II. The functional category is characterized by the fact that the

condition, structure or capacity for work of the individual consciousness (or the psychic apparatus) is itself portrayed. It is termed functional because it has nothing to do with the material or the contents of the act of thinking, but applies merely to manner and method in which consciousness functions (rapid, slow, easy, hard, obstructed, careless, joyful, forced; fruitless, successful; disunited, split into complexes, united, interchangeable, troubled, etc.). [It is immaterial whether these are conscious or unconscious. Thinking must be taken here in the widest possible sense. It means here all psychic processes that can have anything as an “object.”] Two typical examples will enable us at once clearly to understand the two categories and keep them separate. A. Material Symbolism.—Conditions. In a drowsy state I reflect upon the nature of the judgments that are transsubjectively (= for all men) valid. All at once the thread of the abstract thought is broken and autosymbolically in the place of it is presented the following hypnagogic hallucination: Symbol. An enormous circle, or transparent sphere, floats in the air and men are putting their heads into this circle. Interpretation. In this symbol everything that I was thinking of is expressed. The validity of the transsubjective concerns all men without exception; the circle goes through all the heads. This validity must have its cause in something common to all. The heads all belong to the same apparently homogeneous sphere. Not all judgments are transsubjective; with their bodies and limbs men are outside of and under the sphere and stand on the earth as separate individuals. B. Functional Symbolism.—Conditions. Dreamy state as above. I reflect upon something or other, and yet in allowing myself to stray into bypaths of thought, I am diverted from my peculiar theme. When I want to get back the autosymbolic phenomenon appears. Symbol. I am climbing mountains. The nearer mountains shut out my view of the more distant ones, from which I have come and to which I should like to return. Meaning. I have got off the track. I have ventured too high and the ideas that I have entertained shut out my starting point like the mountains. To the material category belongs, for example, the meaning of the strawberry dream explained in the second part of the introductory chapter. Strawberry picking is a symbol for an imaged wish gratification (sexual intercourse), and so for an image content. The symbolism is therefore a material one. The greatly preponderating part of psychoanalytic dream literature is occupied with interpretation according to material categories. To the functional categories belong, for example, the symbolism of falling asleep and waking up, which I have mentioned in the second part in connection with the interpretation of the parable. The two categories of symbolism, if they never did anything but parallel each other, would afford us no analogues for our problem of double meaning. Now the cases, however, are extremely rare where there is only functional or only material symbolism; the rule is an intimate interweaving of both. To be sure, one is frequently more emphasized than the other or more easily accessible, but we can generally find cases where long contexts of images are susceptible of material as well as functional interpretation, alike in detail and continuity of connection. The following may serve as a very simple case in point. Lying one evening in bed and exhausted and about to fall asleep, I devoted my thoughts to the laborious progress of the human spirit in the dim transcendant province of the mothers-problem. (Faust, Part II.) More and more sleepy and ever less able to retain my thoughts, I saw suddenly with the vividness of an illusion a dream image. I stood on a lonely stone pier extending far into a dark sea. The waters of the sea blended at the horizon with an equally dark-toned mysterious, heavy air. The overpowering force of this tangible picture aroused me from my half sleeping state, and I at once recognized that the image, so nearly an hallucination, was but a visibly symbolic embodiment of my thought content that had been allowed to lapse as a result of my fatigue. The symbol is easily recognized as such. The extension into the dark sea corresponds to the pushing on into a dark problem. The blending of atmosphere and water, the imperceptible gradation from one to the other means that with the “mothers” (as Mephistopheles pictures it) all times and places are fused, that there we have no boundaries between a “here” and a “there,” an “above” and a “below,” and for this reason Mephistopheles can say to Faust on his departure, “Plunge then.—I could as well say soar.” We see therefore between the visualized image and the thought content, which is, as it were, represented by it, a number of relations. The whole image resolves itself insofar as it has characteristic features, almost entirely into such elements as are most closely related to the thought content. Apart from these connections of the material category, the image represents also my momentary psychic condition (transition to sleep). Whoever is going to sleep is, as it were, in the mental state of sinking into a dark sea. (The sinking into water or darkness, entrance into a forest, etc., are frequently-occurring threshold symbols.) The clearness of ideas vanishes there and everything melts together just as did the water and the atmosphere in the image. This example is but to illustrate; it is in itself much too slight and simple to make any striking revelation of the remarkable interlacing of the two kinds of symbolism. I refer to my studies on symbolism and on dreams in the bibliography. Exhaustive treatment at this point would lead us too far afield. Let us rest satisfied then with the facts that the psychoanalysts simultaneously deal with two fundamentally different lines of interpretation in a product of the phantasy (dream, etc.), quite apart from the multiple determinants which they can find within the material as well as in the functional categories; both lines of interpretation are supplied by the same fabric of images, indeed often by the same elements of this image fabric. This context therefore must have been sought out artfully enough by the creative unconscious to answer the double requirement. The coexistence of the material meaning with the functional is not entirely puzzling to the student of psychoanalysis. Two facts must be kept in mind throughout. In the first place, we are acquainted with the principle of multiple determination or condensation. The multiplicity of the dimly moving latent dream thoughts condenses into a few clear dream forms or symbols, so that one symbol continually, as it were, appears as the representative of several ideas, and is therefore interpretable in several ways. That it should be susceptible of more than one interpretation can cause no surprise because the fundamental significance (the latent thoughts) were the very ones that, by association, caused the selection of the symbols from an infinite series of possibilities. In the shaping of the dream, and therefore in the unconscious dream work, only such pictorial elements could penetrate into consciousness as satisfied the requirements of the multiple determination. The principle of multiple determination is valid not only within the material and the functional categories, but makes the fusion of both in the symbol in question to some extent intelligible. Elements of both categories take an active part in the choice of the symbol. On the one hand, a number of affects press on towards the symbolic representation of objects to which they direct themselves (objects of love, hate, etc.). On the other hand, the psyche takes cognizance of its own impulses, play of affects, etc., and this perception will gain representation. Both impulses take part in the choice of those symbols which thrust themselves into the nascent consciousness of phantasy, and so the dream, like the poem, etc., besides the symbolism of the wish tendencies (material categories) that animate them, bears the stamp of the psychic authorship (functional category) of the dreamer or the author. [Ferenczi defends the view for the myth also that the material symbolism must coincide with the functional (Imago I, p. 283).] Secondly, it has been shown in recent times in psychoanalytic studies that symbols which were originally material pass over to functional use. If we thoroughly analyze for a sufficient time the dreams of a person we shall find that certain symbols which at first probably appeared only incidentally to signify some idea content, wish content, etc., return and become a persistent or typical form. And the more such a typical form is established and is impressed, the farther it is removed from its first ephemeral meaning, and the more it becomes a symbolic representative of a whole group of similar experiences, a spiritual capital, so to speak, till finally we can regard it simply as the representative of a spiritual current (love, hate, tendency to frivolity, to cruelty, to anxiety, etc.). What has been accomplished there is a transition from the material to the functional on the path of a determination inward or intro-determination (verinnerlichung) as I shall call it. Later I shall have more to say about intro-determination. For the present this may suffice for the understanding, that the material and the functional symbolism, in spite of their at first apparently fundamental difference, are essentially related in some way, which is illuminated by the process of intro-determination. The analogue of the problem of multiple interpretation unfolded in the preceding section is shown to be a question that can be easily answered. And we would bring our problem to a generally satisfactory position if we succeeded in showing that the anagogic interpretation, whose alignment with the psychoanalytic seemed so impracticable, is a form of functional interpretation, or at least related to it. In this case it would be at once comprehensible how a product of the imagination harmonizes with several expositions (problem of multiple interpretation); because this variety of sense had already operated in the selection of the symbol and indeed, in those cases as well where we did not at first sight suspect the coöperation of the anagogic thoughts; secondly, the anagogic and the psychoanalytic interpretations are somehow reconciled to each other, whereby possibly also the position of the natural science interpretation can be made somewhat clearer. The possibility that the anagogic has some part in the creation of the functional, will be brought nearer by the fact that our previously offered anagogic expositions (fairy tales, parabola) markedly resemble functional interpretations. In the tale of the six swans Hitchcock explains the reception of the maiden into the castle as the reception of sin into the heart; the seven children are the seven virtues (consequently spiritual tendencies). The small maiden is conscience, the tissues are processes of thought. In the story of the three feathers, again, one son is conscience; the secret door is the entrance to the inner life, to spiritual absorption, the three feathers are spiritual tendencies, etc. In the dream of the “flying post” conscience appears as the conductor. The “Mills of God,” which psychologically also represents conscience, the more strikingly because the burden of sin, guilty feeling, drives them, also appear in the parable. The lion or the dragon which must be overcome on the mystic path is again a spiritual force. The approximation to the functional category is not to be denied. Processes that show an interplay of spiritual powers are symbolically represented there. But we are at once struck with a difference. The true functional phenomenon, as I have so far described it, pictures the actual psychic state or process; the anagogic image appears on the contrary to point to a state or process that is to be experienced in the future. We shall pass over for a time the last topic, which will not, however, be forgotten, and turn to the question as to the point on which the anagogic and the functional interpretations can best be brought together. This point appears to me to be introversion, first because it is related to the previously mentioned intro-determination, and second, because it is familiar to psychoanalysis and is of great importance in anagogic method. The term “introversion” comes from C. G. Jung. It means sinking into one’s own soul; the withdrawal of interest from the outer world; the seeking for joys that can be afforded by the inner world. The psychology of the neuroses has led to the concept of introversion, a province, therefore, which principally treats of morbid forms and functions of introversion. The sinking of oneself into one’s own soul also appears exactly as a morbid losing of oneself in it. We can speak of introversion neuroses. Jung regards dementia precox as an introversion neurosis. Freud, who has adopted the concept of introversion [with some restrictions] regards the introversion of the libido as a regular and necessary precondition of every psychoneurosis. Jung (Jb. ps. F., III, p. 159) speaks of “certain mental disturbances [he means dementia precox] which are induced by the fact that the patients retire more and more from reality, sink into their phantasy, whereby in proportion as reality loses its force, the inner world takes on a reality and determining power.” We may also define introversion as a resignation of the joys of the outer world (probably unattainable or become troubled) and a seeking for the libido sources in one’s own ego. So we see how generally self-chastisement, introversion and autoerotism are connected. The turning away from the outer world and turning in to the inner, is required by all those methods which lead to intensive exercise of religion and a mystic life. The experts in mysteries provide for opportunities that should encourage introversion. Cloisters and churches are institutions of introversion. The symbolism of religious doctrine and rite is full of images of introversion, which is, in short, one of the most important presuppositions of mysticism. Religious and mythical symbolism has countless images for introversion; e.g., dying, going down, subterranean crypts, vaults, dark temples, into the underworld, hell, the sea, etc.; being swallowed by a monster or a fish (as Jonah), stay in the wilderness, etc. The symbols for introversion correspond in large part with those that I have described for going to sleep and waking (threshold symbolism), a fact that can be readily appreciated from their actual similarity. The descent of Faust to the mothers is an introversion symbol. Introversion fulfills here clearly the aim of bringing to reality, i.e., to psychological reality, something that is attainable only by phantasy (world of the past, Helen). In Jacob Boehme (De Vita Mentali) the disciple says to the master, “How may I attain suprasensuous life, so that I may see God and hear him speak?” The master says, “When you can lift yourself for one moment into that realm where no creature dwelleth, you will hear what God speaks.” The disciple says, “Is that near or far?” The master says, “It is in yourself.” The hermetics often urge retirement, prayer and meditation, as prerequisites for the work; it is treated of still more in the hieroglyphic pictures themselves. The picture of death is already familiar to us from the hermetic writings, but in the technical language there are still other expressions for introversion, e.g., the shutting up in the receptacle, the solution in the mercury of the sages, the return of the substance to its radical condition (by means of the "radical" or root dampness). Similar features in our parable are the wandering in the dense forest, the stay in the lion’s den, the going through the dark passage into the garden, the being shut up in the prison or, in the language of alchemy, the receptacle. Introversion is continually connected with regression. Regression, as may be recalled from the 2d section of Part I, is a harking back to more primitive psychic activities, from thinking to gazing, from doing to hallucinating; a striving back towards childhood and the pleasures of childhood. Introversion accordingly is accompanied by a desire for symbolic form of expression (the mystical education is carried on in symbols), and causes the infantile imagos to revive—chiefly the mother image. It was pre-eminently father and mother who appeared as objects of childish love, as well as of defiance. They are unique and imperishable, and in the life of adults there is no difficulty in reawakening and making active those memories and those imagos. We easily comprehend the fact that the symbolic aim of the previously mentioned katabasis always has a maternal character; earth, hole, sea, belly of fish, etc., that all are symbols for mother and womb. Regression revives the Œdipus complex with its thoughts of incest, etc. Regression leads back to all these relics now done away with in life and repressed. It actually leads into a sort of underworld, into the world of titanic wishes, as I have called them. How far this was the case in the alchemistic parable, I have fully shown in the psychoanalytic treatment of it. Here I need merely to refer to the maternal nature of the symbols cited: receptacle, mercury of the sages (“mother of metals”) and radical moisture, also called “milk” and the like. Fairy tales have frequently a very pretty functional symbolism for the way in which introversion leads to the mother imago. Thus the simpleton in the fairy tale of the feathers comes through the gate of introversion exactly into the family circle, to the mother that cares for him. There his love finds its satisfaction. There he even gets a daughter, replica of the mother imago, for a wife. In the parable the wandering in the forest (introversion) is followed by the battle (suggestive of incest) with the lion (father or mother in their awe inspiring form); the inclusion in the receptacle (introversion) by the accomplishment of the incest. If it is now clear also that in introversion, as a result of the regression that is connected with it, visions of “titanic” emotions (incest, separating of parents, etc.) are encountered, yet it has not become in the slightest degree comprehensible how these visions are related to the treatment of anagogic ideas. And that is indeed the question. We can really understand these striking facts better if we recall what I have said above about the type formation and the intro-determination of the symbols, namely, that symbols can depart from their original narrower meaning and become types for an entire class of experiences whereby an advance is made from the material to the functional meaning. Some examples will elucidate this. I have observed particularly fine cases of intro-determination in a series of experiments in basin divination (lecanomancy) which I have carried on for several years. Lecanomancy resembles crystal gazing, except that the gazer looks into a basin of water. In the visions of my subject, Lea, typical forms were pictured, which always recurred. Regarded as symbols they were, as subsequent analysis showed, almost all subjected to inward accentuation or intro-determination. Thus, for instance, a black cat appeared. At first it appeared as representative of Lea’s grandmother, who was cat-like, malicious and fawning. Later the cat stood for the corresponding traits that she perceived in herself. Above all the cat is the symbol of her grandmother, so the grandmother (or cat) is a mental current of Lea. Frequently there appears in the image a Dyas, sometimes in the shape of a two-headed snake, of two hands, of two feet, or of a woman with two faces, etc. Above all, every antithesis appears to have some external meaning, two men who love each other, etc. So it becomes clear that the common element which finds its most pregnant expression in the double faced woman is the Dyas in itself and that it means bisexuality, psychic hermaphroditism. More than that it is definitely certain that the deepest sense of the symbol means a complete dissociation of Lea’s character into two different personalities, one of which may be called the savage and the other the mild. (Lea herself uses the expressions cynical and ideal personality.) In one of the later experiments Lea saw her cynic double vividly personified and spoke in this character, which is closely related to the “black cat.” The Dyas in the symbols has the value first of a representation of externals (two lovers, etc.), then as symbols of bisexuality. The sexual Dyas can again be conceived as a symbol or characteristic of a still more general and comprehensive dissociation of the ego. A further symbol and one still more tending towards intro-determination was death. Starting from connections with definite external experiences and ideas of actual death, the meaning of the symbol became more and more spiritual, till it reached the meaning of the fading away of psychic impulses. What died symbolically or had to die was represented by an old man who sacrificed himself after suffering all kinds of fortune. The dying of this old man signified, as analysis showed, the same thing that we call the “putting off the old Adam” (turning over a new leaf). The figure of the old man, originally Lea’s grandfather, then her father, came to have this meaning only after a long process of intro-determination. A few more examples for typical figures. In many dreams of a woman analyzed by me (Pauline, in my treatise Zur Symbolbildung), a cow appears as a typical image. The alternation of this cow with more or less definite mother symbols leads to identification of the cow with the mother. Two circumstantial dreams that were fully analyzed showed, however, that the cow and other forms with which she alternated cannot be translated so correctly by the concept of mother as by that of the maternal authority and finally still more correctly by self-criticism or conscience, of which maternal authority is but a type. Children figure in Pauline’s case as a result of various experiences, as typical of obstacles. In the case of another dreamer the father stands in similar relation as the determinant that paralyzes his resolutions. The climbing of an ascent, usually a symbol of coitus (hurrying upward which makes us out of breath), turns out often in a deeper relation as the effort to get from the disagreeable things of life to a place of retreat (lonely attics, etc.), inaccessible to other persons (= thoughts); and