, formerly its manager and president and presently the president of its successor, the Foundation of the Works of C. G. Jung, planned the project with the support of the executive committee. Wolfgang Baumann, president from 2000 to 2004, signed the agreement in autumn 2000 that made possible the commencement of the work and committed the Society of Heirs to underwrite a major part of the costs. The Foundation of the Works of C. G. Jung would like to thank: Heinrich Zweifel, publisher, Zurich, for advice in the planning phase on technical issues; The Donald Cooper Fund of the Swiss Federal Institute for Technology for a significant donation; Rolf Auf der Maur for legal advice and contractual assistance; Leo La Rosa and Peter Fritz for contractual negotiations.

At a critical moment in 2003, the editorial work was supported by the Bogette Foundation and an anonymous donor. From 2004, the editorial work was supported by the Philemon Foundation, an organization established with the sole purpose of raising funds to enable Jung's unpublished works to see the light of day. In this regard, I am indebted to Stephen Martin. Whatever the shortcomings of this edition, the editorial apparatus and the translation could not have attained anything like the current level without the support of the Board of the Philemon Foundation: Tom Charlesworth, Gilda Frantz, Nancy Furlotti, Judith Harris, James Hollis, Stephen Martin, and Eugene Taylor. The Philemon Foundation would like to acknowledge the support of its donors, in particular, the MSST Foundation, Carolyn Grant Fay, Judith Harris and Tony Woolfson, and significant gifts toward the English translation from Nancy Furlotti and Laurence de Rosen.

My work on this project would not have been possible without the support of Maggie Baron and Ximena Roelli de Angulo through numerous tribulations. It commenced and was made possible by research on the intellectual history of Jung's work sponsored by the Wellcome Trust between 1993 and 1998, by the Institut fur Grenzgebiete der Psychologie in 1999, and the Solon Foundation between 1998 and 2001. Throughout the project, the Wellcome Trust Centre for the History of Medicine at University College London (formerly the Wellcome Institute for the History of Medicine) has been an ideal environment for my research. Confidentiality agreements precluded discussing my work on this project with my friends and colleagues: I thank them for their forbearance over the last thirteen years.

Between late 2000 and early 2003 the Society of Heirs of C. G. Jung supported the editorial work, which initiated the project. Ulrich Hoerni collaborated with aspects of the research and made a corrected transcription of the calligraphic volume. Susanne Hoerni transcribed Jung's Black Books. Presentations were made to members of the Jung family in 1999, 2001, and 2003, which were hosted by Helene Hoerni Jung (1999, 2001) and Andreas and Vreni Jung (2003). Peter Jung provided counsel through the publication deliberations and early stages of the editorial work. Andreas and Vreni Jung assisted during countless visits to consult books and manuscripts in Jung's library, and Andreas Jung provided invaluable information from the Jung family archives.

This edition came about through Nancy Furlotti, and Larry and Sandra Vigon, who led me to Jim Mairs at Norton, who had been responsible for the facsimile edition of Larry Vigon's modern-day Liber Novus, Dream. In Jim Mairs, the work could not have found a better editor. The design and layout of the work provided numerous challenges, elegantly resolved by Eric Baker, Larry Vigon, and Amy Wu. Carol Rose was tireless and ever-vigilant in copy-editing the text. Austin O'Driscoll was of continuous assistance. The calligraphic volume was scanned by Hugh Milstein and John Supra of Digital Fusion. The care and the precision of their work (focusing via sonar) met with and matched the care and precision of Jung's calligraphy in a remarkable fusion of the ancient and the modern. Dennis Savini made his photographic studio available for the scanning. At Mondadori Printing Nancy Freeman, Sergio Brunelli, and their colleagues took great care to ensure that the work was printed to the highest standards technically possible.

From 2006, I was joined by Mark Kyburz and John Peck on the translation -- a collaboration that was a privileged instruction in the art of translation. Our regular conference calls provided the welcome opportunity to discuss the text at a microscopic level, and the humor brought much-needed levity to the constant immersion in the spirit of the depths. Their contributions to the later stages of the editorial work have been invaluable. John Peck picked up several significant allusions that were beyond my ken.

Ximena Roelli de Angulo, Helene Hoerni Jung, Pierre Keller, and the late Leonhard Schlegel provided crucial recollections of the atmosphere in Jung's circle in the twenties, and figures involved in it. Leonhard Schlegel provided critical insights into the Dada movement and the collisions between art and psychology in this period.

Eric Hornung provided consultation concerning Egyptological references. Felix Walder assisted with a digital close-up of image 155. Ulrich Hoerni deciphered its small inscriptions, and Guy Attewell recognized the Arabic inscription. Ulrich Hoerni provided references to the Mithraic Liturgy (note 1, p. 367). David Oswald pointed to the Mutus Liber as Jung's possible referent in note 314 (p. 328). Thomas Feitknecht drew my attention to and assisted with the J.B. Lang papers. Stephen Martin recovered Jung's letters of J.B. Lang. Paul Bishop, Wendy Doniger and Rachel McDermott responded to queries.

I would like to thank Ernst Falzeder for the reference in note 145 on p. 207, for transcribing Stockmayer's letters to Jung, and for extensively correcting the translation of the introduction and notes in the German edition.

I would like to thank the Foundation of the Works of C. G. Jung and the Paul and Peter Fritz Literary Agency for permission to cite from Jung's unpublished manuscripts and correspondences, and Ximena Roelli de Angulo for permission to cite from Cary Bayne's correspondence and diaries.

Responsibility for the establishment of the text, the introduction, and the apparatus remain my own. Like the donkey on page 231 (note 29), I am glad finally to be able to lay down this load.

Sonu Shamdasani

Liber Novus: The "Red Book" of C. G. Jung [1]
SONU SHAMDASANI

C. G. JUNG is widely recognized as a major figure in modern Western thought, and his work continues to spark controversies. He played critical roles in the formation of modern psychology, psychotherapy, and psychiatry, and a large international profession of analytical psychologists work under his name. His work has had its widest impact, however, outside professional circles: Jung and Freud are the names that most people first think of in connection with psychology, and their ideas have been widely disseminated in the arts, the humanities, films, and popular culture. Jung is also widely regarded as one of the instigators of the New Age movement. However, it is startling to realize that the book that stands at the center of his oeuvre, on which he worked for over sixteen years, is only now being published.

There can be few unpublished works that have already exerted such far-reaching effects upon twentieth-century social and intellectual history as Jung's Red Book, or Liber Novus (New Book). Nominated by Jung to contain the nucleus of his later works, it has long been recognized as the key to comprehending their genesis. Yet aside from a few tantalizing glimpses, it has remained unavailable for study.

The Cultural Moment

The first few decades of the twentieth century saw a great deal of experimentation in literature, psychology, and the visual arts. Writers tried to throw off the limitations of representational conventions to explore and depict the full range of inner experience -- dreams, visions, and fantasies. They experimented with new forms and utilized old forms in novel ways. From the automatic writing of the surrealists to the gothic fantasies of Gustav Meyrink, writers came into close proximity and collision with the researches of psychologists, who were engaged in similar explorations. Artists and writers collaborated to try out new forms of illustration and typography, new configurations of text and image. Psychologists sought to overcome the limitations of philosophical psychology, and they began to explore the same terrain as artists and writers. Clear demarcations among literature, art, and psychology had not yet been set; writers and artists borrowed from psychologists, and vice versa. A number of major psychologists, such as Alfred Binet and Charles Richet, wrote dramatic and fictional works, often under assumed names, whose themes mirrored those of their "scientific" works. [2] Gustav Fechner, one of the founders of psychophysics and experimental psychology, wrote on the soul life of plants and of the earth as a blue angel. [3] Meanwhile writers such as Andre Breton and Philippe Soupault assiduously read and utilized the works of psychical researchers and abnormal psychologists, such as Frederick Myers, Theodore Flournoy, and Pierre Janet. W. B. Yeats utilized spiritualistic automatic writing to compose a poetic psychocosmology in A Vision. [4] On all sides, individuals were searching for new forms with which to depict the actualities of inner experience, in a quest for spiritual and cultural renewal. In Berlin, Hugo Ball noted:

The world and society in 1913 looked like this: life is completely confined and shackled. A kind of economic fatalism prevails; each individual, whether he resists it or not, is assigned a specific role and with it his interests and his character. The church is regarded as a "redemption factory" of little importance, literature as a safety valve ... The most burning question day and night is: is there anywhere a force that is strong enough to put an end to this state of affairs? And if not, how can one escape it? [5]

Within this cultural crisis Jung conceived of undertaking an extended process of self-experimentation, which resulted in Liber Novus, a work of psychology in a literary form.

We stand today on the other side of a divide between psychology and literature. To consider Liber Novus today is to take up a work that could have emerged only before these separations had been firmly established. Its study helps us understand how the divide occurred. But first, we may ask,

Who was C. G. Jung?

Jung was born in Kesswil, on Lake Constance, in 1875. His family moved to Laufen by the Rhine Falls when he was six months old. He was the oldest child and had one sister. His father was a pastor in the Swiss Reformed Church. Toward the end of his life, Jung wrote a memoir entitled "From the Earliest Experiences of My Life," which was subsequently included in Memories, Dreams, Reflections in a heavily edited form. [6] Jung narrated the significant events that led to his psychological vocation. The memoir, with its focus on significant childhood dreams, visions, and fantasies, can be viewed as an introduction to Liber Novus.

In the first dream, he found himself in a meadow with a stone-lined hole in the ground. Finding some stairs, he descended into it, and found himself in a chamber. Here there was a golden throne with what appeared to be a tree trunk of skin and flesh, with an eye on the top. He then heard his mother's voice exclaim that this was the "man-eater." He was unsure whether she meant that this figure actually devoured children or was identical with Christ. This profoundly affected his image of Christ. Years later, he realized that this figure was a penis and, later still, that it was in fact a ritual phallus, and that the setting was an underground temple. He came to see this dream as an initiation "in the secrets of the earth." [7]

In his childhood, Jung experienced a number of visual hallucinations. He also appears to have had the capacity to evoke images voluntarily. In a seminar in 1935, he recalled a portrait of his maternal grandmother which he would look at as a boy until he "saw" his grandfather descending the stairs. [8]

One sunny day, when Jung was twelve, he was traversing the Munsterplatz in Basel, admiring the sun shining on the newly restored glazed roof tiles of the cathedral. He then felt the approach of a terrible, sinful thought, which he pushed away. He was in a state of anguish for several days. Finally, after convincing himself that it was God who wanted him to think this thought, just as it had been God who had wanted Adam and Eve to sin, he let himself contemplate it, and saw God on his throne unleashing an almighty turd on the cathedral, shattering its new roof and smashing the cathedral. With this, Jung felt a sense of bliss and relief such as he had never experienced before. He felt that it was an experience of the "direct living God, who stands omnipotent and free above the Bible and Church." [9] He felt alone before God, and that his real responsibility commenced then. He realized that it was precisely such a direct, immediate experience of living God, who stands outside Church and Bible, that his father lacked.

This sense of election led to a final disillusionment with the Church on the occasion of his First Communion. He had been led to believe that this would be a great experience. Instead, nothing. He concluded: "For me, it was an absence of God and no religion. Church was a place to which I no longer could go. There was no life there, but death." [10]

Jung's voracious reading started at this time, and he was particularly struck by Goethe's Faust. He was struck by the fact that in Mephistopheles, Goethe took the figure of the devil seriously. In philosophy, he was impressed by Schopenhauer, who acknowledged the existence of evil and gave voice to the sufferings and miseries of the world.

He ran around, he ran about,
His thirst in puddles laving;
He gnawed and scratched the house throughout.
But nothing cured his raving.
He whirled and jumped, with torment mad,
And soon enough the poor beast had,
As if he had love in his bosom.

-- Faust, by Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe


Historical subjects have a decidedly detrimental effect only when they restrict the painter to a field chosen arbitrarily, and not for artistic but for other purposes. This is particularly the case when this field is poor in picturesque and significant objects, when, for example, it is the history of a small, isolated, capricious, hierarchical (i.e., ruled by false notions), obscure people, like the Jews, despised by the great contemporary nations of the East and of the West. Since the great migration of peoples lies between us and all the ancient nations, just as between the present surface of the earth and the surface whose organisms appear only as fossil remains there lies the former change of the bed of the ocean, it is to be regarded generally as a great misfortune that the people whose former culture was to serve mainly as the basis of our own were not, say, the Indians or the Greeks, or even the Romans, but just these Jews....

Further, to this class belongs a newspaper report from Hall of March 1851: "The band of Jewish swindlers which we have mentioned, was again delivered up to us with obbligato accompaniment." This subsuming of a police escort under a musical expression is very happy, although it approaches the mere play on words.

-- The World as Will and Representation, by Arthur Schopenhauer, translated by E.F.J. Payne


Let us also not forget the chosen people of God, who, after they had, by Jehovah’s express and special command, stolen from their old and faithful friends in Egypt the gold and silver vessels which had been lent to them, made a murderous and predatory excursion into the Promised Land [*] with the murderer Moses at their head, in order to tear it from the rightful owners, also at Jehovah’s express and repeated commands, knowing no compassion, and relentlessly murdering and exterminating all the inhabitants, even the women and children (Joshua x., xi.); just because they were not circumcised and did not know Jehovah, which was sufficient reason to justify every act of cruelty against them. [* Tacitus (Histories, Book V, chapter 2) and Justinus (Book XXXVI, chapter a) have described the historical basis for the book of Exodus, which is as instructive to read as it is amusing, providing a picture of the historical basis for the other books of the Old Testament. There we learn (in the passages cited above) that the Pharaoh no longer wished to tolerate the presence of the creeping, obscene Jewish people in the pure land of Egypt, infected, as they were, with filthy and dangerously infectious diseases (scabies), so that he put on board ship and expelled from the Arabian Coast. It is true that a detachment of Egyptian soldiers were sent after them -- not to bring back the wonderful Jews, whom they wished to get rid of, after all, but rather, to get back the golden vessels which the Jews had stolen -- stolen, namely, from the temples of the Egyptians. Who would lend anything to such rabble on trust? It is also true that the detachment of soldiers was destroyed by a natural catastrophe. There were great shortages of all necessities on the Arabian coast -- mainly water. So up rose some insolent character [Moses] who promised to go fetch everything the Jews needed, if they would only follow and obey him [Moses]; after all, he had seen wild asses, etc. etc.

The reason I consider this the historical basis for the book of Exodus is because it is obviously the prose upon which the poetry of the book of Exodus was constructed. Even if Justinus (i.e., Pompeius Trogus) is guilty of a single anachronism in this regard (i.e., according to our assumptions, which are based on the book of Exodus), that doesn’t bother me; to me, 100 anachronisms are nowhere near as dubious as a single miracle. The above mentioned two Roman classics also indicate the degree to which the Jews have been detested and despised at all times and by all nations: the reason for this may lie in the fact that they were the only people on earth who believed in no future life apart from this earthly life, i.e., human beings were regarded as animals. The Jews are the scum of the earth, but they are also great masters in lying. [Auswurf der Menschheit, aber große Meister im Lügen].

-- Parerga und Paralipomena (Diogenes edition of Schopenhauer's original complete works in German), by Arthur Schopenhauer, translated by Mrs. Rudolf Dirks, footnote translations by C. Porter


Ahasuerus, the wandering Jew, is nothing but the personification of the whole Jewish race. Since he sinned grievously against the Saviour and World-Redeemer, he shall never be delivered from earthly existence and its burden and moreover shall wander homeless in foreign lands. This is just the flight and fate of the small Jewish race which, strange to relate, was driven from its native land some two thousand years ago and has ever since existed and wandered homeless.  On the other hand, many great and illustrious nations with which this petti-fogging little nation cannot possibly be compared, such as the Assyrians, Medes, Persians, Phoenicians, Egyptians, Etruscans and others have passed to eternal rest and entirely disappeared. And so even today, this gens extorris, this John Lackland among the nations, is to be found all over the globe, nowhere at home and nowhere strangers. Moreover, it asserts its nationality with unprecedented obstinacy and, mindful of Abraham who dwelt in Canaan as a stranger but who gradually became master of the whole land, as his God had promised him (Genesis 17:8), it would also like to set foot somewhere and take root in order to arrive once more at a country, without which, of course, a people is like a ball floating in air. Till then, it lives parasitically on other nations and their soil; but yet it is inspired with the liveliest patriotism for its own nation. This is seen in the very firm way in which Jews stick together on the principle of each for all and all for each, so that this patriotism sine patria inspired greater enthusiasm than does any other. The rest of the Jews are the fatherland of the Jew; and so he fights for them as he would pro ara et focis, and no community on earth sticks so firmly together as does this. It follows from this that it is absurd to want to concede to them a share in the government or administration of any country.

-- Parerga and Paralipomena: Short Philosophical Essays, by Arthur Schopenhauer, translated by E.F.J. Payne


Schopenhauer was Eckart's favorite philosopher, and he took many of his ideas if not his very weltanschauung from The World As Will and Idea. He explained he saw the world in terms of 'good' and 'evil,' with the German and Jew representing opposites. This idea was a common thread which ran through the 'folkish' movement, but with erudite quotes from Schopenhauer and others Eckart was a prime mover of this belief. In short, he saw two impulses inherent in man, 'world-affirmation' and 'world-denial.' World-affirmation meant a complete surrender or submission to one's baser, all-too-human instincts; whether it be sensual, decadent, or materialistic. World-denial was its counterweight, the constant striving for something more than earthly desires, the faustian wanderlust which could not be explained, only felt. Eckart thought man must have an occasional respite from his inner strivings, but that a firm balance must be kept between the two extremes.

-- Dietrich Eckart, by William Gillespie


Schopenhauer called the Jew 'the dregs of mankind,' 'a beast,' 'the great master of the lie.' How does the Jew respond? He establishes a Schopenhauer Society. Likewise, the Kant Society is his work, in spite of the fact that -- or, rather, because -- Kant summarily declared the Jewish people to be a 'nation of swindlers.' The same with the Goethe Society. 'We tolerate no Jews among us,' said Goethe.  'Their religion permits them to rob non-Jews,' he wrote.  'This crafty race has one great principle: as long as order prevails, there is nothing to be gained for them,' he continued. He categorically emphasized: 'I refrain from all cooperation with Jews and their accomplices.' All in vain; the Jewish Goethe Society is still there. It would even be there if he himself had expressly forbidden such knavery."

-- Bolshevism From Moses to Lenin: "A Dialogue Between Adolf Hitler and Me," by Dietrich Eckart

Jung also had a sense of living in two centuries, and felt a strong nostalgia for the eighteenth century. His sense of duality took the form of two alternating personalities, which he dubbed NO. 1 and 2. NO. 1 was the Basel schoolboy, who read novels, and NO. 2 pursued religious reflections in solitude, in a state of communion with nature and the cosmos. He inhabited "God's world." This personality felt most real. Personality NO. 1 wanted to be free of the melancholy and isolation of personality NO. 2. When personality NO. 2 entered, it felt as if a long dead yet perpetually present spirit had entered the room. NO. 2 had no definable character. He was connected to history, particularly with the Middle Ages. For NO. 2, NO. 1, with his failings and ineptitudes, was someone to be put up with. This interplay ran throughout Jung's life. As he saw it, we are all like this -- part of us lives in the present and the other part is connected to the centuries.

As the time drew near for him to choose a career, the conflict between the two personalities intensified. NO. 1 wanted to pursue
science, NO. 2, the humanities. Jung then had two critical dreams. In the first, he was walking in a dark wood along the Rhine. He came upon a burial mound and began to dig, until he discovered the remains of prehistoric animals. This dream awakened his desire to learn more about nature. In the second dream, he was in a wood and there were watercourses. He found a circular pool surrounded by dense undergrowth. In the pool, he saw a beautiful creature, a large radiolarian. After these dreams, he settled for science. To solve the question of how to earn a living, he decided to study medicine. He then had another dream. He was in an unknown place, surrounded by fog, making slow headway against the wind. He was protecting a small light from going out. He saw a large black figure threateningly close. He awoke, and realized that the figure was the shadow cast from the light. He thought that in the dream, NO. 1 was himself bearing the light, and NO. 2 followed like a shadow. He took this as a sign that he should go forward with NO. 1, and not look back to the world of NO. 2.

In his university days, the interplay between these personalities continued. In addition to his medical studies, Jung pursued an intensive program of extracurricular reading, in particular the works of Nietzsche, Schopenhauer, Swedenborg, [11] and writers on spiritualism. Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra made a great impression on him. He felt that his own personality NO. 2 corresponded to Zarathustra, and he feared that his personality NO. 2 was morbid. [12] He participated in a student debating society, the Zofingia society, and presented lectures on these subjects. Spiritualism particularly interested him, as the spiritualists appeared to be attempting to use scientific means to explore the supernatural, and prove the immortality of the soul.

The latter half of the nineteenth century witnessed the emergence of modern spiritualism, which spread across Europe and America. Through spiritualism, the cultivation of trances -- with the attendant phenomena of trance speech, glossolalia, automatic writing, and crystal vision -- became widespread. The phenomena of spiritualism attracted the interest of leading scientists such as Crookes, Zollner, and Wallace. It also attracted the interest of psychologists, including Freud, Ferenczi, Bleuler, James, Myers, Janet, Bergson, Stanley Hall, Schrenck-Notzing, Moll, Dessoir, Richet, and Flournoy.

During his university days in Basel, Jung and his fellow students took part in seances. In 1896, they engaged in a long series of sittings with his cousin Helene Preiswerk, who appeared to have mediumistic abilities. Jung found that during the trances, she would become different personalities, and that he could call up these personalities by suggestion. Dead relatives appeared, and she became completely transformed into these figures. She unfolded stories of her previous incarnations and articulated a mystical cosmology, represented in a mandala. [13] Her spiritualistic revelations carried on until she was caught attempting to fake physical apparitions, and the seances were discontinued.

On reading Richard von Krafft-Ebing's Text-Book of Psychiatry in 1899, Jung realized that his vocation lay in psychiatry, which represented a fusion of the interests of his two personalities. He underwent something like a conversion to a natural scientific framework. After his medical studies, he took up a post as an assistant physician at Burgholzli hospital at the end of 1900. The Burgholzli was a progressive university clinic, under the directorship of Eugen Bleuler. At the end of the nineteenth century, numerous figures attempted to found a new scientific psychology. It was held that by turning psychology into a science through introducing scientific methods, all prior forms of human understanding would be revolutionized. The new psychology was heralded as promising nothing less than the completion of the scientific revolution. Thanks to Bleuler, and his predecessor Auguste Forel, psychological research and hypnosis played prominent roles at the Burgholzli.

Jung's medical dissertation focused on the psychogenesis of spiritualistic phenomena, in the form of an analysis of his seances with Helene Preiswerk. [14] While his initial interest in her case appeared to be in the possible veracity of her spiritualistic manifestations, in the interim, he had studied the works of Frederic Myers, William James, and, in particular, Theodore Flournoy. At the end of 1899, Flournoy had published a study of a medium, whom he called Helene Smith, which became a best seller. [15] What was novel about Flournoy's study was that it approached her case purely from the psychological angle, as a means of illuminating the study of subliminal consciousness. A critical shift had taken place through the work of Flournoy, Frederick Myers, and William James. They argued that regardless of whether the alleged spiritualistic experiences were valid, such experiences enabled far-reaching insight into the constitution of the subliminal, and hence into human psychology as a whole. Through them, mediums became important subjects of the new psychology. With this shift, the methods used by the mediums -- such as automatic writing, trance speech, and crystal vision -- were appropriated by the psychologists, and became prominent experimental research tools. In psychotherapy, Pierre Janet and Morton Prince used automatic writing and crystal gazing as methods for revealing hidden memories and subconscious fixed ideas. Automatic writing brought to light subpersonalities, and enabled dialogues with them to be held. [16] For Janet and Prince, the goal of holding such practices was to reintegrate the personality.

Jung was so taken by Flournoy's book that he offered to translate it into German, but Flournoy already had a translator. The impact of these studies is clear in Jung's dissertation, where he approaches the case purely from a psychological angle. Jung's work was closely modeled on Flournoy's From India to the Planet Mars, both in terms of subject matter and in its interpretation of the psychogenesis of Helene's spiritualistic romances. Jung's dissertation also indicates the manner m which he was utilizing automatic writing as a method of psychological investigation.

In 1902, he became engaged to Emma Rauschenbach, whom he married and with whom he had five children. Up till this point, Jung had kept a diary. In one of the last entries, dated May 1902, he wrote: "I am no longer alone with myself, and I can only artificially recall the scary and beautiful feeling of solitude. This is the shadow side of the fortune of love." [17] For Jung, his marriage marked a move away from the solitude to which he had been accustomed.

In his youth, Jung had often visited Basel's art museum and was particularly drawn to the works of Holbein and Bocklin, as well as to those of the Dutch painters. [18] Toward the end of his studies, he was much occupied with painting for about a year. His paintings from this period were landscapes in a representational style, and show highly developed technical skills and fine technical proficiency. [19] In 1902/3, Jung left his post at the Burgholzli and went to Paris to study with the leading French psychologist Pierre Janet, who was lecturing at the College de France. During his stay, he devoted much time to painting and visiting museums, going frequently to the Louvre. He paid particular attention to ancient art, Egyptian antiquities, the works of the Renaissance, Fra Angelico, Leonardo da Vinci, Rubens, and Frans Hals. He bought paintings and engravings and had paintings copied for the furnishing of his new home. He painted in both oil and watercolor. In January 1903, he went to London and visited its museums, paying particular attention to the Egyptian, Aztec, and Inca collections at the British Museum. [20]

After his return, he took up a post that had become vacant at the Burgholzi and devoted his research to the analysis of linguistic associations, in collaboration with Franz Riklin. With co-workers, they conducted an extensive series of experiments, which they subjected to statistical analyses. The conceptual basis of Jung's early work lay in the work of Flournoy and Janet, which he attempted to fuse with the research methodology of Wilhelm Wundt and Emil Kraepelin. Jung and Riklin utilized the associations experiment, devised by Francis Galton and developed in psychology and psychiatry by Wundt, Kraepelin, and Gustav Aschaffenburg. The aim of the research project, instigated by Bleuler, was to provide a quick and reliable means for differential diagnosis. The Burgholzli team failed to come up with this, but they were struck by the significance of disturbances of reaction and prolonged response times. Jung and Riklin argued that these disturbed reactions were due to the presence of emotionally stressed complexes, and used their experiments to develop a general psychology of complexes. [21]

This work established Jung's reputation as one of the rising stars of psychiatry. In 1906, he applied his new theory of complexes to study the psychogenesis of dementia praecox (later called schizophrenia) and to demonstrate the intelligibility of delusional formations. [22] For Jung, along with a number of other psychiatrists and psychologists at this time, such as Janet and Adolf Meyer, insanity was not regarded as something completely set apart from sanity; but rather as lying on the extreme end of a spectrum. Two years later, he argued that "If we feel our way into the human secrets of the sick person, the madness also reveals its system, and we recognize in the mental illness merely an exceptional reaction to emotional problems which are not strange to us." [23]

Jung became increasingly disenchanted by the limitations of experimental and statistical methods in psychiatry and psychology. In the outpatient clinic at the Burgholzli, he presented hypnotic demonstrations. This led to his interest in therapeutics, and to the use of the clinical encounter as a method of research. Around 1904, Bleuler introduced psychoanalysis into the Burgholzli, and entered into a correspondence with Freud, asking Freud for assistance in his analysis of his own dreams. [24] In 1906, Jung entered into communication with Freud. This relationship has been much mythologized. A Freudocentric legend arose, which viewed Freud and psychoanalysis as the principal source for Jung's work. This has led to the complete mislocation of his work in the intellectual history of the twentieth century. On numerous occasions, Jung protested. For instance, in an unpublished article written in the 1930s, "The schism in the Freudian school," he wrote: "I in no way exclusively stem from Freud. I had my scientific attitude and the theory of complexes before I met Freud. The teachers that influenced me above all are Bleuler, Pierre Janet, and Theodore Flournoy." [25] Freud and Jung clearly came from quite different intellectual traditions, and were drawn together by shared interests in the psychogenesis of mental disorders and psychotherapy. Their intention was to form a scientific psychotherapy based on the new psychology and, in turn, to ground psychology in the in-depth clinical investigation of individual lives.

With the lead of Bleuler and Jung, the Burgholzli became the center of the psychoanalytic movement. In 1908, the Jahrbuch fur psychoanalytische und psychopathologische Forschungen (Yearbook for Psychoanalytic and Psychopathological Researches) was established, with Bleuler and Freud editors-in-chief and Jung as managing editor. Due to their advocacy, psychoanalysis gained a hearing in the German psychiatric world. In 1909, Jung received an honorary degree from Clark University for his association researches. The following year, an international psychoanalytic association was formed with Jung as the president. During the period of his collaboration with Freud, he was a principal architect of the psychoanalytic movement. For Jung, this was a period of intense institutional and political activity. The movement was riven by dissent and acrimonious disagreements.

The Intoxication of Mythology

In 1908, Jung bought some land by the shore of Lake Zurich in Kusnacht and had a house built, where he was to live for the rest of his life. In 1909, he resigned from the Burgholzli, to devote himself to his growing practice and his research interests. His retirement from the Burgholzli coincided with a shift in his research interests to the study of mythology, folklore, and religion, and he assembled a vast private library of scholarly works. These researches culminated in Transformations and Symbols of the Libido, published in two installments in 1911 and 1912. This work can be seen to mark a return to Jung's intellectual roots and to his cultural and religious preoccupations. He found the mythological work exciting and intoxicating. In 1925 he recalled, "it seemed to me I was living in an insane asylum of my own making. I went about with all these fantastic figures: centaurs, nymphs, satyrs, gods and goddesses, as though they were patients and I was analyzing them. I read a Greek or a Negro myth as if a lunatic were telling me his anamnesis." [26] The end of the nineteenth century had seen an explosion of scholarship in the newly founded disciplines of comparative religion and ethnopsychology. Primary texts were collected and translated for the first time and subjected to historical scholarship in collections such as Max Muller's Sacred Books of the East. [27] For many, these works represented an important relativization of the Christian worldview.

In Transformations and Symbols of the Libido, Jung differentiated two kinds of thinking. Taking his cue from William James, among others, Jung contrasted directed thinking and fantasy thinking. The former was verbal and logical, while the latter was passive, associative, and imagistic. The former was exemplified by science and the latter by mythology. Jung claimed that the ancients lacked a capacity for directed thinking, which was a modern acquisition. Fantasy thinking took place when directed thinking ceased. Transformations and Symbols of the Libido was an extended study of fantasy thinking, and of the continued presence of mythological themes in the dreams and fantasies of contemporary individuals. Jung reiterated the anthropological equation of the prehistoric, the primitive, and the child. He held that the elucidation of current-day fantasy thinking in adults would concurrently shed light on the thought of children, savages, and prehistoric peoples. [28]

During the long reign of Queen Victoria and her son Prince Edward Albert (later King Edward VII), American collaborators of the Fabian circles, typified by William James (1842-1910), developed intimate relations with British Fabian institutions including the "Cambridge Apostles", the Royal Colonial Institute and its associated Scottish Rite Freemasonic Lodge (now the Chatham House Royal Institute of International Affairs), the Society for Psychical Research, the H.G. Wells-allied New Republic magazine, and others.

As the founding chairman of Harvard University's Psychology Department, James helped launch a new dimension of religious insanity, beyond the earlier episodic "Great Awakenings." In a famous series of lectures at Edinburgh University, published under the title Varieties of Religious Experience, he proposed that Edwards' type of terror-induced "religious experience" be enhanced with drugs. "Borderland insanity, crankiness, insane temperament, loss of mental balance, psychopathic degeneration," he argued, were necessary for creative thought, including a sense of the spiritual. He pointed out that drunkenness has been traditionally the best way to "get religion," but added the suggestion that nitrous oxide, ether, and other drugs ought also to be used.

In these lectures, James also promoted the British oligarchy-sponsored occultist Theosophical movement of Madame Blatvatsky and Annie Besant, and other strange religions which had been promoted to prominence after the Civil War.

-- The CCF and the God of Thunder Cult, by Stanley Ezrol & Jeffrey Steinberg

In this work, Jung synthesized nineteenth-century theories of memory, heredity, and the unconscious and posited a phylogenetic layer to the unconscious that was still present in everyone, consisting of mythological images. For Jung, myths were symbols of the libido and they depicted its typical movements. He used the comparative method of anthropology to draw together a vast panoply of myths, and then subjected them to analytic interpretation. He later termed his use of the comparative method "amplification." He claimed that there had to be typical myths, which corresponded to the ethnopsychological development of complexes. Following Jacob Burckhardt, Jung termed such typical myths "primordial images" (Urbilder). One particular myth was given a central role: that of the hero. For Jung, this represented the life of the individual, attempting to become independent and to free himself from the mother. He interpreted the incest motif as an attempt to return to the mother to be reborn. He was later to herald this work as marking the discovery of the collective unconscious, though the term itself came at a later date. [29]

All those things which have come down to us in the legends and myths of various nations, and which touch upon human life, will in our day undergo a peculiar transformation with regard to the whole conception and interpretation of human nature. The age is past in which legends, fairytales, and myths were looked upon merely as expressions of the child-like fancy of a people....

Anyone who has ever looked into the soul of a people is quite well aware that he is not dealing with imaginative fiction or anything of the kind, but with something very much more profound, and that as a matter of fact the legends and fairy-tales of the various peoples are expressive of wonderful powers and wonderful events.

If from the new standpoint of spiritual investigation we meditate upon the old legends and myths, allowing those grand and powerful pictures which have come down from primeval times to influence our minds, we shall find, if we have been equipped for our task by the methods of spiritual science, that these legends and myths are the expressions of a most profound and ancient wisdom....

This is a matter which at first is bound to excite surprise. And yet he who probes deeper and deeper into the ways and means by which these fairy-tales and myths have come into being, will find every trace of surprise vanish, every doubt pass away; indeed, he will find in these legends not only what is termed a naive and unsophisticated view of things, but the wondrously deep and wise expression of a true and primordial conception of the world....

Occult investigation shows decisively that all the things which surround us in this world -- the mineral foundation, the vegetable covering, and the animal world -- should be regarded as the physiognomical expression, or the "below," of an "above" or spirit life lying behind them. From the point of view taken by occultism, the things presented to us in the sense-world can only be rightly understood if our knowledge includes cognition of the "above," the spiritual archetype, the original Spiritual Beings, whence all things manifest have proceeded....

[T]he highest form of the nervous system, such as is possessed by mankind in general at the present stage of evolution, takes from the more highly developed astral body material for the creation of pictures, or representations, of the outer world. Man has lost the power of perceiving the former dim primitive pictures of the external world, but on the other hand, he is now conscious of his inner life, and out of this inner life he forms, at a higher stage, a new world of images in which it is true only a small portion of the outer world is reflected, but in a clearer and more perfect manner than before....

Just as by means of the brain the external world is experienced inwardly, so also by means of the blood this inner world is transformed into an outer expression in the body of man....

The blood absorbs those pictures of the outside world which the brain has formed within, transforms them into living constructive forces, and with them builds up the present human body....

Thus the blood stands midway, as it were, between the inner world of pictures and the exterior living world of form. This role becomes clear to us when we study two phenomena, viz., ancestry -- the relationship between conscious beings -- and experience in the world of external events. Ancestry, or descent, places us where we stand in accordance with the law of blood-relationship. A person is born of a connection, a race, a tribe, a line of ancestors, and what these ancestors have bequeathed to him is expressed in his blood. In the blood is gathered together, as it were, all that the material past has constructed in man; and in the blood is also being formed all that is being prepared for the future.

