The psychology of Jung
Date: 2026-02-05T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Psychoanalysis; Jung; C. G. (Carl Gustav); 1875-1961

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The psychology of Jung

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: The psychology of Jung

Author: James Oppenheim

Editor: E. Haldeman-Julius

Release date: February 5, 2026 [eBook #77864]

Language: English

Original publication: Girard: Haldeman-Julius Company, 1925

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/77864

Credits: Tim Miller, toy9683 and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PSYCHOLOGY OF JUNG ***

LITTLE BLUE BOOK NO. 978

Edited by E. Haldeman-Julius

The Psychology
of Jung

James Oppenheim

HALDEMAN-JULIUS COMPANY

GIRARD, KANSAS

Copyright, 1925,

Haldeman-Julius Company

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF JUNG.

CONTENTS.

Chapter | Page
I. The Psychology of the Future | 5
II. The Sexual Theory | 8
III. Will-To-Power | 18
IV. The Break Between Freud and Jung | 22
V. The Introvert vs. the Extravert | 33
VI. Types | 45
VII. The Conflict and Its Solution | 53
VIII. Note | 61

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF JUNG.

I.
THE PSYCHOLOGY OF THE FUTURE.

The origin of the new psychology, with its technic universally known as psycho-analysis, lies in the effort which man has always made to cure those ills “not of the body.” When we speak of the ills of the “soul,” we do not, however, mean that the mind is not a part of the body. We merely mean that there is a difference, for instance, between the illness that might arise from receiving bad news, and that which was caused, say, by being knocked down by a motor car. The first we call a mental ill, a spiritual malady, the second a physical.

The old shaman of the savage tribe did not only attempt to cure gangrene and malaria and sore throat; he also treated people who were “possessed by demons” or had “lost their souls”; he treated people who had lost hope, who were despairing, who wanted a charm to conquer the object of love or hate, who desired success, who heard voices, saw visions and were afraid to live.

From the beginning, therefore, man has attempted to bring a healing to the mind. Every religion has been such an attempt.

The trouble with this, however, from our modern standpoint, is that a religion demands faith, not only in the natural, but the supernatural; and not only, let it be added, in the supernatural, but a very definite and dogmatic supernatural, some set of stories and brand of divinities. There are Gods, Devils and ghosts to which we must submit. But modern science, which has steadfastly discredited mythology and sought to explain life and its phenomena by natural causes, or laws of nature, has seriously undermined the old religions, and we see them beginning to topple in all places of the earth.

However, the science of medicine, which sought to discover the causes of sickness, reached a limit beyond which it could not pass. If there is no medicine for a broken heart, there is also none for a man with a fixed idea or one with a sense of utter inferiority. The insane cannot be cured by drugs or by operations, except in those rare curable cases which have an indubitable physical origin. The thousands creeping and stumbling around the world, victims of neurosis, cannot be reached by serums or diets.

It was therefore necessary for medicine to go beyond itself, to invade the wide and dark realm of religion and preempt the creeds, by applying the technic of science to what had hitherto been understood darkly through intuition, guess-work and “revelation.”

It is not my intention to give a history of the origin and rise of psycho-analysis. That, in itself, is a book. It is merely necessary to say that the first genius in this field was Sigmund Freud, that Freud made the first great discoveries, that he traced the first chart of the unconscious mind, and that he originated the first technic of psycho-analysis.

If Freud, however, was the pioneer, it remained for two of his pupils to carry the work forward to the point where it has become one of the vital contributions to the race. The work of Adler, the first of these, came as a revolt against Freud and gave rise to a rival theory. The work of Jung, however, not only brought a synthesis of the work of Adler and Freud, but went beyond both. It is for this reason, then, that I call his work “the psychology of the future.”

In order to come to a clear understanding of Jung, it will be necessary first to summarize the theories of both Freud and Adler. We can then see how Jung, accepting both, has transcended both, and laid out the first tracings of a complete psychology.

II.
THE SEXUAL THEORY.

Freud sees life as a great and never-ending conflict between civilization, or organized society, and the individual. The individual is born with certain instincts, desires, wishes. Many of these are in conflict with the law and moral code of society. Hence, they are suppressed.

This suppression works, however, in a curious way. Not only are the unlawful and “sinful” impulses shut out of the mind; they are also forgotten. And because they are forgotten, we actually have the spectacle of pious men and women who can solemnly swear that they are quite free of murderous, lustful, lecherous, dangerous thoughts and wishes; that they are “good” people; that they have nothing in common with the criminal and the debased.

As a matter of fact, however, no instinct, no function in man can be abolished by cutting it off from consciousness. It is merely repressed, and forms what Dr. Jung later denoted as a complex; that is to say, a group of ideas, emotions, wishes that all go together and become a sort of mental family living off by itself, in exile.

It is, in reality, a part of consciousness of which we are unconscious: a part of the mind shut out by the barrier of our will and our forgetfulness. And since there are many things that we repress, a goodly area of the mind is so cut off. Hence, all that part of the mind which is repressed, and of whose existence we are not aware, Freud calls the unconscious mind.

But since the unconscious is living, not dead; since every impulse in man seeks constantly for expression; the unconscious is continually active, like a volcano. Only, instead of sending up its fire and lava and steam in their native state, it is sending them up in a camouflaged form. The bottled up energy seeking ever an outlet, loads itself into some part of the body, and becomes a symptom. It may appear as a paralysis of some muscle, as deafness or blindness, heart trouble or stomach trouble, etc. Naturally, these symptoms are not organic; it is not a real blindness, a real paralysis. Which explains why there can be miracles when believers touch saint’s bones or repeat the dogmas of the Christian Scientists. The reason is, that being mental in origin, these symptoms can also be cured in a mental way. But since faith healing does not probe to the secret source of the symptom, which is in the unconscious, such healing is usually followed by the outbreak of another symptom, in a different place, perhaps, and of a different nature.

However, the repressed complex does not only express itself in bodily symptoms. It may appear in the conscious mind. But since the conscious mind resists the invasion, it appears in a masked form. It may become apparent as a fixed idea, for instance, the idea that one must go to some street corner and preach the Gospel, an idea which, in spite of its absurdity and irrationality, the patient cannot dislodge, and which is therefore fixed. Or it may appear as a fear, a fear of dogs, or of the dark, of closed places, going outdoors, etc.

Nor is this all. Where there is a marked repression of a large part of oneself, the repressed material may become what is called a secondary personality, and every so often preempt the conscious mind, so that at one time the personality may be timid, pious, good, and at another bold, wicked and evil. It is, in a way, the story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Finally, the unconscious appears in consciousness in the form of dreams. It is really this great discovery which led to the development of the technic of psycho-analysis, and opened up the path which has led to all the other discoveries.

A dream takes place when we are asleep; that is to say, when the conscious mind is completely relaxed, when all the bars are let down. What more natural than that the repressed portion of the mind may now flare up, just as the stars become visible when the sun is withdrawn from the sky? But dreams usually have something absurd about them. We walk in seven league boots, we cut off a hand and sew it on again, animals talk; we are in the land of make-believe and of the fairies and the bad spirits.

Why does the unconscious speak such a fantastic language? Why doesn’t it express itself in simple English? According to Freud, this is because the conscious mind has refused to face the evil which it has repressed, and the unconscious therefore ever seeks a masked or camouflaged expression, whether in the form of a physical symptom, a fixed idea, a phobia, or a dream.

Dreams, in short, are symbolic. Everything in a dream stands for something else. But these symbols are not haphazard; what they stand for are definitely expressed by the symbol. It is not haphazard for instance that a dove has always symbolized the holy spirit, or that a spear has stood for the masculine organ, or that a vessel has stood for the womb. There is a certain likeness between symbol and fact.

It is nothing new to invest dreams with meaning. The human race has always done so. Man has always intuitively known that these strange manifestations of the night held a hidden meaning for him, a meaning that must be searched out by interpretation and analysis. So we read in the Bible of Joseph interpreting the dreams of Pharaoh; in Euripides’ play, Iphigenia, the action begins with a dream of the heroine, which she herself interprets, though somewhat mistakenly. So too we have the well-authenticated dream of Lincoln (ten days before he was assassinated) that he heard a noise of lamentation and sobbing downstairs in the White House and took a candle and went down. Around a catafalque moved a crowd of weeping people. He asked who was dead, and was informed that it was the President, who had been killed.