now we see that this deeper meaning appears without prejudice to the first, for even coitus, like all transport, is only a special case of flight from the outer life, one of the forms of spiritual oblivion. Hence in part the mythologically and psychopathologically important comparison of intoxication, intoxicating drink and sperm, soma and semen. Ascent = coitus is in this case a type for a quite comprehensive class of experience. Marcinowski found in his analyses that the father in dream life often was a “symbol of an outlived, obsolete attitude.” (Z. Bl. f. Ps., II, 9.) Other examples of types are the phallus, the sun and other religiously revered objects, if we regard them as does Jung (Wandl. u. Sym., Jb. ps. F., III-IV) as a symbol of the libido. [The concept of which is extended by Jung almost to Schopenhauer’s Will.] The typical character of divine personalities is moreover quite clearly emphasized by Jung himself. The snake, about whose significance as a “negative phallus,” etc. [developed in detail by Jung], we shall have more to say, can also be regarded as a typical image. Bull, cow and other animal forms are in mythology as in dreams typical transmutations, with unlimited possibility of intro-determination. Dogs are often in dreams the representations of animal propensities. The beast is often “la bête humaine” in the dreamer’s own inner life. We have become acquainted with the terrible lions, the bears, etc., as father types; here we get a new perspective which makes clear the one-sidedness of our first conception. Since psychoanalysis has found acceptation, many of its followers believe they are able to solve, with their work of analysis alone, all the psychological, esthetic and mythological problems that come up. We understand only half of the psychic impulses, as indeed we do all spiritual development, if we look merely at the root. We have to regard not merely whence we come but also whither we go. Then only can the course of the psyche be comprehended, ontogenetically as well as phylogenetically, according to a dynamic scheme as it were. If we apply this fundamental principle to symbolism there develops therefrom the obligation to keep both visible poles in view, between which the advance of significance, the process of intro-determination is completed. (An externalization is also possible, yet the internalization or intro-determination must be regarded as the normal process.) [It corresponds namely to the process of education and progress of culture. This will soon be cleared up.] To the most general type belong then, without doubt, those symbols or frequently disguised images, concerning which we wondered before, that besides representing “titanic” tendencies, they are fitted to represent the anagogic. The solution of the riddle is found the instant we regard these images as types with a certain degree of intro-determination, as types for a few fundamental forces of the soul, with which we are all endowed, and whose typical symbols are for that reason of general applicability. [I will therefore call these types the human elementary types.] For example, if by psychoanalysis we deduce father and mother, etc., from some of the symbols appearing in dreams, we have in these representations of the psychic images, as the psychoanalyst calls them, in reality derived mere types whose meaning will change according to the ways of viewing them, somewhat as the color of many minerals changes according to the angle at which we hold them to the light. The actual father or mother, the experiences that surrounded them, were the material used in the formation of the types; they were external things even if important, while later the father, etc., emerging as symbol, may have significance as a type of the spiritual power of the very person in question; a spiritual power to be sure, which the person in question feels to be like a father for otherwise the father figure would not be suited for the symbol. And we can go so far as to call this spiritual power a father image. That should not however, mislead us into taking that real person, who in the individual case generally (though not always) has furnished the type, for the real or the most essential. The innermost lies in ourselves and is only fashioned and exercised upon persons of the external world. So then we get for the typical symbol a double perspective. The types are given, we can look through them forward and backward. In both cases there will be distortions of the image; we shall frequently see projected upon each other, things that do not belong together, we shall perceive convergences at vanishing points which are to be ascribed only to perspective. I might for brevity’s sake call the errors so resulting errors of superposition. The significance of this concept will, I hope, come to have still greater validity in psychoanalysis. [This error of superposition C. G. Jung attempts to unmask, when he writes: “As libido has a forward tendency, so in a way, incest is that which tends backward into childhood. It is not incest for the child, and only for the adult, who possesses a well constituted sexuality, does this regressive tendency become incest in that he is no longer a child, but has a sexuality that really no longer can suffer a regressive application.” (Jung, Psychology of the Unconscious.) It may moreover be remarked that Freud also is careful not to take the incest disclosed by psychoanalysis in too physical a sense.] This error of superposition is found not only in the view backward but in the forward view. So what I, as interpreter of mystical symbolism, may say about the possible development of the soul will be affected by this error of superposition. It is not in my power to correct it. In spite of everything, the treatment of symbolism from the two points of view must be superior to the onesided treatment; in order to approximate a fundamental comprehension, which to be sure remains an ideal, the different aspects must be combined and in order to make this clear I have added a synthetic treatment to the analytic part of my work. Looking back through the elementary types, we see the infantile images together with those non-moral origins that psychoanalysis discovers in us; looking forward we notice thoughts directed to certain goals that will be mentioned later. The elementary types themselves thanks to intro-determination represent however a collection of our spiritual powers, which we have first formed and exercised at the time that the images arose, and which are in their nature closely related to these images, indeed completely united with them as a result of the errors of superposition—this collection of powers, I say, accompanies us through our entire life and is that from which are taken the powers that will be required for future development. The objects or applications change, the powers remain almost the same. The symbolism of the material categories which depends on external things changes with them; but the symbolism of the functional categories, which reflects these powers remains constant. The types with their intro-determination belong to the functional categories; and so they picture the constant characters. That experience to which the suggestions of symbolism (brought to verbal expression by means of introversion) point as to a possible spiritual development, corresponds to a religious ideal; when intensively lived out this development is called mysticism. [We can define mysticism as that religious state which struggles by the shortest way towards the accomplishment of the end of religion, the union with the divinity; or as an intensive cultivation of oneself in order to experience this union.] It presents itself if instead of looking backward we gaze forward from our elementary types to the beyond. But let us not forget that we can regard mysticism only as the most extreme, and therefore psychically the most internal, unfolding of the religious life, as the ideal which is hardly to be attained, although I consider that much is possible in this direction. If my later examination carries us right into the heart of mysticism, without making the standpoint clear every time, we now know what restrictions we must be prepared for. If I take the view that those powers, whose images (generally veiled in symbolism) are the elementary types, do not change, I do not intend to imply that it is not possible to sublimate them. With the increasing education of man they support a sublimation of the human race which yet shows in recognizable form the fundamental nature of the powers. One of the most important types, in which this transformation process is consummated and which refines the impulse and yet allows some of its character to remain, is the type mother, i.e., incest. Among religious symbols we find countless incest images but that the narrow concept of incest is no longer suited to their psychological basis (revealed through analysis) has been, among psychoanalysts, quite clearly recognized by Jung. Therefore in the case of every symbolism tending to ethical development, the anagogic point of view must be considered, and most of all in religious symbolism. The impulse corresponding to the religious incest symbols is preeminently to be conceived in the trend toward introversion and rebirth which will be treated of later. [Vid. note C, at the end of the volume.] I have just used the expression “sublimation.” This Freudian term and concept is found in an exactly similar significance in the hermetic writers. In the receptacle where the mystical work of education is performed, i.e., in man, substances are sublimated; in psychological terms this means that impulses are to be refined and brought from their baseness to a higher level. Freud makes it clear that the libido, particularly the unsocial sexual libido, is in favorable circumstances sublimated, i.e., changed into a socially available impelling power. This happens in the evolution of the human race and is recapitulated in the education of the individual. I take it for granted that the fundamental character of the elementary psychic powers in which the sublimation is consummated is the more recognizable the less the process of sublimation is extended in time. In mysticism, e.g., the fundamental character penetrates the primal motive because the latter wishes to lead the relatively slightly sublimated impulses by a shortened process to the farthest goal of sublimation. Mysticism undertakes to accomplish in individuals a work that otherwise would take many generations. What I said therefore about the unchangeability of the fundamental powers or their primal motive, is wholly true of its fate in mystical development. The Mohammedan mystic Arabi (1165-1240) writes, “Love as such, in its individual life, is the same for sensuous and spiritual, therefore equally for every Arab (of an allegory) and for me, but the objects of love are different. They loved sensible phenomena while I, the mystic, love the most intimate existence.” (Horten, Myst. Texte, p. 12.) The religious-mystical applications of the fundamental powers represented by the types, in the sense of a sublimation, does not manifest therefore in contrast to their retrospective form (titanic, purposeless form) an essentially foreign nature; the important novelty in them is that they no longer are used egotistically but have