When, therefore, man temporarily suppresses his higher consciousness, when he is in a hypnotic state, or one of somnambulism, or when he is atavistically clairvoyant, then he descends to a far deeper consciousness, one wherein he becomes dreamily cognizant of the great cosmic laws, but nevertheless perceives them much more clearly than the most vivid dreams of ordinary sleep. At such times the activity of his brain is in abeyance, and during states of the deepest somnambulism this applies also to the spinal cord. The man experiences the activities of his sympathetic nervous system; that is to say, in a dim and hazy fashion he senses the life of the entire cosmos. At such times the blood no longer expresses pictures of the inner life which are produced by means of the brain, but it presents those which the outer world has formed in it. Now, however, we must bear in mind that the forces of his ancestors have helped to make him what he is. Just as he inherits the shape of his nose from an ancestor, so does he inherit the form of his whole body. At such times of suppressed consciousness he senses his ancestors within him, even as during his waking consciousness he senses the pictures of the outer world; that is to say, his forbears are active in his blood, and at such a time he dimly takes part in their remote life....

Everything, therefore, of which he has been the recipient as the result of sense-experience, lives and is active in his blood; his memory is stored with these experiences of his senses. Yet, on the other hand, the man of to-day is no longer conscious of what he possesses in his inward bodily life by inheritance from his ancestors. He knows naught concerning the forms of his inner organs; but in earlier times this was otherwise....

A person experiencing no more than what he perceives by his senses, remembers no more than the events connected with those outward sense-experiences. He can only be aware of such things as he may have experienced in this way since his childhood. But with prehistoric man the case was different. Such a man sensed what was within him, and as this inner experience was the result of heredity, he passed through the experiences of his ancestors by means of his inner faculty. He remembered not only his own childhood, but also the experiences of his ancestors. This life of his ancestors was, in fact, ever present in the pictures which his blood received, for, incredible as it may seem to the materialistic ideas of the present day, there was at one time a form of consciousness by means of which men considered not only their own sense-perceptions as their own experiences, but also the experiences of their forefathers....

We must now enquire how it was that this form of consciousness was changed. It came about through a cause well known to occult history. If you go back into the past, you will find that there is one particular moment which stands out in the history of each nation. It is the moment at which a people enters on a new phase of civilisation, the moment when it ceases to have old traditions, when it ceases to possess its ancient wisdom, the wisdom which was handed down through generations by means of the blood. The nation possesses, nevertheless, a consciousness of it, and this is expressed in its legends.

In earlier times tribes held aloof from each other, and the individual members of families intermarried. You will find this to have been the case with all races and with all peoples; and it was an important moment for humanity when this principle was broken through, when foreign blood was introduced, and when marriage between relations was replaced by marriage with strangers, when endogamy gave place to exogamy. Endogamy preserves the blood of the generation; it permits of the same blood flowing in the separate members as flows for generations through the entire tribe or the entire nation. Exogamy inoculates man with new blood, and this breaking-down of the tribal principle, this mixing of blood, which sooner or later takes place among all peoples, signifies the birth of the external understanding, the birth of intellect....

In those early times the recollection of ancestral experiences was inherited, and, along with this, good or evil tendencies. In the blood of the descendants were to be traced the effects of the ancestors' tendencies. But, when the blood was mixed through exogamy, this close connection with ancestors was severed, and man began to live his own personal life. He began to regulate his moral tendencies according to what he experienced in his own personal life. Thus, in an unmixed blood is expressed the power of the ancestral life, and in a mixed blood the power of personal experience....

Modern science has discovered that if the blood of one animal is mixed with that of another not akin to it, the blood of the one is fatal to that of the other. This has been known to occultism for ages. If you mingle the blood of human beings with that of the lower apes, the result is destructive to the species, since the one is too far removed from the other. If, again, you mingle the blood of man with that of the higher apes, death does not ensue. Just as this mingling of the blood of different species of animals brings about actual death when the types are too remote, so, too, the ancient clairvoyance of undeveloped man was killed when his blood was mixed with the blood of others who did not belong to the same stock.

-- The Occult Significance of Blood, by Rudolf Steiner


Reflecting Ether:  It has heretofore been stated that the idea of the house which has existed in the mind can be recovered from the memory of nature, even after the death of the architect. Everything that has ever happened has left behind it an ineffaceable picture in this reflecting ether. As the giant ferns of the childhood of the Earth have left their pictures in the coal beds, and as the progress of the glacier of a bygone day may be traced by means of the trail it has left upon the rocks along its path, even so are the thoughts and acts of men ineffaceably recorded by nature in this reflecting ether, where the trained seer may read their story with an accuracy commensurate with his ability....

 Taking a more detailed view of the several divisions of the Region of Concrete Thought we find that the archetypes of physical form no matter to what kingdom they may belong, are found in its lowest subdivision, or the "Continental Region." In this Continental Region are also the archetypes of the continents and the isles of the world, and corresponding to these archetypes are they fashioned. Modifications in the crust of the Earth must first be wrought in the Continental Region. Not until the archetypal model has been changed can the Intelligences which we (to hide our ignorance concerning them) call the "Laws of Nature," bring about the physical conditions which alter the physical features of the Earth according to the modifications designed by the Hierarchies in charge of evolution. They plan changes as an architect plans the alteration of a building before the workmen give it concrete expression. In like manner are changes in the flora and fauna due to metamorphoses in their respective archetypes.

   When we speak of the archetypes of all the different forms in the dense world it must not be thought that these archetypes are merely models in the same sense in which we speak of an object constructed in miniature, or in some material other than that appropriate for its proper and final use. They are not merely likenesses nor models of the forms we see about us, but are creative archetypes; that is, they fashion the forms of the Physical World in their own likeness or likenesses, for often many work together to form one certain species, each archetype giving part of itself to build the required form.

The second subdivision of the Region of Concrete Thought is called the "Oceanic Region." It is best described as flowing, pulsating vitality. All the forces that work through the four ethers which constitute the Etheric Region are there seen as archetypes. It is a stream of flowing life, pulsating through all forms, as blood pulsates through the body, the same life in all forms. Here the trained clairvoyant sees how true it is that "all life is one."

The "Aerial Region" is the third division of the Region of Concrete Thought. Here we find the archetype of desires, passions, wishes, feelings, and emotions such as we experience in the Desire World. Here all the activities of the Desire World appear as atmospheric conditions. Like the kiss of summer breeze come the feelings of pleasure and joy to the clairvoyant sense; as the sighing of the wind in the tree-tops seem the longings of the soul and like flashes of lighting the passions of warring nations. In this atmosphere of the Region of Concrete Thought are also pictures of the emotions of man and beast.

 The "Region of Archetypal Forces" is the fourth division of the Region of Concrete Thought. It is the central and most important region in the five Worlds wherein man's entire evolution is carried on. On the one side of this Region are the three higher Regions of the World of Thought, the World of Life Spirit and the World of Divine Spirit. On the other side of this Region of Archetypal Forces are the three lower Regions of the World of Thought, the Desire and the Physical Worlds. Thus this Region becomes a sort of "crux," bounded on one side by the Realms of Spirit, on the other by the Worlds of Form. It is a focusing point, where Spirit reflects itself in matter.  As the name implies, this Region is the home of the Archetypal Forces which direct the activity of the archetypes in the Region of Concrete Thought. From this Region Spirit works on matter in a formative manner.

***

Under the rule of the Race-spirit, the nation, tribe or family was considered first -- the individual last. The family must be kept intact. If any man dies without leaving offspring to perpetuate his name, his brother must "carry seed" to the widow, that there might be no dying out (Due. XXV:5-10). Marrying out of the family was regarded with horror in the earliest times. A member of one tribe could not become connected with another without losing caste in his own. It was not an easy matter to become a member of another family. Not only among the Jews and other early nations was the integrity of the family insisted upon, but also in more modern times. As previously mentioned, the Scots, even in comparatively recent times, clung tenaciously to their Clan, and the old Norse Vikings would take no one into their families without first "mixing blood" with him, for the spiritual effects of haemolysis, which are unknown to material science, were known of old.

   All these customs resulted from the working of Race- and tribal-spirit in the common blood. To admit as a member one in whom that common blood did not flow would have caused "confusion of caste." The closer the inbreeding, the greater the power of the Race-spirit, and the stronger the ties that bound the individual to the tribe, because the vital force of the man is in his blood. Memory is intimately connected with the blood, which is the highest expression of the vital body.

   The brain and the nervous system are the highest expression of the desire body. They call up pictures of the outside world, but in mental image-making, i.e., imagination, the blood brings the material for the pictures; therefore when the thought is active, the blood flows to the head.

   When the same unmixed strain of blood flows in the veins of a family for generations, the same mental pictures made by great-grandfather, grandfather and father are reproduced in the son by the family-spirit which lived in the hemoglobin of the blood. He sees himself as the continuation of a long line of ancestors who live in him. He sees all the events of the past lives of the family as though he had been present, therefore he does not realize himself as an Ego. He is not simply "David," but "the son of Abraham"; not "Joseph," but "the son of David."

   By means of this common blood men are said to have lived for many generations, because through the blood their descendants had access to the memory of nature, in which the records of the lives of their ancestors were preserved. That is why, in the fifth chapter of Genesis, it is stated that the patriarchs lived for centuries. Adam, Methuselah and the other patriarchs did not personally attain to such great age, but they lived in the consciousness of their descendants, who saw the lives of their ancestors as if they had lived them. After the expiration of the period stated, the descendants did not think of themselves as Adam or Methuselah. Memory of those ancestors faded and so it is said they died.

   The "second sight" of the Scotch Highlanders shows that by means of endogamy, the consciousness of the inner World is retained. They have practiced marrying in the Clan until recent times; also in Gypsies, who always marry in the tribe. The smaller the tribe and the closer the inbreeding, the more pronounced is the "sight." ...

Later, man was given free will. The time had come when he was to be prepared for individualization. The former "common" consciousness, the involuntary clairvoyance or second-sight which constantly held before a tribesman the pictures of his ancestor's lives and caused him to feel most closely identified with the tribe or family, was to be replaced for a time by a strictly individual consciousness confined to the material world, so as to break up the nations into individuals, that the Brotherhood of Man, regardless of exterior circumstances, may become a fact. This is on the same principle that if we have a number of buildings and wish to make them into one large structure, it is necessary to break them up into separate bricks. Only then can the large building be constructed.

-- The Rosicrucian Cosmo-Conception, by Max Heindel


Assassin's Creed is an award-winning historical action-adventure open world stealth video game developed by Ubisoft for PlayStation 3, Xbox 360, Microsoft Windows, and Mac OS X. The bulk of the game takes place during the Third Crusade, with the plot revolving around a sect known as the Secret Order of Hashashin (Assassins). The player is in reality playing as a modern-day man named Desmond Miles, who through the use of a machine named the "Animus", is allowed the viewing and controlling of the protagonist's genetic memories of his ancestors, in this case, Altaďr ibn-La'Ahad, a member of the Assassins. Through this plot device, details emerge of a struggle between two factions, the Knights Templar and the Assassins, over an artifact known as a "Piece of Eden", an ancient artifact used to control minds. The game primarily takes place during the Third Crusade in the Holy Land in 1191....

Story: Desmond Miles, a bartender, is kidnapped by the Abstergo Corporation. There, Desmond is forced to interface with the Animus, a device that is able to replay the genetic memories of the user's ancestors. In Desmond's case, they seek information about his ancestor Altaďr ibn La-Ahad, an Assassin during the time of the Third Crusade. Within the Animus, Altaďr's memories reveal that he was attempting to stop Robert de Sablé from taking an artifact from a temple, but broke all three of the Assassins' Brotherhood's tenets in the process ((1) stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent (2) always be discreet (3) do not compromise the brotherhood). The Brotherhood leader, Al Mualim, demotes Altaďr to the rank of Novice, and assigns him the task of assassinating nine people to regain his former status.

As Altaďr completes the assassinations, he finds that each was a member of the Templars searching the area for "Pieces of Eden", artifacts similar to the one de Sable attempted to steal. Altair finds and accuses de Sable in front of King Richard. King Richard makes the two fight and lets God decide who is telling the truth. Altaďr eventually faces de Sable in front of King Richard, and kills him; (Richard says that since Altair killed de Sable God chose him and he was therefore telling the truth but Atair denies this by saying God had nothing to do with this and Altair was simply the better fighter) with his dying breath, de Sable reveals the existence of a tenth Templar: Al Mualim. Returning to the Brotherhood, Altaďr finds Al Mualim in possession of a Piece of Eden that is able to control people's minds. Altaďr is forced to fight his way through innocents and assassins under Al Mualim's control (with the help of Malik and other assassins still loyal to the creed) to reach Al Mualim, and engages him in battle. Altaďr eventually sees through Al Mualim's tricks using the artifact (Al Mualim says he tried to control Altair's mind but somehow it didn't work), and kills him. Upon approaching the artifact, Altaďr is surprised to find it displays a projection of the Earth marking several spots around the globe.

At this point, Desmond is brought out of the Animus, his purpose served. He comes to learn that Abstergo is a front for the modern-day Templars. Abstergo is now set to use the locations on the map seen by Altaďr to find more Pieces of Eden, believing that they must collect the artifacts to control the world's population in order to stave off the projected end of the world in 2012. Desmond's life is spared by Lucy Stillman, one of the Abstergo scientists who is actually an Assassin mole. Left alone in his locked room, Desmond discovers (through "the Bleeding Effect" from his time spent in the Animus) that he can observe numerous messages in blood on the walls and floor left by a previous test subject (Subject 16) that foretell the end of the world.

-- Assassin's Creed (video game), by Wikipedia

In a series of articles from 1912, Jung's friend and colleague Alphonse Maeder argued that dreams had a function other than that of wish fulfillment, which was a balancing or compensatory function. Dreams were attempts to solve the individual's moral conflicts. As such, they did not merely point to the past, but also prepared the way for the future. Maeder was developing Flournoy's views of the subconscious creative imagination. Jung was working along similar lines, and adopted Maeder's positions. For Jung and Maeder, this alteration of the conception of the dream brought with it an alteration of all other phenomena associated with the unconscious.

In his preface to the 1952 revision of Transformations and Symbols of the Libido, Jung wrote that the work was written in 1911, when he was thirty-six: "The time is a critical one, for it marks the beginning of the second half of life, when a metanoia, a mental transformation, not infrequently occurs." [30] He added that he was conscious of the loss of his collaboration with Freud, and was indebted to the support of his wife. After completing the work, he realized the significance of what it meant to live without a myth. One without a myth "is like one uprooted, having no true link either with the past, or with the ancestral life which continues within him, or yet with contemporary human society." [31] As he further describes it:

I was driven to ask myself in all seriousness: "what is the myth you are living?" I found no answer to this question, and had to admit that I was not living with a myth, or even in a myth, but rather in an uncertain cloud of theoretical possibilities which I was beginning to regard with increasing distrust ... So in the most natural way, I took it upon myself to get to know "my" myth, and I regarded this as the task of tasks -- for -- so I told myself -- how could I, when treating my patients, make due allowance for the personal factor, for my personal equation, which is yet so necessary for a knowledge of the other person, if I was unconscious of it? [32]

The study of myth had revealed to Jung his mythlessness. He then undertook to get to know his myth, his "personal equation." [33] Thus we see that the self-experimentation which Jung undertook was in part a direct response to theoretical questions raised by his research, which had culminated in Transformations and Symbols of the Libido.

"My Most Difficult Experiment"

In 1912, Jung had some significant dreams that he did not understand. He gave particular importance to two of these, which he felt showed the limitations of Freud's conceptions of dreams. The first follows:

I was in a southern town, on a rising street with narrow half landings. It was twelve o'clock midday -- bright sunshine. An old Austrian customs guard or someone similar passes by me, lost in thought. Someone says, "that is one who cannot die. He died already 30-40 years ago, but has not yet managed to decompose." I was very surprised. Here a striking figure came, a knight of powerful build, clad in yellowish armor. He looks solid and inscrutable and nothing impresses him. On his back he carries a red Maltese cross. He has continued to exist from the 12th century and daily between 12 and 1 o'clock midday he takes the same route. No one marvels at these two apparitions, but I was extremely surprised.

I hold back my interpretive skills. As regards the old Austrian, Freud occurred to me; as regards the knight, I myself.

Inside, a voice calls, "It is all empty and disgusting." I must bear it. [34]

Jung found this dream oppressive and bewildering, and Freud was unable to interpret it. [35] Around half a year later Jung had another dream:

I dreamt at that time (it was shortly after Christmas 1912), that I was sitting with my children in a marvelous and richly furnished castle apartment -- an open columned hall -- we were sitting at a round table, whose top was a marvelous dark green stone. Suddenly a gull or a dove flew in and sprang lightly onto the table. I admonished the children to be quiet, so that they would not scare away the beautiful white bird. Suddenly this bird turned into a child of eight years, a small blond girl, and ran around playing with my children in the marvelous columned colonnades. Then the child suddenly turned into the gull or dove. She said the following to me: "Only in the first hour of the night can I become human, while the male dove is busy with the twelve dead." With these words the bird flew away and I awoke. [36]

Thereupon did Life look thoughtfully behind and around, and said softly: "O Zarathustra, thou art not faithful enough to me! Thou lovest me not nearly so much as thou sayest; I know thou thinkest of soon leaving me. There is an old heavy, heavy, booming-clock: it boometh by night up to thy cave:  When thou hearest this clock strike the hours at midnight, then thinkest thou between one and twelve thereon --- Thou thinkest thereon, O Zarathustra, I know it -- of soon leaving me!"

"Yea," answered I, hesitatingly, "but thou knowest it also" -- And I said something into her ear, in amongst her confused, yellow, foolish tresses....

All at once, however, he turned his head quickly, for he seemed to hear something: then laid he his finger on his mouth and said: "COME!" And immediately it became still and mysterious round about; from the depth however there came up slowly the sound of a clock-bell. Zarathustra listened thereto, like the higher men; then, however, laid he his finger on his mouth the second time, and said again: "COME! COME! IT IS GETTING ON TO MIDNIGHT!" -- and his voice had changed. But still he had not moved from the spot. Then it became yet stiller and more mysterious, and everything hearkened, even the ass, and Zarathustra's noble animals, the eagle and the serpent, likewise the cave of Zarathustra and the big cool moon, and the night itself. Zarathustra, however, laid his hand upon his mouth for the third time, and said: COME! COME! COME! LET US NOW WANDER! IT IS THE HOUR: LET US WANDER INTO THE NIGHT! ...

Ah! Ah! The dog howleth, the moon shineth. Rather will I die, rather will I die, than say unto you what my midnight-heart now thinketh.... The hour in which I frost and freeze, which asketh and asketh and asketh: "Who hath sufficient courage for it? Who is to be master of the world? Who is going to say: THUS shall ye flow, ye great and small streams!"

The hour approacheth: O man, thou higher man, take heed! this talk is for fine ears, for thine ears -- WHAT SAITH DEEP MIDNIGHT'S VOICE INDEED? ...

Now do the sepulchres mutter: "Free the dead! Why is it so long night? Doth not the moon make us drunken?" Ye higher men, free the sepulchres, awaken the corpses! Ah, why doth the worm still burrow? There approacheth, there approacheth, the hour, ...

Thou old clock-bell, thou sweet lyre! Every pain hath torn thy heart, father-pain, fathers'-pain, forefathers'-pain; thy speech hath become ripe, Ripe like the golden autumn and the afternoon, like mine anchorite heart -- now sayest thou: The world itself hath become ripe, the grape turneth brown, Now doth it wish to die, to die of happiness. Ye higher men, do ye not feel it? There welleth up mysteriously an odour, A perfume and odour of eternity, a rosy-blessed, brown, gold-wine-odour of old happiness, Of drunken midnight-death happiness, which singeth: the world is deep, AND DEEPER THAN THE DAY COULD READ! ...

The purest are to be masters of the world, the least known, the strongest, the midnight-souls, who are brighter and deeper than any day. ...

Ah! Ah! how she sigheth! how she laugheth, how she wheezeth and panteth, the midnight! ... midnight is also mid-day... Pain is also a joy, curse is also a blessing, night is also a sun, -- go away! or ye will learn that a sage is also a fool. ...

All joy wanteth the eternity of all things, it wanteth honey, it wanteth lees, it wanteth drunken midnight, it wanteth graves, it wanteth grave-tears' consolation, it wanteth gilded evening-red ... the ring's will writheth in it....

In the morning ... there sounded before him a roar, a long, soft lion-roar. "THE SIGN COMETH," said Zarathustra, and a change came over his heart. And in truth, when it turned clear before him, there lay a yellow, powerful animal at his feet, resting its head on his knee, unwilling to leave him out of love, and doing like a dog which again findeth its old master. The doves, however, were no less eager with their love than the lion; and whenever a dove whisked over its nose, the lion shook its head and wondered and laughed. When all this went on Zarathustra spake only a word: "MY CHILDREN ARE NIGH, MY CHILDREN" ... Then flew the doves to and fro, and perched on his shoulder, and caressed his white hair, and did not tire of their tenderness and joyousness.

-- Thus Spake Zarathustra, by Friedrich Nietzsche  (1885)


In the Kathopanishad (chapter. v, verse 9) it is stated that "Some men, according to their deeds, go into the womb and others into the 'sthanu.'" "Sthanu" is a Sanskrit word, which means "motionless," but it also means "a pillar" ... In the Book of Revelation we find these worlds: "Him that overcometh will I make a pillar in the temple of my God and he shall go no more out," referring to entire liberation from concrete existence....

On the other hand, in December, during the long winter nights, the physical force of the solar orb is dormant and the spiritual forces reach their maximum degree of activity.

   The night between the 24th and the 25th of December is The Holy Night, par excellence, of the entire year. The Zodiacal sign of the immaculate celestial Virgin stands upon the eastern horizon near midnight, the Sun of the New Year is then born and starts upon his journey from the southernmost point toward the northern hemisphere, to save that part of humanity (physically) from the darkness and famine which would inevitably result if he were to remain permanently south of the equator.

   To the people of the northern hemisphere, where all our present day religions originated, the Sun is directly below the Earth; and the spiritual influences are strongest, in the north, at midnight of the 24th of December.

   That being the case, it follows as a matter of course that it would then be easiest for those who wished to take a definite step toward Initiation to get in conscious touch with the spiritual Sun especially for the first time.

   Therefore the pupils who were ready for Initiation were taken in hand by the Hierophants of the Mysteries, and by means of ceremonies performed in the Temple, were raised to a state of exaltation wherein they transcended physical conditions. To their spiritual vision, the solid Earth become transparent and they saw the Sun at midnight -- "The Star!" It was not the physical Sun they saw with spiritual eyes, however, but the Spirit in the Sun -- The Christ -- their Spiritual Savior, as the physical Sun was their physical Savior.

-- The Rosicrucian Cosmo-Conception, by Max Heindel


It was the celestial or ćtherial principle of the human mind, which the ancient artists represented under the symbol of the butterfly, which may be considered as one of the most elegant allegories of their elegant religion. This insect, when hatched from the egg, appears in the shape of a grub, crawling upon the earth, and feeding upon the leaves of plants. In this state, it was aptly made the emblem of man, in his earthly form, in which the ćtherial vigour and activity of the celestial soul, the divine particula mentis, was supposed to be clogged and incumbered with the material body. When the grub was changed to a chrysalis, its stillness, torpor, and insensibility seemed to present a natural image of death, or the intermediate state between the cessation of the vital functions of the body and the final releasement of the soul by the fire, in which the body was consumed. The butterfly breaking from the torpid chrysalis, and mounting in the air, was no less natural an image of the celestial soul bursting from the restraints of matter, and mixing again with its native ćther. The Greek artists, always studious of elegance, changed this, as well as other animal symbols, into a human form, retaining the wings as the characteristic members, by which the meaning might be known. The human body, which they added to them, is that of a beautiful girl, sometimes in the age of infancy, and sometimes of approaching maturity. So beautiful an allegory as this would naturally be a favourite subject of art among a people whose taste had attained the utmost pitch of refinement.
-- A Discourse on the Worship of Priapus: And Its Connection with the Mystic Theology of the Ancients, by Richard Payne Knight


The faith doth live:
the dove hovereth
the redeemer's lovely emissary.
-- Interpretation of Richard Wagner's Parsifal, directed by Hans-Jurgen Syberber -- Illustrated Screenplay & Screencap Gallery


Further, just as there are twelve hours in the day, so there are twelve hours in the night, in the day above and in the night below, each corresponding to each. These twelve hours of the night are divided into three sets, to each of which belong hierarchies of angels, which take their portion first. Hence, at midnight two ranks stand on one side and two on the other, and a celestial spirit goes forth between them and then all the trees in the garden break forth into song and God enters the garden, as it says: "Then do all the trees of the wood sing for joy before the Lord, for he cometh to judge the earth" (I Chron. XVI, 33), because judgement enters among them and the Garden of Eden is filled therewith. Then the north wind springs up, bringing joy in its train, and it blows through the spice trees and wafts their perfume, and the righteous put on their crowns and feast themselves on the brightness of the "pellucid mirror" -- happy are they to be vouchsafed that celestial light! The light of this mirror shines on all sides, and each one of the righteous takes his appropriate portion, each according to his works in this world; and some of them are abashed because of the superior light obtained by their neighbours. When night commences, numbers of officers of judgement arise and roam about the world, and the doors are closed, as we have affirmed. Thus at midnight the side of the north comes down and takes possession of the night until two-thirds of it have passed. Then the side of the south awakes until morning, and then both south and north take hold of it (the Shekinah). Then come Israel here below, and with their prayers and supplications raise it up until it ascends and hides itself among them, and receives blessings from the fountain-head.' ...

When the north wind awakes at midnight, then there is a holy stirring in the world, as has been explained in many places. Happy is he who rises at that hour and studies the Torah. For as soon as he begins, all those evil beings are cast by him into the great abyss and he binds the ass and throws him down into the dung-heap.

-- The Zohar, translated by Harry  Sperling and Maurice Simon

In Black Book 2, Jung noted that it was this dream that made him decide to embark on a relationship with a woman he had met three years earlier (Toni Wolff ). [37] In 1925, he remarked that this dream "was the beginning of a conviction that the unconscious did not consist of inert material only, but that there was something living down there." [38] He added that he thought of the story of the Tabula smaragdina (emerald tablet), the twelve apostles, the signs of the Zodiac, and so on, but that he "could make nothing out of the dream except that there was a tremendous animation of the unconscious. I knew no technique of getting at the bottom of this activity; all I could do was just wait, keep on living, and watch the fantasies." [39] These dreams led him to analyze his childhood memories, but this did not resolve anything. He realized that he needed to recover the emotional tone of childhood. He recalled that as a child, he used to like to build houses and other structures, and he took this up again.

A: Thetan: 1. Soul. As defined by Scientology. Derived from the Greek letter theta for thought, or life, or the spirit. 2. Thetans are needed to animate a flesh body. 3. According to Scientology, you are full of "body thetans" -- degraded thetans who were once people but are now clustered together along with you, and inhabit your body along with you. You are the leader of these thetans.

75 million years ago there was supposedly a ruler of this part of the galaxy named Xenu. To cure overpopulation on all the planets he controlled, he summoned the people with psychiatric conditions in for an income tax audit. There they were instead paralyzed by injection of an alcohol and glycol mixture into their lungs. They were packed up in refrigerated units and loaded onto space-craft and taken to Earth (called Teegeeack then) and packed around the bases of a few volcanos.

Then their bodies were all destroyed by nuclear explosions. After this the thetans who were flying around in the winds were caught in electronic beams and frozen together in blocks. Then they were taken to huge 3-D cinemas and shown forms of what life should be like on Earth. After that they supposedly clustered together with a lead thetan in charge and they ended up inhabiting bodies in these clusters. Hence although we are a single thetan we supposedly have about 2,500 other lesser "body thetans" attached to our own thetan self.

The dysharmonious relationship between you and your thetans is what causes all sickness and disease in the world.

If you join Scientology, and pay thousands of dollars, you can go through the process of freeing yourself from these body thetans at huge monetary expense.

I know why I have cancer! My thetans are flaring up again. Better fork over some cash to the Scientology folks so that I can be rid of this disease and my entire life inheritance.

B. Thetan: A "Thetan" is the Church of Scientology's name for the human spirit. Like many of the world's religions, Scientologists believe the human spirit or thetan to be immortal. The primary attributes of the thetan are awareness and intention. A thetan is a pure static -- that is, the thetan does not occupy a fixed position in space or time except by its own consideration.

By themselves thetans do not have nor need bodies. Instead, Scientologists believe that certain thetans have been tricked, trapped, implanted, or otherwise chose to inhabit bodies. These thetans have since then become addicted to reincarnating in bodies and cannot recall previous lives without help. This has also been suggested in other spiritual traditions such as those of Ancient Egypt and Tibetan Buddhism, each of which document the between lives area in their respective "Book of the Dead."

Since thetans are immortal, Scientology's conception of cosmic history stretches back for quadrillions of years.

The ostensible "Xenu" story, often quoted in an attempt to belittle scientologists for the seemingly science-fiction and space-opera nature of their beliefs, is only one suppressive event in the 8 quadrillion cosmic year history acknowledged by Scientology.

Scientologists acknowledge that thetans are capable of being affected by electronics and by other thetans, even before their descent into bodies, with embodied thetans being much more susceptible to implantation of hypnotic suggestions by electronic means.

Spot the thetan in the incident. Spot yourself spotting the thetan.

Jill went external and blanketed the thetan of the CEO's son and left a little bit of her theta stuck to his body. Now Jill tunes in on that little piece whenever she wants and can monitor whatever he does. She's been trying to get him to have an affair with one of the Polish cleaning ladies to embarrass and discredit him in the eyes of his wife and his father.

-- Urban Dictionary

While he was engaged in this self-analytic activity, he continued to develop his theoretical work. At the Munich Psycho-Analytical Congress in September 1913, he spoke on psychological types. He argued that there were two basic movements of the libido: extraversion, in which the subject's interest was oriented toward the outer world, and introversion, in which the subject's interest was directed inward. Following from this, he posited two types of people, characterized by a predominance of one of these tendencies. The psychologies of Freud and Adler were examples of the fact that psychologies often took what was true of their type as generally valid. Hence what was required was a psychology that did justice to both of these types. [40]

The following month, on a train journey to Schaffhausen, Jung experienced a waking vision of Europe being devastated by a catastrophic flood, which was repeated two weeks later, on the same journey. [41] Commenting on this experience in 1925, he remarked: "I could be taken as Switzerland fenced in by mountains and the submergence of the world could be the debris of my former relationships." This led him to the following diagnosis of his condition: "I thought to myself, 'If this means anything, it means that I am hopelessly off." [42] After this experience, Jung feared that he would go mad. [43] He recalled that he first thought that the images of the vision indicated a revolution, but as he could not imagine this, he concluded that he was "menaced with a psychosis." [44] After this, he had a similar vision:

In the following winter I was standing at the window one night and looked North. I saw a blood-red glow, like the flicker of the sea seen from afar, stretched from East to West across the northern horizon. And at that time someone asked me what I thought about world events in the near future. I said that I had no thoughts, but saw blood, rivers of blood. [45]

Desire and fantasy it seems are closely related. Desire has its origin in the experience of satisfaction. As Freud analyzed, if desire is articulated through fantasy, then fantasy, itself, is a mediator between the subject, and their wishes, and the negation of acting on their desires, in reality.
-- Fantasy, by Anna Brenner


The clattering of hooves could be heard approaching along the street. It sounded near and metallic, then suddenly stopped. I leaped to the window and saw Demian dismounting below. I ran down.

"What is it, Demian?"

He paid no attention to my words. He was very pale and sweat poured down his cheeks. He tied the bridle of his steaming horse to the garden fence and took my arm and walked down the street with me.

"Have you heard about it?"

I had heard nothing.

Demian squeezed my arm and turned his face toward me, with a strangely somber yet sympathetic look in his eyes.

"Yes, it's starting. You've heard about the difficulties with Russia."

"What? Is it war?"

He spoke very softly although no one was anywhere near us.

"It hasn't been declared yet. But there will be war. You can take my word for that. I didn't want to worry you but I have seen omens on three different occasions since that time. So it won't be the end of the world, no earthquake, no revolution, but war. You'll see what a sensation that will be! People will love it. Even now they can hardly wait for the killing to begin -- their lives are that dull! But you will see, Sinclair, that this is only the beginning. Perhaps it will be a very big war, a war on a gigantic scale. But that, too, will only be the beginning. The new world has begun and the new world will be terrible for those clinging to the old. What will you do?"

-- Demian: The Story of Emil Sinclair's Youth, by Hermann Hesse

In the years directly preceding the outbreak of war, apocalyptic imagery was widespread in European arts and literature. For example, in 1912,Wassily Kandinsky wrote of a coming universal catastrophe. From 1912 to 1914, Ludwig Meidner painted a series of works known as the apocalyptic landscapes, with scenes of destroyed cities, corpses, and turmoil. [46] Prophecy was in the air. In 1899, the famous American medium Leonora Piper predicted that in the coming century there would be a terrible war in different parts of the world that would cleanse the world and reveal the truths of spiritualism. In 1918, Arthur Conan Doyle, the spiritualist and author of the Sherlock Holmes stories, viewed this as having been prophetic. [47]

In Jung's account of the fantasy on the train in Liber Novus, the inner voice said that what the fantasy depicted would become completely real. Initially, he interpreted this subjectively and prospectively, that is, as depicting the imminent destruction of his world. His reaction to this experience was to undertake a psychological investigation of himself. In this epoch, self-experimentation was used in medicine and psychology. Introspection had been one of the main tools of psychological research.

Jung came to realize that Transformations and Symbols of the Libido "could be taken as myself and that an analysis of it leads inevitably into an analysis of my own unconscious processes." [48] He had projected his material onto that of Miss Frank Miller, whom he had never met. Up to this point, Jung had been an active thinker and had been averse to fantasy: "as a form of thinking I held it to be altogether impure, a sort of incestuous intercourse, thoroughly immoral from an intellectual viewpoint." [49] He now turned to analyze his fantasies, carefully noting everything, and had to overcome considerable resistance in doing this: "Permitting fantasy in myself had the same effect as would be produced on a man if he came into his workshop and found all the tools flying about doing things independently of his will." [50] In studying his fantasies, Jung realized that he was studying the myth-creating function of the mind.