Such dreams are of the prophetic order, and will be dealt with later on. The last dream, also, was straightforward. It was not symbolic. But such dreams are outside the usual run; they are the exceptions to the rule.

The way then to find out the meaning of a dream is to treat the images in it as symbols and try to discover what the symbols stand for. And the quickest way to do this is to ask the dreamer himself.

You dream, for instance, to use a simple illustration, that you are involved in a fight between a cat and a dog. Well, what do you think of cats and dogs? What are your associations?

You begin to tell all the thoughts that come into your mind when you think of these two animals. You may drag in personal stories of a pet cat you once had, of a dog it fought with, etc. When all you have said is boiled down it may amount to this: that cats and dogs appear to be opposites, that cats are aloof, “selfish,” withdrawn, asking much and giving little, whereas dogs are loving, affectionate, very sociable, and may even give their lives for their masters. Symbolically then, the cat stands for the ego-impulses, the dog for the social impulses. It is natural that they should fight each other every so often; there are times when we are in great conflict between our wish to serve others and our desire to gratify or satisfy ourselves.

What Freud discovered was that the repression came to light through the dream; that the dream material, if analyzed, showed exactly why the patient was ill, why he had his phobia or his physical symptom. For instance, the man might have a strain of sexual perversion in him. He himself is not aware of it. But the dream immediately brings it to light and he is forced to recognize it.

Naturally it is difficult to get a patient to accept the repressed material. If he repressed it because of a great moral revulsion, he can only be led by a process of re-education to accept it. When he first comes for treatment, therefore, he merely tells the analyst all that he remembers about his past, his family and personal history, etc. Gradually he acquires confidence in the analyst. This unburdening is like a confession. The analyst hears things that the patient has never before mentioned to anyone else. The analyst, because of his knowledge of psychology, also shows an understanding of the patient that quite startles the latter. The analyst, in short, becomes more than a father to him, more than a mother. There is a feeling of gratitude, of trust, which approaches the border of love. This feeling, this attitude, is called the transference. The patient has transferred himself, his burden, to the analyst. And no cure can take place until this is achieved.

For when the transference is made, the patient is now ready to go along with the analyst in his re-education. He gains a new standpoint. He discovers that the ugly and evil things which he suppressed are not his personal property, his private depravity, but are public property, that every one who is a human being has the same impulses, the same shameful lusts, the same wicked wishes; and that there can be no genuine health until one allows these impulses in consciousness and accepts them in their nakedest aspect.

The patient then is ready to face squarely and truthfully the divulgences of his dreams.

And what is the cure? Sometimes, happily, it is a simple matter. The man who has suppressed his sexuality altogether, for instance, may now marry and gain a good direct expression for his need. But what of those who find strong perverted wishes, what shall we do with them?

At this point Freud erects the theory of sublimation. It is not a new theory. The youth in college is admonished to go into athletics that he may channel off and use up the energy which otherwise would provide him with a sexual problem. It is the substitution of a “higher” thing for a “lower.” Only, of course, the higher thing must stand in some natural relation to the lower, that the instinctive craving may have some genuine satisfaction.

The classic example is that of surgery. A man is sadistic. That is, he desires to practice cruelty on the object of his love. Turn this upside-down from something destructive to something creative, and you let him dig his knife into the human body, but now it is to help and heal another, not to hurt him. Hence, the surgeon is sublimating his sadistic tendencies.

Another example, according to Freud, is the artist. His wicked and criminal impulses, we will say, would indicate a long list of murders if he lived them out. He does not live them out, he writes them out. He becomes known as a writer of crime and detective stories, and in this form he releases his evil energy and spends it utterly.

Or take the actor. As a child he wanted constantly to exhibit himself, to go naked before others. This strong strain of exhibitionism can be satisfied finally by acting, by showing himself off before audiences.

Hence, the Freudian cure for those impulses we cannot live, is, first, to recognize and accept them, and secondly, to sublimate them.

The Freudian psychology, however, does not rest at this point. It has a theory which underlies all the others; it is the theory connected with the Oedipus complex.

Oedipus was the man, celebrated in Greek drama, who, by a fluke of fate, married his own mother, had children by her, and later had to expiate his crime by blinding himself and wandering poor and helpless about the world. For his crime is the one crime which mankind has usually found absolutely taboo. In practically all the savage tribes, and in every civilized code, incest, or intermarriage between child and parent, brother and sister, has been strictly forbidden.

Why is this so? Freud believes that there is a natural sexual attraction within the family group itself, that the child begins its sexual life very early, that the boy gains satisfactions through his mother’s caresses; and that hence the whole beginnings of sexuality are wrapped up in the incestuous wish. Naturally, however, for the son there is a great rival. It is his father. His father would fight him off just as he would any other male rival. This is one of the reasons for the universal taboo.

But if the origins and beginnings of sexuality are entwined in the incestuous wish, and incest is taboo, we have an immediate cause of trouble in human nature. We are all bound to repress. And indeed if we look upon man, we see that he is afflicted with much sickness, that he is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward.

If, however, this is the nuclear complex, this Oedipus complex, how can we account for the other sexual difficulties, the perversions? They originate, according to Freud, in the Oedipus complex itself. The child’s first act is suckling, this involves the mouth; he then learns to suck his finger when he cannot get at the nipple, this involves mouth and hand; he then begins to use his hand rubbing himself and this leads to rubbing the sexual organ (auto-erotism); he now takes pleasure in his own body and in bodies like his own (homosexual interest), and finally he becomes interested in bodies unlike his own (normal sexual wish). He may find, however, that he cannot cross the last bridge and get to normal sexuality. The repressed incest wish stands in the way and makes him fear the woman who would, unconsciously, be used as a substitute for the mother. Hence, he remains fixed at some infantile stage; mouth-erotism, auto-erotism, homosexuality, etc. Often in analysis, when he discovers this, according to Freud, he can learn to renounce the infantile fixation, or perversion, and learn to take pleasure in normal sexuality.

Such, in brief, and with, alas, much omitted, is an outline of the Freudian theory. It is a sexual theory. The psychological troubles of mankind, with all their symptoms, either physical or mental, are traced back to a disturbance in sexuality, to taboos which bring the individual into conflict with society and so cause these unnatural repressions. Freud, however, does not use the word sexuality in a narrow sense; he makes it synonymous with love-life, though the purely sexual element is, on close examination, always present.

However, recently, Freud, now an old man, has advanced a new theory to supplement the sexual theory. He believes, though he is very cautious in his statement, that beside the sexual impulse, the will-to-live, to create and procreate, there is an opposite impulse, a will-to-death, a wish to have done. In this, he pays an unconscious tribute to some of the theories of Jung, which will be discussed later on.

III.
WILL-TO-POWER.

Alfred Adler was a pupil of Freud. In the course of his psycho-analytic practice he stumbled across a discovery which led to a break with Freud and the enunciation of a new theory. In contradistinction to the sexual theory it may be called the power-theory.

What Adler noticed in every neurotic was a marked feeling of inferiority, a feeling, as he put it, of being under, and a consequent incessant striving to be over or on top. To use a simple, concrete case: If a man felt inferior to the woman he loved, and this was a symptom of inferiority he had always had toward the women he loved, he would strive by every means to put the woman down and himself up. He might put her down by economic pressure, by intellectual attack; or he might put her down in the sexual way, for instance through cruelty (sadism).

In the latter case, Freud would say that the problem was sexual. But Adler would say, what the man is striving for is not sexual satisfaction, but power. If he could put the woman down through money-pressure, that would satisfy him, or if he could put her down sexually, that would be satisfactory. What he was seeking was mastery.

Take the well-known case of the Don Juan who has one love-affair after another, who wins a woman only to tire of her and pass on to the next. Such men will admit, as a rule, that the greatest pleasure is in conquest, and that when a woman has been conquered she is no longer interesting. They look upon love-affairs as a series of battles, and the aim is not love or sexuality, so much as triumph.