acquired a content that is ethically valuable, to which the intro-determination was an aid. This determination, whose external aspects we have noticed in the types or symbols, is only the visible expression of a far more important actual intro-determination whose accomplishment lies in an amplification of personality, and will later be considered in detail. In the psychoanalytic consideration of the alchemistic parable it would appear that only the titanic impulses were realized there, e.g., to have the mother as a lover and to kill the father. Now it corresponds to a really significant intro-determination when we hear that in the alchemistic work the father is the same as the son, and when we understand that the father is a state, or psychic potentiality, of the “son,” whom the latter in himself, has to conquer, exactly in the same manner as Lea in the lecomantic study strove to put off the old man. The alchemist Rulandus (Lex., p. 24) quotes the “Turba”: “Take the white tree, build him a round, dark, dew-encircled house, and set in it a hundred year-old man and close it so that no wind or dust can get to him (introversion); then leave him there eight days. I tell you that that man will not cease to eat of the fruit of that tree till he becomes a youth. O what a wonderful nature, for here is the father become son and born again.” Ibid: “The stone [that is in the anagogic sense, man] is at first the senex, afterwards young, so it is said filius interficit patrem; the father must die, the son be born, die with each other and be renewed with each other.” We must proceed similarly if we wish to interpret the parable anagogically. What I have already taken from the anagogic fairy tale interpretation as a symbol of introversion shows, of course, also the character of intro-determination. As for the nature of the relatively unchangeable spiritual tendencies represented by the elementary types [That can also be called in mythological study primal motives] a simple examination of the essentials without any psychological hair splitting, brings us at once to an elementary scheme that will help us to understand the changes (intro-determination) that take place in accordance with the elementary types. We need here only to examine the simplest reactions of the individual, necessarily produced by rubbing up again the external world; reactions which become persistent forms of experience that are approximately as self-evident as the libido itself. The degree of egoism which is active in the elementary tendencies must, according to the experience of psychoanalysis, be considered very great. For this purpose I have selected in what follows an excessively egotistical expression for the “titanic” aspect, the retrospective form, of the tendencies; and this same excessive expression which would seem to be rather objectionable when applied to the basis of a religious development, enables us, thanks to the principle of intro-determination, to understand this development. Starting from the libido in the most general sense we arrive first of all at the two phenomena, the agreeableness and the disagreeableness, from which results at once, acceptance and aversion. Obstacles may aggravate both activities, so that acceptance becomes robbery and aversion becomes annihilation. These possibilities can to be sure only become acts in so far as they prove practically feasible. In all cases they are present in the psyche, and in this crude primal form play no small part in the soul of the child. It is indeed only a blind sentimentality that can raise the child to an angelic status, from which it is as far removed as from its opposite. We should be careful not to regard the crude form of the impulse as crude in the sense of an educated humanity, which must see in the crudeness something morally inferior. In robbery and annihilation there exists on the primitive or childish level hardly the slightest germ of badness. There is much to be said about the psychology and morality of the child. I cannot, however, enter very deeply into this broad topic, interesting though it is. The primal tendencies, when directed toward the persons in the environment, produce certain typical phenomena. I can unfortunately describe them only with expressions which, if the cultured man uses them, evoke the idea of crime. An ethically colorless language should be made available for these things. [The dream and the myth have found for them the language of symbolism.] The opposition of a fellow man against the working out of an impulse arouses a tendency to overcome this man, to get him out of the way, to kill him. The type of the obstructing man is always the instructor (father, eventually mother). That he is at the same time a doer of good is less appreciated because the psychical apparatus takes the satisfaction of desires as the natural thing, which does not excite its energy nearly as much as does a hindrance to its satisfaction. [Recognition of a good deed, thankfulness, etc., regularly presuppose sublimation; they do not belong to the titanic aspect. A form of appreciation of this kindness however comes to mind. Towards the mother there occurs on the part of the child, though it has been completely overlooked for a long time, very early and gradually increasing, a sexually-toned feeling, although the manifestations of this feeling are very dim and at times may completely disappear. In this “love” is contained a germ of desire, of erotic appropriation-to-self. Any woman in the environment and especially the mother must needs supply the ideal of the desired woman. In so far as the father is perceived as an obstacle to the love towards the mother he must, in the elementary tendency, be killed to remove the obstacle, and there arises the murder impulse belonging to the Œdipus Complex. [The child has no clear idea of death. It is only a matter of wishing to have some one out of the way. If this primal motive appears to us subsequently as a “killing,” it is again only because of the error of superposition, just as in the later mentioned “rape.”] In so far as the mother herself does not meet the desired tenderness or in refusing, acts as a corrective agent, while carrying on the education, she, too, becomes an obstacle, a personality contrasting with the “dear” mother, a contrast which plunges the psyche in anxiety and bitterness. Anxiety comes principally from the conflict of psychical tendencies, which result from the same person being both loved and hated. The correlative to the denying action of the mother is to commit rape on her. Another cause of the attraction towards the mother besides the erotically toned one, is the desire for her care, called forth by the hardships encountered elsewhere in the world. It is an indolence opposed to the duties of life. The propensity towards ease is psychologically a very important factor. The home is in general the place of protection; the characteristic embodiment of this is preëminently the mother. We speak of maternal solicitude but less of paternal solicitude. I have noted the solicitous mother type in the story of the three feathers, where the mother toad bestows the gifts from the big box. In so far as the solicitous person refuses the requests made of her and for reasons of necessity thrusts the child out into the world, or in so far as any other obstacles (demands of life) stand in the way of the gratification of the lazy, “feed me” state of mind, like the angel with the flaming sword before the entrance to paradise, so far the obstructing power appears as the type of the “terrible” mother, a picture whose terribleness is yet intensified by the working of the incest conflict. In this aspect therefore the otherwise beloved mother is a hostile personality. To the process of education on the part of the parents, felt as pedantry by the child, or to otherwise misunderstood action, he opposes a well known defiance, and there results, as also from the attempt to change in general the rough path of life, the hopeful attempt to get a creative “improvement,” which I have already discussed. The wish to die sometimes occurs. Further the obstacles that stand in the way of the full erotic life in the external world, in so far as they are insuperable or are not overcome on account of laziness, lead to autoerotism. (That this is found even in early childhood is for the mechanism of the impulses, a side-issue. The scheme just given is not to be regarded as a historical or chronological development, but the tendencies are quite as intimately connected with each other as with the acquisition of the psychical restraints that are not generally brought to view; in separating them we commit something like an error.) We have considered the following main forces: 1. Removal of obstacles. 2. Desire for the solicitude of the parents. 3. Desire for the pleasurable [especially of the woman]. 4. Auto-erotism. 5-6. Improvement and re-creation. 7. Death wish. The following scheme shows the retrograde (titanic) as well as the anagogic aspect of these powers, which later corresponds to an intro-determination of the types, and a species of sublimation of impulses. RETROGRADE ASPECT. ANAGOGIC ASPECT. 1. Killing of the father. Killing of the old Adam. 2. Desire for the mother Introversion. (laziness). 3. Incest. Love towards an Ideal. 4. Auto-erotism. Siddhi.(4) 5. Copulation with the mother. Spiritual regeneration. 6. Improvement. Re-creation.(5) 7. Death wish. Attainment of the ideal. We need not scent anything extraordinary behind these intro-determinations, as the scheme is here indeed only roughly sketched; they take place in each and every one of us, otherwise we should be mere beasts. Only they do not in every one of us rise to the intensity of the mystical life. A more careful inquiry into the mechanism of the psychic powers in the development of mysticism, would show in greater detail how everything that happens is utilized toward intro-determination in the process of education. It would be interesting as an example to discover the application of the special senses to introversion and ascertain the fate of the sense qualities. It is quite remarkable what a prominent rôle tastes and smells often play in descriptions given by persons who have followed the path of mysticism. I mention the odor of sanctity and its opposite in the devilish, evil odor. The experimenter in magic Staudenmaier, who will be mentioned later, has established in his own case the coördination of his partial souls (personifications, autonomous complexes) to definite bodily functions and to definite organs. Certain evil, partial souls, which appear to him in hallucinations as diabolical goat faces, were connected with the function of certain parts of the lower intestine. Mysticism stimulates a much more powerful sublimation of impulses than the conventional education of men. So it is not strange if intro-determination does not accomplish its desires quickly but remains fragmentary. In such unfortunate or fragmentary cases, the inward-determined powers show more than mere traces of their less refined past. The heroes of such miscarried mysticism appear as rather extraordinary saints. So, for instance, Count von Zinzendorf’s warm love of the Savior has so much of the sensual flavor, with furthermore such decided perversities, that the outpourings of his rapture are positively laughable. Thus