I WOULD LIKE to draw your attention to an excellent opportunity to admire the works of a recently deceased artist, Otto Meyer, 317 including some small pictures of mandalas, at the Kunsthaus in Zurich. We can assume, I suppose, that he was not familiar with such matters, but rather that these pictures arose from his own visions. Some of these works are reproduced in the exhibition catalogue. You will find typically octagonal shapes featuring a human figure at the center. 318 Octagonal light is a symbol of the unconscious symbolic source of light. One therefore speaks of il-lumination, 319 a frequent occurrence in mysticism. The figure is either the visionary himself, or a figure that emerges from this light. We shall return to this later.
Today, I would rather turn to another case, in asking you to bear in mind the schema introduced last time. This diagrammatic presentation never appears as a whole in an individual case; rather, it is as if a light beam were moving along a dark elongated scale. With Mrs. Hauffe, it was the extreme left end of the scale that stood in bright light. In the present case, the light beam moves to the right, whereby the psychological image changes considerably.
This case concerns a person who played a not inconsiderable role at the turn of the century, a lady who lived in Geneva under the pseudonym “Hélène Smith.” Professor Théodore Flournoy published a book about her with the peculiar title, From India to the Planet Mars: A Case of Multiple Personality with Imaginary Languages (Geneva, 1900). 320 The main title would appear to have been his publisher’s, the subtitle his own.
“Hélène Smith” was born to a Hungarian father, while her mother was presumably a local Genevan. The father was highly intelligent and well-educated, an excellent linguist, and spoke fluent German, French, Hungarian, and English; he also had some knowledge of Greek and Latin.
Concerning the peculiar phenomena that occurred to her, Hélène appears to have taken after her mother. On account of various strange experiences she had had herself, her mother had become a convinced spiritualist. When one of her daughters was three years old, for example, the mother saw a white figure standing by the child’s bedside. The child was taken ill the next day and died. Hélène’s brother also related peculiar events. He would hear footsteps and experienced other strange phenomena. It seems that the family was rather poor. So much for the characteristics of the milieu that had a strong influence on Hélène’s character.
While her exact date of birth is unknown, 321 she was baptized a Catholic, but later raised as a Protestant. She had an excellent character, was intelligent and a good pupil, although she was sometimes inattentive in school, because various fantasies interfered with her concentration. When she was fifteen years old, she began an apprenticeship at a Grand Magasin [department store], where they thought very highly of her. She was occupied with her daydreams, among which she had all kinds of favorite ones, which nearly bordered on visions. No neurotic symptoms proper seem to have occurred, however. Already as a child, she depicted her dreams in embroideries, drawings, and paintings, showing great talent. She engaged in these visions actually as a form of entertainment, as a pleasant game. She derived particular pleasure from drawing landscapes, buildings, and paintings, all in bright, rosy colors.
When she was fourteen or fifteen, that is, during puberty, she had highly impressive visions. In one of these, she saw a bright light, and in this light strange letters whose meaning escaped her. On several occasions, a somewhat scary man appeared next to her bed, dressed in a strange, colorful robe. She also frequently reported that a man had followed her on her way home, but the objectivity of these accounts could not be verified. Then it happened to her that certain disturbances suddenly appeared in her handwriting: letters were replaced by strange signs. She felt increasingly surrounded by a strange protective spirit. When she was ten years old, she was attacked by a dog, whereupon a monk appeared who chased the dog away. She described him as a man clothed in a long, brown habit, with a white cross on his breast. Later, too, when a man made advances, for instance, the figure of this monk would reappear. When she was about twelve years old, she used to start whenever the doorbell rang, because she believed that the great event that she expected had indeed occurred—namely, the arrival of an elegant carriage drawn by four white horses, from which a noble gentleman wearing a gold and silver embroidered coat would alight to collect her and lead her to the faraway land where she really belonged. This is the familiar infantile fantasy of noble descent, that is, that the child thinks she has only surrogate parents.
During those years, she had a pronounced fear of the world and the “outside” in general. She shunned people and avoided social occasions, concerts, parties, and so forth. She suffered constantly from a vague discontent and was never truly happy. Her pride and her ambitions chafed against her humble surroundings. Her taste belonged to a higher sphere; she was too strong a personality to fit in her milieu.
Once, when she was feeling unwell and had to consult a doctor, he made advances and attempted to kiss her. At this moment, the monk reappeared and “effectively interrupted” the situation, as she recalled. She had been stricken by a dreadful fear of everything at the time. Towards her twentieth year, her condition changed for the better. The fear abated, and she was successful at work. She was business-savvy and dependable, a valued colleague, and it seemed as if she could go in for a career. One might also have expected her to get married sooner or later. But whenever a situation occurred that might have aroused pleasant feelings, this unpleasant protective spirit reappeared and whispered: “No, this isn’t the right one yet.” The right one would only come when the time was ripe. Thus, he interfered with all such situations and actually made it impossible for her to experience life in a natural way. In this way, she began to prepare herself for a career as an old maid. Hélène was quite vivacious, however, and the situation had to come to a head. Somehow her temperament had to break through. This also accounted for her dissatisfaction and her conduct, which, however, her surroundings failed to understand.