What becomes then of the Oedipus complex, the incestuous longing of the son for the mother? According to Adler this, too, is a problem of power. The father is the head of the house, the master, the king in the realm of the family, and possesses the mother. The son is under the father, but would depose this king and take his place. In short, he would be the head and possess the mother. But actually, what the child is seeking, is not really to possess the mother, but to have power in the manner of his father.

The cause, then, of mental disorders and spiritual maladies, Adler traces to an excessive feeling of inferiority which leads to a marked will-to-power. But whence arises this feeling of inferiority? Adler at this point is sure that the origin is to be sought not in something psychic but in something physical. His theory is that the feeling of inferiority is due to some actual organic inferiority.

In other words, he believes that a child who has a club foot, like Byron, or one subject to epileptic fits, like Dostoyevski, or one with an impediment which causes stammering, like Demosthenes, or one with a chronic tendency to constipation like Lincoln (the cases of great men could be multiplied endlessly), that such a child feels himself inferior to normal children; he feels that there is something the matter with him, that he has less chance of success, etc. This is the feeling of inferiority, the feeling of being under. And the deeper this feeling, the greater the reaction to it, the greater the striving to change the position about, so that instead of being under his fellows he is over them. Out of such defects, then, arise the great ambitions, or as Adler puts it, the “guiding fiction.” By this he means a phantasy of some great goal which the child dreams about and sets out to reach.

A classical case is that of Demosthenes. Because he stammered, because he was inferior in speech to other children, an ambition awoke not merely to be able to talk in the normal manner, but something far greater: namely, to be the greatest of orators, an ambition he actually achieved. But suppose he could not have achieved such a victory, suppose conditions had been such that it was impossible for him to be an orator? Then his incessant striving would prove futile, the feeling of inferiority would increase, and there would be a breakdown. The breakdown would be a neurosis, and he would be ready for a psycho-analyst.

Why did Napoleon set out to conquer Europe? His inordinate will-to-power could be traced back to a painful feeling of inferiority in his youth, which showed itself in the military school, where he was put to shame by his fellows. They, he must have felt, would become in time great generals and leaders in the army; hence, he must be even more than they, the general of generals.

As to the feeling of inferiority itself, Adler denotes it as the feeling of being feminine. Woman, he believes, has the psychology of being under, man that of being over, as shown in the sexual act itself. Besides, man is physically stronger than woman. Hence, if a man has an organic inferiority, he feels that he is not a man, and hence, that he is in some way feminine. All his striving therefore is to be masculine, and indeed, super-masculine. This striving Adler calls the masculine protest. One finds it in women also; a marked feeling of inferiority in a woman leading her to strive to be like a man, and a refusal to accept her own psychology.

Such, in brief, is the Adler theory. It owes many things to Nietzsche, who, in his “Thus Spake Zarathustra” teaches will-to-power as the guiding principle of life, who relegates woman to a lesser, man to a greater sphere, and who finds in the striving of the ego the dominant impulse of life.

IV.
THE BREAK BETWEEN FREUD AND JUNG.

At the time that Dr. Freud was making his discoveries in Vienna, Dr. Carl Jung, a young psychiatrist, was conducting certain experiments in Zurich, Switzerland. These were of a dry technical nature which need not be given here, but they led to a tentative theory of an unconscious mind. It was while he was engaged on these experiments that Jung first read the work of Freud. He knew at once that he had found his master and hastened to become Freud’s pupil and colleague. He did more than that. At that period Freud was the laughing stock of Vienna, and wherever his work penetrated. He was jeered and ridiculed for his fantastic notions, and was suffering the bitter fate of all pioneers. Jung was in a powerful position at Zurich, and at once proceeded to enlarge and deepen the fight for Freud. He became the most powerful exponent of the Freudian psychology, and helped to bring the new knowledge and new technic into its first acceptance by the world.

Freud looked upon Jung as upon a favorite son. They fought shoulder-to-shoulder, the work spread, and they were invited to this country to give lectures. In Switzerland, Austria, England and America the psycho-analyst made his appearance, and the world of the intelligentsia awoke with a shock to the sexual theory. Among the cultured everywhere there was discussion of the Oedipus complex, the repressions, the sexual perversions, the idea that much that we had thought purely spiritual, like art and religion, were merely masks for sexual complexes. The psycho-analytic movement, held firmly together by two great men, was forging ahead.

However, Jung, from his continued analysis of patients, and from his own experiences, was beginning to form doubts in his own mind. There was something, he began to think, inadequate in Freud’s theory. He hardly dared, at this time, to make any formal criticism; but finally, after a great conflict, he was moved, even inspired, to write his first great book. This book is entitled “The Psychology of the Unconscious.”

He has said of it that it was a voyage of discovery. He himself, when he started it, hardly knew to what depths it would lead him, to what conclusions it would force him. But when he was finished, he knew that he could no longer withhold his own point of view and that this would inevitably lead to a break with Freud.

It proved to be so. Freud was shocked and appalled. He sent the manuscript back with a letter in which their relationship was ended. He said that Jung had betrayed the psycho-analytic movement, that he had ventured out beyond the bounds of science, and that he was seeking to destroy the greatest values in the new psychology.

Of course such a break was inevitable, and in the end it proved fortunate. It set Jung free. He could now go on, without hindrance, in his great task, which led finally to the greatest contributions thus far made.

The break itself may be traced to a divergence between two theories of the unconscious. As will be remembered, Freud’s theory would define the unconscious as something which is produced after we are born, and when the repressions begin. All that is anti-social, that flies in the face of conventional morality and the law of the land, everything that is taboo, gets walled off from the conscious mind, and is henceforth the unconscious mind. The unconscious then is a storehouse of the evil, the thwarted, the unconventional, the instinctive.

Jung does not deny that a part of the unconscious is exactly of this nature. But in “The Psychology of the Unconscious” he proceeds to prove, by a wealth of material and a sureness of analysis, that the unconscious is something far deeper and greater than merely a personal bag of discards.

He finds in numerous typical dreams and phantasies of his patients that they reproduce symbols and stories as old as the human race. He shows that the human mind everywhere, among the most widely scattered peoples, and in different ages, produces the same typical myths, the same figures of deities and demons; and that the patient of today gives forth, in analysis, a similar mythology; and very often something which he, the patient, has been utterly ignorant of and which is beyond his understanding.

He finds further that man has always had what might be called a typical psychological fate; that the story of man’s inner life and development has always taken a certain form, embodied in the figure of the hero. The hero, in the myth, is always he who goes forth to conquer greatly, who overcomes dragons and supernatural powers, but who finally loses his power, is subjugated and dies an inner death. But out of this death he is reborn and appears with a new life, often magical, by which he goes on to his greater achievements.

Such a death and rebirth is pictured in the story of the crucifixion of Jesus. It appears in a modern work, in “Jean-Christophe,” where the hero suffers a spiritual disintegration and can no longer compose music, but with the first breath of Spring, feels the new tides of life pouring into him and rises to the greatest heights of his creative power. Such, too, is doubtless the inner story of our greatest American poet, Walt Whitman. When he was about 35, and after suffering some deep personal reverse, he secluded himself on Long Island beside the sea for some weeks, and had a spiritual experience which led to his awakening as a poet and the beginning of “Leaves of Grass.”

What is this typical myth? It is known as the sun-myth, for the savage doubtless based it on the strange fact that the sun, after setting in the west, rose again the following morning in the east. This sun-myth, boiled down to its essentials, is somewhat as follows: The sun is the hero. He is born of the mother, the sea, in the east. He rises in his splendor and reaches the zenith. But now his strange descent begins, and when he reaches the west, he must re-descend into the waters of the sea, die again and re-enter the mother’s womb. Actually he is pictured as being devoured by a sea monster. In the belly of this monster he rides in the sea under the earth back toward the east. At first he lies supine; but finally, plucking up courage he begins to battle with the monster. Finally he kills him, and the body of the great fish floats to shore, where the hero, the sun, steps out reborn, and rises again in the east.