Jung picked up the brown notebook, which he had set aside in 1902, and began writing in it. [52] He noted his inner states in metaphors, such as being in a desert with an unbearably hot sun (that is, consciousness). In the 1925 seminar, he recalled that it occurred to him that he could write down his reflections in a sequence. He was "writing autobiographical material, but not as an autobiography." [53] From the time of the Platonic dialogues onward, the dialogical form has been a prominent genre in Western philosophy. In 387 CE, St. Augustine wrote his Soliloquies, which presented an extended dialogue between himself and "Reason," who instructs him. They commenced with the following lines:

When I had been pondering many different things to myself for a long time, and had for many days been seeking my own self and what my own good was, and what evil was to be avoided, there suddenly spoke to me -- what was it? I myself or someone else, inside or outside me? (this is the very thing I would love to know but don't). [54]

While Jung was writing in Black Book 2,

I said to myself, "What is this I am doing, it certainly is not science, what is it?" Then a voice said to me, "That is art." This made the strangest sort of impression upon me, because it was not in any sense my impression that what I was writing was art. Then I came to this, "Perhaps my unconscious is forming a personality that is not I, but which is insisting on coming through to expression." I don't know why exactly, but I knew to a certainty that the voice that had said my writing was art had come from a woman ... Well I said very emphatically to this voice that what I was doing was not art, and I felt a great resistance grow up within me. No voice came through, however, and I kept on writing. This time I caught her and said, "No it is not," and I felt as though an argument would ensue. [55]

He thought that this voice was "the soul in the primitive sense," which he called the anima (the Latin word for soul). [56] He stated that "In putting down all this material for analysis, I was in effect writing letters to my anima, that is part of myself with a different viewpoint from my own. I got remarks of a new character -- I was in analysis with a ghost and a woman." [57] In retrospect, he recalled that this was the voice of a Dutch patient whom he knew from 1912 to 1918, who had persuaded a psychiatrist colleague that he was a misunderstood artist. The woman had thought that the unconscious was art, but Jung had maintained that it was nature. [58] I have previously argued that the woman in question -- the only Dutch woman in Jung's circle at this time -- was Maria Moltzer, and that the psychiatrist in question was Jung's friend and colleague Franz Riklin, who increasingly forsook analysis for painting. In 1913, he became a student of Augusto Giacometti's, the uncle of Alberto Giacometti, and an important early abstract painter in his own right. [59]

The November entries in Black Book 2 depict Jung's sense of his return to his soul. He recounted the dreams that led him to opt for his scientific career, and the recent dreams that had brought him back to his soul. As he recalled in 1925, this first period of writing came to an end in November: "Not knowing what would come next, I thought perhaps more introspection was needed ... I devised such a boring method by fantasizing that I was digging a hole, and by accepting this fantasy as perfectly real." [60] The first such experiment took place on December 12, 1913. [61]

As indicated, Jung had had extensive experience studying mediums in trance states, during which they were encouraged to produce waking fantasies and visual hallucinations, and had conducted experiments with automatic writing. Practices of visualization had also been used in various religious traditions. For example, in the fifth of the spiritual exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola, individuals are instructed on how to "see with the eyes of the imagination the length, breadth and depth of hell," and to experience this with full sensory immediacy. [62] Swedenborg also engaged in "spirit writing." In his spiritual diary, one entry reads:

26 JAN. 1748. -- Spirits, if permitted, could possess those who speak with them so utterly, that they would be as though they were entirely in the world; and indeed, in a manner so manifest, that they could communicate their thoughts through their medium, and even by letters; for they have sometimes, and indeed often, directed my hand when writing, as though it were quite their own; so that they thought it was not I, but themselves writing. [63]

From 1909 onward in Vienna, the psychoanalyst Herbert Silberer conducted experiments on himself in hypnagogic states. Silberer attempted to allow images to appear. These images, he maintained, presented symbolic depictions of his previous train of thought. Silberer corresponded with Jung and sent him offprints of his articles. [64]

In 1912, Ludwig Staudenmaier (1865-1933), a professor of experimental chemistry, published a work entitled Magic as an Experimental Science. Staudenmaier had embarked on self-experimentations in 1901, commencing with automatic writing. A series of characters appeared, and he found that he no longer needed to write to conduct dialogues with them. [65] He also induced acoustic and visual hallucinations. The aim of his enterprise was to use his self-experimentation to provide a scientific explanation of magic. He argued that the key to understanding magic lay in the concepts of hallucinations and the "under consciousness" (Unterbewußtsein), and gave particular importance to the role of personifications. [66] Thus we see that Jung's procedure closely resembled a number of historical and contemporary practices with which he was familiar.

From December 1913 onward, he carried on in the same procedure: deliberately evoking a fantasy in a waking state, and then entering into it as into a drama. These fantasies may be understood as a type of dramatized thinking in pictorial form. In reading his fantasies, the impact of Jung's mythological studies is clear. Some of the figures and conceptions derive directly from his readings, and the form and style bear witness to his fascination with the world of myth and epic. In the Black Books, Jung wrote down his fantasies in dated entries, together with reflections on his state of mind and his difficulties in comprehending the fantasies. The Black Books are not diaries of events, and very few dreams are noted in them. Rather, they are the records of an experiment. In December 1913, he referred to the first of the black books as the "book of my most difficult experiment." [67]

In retrospect, he recalled that his scientific question was to see what took place when he switched off consciousness. The example of dreams indicated the existence of background activity, and he wanted to give this a possibility of emerging, just as one does when taking mescalin. [68]

In an entry in his dream book on April 17, 1917, Jung noted: "since then, frequent exercises in the emptying of consciousness." [69] His procedure was clearly intentional -- while its aim was to allow psychic contents to appear spontaneously. He recalled that beneath the threshold of consciousness, everything was animated. At times, it was as if he heard something. At other times, he realized that he was whispering to himself. [70]

From November 1913 to the following July, he remained uncertain of the meaning and significance of his undertaking, and concerning the meaning of his fantasies, which continued to develop. During this time, Philemon, who would prove to be an important figure in subsequent fantasies, appeared in a dream. Jung recounted:

There was a blue sky, like the sea, covered not by clouds but by flat brown clods of earth. It looked as if the clods were breaking apart and the blue water of the sea were becoming visible between them. But the water was the blue sky, Suddenly there appeared from the right a winged being sailing across the sky. I saw that it was an old man with the horns of a bull. He held a bunch of four keys, one of which he clutched as if he were about to open a lock. He had the wings of the kingfisher with its characteristic colors. Since I did not understand this dream image, I painted it in order to impress it upon my memory. [71]

While he was painting this image, he found a dead kingfisher (which is very rarely found in the vicinity of Zurich) in his garden by the lake shore. [72]

The date of this dream is not clear. The figure of Philemon first appears in the Black Books on January 27, 1914, but without kingfisher wings. To Jung, Philemon represented superior insight, and was like a guru to him. He would converse with him in the garden. He recalled that Philemon evolved out of the figure of Elijah, who had previously appeared in his fantasies:

Philemon was a pagan and brought with him an Egypto-Hellenic atmosphere with a Gnostic coloration ... It was he who taught me psychic objectivity, the reality of the psyche. Through the conversations with Philemon, the distinction was clarified between myself and the object of my thought ... Psychologically, Philemon represented superior insight. [73]

On April 20, Jung resigned as president of the International Psychoanalytical Association. On April 30, he resigned as a lecturer in the medical faculty of the University of Zurich. He recalled that he felt that he was in an exposed position at the university and felt that he had to find a new orientation, as it would otherwise be unfair to teach students. [74] In June and July, he had a thrice-repeated dream of being in a foreign land and having to return home quickly by ship, followed by the descent of an icy cold. [75]

On July 10, the Zurich Psychoanalytical Society voted by 15 to 1 to leave the International Psychoanalytic Association. In the minutes, the reason given for the secession was that Freud had established an orthodoxy that impeded free and independent research. [76] The group was renamed the Association for Analytical Psychology. Jung was actively involved in this association, which met fortnightly. He also maintained a busy therapeutic practice. Between 1913 and 1914, he had between one and nine consultations per day, five days a week, with an average of between five and seven. [77]

The minutes of the Association for Analytical Psychology offer no indications of the process that Jung was going through. He does not refer to his fantasies, and continues to discuss theoretical issues in psychology. The same holds true in his surviving correspondences during this period. [78] Each year, he continued his military service duties. [79] Thus he maintained his professional activities and familial responsibilities during the day, and dedicated his evenings to his self-explorations. [80] Indications are that this partitioning of activities continued during the next few years. Jung recalled that during this period his family and profession "always remained a joyful reality and a guarantee that I was normal and really existed." [81]

The question of the different ways of interpreting such fantasies was the subject of a talk that he presented on July 24 before the Psycho-Medical Society in London, "On psychological understanding." Here, he contrasted Freud's analytic-reductive method, based on causality, with the constructive method of the Zurich school. The shortcoming of the former was that through tracing things back to antecedent elements, it dealt with only half of the picture, and failed to grasp the living meaning of phenomena. Someone who attempted to understand Goethe's Faust in such a manner would be like someone who tried to understand a Gothic cathedral under its mineralogical aspect. [82] The living meaning "only lives when we experience it in and through ourselves." [83] Inasmuch as life was essentially new, it could not be understood merely retrospectively. Hence the constructive standpoint asked, "how, out of this present psyche, a bridge can be built into its own future." [84] This paper implicitly presents Jung's rationale for not embarking on a causal and retrospective analysis of his fantasies, and serves as a caution to others who may be tempted to do so. Presented as a critique and reformulation of psychoanalysis, Jung's new mode of interpretation links back to the symbolic method of Swedenborg's spiritual hermeneutics.

On July 28, Jung gave a talk on "The importance of the unconscious in psychopathology" at a meeting of the British Medical Association in Aberdeen. [85] He argued that in cases of neurosis and psychosis, the unconscious attempted to compensate the one-sided conscious attitude. The unbalanced individual defends himself against this, and the opposites become more polarized. The corrective impulses that present themselves in the language of the unconscious should be the beginning of a healing process, but the form in which they break through makes them unacceptable to consciousness.

A month earlier, on June 28, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, the heir to the Austro-Hungarian empire, was assassinated by Gavrilo Princip, a nineteen-year-old Serb student. On August 1, war broke out. In 1925 Jung recalled, "I had the feeling that I was an over-compensated psychosis, and from this feeling I was not released till August 1st 1914." [86] Years later, he said to Mircea Eliade:

As a psychiatrist I became worried, wondering if I was not on the way to "doing a schizophrenia," as we said in the language of those days ... I was just preparing a lecture on schizophrenia to be delivered at a congress in Aberdeen, and I kept saying to myself: "I'll be speaking of myself! Very likely I'll go mad after reading out this paper." The congress was to take place in July 1914 -- exactly the same period when I saw myself in my three dreams voyaging on the Southern seas. On July 31st, immediately after my lecture, I learned from the newspapers that war had broken out. Finally I understood. And when I disembarked in Holland on the next day, nobody was happier than I. Now I was sure that no schizophrenia was threatening me. I understood that my dreams and my visions came to me from the subsoil of the collective unconscious. What remained for me to do now was to deepen and validate this discovery. And this is what I have been trying to do for forty years. [87]

At this moment, Jung considered that his fantasy had depicted not what would happen to him, but to Europe. In other words, that it was a precognition of a collective event, what he would later call a "big" dream. [88] After this realization, he attempted to see whether and to what extent this was true of the other fantasies that he experienced, and to understand the meaning of this correspondence between private fantasies and public events. This effort makes up much of the subject matter of Liber Novus. In Scrutinies, he wrote that the outbreak of the war had enabled him to understand much of what he had previously experienced, and had given him the courage to write the earlier part of Liber Novus. [89] Thus he took the outbreak of the war as showing him that his fear of going mad was misplaced. It is no exaggeration to say that had war not been declared, Liber Novus would in all likelihood not have been compiled. In 1955/56, while discussing active imagination, Jung commented that "the reason why the involvement looks very much like a psychosis is that the patient is integrating the same fantasy-material to which the insane person falls victim because he cannot integrate it but is swallowed up by it." [90]

It is important to note that there are around twelve separate fantasies that Jung may have regarded as precognitive:

1-2. OCTOBER, 1913
Repeated vision of flood and death and the voice that said that this will become real.

3. AUTUMN 1913
Vision of the sea of blood covering the northern lands.

4-5. DECEMBER 12, 15, 1913.
Image of a dead hero and the slaying of Siegfried in a dream.

6. DECEMBER 25, 1913
Image of the foot of a giant stepping on a city, and images of murder and bloody cruelty.

7. JANUARY 2, 1914
Image of a sea of blood and a procession of dead multitudes.

8. JANUARY 22. 1914
His soul comes up from the depths and asks him if he will accept war and destruction. She shows him images of destruction, military weapons, human remains, sunken ships, destroyed states, etc.

9. MAY 21, 1914
A voice says that the sacrificed fall left and right.

10-12. JUNE -JULY 1914
Thrice-repeated dream of being in a foreign land and having to return quickly by ship, and the descent of the icy cold. [91]

Liber Novus

Jung now commenced writing the draft of Liber Novus. He faithfully transcribed most of the fantasies from the Black Books, and to each of these added a section explaining the significance of each episode, combined with a lyrical elaboration. Word-by-word comparison indicates that the fantasies were faithfully reproduced, with only minor editing and division into chapters. Thus the sequence of the fantasies in Liber Novus nearly always exactly corresponds to the Black Books. When it is indicated that a particular fantasy happened "on the next night," etc., this is always accurate, and not a stylistic device. The language and content of the material were not altered. Jung maintained a "fidelity to the event," and what he was writing was not to be mistaken for a fiction. The draft begins with the address to "My friends," and this phrase occurs frequently. The main difference between the Black Books and Liber Novus is that the former were written for Jung's personal use, and can be considered the records of an experiment, while the latter is addressed to a public and presented in a form to be read by others.

In November 1914, Jung closely studied Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra, which he had first read in his youth. He later recalled, "then suddenly the spirit seized me and carried me to a desert country in which I read Zarathustra." [92] It strongly shaped the structure and style of Liber Novus. Like Nietzsche in Zarathustra, Jung divided the material into a series of books comprised of short chapters. But whereas Zarathustra proclaimed the death of God, Liber Novus depicts the rebirth of God in the soul. There are also indications that he read Dante's Commedia at this time, which also informs the structure of the work. [93] Liber Novus depicts Jung's descent into Hell. But whereas Dante could utilize an established cosmology, Liber Novus is an attempt to shape an individual cosmology. The role of Philemon in Jung's work has analogies to that of Zarathustra in Nietzsche's work and Virgil in Dante's.

In the Draft, about 50 percent of the material is drawn directly from the Black Books. There are about thirty-five new sections of commentary. In these sections, he attempted to derive general psychological principles from the fantasies, and to understand to what extent the events portrayed in the fantasies presented, in a symbolic form, developments that were to occur in the world. In 1913, Jung had introduced a distinction between interpretation on the objective level in which dream objects were treated as representations of real objects, and interpretation on the subjective level in which every element concerns the dreamers themselves. [94] As well as interpreting his fantasies on the subjective level, one could characterize his procedure here as an attempt to interpret his fantasies on the "collective" level. He does not try to interpret his fantasies reductively, but sees them as depicting the functioning of general psychological principles in him (such as the relation of introversion to extraversion, thinking and pleasure, etc.), and as depicting literal or symbolic events that are going to happen. Thus the second layer of the Draft represents the first major and extended attempt to develop and apply his new constructive method. The second layer is itself a hermeneutic experiment. In a critical sense, Liber Novus does not require supplemental interpretation, for it contains its own interpretation.

"Hermeneutics": Study of the general principles of biblical interpretation. Its primary purpose is to discover the truths and values of the Bible, which is seen as a receptacle of divine revelation. Four major types of hermeneutics have emerged: literal (asserting that the text is to be interpreted according to the “plain meaning”), moral (seeking to establish the principles from which ethical lessons may be drawn), allegorical (interpreting narratives as having a level of reference beyond the explicit), and anagogical or mystical (seeking to explain biblical events as they relate to the life to come). More recently the word has come to refer to all “deep” reading of literary and philosophical texts.

-- Encyclopaedia Britannia Concise

In writing the Draft, Jung did not add scholarly references, though unreferenced citations and allusions to works of philosophy, religion, and literature abound. He had self-consciously chosen to leave scholarship to one side. Yet the fantasies and the reflections on them in the Red Book are those of a scholar and, indeed, much of the self-experimentation and the composition of Liber Novus took place in his library. It is quite possible that he might have added references if he had decided to publish the work.

If he'd done his writing on the toilet, he'd be a janitor; if in a restaurant, he'd be a waiter; if in a park, he'd be a gardener; if in a cemetery, he'd be an undertaker. But since he did his writing in the library, he's a scholar.
-- Librarian's Comment

After completing the handwritten Draft, Jung had it typed, and edited it. On one manuscript, he made alterations by hand (I refer to this manuscript as the Corrected Draft). Judging from the annotations, it appears that he gave it to someone (the handwriting is not that of Emma Jung, Toni Wolff, or Maria Moltzer) to read, who then commented on Jung's editing, indicating that some sections which he had intended to cut should be retained. [95] The first section of the work -- untitled, but effectively Liber Primus -- was composed on parchment. Jung then commissioned a large folio volume of over 600 pages, bound in red leather, from the bookbinders, Emil Stierli. The spine bears the title, Liber Novus. He then inserted the parchment pages into the folio volume, which continues with Liber Secundus. The work is organized like a medieval illuminated manuscript, with calligraphic writing, headed by a table of abbreviations. Jung titled the first book "The Way of What is to Come," and placed beneath this some citations from the book of Isaiah and from the gospel according to John. Thus it was presented as a prophetic work.

The part of the soul which desires meats and drinks and the other things of which it has need by reason of the bodily nature, they placed between the midriff and the boundary of the navel, contriving in all this region a sort of manger for the food of the body; and there they bound it down like a wild animal which was chained up with man, and must be nourished if man was to exist. They appointed this lower creation his place here in order that he might be always feeding at the manger, and have his dwelling as far as might be from the council-chamber, making as little noise and disturbance as possible, and permitting the best part to advise quietly for the good of the whole. And knowing that this lower principle in man would not comprehend reason, and even if attaining to some degree of perception would never naturally care for rational notions, but that it would be led away by phantoms and visions night and day,—to be a remedy for this, God combined with it the liver, and placed it in the house of the lower nature, contriving that it should be solid and smooth, and bright and sweet, and should also have a bitter quality, in order that the power of thought, which proceeds from the mind, might be reflected as in a mirror which receives likenesses of objects and gives back images of them to the sight; and so might strike terror into the desires, when, making use of the bitter part of the liver, to which it is akin, it comes threatening and invading, and diffusing this bitter element swiftly through the whole liver produces colours like bile, and contracting every part makes it wrinkled and rough; and twisting out of its right place and contorting the lobe and closing and shutting up the vessels and gates, causes pain and loathing. And the converse happens when some gentle inspiration of the understanding pictures images of an opposite character, and allays the bile and bitterness by refusing to stir or touch the nature opposed to itself, but by making use of the natural sweetness of the liver, corrects all things and makes them to be right and smooth and free, and renders the portion of the soul which resides about the liver happy and joyful, enabling it to pass the night in peace, and to practise divination in sleep, inasmuch as it has no share in mind and reason. For the authors of our being, remembering the command of their father when he bade them create the human race as good as they could, that they might correct our inferior parts and make them to attain a measure of truth, placed in the liver the seat of divination. And herein is a proof that God has given the art of divination not to the wisdom, but to the foolishness of man. No man, when in his wits, attains prophetic truth and inspiration; but when he receives the inspired word, either his intelligence is enthralled in sleep, or he is demented by some distemper or possession. And he who would understand what he remembers to have been said, whether in a dream or when he was awake, by the prophetic and inspired nature, or would determine by reason the meaning of the apparitions which he has seen, and what indications they afford to this man or that, of past, present or future good and evil, must first recover his wits. But, while he continues demented, he cannot judge of the visions which he sees or the words which he utters; the ancient saying is very true, that 'only a man who has his wits can act or judge about himself and his own affairs.' And for this reason it is customary to appoint interpreters to be judges of the true inspiration. Some persons call them prophets; they are quite unaware that they are only the expositors of dark sayings and visions, and are not to be called prophets at all, but only interpreters of prophecy.

-- Timaeus, by Plato

In the Draft, Jung had divided the material into chapters. In the course of the transcription into the red leather folio, he altered some of the titles to the chapters, added others, and edited the material once again. The cuts and alterations were predominantly to the second layer of interpretation and elaboration, and not to the fantasy material itself, and mainly consisted in shortening the text. It is this second layer that Jung continually reworked. In the transcription of the text in this edition, this second layer has been indicated, so that the chronology and composition are visible. As Jung's comments in the second layer sometimes implicitly refer forward to fantasies that are found later in the text, it is also helpful to read the fantasies straight through in chronological sequence, followed by a continuous reading of the second layer.

Jung then illustrated the text with some paintings, historiated initials, ornamental borders, and margins. Initially, the paintings refer directly to the text. At a later point, the paintings become more symbolic. They are active imaginations in their own right. The combination of text and image recalls the illuminated works of William Blake, whose work Jung had some familiarity with. [96]

A preparatory draft of one of the images in Liber Novus has survived, which indicates that they were carefully composed, starting from pencil sketches that were then elaborated. [97] The composition of the other images likely followed a similar procedure. From the paintings of Jung's which have survived, it is striking that they make an abrupt leap from the representational landscapes of 1902/3 to the abstract and semifigurative from 1915 onward.

Art and the Zurich School

Jung's library today contains few books on modern art, though some books were probably dispersed over the years. He possessed a catalogue of the graphic works of Odilon Redon, as well as a study of him. [98] He likely encountered Redon's work when he was in Paris. Strong echoes of the symbolist movement appear in the paintings in Liber Novus.

"Those were the pictures bearing the signature: Odilon Redon. They held, between their gold-edged frames of unpolished pearwood, undreamed-of images: a Merovingian-type head, resting upon a cup; a bearded man, reminiscent both of a Buddhist priest and a public orator, touching an enormous cannon-ball with his finger; a spider with a human face lodged in the centre of its body. Then there were charcoal sketches which delved even deeper into the terrors of fever-ridden dreams. Here, on an enormous die, a melancholy eyelid winked; over there stretched dry and arid landscapes, calcinated plains, heaving and quaking ground, where volcanos erupted into rebellious clouds, under foul and murky skies; sometimes the subjects seemed to have been taken from the nightmarish dreams of science, and hark back to prehistoric times; monstrous flora bloomed on the rocks; everywhere, in among the erratic blocks and glacial mud, were figures whose simian appearance -- heavy jawbone, protruding brows, receding forehead, and flattened skull top -- recalled the ancestral head, the head of the first Quaternary Period, the head of man when he was still fructivorous and without speech, the contemporary of the mammoth, of the rhinoceros with septate nostrils, and of the giant bear. These drawings defied classification; unheeding, for the most part, of the limitations of painting, they ushered in a very special type of the fantastic, one born of sickness and delirium."
-- "Against Nature," by Joris-Karl Huysmans, translated by Margaret Mauldon

In October of 1910, Jung went on a bicycle tour of northern Italy, together with his colleague Hans Schmid. They visited Ravenna, and the frescos and mosaics there made a deep impression on him. These works seemed to have had an impact on his paintings: the use of strong colors, mosaic-like forms, and two-dimensional figures without the use of perspective. [99]

In 1913 when he was in New York, he likely attended the Armory Show, which was the first major international exhibition of modern art in America (the show ran to March 15, and Jung left for New York on March 4). He referred to Marcel Duchamp's painting Nude descending the stairs in his 1925 seminar, which had caused a furor there. [100] Here, he also referred to having studied the course of Picasso's paintings. Given the lack of evidence of extended study, Jung's knowledge of modern art probably derived more immediately from direct acquaintance.

During the First World War, there were contacts between the members of the Zurich school and artists. Both were part of avant-garde movements and intersecting social circles [101] In 1913, Erika Schlegel came to Jung for analysis. She and her husband Eugen Schlegel, had been friendly with Toni Wolff. Erika Schlegel was Sophie Taeuber's sister, and became the librarian of the Psychological Club. Members of the Psychological Club were invited to some of the Dada events. At the celebration of the opening of the Gallery Dada on March 29, 1917, Hugo Ball notes members of the Club in the audience. [102] The program that evening included abstract dances by Sophie Taeuber and poems by Hugo Ball, Hans Arp, and Tristan Tzara. Sophie Taeuber, who had studied with Laban, arranged a dance class for members of the Club together with Arp. A masked ball was also held and she designed the costumes. [103] In 1918, she presented a marionette play, King Deer, in Zurich. It was set in the woods by the Burgholzli.

Freud Analytikus, opposed by Dr. Oedipus Complex, is transformed into a parrot by the Ur-Libido, parodically taking up themes from Jung's Transformations and Symbols of the Libido and his conflict with Freud. [104] However, relations between Jung's circle and some of the Dadaists became more strained. In May 1917, Emmy Hennings wrote to Hugo Ball that the "psycho-Club" had now gone away. [105] In 1918, Jung criticized the Dada movement in a Swiss review, which did not escape the attention of the Dadaists. [106] The critical element that separated Jung's pictorial work from that of the Dadaists was his overriding emphasis on meaning and signification.

That the author of Everyman was no mere artist, but an artist-philosopher, and that the artist-philosophers are the only sort of artists I take quite seriously, will be no news to you. Even Plato and Boswell, as the dramatists who invented Socrates and Dr. Johnson, impress me more deeply than the romantic playwrights. Ever since, as a boy, I first breathed the air of the transcendental regions at a performance of Mozart's Zauberflote, I have been proof against the garish splendors and alcoholic excitements of the ordinary stage combinations of Tappertitian romance with the police intelligence. Bunyan, Blake, Hogarth and Turner (these four apart and above all the English Classics), Goethe, Shelley, Schopenhaur, Wagner, Ibsen, Morris, Tolstoy, and Nietzsche are among the writers whose peculiar sense of the world I recognize as more or less akin to my own. Mark the word peculiar. I read Dickens and Shakespear without shame or stint; but their pregnant observations and demonstrations of life are not co-ordinated into any philosophy or religion: on the contrary, Dickens's sentimental assumptions are violently contradicted by his observations; and Shakespear's pessimism is only his wounded humanity. Both have the specific genius of the fictionist and the common sympathies of human feeling and thought in pre-eminent degree. They are often saner and shrewder than the philosophers just as Sancho-Panza was often saner and shrewder than Don Quixote. They clear away vast masses of oppressive gravity by their sense of the ridiculous, which is at bottom a combination of sound moral judgment with lighthearted good humor. But they are concerned with the diversities of the world instead of with its unities: they are so irreligious that they exploit popular religion for professional purposes without delicacy or scruple (for example, Sydney Carton and the ghost in Hamlet!): they are anarchical, and cannot balance their exposures of Angelo and Dogberry, Sir Leicester Dedlock and Mr. Tite Barnacle, with any portrait of a prophet or a worthy leader: they have no constructive ideas: they regard those who have them as dangerous fanatics: in all their fictions there is no leading thought or inspiration for which any man could conceivably risk the spoiling of his hat in a shower, much less his life. Both are alike forced to borrow motives for the more strenuous actions of their personages from the common stockpot of melodramatic plots; so that Hamlet has to be stimulated by the prejudices of a policeman and Macbeth by the cupidities of a bushranger. Dickens, without the excuse of having to manufacture motives for Hamlets and Macbeths, superfluously punt his crew down the stream of his monthly parts by mechanical devices which I leave you to describe, my own memory being quite baffled by the simplest question as to Monks in Oliver Twist, or the long lost parentage of Smike, or the relations between the Dorrit and Clennam families so inopportunely discovered by Monsieur Rigaud Blandois. The truth is, the world was to Shakespear a great "stage of fools" on which he was utterly bewildered. He could see no sort of sense in living at all; and Dickens saved himself from the despair of the dream in The Chimes by taking the world for granted and busying himself with its details. Neither of them could do anything with a serious positive character: they could place a human figure before you with perfect verisimilitude; but when the moment came for making it live and move, they found, unless it made them laugh, that they had a puppet on their hands, and had to invent some artificial external stimulus to make it work. This is what is the matter with Hamlet all through: he has no will except in his bursts of temper. Foolish Bardolaters make a virtue of this after their fashion: they declare that the play is the tragedy of irresolution; but all Shakespear's projections of the deepest humanity he knew have the same defect: their characters and manners are lifelike; but their actions are forced on them from without, and the external force is grotesquely inappropriate except when it is quite conventional, as in the case of Henry V. Falstaff is more vivid than any of these serious reflective characters, because he is self-acting: his motives are his own appetites and instincts and humors. Richard III, too, is delightful as the whimsical comedian who stops a funeral to make love to the corpse's widow; but when, in the next act, he is replaced by a stage villain who smothers babies and offs with people's heads, we are revolted at the imposture and repudiate the changeling. Faulconbridge, Coriolanus, Leontes are admirable descriptions of instinctive temperaments: indeed the play of Coriolanus is the greatest of Shakespear's comedies; but description is not philosophy; and comedy neither compromises the author nor reveals him. He must be judged by those characters into which he puts what he knows of himself, his Hamlets and Macbeths and Lears and Prosperos. If these characters are agonizing in a void about factitious melodramatic murders and revenges and the like, whilst the comic characters walk with their feet on solid ground, vivid and amusing, you know that the author has much to show and nothing to teach. The comparison between Falstaff and Prospero is like the comparison between Micawber and David Copperfield. At the end of the book you know Micawber, whereas you only know what has happened to David, and are not interested enough in him to wonder what his politics or religion might be if anything so stupendous as a religious or political idea, or a general idea of any sort, were to occur to him. He is tolerable as a child; but he never becomes a man, and might be left out of his own biography altogether but for his usefulness as a stage confidant, a Horatio or "Charles his friend" what they call on the stage a feeder.

Now you cannot say this of the works of the artist-philosophers. You cannot say it, for instance, of The Pilgrim's Progress. Put your Shakespearian hero and coward, Henry V and Pistol or Parolles, beside Mr. Valiant and Mr. Fearing, and you have a sudden revelation of the abyss that lies between the fashionable author who could see nothing in the world but personal aims and the tragedy of their disappointment or the comedy of their incongruity, and the field preacher who achieved virtue and courage by identifying himself with the purpose of the world as he understood it. The contrast is enormous: Bunyan's coward stirs your blood more than Shakespear's hero, who actually leaves you cold and secretly hostile. You suddenly see that Shakespear, with all his flashes and divinations, never understood virtue and courage, never conceived how any man who was not a fool could, like Bunyan's hero, look back from the brink of the river of death over the strife and labor of his pilgrimage, and say "yet do I not repent me"; or, with the panache of a millionaire, bequeath "my sword to him that shall succeed me in my pilgrimage, and my courage and skill to him that can get it." This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; the being a force of Nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy. And also the only real tragedy in life is the being used by personally minded men for purposes which you recognize to be base. All the rest is at worst mere misfortune or mortality: this alone is misery, slavery, hell on earth; and the revolt against it is the only force that offers a man's work to the poor artist, whom our personally minded rich people would so willingly employ as pandar, buffoon, beauty monger, sentimentalizer and the like.

-- Man and Superman: A Comedy and a Philosophy, by Bernard Shaw

Jung's self-explorations and creative experiments did not occur in a vacuum. During this period, there was great interest in art and painting within his circle. Alphonse Maeder wrote a monograph on Ferdinand Hodier [107] and had a friendly correspondence with him. [108] Around 1916, Maeder had a series of visions or waking fantasies, which he published pseudonymously When he told Jung of these events, Jung replied, "What, you too?" [109] Hans Schmid also wrote and painted his fantasies in something akin to Liber Novus. Moltzer was keen to increase the artistic activities of the Zurich school. She felt that more artists were needed in their circle and considered Riklin as a model. [110] J. B. Lang, who was analyzed by Riklin, began to paint symbolic paintings. Moltzer had a book that she called her Bible, in which she put pictures with writings. She recommended that her patient Fanny Bowditch Katz do the same thing. [111]

In 1919, Riklin exhibited some of his paintings as part of the "New Life" at the Kunsthaus in Zurich, described as a group of Swiss Expressionists, alongside Hans Arp, Sophie Taeuber, Francis Picabia, and Augusto Giacometti. [112] With his personal connections, Jung could easily have exhibited some of his works in such a setting, had he so liked. Thus his refusal to consider his works as art occurs in a context where there were quite real possibilities for him to have taken this route.

On some occasions, Jung discussed art with Erika Schlegel. She noted the following conversation:

I wore my pearl medallion (the pearl embroidery that Sophie had made for me) at Jung's yesterday. He liked it very much, and it prompted him to talk animatedly about art -- for almost an hour. He discussed Riklin, one of Augusto Giacometti's students, and observed that while his smaller works had a certain aesthetic value, his larger ones simply dissolved. Indeed, he vanished wholly in his art, rendering him utterly intangible. His work was like a wall over which water rippled. He could therefore not analyze, as this required one to be pointed and sharp-edged, like a knife. He had fallen into art in a manner of speaking. But art and science were no more than the servants of the creative spirit, which is what must be served.

As regards my own work, it was also a matter of making out whether it was really art. Fairy tales and pictures had a religious meaning at bottom. I, too, know that somehow and sometime it must reach people. [113]

For Jung, Franz Riklin appears to have been something like a doppelganger, whose fate he was keen to avoid. This statement also indicates Jung's relativization of the status of art and science to which he had come through his self-experimentation.

Thus, the making of Liber Novus was by no means a peculiar and idiosyncratic activity, nor the product of a psychosis. Rather, it indicates the close intersections between psychological and artistic experimentation with which many individuals were engaged at this time.

The Collective Experiment

In 1915, Jung held a lengthy correspondence with his colleague Hans Schmid on the question of the understanding of psychological types. This correspondence gives no direct signs of Jung's self-experimentation, and indicates that theories he developed during this period did not stem solely from his active imaginations, but also in part consisted of conventional psychological theorizing. [114] On March 5, 1915, Jung wrote to Smith Ely Jeliffe:

I am still with the army in a little town where I have plenty of practical work and horseback riding ... Until I had to join the army I lived quietly and devoted my time to my patients and to my work. I was especially working about the two types of psychology and about the synthesis of unconscious tendencies. [115]

During his self-explorations, he experienced states of turmoil. He recalled that he experienced great fear, and sometimes had to hold the table to keep himself together, [116] and "I was frequently so wrought up that I had to eliminate the emotions through yoga practices. But since it was my purpose to learn what was going on within myself, I would do them only until I had calmed myself and could take up again the work with the unconscious." [117]

He recalled that Toni Wolff had become drawn into the process in which he was involved, and was experiencing a similar stream of images. Jung found that he could discuss his experiences with her, but she was disorientated and in the same mess. [118] Likewise, his wife was unable to help him in this regard. Consequently, he noted, "that I was able to endure at all was a case of brute force." [119]

The Psychological Club had been founded at the beginning of 1916, through a gift of 360,000 Swiss francs from Edith Rockefeller McCormick, who had come to Zurich to be analyzed by Jung in 1913. At its inception, it had approximately sixty members. For Jung, the aim of the Club was to study the relation of individuals to the group, and to provide a naturalistic setting for psychological observation to overcome the limitations of one-to-one analysis, as well as to provide a venue where patients could learn to adapt to social situations. At the same time, a professional body of analysts continued to meet together as the Association for Analytical Psychology. [120] Jung participated fully in both of these organizations.

Edith Rockefeller McCormick was the fourth daughter of Standard Oil tycoon John D. Rockefeller (1839 – 1937) and his wife Laura Spelman Rockefeller ("Cettie") (1839–1915). Her famous younger brother was John D. Rockefeller, Jr.

-- Edith Rockefeller McCormick, by Wikipedia


The Bank for International Settlements was a joint creation in 1930 of the world's central banks, including the Federal Reserve Bank of  New York. Its existence was inspired by Hjalmar Horace Greeley Schacht, Nazi Minister of Economics and president of the Reichsbank, part of whose early upbringing was in Brooklyn, and who had powerful Wall Street connections. He was seconded by the all-important banker Emil Puhl, who continued under the regime of Schacht's successor, Dr. Walther Funk.

Sensing Adolf Hitler's lust for war and conquest, Schacht, even before Hitler rose to power in the Reichstag, pushed for an institution that would retain channels of communication and collusion between the world's financial leaders even in the event of an international conflict. It was written into the Bank's charter, concurred in by the respective governments, that the BIS should be immune from seizure, closure, or censure, whether or not its owners were at war. These owners included the Morgan-affiliated First National Bank of New York (among whose directors were Harold S. Vanderbilt and Wendell Willkie), the Bank of England, the Reichsbank, the Bank of Italy, the Bank of France, and other central banks. Established under the Morgan banker Owen D. Young's so-called Young Plan, the BIS's ostensible purpose was to provide the Allies with reparations to be paid by Germany for World War I. The Bank soon turned out to be the instrument of an opposite function. It was to be a money funnel for American and British funds to flow into Hitler's coffers and to help Hitler build up his war machine.

The BIS was completely under Hitler's control by the outbreak of World War II. Among the directors under Thomas H. McKittrick were Hermann Schmitz, head of the colossal Nazi industrial trust I.G. Farben, Baron Kurt von Schroder, head of the J. H. Stein Bank of Cologne and a leading officer and financier of the Gestapo; Dr. Walther Funk of the Reichsbank, and, of course, Emil Puhl. These last two figures were Hitler's personal appointees to the board.

The BIS's first president was the smooth old Rockefeller banker, Gates W. McGarrah, formerly of the Chase National Bank and the Federal Reserve Bank....