Through her mother, whose interest in spiritualism I mentioned above, Hélène joined a spiritualist circle in 1892, the group of Mme. N. The circle met in Geneva, and consisted of people from all walks of life, some well educated, others not, and the whole spectrum in between. Hélène soon established herself as the group’s leading medium. It quickly became apparent that she was much more strongly directed by the unconscious than the others. As we know, the messages conveyed by spirits are usually awfully trivial. Accordingly, Hélène reported nothing special. At first, the spirits conveyed their messages through automatic writing. But she soon entered a trancelike, somnambulistic state in which she had visions. Shortly before, she had seen a balloon go up, and now a balloon appeared to her, which was sometimes bright and sometimes dark. Then the balloon disappeared, and bright ribbons appeared instead, from which a star emerged, whose bright radiance filled her field of vision. Here we have a vision of the inner source of light, of the symbolic light. Thereafter, this star turned into an awful grimacing head with flaming red hair, a devil of sorts. The figure’s red hair turned into a bouquet of red roses, out of which a small serpent wriggled. These were her first visions in that spiritualistic circle.
Such visions are highly typical. The things that she sees obviously correspond to the spectrum of inner possibilities: all kinds of fantasies, the spirits, and finally the light. At first she sees this brightly lit balloon, and naturally we would say: Well, she did watch a balloon go up shortly before the vision, and this impressive spectacle was reproduced here. In reality, however, there is no such causality here. It is merely the same word. What she really sees is the light, and she thinks of the balloon because she has just seen one, and this is the nearest analogue to what was seeking expression in her consciousness. If we dream of a locomotive, then we do so because it refers to something that could perhaps be compared to a locomotive.
Whenever a positive vision occurs, we can expect matters to immediately turn around and turn into their opposite, in accordance with a psychological law, Heraclitus’s principle of “enantiodromia.” 322 It denotes the reversal of events, that is, their turning into their opposite. So when a very bright vision occurs, it will soon be followed by something dark, something good by something bad, right by left. So the brightly lit balloon gives way to a dark one, the radiant star to a hideous devil’s face. The star has an elevating quality, it is a beautiful sight, which arouses positive feelings; but in accordance with the principle of “running counter” it turns into something hideous, despicable, and evil. In turn, these qualities shift to the positive, becoming the bouquet of roses. Then likewise again, this becomes a dangerous serpent. A serpent lying concealed beneath flowers is a familiar poetic image.
Thereafter, Hélène also had visions at home. The man who haunted her regularly now appeared in a white coat and a turban. Other strange events occurred, which could also be verified. At her workplace, for instance, a certain pattern was missing. Although the clerk looked for it everywhere, he was unable to find it. Observing his quandary, Hélène remarked: “But it was given to Mr. J., wasn’t it?” The clerk looked at her, laughed, and said: “But you couldn’t possibly know that!” At that moment, the number “18” appeared before her, and she said: “Eighteen days ago, this pattern was lent to Mr. J.; please check!” And indeed, upon checking the books, what Hélène had said proved true. People suggested that this was just a [random] idea that crossed her mind, because she could have had no actual knowledge of the matter. But you never know!
In the séances, she gradually developed a high degree of somnambulism. The guide and shadow spirit came into action. About this time she also became acquainted with Flournoy, who was interested in such phenomena. Already at their first meetings he observed a one-sided anesthesia of the right side of the body at the onset of somnambulism, whereas the left side became hypersensitive. When pain was inflicted on her right hand, she did not feel any pain; after a while, however, she felt the pain in the corresponding spot of her left hand.
Her protective spirit or “control” 323 could be induced to speak through her if one addressed the right-hand side of her body; she would respond by tapping her left hand. While she consciously conversed with other people, she could indirectly stay in touch with this unconscious figure that delivered complicated messages. It was also observed that in a hypnotic state she showed the phenomenon of “allochiria,” that is, a confusion between left and right. In this state, she steadfastly insisted that Rousseau Island is situated on the left side in the Rhone River on the way down from Geneva station, whereas in actual fact the island is on the right. When someone lifted her left arm, she said it was her right one.
These happenings illustrate the psychic process. In terms of the diagram, the light beam has shifted to the left side, and the right one has become anaesthetized. The personality shifts to the unconscious side. Through this leftward shift the entire image folds onto the axis, thereby activating the protective spirit or control. The control was a male figure, and behaved “very personally.” During the sessions, he usually took hold of her right hand and wrote with it, while speaking to her from the left-hand side. When he wrote, his handwriting was completely different from the medium’s. He also had a male voice although he spoke through the mouth of the medium. He behaved entirely as his own master, and acted completely independently of the wishes of the medium and the séance participants. His character was at first rather vague, but he soon developed distinct characteristics. For instance, he had a flair for poetry and magniloquently called himself Victor Hugo. 324 He wrote a prolific amount of verses, but, alas, they were not by a Victor Hugo! His verse was overly sentimental and trivial. After he had ruled for five months, his antagonist entered the scene, a man with an Italian accent and a coarse voice. He called himself Léopold. He was rude, uncouth, and interrupted séances. Now Victor Hugo got all worked up about him. Léopold disdained the whole group, and would have liked to blow up the whole thing, and in particular he was intent on ousting Victor Hugo whose verse he ridiculed. Léopold was jealous, vindictive, and evidently besotted with Hélène whom he courted shamelessly. He had a pronounced dislike against the mixed-gender composition of the group, which, it must be said, took a fair share of liberties with the medium. His manner was arrogant and overbearing, and he was determined to be sole master of Hélène whom he did not want to share with anybody.
Flournoy believed that Léopold had arisen from some kind of “autosuggestion.” 325 We have to grant him that this already happened in the year 1899, at the heyday of autosuggestion. At the time, “autosuggestion” was still an excellent term, and was welcomed as an explanation for all kinds of things. Such terms, however, quickly waylay thinking. Everyone believes, “Ah, now something has happened!” But nothing whatsoever has happened, apart from someone mentioning the term “autosuggestion.” So one assumed that the medium had unconsciously taken it into her head to invent a ghost named Léopold.
In the 1840s, a scholar visited a tribe of North American Indians. He spoke to an old chief, who told him about the peculiar experience of having visions. Being an enlightened man, our scholar had already heard about these “imaginations,” and said to the chief: “It is not really like that; you just imagined it!” Whereupon the Indian replied: “Well, but who imagined it in me? Because that’s how it is, isn’t it, someone must have imagined it for me!” We, too, say, “I imagined something.” But we are just cautious in saying “I.” It would be too frightening if something existed in our soul that is autonomous, something that imagines itself in us; in other words, that there is something in our own inner sphere that can act regardless of our wishes. This is an uncanny thought, just as uncanny as believing that someone were under our bed.
Léopold had always existed. He already existed in the figure of the monk. He was part of Hélène’s psychic structure. It is merely a question of the distribution of light. Such or similar figures become active in all of us; they are very typical figures. 326 William James, the famous philosopher and pragmatist and the elder friend of Flournoy, understood this fact much better. He maintained that “thought tends to personal form.” 327 All psychic content tends to become personal under certain circumstances, on condition that the light move towards the left, so that consciousness moves slightly from right to left. Immediately the thoughts will take a personal form and become autonomous. This is precisely what happens when a medium falls into trance. Everything becomes reversed, because the inner image surfaces and the control is in command. Mediums will then receive all kinds of information that they could not possibly have known before, often of a sinister character. The Latin word “sinister,” after all, denotes both “left” and “uncanny.”
317. This refers to the memorial exhibition for the Swiss painter and graphic artist Otto Meyer-Amden (1885–1933), from 22 December 1933 to 28 January 1934. The exhibition was also shown in Basel and Berne. The catalogue: Gedächtnisausstellung etc., 1933.
318. See for instance catalogue numbers 252, 254, and 257. Sidler went to the exhibition two days later, made sketches of those pictures, and added them to his notes.
319. Original: er-leuchtet; lumen = Latin for “light.”
320. The book documents the experiences and séances of “Hélène Smith” (real name Catherine-Elise Müller [1861–1929]), a famous late-nineteenth century psychic. It was published at the end of 1899 (at Christmas; see Flournoy, 1914, p. 75), but postdated to 1900, exactly like Freud’s Interpretation of Dreams. While it took the latter eight years to sell the first print run of 600 copies, however (Jones, 1953, p. 360), Flournoy’s book caused a sensation and after only three months went into its third edition (Shamdasani; in Planet Mars, p. xxvii). Théodore Flournoy (1854–1920), professor of psychology at the University of Geneva, made a great impression on Jung, who also offered to translate the book into German, but Flournoy told him that he had already appointed another translator. In him, Jung found “above all someone with whom I could talk openly. . . . [H]e soon represented to me a kind of counterpoise to Freud. With him I could really discuss all the problems that scientifically occupied me” (ibid., p. ix). Jung made a tribute to him that was appended to the German edition of Memories, but not included in the English one. The first English translation appeared in the 1994 edition of Planet Mars.
321. That is, to Jung. All the information that Jung gives on “Hélène’s” childhood and youth, and her initiation into spiritism, are taken from chapters 2 and 3 of Flournoy’s book (which does not give her date of birth). I have chosen not to encumber the footnotes with page references to each and every piece of information; they can be easily found by following the narrative of the book.
322. Greek, to run counter. This is a key concept in Jung’s thinking. Throughout the numerous references to it in his works, Jung attributes the term to Heraclitus of Ephesus (ca. 550–480 BCE). Although the concept is in accordance with the latter’s philosophy, it seems that the term itself was not used by Heraclitus himself, but first turned up in a later summary of his philosophy by Diogenes Laërtius.
323. This word in English in the notes.
324. Victor Hugo (1802–1885), the famous French poet, novelist, and dramatist.
325. See, e.g., Planet Mars, p. 59.
326. M.-J. Schmid notes in parentheses: “Animus.”