This story, based on something seen in nature, is found to be typical of man’s soul. And Jung discovered that wherever an analysis was carried far enough, this typical myth appeared in various forms in the dreams of the patient, and the patient went through an experience analogous to the myth.

What is this experience? A man has reached a high point of development and achievements. There comes upon him now a sense of deadness and futility, a period of disillusionment and turning away from the world, the experience which is described in the beginning of Goethe’s “Faust.” This inner death proceeds until he is lost in himself, until he is, in the language of the myth, devoured by the monster; and now he goes through a long period of inner suffering and groping until the time comes when a new life awakens and he goes back to the world of men with a greater energy, a new vision, and perhaps a new life-task. So, in the beginning of Nietzsche’s “Thus Spake Zarathustra,” we see the hero step forth after his years of preparation in the wilderness to bring his message to the world of men.

This then is the typical experience of those who carry their development to any height. What is its meaning psychologically?

There is no understanding of it, says Jung, unless we broaden the conception of the unconscious. And with this he introduces his theory of the collective unconscious.

The human body is the product of millions of years of evolution, and in it is written the history of life. It is not a sudden creation. If this is true of the body, how can it be anything but true of the mind, which is a function of the body? The mind, too, is a product of millions of years of evolution, and just as the history of life is written in the flesh, so too the history of man’s spirit, his adventure, is summed up in the mind. In other words, the new born babe does not present a mind like a blank sheet of paper on which his personal experience will begin to write; he is born with the great inheritance of the race, the collective unconscious, in which is stored the wisdom of the ages as well as the great instincts, and what Jung calls “the residues of our animal ancestry.”

How do we know this? Because the mind of a man today, a man even ignorant and unread, will, on certain occasions, produce the same myths, the same supernatural figures, the same psychic phenomena as those produced thousands of years ago, and the same in every part of the earth among the most widely separated nations and races.

In short, the unconscious contains typical images and typical stories. And whence did these arise? It is quite natural that the presence in our own unconscious of a wisdom greater than ours and at the same time of animal instincts sometimes overwhelming in their destructiveness, should give the savage, for instance, a sense of the nearness of supernatural powers of good and evil, of some supernatural wisdom that helped him (in the form of revelation or inspiration) and of some demonic lust or passion, which, if it swept over him, led to the orgy, the murder or insanity. Hence, these experiences would be pictured as the work of beings like those he knew, only greater. Wisdom was a Great Mother or a Great Father, a God, in short; evil was a Devil, a Demon, like a bad man, only greater and worse. And certain experiences would be pictured in the form of monsters, great strange animals, sometimes animals part human and part beast.

Thus we see an explanation for the origin of the many religions on earth, all of which have certain things in common. Some sensitive man experienced his own unconscious in the form of dreams and hallucinations. Moses for instance heard the voice of God and saw the burning bush. Psychologically, this would mean that what Moses thought was outside himself, came from within himself, came from the unconscious and was, in the technical language, projected, the vision of fire upon the bush, the voice into the air. He heard and saw something out of his own depths.

Every religion makes this projection. Heaven is up in the sky, hell under the earth; the Gods are on high, the Devils below. It has remained for modern psychology not only to locate these phenomena as in the brain itself, but also to divest them of their miraculous coating, and to explain them as something having a direct meaning in the patient’s life.

According to Jung, the collective unconscious is more or less dormant in all of us, except under certain circumstances or after certain experiences. The average man goes on unaware of his own demonic and divine attributes. But in a lynching-bee or in battle the devil will suddenly awake and transform him from something human into something monstrous. On the other hand, the youth falling headlong in love, the man who sustains the death of his loved one and similar great experiences of life, will encounter the presence of ineffable wisdom and power, so that he feels he is visited by something beyond the human.

But the process of analysis also leads to the experience of the collective unconscious. Psycho-analysis is self-discovery. One goes deeper and deeper into oneself. One goes back on the track of the years to one’s childhood. One exhausts in the process one’s personal memories. One goes down, as it were, beyond the personal layers of the unconscious, to the impersonal. At this point the manifestations of the collective unconscious begin, and the dreams are now loaded with mythological conceptions, and images of the supernatural.

This deep entering into oneself Jung defines as introversion, a self descent, and a means of development, a discipline not only in the wisdom of all time, but in overcoming the undeveloped tendencies in oneself. It is at this point that the hero is devoured by the monster, the unconscious, and makes that voyage that leads to his rebirth.

Dante depicts this in his Divine Comedy. The hero, Dante, is led by Virgil, down through the depth of Inferno (the evil side of the unconscious), up the mount of Purgatory (the overcoming) and finally reaches Paradise, where he finds Beatrice, an image of his soul, and a new wisdom, a new life are his.

Naturally one cannot do justice to so deep a conception within the space allotted. But we can see at a glance that much that is otherwise inexplicable, save on the ground of something miraculous and supernatural, is now given a more natural explanation. We can understand the genius as one who has the gift of tapping his unconscious and bringing forth works which are impossible to the run of men. We can understand why man has always needed a religion. We can understand those intuitions which lead to new discoveries in science. Man has a storehouse of wisdom in himself.

We can also understand the strange aberrations of insanity, of those unfortunates who are caught, as it were, in the collective unconscious, and live only in a world of demons and divinities and uncanny myths. We can understand too the demonic outbreaks in war, and the cause of many crimes. I know of the case of a man who was a clergyman, and who, each time he had finished an impassioned sermon which passed through the audience like a rousing electricity, immediately went to a brothel and indulged in an orgy of drink and sexuality. He was a man under the complete dominance of the collective unconscious. First the divine side appeared, with its marvelous inspirations; then the demonic, dragging him in the mud.

It must not be thought, from the foregoing, that Jung rejected the sexual theory of Freud. What he did was to modify this theory, holding that not all cases of neurosis registered sexual repression or maladjustment. He fully agreed however, that the Oedipus complex appears as one of the great problems, but instead of interpreting dreams of this nature to mean that the son actually had incestuous longings for the mother, he took such dreams, like all others, to be symbolic. If a man dreams that a monster devours him, it does not mean that he is literally eaten by a large animal. It means that he has made a deep introversion. So too a dream of incest means that the son has reunited himself with the mother. But what does the mother mean? She may symbolize that period of his life when he actually was united with her spiritually, the time of early childhood, a time when he was irresponsible, taken care of, sheltered, helped. His dream may mean then that he longs to be like a child again; he longs to escape from the hardships of adaptation and his present problems.

On the other hand the mother may have a deeper meaning. She may appear with a supernatural air about her, and stand for the collective unconscious itself, which is the source (or mother) of our conscious life. The longing of the son for the mother, from this standpoint, is the longing for descent into self, for deep introversion. It has the meaning of the sun-myth where the setting sun is devoured by the monster and starts on his journey toward rebirth.

Since there is great danger in the withdrawal from life, in an introversion that in a way shuts one in oneself, whether one does this as an escape from responsibility or from a longing for self-development, it is natural that the myth should represent this incest-longing as taboo, as forbidden, just as real incest is, and that it is only the hero who can overcome this taboo and make that great descent which Dante pictures in his Inferno, and which in Faust is shown as the perilous descent to the Mothers.

V.
THE INTROVERT VS. THE EXTRAVERT.

If the reader has compared Freud’s sexual theory with Adler’s power theory, he must have been struck by the fact that both theories sound plausible. It is certainly true that the conventional morality of civilization causes us to suppress certain instinctive desires. If a man is by nature polygamous, and is taught the ideal of monogamy in such a way as to believe that even the thought of illicit love is a sin, it is reasonable to think that he may repress his polygamous tendencies, thus paving the way for an unconscious conflict and a neurosis.

But, on the other hand, who has not, at least at times, had the painful feeling of inferiority and not been stirred by an ambition to get on top? What seems more natural than that the stammerer, Demosthenes, should strive to achieve greatness as an orator, or that a club-footed Byron should attempt to make himself a conqueror of women and a famous poet? Certainly the struggle for power is as widespread and clearly discernible in life as the instinctive drive for sexuality and a full love-life.