Chapter 3:  The Secrets of Standard Oil

In 1941, Standard Oil of New Jersey was the largest petroleum corporation in the world. Its bank was Chase, its owners the Rockefellers. Its chairman, Walter C. Teagle, and its president, William S. Farish, matched Joseph J. Larkin's extensive connections with the Nazi government. 

Six foot three inches tall, and weighing over two hundred and fifty pounds, Walter C. Teagle was so large a man that it was said that when he stood up from his seat on the subway, it was to make room for two women. He smoked Havana cigars through a famous amber holder. He spoke with measured deliberation, fixing his fellow conversationalists with a frightening, unblinking, and powerful stare. 

Teagle came from a prominent Cleveland family just below the millionaire class. He early showed a dominant will, expressed in a thunderous voice, a humorless intensity, and a rugged disrespect for those who questioned his judgment. He was known as a dominant presence at Cornell. Kept out of football by an injury, he worked off his colossal energy in school debates, which he invariably won hands down. Entering the Standard Oil empire under the wing of John D. Rockefeller I, he rose rapidly through his Horatio Alger concern for work and his strong international sense: he drew many foreign countries and their leaders into the Standard Oil web. He weathered scandal after scandal in which Standard stood charged with monopolistic and other illegal practices.

From the 1920s on Teagle showed a marked admiration for Germany's enterprise in overcoming the destructive terms of the Versailles Treaty. His lumbering stride, booming tones, and clouds of cigar smoke became widely and affectionately known in the circles that helped support the rising Nazi party. He early established a friendship with the dour and stubby Hermann Schmitz of I.G. Farben, entertaining him frequently for lunch at the Cloud Room in the Chrysler Building, Teagle's favorite Manhattan haunt of the late 1920s and the 1930s. Teagle also was friendly with the pro-Nazi Sir Henri Deterding of Royal Dutch-Shell, who agreed with his views about capitalist domination of Europe and the ultimate need to destroy Russia.

Teagle, Schmitz, and Deterding shared a passion for grouse shooting and game hunting; they vied with each other as wing shots.  Teagle's love of hunting deer and wild birds was to earn him the admiration of Reichsmarschall Hennann Goring.

Teagle was close to Henry Ford. He first met him in the early 1900s when he wanted to make a deal for oil with a new Detroit auto assembly shop. He walked into the shop, saw how miserably rundown it was, and decided that he would have difficulty in collecting for the gasoline contract. But he took a chance on the thin, gaunt proprietor and went ahead. Many years later the two men met again and formed a friendship. Ford looked at him sharply and said, "We've met before." Teagle remembered at once. "Sure," Teagle said, "I sold you your first gasoline contract. You were stripping down a Winton chassis." Ford replied, "I was. And I was so hard up, I didn't even own the goddam thing!"

Because of his commercial and personal association with Hermann Schmitz, and his awareness that he must protect Standard's interest in Nazi Germany, Teagle made many visits to Berlin and the Standard tanks and tank cars in Germany throughout the 1930s. He became director of American I.G. Chemical Corp., the giant chemicals firm that was a subsidiary of I.G. Farben. He invested heavily in American I.G. and American I.G. invested heavily in Standard. He sat on the I.G. board with Fraternity brothers Edsel Ford and William E. Weiss, chairman of Sterling Products.

Following the rise of Hitler to power, Teagle and Hermann Schmitz jointly gave a special assignment to Ivy Lee, the notorious New York publicity man, who had for some years worked for the Rockefellers.  They engaged Lee for the specific purpose of economic espionage.  He was to supply I.G. Farben, and through it the Nazi government, with intelligence on the American reaction to such matters as the German armament program, Germany's treatment of the Church, and the organization of the Gestapo. He was also to keep the American public bamboozled by papering over the more evil aspects of Hitler's regime. For this, Lee was paid first $3,000 then $4,000 annually, the money paid to him through the Bank for International Settlements in the name of I.G. Chemie. The contract was for obvious reasons kept oral and the money was transferred in cash. No entries were made in the books of the employing companies or in those of Ivy Lee himself. After a short period Lee's salary was increased to $25,000 per year and he began distributing inflammatory Nazi propaganda in the United States on behalf of I.G. Farben, including virulent attacks on the Jews and the Versailles Treaty.

In February 1938 the Securities and Exchange Commission held a meeting to investigate Nazi ownership of American I.G. through a Swiss subsidiary. The commissioners grilled Teagle on the ownership of the Swiss company. He pretended that he did not know the owners were I.G. Farben and the Nazi government. The commissioners tried to make him admit that at least American I.G. was "controlled by 'European' interests." Teagle replied dodgily, "Well, I think that would be a safe assumption." Asked who voted for him as a proxy  at Swiss meetings, again he asserted that he didn't know. He also neglected to mention that Schmitz and the Nazi government owned thousands of shares in American I.G.

Teagle was sufficiently embarrassed by the hearing to resign from the American I.G. board, but he retained his connections with the company. He remained in partnership with Farben in the matter of tetraethyl lead, an additive used in aviation gasoline. Goring's air force couldn't fly without it. Only Standard, Du Pont, and General Motors had the rights to it. Teagle helped to organize a sale of the precious substance to Schmitz, who in 1938 traveled to London and "borrowed" 500 tons from Ethyl, the British Standard subsidiary. Next year, Schmitz and his partners returned to London and obtained $15 million worth. The result was that Hitler's air force was rendered capable of bombing London, the city that had provided the supplies.  Also, by supplying Japan with tetraethyl, Teagle helped make it possible for the Japanese to wage World War II.

There was a further irony. The British Royal Air Force had to pay royalties to Nazi Germany through Ethyl- Standard for the gasoline used to fly Goring's bombers that were attacking London. The payments were held in Germany by Farben's private banks for Standard until the end of the war.

Following the embarrassment of the Securities and Exchange Commission hearing, Teagle took more and more of a backseat and handed over his front office to his partner and close friend, William Stamps Farish. Farish was somewhat different in character from Teagle. Tall, bald from youth, bespectacled, given to publishing homilies and pious patriotic articles in the pages of American Magazine, he had a reserved, almost scholarly manner that barely concealed a flaring temper and a fierce self-protectiveness that made him seem guilty in  controversies over Standard when he was not necessarily so. He was so emotionally locked into the company that he was indivisible from it. He never understood a rule of power: to keep calm and polite when the opposition is angry and threatening. He could not resist striking back at anyone who criticized him, sometimes with a rather feeble attempt at physical violence. He shared with Teagle a mania for salmon fishing, dog training, bird-dogging, quail shooting, and fox hunts. Like Teagle, he devoted as much as eighteen hours a day  to office affairs, immense journeys by ship and train, and board meetings that sometimes went on into the small hours of the morning.  Both had the capacity of senior executives to exhaust everyone but themselves with their certainties. They allowed little area for discussion and brooked nothing save approval.

Farish, like Teagle, was mesmerized by Germany and spent much time with Hermann Schmitz. With Teagle's approval he staffed the Standard Oil tankers with Nazi crews. When war broke out in Europe, he ran into trouble with British Intelligence, which boarded some of his vessels outside territorial waters on the Atlantic and Pacific seaboards and seized Nazi agents who were passengers. When the British began interrogating Nazi crews on the Hitler-Standard connection, Farish fired the Germans en masse and changed the registration of the entire fleet to Panamanian to avoid British seizure or search. His vessels carried oil toTenerife in the Canary Islands, where they refueled and siphoned oil to German tankers for shipment to Hamburg. They also fueled U-boats even after the American government declared such shipments morally indefensible and while Roosevelt was fighting an undeclared war in the Atlantic. Standard tankers supplied the self-same submarines which later sank American ships.  By a humorous twist of fate, one of the ships the U-boats sank was the S.S. Walter Teagle.

It was important for the Nazis to convert the oil in the Canaries to aviation gasoline for the Luftwaffe. Once again, Farish proved helpful. As early as 1936 his associate Harry D. Collier of California Standard had built units for conversion in the Canaries. Simultaneously, Teagle had built a refinery in Hamburg that produced 15,000 tons of aviation gasoline for Goring every week.

With war in Europe, General Aniline and Film, successor to American I.G., stood in danger of being taken over by the U.S. government. Teagle and Farish's friend, the Rockefeller associate Sosthenes Behn of ITT, was narrowly stopped from buying the corporation, thus rendering it "American" and not subject to seizure. Henry Morgenthau prevented the deal. For once, The Fraternity was frustrated.  Teagle and Farish could not buy GAP themselves, as it would have too clearly betrayed their association with the Nazis.

By 1939, Americans were dangerously short of rubber. The armed services were hard put to complete wheels for planes, tanks, and armored cars. At this time Standard Oil had made a deal with Hitler whereby he would obtain certain kinds of Standard artificial rubber and America would get nothing. This deal continued until after Pearl Harbor.

When war broke out, Frank A. Howard, one of the more dynamic vice-presidents of Standard (also on the board of Chase), flew to Europe with Farish's authorization. In London he held an urgent meeting with U.S. Ambassador Joseph P. Kennedy, who allegedly wanted to negotiate a separate peace that would bring the European war to an immediate end. Kennedy enthusiastically approved Howard's meeting with Farben's representative Fritz Ringer. The meeting was set up in Holland. Howard flew to The Hague on September 22,  1939, supplied with a special Royal Air Force bomber for the occasion. 

At the Hague meeting, held in the Standard Oil offices, Howard and Ringer talked for many hours about their plans for the future.  Ringer handed over a thick bundle of German patents that were locked into Standard agreements so that they would not be seized in wartime. The two men drew up an agreement that specified they would remain in business together, "whether or not the United States came into the war." Another clause in the agreement known as the Hague Memorandum guaranteed that the moment war was over, I.G. Farben  would get back its patents. Howard returned to London and Kennedy arranged for the patents to be flown by American diplomatic bag to Ambassador William Bullitt in Paris, who forwarded them on by special courier to Farish in New York.

As the war continued in Europe before America's entry, Germany grew more and more desperate for oil. Her domestic supplies were minimal. But for many years Teagle and Farish had exploited the resources of Rumania, setting up extensive oil exploration in the Ploiesti fields and netting millions from Germany in the process. I.G. Farben financed the notorious Rumanian Iron Guard, a fascistic military organization led by General Ion Antonescu. Hermann Schmitz, through Antonescu and in league with Standard, held an exercising control over the oil fields. On March 5, 1941, Goring arranged a special private performance of Madame Butterfly by the Austrian State Opera at the Belvedere Palace in Vienna in Antonescu's honor. After the performance, Goring sat down for an urgent discussion with Antonescu on securing the use of the Standard Oil fields if Germany and America should go to war. Antonescu conferred with Schmitz and Standard executives in Bucharest. The result of the meeting was that Goring paid $11 million in bonds for the use of the oil, whether or not America came into the war.

Farish now proceeded to make another deal with Goring. Hungary was second only to Rumania as an oil source for the Nazi war machine. Teagle had started drilling there in 1934.

In July 1941, Farish and Frank Howard filed an application with Treasury for a license to sell its Hungarian subsidiary to I.G. Farben.  Farben would, the application said, pay $5.5 million in Swedish, Swiss, and Latin American currencies, $13.5 million in gold to be delivered at Lisbon, Portugal, and later shipped to the United States; and it would supply a promissory note for $5 million by I.G. "to be paid three months after the war ended." This note was to be secured by the blocked assets of General Aniline and Film in America. Treasury refused the application, whereupon Farish asked if the full amount could be paid in gold at Lisbon. That suggestion also was rejected.  Farish protested bitterly.

The British blockade ran the length of the Americas upon the Atlantic seaboard, stopping shipments to Nazi Germany wherever possible. Given the problem, how could Farish go on supplying Goring and Hermann Schmitz with oil in time of war? He soon found the solution. He sent large amounts of petroleum to Russia and thence by Trans-Siberian Railroad to Berlin long after Roosevelt's moral embargo. He shipped to Vichy North Africa. In May 1940, British authorities captured a French tanker in U.S. territorial waters that was sailing to Casablanca with 16,000 tons of Standard oil, allegedly for reshipment to Hitler. Cordell Hull demanded the British government yield up the tanker. Restricted by maritime law, the British agreed.  The tanker sailed on to Africa, followed by six more.

Farish fueled the Nazi-controlled L.A.T.I. airline from Rome to Rio via Madrid, Lisbon, and Dakar. The airline flew spies, patents, and diamonds for foreign currency. Only Standard could make this  shipment possible. Only Standard had the high-octane gasoline that enabled the lumbering clippers to make the 1,680-mile hop across the Atlantic.

A hard-working young man, William La Varre of the Department of Commerce, set about uncovering Standard's deals with this Nazi airline. He knew L.A.T.I. was the means by which the Nazis evaded the British blockade. The airline was not subject to boarding and search. Spies traveled by L.A.T.I. between the United States, Germany, and Italy by way of Brazil.

In addition to spies, the planes flew, in 1941, 2,365 kilos of books containing Nazi propaganda, legal and illegal drugs addressed to Sterling Products, Reichsbank money for the National City Bank in New York, wartime horror pictures prepared by Dr. Joseph Goebbels to frighten Latin Americans out of a world conflict. There were electrical materials and gold and silver jewelry for sale to Brazil. American companies in South America shipped the Nazis thousands of  kilos of mica and platinum, which existed in quantity only in Brazil,  and which were strategic war materials for Germany. Semiprecious stones were bought cheaply, shipped to Germany, cut in Belgium in slave camps, and shipped back to Brazil for sale.

In order to supply the airline, Farish changed more of his vessels from German to Panamanian registry. Now they were granted immunity under the Panamanian flag by James V. Forrestal, Under Secretary of the Navy, vice-president of General Aniline and Film, and Fraternity member. But U.S. Intelligence constantly checked on the members of the Gestapo, the Abwehr, and the Farben spy network  N.W.7. who used the airline. Early in 1941, Adolf Berle of the State Department insisted that Cordell Hull stop these shipments. Hull talked to William Farish. He told him he was going to apply export control to the shipments.

Farish was forced to reach a compromise. He would supply L.A.T.I. and the other Nazi airline, Condor, through Standard's Brazilian subsidiary with permission from the American ambassador in Rio.  The ambassador gave permission and the airlines continued to fly. It was not until just before Pearl Harbor that La Varre and Berle real-ized what Farish was doing: By making the deal through the Brazilian company, he was not subject to blacklisting. Thus, the shipments continued until after Pearl Harbor when the Brazilian government stepped in and closed down the airlines. Farish totally ignored his government's request to be loyal. Germany and money came first. 

On March 31, 1941, Sumner Welles of the State Department stepped into the picture with a detailed report on refueling stations in Mexico and Central and South America that were suspected of furnishing oil to Italian or German merchant vessels now in port. Among those suspected of fueling enemy ships were Standard Oil of New Jersey and California. There is no record of any action being taken on this matter.

On May 5, the U.S. Legation at Managua, Nicaragua, reported that Standard Oil subsidiaries were distributing Epoca, a publication filled with pro-Nazi propaganda. John J. Muccio, of the U.S. Consulate, made an investigation and found that Standard was distributing this inflammatory publication all over the world. By a peculiar irony, Nelson Rockefeller was at that moment in his post of Coordinator of Inter-American Affairs, seeking to insure the loyalty to United States interests of all of the governments of Latin America.

-- Trading With the Enemy, by Charles Higham

Jung's self-experimentation also heralded a change in his analytic work. He encouraged his patients to embark upon similar processes of self-experimentation. Patients were instructed on how to conduct active imagination, to hold inner dialogues, and to paint their fantasies. He took his own experiences as paradigmatic. In the 1925 seminar, he noted: "I drew all my empirical material from my patients, but the solution of the problem I drew from the inside, from my observations of the unconscious processes." [121]

Tina Keller, who was in analysis with Jung from 1912, recalls that Jung "often spoke of himself and his own experiences":

In those early days, when one arrived for the analytic hour, the so-called "red book" often stood open on an easel. In it Dr. Jung had been painting or had just finished a picture. Sometimes he would show me what he had done and comment upon it. The careful and precise work he put into these pictures and into the illuminated text that accompanied them were a testimony to the importance of this undertaking. The master thus demonstrated to the student that psychic development is worth time and effort. [122]

In her analyses with Jung and Toni Wolff, Keller conducted active imaginations and also painted. Far from being a solitary endeavor, Jung's confrontation with the unconscious was a collective one, in which he took his patients along with him. Those around Jung formed an avant-garde group engaged in a social experiment that they hoped would transform their lives and the lives of those around them.

The Return of the Dead

Amid the unprecedented carnage of the war, the theme of the return of the dead was widespread, such as in Abel Gance's film J'accuse. [123] The death toll also led to a revival of interest in spiritualism. After nearly a year, Jung began to write again in the Black Books in 1915, with a further series of fantasies. He had already completed the handwritten draft of Liber Primus and Liber Secundus. [124] At the beginning of 1916, Jung experienced a striking series of parapsychological events in his house. In 1923, he narrated this event to Cary de Angulo (later Baynes). She recorded it as follows:

One night your boy began to rave in his sleep and throw himself about saying he couldn't wake up. Finally your wife had to call you to get him quiet & this you could only do by cold cloths on him -- finally he settled down and went on sleeping. Next morning he woke up remembering nothing, but seemed utterly exhausted, so you told him not to go to school, he didn't ask why but seemed to take it for granted. But quite unexpectedly he asked for paper and colored pencils and set to work to make the following picture -- a man was angling for fishes with hook and line in the middle of the picture. On the left was the Devil saying something to the man, and your son wrote down what he said. It was that he had come for the fisherman because he was catching his fishes, but on the right was an angel who said, "No you can't take this man, he is taking only bad fishes and none of the good ones." Then after your son had made that picture he was quite content. The same night, two of your daughters thought that they had seen spooks in their rooms. The next day you wrote out the "Sermons to the Dead," and you knew after that nothing more would disturb your family, and nothing did. Of course I knew you were the fisherman in your son's picture, and you told me so, but the boy didn't know it. [125]

In Memories, Jung recounted what followed:

Around five o'clock in the afternoon on Sunday the front doorbell began ringing frantically ... Everyone immediately looked to see who was there, but there was no one in sight. I was sitting near the doorbell, and not heard it but saw it moving. We all simply stared at one another. The atmosphere was thick, believe me! Then I knew something had to happen. The whole house was as if there was a crowd present, crammed full of spirits. They were packed deep right up to the door and the air was so thick it was scarcely possible to breathe. As for myself, I was all aquiver with the question: "For God's sake, what in the world is this?" Then they cried out in chorus, "We have come back from Jerusalem where we found not what we sought." That is the beginning of the Septem Sermones.

Then it began to flow out of me, and in the course of three evenings the thing was written. As soon as I took up the pen, the whole ghastly assemblage evaporated. The room quieted and the atmosphere cleared. The haunting was over. [126]

The dead had appeared in a fantasy on January 17, 1914, and had said that they were about to go to Jerusalem to pray at the holiest graves. [127] Their trip had evidently not been successful. The Septem Sermones ad Mortuos is a culmination of the fantasies of this period. It is a psychological cosmology cast in the form of a gnostic creation myth. In Jung's fantasies, a new God had been born in his soul, the God who is the son of the frogs, Abraxas. Jung understood this symbolically. He saw this figure as representing the uniting of the Christian God with Satan, and hence as depicting a transformation of the Western God-image. Not until 1952 in Answer to Job did Jung elaborate on this theme in public.

The following year his father passed away and Eckart inherited a fair sum of money which he quickly invested in a home in Regensburg. There he entertained many political and artistic companions, and wrote his first published play. Entitled Froschkonig, it was based on the fairy tale of the frog prince. Eckart was an admirer of both Arthur Schopenhauer and Richard Wagner, and the play reflects this influence:

Deep in a swamp sits a frog prince, cursed and damned, an abomination who cannot die. Still, inside him lives a yearning for his earlier splendor, a yearning radiated through the night; alluring and enticing until a princess comes -- purity, innocence, love and beauty -- and so strong is his desire that the king's daughter overcomes her disgust and frees the wretch through the grace of her kiss.

Frog Prince: Oh, my Maiden, you don't realize that man is his own maker, his own creation. However a man is, so he himself willed, even before he was. I admit it sounds inconceivable, and I cannot explain it to you, but that is how it is. How can we feel guilty about the 'bad' in us? Nothing we do produces any repentance, so therefore we have none. As we are so we must act, according to our inborn and unalterable character... but because we are this way and have no 'better' character -- that we are so deeply sunken into this existence -- for that we are responsible, and for that we must someday pay!

Princess: But if man wanted to be a hundred times better, what could he do?

Frog Prince: That's the question -- if it is possible to fundamentally change one's character. I believe so and would believe it even without the examples tradition has shown us. There must be a solution, a reprieve, one that comes from without, not from within -- all religions point in that direction -- just don't cease striving, or it will consume you. [16]

-- Dietrich Eckart, by William Gillespie

Jung had studied the literature on Gnosticism in the course of his preparatory reading for Transformations and Symbols of the Libido. In January and October 1915, while on military service, he studied the works of the Gnostics. After writing the Septem Sermones in the Black Books, Jung recopied it in a calligraphic script into a separate book, slightly rearranging the sequence. He added the following inscription under the title: "The seven instructions of the dead. Written by Basilides in Alexandria, the city where the East touches the West." [128] He then had this privately printed, adding to the inscription: "Translated from the Greek original into German." This legend indicates the stylistic effects on Jung of late-nineteenth-century classical scholarship. He recalled that he wrote it on the occasion of the founding of the Psychological Club, and regarded it as a gift to Edith Rockefeller McCormick for founding the Club. [129]

Most important, the central doctrine of nazism, that the Jew was evil and had to be exterminated, had its origin in the Gnostic position that there were two worlds, one good and one evil, one dark and one light, one materialistic and one spiritual.... The mystical teachings of Guido von List, Lanz von Liebenfels, and Rudolf von Sebottendorff were modern restatements of Gnosticism....

This sheds light on an otherwise incomprehensible recurring theme within Nazi literature, as, for example, "The Earth-Centered Jew Lacks a Soul," by one of the chief architects of Nazi dogma, Alfred Rosenberg, who held that whereas other people believe in a Hereafter and in immortality, the Jew affirms the world and will not allow it to perish. The Gnostic secret is that the spirit is trapped in matter, and to free it, the world must be rejected. Thus, in his total lack of world-denial, the Jew is snuffing out the inner light, and preventing the millennium:

Where the idea of the immortal dwells, the longing for the journey or the withdrawal from temporality must always emerge again; hence, a denial of the world will always reappear. And this is the meaning of the non-Jewish peoples: they are the custodians of world-negation, of the idea of the Hereafter, even if they maintain it in the poorest way. Hence, one or another of them can quietly go under, but what really matters lives on in their descendants. If, however, the Jewish people were to perish, no nation would be left which would hold world-affirmation in high esteem -- the end of all time would be here.

... the Jew, the only consistent and consequently the only viable yea-sayer to the world, must be found wherever other men bear in themselves ... a compulsion to overcome the world.... On the other hand, if the Jew were continually to stifle us, we would never be able to fulfill our mission, which is the salvation of the world, but would, to be frank, succumb to insanity, for pure world-affirmation, the unrestrained will for a vain existence, leads to no other goal. It would literally lead to a void, to the destruction not only of the illusory earthly world but also of the truly existent, the spiritual. Considered in himself the Jew represents nothing else but this blind will for destruction, the insanity of mankind. It is known that Jewish people are especially prone to mental disease. "Dominated by delusions," said Schopenhauer about the Jew.

... To strip the world of its soul, that and nothing else is what Judaism wants. This, however, would be tantamount to the world's destruction.

This remarkable statement, seemingly the rantings of a lunatic, expresses the Gnostic theme that the spirit of man, essentially divine, is imprisoned in an evil world. The way out of this world is through rejection of it. But the Jew alone stands in the way. Behind all the talk about "the earth-centered Jew" who "lacks a soul"; about the demonic Jew who will despoil the Aryan maiden; about the cabalistic work of the devil in Jewish finance; about the sinister revolutionary Jewish plot to take over the world and cause the decline of civilization, there is the shadow of ancient Gnosticism.

-- Gods & Beasts -- The Nazis & the Occult, by Dusty Sklar

He gave copies to friends and confidants. Presenting a copy to Alphonse Maeder, he wrote:

I could not presume to put my name to it, but chose instead the name of one of those great minds of the early Christian era which Christianity obliterated. It fell quite unexpectedly into my lap like a ripe fruit at a time of great stress and has kindled a light of hope and comfort for me in my bad hours. [130]

Writes Noll, "Rockefeller money introduced Jung to the English-speaking world and helped bring him the worldwide fame he has today." Financier Paul Mellon was another financial angel for the self-described deity, underwriting the translation and publication of Jung's German-language works in the 1940s. "The Rockefellers, the McCormicks, and the Mellons were three of America's wealthiest families, and we can only wonder whether Jung would be so popular today if he had not attracted and converted their women to his mysteria."

-- Apostle of Perversion, by William Norman Grigg


Paul Mellon was the leading heir to the Mellon fortune, and a long-time neighbor of Averell Harriman’s in Middleburg, Virginia, as well as Jupiter Island, Florida. Paul’s father, Andrew Mellon, U.S. Treasury Secretary 1921-32, had approved the transactions of Harriman, Pryor and Bush with the Warburgs and the Nazis. Paul Mellon’s son-in-law, David K.E. Bruce, worked in Prescott Bush’s W.A. Harriman & Co. during the late 1920s; was head of the London branch of U.S. intelligence during World War II; and was Averell Harriman’s Assistant Secretary of Commerce in 1947-48. Mellon family money and participation would be instrumental in many domestic U.S. projects of the new Central Intelligence Agency.

-- George Bush:  The Unauthorized Biography, by Webster Tarpley & Anton Chaitkin


ONLY THE little seditionists and traitors have been rounded up by the F.B.I. The real Nazi Fifth Column in America remains immune. And yet there is evidence that those in both countries who place profits above patriotism -- and Fascism is based entirely upon profits although all its propaganda speaks of patriotism -- have conspired to make America part of the Nazi Big Business system.

Thurman Arnold, as assistant district attorney of the United States, his assistant, Norman Littell, and several Congressional investigations, have produced incontrovertible evidence that some of our biggest monopolies entered into secret agreements with the Nazi cartels and divided the world among them. Most notorious of all was Alcoa, the Mellon-Davis-Duke monopoly which is largely responsible for the fact America did not have the aluminum with which to build airplanes before and after Pearl Harbor, while Germany had an unlimited supply. Of the Aluminum Corporation sabotage and that of other leading companies the press said very little, but several books have now been written out of the official record....

The new propaganda agency of the NAM is called the National Industrial Information Committee (N.I.I.C.). In 1942, when I discovered its campaign to raise $1,000,000 for a fund to fight labor, it denied that it had any relation with the NAM although it was part of the latter's office, had the same phone, and was operated by the same agents. In 1943, however, it sent a letter to its sustainers saying that it was still affiliated, but was becoming more and more a separate organization. These technicalities are of no importance. What is important is that the worst Fascists of the reactionary clique which bosses the NAM are the very men who are behind this new propaganda movement.

The N.I.I.C. claims it has 350 of the leading industrialists in its ranks. It was prompted to begin a big campaign in 1942 because the various Congressional committees, notably the Truman and O'Mahoney, and numerous official reports, notably those of Toland and Thurman Arnold, had exposed American Big Business as linked to Nazi Germany in the cartels, as actually doing business with Hitler and planning to do so in case of war, and to resume doing business should a war involve the two countries. Corporations -- Standard Oil for one -- had been branded traitors in Senate hearings, and the news could not be suppressed that it was due to the monopoly arrangements with I.G. Farbenindustrie that America had a shortage of aluminum for making airplanes, no synthetic rubber at all, a lack of tungsten, carboloy and other vital materials, no substitute for quinine (atabrine), etc. The very same corporations and men who had been exposed by Monograph 29 as ruling America -- notably Mellon -- were shown to be the men of the Nazi cartels. And on top of this scandal the labor press was proving that Big Business was refusing to convert to war, that Big Money was on a sit-down strike, and that, in short, the men of wealth and power were the traitors while the men in the fields, factories and workshops were working to win the war....

Aluminum Corporation (Mellon-Davis-Duke families). "If America loses the war it can thank the Aluminum Corporation of America." -- Secretary of Interior Ickes, June 26, 1941. By its cartel agreement with I.G. Farben, controlled by Hitler, Alcoa sabotaged the aluminum program of the U.S. air force. The Truman Committee heard testimony that Alcoa's representative, A.H. Bunker, $1-a-year head of the aluminum section of O.P.M., prevented work on our $600,000,000 aluminum expansion program. Congressman Pierce of Oregon said in May, 1941: "To date, 137 days or 37-1/2% of a year's production has been wasted in the effort to protect Alcoa's monopolistic position. ... This delay, translated into planes, means 10,000 fighters or 1,665 bombers."

-- Facts and Fascism, by George Seldes


Billy Hitchcock [Mellon] wasn't the only figure in the Mellon clan who rubbed shoulders with the espionage community. A number of Mellons served in the OSS, notably David Bruce, the OSS station chief in London (whose father-in-law, Andrew Mellon, was treasury secretary during the Depression). After the war certain influential members of the Mellon family maintained close ties with the CIA. Mellon family foundations have been used repeatedly as conduits for Agency funds. Furthermore, Richard Helms was a frequent weekend guest of the Mellon patriarchs in Pittsburgh during his tenure as CIA director (1966-1973).

-- Acid Dreams, The Complete Social History of LSD:  The CIA, The Sixties, And Beyond, by Martin A. Lee & Bruce Shlain

On January 16, 1916, Jung drew a mandala in the Black Books (see Appendix A). This was the first sketch of the "Systema Munditotius." He then proceeded to paint this. On the back of it, he wrote in English: "This is the first mandala I constructed in the year 1916, wholly unconscious of what it meant." The fantasies in the Black Books continued. The Systema Munditotius is a pictorial cosmology of the Sermones.

Between June 11 and October 2, 1917, Jung was on military service in Chateau d'Oex, as commander of the English prisoners of war. Around August, he wrote to Smith Ely Jeliffe that his military service had taken him completely away from his work and that, on his return, he hoped to finish a long paper about the types. He concluded the letter by writing: "With us everything is unchanged and quiet. Everything else is swallowed by the war. The psychosis is still increasing, going on and on." [131]

At this time, he felt that he was still in a state of chaos and that it only began to clear toward the end of the war. [132] From the beginning of August to the end of September, he drew a series of twenty-seven mandalas in pencil in his army notebook, which he preserved. [133] At first, he did not understand these mandalas, but felt that they were very significant. From August 20, he drew a mandala on most days. This gave him the feeling that he had taken a photograph of each day and he observed how these mandalas changed. He recalled that he received a letter from "this Dutch woman that got on my nerves terribly." [134] In this letter, this woman, that is, Moltzer, argued that "the fantasies stemming from the unconscious possessed artistic worth and should be considered as art." [135] Jung found this troubling because it was not stupid, and, moreover, modern painters were attempting to make art out of the unconscious. This awoke a doubt in him whether his fantasies were really spontaneous and natural. On the next day, he drew a mandala, and a piece of it was broken off leaving the symmetry:

Only now did I gradually come to what the mandala really is: "Formation, transformation, the eternal mind's eternal recreation." And that is the self, the wholeness of the personality, which, when everything is well, is harmonious, but which can bear no self deception. My mandala images were cryptograms on the state of my self, which were delivered to me each day. [136]

The mandala in question appears to be the mandala of August 6, 1917. [137] The second line is from Goethe's Faust. Mephistopheles is addressing Faust, giving him directions to the realm of the Mothers:

MEPHISTOPHELES
A glowing tripod will finally show you
that you are in the deepest, most deepest ground.

By its light you will see the Mothers:
the one sits, others stand and walk,
as it may chance. Formation, transformation
the eternal mind's eternal recreation.
Covered in images of all creatures,
they do not see you, since they only see shades.
Then hold your heart, since the danger is great,
and go straight to that tripod,
touch it with the key! [138]

The letter in question has not come to light. However, in a subsequent unpublished letter from November 21, 1918, while at Chateau d'Oex, Jung wrote that "M. Moltzer has again disturbed me with letters." [139] He reproduced the mandalas in Liber Novus. He noted that it was during this period that a living idea of the self first came to him: "The self, I thought, was like the monad which I am, and which is my world. The mandala represents this monad, and corresponds to the microcosmic nature of the soul." [140] At this point, he did not know where this process was leading, but he began to grasp that the mandala represented the goal of the process: "Only when I began to paint the mandalas did I see that all the paths I took, all the steps I made, all led back to the one point, that is, to the center. The mandala became the expression of all paths." [141] In the 1920s, Jung's understanding of the significance of the mandala deepened.

The Draft had contained fantasies from October 1913 to February 1914. In the winter of 1917, Jung wrote a fresh manuscript called Scrutinies, which began where he had left off. In this, he transcribed fantasies from April 1913 until June 1916. As in the first two books of Liber Novus, Jung interspersed the fantasies with interpretive commentaries. [142] He included the Sermones in this material, and now added Philemon's commentaries on each sermon. In these, Philemon stressed the compensatory nature of his teaching: he deliberately stressed precisely those conceptions that the dead lacked. Scrutinies effectively forms Liber Tertius of Liber Novus. The complete sequence of the text would thus be:

Liber Primus: The Way of What Is to Come
Liber Secundus: The Images of the Erring
Liber Tertius: Scrutinies

During this period, Jung continued transcribing the Draft into the calligraphic volume and adding paintings. The fantasies in the Black Books became more intermittent. He portrayed his realization of the significance of the self, which took place in the autumn of 1917, in Scrutinies. [143] This contains Jung's vision of the reborn God, culminating in the portrayal of Abraxas. He realized that much of what was given to him in the earlier part of the book (that is, Liber Primus and Liber Secundus) was actually given to him by Philemon. [144] He realized that there was a prophetic wise old man in him, to whom he was not identical. This represented a critical disidentification. On January 17, 1918, Jung wrote to J. B. Lang:

The work on the unconscious has to happen first and foremost for us ourselves. Our patients profit from it indirectly. The danger consists in the prophet's delusion which often is the result of dealing with the unconscious. It is the devil who says: Disdain all reason and science, mankind's highest powers. That is never appropriate even though we are forced to acknowledge [the existence of] the irrational. [145]

Jung's critical task in "working over" his fantasies was to differentiate the voices and characters. For example, in the Black Books, it is Jung's "I" who speaks the Sermones to the dead. In Scrutinies, it is not Jung's "I" but Philemon who speaks them. In the Black Books, the main figure with whom Jung has dialogues is his soul. In some sections of Liber Novus, this is changed to the serpent and the bird. In one conversation in January 1916, his soul explained to him that when the Above and Below are not united, she falls into three parts -- a serpent, the human soul, and the bird or heavenly soul, which visits the Gods. Thus Jung's revision here can be seen to reflect his understanding of the tripartite nature of his soul. [146]

I come again with this sun, with this earth, with this eagle, with this serpent -- NOT to a new life, or a better life, or a similar life:
-- I come again eternally to this identical and selfsame life, in its greatest and its smallest, to teach again the eternal return of all things, --
 -- To speak again the word of the great noontide of earth and man, to announce again to man the Superman.
-- Thus Spake Zarathustra, by Friedrich Nietzsche

During this period, Jung continued to work over his material, and there is some indication that he discussed it with his colleagues. In March 1918 he wrote to J. B. Lang, who had sent him some of his own fantasies:

I would not want to say anything more than telling you to continue with this approach because, as you have observed correctly yourself, it is very important that we experience the contents of the unconscious before we form any opinions about it. I very much agree with you that we have to grapple with the knowledge content of gnosis and neo-Platonism, since these are the systems that contain the materials which are suited to form the basis of a theory of the unconscious spirit. I have already been working on this myself for a long time, and also have had ample opportunity to compare my experiences at least partially with those of others. That's why I was very pleased to hear pretty much the same views from you. I am glad that you have discovered all on your own this area of work which is ready to be tackled. Up to now, I lacked workers. I am happy that you want to join forces with me. I consider it very important that you extricate your own material uninfluenced from the unconscious, as carefully as possible. My material is very voluminous, very complicated, and in part very graphic, up to almost completely worked through clarifications. But what I completely lack is comparative modern material. Zarathustra is too strongly consciously formed. Meyrink retouches aesthetically; furthermore, I feel he is lacking in religious sincerity. [147]

The Content

Liber Novus thus presents a series of active imaginations together with Jung's attempt to understand their significance. This work of understanding encompasses a number of interlinked threads: an attempt to understand himself and to integrate and develop the various components of his personality; an attempt to understand the structure of the human personality in general; an attempt to understand the relation of the individual to present-day society and to the community of the dead; an attempt to understand the psychological and historical effects of Christianity; and an attempt to grasp the future religious development of the West. Jung discusses many other themes in the work, including the nature of self-knowledge; the nature of the soul; the relations of thinking and feeling and the psychological types; the relation of inner and outer masculinity and femininity; the uniting of opposites; solitude; the value of scholarship and learning; the status of science; the significance of symbols and how they are to be understood; the meaning of the war; madness, divine madness, and psychiatry; how the Imitation of Christ is to be understood today; the death of God; the historical significance of Nietzsche; and the relation of magic and reason.