the pious man indulges his phantasy with a marked predilection for voluptuousness in the “Seitenhölchen” (Wound in the Side) in Jesus’ body and with an unmistakable identification of this “cleft” with the vulva. Examples of the poetical creations of Zinzendorf and his faithful followers are given: So ever-sideways-squinting So side-homesickness-feeling; So lambs-hearts-grave-through crawling, So lambs-sweat-trace-smelling. So Jesus sweat-drop-yielding, With love’s fever trembling Like the child full of spirit. So corpse-air-imbibing, So wound-wet-emitting, So grave-fume-sniffing. So martyr-lamb’s heart-like, So Jesus-boy-like, So Mary Magdalene-like being, Childlike, virgin-like, conjugal Will the lamb keep us Close to the kiss of his clefts. With us Cross people The closet of the side often is worth The whole little lamb. Ye poor sinners. But deep, but deep within, Yes deep, right deep within, And whoever will be blessed He wishes himself within Into the dear rendezvous Of all the darlings. Ravishing little lamb. I, poor little thing, I kiss the ring On thy little ringer, Thou wound of the spear Hold thy little mouth near, It must be kissed. Lamb, say nothing to me in there For this precious minute Thou art mine only. On this curiosity compare the psychological explanations of Pfister. (Frommigkeit G. Ludw. v. Zinzendorf.) Returning to the previously mentioned “spiritual powers” I should mention that alchemy also attempts to include in a short schema the inventory of powers available for the Great Work. It uses different symbols for this purpose; one of the most frequent is the seven metals or planets. Whether I say with the astrologers that the soul (not the celestial spirit, which is derived from God) flowing in from the seven planets upon man, is therefore composed of their seven influences, or if with the alchemists I speak of the seven metals, which come together in the microcosm, it is of course quite the same, but expressed in another closely related symbol. The metals are, as we know, incomplete and have to be “improved” or “made complete.” That means we must sublimate our impulses. “From the highest to the lowest everything rises by intermediate steps on the infinite ladder, in such manner that those pictures and images, as outgrowths of the divine mind, through subordinate divinities and demigods impart their gifts and emanations to men. The highest of these are: Spirit of inquiry, power of ruling and mastering self, a brave heart, clearness of perception, ardent affection, acuteness in the art of exposition, and fruitful creative power. The efficient forces of all these God has above all and originally in himself. From him they have received the seven spirits and divinities, which move and rule the seven planets, and are called angels, so that each has received his own, distinct from the rest. They share them again among the seven orders of demons subordinated to them, one under each. And these finally transmit them to men.” (Adamah Booz. Sieb. Grunds., p. 9 ff.) In this enumeration the fundamental powers, whose partition varies exceedingly, already show a certain measure of intro-determination. If we wish to contrast their titanic with their anagogic aspect, we get approximately the following scheme, to which I add the familiar astrological characters of the seven planets. Destroying (castration). [Symbol: Saturn] Introversion. Mastery. [Symbol: Jupiter] Mastery of oneself. Love of combat. [Symbol: Mars] Warring against oneself. Libido. [Symbol: Sol] Sublimated libido. Sexual life, incest. [Symbol: Venus] Regeneration. Hypercriticism, fussing. [Symbol: Mercury] Knowledge. Joy in change; Improvement. [Symbol: Luna] Changing oneself. [Freud is of the opinion that the original inquisitiveness about the sexual secret is abnormally transformed into morbid over subtlety; and yet can still furnish an impulsive power for legitimate thirst for knowledge.] Beside the partition of the fundamental powers according to the favorite number seven, there are to be sure in alchemy still other schemata with other symbols. We must furthermore continually keep in mind that the symbols in alchemy are used in many senses. In so far as the Constellations, as is often to be understood in the hermetic art, are fundamental psychic powers, it sounds just like psychoanalysis when Paracelsus expresses the view that in sleep the “sidereal” body is in unobstructed operation, soars up to its fathers and has converse with the stars. With regard to intro-determination I must refer to my observations in the following sections on the extension of personality. It is an important fact that those external obstructions which oppose the unrestrained unfolding of the titanic impulses are gradually taken up as constraints into the psyche, which adopts those external laws, that would make life practicable. In so far as deep conflicts do not hinder it, there arises by the operation of these laws a corresponding influence upon the propensities. Habit, however, can learn to carry a heavy yoke with love, even to make it the condition of life. I have just made the restriction: if conflicts do not hinder it; now usually these exist, even for the mystics; and the “Work” is above all directed toward their overcoming. For the annihilation of the opposition, the weapons aimed outward in the “titanic” phase must be turned inward; there and not outside of us is the conflict. [Here we see the actual intro-determination briefly mentioned above.] B. Effects Of Introversion. Introversion is no child’s play. It leads to abysses, by which we may be swallowed up past recall. Whoever submits to introversion arrives at a point where two ways part; and there he must come to a decision, than which a more difficult one cannot be conceived. The symbol of the abyss, of the parting of the ways, both were clearly contained in our parable. The occurrence of the similar motive in myths and fairy tales is familiar. The danger is obvious in that the hero generally makes an apparently quite trivial mistake and then must make extraordinary efforts to save himself from the effects of these few trivial errors. One more wrong step and all would have been lost. Introversion accordingly presents two possibilities, either to gain what the mystic work seeks, or to lose oneself. In introversion the libido sinks into “its own depths” (a figure that Nietzsche likes to use), and finds there below in the shadows of the unconscious, the equivalent for the world above which it has left, namely the world of phantasy and memories, of which the strongest and most influential are the early infantile memory images. It is the child’s world, the paradise of early childhood, from which a rigorous law has separated us. In this subterranean realm slumber sweet domestic feelings and the infinite hopes of all “becoming.” Yet as Mephistopheles says, “The peril is great.” This depth is seducing: it is the “mother” and—death. If the libido remains suspended in the wonder realm of the inner world the man has become but a shadow for the world above. He is as good as dead or mortally ill; if the libido succeeds however in tearing itself loose again and of pressing on to the world above, then a miracle is revealed; this subterranean journey has become a fountain of youth for it, and from its apparent death there arises a new productiveness. This train of thought is very beautifully contained in an Indian myth: Once on a time Vishnu absorbed in rapture (introversion) bore in this sleep Brahma, who enthroned on a lotus flower, arose from Vishnu’s navel and was carrying the Vedas, eagerly reading them. (Birth of creative thought from introversion.) Because of Vishnu’s rapture, however, a monstrous flood overcame the world (swallowing up through introversion, symbolizing the danger of entering into the mother of death). A demon profiting by the danger, stole the vedas from Brahma and hid them in the deep. (Swallowing of the libido.) Brahma wakes Vishnu and he, changing into a fish, dived into the flood, battled with the demon (dragon fight), conquered him and brought the vedas up again. (Prize attained with difficulty.) (Cf. Jung, Psychology of the Unconscious.) The marvel of the invigoration that can be attained in the successful issue of introversion is comparable to the effect that Antæus felt on touching his mother, the earth. The mother of men, to whom introversion carries us, is the spirit of the race, and from it flows gigantic strength. “This occasional retiring into oneself, which means a return to an infantile relation to the parent images, appears within certain limits to have a favorable effect upon the condition of the individual.” Of this mine of power Stekel (Nerv. Angst., p. 375) writes: “When mankind desires to create something big, it must reach down deep into the reservoir of its past.” I wish now to quote a mystic philosopher. J. B. von Helmont (1577-1644) writes: “That magic power of man which is operative outside of him lies, as it were, hidden in the inner life of mankind. It sleeps and rules absolutely without being wakened, yet daily as if in a drunken stupor within us.... Therefore we should pray to God, who can be honored only in the spirit, that is, in the inmost soul of man. Hence I say the art of the Cabala requires of the soul that magic yet natural power shall, as it were, after sleep has been driven away, be placed in the keeping of the soul. This magic power has gone, to sleep in us through sin and has to be awakened again. This happens either through the illumination of the Holy Ghost or a man himself can by the art of the Cabala produce this power of awakening himself at will. Such are called makers of gold [nota bene!] whose leader (rector) is, however, the spirit of God.... When God created the soul of man he imparted to it fundamental and primal knowledge. The soul is the mirror of the universe and is related to all Being. It is illumined by an inner light, but the storm of the passions, the multiplicity of sensuous impressions, and other distractions darken this light, whose beams are spread abroad only, if it burns alone and if all in us is in harmony and peace. If we know how to separate ourselves from all external influences and are willing to be led by this inner light, we shall find pure and true knowledge in us. In this state of concentration the soul distinguishes all objects to which it directs its attention. It can unite with them, penetrate their nature, and can itself reach God and in him know the most important truths.” (Ennemoser, Gesch. d. Mag., pp. 906, 914.) Staudenmaier, who has experimented on himself magically to a great extent and has set down his experiences recently in the interesting book, “Die Magie als experimentelle Naturwissenschaft,” thinks he has observed that through the exercise that he carries on, and which produces an intense introversion, psychophysical energies are set free that make him capable of greater efficiency. Specifically, an actual drawing upon the nerve centers unused in the conscious function of the normal man of to-day would be available for intellectual work, etc. So, as it were, a treasure can be gained (by practices having a significant introversion character), a treasure which permits an increased thinking and feeling activity. If Staudenmaier, even in the critical examination of his anomalous functions, can be influenced