It is at this point that the greatness of Jung emerges. He had, in the course of his investigations, come upon a startling divergence of reaction among his patients, so that he was forced to conclude that there were two kinds of human being, as different, if not more different, from each other, than the two sexes. These two types he named the extravert and the introvert.

He next discovered that these two types had long been noted by men of genius under such designations as objective and subjective, romantic and classical, realistic and idealistic, materialistic and spiritual. William James called them the tough-minded and the tender-minded. William Blake, the English poet, said of them:

“There are two classes of men: the prolific and the devouring. Religion is an endeavor to reconcile the two.”

Jung interprets prolific here to mean, “the fruitful, who brings forth out of himself”; and “the devouring, as the man who swallows up and takes into himself.”

Needless to say the prolific type, which has appeared under the designations of the objective, romantic, realistic, materialistic and tough-minded, is, more exactly defined, the extravert, and the devouring type which was also called the subjective, classical, idealistic, spiritual and tender-minded, is the introvert.

What characterizes the extravert is that his interest is normally centered on things outside himself. An excellent example was our own Theodore Roosevelt. He was thoroughly extraverted, with instant response to the world about him. His attention was given wholeheartedly to anything that caught it. He was a man with an immense diversity of interests, from birds and flowers, to simplified spelling, from a local political fight to an international war; poetry, Greek coins, history, hunting, sports, finance,—the list was almost endless. And into each of these interests he could throw himself full force, and with astonishing power. He was as interested in men as in things, and his friends included people from every walk of life. He was well adapted to life, and made himself at home almost anywhere. What characterized him chiefly was that he gave himself without stint, went into action at a moment’s notice, had a tendency to practicality and common sense which kept him from being an extremist; was, in short, an excellent opportunist, knowing, very often, just when to strike, just what to say, with a decisiveness that won through. He was the fighting man, the man of action, the man of his own time, his own age, his own country.

He was, in other words, a man “orientated by the object.” That is to say, his life was determined by things and thoughts and ideas coming to him from the outside, in the main. If an enemy showed his head, he struck; if a friend, he clasped hands; if a popular movement appeared, he led it; if there was a war he wanted to be in it; if someone else originated a good idea (not too radical) he took it over and made it his.

It will be seen from this that the extravert is normally a man who is a harmonious part of the world as it is. This does not mean, of course, that he will be merely a conservative; for the world is in constant change, and an intelligent extravert will be one-to-one with the forward tide. But since he is, to a large extent, bound up in the things outside himself, he is, mainly, a reflection of the world. He could almost say of himself, “I am—what I love.”

His shortcomings are obvious. He covers a lot of ground, but necessarily in a shallow way. He cannot be deep, because depth implies a certain slowness, a certain amount of meditation and constant study, a brooding and solitude. He originates but little, for it is the thoughts and ideas of others which interest him. He is an enemy to anything really new, anything pregnant with the future, because it collides with the world as it is, which is the world he loves. Finally, he lacks an inner life, the more creative and profound life; a fact which the keen-sighted Roosevelt knew very well, for he said of himself, “My danger is that I forget I have a soul.”

Such is a brief sketch of the extravert as he appears in a pronounced, perhaps an extreme form. The value of using an extreme case is, of course, that he covers the whole territory, and we can see in him the various sides of the type. Hence, it will be valuable to consider an extreme introvert, the direct opposite of Roosevelt, so that we may come to an understanding of the contrasting type.

If the extravert is characterized by the fact that his interest is normally centered in things outside himself, the introvert is characterized by the fact that his interest is normally centered on things inside himself. From the extravert’s standpoint this would mean that the introvert was a man who thought of nothing but himself, was consumed with his own aches and pains, his own fears and hopes, and perhaps certain erratic and absurd or dangerous ideas. For everything that the extravert holds most dear, as action, fitting in, being a “good fellow,” getting on, the introvert looks upon as rather shallow and cheap, and vice versa, everything most valuable to the introvert seems foolish, absurd, ridiculous, dangerous to the extravert.

Naturally, to be interested in the things inside oneself need not be anything trivial. Within oneself is the world of thought and ideas, the world of imagination, the world out of which every art, every religion, every philosophy, every invention, every fresh discovery of science, every new idea for the advancement and development of the race has sprung. Kant, oblivious of the world, sat and brooded, until out of himself sprang a great philosophy which wrought a change in the mind of Europe. A Jesus from his solitary brooding brings forth a new religion. A Michaelangelo in his isolation gives birth to colossal art.

We find in Friedrich Nietzsche an example of the extreme introvert. His life, like those of most introverts who were extreme, was devoid of action and hence without history. There is very little to say about it, for the real drama took place within him. He served for a short time in a war, but was discharged because of sickness. He taught philology for a time in a university. But finally, on a small income, he retired, and led a secluded life, producing his works, until, while still in the prime of life, he became insane. He did not marry; he had but few friends; he was a solitary.

Where Roosevelt presents the picture of a man at home in the world, Nietzsche is seen as a stranger in it, an alien. Where Roosevelt went straight out and acted, Nietzsche withdrew into his shell. Where Roosevelt forgot himself in others, in causes, in the glamour and absorption of things, Nietzsche remained in a state of acute self-consciousness. A Roosevelt glories in the world and thinks it is good and the people in it excellent and interesting; a Nietzsche sees it as full of horrible and terrible things and is filled with revulsion at the sight of human cowardice, slothfulness and depravity. Where a Roosevelt spreads himself all over, interested in a multitude of objects, a Nietzsche concentrates more and more on a few things, a few ideas, a life which shuts out as much as possible anything that will disturb his predetermined path.

This is the normal attitude of the introvert. He is ill adapted to the outer world, because he is absorbed in the inner world. And this absorption leads, in the case of a Nietzsche, to great discoveries and great works.

If we remember Jung’s conception of the collective unconscious as the summation of the past, the storehouse of wisdom, the creative source, we may readily understand that the collective unconscious is the psychic stream of life itself and that it not only bears the past in it, but also the budding future. That which is to be lies creatively within it, and is revealed to the great artist, the great thinker in majestic symbols and so-called visions. That is why we say that great art and great thought are always ahead of the world. For the extreme introvert, absorbed in himself, lives in that world of imagination where the products of the collective unconscious become known to him. He has deep intuitions, he actually may have symbols and ideas presented to him in dream and phantasy, even in hallucination. The English mystic, Blake, actually saw the forms and shapes which he drew, and claimed, also, that some of his poems were dictated to him by a voice. I have already spoken of Moses’ experience with the burning bush and the voice of God.

It was quite natural therefore that Nietzsche should have been a forerunner. Out of his years of solitude there came at last an eruption from the unconscious which was nothing short of amazing. Each part of Thus Spake Zarathustra, and each part is about a hundred pages long, was written in ten days. The thoughts and words came so fast that Nietzsche could not keep up with them. If he was walking, he had to write on scraps of paper. The experience was so overwhelming that he compared it with that of the Biblical prophets, and said that not in two thousand years had there been another such case of inspiration.

What is Thus Spake Zarathustra? It is an incomparable picture of the collective unconscious, as Jung points out, and foreshadows the new psychology, which by the slow, painfully cumulative method of science has come to some of the same discoveries that Nietzsche grasped intuitively. It also is an indictment of Christian civilization and foreshadows its breaking up by the erection of a new principle, the Anti-Christ, the principle of power.

It is, therefore, a revolutionary document, so far in advance of the time when it was written that Nietzsche dared to show it only to seven people, most of whom rejected it. He felt that he was in utter isolation, a “voice crying in the wilderness.”

What Nietzsche celebrates (as shown in the section on Adler) is will-to-power. The doctrine of Christianity is love, and the rule of love has certain implications. It means that everyone is included, for in the eyes of love the object is always valuable. To a loving mother the child who is an idiot is as precious (if not more so) than his more normal brothers and sisters. She loves him: that gives him value. Hence the rule of love means equality, fraternity, democracy. It leads to the idea of the greatest good for the greatest number. It leads, in short, to the idea of numbers; the rule of the many.