Hitler parodied Jesus. Lanz had preached that "love thy neighbor as thyself" really meant "love thy racially similar neighbor as thyself." Hitler said: "Whoever proclaims his allegiance to me is by this very proclamation and by the manner in which it is made, one of the chosen."

Symbols of his Messiahship appeared everywhere. One of the fashionable art shops in Berlin displayed an impressive portrait of Hitler in a prominent window space, flanked with duplicates of a painting of Christ. At one of the Nuremberg rallies a giant photo of Hitler was captioned with a phrase which opens the Gospel of John -- believed, by Biblical scholars, to be a Gnostic text -- and which occultists are fond  of quoting: "In the beginning was the Word." Sermons were preached in churches which must have caused some people, at least, a good deal of dis-ease, as, for example, this one: "Adolf Hitler is the voice of Jesus Christ, who desired to become flesh and blood of the German people and did become flesh and blood."

A message bearing the title "What the Christian Does Not Know About Christianity" made this astonishing point:

If Jehovah has lost all meaning for us Germans, the same must be said of Jesus Christ, his son. He does not possess those moral qualities which the Church claims for him. He certainly lacks those characteristics which he would require to be a true German. Indeed, he is as disappointing, if we read the record carefully, as is his father.

In day nurseries, children were taught to pray:

"Fuhrer, my Fuhrer, by God given to me,
Defend and protect me as long as may be.
Thou'st Germany rescued from her deepest need;
I render thee thanks who dost daily me feed.
Stay by me forever, or desperate my plight.
Fuhrer, my Fuhrer, my faith, my light,
Hail, my Fuhrer!"

All of which lent support to Hitler's epigram in one of his more lucid moments: "What luck for the rulers that men do not think."

-- Gods & Beasts -- The Nazis & the Occult, by Dusty Sklar

The overall theme of the book is how Jung regains his soul and overcomes the contemporary malaise of spiritual alienation. This is ultimately achieved through enabling the rebirth of a new image of God in his soul and developing a new worldview in the form of a psychological and theological cosmology. Liber Novus presents the prototype of Jung's conception of the individuation process, which he held to be the universal form of individual psychological development. Liber Novus itself can be understood on one hand as depicting Jung's individuation process, and on the other hand as his elaboration of this concept as a general psychological schema. At the beginning of the book, Jung refinds his soul and then embarks on a sequence of fantasy adventures, which form a consecutive narrative. He realized that until then, he had served the spirit of the time, characterized by use and value. In addition to this, there existed a spirit of the depths, which led to the things of the soul. In terms of Jung's later biographical memoir, the spirit of the times corresponds to personality NO. I, and the spirit of the depths corresponds to personality NO. 2. Thus this period could be seen as a return to the values of personality NO. 2. The chapters follow a particular format: they begin with the exposition of dramatic visual fantasies. In them Jung encounters a series of figures in various settings and enters into conversation with them. He is confronted with unexpected happenings and shocking statements. He then attempts to understand what had transpired, and to formulate the significance of these events and statements into general psychological conceptions and maxims. Jung held that the significance of these fantasies was due to the fact that they stemmed from the mythopoeic imagination which was missing in the present rational age. The task of individuation lay in establishing a dialogue with the fantasy figures -- or contents of the collective unconscious -- and integrating them into consciousness, hence recovering the value of the mythopoeic imagination which had been lost to the modern age, and thereby reconciling the spirit of the time with the spirit of the depth. This task was to form a leitmotif of his subsequent scholarly work.

"A New Spring of Life"

In 1916, Jung wrote several essays and a short book in which he began to attempt to translate some of the themes of Liber Novus into contemporary psychological language, and to reflect on the significance and the generality of his activity. Significantly, in these works he presented the first outlines of the main components of his mature psychology. A full account of these papers is beyond the scope of this introduction. The following overview highlights elements that link most directly with Liber Novus.

In his works between 1911 and 1914, he had principally been concerned with establishing a structural account of general human functioning and of psychopathology. In addition to his earlier theory of complexes, we see that he had already formulated conceptions of a phylogenetically acquired unconscious peopled by mythic images, of a nonsexual psychic energy, of the general types of introversion and extraversion, of the compensatory and prospective function of dreams, and of the synthetic and constructive approach to fantasies. While he continued to expand and develop these conceptions in detail, a new project emerges here: the attempt to provide a temporal account of higher development, which he termed the individuation process. This was a pivotal theoretical result of his self-experimentation. The full elaboration of the individuation process, and its historical and cross-cultural comparison, would come to occupy him for the rest of his life.

In 1916, he presented a lecture to the association for analytical psychology entitled "The structure of the unconscious," which was first published in a French translation in Flournoy's Archives de Psychologie. [148] Here, he differentiated two layers of the unconscious. The first, the personal unconscious, consisted in elements acquired during one's lifetime, together with elements that could equally well be conscious. [149] The second was the impersonal unconscious or collective psyche. [150] While consciousness and the personal unconscious were developed and acquired in the course of one's lifetime, the collective psyche was inherited. [151] In this essay, Jung discussed the curious phenomena that resulted from assimilating the unconscious. He noted that when individuals annexed the contents of the collective psyche and regarded them as personal attributes, they experienced extreme states of superiority and inferiority. He borrowed the term "godlikeness" from Goethe and Alfred Adler to characterize this state, which arose from fusing the personal and collective psyche, and was one of the dangers of analysis.

Ibn Mansur Al Hallaj, the "Qu'ranic Christ," making the dangerous and fatal "ejaculation," 'ANA' L HAQ (I am the Truth)

THE NAME OF IBN MANSUR AL HALLAJ AWAKENS A DEEP RESONANCE
IN THE HEART OF EVERY SUFI, FOR HIS WAS THE LIVING EXAMPLE
OF THE ESSENTIAL TRUTH UNDERLYING SUFI DOCTRINE. THIS
"QU'RANIC CHRIST" AS PROFESSOR MASSIGNON HAS CALLED HIM,
WAS CONDEMNED FOR HERESY, EXCOMMUNICATED, TORTURED
AND CRUCIFIED FOR HAVING PUBLICLY GIVEN VOICE TO AN EXPRESSION WHICH SHOCKED THE ORTHODOX MOSLEMS OF HIS TIME. ...

WHAT THEN IS THAT PRODIGIOUS SAYING WHOSE MERE PRONOUNCEMENT
SET IN MOTION THE TREMENDOUS TRIAL IN
BAGHDAD ON A RAISED PLATFORM, SOMEWHAT RESEMBLING THAT
OF JOAN OF ARC? THE TRIAL LASTED NINE YEARS. WHAT WAS THE
HUMAN UTTERANCE THAT, OWING TO THE IMPORTANCE OF THE
DOCTRINAL POSITIONS IT OPPOSED AND THE VEHEMENCE OF THE
PASSIONS INVOLVED, ALMOST SPLIT ISLAM AND IN FACT DEALT THE
KHALIFAT A BLOW FROM WHICH IT NEVER RECOVERED? IT WAS
NOTHING OTHER THAN THE MUSLIM ADVAITA ...

ONLY ONE

THAT IF GOD ALONE EXISTS, ALL THINGS, AND MAN IN PARTICULAR,
MUST NECESSARILY EXIST IN GOD; THEY ARE THEREFORE IN THEIR
ESSENCE GOD, OR TRUTH -- THE ARABIC NAME FOR TRUTH BEING
MERELY A PRIVILEGED NAME FOR GOD. IF HALLAJ HAD SAID
"ALLAH AL HAZ -- GOD (IN HIS TRANSCENDENTAL ASPECT) IS THE
TRUTH, OR "HUWA AL HAQ" (HE IS THE TRUTH) IT WOULD HAVE BEEN
A COMMON STATEMENT. HOWEVER AL HALLAJ DECLARED THAT
GOD ALONE EXISTS: THEREFORE HE IS THE ONE SUBJECT AND THUS
HE ALONE CAN WITNESS HIS EXISTENCE.

-- "Toward the One," by Pir Vilayat Khan


When what we should term the historical age emerged from the twilight of tradition, the Ana were already established in different communities, and had attained to a degree of civilisation very analogous to that which the more advanced nations above the earth now enjoy. They were familiar with most of our mechanical inventions, including the application of steam as well as gas. The communities were in fierce competition with each other. They had their rich and their poor; they had orators and conquerors, they made war either for a domain or an idea. Though the various states acknowledged various forms of government, free institutions were beginning to preponderate; popular assemblies increased in power; republics soon became general; the democracy to which the most enlightened European politicians look forward as the extreme goal of political advancement, and which still prevailed among other subterranean races, whom they despised as barbarians, the loftier family of Ana, to which belonged the tribe I was visiting, looked back to as one of the crude and ignorant experiments which belong to the infancy of political science. It was the age of envy and hate, of fierce passions, of constant social changes more or less violent, of strife between classes, of war between state and state. This phase of society lasted, however, for some ages, and was finally brought to a close, at least among the nobler and more intellectual populations, by the gradual discovery of the latent powers stored in the all-permeating fluid which they denominate vril.

-- "The Coming Race," by Edward Bulwer Lytton


The term "Personal Magnetism" has been rather extensively used within the last few years, but there are many objections to it, though from a popular standpoint it does fairly well. Reichenbach, coined the term Od or Odyle, but this does not, somehow or other, carry sufficient weight to render it an ideal word. Unquestionably the best term of all is that used, and so far as I know coined, by Lytton in The Coming Race. It expresses, with precision, nerve-energy and will-force combined in the developed individual. The word itself suggests the very noblest and highest ideas connected with mankind. The Romans used the words "vir" and "virilis" in a very different sense from "homo." The latter signified a mere man pure and simple, while the former expressed a lofty conception of the genus homo. The word vir or vri has the same signification, more or less, in all the Aryan languages, e.g., in MacDonell's Sanskrit Dictionary, the following is given: Vi-rá, m. (vigorous: √ vi) man, esp. man of might, hero, champion, chief, leader; Vir-yá, n. Manliness, valour, power, potency, efficiency, heroic deed, manly vigour; Vra-tá, n. (willed, √ vri, perh. old p.p.) will, command, law, ordinance, dominion. The term "vril," therefore, naturally signifies the height of dominion attained by cultivation of man's latent power, and, as such, is the best that could possibly have been devised..

-- "Ars Vivendi," by Arthur Lovell


After serving as a general in the First World War, Haushofer founded the Vril Society in Berlin in 1918. It shared the same basic beliefs as the Thule Society and some say that it was its inner circle. The Society sought contact with supernatural beings beneath the earth to gain from them the powers of vril.

-- The Nazi Connection with Shambhala and Tibet, by Alexander Berzin


The fundamental principle, is the reconciliation of the opposites. We cannot choose one opposite over another. We must experience the relationship between the two and reconcile them into a higher synthesis. This does not mean to be in the middle. For instance, the proper balance between wealth and poverty is not the mathematical average between $1,000,000 and $1, i.e. $500,000. There are people who are poor at $1,000,000, others who are rich at $1. Reconciling the opposites is not that simple. It would be a great help if someone who has gone before us would describe the experience. What would he say of himself if he had reconciled the opposites? I AM the bread of life (John 6:35); I AM the light of the world (John 8:12); I AM the door of the sheepfold (John 10:7); I AM the good shepherd (John 10:11); I AM the resurrection and the life (John 11:25); I AM the way the truth and the life (John 14:6); I AM the true vine (John 15:1). "I AM" is the most powerful statement any person can make.

-- "Reconciliation, Orientation and Unity," by Jack Courtis, the Rosicrucian Archive


[Gozer the Gozarian] "Are you a God?"

-- "Ghostbusters," directed by Ivan Reitman


Thou thinkest thyself wise, thou proud Zarathustra! Read then the riddle, thou hard nut-cracker, the riddle that I am! Say then: who am I!" ...

Too long have we acknowledged them to be right, those petty people: SO we have at last given them power as well; and now do they teach that 'good is only what petty people call good.' And 'truth' is at present what the preacher spake who himself sprang from them, that singular saint and advocate of the petty people, who testified of himself: 'I am the truth.' That immodest one hath long made the petty people greatly puffed up, he who taught no small error when he taught: 'I am the truth.'...

A wanderer am I, who have walked long at thy heels; always on the way, but without a goal, also without a home: so that verily, I lack little of being the eternally Wandering Jew, except that I am not eternal and not a Jew....

"Yea! I AM Zarathustra, the godless!"

-- Thus Spake Zarathustra, by Friedrich Nietzsche

Jung wrote that it was a difficult task to differentiate the personal and collective psyche. One of the factors one came up against was the persona -- one's "mask" or "role." This represented the segment of the collective psyche that one mistakenly regarded as individual. When one analyzed this, the personality dissolved into the collective psyche, which resulted in the release of a stream of fantasies: "All the treasures of mythological thinking and feeling are unlocked." [152] The difference between this state and insanity lay in the fact that it was intentional.

Two possibilities arose: one could attempt to regressively restore persona and return to the prior state, but it was impossible to get rid of the unconscious. Alternatively, one could accept the condition of godlikeness. However, there was a third way: the hermeneutic treatment of creative fantasies. This resulted in a synthesis of the individual with the collective psyche, which revealed the individual lifeline. This was the process of individuation. In a subsequent undated revision of this paper, Jung introduced the notion of the anima, as a counterpart to that of the persona. He regarded both of these as "subject-imagoes." Here, he defined the anima as "how the subject is seen by the collective unconscious." [153]

The vivid description of the vicissitudes of the state of godlikeness mirror some of Jung's affective states during his confrontation with the unconscious. The notion of the differentiation of the persona and its analysis corresponds to the opening section of Liber Novus, where Jung sets himself apart from his role and achievements and attempts to reconnect with his soul. The release of mythological fantasies is precisely what ensued in his case, and the hermeneutic treatment of creative fantasies was what he presented in layer two of Liber Novus. The differentiation of the personal and impersonal unconscious provided a theoretical understanding of Jung's mythological fantasies: it suggests that he did not view them as stemming from his personal unconscious but from the inherited collective psyche. If so, his fantasies stemmed from a layer of the psyche that was a collective human inheritance, and were not simply idiosyncratic or arbitrary.

In October of the same year, Jung presented two talks to the Psychological Club. The first was titled "Adaptation." This took two forms: adaptation to outer and inner conditions. The "inner" was understood to designate the unconscious. Adaptation to the "inner" led to the demand for individuation, which was contrary to adaptation to others. Answering this demand and the corresponding break with conformity led to a tragic guilt that required expiation and called for a new "collective function," because the individual had to produce values that could serve as a substitute for his absence from society. These new values enabled one to make reparation to the collective. Individuation was for the few. Those who were insufficiently creative should rather reestablish collective conformity with a society. The individual had not only to create new values, but also socially recognizable ones, as society had a "right to expect realizable values." [154]

A serpent, having its tail in its mouth and thus forming a circle, held to represent "the immensity of the power of God," which has neither beginning nor end.
-- The Ancient and Primitive Rite  of Memphis and Misraim, Excerpts from "A New Encyclopaedia of Freemasonry," by Arthur Edward Waite

***

 En-Sof in Hebrew literally means "there is no end...the very absolute as such, or positive nothing ...the principle of unconditional unity or 'unityness' as such, the principle of freedom from all forms, from all manifestations, and, consequently, from all being)... eternally finds its opposite in itself, so that only through a relationship to this opposite can it assert itself, so that it is perfectly reciprocal."
-- Vladimir Solov'ev on Spiritual Nationhood, Russia and the Jews, by Judith Deutsch Kornblatt

***

"A living mobile trinity of moments": [Hegelian] Dialectics describes the movement of the subject of history, the spirit [Geist], passing through three main stages: first it is posed in itself (an sich, thesis), then it develops out of itself and for itself in its manifestation (fur sich, antithesis), in order to return then into itself (an und fur sich, synthesis) and be with itself as an actualised and manifested being.
-- History, Sophia and the Russian Nation, by Manon de Courten

Read in terms of Jung's situation, this suggests that his break with social conformity to pursue his "individuation" had led him to the view that he had to produce socially realizable values as an expiation. This led to a dilemma: would the form in which Jung embodied these new values in Liber Novus be socially acceptable and recognizable? This commitment to the demands of society separated Jung from the anarchism of the Dadaists.

The second talk was on "Individuation and collectivity." He argued that individuation and collectivity were a pair of opposites related by guilt. Society demanded imitation. Through the process of imitation, one could gain access to values that were one's own. In analysis, "Through imitation the patient learns individuation, because it reactivates his own values." [155] It is possible to read this as a comment on the role of imitation in the analytic treatments of those of his patients whom Jung had now encouraged to embark on similar processes of development. The claim that this process evoked the patient's preexisting values was a counter to the charge of suggestion.

In November, while on military service at Herisau, Jung wrote a paper on "The transcendent function," which was published only in 1957. There, he depicted the method of eliciting and developing fantasies that he later termed active imagination, and explained its therapeutic rationale. This paper can be viewed as an interim progress report on Jung's self-experimentation, and may profitably be considered as a preface to Liber Novus.

Jung noted that the new attitude gained from analysis became obsolete. Unconscious materials were needed to supplement the conscious attitude, and to correct its one-sidedness. But because energy tension was low in sleep, dreams were inferior expressions of unconscious contents. Thus other sources had to be turned to, namely, spontaneous fantasies. A recently recovered dream book contains a series of dreams from 1917 to 1925. [156] A close comparison of this book with the Black Books indicates that his active imaginations did not derive directly from his dreams, and that these two streams were generally independent.

Jung described his technique for inducing such spontaneous fantasies: "The training consists first of all in systematic exercises for eliminating critical attention, thus producing a vacuum in consciousness." [157] One commenced by concentrating on a particular mood, and attempting to become as conscious as possible of all fantasies and associations that came up in connection with it. The aim was to allow fantasy free play, without departing from the initial affect in a free associative process. This led to a concrete or symbolic expression of the mood, which had the result of bringing the affect nearer to consciousness, hence making it more understandable. Doing this could have a vitalizing effect. Individuals could draw, paint, or sculpt, depending on their propensities:

"All my life I've been harassed by questions: Why is something this way and not another? How do you account for that? This rage to understand, to fill in the blanks, only makes life more banal. If we could only find the courage to leave our destiny to chance, to accept the fundamental mystery of our lives, then we might be closer to the sort of happiness that comes with innocence." -- Luis Bunuel

Visual types should concentrate on the expectation that an inner image will be produced. As a rule such a fantasy-image will actually appear -- perhaps hypnagogically -- and should be carefully noted down in writing. Audio-verbal types usually hear inner words, perhaps mere fragments or apparently meaningless sentences to begin with ... Others at such times simply hear their "other" voice ... Still rarer, but equally valuable, is automatic writing, direct or with the planchette. [158]

Once these fantasies had been produced and embodied, two approaches were possible: creative formulation and understanding. Each needed the other, and both were necessary to produce the transcendent function, which arose out of the union of conscious and unconscious contents.

For some people, Jung noted, it was simple to note the "other" voice in writing and to answer it from the standpoint of the I: "It is exactly as if a dialogue were taking place between two human beings ... " [159] This dialogue led to the creation of the transcendent function, which resulted in a widening of consciousness. This depiction of inner dialogues and the means of evoking fantasies in a waking state represents Jung's own undertaking in the Black Books. The interplay of creative formulation and understanding corresponds to Jung's work in Liber Novus. Jung did not publish this paper. He later remarked that he never finished his work on the transcendent function because he did it only half-heartedly. [160]

In 1917, Jung published a short book with a long title: The Psychology of the Unconscious Processes: An Overview of the Modern Theory and Method of Analytical Psychology. In his preface, dated December 1916, he proclaimed the psychological processes that accompanied the war had brought the problem of the chaotic unconscious to the forefront of attention. However, the psychology of the individual corresponded to the psychology of the nation, and only the transformation of the attitude of the individual could bring about cultural renewal. [161] This articulated the intimate interconnection between individual and collective events that was at the center of Liber Novus. For Jung, the conjunction between his precognitive visions and the outbreak of war had made apparent the deep subliminal connections between individual fantasies and world events -- and hence between the psychology of the individual and that of the nation. What was now required was to work out this connection in more detail.

It may be opportune at this point to say a word about the attitude of a Christian Society towards Pacifism....I cannot but believe that the man who maintains that war is in all circumstances wrong, is in some way repudiating an obligation towards society; and in so far as the society is a Christian society the obligation is so much the more serious. Even if each particular war proves in turn to have been unjustified, yet the idea of a Christian society seems incompatible with the idea of absolute pacifism; for pacifism can only continue to flourish so long as the majority of persons forming a society are not pacifists....The notion of communal responsibility, of the responsibility of every individual for the sins of the society to which he belongs, is one that needs to be more firmly apprehended; and if I share the guilt of my society in time of 'peace', I do not see how I can absolve myself from it in time of war, by abstaining from the common action.
-- The Idea of a Christian Society, by T.S. Eliot

Jung noted that after one had analyzed and integrated the contents of the personal unconscious, one came up against mythological fantasies that stemmed from the phylogenetic layer of the unconscious. [162] The Psychology of the Unconscious Processes provided an exposition of the collective, suprapersonal, absolute unconscious -- these terms being used interchangeably. Jung argued that one needed to separate oneself from the unconscious by presenting it visibly as something separate from one. It was vital to differentiate the I from the non-I, namely, the collective psyche or absolute unconscious. To do this, "man must necessarily stand upon firm feet in his I-function; that is, he must fulfil his duty toward life completely, so that he may in every respect be a vitally living member of society." [163] Jung had been endeavoring to accomplish these tasks during this period.

Phylogenetics: In biology, phylogenetics ( /faɪlɵdʒɪˈnɛtɪks/) is the study of evolutionary relation among groups of organisms (e.g. species, populations), which is discovered through molecular sequencing data and morphological data matrices. The term phylogenetics derives from the Greek terms phyle (φυλή) and phylon (φῦλον), denoting “tribe” and “race”; and the term genetikos (γενετικός), denoting “relative to birth”, from genesis (γένεσις) “origin” and “birth”.
-Wikipedia

The contents of this unconscious were what Jung in Transformations and Symbols of the Libido had called typical myths or primordial images. He described these "dominants" as "the ruling powers, the Gods, that is, images of dominating laws and principles, average regularities in the sequence of images, that the brain has received from the sequence of secular processes." [164] One needed to pay particular attention to these dominants. Particularly important was the "detachment of the mythological or collective psychological contents from the objects of consciousness, and their consolidation as psychological realities outside the individual psyche."

Notice. I wish to warn the reader, who might be inclined to try any of the alchemical prescriptions contained in this book, not to do so unless he is an alchemist, because, although I know from personal observation that these prescriptions are not only allegorically but literally true, and will prove successful in the hands of an alchemist, they would only cause a waste of time and money in the hands of one who has not the necessary qualifications. A person who wants to be an alchemist must have in himself the "magnesia," which means the magnetic power to attract and "coagulate" invisible astral elements. This power is only possessed by those who are "Initiates." Those who do not know what this expression means are not "reborn" (or initiated), and it cannot be explained to them.
-- The Life of Philippus Theophrastus Bombast of Hohenheim Known by the Name of Paracelsus and the Substance of his Teachings, by Franz Hartmann, M.D.

[165] This enabled one to come to terms with activated residues of our ancestral history. The differentiation of the personal from the nonpersonal resulted in a release of energy.

At the point of contact between leaders and followers reside ideologies. The term "ideology" is used here in quite a loose sense. It refers to any idea or set of ideas that provides a prescriptive view of life. The term is therefore not confined to lengthy doctrines that are systematized in the form of a tract or a dissertation, since ideologies may also be expressed by short slogans. Moreover, they can be loaded with different layers of meaning. They can consist of a formalized and presumably conscious worldview that includes many parts. But they can equally well be comprised of unconscious shared group fantasies, which have the power to charge up the entire group with sufficient energy to trigger unified mass action. Consequently they frequently include myths while their promoters engage in the selling of those myths. Moreover, slogans, catch phrases, enticing ideas, poignant jokes, stirring songs but also a variety of visual images that appear on posters, placards, and walls as well as in illustrations and cartoons published by newspapers and magazines may all represent small bits or chunks of ideologies. Whatever form they take, whether it is one picture that is worth more than a thousand words or an uplifting short slogan, these bits and chunks of ideology encapsulate succinct and rather unidimensional views of the world or of national life. What is more, they may be widely dispersed and "float in the air." When that happens, the ideological prescriptions frequently express themselves through aphorisms. A current American example would be the saying "winning isn't everything, it's the only thing." An earlier German example which is taken from a Nazi marching song would be the lines "For today Germany belongs to us and tomorrow the whole world." As can be seen, such small ideological segments, which prescribe what to expect from life, ride on a variety of "carriers." That is why they may frequently be lifted from songs, plays, jokes, drawings or paintings, political speeches and similar layers of the cultural repository. They are embedded in the culture but their drawing power fluctuates according to the position they happen to occupy in the particular zeitgeist, or spirit of the time. The zeitgeist is a concept that denotes the ripening of a cultural image or idea to the point where its time has arrived. It also connotes a notion of movement where ideas float to the foreground when their time comes or sink to the background when their time is gone. The issue of when an ideology's time for action has arrived is largely determined by changes within the zeitgeist that reflect an altered emotional climate and the shifting winds of public mood.

Sometimes, when a very forceful theme or even a whole constellation of highly energized themes emerges in the life of the collective to dominate the zeitgeist, one encounters the phenomenon of shared group fantasies. These are the shared psychological basic assumptions that dictate the group identity. Not only do they determine for the members who they are by virtue of their group identity, they also instill expectations concerning what future life would be like, for good or bad, because of this group belonging. These fantasies are therefore dynamically charged, include large unconscious elements, and also function as psychological defenses. Consequently the images they present of both self and world tend to be distorted because they filter reality through an intricate grid of defense mechanisms. Thus, failures become rationalized, blame projected, self-fulfilling prophecies adopted, affect reversed, and contradictions maintained by separating them into walled-off mental compartments (the mechanism of isolation). Then expectations are tailored to fit the preexisting basic assumptions concerning the life of the group. All this means that nothing less than reality itself is being distorted. Yet reality stands in the way between wish and wish fulfillment. And a cardinal wish of individuals and groups is to preserve their distinct continuity and to maintain a gratifying self-image devoid of narcissistic wounds, i.e., emotional injuries that are destructive of self-esteem. This is why shared group fantasies modify, distort, and even fabricate reality in a highly defensive fashion.

-- The Roots of Nazi Psychology, by Jay Y. Gonen

These comments also mirror his activity: his attempt to differentiate the various characters which appeared, and to "consolidate them as psychological realities." The notion that these figures had a psychological reality in their own right, and were not merely subjective figments, was the main lesson that he attributed to the fantasy figure of Elijah: psychic objectivity. [166]

Jung argued that the era of reason and skepticism inaugurated by the French Revolution had repressed religion and irrationalism. This in turn had serious consequences, leading to the outbreak of irrationalism represented by the world war. It was thus a historical necessity to acknowledge the irrational as a psychological factor. The acceptance of the irrational forms one of the central themes of Liber Novus.

Fascist ideology, whatever its specific predicates, repudiates human reason and exalts irrationalism and irrationalist violence.
--
Project Democracy's Program -- The Fascist Corporate State,"

In The Psychology of the Unconscious Processes, Jung developed his conception of the psychological types. He noted that it was a common development that the psychological characteristics of the types were pushed to extremes. By what he termed the law of enantiodromia, or the reversal into the opposite, the other function entered in; namely; feeling for the introvert, and thinking for the extravert. These secondary functions were found in the unconscious. The development of the contrary function led to individuation. As the contrary function was not acceptable to consciousness, a special technique was required to come to terms with it, namely the production of the transcendent function. The unconscious was a danger when one was not at one with it. But with the establishment of the transcendent function, the disharmony ceased. This rebalancing gave access to the productive and beneficent aspects of the unconscious. The unconscious contained the wisdom and experience of untold ages, and thus formed an unparalleled guide. The development of the contrary function appears in the "Mysterium" section of Liber Novus. [167] The attempt to gain the wisdom stored in the unconscious is portrayed throughout the book in which Jung asks his soul to tell him what she sees and the meaning of his fantasies. The unconscious is here viewed as a source of higher wisdom. He concluded the essay by indicating the personal and experiential nature of his new conceptions: "Our age is seeking a new spring of life. I found one and drank of it and the water tasted good." [168]

The Way to the Self

In 1918, Jung wrote a paper entitled "On the unconscious," where he noted that all of us stood between two worlds: the world of external perception and the world of perception of the unconscious. This distinction depicts his experience at this time. He wrote that Friedrich Schiller had claimed that the approximation of these two worlds was through art. By contrast, Jung argued, "I am of the opinion that the union of rational and irrational truth is to be found not so much in art as in the symbol per se; for it is the essence of the symbol to contain both the rational and irrational." [169] Symbols, he maintained, stemmed from the unconscious, and the creation of symbols was the most important function of the unconscious. While the compensatory function of the unconscious was always present, the symbol-creating function was present only when we were willing to recognize it. Here, we see him continuing to eschew viewing his productions as art. It was not art but symbols which were of paramount importance here. The recognition and recuperation of this symbol-creating power is portrayed in Liber Novus. It depicts Jung's attempt to understand the psychological nature of symbolism and to view his fantasies symbolically. He concluded that what was unconscious at any given epoch was only relative, and changing. What was required now was the "remolding of our views in accordance with the active forces of the unconscious." [170] Thus the task confronting him was one of translating the conceptions gained through his confrontation with the unconscious, and expressed in a literary and symbolic manner in Liber Novus, into a language that was compatible with the contemporary outlook.

The following year, he presented a paper in England before the Society of Psychical Research, of which he was an honorary member, on "The psychological foundations of the belief in spirits." [171] He differentiated between two situations in which the collective unconscious became active. In the first, it became activated through a crisis in an individual's life and the collapse of hopes and expectations. In the second, it became activated at times of great social, political, and religious upheaval. At such moments, the factors suppressed by the prevailing attitudes accumulate in the collective unconscious. Strongly intuitive individuals become aware of these and try to translate them into communicable ideas. If they succeeded in translating the unconscious into a communicable language, this had a redeeming effect. The contents of the unconscious had a disturbing effect. In the first situation, the collective unconscious might replace reality; which is pathological. In the second situation, the individual may feel disorientated, but the state is not pathological. This differentiation suggests that Jung viewed his own experience as falling under the second heading -- namely; the activation of the collective unconscious due to the general cultural upheaval. Thus his initial fear of impending insanity in 1913 lay in his failure to realize this distinction.

In 1918, he presented a series of seminars to the Psychological Club on his work on typology; and was engaged in extensive scholarly research on this subject at this time. He developed and expanded the themes articulated in these papers in 1921 in Psychological Types. As regards the working over of themes of Liber Novus, the most important section was chapter 5, "The type problem in poetry." The basic issue discussed here was how the problem of opposites could be resolved through the production of the uniting or reconciling symbol. This forms one of the central themes of Liber Novus. Jung presented detailed analysis of the issue of the resolution of the problem of opposites in Hinduism, Taoism, Meister Eckhart, and, in present times, in the work of Carl Spitteler. This chapter can also be read in terms of a meditation on some of the historical sources that directly informed his conceptions in Liber Novus. It also heralded the introduction of an important method. Rather than directly discussing the issue of the reconciliation of opposites in Liber Novus, he sought out historical analogies and commented upon them.

In 1921, the "self" emerged as a psychological concept. Jung defined it as follows:

Inasmuch as the I is only the center of my field of consciousness, it is not identical with the totality of my psyche, being merely a complex among other complexes. Hence I discriminate between the I and the self, since the I is only the subject of my consciousness, while the self is the subject of my totality: hence it also includes the unconscious psyche. In this sense the self would be an (ideal) greatness which embraces and includes the I. In unconscious fantasy the self often appears as the super-ordinated or ideal personality, as Faust is in relation to Goethe and Zarathustra to Nietzsche. [172]

He equated the Hindu notion of Brahman/Atman with the self. At the same time, Jung provided a definition of the soul. He argued that the soul possessed qualities that were complementary to the persona, containing those qualities that the conscious attitude lacked. This complementary character of the soul also affected its sexual character, so that a man had a feminine soul, or anima, and a woman had a masculine soul, or animus. [173] This corresponded to the fact that men and women had both masculine and feminine traits. He also noted that the soul gave rise to images that were assumed to be worthless from the rational perspective. There were four ways of using them:

The first possibility of making use of them is artistic, if one is in any way gifted in that direction; a second is philosophical speculation; a third is quasi-religious, leading to heresy and the founding of sects; and a fourth way of employing the dynamis of these images is to squander it in every form of licentiousness. [174]

From this perspective, the psychological utilization of these images would represent a "fifth way" For it to succeed, psychology had to distinguish itself clearly from art, philosophy, and religion. This necessity accounts for Jung's rejection of the alternatives.

In the subsequent Black Books, he continued to elaborate his "mythology." The figures developed and transformed into one another. The differentiation of the figures was accompanied by their coalescence, as he came to regard them as aspects of underlying components of the personality. On January 5, 1922, he had a conversation with his soul concerning both his vocation and Liber Novus:

[I:] I feel that I must speak to you. Why do you not let me sleep, as I am tired? I feel that the disturbance comes from you. What induces you to keep me awake?

[Soul:] Now is no time to sleep, but you should be awake and prepare important matters in nocturnal work. The great work begins.

[I:] What great work?

[Soul:] The work that should now be undertaken. It is a great and difficult work. There is no time to sleep, if you find no time during the day to remain in the work.

[I:] But I had no idea that something of this kind was taking place.

[Soul:] But you could have told by the fact that I have been disturbing your sleep for a long time. You have been too unconscious for a long time. Now you must go to a higher level of consciousness.

[I:] I am ready. What is it? Speak!

[Soul:] You should listen: to no longer be a Christian is easy. But what next? For more is yet to come. Everything is waiting for you. And you? You remain silent and have nothing to say. But you should speak. Why have you received the revelation? You should not hide it. You concern yourself with the form? Is the form important, when it is a matter of revelation?

[I:] But you are not thinking that I should publish what I have written? That would be a misfortune. And who would understand it?

[Soul:] No, listen! You should not break up a marriage, namely the marriage with me, no person should supplant me ... I want to rule alone.

[I:] So you want to rule? From whence do you take the right for such a presumption?

[Soul:] This right comes to me because I serve you and your calling. I could just as well say, you came first, but above all your calling comes first.

[I:] But what is my calling?

[Soul:] The new religion and its proclamation.

[I:] Oh God, how should I do this?

[Soul:] Do not be of such little faith. No one knows it as you do. There is no one who could say it as well as you could.

[I:] But who knows if you are not lying?