by them, it would be a great mistake to put them aside simply as “pathological.” Ennemoser says of the danger of introversion (l. c., p. 175): “Now where in men of impure heart, through the destructive natural powers and evil spiritual relations, the deepest transcendental powers are aroused, dark powers may very easily seize the roots of feeling and reveal moral abysses, which the man fixed in the limits of time hardly suspects and from which human nature recoils. Such an illicit ecstasy and evil inspiration is at least recognized in the religious teachings of the Jews and Christians, and the seers of God describe it as an agreement with hell (Isaiah XXVIII, 15).” Whence comes the danger? It comes from the powerful attraction for us of that world which is opened to us through introversion. We descend there to whet our arms for fresh battles, but we lay them down; for we feel ourselves embraced by soft caressing arms that invite us to linger, to dream enchanting dreams. This fact coincides in large part with the previously mentioned tendency toward comfort, which is unwilling to forego childhood and a mother’s careful hands. Introversion is an excellent road to lazy phantasying in the regressive direction. Among psychopathologists Jung especially has of late strongly insisted upon the dangerous rôle of indolence. According to him the libido possesses a monstrous laziness which is unwilling to let go of any object of the past, but would prefer to retain it forever. Laziness is actually a passion, as La Rochefoucauld brilliantly remarks: “Of all the passions the least understood by us is laziness; it is the most indefatigable and the most malign of them all, although its outrages are imperceptible.” “It is the perilous passion affecting the primitive man more than all others, which appears behind the suspicious mask of the incest symbols, from which the fear of incest has driven us away, and which above all is to be vanquished under the guise of the ‘dreaded mother.’ [Vide, Note D. To avoid a wrong conception of this quotation it must be noted that laziness is, of course, not to be regarded as the only foundation of incest symbolism.] She is the mother of infinite evils, not the least of them being the neurotic maladies. For especially from the vapor of remaining libido residues, those damaging evils of phantasy develop, which so enshroud reality that adaptation becomes well nigh impossible.” (Jung, Psychology of the Unconscious.) That the indolent shrinking back from the difficulties of life is indicated so frequently in psychology and in mythology by the symbol of the mother is not surprising, but I should yet like to offer for a forceful illustration an episode from the war of Cyrus against Astyages which I find recorded in Dulaure-Krauss-Reiskel (Zeugg., p. 85.) After Astyages had aroused his troops, he hurled himself with fiery zeal at the army of the Persians, which was taken unawares and retreated. Their mothers and their wives came to them and begged them to attack again. On seeing them irresolute the women unclothed themselves before them, pointed to their bosoms and asked them whether they would flee to the bosoms of their mothers or their wives. This reproachful sight decided them to turn about and they remained victorious. On the origin of the mythological and psychological symbol of the dreaded mother: “Still there appears to reside in man a deep resentment, because a brutal law once separated him from an impulsive indulgence and from the great beauty of the animal nature so harmonious with itself. This separation is clearly shown in the prohibition of incest and its corollaries (marriage laws). Hence pain and indignation are directed toward the mother as if she were to blame for the domestication of the sons of men. In order not to be conscious of his desire for incest (his regressive impulse toward animal nature) the son lays the entire blame on the mother, whence results the image of the ‘dreaded mother.’ ‘Mother’ becomes a specter of anxiety to him, a nightmare.” (Jung, Psychology of the Unconscious.) The snake is to be regarded as a mythological symbol (frequent also in dream life) for the libido that introverts itself and enters the perilous interdicted precinct of the incest wish (or even only the life shirking tendency); and especially (though not always valid) is this conception in place, if the snake appears as a terrifying animal (representative of the dreaded mother). So also the dragon is equivalent to the snake, and it can, of course, be replaced by other monsters. The phallic significance of the snake is, of course, familiar enough; the snake as a poisonous terrible animal indicates, however, a special phallus, a libido burdened with anxiety. Jung, who has copious material with which to treat this symbolism, calls the snake really a “negative phallus,” the phallus forbidden with respect to the mother, etc. I would recall that alchemy, too, has the symbol of the snake or the dragon, and used in a way that reënforces the preceding conception. It is there connected with the symbols of introversion and appears as “poisonous.” The anxiety serpent is the “guardian of the threshold” of the occultists; it is the treasure guarding dragon of the myth. In mystic work the serpent must be overcome; we must settle with the conflict which is the serpent’s soul. Also the mystic yoga manuals of the Hindus know the symbol of the serpent, which the introverting individual has to waken and to overcome, whereupon he comes into possession of valuable powers. These serpents [kundalini] are considered by the Yogi mystics as an obstacle existing in the human body that obstructs certain veins or nerves (the anatomy of the Hindu philosophers is rather loose here), and by this means, if they are freed, the breath of life (prāna) sends wondrous powers through the body. The main path in the body which must be freed for the increased life-energies is generally described as the susumna (as far as I know, it is not yet cleared up whether the aorta abdominalis or the spine has furnished the anatomical basis for the idea of the central canal), and is the middle way between two other opposed canals of the breath, which are called pingala, the right, and ida, the left. (Here, too, note by the way, appears the comparison of opposites.) I quote now several passages on the kundalini and its significance at the beginning of the mystical work. “As Ananta, the Lord of Serpents, supports this whole universe with its mountains and its forests, so kundalini is the main support of all the yoga practices. When kundalini is sleeping it is aroused by the favor of the guru [spiritual teacher], then all of the lotuses [lotus here stands for nerve center] and granthis [swallowings, nerve plexus?] are pierced. Then prana goes through the royal road, susumna. Then the mind remains suspended and the yogi cheats death.... So the yogi should carefully practice the various mudras [exercises] to rouse the great goddess [kundalini] who sleeps closing the mouth of susumna.” (Hatha Yoga Prad., Ill, 1-5.) “As one forces open a door [door symbolism] with a key [the ‘Diederich’ of the wanderer in the parable] so the yogi should force open the door of moksa [deliverance] by the kundalini. The Paramesoari [great goddess] sleeps, closing with her mouth the hole through which one should go to the brahmarandhra [the opening or place in the head through which the divine spirit, the Brahma or the Atman, gets into the body; the anatomical basis for this naïve idea may have been furnished by one of the sutures of the skull, possibly the sutura frontalis; the brahmarandhra is probably the goal of the breath that passes through the susumna that is becoming free.] where there is no pain or misery. The kundalini sleeps above the kanda. [The kanda, for which we can hardly find a corresponding organ, is to be found between the penis and the navel.] It gives mukti to the yogis and bondage to the fools. [See later the results of introspection.] He who knows her, knows yoga. The kundalini is described as being coiled like a serpent. He who causes that sakti [probably, power] to move ... is freed without doubt. Between the Ganges and the Yamuna [two rivers of India, which are frequently used symbolically, probably for the right and the left stream of the breath of life, ingala and ida, cf. what follows] there sits the young widow [an interesting characterization of the kundalini] inspiring pity. He should despoil her forcibly, for it leads one to the supreme seat of Vishnu. Ida is the sacred Ganges and pingala the Yamuna. Between ida and pingala sits the young widow kundalini. You should awake the sleeping serpent [kundalini] by taking hold of its tail. That sakti, leaving off sleep, goes up forcibly.” (Hatha-Yoga, Prad., III, 105-111.) Ram Prasad (“Nature’s Finer Forces,” p. 189) writes about the kundalini: “This power sleeps in the developed organism. It is that power which draws in gross matter from the mother organism through the umbilical cord and distributes it to the different places, where the seminal prana gives it form. When the child separates from the mother the power goes to sleep.” Here the kundalini sakti appears clearly in connection with the mother. Siva is the god [father image] most peculiar to the yogis. The wife of Siva, however, is called Kundalini. Mythologically expressed, introversion proceeds well if the hero defeats the dragon. If this does not happen, an unsuccessful issue is the result; the man loses himself. In my opinion this losing of self is possible in two ways, one active, the other passive. In all there would then be three terminations of introversion. The good conclusion is the entrance into the true mystical work, briefly, mysticism. The bad conclusions are the active way of magic and the passive one of schizophrenia (introversion psychosis). In the first case there is consummated an inner reunion, in the other two cases a losing of self; in magic one loses oneself in passions, for which one wishes to create satisfaction magically, absolving oneself from the laws of nature; in the case of mental malady the sinking develops into laziness, a spiritual death. The three paths followed by the introverting individual correspond roughly to these three other possibilities of life, work (morality), crime, suicide. These three possibilities are, of course, recognized by the hermetic art; it recognizes three fundamental powers, which can give no other result psychically. Two of these principles are mutually opposed (in the unpurified condition of the material). We know them quite well as [Symbol: Fire] and [Symbol: Water], etc. The third principle lies evenly between the other two, like the staff of Hermes between the two serpents. So the symbol [Symbol: Mercurius], as Hermes’ staff with the serpents, precisely unites all three. In this aspect the three qualities or constituents of matter (prakrti) may at once be substituted for the three fundamental powers of alchemy according to the Hindu samkhya doctrine. Sattva, Rajas, Tamas, are translated (by Schroeder) by “purity, passion, darkness.” In the Bhagavad-Gita it is said of the happiness that these three grant: “Where one rests after earnest work and arrives at the end of toil, Fortune, which appears poison at first, finally is like nectar. Such a fate is truly good, procured through cheerfulness of spirit. [Sattva.] Fortune that first shows like nectar, and finally appears as poison, Chaining the senses to the world, belongs to the realm of passion. [Rajas.] Fortune that immediately and thereafter strikes the soul with delusion, In sleep, indolence, laziness, such Fortune belongs to darkness.” [Tamas.] “Passion” and “darkness,” Rajas and Tamas, (in alchemy indicated by [Symbol: Fire] and [Symbol: Water], also often by [Symbol: Mars] and [Symbol: Venus]) indicate the wrong way, the peril in introversion. They lead to what Gorres (Christl. Myst.) describes as the “demoniac” mysticism as opposed to the divine mysticism. All mystic manuals warn us of the wrong way and emphasize often that we can easily lose the way even where there is good intention. The evil one knows how, by illusions, to make the false way deceptively like the right one, so that the righteous man, who is not on his guard, may get unsuspectingly into the worst entanglements. Careful examination of himself, exact observation of the effect of the spiritual exercises, is to be laid to heart by every one. Yet powers come into play that have their roots in the deepest darkness of the soul (in the unconscious) and which are withdrawn from superficial view. [After this had been written I read a short paper of Dr. Karl Furtmüller, entitled “Psychoanalyse und Ethik,” and find there, p. 5, a passage which I reproduce here on account of its agreement with my position. I must state at the outset that according to Furtmüller, psychoanalysis is peculiarly qualified to arouse suspicion against the banal conscience, which leads self-examination into the realm of the conscious only, with neglect of the unconscious impulses, which are quite as important for the performance of actions. The passage of interest to us here reads: “There is no lack of intimation that these fundamental facts which place the whole of life in a new perspective, were recognized or suspected even in earlier times. If early Christianity believed that demons could overpower the heart of man in the sense that they assumed the voice of God, and the man believed that, while really doing the devil’s work he was doing the work of God, then that sounds like a symbolic representation of the play of the forces that are described above.” The play of these forces was indeed known to cultivated religious peoples of all times. As for Christianity, what the author asserts of its beginnings can be accepted as true for a much earlier time. We already know that one of the first works of mysticism consists in the education of the conscience, in a most subtle purification of this judicial inner eye. The claims of the psychoanalyst are there fulfilled to the uttermost.] Instead of many examples I gladly quote a single one, but an instructive exposition by Walter Hitton, a great master of the contemplative life, from his “Scala Perfectionis” as Beaumont (Tract. v. Gust. pub. 1721, pp. 188 ff.) renders it. Thus he writes: “From what I said we can to some extent perceive that visions and revelations, or any kind of spirit in bodily appearance, or in the imagination in sleep or waking, or any other sensation in the bodily senses that are, as it were, spiritually performed, either through a sound in the ears or taste in the mouth or smell in the nose, or any other perceptible heat of fiery quality that warms the breast or any other part of the body, or any other thing that can be felt by a bodily sense, even if it is not so refreshing and agreeable, all this is not contemplation or observation; but in respect of the spiritual virtues, and those of celestial perception and love towards God, which accompany true contemplation, only evil secondary matters, even if they appear to be laudable and good. All such kinds of sensation may be good if produced by a good angel, but may, however, proceed in a deceptive manner, from the impositions of a bad angel, if he disguises himself as an angel of light. For the devil can imitate in bodily sensations exactly the same things that a good angel can accomplish. Indeed, just as the good angels come with light, so can the devil do also. And just as he can fabricate this in things that appear to the eyes, so he can bring it to pass in the other senses. The man who has perceived both can best say which is good and which is evil. But whoever knows neither or only one, can very easily be deceived.” Externally, in the sense quality, they are all similar, but internally they are very different. And therefore we should not too strongly desire them, nor lightly maintain that the soul can distinguish between the good and evil by the spirit of difference, so that it may not be deceived. As St. John says: “Believe not every spirit, but prove it first whether it be of God or not.” And to know whether the perception of the bodily sense is good or evil, Hitton gives the following rule: “If ye see an unusual light or brilliance with your bodily eye, or in imagination, or if ye hear any wonderful supernatural sound with your ears, or if ye perceive a sudden sweet taste in your mouths or feel any warmth in your breasts, like fire, or any form of pleasure in any part of your body, or if ye see a spirit in a bodily form, as if he were an angel to fortify or instruct you, or if any such feeling that you know comes not from you or from a physical creature, then observe yourselves with great care at such a time and consider the emotions of your heart prudently. For if ye become aware by occasion of pleasure or satisfaction derived from such perception, that your hearts are drawn away from the contemplation of Jesus Christ and from spiritual exercises: as from prayer, and knowledge of yourselves and your failings, and from the turning in towards virtue and spiritual knowledge and perception of God, with result that your heart and your inclinations, your desire and your repose depend chiefly on the above mentioned feeling or sight, in that ye therefore retain them, as if that were a part of the celestial joy or angelic bliss, and therefore your thoughts become such that ye neither pray nor can think of anything else, but must entirely give way to that, in order to keep it and satisfy yourself with it, then this sensation is very much to be suspected of coming from the Enemy; and therefore were it ever so wonderful and striking, still renounce it and do not consent to accept it. For this is a snare of the Enemy, to lead the soul astray by such bodily sensation or agreeableness of the senses, and to trap it in order to hurl it into spiritual arrogance and false security, which happens if it flatters itself as if it enjoyed celestial bliss and on account of the pleasure it feels were already half in paradise, while it is still in fact at the gate of hell, and therefore through pride and presumptuousness may have fallen into error, heresy, fanaticism and other bodily or spiritual disaster. “In case, however, that these things do not result in leading away your heart from spiritual exercises, but cause ye to become ever more devout and more ardent in prayer and more wise to cultivate spiritual thoughts; if ye are at first astonished but nevertheless your heart turns back and is awakened to greater longing for virtue and your love toward God and your neighbor increases more and more, and makes you ever meeker in your own eyes; then you may infer from this sign that it is of God and comes from the presence and action of a good angel, and comes from the goodness of God, either for comfort to simple pious souls to increase their trust in and longing for God, and because of such a strengthening to seek more thoroughly for the knowledge and love of God. Or if they are perfect that perceive such a pleasure, it appears to them somewhat like a foretaste and shadow of the transfiguration of the body which it may expect in the celestial bliss.” However, I do not know whether such a man can be found on earth. “He continues: Of this method of distinguishing between the works of the spirits, Saint John (I John IV, 3) speaks in his epistle: ‘Every spirit that confesseth not that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is not of God’ (or as it is translated by Luther: ‘Who does not recognize that Jesus Christ is come into the flesh’). This union and connection of Jesus with the human soul is caused by a good will and a zealous striving toward him, which alone desires to possess him and to view him spiritually in his blessedness. The greater this longing the more closely is Jesus united with the soul, and the less the longing, the more loosely is he bound to him. So every spirit or every sensation that diminishes this longing, and draws it away from the steadfast contemplation of Jesus Christ and from sighing and longing like a child for him, this spirit will release Jesus from the soul, and therefore it is not from God but the activity of the Enemy. But if a spirit or a sensation increases this desire, fastens the bonds of love and devotion closer to Jesus, raises the eyes of the soul to spiritual knowledge more and more, and makes the heart ever meeker, this spirit is from God.” In many of the modern theosophic introversion methods, borrowed from the Hindu yoga doctrines, we find the exhortation to attach no importance to the marvels appearing beside the real prize, indeed to regard them as a pernicious by-product. The Hindu doctrine calls them Siddhi. Walter Hitton speaks of them as “inferior subordinate matters.” From the description of them it appears that they are phantastic appearances, which partly flatter the wish for power, partly other wishes. [See Note E at the end of this volume.] The Siddhi are qualified to captivate weak minds with their jugglery. Erotic experiences are connected very easily with them because, going over into the regressive phase, they show their “titanic” countenances. I have with some daring, but not without right, just cited the Siddhi as the anagogic equivalent of autoerotism. The regressive phase, however, appears as soon as one indulges in the gratification of the Siddhi. It is not the Siddhi themselves that are the evil (I regard them indeed as anagogic), but the losing of oneself in them. They can be both divine and diabolic. That depends on one’s attitude towards them. In the result of introversion, the diabolic mysticism is opposed, as we saw, to the divine. The true mysticism is characterized by the extension of personality and the false by the shrinking of personality. We can also say, by an extension or shrinking of the sphere of interest that determines the socially valuable attitude. I say advisedly “sphere of interest,” for mysticism in the end will not merely fulfill the social law without love, but it labors for the bringing out of this very love. It is not satisfied with superficially tincturing the substance into gold (i.e., among other meanings, to get man to do good externally); but it would change the substance completely, make it gold through and through (i.e., to orient the entire impulse power of man for good, so that he desires this good with the warmth of love and therefore finds his good fortune in virtue). Only the good and not the good fortune is chosen as the leading star, as I must note in order to avoid a misconception about the hermetic procedure. Happiness arises only at a certain point, and seems to me like a fruit ripened in the meantime. The most subtle representatives of this doctrine among the alchemists are not so far, after all, from the Kantian ethics. Alchemistic ethics presupposes that there is an education, an ennobling of the will. The person that wills can learn to encompass infinitely much in his ego. [Cf. Furtmüller (Psychoanalyse und Ethik, p. 15): “The individual can ... make the commands of others his own.” He quotes Goethe (Die Geheimnisse): From the law which binds all being The man is freed who masters himself. The poles of shrinking and extension are the following: The magician and the pathological introversionist contract the sphere of their interest upon the narrowest egoism. The mystic expands it immensely, in that he comprises the whole world in himself. The person egotistically entering into introversion can preserve his happiness only by a firm self-enclosure before the ever threatening destruction; the mystic is free. The mystic’s fortune consists in the union of his will with the world will or as another formula expresses it, in the union with God. [On the freeing effect of the merging of one’s own will into a stronger cf. my essays Jb. ps. F., III, pp. 637 ff., and IV, p. 629.] This fortune is therefore also imperishable (gold). The reader must always bear in mind that the mystic never works on anything but on the problem of mankind in general; only he does so in a form of intensive life, and it may indeed be the case that the powers which introversion furnish him, actually make possible a more dynamic activity and a greater result. For my part I am strongly inclined to believe it. On the extension of personality, some passages from the Discourses on Divinity in the Bhagavad-Gita: “Who sees himself in all being and all being in himself, Whoever exercises himself in devotion and looks at all impartially, Whoever sees me everywhere, and also sees everything in me, From him I can never vanish nor he from me.” VI, 29f. “Whoever discovers in all the modes of life the very exalted lord, Who does not fail when they fail—he who recognizes that, has learned well, For whosoever recognizes the same lord as the one who dwells in all, Wounds not the self through the self, and travels so the highest road.” XIII 27f. These passages elucidate the progressive function of the idea of God in the “work.” Incidentally, I believe that the devotional doctrines (Yoga) which are theoretically based on the Samkhya philosophy that originated without a God, has for good practical reasons taken the idea of isvara (God) into its system. Concentration requires an elevated impalpable object as an aim. And this object must have the property of being above every reach of the power to grasp and yet apparently to seem attainable. God has furthermore the functions of the bearer of conflicts and hopes. At the beginning of the work indeed the obstructing conflicts still exist. A certain unburdening is accomplished by leaving the conflict to the divinity, and frees the powers that were at first crippled under the pressure of the conflicts. [Cf. Jung’s Psychology of the Unconscious, Freud Kl. Schr., II, p. 131.] “Then throw on me all thy doings, thinking only on the highest spirit, Hoping and desiring nothing, so fight, free from all pain.” Bh. G. III 30. “Whose acts without any bias and dedicates all his activity to God Will not be stained with evil [is therefore free from conflicts] as the lotus leaf is not stained by the water.” V 10. The idea of the education of the will has, of course, been familiar for a long time to ethical writers, even if it has at times been lost sight of. Aristotle is convinced that morality arises from custom and convention. “As we learn swimming only in water, and music by practice on an instrument, so we become righteous by righteous action and moderate and courageous by appropriate acts. From uniform actions enduring habits are formed, and without a rational activity no one becomes good ... being good is an act. Good is never by nature; we become good by a behavior corresponding to a norm. We possess morality not by nature but against nature. We have the disposition to attain it ... we must completely win it by habit. As Plato says, in agreement with this, the proper education consists in being so led from youth upward, as to be glad and sorry about the things over which we should be glad and sorry. But if by a course of action in accordance with custom, a definite direction of the will has been secured, then pleasure and pain are added to the actions that result from the will and, as it were, as signs, that here a new nature is established in man.” (Jodl. Gesch. d. Eth., I, pp. 44 ff.) “The energy and the proud confidence in human power with which Aristotle offers to man his will and character formation as his own work, the emphasis with which he has opposed to the quietistic ‘velle non discitur’ (we cannot educate volition nor learn to will, as later pessimistic opinions have expressed it axiomatically) with the real indispensability and at the same time the possibility of the formation of the will; this contention is admirable and quite characteristic of the methods of thought of ancient philosophy at its height.” (Jodl., l. c., p. 49.) [Velle non discitur has been popularized by Schopenhauer.] In Philo and the related philosophers there appears quite clearly the thought that gained such wide acceptance later among the Christian ascetics, that the highest development of moral strength was attainable only through a long continued and gradually increasing exercise, an ethical gymnastics. Philo, moreover, uses the word Askesis to describe what elsewhere had been described as bodily exercise. The occidental spiritual exercise corresponds to the Hindu yoga. In the domestication of man through countless generations, social instincts must have been established, which appear as moral dispositions. I recall the moral feeling in Shaftesbury. The social life of man, for instance, plays with Adam Smith a significant rôle, and yet even with him the moral law is not something ready from the very beginning, not an innate imperative, but the peculiar product of each individual. The development of conscience receives an interesting treatment by Smith. There takes place in us a natural transposition of feelings, mediated through sympathy, which arouse in each of us the qualities of the other, and we can say “that morality in Smith’s sense, just as Feuerbach taught later, is only reflected self-interest, although Smith himself was quite unwilling to look at sympathy as an egotistic principle. By means of a process that we can almost call a kind of self-deception of the imagination, we must look at ourselves with the eyes of others, a very sensible precaution of nature, which thus has created a balance for impulses that otherwise must have operated detrimentally. [Bear in mind what I have said above about intro-determination.] This transposition which sympathy effects we cannot escape; it itself appears when we know that we are protected from the criticism of another by the complete privacy of our own doings. It alone can keep us upright when all about us misunderstand us and judge us falsely. For the actual judgments of another about us form, so to speak, a first court whose findings are continually being corrected by that completely unpartisan and well informed witness who grows up with us and reacts on all our doings.” (Jodl., l. c., I, pp. 372 ff.) The derivation of the moral from selfish impulses by transposition does not resolve ethics into egoism, as Helvetius would have us believe. It is “a caricature of the true state of things to speak of self-interest, when we have in mind magnanimity and beneficence, and to maintain that beneficence is nothing but disguised selfishness, because it produces joy or brings honor to the person that practices it.” (L. c., p. 444.) The ethical evolution which takes place as an extension of personality demands, the more actively it is practiced, the removal of resistances which operate against the expansion of the ego. It cannot be denied that hostile tendencies, which are linked with pusillanimous views, are always on hand and create conflicts. If they were not, the moral task would be an easy one. Now as man cannot serve two masters, so in the personal psychical household, the points of view which have been dethroned, as far as they will not unite with the newly acquired ones, must be killed, and ousted from their power. Most of all must this process be made effective if the development is taken up intensively in the shape of introversion. It must appear also in the symbolism. Already in the lecanomantic experiments we are struck by the dying of the figure (old man) that represents the old form of conscience that has been overcome. It is that part of Lea’s psyche that resists the new, after the manner of old people (father type). In order that the new may be suppressed, it must be immolated; at every step in his evolution man must give up something; not without sacrifice, not without renunciation, is the better attained. The sacrifice must come, of course, before the new reformed life begins. The hermetic representations do not indeed always follow chronological order, yet the sacrifice is usually placed at the beginning, as introversion. In the parable the wanderer kills the lion, well at the beginning. He sacrifices something in so doing. He kills himself, i.e., a part of himself, in order to be able to rise renewed (regenerated). This process is the first mystical death, also called by the alchemists, putrefaction or the blacks. This death is often fused with the symbol of introversion, because both can appear under the symbol of the entrance into the mother or earth. Only by closer examination can it sometimes be seen which process is chiefly intended. “And that shalt thou know my son, whoso does not know how to kill, and to bring about a rebirth, to make the spirits revive, to purify, to make bright and clear ... he as yet knows nothing and will accomplish nothing.” (Siebengestirn, p. 21.) “These are the two serpents sent by Juno (which is the metallic nature) which the strong Hercules (i.e., the wise man in his cradle) has to strangle, i.e., to overpower and kill, in order in the beginning of his work to have them rot, be destroyed and to bear.” (Flamel, p. 54.) Again and again the masters declare that one cannot attain to true progress except by means of the blacks, death and putrefaction. In the “Clavis philosophiae et alchymiae Fluddanae,” of the year 1633, we read: “Know then that it is the duty of spiritual alchemy to mortify and to refine all obscuring prejudice as corruptible and vain, and so break down the tents of darkness and ignorance, so that that imperishable but still beclouded spirit may be free and grow and multiply in us through the help of the fiery spirit, full of grace, which God so kindly moistened, so as to increase it from a grain to a mountain. That is the true alchemy of which I am speaking, that which can multiply in me that rectangular stone, which is the cornerstone of my life and my soul, so that the dead in me shall be awakened anew, and arise from the old nature that had become corrupted in Adam, as a new man who is new and living in Christ, and therefore in that rectangular stone....” To the “sacrifice” of the person introverting, Jung devotes an entire