Its dangers are obvious. Everything new, original, different is pulled down to the common level. It breeds the spirit of conformity, and finally eventuates in the Babbitts, the ideals of Main Street, the formation of Ku Klux Klans. Such are the final fruits of a rampant rule of love. If your neighbors are as valuable (really more valuable) than yourself (for love always places the object above oneself) then you should submit to your neighbors, live and do as they live and do, and give up your own individual path, your own way, and anything original or new that may be created by you.

It is against this that Nietzsche comes with a voice which is far deeper than a personal voice. It is the protest of the collective unconscious itself; it is a deep racial movement against a violation of man’s own future. Hence, Nietzsche sets the individual against the race; he raises an aristocratic ideal against the democratic; he celebrates new values, original things, the exceptional and the different. As against love, he rears the doctrine of power. And by power he means the setting of oneself against the race, and the triumph of oneself, for in this triumph, the new is born, the new art, new idea, new thinking, and the race is forced into new paths of greatness.

But, seen in another light, the meaning of Zarathustra is the revolt of the introvert against the extravert.

Western civilization is the civilization of the extravert. A civilization built up on the principle of love is one which puts the accent on others, on things outside ourself. As the saying goes, it takes two to love; there is always the other, and that other is more important than oneself, if it is really love. Hence, love is the root of the extraverted attitude. As I said of Roosevelt, he might have put it of himself: “I am—what I love.”

Such a civilization, therefore, tends toward action, democracy, the rule of the many, invention, business (the exchange between people), and since the power of a civilization over the individual is almost overwhelming, it means that a Christian civilization has thwarted, twisted, deformed all those whose natures were not in accord with it. Christianity has been a violation of the introvert.

For, naturally, what Nietzsche depicts in his superman and his will-to-power, is himself. He depicts the psychology of the introvert. The introvert is governed by the power principle. Where the extravert finds relief, and only functions happily, by losing himself in others, by giving himself to the world outside him; the introvert finds relief only by remembering himself, by refusing to allow others to absorb him, by withdrawing from the outer world. The introvert is constantly striving to preserve the integrity of his ego. He seeks an inner freedom. He feels bound by the demands of others. Action takes him away from the stream of his ideas, his inner brooding, and he will not have much of it. Serving others often seems to him a shallow thing, a waste of time, compared with the great discovery he is tracking, or the art he is aiming to achieve.

Power vs. love—introvert vs. extravert.

And how is it that two such dissimilar human beings appear in the same world? We have only to go back to the root-instincts in man to come to some sort of understanding. As we know, the two great instincts are that of self-preservation and that of race-preservation. Self-preservation leads us to think of ourselves, to turn the eye inward. It is selfish, hence, it is power, not love. Race-preservation leads us to think of others, of wife and family, of neighbors, of the world, to turn the eye outward. It concerns interest in others; hence, it is more love than power.

The symbol of self-preservation is eating, devouring (we eat just for ourselves); the symbol of race-preservation is sexuality (the motive in sexuality is, unconsciously, to beget offspring).

One sees now how this discovery of the types by Jung settles the question as to the puzzling opposition between the theories of Freud and Adler.

Freud’s theory is the sexual, Adler’s the will-to-power. In other words, as Jung has pointed out, Freud is an extravert, and his theory reflects himself; Adler is an introvert, and his theory is typical of his type.

Both theories are, in a sense, true; only we must never apply the Freudian theory to an introvert, nor the Adler theory to an extravert.

It will be seen now how the theory of the collective unconscious includes both the theory of Freud and the theory of Adler and transcends them both. In the collective unconscious are both the summed up wisdom of the race with its creative forward push and also the instincts. The roots of both ego and sex are to be found there, flowering in one individual more along the ego path, in another more along the sex path.

The trouble with both Freud and Adler, according to Jung, is that they stop at this point. Their theories are reductive. The one reduces human nature back to sex, the other to power. We are nothing but—this or that. But, actually, we are also all we have experienced, and not only that, but also all the race has experienced. We are also creative. We cannot explain man only in terms of the past, in the things from which he originated (finally, the instincts), we must also explain him in terms of the future, his possibilities, the new life he is seeking, the greatness which is to be.

In short, we cannot cure a neurosis merely by explaining to a man that he has an Oedipus complex or a homosexual tendency; neither can we cure him by showing him that he has an inferiority complex and hence an abnormal will-to-power. We can only cure him by giving him a future to live; he must go out and feel that he has something to live for.

Just how psycho-analysis arrives at such a result must be reserved for a later chapter.

VI.
TYPES.

In picturing Roosevelt as an extravert and Nietzsche as an introvert, I did not mean to imply, of course, that either lacked the opposite mechanism. All of us are born with both the sexual-instinct and the ego-instinct, the gift of love and the will-to-power. However, because we are loaded more one way than the other, the one tendency tends to suppress the other, and the other remains therefore, not erased, but relatively undeveloped, and shows itself in inadequate and perhaps twisted expression.

There was, of course, an extravert in Nietzsche. But that extravert lived a shadowy life beside the great introvert, and showed himself in a clumsy relationship with others, an inadequate response to the world, an inability to get along. So too was there an introvert in Roosevelt, but he was a poor one, with doubtless strange ideas sometimes breaking forth into impulsive and wrong-headed action.

All that we can say is that life forces us to accept one side more than the other, until we become, as it were, specialists along the side of extraversion or of introversion.

This specialization, of course, makes us one-sided, and this one-sidedness reaches an even greater narrowness through a still further specialization, which is that of function.

According to Jung, the human psyche is composed of four functions. These are thinking, feeling, intuition and sensation.

I do not intend to burden the reader with explanations of these terms, for we would go far afield in a maze of technicalities. I will merely try to give a hint of their meaning.

Thinking is readily recognizable. It is, in its pure form, an act of will, and it may begin with an idea, which it proceeds to illustrate and to prove, or it may begin with many separated facts and proceeds to bind them together into a theory or idea.

Feeling is a reaction of like or dislike to an object. It must not be confused with emotion. Both thinking and feeling, according to Jung, are adapted functions; that is, functions which have developed through the discipline of life, and which did not exist in their pure forms when we were born. Emotion, however, is something allied to our instinctive life and something we share with the animals. It is psychologically what Jung calls a feeling-sensation; that is to say, it is partly physical and partly mental. We see this clearly when we find an emotion of shame bringing a blush to the cheek, or one of fear setting the heart pounding, or one of joy making the pulses leap. In each case we were aware of something mental, sense of joy, fear, etc., and something physical, heart pounding, cheeks blushing, etc.

Feeling is separated from sensation and developed into something by itself. The feeling person is one who has a highly developed sense of the values of things registered through reactions of like and dislike. His immediate liking is not accidental, but due to a high sensitiveness to the really good qualities of the object; his disliking is equally a deep and a true thing.

If thinking and feeling are conscious functions, that is, more or less under the direction of the will (one makes oneself think, one learns to like and dislike), intuition and sensation are unconscious functions. There is no control of them. They simply happen.

Intuition is a sort of instant insight. It has something of the lightning flash in it. It is a seeing-into. And this seeing-into may be of something near or of something far. A man may have a hunch that a certain horse is going to win a race; a woman may have an intuition that her husband, in spite of his protests, has been untrue to her. Intuitions may also be of a deeper sort. The intuition of the painter leads him to paint the soul, the inner life of the sitter. The intuition of the inventor by a blinding flash reveals the solution of the problem.

Sensation, according to Jung, is sensing, a function which transmits a physical stimulus to perception. We see, hear, feel (contact), etc. It is our conscious sensing of the world about us through images, sounds, etc., just as intuition is an unconscious sensing of the world about us. Hence, sensation relates more closely to the physical life, the body, than any of the other functions.

Now what Jung maintains, and amply proves in his great work on Psychological Types, is that each of us is not only either an introvert or an extravert, but also that each of us develops one of these four functions at the expense of the others. There are therefore thinking types, feeling types, intuitive types and sensational types, and since any of these types is also either extraverted or introverted we have eight types.