[Soul:] Ask yourself if I am lying. I speak the truth. [175]

His soul here pointedly urged him to publish his material, at which he balked. Three days later, his soul informed him that the new religion "expresses itself only in the transformation of human relations. Relations do not let themselves be replaced by the deepest knowledge. Moreover a religion does not consist only in knowledge, but at its visible level in a new ordering of human affairs. Therefore expect no further knowledge from me. You know everything that is to be known about the manifested revelation, but you do not yet live everything that is to be lived at this time." Jung's "I" replied, "I can fully understand and accept this. However, it is dark to me, how the knowledge could be transformed into life. You must teach me this." His soul said, "There is not much to say about this. It is not as rational as you are inclined to think. The way is symbolic." [176]

Thus the task confronting Jung was how to realize and embody what he had learned through his self-investigation into life. During this period the themes of the psychology of religion and the relation of religion to psychology became increasingly prominent in his work, starting from his seminar in Polzeath in Cornwall in 1923. He attempted to develop a psychology of the religious-making process. Rather than proclaiming a new prophetic revelation, his interest lay in the psychology of religious experiences. The task was to depict the translation and transposition of the numinous experience of individuals into symbols, and eventually into the dogmas and creeds of organized religions, and, finally, to study the psychological function of such symbols. For such a psychology of the religion-making process to succeed, it was essential that analytical psychology, while providing an affirmation of the religious attitude, did not succumb to becoming a creed. [177]

In 1922, Jung wrote a paper on "The relation of analytical psychology to poetic art works." He differentiated two types of work: the first, which sprang entirely from the author's intention, and the second, which seized the author. Examples of such symbolic works were the second part of Goethe's Faust and Nietzsche's Zarathustra. He held that these works stemmed from the collective unconscious. In such instances, the creative process consisted in the unconscious activation of an archetypal image. The archetypes released in us a voice that was stronger than our own:

Whoever speaks in primordial images speaks with a thousand voices; he enthrals and overpowers ... he transmutes our personal destiny into the destiny of mankind, and evokes in us all those beneficent forces that ever and anon have enabled humanity to find a refuge from every peril and to outlive the longest night. [178]

The artist who produced such works educated the spirit of the age, and compensated the one-sidedness of the present. In describing the genesis of such symbolic works, Jung seemingly had his own activities in mind. Thus while Jung refused to regard Liber Novus as "art," his reflections on its composition were nevertheless a critical source of his subsequent conceptions and theories of art. The implicit question that this paper raised was whether psychology could now serve this function of educating the spirit of the age and compensating the one-sidedness of the present. From this period onward, he came to conceive of the task of his psychology in precisely such a manner. [179]

Publication Deliberations

From 1922 onward, in addition to discussions with Emma Jung and Toni Wolff, Jung had extensive discussions with Cary Baynes and Wolfgang Stockmayer concerning what to do with Liber Novus, and around its potential publication. Because these discussions took place when he was still working on it, they are critically important. Cary Fink was born in 1883. She studied at Vassar College, where she was taught by Kristine Mann, who became one of Jung's earliest followers in the United States. In 1910, she married Jaime de Angulo, and completed her medical training at Johns Hopkins in 1911. In 1921, she left him, and went to Zurich with Kristine Mann. She entered analysis with Jung. She never practiced analysis, and Jung highly respected her critical intelligence. In 1927, she married Peter Baynes. They were subsequently divorced in 1931. Jung asked her to make a fresh transcription of Liber Novus, because he had added a lot of material since the previous transcription. She undertook this in 1924 and 1925, when Jung was in Africa. Her typewriter was heavy, so she first copied it by hand and then typed it out.

These notes recount her discussions with Jung and are written in the form of letters to him, but were not sent.

OCTOBER 2, 1922

In another book of Meyrink's the "White Dominican," you said he made use of exactly the same symbolism that had come to you in the first vision that revealed to your unconscious. Furthermore you said, he had spoken of a "Red Book" which contained certain mysteries and the book that you are writing about the unconscious, you have called the "Red Book". [180] Then you said you were in doubt as to what to do about that book. Meyrink you said could throw his into novel form and it was all right, but you could only command the scientific and philosophical method and that stuff you couldn't cast into that mold. I said you could use the Zarathustra form and you said that was true, but you were sick of that. I am too. Then you said you had thought of making an autobiography out of it. That would seem to me by far the best, because then you would tend to write as you spoke which was in a very colorful way. But apart from any difficulty with the form, you said you dreaded making it public because it was like selling your house. But I jumped upon you with both feet there and said it wasn't a bit like that because you and the book stood for a constellation of the Universe, and that to take the book as being purely personal was to identify yourself with it which was something you would not think of permitting to your patients ... Then we laughed over my having caught you red-handed as it were. Goethe had been caught in the same difficulty in the 2nd part of Faust in which he had gotten into the unconscious and found it so difficult to get the right form that he had finally died leaving the Mss. as such in his drawer. So much of what you had experienced you said, would be counted as sheer lunacy that if it were published you would lose out altogether not only as a scientist, but as a human being, but not I said if you went at it from the Dichtung und Wahrheit [Poetry and Truth] angle, then people could make their own selection as to which was which. [181] You objected to presenting any of it as Dichtung when it was all Wahrheit, but it does not seem to me falseness to make use of that much of a mask in order to protect yourself from Philistia -- and after all, as I said Philistia has its rights, confronted with the choice of you as a lunatic, and themselves as inexperienced fools they have to choose the former alternative, but if they can place you as a poet, their faces are saved. Much of your material you said has come to you as runes & the explanation of those runes sounds like the veriest nonsense, but that does not matter if the end product is sense. In your case I said, apparently you have become conscious of more of the steps of creation than ever anyone before. In most cases the mind evidently drops out of the irrelevant stuff automatically and delivers the end product, whereas you bring along the whole business, matrix process and product. Naturally it is frightfully more difficult to handle. Then my hour was up.

JANUARY 1923

What you told me some time ago set me thinking, and suddenly the other day while I was reading the "Vorspiel auf dem Theater" [prelude in the theater], [182] it came to me that you too ought to make use of that principle which Goethe has handled so beautifully all through Faust, namely, the placing in opposition of the creative and eternal with the negative and transient. You may not see right away what this has to do with the Red Book, but I will explain. As I understand it in this book you are going to challenge men to a new way of looking at their souls, at any rate there is going to be in it a good deal that will be out of the grasp of the ordinary man, just as at one period of your own life you would scarcely have understood it. In a way it is a "jewel" you are giving to the world is it not? My idea is that it needs a sort of protection in order not to be thrown into the gutter and finally made away with by a strangely clad Jew.

The best protection you could devise, it seems to me, would be to put in the book itself an exposition of the forces that will attempt to destroy it. It is one of your great gifts strength of seeing the black as well as the white of every given situation, so you will know better than most of the people who attack the book, what it is that they want to destroy. Could you not take the wind out of their sails by writing their criticism for them? Perhaps that is the very thing you have done in the introduction. Perhaps you would rather assume towards the public the attitude of "Take or leave it, and be blessed or be damned whichever you prefer." That would be all right, whatever there is of truth in it is going to survive in any case. But I would like to see you do the other thing if it did not call for too much effort.

JANUARY 26, 1924

You had the night before had a dream in which I appeared in a disguise and was to do work on the Red Book and you had been thinking about it all that day and during Dr. Wharton's hour preceding mine especially (pleasant for her I must say) ... As you had said you had made up your mind to turn over to me all of your unconscious material represented by the Red Book etc. to see what I as a stranger and impartial observer would say about it. You thought I had a good critique and an impartial one. Toni you said was deeply interwoven with it and besides did not take any interest in the thing in itself, nor in getting it into usable form. She is lost in "bird fluttering" you said. For yourself, you said you had always known what to do with your ideas, but here you were baffled. When you approached them you became enmeshed as it were and could no longer be sure of anything. You were certain some of them had great importance, but you could not find the appropriate form -- as they were now you said they might come out of a madhouse. So then you said I was to copy down the contents of the Red Book -- once before you had had it copied, but you had since then added a great deal of material, so you wanted it done again and you would explain things to me as I went along, for you understood nearly everything in it you said. In this way we could come to discuss many things which never came up in my analysis and I could understand your ideas from the foundation. You told me then something more of your own attitude toward the "Red Book." You said some of it hurt your sense of the fitness of things terribly, and that you had shrunk from putting it down as it came to you, but that you had started on the principle of "voluntariness" that is of making no corrections and so you had stuck to that. Some of the pictures were absolutely infantile, but were intended so to be. There were various figures speaking, Elias, Father Philemon, etc. but all appeared to be phases of what you thought ought to be called "the master." You were sure that this latter was the same who inspired Buddha, Mani, Christ, Mahomet -- all those who may be said to have communed with God. [183] But the others had identified with him. You absolutely refused to. It could not be for you, you said, you had to remain the psychologist -- the person who understood the process. I said then that the thing to be done was to enable the world to understand the process also without their getting the notion that they had the Master caged as it were at their beck & call. They had to think of him as a pillar of fire perpetually moving on and forever out of human grasp. Yes, you said it was something like that. Perhaps it cannot yet be done. As you talked I grew more and more aware of the immeasurability of the ideas which are filling you. You said they had the shadow of eternity upon them and I could feel the truth of it. [184]

On January 30, she noted that Jung said of a dream which she had told him:

That it was a preparation for the Red Book, because the Red Book told of the battle between the world of reality and the world of the spirit. You said in that battle you had been very nearly torn asunder but that you had managed to keep your feet on the earth & make an effect on reality. That you said for you was the test of any idea, and that you had no respect for any ideas however winged that had to exist off in space and were unable to make an impression on reality. [185]

There is an undated fragment of a letter draft to an unidentified person in which Cary Baynes expresses her view of the significance of Liber Novus, and the necessity of its publication:

I am absolutely thunderstruck, for example, as I read the Red Book, and see all that is told there for the Right Way for us of today; to find how Toni has kept it out of her system. She wouldn't have an unconscious spot in her psyche had she digested even as much of the Red Book as I have read & that I should think was not a third or a fourth. And another difficult thing to understand is why she has no interest in seeing him publish it. There are people in my country who would read it from cover to cover without stopping to breathe scarcely, so does it re-envisage and clarify the things that are today, staggering everyone who is trying to find the clue to life ... he has put into it all the vigor and color of his speech, all the directness and simplicity that come when as at Cornwall the fire burns in him. [186]

Of course it may be that as he says, if he published it as it is, he would forever be hors du combat in the world of rational science, but then there must be some way around that, some way of protecting himself against stupidity, in order that the people who would want the book need not go without for the time it will take the majority to get ready for it. I always knew he must be able to write the fire that he can speak -- and here it is. His published books are doctored up for the world at large, or rather they are written out of his head & this out of his heart. [187]

These discussions vividly portray the depth of Jung's deliberations concerning the publication of Liber Novus, his sense of its centrality in comprehending the genesis of his work, and his fear that the word would be misunderstood. The impression that the style of the work would make on an unsuspecting public strongly concerned Jung. He later recalled to Aniela Jaffe that the work still needed a suitable form in which it could be brought into the world because it sounded like prophecy; which was not to his taste. [188]

There appears to have been some discussion concerning these issues in Jung's circle. On May 29, 1924, Cary Baynes noted a discussion with Peter Baynes in which he argued that Liber Novus could be understood only by someone who had known Jung. By contrast, she thought that the book

was the record of the passage of the universe through the soul of a man, and just as a person stands by the sea and listens to that very strange and awful music and cannot explain why his heart aches, or why a cry of exaltation wants to leap from his throat, so I thought it would be with the Red Book, and that a man would be perforce lifted out of himself by the majesty of it, and swung to heights he had never been before. [189]

There are further signs that Jung circulated copies of Liber Novus to confidantes, and that the material was discussed together with the possibilities of its publication. One such colleague was Wolfgang Stockmayer. Jung met Stockmayer in 1907. In his unpublished obituary, Jung nominated him as the first German to be interested in his work. He recalled that Stockmayer was a true friend. They traveled together in Italy and Switzerland, and there was seldom a year in which they did not meet. Jung commented:

He distinguished himself through his great interest and equally great understanding for pathological psychic processes. I also found with him a sympathetic reception for my broader viewpoint, which became of importance for my later comparative psychological works.  [190]

Stockmayer accompanied Jung in "the valuable penetration of our psychology" into classical Chinese philosophy, the mystical speculations of India and Tantric yoga. [191]

On December 22, 1924, Stockmayer wrote to Jung:

I often long for the Red Book, and I would like to have a transcript of what is available; I failed to do so when I had it, as things go. I recently fantasized about a kind of journal of "Documents" in a loose form for materials from the "forge of the unconscious," with words and colors. [192]

It appears that Jung sent some material to him. On April 30, 1925, Stockmayer wrote to Jung:

In the meantime we have gone through "Scrutinies," and it is the same impression as with the great wandering. [193] A selected collective milieu for such from the Red Book is certainly worth trying out, although your commentary would be quite desired. Since a certain adjacent center of yours lies here, ample access to sources is of great significance, consciously and unconsciously. And I obviously fantasize about "facsimiles," which you will understand: you need not fear extraversion magic from me. Painting also has great appeal. [194]

Jung's manuscript "Commentaries" (see Appendix B) was possibly connected with these discussions.

Thus figures in Jung's circle held differing views concerning the significance of Liber Novus and whether it should be published, which may have had bearings on Jung's eventual decisions. Cary Baynes did not complete the transcription, getting as far as the first twenty-seven pages of Scrutinies. For the next few years, her time was taken up with the translation of Jung's essays into English, followed by the translation of the I Ching.

At some stage, which I estimate to be in the mid-twenties, Jung went back to the Draft and edited it again, deleting and adding material on approximately 250 pages. His revisions served to modernize the language and terminology. [195] He also revised some of the material that he had already transcribed into the calligraphic volume of Liber Novus, as well as some material that was left out. It is hard to see why he undertook this unless he was seriously considering publishing it.

In 1925, Jung presented his seminars on analytical psychology to the Psychological Club. Here, he discussed some of the important fantasies in Liber Novus. He described how they unfolded and indicated how they formed the basis of the ideas in Psychological Types and the key to understanding its genesis. The seminar was transcribed and edited by Cary Baynes. That same year, Peter Baynes prepared an English translation of the Septem Sermones ad Mortuos, which was privately published. [196] Jung gave copies to some of his English-speaking students. In a letter that is presumably a reply to one from Henry Murray thanking him for a copy, Jung wrote:

I am deeply convinced, that those ideas that came to me, are really quite wonderful things. I can easily say that (without blushing), because I know, how resistant and how foolishly obstinate I was, when they first visited me and what a trouble it was, until I could read this symbolic language, so much superior to my dull conscious mind. [197]

It is possible that Jung may have considered the publication of the Sermones as a trial for the publication of Liber Novus. Barbara Hannah claims that he regretted publishing it and that "he felt strongly that it should only have been written in the Red Book." [198]

At some point, Jung wrote a manuscript entitled "Commentaries," which provided a commentary on chapters 9, 10, and 11 of Liber Primus (see Appendix B). He had discussed some of these fantasies in his 1925 seminar, and he goes into more detail here. From the style and conceptions, I would estimate that this text was written in the mid-twenties. He may have written -- or intended to write -- further "commentaries" for other chapters, but these have not come to light. This manuscript indicates the amount of work he put into understanding each and every detail of his fantasies.

Jung gave a number of people copies of Liber Novus: Cary Baynes, Peter Baynes, Aniela Jaffe, Wolfgang Stockmayer, and Toni Wolff. Copies may also have been given to others. In 1937, a fire destroyed Peter Baynes's house, and damaged his copy of Liber Novus. A few years later, he wrote to Jung asking if by chance he had another copy, and offered to translate it. [199] Jung replied: "I will try whether I can procure another copy of the Red Book. Please don't worry about translations. I am sure there are 2 or 3 translations already. But I don't know of what and by whom." [200] This supposition was presumably based on the number of copies of the work in circulation.

Jung let the following individuals read and/or look at Liber Novus: Richard Hull, Tina Keller, James Kirsch, Ximena Roelli de Angulo (as a child), and Kurt Wolff. Aniela Jaffe read the Black Books, and Tina Keller was also allowed to read sections of the Black Books. Jung most likely showed the book to other close associates, such as Emil Medtner, Franz Riklin Sr., Erika Schlegel, Hans Trub, and Marie-Louise von Franz. It appears that he allowed those people to read Liber Novus whom he fully trusted and whom he felt had a full grasp of his ideas. Quite a number of his students did not fit into this category.

The Transformation of Psychotherapy

Liber Novus is of critical significance for grasping the emergence of Jung's new model of psychotherapy. In 1912, in Transformation and Symbols of the Libido, he considered the presence of mythological fantasies -- such as are present in Liber Novus -- to be the signs of a loosening of the phylogenetic layers of the unconscious, and indicative of schizophrenia. Through his self-experimentation, he radically revised this position: what he now considered critical was not the presence of any particular content, but the attitude of the individual toward it and, in particular, whether an individual could accommodate such material in their worldview. This explains why he commented in his afterword to Liber Novus that to the superficial observer, the work would seem like madness, and could have become so, if he had failed to contain and comprehend the experiences. [201] In Liber Secundus, chapter 15, he presents a critique of contemporary psychiatry, highlighting its incapacity to differentiate religious experience or divine madness from psychopathology. If the content of visions or fantasies had no diagnostic value, he held that it was nevertheless critical to view them carefully. [202]

Out of his experiences, he developed new conceptions of the aims and methods of psychotherapy. Since its inception at the end of the nineteenth century, modern psychotherapy had been primarily concerned with the treatment of functional nervous disorders, or neuroses, as they came to be known. From the time of the First World War onward, Jung reformulated the practice of psychotherapy. No longer solely preoccupied with the treatment of psychopathology, it became a practice to enable the higher development of the individual through fostering the individuation process. This was to have far-reaching consequences not only for the development of analytical psychology but also for psychotherapy as a whole.

To demonstrate the validity of the conceptions that he derived in Liber Novus, Jung attempted to show that the processes depicted within it were not unique and that the conceptions which he developed in it were applicable to others. To study the productions of his patients, he built up an extensive collection of their paintings. So that his patients were not separated from their images, he would generally ask them to make copies for him. [203]

During this period, he continued to instruct his patients as to how to induce visions in a waking state. In 1926, Christiana Morgan came to Jung for analysis. She had been drawn to his ideas on reading Psychological Types, and turned to him for assistance with her problems with relationships and her depressions. In a session in 1926, Morgan noted Jung's advice to her on how to produce visions:

Well, you see these are too vague for me to be able to say much about them. They are only the beginning. You only use the retina of the eye at first in order to objectify. Then instead of keeping on trying to force the image out you just want to look in. Now when you see these images you want to hold them and see where they take you -- how they change. And you want to try to get into the picture yourself -- to become one of the actors. When I first began to do this I saw landscapes. Then I learned how to put myself into the landscape, and the figures would talk to me and I would answer them ... People said he has an artistic temperament. But it was only that my unconscious was swaying me. Now I learn to act its drama as well as the drama of the outer life & so nothing can hurt me now I have written 1000 pages of material from the unconscious (Told the vision of a giant who turned into an egg). [204]

He described his own experiments in detail to his patients, and instructed them to follow suit. His role was one of supervising them in experimenting with their own stream of images. Morgan noted Jung saying:

Now I feel as though I ought to say something to you about these phantasies ... The phantasies now seem to be rather thin and full of repetitions of the same motives. There isn't enough fire and heat in them. They ought to be more burning ... You must be in them more, that is you must be your own conscious critical self in them -- imposing your own judgments and criticisms ... I can explain what I mean by telling you of my own experience. I was writing in my book and suddenly saw a man standing watch over my shoulder. One of the gold dots from my book flew up and hit him in the eye. He asked me if I would take it out. I said no -- not unless he told me who he was. He said he wouldn't. You see I knew that. If I had done what he asked then he would have sunk into the unconscious and I would have missed the point of it, i.e., why he had appeared from the unconscious at all. finally he told me that he would tell me the meaning of certain hieroglyphs which I had had a few days previous. This he did and I took the thing out of his eye and he vanished. [205]

Jung went so far as to suggest that his patients prepare their own Red Books. Morgan recalled him saying:

I should advise you to put it all down as beautifully as you can -- in some beautifully bound book. It will seem as if you were making the visions banal -- but then you need to do that -- then you are freed from the power of them. If you do that with these eyes for instance they will cease to draw you. You should never try to make the visions come again. Think of it in your imagination and try to paint it. Then when these things are in some precious book you can go to the book & turn over the pages & for you it will be your church -- your cathedral -- the silent places of your spirit where you will find renewal. If anyone tells you that it is morbid or neurotic and you listen to them -- then you will lose your soul -- for in that book is your soul. [206]

In a letter to J. A. Gilbert in 1929, he commented on his procedure:

I found sometimes, that it is of great help in handling such a case, to encourage them, to express their peculiar contents either in the form of writing or of drawing and painting. There are so many incomprehensible intuitions in such cases, phantasy fragments that rise from the unconscious, for which there is almost no suitable language. I let my patients find their own symbolic expressions, their "mythology." [207]

Philemon's Sanctuary

In the 1920s, Jung's interest increasingly shifted from the transcription of Liber Novus and the elaboration of his mythology in the Black Books to working on his tower in Bollingen. In 1920, he purchased some land on the upper shores of Lake Zurich in Bollingen. Prior to this, he and his family sometimes spent holidays camping around Lake Zurich. He felt the need to represent his innermost thoughts in stone and to build a completely primitive dwelling: "Words and paper, however, did not seem real enough to me; something more was needed.'' [208] He had to make a confession in stone. The tower was a "representation of individuation." Over the years, he painted murals and made carvings on the walls. The tower may be regarded as a three-dimensional continuation of Liber Novus: its "Liber Quartus." At the end of Liber Secundus, Jung wrote: "I must catch up with a piece of the Middle Ages -- within myself. We have only finished the Middle Ages of -- others. I must begin early, in that period when the hermits died out." [209] Significantly, the tower was deliberately built as a structure from the Middle Ages, with no modern amenities. The tower was an ongoing, evolving work. He carved this inscription on its wall: "Philemonis sacrum -- Fausti poenitentia" (Philemon's Shrine -- Faust's Repentance ) (One of the murals in the tower is a portrait of Philemon.) On April 6, 1929, Jung wrote to Richard Wilhelm: "Why are there no worldly cloisters for men, who should live outside the times!" [210]

On January 9, I923, Jung's mother died. On December 23/24, December, 1923, he had the following dream:

I am on military service. Marching with a battalion. In a wood by Ossingen I come across excavations at a crossroads: 1 meter high stone figure of a frog or a toad with a head. Behind this sits a boy with a toad's head. Then the bust of a man with an anchor hammered into the region of his heart, Roman. A second bust from around 1640, the same motif. Then mummified corpses. Finally there comes a barouche in the style of the seventeenth century. In it sits someone who is dead, but still alive. She turns her head, when I address her as "Miss;" I am aware that "Miss" is a title of nobility. [211]

A few years later, he grasped the significance of this dream. He noted on December 4, 1926:

Only now do I see for that the dream of December 1923 means the death of the anima ("She does not know that she is dead"). This coincides with the death of my mother ... Since the death of my mother, the A. [Anima] has fallen silent. Meaningful! [212]

A few years later, he had a few further dialogues with his soul, but his confrontation with the anima had effectively reached a closure at this point. On January 2, 1927, he had a dream set in Liverpool:

Several young Swiss and I are down by the docks in Liverpool. It is a dark rainy night, with smoke and clouds. We walk up to the upper part of town, which lies on a plateau. We come to a small circular lake in a centrally located garden. In the middle of this there is an island. The men speak of a Swiss who lives here in such a sooty, dark dirty city. But I see that on the island stands a magnolia tree covered with red flowers illuminated by an eternal sun, and think, "Now I know, why this Swiss fellow lives here. He apparently also knows why." I see a city map: [Plate]. [213]

Jung then painted a mandala based upon this map. [214] He attached great significance to this dream, commenting later:

This dream represented my situation at the time. I can still see the grayish-yellowish raincoats, glistening with the wetness of the rain. Everything was extremely unpleasant, black and opaque, just as I felt then. But I had had a vision of unearthly beauty, and that was why 1 was able to live at all ... I saw that here the goal had been reached. One could not go beyond the center. The center is the goal, and everything is directed toward that center. Through this dream I understood that the self is the principle and archetype of orientation and meaning. [215]

Jung added that he himself was the one Swiss. The "I" was not the self, but from there one could see the divine miracle. The small light resembled the great light. Henceforth, he stopped painting mandalas. The dream had expressed the unconscious developmental process, which was not linear, and he found it completely satisfying. He felt utterly alone at that time, preoccupied with something great that others didn't understand. In the dream, only he saw the tree. While they stood in the darkness, the tree appeared radiantly. Had he not had such a vision, his life would have lost meaning. [216]

The realization was that the self is the goal of individuation and that the process of individuation was not linear, but consisted in a circumambulation of the self. This realization gave him strength, for otherwise the experience would have driven him or those around him crazy. [217] He felt that the mandala drawings showed him the self "in its saving function" and that this was his salvation. The task now was one of consolidating these insights into his life and science.

In his 1926 revision of The Psychology of the Unconscious Processes, he highlighted the significance of the midlife transition. He argued that the first half of life could be characterized as the natural phase, in which the prime aim was establishing oneself in the world, gaining an income, and raising a family. The second half of life could be characterized as the cultural phase, which involved a revaluation of earlier values. The goal in this period was one of conserving previous values together with the recognition of their opposites. This meant that individuals had to develop the undeveloped and neglected aspects of their personality. [218] The individuation process was now conceived as the general pattern of human development. He argued that there was a lack of guidance for this transition in contemporary society; and he saw his psychology as filling this lacuna. Outside of analytical psychology, Jung's formulations have had an impact on the field of adult developmental psychology. Clearly, his crisis experience formed the template for this conception of the requirements of the two halves of life. Liber Novus depicts Jung's reappraisal of his previous values, and his attempt to develop the neglected aspects of his personality. Thus it formed the basis of his understanding of how the midlife transition could be successfully navigated.

In 1928 he published a small book, The Relations between the I and Unconscious, which was an expansion of his 1916 paper "The structure of the unconscious." Here, he expanded upon the "interior drama" of the transformation process, adding a section dealing in detail with the process of individuation. He noted that after one had dealt with the fantasies from the personal sphere, one met with fantasies from the impersonal sphere. These were not simply arbitrary, but converged upon a goal. Hence these later fantasies could be described as processes of initiation, which provided their nearest analogy. For this process to take place, active participation was required: "When the conscious mind participates actively and experiences each stage of the process ... then the next image always starts off on the higher level that has been won, and purposiveness develops." [219]

After the assimilation of the personal unconscious, the differentiation of the persona, and the overcoming of the state of godlikeness, the next stage that followed was the integration of the anima for men and of the animus for women. Jung argued that just as it was essential for a man to distinguish between what he was and how he appeared to others, it was equally essential to become conscious of "his invisible relations to the unconscious" and hence to differentiate himself from the anima. He noted that when the anima was unconscious, it was projected. For a child, the first bearer of the soul-image was the mother, and thereafter, the women who aroused a man's feelings. One needed to objectify the anima and to pose questions to her, by the method of inner dialogue or active imagination. Everyone, he claimed, had this ability to hold dialogues with him-or herself. Active imagination would thus be one form of inner dialogue, a type of dramatized thinking. It was critical to disidentify from the thoughts that arose, and to overcome the assumption that one had produced them oneself. [220] What was most essential was not interpreting or understanding the fantasies, but experiencing them. This represented a shift from his emphasis on creative formulation and understanding in his paper on the transcendent function. He argued that one should treat the fantasies completely literally while one was engaged in them, but symbolically when one interpreted them. [221] This was a direct description of Jung's procedure in the Black Books. The task of such discussions was to objectify the effects of the anima and to become conscious of the contents that underlay these, thereby integrating these into consciousness. When one had become familiar with the unconscious processes reflected in the anima, the anima then became a function of the relationship between consciousness and the unconscious, as opposed to an autonomous complex. Again, this process of the integration of the anima was the subject of Liber Novus and the Black Books. (It also highlights the fact that the fantasies in Liber Novus should be read symbolically and not literally. To take statements from them out of context and to cite them literally would represent a serious misunderstanding.) Jung noted that this process had three effects:

The first effect is that the range of consciousness is increased by the inclusion of a great number and variety of unconscious contents. The second is a gradual diminution of the dominating influence of the unconscious. The third is an alteration in the personality. [122]

After one had achieved the integration of the anima, one was confronted with another figure, namely the "mana personality." Jung argued that when the anima lost her "mana" or power, the man who assimilated it must have acquired this, and so became a "mana personality," a being of superior will and wisdom. However, this figure was "a dominant of the collective unconscious, the recognized archetype of the powerful man in the form of hero, chief, magician, medicine man, and saint, the lord of men and spirits, the friend of Gods." [223] Thus in integrating the anima, and attaining her power, one inevitably identified with the figure of the magician, and one faced the task of differentiating oneself from this. He added that for women, the corresponding figure was that of the Great Mother. If one gave up the claim to victory over the anima, possession by the figure of the magician ceased, and one realized that the mana truly belonged to the "mid-point of the personality," namely, the self. The assimilation of the contents of the mana personality led to the self. Jung's description of the encounter with the mana personality, both the identification and subsequent disidentification with it, corresponds to his encounter with Philemon in Liber Novus. Of the self, Jung wrote: "It might as well be called 'God in us.' The beginnings of our whole psychic life seem to be inextricably rooted to this point, and all our highest and deepest purposes seem to be striving toward it." [224] Jung's description of the self conveys the significance of his realization following his Liverpool dream:

The self could be characterized as a kind of compensation for the conflict between inner and outer ... the self is also the goal of life, because it is the most complete expression of that fateful combination we call individuality ... With the experiencing of the self as something irrational, as an indefinable being to which the I is neither opposed nor subjected, but in a relation of dependence, and around which it revolves, very much as the earth revolves about the sun -- then the goal of individuation has been reached. [225]

The 'pure substance' or the 'elixir' ... obtained from the entrails of Mother Nature, is in alchemy nothing other than the gynergy so sought after in Tantrism. Just like the Tantric, the alchemist thus draws a distinction between the 'coarse' and the 'sublime' feminine. After the destruction of the 'dark mother', the so-called nigredo, the second phase follows, which goes by the name of albedo ('whitening'). The adept understands this to mean the 'liberation' of the subtle feminine ('pure substance') from the clutches of the coarse 'dragon' (prima materia).

The master has thus transformed the black matter, which for him symbolizes the dark mother, following its burning or cutting up in his laboratory into an ethereal 'girl' and then distilled from this the 'pure Sophia', the incarnation of wisdom, the 'chaste moon goddess', the 'white queen of heaven'. One text talks 'of the transformation of the Babylonian whore into a virgin' (Evola, 1993, p. 207).

Now this transmutation is not, as a contemporary observer would perhaps imagine the process to be, a purely spiritual/mental procedure. In the alchemist’s laboratory, some form of black starting substance is in fact burned up, and a chemical, usually liquid substance really is extracted from this material, which the adept captures in a pear-shaped flask at the end of the experiment. The Indians refer to this liquid as rasa, their European colleagues as the 'elixir'. Hence the name for Indian alchemy — Rasayana.

Even though all the interpreters in the discussion of the alchemic 'virgin image' (the subtle feminine) are of the unanimous opinion that this is a matter of the spiritual and psychological source of inspiration for the man, this nevertheless has a physical existence as a magical fluid. The 'white woman', the 'holy Sophia' is both an image of desire of the masculine psyche and the visible elixir in a glass. (In connection with the seed gnosis we shall show that this is also the case in Tantrism.)

This elixir has many names and is called among other things 'moon dew', or aqua sapientiae (water of wisdom) or 'white virgin milk'. The final (chemical) extraction of the wonder milk is known as ablactatio (milking). Even in such a concrete point there are parallels to Tantrism: In the still to be described 'Vase initiation' of the Kalachakra Tantra, the ritual vessels which are offered up to the vajra master in sacrifice, represent the wisdom consorts (mudras). They are called 'the vase that holds the white [the milk]' (Dhargyey, 1985, p.. Whatever ingredients this 'moon dew' may consist of, in both cultural circles, it is considered to be the elixir of wisdom (prajna) and a liquid form of gynergy. It is as strongly desired by every European adept as by every Tibetan tantric master.

-- The Shadow of the Dalai Lama:  Sexuality, Magic and Politics in Tibetan Buddhism, by Victor and Victoria Trimondi

The Confrontation with the World

Why did Jung stop working on Liber Novus? In his afterword, written in 1959, he wrote:

My acquaintance with alchemy in 1930 took me away from it. The beginning of the end came in 1928, when [Richard] Wilhelm sent me the text of the "Golden flower," an alchemical treatise. There the contents of this book found their way into actuality and I could no longer continue working on it. [226]

There is one more completed painting in Liber Novus. In 1928, Jung painted a mandala of a golden castle (Page 163) . After painting it, it struck him that the mandala had something Chinese about it. Shortly afterward, Richard Wilhelm sent him the text of The Secret of the Golden Flower, asking him to write a commentary on it. Jung was struck by it and the timing:

The text gave me an undreamed-of confirmation of my ideas about the mandala and the circumambulation of the center. This was the first event which broke through my isolation. I became aware of an affinity; I could establish ties with someone and something. [227]

The significance of this confirmation is indicated in the lines that he wrote beneath the painting of the Yellow Castle. [228] Jung was struck by the correspondences between the imagery and conceptions of this text and his own paintings and fantasies. On May 25, 1929, he wrote to Wilhelm: "Fate appears to have given us the role of two bridge pillars which carry the bridge between East and West." [229] Only later did he realize that the alchemical nature of the text was important. [230] He worked on his commentary during 1929. On September 10, 1929, he wrote to Wilhelm: "I am thrilled by this text, which stands so close to our unconscious." [231]

Jung's commentary on The Secret of the Golden Flower was a turning point. It was his first public discussion of the significance of the mandala. For the first time, Jung anonymously presented three of his own paintings from Liber Novus as examples of European mandalas, and commented on them. [232] To Wilhelm, he wrote on October 28, 1929, concerning the mandalas in the volume: "the images amplify one another precisely through their diversity. They give an excellent image of the effort of the unconscious European spirit to grasp Eastern eschatology." [233] This connection between the "European unconscious spirit" and Eastern eschatology became one of the major themes in Jung's work in the 1930s, which he explored through further collaborations with Indologists Wilhelm Hauer and Heinrich Zimmer. [234] At the same time, the form of the work was crucial: rather than revealing the full details of his own experiment, or those of his patients, Jung used the parallels with the Chinese text as an indirect way of speaking about it, much as he had begun to do in chapter 5 of Psychological Types. This allegorical method now became his preferred form. Rather than write directly of his experiences, he commented on analogous developments in esoteric practices, and most of all in medieval alchemy.

Shortly afterward, Jung abruptly left off working on Liber Novus. The last full-page image was left unfinished, and he stopped transcribing the text. He later recalled that when he reached this central point, or Tao, his confrontation with the world commenced, and he began to give many lectures. [235] Thus the "confrontation with the unconscious" drew to a close, and the "confrontation with the world" began. Jung added that he saw these activities as a form of compensation for the years of inner preoccupation. [236]

The Comparative Study of the Individuation Process

Jung had been familiar with alchemical texts from around 1910. In 1912, Theodore Flournoy had presented a psychological interpretation of alchemy in his lectures at the University of Geneva and, in 1914, Herbert Silberer published an extensive work on the subject. [237] Jung's approach to alchemy followed the work of Flournoy and Silberer, in regarding alchemy from a psychological perspective. His understanding of it was based on two main theses: first, that in meditating on the texts and materials in their laboratories, the alchemists were actually practicing a form of active imagination. Second, that the symbolism in the alchemical texts corresponded to that of the individuation process with which Jung and his patients had been engaged.

In the 1930s, Jung's activity shifted from working on his fantasies in the Black Books to his alchemy copy books. In these, he presented an encyclopedic collection of excerpts from alchemical literature and related works, which he indexed according to key words and subjects. These copy books formed the basis of his writings on the psychology of alchemy.

After 1930, Jung put Liber Novus to one side. While he had stopped working directly on it, it still remained at the center of his activity. In his therapeutic work, he continued to attempt to foster similar developments in his patients, and to establish which aspects of his own experience were singular, and which had some generality and applicability to others. In his symbolic researches, Jung was interested in parallels to the imagery and conceptions of Liber Novus. The question that he pursued was the following: was something akin to the individuation process to be found in all cultures? If so, what were the common and differential elements? In this perspective, Jung's work after 1930 could be considered as an extended amplification of the contents of Liber Novus, and an attempt to translate its contents into a form acceptable to the contemporary outlook. Some of the statements made in Liber Novus closely correspond to positions that Jung would later articulate in his published works, and represent their first formulations. [238] On the other hand, much did not directly find its way into the Collected Works, or was presented in a schematic form, or through allegory and indirect allusion. Thus Liber Novus enables a hitherto unsuspected clarification of the most difficult aspects of Jung's Collected Works. One is simply not in a position to comprehend the genesis of Jung's late work, nor to fully understand what he was attempting to achieve, without studying Liber Novus. At the same time, the Collected Works can in part be considered an indirect commentary on Liber Novus. Each mutually explicates the other.

Jung saw his "confrontation with the unconscious" as the source of his later work. He recalled that all his work and everything that he subsequently achieved came from these imaginings. He had expressed things as well as he was able, in clumsy, handicapped language. He often felt as if "gigantic blocks of stone were tumbling down upon [him]. One thunderstorm followed another." He was amazed it hadn't broken him as it had done others, such as Schreber. [239]

When asked by Kurt Wolff in 1957 on the relation between his scholarly works and his biographical notes of dreams and fantasies, Jung replied:

That was the primal stuff that compelled me to work on it, and my work is a more or less successful attempt to incorporate this incandescent matter into the worldview of my time. The first imaginings and dreams were like fiery, molten basalt, from which the stone crystallized, upon which I could work. [240]

He added that "it has cost me 45 years so to speak, to bring the things that I once experienced and wrote down into the vessel of my scientific work." [241]

In Jung's own terms, Liber Novus could be considered to contain, among other things, an account of stages of his process of individuation. In subsequent works, he tried to point out the general schematic common elements to which he could find parallels in his patients and in comparative research. The later works thus present a skeletal outline, a basic sketch, but left out the main body of detail. In retrospect, he described the Red Book as an attempt to formulate things in terms of revelation. He had hope that this would free him, but found that it didn't. He then realized that he had to return to the human side and to science. He had to draw conclusions from the insights. The elaboration of the material in the Red Book was vital, but he also had to understand the ethical obligations. In doing so, he had paid with his life and his science. [242]

In 1930, he commenced a series of seminars on the fantasy visions of Christiana Morgan at the Psychological Club in Zurich, which can in part be regarded as an indirect commentary on Liber Novus. To demonstrate the empirical validity of the conceptions that he derived in the latter, he had to show that processes depicted within it were not unique.

With his seminars on Kundalini Yoga in 1932, Jung commenced a comparative study of esoteric practices, focusing on the spiritual exercises of Ignatius of Loyola, Patanjali's Yoga sutras, Buddhist meditational practices, and medieval alchemy, which he presented in an extensive series of lectures at the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology (ETH). [243] The critical insight that enabled these linkages and comparisons was Jung's realization that these practices were all based on different forms of active imagination -- and that they all had as their goal the transformation of the personality -- which Jung understood as the process of individuation. Thus Jung's ETH lectures provide a comparative history of active imagination, the practice that formed the basis of Liber Novus.

In 1934, he published his first extended case description of the individuation process, which was that of Kristine Mann, who had painted an extensive series of mandalas. He referred to his own undertaking:

I have naturally used this method on myself too and can affirm that one can paint very complicated pictures without having the least idea of their real meaning. While painting them, the picture seems to develop out of itself and often in opposition to one's conscious intentions. [244]

He noted that the present work filled a gap in his description of his therapeutic methods, as he had written little about active imagination. He had used this method since 1916, but only sketched it in The Relations of the I to the Unconscious in 1928, and first mentioned the mandala in 1929, in his commentary on The Secret of the Golden Flower:

For at least thirteen years I kept quiet about the results of these methods in order to avoid any suggestion. I wanted to assure myself that these things -- mandalas especially -- really are produced spontaneously and were not suggested to the patient by my own fantasy. [245]

Through his historical studies, he convinced himself that mandalas had been produced in all times and places. He also noted that they were produced by patients of psychotherapists who were not his students. This also indicates one consideration that may have led him not to publish Liber Novus: to convince himself, and his critics, that the developments of his patients and especially their mandala images were not simply due to suggestion. He held that the mandala represented one of the best examples of the universality of an archetype. In 1936, he also noted that he himself had used the method of active imagination over a long period of time, and observed many symbols that he had been able to verify only years later in texts that had been unknown to him. [246] However, from an evidential standpoint, given the breadth of his learning, Jung's own material would not have been a particularly convincing example of his thesis that images from the collective unconscious spontaneously emerged without prior acquaintance.

In Liber Novus, Jung articulated his understanding of the historical transformations of Christianity, and the historicity of symbolic formations. He took up this theme in his writings on the psychology of alchemy and on the psychology of Christian dogmas, and most of all in Answer to Job. As we have seen, it was Jung's view that his prewar visions were prophetic that led to the composition of Liber Novus. In 1952, through his collaboration with the Nobel prize-winning physicist Wolfgang Pauli, Jung argued that there existed a principle of acausal orderedness that underlay such "meaningful coincidences," which he called synchronicity. [247] He claimed that under certain circumstances, the constellation of an archetype led to a relativization of time and space, which explained how such events could happen. This was an attempt to expand scientific understanding to accommodate events such as his visions of 1913 and 1914.

It is important to note that the relation of Liber Novus to Jung's scholarly writings did not follow a straight point-by-point translation and elaboration. As early as 1916, Jung sought to convey some of the results of his experiments in a scholarly language, while continuing with the elaboration of his fantasies. One would do best to regard Liber Novus and the Black Books as representing a private opus that ran parallel to and alongside his public scholarly opus; whilst the latter was nourished by and drew from the former, they remained distinct. After ceasing to work on Liber Novus, he continued to elaborate his private opus -- his own mythology -- in his work on the tower, and in his stone carvings and paintings. Here, Liber Novus functioned as a generating center, and a number of his paintings and carvings relate to it. In psychotherapy, Jung sought to enable his patients to recover a sense of meaning in life through facilitating and supervising their own self-experimentation and symbol creation. At the same time, he attempted to elaborate a general scientific psychology.

The Publication of Liber Novus

While Jung had stopped working directly on Liber Novus, the question of what to do with it remained, and the issue of its eventual publication remained open. On April 10, 1942, Jung replied to Mary Mellon concerning a printing of the Sermones: "Concerning the printing of the 'Seven Sermones' I should wish you to wait for a while. I had in mind to add certain material, but I have hesitated for years to do it. But at such an occasion one might risk it." [248] In 1944, he had a major heart attack and did not see this plan through.

The Bollingen Foundation was an educational foundation set up along the lines of a university press in 1945. It was named for Bollingen Tower, Carl Jung's country home in Bollingen, Switzerland. Funding was provided by Paul Mellon and his wife Mary Conover Mellon. The Foundation became inactive in 1968.

Initially the foundation was dedicated to the dissemination of Jung's work, which was a particular interest of Mary Conover Mellon. The Bollingen Series of books that it sponsored now includes more than 250 related volumes. The Bollingen Foundation also awarded more than 300 fellowships. These fellowships were an important, continuing source of funding for poets like Alexis Leger and Marianne Moore, scientists like Károly Kerényi and artists like Isamu Noguchi, among many others. The Foundation also sponsored the A.W. Mellon Lectures at the National Gallery of Art.

In 1948, the foundation donated $10,000 to the Library of Congress to be used toward a $1000 Bollingen Prize for the best poetry each year. The Library of Congress fellows, who in that year included T. S. Eliot, W. H. Auden and Conrad Aiken, gave the 1949 prize to Ezra Pound for his 1948 Pisan Cantos. Their choice was highly controversial, in particular because of Pound's Fascist and anti-Semitic politics. Following the publication of two highly negative articles by Robert Hillyer in the Saturday Review of Literature, the United States Congress passed a resolution that effectively discontinued the involvement of the Library of Congress with the prize. The remaining funds were returned to the Foundation. In 1950, the Bollingen Prize was continued under the auspices of the Yale University Library, which awarded the 1950 prize to Wallace Stevens.

In 1968, the Foundation became inactive. It was largely subsumed into the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation, which continued funding of the Bollingen Prize. The Bollingen Series was given to Princeton University Press to carry on and complete. Over its lifetime, the Bollingen Foundation had expended about $20 million. As Thomas Bender has written,

"When Paul Mellon decided in 1963 to dissolve the Bollingen Foundation, he said that the founding generation was reaching the age of retirement, and it would be hard for others to maintain the original mission and standards. What he might have said was that the Bollingen Foundation was the work of a single generation. For two decades its concerns had been at the center of Western intellectual life, but the 1960's saw a shift in the cultural preoccupations and critical concerns of intellect in the United States and Europe."

-- Bollingen Foundation, by Wikipedia


[James] Angleton was a poet, or at least he had been deeply involved in poetry at Yale, an admirer of T. S. Eliot and Ezra Pound, and this aesthetic side, combined with the enormous secret power he wielded, made him a unique figure in the CIA and added to the ominous shadow he cast. For it was precisely this blend of poet and spy, of art and espionage -- a craft with a suggestion of violence always present just below the surface -- that added to the hint of menace in Angleton's persona. As a literary intellectual, he must have appreciated the delicious dramatic irony that he embodied.

-- Molehunt -- The Secret Search for Traitors That Shattered the CIA, by David Wise

In 1952, Lucy Heyer put forward a project for a biography of Jung. At Olga Froebe's suggestion and on Jung's insistence, Cary Baynes began collaborating with Lucy Heyer on this project. Cary Baynes considered writing a biography of Jung based on Liber Novus. [249] To Jung's disappointment, she withdrew from the project. After several years of interviews with Lucy Heyer, Jung terminated her biographical project in 1955, because he was dissatisfied with her progress. In 1956, Kurt Wolff proposed another biographical project, which became Memories, Dreams, Reflections. At some stage, Jung gave Aniela Jaffe a copy of the draft of Liber Novus, which had been made by Toni Wolff. Jung authorized Jaffe to cite from Liber Novus and the Black Books in Memories, Dreams, Reflections. [250] In his interviews with Aniela Jaffe, Jung discussed Liber Novus and his self-experimentation. Unfortunately, she did not reproduce all his comments.

On October 31,1957, she wrote to Jack Barrett of the Bollingen Foundation concerning Liber Novus, and informed him that Jung had suggested that it and the Black Books be given to the library of the University of Basel with a restriction of 50 years, 80 years, or longer, as "he hates the idea that anybody should read this material without knowing the relations to his life, etc." She added that she had decided not to use much of this material in Memories. [251] In one early manuscript of Memories, Jaffe had included a transcription of the draft typescript of most of Liber Primus. [252] But it was omitted from the final manuscript, and she did not cite from Liber Novus or the Black Books. In the German edition of Memories, Jaffe included Jung's epilogue to Liber Novus as an appendix. Jung's flexible date stipulations concerning access to Liber Novus were similar to that which he gave around the same time concerning the publication of his correspondence with Freud. [253]

On October 12, 1957, Jung told Jaffe that he had never finished the Red Book. [254] According to Jaffe, in the spring of the year 1959 Jung, after a time of lengthy ill-health, took up Liber Novus again, to complete the last remaining unfinished image. Once again, he took up the transcription of the manuscript into the calligraphic volume. Jaffe notes, "However, he still could not or would not complete it. He told me that it had to do with death." [255] The calligraphic transcription breaks off midsentence, and Jung added an afterword, which also broke off midsentence. The postscript and Jung's discussions of its donation to an archive suggest that Jung was aware that the work would eventually be studied at some stage. After Jung's death, Liber Novus remained with his family, in accordance with his will.

In her 1971 Eranos lecture, "The creative phases in Jung's life," Jaffe cited two passages from the draft of Liber Novus, noting that "Jung placed a copy of the manuscript at my disposal with permission to quote from it as occasion arose." [256] This was the only time she did so. Pictures from Liber Novus were also shown in a BBC documentary on Jung narrated by Laurens van der Post in 1972. These created widespread interest in it. In 1975, after the much acclaimed publication of the Freud/Jung Letters, William McGuire, representing Princeton University Press, wrote to the lawyer of the Jung estate, Hans Karrer, with a publication proposal for Liber Novus and a collection of photographs of Jung's stone carvings, paintings, and the tower. He proposed a facsimile edition, possibly without the text. He wrote that "we are uninformed of the number of its pages, the relative amount of text and pictures, and the content and interest of the text." [257] No one in the press had actually seen or read the work or knew much about it. This request was denied.

In 1975, some reproductions from the calligraphic volume of Liber Novus were displayed at an exhibition commemorating Jung's centenary in Zurich. In 1977, nine paintings from Liber Novus were published by Jaffe in C. G. Jung: Word and Image and in 1989 a few other related paintings were published by Gerhard Wehr in his illustrated biography of Jung. [258]

In 1984, Liber Novus was professionally photographed, and five facsimile editions were prepared. These were given to the five families directly descendent from Jung. In 1992, Jung's family, who had supported the publication of Jung's Collected Works in German (completed in 1995), commenced an examination of Jung's unpublished materials. As a result of my researches, I found one transcription and a partial transcription of Liber Novus and presented them to the Jung heirs in 1997. Around the same time, another transcription was presented to the heirs by Marie-Louise von Franz. I was invited to present reports on the subject and its suitability for publication, and made a presentation on the subject. On the basis of these reports and discussions, the heirs decided in May 2000 to release the work for publication.

The work on Liber Novus was at the center of Jung's self-experimentation. It is nothing less than the central book in his oeuvre. With its publication, one is now in a position to study what took place there on the basis of primary documentation as opposed to the fantasy, gossip, and speculation that makes up too much of what is written on Jung, and to grasp the genesis and constitution of Jung's later work. For nearly a century, such a reading has simply not been possible, and the vast literature on Jung's life and work that has arisen has lacked access to the single most important documentary source. This publication marks a caesura, and opens the possibility of a new era in the understanding of Jung's work. It provides a unique window into how he recovered his soul and, in so doing, constituted a psychology. Thus this introduction does not end with a conclusion, but with the promise of a new beginning.

Notes:

1. The following draws, at times directly, on my reconstruction of the formation of Jung's psychology in Jung and the Making of Modern Psychology: The Dream of a Science (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003). Jung referred to the work both as Liber Novus and as The Red Book, as it has become generally known. Because there are indications that the former is its actual title, I have referred to it as such throughout for consistency.

2. See Jacqueline Carroy, Les personnalites multiples et doubles: entre science et fiction (Paris: PUF, 1993).

3. See Gustav Theodor Fechner, The Religion of a Scientist, ed. and tr. Walter Lowrie (New York: Pantheon, 1946).

4. See Jean Starobinski, "Freud, Breton, Myers," in L'oeuil vivante II: La relation critique (Paris: Gallimard, 1970) and W. B. Yeats, A Vision (London: Werner Laurie, 1925). Jung possessed a copy of the latter.

5. Flight Out of Time: A Dada Diary, ed. John Elderfield, tr. A. Raimes (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1996), p. 1.

6. On how this mistakenly came to be seen as Jung's autobiography, see my Jung Stripped Bare by His Biographers, Even (London, Karnac, 2004), ch. 1, "'How to catch the bird': Jung and his first biographers." See also Alan Elms, "The auntification of Jung," in Uncovering Lives: The Uneasy Alliance of Biography Psychology (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994).

7. Memories, p. 30.

8. "Fundamental psychological conceptions," CW 18, §397.

9. Memories, p. 57

10. Ibid., p. 73.

11. Emmanuel Swedenborg was a Swedish scientist and Christian mystic. In 1743, he underwent a religious crisis, which is depicted in his Journal of Dreams. In 1745, he had a vision Christ. He then devoted his life to relating what he had heard and seen in Heaven and Hell and learned from the angels, and in interpreting the internal and symbolic meaning of the Bible. Swedenborg argued that the Bible had two levels of meaning: a physical, literal level, and an inner, spiritual level. These were linked by correspondences. He proclaimed the advent of a "new church" that represented a new spiritual era. According to Swedenborg, from birth one acquired evils from one's parents which are lodged in the natural man, who is diametrically opposed to the spiritual man. Man is destined for Heaven, and he cannot reach there without spiritual regeneration and a new birth. The means to this lay in charity and faith. See Eugene Taylor, "Jung on Swedenborg, redivivus," Jung History, 2, 2 (2007), pp. 27-31.

[1 Thess. 4.15-17]
 
Another of his astonishingly silly comments needs to be examined: I mean that wise saying of his, to the effect that, "We who are alive and persevere shall not precede those who are asleep when the Lord comes; for the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of an archangel; and the trumpet of God shall sound, and those who have died in Christ shall rise first; then we who are alive shall be caught up together with them in a cloud to meet the Lord in the air; and so we shall be forever with the Lord."
 
Indeed -- there is something here that reaches up to heaven: the magnitude of this lie. When told to dumb bears, to silly frogs and geese -- they bellow or croak or quack with delight to hear of the bodies of men flying through the air like birds or being carried about on clouds. This belief is quackery of the first rank: that the weight of our mortal flesh should behave as though it were of the nature of winged birds and could navigate the winds as easily as ships cross the sea, using clouds for a chariot! Even if such a thing could happen, it would be a violation of nature and hence completely unfitting.

For the nature which is begotten in all things from the beginning also assigns to those things a certain station and rank in the order of the universe: the sea for creatures that thrive in water; the land for creatures who thrive on ground; the air for the creatures who have wings; the reaches of the heavens for the celestial bodies. Move one creature from its appointed place to another sphere and it will die away in its strange abode. "You can't take a fish out of water," for it will surely die on the dry land. Just the same, you can't hope to make land animals creatures of the sea: they will drown. A bird will die if it is deprived of its habitat in the air, and you cannot make a heavenly body an earthly one.

The divine and active logos [word] of God has never tampered with the nature of things and no god ever shall, even though the power of God can affect the fortunes of created things. God does not work contrary to nature: he does not flaunt his ability but heeds the suitability of things [to their environment. in order to] preserve the natural order. Even if he could do so, God would not cause ships to sail across the continents or cause farmers to cultivate the sea. By the same token, he does not use his power to make evildoing an act of goodness nor turn an act of charity into an evil deed. He does not turn our arms into wings and he does not place the earth above the stars. Therefore, a reasonable man can only conclude that it is idiotic to say that "Men will be caught up ... in the air."

12. Memories, p. 120.

13. See CW 1, §66, fig. 2.

14. On the Psychology and Pathology of So-called Occult Phenomena: A Psychiatric Study, 1902, CW 1.

15. Theodore Flournoy, From India to the Planet Mars: A Case of Multiple Personality with Imaginary Languages, ed. Sonu Shamdasani, tr. D. Vermilye (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1900/1994).

16. Pierre Janet, Nevroses et idees fixes (Paris: Alcan, 1898); Morton Prince, Clinical and Experimental Studies in Personality (Cambridge, MA: Sci-Art. 1929). See my ''Automatic writing and the discovery of the unconscious," Spring: A Journal of Archetype and Culture 54 (1993), pp. 100-131.

17. Black Book 2, p. 1 (JFA; all the Black Books are in the JFA).

18. MP, p. 164.

19. See Gerhard Wehr, An Illustrated Biography of Jung, tr. M. Kohn (Boston: Shambala, 1989), p. 47; Aniela Jaffe, ed., C. G. Jung: Word and Image (Princeton: Princeton University Press/Bollingen Series, 1979), pp. 42-43.

20. MP, p. 164, and unpublished letters, JFA.

21. "Experimental researches on the associations of the healthy," 1904, CW 2.

22. On the Psychology of Dementia Praecox: An Attempt, CW 3.

23. "The content of the psychoses," CW 3, §339.

24. Freud archives, Library of Congress. See Ernst Falzeder, 'The story of an ambivalent relationship: Sigmund Freud and Eugen Bleuler," Journal of Analytical Psychology 52 (2007), pp. 343-68.

25. JA.

26. Analytical Psychology, p. 24.

27. Jung possessed a set of this.

28. Jung, The Psychology the Unconscious, CW B, §36. In his 1952 revision of this text, Jung qualified this (Symbols of Transformation, CW 5, §29).

29. "Address on the founding of the C. G. Jung Institute, Zurich, 24 April, 1948," CW 18, §1131.

30. CW 5, p. xxvi.

31. Ibid., p. xxix.

32. Ibid.

33. Cf. Analytical Psychology, p. 25.

34. Black Book 2, pp. 25-26.

35. In 1925, he gave the following interpretation to this dream: "The meaning of the dream lies in the principle of the ancestral figure: not the Austrian officer -- obviously he stood for the Freudian theory -- but the other, the Crusader, is an archetypal figure, a Christian symbol living from the twelfth century, a symbol that does not really live today, but on the other hand is not wholly dead either. It comes out of the times of Meister Eckhart, the time of the culture of the Knights, when many ideas blossomed, only to be killed again, but they are coming again to life now. However, when I had this dream, I did not know this interpretation" (Analytical Psychology, p. 39).

DEFINITION OF ARCHETYPE: 1: the original pattern or model of which all things of the same type are representations or copies: prototype; also: a perfect example. 2: idea. 3: an inherited idea or mode of thought in the psychology of C. G. Jung that is derived from the experience of the race and is present in the unconscious of the individual. First Known Use: 1545

-- Merriam-Webster.com

36. Black Book 2, pp. 17-18.

37. Ibid., p. 1738

38. Analytical Psychology, p. 40.

39. Ibid., pp. 40-41. E. A. Bennet noted Jung's comments on this dream: ''At first he thought the 'twelve dead men' referred to the twelve days before Christmas for that is the dark time of the year, when traditionally witches are about. To say 'before Christmas' is to say 'before the sun lives again,' for Christmas day is at the turning point of the year when the sun's birth was celebrated in the Mithraic religion ... Only much later did he relate the dream to Hermes and the twelve doves" (Meetings with Jung: Conversations recorded by E. A. Bennet during the Years 1946-1961 [London: Anchor Press, 1982; Zurich, Daimon Verlag, 1985], p. 93). In 1951 in "The psychological aspects of the Kore," Jung presented some material from Liber Novus (describing them all as part of a dream series) in an anonymous form ("case Z."), tracing the transformations of the anima. He noted that this dream "shows the anima as elflike, i.e., only partially human. She can just as well be a bird, which means that she may belong wholly to nature and can vanish (i.e., become unconscious) from the human sphere (i.e., consciousness)" ( CW 9, 1, §371). See also Memories, pp. 195-96.

40. "On the question of psychological types," CW 6.

41. See below, p. 231.

42. Analytical Psychology, pp. 43-44.

43. Barbara Hannah recalls that "Jung used to say in later years that his tormenting doubts as to his own sanity should have been allayed by the amount of success he was having at the same time in the outer world, especially in America" (C. G. Jung: His Life and Work. A Biographical Memoir [New York: Perigree, 1976], p. 109).

44. Memories, p. 200.

45. Draft, p. 8.

46. Gerda Breuer and Ines Wagemann, Ludwig Meidner: Zeichner, Maler, Literat 1884-1966 (Stuttgart: Verlag Gerd Hatje, 1991), vol. 2, pp. 124-49. See Jay Winter, Sites of Memory, Sites of Mourning: The Great War in European Cultural History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), pp. 145-77.

47. Arthur Conan Doyle, The New Revelation and the Vital Message (London: Psychic Press, 1918), p. 9.

48. Analytical Psychology, p. 249.

49. Ibid.

50. Ibid.

51. MP, p. 23.

52. The subsequent notebooks are black, hence Jung referred to them as the Black Books.

53. Analytical Psychology, p. 44.

54. St. Augustine, Soliloquies and Immortality of the Soul, ed. and tr. Gerard Watson (Warminster: Aris & Phillips, 1990), p. 23. Watson notes that Augustine "had been through a period of intense strain, close to a nervous breakdown, and the Soliloquies are a form of therapy, an effort to cure himself by talking, or rather, writing" (p. v).

55. Ibid., p. 42. In Jung's account here, it seems that this dialogue took place in the autumn of 1913, though this is not certain, because the dialogue itself does not occur in the Black Books, and no other manuscript has yet come to light. If this dating is followed, and in the absence of other material, it would appear that the material the voice is referring to is the November entries in Black Book 2, and not the subsequent text of Liber Novus or the paintings.

56. Ibid., p. 44.

57. Ibid., p. 46.

58. MP, p. 171.

59. Riklin's painting generally followed the style of Augusto Giacometti: semi-figurative and fully abstract works, with soft floating colors. Private possession, Peter Riklin. There is one painting of Riklin's from 1915/6, Verkundigung, in the Kunsthaus in Zurich, which was donated by Maria Moltzer in 1945. Giacometti recalled: "Riklin's psychological knowledge was extraordinarily interesting and new to me. He was a modern magician. I had the feeling that he could do magic" (Von Stampa bis Florenz: Blatter der Erinnerung [Zurich: Rascher, 1943], pp. 86-87).

60. Analytical Psychology, p. 46.

61. The vision that ensued is found below in Liber Primus, chapter 5, "Journey into Hell in the Future," p. 241.

62. St. Ignatius of Loyola, "The spiritual exercises," in Personal Writings, tr. J. Munitiz and P. Endean (London: Penguin, 1996), p. 298. In 1939/40, Jung presented a psychological commentary on the spiritual exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola at the ETH (Philemon Series, forthcoming).

63. This passage was reproduced by William White in his Swedenborg: His Life and Writings, vol. 1 (London: Bath, 1867), pp. 293-94. In Jung's copy of this work, he marked the second half of this passage with a line in the margin.

64. See Silberer, "Bericht uber eine Methode, gewisse symbolische Halluzinations-Erscheinungen hervorzurufen und zu beobachten," Jahrbuch fur psychoanalytische und psychopathologische Forschungen 2 (1909), pp. 513-25.

65. Staudenmaier, Die Magie als experimentelle Naturwissenschaft (Leipzig: Akademische Verlagsgesellschaft, 1912), p. 19.

66. Jung had a copy of Staudenmaier's book, and marked some passages in it.

67. Black Book 2, p. 58.

68. MP, p. 381.

69. "Dreams," JFA, p. 9.

70. MP, p. 145. To Margaret Ostrowski-Sachs, Jung said "The technique of active imagination can prove very important in difficult situations -- where there is a visitation, say. It only makes sense when one has the feeling of being up against a blank wall. I experienced this when I separated from Freud. I did not know what I thought. I only felt, 'It is not so.' Then I conceived of 'symbolic thinking' and after two years of active imagination so many ideas rushed in on me that I could hardly defend myself. The same thoughts recurred. I appealed to my hands and began to carve wood -- and then my way became clear" (From Conversations with C. G. Jung [Zurich: Juris Druck Verlag, 1971], p. 18).

71. Memories, p. 207.

72. Ibid.

73. Memories, pp. 207-8.

74. Memories, p. 219.

75. See below. p. 231.

76. MZS.

77. Jung's appointment books, JFA.

78. This is based on a comprehensive study of Jung's correspondences in the ETH up to 1930 and in other archives and collections.

79. These were: 1913, 16 days; 1914, 14 days; 1915, 67 days; 1916, 34 days; 1917, 117 days (Jung's military service books, JFA).

80. See below, p. 238.

81. Memories, p. 214.

82. Jung, "On psychological understanding," CW 3, §396.

83. Ibid., §398.

84. Ibid., §399.

85. CW 3.

86. Analytical Psychology, p. 44.

87. Combat interview (1952), C. G. Jung Speaking: Interviews and Encounters, eds. William McGuire and R.F.C. Hull (Bollingen Series, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1977), pp. 233-34. See below, p. 231.

88. See below, p. 231.

89. See below, p. 337.

90. Mysterium Coniunctionis, CW 14, §756. On the myth of Jung's madness, first promoted by Freudians as a means of invalidating his work, see my Jung Stripped Bare by His Biographers, Even.

91. See below, pp. 198-9, 231, 237, 241, 252, 273, 305, 335.

92. James Jarrett, ed., Nietzsche's Zarathustra: Notes of the Seminar Given in 1934-9 (Bollingen Series, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988), p. 381. On Jung's reading of Nietzsche, see Paul Bishop, The Dionysian Self: C. G. Jung's Reception of Nietzsche (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter): Martin Liebscher, "Die 'unheimliche Ahnlichkeit.' Nietzsches Hermeneutik der Macht und analytische Interpretation bei Carl Gustav Jung," in Ecce Opus. Nietzsche-Revisionen im 20. Jahrhundert, eds. Rudiger Gorner and Duncan Large (London/Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2003), pp. 37-50; "Jungs Abkehr von Freud im Lichte seiner Nietzsche-Rezeption," in Zeitenwende-Wertewende, ed. Renate Reschke (Berlin 2001), pp. 255-260; and Graham Parkes, "Nietzsche and Jung: Ambivalent Appreciations," in Nietzsche and Depth Psychology, ed. Jacob Golomb, Weaver Santaniello, and Ronald Lehrer (Albany: SUNY Press, 1999), p. 69, 213.

93. In Black Book 2, Jung cited certain cantos from "Purgatorio" on December 26, 1913 (p. 104). See below, note 213, p. 252.

94. In 1913 Maeder had referred to Jung's "excellent expression" of the "objective level" and the "subjective level." ("Uber das Traumproblem," Jahrbuch fur psychoanlytische und psychopathologische Forschungen 5, 1913, pp. 657-8). Jung discussed this in the Zurich Psychoanalytical Society on 30 January 1914, MZS.

95. For example, by page 39 of the Corrected Draft, "Awesome! Why cut?" is written in the margin. Jung evidently took this advice, and retained the original passages. See below, p. 238, right column, third paragraph.

96. In 1921, he cited from Blake's The Marriage of Heaven and Hell (CW 6, §422n, §460); in Psychology and Alchemy, he refers to two of Blake's paintings (CW 12, figs. 14 and 19). On November 11, 1948, he wrote to Piloo Nanavutty; "I find Blake a tantalizing study; since he has compiled a lot of half or undigested knowledge in his fantasies. According to my idea, they are an artistic production rather than an authentic representation of unconscious processes" (Letters 2, pp. 513-14).

97. See below, Appendix A.

98. Redon, Oeuvre graphique complet (Paris: Secretariat, 1913); Andre Mellerio, Odilon Redon: Peintre, Dessinateur et Graveur (Paris: Henri Floury; 1923). There is also one book on modern art, which was harshly critical of it: Max Raphael, Von Monet zu Picasso: Grundzuge einer Asthetik und Entwicklung der Modernen Malerei (Munich: Delphin Verlag, 1913).

99. In April 1914, Jung visited Ravenna again.

100. Analytical Psychology, p. 54.

101. See Rainer Zuch, Die Surrealisten und C. G. Jung: Studien zur Rezeption der analytischen Psychologle im Surrealismus am Belspeil von Max Ernst, Victor Brauner und Hans Arp (Weimar: VDG, 2004).

102. Flight Out of Time, p. 102.

103. Greta Stroeh, "Biographie," in Sophie Taeuber: 15 Decembre 1989-Mars 1990, Musee d'art moderne de la ville de Paris (Paris: Paris-musees, 1989), p. 124; Aline Valangin interview, Jung biographical archive, Countway Library of Medicine, p. 29.

104. The puppets are in the Bellerive museum, Zurich. See Bruno Mikol, "Sur le theatre de marionnettes de Sophie Taeuber-Arp," in Sophie Taeuber: 15 Decembre 1989-Mars 1990, Musee d'art moderne de la ville de Paris, pp, 59-68.

105. Hugo Ball and Emmy Hennings, Damals in Zurich: Briefe aus den Jahren 1915-1917 (Zurich: Die Arche, 1978), p. 132.

106. Jung, "On the unconscious," CW 10, §44; Pharmouse, Dada Review 391 (1919); Tristan Tzara, Dada, nos. 4-5 (1919).

107. Ferdinand Holder: Eine Skizze seiner seelischen Entwicklung und Bedeutung fur die schweizerisch-nationale Kultur (Zurich: Rascher, 1916).

108. Maeder papers.

109. Maeder interview, Jung biographical archive, Countway Library of Medicine, p. 9.

110. Franz Riklin to Sophie Riklin, May 20, 1915, Riklin papers.

111. On August 17, 1916, Fanny Bowditch Katz, who was in analysis with her at this time, noted in her diary: "Of her [i.e., Moltzer] book -- her Bible -- pictures and each with writing -- which I must also do." According to Katz, Moltzer regarded her paintings as "purely subjective, not works of art" (July 31, Countway Library of Medicine). On another occasion, Katz notes in her diary that Moltzer "spoke of Art, real art, being the expression of religion" (August 24, 1916). In 1916, Moltzer presented, psychological interpretations of some of Riklin's paintings in a talk at the Psychological Club (in my Cult Fictions: Jung and the Founding of Analytical Psychology [London: Routledge, 1998], p. 102). On Lang, see Thomas Feitknecht, ed., "Die dunkle und wilde Seite der Seele": Hermann Hesse. Briefwechsel mit seinem Psychoanalytiker Josef Lang, 1916-1944 (Frankfurt: Suhrkampf, 2006).

112. "Das Neue Leben," Erst Ausstellung, Kunsthaus Zurich. J. B. Lang noted an occasion at Riklin's house at which Jung and Augusto Giacometti were also present (Diary, December 3, 1916, p. 9, Lang papers, Swiss Literary Archives, Berne).

113. March 11, 1921, Notebooks, Schlegel papers.

114. John Beebe and Ernst Falzeder, eds., Philemon Series, forthcoming.

115. John Burnham, Jeliffe: American Psychoanalyst and Physician &  His Correspondence with Sigmund Freud and C. G. Jung, ed. William McGuire (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1983), pp. 196-97.

116. MP, p. 174.

117. Memories, p. 201.

118. MP, p. 174.

119. Memories, p. 201.

120. On the formation of the Club, see my Cult Fictions: C. G. Jung and the Founding of Analytical Psychology.

121. Analytical Psychology, p. 34.

122. "C. G. Jung: Some memories and reflections," Inward Light 35 (1972), p. 11. On Tina Keller, see Wendy Swan, C. G. Jung and Active Imagination (Saarbrucken: VDM, 2007).

123. See Winter, Sites of Memory, Sites of Mourning, pp. 18, 69, and 133-44.

124. There is a note added in Black Book 5 at this point: "In this time the I and II parts [of the Red Book] were written. Directly after the beginning of the war" (p. 86). The main script is in Jung's hand, and 'of the Red Book' was added by someone else.

125. CFB.

126. Memories, pp. 215-16.

127. See below, p. 294.

128. The historical Basilides was a Gnostic who taught in Alexandria in the second century. See note 81, p. 346.

129. MP, p. 26.

130. January 19, 1917, Letters I, pp. 33-34. Sending a copy of the Sermones to Jolande Jacobi, Jung described them as "a curiosity from the workshop of the unconscious" (October 7, 1928, JA).

131. John C. Burnham, Jeliffe: American Psychoanalyst and Physician, p. 199.

132. MP, p. 172.

133. See Appendix A.

134. Memories, p. 220.

135. Ibid., p. 220.

136. Ibid., p. 221.

137. See Appendix A.

138. Faust, 2, act I. 6287f .

139. Unpublished letter, JFA. There also exists an undated painting by Moltzer that appears to be a quadrated mandala, which she described in brief accompanying notes as "A pictorial presentation of Individuation or of the Individuation process" (Library, Psychological Club, Zurich).

140. Memories, p. 221. The immediate sources that Jung drew on for his concept of the self appear to be the Atman/Brahman conception in Hinduism, which he discussed in 1921 Psychological Types, and certain passages in Nietzsche's Zarathustra. (See note 29, p. 337).

141. Ibid.

142. On page 23 of the manuscript of Scrutinies, a date is indicated: "27 /11/17," which suggests that they were written in the latter half of 1917, and thus after the mandala experiences at Chateau D'Oex.

143. See below, p. 333f.

144. See below, p. 339.

145. Private possession, Stephen Martin. The reference is to Mephistopheles' statement in Faust, (1.1851f.)

146. See below, p. 367.

147. Private possession, Stephen Martin.

148. After his separation with Freud, Jung found that Flournoy was of continued support to him. See Jung in Flournoy; From India to the Planet Mars, p. ix.

149. CW 7, §§444-46.

150. Ibid., §449.

151. Ibid., §459.

152. Ibid., §468.

153. Ibid., §521.

154. CW 18, §1098.

155. CW 18, §1100.

156. JFA.

157. CW 8, §155.

158. Ibid., §§170-71. A planchette is a small wooden board on coasters used to facilitate automatic writing.

159. Ibid., §186.

160. MP, p. 380.

161. CW 7, pp. 3-4.

162. In his 1943 revision of this work, Jung added that the personal unconscious "corresponds to the figure of the shadow so frequently met with in dreams" (CW 7, §103). He added the following definition of this figure: "By shadow I understand the 'negative' side of the personality, the sum of all those hidden unpleasant qualities, the insufficiently developed functions and the contents of the personal unconscious" (Ibid., §103n). Jung described this phase of the individuation process as the encounter with the shadow (see CW 9, pt. 2, §§13-19).

163. "The psychology of the unconscious processes," in Jung, Collected Papers on Analytical Psychology, ed. Constance Long (London: Bailliere, Tindall & Cox, 1917, 2nd ed.), pp. 416-47.

164. Ibid., p. 432.

165. Ibid, p. 435.

166. Analytical Psychology, p. 95.

167. See below, pp. 245-255.

168. Collected Papers on Analytical Psychology, p. 444. This sentence appeared only in the first edition of Jung's book.

169. CW 10, §24.

170. CW 10, §48.

171. CW 8.

172. Psychological Types, CW 6, §706.

173 Ibid., §§804-5.

174. CW 6. §426.

175. Black Book 7, p. 92c.

176. Ibid., p. 95. In a seminar the following year, Jung took up the theme of the relation of individual relations to religion: "No individual can exist without individual relationships, and that is how the foundation of your Church is laid. Individual relations lay the form of the invisible Church." (Notes on the Seminar in Analytical Psychology conducted by Dr. C. G. Jung, Polzeath, England, July 14-July 27, 1923, arranged by members of the class, p. 82).

177. On Jung's psychology of religion, see James Heisig, Imago Dei: A Study of Jung's Psychology of Religion (Lewisburg: Bucknell University Press, 1979), and Ann Lammers, In God's Shadow: The Collaboration between Victor White and C. G. Jung (New York: Paulist Press, 1994). See also my "In Statu Nascendi," Journal of Analytical Psychology 44 (1999), pp. 539-545.

178. CW 15, §130.

179. In 1930, Jung expanded upon this theme, and described the first type of work as "psychological," and the latter as "visionary." "Psychology and poetry," CW 15.

180. See Meyrink, The White Dominican, tr. M. Mitchell (1921/1994), ch. 7. The "founding father" informs the hero of the novel, Christopher, that "whoever possesses the Cinnabar-red Book, the plant of immortality, the awakening of the spiritual breath, and the secret of bringing the right hand to life, will dissolve with the corpse ... It is called the Cinnabar book because, according to ancient belief in China, that red is the colour of the garments of those who have reached the highest stage of perfection and stayed behind on earth for the salvation of mankind" (p. 91). Jung was particularly interested in Meyrink's novels. In 1921, when referring to the transcendent function and unconscious fantasies, he noted that examples where such material had been subjected to aesthetic elaboration could be found in literature, and that "I would single out two works of Meyrink for special attention: The Golem and The Green Face," Psychological Types , CW 6, §205. He regarded Meyrink as a "visionary" artist ("Psychology und poetry" [1930), CW 15, §142) and was also interested in Meyrink's alchemical experiments (Psychology and Alchemy [1944], CW 12, §341n).

181. The reference is to Goethe's autobiography, From My Life: Poetry and Truth, tr. R. Heitner (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994).

182. The reference is to the beginning of Faust: a dialogue among the director, poet, and a merry person.

183. In reference to this, see the inscription to Image 154 below, p. 317.

184. CFB.

185. Ibid.

186. The reference is to the Polzeath seminar.

187. I suspect that this may have been written to her ex-husband, Jaime de Angulo. On July 10, 1924, he wrote to her: "I daresay you have been as busy as I have, with that material of Jung's .. . I read your letter, the one in which you announced it, and you warned me not to tell anyone, and you added that you ought not to tell me, but you knew I would feel so proud of you" (CFB).

188. MP, p.169.

189. CFB.

190. "Stockmayer obituary," JA.

191. Ibid.

192. JA. Jung's letters to Stockmayer have not come to light.

193. The reference is to Liber Secundus of Liber Novus; see note 4, p. 259 below.

194. JA.

195. E.g., substituting "Zeitgeist" for "Geist der Zeit" (spirit of the times), "Idee" (Idea) for "Vordenken" (Forethinking).

196. London: Stuart and Watkins, 1925.

197. May 2, 1925, Murray papers, Houghton Library, Harvard University, original in English. Michael Fordham recalled being given a copy by Peter Baynes when he had reached a suitably "advanced" stage in his analysis, and being sworn to secrecy about it (personal communication, 1991).

198. C. G. Jung: His Life and Work. A Biographical Memoir, p. 121.

199. November 23, 1941, JA.

200. January 22, 1942, C. G. Jung Letters 1, p. 312.

201. See below, p. 360.

202. Cf. Jung's comments after a talk on Swedenborg at the Psychological Club, Jaffe papers, ETH.

203. These paintings are available for study at the picture archive at the C. G. Jung Institute, Kusnacht.

204. July 8, 1926, analysis notebooks, Countway Library of Medicine. The vision referred to at the end is found in Liber Secundus, ch. 11. p. 283 below.

205. Ibid., October 12, 1926. The episode referred to here is the appearance of magician "Ha." See below, p. 291, note 155.

206. Ibid., July 12, 1926.

207. December 20, 1929, JA (original in English).

208. Memories, p. 250.

209. See below, p. 330.

210. J.P.

211. Black Book 7, p. 120.

212. Ibid p. 121.

213. Ibid p. 124. For the illustration, see Appendix A.

214. Image 159.

215. Memories, p. 224.

216. MP, pp. 159-60.

217. Ibid., P 173.

218. CW 7, §§114-17.

219. Ibid., §386.

220. Ibid., §323.

221. Ibid., §353.

222. Ibid., §358.

223. Ibid., §377.

224. Ibid., §399.

225. Ibid., §405.

226. See below, p. 360.

227 Memories, pp. 222-23.

228. See below, p. 320, note 30.

229. JA.

230. Foreword to the second German edition, "Commentary to The Secret of the Golden Flower," CW 13, p. 4.

231. Wilhelm appreciated Jung's commentary. On October 24, 1929, he wrote to him: "I am again struck most deeply by your comments" (JA).

232. See images 105, 159, and 163. These pictures, together with two more, were again anonymously reproduced in 1950 in Jung, ed., Gestaltungen des Unbewussten: Psychologischen Abhandlungen, vol. 7 [Forms of the Unconscious: Psychological Treatises] (Zurich: Rascher, 1950).

233. JA.

234. On this issue, see The Psychology of Kundalini Yoga: Notes of the Seminar Given in 1932 by C. G. Jung, ed. Sonu Shamdasani (Bollingen Series, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996).

235. MP, p. 15.

236. On February 8, 1923, Cary Baynes noted a discussion with Jung in the previous spring which has bearings on this: "You [Jung] said that no matter how marked off from the crowd an individual might be with special gifts, he yet had not fulfilled all his duties, psychologically speaking, unless he could function successfully in collectivity. By functioning in collectivity we both meant what is commonly called 'mixing' with people in a social way; not professional or business relationships. Your point was that if an individual kept away from these collective relationships, he lost something he could not afford to lose" (CFB).

237. Problems of Mysticism and Its Symbolism, tr. S. E. Jeliffe (New York: Moffat Yard, 1917).

238. These are indicated in the footnotes to the text.

239. Memories, p. 201, MP, p. 144.

240. Erinnerungen, Traume, Gedanken von C. G. Jung, ed. Aniela Jaffe (Olten: Walter Verlag, 1988), p. 201.

241. Ibid.

242 MP, p. 148.

243. These lectures are currently being prepared for publication. For further details, see wwwphilemonfoundation.org.

244. ''A study in the process of individuation," CW 9, 1, §622.

245. Ibid., §623.

246. "On the psychological aspects of the Kore figure," CW 9, 1, §334.

247. See C. A. Meier, ed., Atom and Archetype: The Pauli/Jung Letters, with a preface by Beverley Zabriskie, tr. D. Roscoe (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001).

248. JP. It is likely that Jung had Philemon's commentaries in mind -- see below, pp. 348-354.

249 Olga Froebe-Kapteyn to Jack Barrett, January 6, 1953, Bollingen archives, Library of Congress.

250. Jung to Jaffe, October 27, 1957, Bollingen archives, Library of Congress.

251. Bollingen archives, Library of Congress. Jaffe gave a similar account to Kurt Wolff, mentioning 30, 50, or 80 years as the possible restriction (undated; received October 30, 1957), Kurt Wolff papers, Beinecke Library, Yale University. On reading the first sections of the protocols of Aniela Jaffe's interviews with Jung, Cary Baynes wrote to Jung on January 8, 1958, that "it is the right introduction to the Red Book, and so I can die in peace on that score!" (CFB)

252. Kurt Wolff papers, Beinecke Library, Yale University The prologue was omitted, and it was given the title of the first chapter, "Der Wiederfindung der Seele" (the recovery of the soul). Another copy of this section was heavily edited by an unidentified hand, which may have been part of preparing this for publication at this time (JFA).

253. One may note that the publication of the Freud/Jung Letters, crucial as this was in its own right, while Liber Novus and the bulk of Jung's other correspondences remained unpublished, regrettably heightened the mistaken Freudocentric view of Jung: as we see, in Liber Novus, Jung is moving in a universe that is as far away from psychoanalysis as could be imagined.

254. MP, p. 169.

255. Jung/Jaffe, Erinnerungen, Traume, Gedanken von C. G. Jung (Olten: Walter Verlag, 1988), p. 387 Jaffe's other comments here are inaccurate.

256. Jaffe, "The creative phases in Jung's life," Spring: An Annual of Archetypal Psychology and Jungian Thought, 1972, p. 174.

257 McGuire papers, Library of Congress. In 1961, Aniela Jaffe had shown Liber Novus to Richard Hull, Jung's translator, and he had written his impressions to McGuire: "She [AJ] showed us the famous Red Book, full of real mad drawings with commentaries in monkish script; I'm not surprised Jung keeps it under lock and key! When he came in and saw it lying -- fortunately closed -- on the table, he snapped at her: 'Das soll nicht hier sein. Nehmen Sie's weg!' (That should not be here. Take it away!), although she had written me earlier that he had given permission for me to see it. I recognized several of the mandalas that are included in On Mandala Symbolism. It would make a marvellous facsimile edition, but I didn't feel it wise to raise the subject, or to suggest the inclusion of drawings in the autobiography (which Mrs. Jaffe urged me to do). It really should form part, sometime, of his opus: just as the autobiography is an essential supplement to his other writings, so is the Red Book to the autobiography. The Red Book made a profound impression on me; there can be no doubt that Jung has gone through everything that an insane person goes through, and more. Talk of Freud's self-analysis: Jung is a walking asylum in himself! The only difference between him and a regular inmate is his astounding capacity to stand off from the terrifying reality of his visions, to observe and understand what was happening, and to hammer out of his experience a system of therapy that works. But for this unique achievement he'd be as mad as a hatter. The raw material of his experience is Schreber's world over again; only by his powers of observation and detachment, and his drive to understand, can it be said of him what Coleridge said in his Notebooks of a great metaphysician (and what a motto it would make for the autobiography!): He looked at his own Soul with Telescope / What seemed all irregular, he saw & shewed to be beautiful Constellations & he added to the Consciousness hidden worlds within worlds (March 17, 1961, Bollingen archives, Library of Congress). The citation from Coleridge was indeed used as a motto for Memories, Dreams, Reflections.

258 Aniela Jaffe, ed., C. G. Jung: Word and Image, figures 52-57, 77-79, together with a related image. fig. 59; Gerhard Wehr, An Illustrated Biography of Jung, pp. 40, 140-41.


Translators' Note

MARK KYBURZ, JOHN PECK, AND SONU SHAMDASANI

At the outset of Liber Novus, Jung experiences a crisis of language. The spirit of the depths, who immediately challenges Jung's use of language along with the spirit of the time, informs Jung that on the terrain of his soul his achieved language will no longer serve. His own powers of knowing and speaking can no longer account for why he utters what he says or under what compulsion he speaks. All such attempts become arbitrary in the depth realm, even murderous. He is made to understand that what he might say on these occasions is both "madness" and, instructively, what is. [1] Indeed, in a broader perspective, the language that he will find for his inner experience would compose a vast Commedia: "Do you believe, man of this time, that laughter is lower than worship? Where is your measure, false measurer? The sum of life decides in laughter and in worship, not your judgment." [2]

In translating this accumulated record of Jung's imaginal encounters with his inner figures, from a sixteen-year period beginning just before the First World War, we have let Jung remain a man who was pulled loose from his moorings but also caught up in the maelstrom that has gone by the name of literary modernism. We have tried neither to further modernize nor to render more archaic the language and forms in which he couched his personal record.

The language in Liber Novus pursues three main stylistic registers, and each poses distinct difficulties for a translator. One of them faithfully reports the fantasies and inner dialogues of Jung's imaginal encounters, while a second remains firmly and discerningly conceptual. Still a third writes in a mantic and prophetic, or Romantic and dithyrambic, mode. The relation between these reportorial, reflective, and Romantic aspects of Jung's language remains comedic in a manner that Dante or Goethe would have recognized. That is, within each chapter the descriptive, conceptual, and mantic registers consistently rub against each other, while at the same time no single register is affected by its partners. All three stylistic registers serve psychic promptings, and each chapter shares a polyphonic mode with the others. In the Scrutinies section from 1917 this polyphony matures, its voices commingling in various ratios.

A reader will quickly infer that this design was not premeditated, but rather grew from the experiment to which Jung arduously submitted. The "Editorial Note" diagrams the textual evolution of this composition. Here we need only observe that Jung each time sets down an initial protocol layer of narrative encounter, usually with dialogue, and then, in the "second layer," a lyrical elaboration of and commentary on that encounter. The first layer avoids an elevated tone, whereas the second welcomes elevation and modulates into sermonic, mantic-prophetic reflections on the episode's meaning, which in turn unpack events discursively. This mode of composition -- which is unique in Jung's works -- was no temperamental arrangement. Instead, as the episodes accumulated and their stakes mounted, it grew into an experiment that was as much literary as it was psychological and spiritual. In Jung's extensive published and unpublished corpus, there is no other text that was subjected to such careful and continual linguistic revision as Liber Novus.

These three linguistic registers already present themselves as virtual models for a possible translation. Our practice has been to let them cohabit within the exploratory frameworks alive in Jung's own day. The task before him was to find a language rather than use one ready at hand. The mantic and conceptual registers can themselves be considered as translations of the descriptive register. That is, these registers move from a literal level to symbolic ones that amplify it, in a modern analogue to Dante's "modi diversi" in his letter to Can Grande della Scala. [3] In a very real sense, Liber Novus was composed through intertextual translation. The book's rhetoric, its manner of address, emerges from this interanimating structure of internal translation or transvaluation. A critical task for any translation of the work, therefore, is conveying this compositional texture intact.

The fact that painted images of an accomplished and hybrid kind illuminate the medieval format of a folio in scribal hand compounds any reflections on the linguistic task. The novel language required a renewed ancient script. A polyphonic style couches itself multimedia fashion within a symbolic throwback-yet-forward movement, medieval and anticipatory, into retrievals of psychic reality. Verbal and visual images press in on Jung from the root past and present while aiming toward the beyond: a layered medium emerges, whose polyphonic style mirrors within its language that same composite layering.

Faced with the task of translating a text composed nearly a hundred years ago, translators usually have the benefit of prior models to consult, as well as decades of scholarly commentary and criticism. Without such exemplars at hand, we were left to imagine how the work might have been translated in previous decades. Consequently, our translation sidesteps several unpublished or hypothetical models for rendering Liber Novus into English. There is Peter Baynes' strikingly archaizing Septem Sermones of 1925, which draws largely upon a Victorian idiom. Or the conceptually rationalizing version that R.F.C. Hull might have attempted had he been allowed to translate it alongside his other volumes in the Bollingen Series of Jung's Collected Works; [4] or the elegant literary rendering from the hand of someone like R. J. Hollingdale. Our version therefore occupies an actual position in a largely virtual sequence. Consideration of these virtual models highlighted questions of how to pitch the language within historical shifts in English prose, how to convey the myriad convergences and divergences between the language of Liber Novus and Jung's Collected Works, and how to render in English a work simultaneously echoing Luther's German and Nietzsche's parody of the same in Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Because our version takes this position, accordingly when we have cited Jung's Collected Works we have freshly rendered or discreetly modified the published translations.

Liber Novus was coeval with the literary ferment that Mikhail Bakhtin called the dialogical prose imagination. [5] The Anglo-Welsh writer and artist David Jones, author of In Parenthesis and The Anathemata, referred to the rupture of the First World War, and its effects on the historical sense of writers, artists, and thinkers, simply as "The Break." [6] In concert with other experimental writing from these decades, Liber Novus excavates archaeological layers of literary adventure, with hard-won consciousness as both shovel and precious shard. While Jung actively considered publishing Liber Novus for many years, he chose not to make a name for himself in this literary manner -- as much for style as for content -- by releasing it. By 1921 with Psychological Types he already found that his sanctum could furnish him his main themes, through translation into a scholarly idiom.

Jung enunciates the tension among his three stylistic registers, already addressing a future readership -- which shifts from an inner circle of friends to a wider public between different layers of the text. This is graphically apparent in the frequent pronomial shifts between the versions, which show the manner in which he was constantly reimagining the potential readers of the text. Jung coherently adopted this dialogical stance -- polyphonic in Bakhtin's later terms -- once again mindful of a hypothetical future audience yet also aloof from the question of audience altogether, not from pride but simply in view of the aims to be served. Paintings and fantasies from this private treasury entered anonymously as crypted intertexts into Jung's later work, nestling as hermetic clues to the undisclosed whole of his effort.

Indeed, we can imagine Jung laughing when he wrote of "3. Case Z" in the last section of his essay on "The Psychological Aspects of the Kore" (1941). [7] There he summarizes twelve episodes from encounters with his own soul in Liber Novus, calling them "a dream-series." The comments he appends to these propel the adventurer he had been, and the subject he became in that adventure, into the discourse of a would-be science. The comedy is both spacious and exquisite: this respectful host to the anima also wields the diagnostic pointer in all seriousness. His language flexibly straddled both contexts, but also kept certain veils in place while doing so. This linguistic strategy mirrored Jung's larger aims in remaining fruitfully dual and contextual. Declaring his mysteries to be particular, not to be aped in any way, he nonetheless also offered them as a template of formative spiritual process, and, in so doing, attempted to develop an idiom that could be taken up by others to articulate their experiences.

This is one way of paraphrasing the considerable anomaly of the language that Jung had to find through sleepless nights from 1913 onward. That language shifted its shape, altered its scale, and weighed both megrims and tons. Therefore it comes as no surprise that in his more elevated passages Jung relied on the resonance of the Luther Bible, itself a translation that had achieved rocklike stability within German culture. Ein feste Burg, "a mighty fortress:" thus our own reliance here on the King James Version of the Bible (KJV) for comparable tonalities in English. Yet a paradox rises immediately: what Jung counted on in that resonance had transplanted an alien spirit into the Germanic Heimat or home, as one may likewise say of the KJV's deep embedding of the same implant in Anglo-Saxon culture. Franz Rosenzweig, translating parts of the Old Testament with Martin Buber in the mid-1920s, identified Luther's Bible as the great space-maker within Germanic spirit, precisely through Luther's close-in moves toward his source: "For the comfort of our souls, we must retain such words, must put up with them, and so give the Hebrew some room where it does better than German can." [8] Thus our own practice of not smoothing out Jung's several modes, or making them run more fluently than need be, or even regularizing his punctuation. Think of Dante's "shaggy " diction, or of still another maxim from Luther in Rosenzweig's notes: "The mud will cling to the wheel." [9]

Furthermore, if they are pious Jews and not the whoring people, as the prophets call them, how does it happen that their piety is so concealed that God himself is not aware of it, and they are not aware of it either? For they have, as we said, prayed, cried, and suffered almost fifteen hundred years already, and yet God refuses to listen to them. We know from Scripture that God will hear the prayers or sighing of the righteous, as the Psalter says [Ps. 145:19]: "He fulfills the desire of all who fear him, he also hears their cry." And Psalm 34:17: "When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears." As he promised in Psalm 50:15: "Call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you." The same is found in many more verses of the Scripture. If it were not for these, who would or could pray? In brief, he says in the first commandment that he will be their God. Then, how do you explain that he will not listen to these Jews? They must assuredly be the base, whoring people, that is, no people of God, and their boast of lineage, circumcision, and law must be accounted as filth. If there were a single pious Jew among them who observed these, he would have to be heard; for God cannot let his saints pray in vain, as Scripture demonstrates by many examples. This is conclusive evidence that they cannot be pious Jews, but must be the multitude of the whoring and murderous people.

-- On the Jews and Their Lies, by Martin Luther

Yet even these profound allowances for archaic and original speech across abysses of meaning fail to approximate the destabilizing experience, in and through language, to which Jung testifies. His later comments in the published memoir, on his reservations about high-flown style, [10] in effect cover his tracks in Liber Novus. The original experience sent speech into a spin that animates the book's initiatic dimension. Language too undergoes a descent into hell and the realm of the dead, which divests one of speech even as it renews the capacity for utterance.

The following instances give some idea of this factor's range, mapping the stresses in any sincere ventriloquism such as Jung risked by undertaking a controlled seance with himself and his ground, with pen in hand. Holderlin's hair-breadth space warps and Isaiah's tongue-borne burning coal both move in this league, along with Plato on "right frenzy " or divine madness: (1)"My soul spoke to me in a whisper, urgently and alarmingly: 'Words, words, do not make too many words. Be silent and listen: have you recognized your madness, and do you admit it? Have you noticed that all your foundations are all completely mired in madness?'" [11] (2) Jung's soul: "There are hellish webs of words, only words ... Be tentative with words, value them ... for you are the first who gets snared in them. For words have meanings. With words you pull up the underworld. Word, the paltriest and the mightiest. In words the emptiness and the fullness flow together. Hence the word is an image of the God." [12] (3) "But if the word is a symbol, it means everything. When the way enters death and we are surrounded by rot and horror, the way rises in the darkness and leaves the mouth as the saving symbol, the word." [13] (4) The dead woman: "Let me have the word -- oh, that you cannot hear! How difficult -- give me the word!" [14] It then materializes in Jung's hand as HAP, the phallus. (5) Jung's soul: "You possess the word that should not be allowed to remain concealed." [15] (6) Jung: "What is my word? It is the stammering of a minor ... " Soul: "They do not see the fire, they do not believe your words, but they see your mark and unknowingly suspect you to be the messenger of the burning agony ... You stutter, you stammer." [16] In the protocols for his memoir, Jung recalls bringing to the original experiences in Liber Novus only a "highly clumsy speech." [17] Yet one instance (7) strongly belies that later emphasis: "I knew that Philemon had intoxicated me and given me a language that was foreign to me and of a different sensitivity. All of this faded when the God arose and only Philemon kept that language." [18]

This last instance indicates that Jung later attributed the mantic, dithyrambic speech of layer two in everything before the Scrutinies section to Philemon. The literal intoxication described here is linguistic, a dramatized, ventriloquial version of Platonic divine madness. It therefore underscores our attempt to faithfully render the stylistic registers of Liber Novus so as to present a vital aspect of Jung's literary experiment, as he grapples with attempting to find the most fitting idiom in which to cast the transformations of inner experience. Jung's search for the soul, then, stands at one with the search for appropriately dialogical and differentiated language.

These instances in all their oscillations affect a reading of Jung's Collected Works, and counsel caution with applying its conceptual tools to the task of reading and understanding Liber Novus. To take but one example, one begins to see that it is too neat to equate the opposed yet related depths of Logos and Eros with the conceptual and lyrical-mantic registers found in Liber Novus. Jung's "Commentary" on the Elijah-Salome relationship included here shows that relationship to be developmental, a mystery play of "the formative process" that kindles love for the lowest in us. [19] The modal span for language in Liber Novus thus animates that mystery play but does not correspond directly to opposed psychological functions.

This complex respect for language instructs translators of Liber Novus in navigating the underworld/redemptive tensions spanned by its rhetoric. The great force behind the mantic tension in that rhetoric occupied Jung in the brief Epilogue he inscribed in the calligraphic volume in 1959, two years before his death. Once again plying the seas of those illuminated pages, he seems to have found any further summing-up to be unnecessary. Breaking off in midsentence, he left the book to stand on its own, as one strand of discourse within his whole effort. That counterpoint required no comment, any more than did the three registers of language within the book itself. Ordeal was Commedia after all, calling for no retrospective theoretical justification. Liber Novus would survive the gropings and peltings of reception. Jung had remarked in 1957 to Aniela Jaffe that so much rubbish had been said about him, that any more didn't disturb him. [20] That lifted pen therefore confidently consigned the book to its depth trajectory; steeply expanding into the quarry it had become, with both his Collected Works and the lakeside tower at Bollingen as its final extractions.

In this note we have attempted to convey only the general principles that have guided this translation. A full discussion of the choices that confronted us and a justification of the decisions taken would fill a volume as ample as this one.

_______________

Notes:

1. See below, p. 230.

2. See below, p. 230.

3. See the translation and discussion of this letter in Lucia Boldrini, Joyce, Dante, and the Poetics of Literary Relations (New York: Cambridge University Press. 2001). pp. 30-35.

4. On the issue of Hull's translations of Jung, see Shamdasani, Jung Stripped Bare by His Biographers, Even, pp. 47-51.

5. See The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays, ed. Michael Holquist. tr. Caryl Emerson and Michael Holquist (Austin: University of Texas Press. 1981).

6. David Jones, Dai Greatcoat: A Self-Portrait of David Jones in his Letters, ed. Rene Hague (London: Faber & Faber. 1980, pp. 41ff)

7. CW 9, 1.

8. Martin Buber and Franz Rosenzweig, Scripture and Translation, tr. Lawrence Rosenwald with Everett Fox (Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1994). p. 49, citing Luther's Preface to his German Psalter.

9. Ibid., p. 69.

10. See above, p. 214.

11. See below, p. 298.

12. See below, p. 299.

13. See below, p. 310.

14. See below, p. 339.

15. See below, p. 346.

16. See below, p. 346.

17. See below, MP, p. 148.

18. See below, p. 339.

19. See Appendix B.

20. MP, p. 183.


Editorial Note

SONU SHAMDASANI

Liber Novus is an unfinished manuscript corpus, and it is not completely clear how Jung intended to complete it, or how he would have published it, had he decided to do so. We have a series of manuscripts, of which no single version can be taken as final. Consequently, the text could be presented in a variety of ways. This note indicates the editorial rationale behind the present edition.

The following is the sequence of extant manuscripts for Liber Primus and Liber Secundus:

Black Books 2-5 (November 1913-April 1914)
Handwritten Draft (Summer 1914-1915)
Typed Draft (circa 1915)
Corrected Draft (with one layer of changes circa 1915; one layer of changes circa mid-1920s)
Calligraphic Volume (1915-1930, resumed in 1959, left incomplete)
Cary Baynes's transcription (1924-1925)
Yale Manuscript. Liber Primus, minus the prologue (identical with Typed Draft)
Copy-Edited Draft of Liber Primus minus the prologue, with corrections in unknown hands (circa late 1950s; edited version of the Typed Draft)

For Scrutinies, we have:

Black Books 5-6, (April 1914-June 1916)
Calligraphic Septem Sermones (1916)
Printed Septem Sermones (1916)
Handwritten Draft (circa 1917)
Typed Draft (circa 1918)
Cary Baynes's transcription (1925) (27 pages, incomplete)

The arrangement presented here starts with a revision of Cary Baynes's transcription and a fresh transcription of the remaining
material in the calligraphic volume together with the Typed Draft of Scrutinies, with line-by-line comparisons with all extant versions. The last thirty pages are completed from the Draft. The main variations between the different manuscripts concern the "second layer" of the text. These changes represent Jung's continued work of comprehending the psychological significance of the fantasies. As Jung considered Liber Novus to be an "attempt at an elaboration in terms of the revelation," the changes between the different versions present this "attempt at an elaboration," and therefore are an important part of the work itself. Thus the notes indicate significant changes between the different versions, and they present material that clarifies the meaning or context of a particular section. Each manuscript layer is important and interesting, and a publication of all of them -- which would run to several thousand pages -- would be a task for the future. [1]

The criterion for including passages from the earlier manuscripts has been simply the question: does this inclusion help the reader comprehend what is taking place? Aside from the intrinsic importance of these changes, noting them in the footnotes serves a second purpose -- it shows how carefully Jung worked at continually revising the text.

The Corrected Draft has two layers of corrections by Jung. The first set of corrections appears to have been done after the Draft was typed and before the transcription into the calligraphic volume, as it appears that it was this manuscript that Jung transcribed. [2] A further set of corrections on approximately 200 pages of the typescript appears to have been made after the calligraphic volume, and I would estimate that these were done sometime in the mid-1920s. These corrections modernize the language, and bring the terminology into relation with Jung's terminology from the period of Psychological Types. Additional clarifications are also added. Jung even corrected material in the Draft that was deleted in the calligraphic volume. I have presented some of the significant changes in the footnotes. From them, it is possible for a reader to see how Jung would have revised the whole text, had he completed this layer of corrections.

Subdivisions have been added in Liber Secundus, chapter 21, "The Magician," and in Scrutinies for ease of reference. These are indicated by numbers in scrolled brackets: { }. Where possible, the date of each fantasy has been given from the Black Books. The second layer added in the draft is indicated by [2], and the manuscript reverts to the sequence of the fantasies in the Black Books at the beginning of the following chapter. In the passages where subdivisions have been added, the reversion to the sequence of the Black Books is indicated by [1].

The various manuscripts have different systems of paragraphing. In the Draft, paragraphs often consist of one or two sentences, and the text is presented like a prose poem. At the other extreme, in the calligraphic volume, there are lengthy passages of text with no paragraph breaks. The most logical paragraphing appears in Cary Baynes's transcription. She frequently took her cue for paragraph breaks from the presence of colored initials. Because it is unlikely that she would have reparagraphed the text without Jung's approval, her layout has formed the point of departure for this edition. In some instances, the paragraphing has been brought closer into line with the Draft and the calligraphic volume. In the second half of her transcription, Cary Baynes transcribed the Draft, because the calligraphic volume had not been completed. Here, I have paragraphed the text in the same manner as established before. I believe that this presents the text in the clearest and easiest-to-follow form.

In the calligraphic volume, Jung illustrated certain initials and wrote some in red and blue, and sometimes increased the font of the text. The layout here attempts to follow these conventions. Because the initials in question aren't always the same in English and German, the choice of which initial to set in red in the English has been governed by its corresponding location in the text. The bolding and increase of font size has been rendered by italics. The remainder of the text beyond that which Jung transcribed in the calligraphic volume has been set following the same conventions, to maintain consistency. In the case of the Septem Sermones, the font coloring has followed Jung's printed version of 1916.

The decision to include Scrutinies in sequence with and as part of Liber Novus is based on the following editorial rationale: The material in the Black Books commences in November 1913. Liber Secundus closes with material from April 19, 1914, and Scrutinies commences with material from the same day. The Black Books run consecutively until July 21, 1914, and recommence on June 3, 1915. In the hiatus, Jung wrote the Handwritten Draft. When Cary Baynes transcribed Liber Novus between 1924 and 1925, the first half of her transcription followed Liber Novus itself to the point reached by Jung in his own transcription into the calligraphic volume. It continues by following the draft, and then proceeds 27 pages into Scrutinies, ending midsentence.

At the end of Liber Secundus, Jung's soul has ascended to Heaven following the reborn God. Jung now thinks that Philemon is a charlatan, and comes to his "I," whom he must live with and educate. Scrutinies continues directly from this point with a confrontation with his "I." The ascent of the reborn God is referred to, and his soul returns and explains why she had disappeared. Philemon reappears, and instructs Jung on how to establish the right relation to his soul, the dead, the Gods, and the daimons. In Scrutinies Philemon fully emerges and takes on the significance that Jung attached to him both in the 1925 seminar and in Memories. Only in Scrutinies do certain episodes in Liber Primus and Liber Secundus become clear. By the same token, the narrative in Scrutinies makes no sense if one has not read Liber Primus and Liber Secundus.

At two places in Scrutinies, Liber Primus and Liber Secundus are mentioned in a way that strongly suggests that they are all part of the same work:

And then the War broke out. This opened my eyes about what I had experienced before and it also gave me the courage to say all that I have written in the earlier part of this book. [3]

Since the God has ascended to the upper realms, has also become different. He first appeared to me as a magician who lived in a distant land, but then I felt his nearness and, since the God has ascended, I knew that had intoxicated me and given me a language that was foreign to me and of a different sensitivity. All of this faded when the God arose and only kept that language. But I felt that he went on other ways than I did. Probably the greater part of what I have written in the earlier part of this book was given to me by . [4]

These references to the "earlier part of this book" suggest that all of this indeed constitutes one book, and that Scrutinies was considered by Jung to be part of Liber Novus.

This view is supported by the number of internal connections between the texts. One example is the fact that the mandalas in Liber Novus are closely connected to the experience of the self and the realization of its centrality depicted only in Scrutinies. Another example occurs in Liber Secundus, chapter 15; when Ezechiel and his fellow Anabaptists arrive, they tell Jung that they are going to Jerusalem's holy places because they are not at peace, not having fully finished with life. In Scrutinies, the dead reappear, telling Jung that they have been to Jerusalem, but did not find what they sought there. At that point, Philemon appears and the Septem Sermones begin. Perhaps Jung intended to transcribe Scrutinies into the calligraphic volume and illustrate it; there are ample blank pages.

On January 8, 1958, Cary Baynes asked Jung: "Do you remember that you had me copy quite a bit of the Red Book itself while you were in Africa? I got as far as the beginning of the Prufungen [Scrutinies]. This goes beyond what Frau Jaffe put at K. W's [Kurt Wolff] disposal and he would like to read it. Is that OK?" [5] Jung replied on January 24, "I have no objections against your lending your notes of the 'Red Book' to Mr. Wolff." [6] Here Cary Baynes, too, seems to have regarded Scrutinies as part of Liber Novus.

In citations in the notes, ellipses have been indicated by three periods. No emphases have been added.

_______________

Notes:

1. Interested readers may compare this edition with the sections from the Draft in the Kurt Wolff papers at Yale University and with Cary Baynes's transcription at the Contemporary Medical Archives at the Wellcome Collection, London. It is quite possible that other manuscripts may yet come to light.

2. There are also some paint marks on this manuscript.

3. See below, p. 336.

4. See below, p. 339.

5. JA.

6. JA.

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