I will merely give a few examples to show what the types are like:

Extraverted thinking type. A good example is Darwin. He was a slow, patient thinker; thinking was most obviously his most highly developed function; but this function was extraverted. That is to say, like all extraverts his attention and interest was in outer things and the ideas of others. Hence he was one who built up a theory on observed data, whether this was a direct study of plants and animals or in reading the works of others. His thoughts proceeded from the outside in.

Introverted thinking type. Kant is a good example. He was a great philosopher. Instead of proceeding from facts to theory, he proceeded from ideas to facts. That is to say, through his introversion, he received ideas from the unconscious, great ideas of a timeless nature, conceptions of time, space, etc., and these he proceeded to elaborate and prove.

Extraverted feeling type. A good example of this type is Mary Pickford. It is obvious that she is not a thinker; neither is she one of those intuitive persons who see into others and know life deeply. She feels others. She responds by like and dislike; and by the fitness of things. She is well extraverted and well adapted.

Introverted feeling type. Eleanore Duse is an example. She was a great actress; but one felt her to be one of those silent women whose feelings are all within, who nurse deep moods, who cannot express their personal selves, who have great difficulty in their relationships and tend, as a rule, to shun the world and live in seclusion.

According to Jung thinking is more a masculine function; both extraverted and introverted it is found more in men than in women; feeling is more feminine, and is usually found in women.

Extraverted intuitive type. Lloyd George, of England, is of this type. A friend of mine who met him during the war said that as soon as Lloyd George looked at him, he felt he was completely understood, that the statesman saw through him. His gift has been to see the tide even before it turned, to see the possibilities in the people about them, to leap to his conclusions with a sure agility. If the thinking and feeling types are more or less steady, pursuing a definite and logical course, the intuitive type (and sensational) is changeable, erratic, swift, fickle. This is due to the fact that wherever they see a new possibility, they leap to it, forgetting what they hitherto pursued.

Introverted intuitive type. An excellent example is that given in the last chapter, that of Nietzsche. His intuitions were of the introverted kind. He saw inwardly, into the unconscious. This type is usually very badly adapted to the world. It is close to the unconscious, and its great intuitions of change, disaster and the new order of the future put it at variance with society to such an extent as to make life very difficult. Undoubtedly such men have always been the great mystics, the great prophets, as Jung quotes, “the voice of one crying in the wilderness.”

Extraverted sensation type. We see examples of this type very often among actors, dancers, circus people. They are people of a very sensuous nature, depending more on the sharp stimulus of sensation than on any other function. We also see examples among men who are epicures at eating, spend much of their time on fine dressing, and who seek sensation for its own sake, sensuous surroundings, the more sybaritic forms of sexuality, etc. Among women we see an inordinate love of luxury, a theatrical exhibitionism, and self-indulgence in many forms. Since this type is the least noble (as the intuitive is the most noble) examples need not be given.

Introverted sensation type. This is a type extremely hard to define. I will merely suggest it. It is probable that the poet Poe was of this type. He was certainly introverted, but his work is not marked specifically by deep thought, by feeling or by intuition. If we consider his poetry we see that he gives us strange pictures of a No Man’s Land of the imagination; and that he senses these imaginative realms of the dead and the ghostly. We feel a reality in these dark pictures. But they have no meaning in the way of giving us to understand life more deeply or leading us to great ideas or high flights of feeling. What they do give us is a sense of “out of space, out of time,” as he himself put it. Introverted sensation gives us just that. It is a sensing of the eternal images of the unconscious.

Such, by a series of swift strokes, are the eight types. I cannot, of course, in this space, do full justice to them. They are included in this survey because they represent an important element in Jung’s work and serve to show how dark and deep are the psychological problems of the race. With eight types (possibly more) living in the world about us, there is indeed much room for misunderstanding and for human conflict.

It is also obvious that Nietzsche was psychologically correct when he said that he saw only fragments of human beings about him, and nowhere a man. Here he saw an arm, there a leg, there an eye and here an ear, there a mouth and here a breast. In short, he saw a world of specialization, where one man becomes, like Darwin, a good thinker, but also is callous to art and to the beauty and joy of life; and where another develops neither his thinking nor his insight, but spends his existence in a vain round of the senses.

It is no wonder, then, that there is so much mental sickness. Too great a one-sidedness is a violation of man’s nature, which is full of various needs and must, if it develops freely, live a rounded life. Hence, according to Jung, the basis of the neurosis is not merely a sexual problem or a problem of power; it is due to the conflict between the developed and the undeveloped functions. There comes a time for the thinker, for instance, when his outraged feeling life must manifest itself. It is at such a moment that the neurosis begins.

VII.
THE CONFLICT AND ITS SOLUTION.

If we want to put the matter in its broadest sense, we can say that the great conflict of this age is between the extraverted attitude and the introverted, between Christ and Anti-Christ, between Christianity with its democracy, its insistence on good works, its life of activity and service, its concentration, actually, on business, machinery and getting on, and on the other hand, the claims of the individual and the demands of the inner life for an enhancement of art, of research, of philosophy, of spiritual development, of freedom.

It is a conflict between the principle of love and the principle of power, and naturally, it is not only an external thing, but something that takes place in every individual who has made any sort of high development. For it is a psychic law that if we carry anything to an extreme, we meet the opposite.

This is clearly illustrated in Goethe’s Faust. The hero, Faust, has carried his introverted side to a very high development; indeed, so far, that everything he studied and all that he knows now appears lifeless and uninteresting. He is sick of himself, sick of life. It is all nothing. His search for knowledge has led nowhere. In the end all that we know is—that we cannot know. What a pity then that he has squandered his youth on study and meditation and medicine. A kind of death comes over him; which means, psychologically, that he has reached the end of one line of development, and is preparing himself to change over to another and new line.

This soon appears, in the form of a poodle dog who soon shows himself as the Devil. Both these symbols are inevitable. A dog, as shown before, relates to our more extraverted side, and it is this side for which Faust now longs. He has reached the end of his development (for the time being) as an introvert; the longing that now is awakened is for life—that is, for youth, activity, sexuality, love, ardent adventure, etc. Hence, the symbol of the dog as representing the side of himself he has not developed. But this really is also the Devil. That is to say that which is undeveloped is still in a primitive state, and through its long repression, bears the aspect of something ugly and evil. In order, therefore, to reach the “other side,” in order to begin to live out the unlived possibilities of his nature, he must sell himself to the Devil.

That is to say, that when the undeveloped side shows itself and takes command, it cannot be lived unless one is willing to go a path which may often appear evil and which is in direct defiance to what one has previously lived and thought good.

This selling out to the Devil appears as a great danger. It means that he will never be “saved,” never go to heaven. But actually in the prologue of the play, God allows the Devil to make this compact with Faust because the Devil is “a part of that power which wills the bad, but somehow works the good.” That is to say, if one is willing to step over into the undeveloped side, and live it in spite of its evil beginnings, one can only develop oneself and finally come to a higher good.

Such the drama shows. By magic Faust gains wealth and power. He seduces Gretchen, and her end is insanity, infanticide and a death that narrowly escapes the gallows. But Faust goes on, and the whole play shows how, by following the Devil, he brings the neglected side up to the developed side of himself, so that in the end the Devil is defeated and Faust gains that heaven where the two sides of his nature may now be united in harmony.

If Faust outlines the problem, another great work, the “Prometheus and Epimetheus” of Spitteler, shows its solution. Jung is at great pains to analyze this long poem in his book on Psychological Types. Prometheus and Epimetheus stand respectively for introvert and extravert. Prometheus is the idealist who withdraws from the world into himself to love and serve his soul; but Epimetheus is the man of the world, who has common sense, who obeys the conventions and who becomes a king. Epimetheus cannot wean his foolish brother from his obviously perverted way of living. A conflict arises between them, which drives Prometheus all the deeper in himself. Thus a great sickness falls not only upon him, but upon his God (the collective unconscious). His soul then brings him a jewel, a thing of magic, a wonder-child, which will save the world. But this jewel is rejected by the king and by the world, and as a result there is destruction, the king losing his throne.

“The final extinction of Good is prevented by the intervention of Prometheus. He rescues Messias, the last of the sons of God, out of the power of his enemy. Messias becomes the heir to the Divine Kingdom, while Prometheus and Epimetheus, the personifications of the severed opposites, become united in the seclusion of their native valley.... Which means, extraversion and introversion cease to dominate as one-sided lines of direction.... In their stead, a new function appears, symbolically represented by a child named Messias. He is the mediator, the symbol of the new attitude that shall reconcile the opposites.”

What is the exact meaning of this? To begin with, Prometheus and Epimetheus must be thought of, not as two men, but as the two sides of one man, the conflict, in short, between introversion and extraversion. In the normal course of development, like Faust, one develops first one side, then the other. Naturally the time must come when the conflict breaks out in full force: shall one follow the principle of power, of introversion, or that of love, of extraversion? This conflict produces a deadlock, and in this deadlock, a solution is offered by the unconscious in the form of a symbol (the jewel, the wonder-child.) But this is not understood, and there is a breakdown and collapse. However, now a new path is found which leads out.

This path Jung calls the transcendent function; this indeed is the Messias of the poem. It is part of the analytic process, and emerges only at the end of a deep analysis. What it amounts to is an inner guidance.

I have already shown that the collective unconscious is creative, that it is ahead of the race, and projects at times, through geniuses, a vision of what is to be, what is becoming. Just as it does this for the race, it also to a certain extent, and at certain times, is prospective for the individual, laying out the next step he is to take, and forecasting the next phase of his development.

This prospective quality is rarely found in the dream, though sometimes it appears there. It is usually found in the phantasy. The phantasy is a product analogous to the dream, but whereas when we dream we are fully asleep, and hence, unconscious, the phantasy appears between waking and sleeping, when we are really half-asleep. It appears as a sort of dream, sometimes as a clear plastic image, and we know, when we apprehend it, that we are not asleep.

As Jung works out in great detail, the phantasy has a greater value than the dream, for the dream is merely the product of the unconscious, whereas the phantasy is the product of both the conscious and unconscious minds working simultaneously at that moment when we are half-conscious, or between the two. Hence, it contains in symbolic form, our deepest insight, our deepest wish, our clearest foreknowledge of what to do, being in this respect also superior to our conscious working out of the problem.

It is by following the insight gained from our phantasies that we work out the problem of the deep conflict; for if we follow these phantasies, we take the next necessary step and so learn gradually to reconcile the claims of extraversion with those of introversion.

In the great religion of the Hindoos, and in fact, in a religion of the Chinese, we hear much of a Middle Path. The problem as set forth by those religions is that life consists of a pair of opposites; such for instance as spirituality vs. materialism, feminine vs. masculine, love vs. power, divine vs. demonic, etc., and they see clearly that neither extreme can bring peace. If we live one extreme then soon we thirst and hunger for the other, and this brings discord and conflict. The true wisdom of life then is to find a Middle Path, a way between the opposites. This way is not something that can be thought out and entered by violence. It is something found gradually through development in religious ritual.

It is this great thought, this truth which emerges again in modern psychology. But it comes now with a difference. Psycho-analysis is a highly specialized scientific technic. It does not deal with ritual and dogma, it does not lay down general laws to the individual. It recognizes that his problem is different from that of all other individuals, and seeks to guide him, not from without, but from within. From the material which rises naturally from his own psyche, from dream and phantasy and intuition, he gains the insight which he must follow.

Hence, religion ceases to be a mass-matter, but becomes an individual matter. As Jung puts it, every creed attempts to make us all live the phantasies of the founder of the religion. His phantasies may have been very great and very deep; but they were, in the main, his own. Every human being is constantly producing phantasies, and in these lies his own path, and not in those of someone’s else.

What is the goal then of this immense struggle in the human being, this psychic conflict which sometimes goes on to a point of shattering the individual, this inner division that cries out for healing, and which goads us forward to our development? The word that Jung gives us is individuation. We aim, he says, to be individuals in the true sense of the word. Certainly, however, the fragments that Nietzsche saw are not individuals, for an individual is one who contains the many-sidedness of human nature in a state of inner harmony. If then this one-sidedness precludes individuality, the psyche must be constantly urging us on to develop that which has been neglected in order that the undeveloped side may rise level to the developed side, and so that in the end one may be a complete, rounded, harmonious human being.

This is the light which the new psychology offers to the race at a moment of its greatest darkness. It has just fought the bloodiest and most devastating war of all history; it has fought that war in the twilight of the Gods. Its old Gods are disintegrating and vanishing. Everywhere we see the harsh conflict going on, and at the very moment when man has reached his highest point of extraversion, with his machines, his radios and phonographs and aeroplanes, his automobiles and newspapers and movies, his triumph over nature, we see everywhere the sadness and suffering of humanity, the breakdown of white civilization in Europe, the restless stirrings of the East, and an immense increase in neurosis and insanity. A great change is due; a new light has come. This new light however, is not a religion, it is nothing to broadcast and apply en masse. It is a technic which must reach individual by individual, making him known to himself, discovering for him his type with its needs and limitation, showing him his possibilities, directing him to the path of his own development. Naturally such development will be different for each individual. There are not many, as Jung shows, who must go to the painful lengths depicted in the story of Prometheus and Epimetheus, or even in the story of Faust. For the majority, a deeper self-understanding, a knowledge of the types, an ability to understand some of the products of the unconscious, a lifting off of the repressions, a full recognition of one’s own needs and desires, will be enough to bring about a more harmonious, a more fruitful life. But for the few, a higher, deeper suffering is necessary, possibly because of their gifts, which may thus be developed and become a heritage for the race.

VIII.
NOTE.

This booklet has aimed to give a glimpse of a vast territory, merely enough to set the reader toward the complete works on the subject. It has been necessary to condense and suggest, where a deeper understanding would be reached by elaboration and numerous examples. For those who care to study the matter more deeply it is suggested that they begin Jung by reading the second edition of his Papers in Analytical Psychology. This is a difficult book because it contains a series of articles which show his growth, step by step toward a new insight. Much that he writes there he has since discarded. However, it is well to read whatever of it one finds interesting.

The next step is to read The Psychology of the Unconscious, which uncovers the theory of the collective unconscious; and finally Jung’s master-work up to this time, his Psychological Types.

If I have stimulated the reader to the point where he desires to go on to these works, then the purpose with which I wrote this little book is fulfilled.

Transcriber’s Note

Erroneously placed or missing quotation marks or punctuation have been silently corrected.

The following printer errors or inconsistencies have been changed:

- p. 5: “bads” changed to “bad” (receiving bad news)

- p. 16: “homo-sexual” changed to “homosexual” (homosexual interest)

- p. 18: “psychoanalytic” changed to “psycho-analytic” (In the course of his psycho-analytic practice)

- p. 56: “Epitheus” changed to “Epimetheus” (while Prometheus and Epimetheus, the personifications)

- p. 57: “analagous” changed to “analogous” (The phantasy is a product analogous to the dream)

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PSYCHOLOGY OF JUNG ***

Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed.

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution.

START: FULL LICENSE

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE

PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg License available with this file or online at www.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg electronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg License when you share it without charge with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country other than the United States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg work (any work on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg™ License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg work in a format other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg website (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg electronic works provided that:

- • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.”

- • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ works.

- • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work.

- • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg work, and (c) any Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg

Project Gutenberg is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg’s goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.

Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.

The Foundation’s business office is located at 41 Watchung Plaza #516, Montclair NJ 07042, USA, +1 (862) 621-9288. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.

Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg electronic works

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project Gutenberg eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

Most people start at our website which has the main PG search facility: www.gutenberg.org.

This website includes information about Project Gutenberg, including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.

Table of Contents

- The Psychology of Jung

- CONTENTS.

- THE PSYCHOLOGY OF JUNG.

- I. THE PSYCHOLOGY OF THE FUTURE.

- II. THE SEXUAL THEORY.

- III. WILL-TO-POWER.

- IV. THE BREAK BETWEEN FREUD AND JUNG.

- V. THE INTROVERT VS. THE EXTRAVERT.

- VI. TYPES.

- VII. THE CONFLICT AND ITS SOLUTION.

- VIII. NOTE.

- Transcriber’s Note

- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE