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A STUDY OF JUN GIAN ARCHETYPES
IN THREE HEMINGWAY NOVELS

By

Susan F. Howard

A DISSERTATION

Submitted to
Michigan State Universi
in partial fulfillment of the reqmrements
for the degree of

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

Department of English

1988

ABSTRACT

A STUDY OF JUN GIAN ARCHETYPES
IN THREE HEMINGWAY NOVELS

By

Susan Howard

This thesis is a Jungian archetypal study of three Hemingway works:
We MW, and MW.
Although Hemingway’s portrayal of fishing, the bullfight, hunting, war, and
other predominantly male occupations has often caused his work to be
classified as "masculine," a close textual study reveals imagery and symbols of
a "feminine" nature. Not only (and not always) Hemingway’s women, but also
his protagonists, embody archetypally feminine traits. Examining the
characters, settings, images, and symbols in these fictions, unconscious
archetypes emerge which Jung associated with the process of individuation--
the progressive integration into consciousness of unconscious contents. This
thesis illustrates that changing archetypal configurations in works from
different periods of Hemingway’s writing career reveal his increasing artistic
ability to penetrate deeper portions of his unconscious.

The archetypal quest motif is evident in each work. Each text also
contains contrasting images of infertility in the cultural domain of the
symbolic "fathers," and images of rejuvenation and renewal in the realm of
the Great Mother-the pre-patriarchal world of nature and her cyclic
processes of transformation. In each fiction, the realm of the fathers--the

persona and masculine ego-consciousness-is contrasted with the realm of

Susan Howard

unconscious feminine archetypes: the shadow, anima/animus, primordial
feminine, the wise old man, and the self.

Shadow and anima projections dominate relationships in W
Rises where the primordial feminine furnishes compensating images of
wholeness. By the novel’s end, Jake has learned to withdraw his projections.

Robert Jordan in W15, also struggles with shadow and

anima projections. Before he dies, Jordan attains glimpses of the wisdom of
the archetypal wise old man and the self. In Ilhe 91;! Man and the Sea.
Santiago embodies within himself the wise old man and the self as he returns
to society with the boon of a spiritually successful quest. The archetypal
configurations in each story support the thesis that artistically Hemingway

was increasingly able to probe deeper unconscious portions of his psyche.

Copyright by
SUSAN HOWARD
1988

Dedication

To my daughter, Carrie Howard, and to my
grandmother, Sadie Meade

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

An endeavor this extensive is not undertaken alone. Many people
assisted in the inception of my research topic as well as in its completion.
First, I wish to e ress m gratitude to members of my guidance committee,
the composition 0 which as chan ed over time. Although Glenn Wright did
not live to see his mentorship’s ition in this dissertation, it was he who
Blamed the idea of usin Jungian arche es as a vehicle for examining
'terature. In his class I st examined a 'terary text, Faulkner’s M
Moses, from a Jungian perspective.

Linda Wagner-Martin, chairperson of my committee, has been unfailingly
supportive of this divergent readrng of literature. Under her Iguidance, I first
began viewing Hemingway’s literature from this vantage. inda read and
critiqued each chapter in record time, offering encouragement throughout the
process. Through Linda’s gentle prodding and careful criticism, I learned more
about my own writing, and observed an exemplary writing teacher.

Sam S. Baskett generously agreed to sit on my committee just prior to
my defense. However, Sam’s mvolvement in the inception of my toprc dates
back to a class I had with him in which I examined w from
the point of view of the archetypal quest motif. I deeply appreciate Sam’s
enthusiasm and support; his criticrsm o my writing has been mcisive.

The rofessor with whom I have worked most closely in my graduate
career is tephen Tchudi. Steve has attempted to lead me to understand the
importance of developing my own identity as human being, teacher, research-
er, and writer. I am just beginning to truly understand the gift of personal
growth he imparted.

Jay Ludwig has also led me in the direction of greater levels of self-
awareness. Learnin about the subjectivity inherent in the processes of
reading and writing in general, I have learned to observe these processes in
nlly own learning and have done my best to apply the principles in my own
c assroom.

In addition to my committee, there are many others who have
contributed to this dissertation. Victor Howard encouraged me to pursue an
advanced degree. He had the confidence, which I lacked, that I could attain
this goal. He has been continuously supportive throughout.

M daughter Carrie atiently endured my preoccupation with studies
during er high school an early university years. There were times when I
was unable to respond to her needs because of my own busy schedule.

vi

During the writing of this dissertation, with its many discouragin days, she
was a tower of strength and support, often reflecting to me a vice I had
given her such as, "This too shall pass away."

My grandmother is ninety Iyears old. Before beginning to write, I was
debating aloud whether or not really cared enough to finish a dissertation.
She inspired me to overcome m inertia by suggesting that it would be a
shame to "quit” a project which had begun. On days when I felt as if I
could not write another word, I remembered her words and her spirit, both of
which helped me to endure.

Melissa Andrea and Judy Ellickson, friends and "soul sisters," first
introduced me to the psychology of Carl Jung} They completed their Ph.D.’s
and assured me that I could do the same. oughout the process, they have
provided critical insights as well as unfailing support and encouragement.

Cheryl Vossequil, friend and fellow graduate student, has been an
unswerving source of encouragement throughout the writing process. Through
numerous letters and phone calls, she talked me through some tough
moments.

Vir ' 'a Brown, friend and colleague, set an example showing that one
can teac full time and simultaneously comglete the requirements for a
doctorate. Gini has been a loyal, caring 'end, and as a teacher par
excellance, she was a constant source of ideas and encouragement. Also, she
generously proofread chapters and offered excellent advice regarding changes.

Kate Veihl, friend, colleague, and mentor, has offered constant support
durin the writing process. Her positive attitude and encouragement, her
belie in my ability to continue on the days when I felt as if I couldn’t, led
to the completion of the project. Kate is truly an example of the (Power of
positive thinkin , and in her own search for connection With the Go dess, has
enabled me to come more understanding of the feminine principle. I have
more to learn from her in that regard.

Other teachers I would like to acknowledge are: Irmis Popoff, teacher
in the Gurdjieff Work; Mary Montgomery, teacher of the Alexander
Technique; Bea Reed, Jun rian analyst; Pam Moore, Buddhist devotee and
friend; and Susan Breck, fe ow seeker, massa e therapist, and friend. I have
had the good fortune to have a plethora 0 "teachers” during my lifetime,
lgginnaifiig with my parents and grandparents. It would be impossible to thank

em .

 

 

 

 

My colleagues at East Lansing High School have been kind, caring,
thoughtful, and generous. Although I cannot mention all who have provided
encouragement, I shall mention those I saw most frequently and who
continued to listen to me even during the months when could speak of
nothing but dissertation: Dolores Fitzgerald, Geor e Graeber, Patty Hoppe,
Cara Jones, Beth Lawrence, Marilyn Laughlin, Peg hfinar (1, Ken Norris, Beverly
Olsen, and Bob Soule.

Finally, I wish to express my appreciation to the administrators--

articularly Larry Bukowski, principaluand Board of Education of the East

ing Public Schools who generously allowed me to take leaves of absence

on two occasions so that I could devote full attention to writing. Without
that time off, I doubt that I would have been able to finish this dissertation.

viii

PREFACE

In a note to his essay, "W15 as Mythic Narrative,"
John J. Teunissen said, "A thoroughgoing Jungian analysis of the book, which
I have not had the space to undertake here, would discover many other
archetypal counterpoints for Hemingway’s characters" (69). Teunissen was
referring to Delbert Wylder’s depiction of Pilar as one of Jung’s "dual
mothers" (160). A "thoroughgoing Jungian analysis" of W
Tells or any other Hemingway novel has not been published, and in what
appears to be this lapse in critical coverage, my study attempts to implement
Teunissen’s suggestion. It examines not only mm, but
also WW, and W from the POth 0f
view of Jungian depth psychology.

While this study of Hemingway’s works is unique, it is not without
precedent. A study of Jungian archetypes in Hemingway’s fiction entails close
study of the texts’ symbols, and many critics have read Hemingway
symbolically. Hemingway, himself, encouraged reading his works on several
levels. One well-known writing tenet was his determination to ”tell the
truth.” He was convinced that writing, ”‘out of his experience, should
produce a truer account than anything factual can be’" (Hemingway 64). In
addition, Hemingway’s famous "iceberg" analogy expressed in MM;
Afiemgen suggests the necessity of reading his work symbolically:

If a writer of prose knows enough about what he is writing about
he may omit things that he knows and the reader, if the writer is
writing truly enough, will have a feeling of those things as
strongly as though the writer had stated them. The dignity of
movement of an iceberg is due to only one-eighth of it being above
water (183).

Although Hemingway unfailingly refused to interpret his works for readers, he

accorded his writings multi-dimensional meaning.

The critical approach of viewing Hemingway’s characters, settings, and
images as symbols revealing underlying archetypes began in the 1940’s with
Malcolm Cowley. In his introduction to W later
published as "Nightmare and Ritual in Hemingway," Cowley called attention to
the symbolic nature of Hemingway’s art: "you perceive his kinship with a
wholly different (from the realists and naturalists) group of novelists, let us
say with Poe and Hawthorne and Melville: the haunted and nocturnal
writers, the men who dealt in images that were symbolic of an inner world"
(40). Cowley claimed that instead of retrieving abstract symbols from past
literary sources as had Eliot, Hemingway had ”a feeling for half-forgotten
sacraments; his cast of mind is pre-Christian and prelogical" (49). Reflecting
on the rituals that pervade Hemingway’s fictions, Cowley went on to say that
the writer had:

An instinct for legends, for sacraments, for rituals, for symbols
appealing to buried hopes and fears, that helps to explain the
power of Hemingway’s work...Most of us are also primitive in a
sense, for all the machinery that surrounds our lives. We have our

private rituals, our little superstitions, our symbols and fears and

nightmares; and Hemingway reminds us unconsciously of the hidden
worlds in which we live (50).
In the mid-forties, Cowley was addressing the appeal of Hemingway’s
literature to not only the conscious psyche, but also to the unconscious.

After Cowley‘s first assertion of the symbolism inherent in Hemingway’s
art, other critics followed. Edmund Wilson in "Emergence of Hemingway" also
noted the ”shadows" and observed an emotional and moral complexity behind
the realism in Hemingway‘s art (58). Carlos Baker became the leading
spokesperson for viewing Hemingway’s works as symbolic. In new
W51 (1952), Baker stated the thesis underlying his symbolic
approach:

From the first Hemingway has been dedicated as a writer to the
rendering of Wei}, the precise and at least partly naturalistic
rendering of things as they are and were. Yet under all his
brilliant surfaces lies the controlling 121911111118, the symbolic
underpainting which gives so remarkable a sense of depth and
vitality to what otherwise might be flat two-dimensional portraiture
(289).
Baker’s approach to Hemingway’s symbolism called for finding the natural
symbols—the images and actions of real life on which Hemingway based his
fictionsuand viewing and amplifying the underlying symbolic structure of
these symbols in his work as a whole. Through this symbolism, deeper truths
were embodied, truths shared by humankind.

Other critics followed in the tradition of Baker. Verne H. Bovie wrote
"The Evolution of a Myth: A Study of the Major Symbols in the Works of
Ernest Hemingway,” a dissertation which drew heavily on the symbols

elaborated by Baker. The metaphor of the ”machine in the garden" underlies
Allen Guttmann’s ”Mechanized Doom: Ernest Hemingway and the Spanish
Civil War,” an essay in which the author saw in W115 a
symbolic struggle between men and machines. Though depicting the struggle
in Spain, the conflict itself also applies to industrialized nations in general
and in particular to the struggle in nineteenth century America. Once the
symbolic realm was opened, many interpretations followed.

Cowley and Baker began an approach to Hemingway criticism which has
become diverse but which still centers on a symbolic reading of Hemingway’s
works. Two major studies used Freudian psychoanalytic interpretations of
Hemingway’s life and his art: Philip Young’s WA
mm (1966) and Richard B. Hovey’s Hemingway; flhe Inward
[em (1968). Both authors identified the protagonists of Hemingway’s
fictions as Hemingway himself. The characters, settings, and actions were
viewed as conscious manifestations of the author’s personal unconscious.
Hemingway was seen as a writer with a neurosis which he attempted, with
more or less success, to exorcise through his art. Philip Young cited the
repetition of three concerns in Hemingway’s works: "the wound and the
break, the code, and a working adjustment of them" (80). Attempting to
explain this repeated theme he referred to Freud’s concept of "repetition
compulsion” which explains the neurotic desire time after time to revisit an
early trauma: ”in order not to destroy ourselves, we destroy other things"
(166).

Additionally, psychoanalysis shows that people adapt to trauma by
implementing primitive rituals. The importance of ritual in Hemingway’s

fiction as well as in his life is legend. Thus, Young concluded, Hemingway‘s

obsession with ldlling and death was due to a traumatic wound he received in
World War 1. Young saw Hemingway’s suicide as a possible confirmation of
his insights. In addition to the neurotic trauma of Hemingway’s wound,
Hovey cited the oedipal conflict as the basis of Hemingway’s neurosis.
Chronicling the predominance of images of violence and death in
Hemingway’s works, and the infrequency of strong affirmations of love, Hovey
concluded that ”his art seldom gets free of his neurosis" (219). Both Young
and Hovey viewed Hemingway’s art and life as symbolic of a neurotic
personal unconscious; however, neither claimed that their interpretations of
Hemingway’s art were definitive.

Perhaps the most frequently cited symbolism in Hemingway’s art is that
of the hero and the heroic quest motif. Whether symbolist or not, many
critics agreed that a composite Hemingway "hero" emerged from the fictions.
Often that figure was identified with Hemingway himself. While the hero
changes names and identities in various works, the hero is characterized by
his strict adherence to a moral code as a means of mitigating the terror and
chaos with which life besets human beings. Others have discussed the
similarity between the ”quests" of Hemingway's protagonists and ancient quest
motifs. Most often mythographers, particularly Joseph Campbell, were the
source for the mythic interpretations. However, others used, at least in part,
a Jungian approach.

In contrast to the approach of the Freudians as well as others who
equate Hemingway’s protagonists with their author, Delbert Wylder, in
HemmLflemes, made an effort to disentangle the protagonists of
Hemingway’s fictions from one another and from the life of their creator. By

so doing be traced the growth of Hemingway as an artist, pointing out the

changes in both Hemingway's conception of the hero as well as innovations in
his artistic technique. The protagonists of Hemingway’s first four novels,
according to Wylder, were not heroes at all but anti-heroes. In his later
novels, beginning with We Wylder found prototypes for
the heroic protagonists in mythic heroes of the past. Wylder’s method of
analysis was not limited to a particular frame of reference until he discussed
the last novels, and there he employed the language of mythographer Joseph
Campbell.

Other literary scholars affirmed the importance of mythic elements in
Hemingway’s works. British critic John Atkins in W
HEW refuted charges that the universal myths of the past were not
alive in Hemingway as they were, for instance, in Eliot. Atkins cited as
mythic elements in Hemingway’s art the various and often repeated rituals, in
particular the bullfight with its mythic, mystical significance. Also, he said
that Hemingway created myths from the life about him, such as Harry
Morgan’s "sense of union with the life-principle itself' before he died (166).

Two critics utilized Jungian terminology in viewing the symbolic nature
of Hemingway’s art. Earl Rovit, in his study Emestflemingway, used both
Freudian psychoanalysis as well as Jungian depth psychology. While he did not
discuss the archetypes emerging in the process of individuation, as the
present study does, Rovit examined the "introspective journey motif“ (91).
Beginning with "Big Two Hearted River" he focused on the hero’s movement
through painful confusion, learning from a wise tutor, the embodiment of the
wise old man or the archetype of the self, and the final resolution in Ihe
9151mm where the teacher (tutor) has split into hero and boy.

Of particular interest is Rovit’s examination of time in Hemingway’s work.

xiv

He discusses Hemingway’s technique of creating a sense of the ”now"-a sense
of mystical timelessness, the ”always” time of Robert Jordan’s mystical
experiences. While Rovit uses some Jungian terminology, his analysis of the
fictions is eclectic.

The second critic who employed a Jungian framework to examine
Hemingway’s work was Joseph DeFalco. In W
Steries DeFalco organized the stories chronologically by the protagonists’ age.
He then illustrated the characters’ progressive movement toward the
establishment of an individual self: individuation. The central focus of the
study in terms of Jungian symbolism was the heroic journey or quest motif.
This motif has two levels: an outer journey which symbolizes an inner one.
DeFalco’s reading of the stories emphasized the characters’ original trauma of
separation from containment in the collective, and their gradual creation of a
new self through action in the world. He did not include extensive analysis
of the archetypes emerging on the path toward the creation of the new self,
which this study examines, nor did he discuss Hemingway’s longer fictions.

In addition to the longer works, several essays treat Hemingway’s use of
myth and ritual. First, in "New World, Old Myths," Claire Rosenfield
examined Hemingway's portrayal of particularly American mythic rituals in
mm Secondly, in "Francis Macomber and Sir Gawain,"
Arthur Coleman said that Hemingway’s story is a modern depiction of the
theme and situation dramatized in "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight." The
archetypal theme, he contended, was the ”ceremonial conquest of fear” by way
of the knightly (or Hemingwayesque) code. Next, in Steven R. Phillips’ essay,
"Hemingway and the Bullfight: The Archetypes of Tragedy,” the author
discusses Hemingway’s bullfights as embodiments of religious ritual presided

over by bullfighter-priests. Additionally, John J. Teunissen in W
W as Mythic Narrative," said Robert Jordan goes through the mythic
process of ”deindividuation" whereby he is ritually initiated into mythic
"tempus and locus" (terms coined by Mircea Eliade) (55). Teunissen saw the
novel as part of the American tradition of romance and ritual as opposed to
political or historical considerations.

Finally, Peter L. Hays in "Hemingway and the Fisher King (‘God Rest
You Merry, Gentlemen’)," examined the Fisher King motif in Hemingway’s
story and attempted to establish, on the basis of several concurrent elements,
that Hemingway must have been familiar with Jesse Weston’s W
Remanee. Essentially, Hays argued against Cowley’s and Baker’s assertions
that Hemingway’s rituals and myths arose spontaneously from inside himself,
through his intuition, and not from scholarly sources. Although Hays cannot
conclusively "prove" that Hemingway read Weston’s account of the Fisher
King, he said that the similarity of symbolic motifs in Hemingway’s story with
those in the ancient myth is so strong that: "If he (Hemingway) did not read
W and if no friend like Ezra Pound communicated to
Hemingway much of the information that appeared in Miss Weston’s study,
then Hemingway’s sensitivity is very sharp indeed, and we must consider
giving more credence than is fashionable in scholarly circles at present to the
spontaneous appearance of Jungian archetypes" (227).

Hays poses an interesting question, one that I have also thought about
and searched to answer. How consciously did Hemingway employ mythic
motifs and symbols? How much did Hemingway know about the depth
psychology of Jung or the psychoanalytic theory of Freud? The assumption
underlying Jungian archetypes is that they are biological factors that emerge

from the unconscious spontaneously. Archetypal projections should be found
in the works of all artists. However, if authors have knowledge of archetypal
theory it would enable them intentionally to manipulate their expression.
The question must be asked, did Hemingway consciously use acquired
knowledge of Jungian archetypal theory?

In searching to find out whether Hemingway may have read the works
of either Jung or Freud, I consulted two publications listing the books in
HenfingwaY’S library- In W James D.
Brasch and Joseph Sigrnan describe Hemingway's voracious appetite for
reading. Their list of Hemingway’s books, however, contains only one title by
Freud. Item number 2370 lists: "Freud, Sigmund. 'The Basic Writings of
Sigmund Freud’" (134). There is no listing of Jung’s works. Neither is there
mention of writings either by Jung or Freud in Michael S. Reynold’s
W, though the Reynold’s book contains William James’ 1892
edition of Esyehelegy (141). The absence of references to Jungian writings
from Hemingway’s library is not a clear indication that the author did not
read Jung. (Nor would the inclusion of titles by Jung guarantee that he had
read them.) Whether he did or not, there appears to be no record.

Hemingway’s published letters reveal little information either. Within
the selected letters there is one reference to Jung and Freud. In a letter to
Wallace Meyer dated February 21, 1952, after the death of Charlie Scribner,
Hemingway told Meyer that he had asked Scribner to withhold permissions
related to the publication of Philip Young’s W. Hemingway
says that Cowley told him Young wanted to prove that all Hemingway’s
characters were Hemingway himself. Hemingway complained to Meyer:

"Criticism is getting all mixed up with a combination of the Junior F.B.I.-

men, discards from Freud and Jung and a sort of columnist peep-hole and
missing laundry list school" (751). Hemingway’s antagonism to adverse
criticism and particularly to "psychologizing," not only his works but himself,
is well known. The most that can be said on the basis of this letter,
though, is that Hemingway knew of Jung and Freud.

It is hardly conceivable, however, that Hemingway was not at least
somewhat familiar with the new psychological theories circulating in
intellectual and literary circles in the early twentieth century. One of
Hemingway’s early mentors, Gertrude Stein, had studied with William James
and actively experimented with alternative forms of fictional discourse
designed to elicit from the reader particular responses. Also, Ezra Pound’s
literary-intellectual clique, of which Hemingway formed a part, must have
been acutely sensitive to nuances emanating from the realm of scientists of
the psyche. In Wat, Baker emphasizes that
among this sophisticated set, "Jazz Age literature, with some few exceptions,
had flirted most noticeably and openly with Sigmund Freud and Tristan Tzara"
(200). But how much Hemingway knew of emerging psychological theories,
and the extent to which he consciously employed what he knew, remains a
mystery.

In his study of Hemingway’s short stories from an archetypal point of
view, Joseph DeFalco briefly addressed the problem of ascertaining how
conscious Hemingway’s use of psychological and mythological symbolism was.
He concluded that the question is finally, unanswerable, but that there are
assumptions which may be made. DeFalco focused on the journey pattern in
Hemingway’s stories, and he suggested that all of the materials of culture

were available to Hemingway to serve as resources for this motif: "This

xviii

cultural inheritance alone can account for his knowledge of the journey
pattern. Whether he adapted it consciously or intuitively, he almost certainly
observed it in his reading” (18).

I must echo DeFalco, and point to the fact that scholars have
successfully applied Jungian psychological principles to the art of many
writers-Shakespeare, Swinburne, Hesse, Emerson, Poe, Hawthorne, Dickinson,
James, and Faulkner, to name a few. Their existing readings are sufficient
evidence that the method works, that contained in the works of literary
artists are characters, settings, symbols, and images which reflect an
underlying archetypal substrate. This is not to say that a Jungian
interpretation supplants other criticisms, but rather that it compliments these,
by adding yet another dimension to the collection of interpretations already
available. The variety of criticism pertaining to Hemingway’s writing is

itself testimony to his vast talent and insight.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Rage
Abbreviations of Works Cited in Text ............. xxi
Chapter 1 A Study of Jungian Archetypes in Three
Hemingway Novels ................ 1
Some Basic Jungian Concepts .......... 2
Jung and the Study of Literature ......... 16
The Value of Hemingway’s Art in an Archetypal
Context ................... 26
Jun 'an Archetypes in "Big Two-Hearted River” . . 30
Are etypal Quest Motif ............. 31
Persona .................... 32
Masculine Ego-consciousness .......... 34
Shadow. .................... 39
Anima and Animus ............... 41
The Primordial Feminine ............ 43
Contents of Succeeding Chapters ......... 57
Chapter 2 The Sun Also Rises ................ 59
Chapter 3 For Whom the Bell Tolls .............. 116
Chapter 4 The Old Man and the Sea ............. 201
Chapter 5 Conclusion .................... 246
References ........................... 270
xx

 

ABBREVIATIONS OF WORKS CITED IN TEXT

ACU

BWJ

Art of EH
Hemingway

GM

H&F

M&HS

Qrigins

TCI of TOMATS

WM

Mn

Chapter 1

A Study of Jungian Archetypes in
Three Hemingway Novels

This book will focus on the study of three Hemingway works: Them
Macs. W115, and MiMananthLSca. These
fictions will be examined with two purposes in mind: first, to view their
archetypal content and second, to determine the extent of individuation which
the archtypes reveal about each work’s protagonist, hence about the artistic
consciousness of Hemingway himself.

Much scholarship has been devoted to analyzing Hemingway’s style, his
language, his heroes, his women, his existential views and his Victorian
attitudes, the major themes of his work, etc. However, much as the separate
elements of his fiction are of interest, they do not quite explain the whole.
Therefore, I have chosen to analyze these fictions from the point of view of
Jungian depth psychology, a comparatively new approach in Hemingway
criticism, because such an approach treats one of the most important qualities
of the fiction: its conscious and unconscious appeal.

I believe that Carl Jung’s theory about the nature of the collective
unconscious and its archetypes provides such an explanation. Also, I think

what Jung termed the process of individuation (the progressive integration

into consciousness of the compensatory contents of the collective unconscious)
can be observed through examining the characters, settings, symbols and
images portrayed in each of Hemingway’s works. The hypothesis underlying
this study is that an examination of the consciousness of the works’ heroes--
Jake Barnes, Robert Jordan, and Santiago--will reveal the increasingly
individuated artistic consciousness of Hemingway himself.

While the novels themselves are central to this study, I shall examine
them by using Jungian archetypes as a means of illuminating selected elements
of Hemingway’s art. Because of the complexity inherent in Jungian concepts,
I shall, in this introductory chapter, first briefly outline Jung’s concept of
the nature of the psyche. Thereafter, Jung’s view of literature and the
relevance of examining Hemingway’s works through the "lens" of Jungian
archetypes will be discussed. Finally, the archetypes of the collective
unconscious will be elucidated as they occur in "Big Two-Hearted River," an
early story. Each middle chapter will examine one of the major works, which
will be taken in chronological order, beginning with W
(1926), and concluding with W (1952).

Watt
Examining Jung’s conception of the nature of the psyche is difficult but
necessary. Over sixty years of empirical research, Jung developed his
observations regarding the nature of the psyche, extending psychological
theory well beyond that of his well known predecessor and sometime mentor,

Sigmund Freud. Due to its inherent complexity, the task of presenting an

encapsulated summary of Jung’s formulations is formidable and, realistically
speaking, impossible. Jung’s writing spans eighteen volumes of his collected
works as well as several volumes not appearing in the collection. In addition,
there have been numerous books published by Jung’s students and successors.
These volumes seek to systematize, explicate, and sometimes amplify the ideas
of the great intuitive thinker. In particular, I will refer to the works of
Erich Neumann, one of Jung’s students and collaborators, because his
amplification of the archetypal feminine, the matriarchal precursors of the
patriarchal canon, is a concept integral to Hemingway’s creation of fiction.

Throughout his lifetime, Jung continually modified and changed his ideas.
Unlike Freud, Jung remained open to new possibilities for interpreting his
data. That be modified his interpretations often and until the end of his life
shows that Jung, at least in part, was able to avoid the codification and
dogmatization of his own ideas. His intellectual life mirrored his belief that
the living psyche, like all that exists in nature, is and must remain in a
continual state of flux. However, changing perspectives also lead at times to
inconsistency and ambiguity. (This is especially true given the non-rational
material upon which Jung’s studies were focused.) My effort, in discussing
Jung’s concepts, will be to present a consistent overview, keeping in mind
that relevant information may be either intentionally omitted for the sake of
clarity or unintentionally omitted.

Essentially, Jung thought the human psyche is divided into two
complimentary but opposing components: consciousness and the unconscious.

Consciousness is that part of the psyche that is directly known by the

experiencing subject; it might be termed "awareness." Appearing early in
life, consciousness grows through the formation of the ego--the psyche’s
reality principle-which determines the contents of consciousness. In fact,
Jung called the ego the "gatekeeper to consciousness" because anything which
comes into awareness must first pass the censoring ego.

The ego’s gate-keeping function has both positive and negative
consequences. It is necessary to filter and select the impressions one
receives from the outer and inner worlds of sensation. (Awareness of all of
the sensory impressions that exist would be overwhelming.) Jung deemed
discrimination essential so that the ego might help form individual identity.
However, the process of discrimination is necessarily limiting. It prevents
innumerable aspects of the individual’s inner and outer life from coming into
awareness. A person can become conscious only to the extent that the ego
allows incoming impressions to enter, and a major determinant of what the
ego allows into consciousness is the amount of anxiety that a perception
arouses. Thoughts and experiences evoking high levels of anxiety are likely
to be refused admittance to awareness. The ego generally reflects the
condition of the collective, social consciousness of the time, which explains
why, in contemporary Western cultures, the scientific emphasis on casualty is
privileged over the belief in magic, which might be displayed by more
"primitive" societies.

Consciousness becomes individualized through the process Jung termed
individuation (WW 275)-

Consciousness and individuation are parallel in the developing personality;

the growth of one entails the growth of the other. As a result of his

clinical observations, Jung hypothesized that within every individual psyche

there is a self-actualizing force which has nothing to do with conscious

acknowledgement or volition. Rather, the tendency toward the growth and

expansion of consciousness is a natural, albeit unconscious, aim of the

organism. In addition, Jung discerned evidence that the psyche contains the

inherited experiences and resultant wisdom of the species. On the basis of

"discovering" this innate, unconscious goal orientation and inherited wisdom

Jung concluded that for contemporary individuals the ultimate goal in life is

the development of their inborn potential through the process of
individuation.

Most people, however, reside solely within the societal collective and, by

doing so, fail to actualize their inborn potential. According to Neumann:

The role played by the collective in the human culture is decisive.

Society, with its conscious postulates, sets up an authority, a

spiritual tradition which, spoken or unspoken, forms the background

of education. The individual is molded by the collective through

its ethos, its customs, laws, morality, its ritual and religion, its

institutions and collective undertakings. When one considers the

original submergence of the individual in the collective

(unconscious), one sees why all collective orientations are so

binding and are accepted without question (W
W 27)-

In contrast to the above "mass" person, the individuating personality,
instead of automatically accepting and unreflectingly acting out the dictates
of societal conditioning, becomes "self" conscious in the sense that she or he
intentionally and consciously participates in the unfolding of his or her
individual biological and spiritual destiny. This destiny is governed not only
by external factors, to which environmentalists attribute the causal
development of personality, but by "numinous" (fundamentally important,
emotionally imbued) inborn factors as well. Individuation is not a selfish
goal. Rather, it means that one’s concept of self expands outward, to include
more and more of the collective, transpersonal aspects of experience. During
the process of individuation it is the unconscious portion of the psyche which
becomes integrated into consciousness.

The unconscious is divided into the personal unconscious and the
collective unconscious. The personal unconscious contains repressed or
forgotten contents which, through the loss of energy, have become subliminal.
These contents, even though repressed, are capable of gathering an energy
charge and creating what Jung termed "feeling toned" complexes (Aien;
WM 28), such as the "mother
complex" and the "father complex." Complexes may gather such a powerful
charge that they subsume other aspects of personality. This is particularly
true of the ego. The ego may erroneously believe itself to be the center of
personality, attributing all of life’s successes and failures to itself. From the
Jungian point of view, however, it is not the ego, but the "self" (the total

psyche, conscious and unconscious) that forms the central core of personality.

 

The contents of the personal unconscious are usually accessible to
consciousness, but not always. Sometimes the complexes are based on
elements arising from such a deep portion of the psyche that they are
difficult to comprehend. While the personal aspect of the unconscious is not
of particular relevance to the present study, it is of interest to note that
Freud reduced all unconscious manifestations to the personal, instinctual level.
For him the personal unconscious was the single aspect of the unconscious to
be recognized and elaborated upon. In contrast to Freud’s reductive
approach, Jung amplified the personal to the level of the transpersonal. For
Jung the personal unconscious assumed much less importance than the deeper
unconscious strata, the collective unconscious.

The concept of the collective unconscious is one of Jung’s major
contributions to the field of psychology. A multitude of experiences--both
interactions with his patients as well as experiments on himself--convinced
Jung that there is a dynamic realm of living experience below the threshold
of awareness. Early in his work, Jung began to understand that the personal
unconscious rests upon a deeper, unconscious layer which does not derive
from personal experience but is inborn. This part of the unconscious is
collective or universal--its contents are transpersonal and are much the same
everywhere and in all people. The collective unconscious is the idea that the
individual is born with the form of the world already existing in her or his
psyche. Just as the physical body contains the history of the physical

evolution of the human species, Jung theorized that the psyche contains the

history of the evolution of consciousness of the human race, extending
backward to pre-human forms of life.

An integral feature of the collective unconscious is its autonomy; its
existence is not dependent on a person’s conscious orientation. Rather, the
collective unconscious is compensatory to the conscious orientation. The
autonomy of the unconscious can be observed by the manner in which
affective states effect an otherwise "normal" individual, overcoming an
ostensibly "civilized," rational consciousness with an intense charge of
emotion. According to Jung: "'Ihe autonomy of the unconscious therefore
begins where emotions are generated. Emotions are instinctive, involuntary
reactions which upset the rational order of consciousness by their elemental
outbursts. Affects are not ‘made’ or wilftu produced; they simply happen"
(ACU 78-9). Emotions are not individual, as the lover, the bereaved, or the
enraged person would suppose, but rather they are collective and emerge from
a deep repository of instincts in each individual: the collective unconscious.

Jung refers to the unconscious as the mother of consciousness (ACU
281). Indeed, the collective unconscious is older and in many ways wiser
than the consciousness that most intelligent, educated Westerners believe
characterizes their lives. Jung claims that Western reluctance to acknowledge
the instinctive and historical nature of the unconscious testifies to the very
youth of consciousness relative to the antiquity of the unconscious. Just as
the individual ego must, in the course of its development, break out of its
bondage in the unconscious as well as secure its independence from the

personal mother and father in order to fulfill its individual destiny, so also

the collective consciousness-4n order to establish its independence from the
unconscious, (e.g., the patriarchy fiom the matriarchy)-denies its biological
and historical anticedents. By doing so, however, consciousness--both group
and individual-is deprived of a source of wisdom because the unconscious is
a means of relating the individual not only to the past, but also to the
future. Jung reminds his reader that everything that will occur in the future
is somehow based on the past:
In so far as no man is born totally new, but continually repeats
the stage of development last reached by the species, he contains
unconsciously, as a priori datum, the entire psychic structure
developed both upwards and downward by his ancestors in the
course of the ages. That is what gives the unconscious its
characteristic "historical" aspect, but it is at the same time the
sine qua non for shaping the future (ACU 279-80).

Although the psyche contains innate, ancestral wisdom, too often the
unconscious is seen to be simply irrational, and therefore antagonistic to the
highly valued conscious orientation. The sense of time is also different for
the two systems, further separating consciousness from the unconscious.
Because of its youthfulness, consciousness tends to think in terms of
relatively short periods of time-years and decadesutime relevant to the
individual but insignificant to the larger course of the collectiveuall life in
all times. The unconscious, in contrast, "thinks" in terms of millennia or

"eternity."

10

The contents of the collective unconscious Jung called archetypes. Jung
says:
Archetypes are, by definition, factors and motifs that arrange
psychic elements into certain images, characterized as archetypal,
but in such a way that they can be recognized only from the
effects they produce. They exist preconsciously, and presumably
they form the structural dominants of the psyche in general....As
a priori conditioning factors they represent a special psychological
instance of the biological "pattern of behavior," which gives all
things their specific qualities (WM 149).

Jung also said: "The archetypes have, when they appear, a distinctly

numinous character which can only be described as ‘spiritual,’ if ‘magical’ is

too strong a word ("On the Nature of the Psyche" 75).

The archetype has two aspects. One aspect is directed toward the realm
of spirit--images and ideas of a suprasensual nature--while the other is
directed toward the natural, biological processes, the instincts. While the
archetypes are rooted in laws inherent in life itself, at the same time the
experience of archetypes raises human beings above the level of other life
forms and connects them to the realm of gods and goddesses. Thus, the
archetypes are reconcilers of human beings’ complex naturesuthe biological
and the psychospiritual.

Because the same symbolic representations can be found in myths from
all cultures in all times, Jung hypothesized that they must originate within

the human and find expression by being projected outward on the world.

11

Myths and fairy tales are examples of expressions of archetypes which have

become societally elaborated.
All the mythologized processes of nature, such as summer and
winter, the phases of the moon, the rainy seasons, and so forth,
are in no sense allegories of these objective experiences; rather
they are symbolic expressions of the inner, unconscious drama of
the psyche which becomes accessible to man’s consciousness by way
of projection-—that is mirrored in the events of nature...the psyche
contains all the images that have ever given rise to myths ("On
the Nature of the Psyche" 289-90).

The process of becoming conscious has, itself, become mythologized.
According to both Jung and Neumamr, there are archetypal stages which the
individual must pass through on the "way" to becoming conscious. The myth
of the hero symbolizes the emergence and development of the ego from the
unconscious. The uroboros, an original state of undifferentiated wholeness,
and the earliest symbol of the unconscious, archetypal feminine,
characterizes the unconscious beginning of an individual’s life. It is a
wholeness containing all dualisms: the pairs of opposites which make up the
world of manifestation. This wholeness is symbolized by the circle of the
snake biting its tail, the mandala, and the yin-yang diagram with its
interlocking black and white halves, each containing within itself the seed of
the other. The uroboric state contains the opposition of masculine, father,
consciousness, and feminine, mother, unconsciousness, though the state itself

is characterized as being unconscious and feminine.

12

In order to free itself from domination by the unconscious, the ego-hero
(always conceived as masculine) must separate itself from the primal parents
and symbolically kill them, to insure its own survival and independence. This
process is symbolized by the mythical dragon fight, in the first stage of
which the ego kills the "dragon"-the negative aspects of the feminine
unconscious--in order to set free her nurturing, positive aspects. Similarly,
the ego-hero must symbolically kill not only the personal father but also the
larger group he represents: "the fathers." Erich Neumann defines "the
fathers" as:

The representatives of law and order, from the earliest taboos to
the most modern juridical systems; they hand down the highest
values of civilization....The world of the fathers is thus the world
of collective values; it is historical and related to the fluctuating
level of conscious and cultural development within the group
(M173).
Representing the highest forms of culture, the fathers preserve the old order.
As bringer of new light and life to the culture, the ego-hero must slay the
old order so that the new may be born. The symbolic heroic fight is not
accomplished once and for all, but represents a process of consciousness
descending into the unconscious and assimilating its wisdom which necessarily
occurs throughout life.

While archetypal representations may be studied by observing their

occurrence in cultural artifacts, or in fantasies and dreams, the archetype

itself cannot be represented. Rather than being like a memory trace, the

13

archetype is more like a lens through which one perceives the world or a
negative which can be developed only by conscious experience. Individuals
are unconscious of the influence of archetypes in their lives because they
form the very basis for both perception and attitudes. Trying to see them in
oneself is like trying to lift a board upon which one is standing-efforts to
do so are futile. Just as the act of seeing would be different if the
physiological construction of the eye were different, so too, the attitude
toward the process of seeing as well as toward that which is observed, would
be different if viewed through the lens of a different archetype. Indeed, the
states of consciousness and the unconscious themselves are archetypal,
forming the primary duality within the psyche.

Because of the difficulty of discerning them, archetypes are most often
realized as they are reflected in outward projections. Even then it is the
archetypal image and not the archetype itself which can be discerned.
Neumann further clarifies the nature of the archetype when he says that the
archetypes determine the "kind" of experience we have, but "what" we
experience is always individual.

As living unconscious contents, the archetypes are the source of the
psyche’s energy (libido). The conscious ego does not produce its own energy
supply but must rely on the unconscious for its fuel. Consciousness is,
ideally, in constant contact with the unconscious. It continually grows and
expands by engaging representations of the unconscious and incorporating
the dynamic, instinctive energy and "wisdom" arising therefrom into
consciousness. This exchange is facilitated by the symbols of religion, myth,

14

ritual, fantasy, and dreams. Projected by the unconscious, symbolic
archetypal images and patterns surface in these mediums and furnish the
means of energy exchange between consciousness and the unconscious.

Jung explains the function of archetypes as sources of psychic energy in
his discussion of the phenomenology of "rebirth" experiences.

Rebirth is an affirmation that must be counted among the
primordial affirmations of mankind. These primordial affirmations
are based on what I call archetypes. In view of the fact that all
affirmations relating to the sphere of the suprasensual are, in the
last analysis, invariably determined by archetypes, it is not
surprising that a concurrence of affirmations concerning rebirth can
be found among the most widely differing peoples (ACU 116).

The archetypes are the repository of an unconscious core of valuation
needed by human beings to experience a sense of living purposeful, meaningful
lives. The sense of rebirth is often described by those who have experienced
a sense of changed inner direction and meaning in their lives. Often this
change is associated with religious conversion, but not always or necessarily.
Psychologically, this experience is associated with advancement on the path of
individuation, when the individual has become conscious of the numinous
powers existing within her or his own psyche.

According to Jung:

Archetypes were, and still are, living psychic forces that demand to
be taken seriously, and they have a strange way of making sure of

their effect. Always they were the bringers of protection and

15

salvation, and their violation has as its consequence the "perils of
the soul" known to us from the psychology of primitives.
Moreover, they are the unfailing causes of neurotic and even
psychotic disorders, behaving exactly like neglected or maltreated
physical organs or organic functional systems....lf we cannot deny
the archetypes or otherwise neutralize them, we are confronted, at
every new stage in the differentiation of consciousness to which
civilization attains, with the task of finding a new 111mm
appropriate to this stage, in order to connect the life of the past
that still exists in us with the life of the present, which threatens
to slip away from it. If this link-up does not take place, a kind of
rootless consciousness comes into being no longer oriented to the
past, a consciousness which succumbs helplessly to all manner of
suggestions and, in practice, is susceptible to psychic epidemics
(ACU 156-7).

In the twentieth century mythic and religious symbols no longer maintain
their numinous power. Rather, they have become personalized-interpreted as
personal matters. Jung termed this the collapse of the archetypal canon, and
be blamed this collapse for the maladies of the modern spirit--the
increasingly pervasive sense of futility. Modern society fails to provide the
symbols needed by the individual ego, especially during the more stressful
periods of life’s transitions: from youth to maturity, maturity to middle age,
and, finally, in preparation for death. Therefore people often experience

intense anxiety leading to psychological disorders.

16

From Jung’s perspective, psychic disturbances are neither a failure nor
an illness but rather signals of psychic imbalance, an attempt on the part of
the psyche to recover a lost state of balance and wholeness. Similarly, Jung
saw suffering as a natural aspect of life, a normal counterpole to happiness.
Becoming aware of the lack of meaning in one’s life and the concomitant
suffering which ensues, initiates an impulse to expand a consciousness that is

too narrow; it begins a movement toward self-realization.

WW

Frequent use of Jungian thought in literary criticism testifies to the
applicability of Jung’s theory of the collective unconscious to the study of
literature. Jung formulated a hypothesis about the nature of artistic creation,
and about the role of the unconscious in its encounter with literature, which
explains why particular literary works powerfully affect the reader.

Because the process of reading a work of literature is, in part, a
passively receptive activity, it allows the reader to reach a state of
identification with the characters and events in literature which can be
classified as "egoless." That is, the conscious, ego restrictions on one’s
perception of experience are not filtering out experiences which are
antithetical to past experience, or which would be somehow threatening to
the ego in real life. According to Jung, "This re-immersion in the state of
W is the secret of artistic creation and of the effect

which great art has upon us, for at that level of experience it is no longer

17

the weal or woe of the individual that counts, but the life of the collective"
Wigwam 105).

In addition, the literary artist, too, is passive at a certain point in the
process of creating. Regarding this passivity Jung says:

Art is a kind of innate drive that seizes a human being and makes
him its instrument. The artist is not a person endowed with free
will who seeks his own ends, but one who allows art to realize its
purposes through him. As a human being he may have moods and a
will and personal aims, but as an artist he is "man" in a higher
sense--he is "collective man," a vehicle and moulder of the
unconscious psychic life of mankind ("Psychology and Literature"
101).

In discussing the effect of a powerful piece of literature on the reader,
Jung used the term "participation mystique" and other Jungian critics often
use the term "resonance." The emotional experience which the literature
engenders seems to resonate beyond the particular characters and conflicts
depicted and to connect one with the struggles of people throughout history,
This sense of expanded relationship refers also to the state of "participation
mystique" underlying participation in other "collective," ritual experiences to
which the participant is receptive. Jung attributes this deep emotional
experience to the collective unconscious, the encoding in the genetic
structure of certain kinds of universal experiences-the archetypes. From
this point of view, the possibility for having certain kinds of experiences and
knowledge is born within a person, but this potential will not become

18

activated, filled with real experience, until the individual plunges into the
depths of her or his own psyche to allow them to emerge. The literary artist
does this at a primary level and upon re-entry into "normal" ego
consciousness is able to "body forth" in language the images received from
the unconscious in ways that will be perceptible to the consciousness of her
or his contemporaries. The reader experiences the archetypes of the
collective unconscious through the vicarious experience of receptively
encountering the artist’s text. Regarding this process for the artist and the
reader Jung says:
The creative process, so far as we are able to follow it at all,
consists in the unconscious activation of an archetypal image, and
in elaborating and shaping this image into the finished work. By
giving it shape, the artist translates it into the language of the
present, and so makes it possible for us to find our way back to
the deepest springs of life. Therein lies the social significance of
art: it is constantly at work educating the spirit of the age,
conjuring up forms in which the age is most lacking. The
unsatisfied yearning of the artist reaches back to the primordial
image in the unconscious which is best fitted to compensate the
inadequacy and one-sidedness of the present. The artist seizes on
this image, and in raising it from deepest unconsciousness he brings
it into relation with conscious values, thereby transforming it until
it can be accepted by the minds of his contemporaries according to

their powers ("Psychology and Literature" 82-83).

 

19

The archetypes which surface in art at particular times in history and within
particular societies serve to balance the dominant consciousness of the time
and place. Jung says: "What is of particular importance to the study of
literature, however, is that the manifestations of the collective unconscious
are compensatory to the conscious attitude, so that they have the effect of
bringing a one-sided, unadapted, or dangerous state of consciousness back
into equilibrium" (Willi: 105). Thus,
literature is "anti-social" in terms of the collective consciousness within
which it arises. However, individuals in that social setting have an
unconscious psychic need for the symbolic meaning of the archetypes that are
brought to life in literature. This is not a matter of conceptual knowledge,
but of affective experience, for the archetypes of the collective unconscious
embody both emotion and meaning.

The literary artist is characterized by both Jung and Neumann as the
contemporary "great individual" or hero. Through artistic creation, the dual
burdens of "civilization" and the primal urges of the unconscious become
reconciled. The artist is born with the hyper-sensitivity of one who sees
through the illusions and shams of societal conditioning, who experiences the
ambiguities of the archetypes of the collective unconscious, and who, because
of the urgency of his or her vision, is driven to express it for others. The
artist is not unlike Prometheus, the firebringer, whom Zeus punished for
stealing Olympian fire (consciousness) and giving it to mortals by chaining
him to a mountain top where an eagle ate his liver during the day, only to

have it grow back at night, the process being repeated throughout eternity.

 

20

Similarly, the literary artist holds up the light of revitalized consciousness to
her or his fellow human beings, making hitherto invisible unconscious forces
visible.

However, the artist, like Prometheus, must pay a price for bringing light
to humankind. Being a firebringer is a lonely task, for as Neumann says:
'The true hero (artist) is one who brings the new and shatters the fabric of
old values, namely the father-dragon which, backed by the whole weight of
tradition and the power of the collective, ever strives to obstruct the birth
of the new" (Origins 377). The artist-hero is the vehicle through whom the
compensatory function of art is given to the larger culture. Because this
service is, by nature, threatening to the collective, it entails concomitant
isolation and suffering.

The literary artist gives birth to the primordial images needed by her or
his contemporaries to compensate their conscious orientation. In Jungian
terms, many of the problems of the modern age stem from inflation of the
conscious aspects of the psyche and the consequent deflation of the

unconscious. Jung termed the societally determined conscious attitude

"masculine" and the unconscious, "feminine." In W
Was Eric N eumann writes:

It is in this sense that we use the terms "masculine" and "feminine"
throughout this book, not as sex-linked characteristics, but as
symbolic expressions. When we say masculine or feminine
dominants obtrude themselves at certain stages, or in certain

cultures or types of persons, this is a psychological statement

 

21

which must not be reduced to biological or sociological terms. The
symbolism of "masculine" and "feminine" is archetypal and therefore
transpersonal; in the various cultures concerned, it is erroneously
projected upon persons as though they carried its qualities. In
reality every individual is a psychological hybrid (xxii).

In this study I will also be using the term "masculine" to represent the
realm of the fathers, of masculine ego-consciousness, the product of societal
conditioning, and "feminine," to represent the realm of the feminine
unconscious and the archetypal feminine.

Life in Western cultures has been dominated by masculine, patriarchal
modes of consciousness and patriarchal institutions. In the process of
building the edifice of Western civilization the feminine principle has been
largely forgotten, relegated to the realm of the unconscious. The devaluation
of the feminine pre-dates written history, although in his account of the
genesis of the world, Hesiod depicts the original supremacy of Gaia, the
earth, the Great Mother of all, who gave birth, without the aid of the
masculine principle, to sons, the males who would become her consorts. It
was only later that the ascendancy of the male principle came about when,
through mental stealth and political cunning, Zeus wrested power from the
mother and claimed supreme power for himself. Thus began the rise of the
myth of the patriarchy and the demise of the matriarchy in the West.

This myth of masculine supremacy was continued in the Christian
tradition in the myth of "the fall." It was the weakness of the feminine
principle, Eve, which led Adam to eat the fruit from the tree of the

 

22

knowledge of good and evil causing them to become evicted from the garden
by the all-knowing and all-powerful father god. This rendition of the spirit
god as the epitome of consciousness and masculine power indicates the
development of consciousness reflected in the old testament’s patriarchal myth
relative to the Greek version. Nevertheless, in both the Greek and the
Christian myths the masculine is viewed as strong and powerful, the
feminine, as weak and inferior. The result has been that in the West the
feminine has been largely repressed.

The masculine spirit is typified in outward discovery and invention,
hierarchial order and domination, scientific discovery and the pursuit of
knowledge for its own sake. This outward thrusting creative spirit has given
the world a vast technology and bodies of knowledge unprecedented in the
life of the human species. Much that is desirable has been born harm the
creative masculine spirit; the apex of which is the valuation of the individual
as a unique being, apart from the collective. However, in the process, much
has also been lost. We have become estranged from our roots in the past and
from a sense of continuity into the future. People are growing increasingly
mechanical in both head and heart. There is a growing alienation between
inner, natural psychic forces and outer material forces. Paradoxically, in
spite of the potential for increased individualization, human beings are not
becoming more unique but are becoming increasingly narrowly collectivized by
abstract material social forces before which the individual feels powerless.
Finally, the masculine spirit of discovery and invention has, since 1945, given

human beings a greater cause for fear and anxiety than previous generations

would ever have believed possible: the threat of total annihilation of all life
by nuclear weapons. Indeed, the unchecked masculine spirit is threatening
the very existence of the earth herself.

In the face of unchecked power struggles among the nations of the
world, the voice of the artist seems an insignificant herald. And yet it is
the vision of the artist which gives voice to the wisdom of the human heart.
It is this wisdom that must be integrated into consciousness in order to check
the race toward disaster in which the world is headed. It is the vision of
the artist which performs the function, for the collective, of giving form to
the compensatory archetypes which emerge from the unconscious.

The means of giving shape to archetypal images arising from the
unconscious, the bridge between the two aspects of the psyche, is the symbol.
Through the literary artist’s creative works, the feminine unconscious speaks
in primordial images and symbols. Through the medium of language, symbolic
structures are created by the artist and unconscious truths are rendered into
consciously perceptible forms.

Since the focus of this study will be on the images and symbols
contained in Hemingway’s fiction, it is necessary to clarify the function of
symbols in an archetypal context. Hemingway metaphorically describes his
writing techniques in the comparison of his writing with the movement of an
iceberg, of which only the smallest part is visable on the surface (12921th
Ween 192). Accordingly, the characters, settings, conflicts, and
images which he created represent not only the functional literary elements

of particular works, but resonate beyond the particular to the universal.

Hemingway’s use of ritual and his depiction of "primitive" characters in
natural settings, as well as his attempts to create in his work a "fifth
dimension" engage deeper portions of the reader’s unconscious.

There seems to be general agreement that symbols present an objective,
visible meaning behind which an invisible, more profound meaning is hidden.
Signs, on the other hand, are simply analogous representations of the known
thing. Implicit in Jung’s conception of the phenomenology of signs and
symbols is the assumption that life exists on different planes, or dimensions
of reality. Signs belong to the plane of physical, sensual reality, to the
realm of being. The "higher" realm of ineffable, immaterial, psychospiritual
reality can be only embodied in images and symbols drawn fiom the "lower"
sensual, perceptual realm. The symbol thus represents a way of knowing and
a means of communicating profoundly moving human experiences. True
symbols are imbued with a numinous power-.not for what they are in
themselvesubut for what they represent in the higher realm. As unifier of
opposites, for example, the symbol expresses a transcendent totality which can
never be accorded to only one area of psychic functioning. Rather, the
symbol resonates in several functions at oncenin the mind, feelings, senses,
and intuition-generating a sense of wholeness incomprehensible to the mind
alone.

By the creation of symbolic expressions for supra-sensual realities,
humankind participates in the creation of a new dimension of reality. The
creative symbol-making process distinguishes them from other animals. It is
through their creative acts that human beings ascend toward the "higher"

25

realm of the creative forces in the universe. This can be observed in all of
Hemingway’ 5 creative works but especially in his attempt to create in words
experiences of a supra-sensual nature.

While symbols play an integral part in the development of
consciousness, the rational mind’s analytical scrutiny destroys the symbol’s
numinous power. Rational understanding is one mode for apprehending the
world, and it has become the most highly valued mode. However, when it is
the only function of the psyche to become developed, when everything
becomes an object for intellectual scrutiny, symbols lose their meaning and
their power and degenerate into signs. Therefore the variance with which
representations are regarded as either symbols or signs depends chiefly upon
the attitude of the observing consciousness. The perception of a phenomenon
as a symbol depends upon whether or not a person is able to regard a
particular object, for example a stone, in not only its concrete manifestation
as such--which calls forth the sensory and intellectual functions--but also as
an expression for something mysterious and unknown-which calls forth the
feeling and intuitive functions.

Because symbols lose their numinous power to unite the conscious and
the unconscious, to imbue the world with meaning, there is a continual need
for the creation of new symbols. Much in life is mysterious and unknown.
But most people lose sight of that fact because attention is focused only on
the mundane realities of existence: on the known or what is thought to be
known. Thus, instead of responding with awe at the sight of the stars, or

the sun, or a tree, these wonders are taken for granted as being only a part

 

26

of the background for our own personal dramas, and we fail to realize that
the whole of life is a mystery play. The artist reminds us that the rational
mode of perception is only one way of experiencing life. While its value is
unquestionable, of equal value is the emotional, intuitive mode of knowing
experienced through art.

Finally, Jung writes of symbolically charged literature: "We would
expect a strangeness of form and content, thoughts that can only be
apprehended intuitively, a language pregnant with meanings, and images that
are true symbols because they are the best possible expressions for something
unknown-~bridges thrown out towards an unseen shore" (The Seie't in Mae,
We]: 75-76). Hemingway’s best fictions fulfill the function of
symbolically charged literature defined by Jung.

1 f mi ' l n

Not all literary artists speak with the power of primordial images and
symbols. Ernest Hemingway, though, is such an artist. Hemingway has
"bodied forth in words" the realm of the archetypal feminine, the matriarchal
precursor to the patriarchy. His best works contain a vision--rendered in
traditional natural motifs and primitive rituals-~which compensates what is
lacking in contemporary life.

There are several reasons underlying my choice to examine Hemingway’s
works. In the first place, Hemingway is one of the major American writers
of the twentieth century. His receipt of both the Pulitzer and Nobel Prizes

for literature attests to the quality of his writing. Certainly one of

27

Hemingway’s outstanding contributions is his unique literary style. The
directness with which Hemingway conveys sensory, emotional, and intuitive
experiences through his spare, poetic prose, the intensity of his concrete
images which create for the reader the opportunity to participate in the
emotional experience of which the author is writing, is indeed, unique. In his
works Hemingway reveals a craftsmanship which no one has been able to
emulate.

But not only was Hemingway a master craftsman, he also embodies in
his literature traits which are the very essence of traditional American
individualism. In fact, Hemingway’s protagonists exemplify the independent,
masculine spirit of the American Pioneer (in myth, if not in fact), the
isolated individual actively participating in conquering the frontier, and
stoically accepting the fate which met his efforts. Additionally, like the
pioneer, Hemingway’s heroes believe in action rather than in abstract
reasoning.

However, the protagonists of Hemingway’s works are also modern in the
sense that they are disillusioned. Old values have broken down. They are
outsiders from the larger societal context and are questing not only in search
of external frontiers but of internal ones. Indeed, Hemingway’s heroes live
the twentieth century existential creed: existence precedes meaning:
Individuals, in order to live authentically, must create through their own
experience values and meanings, "truths," to serve their own lives. Unlike
the protagonists of many post-modem authors, Hemingway’s best characters

do not succumb to nihilistic despair, but rather actively confront, instead of

 

 

28

passively surrendering to, the universal forces threatening to make their
lives meaningless. It is in this search that the archetypes emerge, as the
protagonists’ consciousness, cast adrift from the moorings of the collective,
reflect the deeper wisdom of the unconscious.

Although Hemingway’s style is unique, and the characters, settings, and
themes of his work are rendered in traditional and modern American motifs,
Hemingway’s major preoccupations, like those of all great artists, are
universal. Recurring human struggles between such opposites as consciousness
and the unconscious, fear and courage, security and danger, male and female,
hate and love, birth and death, the struggle between the individual and
superior powers in the universe, etc., are given life in modern form, but the
conflicts are as old as humankind. In rituals often revolving around life and
death confrontations-4n war, the bullring, hunting, and fishing--Hemingway’s
protagonists reveal an underlying moral code of behavior which is not a
reflection of the masculine societal values of contemporary America, but of
ancient feminine attitudes toward life and death and the human condition.
Hemingway has reclaimed the precursors of Christianity, the old pagan gods
and goddesses. Before their powers the individual is often helpless. For
often, as Hemingway’s characters face danger, despair, and death, it is
understood that it is not winning in the face of incredible odds which is
important, or even possible, but the way the individual meets the adversary:
with courage and love and without self-pity. Although the characters’ actions
are important, in precisely enacting ritualistic behavior to the best of their

ability, it is the inner being of the characters which is of highest value.

29

In essence, Hemingway created through his art, his own symbolic, sacred
world, much as a child creates an imaginary world, apart from the adult world
which bears no relationship to her or him. Or, perhaps this world is created
in defense against the rules and expectations of an alien, hostile adult world.
The world which Hemingway created is in accord with the mythic role of
America-«he garden of Edenuand his heroes are mythic Adams. However,
although Hemingway speaks with a particularly American tongue, his view is
larger than the local because he created a structure of meaning from the
primordial feminine as well as the rugged, individualistic masculine.

In W Jung’s thesis is that people today
are searching for both emotion and meaning because the lack of life-affirming
myths in the larger culture has led to one-sided psychic development. For
this reason, individuals are left on their own to seek answers to the questions
which have, from the beginning, been asked by human beings: Why am I
here? How did it all begin? What is the purpose of life? It is this search,
too, in which the protagonists of Hemingway’s novels are engaged. Indeed,
the Hemingway hero was, in the 1920’s, and continues to be, for many
readers, an exemplar of a "way" of facing life without the comforts and
concomitant illusions of impotent traditional values and conformity to group
norms. Additionally, Hemingway’s works contain a progression of archetypal
symbols and images which speak to the unconscious of modern individuals who

are searching for meaning through art.

 

30
' n h ' " ' w - iv r"

Finally, since the major portion of this thesis will be an examination of
three of Hemingway’s major works from the point of view of Jungian
archetypes, it is necessary to provide the reader with an understanding of
selected archetypes. In an effort to explain them in a manner consistent
with the analyses that will follow, I have chosen to analyze an early short
story by Hemingway, "Big Two-Hearted River." "Big Two-Hearted River"
contains many elements in common with The Old Men age the Sea the last
work to be considered, and should thus furnish informative comparisons and
contrasts.

In his work, Jung elucidated a core of archetypes which appear in a
particular order in the individuation process. In each analysis, I shall
endeavor to contrast examples of "normal" persona and masculine ego-
consciousness--emanating from the realm of the fathers--with archetypal
representations, emerging from the collective unconscious. The archetypes in
their order of appearance are: the persona, the shadow, the anima and
animus, the wise old man and the wise old woman, the child, and the self.
Additionally, other archetypal representations which form part of larger
archetypal motifs will be examined. For example, the archetype of time
emerges from the anima. The trickster figure is a part of the shadow, and
the animal is an element in the primordial feminine. Because varying
archetypes predominate in each Hemingway work, different archetypes will be

emphasized with reference to each work. Since aspects of the archetypal

31

quest motif are a common factor among all the works under consideration,

that seems a good place to begin.

Warm

In the only major study of Hemingway’s works undertaken from a
Jungian perspective, Wm Joseph DeFalco
establishes the mythological significance of the heroic quest motif embodied in
the stories. (An argument that can also be applied to Hemingway’s longer
fictions.) After linking Hemingway’s protagonists with the heroes of ancient
and modern Western epics, DeFalco focuses on the stages of the heroic quest
as the individual characters move away from the societal collective and
toward developing an individualized self.

DeFalco refers to Joseph Campbell’s, W
in which Campbell accounts for a cyclic pattern of three stages in the heroic
journey: the hero’s departure, initiation, and return. Nick Adams,
Hemingway’s hero in "Big Two-Hearted River," is pursuing a spiritual quest.
Nick’s journey involves the first two parts of Campbell’s pattern: departure
and initiation. He leaves society and undergoes initiation in the primordial
feminine.

The society from which Nick departs is a wasteland, a world devoid of
the sustaining "water of life." Essentially, the story portrays the result of
the great war on the values of Western civilization: belief in unlimited
"progress" and "good" resulting from unchecked technological growth. This
belief is sustained by the underlying valuation of empiricism, and the rational

 

32

function of the mind, divorced from the instincts, emotions, and transcendent
realm of the spirits. Externals often reflect internal life in Hemingway’s art.
Accordingly, psychically Nick is wounded and is questing to find the holy
grail, to discover the meaning of life; he is seeking to bring balance and
fertility to the aridity of his own being. In his search, Nick heroically
departs from the societal collective and undergoes a ritualistic wilderness
initiation. The collective which he leaves is the realm of the persona and
"the fathers." The persona is the first aspect of the personality examined in
the process of individuation and the first to be studied in "Big Two-Hearted

River."

Karma

Individuation is predicated upon the activation within the individual of
his or her deepest potential. Within this context, the social persona is the
equivalent of the unconscious out of which ego-consciousness originally grows.
Just as the child’s emerging sense of ego-identity must be forged by giving
up its original W in the unconscious, so also the person
who is becoming individuated must become detached from identification with
the "mass" consciousness of the larger societal context out of which it has
been formed in order that the unconscious, collective aspects of the deeper
self may surface and become incorporated into consciousness. Therefore, the
persona, the conformity archetype, is the first archetype to be viewed within
the context of the total psyche.

33

The persona serves an important function as mediator between the ego
and the outside world and is formed through identification and imitation. A
well-educated, professional person possesses several personae: different masks
for different social roles. These personae are valuable in that they allow the
individual to move with ease and to gain desired ends within the societal
context. This adjustment is of particular importance in the first half of life,
when the development of the ego depends upon one’s successes in the
external world. Since the persona is the face one exhibits to others it often
represents one’s ideal self--that self that one would appear to be. However,
since the persona is acquired by incorporating the standards of society into
one’s ego, there is a danger that one will become so preoccupied and
identified with the predominating social consciousness of one’s culture that
one’s unique, individual aspects will remain submerged. The result is the
inflated persona.

This is the tendency of today’s "mass" men and women. Their egos
identify with the ideas and opinions of the collective consciousness. They
imagine that they actually are only what they care to know about themselves.
Consequently, their lives are flat and one-dimensional, and they refuse to
assume personal responsibility for the state of their psyches, their actions,
and their being in the world.

Hemingway is noted for exposing the illusions and sham of the inflated
persona in his works. There is only one allusion to the persona in "Big Two-
Hearted River." The one time thoughts of the past intrude is when Nick
recollects his friend, Hopkins with whom he had fished on Michigan’s Black

34

River several years before. The image of masculine comraderie sharply
contrasts with the isolation of Nick’s present situation. Nick particularly
remembers Hopkins’ receipt of a telegram saying that he was rich, causing
him to leave before the fishing trip was over. Although they make plans to
fish together the following summer, the world of reality intervenes and the
fishing trip never materializes. The fragility of the feminine world of
innocent masculine love and loyalty cannot withstand the persona’s assault.
Hopkins is made wealthy through oil, and through his wealth he is made into
a wealthy personality. Donning the mask of the wealthy is not a matter of
volition but of becoming totally identified with one aspect of one’s identity--
that which is the most strongly reinforced within a materialistic society--
economic statususo that other, more essential aspects remain undeveloped.
Even the most cherished friendship and loyalty crumble under the persona’s
potential for destroying real values. Nick is no longer an innocent child, nor
is he a part of the collective persona. He must recreate himself as he seeks

a center through which to restore order and balance.

The goal for the individuating personality is the attainment of a state of
psychic balance between the conscious masculine elements--the persona and
masculine ego-consciousness—and the feminine unconscious. Jung warns that
while becoming individuated the person’s ego must be firmly grounded in
order that it not become subsumed by the unconscious’ regressive lure.

Usually, the ego must become relativized so that the archetypes may become

35

incorporated into consciousness. However, Nick’s ego-consciousness is already
fragile. He has experienced war, and the evil, malignant effects of human
savagery, including, presumably, his own. His war experiences have left him
unbalanced, spiritually impotent, and isolated from his fellow human beings.
Consequently, he is a divided soul. Nick is questing both to strengthen his
wounded masculine ego-consciousness as well as to regain a primary
connection with the life-force in his feminine unconscious.

Seney’s charred remains symbolize the inadequacy, the insufficiency, of
transitory "civilized" values--the symbolic realm of the "fathers" in which the
persona and ego-consciousness are formed--in the face of the war’s powerful
and all-encompassing destruction. Nick says of Seney, "Even the surface had
been burned off the" (210). The burned down town and the devastated area
around the town depict the greater cultural sterility of the time and the
inadequacy of the persona and even the ego to deal with the loss of culture
and meaning. When the surface is gone, nothing remains. Human culture,
like human consciousness upon which it depends, is fragile and exists only
on the surface of a deeper and older reality, nature and the unconscious.

The burned area symbolizes not only the destruction of values in the
larger societal sphere, but also it bears a direct relation to devastation that
has taken place in Nick’s mind. DeFalco says:

The shattering experiences of life have so affected him that all
that remains of his former orientation to the world has been scared
down to the base foundation of the self....The story pattern, then,

is an account of the protagonist’s attempt to rebuild the necessary

36

battlements of psychic balance which preserve the conscious self
from total disorientation (147).
Nick’s conscious orientation has been badly shaken and he does not have
the false security of the persona to conceal his suffering. Though fragile, he
does have the orientation of his masculine ego-consciousness and his wish for
renewal to guide him. As he ventures into a remote part of Michigan’s upper
peninsula, he encounters the primordial feminine with the remaining strength
of his masculine ego intact: by consciously and precisely performing the
woodland rituals of making camp and fishing. Additionally, he wills himself
not to think. Defalco points out that in Hemingway’s fictions:
One of the most important symbolizations takes the form of a
ritualization of a familiar activity, thereby objectifying the intense
struggle of the characters in their attempt to find a solution to
their inner turmoil....Ordered artistry is always juxtaposed to the
chaos in which most of the central characters find themselves
(15-16).

As Nick follows the precise rituals of camping and fishing, the beginning of

the self-conscious code of the Hemingway hero emerges.

In choosing the site for his encampment and in setting up his temporary
"home," Nick’s actions reveal underlying rules. First of all, it is evident that
pleasure must be paid for. To this end, Nick’s masculine spirit urges his
tired, hot body (his "animal") to walk miles away from "civilization" before
choosing a spot to camp. (Book I signals Campbell’s heroic "departure"

phase.) Also, Nick carries on his back a fully-laden pack containing

37

"conveniences" to make his stay in the wilderness easier and more pleasurable.
(He also carries the equipment needed to precisely enact the ritual of
fishing.) The pack weighs heavily on his shoulders, so heavily that he must
lean forward to carry it. On the literal level, Nick carries goods to make
himself comfortable, and as he utilizes the canned goods he says, "I’ve got a
right to eat this stuff, if I’m willing to carry it" (215). One has the right to
enjoy pleasures for which one is willing and able to pay. Symbolically, Nick’s
difficult journey prepares him for the experience of "rebirth" which is to
come in Part II. Nick additionally "pays" for his pleasure when he sets up
his camp before building a fire and eating, even though he is very hungry.

The creation of his wilderness home is accomplished with patience and
exactness so that everything will be as it should. This is the second aspect
of the "code" that Nick exhibits through his actions: in order to maintain
the purity of any activity it must be performed precisely. Because of the
care invested, there will be no disappointments or surprises because of
carelessness. (Nick’s determination to control all of the variables within his
power contrasts with his war experiences, where there was little he could
control.) All of his knowledge of woodland craft enters as he selects the site
for his tent and carefully pitches it. Upon the completion of his task, Nick
experiences the satisfaction of the self-conscious creator: the gods creating
the universe and the primal human creating the first home: "Already there
was something mysterious and homelike. Nick was happy as he crawled inside
the tent. He had not been unhappy all day. This was different though. Now
things were done" (215).

38

Even as he performs the archetypally feminine occupation of cooking,
and as he eats his food, Nick exercises masculine restraint. He admonishes
himself not to eat while the food is too hot, so that he will not burn his
tongue, spoiling the rest of the meal and meals to come.

In preparation for fishing, Nick handles his equipment with masculine
care and precision. Nick’s actions reveal that he has already incorporated
elements of the feminine in himself as he abides by nature’s laws, not the
conventions of human convenience. To waste or to wantonly kill is wrong.
When he sets out to capture bait, Nick does so in a manner in which the
grasshoppers will not be needlessly killed or damaged. Instead of waiting
until he has eaten breakfast, he catches them while they are still sluggishly
burdened with the heavy morning dew, knowing that if he waits he will crush
many of them.

Throughout his first day of fishing, Nick brings all of this masculine
skill to bear. While fishing, Nick does not keep the fish which is too small.
He carefully releases the young trout back into the stream, making sure that
he does not touch it with a dry hand, causing the growth of fungus on its
body, eventually killing the fish. It is evident that while camping and fishing
in the wilderness setting the sense of self-discipline and control which Nick’s
masculine ego-consciousness imposes on his experience is, in part, responsible
for the pleasure he gains from his immersion in the realm of the feminine.
But this is true only within limits. The specter of the swamp greets Nick
upon his arrival at his campsite and he is often aware of its presence,

although he chooses not to fish there.

39

Shades:

The swamp symbolizes Nick’s shadow. When a person is willing to
relinquish his or her immersion in the societal collective, and become cast
adrift on the waters of the collective unconscious, beyond the uncertainty and
fear lies a dimly lit path. If one chooses to follow the path, figures will
begin to emerge. The first figure to be encountered is that of the shadow,
the dark brother or sister of the ego, sometimes called the alter-ego.

Jung distinguished between the personal shadow and the collective
shadow. The personal shadow is the closest figure to consciousness and is
the most easily recognized and accepted unconscious representation of the
deeper, multi-dimensional self. (It properly belongs to the personal rather
than the collective unconscious.) As the opposite of the conscious
personality, it contains those characteristics which one dislikes, feels
threatened by, or simply has not developed. Consequently, these
characteristics are not recognized as one’s own. However, the shadow’s
presence can be discerned by the negative emotion associated with one’s
reaction to it.

In persons who are not individuated, negative personality characteristics
are projected outward upon others (usually of the same sex) who are
perceived as threatening in some way. Projection enables the negative
emotion to become displaced upon an "other," relieving the experiencing
subject from responsibility for her or his state of being. However,
projections are limiting and not only prevent one from attaining self-

knowledge, but also prevent one from forming real relationships with others.

 

40

According to Jung, the effect of projections is to "isolate the subject from
his environment, since instead of a real relation to it there is now only an
illusory one. Projections change the world into the replica of one’s own
unknown face" (Aiee 9). In "Big Two Hearted River" there are no other
characters on whom Nick may project his personal shadow. Nevertheless, this
aspect of his unconscious is symbolized by the swamp. Since the swamp is a
symbol of the feminine, even though it is also a shadow manifestation, it will
be discussed in a later section.

The collective shadow hovers over Nick’s story, as it does the stories of
many other Hemingway protagonists, in the form of the war. The collective
shadow consists of the dark side of the prevailing spirit of the times in large
societal groups such as nations. Every nation has a shadow side: that aspect
of the national character that remains repressed, secreted in darkness, and
hence does not become recognized and dealt with consciously and responsibly.
Nations, too, project their shadow on other nations, failing to see that the
"evil" of the other is precisely their own darker side. By remaining
repressed, not only is the instinctive energy of the shadow’s inferior qualities
unavailable for conscious use, but also the energy is secreted until, under
stress, its intensity builds up and it surfaces in uncontrolled and irrational
ways, as in war. War, like the swamp, represents the primordial feminine
and will be discussed in a later section. However, the war has cast its
collective shadow over Nick’s psyche. He tries to control his own shadow
fears through the performance of ritual. It is through Nick’s shadow that the

contra-sexual component in his psyche is reached.

 

41

E . l E .

Nick Adams is able to form a bond with nature and the primordial
feminine through his anima, the contra-sexual component of his psyche. Just
as projections form an intrinsic part of shadow manifestations, so also are
they an integral element in the next figure of the unconscious to be
encountered on the path toward individuation, the contra-sexual component:
the anima in men and the animus in women.

Evidence for the existence of the anima and animus, as for other
archetypes, is contained in dreams, fantasies, and art. Additionally, from a
Jungian perspective, the emotional intensity with which children regard their
personal parents indicates the numinous archetypal projection of the child’s
anima or animus on the parent. While the mother is the first receptor of
anima projection for males, the father functions in the same way for
females. Underlying these projections, however, is an inherent image from
human beings’ collective experience of the opposite sex in the past.
According to Jung: "Every man carries within him the eternal image of
woman...an imprint or ’archetype’ of all the ancestral experiences of the
female, a deposit, as it were, of all the impressions ever made by woman--in
short, an inherited system of psychic adaptation" WM
Bersenaljfl 198). The same is true for the animus of women.

All archetypes are ambiguous and the anima and animus are no
exception. (In fact, Jung said that nearly all people find it difficult to arrive
at an understanding of the contra-sexual within themselves; it is a remarkable

challenge to become able to withdraw projections in this area.) However, in

42

this study a detailed explication of the animus is not necessary since the
works to be examined were written by a male. Therefore, I shall focus on an
attempt to elucidate the archetype of the anima, because its representation in
the works under consideration is vital in revealing the degree of individuation
of the author’s consciousness.

The anima is responsible for much more than relationships between the

sexes. In W Jung says that the

anima is:
a "factor" in the proper sense of the word. Man cannot make
it; on the contrary, it is always the "a priori" element in his
moods, reactions, impulses, and whatever else is spontaneous in
psychic life. It is something that lives of itself, that makes us
live; it is a life behind consciousness that cannot be completely
integrated with it, but from which, on the contrary, consciousness
arises (57).

Jung goes on to say that the anima "intensifies, exaggerates, falsifies, and

mythologizes all emotional relations..." (144). She is "the glamorous,

possessive, moody, and sentimental seductress in a man" (422).

Additionally, the anima is often expressed as one element in several
archetypal pairs: in the opposition of masculine and feminine, in
compensation with the persona, in alliance with the shadow, and as guide to
the self. In these pairs, the anima is the reflective partner.

The anima, then, is the archetype which leads a man into contact with

his unconscious. It is the anima which poses metaphysical questions which

 

 

 

43

may not be answered through rational thinking but rather are questions raised
by the questing soul. The anima, refusing to lie dormant in the unconscious,
makes herself felt by posing Delphic riddles to the consciousness of
humankind. In fact, it is through confronting these issues that man develops
within himself a soul, and Jung said "to have soul is the whole adventure of
life" (qtd, in Begg 46).

Just as there are no other men on whom Nick may project his shadow,
so also there are no women on whom he may project his anima.
Nevertheless, it is his anima’s emotional lure which leads him to the
wilderness, and it is through the projection of Nick’s anima on nature that he

experiences renewal in the primordial feminine.

r i 1

It is the images and symbols representing the archetype of the
primordial feminine in Hemingway’s fiction which produce the powerful
emotional impact on the receptive reader. In his works, Hemingway embodied
in language the matriarchal realm of the feminine in her many guises: both
terrible and beneficient.

Not only does the war represent the shadow, the dark side of the
"civilized" persona, but beyond the shadow the archetype of the Great Mother
is reached. The mother gives life and she takes it away. This is an
elementary law of nature, but it is one which is made more horrible by the
mass death and destruction occurring in war. War calls forth not the

nurturing, beneficent mother but the terrible aspect of the primordial

feminine. Neumann writes that in her terrible guise, the feminine becomes

the:
Deadly devouring maw of the underworld....for this woman who
generates life and all living things on earth is the same who takes
them back into herself, who pursues her victims with snare and
net. Disease, hunger, hardship, war above all, are her helpers, and
among all people the goddesses of war and the hunt express man’s
experience of life as a female exacting blood. This Terrible Mother
is the hungry earth, which devours its own children and fattens on
their corpses (GLeeLMQLher 149).

The individual participant in a war is like the grasshoppers Nick catches
for fishing. Just as the hoppers have little control over their destiny once
they have been found in their "grasshopper lodging house," so also there is
little sense that under war’s conditions the individual can control his fate.
Even escape from entrapment within the bottle does not bring freedom to the
hopper that fights its way out; rather, after a monetary taste of freedom it
becomes absorbed in the stream and is quickly eaten by the fish which it
serves for food. Similarly, in their monstrous fight for abstract, principles or
concrete property and riches, (values of the patriarchy) the flesh and blood
of human beings serves as food for the earth, the Great Mother, the
originator and destroyer of all life.

While Nick has experienced the feminine’s terrible aspect in the war, in
nature he has learned to anticipate her beneficent, nourishing aspect. "Nick

felt happy. He felt he had left everything behind, the need for thinking, the

45

need to write, other needs" (210). By temporarily turning his back on the
masculine pursuits of thinking and writing, Nick becomes a self-reliant Adam-
-albeit a post-lapsarian Adamnwho must endure suffering as be self-
consciously recreates his own self.
Jung posits the archetype of the primordial feminine as a factor in the
unconscious of both men and women. Jung and Neumann (as well as other
mythographers) have shattered the myth of their origin of human
consciousness and culture emanating from the masculine spiritual realm.
Neumann writes: "the patriarchal consciousness starts from the standpoint
that the spirit is eternal ‘a priori’: that the spirit was in the beginning"
(GM 58). He goes on to show that masculine consciousness begins from the
final stage in the development of consciousness and projects its principle of
spirit reaching upward toward the heavens onto the gods. In doing so, it
denies the genetic principle which, however:
Is precisely the basic principle of the matriarchal world. Or,
mythologically speaking, he murders his mother and undertakes the
patriarchal revaluation by which the son identified with the father
makes himself the source from which the Feminine-like Eve
arising from Adam’s ribuoriginated in a spiritual and antinatural
way (GM 58).

Given the one-sidedness of the patriarchal point of view, the need arises for

it to be balanced by the equally justified, and psychologically necessary,

principle of the matriarchal world. This feminine principle is the

46

compensatory aspect of the unconscious needed by contemporary people,
images of which Hemingway created in his art.

Both Jung and Neumann emphasize that the archetypes of the primordial
feminine and the Great Mother have dual positive and negative aspects and an
elementary and a transformative character. The central symbolism of the
positive feminine in both her elementary and transformative characters is that
of containing, protecting, and nourishing life.

The female bodily functions of womb, belly, breast, heart, and mouth are
externalized by being projected into the world in other symbolic forms. For
example, the womb is the origin of life in its elementary form, and the
procreative and nourishing symbolism of the womb is extended externally in
its elementary character to water, ocean, pond, and spring, and in its
transformative character, into the water of life. The symbolism of the belly
is externalized as protective symbols--in its elementary character as clothing,
dwellings, vessels, shipsuand in its transformative character, into the grail
and the tree of life. The heart and the mouth, though originating in the
elementary aspect of the feminine, function on the transformative level.
Thus, the heart, through the breast and its nourishing aspect of milk,
culminates in wisdom; the heart, through the mouth, is symbolized by the
breath which culminates in logos; the heart, through the spring (water), in
the water of life. The head is not represented. The highest wisdom of the
feminine is attained through the transformative character of the heart: in

the wisdom of the heart, the logos, and in the water of life.

 

47

In her negative aspect, the primordial feminine is the terrible devouring
mother who ensnares, tortures, mutilates and kills or transforms into madness.
In contrast to her positive aspect, which is grounded in symbols of life and
regeneration, her negative aspect is grounded in symbols of derangement and
death: the tomb, grave, underworld, etc. (Neumann, GM 44 + illus.).

Nick’s fishing trip combines masculine occupation with feminine
receptivity. But the setting, which is of the feminine, is what accords the
experience its affirmation. It is significant that in his distress Nick turns to
the heathen polytheism of the feminine, not to the monotheistic masculine
spirit father.

Amidst the devastation of war, or even of natural disasters such as
fires, nature herself endures. (This story precedes the greater threat of
nuclear weapons.) In contrast to the burned town of Seney, the constancy of
the eternal flux within the Great Mother’s realm furnishes stability and
meaning. A Phoenix rising from the ashes, the primordial feminine
regenerates life. The cyclical nature of the mother assures change, but it
also promises stability and order within that change.

Upon arrival in Seney, Nick gazes into the stream’s rapidly moving
waters and observes the trouts’ movements. In spite of changes occurring
since his last fishing trip--Nick has changed, and the stream has changed, as
have the troutuwhile Nick watches the trout shift in the stream, "He felt
all the old feeling" (210). By experiencing the purity of emotion known
through encountering the elemental forces of nature, Nick is hoping to

renew his own depleted life force.

48

Persons attempting to bring into awareness the elemental experiences of
the feminine do not do so through the intellect-a recent acquisition in the
evolution of the human speciesubut through the immediate, direct awareness
of the senses, emotions, and intuition. (For men this means of perception is
through the anima.) Nick has made the conscious decision not to think.
Thinking binds one to the past or to the future; intentional, conscious sensing
grounds one’s awareness in the present moment. Indeed, the reception of
direct impressions in impeded when filtered through the intellect.

Rather than analyzing his experiences, Nick’s story is a banquet of
immediate impressions: rich sensory images of sights, smells, tastes, and
feelings. The relative absence of sounds is conspicuous. Except for the
buzzing of a mosquito and the sizzling of grease on the skillet, the setting is
filled with a primordial silence. The silence serves to emphasize Nick’s
isolated presence in the realm of the primordial feminine; he becomes the
"Anthropos," the original man, who is at the same time the innermost being
of all human beings. Nick Adams is the first human being to apprehend, and
thereby recreate, all he perceives.

Two of the natural feminine symbols in this story also have a masculine
element: trees and the stream. Trees are the center of the vegetative
symbolism of the feminine. It is the fruit-bearing tree of life which bears,
transforms, and nourishes. Its protective character is apparent in its
symbolism as human beings’ first home. In its masculine aspect, Neumann

says, the tree is:

 

49

the earth phallus, the male principle jutting out of the earth, in
which the procreative character outweighs that of sheltering and
containing. This applies particularly to such trees as the cypress,
which, in contrast to the feminine forms of the fruit trees and
leafy trees, are phallic in the accentuation of their trunks (GM 49).
Because of its wilderness setting, there are several kinds of trees
mentioned in "Big Two-Hearted River." As he walks, Nick sees "islands" of
pine. He sleeps in the midst of these islands. The description of the
overarching trees emphasizes their masculine, phallic character ("The trunks
were straight and brown without branches" 213), but functionally the trees
serve as a means of feminine protection as they shield Nick from the sun’s
heat
However, the trees also represents the negative aspect of the feminine.
A great, uprooted elm tree marks the division between the meadow and
woods. Neumann states that the felling of trees in matriarchal societies was
symbolically equated with castration. Although the elm tree has not been
ritualistically felled, its presence symbolizes emasculation of the masculine
spirit by the terrible mother. The masculine, phallic aspect of the tree is
impotent as it rots and decays and returns back to the mother from whence
it arose. "Gone over in a storm, it lay back into the woods, its roots clotted
with dirt, grass growing in them, rising a solid bank beside the stream" (227).
The impotent elm symbolizes one aspect of Nick’s inner state of being-his
spiritual castration by the mother through his war experiences. However,

Nick is determined not to regress into the chaos of total possession by the

50

terrible mother. Toward this end are his conscious efforts to exert inner
control through ritualized actions and efforts to limit his thinking.

Not only are trees bisexual in their symbolism, so also is water.
Although the "water of life" is regarded as feminine, Neumann stresses the
unifying characteristics of water as symbol since in most of the world’s
cosmologies the primal state of the world was undivided, undifferentiated
water, containing both masculine and feminine principles. In addition,
Neumann states, "Since water is undifferentiated and elementary and is often
uroboric, containing male elements side by side with the maternal, flowing
and moving waters, such as streams, are bisexual and male and are worshiped
as fructifiers and movers" (GM 48). However, Neumann emphasizes the
ambiguity as well as the cultural relativity of symbols when he points out
that in contrast to patriarchal societies, matriarchal societies subordinate the
masculine aspect of bisexual symbols to the feminine; the mother holds fast to
the son, in spite of his masculine activity. Everything that comes from the
darkness of the mother vessel is her child, even the masculine principle born
from her.

The Two-Hearted River is a rapidly moving body of water, a giant
stream, and it has a masculine as well as a feminine character. It is actively
masculine, signifying the masculine, creative element. It is also the feminine
stream of life, representing eternal movement and change, generation, birth,
and death. In Hemingway’s story the accent is on the bi-sexual aspect of the
water, not predominantly on the feminine. Nick carefully executes elaborate

preparations before entering the river, symbolically to become baptized, to

51

experience "rebirth"-so than when he encounters the shock of the cold,
moving water he does not lose his balance or his composure. During the
course of the day’s fishing Nick does not stray from the "safe" areas of the
river. He wades in water over his knees, deepening up his thighs; he is
aware of the direction of the current, letting it work for him. He avoids
getting into deep places where "the water piled up on you. It was no fun to
fish upstream with this much current" (229).

The presence of the swamp is ominous. The mixture of undifferentiated
water and earth which characterizes the swamp symbolizes the unconscious
primordial feminine and the suction of its regressive lure. Nick is aware of
the swamp even before he reaches his campsite, and as he prepares to eat he
observes mist rising from the swamp. Land and water are not distinct in
swampy areas. In Nick’s swamp the branches of the cedar trees hang close
to the ground, making walking upright impossible. The moist darkness and
indistinctness of the swamp creates an image of the beginning-qua the most
base forms of life on earth before there was a reflexive consciousness to
attribute value. In the murky swamp, teeming with the generation and death
of elemental forms of life, life just is-and life and death are one. It
appears as if consciousness has no place in a swamp, only madness. Yet,
herein the mysteries of the feminine may be confronted, if one has the
courage to do so. Nick does not.

While the swamp symbolizes the most elemental feminine, it also
represents Nick’s shadow. He fears fishing in the swamp. It is the

unconscious, unknown beyond which his consciousness refuses to penetrate.

52

Just as his ego-consciousness is circumscribed and symbolized at the beginning
of the story by the image of cultural sterility in the burned town, so too the
limits of his penetration into the feminine unconscious are bound and
symbolized by his reluctance to attempt to penetrate the swamp.

The fish which inhabit the stream represent the deepest part of human
beings’ instinctual nature. In the fish, nature has not been tampered with as
have the lives of domesticated life forms. The fish is pure instinct, pure
sensation. In addition, fish are a symbol of the transpersonal archetype of
the self, which for men is reached through the anima. In discussing the
"round" wholeness of the self, which consciousness alone lacks, Jung says:

This "round" thing is the great treasure that lies hidden in the
cave of the unconscious, and its personification is this personal
being who represents the higher unity of conscious and
unconscious. It is a figure comparable to Hiranyagarbha, Purusha,
Atrnan, and the mystic Buddha. For this reason I have elected to
call it the "self," by which I understand a psychic totality and at
the same time a centre, neither of which coincides with the ego
but includes it, just as a larger circle encloses a smaller one
(ACU 142).

The archetype of the self represents psychic totality, the original, all-
inclusive genetic potential from which the ego grows and toward which the
individuating personality aspires. This is why the ego must necessarily be

strong, so that it can come to sense itself not as the center of personality

 

53

but simply as one part of a larger, more comprehensive and supraordinate
whole.

Just as conscious integration of the other archetypes channels new
streams of libido into consciousness, so also does the realization of the
central motif of the self imbue the individual with renewed life-force. Nick
hooks five fish during his day of fishing on the Two-Hearted. The first fish
is too small to keep and he lets it go. The second fish is described in
mythic proportions; it is the biggest fish he has ever seen or heard of. With
this fish, Nick heroically struggles. Hemingway’s description of the struggle
conveys the experience’s numinosity, for this is Nick’s moment of initiatron
and rebirth:

His mouth dry, his heart down, Nick reeled in. He had never seen
so big a trout. There was a heaviness, a power not to be held,
and then the bulk of him, as he jumped....Nick’s hand was shaky.
He reeled in slowly. the thrill had been too much. He felt,
vaguely, a little sick, as though it would be better to sit
down...He’d bet the trout was angry. Anything that size would be
angry. That was a trout. He had been solidly hooked. Solid as a
rock. He felt like a rock, too, before he started off (226-27).

Nick compares the heaviness of the fish with a rock. Similarly, Christ,
an exemplar of the archetype of the self and the fisher of souls, one of
whose symbols is a fish, is also compared with a rock. Christ is "the
spiritual rock from which the water of life springs" (1 Cor. x:4). The
archetype of the self often appears in non-human forms, such as fish and

54

rocks. Jungian analyst M. L. von Franz says that "the Self is symbolized
with special frequency in the form of a stone, precious or otherwise" ("The
Process of Individuation" 221).

One might think that the fish and the rock, as symbols of the archetype
of the self and the sense of transcendent wholeness, should be compelling.
Although Nick is temporarily imbued with energy through his struggle with
the fish, the exhilaration does not last and he experiences an equally intense
sense of deflation when the fish escapes. However, the sense of
transcendent unity which connection with the archetype of the self brings is
only a transient experience. It is not a permanent state. Rather, such
states serve as a monetary light of expanded awareness by which to guide
one’s way through the difficulties and suffering with which life confronts all
seekers of truth. Even though momentary, it would seem as if an individual
should wish to encounter similar experiences. But this is not the case for
Nick He catches two more fish and he loses one. But they are not
remarkable for their size. In fact, Nick says that he is not interested in
catching many trout, and he conveys a sense that he does not wish to repeat
his experience with the big fish.

The reason for his reluctance to search out big trout is similar to his
disinclination to fish the swamp. During his struggle with the fish, Nick is
not in control of the situation: "The reel ratcheted into a mechanical shriek
as the line went out in a rush. Too fast. Nick could not check it, the line
rushing out, the reel note rising as the line ran out" (226). The sense of

being out of control which being "possessed" by an archetype brings, is

55

precisely what Nick does not want. As was mentioned, the purpose of his
fishing expedition is twofold: to enable him to gain the renewal of his own
feminine life--force and to regain a masculine sense of control over this
potentially chaotic instinctive energy. Nick intuitively knows that there must
be a balance. He will not presume to take unnecessary risks.

While it is Nick’s anima that has led him into the wilderness and that
further lures him toward the swamp, his masculine ego-consciousness refuses
to penetrate any deeper. Nick’s inability to penetrate into the feminine
unconscious beyond the safety of the known confirms the fragility of his ego-
consciousness and affirrns the wisdom of his decision not to risk a tragic
confrontation with the unconscious that the swamp symbolizes. Malcom
Cowley has suggested that Nick’s story is a "waking dream," that Nick is
attempting to escape "from a nightmare or fiom realities that have become a
nightmare" ("Hemingway at Midnight" 190). Similarly, Phillip Young says that
presented in the story is "a picture of a sick man who is in escape from
whatever it is that made him sick" and he suggests that "a terrible panic is
just barely under control" and that this panic exists because of "the
experiences...of the man’s past: the blows which he has suffered--physical,
psychical, moral, spiritual, and emotional-3 (W 19). The
ambiguity of Nick’s situation is obvious. He is a psychically unbalanced man,
searching for balance and affirmation in a pre-patriarchal yet familiar setting.
He is an expert fisherman who knows how to utilize both masculine equipment
and feminine setting-up to a point. However, in searching for a newly

integrated consciousness, Nick dares not jeopardize what he has. The risk is

56

too great, the lure of the regressive forces of the mother, too strong.
Therefore, Nick wisely chooses not to enter the swamp to search for large
fish. Because of his youth, he can, with youthful optimism, look forward to
"plenty of days coming when he could fish the swamp" (232).

In "Big Two-Hearted River" Nick Adams begins the quest for
individuation which the protagonists of succeeding novels continue. As has
been shown, Nick’s masculine ego-consciousness is fragile and does not permit
him more than glimpses of the deepest recesses of the primordial feminine
and of the self. But he is young, and there will be other opportunities, if
not for Nick, then for those who follow.

Hemingway is presenting through Nick a "way" for the reader to follow.
In a world in which symbols for the old patriarchal gods are no longer
numinously able to furnish human beings with a connection to the archetypes
of the collective unconscious, one has two choices. One may become ever
more firmly ensconced in the collective or one may strike out on one’s own.
The later way begins by forging one’s own path: turning one’s back on the
collective and entering the unconscious, encountering the archetypes, and
integrating their regenerating, life-sustaining wisdom into consciousness. The
later way is the authentic path according to both Hemingway and Jung. The
way to a state of psychic wholeness, however, is a path which leads through
conscious suffering. To withdraw one’s projections and to accept the
responsibility for one’s being in the world is a painful and lonely process. It
requires a strong ego which Nick is in the process of developing, as he

begins, also, to create his own soul.

 

57

W

The heart of this thesis will be an examination of W
flees, an early novel, We, a "middle" novel, and 1111:9151
W Hemingway’s last novella, in terms of the archetypal images
and symbols they contain. The format will be similar to that used in
discussing "Big Two-Hearted River," although archetypal motifs not present in
the short story will also be discussed. The focus of the study will be on the
works themselves, in analyzing their archetypal content. In addition, I shall
discuss the archetypes revealed in each novel in terms of the degree of
individuation of the consciousness of the protagonists. I believe that when
viewed in sequence, the works will show the author’s increasingly individuated
artistic consciousness.

The second chapter, therefore, will focus on W: and
Jake Barnes’ quest for values and meaning in the wasteland which he, like
Nick Adams, inhabits in the aftermath of World War I. Images of infertility
in France contrast with the rejuvenating sensual pleasure which Jake enjoys
during his interludes in Spain’s natural settings. In this regard, Jake’s story
is similar to that of Nick Adams. But there are abundant differences. The
novel’s cast of characters is large and diverse. Jake functions both as a
member of his group of friends and as a detached observer of their activities.

Also, in Pamplona, pagan festivities and the ancient ritual of the bullfight
introduce mythic elements into the story. W has become

58

known as a chronicle of the "lost generation." However, the novel contains
regenerative images as well.

In We, the novel examined in the third chapter,
Robert Jordan has already accepted responsibility for himself as well as a
larger social responsibility in his willingness to fight for the Spanish Republic
in Spain. Jordan struggles to make sense of masculine political ideologies
while engaged in the masculine activity of blowing up a bridge. As he does
so, he battles an inner enemy. The novel’s central focus, however, is on the
transcendent love which Robert Jordan finds with Maria. Jordan and Maria’s
love lifts the story above the horror of war and furnishes affirmative, life-
sustaining glimpses of eternity which the higher emotion of love can create.

Finally, chapter four examines WM. Santiago must
go out on the sea, "beyond all people in the world," in his quest for a great
fish. Not having caught a fish in eighty-four days, Santiago is unlucky.
Because of his bad luck, he must go alone; the boy who fishes with him is
made to fish with a lucky fisherman. The old man stoically endures
struggles and hardships after he hooks a giant marlin. Although he valiantly
kills the fish and lashes it to his skiff, sharks attack the fish on his return
voyage and he loses its valuable flesh. Although Santiago is "destroyed," he
is not "defeated." He returns to his community with the "skeleton" of a

spiritually successful quest.

 

Chapter 2
The Sun Also Rises

W is also the account of a spiritual quest. The

narrator, Jake Barnes, like Nick Adams, inhabits a wasteland, a world devoid
of the sustaining "water of life." While "Big Two-Hearted River" views one
individual coping with the psychic distress wrought by World War I, the novel
portrays the war’s effect on a larger cast of characters. Indeed, Linda
Wagner-Martin says that one of the merits of the novel is "Hemingway’s
remarkable ability to catch the temper of the era" (W511;
Alse_Ri§esI 5). Jake’s suffering is compounded by the fact that he has been
seriously wounded in the war. His consequent impotence is one of the novel’s
predominant symbols: Jake’s physical sterility mirrors the sterility of the
larger societal sphere.

Both Carlos Baker and Malcom Cowley have cited similarities between
Jake’s sterility and the sterility of the Grail Legend’s Fisher King.
(Hemingway: W 90; "Nightmare and Ritual in Hemingway"
49). John Atkins amplifies on the theme of this mythical connection when he
suggests that the Fisher King’s impotence is curable and Jake’s is not,
suggesting that Hemingway’s message implied social conditions to be beyond

remedy. W 166). As a result of the infertility
both within and without, Jake is on a quest which takes him into the

60

unconscious, archetypal domain. In Europe, Jake continues to move along the
path toward individuation that Nick began in Michigan.

Because We is written from the first person narrative
point of view the amount of information given the reader is limited to what
Jake Barnes observes, knows, and feels; it is his consciousness (and
unconscious) that informs the reader of the other characters and events
which comprise this novel. Although first person narration offers the
advantage of drawing the reader into the story by enabling her or him to
realize an intimate identification with the narrator, it is limiting because it is
not possible to know the thoughts and feelings of the other characters
directly or to interpret events impartially. For this reason it is necessary to
keep in mind that the characterizations of Robert Cohn and of Brett Ashley
are highly colored by Jake’s emotional reaction to them. They will therefore
be discussed as indicators of his projections of the archetypes of the shadow
and anima. Additionally, for the purposes of this study, the characters of
Brett and Cohn, will be discussed as if the information which Jake furnishes
is factual. It is the extent of the individuation of Jake’s psyche which, in
the final analysis, is most important in studying the degree of individuation
of Hemingway’s protagonists; hence the major focus of this study will
necessarily be on Jake’s perceptions, which inform the reader not only of
people and events, but of his own inner-being as well.

In this section I shall examine Hemingway’s first major novel by
discussing the images, symbols, characters, settings, and events that represent
the conscious masculine aspects of the psyche—the inflated persona and ego-

 

61

consciousness-ms well as those indimting the presence of archetypes of the
feminine unconscious: the shadow, the trickster, the anima, and through her
the primordial feminine, the animal, and the self. The primordial feminine is
present in this novel in the character of Brett, in the Paris nights, and in
Spain, in the fiesta and the interludes preceding and following it. Mark
Spilka has called Wm Hemingway’s post-World War I "death of
love" novel and, indeed, it is the terrible aspect of the feminine that
predominates as it reaches up out of the unconscious through the shadow, to
ensnare her victims. Jake’s quest is incomplete. (He does not, at the novel’s
end, attain a state of psychic wholeness.) However, he does begin the quest,
and it is this beginning which offers the reader a glimpse into the inner
recesses of his or her own unconscious, at the living archetypal images which
are given expression through the reader’s vicarious participation in Jake’s
experiences.

The persona is the psychic complex which will be presented first in this
psychological consideration of W. While the persona is an
integral part of the psyche in its mediating function between the ego and the
outside world, the "inflated," overly developed persona is limiting. Thus,
Hemingway introduces Robert Cohn and Frances Cline first. They are the foils
highlighting the other characters, particularly Jake and Brett. Cohn and
Frances represent the personae of the collective, as their own inflated
personas are exposed, revealing little substance underneath. Because the
persona is a social mask which one wears, it is a shallow "reality" imposed by

ephemeral societal values and expectations. The persona’s rigidity contrasts to

62

the flux of the natural life of common humanity which it diametrically
opposes. Robert Cohn possesses qualities valued in America--the Oak Park,
Illinois, values which Hemingway attempted to escape by moving to Europe-
values which are reflected here in the cultural sterility of Paris. Cohn has
acquired both wealth and social prestige, not through his own efforts, but by
inheritance. He also represents the persona of the Ivy-League intellectual--
who acquires knowledge fi'om books instead of from direct experience-4n
contrast to Jake who wishes to participate fully in all of life’s pleasures.

On the surface, where the persona resides, Cohn is likable. He is
"nice," usually good-natured, boyish, and a good tennis and bridge player. In
fact, it is Cohn’s very niceness, his desire not to be seen as anything but
nice, which is the clue to his inflated persona. Whenever Cohn does show
anger, when his unconscious shadow erupts and he verbally or physically
lashes out at another person, he afterwards disowns the emotion and begs
forgiveness. The rigid, narrow limits of the persona restrict his unconscious
shadow from becoming integrated into his total personality. Rather, when his
social mask of niceness slips and he becomes angry at Jake for telling him to
go to hell, or for taking Brett to Pedro Romero, or at Pedro Romero himself,
he becomes ashamed, disowns the emotion and, in prep-school style, wants to
shake hands and make-up and forget that it happened. Cohn is unaware of
the fact that these are the only occasions when a deeper, more real side of
himself is displayed.

Beneath the surface, however, the reader learns that appearances are

deceiving, that Cohn really is a case of "arrested development." He not only

 

63

appears boyish, he has remained at an adolescent stage of psychic
development. The sense of inferiority which he experienced at Princeton has
stunted his psychic growth, for nearly everything which has happened in his
life subsequently has been an attempt by Cohn to become either a "strong
man" or to allow himself passively to be taken care of by others. Having
developed no inner-confidence or direction, Cohn has lived under the
domination of women: his mother, who gives him an allowance; his first wife,
who divorced him so that she could marry a miniaturist; Frances Cline, who
desperately wants him to many her, and Brett, whom he follows around like a
steer.

As is characteristic of people who exist solely in the social persona,
Cohn does not have a realistic picture of himself or of his effect on others.
He steadfastly clings to this romantic beliefs that the world is as he would
wish it to be. Instead of forming his own standards, of looking within
himself for meaning and fulfillment, he turns to externals: sports, books, the
adulation of women, South America, and Brett. Unlike Jake, who stoically
bears his suffering, when Cohn cannot get what he wants he overtly displays
self-pity, hoping to gain sympathy from others. Most importantly, Cohn lacks
the experiences and the self-knowledge which would enable him to be
included in the "one of us" group that Brett refers to when she speaks of her
acceptance of the Count. Although Cohn has been psychically wounded, he is
unaware of it. He has not, in fact, lived a life of active participation, of
immersion in the pain as well as the beauty, the absurdity as well as the

sensual pleasure, which life offers. He is still child-like in his innocence, his

naivete. Cohn wants and expects to be liked, to be forgiven for his
transgressions, and to be taken care of by those he considers to be his
fiiends. Finally, he has not experienced the war, and does not understand its
effect on those who have. His insensitivity to others is evident in the fact
that he is as oblivious to Jake’s and Brett’s suffering as he is to the fact
that it is he who is the foreigner in Spain.

Cohn’s girlfriend, Frances Cline, exhibits her overly bright persona in
her lengthy monologue to Jake on Cohn’s faults--notably the fault that Cohn
refuses to marry her after leading her to believe that he would. She has told
everyone that they would be married but Robert has changed his mind. Her
fear, which reveals her superficiality, is that her looks are fading and that if
Cohn does not marry her no one will. Her lack of capacity for deeper
emotions is reflected in her view of having children: although she has never
liked children, she wants to have them, hoping that she will learn to like
them after the fact. Finally, though, Frances smiles with her mouth, as a
social gesture, not with her eyes, as Brett does, which reveals a deeper, more
genuine pleasure.

Other examples of the persona are the Braddocks’ crowd of American
expatriates with whom Jake socializes during the long Paris nights and the
Biarritz crowd whose presence pollutes the finale of the fiesta and bullfights
in Pamplona. Both groups’ phoniness, emptiness, and lack of comprehension
of true emotion is contrasted with the deeper emotion of Jake’s and Brett’s
suffering and, especially, with the true emotion and significance of the ritual
bullfight.

65

The war has left people with the inability to communicate; literally or
figuratively, they cannot understand one another. Frances Cline is typical of
the Braddocks’ crowd who understand little of life in Europe. They do not
understand the war’s effect on the people who had to live through its horrors
and its aftermath, unlike their own American homeland which saw no
physical devastation. In an exchange between Georgette, who knows the
reality of the darker side of life, and Frances, the persona’s lack of
dimensionality is evident. Frances has not experienced the poverty and the
dirtiness of Paris, the Paris which Georgette knows intimately. Frances loves
the "clean" Paris which is the aspect of the city presented to visitors,
foreigners whose money permits them to buy insulation from the seamy side
of life. Similarly, Robert Prentiss, the rising new novelist from New York by
way of Chicago, who speaks with a fake British accent, finds Paris "amusing."
When Jake becomes angry with Prentiss’ inane conversation, Prentiss says,
"Oh, how charmingly you get angry. I wish I had that faculty." While this
coyness further disgusts Jake, it is a revelation about the type of people
Prentiss represents. He cannot feel, let alone express, real emotions such as
anger. In fact, he does not have to experience his own deeper emotions; the
"mass consciousness" of the group provides him the illusion of direct
experience.

Finally, the Biarritz crowd who attend the last bullfight in Pamplona
exhibit their false personae in their ignorance of the significance of the
deeply spiritual spectacle they are observing. "They preferred Belmonte’s
imitation of himself or Marcial’s imitation of Belmonte" (218) to the true

66

artistry of Pedro Romero. Jake refers to them ironically as "the Biarritz
bull-fight experts." And although they arrive in Pamplona in droves in their
big motor cars and their odd-looking sports clothes and can be absorbed by
the fiesta crowds so that they disappear from sight, their presence is felt in
the chaos of emotional eruptions marking the festival’s finale. The tourists’
presence pollutes the purity of the sport which is so deeply meaningful to the
true aficionados. Their lack of understanding parallels the ignorance of
outsiders in any ritual of significance to an inner-circle of initiates. Because
of their superficial understanding, their mere curiosity, their aloofness from
the emotional, spiritual involvement of those who participate with their total
beings, the tourists’ presence is destructive to the ritually enacted ceremonial.
The sacred is blasphemed by the profane. And the horror is that the
blasphemers are ignorant of their effect.

The persona is only undesirable when it becomes inflated and is the sole
aspect of the psyche to be developed. Being able to accommodate oneself to
different societal contexts by knowing the rules, and understanding how to
"play the games" is useful. However, if the only rules one knows, the only
games one plays, are those imposed by the external world, and if that world
represents a one-sided development of human potential, the person becomes
lost in the collective, and, like Cohn, fails to develop an authentic inner-
directed orientation to life.

Jake, in contrast to Cohn, is already an outsider from the collective
because he is questing for a way to live authentically in a world stripped of

the inflated persona’s illusions. His is a world of masculine ego-consciousness

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in which the old "gods" of the societal realm have ceased to provide wisdom
and meaning and where he must, in addition, confront a personal world in
which he has been rendered physically impotent. The existential,
materialistic code which he has evolved is expressed in a nocturnal
monologue:
I thought I had paid for everything. Not like the woman pays and
pays and pays. No idea of retribution or punishment. Just
exchange of values. You gave up something and got something
else. Or you worked for something. You paid some way for
everything that was any good. I paid my way into enough things
that I liked, so that I had a good time. Either you paid by
learning about them, or by experience, or by taking chances, or by
money. Enjoying living was learning to get your money’s worth.
The world was a good place to buy in. It seemed like a fine
philosophy. In five years, I thought, it will seem just as silly as
all the other fine philosophies I’ve had.
Perhaps that wasn’t true, though. Perhaps as you went along you
did learn something. I did not care what it was about. All I
wanted to know was how to live in it. Maybe if you found out
how to live in it you learned from that what it was all about
(148).
Like Nick Adams, Jake existentially values direct experience; it is only
from the experience that meaning may be derived. Life is to be enjoyed, to

be lived as fully as possible, but not without constraints; one must be

68

responsible, one must pay for the enjoyment. Unlike Brett and Mike who
have also abandoned the collective persona and embrace the meaninglessness
of their lives by living for pleasure without the deeper dimension of
commitment and meaning, Jake endeavors to make sense of his experience.
He has learned, as he tells Robert Cohn, "going to another country doesn’t
make any difference. I’ve tried all that. You can’t get away from yourself
by moving from one place to another. There’s nothing to that" (11). Jake
is "wise," in contrast to the others, because he is self-consciously developing
a code by which to live, and he is beginning the process of learning that
regardless of external conditions his own inner-state of being will determine
his experience. This awareness marks the onset of the individuation process;
however, the code which he has evolved is that of his masculine ego-
consciousness which has not yet integrated into itself the unconscious,
feminine components of his psyche.
Paris represents the greatness of the masculine spirit’s past cultural
development. Of the masculine nature of culture Erich Neumann says:
The man’s world, representing "heaven" stands for law and
tradition, for the gods of aforetime, so far as they were masculine
gods. It is no accident that all human culture, and not Western
civilization alone, is masculine in character....The masculine
trend...is toward greater co-ordination of spirit, ego, consciousness,
and will. Because man discovers his true self in consciousness, and
is a stranger to himself in the unconscious, which he must

inevitably experience as feminine, the development of masculine

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culture means development of consciousness (W

Was 143-4)-
Although Paris has long been the center of culture in the West, and is
traditionally the city where artists journey to study and gain inspiration, as
Hemingway himself did, it has become a wasteland. While the city contains
statues and cathedrals representing past heroes and spiritual aspirations, the
inability of traditional cultural values to provide spiritual sustenance in the
post-World War I era is reflected in Notre Dame’s "squatting" against the
night sky, instead of "rising" or "soaring," and in the meaninglessness of
titles of nobility in providing purposeful class distinctions, as a means of
hierarchically stratifying society. Also, along with the diminished cultural
relics, there exists the rubbish, the pretense, and the sham provided by street
vendors selling modern imitations of life: stuffed dogs and mechanized hogs
and boxer toys manipulated by girls.

Additional images of the sterile products of masculine ego-
consciousness in this novel are religion and the French attitude toward sports
and relationships. In both France and Spain Jake spends time in churches
and cathedrals, attends mass, and attempts to pray. Although he has not
given up practicing the rituals of Christianity, they do not provide the sorely
needed food for his spirit. During his visit to a church in an attempt to
pray, Hemingway presents, in a Faulknerian stream of consciousness, Jake’s
thoughts: he begins by praying for his friends and the bullfighters and ends
by thinking of money and the count. When he realizes where his associations

have led he says: "I was a little ashamed, and regretted that I was such a

70

rotten Catholic, but realized there was nothing I could do about it, at least
for a while, and maybe never, but that anyway it was a grand religion, and I
only wished I felt religious and maybe I would the next time" (97). Similarly,
although Jake tells Brett that he has gotten things that he has prayed for in
the past, there is little sense that prayer works for him any longer.

Bicycling, the national sport of France, is also meaningless; the riders
themselves do not take it seriously, and care nothing about winning as long
as they get their money. Finally, loyalty and friendship in France are
reduced to a monetary value. Brett buys Jake’s concierge’s esteem in Paris
and Jake buys the friendship of the waiter in Bayonne. Of this attitude Jake
says:

Everything is on such a clear financial basis in France. It is the
simplest country to live in. No one makes things complicated by
becoming your friend for any obscure reason. If you want people
to like you, you have only to spend a little money. _I spent a little
money and the waiter liked me. He appreciated my valuable
qualities (233).
This parody of Jake’s philosophy of life illustrates his defensiveness over the
loss of Montoya’s friendship. At the time of its utterance, the lack of
ambiguity characterizing relationships in France appears easier to live with
than the emotional complexity in Spain. However, it is also less meaningful.

The most successful representative of the state of the psyche which the

materialistic ego-consciousness of France symbolizes, and Jake espouses, is

Count Mippipopolus, whom Brett refers to as "one of us" (32). The count,

71

too, has "wounds" which he received not in war but on a "business trip" in
Abyssinia. But the count’s past does not matter. Neither is his questionable
title important. The manner in which he acquired his wealth is unclear, and
although Brett tells Jake that the count owns a chain of sweet shops in
America, it is not unlikely that he became rich in a less than socially
acceptable way, on "business trips" about the world. What is important is
that the count has experience, a wealth of experience: "it is because I have
lived very much that now I can enjoy everything so well" (60). The count
has formed a set of values for himself which center on the sensual enjoyment
of life, from the pleasure of good champagne, good company, and good cigars,
to the pleasure of always being in love. The count’s sensuality relates him
to Brett’s deep sensuality, his desire to live life fully, to Jake’s similar goal.
Also, his values are purely financial, as are Jake’s conscious values. The
count has learned that you get what you are willing to pay for, and he is
willing and able to pay for the best that money can buy. However, while
these values are simple and unambiguous, they are superficial and do not
satisfy deeper instinctive, emotional, and spiritual needs. Bill summarizes the
shallowness of this ethics when he says, "You pay them money. They give
you a stuffed dog" (72). It is a comfortable, useful way of life so long as
one does not penetrate the surface, in which case one realizes the "nada," the
meaninglessness, of a lifeless, stuffed dog.

Jake is able to gain satisfaction through some aspects of the world
created and sustained by masculine ego-consciousness: the orderly world of

work and the gratification to be derived therefrom, which is linear and

72

rational. As Jake walks to his job he says, "All along people were going to
work. It felt pleasant to be going to work" (36). Jake is relatively content
while following the routine of working as a foreign newspaper correspondent.
In fact, he has become so adept at his job that he can appear never to be
working. However, he does work, he is responsible in his job, and gains
satisfaction from doing it well. He is highly regarded by his colleagues and
others who consider him their friend. In spite of the predominantly sterile
images in Paris, it is there, during the day, that Jake has evolved a pragmatic
set of values which allows him to go about his business relatively at peace
with his world. His conscious orientation, however, breaks down under the
assault of the unconscious which occurs in Brett’s presence during the Paris
nights and at the Spanish fiesta.

The first figure of the unconscious to come into awareness in the
process of individuation is the shadow. The presence of the personal shadow
can be discerned by the negative emotion associated with one’s reaction to it,
since the shadow contains inferior, unrecognized elements of the personality.
On the path toward individuation, people learn to accept their own shadow
qualities. However, for most people, these negative personality
characteristics are projected on others, usually of the same sex. Similarly,
the collective shadow, which belongs with other components of the collective
unconscious, is the "dark" side of the prevailing spirit of the age. In The
W the collective shadow is present in the war and its aftermath.
In addition, both the collective shadow and the personal shadow can be

discerned in Jake’s and the other characters’ attitudes toward the

73

"Jewishness" of Robert Cohn. Finally, Jake’s personal shadow surfaces as he
reacts to Brett’s homosexual companions.

The archetype of the collective shadow is omnipresent--it literally casts
its "shadow" over the entire novel in the form of World War I which has
touched the lives of nearly all of the characters in one way or another.
References to the war occur in every section of the novel and it is clear that
the psychological imbalance, the physical and psychic "wounds" of the
characters, was wrought by the war. In war collective shadow impulses are
projected on the "other" whom one fears as the enemy, who is seen as the
exemplar of an evil force which must be struggled against and defeated to
preserve the sanctity of one’s own system of values and beliefs. With this
fear as impetus, one is capable of committing actions unthinkable under
ordinary circumstances. However, what one fails to see is that the "evil" of
the other is precisely one’s own darker side.

The war represents not only the shadow, the dark side of the civilized
persona, but through the shadow the Great Mother surfaces. Just as the
mother creates life, so also she takes life back into herself. This process
which, in itself, is fearful enough to human beings, is made even more
horrible by the mass slaughter which occurs in war.

World War I was a particularly horrifying experience because so many
lives were lost. Also, in World War I instruments of warfare were employed
which were the fruit of the ascendance of the masculine spirit: the
technological sophistication born out of the scientific knowledge of the day.

Within the context of the war, the individual was insignificant. He could not

74

rely on superior masculine strength and intelligence or cunning as had been
possible when fighting in direct combat: deaths were often due to massive
mechanical machines, or impersonal bombs, or even to debilitating illnesses
like the dysentery which killed Brett’s lover. Ironically, all of the knowledge
available in waging a mechanized war could not cure such a humiliating
disease. Thus the absurdity-that the instruments of civilization, the apex of
the achievement of the masculine spirit, had become the means to serve the
terrible aspect of the mother in wreaking more death and destruction than
the world had ever known. Ironically, too, along with physical death and
destruction, came the destruction of the underlying beliefs of the masculine
spirit, the systems of "truths," of religious beliefs, of philosophical, moral,
and political creeds by which Western civilization had succeeded.

In the Biblical myth of the fall of the Tower of Babel human beings
were punished for their overweening pride by separation and isolationupeople
were made to speak in foreign tongues so that they could not communicate
and in this way were prevented from attempting to build another tower to
reach heaven. The aftermath of the war was similar for the characters in
Hemingway’s novel. Although most of them speak the same language, the war
has caused psychic wounds which isolate them from deeper aspects of
themselves as well as from one another, and from the larger societal context.
Thus, the war continues to be present, not only as an historical event, which
is transpersonal, but also in the personal lives and relationships of the
characters.

The archetype of the collective shadow is also represented by its

projection upon Robert Cohn as a Jew. In the history of the Western world,

75

Jews have always been a group apart, a minority, suspect. They continue to
bear the burden of the crucifixion of Christ two thousand years after the
deed. They have been the scapegoats in all countries, bearing the collective
guilt for their role in the drama of the onset of Christianity. As Rene
Girard has shown in W "the celebrated Jewish
scapegoat" is one manifestation among many of a devastating, irrational force
underlying human behavior (97). In Jungian terms, this force is a function of
the unconscious shadow from whence it springs. For centuries, the gentiles
of the world have been projecting their own fears, their own inferiorities,
their own "evil" natures outward upon the "other," the Jew.

Accordingly, collective shadow impulses are manifested through the
projection of the personal shadows of the characters onto Robert Cohn.
Once Cohn declares his love for Brett, Jake Barnes cannot discuss him
without emotion and the emotional reaction of Jake as well as the others is,
more often than not, anger and disgust. Jake says of Cohn, as they are
waiting at the train station to see if Brett and Mike will arrive, "Cohn had a
wonderful quality of bringing out the worst in anybody" (98). And, indeed,
though it may be his personal qualities which the others find irritating, it is
his race which is disparaged. Early in the novel, Jake remarks that Cohn has
a "hard, Jewish stubborn streak." At dinner, when Cohn presumes to know
Brett’s and Mike’s plans, Bill says, "Well, let him not get superior and
Jewish" (96). later he chides Jake for including Cohn on the trip and
sarcastically asks, "Haven’t you got some more Jewish friends you could bring

along?" (101) Bill also refers to Cohn as a "kike" (164). Subsequently he

76

tells Cohn to "Take that sad Jewish face away" (177). Even Brett joins the
chorus when she appeals to J ake for sympathy. "What do you think its meant
to have that damned Jew about?" (184)

Cohn’s Jewishness marks him as a scapegoat for the others who project
onto him their own negative attributes, qualities they possess but cannot
accept. The men are all jealous of Cohn’s affair with Brettuhe has gotten
what Jake, in particular, cannot have. Also, Cohn’s passivity, which Jake
detests, mirrors his own inability to assume an active role. Mike is
reminded of the shallowness of his relationship with Brett; Brett does not
love Mike; she hardly thinks of him when they are not together. Bill’s
admiration for Brett suggests that he, too, would be interested in spending
two weeks with her in San Sebastian, if only she had met him before Cohn.
Finally, Brett has been tolerant of Cohn’s attentions until she becomes
infatuated with Pedro Romero. Once her deeper emotions have been
reawakened, she does not need this superficial attention. Also, given her
feelings for Romero, Brett understands Cohn’s need to affirm the meaning of
their affair. In the light of Brett’s own helpless feelings for Romero she
senses her responsibility for Cohn’s emotional state and experiences
appropriate guilt. However, she does not recognize the responsibility or the
guilt consciously. Rather, she projects the blame onto Cohn for behaving like
such a fool.

A final instance depicting the projection of J ake’s shadow is his
encounter with the homosexuals. Jake is haunted by the wound which has

left him impotent, although still able to experience sexual desire. Jake’s first

77

encounter with Brett in the novel is at the Braddocks’ dancing club.
Ironically, when he and Brett meet, he is with a prostitute and Brett is with
a group of homosexuals. Brett’s appearance with the gay men provokes
Jake’s outrage, "I was angry. Somehow they always made me angry. I know
they are supposed to be amusing, and you should be tolerant, but I wanted to
swing on one, any one, anything to shatter that superior, simpering
composure" (20). Jake’s attitude toward the homosexuals reflects his feelings
regarding his own condition. The war has rendered him impotent; although he
is able to experience sexual desire, he is unable to express love in the
physical act of love which is naturally and normally important in any love
relationship but is especially so with Brett. In addition, Jake’s impotence also
signifies the sterility of his relationship with Brett or any other woman he
might love. Thus, when he sees men who are sexually potent but who
"waste" their virility in relationships with other men, causing them, too, to be
sterile in a generative sense, he is angry at the absurdity, the injustice of
his own deprivation. To Jake, the homosexuals’ "superior, simpering
composure" mocks his own lack of composure when confronted with the
hopelessness of his situation. Jake hates himself for what he cannot be, for
his incompleteness as a man, and he projects this feeling onto other
incomplete men who also cannot have fulfilling relationships with women,
whatever the reason.

One of the figures arising out of the shadow is the trickster. According
to Jung, trickster myths belong to the oldest expressions of humankind and

can be seen "in the unsuspecting modern-man—whenever, in fact, he feels

78

himself at the mercy of annoying ’accidents’ which thwart his will and his
actions with apparently malicious intent" (WWW
fleeeeseieee 262). In his amplification of trickster myths, Paul Radin shows
that the duality of the trickster figure’s creator/destroyer, animal/god
character has come down to us in the personification of the clown and the
jester, and has been abstracted into the concept of injustice, with its
underlying problem of good and evil. Within the context of the total
personality, the inherent tendency of the ego to perceive only from its own
point of view, and its further tendency to form dualistic judgments of "right"
and "wrong," "good" and "evil," is a fundamental impeding factor for further
psychic development. The labels "good" and "e ' " remove the emphasis from
the struggle for inward development to an obsession with outward
manifestations, which also masks the inherently ambivalent nature of life
itself. As in the Biblical story of Job, "evil" does befall "good" men and the
problem that Job and his counterpart, Jake (Jacob), must wrestle with is
overcoming the false assumption that things should be changed or at least
make sense. Life itself is feminine, and is not always, or even often,
susceptible to masculine logic and reason.

Jake wrestles with his problem but to no avail. After Jake has parted
from Brett on the night of their meeting at the dancing club, he is in despair
as he contemplates the futility of his life. Jake’s late-night reverie is filled
with bitterness as he remembers his "old grievance," the wound he received
while flying on the Italian front. That Jake has not learned to live with the

effects of his wound furnishes much of the novel’s ambiguity; the implication

79

is that if Jake had not received this senseless injury he would be able to
unite with the woman he loves and attain happiness. As Hemingway presents
his characters, however, this proves to be an illusion, given Brett’s nature.
Moreover, it is a psychological truth that men and women develop the contra-
sexual elements of their personalities through forming bonds with persons of
the opposite sex. However, this is precisely what Jake cannot do, in spite of
the fact that he wants and needs to; and for this reason he is trapped in an
emotional web over which he has no conscious control. Here, too, Jake is
unable to accept the responsibility for his own state of being as he projects
the blame for his misery outward onto Brett. "Probably I never would have
had any trouble if I hadn’t run into Brett when they shipped me to England"
(31).

Bill Groton is the personification of the shadow figure of the trickster
in this novel. It is Bill who furnishes interludes of humor as he pokes fun at
the injustices and ambiguities of post World War I life with his lectures to
Jake about stuffed animals in Paris, his threat to the Catholic priest on the
train that he would join the Klan, and his lecture to Jake about "irony and
pity" and American expatriates in Burguete. In his essay, "Humor in Them
AlseBises," Scott Donaldson points out the genuine levity that Bill introduces
into the novel. He makes the point that Bill’s "jibes" are directed at ideas
and institutions (in contrast to characters whose humor consists of barbs
directed at people, notably Cohn). Because of the purity of his humor, Bill
becomes someone worthy of emulation-especially for Jake, who is trying to

learn how to live life. "Groton seems to have discovered how (to live life):

80

without Jake’s bitter sarcasm, without Mike’s and Brett’s disingenuous self-
depreciation, without Robert’s self-pity, with the best will in the world" (37).
Donaldson’s depiction of Bill as someone who is morally superior to the
novel’s other expatriates accords with a Jungian reading. Indeed, Bill
exemplifies the "trickster hero." Although the other characters are
"ensnared" in the negative aspects of the feminine, Bill has escaped that fate
and his consciousness can rise above life’s ambiguities and can see humor in
the absurdity of it all.

In W, neither Jake nor most of his friends has attained
a state of balance between the conscious and unconscious parts of the psyche.
The collective shadow has contaminated their lives: each is singularly
"unbalanced" as he or she projects the impulses of the shadow onto other
characters.

The anima and animus are the second archetypes of the collective
unconscious to be encountered in the process of individuation. It is through
the anima that the depth of the feminine is reached. Night and darkness
symbolize the unconscious feminine, the original primordial state of the
psyche. N eumann tells us that, "earth, night, darkness, and unconscious
belong together, in opposition to light and consciousness" (W
65). Jung says that the unconscious is the container from which
consciousness grows, and he continually emphasizes the fragility of the
conscious ego in contrast to the unconscious: "Outwardly people are more or

less civilized, but inwardly they are still primitives" (ACU 269).

81

Although from the psychological point of view the unconscious is
regarded as a potential ally of consciousness, from the point of view of the
emerging yet fragile ego-consciousness, the unconscious is an object of fear.
Of the power and seductiveness of the unconscious Neumann says, "The
whole life of mankind and assuredly of primitive mankinduand in what high
degree all mankind is primitivel—is involved in the struggle against the
suction of the unconscious and its regressive lure, and this is the terrible
aspect of the Feminine" (GM 175). The symbolism of the terrible mother
draws its images predominately from the inside, in containers and vessels in
which she ensnares, holds fast, fixates, diminishes and devours, with the
resultant sickness, extinction, death and dismemberment of her victims (GM
82). In the hero’s symbolic fight with the dragon it is the terrible aspect of
the mother which must be killed, in order to set free her joyous, fruitful
side, for while the primordial feminine has both positive life-giving and
sustaining characteristics, in her negative aspects of "holding fast" and
"ensnaring" she prevents life and consciousness from development. Given the
gruesome nature of her images it is little wonder that the unconscious is
feared, for its threat to consciousness is real and potentially fatal. It has
already been mentioned that the terrible mother surfaces in war; similarly, at
night there is the tendency for consciousness to become submerged in the
darkness from which it emerged, giving rise to the fear and emotion
surrounding unconscious contents which have not been brought to the surface

and incorporated into consciousness.

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Although Jake’s consciousness is well-grounded in the world of work and
other masculine occupations during the day, in the night the chaos of his
emotions--fear, uncertainty, and jealousy-threaten to overwhelm him,
especially after Brett returns into his life. About the night Jake says,

There is no reason why because it is dark you should look at
things differently fi'om when it is light. The bell there isn’t! I
figured that all out once, and for six months never slept with the
electric light off. That was another bright idea. To hell with
women anyway. To hell with you Brett Ashley (148).
As Jake’s soliloquy shows, night and Brett are synonymous in that his
consciousness is eclipsed by the powerful emotions of his undeveloped
unconscious. Without the feminine’s nurturing qualities to counterbalance the
negative, the danger to his consciousness is, indeed, very real.

For Jake in his present condition, however, there is no positive
counterbalancing factor to the terrible aspects of the feminine. There is not
the sustenance provided by a woman’s love and affection; neither is there the
wisdom of the transpersonal realm of the matriarchal or patriarchal spirits to
succor him. Instead, he must face the dark nights with only his developing
but nevertheless fragile ego-consciousness as guide, and it is at night that his
unconscious shadow and anima surface, seeking recognition. Jake is unable,
however, to realize that the emotions which he experiences are manifestations
of his own unconscious. He projects them outward onto others.

The contra-sexual component is most often experienced through its

projection onto another, but the individual fails to realize that the person

83

who receives the projection reflects not the objective world but one’s own

self. As Sam S. Baskett has shown in his essay, "’An Image to Dance

Around’: Brett and Her Lovers in W" Brett is the

emotional center of the novel:
The several lovers of Lady Brett Ashley fix upon her as an
uncertain image of great value: to paraphrase the Lady herself,
she is sort of what they have instead of God. To their image of
her they make such overtures as the time and their individual
capacities permit...for the value each affixes to Brett is a function
of his value of himself and the life he is able to live (45).

Not only Jake but all of the male characters dance around her, literally and

figuratively, like primitives dancing around a pagan image, for Brett is the

receptor of the projection of their anima. All the men are attracted to

Brett: the count, the Spanish men, Jake, Robert Cohn, Mike, and Romero.

Jung speaks of a particular type of woman as the "anima type of

woman." These women possess the following characteristics:
The so-called "sphinx-like" character is an indispensable part of
their equipment, also an equivocalness, an intriguing elusivenessu
not an indefinite blur that offers nothing, but an indefiniteness
that seems full of promises, like the speaking silence of a Mona
Lisa. A woman of this kind is both old and young, mother and
daughter, of more than doubtful chastity, childlike and yet endowed
with a naive cunning which is extremely disarming to men (The

Dexelopmenmfliemnality 199)-

Jung’s description reads like a portrait of Brett. Early in the novel Jake
reveals that Brett is not only beautiful, but also that she has a way of
looking that "made you wonder whether she really saw out of her own eyes.
They would look on and on after every one else’s eyes in the world would
have stopped looldng. She looked as though there were nothing on earth she
would not look at like that, and really she was afraid of so many things"
(26).

Brett possesses additional qualities that mark her as an "anima type of
woman." Her suffering--the death of her lover, the madness of her husband--
qualify her to be "old" in experience, but her reaction to this loss has caused
her to develop fears of real intimacy as well as a childer dependency on
others, which is "daughterlike." Also, in her capacity for taking care of
others, Brett is like a "mother," exhibiting the elementary, nurturing qualities
of the Great Mother. Not only did she take care of Jake in the hospital, she
takes care of Cohn when she goes off with him because "I rather thought it
would be good for him" (83). She takes care of Mike during his frequent
episodes of inebriation; most importantly, she takes care of Pedro Romero by
sending him away. Finally, Brett is not chaste, for she has had numerous
"conquests" in the past and attributes her suffering in her relationship with
Jake as payment for the "the hell I’ve put chaps through" (26). Also, at
various times in the novel she is sexually involved with Cohn, Mike, and
Romero (as well as affording Jake some sort of sexual relief).

Ultimately, though, it is her "Sphinx-like," "Mona Iisa" quality of

elusiveness which allows men to see in her what they wish. In Brett, Jake

85

perceives the completion of his "wholeness" which his wound makes
impossible, and like Cohn, the fulfillment of his illusory, romantic dream of
living "happily ever after" with his lady-love. Mike sees in Brett a playmate,
and Romero, a "real" woman, in the traditional sense. Brett is sensual and
sexual and has an enormous capacity for enjoying life. Bill recognizes this
when he meets her and says, "And besides all the animals were dead" (75),
implying that he recognizes and admires Brett’s sensual, animal nature which
is, indeed, alive and well. It is just her deeply primitive sensual quality that
creates the image which is so appealing to the deeper portions of the men’s
unconscious anima. However, although Brett can fulfill all of the images cast
upon her by various men, she cannot sustain them.

Jung additionally elucidates the anima by discussing its compensatory
relationship with the persona. While the persona is designed to make an
impression on others as well as to conceal the true nature of the individual,
"as the individual outwardly plays the strong man, so he becomes inwardly a
woman, i.e., the anima, for the it is the anima that reacts to the persona."
He goes on to say, "because a man is all the less capable of conceiving his
weaknesses the more he is identified with the persona, the persona’s
counterpart, the anima, remains completely in the dark and is at once
projected, so that our hero comes under the heel of his wife’s slipper" (119
W 194). While this state of the psyche is
obviously true for Robert Cohn who has, indeed, become a "strong man" by
learning to fight and exercising his skill when he becomes angry, and has also

come "under the heel of the slipper" of the women with whom he is involved,

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it is also true for the other men, especially Jake. Although Jake does not
presume to settle disputes by fighting, he does abrogate his active, masculine
qualities to Brett, the most active character in the group.

It is important to recognize the presence in this novel of the archetype
of the animus as well as the anima, although a detailed exposition is
unnecessary because Brett is not the major character under consideration.
The animus is the contra-sexual component in a woman, and in contrast to
the feminine passivity of the men, Brett has developed her active animus
qualities, so that she balances what is lacking in them. Not only does Brett
appear masculine with her boyishly short hair and man’s felt hat; she is the
person who wills things to happen while the men do her bidding.

The ambiguous roles of Brett and the men are discussed in a recent
essay by Arnold and Cathy Davidson, "Decoding the Hemingway Hero." The
Davidsons illustrate the inherent inconsistencies of the novel’s prescribed
masculine and feminine "codes." In the present study I am assuming that the
sex role ambiguity is the result of the war which has upset the traditional
balance between the sexes. When men are physically and/or emotionally
emasculated, women compensate by developing the masculine aspects within
themselves, for, according to Emma Jung, "the anima and the animus mutually
constellate each other (since an anima manifestation calls forth the animus,
and vice versa, producing a vicious circle very difficult to break), and forms
one of the worst complications in the relations between men and women"
(m 11). That is, not only do the people involved not see one

another as unique individuals but rather as idealized images; they also see in

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the other that which is lacking in themselves, which tends to elicit the same
in response. (From a Jungian perspective the development of contra-sexual
qualities is only undesirable when it is at the expense of other parts of the
psyche as is true here.)

Just as the men see in Brett an ideal anima image, she projects her
animus onto the men. In her discussion of the animus, Emma Jung identifies
four expressions of the masculine principle in both men and women: Power
(will), deed, word, and meaning. (2-3). The expression of the masculine
principle differs in women according to their stage of development. Both for
young women and for the primitive in every woman the animus image is
projected onto a man with highly developed physical prowess. Typical
examples are, "the heroes of legend, or present day sports celebrities,
cowboys, bull fighters, aviators, and so on" (3). I have already mentioned
Brett’s strong connection with her primitive, instinctual nature, her sensuality
and sexuality. It is not surprising, therefore, that her animus image should
be projected upon Jake, an aviator in the war, and Romero, a highly skilled
bullfighter. In spite of her air of independence, of her apparent willfulness
and seeming wantonness in shifting from man to man sexually, of the fact
that she is biologically thirty-four years old, Brett is still very much a child,
wishing to be taken care of by a strong male figure, as both Jake and
Romero are. Having had, as Mike points out, deep disappointments in the
realm of eros, she affects masculine disdain and indifference in matters of the
heart—with the exception of her dependence on Jake and her attraction to

Romero.

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it is informative that in W
Wk, Frederic Svoboda shows that in the novel’s early drafts

Hemingway’s presentation of Brett was more sympathetic than in the final
version. Two chapters were deleted (at the suggestion of Fitzgerald) in
which Jake describes Brett’s background and directly expresses his deep
feelings for her. In the final version, however, Brett is viewed by the reader
through Jake’s highly emotional reporting-his encounters with Brett are
always intense. The powerful emotions Jake feels in Brett’s company indicate
the numinous presence of the primordial feminine’s terrible guise reached
through his anima projection on Brett. With Brett, Jake’s normal state of ego
consciousness is disrupted, revealing that he truly is "ensnared" by his image
of her. Instead of heights of joy and transcendence, their love more often
carries them to depths of despair, for Brett has an effect on Jake similar to
Pernod which "has a good uplift, but it drops you just as far" (15). Two
occasions when Jake’s emotions are aroused by Brett have already been
mentioned, the incident with the homosexuals and later the same evening
when he despairingly contemplates the wreck of his life. Additionally, the
night before Brett leaves for San Sebastian with Cohn, as Brett reveals her
own misery, Jake says, "I had the feeling as in a nightmare of it all being
something repeated, something I had been through and that now I must go
through it again" (64). Jake truly is caught in the "veil of Maya," in the web
of his anima projections on Brett.

In spite of the pain which their meetings cause, Brett and Jake have a

fatal compulsion to see one another, and their meetings in Pairs always occur

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in the evening or at night. Brett loves the fast night-er of the Left bank
where she is at home drinking and flirting in noisy, crowded bars. Jake, on
the other hand, fi'equents these places because he is lonely or bored, but he
prefers quieter atmospheres. During the long nights, Brett and Jake spend
time aimlessly riding through the Paris nights in taxis. They ride, first of
all, because Brett hates to walk, and, like their relationship which can go
nowhere, there is no particular destination for them to travel toward. Also,
the enclosed taxi is symbolic of containment in the primordial feminine from
which Jake cannot escape. This setting contrasts with the masculine activity
of purposely moving toward a goal or a destination which he is able to do
during the day. While his anima-image of Brett dominates Jake through the
Paris nights, it is at the fiesta that his captivation by the primordial feminine
becomes complete.

Overall, in W Paris symbolizes the inflated persona and
the predominant masculine ego-consciousness of the day. Spain, on the other
hand, symbolizes the feminine unconscious. In Spain Jake experiences both
the tumultuousness of unleashed emotions at the fiesta and two occasions
when he is blissfully able to regain a sense of sustenance and balance
through immersing himself in nature, the Great Mother.

The fiesta is dense and heavy with emotion, signaling, as in the Paris
nights, the presence of Jake’s anima. During the excitement of the fiesta the
depths of the feminine unconscious are plumbed and emotions normally held in
check surface. There is a sense, in these chapters, of containment in the

inevitable process of the fiesta itself, a sense of being drawn into an

alternate state of consciousness so that the external chaos simply mirrors a
disordered internal state over which one has no control. Although Jake has
many times taken part in the fiesta and is respected because of his passion
for the bullfights and his understanding of the meaning of the rituals in the
lives of the inner-circle of aficions, his past participation was in the "safe"
company of men like Montoya. This fiesta is different for him because of
Brett’s presence and his helplessness in the face of the emotional reactions
she elicits. In describing the first day of the fiesta Jake says, "Everything
became quite unreal finally and it seemed as though nothing could have any
consequences" (154). The next day, in conveying the noise in the cafe he
recalls, "This hum went on, and we were in it and a part of it" (161).

The ceaseless musicuthe shrill pipes, the pounding drumsnthe repetitive
up and down motion of the dancers produces a corresponding emotional
intensification in the unconscious sympathetic nervous system of the crowd,
which mounts in intensity as the fiesta builds to a climax on the last day.
The sympathetic nervous system is connected with both instinctive and
emotional systems and Neumann informs us of the interrelation of emotion
and unconscious contents: "Emotion manifests itself simultaneously with an
alteration of the internal secretions, the circulation, blood pressure,
respiration, etc., but equally, unconscious contents excite, and in neurotic
cases disturb, the sympathetic nervous system either directly, or indirectly,
via the emotions aroused" (Qe'gies 331). Thus, the unconscious contents
which surface during emotional stimulation cause physiological changes, which

in turn further excite the unconscious, emotional system and create an

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intensely emotional state in which one becomes "held fast," "ensnared,"
virtually a prisoner of the unconscious. Also, stylistically, Hemingway creates
this effect in the reader’s unconscious by using repeated phrases: "The fiesta
was going on" (164). "But all day and all night the fiesta kept on" (169).
"Yet the fiesta kept up without any pause" (170), as well as repeated
references to the music and dancing. Within this setting and this state of
diffused, feminine consciousness, Hemingway vividly portrays the inadequacy
of patriarchal, Christian orthodoxy to provide nourishment for the spirit,
while at the same time introducing alternatives: the ancient, matriarchal
ritual enactment of the fiesta and the bullfight and the "real" torrero’s code
of behavior and values.

The fiesta expresses the depths of the feminine unconscious.
Matriarchal mysteries of intoxication and ancient fertility rituals offer
opportunities for the transformation of consciousness and renewal of the life
force. Coexistent are possibilities for its diminution, impotence, and stupor.
From the point of view of masculine ego-consciousness, in this arena Brett is
the young witch, Circe, presiding over the revels, ensnaring the consciousness
of her captives, transforming them into less than human animals, and leading
them to doom; however, from the earlier matriarchal point of view, Circe was
not a witch but a goddess, (Neumann GM 288), and it is in this arena that
the lack of the feminine in the predominant ego-consciousness of the time is
restored.

Intoxication is an integral part of the fiesta and as it commences

customers fill the wine shops and cafes preparing for the pre-Dionysian revels

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which will continue for the duration of the fiesta. Intoxicants, because of
their ability to depress consciousness and to stimulate the unconscious, belong
to the transformative aspect of the feminine. N eumann uncovers the
relatedness of the archetypal feminine’s positive and negative poles. The
positive transformative character of the feminine is evident in her
"Inspirational Mysteries," wherein the unconscious is stimulated to ecstasy and
inspiration through medicine or intoxicants, and the return to a conscious
state is accompanied by a broadening or extension of consciousness, by
increased vision and wisdom; in her positive transformative character the
feminine enhances life and the wholeness of consciousness. On the other
hand, the negative transformative character of the feminine, personified by
the young witch, a Circe, is exhibited in her "Mysteries of Drunkenness."
Here, too, the state of ecstasy is produced, but by poison as well as
intoxicants, and it is followed by impotence, stupor and madness;
consciousness is either impaired or disintegrates. This is a form of psychic
or spiritual death, rather than the physical death pertaining to the "Death
Mysteries" of the Great Mother embodied in the bullfight (GM 82 illus).
Intoxicants can serve as a means of releasing unconscious contents which can
lead to positive or negative results; judgement of the positivity or negativity
is dependent upon the effect on the consciousness of the individual. Jake’s
experience at the fiesta, under the intoxicating effect of Brett’s presence, as
well as the further intoxicating effect of the spirits of the vine is, at the

least, ambiguous.

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Both Jung and Neumann underscore the importance of ritual in the
development and maintenance of human consciousness and culture. According
to N eumann, "Man’s rise to consciousness operated at first through an
unconscious process that appeared significant to the group as well as the
individual: this process we call ritual" (GM 281). Rituals are a means of
channeling psychic energy toward a specified goal and are just as important
today as they were in primitive societies. Of the transformative effect of
ritual on the unconscious and conscious levels Neumann says: "But every
magical process presupposes a ritual, and every ritual presupposes a
transformation of the human personality, which makes it receptive to ritual
and endows it with powers not normally at its command" (GM 192). Active or
vicarious participation in ritual, then, can imbue the participant with a
"mana" quality through the wisdom of the unconscious released during the
enactment, producing a power not normally in one’s possession.

All ritual originated from dance (GM 298); before and after the
Christian procession of San Fermin, the "pagan" Raiu Raiu dancers come
capering down the street playing the music and performing the dances which
are to continue for seven days, setting the emotional tone for the fiesta.
The Raiu Raiu dancers are followed by a pied piper leading a procession of
children on a merry chase. These dances preceded Christianity-«hey are as
ancient as the land and the emotions they express. Originally they were
ritual enactments to ensure the fertility of the land and its people (and
Christianity grew out of these forces and continues to contain elements of

them, but in a controlled, abstract way).

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like the dancing, the bullfight is an ancient tradition which began in
matriarchal societies as a fertility ritual, forming one of the "Death
Mysteries" of the Great Mother. Neumann says that in matriarchal societies
the great goddess was worshipped by priestesses who enacted bullfights and
games with bulls, and he goes on to say that:

As a symbol of man’s domination over the animal world,
bullfighting and games with bulls are among the great rituals of the
feminine. This ritual, rooted in the magical domination of animals,
in the fertility and hunting magic of the primordial age, runs
through the Cretan culture, Mithraisrn, the Roman gladiatorial
fights, down to the bullfights of Spain (GM 280).

The symbolism of the sacrifice that occurred during blood rituals with
bulls and others animals was meant to serve a higher purpose. This
symbolism can be accounted for by the fact that in matriarchal societies the
fertility of the feminine was accorded the highest reverence, and since
decisive aspects in the life of the female are concerned with a sacrifice of
blood, it was believed that the goddess perpetuates life by enacting bloody
sacrifices that would assure the fertility of crops and women as well as
success in hunting and warfare. Additionally, it is inherent in the Great
Mother’s spiritual character that "she grants life only through death, and
deve10pment toward new birth only through suffering-that as Lady of Beasts
and Men she confers no birth and no life without pain" (GM 279). This
intuitive understanding of the wisdom of the Great Mother was attained by

the participant in her "Death Mysteries," for in a profound way life and

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birth are always bound up with death and destruction and the understanding
and acceptance of this attitudeuwhich encompasses her dualities, her creative
as well as her destructive, "good" as well as "evil," aspects-4s to come to
terms with the "truth" of the ambiguity of life. This view of life, with the
central symbolism of birth, suffering, death, and rebirth is markedly similar to
that perpetuated by the patriarchy which embodies the concept of sacrifice in
Christ’s suffering and death. However, the abstract nature of this rite as
practiced in the Catholic mass is in diametrical opposition to the very real
fear and danger of pain and death, the real body and blood of the ritual of
the bullfight.

Additional evidence supporting the origin of the bullfight as a fertility
rite is provided by John McCormick who has developed an argument which
views the bullfight as an art, and the toreador, as artist. (Hemingway’s
view of bullfighting as a tragic art is developed in W).
McCormick traces the historical development of the bullfight in Spain
through Spanish folktale. He concludes that these folktales share the common
element of "an emphasis upon human sexual sterility in relation to the
symbolic fertility of the bull" (15). In a variety of folktales which portray
physically or psychically sterile human beings, the bull is "magically" able to
imbue the infertile individual with its own fertility. Both Neumann and
McCormick cite numerous references to the bull itself as a universal
masculine fertility symbol which fecundates the Great Mother and her progeny
with his blood. Thus, the bullfight has more than one dimension: it can be

viewed as merely a sport, as a contest to be won, as the Biarritz crowd see

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it, or it may be seen as symbolic of a larger more comprehensive view where
life is pitted against life, in the eternal, cyclical struggle for the
continuance of life, as true aficionados intuitively understand it to be.

The person with true aficion has a passion for the bullfights which is
translated into a passion for life. Men such as Montoya are able to gain
internal sustenance from this rite which for them is truly sacred, and has
deep, numinous significance. Their understanding stems not from intellectual
knowledge, but from a blending of conscious knowledge with the deeper
wisdom of the unconscious. Bullfight critic Barnaby Conrad speaks of this
emotion: "In a time when the common sense of deductive science makes
even the churches materialistic, the splendid, unreasonable, anachronistic
mantesting ritual of a bullfight springs directly from the deepest mysteries of
the human soul" (W 235). Through participating in the ritual
enactment of the bullfight, the true aficionado is "magically" connected with
the mysteries of life in all its depth and breadth and ambiguity. The
bullfighter must possesses true aficion in order to maintain the purity and
integrity and meaning of the bullfight. If the bullfighter is a fake, if he uses
tricks to simulate the appearance of danger, if he sells his art by pandering
to the crowd, the purity of emotion aroused by the ritual is destroyed. Just
as Christian rituals have, for many people, lost their value, so too the ritual
of the bullfight will lose its numinous quality unless its integrity is
maintained.

The utmost irony in this novel is the juxtaposition of the sterile lives of
Jake and his friends with this matriarchal fertility ritual. The tragedy is that

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they are unable to participate truly in its life-affirming, rejuvenating "mana"
quality. Although under Jake’s guidance Brett, Mike, Bill, and even Cohn are
able to understand the ritual, "so that it became more something that was
going on with a definite end, and less of a spectacle with unexplained
horrors" (167) and can experience the pleasure and elation of this ancient
contest, they are unable to understand and incorporate within their own being
its deeper meaning. This is evident in their psychic deflation at the fiesta’s
end and in the significance of Brett’s leaving the trophy of the last bullfight,
the ear of the slain bull, in a cigarette-stub filled drawer in the hotel.
According to McCormick, the awarding of the bull’s ear for superior work by
the matador originated in the awarding of the entire carcass to the matador
and the ritual, communal eating of the sacrificed bull, transferring the
fertility of the bull to those who participated in the feast (24). Brett
cannot participate in this symbolic feast, nor can the others. Even Jake
cannot participate on this occasion because of his captivity in the negative
feminine. It is negativity which ensnares and prevents the individual from
experiencing the higher, transformative aspect of the feminine, embodied in
the ritual. Also, although they participate in the feminine Mysteries of
Drunkenness, experiencing an occasional heightened sense of relatedness with
one another and with the Spanish Men, the mysteries’ intoxicating effect is
more often not a higher transformation of consciousness but the diminution of
consciousness leading to separation and estrangement.

In addition to drunkenness, the rituals in which Jake and his fiiends

most often engage are rituals of the persona-shaving and bathing-whereby

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they obtain external cleanliness instead of internal purification and renewal.
In terms of the unconscious, the deep meaning of the bullfight ritual in the
unconscious of the true aficion is an ocean, it penetrates the core of their
being; in contrast, the surface meaning to the uninitiated is the shallow
bathtub in which Brett bathes and in which Jake wishes to soak after his
fight with Cohn.

The archetype of the animal, which in Paris is represented by stuffed
animals, is depicted in Spain by the steers and bulls at the fiesta, and by the
bodies, the instinctive animals, of the characters. Beyond the images which
the animals represent of the sterility of Paris and the fertility of Spain, the
bulls represent the unleashed instinct and emotions of human beings which
occurs in war, leading to the destruction not only of property and lives but
also to the psychic devastation evidenced in the characters’ lives. The
strength and fury of a maddened bull (war) far surpasses the strength and
courage of an individual human, and the only advantage one has against this
unleashed force is the strength of control over one’s own animal: one’s
instinctual fears and emotions. The true matador has this control. However,
Jake, as well as the other men in his group, have been emasculated by the
war-they have lost contact with the power of the spirit striving outward
and, like the steers, can seek only to bring the potentially unleashed force
within themselves under control. Like the bulls, the individuals in Jake’s
party are tame within the confines and the safety of their social group. Also
the steers’ preoccupation with relationship ironically reflects Jake’s need for

relationship with a woman, a bonding he cannot achieve.

Jake, who is an aficionado before the fiesta, who has won the
acceptance of Spanish aficions like Montoya, sacrifices his position when he
"gives" Brett to Romero, because she wants the bullfighter and because Jake
loves Brett and feels that he owes her something. Jake understands the
meaning Romero has for the aficions; he understands the significance of his
betrayal of their trust. Although he asks Brett not to do it, in the end he
passively takes her to Romero. At the fiesta, in the midst of the intoxication
and his enchantment by his anima-image projected upon Brett, and without
even the minimal grounding in the masculine ritual of work which he has in
Paris, Jake has become more deeply ensnared by the feminine and his will is
accordingly powerless. He can only do the bidding of the enchantress.

A corresponding event which occurs at the climax of the fiesta is the
death of Vincente Girones. Girones is killed on the runway before the bull
ring by the bull which Romero later kills in the ring, the ear of which Brett
receives. Iinda W. Wagner has observed that Girones’ death occurs at a
point in the novel’s action where the reader expects something else--either
more about the developing relationship between Brett and Romero or a focus
on Jake’s personal loss (We; 44). Instead, the lengthy
description of Girone’s death disrupts the narrative. In contrast to Jake’s
"psychic death" in the form of his impotent will, signifying the negative,
transformative character of the feminine, Girones experiences actual death,
signifying the terrible mother, as in the bullfight. In Girones’ death the

terrible aspect of the mother reaches out to claim her own.

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From the point of view of masculine ego-consciousness, Girones’ death is
the most horrible event in the novel because it is complete and irreversible
while Jake’s state is only temporary. However, the seriousness of the funeral
scene in which the very real wife and children arrive to claim the body of
their former husband/father is lightened and enlivened by the frivolity of the
continuing fiesta, elements of which participate in the service. Additionally,
the terrible aspect of the mother is balanced by her fruitful aspect in the
regenerative image of the train carrying Girones’ body traveling through "the
fields of grain that blew in the wind on the plain on the way to Tafalla"
(198). This "life in death" image reflects the wisdom of the mother’s
transformative aspect, expressed in the epigraph of the novel "the earth
abideth forever...."
It is this image of death and regeneration which the bullfight embodies
and which Hemingway intended as the moral center of his novel. Carlos
Baker quotes Hemingway as saying in a letter to Maxwell Perkins that:
The point of the book W35) for him...was "the
earth abideth forever." He had "a great deal of fondness and
admiration for the earth, and not a hell of a lot for my
generation," and he cared "little about vanities." The book was not
meant to be "a hollow or bitter satire, but a damn tragedy with the
earth abiding forever as the hero (Heee’egway: W
Arrist 81).

Ironically, although Hemingway has come to be known as the chronicler of

"the lost generation," it is not the wasteland images of drunken disillusion

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which the author saw as the moral center of the story, but the continuance
of the abiding earth. In the larger historical picture of all life in all times,
individual life appears insignificant; the ego and its petty vanities are
ephemeral and turn into dust. Through Girones’ "untimely" death,
Hemingway shows the capriciousness of the Great Mother as she randomly
determines the fate of mortals. Before the mother, the masculine ego is
powerless. However, out of death comes new life in the sphere of the
primordial feminine.

From the point of view of masculine ego-consciousness, Jake’s betrayal
of the code of the aficion is a moral failure. His disloyalty to the code of
values, which he too understands and believes in, illustrates his inability to
act according to that which he consciously knows is right. However, in
taking Brett to Romero, Jake acts under a different value system, one that is
antithetical to the patriarchy but which is no less valid because it has been
suppressed. Jake acts purely out of his feminine emotions, his love for Brett.
From the masculine point of view, taking Brett to Romero entails the loss of
integrity, but from the point of view of the feminine, Jake’s desire to secure
the happiness of the woman he loves is nurturing.

That Jake capitulates to the unconscious feminine through the
ensnarement of his anima by Brett is inevitable given the state of his psychic
development at this time and in this place. The shadowy trickster surfaces
in the ambiguity of Jake’s moral dilemma, obscuring from his view a higher,
uniting principle. Jake continues to be caught in the world of opposites,

where possibilities are viewed in terms of "either/or." Jake can think of

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relationships only in terms of payment; he believes that, "In the first place
you had to be in love with a woman to have a basis of friendship. I had
been having Brett for a fiiend. I had not been thinking about her side of it.
I had been getting something for nothing" ( 148). (Donaldson notes the
equation of money and morals and counts 30 times when money or financial
transactions are mentioned in the novel [23]). Jake’s materialistic code does
not include the deeper wisdom of the unconscious anima or her higher,
transcendent spiritual wisdom through which the opposites might become
reconciled.

There is wide disagreement among critics about who constitutes the
novel’s hero. Delbert Wylder selects Pedro Romero (56), Leo Gurko casts his
vote for Romero as the "Open hero" and Jake Barnes as the "hidden hero"
(55-56). Jake is also viewed as the novel’s hero by Philip Young (82) and
Earl Rovit (162). Spilka writes that Cohn is "the last chivalric hero...to show
us through the absurdity of his behavior, that romantic love is dead" (82).
Each critic presents convincing evidence to support his point of view. From
a Jungian perspective, however, while the heroic quest belongs to Jake
Barnes, Pedro Romero, the bullfighter with true aficion, is the hero of
Hemingway’s novel.

Pedro Romero is the personification of the uniting function, the
archetype of the self. Through his art, Pedro Romero embodies the union of
the masculine and feminine principles within his own being, giving birth
within himself to the transcendence of the spirit. Jake tells Brett that

Romero "knew everything when he started. The others can’t ever learn what

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he was born with" (168). Just so, the archetype of the self is the inborn
potential which becomes actualized through the life-long process of
individuation. The self is the fundamental possibility of human beings to
consciously bring the world into being--to develop the archetypal
potentialities that compose the totality of the self-in a uniquely individual
way. The self does not represent ephemeral, acquired knowledge, but an
actualization in consciousness of unconscious, inborn wisdom. With the
development of the self, there is movement away from the self-centeredness
of the ego which leads, though the appreciation of the non-ego, to a sense of
one’s relatedness to life’s wholeness.

Because he has developed within himself the paired opposites of the
masculine and feminine, the conscious and unconscious, Romero is able to
embody in his art the true emotion and the ancient significance of the
bullfight. He is thus able to combine conscious masculine skill and dexterity
with the wisdom of feminine relationship in a life and death contest with the
bull. Of his masculine skill Jake says, "Romero’s bullfighting gave real
emotion, because he kept the purity of line in his movements and always
quietly and calmly let the horns pass him close each time" (168). Romero has
developed the talent he was born with by consciously learning to control his
"animal," his body and its instinctive emotions and fears, so that he can work
closely with the bulls, truly endangering his life with each pass. It is
because of his grounding in conscious ritual, of his adherence to the pure
traditions of the toreador, that Romero has been able to slay the dragon of

the unconscious, the terrible aspect of the feminine, and release her positive,

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relating aspect. As a result he has gained the wisdom of his anima’s
integrating function as moderator between the conscious and unconscious.
Because of his wisdom of loving participation toward manifestations of the
non-ego, toward all aspects of life, Romero can say, "The bulls are my best
friends" (186) and Jake can astutely observe, "He loved bullfighting, and I
think he loved the bulls, and I think he loved Brett" (216).

It is the transcendent spirit, born from the union of masculine and
feminine, which imbues Romero with the strength of spirit to maintain his
integrity against not only the fickleness of the crowds but also the assault of
Robert Cohn. As Jake observes, "The fight with Cohn had not touched his
spirit but his face had been smashed and his body hurt" (219). This spirit is
also expressed in Romero’s assertion to Jake and Brett that, "I’m never going
to die" (186). According to Jung, Romero’s sense of immortality is indicative
of a numinous state of transcendence, in which the usual limitations of the
ego are suspended and the individual is connected, through an altered sense
of time and space, with the past as well as the future.

The intuition of immortality which makes itself felt during the
transformation (from ego-consciousness to the self) is connected
with the peculiar nature of the unconscious. It is, in a sense,
non-spatial and non-temporal...(and) has its origin in a peculiar
feeling of extension in space and time (ACU 142).
Within himself, then, Romero embodies the wisdom of the realm of masculine
consciousness and the feminine unconscious as well as the transpersonal realm

of the spirits. As such, Romero furnishes the image of the unifier of

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opposites, the mediator, the bringer of healing and rejuvenation, for Jake as
well as for the reader. As the child-saviour, for he is only 19, he
represents regeneration within the larger societal context.

In spite of the regression of Jake’s consciousness as it is overwhelmed
by the feminine’s terrible aspect during the Paris nights and the fiesta, there
are two occasions in Spain when Jake is able to regain blissfully a sense of
balance through immersing himself in nature, the Great Mother. The first is
the trip to Burguete with Bill, and the second, his brief stay in San
Sebastian by himself.

Leaving France on the trip to Burguete, the presence of the sea is felt,
"hills stretched off back toward the sea. You couldn’t see the sea. It was
too far away. You could see only hills and more hills, and you lmew where
the sea was" (29), foreshadowing his ritual cleansing in the sea’s purifying
waters after the fiesta. Additionally, even before reaching the Spanish
border, in the Basque region of France, images of the fertility and the
regenerative quality of the Great Mother indicate the fullness of life outside
the city of Paris. Also, as Carlos Baker points out, the journey away from
Paris is not only horizontal, but also vertical, as the car leaves the plain and
enters hills and then mountains. In contrast to the dirtiness of Paris, the
countryside appears green and clean. Further on, in Spain, cattle and
donkeys graze in the fields and meander onto the roads. There are grassy
plains, brown, rolling hills, and clear streams.

The trip to Bruguete and the time spent there reflect a balance of the

masculine and the feminine parts of the psyche. The male comraderie of the

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bus trip, Jake’s relationship with Bill, and the friendship developed with
Harris combine feminine relationship with masculine occupation. The bus ride
to Burguete climbs upward into the mountains through forests and grain fields
backed by dark mountains. While the mountain has come to symbolize the
masculine spirit striving upwards, Neumann tells us that it has a pre-
patriarchal symbolism as well. Mountains belong to the elementary, protective
character of the Great Mother and unify her containing character of vessel,
belly, and earth.
The function of protection which still belongs to the elementary
character of the vessel, is particularly evident in the mountain,
which in German (Berg) is symbolically related to sich bergen,
"taking refuge"; sich verbergen, "hiding"; Geborgenheit, "safety";
and Burg, "castle." Mountain as mound or tumultus also embraces
this function of protecting and safeguarding (GM 45).
It is the mountains’ protection that provides Jake the safety to experience
the positive, regenerative effects of the mother.

Additionally, the exclusively male group functions as did male societies
under matriarchal conditions. It was natural, N eumann says, that male
societies originated in matriarchal conditions as a complement to the
supremacy of the matriarchate.

The youth group made up of young men who are all contemporaries,
is the place where the male discovers himself for the first time.
When he feels himself a stranger among women and at home

among men, we have the sociological situation that corresponds to

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the self-discovery of ego consciousness....Everywhere these men’s
societies are of the greatest importance, not only for the
development of masculinity and of man’s consciousness of himself,
but for the development of culture as a whole (Origins 140).
He goes on to say, "The self-experience of the ego, recognizing its specific
affinity with the world of men and its distinction from the feminine matrix,
marks a decisive stage in its development and is the precondition of
independence" (Origins 141).

The affinity of Hemingway protagonists with other males has long been
noted, and it seems as if Neumann’s explication of the origin of ego-
consciousness in the banding together of males in matriarchal conditions
parallels in many respects that of Hemingway’s male characters.
Psychologically, the developing ego-consciousness of the male must separate
from the primary parent, the mother, in order to develop its masculine
functions. (Unlike the female, whose maternal identification enables the
development of her primary sexual characteristics.) Masculine separation from
the female--both in her external manifestation as mother and in her internal
manifestation as the unconscious--is especially difficult in adolescence, when
the ego is relatively weak and hence is passive and defensive against the
feminine’s "fatal" lure. In the adult male, however, the symbolic dragon fight
requires the ego to heroically assert itself against the feminine’s negative
elements. All of the emotional forces leading to estrangement and separation
must be "slain," so that the positive, relating aspects of the feminine may

emerge. To accomplish this feat, the ego must be exceptionally strong.

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However, Jake’s ego-consciousness is not strong; he has experienced the war
and been wounded therein; he is not grounded in the world of ego-
consciousness, images of which are for the most part sterile; he is not able
to unite in a love relationship with a woman; nor is be able to gain
sustenance from the transpersonal realm of the spirits. Jake’s ego is not
stable enough to encounter the unconscious anima in its projection on Brett
without succumbing to its powerful emotional allure. In the company of other
men with whom he feels an affinity, his ego consciousness is safe.

Burguete furnishes images of the Great Mother’s positive nature, and
these images connect Jake with the past and the future, in the sense of "the
earth abiding forever." While walking to the Irate Jake notices the trees:

It was a beech wood and the trees were very old. Their roots
bulked above the ground and the branches twisted. We walked on
the road between the thick trunks of the old beeches and the
sunlight came through the leaves in light patches on the grass.
The trees were big, and the foliage was thick but it was not
gloomy (117).
The old trees offer the image of their strength and longevity as a concrete
representation of their ability to endure over time. Also, Jung says that
trees are symbolic of the alchemical "tree of life," a symbol of the
individuation process. The roots of trees grow deeply in the earth’s darkness
so that the trunk and branches may bear fruit, just as the individuating
personality must become "rooted" in the archetypes of the collective

unconscious so that the higher spirit may be born.

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In Burguete Jake and Bill enjoy the rudimentary comforts of civilization
during evenings and nights at the inn, and the rejuvenating renewal of the
spirit which the ritual of fishing furnishes during the days. Fishing
represents a union of the masculine and the feminine. It is masculine in that
it combines modern instruments-«he pole, reel, and artificial bait (which Bill
but not Jake uses) with knowledge of the rituals-the correct places and
methodsufor catching fish. The setting and the fish are of the mother.
Since fish represent the deepest part of human being’s instinctual nature, and
are also a symbol of the archetype of the self, it is not surprising that the
fish which Jake and Bill catch are of a safe, known size. (Significantly, Bill’s
fish are larger.) Jake is not prepared to take risks. His fragile ego is more
concerned with ordering his experience than confronting the unknown.

The ambivalence of water as symbol was discussed in the preceding
chapter. As a symbol of the unconscious it is feminine, but in flowing
waters, such as streams, water has a bisexual nature. Jake and Bill fish in a
cold, fast-moving stream; they wade into the stream to fish. later, they
swim in a pool, the contained water of the purely feminine. In terms of the
unconscious, both the fish and the water indicate the degree of Jake’s and
Bill’s immersion in the unconscious. They wade only to their waist, and they
swim in the safety of a pool; clearly they do not penetrate beyond a level
which is comfortable and familiar. In her transformative character, the Great
Mother has power to change the being of the individual who is willing and
able to penetrate her depths. In Burguete Jake, like Nick Adams before him,

is able to experience the restorative, regenerative power of the mother, but

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he cannot penetrate the unconscious beyond that point. Transformation must
wait for another time.

The comraderie, the relationship of the men on this trip expresses the
feminine relatedness reached through the anima. No distinctions are made
among the men, everyone is equal in the matriarchal circle. During the bus
ride to Burguete the men share their wine and chat as they sit or recline in
the space on the roof of the bus—the top of the bus is masculine, in
contrast to the inside which is feminine. The safety of Burguete also allows
Bill to express his feeling of relatedness to Jake: "listen. You’re a hell of a
good guy, and I’m fonder of you than anybody on earth. I couldn’t tell you
that in New York. It would mean I was a faggot" (116). In the world of
masculine ego-consciousness it is not acceptable for men to express their
feelings for one another. But within the protection of the mother’s sphere, it
is not only possible but in keeping with her nature. During the five days of
fishing, the inner-balance which Jake and Bill attain is reflected in their
harmonious relationship. Harris simply adds another dimension to the male
society. The gesture of giving Jake and Bill the hand-tied fishing flies as a
reminder of the good time they had together indicates the intensity of
feeling, the depth of meaning, the experience holds for Harris. It is not
surprising, therefore, that their visit to Roncesvalles does not produce the
positive emotions they have experienced while fishing. This cathedral, like
other cathedrals and churches Jake visits, does not elicit the nurturing
archetypal projections that the direct contact with nature does. For Jake and

the other men it is immersion in the domain of the Great Mother which

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provides the nourishment and sense of balance which is missing in the post-
World War I world.

While Jake achieves a sense of balance and rejuvenation in Burguete, it
is in San Sebastian, after the tumultuous experience of the fiesta, that he
experiences the transformative powers of the unconscious. Significantly, after
spending the night in France, Jake re-enters Spain by entering the earth,
passing through eight tunnels. like Bruguete, San Sebastian combines
feminine and masculine components. "Even on a hot day San Sebastian has a
certain early-morning quality. The trees seem as though their leaves were
never quite dry. The streets feel as through they had just been sprinkled.
It is always cool and shady on certain streets on the hottest day" (234). In
San Sebastian feminine heat is balanced by masculine cool. Upon arrival Jake
performs masculine rituals of ordering his belongings and filling out forms.
He is relaxed and happy; he has no emotional upheavals to contend with. The
war may be present in the contained form of the one-armed soldier, but this
image is juxtaposed with that of the beautiful Spanish children, symbols of
fertility and regeneration.

Jake swims in the sea twice during his stay in San Sebastian. On the
first day he dives deeply and swims to the bottom. "I swam with my eyes
open and it was green and dark" (235). The second day Jake swims and "The
water was buoyant and cold. It felt as though you could never sink" (237).
Symbolically, Jake has penetrated deeply into the waters of his unconscious.
He is temporarily freed from the captivity of his anima-image, and his

experiences of the feminine’s primordial mysteries at the fiesta have left their

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mark on his psyche. His sense of immortality, the feeling that he would
never sink, expresses the transformation of consciousness from the usual ego
state to an egoless experience of the self, similar to Romero’s sense that he
would never die. It is transcendence, a state in which the usual limitations
of the ego are suspended. Though this consciousness does not last, its
effects remain, for the numinosity of the experience is both indescribable and
unforgettable. Immersion in the depths of the sea has given Jake a glimpse
of the wholeness within his own being. However, Jake is unable to sustain
this experience. He thinks of swimming across the bay to the open sea but
fails to do so, fearing a cramp.

Individuation entails the integration into consciousness of unconscious
contents and the consequent growth of understanding. Jake reaches his moral
nadir (from the point of view of masculine consciousness) in his act of
disloyalty to the code of the aficion, but immediately thereafter he
experiences an "epiphany" when he is knocked unconscious by Cohn and
undergoes an altered state of consciousness, a state of dissociation from the
immediate present, a catapulting backward in time to a high school football
experience. There he penetrates through his shadow, and perceives his true
state of being. As Mark Spilka has pointed out, Jake, like Robert Cohn, is a
case of "arrested development." Jake has projected his shadow, his disgust
for the qualities about himself that he does not acknowledge: his passivity,
the romantic view that except for his wound he could win Brett’s true love
and if only he could win Brett’s true love his life would be whole, onto Cohn,

just as he has projected his anima-image onto Brett. He has not recognized

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and accepted the responsibility for those qualities in himself. However, when
the veil of illusion has been temporarily lifted by Cohn’s blow, Jake sees
himself as an adolescent, which is precisely his state of emotional
development at that time.

Jake has not, at the novel’s end, killed the dragon of the unconscious
and liberated the captive; he does not achieve the fulfillment of his quest;
however, he does emerge from his experience a wiser man. That he has
learned from his entrapment in the negative aspects of the feminine is
evident at the end of the novel, in his refusal upon returning to Brett to
become once again drawn into his anima’s seductive illusions. Because he has
observed his own shadow as well as his moral failurenfrom the vantage of
his masculine ego-consciousness--and has taken responsibility for his state of
being as well as for his action, his anima is becoming differentiated. He can
begin to see Brett as a real person, with real limitations, and not through the
image he has continually projected on her. By accepting the active,
masculine values of the patriarchy as her own, Brett has lost touch with her
innate feminine qualities--the highest of which is the capacity to love. She
is unable or unwilling to love completely: without concern for her own full
sexual gratification. Jake’s acceptance of this limiting vision of Brett marks
his inner-growth on the path toward individuation, an individuation which
could not occur so long as his anima-image was dominant and he was,
himself, a captive. Jake may never be a complete man in the physically

generative sense, but he is gaining self-knowledge by learning to become

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honest with himself, to withdraw his projections, so that he may truly
experience life in all its fullness as well as in all its ambiguity.

In Wes Jake Barnes continues as a sojourner on the road
of life. So too are the readers of his story. Although most readers do not
suffer the physical wound which he bears, Jake’s physical impotence and
resultant sterility symbolize the impotence and sterility of twentieth century
life: the lack of connection with the unconscious and the state of psychic
imbalance resulting therefrom. For the reader of the Wises the
experience with the archetypes which have therein been given expression is,
most likely, ambiguous, for ambiguity pervades the characters and their
relationships. Like its counterpart, Ihe_Great__Qars_by, in which the
archetypes of the persona, the shadow, and the anima also predominate, and
the failure of relationships is powerfully depicted, there is no sense of a final
resolution to the sterility of modern life. However, by becoming, in a sense,
an outsider-as do Nick and Jake, by not only participating in experiences but
also by becoming an observer, one can begin to understand the shallowness,
the ephemeral quality of the prevailing persona and masculine ego-
consciousness of the time. One can then begin a quest for a more significant
reality.

Unlike Fitzgerald’s novel, Hemingway’s provides glimpses of alternatives:
nature, the ancient matriarchal rituals of the fiesta and the bullfight, and the
personification of the archetype of the self in Pedro Romero. In his first
major novel, Hemingway has created images evoking unconscious, feminine

wisdom. What the reader takes away from this novel ultimately depends on

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the state of being which she or he brings to it, for it is the unconscious that

Hemingway’s archetypes speak to. In one who will listen, the voice of

ancient wisdom may be heard:
One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh; but
the earth abideth forever...The sun also riseth, and the sun goeth
down, and hasteth to the place where he arose...The wind goeth
toward the south, and turneth about unto the north; it whirleth
about continually, and the wind returneth again according to his
circuits...All the rivers run into the sea; yet the sea is not full;

unto the place from whence the rivers come, thither they return

again (Epigraph).

Chapter Three
For Whom the Bell Tolls

Eer Whem rhe Bell fl'ells, like Wm presents a quest. In
this novel, however, in contrast to We the hero is the

protagonist. Also, the archetypal quest motif described by Joseph L.
Henderson in "Ancient Myths and Modern Man" may be followed. Henderson
says that often the hero is an outsider from his community, he is seeking a
goal which is difficult to attain and in his search he must struggle with
hostile forces.
Over and over again one hears a tale describing a hero’s...ear1y
proof of superhuman strength, his rapid rise to prominence or
power, his triumphant struggle with the forces of evil, his
fallibility to the sin of pride (Mia), and his fall through betrayal
or a "heroic" sacrifice that ends in his death....ln may of these
stories the early weaknesses of the hero is balanced by the
appearance of strong "tutelary" figures--or guardians--who enable
him to perform the superhuman tasks that he cannot accomplish
unaided (101).
Robert Jordan is such a hero. First, Jordan is an outsider from his

community. Jordan has left his home in Missola, Montana, to spend a year

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in Spain, fighting for the Spanish Republic. Even in Spain he is an outsider.
Although he speaks fluent Spanish and knows the country well from having
spent years traveling there, he is a foreigner, and consequently suspect to
the Spanish people. Neither is he a Communist; although he approves of the
discipline which the Communists have imposed on the Republic’s military
operations, he does not believe in Marxist ideals.

Unlike Jake Barnes, Robert Jordan believes that he has already found
and is currently fighting for a higher meaning in life. He is willing to
sacrifice his life for a goal difficult to attain--the success of the Spanish
Republic. Although the fight is currently centered in Spain, Jordan views the
struggle in a larger global context: keeping Fascism from spreading to other
countries. As he pursues his external quest--within the context of the novel,
demolishing the bridge exactly as ordereduhe concurrently wages an internal
quest. Inwardly he must struggle against the "dragon" of the regressive
forces of his unconscious-his instinctive fears and negative thoughts--as he
is initiated into an unfamiliar realm of close relationships with the people on
the mountain. Delbert Wylder, too, points out that Jordan’s mythical journey
is a double one: "The more obvious journey is at the physical level and is
centered around the task of blowing up a bridge....The less obvious journey is
the moral or spiritual one, for it involves a journey within the hero, a
descent into his own unconscious" (135-36).

Additional attributions of Henderson’s quest motif are that Jordan has
heroically exhibited early proof of superhuman strength. I-Iis prior actions in

the Spanish Civil War have earned him the reputation of exemplary partizan

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fighter. (This is the "objective" experiencial world in which Wylder points
out Jordan can move with ease.) Additionally, during the interval between
receiving and executing his orders, Jordan gains power through his struggle
with the forces of eviluFascism and his own unconscious demons. He is also
aided by strong tutelary figuresuPilar and Anselmouwho serve as guides.
Jordan does not succumb to pride as does Henderson’s composite hero. On
the contrary. At the beginning of his heroic journey Jordan is detached and
proud. However, during the course of his quest, Jordan experiences
relationships with people and events that lead him finally to experience
mystical states of transcendence characterized not by pride but by
relationship.

Although both Jordan’s external and internal heroic quests are
successful-he destroys the bridge and becomes initiated into the realm of
eros-he does not himself live to carry the wisdom he has gained into society.
However, in spite of the fact that Jordan’s death is imminent at the novel’s
end, he has made a difference in having lived. Symbolically, Robert Jordan
has become "everyperson" and the small group with whom he has become a
member, "humankind."

Criticism of W has centered on the novel’s
political statements (or lack thereof) and on its departure from Hemingway’s
lauded focus on realism. Critics in the thirties who believed that the artist
should become involved with social issues were happy to see Hemingway’s
interest in the anti-Fascist cause. Marxists, however, were not all pleased

with the novel’s politics. Nor were those familiar with the reality of the

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Spanish Civil War always supportive of Hemingway’s fictional depiction. On
one hand, Arturo Barea in "Not Spain but Hemingway," regrets the novel’s
infidelity to the true cause of the Spanish people. Similarly, Alva C. Bessie
condemns the lack of depth in Hemingway’s portrayal of the Spanish people
as well as Hemingway’s distorted depiction of real Communist leaders,
notably Andre Marty (92-3). Conversely, John J. Teunissen’s W
Belliells as Mythic Narrative," extols the novel’s departure from realism
which has enabled it to attain mythic dimensions (56). Carlos Baker calls the
novel a tragic epic-a study in doom. Baker says the local fight of a small
guerrilla band and the Spanish Civil War, itself, are particular examples of
recurrent battles and wars in human history (247). According to Baker both
he and Malcom Cowley thought that W was Heming-

way’s best novel. (W51 237). Alfred Kazin, on
the other hand, thought it to be one of Hemingway’s least works

("I-Iemingway: Synopsis of a Career" 302).

Wylder suggests that the change in narrative point of view, from first
person to third person omniscient, is one of the technical aspects of Eer
W which enables Hemingway to achieve in it a mythic
dimension. There are other advantages as well. Even though first person
narration is not utilized, the protagonist, Robert Jordan, is the central focus
of the novel. It is the tension created between the growing individuation of
Jordan’s inner-being-his increasing compassion and love and desire to live-
and the concomitantly rising sense of foreboding and doom regarding his

external mission and his possible death—which permits the reader to gain a

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sense of immediate identification with his plight. However, third person
narration has the particular advantage of providing direct access to the minor
characters’ thoughts and feelings so that they become fully developed "real"
members of the group, people with whom the reader may also identify. Most
importantly, third person narration allows the vivid portrayal of the
microcosm of the protagonist’s struggles on the mountain against the
macrocosm of events occurring away from the mountain. This perspective
enables the reader to perceive the impending tragedy within the larger
context of the Republic’s offensive and to experience a greater sense of the
inevitability of tragedy in Jordan’s death and in the failed offensive as well
as, ultimately, in the Republic’s loss of the war.

This chapter will focus on characters, settings, events, images, and
symbols in W representing contrasts between the realm
of consciousness--the persona and masculine-ego consciousness--and the realm
of the unconscious: the shadow, anima, primordial feminine, wise old man and
the self. These two spheres mark a continuum: from Madrid and the war’s
larger visage and the ultra-masculine characters residing there, to the
mountain, the feminine domain, and the "primitive" Spanish people that Jordan
encounters there. It is the contrast between the mechanized masculine world
and the regenerative feminine one, and the sense of destruction of the
feminine before the masculine, which evokes the sensation of tragedy in
Hemingway’s "middle" novel.

Representatives of the persona are not so prominent in W
Bell_Tells as they were in Hemingway‘s first novel, though, indeed, their

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presence is poignantly felt in the stark contrast between the reality of the
war’s brutality and horror and the superficiality of the persona’s response.
Both the British economist, Mitchell, and Comrade Marty are characterized
by the inflation of their personae. Also, the cocktail party at Gaylords
reveals the personae of those gathered together there before the offensive.
Finally, there are two noticeable occasions when Robert Jordan’s persona
momentarily dominates his personality.

One representative of the inflated social persona is the British
economist, Mitchell, who is, according to Karkov, a "winter fool," someone
who falsely projects the appearance of being someone he is not. He thus
dupes people into believing they know him. Because of their sense that they
know who Mitchell is, people trust him. Even Robert Jordan had respected
Mitchell for what he believed to be his good intentions, though Jordan knew
his reporting of statistics to be faked. However, when Jordan meets him at
the front he sees him for the fool he is. The contrast between the gravity
of Jordan’s immediate military situation, and Mitchell’s total lack of
sensitivity to it, shows the latter’s true character. As Jordan is prying the
stiffened body of a dead gunner out of an armored car so that the vehicle
can be used for the impending attack at Carabanchel, Mitchell casually steps
out from an apartment house and offers Jordan a Chesterfield in exchange for
information about the fighting. Mitchell obviously knows nothing about the
battle, yet in his reports he will pretend to understand what has taken place

as if he had been in the midst of the turmoil. It is apparent that Mitchell is

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a fake, that his ignorance of the reality of war is only thinly concealed
beneath an exterior posture of "knowing."

Another example of the inflated persona is Andre Marty, who, in spite
of being "crazy as a bed bug," is political head of the international brigades
in Spain. Inflation of the persona is debilitating to the total personality of
the individual, but if that person occupies a position of power it can be
disastrous for others as well. Indeed, Marty appears to suffer from delusions
of grandeur as he poses before the topographical maps of the war’s
campaigns, pretending to be a military officer, and of paranoia, as he
mentally builds a case for Golz’s being a traitor. Marty is a manufactured
hero--a product of the hard-line Communists he pretends to serve. However,
though he would appear to be a hero, he is not. His total identification with
the persona of political power has left him a rotting shell of a man.
Hemingway’s description of Marty’s physical appearance mirrors his inner
being, "His face looked as through it were modelled from the waste material
you find under the claws of a very old lion" (417). The contrast between the
real heroism of Jordan, who is lying on the floor of the forest waiting to
execute his orders, and the histrionics of Marty, who prevents Jordan’s
communication from reaching Golz, escalates tension and leads to the sense of
impending tragedy.

The cocktail party at Gaylords-strategically interspersed with scenes of
Andre’s attempt to deliver Jordan’s message to General G012, and the hope
that the offensive will be called off, as well as scenes showing preparation

for the offensive by Robert Jordan and the others on the mountain-is yet

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another tragic instance of the persona’s shallowness. At Gaylords it has been
reported that the afternoon’s bombing was the Fascists firing on themselves.
The dramatic irony inherent in the discrepancy between the reality of the
situationuthe extinction of Sodo’s band (the Republic) by Fascist planes--and
the false gossip is a blasphemy. The ignorance of the people, their
willingness to believe what they wish-that the "truth" of the news had been
confirmed by the fact that it was spoken with "pity, compassion and truth" by
LaPasionaria, the very Communist "saint" whom Joaquin had quoted as he was.
digging into the mountain in an attempt to fortify himself against the
Fascists’ bullets--is a travesty to the real truth.

Additionally, although everyone is aware of the offensive to be held the
next day, including, ironically, the Fascists, Karkov denies the reality of the
offensive to his girlfriend who plans to attend the military confrontation
anyway, as if it were an entertainment. At the level of a cocktail party, the
horror of war is reduced to the level of a Hollywood western where the
"good guys" always win, so it is safe and fun to watch. The participants at
this party are not to be involved in the life and death struggle of a real
battle on the following day as are Jordan and his comrades and General G012
and all of the troops he has ordered into action. They can believe as they
wish, because the reality of the situation is barred from admittance beyond
the mask of their social personae.

The final examples of the persona can be observed in the protagonist.
In his interactions with the people on the mountain, Robert Jordan’s persona

surfaces twice: when he first meets Pablo and again in the cave, on the

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morning the bridge is to be destroyed. When Anselmo brings Pablo to the
place where Jordan is waiting to meet him, Jordan experiences almost
immediate distrust of Pablo’s sadness. Yet, in spite of his uneasiness, he
smiles to conceal his feelings. In this divided state, Jordan attempts to
engage Pablo with flattery, telling him that he has heard of Pablo’s exploits
and his success as a guerilla leader. However, Pablo sagely ignores the bait.
In spite of his sadness and sullenness, he is not susceptible to the false
flattery of an outsider. Also, near the end of the novel, as Jordan is
preparing his equipment for destroying the bridge, he is nervous and angry as
he contemplates the futility of blowing the bridge without the exploder and
detonators. But again he attempts to mask his anxiety by smiling-this time
at Maria and Pilar. His smiles, however, are superficial and he is aware that
he is smiling only "with the front of his face" (386). When he sees Pilar
smile at him, he questions the sincerity of her appearance as he wonders
"how far into her face the smile went" (387), projecting his own anxiety on
Pilar. He does not gain the true inner confidence he wishes to exhibit until
Pablo returns. Fear and insecurity are primary causes for individuals’ to hide
their real feelings behind the mask of the social persona. Generally Jordan
does not resort to deception; these instances show him in situations where he
feels that he is not in control either of the situation itself or of his own
ability to respond appropriately. There is, however, a significant difference
between the persona Jordan exhibits, that represents only a part of his total
personality, and the personae of Mitchell and Marty, that is the only aspect

of their personalities they have allowed to develop.

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In W masculine ego-consciousness is represented
by "civilized" life in Madrid as opposed to "primitive" life on the mountain.
It is also reflected in the superiority of the Fascists’ military machinery as
well as the Communists’ intelligence and discipline—all products of the
masculine intellect. The Spanish peOple’s strength, on the other hand, lies in
their instinctive and emotional superiority which are feminine attributes. The
Russian leaders, G012 and Karkov, personify masculine ego-consciousness.
Additionally, Robert Jordan has already evolved a set of consciously
articulated ideals which underlie his actions. He also brings many masculine
qualities to his work. The dominance of his cold, scientific mind in the
planning and execution of the bridge project attests to his intelligence, and
the strength of will which he exhibits under that assault of his unconscious
anima and shadow bear further testimony to the strength of his masculine
ego-consciousness. The transpersonal masculine realm exists in Jordan’s
thoughts about the American Civil War and his grandfather’s heroism (therein)
as well as in the masculine dogmas of Communism and Christianity.

Unlike life on the mountain, which is harsh and primitive, life in Madrid
possesses the comforts and even luxuries which are fruits of masculine
occupation and invention. Even under war-time conditions, Jordan finds it
difficult to imagine a Russian military commander riding anything so
primitive as a bicycle through the streets of Madrid. In addition to the
corrupting luxury at Gaylords, Madrid offers the comforts of clothing shops,
coiffeurs, furnished apartments which can be presumed to have electricity and

running water, as well as book stalls, and fine food and drink. Within Madrid

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the realm of the Great Mother is present but in contained form: in carefully
manicured parks and a forest planted with trees from all over the world,
identified by placards showing their names and countries of origin. Madrid
represents the world of masculine order, precision, and discipline by which
wars are planned, if not executed.

Military machinery, particularly planes, are symbols of ascendant
masculine ego-consciousness. In war the side with superior technology has
the advantage and in the Spanish Civil War the Fascists’ superior weapons
enable them to triumph over the Republic, not only in the particular military
operations depicted in this novel, but also in the larger war. Allan
Guttmann, in his essay "Mechanized Doom," contends that one of the novel’s
major themes is the "symbolic struggle between men and machines: impotent
humanity beneath omnipotent machines" (96 99). This struggle is not limited
to the Spanish landscape, argues Guttmann, but extends to the struggle
between the opposing forces of man in relationship to nature and the
antithetical force of the machine in all countries, particularly nineteenth
century America. Within the context of Guttmann’s argument the conflict
between human being and machine becomes transpersonal and archetypal
which it is: a conflict between masculine and feminine "forces" which
extends farther back in history than Guttman traces. The invention of planes
in the twentieth century marked an advent in human history. Planes
represent masculine consciousness soaring upward, seeking to overcome the
limitations of nature. And, indeed, the Fascist aircraft which soar

majestically over the mountain inspire both awe and fear in those who

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witness their passing. In addition to the destruction which military machines
can cause, there is another "advantage" in their use. Planes and automatic
weapons insulate the consciousness and conscience of the pilot or the
marksman from the consequences of what he does. Regarding this aspect of
machines Jordan says, "I think that killing a man with an automatic weapon
makes it easier. I mean on the one doing it. It is different. After the first
touch it is it that does it. Not you" (438). Similarly, for a plane’s pilot the
destruction of life which results from the dropping of bombs can be
accomplished with little sense of remorse. From the pilot’s omniscient
vantage, the earth and her inhabitants appear insignificant and there is little
feeling of responsibility for the action of pulling a lever or pressing a button.
Masculine ego-consciousness can also be observed in the intellectual
superiority of members of the Soviet Union’s Communist Party who are
advising the Spanish military. Russians, not Spanish, are directing the
Republic’s war operations. Most of the Spanish peasants and workers who
comprise the Republican army lack the sophistication and discipline to make
good leaders. Few Spanish qualify as able commanders and even those who
have arisen to become commanders, were educated in Russia. Although
El Campision, Lester, and Modesto are disciplinarians, there is also doubt that
they will be able to maintain strict order without the Russian presence.
Robert Jordan compares the Spanish commanders to students flying a machine
with dual controls-«hey continue to be dependent on the Russians’ superior
military knowledge of modern machines and tactics. Jordan wonders how

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successful they will be on their own when the Russians leave, for the ranks
are undisciplined and cowardly.

General Goltz is the best general Robert Jordan has ever served under;
Karkov is the most intelligent man Jordan has ever met. These men personify
masculine ego-consciousness. The experience which Goltz has gained through
years of military service enables him to understand that military operations
do not often proceed as they are planned and ordered. In spite of his
request for Jordan’s precision in carrying out his mission, he knows very well
that he cannot promise the same in return. The reality of any war (and this
war in particular, because of the ignorance and unpredictability of many
people who must be relied on) is the basis of his uncertainty; it does not
stem from flaws in his own character or in his ability to direct an operation.
Golz is aware that war contains more irrational than rational elements, and
this understanding forms the basis of his intelligence.

The masculine intellect of Karkov, who is the political head of the
Communists in Spain, and "one of the three most important men in Spain"
(424), is cold, hard, and meticulous. Although he affects the appearance of
insolence, it is not his persona but his intellect which dominates his
personality. However, Karkov’s intelligence is not, like Robert Jordan’s, open
to experience; rather, it has become fixed on a particular ideology. Karkov
represents the hard-line, dedicated Communist who rigidly adheres to his
belief in Marxist dialectics; his powerful position in the party is testament to
both his intelligence as well as the political reality which that intelligence
serves. Karkov is a cynic, and his cynicism can be accounted for by the fact

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that he has experienced the worst in human nature-including an attempted
assassination on his own life-and has become contemptuous of human
weakness as well as skeptical about the development of the war. Karkov’s
cold, calculating intelligence can be observed in his methods of creating a
disciplined armyuby killing those who are afraid or who constitute a threat
to the party line.

Although Pablo, too, is highly intelligent, it is not his intellect but his
ensnarement by the negative feminine and his resultant impotence which are
portrayed. However, it is significant to note that Karkov and Pablo are
similar in that each man is coldly capable of killing others whom he perceives
as obstacles to the attainment of his goals: Karkov’s, the spread of
Communism, and Pablo’s, maintaining his personal security and "wealth."
Neither expresses any higher moral value than the attainment of his desires.
Their difference lies in the fact that Pablo kills directly and for strictly
personal reasons, as when he shoots the men who aid his band in the blowing
of the bridge so that there will be enough horses to escape. Karkov, on the
other hand, participates abstractly in "destroying" commanders who are
politically "unfaithful to their trust." His desire is not personal in the sense
of Pablo’s, because he represents a larger collective political ideology, as do
all sides in wartime; however, this group is limited in comparison to
humanity as a whole.

Masculine ego-consciousness is the domain of the societal "fathers"

collective authority. According to N eumann:

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The task of the authorities is to protect the personality from the
disintegrative forces of the collective unconscious without breaking
the vital link with it, and to guarantee the continued existence of
the individual without impairing his contacts with the group and
the world ((2:1ng 351).

It is in this capacity that Karkov functions as a mentor and a symbolic
father, an "authority" for Jordan in the world of the societal fathers, by
instructing him in the "realities" of war. While Jordan entered the war as an
idealist, after he had experienced months of struggle, hardship, and defeat he
began to become disillusioned and wanted to know the "truth" about the war,
hoping that in the future he would be able to write the truth from the point
of view of both sides. (Much as Hemingway has done.) Because Karkov
possesses not only keen intelligence but also an understanding of the war’s
larger picture, he has become Jordan’s teacher. Karkov admires Jordan’s cold
intelligence as well as his ability to write, and he has assumed the
responsibility for enlightening this intelligent but, from Karkov’s point of
view, politically naive student. While he does present Jordan with a fuller
picture of the errors and foibles of the Republican army which is, indeed,
grim, as well as insight into fools like the British economist, Mitchell,
knowledge of the truth from Karkov’s perspective is corrupting for Jordan in
that it changes his idealism to cynicism, too. Of this aspect of Karkov’s
teaching Jordan says:

In a revolution you could not admit to outsiders who helped you

nor that any one knew more than he was supposed to know. He

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had learned that. If a thing was right fundamentally the lying was
not supposed to matter. There was a lot of lying though. He did
not care for the lying at first. He hated it. Then later he had
come to like it. It was part of being an insider but it was a very
corrupting business (229).

The necessity for lying and political killings which form part of Karkov’s
teaching is antagonistic to Jordan’s sense of the "purity" of his reasons for
fighting in Spain. Over the course of time, though, Jordan learns to accept
Gaylord’s luxury as well as Karkov’s cynicism, which he adopts as his own.
In spite of the "corruption" of his mentor’s version of reality, it is to
Gaylords and to Karkov that Jordan returns in his thoughts when his ego-
consciousness needs grounding after encounters with his personal shadow on
the mountain.

That Jordan’s masculine ego-consciousness is already well-developed can
be observed in his consciously articulated phi1050phical beliefs. Jordan holds
the characteristically American belief in individualism: "all people should be
left alone and you should interfere with no one." Superimposed on his belief
in the sanctity of the individual, however, is his belief "in the Republic and
that if it were destroyed life would be unbearable for all those people who
believed in it" (163). In addition, on the day before the offensive, he
reminds himself of his belief in the ideals of the French and American
revolutions, "You’re not a real Marxist and you know it. You believe in
liberty, Equality and Fraternity. You believe in Life, liberty and the Pursuit

of Happiness....You have put many things in abeyance to win a war. If this

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war is lost all of those things are lost" (305). Jordan believes in the Spanish
peoples’ right to self-government and has accepted the fact that in order to
secure that right they need to fight against the forces of Fascism.
Therefore, not interfering in the Republic’s war would mean abandoning not
only the Spanish people whom he has grown to love, but also the rest of the
world, to the possible fate of Fascistic control.

Robert Jordan is an idealist who believes that the life of the individual
can make a difference in the collective fate of humankind. This ideal has
given his life meaning and direction because it is a transpersonal goal, the
goal of the hero, the bringer of light. The existence of Jordan’s
transpersonal philosophical ideals reflects the apex of masculine civilization--
the valuation of the individual qua individual--in its struggle to overcome the
regressive lure of the collective unconscious. It is Jordan’s belief in the
individual’s right to freedom, and his vision of the masculine spirit soaring
upward, which consciously underlies his willingness to give his life in his
fight against Fascism. Under Fascism, society is rigidly controlled by the
government under a dictator and individuality is suppressed. As Baker has
noted, under Fascism freedom of expression, freedom to write the truth as
one perceives it, as Jordan wishes to do, is abolished. Robert Jordan, like
Jake Barnes, has an independent mind and forms judgements only after having
the experience. Thus, like Hemingway, he does not espouse a particular
political creed, because belief in a particular political ideology would limit his
ability to impartially observe and record his own immediate impressions and to

form his own judgements.

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Jordan’s ideals have brought him to Spain, and once there he places his
intellect at the service of his partizan work. As are other Hemingway
protagonists, Jordan is an expert at his work. Two incidents in particular
reveal the intelligence of Jordan’s ego-consciousness in his ability to plan and
execute military operations. His second day on the mountain, Jordan sets up
defensive positions in case the Fascist cavalry arrive, tracing the scout
Jordan killed that morning. His clear vision of how this position should be
arranged, his calmness and self-assurance as he directs orders to the others,
his refusal to allow Agustin to fire on the cavalry officer or Primitivo, to go
to the aid of Sordo, illustrate the dominance of his ego-consciousness.
Jordan’s foresight also shows his understanding of the war’s "larger picture,"
the necessity of preserving lives for the destruction of the bridge--which
connects their limited operation to the greater military offensive as well as
to the total war and, ultimately, to all goals, the achievement of which
requires strict discipline. Jordan must restrain his own impulses to act
emotionally as he must restrain the others, whose careless actions could
jeopardize the entire operation. Although the men do not like his decisions
at the time, they respect his forcefulness and his knowledge of what must be
done. In addition, Jordan expertly designs the method by which the bridge
is to be blown, and even after Pablo steals the caps and detonators for the
explosives, Jordan is able to engineer an alternative plan using grenades to
trigger the dynamite. During the execution of the project, Jordan commands
the others’ respect. He is also able to maintain conscious control under the

extremity of tension which he feels while affirdng the explosive to the bridge.

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Both instances are tributes to the strength of will of his masculine ego-
consciousness.

In spite of the external disasters and internal doubts which assail him,
as Robert Jordan progresses through the interval between accepting and
executing the orders which represent his external quest, his masculine ego-
consciousness remains ascendent and he does not become "possessed" by either
his anima or his shadow.

Unlike Jake Barnes, who is ensnared by the projection of his anima on
Brett and who consequently loses his will to act independently, Robert Jordan
actively asserts his will in accomplishing his Herculean endeavor. Although
the archetypes of the anima and shadow will be discussed in greater detail in
later sections, it is necessary to include instances of their occurrence for
present purposes of illustrating the strength of Jordan’s ego-consciousness in
its struggle against the allure of the unconscious. As Jordan commences his
quest, coldly intent on accomplishing his assignment, there is an active debate
between his ego-consciousness and his anima, which, even at the outset of
the novel, enables him to form strong connections with others and has a
voice of its own. This is the voice which speaks of his responsibility for the
people with whom he works, the voice which is more concerned with
immediate relationships than with his duty to his outer quest. However,
Jordan must maintain a balance. As his involvement increases he continually
fights his anima’s tendency to overwhelm his resolution and his will.

There are several instances where Jordan expresses this ongoing

struggle. Early in the novel his relationship with Anselmo begins to develop,

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and as he converses with the old man and learns of Anselmo’s deep goodness,
Jordan expresses resentment for the danger in which Golz’s orders have
placed Anselmo and himself. However he controls his thoughts, "And that is
not the way to think, he told himself, and there is not you, and there are no
people that things must not happen to" (43). Later, in a discussion with Pilar
she tells him that he is very cold and asks him if he does not care for the
things in life. Jordan replies, "Yes. Very much. But not to interfere with
my work" (91). On the walk back to camp from El Sordo’s, Jordan reflects
on the necessity for what he does even though the people for whom he is
fighting often have to pay with their lives for assisting him. His growing
sense of relationship with the people on the mountain entails an attendant
sense of responsibility, and he begins to question the feasibility of carrying
out Golz’s orders. However, he reminds himself that even if he had not come
with such orders, the people would soon be hunted down by the Fascists.
Besides, he can not know that the orders are impossible until they are carried
out. Finally, although his experiences with the feminine over the course of
the novel give him a reason to want to live which had not existed at the
beginning of his quest, he does not allow his anima to ensnare his will or
impair his ability to act according to active, masculine principles.

Jordan’s rational ego-consciousness must also battle with the shadow
impulses of fear and oppression which build as the offensive’s outcome
becomes increasingly bleak. With the movement of men and equipment along
the road, the omnipresence of Fascist planes, and the extermination of

Sordo’s band, Jordan’s thoughts become increasingly gloomy, but he

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continually struggles to overcome his negativity. He tells himself to
remember concrete and practical things, not to think of moral issues like
killing, when it is what he has to do, or to think morbidly of dying, like the
anarchists. When he finds his thoughts taking a positive direction, as when
he anticipates that he will see General Duran at Gaylords after his quest is
completed, he congratulates himself for behaving so well. And when his
confidence reaches its nadir, after Pablo has stolen the detonators and the
exploder, Jordan consciously attempts to overcome his rage by telling himself
to have confidence, "Don’t be like some damned snake with a broken back
biting at itself" (386). (The snake biting its tail is a symbol of the
unconscious uroboros.) Always, when his thoughts threaten to overwhelm
him, he tells himself not to think at all. Finally, even after he is wounded
and awaits certain death, he struggles heroically to maintain conscious
composure, to perform one last act of resistance against the forces of
Fascism, and not give in to the desire to bring a quick end to his suffering.
Throughout his ordeal on the mountain, Robert Jordan acts with masculine
decisiveness and resolve.

During times of extreme tension, the realm of transpersonal masculine
spirits is available to aid Jordan as he struggles to maintain emotional
control. After his confrontation with Pablo, his thoughts take him to Madrid
where he visits Gaylords and converses with Karkov. His thoughts also bring
him memories of his grandfather’s heroic participation in the United States’
Civil War. After he has sent Andres with the dispatch to Golz, Jordan is
filled with the anxiety of not knowing whether the offensive will be

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cancelled. To calm his thoughts, Jordan begins thinking of concrete things:
the cabinet in his father’s office, filled with Indian artifacts, the well-oiled
saber and Smith and Wesson pistol, all of which had belonged to his
grandfather. Jordan admires his grandfather who served in the American
"War of the Rebellion" for four years as well as in Indian fighting after.
Jordan experiences a sense of direct connection with his grandfather, who,
like Jordan, had to overcome his instinctive shadow fears to become a highly
regarded cavalry leader. His grandfather’s heroic status is confirmed by the
testimonial letter from General Sheridan, saying "his grandfather was a finer
leader of irregular cavalry than John Mosby" (339), and reports that people
said that his grandfather would have saved Custer had he been there. Jordan
identifies with his grandfather’s active masculine courage and bravery, and in
the civil war in which he is fighting, Jordan wishes to emulate these
qualities. In his loneliness, Jordan wishes to talk with his grandfather:
"Because there are a lot of things I would like to know. I have a right to
ask him now because I have had to do the same sort of things myself" (338).
Although he can not directly converse with his ancestor, thoughts of his
grandfather, and the hope that his grandfather’s heroic traits have been
passed down to him, serve to calm his mind and enable him to understand
that the offensive will not be called off.

Teunissen has developed the compelling argument that the basic theme of
W is not political but is rather Jordan’s attempt to
reconnect with the mythical spirits of his ancestors, particularly with his

grandfather’s heroic spirit, existing in the sacred "dream time" of nineteenth

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century America. Teunissen draws a parallel between the primitive Spanish
people alongside whom Jordan is fighting and the primitive native Americans
whom his grandfather fought. By fighting in Spain, Jordan learns to see the
other side. Through Pablo, Sordo, Anselmo, and Pilar he connects not with
the white Victor’s point of view, but with that of the Indian, and thereby
becomes connected with his primitive roots in America. According to
Teunissen, "this journey (Jordan’s journey into the heart of Spain) is as
much into the collective unconscious as it is to far away and primitive
places" (57). I agree that Jordan’s is a journey into the collective
unconscious and that connection with his past is one of the novel’s themes,
but I do not believe that it is the most important. Rather, it seems as if
Jordan’s final identification with his grandfather’s spirit furnishes one of the
affirmations of the larger, more comprehensive mystical transcendence which
Jordan experiences before he dies.

The final representations of masculine ego-consciousness are the dogmas
implicit in Catholicism and the secular religion of Communism. While
Christianity contains many aspects of the feminine unconscious, its symbols,
rituals, and teachings have, over the years, become encoded in ecclesiastical
dogma by the church fathers. Consequently, "Holy Mother Church" lacks the
genuine, direct life-forceuthe continual regeneration and spontaneous growth
-of the feminine. Moreover, in Spain the Catholic Church was not separate
from the government; it had been allied with the monarchy for hundreds of
years, and after the monarchy’s demise, the church sided with other

conservative political groups, and hence became associated with the Fascists.

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Thus, the church, like the government, was responsible for oppressing the
majority of Spain’s populace, for keeping them powerless and ignorant.

However, Jung believed that all people have an instinctive need, whether
conscious or not, for a spiritual life provided by symbols which elicit
"numinous" transpersonal experiences. These transpersonal experiences may be
of an individual nature or they may occur within the context of a group
experience as long as there is "a relation to a center which expresses the
unconscious through its symbolism" (ACU 127). This condition is most often
met by traditional religions (though this is not a prerequisite). In spite of
the fact that for many people in highly developed cultures the symbols of
Christianity have become dogmatized and personalized and have lost their
ability to elicit numinous experiences, in "primitive" Spain they retain their
ability to elevate the individual beyond the limitations of the personal and to
offer succor in times of stress. For the Republicans, though, the church is
on the "other side" and they have had to relinquish the church’s symbols and
rituals. Jung says that in the vacuum left by the absence or impoverishment
of religious symbols there has arisen "absurd political and social ideas, which
one and all are distinguished by their spiritual bleakness" (BWJ 298). Indeed,
the characters in W have either replaced their lost
religion with belief in Communism, as has Joaquin, or, as do most of the
others, with a "religious" belief in the Republic.

Communism, unlike Christianity, is a political system which was born out
of masculine ego-consciousness—Marx’s materialistic dialectic-and has been

further elaborated under the Communist patriarchy to include not only a

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system of rigid beliefs but also an underlying hierarchal structure. In this
novel, Communism is characterized as being like religion in that people have
transferred their old faith in religion to a new faith in Communism as a
means of alleviating their suffering. However the new faith is just as rigid
and narrow as the confines of the church’s dogma. Indeed, political
commissars like Karkov and Comrade Marty are the priests of the new
religion which promises a better life to the worlds’ powerless masses.
According to Jung, the myth underlying Communism is secular, but it is a
myth, nevertheless:
The communist world has one big myth (which we call an illusion,
in the vain hope that our superior judgement will make it
disappear). It is the time hallowed dream of a Golden Age (or
Paradise), where everything is provided in abundance for everyone,
and a great, just, and wise chief rules over a human kindergarten
(M&HS 73-4).

Communism does not contain a "relation to a center which expresses the
unconscious through its symbolism." The philosophical underpinnings of
Communism do not account for the psyche’s various aspects--the baser shadow
impulses as well as the transcendence of the self. Underlying Marx’s
materialistic dialectic is the belief that the life of the collective is more
important than the individual and the faith that happiness will be attained
and satisfaction, guaranteed, if people’s economic needs are met. However,
not only is love supposed to be nonexistent in the Communists’ purely

materialistic conception of society, but also, individualism, which both Jung

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and Robert Jordan believe to be the highest expression of humanity, is
denied. Even the existence of shadow impulses such as those expressed in a
bohemian lifestyle-including drunkenness and casual sex-is denied. Also,
according to Jordan, the Communists allow adherence to no form of
spirituality other than faith in the party line.

The insufficiency of political ideologies to provide comfort in times of
stress can be observed in several characters reverting to their old tradition
of prayer-invoking the church’s eros principle--when they are feeling
overwhelmed by the mother’s terrible aspect. In the night, after Jordan and
Pilar have challenged and usurped his leadership, Pablo, who understands the
danger inherent in Jordan’s project, and who has become a coward, admits to
Pilar that he is afraid to die; in spite of Pilar’s protestations, he prays to
God and to the Virgin for their protection. In addition, as Sordo’s band is
being attacked by the Fascists, Joaquin first bravely quotes the rhetoric of
the heroine of the Republic, LaPassioniara, but when death is imminent he
reverts to the "Hail Mary" and the "Apostle’s Creed." Similarly, after
Anselmo has witnessed the heads of Sordo’s band being transported by the
Fascists and comes to understand what he has seen, he, too, prays to the
Virgin and to the Lord for the strength to carry out his duty on the
following day. He also prays for the souls of the dead men. Even Pilar
thanks God that Maria has been spared the horror of venereal disease which
she might have contacted from being raped. Finally, Maria prays to God and
the Blessed Virgin to spare the life of her Roberto during the action on the
bridge. It is important to emphasize that it is the Spanish people, who are

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more in touch with their primitive, instinctual natures, who fear causes to
revert to their old religion. There are many allusions to Christianity:
flowing through Jordan’s inner thoughts are references to Biblical scriptures,
such as the cup of gall Christ was forced to drink. However, as in 111L502
Alse_Rises, Christianity does not provide Jordan the needed connection with
the archetypes. Although Robert Jordan undergoes transformations of
consciousness which are mystical and transpersonal, it is the authority of his
direct participation in these experiences through which he gains wisdom, and
not the interpretation of that experience by ecclesiastical dogma.

Both religion and Communism represent patriarchal authorities. In their
dogmas there is no allowance for flexibility, growth and change. Also, each
allows for the expression of only parts of the total psyche. However, in
contrast to the rigid dogma of the church, which, for the Spanish people
provides deeper, emotional sustenance for the soul and spirit, the rigidity of
Communism is like food which nourishes the body but which offers no solace
for the deeper layers of the human psyche.

While masculine ego-consciousness builds physical bridges between
geographical locations, and the anima builds bridges between people, it is the
shadow which destroys both types of connecting structures. Robert Jordan is
a dynamic character whose inner being develops as the events in the novel
unfold. Encounters with the archetypes of the collective and personal
shadow, and the negative aspects of the feminine emerging therefrom,
stimulate and shape his growth. Jordan has personally experienced war’s

brutality. Although he does not directly participate in the atrocities and

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horror of war depicted in Pilar’s, Joaquin’s and Maria’s stories, his vicarious
experience adds to his understanding of what he is fighting against...and for.
His inner development is also occasioned by experiencing the projection of his
personal shadow on Pablo, and by subsequently accepting the responsibility
for his own negative emotions.

In W5 the archetype of the collective shadow
assumes many guises. In the first place, it is represented by the tone of
doom which portends a disastrous fate for Jordan’s task of blowing the
bridge as well as for the larger offensive. The collective shadow is also
present in the many portrayals of killing and death which are the substance
of war. In addition, it is the collective shadow which gives impetus to
hatred for those participating on the "other side" of the war. Finally, the
personal shadows of Pilar, Pablo, and Robert Jordan surface at various times,
illuminating their "other" sides. While W is a novel
expressing the effects of war on the characters after the fact, EeL_W_hern_rlle
Bell Tells is a novel about war, and its horrors are vividly depicted.

In waging a war as in carrying out any enterprise, belief in a positive
outcome is imperative. It is vital that leaders as well as subordinates have
faith in the success of their venture because a defeatist attitude signals
defeat. Yet, in a war such as the Spanish Civil War, fate has dealt the
Republicans a poor hand. After the first year of war, the Republic has
already lost many battles and much territory. Hemingway’s novel makes clear
that if belief in the justice of their cause was the decisive factor for

determining the war’s outcome, the Republicans’ deep, committed faith and

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willingness to give their lives for the Republic would assure their victory.
However, there are additional factors which contribute to the Fascist’s
military supremacy. In the first place, the emotional nature of the Spanish
people themselves often undermines their operations. Also, the Spanish
military is on the side of the Fascists, providing its troops with superior
military training. Most importantly, Germany has supplied the Fascists’
superior military technology--particularly planes--which are ultimately
responsible for their victories. The inadequacy of human beings fighting
against machines is responsible for the growing sense of doom on the
Republican side. This sense of doom is the dark side of the prevailing spirit
of faith and hope that somehow the forces of "good" will triumph over the
forces of "evil." It is the archetype of the collective shadow, signified by
the mood of oppression and doom, that furnishes the novel’s tragic tone.

The tone of doom is present at the beginning of the novel, even before
a Fascist plane has been sighted. The essence of war is that it is not
amenable to conscious control; chaos rather than control is the rule.
Neumann underscores this when he says that in war "The male remains
inferior to, and at the mercy of, the Feminine that confronts him as a power
of destiny" (GM 303). Accordingly, war, and its battles and maneuvers, are
beyond the control of the individual. General Golz emphasizes this fact
when he asks Robert Jordan, "Has any attack ever been as it should? They
are never my attacks...I make them. But they are not urine ..... Always there is
something. Always some one will interfere" (5). Although by utilizing the

superior intellectual powers-of masculine ego-consciousness an individual or a

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group can meticulously plan an attack or the destruction of a bridge, the
outcome is always uncertain. The resultant uncertainty and fear of the
unknown which emerge from the unconscious and threaten to overwhelm the
ego turn out to be both the result and the further cause of more of the
same. Thus the tone of doom which pervades the novel is established at the
outset in Golz’s gloomy insistence that the precise time for beginning the
offensive is impossible to determine in advance.

Although his ego-consciousness is strong during the approximately
seventy hours of his quest, Jordan must continually battle shadow impulses of
fear and anxiety as he faces "bad omens" that add to his sense of the ill-
fatedness of the operation. He forgets Anselmo’s name, an occurrence which
he interprets as a bad sign. He is unsettled by Pablo’s sadness and deeply
concerned about the schism in the band when Pablo refuses his request for
assistance. When he and Anselmo see a group of fighter planes, Anselmo
thinks that they belong to the Republic, but Jordan knows that they are
Fascist. His worry is further heightened when Pilar reads his hand but
refuses to tell him what she sees.

One of Jordan’s underlying worries is his uncertainty regarding the
nature and loyalty of the Spanish people. Although he must trust the people
with whom he works, Jordan knows that the Spanish are highly clannish and
capable of being his supporters one minute and turning against him the next.
Even though Jordan speaks fluent Spanish, a prerequisite for earning their
esteem, it is impossible for him to predict the people’s loyalty. He can

implicitly trust Pilar and Anselmo, but Pablo’s loyalties remain mysterious

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because it is impossible to ascertain the direction in which his self-interest
will swing. Pablo’s unpredictability causes Jordan to question the feasibility
of the operation he is conducting and heightens the feeling of doom.

Uncertainty also appears in the possibility that the Fascists have gained
information regarding the Republic’s offensive and are preparing a
counterattack. The possibility of such a reversal begins to dawn on Jordan
his first morning on the mountain when everyone is awakened by swarms of
Fascist fighters and bombers flying in the direction of the planned offensive.
The implication of this extraordinary occurrence for the outcome of their
venture frightens everyone. Jordan’s suspicion is further fueled by
Fernando’s naive admission that in LaGranga he has heard "rumors" of an
impending offensive, including the blowing of bridges, by the Republic.
Finally, the inopportune snowfall, the attack on Sordo, as well as reported
Fascist troop movement along the road, convince Jordan of the counterattack
and he prepares a communication to General Golz, trying to convince the
General to call off the offensive. However, the uncertainty of not knowing if
Andres will get through to Golz, or whether Golz will cancel the attack,
further adds to Jordan’s already strained nerves and his sense of futility.
When he finally realizes how the situation must look to the military
commanders and understands that the offensive will not be called off, Jordan
is relieved.

The uncertainty, the enlargement of the feeling of being uncertain,
as when, through a misunderstanding of possible dates, one does

not know whether the guests are really coming to a party, that had

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been with him ever since he had dispatched Andre’s with the report
to Golz, had all dropped fi'om him now. He was sure now that the
festival would not be canceled. It’s much better to be sure, he
thought. It’s always better to be sure (340).

Jordan’s masculine ego-consciousness prefers certainty-even if the
certainty is of imminent death--to the state of not knowing. Uncertainty
undermines conscious control and leaves the individual at the mercy of the
unconscious, subject to fear and dread of the unknown which arise through
the shadow. Regarding his duty, Jordan wishes to exercise as much conscious
control as he can. However, circumstances do not permit much surety, which
portends impending tragedy.

The substance of war consists of each side trying to outdo the other in
collective acts of barbarity, revealing the dynamism of the collective shadow.
In war, the ego is overwhelmed by emotional chaos as it confronts the
terrible mother surfacing to claim her children in death. That the manner of
death may be fraught with indignity and horror is also part of the mother’s
terrible aspect; however, when allied with the machinery created by
masculine ego-consciousness, the terrible mother can wreak havoc.
Hemingway includes three vivid portrayals of the collective horror of war-
one committed by the Republicans, two, by the Fascists-illustrating that
neither side is exempt from execrable acts.

As they rest on their journey to Sordo’s mountaintop hideout, Pilar tells
Jordan the story of Pablo’s taking control of his hometown for the Republic.

The Republican’s brutality toward the town’s Fascists-the humiliation, torture

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and eventual killing of the victims-furnishes one of literature’s most brutal
images of war’s atrocities. The mock bullfight "arena" where the mob’s
debased passions are pitted against the victims’ helplessness, parodies the
heightened emotion of a true bullfight and reveals, at a deeply primitive
level, man’s inhumanity to man. The Republican’s and anarchist’s increasing
drunkenness and resultant madness, expressed in their increasingly brutal
actions, portrays the degradation to which human beings may descend when
' they become part of an aroused collective. As a part of a collective, the
individual need not take responsibility for his or her personal actions. This
fact is naively underscored in the conversation among three peasants at the
beginning of the operation:

"‘I have never killed a man,’ he said.

‘Then you will learn,’ the peasant next to him said. ‘But I do not think
one blow with this will kill a man,’ and he held his flail in both hands and
looked at it with doubt.

‘That is the beauty of it,’ another peasant said. ‘There must be many
blows’" (105).

While serving as one among many the individual need not bear the
responsibility for his or her actions, because the guilt is projected outward-
on the enemy. The "evil" Fascists are simply receiving their "just"
punishment for the past wrongs they have committed against the peasants.

Also, the morality of war is contained in the ethic, "the end justifies
the means." While waiting for another Fascist to emerge from the

Ayuntamiento, one of the men in the line uses the metaphor of the harvest in

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describing their desired goal, "‘We thresh fascists today,’ said one, ‘and out
of the chaff comes the freedom of this pueblo’" (107). The positive attributes
of the feminine are the desired result of the ritual violence: freedom to
harvest their own grain and to build their own homes. However, the struggle
to attain this end is fraught with chaotic images of the negative feminine.
As "just" as the Republican cause may be, there can be nothing but
condemnation for the manner in which the victims were treated in this act of
collective degradation and violence.

The Fascists, however, gained revenge, in the endless cycle of
vengeance. Although Pilar says that she was sickened by the scenes she had
witnessed during this episode, she was even more repulsed by what happened
three days later when the Fascists again took control of the town.
Significantly, during Pilar’s story, Robert Jordan tells of an incident he
observed as a child which brings the collective shadow of America into the
fore. The lynching and subsequent burning of the body of a "Negro" in mid-
westem America illustrates the reality of the brutality to which human
beings, no matter what their supposed degree of "civilization," can descend
when they are in the captivity of the collective shadow.

The horrors committed by the Fascists are most graphically depicted in
Maria’s and Joaquin’s stories as well as in the finale of the battle at Sordo’s.
The public executions of those representing the "enemy" in both the girl’s and
the boy’s towns are similar to the killing in Pablo’s town. In each case those
who were only peripherally allied with the opposition were killed along with

avowed Republicans and Fascists. The aggression of the Fascists, though, is

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more terrible because of their brutal treatment of women and children.
(While the same may hold true for the Republicans, it is not portrayed in the
novel.) After the Fascists shot Maria’s father, her mother was also killed.
Similarly, Joaquin’s mother and sister were shot as they stood beside their
men. Maria represents all the girls in her town whose heads were shaved and
numbered and who were subsequently gang-raped by their captors. Even the
ethic "the end justifies the means" is meaningless given the slaughter of
innocent women and children. However, neither personal responsibility nor
personal guilt is involved in these barbarous actions. As in the case of the
Republicans, the individual Fascists are absorbed in the anonymous collective.
After hearing Maria’s story, Robert Jordan attempts to explain to himself
the differences between the brutal acts of the Republicans and the Fascists.
I know that we did dreadful things to them too. But we were
uneducated and knew no better. But they did that (raping Maria)
on purpose and deliberately....lt (Spain) has always had its own
special idol worship within the Church. W. I
suppose that was why they had to destroy the virgins of their
enemies. Surely it was deeper with them, with the Spanish
religion fanatics, than it was with the people (354-5).
In Christianity’s archetypal canon the negative aspect of the feminine is not
represented. The positive, nurturing aspects of the feminine are expressed
through the Virgin Mary, but her negative attributes remain in the

unconscious where they maintain their dark, seductive power until unleashed

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in circumstances such as war. Jordan’s speculations into the behavior of
educated Spanish youth expresses keen psychological insight.

The military operation at Sordo’s depicts the powerlessness of "natural
man" against the overwhelming odds of airborne machines. All the five
remaining men in Sordo’s band hold their own on the "chancre" of a hilltop
until three Fascist planes arrive and drop enough explosives to kill regiments
of fighters. Only after the impersonal bombs have been dropped do the
cavalry advance up the hill. lieutenant Berrendo’s ordering the removal and
transport of Sordo’s and his men’s heads is an atrocity that recalls images of
savage head-hunters in a pre-civilized era. Although this action produces the
intended effect of demoralizing other guerilla fighters, it is morally
reprehensible. The horror of the brutality depicted in each of these incidents
shows the superficiality of the term "civilized." There is no morality in war.

In addition to the collective shadow, the personal shadows of Pilar,
Jordan, and Pablo surface at various points in the novel, revealing the dark-
in Pablo’s case the lightusides of their personalities. Pilar, who is the
center of strength and commitment of the band, exhibits both rage and
sadness, emotions by which her unconscious attempts to undermine her firm
resolve. His first afternoon on the mountain she reads Robert Jordan’s palm
and sees the enterprise’s danger as well as Jordan’s death. In spite of this
bad omen she insists on supporting Jordan and the Republic-which she now
equates with the demolition of the bridge. After challenging Pablo’s command
of the band and being voted leader by the others, she becomes enraged by

Pablo’s negative attitude toward the endeavor. Her undaunted enthusiasm is

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momentarily superceded by fear when she is provoked by Pablo’s sarcasm.
She tells Pablo to, "Shut up...and suddenly remembering what she had seen in
the hand in the afternoon she was wildly, unreasonably angry" (58). In a
moment, however, her rage turns to sadness and h0pelessness, feelings which
she has experienced all her life, and she knows that those feelings, too,
portend disaster. The sadness comes again when she observes the Fascist
planes, but she tells Jordan that her belief in the Republic is as strong as
religious faith and her resolve will overcome her fear.

A second occasion when Pilar’s rage surfaces is the time she and Jordan
are discussing possibilities for the bands’ retreat with Sordo. Pilar wishes to
go to the Republic, but Jordan contradicts her and advises them to seek a
haven in the mountains of Gredos. Jordan’s presumption that he knows what
is best releases from Pilar a flood of obscenity, fueled by her outrage.
Pilar’s increasing fear regarding the difficulty and danger of both the bridge
operation and their escape causes her to become angry with herself, though
she projects her anger onto Jordan for bringing them the problem.

Finally, although she does not become enraged, it is Pilar’s shadow
which surfaces when, on the return from Sordo’s, she tries to hurt Maria by
hinting to the girl that she may be physically attracted to her. Pilar also
admits jealousy of Maria’s youth and of her relationship with Jordan.
Because Pilar has been and wishes to continue to be attractive to the men
who love her, she is crushed by her perception of the look of horror on
J oaquin’s face when he rejects her offered kiss. Pilar later disclaims the

insinuation that her love for Maria may be sexual by saying that she is not

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herself, that the bridge has given her a headache. But the truth of her
feelings cannot be denied. Although Pilar has developed many of her
masculine animus characteristics, she sees herself as a woman, but as an ugly
woman. She feels beautiful only when she is loved by a man of strength and
courage as Pablo once was and as her bullfighters were. When her partner’s
qualities are predominantly masculine, she is free to feel and to be feminine.
However, with Pablo’s demise, she must become the man, which causes her
once again to feel ugly. Therefore, because she is feeling rejected, ugly, sad,
and fearful, she projects her anger over the pain and fear she is experiencing
outward on those who have what she has lost.

Since the function of the shadow is that of an alter ego, Pablo’s shadow
resides in the "light" rather than in the "dark" aspects of his personality. M.
L. von Franz writes, "Sometimes, though not often, an individual feels
impelled to live out the worse side of his nature and to repress the better
side. In such cases the shadow appears as a positive figure in his dreams"
("The Process of Individuation" 182). The shadow, though, is not only
represented by dream figures but also by personality traits. In The
BMW Jolande Jacobi confirms the existence of this
unusual personality configuration. She, too, says that the shadow may be
positive when the individual, "whose ’other side’ it personifies is living ’below
his level,’ failing to fulfill his potentialities, for then it is has positive
qualities that lead a dark shadow existence" (182). Pablo’s life has expressed

the basest level of human nature; his cruelty and viciousness are legend. The

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story of his fiendishness in taking his town is superseded only by the sadism
of his blinding the wounded guardia civil.

Since Pablo has demonstrated the meanest elements in human nature, it
is not surprising that his shadow contains the opposite qualities of
remorse, pity, and mercy. The night of the snowstorm, as the band is in the
cave and Pablo is becoming increasingly drunk, he says that he wishes that
the barbarousness of his past deeds had not happened. "I would be happy
except for those people I killed. All of them fill me with sorrow....I would
bring them all back to life" (209). His sense of remorse is fleeting, however,
for Pablo not only kills more Fascists while covering the bridge, but he also
cold bloodedly kills the Republicans whom be recruited to help. Pablo
expresses the relating principle of his unconscious anima, though, when he
returns to help with the project because the loneliness of not working for
the good of his group was unbearable.

Although Robert Jordan feels anger on other occasions, there are three
times when he experiences the deeper shadow impulse of rage. Significantly,
on each occasion his rage is directed toward Pablo. The first expression of
Jordan’s rage is the afternoon of the snowfall, when Pablo derisively sneers
at Jordan’s anger over this unexpected twist of fate. As hard as Jordan has
tried to control the circumstances surrounding his task, including his own
emotions, there are many things beyond his control, the weather being one.
After the snow begins he stands in front of the cave in a rage, his inner
voice damning the snow and Pablo’s delight and insolence toward the others’

misfortune of having bad weather at this critical time.

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The second occasion when Jordan is threatened with losing conscious
control to his feeling of rage is later the same evening. Pablo, who has
already disaffiliated himself from the group, baits Jordan, repeatedly asking
what American men wear under their skirts and calling Jordan a false
professor because he has no beard. While Pablo is attacking his masculinity,
Jordan inwardly resolves to take action, to kill Pablo. He verbally retaliates,
trying to provoke a showdown with his adversary. Agustin joins the fray,
striking Pablo in the face three times. In their rage, both Jordan and
Agustin forget about the dynamite in the cave which would kill them all if
detonated. His first night on the mountain Jordan is also prepared to kill
Pablo when Pablo refuses to join the others in the bridge project. However
he does not do so because circumstances are not right. Once again he is
ready to take Pablo’s life, believing that the operation would move more
surely without his interference, and because Pablo has a demoralizing effect
on the others. But Pablo will not be provoked and again Jordan desists.

The third occasion for Jordan’s rage is the night before the offensive,
when he learns that Pablo has stolen the detonator and exploders. At this
point he deeply regrets that he did not kill Pablo, but he struggles to control
his rage by thinking of an alternative means to explode the dynamite.

Pablo’s incitement of Jordan’s rage marks Pablo as the receptor of
Jordan’s shadow projections; he additionally functions as Jordan’s alter-ego.
As his alter-ego, Pablo represents those qualities in himself which Jordan has
either denied or has sought to bring under conscious control but which still

threaten him. While Jordan and Pablo are alike in many ways, their

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differences are fundamental. Both men are shrewdly intelligent, but they
employ their intelligence for different purposes. Jordan’s intelligence is in
the service of his ideals and his specific task of demolishing the bridge.
Pablo’s intelligence is no longer in the service of the Republic, rather it
serves his own self-interest. Next, both Jordan and Pablo know the project
is dangerous, but while Jordan attempts to inspire himself and the others to
courage, Pablo is dominated by his fear and not only refuses to help but
constantly tries to undermine the others’ resolution. Also, Pablo is cruel and
barbarous, as his prior actions in the war have shown. Jordan can be cold
and calculating but these qualities are becoming balanced by sensitivity and
caring. Additionally, Jordan and Pablo both like to drink, but while Jordan
maintains control of his level of intoxication, Pablo drinks incessantly. Pablo,
in fact, has succumbed to his fear of the terrible mother’s threat of death,
and has become ensnared by the negative transformative character of the
feminine, through her mysteries of drunkenness. In this respect, Pablo is the
incarnation of the lack of control which Jordan battles within himself and
which he most fears.

Indeed, as many critics have observed, Pablo reminds Jordan of his own
father. Also, as Wylder points out, Pablo not only symbolizes Jordan’s
father, he is the father, the king, who represents the old order which Jordan,
the representative of the new order, must depose, if not slay (141-42).
Although Pablo’s former courage and valor as a guerilla leader are qualities of
Jordan’s heroic grandfather, Pablo’s ensnarement in the feminine and his

present cowardice, impotence, and domination by Pilar are qualities which led

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Jordan’s father to commit suicide to escape being "tortured" by his controlling
mother. While Jordan identifies with his grandfather’s active, masculine
strength, he unconsciously fears "contamination" by his father’s "bad seed."
By killing Pablo, his alter ego, Jordan would be killing not only his symbolic
father but himself, or a part of himself, and would be living out his biological
destiny as his father’s son.

Neumann underscores the power of identification with one’s biological
destiny in his discussion of the goddess of fate acting through the individual’s
biological origin: "the individual destiny coincides with the self and its first
form, the body-self, in which the psychobiological elements of the
constitution conditioned by the ancestors become the personal destiny of the
individual" (GM 231). Jordan fears becoming entrapped by his own feminine
emotions; he is deeply afraid of becoming, like his father and like Pablo, a
captive of the feminine, hence, impotent in the active, masculine world. He
does not fear death or even torture, but he does fear, as Delbert Wylder has
pointed out, becoming too involved with and responsible for the people with
whom he works (140). Jordan reveals this fear in an internal soliloquy:

This was the greatest gift that he had, the talent that fitted him
for war; that ability not to ignore but to despise whatever bad
ending there could be. This quality was destroyed by too much
responsibility for others or the necessity of undertaking something
ill planned or badly conceived. For in such things the bad ending,
failure, could not be ignored. It was not simply a possibility of
harm to one’s self, which eeule be ignored. he knew he himself

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was nothing. He knew that truly, as truly as he knew anything
(393).

When there are people for whom he feels responsible, Jordan feels
vulnerable; his masculine ego-consciousness is not in control of the situation.
The feeling of vulnerability is unconsciously equated with his father’s
vulnerability, expressed in his sentimentality toward Jordan as he departed for
school and in his allowing himself to be bullied by Jordan’s mother,
ultimately leading to his suicide. Jordan equates his father’s vulnerability
with Pablo’s, and he fears this quality in himself though he does not
consciously recognize it. Although in many ways Pablo is a despicable
character, it is not Pablo that Jordan hates, but his own "negative" attributes,
qualities of his own which he fears and cannot accept. Thus, he projects his
self-hatred on Pablo. This explanation is made plausible by the fact that
Jordan is nervous and irritable while preparing to leave the cave to dynamite
the bridge. However, with Pablo’s return his confidence is restored. As
Jordan’s symbolic father, Pablo’s acceptance of his active, masculine role
redeerns Jordan’s biological father’s "sin," thus removing the stain of "guilt by
biological association" from Jordan.

In the Spanish countryside images and symbols of the archetypal
feminine are abundant. The world of the Great Mother, the earth and her
progeny-plants and animals and people, reflect the primordial conditions of
life itself. For her human children the mother provides shelter in her
mountains and caves, water and wine from her streams and groves, and

sustenance from the profusion of animal life which flourishes in her bounty.

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Within the undifferentiated, uroboric realm of the Great Mother, time is
cyclical, characterized by the revolving seasons--with the ascent of
Persephone to the upper world, fecundity, and with her descent to the lower
world, sterility. For such is the regenerative nature of the mother, that of
herself she both brings forth life into the light and takes it back into the
darkness. So, too, is the nature of the psyche of her human progeny light
and dark, conscious and unconscious, and it is the nature of life that the
dark as well as the light coexist in balance and harmony. The mother’s
mysteries are not to be penetrated by the ego. It is only one who is willing
to suspend ego-consciousness and enter an alternate state of consciousness
characterized by openness and receptivity who can become initiated into the
mysteries of the feminine which lie within the Great Mother. However, one
must be well grounded in his or her ego-consciousness to enter the
unconscious with assurance, for the way is perilous and the risk of captivity,
impotence, madness, or even death, is real.

During prior sojourns in Spain, Robert Jordan has come to know and to
love the land and the people. As opposed to the outsidersuthe Russians,
English, French, and Americans-whose ego-consciousness and personae are
well-developed, and who represent children of the "civilized" societal fathers,
the Spanish people retain their natural, primitive qualities as children of the
mother. They accept the life they are born into, through their family, clan,
or village, and under normal circumstances live out the roles to which birth
has assigned them: male or female, beautiful or ugly, shy or bold, farmer or

fisherman, Republican or Fascist. Leading unselfconscious lives that are

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dominated by emotion and intuition, the Spanish live close to nature and are
in touch with her rhythms, both externally and within themselves. They
know the signs of an impending snow storm, even though calendar time says
that it is the month of May and beyond the time for snow. They are
accustomed to centering their lives around the Great Mother’s cycles as they
sow the seed and reap the harvest and are in tune with their own inner
natures. Though most of the people are not literate, in the sense that they
can read and write, they are literate in folk wisdom, in survival tactics, in
courage and bravery, and in facing adversity and hardship. But they are also
a diverse people, and, as must be expected from people whose lives are
governed by their emotions, they are unpredictable and undisciplined by the
standards of masculine ego-consciousness.

Although Jordan has related to and worked with Spanish people prior to
his experiences in this novel, the love and commitment which led him to
participate in this war have been of the abstract nature of love for a
"people" as well as belief in a cause. Not until his duty brings him into
contact with Pablo’s band does his love find concrete realization. It is eros,
nevertheless, which has brought him into the war and which signals the
presence of his anima, literally the animating principle in man. Neumann says
that the anima is the vehicle of the feminine’s transformative character, and
as such, "It is the mover, the instigator of change, whose fascination drives,
lures, and encourages the male to all the adventures of the soul and spirit, of,
action and creation in the inner and the outward world" (GM 33). Once in

the war, Jordan has overcome isolating, instinctive, shadow fears of torture

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and death, enabling him to experience the positive, transformative character
of the feminine reached through his anima. It is Jordan’s anima which
produces his sense of egoless solidarity, of brotherhood, with others who are
fighting for a common cause-a fight in which the importance of the
individual pales before the necessity for the struggle. In an inner monologue
about his emotional state during the first six months of the war Jordan says:
You felt, in spite of all bureaucracy and inefficiency and party
strife something that was like the feeling you expected to have and
did not have when you made your first communion. It was a
feeling of consecration to a duty toward all of the oppressed of
the world which would be as difficult and embarrassing to speak
about as religious experience and yet it was authentic as the
feeling you had when you heard Bach, or stood in Chartres
Cathedral or the Cathedral at Leon and saw the light coming
through the great windows; or when you saw Mantegna and Greco
and Brueghel in the Prado. It gave you a part in something that
you could believe in wholly and completely and in which you felt
an absolute brotherhood with the others who were engaged in it.
It was something that you had never known before but that you
had experienced now and you gave such importance to it and the
reasons for it that your own death seemed of complete
unimportance; only a thing to be avoided because it would interfere
with the performance of your duty. But the best thing was that

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there was something you could do about this feeling and this
necessity too. You could fight (235).

Jordan refers to this initial emotional state as a state of innocence or
naivete, a state of "grace." That Jordan compares his experience of
"consecration to a duty" with his expectations for the religious experience of
receiving his first communion--symbolically partaking of the body and blood
of the sacrificed Christuand with the experience he has felt before great
works of art or within great cathedrals-which combine art and religious
symbols--is a testament to the fact that the emotional states elicited by
pe0ple’s experience through religion, art and devotion to a cause are similar.
Attaining this emotional state involves the surrender of masculine ego-
consciousness and the development of feminine receptivity toward the
unknown. Such states allow the individual to participate in numinous
experiences. A numinous experience as characterized by Jung is "wholly
outside conscious volition, for it transports the subject into the state of
rapture, which is a state of will-less surrender" ("On the Nature of the
Psyche" 57). This egoless state of rapture permits the individual to
participate in the uroboric mystique. Here the duality imposed by the ego
between the psyche and the world is suspended, and aspects of the feminine
unconscious are integrated into consciousness. In his discussion of such
transformation experiences, however, Jung points out that there are
significant differences between the transformational experiences elicited by

participation in a group, (those Jordan felt upon his entry into the war) and

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those of an individual nature, (what he experiences on the mountain). As
Jung states:
A group experience takes place on a lower level of consciousness
than the experience of the individual. This is due to the fact that,
when many people gather together to share one common emotion,
the total psyche emerging from the group is below the level of the
individual psyche (ACU 125).

While Jung agrees that there are group experiences that urge the
individual to participate in noble deeds as well as those that create human
solidarity, he emphasizes that the psychic changes resulting fiom these
experiences do not last. When the individual is removed from the group, he
or she becomes the same, and different, person again. Jung’s comment
explains Robert Jordan’s disillusion after the first six months of the war when
his feelings of brotherhood and solidarity wane. Also, it is clear that
Jordan’s early feeling of brotherhood is limited to a collective of men. As
was discussed in the preceding chapter, the male group is "safe" for the
masculine ego that may be weakened by the presence of women who are often
perceived as threatening. Such is the case for Jordan, whose encounters with
women prior to Maria have been limited and superficial.

Although Jordan’s early participation in the war is partially shrouded by
his anima’s cloak of enchantment, time and events diminish the emotional
intensity, and he becomes disenchanted. He allows himself to become
"corrupted" by Karkov’s cynical view of reality. As he becomes an elite
partizan fighter, his innocence is replaced by the ego’s reality principle; and

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although his feeling for the land and its people, as well 5 the "cause" of
fleeing the oppressed of the world, remains, the "will-less," "ego-less" state
of rapture is lost. At the beginning of the novel, Jordan is pictured as
coldly intelligent, single-minded in his absorption with duty. It is not until
his experiences with the people on the mountain, especially while making love
with Maria, that he is once again able to attain a state of "grace".
Meanwhile, he has the strength of his masculine ego-consciousness to perform
his duty. Even in the feverish intensity of his early involvement, however,
Jordan’s active masculine side balances his emotions. He relishes the ability
to be able to "do" something for the cause; thus he becomes actively involved
in partizan work.

While pursuing his masculine quest, Jordan spends three days and nights
on the mountain. (The mountain as a symbol of the Great Mother’s
protection was discussed in the previous chapter. However, while the
symbolic function of the mountain occupies only a peripheral place in Jake
Barnes’ initiation into the mysteries of the feminine, it is a central symbol in
Robert Jordan’s transformation through his immersion in the feminine realm.)
In W the ambiguity of the mountain’s protective
function is evident in its effect on Robert Jordan, Pilar and Pablo. Jordan
begins his quest into the feminine when he leaves Madridnthe domain of ego-
consciousness, the world of the societal fathers--under the guidance of
Anselmo, who represents his spiritual father. Anselmo takes Jordan into the
protection of the mountains where he spends approximately three days and

nights living in nature and interacting with "primitive" people while preparing

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to destroy the bridge. Psychologically as well as physically, the mountains
provide the elementary function of protecting their human inhabitants. like
Jake, Jordan is free to experience and to express his feminine nature while in
the mountains’ protection. However, for Jake the mountains contain no
threat, so that he is able to become rejuvenated, though not transformed, by
his experiences in Burguetti. On the other hand, Jordan’s time in the
mountains is characterized by the continual state of tension between his ego-
consciousness and his unconscious shadow and anima. While the mountains
are protective for him in the sense that he is able to form deep relationships
and to "safely" undergo spiritually transformative experiences, it is also in the
mountains that Jordan meets internal as well as external threats, and finally,
where he capitulates to the Great Mother in death. During the process, it is
the tension between the opposites which enables him to deeply penetrate the
mysteries of the feminine in the culmination of his "sacred marriage" with
Maria.

The ambiguity inherent in the Great Mother’s protective nature can also
be seen in the different ways that Pilar and Pablo regard the mountains.
Pilar, whose active animus qualities create her desire to leave the protection
of the mountains and lead a more active role in defending the Republic, is
sharply contrasted with Pablo, who, by his ensnarement in the negative
feminine, wishes to remain under the mountain’s maternal protection. For
Pablo—whose masculine qualities have become passiveuthe protection of the
mountain, though passive for the others, is active: it is part of what holds
him fast and prevents him from acting.

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like the mountain, the cave here represents the feminine’s elementary,
containing and protecting character. Neumann writes, "The sheltering cave as
part of the mountain represents historically the natural form of such culture
symbols as temple and temenos, but and house, village and city...signifying
what protects and closes off“ (GM 46). Accordingly, the cave furictions as
hearth and home for the members of the band; it houses all of their
"civilized" accouterments--all, that is, except Pablo’s horses. Few material
goods stand between the cave’s occupants and the animals with whom they
share the forest. With the exception of the masculine firearms acquired in
the war, their wealth consists of items to make a home: cooking and
eating vessels and utensils, food, wine, and sleeping blankets. Additionally,
the cave shelters the fire which transforms the food they eat and which
serves to warm and protect them. Not only is the cave a positive symbol of
protection, it is also a symbol of the feminine’s underworld characteristics:
"To this world belong not only the subterranean darkness as hell and night
but also such symbols as chasm, cave, abyss..." (GM 44). It is in this respect
that the cave "contains" Jordan’s conflicts with Pablo which lead him, through
his feeling of rage, downward into the world of his shadow and negative
anima.

Pilar is Jordan’s shaman in the realm of the feminine. Pilar is Gaia, the
primordial Earth Mother; she is Hera, the jealous, shrewish wife of Zeus; she
is Xanthippe, Socrates’ bane; and she is the woman of Pablo, whom
circumstances thrust into the position of the band’s leadership. But for
Robert Jordan and Maria, Pilar is also the goddess of love, Aphrodite; and for

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the Republic, she is an Amazon warrioress. Pilar also has a dark side for
Jordan; she is a goddess of fate, which for him spells doom. Pilar
characterizes herself as being both simple and complex and, indeed, she is.
Part gypsy, Pilar is able to tell fortunes, to "smell" fear and death, and to
play the alchemist in assisting in transforming the base materiality of Jordan
and Maria’s sexual instincts into the "gold" of mystical experience. At the
same time, she believes wholeheartedly in the Republic, and the strength of
her masculine spirit inspires the men in Pablo’s band to courage and action.
While she appears indomitable, and has endured a difficult life in which she
has witnessed many horrors, she desires in her feminine heart to feel like a
woman--to feel loved and beautiful.

Pilar harkens back to the primordial matriarchy. There, women were the
seeresses and priestesses, the leaders of societal groups--for it was, and
continues to be, women who are most receptive to the wisdom of the
unconscious. In altered states of consciousness in which women "received"
the wisdom of the unconscious, it was the male spirits of the unconscious
animus that served as their guides. Thus, women became "manna" figures for
the group, inspiring them to action. According to Neumann:

On this world of the animus, which has its focus in the figure of
the moon as "Lord of the Women," depends the magical-spiritual
reality of the female group. But in the matriarchal phase of which
we are speaking, this female group, whose practical importance is
further increased by the projection of the male principle, dominates

the whole world of the males....But when consciousness and reason

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cannot, as in a later human development, be drawn upon to decide
a situation, the male falls back on the wisdom of the unconscious,
by which the female is inspired... (GM 295)
Neumann goes on to say that although the anima figure in modern men is
usually formed by a young woman, as Sophia or as a young witch, the anima
figure also remains connected with the manna figure of the mother or an old
woman. That is, "the unconscious psyche of the man is directed by a magical
unity of old and young women" (GM 295).

That Pilar is such a manna figure is self-evident. Maria is depicted as a
mana figure also. Together they form the primordial diad of which Neumann
speaks. It is Pilar and Maria who form the group’s center, who prevent it
from disintegrating. With Pablo’s demise and the consequent inactivity of the
group, all have become lax in fulfilling their duties to the Republic. Instead
of active involvement, they revel in their past glory of dynamiting the train
with Kashkin. When Robert Jordan arrives on the scene, however, it is Pilar,
not Pablo, the band’s nominal leader, who responds willingly to his request
for assistance. Thereupon the rest of the band, with the exception of Pablo,
joins her. Thus it is Pilar who truly "animates" the men to renewed vigor.
And it is the strength of her active, masculine nature, allied with Jordan’s
leadership, that continues rallying the men, even in their bleakest moments.
Also, it is clear that Pilar was highly regarded by the men even before
Jordan came on the scene. It was to Pilar that Pablo gave the pistol taken
from the guardia civil when he captured his town, and it was Pilar who

relentlessly drove the men to save Maria from the scene of the train. During

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the band’s escape after dynamiting the train, a valuable machine gun was lost
because it was too heavy to carry. Maria, however, was saved because the
strength of Pilar’s terrible aspect, her biting tongue, empowered the men to
surpass their normal strength in carrying the girl to safety. Raphael, who
tells this story to Jordan, says that if Pilar had been over the men with the
gun, as she was over the men carrying Maria, they would never have left it.
Finally, Maria’s passivity is the positive feminine counterpoise to Pilar’s
active animus qualities. Jordan loves her as does Augustin; Pablo is attracted
to her and each of the others regards her affectionately. Thus, together the
two women form a primordial unity-Demeter and Persephone--which further
unites the group.

like the Spanish men, Jordan also projects his anima onto Pilar. He
respects her courage and admires her loyalty to the Republic; he compares
her to a protective mountain and says that she is a psychiatrist in her
understanding of human nature; he even believes that she is beautiful and
tells her that he cares for her very much. However, in her terrible, bullying
guise, she is like his mother who bullied his father. Also, although he does
not fear her tongue "that scalds and that bites like a bull whip" (28), he
does fear the depths of the feminine which she embodies. Pilar’s various
natures exemplify the ambivalence of the anima figure which Jung says often
vacillates "between the extremes of goddess and whore..." Jung goes on to
say, "the anima also has ‘occult’ connections with ‘mysteries’, with the world
of darkness in general..." (ACU 199). Although it is through his positive

anima image that Jordan relates to Pilar, it is his negative anima image and

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the incomprehension and resultant fear of her feminine mysteries and magic
which separate him from her at times. In spite of the fact that he asks her
to read his palm, and wishes to know what she sees, he tells her that he
does not believe in such things. And when Pilar tells Jordan and Maria that
a person can experience the earth moving only three times during love
making and insists that it is common knowledge among her people, Jordan
responds, "Don’t be so mysterious...These mysteries tire me very much...I do
not believe in ogres, soothsayers, fortune tellers, or chicken crut gypsy
witchcraft" (176). In spite of the fact that Jordan is, in many ways,
receptive to the feminine, there are limits beyond which his ego-consciousness
refuses to penetrate. Finally, after her vivid description of the smell of
death, Jordan’s only response is to make a joke; he truly is, as Pilar says, "a
miracle of deafness" (251), at least to certain levels of unconscious, feminine
wisdom.

Part of Pilar’s terrible aspect for Jordan is his identification of her
feminine mysteries with his sense of impending, catastrophic fate which casts
the shadow of the feminine’s terrible visage over his three days and nights
on the mountain. This is not only a collective shadow emanation, but also
Jordan’s personal shadow. As has been discussed, Jordan unconsciously
identifies with his father whom he perceives to have been a coward, and he
fears fulfilling his biological destiny by following in his father’s footsteps.
Although Jordan denies belief in Pilar’s gypsy mysteries, they hold a powerful
fascination for him, and her refusal to reveal what she observes in her palm

reading simply confirms what he, too, suspects and fears. In the feminine

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realm, the idea of fate is positive and is bound up with creatively
spontaneous cycles of generation and decay, birth and deathnthe certain fate
of all that lives. Only under the patriarchy has the concept of fate become
denigrated, and with reason, for it imperils the principles of rational order
and the desire for permanence which are the essence of the masculine. The
ego experiences fate as a power of destiny before which it is impotent-for it
can only passively await and accept what has been foreordained.

As with anima figures in general, the personification of fate has a dual
nature. In his explication of the feminine that confronts man as a power of
destiny in war, Neumann explains, "This Fate may appear as a maternal old
woman, presiding over the past and the future; or in a young fascinating
form, as the soul" (GM 304). While Maria represents the positive, relating
soul, Pilar is the embodiment of terrible destiny. She is the old woman
whose mystical powers give her the mysterious ability to smell fear and
death, to foresee the future. While Pilar does not literally preside over a
loom, symbolically she, like the Moirai, weaving goddesses of fate, merges
with the bloody goddesses of war, weaving fate out of blood and vile smells.
With her square, heavy face and body, and her dark peasant garb, there is
little wonder that Pilar holds much fascination for Jordan.

While Pilar is the personification of fate, there are additional symbols of
fate, one of which, as Baker has pointed out, dominates the novel: the
repetition of the number three. This figure is used particularly with
reference to the Fascist planes flying overhead in formations of three or in

combinations of three. Moreover, Jordan is provoked by Pablo three times,

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he is on the mountain three days and three nights and Augustin hits Pablo
three times. According to Jung, the number three is essentially a masculine
symbolnas in the Christian Trinity-which includes only the masculine spirit
and does not encompass the feminine. Hence it is not a symbol of wholeness
because it does not represent material or bodily reality. However, Jung says
that in the case of the anima, "threeness does not coincide with any
Christian idea of the Trinity but with the ‘lower triangle’, the inferior
function triad that constitutes the ‘shadow’" (ACU 244). Under the
patriarchy, the number three, relative to the anima, is assigned an inferior
position precisely because it is equated with the material domain of the body
and bodily functions. Accordingly, Neumann points out that, "The great triad
of the Moirai is correlated with the three decisive moments of life:
‘Beginning and end, birth and death, are the great seasons of the Moirai, and
along with these marriage is a third’" (GM 231). Significantly, these events
are not critical in masculine life but in feminine. The duality between the
body’s materiality and, hence, corporeality, in contrast to the incorporeality
attributed to the masculine spiritual principle, is bridged by the number four
as square or circle-symbolizing the union of opposites. However, it is also
the ego’s identification with the body which heightens fear of the unknown,
of death. Also, it is through the feminine birth principle that the importance
of biologically determined destiny takes form as with Jordan’s fear of
emulating his father. Given its anima associations, the number three is
fearful for the ego because of its juxtaposition with the mysteries of feminine

fate.

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The symbolism of the circle or wheel in the novel has been explored at
length. Baker as well as numerous other critics have pointed out that the
circle is the primary organizing image of the novel. Baker says:

We have, of course in the chief characters, a series of smaller
rounds disposed at equal distances about the central object or
situation. But beyond these, and spreading out to the edge of the
world, we have a whole series of concentric circles (260).
He goes on to compare this structure with that of the bullring.
Additionally, Earl Rovit points out that: "Its (the circular structure’s) center
which we are never allowed to be unaware of, is the steel bridge which spans
the gorge ‘in solid-flung metal grace.’ From that center all the actions of the
novel, dramatic and symbolic, radiate in widening concentric circles of
meaning" (136).

The cyclic nature of the novel’s action draws it into the feminine sphere
where the circle and the wheel are symbols of fate. Jordan’s obsession with
not succumbing to his biological destiny is revealed throughout the novel. He
continuously struggles to maintain the supremacy of his active, masculine
qualities over his shadow and negative anima. However, in the capitulation of
his consciousness before the rage elicited by the projection of his shadow on
Pablo, Jordan feels as if it is all moving in a circle. Jordan picks up the
circle image again when he discusses the wheel of fortune he refuses to get
on a third time. Symbolically, the circle or wheel has many meanings.
Jordan, though, refers to the endless cycle of vengeance which is governed by

the wheel of fate-the endless repetition of powerful negative emotional

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ensnarement by the feminine—which continues throughout life, unless the
individual has the ego-strength to break out of the circle, or the strength
and intelligence not to get on in the first place. The rage which overpowers
Jordan’s ego-consciousness, causing him to be oblivious to everything but the
object of his fear, is what sets him on the wheel. But as this point in his
individuation, Jordan does not realize the negativity he feels toward Pablo is
the reflected projection of his own inner shadow impulses.

The final symbol of fate to be discussed is the caldron. As Sordo’s
band is being exterrninated Pilar observes, "We are all in the same caldron"
(300). It is fitting that Pilar should utter this pronouncement, for it is the
female maria figure who traditionally carries the magic vessel or cauldron (GM
288). The symbolism of the cauldron unites the elementary and the
transformative character of the feminine; it both contains and transforms the
food and drink that nourishes and sustains life. In addition, Neumann says
that while the caldron in originally a symbol of fertility belonging to the
elementary character of the feminine, such as the cornucopia and grail, in its
transformative character it is ultimately bound with woman as mana figure,
for it is the body of woman that corresponds to the Great Goddess as caldron
of birth, death, and rebirth (GM 289). However, the caldron is not only a
positive symbol; it has, as do all symbols, a negative side. Neumann
summarizes its characteristics as follows:

For the caldron is not only a vessel of life and death, renewal and
rebirth, but also of inspiration and magic. Its transformative

character leads through dissolution and death to the ecstatic

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intensification and birth of the eloquent spirit that, as symptom of
rebirth, leads in ecstatic inspiration to vision and word, to song
and prophecy.

But the word is also fate, for it proclaims what the powers have
decreed, and curse as well as blessing are dependent on the magical
rituals that rest in the hands of the women (GM 297).

Again, it is the feminine material principle, the body, in which the
transformation occurs, not in the purely masculine realm of the spirit, as the
patriarchy teaches. It is instructive to note that in all patriarchically
inspired views of life, it is the female principle of vital, spontaneous growth
associated with the carnal body which is denigrated.

Critics differ widely in their view of the efficacy of Maria’s character
and on the value of the love making scenes within the novel’s larger context.
Richard B. Hovey calls the "sleeping bag scenes" embarrassing (156) and Leslie
Fiedler says, "in EeLmethLBelllells Hemingway has written the most
absurd love scene in the history of the American novel" (We
WM 316). leo Gurko grants the love making scenes only
fictive reality and secondary importance to the larger military action (124).
However, Baker views Maria as a positive image of "home" (256). And Wylder
describes Maria as "the good aspect of the Queen Goddess of the World whom
the hero joins in mystical marriage" (152). Wylder grants the love scenes
central importance.

I agree with Wylder. While Pilar is the old woman or mother anima

figure, and represents both the positive transformative character of the

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feminine as well as the terrible mother, Maria is the youthful, soul figure of
Jordan’s anima. She represents the elementary, containing aspect of the
mother as well as the feminine’s positive, transformative character. Although
Jordan first sees Maria through the enchantment of his anima, his increasing
individuation enables him, after a time, to withdraw his projections and to
know her as an individual. That Maria’s effect on Jordan is unconditionally
positive is represented by his description of her hair; he employs the image
of fertility and regeneration glimpsed first in W. "Her hair
was the golden brown of a grain field that has been burned dark in the
sun....hair that was as thick and short and rippling when she passed her hand
over it, now in embarrassment, as a grain field in the wind on a hillside"
(22-3). Also, Jordan’s encounters with Maria always occur outside, in
masculine, open spaces, not in enclosed, feminine spaces. Finally, unlike the
rain which signals Jake’s capitulation to the negative feminine when he takes
Brett to Romero, the sun shines almost continually upon the lovers in BE
W. Maria symbolizes the state of natural purity and
innocence which Jordan has lost but which he regains through his union with
her. Their sexual union represents the reintegration of the masculine and
feminine components of Jordan’s psyche. Symbolically their "sacred marriage"
resonates beyond the personal to the potential union of the masculine and
feminine principles of all humankind.

While Pilar might be characterized as possessing the fierceness of a lion,
Jordan’s pet name for Maria is "rabbit". This term of endearment is

especially apt, for Maria is submissive and timid. Additionally, the rabbit or

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hare is an archetypal moon symbol (GM 114). According to M. Esther
Harding, in many countries, including the early America of the Native
American Indians, the markings on the moon which "Westerners" perceive as
"the man in the moon" are perceived as "the bare in the moon". Also,
Harding says that in many ancient cultures the hare or rabbit was a hero
figure:
Just because of his docility and lack of belligerence the bare is
able to find a way where a more headstrong or direct attack upon
the difficulties would lead to disaster. This quality corresponds
also with an aspect of feminine nature which is, however, the exact
opposite of the cruel or fierce impulses which are represented by
the lions and panthers of the Goddess. For feminine nature, like
the moon, is light as well as dark and the light, unlike that of the
sun, is mild and cool, aptly represented by gentle and timid animals
such as the bare (WM 189).

It is through gentle, timid Maria that Robert Jordan finds a way, amidst
the brutality and horror of war, to a state of mystical transcendence.
Physical desire has not played an important part in Jordan’s life prior to his
encounter with Maria. Through Pilar’s alchemy, though, the lover’s bodies
become "vessels" through which primordial feminine mysteries are realized.
Alchemically it is through the "base metal" of the corporeal body, that the
"gold" of mystical experience is attained. N eumann emphasizes that in the
emergence of the spiritual aspect from the mysteries of the feminine, an

element of materiality is always present. Unlike the masculine concept of

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spirit which, as "pure spirit", is detached from the material world, the
matriarchal spirit does not deny the maternal ground from whence the spirit
is born. Rather, the physical body is the vessel in whichufor Jordan and
Maria--the sexual passions are "cooked" and blended to produce not physical
children, but higher, spiritual "children"-the ascendant fruit of the union of
the active, masculine principle with the passive, feminine principle.

It is not surprising that a girl as young and inexperienced as Maria is
the receptor of Jordan’s anima, for in spite of the fact that he is sexually
experienced, he has not formed deep, committed relationships with women.
That Jordan’s experiences with women have been of a superficial nature--
typified by his erotic dreams of Garbo and Harlow-indicates that his anima
has not yet become fully developed. Although Maria does not exhibit all of
the characteristics of the "anima type of woman" which Brett possesses, she
does reveal the innocent, child-like nature referred to in Jung’s description.
Unlike Brett, Maria has not developed her active, animus qualities. Rather,
she displays the elementary, nurturing qualities of the mother in her desire to
care for her beloved. Additionally, von Franz cites Jung’s elaboration of four
stages in the development of the anima, the first of which characterizes
Jordan’s initial response to Maria. "The first stage is best symbolized by the
figure of Eve, which represents purely instinctual and biological relations"
("The Process of Individuation" 195). The "love at first sight" experienced by
both Jordan and Maria signals the physical and instinctual. The evening of
their meeting Maria tells Jordan, "I loved you when I saw you today and I
loved you always but I never saw you before" (73). Psychologically, Maria

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contains within her unconscious an animus image which only becomes
actualized by the real presence of Robert Jordan. The same is true for
Jordan, although his anima image has already been partially formed by Garbo
and Harlow, evidenced not only by his dreams but also in the fact that he
wishes Maria to wear her hair like Garbo when it grows long.

Additionally, that Maria represents Jordan’s pre-lapsarian "Eve"--all that
is positive in the unselfconscious, instinctual life of human beingsuis
indicated by the nature imagery he employs to describe her. Jordan calls
Maria a young colt, a young animal, and a rabbit. She is also like a young
tree. However, as did the characters in We at this early
stage in their relationship, Jordan and Maria mutually project their anima and
animus images on one another. As was discussed, projection of one’s
contrasexual aspect on another person is not real love of the other, but
rather love of one’s own inner image of the opposite sex. M. Esther Harding
confirms this when she says that in the case of anima projection, "it does not
really involve his (the man’s) heart, however, to any great extent because
love for a woman who carries the value of anima is not really love of the
woman, herself. It is almost entirely love of her as_aelrr_ra" (WM 287).
Nevertheless, the first time he makes love with Maria, Jordan realizes a
greater happiness than he has ever known.

At this point in his quest Jordan’s ego-consciousness, though
incorporating many elements of the feminine-4n his devotion to his duty and
his relatedness with the Spanish people-continues to project his anima

figures onto real women. He has not actualized deeper, feminine qualities

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within himself. Through Pilar’s alchemy, though, Jordan’s love does not
remain at an elementary level but ascends to Jung’s definition of the second
stage of anima development: "The second (stage) can be seen in Faust’s
Helen: She personifies a romantic and aesthetic level that is, however, still
characterized by sexual elements" ("The Process of Individuation" 195). The
gradual transformation in Jordan’s consciousness can be observed as his
attitudes change during the succession of his sexual encounters with Maria.

Making love a second time, Jordan experiences "a dark passage leading
to nowhere" (159) (similar to the "passageway with no exit" (305), which he
imagines death to be): time stops and the earth moves and he experiences
the sensation of nearly dying. Later, he thinks that when he is with Maria
he loves her so much that he could die. It is not insignificant that Jordan
equates the sensation of surrender which occurs during the peak of sexual
intercourse with death, for both involve the dissolution of the ego in the
sense that the ego becomes passive in its surrender to the feminine principle
which becomes active. In physical death, of course, not only the ego, but
also the body is dissolved.

The diminution of his masculine ego-consciousness during sexual
intercourse and his growing love for his "rabbit" opens Jordan to a totally
new and unfamiliar realm of experience. "I never believed in that or thought
it could happen" ( 166), and with it his conception of time begins to change.
Of the anima’s relation to time Jung says, "Whenever she (the anima figure)
emerges with some degree of clarity, she always has a peculiar relationship to

fime: as a rule she is more or less immortal, because outside time" (ACU

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199). Previously Jordan has experienced time through his masculine ego-
consciousness which views time as linear. However, with the near "death" of
his ego and his concomitantly growing understanding of eros, Jordan begins to
learn that time is not only the movement of the hands of a clock or the
progression of days on a calendar, but that time, in the feminine realm, is
the spiraling expansion of the experience of relatedness. He is becoming
initiated into feminine mystical wisdom: fully lived experience in the present
moment can resonate beyond the present-extending backward into the past as
well as forward into the future--bringing with it a feeling of immortality. At
this point, Jordan understands that he is trading a Biblical life span of
seventy years for the seventy hours of expanded awareness which marks his
linear time on the mountain. In this state of consciousness, Jordan accepts
his fateuthat he will surely die while carrying out his quest--and in his
acceptance of the inevitability that his life will be terminated, he reaches
beyond the ego to the transpersonal realm of the matriarchal goddesses of
fate before which he acquiesces. Significantly, Jordan credits Pilar, whose
feminine wisdom brought him and Maria together, with an understanding of
this altered time-fiame. In fact, he realizes that in her understanding of
time, Pilar is more "civilized" than he. However, Jordan has not completely
realized the feminine in himself, for at this stage he is willing to leave Maria
to amuse herself in the hotel while he goes off to seek masculine company
at Gaylords, in his first Madrid fantasy.

After making love with Maria a third time, Jordan senses that together
their bodies create an alliance against death, but later-and significantly his

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fear surfaces during the night as did Jake’s fears--the shadow intervenes and,
"he held her tight as though she were all of life and it was being taken from
him" (264). Unlike Jake, who does not have a woman’s love to enable him to
endure the intensification of his fears during the night, Jordan has such a
love. However, even in the arms of his beloved, he must battle his
instinctive dread of loss. Accompanying his growing love and commitment
toward Maria is his escalating desire to live. While at the outset of his
quest Jordan did not fear death, he is becoming attached to Maria and wishes
to live a long life with her, which he now intuitively "knows" is impossible.
Although Jordan does not experience the sense of dying on this occasion, his
love for Maria is growing: he is beginning to see her as a real person, not
solely the projection of his anima. After making love, Maria speaks of the
sensation of dying, and though Jordan knows what she means, he responds
from a habitual masculine point of view: he hopes they need not literally
die. Through this exchange, both Jordan and Maria confirm their acceptance
of one another’s differences.

Jordan is learning to sound the depths of his own instincts, his own
emotions. He subsequently tells Agustin his understanding that he and Maria
must live all of their lives in the brief time that they have together.
Paradoxically, he also says that he will take Maria with him and marry her
after their project has terminated. Within this expressed contradiction,
Jordan reveals the creative tension between the opposites which he is
experiencing. His masculine ego-consciousness still proclaims the ultimate

importance of his external quest and the necessity for having a positive

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attitude toward that desired end. On the other hand, his unconscious is
revealing not only the beauty and mysteries of the feminine-which cause
him to desire to live--but also the imperative of accepting whatever fate may
hold in store--including his death as well as the deaths of those he loves.

Finally, though, it is during their last night together that Jordan’s
actions reveal that he loves Maria as an individual, and not simply as a
projection of his own anima image. Here, he reaches the third stage of
anima development which is represented "by the Virgin Mary--a figure who
raises love (eros) to the heights of spiritual devotion" ("The Process of
Individuation" 195). In her discussion of masculine initiation into the
mysteries of the feminine, M. Esther Harding says that there are two
prerequisites which must be fulfilled before a man can be said to truly love a
woman. First, he must be able to undergo symbolic castration by voluntarily
relinquishing the satisfaction of his sexual desire before the woman’s refusal
or inability to satisfy his sexual needs. In addition, he must have realized
within himself the qualities of feminine relationship which he has heretofore
projected, through his anima, onto a woman. Harding writes:

Needless to say the initiation to the goddess will not be fully
accomplished by the sacrifice merely of physical desirousness, the
harder sacrifice also has to be made. Until it is accomplished a
man cannot even begin to understand the meaning of psychological
relationship, gift of the Eros, or experience the psychological
wholeness which results from serving his own inner truth, instead

of seeking to be made whole through another (WM 287-88).

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When she comes to him in the night, Maria tells Jordan that she is in
pain and cannot make love but offers to satisfy his sexual desire in other
ways which Pilar has taught her. Although Jordan is disappointed and feels
that it is bad luck, he puts aside his own disappointment, telling Maria, "We
will have our necessities together. I have no necessities apart from thee"
(349). Thus, Jordan sacrifices his individual needs in favor of mutual
relatedness. In addition, Jordan wishes 'to take care of Maria as she has
wished to care for him. Instead of sexual activity, they indulge in a fantasy
of living together in Madrid. Jordan tells Maria that he would not leave her
alone in a hotel while he goes off to Gaylords, as he had previously
fantasized. Instead of giving himself up to his desire for the "reality" of
masculine company as before, he relaxes into "the luxury of going into
unreality" (342) which is filled with domestic images of a feminine "reality."
Jordan speaks to Maria of marriage, of going to the coiffeur’s to have her
hair fixed, of shopping for clothes, of their home which will face a park, and
of a person to serve in their home. Most importantly, Jordan even fantasizes
giving up partizan work and requesting a position in Madrid so that they can
always be together. Additionally, in contrast to the "unreality" of their
fantasy, Maria tells Jordan the very real story of her parents’ deaths before
the Fascist firing squad and her rape and degradation. In listening to her
story, Jordan feels Maria’s pain and experiences the "reality" beyond the
physical, of the woman he loves.

Robert Jordan has sacrificed the satisfaction of his own sexual desire

and has entered a realm of feminine passivity, carried along by the strength

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of his love for Maria and his desire to please her. In his willingness to
renounce his masculine occupation in the war, his words of love to Maria ring
the truth of a deeper, more profound love than he has experienced with her
during the physical act of love.
I love thee as I love all that we have fought for. I love thee as I
love liberty and dignity and the rights of all men to work and not
be hungry. I love thee as I love Madrid that we have defended
and as I love all my comrades that have died. And many have
died. Many. Many. Thou canst not think how many. But I love
thee as I love what I love most in the world and I love thee more
(348).

Jordan’s love for Maria is not tightly encompassed within the limits of
their personal relationship but resonates outward to include all of the ideals
in which he has earlier believed. His personal love does not diminish the
intensity of his feelings for his ideals and his comrades, rather it heightens
his relatedness to them.

In the process of psychic transformation or "rebirth," it is the
unconscious, instinctive nature of the individual which undergoes profound
alteration. This is essentially an inner, non-sensory, experience. Jordan’s
inner state of being is primed for this to happen. Jordan has reached the
pinnacle of the positive, transformative aspect of the feminine in his feelings
of relatedness with Maria. Conversely, upon learning that Pablo has stolen
his exploder and detonators, he reaches the nadir of his experience of the
terrible mother through his shadow emotions of fear and rage. Also, although

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he has already known the experience of timeless "eternity," he becomes
hyper-aware of the movement of clock time on his watch. Jordan’s inner-
state reflects the extremity of tension between the opposites. Neumann
explains the phenomenon of reversal between the positive and negative poles
of the feminine as being "turning points," the opposing poles actually turn
into one another and become a circle so that positive and negative are no
longer distinguishable and it is possible for a phenomenon to turn into its
opposite. '
Helplessness, pain, stupor, sickness, distress, loneliness, nakedness,
emptiness, madness, can therefore be the forerunners of inspiration
and vision and so manifest themselves as stations on a road leading
through danger to salvation, through the extinction of death to
rebirth and new birth (GM 76).

In his final sexual union with Maria, it is the release from this tension
between the opposing forces of love and rage and his ascension to a
transcendent state encompassing the opposites that comprises the mystical
state that Maria calls "1a gloria," the state in which Jordan tells her, "No one
is there alone" (380). Of his experience Jordan says: "I am no mystic, but
to deny it is as ignorant as though you denied the telephone or that the
earth revolves around the sun or that there are other planets than this"
(380).

It is Jordan’s receptivity to his unconscious-in conjunction with his
already well-developed ego-consciousness—which enables him to experience the

transcendent state to which he refers. In this altered state of consciousness,

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the boundaries of his ego recede before the influx of his sense of heightened
relatedness. Jordan’s experience reflects the fourth stage of the anima’s
development symbolized by Sophia, "wisdom transcending even the most holy
and the most pure." Of this form of love, Jung writes:
Is not a transference and it is not ordinary friendship or sympathy.
It is more primitive, more primeval and more spiritual, than
anything we can describe. That upper floor is no more you or I, it
means many, including yourself and anybody whose heart you touch.
There is no distance, but immediate presence. It is an eternal
secretuhow shall I ever explain it? (Alehemigaljmeies 289)

In this relationship the opposites in oneself and the opposites in the
other are unified by being transcended and the deepest portion of the psyche,
the self, touches the other. Only the heart, not the mind, can understand
another in this way. Jordan could not have borne this experience if his ego
had been less strong; he would either have been driven mad, or he would
have debased the experience to his low level of psychic development. It is
his grounding in ego-consciousness which allows him to make the descent
which leads to the positive, transformative wisdom of the feminine. The
wisdom which Jordan realizes during this moment of illumination affects his
actions and perceptions during the remainder of his life on the mountain.

The anima, in its function of relating the conscious and unconscious
components of the psyche, also brings Jordan into contact with the archetype
of the wise old man and the archetype of the self. In Eerflhemhgflell
Tells the wise old man is personified by Anselmo. Additionally, Anselmo

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signifies the archetype of the self, which succeeds the wise old man in the
process of individuation. The archetype of the wise old man is for the male
what the archetype of the Great Mother is for the female. Jolande Jacobi
says that both are "mana personalities" because they possess extraordinary
power (WM 124). Standing behind the anima and
animus as further indicators of the individuation process, they represent the
apex of the spiritual principle in man and the material principle in woman.
Jung writes of the wise old man: "He is, like the anima, an immortal demon
that pierces the chaotic darkness of brute life with the light of meaning. He
is the enlightener, the master and teacher...." (ACU 37).

Anselmo is Jordan’s spiritual shaman and during their time together
Anselmo takes on a "larger than life" quality for Jordan so that after Anselmo
has been killed he appears smaller to Jordan than he had looked in life. "He
looked very small, dead, Robert Jordan thought. He looked small and gray-
headed and Robert Jordan thought, I wonder how he ever carried such big
loads if that is the size be really was" (446). Anselmo holds an attraction
for Jordan from their first meeting, when Anselmo wisely and bravely
confronts Pablo’s cowardice and Jordan says of him: "But Anselmo’s a man"
(16). Anselmo is also a true Christian in his reluctance to kill his fellow
men, his brothers. Like Christ, the representative of the self whose
attributes Anselmo has developed within his own being, his words and actions
reflects his desire for true Christian agape--love and mercy--rather than
retribution for his enemies. Although he has a passion for hunting animals,

of killing human beings he says, "But to shoot a man gives a feeling as

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though one had struck one’s own brother when you are grown men" (442).
Even though he hates to kill he does so when it is his duty, but he
intuitively knows that he will have to somehow expiate his "sin," as will all
who have killed in the war. Unlike those who commit atrocities in war under
the safety of the collective, and who take no responsibility for their actions
because they project their guilt on the enemy, Anselmo wisely accepts the
full responsibility for his actions. Although Anselmo misses the religion
which before the war provided externalized archetypes, he now embodies them
within himself: "Since we do not have God here any more, neither His Son
nor the Holy Ghost, who forgives? ..... now a man must be responsible to
himself" (41). No longer claiming the external authority of the church,
Anselmo is the epitome of the individuated personality who combines feminine
compassion with the masculine ability to perform his duty, and who is
responsible for his actions. Before he is killed, he experiences this inner
unity through his sense of connectedness with everything in his
surroundings. Accordingly, he is prepared to meet death as a whole man.
Referring to the function of the wise old man for the hero Jung says:
The old man always appears when the hero is in a hopeless and
desperate situation from which only profound reflection or a lucky
idea...can extricate him. But since, for internal and external
reasons, the hero cannot accomplish this himself, the knowledge
needed to compensate the deficiency comes in the form of a
personified thought, i.e., in the shape of this sagacious and helpful
old man (ACU 217-18).

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Anselmo provides this assistance for Jordan when, on the evening of the
snowfall, Jordan succumbs to his feelings of rage at the bad luck the snow
portends, and goes with Fernando to relieve Anselmo from his watch at the
bridge. Although the cold and loneliness of the storm have tempted Anselmo
to leave his post-he wisely knows that the orders were too rigid in not
allowing for unexpected circumstances and that the intelligent thing to do
would be to return to the cave--he remains, because it is his duty. When
Jordan arrives and finds Anselmo there he is immensely relieved and his
spirits are lifted, "He was happy with that sudden, rare happiness that can
come to any one with a command in a revolutionary army; the happiness of
finding that even one of your flanks holds" (199).

Just as the weather and Pablo’s negative attitude can activate Jordan’s
shadow impulses, so can Anselmo activate his masculine spirit, fueled by the
positive aspects of the feminine. Anselmo’s adherence to his duty in the face
of adversity is the antithesis of the lack of masculine discipline Jordan has
come to expect from the Spanish. By staying at his post, Anselmo offers
Jordan fresh hope for the success of their endeavor. After his experience of
transcendence with Maria, and because of his deep love for, and his sense of
relationship with, Anselmo, Jordan can say, "Anselmo is my oldest friend. I
know him better than I know Charles, than I know Chub, than I know Guy,
than I know Mike, and I know them well" (381). Anselmo personifies the
deepest portion of his psyche, the union of the opposition of masculine and

feminine, the self.

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While Anselmo embodies within himself the qualities of the archetype of
the self, and represents, for Robert Jordan, the archetype of the wise old
man, it is through Jordan’s experiences with the people on the mountain that
the archetype of the self is liberated from the darkness of his unconscious
into the light. Although Jordan has previously held internal dialogues within
himself, they have been discussions between his shadow or anima and his ego-
consciousness. After making love with Maria the third time, a new voice
begins to speak in Jordan, that of a higher self. In his discussion of the
natural transformations which take place during the process of individuation,
Jung casts light on the emergence of just such another being. He refers to
"that larger and greater personality maturing within us....to that inner friend
of the soul into whom Nature herself would like to change us--that other
person who we also are and yet can never attain to completely" (ACU 131).

Jordan’s increasing individuation can be witnessed in his changed
attitudes toward killing and love. After killing the cavalry scout and reading
the letters the scout’s fiancee had written, Jordan holds a long internal
dialogue with his self in which his ideas about killing show a departure from
his earlier attitude. Whereas formerly Jordan had expressed a cynical
acceptance of the necessity for killing, his shooting of the scout triggers the
presence of a spiritual self which questions him about the ethics of killing.
Though his ego-consciousness argues "the end justifies the means," his self
reminds him of the importance of never becoming cold or calloused in doing
what he must do: "Because if you are not absolutely straight in your head

you have no right to do the things you do for all of them are crimes and no

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man has a right to take another man’s life unless it is to prevent something
worse happening to other people. So get it straight and do not lie to
yourself" (304). The wisdom of his self is of a higher moral order and
reflects Anselmo’s influence. Although as a partizan fighter in the war he
must kill for the cause in which he believes, he must know, as Anselmo
knows, that killing another human being is always a "crime" or a "sin." In
this light, killing becomes less cold and mechanical, as one becomes aware of
the common humanity one shares with the "enemy." Similarly, Jordan is
becoming more honest about, and responsible for, his true feelings when, at a
later time, he admits to himself that as a soldier he has enjoyed killing,
although he had earlier told Anselmo that anyone who enjoys killing men is
"disturbed in the head" (30).

Jordan’s self also addresses him on love, advising Jordan that "loving
someone....is the most important thing that can happen to a human being"
(305). Although Jordan’s resolve to accomplish his quest does not falter, he
is growing in the feminine wisdom that the importance of masculine mastery
and power to affect the outside world is not the supreme value he has
always believed it to be; it may not be as important as loving another.
Although he still feels a division in himself between his love and his duty-
his love cannot intrude upon his awareness while he is working--the
boundaries are becoming less distinct. By the time of the actual demolition
of the bridge, the boundaries have disappeared, and Jordan expresses his

experience thus:

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He had never thought that you could know that there was a woman
if there was battle; nor that any part of you could know it, or
respond to it; nor that if there was a woman that she should have
breasts small, round and tight against you through a shirt....But it
was true and he thought, good. That’s good. I would not have
believed that... (456).

The heightened sense of relationship with all life that Jordan
experiences with Maria during their last night together has profoundly
transformed Jordan’s consciousness. Previously be excluded Maria from his
awareness when he was involved in masculine occupations, binding himself
exclusively to the masculine contract which his ego-consciousness identified as
his duty. Now he encompasses all that she represents within himself, in the
living feeling of the moment, in the true sense of participation mystique.
Similarly, Maria also contains Jordan within herself. The lovers have learned
that together they "could be everything" (393). Because Jordan has
experienced transformation and "rebirth," he can say to Maria as he persuades
her to leave him, "Thou wilt go now, rabbit. But I go with thee. As long as
there is one of us there is both of us " (463).

By withdrawing the projection of his anima and through experiencing his
relatedness within the unified web of life, Jordan is given insight, also, into
his shadow. As was discussed, the opposite poles of the feminine combine to
form a circle, the symbol of the self, when one is at the extremity of either
the positive or the negative. Accordingly, Jordan’s feminine principle enables

him to transcend and thereby transform the negative wheel of fate-his

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recurring feelings of rage toward Pablo-into positive feelings of relatedness
when, by returning, Pablo "redeems" Jordan’s father’s sin. Jordan’s
acceptance of Pablo’s return frees Jordan from the negative feminine, through
the projection of his shadow on Pablo:
Robert Jordan, when he put his hand out, expected that it would be
like grasping something reptilian or touching a leper. He did not
know what Pablo’s band would feel like. But in the dark Pablo’s
hand gripped his hard and pressed it frankly and he returned the
grip. Pablo had a good hand in the dark and feeling it gave
Robert Jordan the strangest feeling he had felt that morning. We
must be allies now, he thought (404).

Jordan has not related to Pablo as an individual. From the beginning,
his perceptions of Pablo have been colored by his distrust of Pablo’s sadness
-which calls forth memories of his father’s sadnessuso that in their
interactions Jordan responds from his feelings for his biological father, and
not to the reality of Pablo. However, with his new understanding of the
feminine’s depths and heights, Jordan can accept his own emotions and is
liberated from having to project them onto Pablo. He becomes free to know
Pablo as he truly is-his strengths as well as his weaknesses. Henceforth,
unlike Jake, who literally has to be hit over the head before he can accept
the responsibility for his own shadow impulses, Jordan experiences his shadow
fears and accepts responsibility for them as an integral part of himself. As

he confronts his fear while dynamiting the bridge, he undergoes a series of

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altered states of consciousness in which he relives past experiences as a child
and adolescent.

First, as he bids Maria good-bye, he feels like a child and remembers
himself saying good-bye to his father at the train station as he was about to
go away to school for the first time. Although he had not wanted anyone to
know he was afraid, his embarrassment over his father’s excessive
sentimentality caused his attitude to change, and he became happy to be
leaving. Reliving this experience in the illumination of his newly acquired
understanding, Jordan knows that fear of the unknown, whether of going off
to school or of preparing to meet death while dynamiting a bridge, is
acceptable; it need not be suppressed as he had previously done, for fear of
being overwhelmed by his own emotions. Similarly, as he is lashing the
explosives to the underside of the bridge, Jordan is nervous and afraid.
Instead of suppressing the emotion, or of trying to talk himself out of feeling
afraid, he realizes that everyone is afraid when they are in enough trouble.
He remembers himself as a high school football player:

Roll Jordan roll! They used to yell that at football when you
lugged the ball. Do you know the damned Jordan is really not
much bigger than that creek down there below. At the source, you
mean. So is anything else at the source....This is serious Jordan.
Don’t you understand? Serious. Its less so all the time. Look at
that other side. Para que? I’m all right now however she goes

(438).

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Jordan says earlier that being gay is like "having immortality while you
were still alive" (17). During the intense anxiety of fulfilling his mission he
is able to recall a situation in which he was under pressure as a youth and to
see its relationship with his present trouble. He is even able to make jokes
about it, and to "see the other side." Jordan’s "gaiety" is like that of Sordo,
who, before he dies, is able to play one last joke on the enemy and to kill
one more Fascist for the cause, thereby enjoying a final bout of laughter
before he is killed. Similarly, although Jordan’s hatred of Pablo begins to
arise again after Anselmo has been killed, Pilar shows him the "other side" by
saying, "If there had been no snow--" (447). Jordan sees the situation fiom a
viewpoint other than that of his ego-consciousness, and his hatred dissipates.
like the mountain which had been brown three days earlier, but which is now
green, Jordan’s inner being has yielded its life-affirming truths which enable
him to face his fear and his hatred unafraid, without projecting these feelings
on others.

By the novel’s end, Jordan embodies within his being many of the
qualities of the bullfighter, Pedro Romero. Just as Romero combines
masculine skill and dexterity with feminine relationship in performing his art
in the bullring, Jordan, too, develops the feminine as well as the masculine in
himself and is able to unite his ego-consciousnessuhis cold, scientific,
intellect-with the warmth and sensitivity of feminine relationship-in the
"art" of war. like the matador, Jordan has overcome his instinctive shadow
fears and does not need to project his shadow impulses on others, but accepts

the responsibility for them himself. Also, as is true for Romero, the strength

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of Jordan’s ego-consciousness enables him to slay the dragon of the terrible
aspect of the feminine and to release her positive, relating aspect, freeing
his anima to perform its integrating function as a moderator between the
conscious and unconscious components of his psyche. Additionally, within
himself, the inborn potential of his personal destiny has been actualized, and
Jordan accepts the feminine wisdom bodied forth from the unconscious which
both nourishes and informs his consciousness. Ironically, Jordan has become
so certain of his fateuthat he will be killed while dynamiting the bridge--
that when he finds himself alive after its completion everything seems unreal:
"He had accepted being killed so completely that all of this now seemed
unreal....and he felt, consciously, all of this becoming like a dream" (452).
Finally, like Romero, Jordan is imbued with the transcendent spirit, born of
the union of opposites, which enables him to overcome his pain and to await
the "enemy" not only with masculine courage and strength, but also with a
sense of transcendent understanding reached through the feminine.

Jordan refers to the mystical wisdom of the feminine when he says to
himself, "I have learned much more about life in these four days; more, I
think, than in all the other time" (380). It is the union of the wisdom of
loving participation that complements and completes the knowledge of his
masculine ego-consciousness, that Jordan expresses to himself as he lies on
the forest floor: "there’s no one thing that’s true. Its all true" (467).
Karkov’s rational, masculine "truth" and Pilar’s intuitive, feminine "truth" are
not mutually exclusive, as they appear to masculine ego-consciousness.

Rather, they are opposite sides of the same coin; they are truths of different

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aspects of the psyche, the conscious and unconscious, and together they form
a more complete truth than either can do separately.

Similarly, for individuals acting in isolation, the duality inherent in the
human psyche is impossible to bridge. However, when projections are
withdrawn, the contra-sexual components may unite so that the duality
becomes integrated through the transcendent function. Herein the mountain
as symbol again enters. In addition to the mountain symbolism previously
elaborated, the mountain also, according to Neumann, represents the seat or
the throne of the Great Mother. "lhe symbolism of the female godhead as
hill and mountain persists to a late date in the East where the hieros gamos
between heaven and earth is enacted on a mountain top..." (GM 99).
Psychologically, this sacred marriage represents the union of masculine ego-
consciousness with the unconscious feminine, which accords with Jordan’s
experience on the mountain: his ego-consciousness and his unconscious unite
to produce a transcendent state of consciousness that enables Jordan to meet
death as a true hero, as a completed human being.

In Her Whem rhe Bell fl'ells it is the creative force of human solidarity
which is celebrated. The real "terror" of the human condition, more horrible
that the fear of death, is isolation, loneliness. Upon expulsion from the
garden of Eden, Adam and Eve suffered loneliness without the presence of
God. Similarly, Anselmo, waiting in the snowstorm for Jordan to relieve him,
feels that the loneliness is harder to bear than the cold. Loneliness is
stronger than Pablo’s fear, and causes him to return to his band after he has

betrayed their mission. It is loneliness which Jordan experiences as he awaits

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the sound of bombs dropping before commencing the bridge operation.
Loneliness is the antithesis of the sense of relatedness which Pablo feels as a
part of the band, and the profound sense of connection with life which
Anselmo and Jordan experience before they die. Loneliness, in fact, is the
opposite aspect of the Great Mother’s beneficence. Neumann writes:
The Great Mother is the giver not only of life but also of death.
Withdrawal of love can appear as withdrawal of all the functions
constituting the positive side of the elementary character. Thus
hunger and thirst may take the place of food, cold of warmth,
defenselessness of protection, nakedness of shelter and clothing,
and distress of contentment. But stronger than these is often
loneliness, the principium individuationis, the contrary of the
containment that is the basic principle of participation mystique, of
the bond in which there is no loneliness (GM 67).

Jordan does not feel lonely as he is lying alone on the mountain
awaiting death. Struggling to maintain consciousness and not to capitulate
before the desire quickly to end his suffering, his deep relatedness to Maria
and the others, as well as to the larger cause of the Republic and all people,
imbues him with the desire as well as the courage to endure. His masculine
belief that the individual can make a difference and his sense of duty to
others, "there is something you can do yet. As long as you know what it is
you have to do it" (470), overcomes the voice of the elementary aspect of the
mother, urging him to end his pain. Jordan is waiting to be taken back into

the Great Mother, from whence he came, symbolized by uroboric containment;

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the end of life brings him full circle, back to its beginning. Similarly, as
Jordan waits for lieutenant Berrendo to approach, he is in the position he
was in at the beginning of his quest, lying on the floor of the pine forest on
the slope of the mountain, feeling the beating of his heart.

Not only Jordan’s imminent death, but also the deaths of the others:
Anselmo, Fernando, Sordo and Joaquin, and the many, many othersuboth
Republicans and Fascists-whose deaths have been alluded to in Hemingway’s
epic, sound the bells of the novel’s title. While on one hand, everyone must
existentially die alone, it is possible, at the same time, to intuitively "know"
that one is intimately and ultimately connected with all manifestations of
life, in the past and the future as well as in the present. It is this feminine
wisdom that is contained in Donne’s sermon which serves as the epigraph for
Hemingway’s novel:

No man is an Island, entire of it self; every man is a piece of the
Cenrinent, a part of the maine; if a glee be washed away by the
Sea, Eerepe is the less, as well as if a Prenrenjerie were, as well
as if a Mane; of thy fiends or of rhinem were; any man’s
death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind; and

therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for

thee.

Chapter Four
The Old Man and the Sea

W like the novels already examined, is the

account of a spiritual quest. As are the journeys of his predecessors,
Santiago’s is both external and internal. Santiago goes out on an external
quest to catch a great fish. Because he is a fisherman who has not caught a
fish in eighty-four days, the stability of his existence is threatened. Not
only does the old man rely on fishing to earn a living,.but also his purpose
in life is to be a fisherman. This aim centers his life, providing meaning and
value for his existence. With no luck as a fisherman, the well-spring of
Santiago’s reservoir of life force is imperiled. He must act decisively.
Through Santiago’s stoic suffering and endurance, Hemingway has created a
moving parable of the process of individuation. Not all scholars, however,
agree on the story’s greatness.

Although MW received the Pulitzer Prize and led
to Hemingway receiving the Nobel prize for literature, it has received mixed
critical reviews. Most scholars passing judgment on Hemingway’s novella have
praised it. Malcom Cowley said it is "classical in spirit" ("View Points" 106).
Philip Young also regards the novella as classical (Henn‘ngway 100). linda W.
Wagner calls it a "lyric novel" ("The Poem of Santiago and Manolin" 265), and
Earl Rovit, "tragic poetry" ("View Points" 105). Leo Gurco sees it reflecting

Hemingway’s romanticism (W" 14). However, there

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are adverse readings as well. Leslie Fiedler in W says that
the flaw in Ihe_Qld_M_an_an_d_Llre_Sea, is that "In trying to recapture the
spare horror of his early work, he (Hemingway) produced only an echo, a
not-quite-convincing counterfeit of his best" (17). Robert P. Weeks’ "Fakery
in W" focuses on the stories’ implausabilities as in the
old man’s enduring hardships that would defeat even a vigorous youth (35).
However, regardless of its critical reception, Hemingway considered his
novella to be a success: "I had unbelievable luck this time and could convey
the experience completely and have it be one that no one had ever conveyed"
("Hemingway" 113).

Hemingway said that part of his luck in creating W
Sea was that he had a good man (113). In Hemingway’s novella, the good
man, Santiago, needs symbolically to replenish the water of life. He wishes
to catch not simply any fish but a great fish. Because Santiago has great
pride, he will not be content until he has once again proven his strength and
endurance in an intense adversarial struggle, thereby establishing his right to
continue living. In his search for a great fish, he chooses to travel far from
the world of the fathers and masculine ego-consciousness--the familiar and
safe realm of masculine order and law. By sailing far out onto the sea by
himself, Santiago enters the feminine domain: externally, the realm of
uncorrupted, undefiled natureuthe sea and her creatures, internally, the
domain of the unconscious. Santiago journeys alone, because the boy who
usually accompanies him has been refused permission to fish with him.
Additionally, though, according to the principles of depth psychology,

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Santiago’s is a journey which can only be taken alone, for it is the path of
individuation.

Even at the outset of his quest Santiago exhibits a more balanced
psychic state than do Jake Barnes and Robert Jordan. In "The Heroic Impulse
in Ihe_Qld_Man_jn_thLS_ea," Gurko has noted that "Santiago is the first of
the main figures in Hemingway who is not an American, and who is
altogether free of the entanglements of modern life" (70). Unlike other
Hemingway heroes, the old man is a simple Cuban fisherman who need not
question his reason for living. His life is governed by essentials. Santiago
therefore lacks the complexity of Jake Barnes and Robert Jordan, both of
whom are Americans-by birth if not by choice-searching to bring meaning
and higher values into their complicated lives. Additionally, Santiago is old.
His age suggests that many of the concerns of people in the first half of
life no longer apply. He does not need the physical presence of a woman
through whom to realize his feminine attributes. He has already
incorporated many aspects of the feminine unconscious into his being. This
fusion enables him to form relationships not only with other people but with
non-human life forms as well. Additionally, the archetypal quest motif itself,
described by Joseph Henderson (and discussed in Eer Whem rhe Bell fl'ells), is
more dominant in I]:e_Qld_Man_an_d_the_Sea than in Hemingway’s earlier
novels.

First, as are traditional heroes, Santiago is an outsider from his group-
he is a fisherman who has not caught a fish in eighty-four days. Hoping to

reverse his bad luck, Santiago goes farther out onto the sea than he has ever

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gone before, and he goes alone. Santiago displays other attributes of the
mythic hero. He was born into a humble life, and his situation, even in old
age, remains humble. He has also won acclaim by feats of superhuman
strength. Santiago has been an exemplary fisherman, and he also earned the
esteem of others in an extended hand wrestling contest with a "negro."
Furthermore, he has gained power through the struggle with the forces of
evil--the terrible aspect of the Great Mother exhibited in his "bad luck"--
which would have caused a lesser man hopelessness and despair. Finally,
though, the mythic hero succumbs to pride and falls, through betrayal,
sacrifice, or abandonment by those he serves, to his death. It is pride that
causes Santiago to "go out too far," so that he loses the physical value of his
quest’s objective. However, Santiago does not die, and the inner wisdom
which he gains on his quest brings not only him but also Manolin renewed
life-force. Symbolically, the wisdom Santiago gains is passed on to
humankind.

Santiago’s humility dictates that his story be narrated from the third
person point of view. Although most of the novel’s focus is on Santiago, and
it is Santiago’s thoughts which are most often revealed, vital information
about the old man is provided by Manolin’s thoughts, and significant contrasts
are established by the outside narrator, especially the shocking contrast of
the tourists’ ignorance at the novella’s end. Most importantly, the story
could not be told from the first person point of view because Santiago is too
humble to present a true portrait of himself: he would obscure the very

qualities which cause him to be heroic. Finally, the omniscient, "god-like"

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narrator sets an authoritative tone for the novella, giving this simple tale the
authority of a parable, an effect which would be impossible from the point of
view of first person.

In this chapter, I will first discuss the persona and masculine ego-
consciousness because they furnish the contrast by which the unconscious
archetypal images and symbols are experienced. I will then present images
and symbols representing the unconscious: the shadow, trickster, anima,
animal, primordial feminine, wise old man, child, and the self. Although
instances of the persona are minimal in this novella, the one occasion when
the persona is revealed is particularly powerful. Representatives of masculine
ego-consciousness are the characters of Manolin’s parents and some of the
fishermen who utilize mechanization in their trade and whose attitudes are
expressly competitive. These characters contrast sharply to Santiago, whose
whose well-developed masculine ego-consciousness is balanced by equally well-
developed feminine qualities. It is the balance of the masculine and the
feminine in the old man’s being which lends him heroic stature. Most
importantly, in W it is the affirmation of life qua life
that predominates. Life in all forms is celebrated: Hemingway has embodied
in mythic form the pre-patriarchal spirit of the Great Mother.

Hemingway’s later fiction includes fewer incidents that reveal the
archetype of the persona. In W characters and situations
revealing the persona occupy a significant position. Although the archetypes
of the shadow and the negative aspects of the feminine are dominant in

Hemingway’s first novel, it is the persona which is often responsible for

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eliciting these archetypes. Eerflhemflefielljells contains fewer examples
of the persona. In that text, scenes revealing the superficiality of the

persona are interspersed with scenes depicting the intensity of the real war
and the real love which grows among the characters. These scenes serve to
heighten the dramatic effect of the novel’s tragedy. Not until the end of
W53, however, does Hemingway depict the persona’s
shallowness. The persona causes people to appear to understand when in
reality they do not. The tourists who mistakenly judge the skeleton of
Santiago’s marlin to be that of a shark are much like the tourists whose
ignorance pollutes the sacredness of the bullfight in W.
The tourists’ illusory knowledge and real ignorance contrasts sharply with the
deep wisdom Santiago has gained through his suffering and endurance while
struggling to kill and bring home his brother the fish.

An exposition of masculine ego-consciousness in this novella, as in the
previously examined novels, serves two purposes. First, the overly developed
masculine attributes of the boy’s parents and some of the other fishermen
contrasts with Santiago’s character which already contains many feminine
qualities. Also, I wish to show that Santiago is well grounded in the
masculine domain, which is essential in approaching the feminine unconscious.
Santiago’s intentional, precise performance of the ritual of fishing, as well as
the care he takes of his body and the control he exhibits over his thoughts
and emotions, demonstrates the prior development of his active, masculine
principle. During the performance of this ritual, Santiago also employs images
and memories from the masculine realm: he thinks of the great baseball

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player, Joe DiMaggio, and he remembers his hand-wrestling competition with
the "negro." Additionally, the realm of the transpersonal masculine spirits is
glimpsed as Santiago invokes the aid of God and the Virgin during the
extremity of his struggle.
Manolin’s parents represent masculine ego-consciousness in their
insistence that Manolin work with a "lucky" fisherman. Although the boy has
fished with Santiago since he was five, the old man is now considered
unlucky because he has gone so many days without catching a fish. The
boy’s parents want their son to be working with someone who is regularly
bringing in fish and a steady income. They fear that Santiago’s bad luck will
contaminate their son; they lack the faith in Santiago’s ability to overcome
his bad luck that Santiago and the boy have. Manolin’s parents represent the
larger community which functions according to a formulated or implicit set of
rules and rewards, which opposes the hero. In W Rovit
suggests:
As they must, most men spend the greatest part of their lives
entrapped in a world where prudence and practicality are the
measurements of what is. Living within the blanketing hum of
everyday reality with solid earth beneath their feet, men cannot
see what they have no eyes for, nor can they understand what they
have not been prepared to understand (89).

The world of "prudence and practicality" values what "is" as opposed to what

"might be." Security and comfort, as opposed to loyalty and wisdom, are

actively pursued goals. Masculine order, as opposed to feminine change, is

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valued. It is not surprising, therefore, that the boy’s parents desire him to
fish with someone who is having immediate success. Manolin makes it clear
that he would prefer to be working with his friend and mentor, but since he
is still a boy he must obey his parents.

Additionally, although many of the fishermen are sympathetic with
Santiago’s plight, still others make fun of him when he comes in empty-
handed after eighty-four days of fishing. While some of the townspeople help
the old man by giving him newspapers and food, others express masculine
disdain for his misfortune. These people, like Manolin’s parents, insulate
themselves from sensing their interrelatedness as a community of fishermen;
they, too, fear contamination by Santiago’s bad luck. Instead of feminine
cooperation and interdependence, competitiveness is the norm. Their
competitive attitude pits them against the Great Mother. As the old man
begins his eighty-fifth day of fishing, he reflects:

Some of the younger fishermen, those who used buoys as floats for
their lines and had bought motorboats, bought when the shark
livers had brought much money, spoke of her (the sea) as el mar
which is masculine. They spoke of her as a contestant or a place
or even an enemy (27).

This competitive, masculine attitude toward the sea is in direct contrast
to Santiago’s feminine attitude. The fishermen with motorboats wish to
dominate nature and the sea. They do not patiently accept the natural
varying weather conditions and the temper of the sea; rather they seek to

overcome their inherent human limitations by imposing machines between

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themselves and the elements. But the Great Mother is beyond the ability of
human beings to dominate; thus the competitive attitude of enmity. It is this
same competitive attitude which separates them from Santiago.

Though it seems to be a commonplace detail, Hemingway emphasizes that
the successful fishermen have radios in their boats. Radios are masculine
inventions allowing individuals to artificially pacify feelings of loneliness and
isolation. Through mechanized communication devices such as the radio and
television, peoples’ attention can be absorbed so that they are oblivious to
their own state of being as well as to their relationship with life around
them. Although at the beginning of his eighty-fifth day of fishing Santiago
briefly thinks that having a radio would be a way to ward off his loneliness,
he knows that he must always pay strict attention to what he is doing--that
a radio would be distracting. Those who have radios and who use buoys for
floats on their lines, miss the subtle signs through which nature speaks,
revealing, for example, the existence of schools of fish by the presence of
circling birds. Santiago has learned these signs by his attentiveness to the
mother.

Not only is Santiago unlucky, he is old. The scars on his hands are "as
old as erosions in a fishless desert" (6). Not only his hands, but his entire
body looks old; all, that is, except his eyes, which "were cheerful and
undefeated." Symbolically, Santiago is fishing in autumn, the last years of
life, which immediately precede winter’s death. Autumn is the time, he says,
when fishing is the most difficult. It is in the autumn years that it is the

most difficult to maintain one’s connection with the well-spring of life. In

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this connection, the attitude of Manolin’s parents and of the unsympathetic
fishermen symbolizes the attitude of younger people toward older people in
contemporary "advanced" societies where there is no use for the old. From
the point of view of masculine ego-consciousness, people who are "unlucky" or
"old" are useless, a drain on a family’s finances or on the larger economy.
There is no effort to utilize their talents and wisdom. Because rapid
technological growth causes knowledge bases to change radically over short
periods of time, the knowledge of old people is often considered obsolete.
Their wisdom, however, which combines the masculine and the feminine and
does not know obsolescence, is also often overlooked.

That Santiago is well-grounded in the world of masculine ego-
consciousness is evidenced by his careful attention to the ritual of fishing,
the care he takes of his body, and his control over his thoughts and
emotions. Because Santiago has not caught a fish for eighty-four days, he is
determined to go farther out onto the sea than he has ever gone; he thus
manifests confidence in his ability to control the situation. The ritual of
fishing as well as that of other Hemingway rituals--bullfighting, war, and
hunting-if they are to be performed well, must be performed precisely.
Santiago fishes with exactness, bringing all of his wisdom of the sea to bear.
In any ritual act, precision in important. Jung specifies that in a ritual
performance, "the rules of the ritual must be scrupulously observed if it is to

have the intended magical effect" (W 168). Santiago’s

attention to the rules of his ritual contrasts with the carelessness of others:

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He looked down into the water and watched the lines that went
straight down into the dark of the water. He kept them straighter
than anyone did, so that at each level in the darkness of the
stream there would be a bait waiting exactly where he wished it to
be for any fish that swam there. Others let them drift with the
current and sometimes they were at sixty fathoms -when the
fishermen thought they were at a hundred...But, he thought, I keep
them with precision. Only I have no luck any more. But who
knows? Maybe today. Every day is a new day. It is better to be
lucky. But I would rather be exact. Then when luck comes you
are ready (29-30).

From the beginning to the end of his quest, Santiago performs the ritual
of fishing exactly. He baits his hooks, carefully surrounding the steel with
the sardines and the tunas that the boy has given him for baits. He sets
four lines at specific depths and rows steadily, so that the boat’s movement
does not displace the lines. Alert for natural signs that there might be fish
in the area, Santiago follows the darting man-of-war and notices the
abundance of plankton which he knows also signals fish. Once his fish
strikes, he handles the line gently, so as not to disturb the feeding fish.
Santiago knows the kind of fish he has on the line and he knows how to
handle it. He is acutely aware that his only advantage against the strength
and nobility of the fish is his will and intelligence.

As he struggles with the fish, Santiago at no time loses or imperils his

advantage, but maintains his clear thinking and performs whatever tasks are

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needed. He cuts the other lines so that another fish will not become hooked,
possibly cutting, in its struggle, the line his big fish is on. He then connects
the reserve coils. Buffering the line with his body, Santiago maintains
vigilant attention as the fish draws him further into the unknown. As he
kills and lashes his fish to the skiff and kills the sharks that rob him,
Santiago performs his tasks precisely, with all of the skill and strength he
can muster. Even upon his return, he does not simply abandon his boat on
the beach and collapse in exhaustion, but "unstepped the mast and furled the
sail and tied it. Then he shouldered the mast and started to clim " (121).
Though he has to stop five times, he carries the mast home because it is his
duty to do so, ostensibly because the dew is bad for it. But the importance
of the reason pales before the fact that a good fisherman takes care of his
equipment and can have no regrets so long as he follows the rules.

Not only does Santiago carefully perform the ritual of fishing, but also
he nourishes his body--his animaluto the best of his ability. Often his
masculine will must overcome instinctive aversions, as when he forces himself
to eat the raw tuna, dolphin, and flying fish to gain strength. Also, although
he does not wish to sleep during the night, he tells himself that he must do
so in order to be strong for the impending battle to bring in and kill the
fish. He additionally takes care of the wounds he incurs by bathing his
hands in healing sea water, several times immersing them in the sea and
letting them dry in the sun. Finally, although his body bears the incredible
strain of the line connecting him to the moving fish for two days and

nights, Santiago reaps the strength of having provided well for his body in

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the past. Santiago’s normal diet is meager as shown by the illusion of the
meal which Santiago tells the boy he will warm up, and by the simple meal
that Manolin brings him from the Terrace. However, to supplement his diet,
Santiago has eaten turtles’ eggs and has drunk a cup of shark liver oil every
day to give himself strength. Although most fishermen hate the taste of
shark liver oil, Santiago thinks that it is no worse than getting up as early
as their occupation requires. Santiago respects his body and his instinctual
aversions do not prevent him form doing his duty to care for it.

Additionally, Santiago has learned to exert masculine control over the
negative feminine elements in himself--his negative emotions. He has little to
do and is in extreme discomfort as he waits for the fish to surrender. Under
these circumstances, the possibility of becoming overwhelmed by doubt and
fear is great. However, at no time does Santiago submit to these impulses.
Instead, he reminds himself of his good fortune and the reasons he is lucky.
Although he momentarily worries about what he will do if the fish sounds and
dies, he tells himself that he knows plenty of things to do. He also talks to
give himself courage: he talks to himself, to the fish, to the boy, and to the
gods. Finally, his memories of the male marlin who stayed with his mate and
the lions on the beach in his dreams give the old man the strength to
prevent the feminine’s negative aspect form overpowering his will.

During his ordeal, Santiago intentionally employs two images from the
world of masculine-ego consciousness to give himself courage. He thinks of
Joe DiMaggio, the great baseball player, and he remembers a time when he

was young and hand-wrestled with a "negro" in a twenty-four hour contest

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and won. DiMaggio is an expert baseball player as Santiago is an expert
fisherman--both men have finely developed the skills with which they were
born. Also, the "ritual" of baseball is governed by a precise set of rules, as
is fishing. Moreover, baseball contains an element of luck, just as fishing
does. DiMaggio, in addition to being a great team player, plays under the
handicap of a painful bone spur in his heel, just as Santiago suffers great
physical pain as he struggles with his fish. Finally, DiMaggio’s father was a
fisherman, as is Santiago. Santiago can identify with the great baseball
player as a hero, as someone he would like to emulate.

Santiago remembers the hand-wrestling contest in an effort to give
himself more confidence. This contest was one which he finished and won
even after everyone else wanted to call it a draw. Throughout the contest,
Santiago had confidence that he would win. Finally, making a last "unleashed
effort," he forced the Negro’s hand down upon the table, ending the match.
After a few more successful matches Santiago had become a hero and
decided that he could beat anyone if he really wanted to. Remembering the
incident not only reminds Santiago of his youthful strength, but also of his
determination to persevere which enabled him to win. This is the quality
which is demanded of him in his struggle with the fish: the determination to
go beyond his strength which will enable him to endure. Both images-
Santiago’s identification with DiMaggio and the hand-wrestling contest--arise
from the world of masculine consciousness, and illustrate that Santiago is in

contact with and can gain sustenance from the masculine domain.

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Santiago asks for help from the transpersonal gods only after he has
done everything he can for himself. When his left hand cramps, he promises
to say "ten Our Fathers and ten Hail Marys that I should catch this fish, and
I promise to make a pilgrimage to the Virgin de Cobre if I catch him. That
is a promise" (63). Shortly before the fish begins to circle, on the third day,
Santiago asks God once again to help him endure and promises to say more
prayers later. After the first shark has attacked his fish, Santiago thinks
about sin, but abandons that train of thought knowing that there are people
who are paid to think about such things. Later, he remembers the prayers
that he promised to say but puts off saying them because he is too tired.
There are other Christian symbols and images as well. Joseph Waldmeir says
that there is an intricate system of Christian numerology woven into the text.
Sam S. Baskett has pointed out several possible allusions to Christianity, one
of which is Santiago’s name: Santiago is Spanish for Saint James.
Additionally, there is the image of a nail being driven into a hand, and the
image of Christ’s crucifixion in Santiago’s posture, lying on the bed after his
ordeal.

Some critics have asserted that Santiago is a Christ figure. This may,
in part, be true, since the archetype of the self is represented by both Christ
and Santiago. However, as in the novels previously examined, it is not the
patriarchal images of Christianity which provide strength and solace for the
hero in the extremity of his suffering. Rather, it is Santiago’s already well-
balanced psychic state which provides the sustenance needed for his spirit to

endure the consequences of trespassing the limits of what is humanly possible.

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Santiago’s shadow has become integrated into his total personality.
Although for Jake Barnes darkness and night symbolize the negative feminine
and elicit his shadow fears, Santiago does not fear the Great Mother in her
nighttime darkness. On the contrary, during the night, Santiago’s anima
brings him into relationship with the stars and the moon that illuminate the
night. The night sky and the moon are among the oldest symbols of the
feminine, and the old man is as familiar and as comfortable with these
feminine symbols as he is with the masculine symbol of the sun. For
Santiago the stars are his friends and he thinks, "It is good that we do not
have to try to kill the sun or the moon or the stars. It is enough to live on
the sea and kill our true brothers" (74).

Similarly, Santiago does not project his shadow onto people and events;
he is responsible for his own actions as well as his own state of being. He
does not blame anyone, including the gods, for his bad luck in not having
caught a fish for eighty-four days. Neither does he project the blame for his
fish’s destruction on anyone but himself. The absence of instances of
shadow projection contrasts Santiago with Jake Barnes and Robert Jordan.
The lessons which both Barnes and Jordan had to learn in their respective
stories related to their personal shadows. Santiago, on the other hand, has
gone beyond his need to project his shadow impulses onto others. However,
Jung makes it clear that the individual shadow is never absent as a
component of personality. If Santiago does not project his shadow onto

others, there are other ways in which it surfaces.

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During his second day at sea Santiago’s left hand cramps. Jung would
say that this act dictates the presence of the archetype of the trickster.
Jung writes:

The trickster is a collective shadow figure, a summation of all the
inferior traits of character in individuals....the trickster motif crops
up...whenever, in fact, he (the hero) feels himself at the mercy of
annoying "accidents" which thwart his will and his actions with
apparently malicious intent. He then speaks of "hoodos" and
"jinxes" or of the "rnischievousness" of the object...his body is not
a unity, and his two hands fight each other (ACU 270, 262).

Accordingly, the old man says, "his left hand had always been a traitor
and would not do what he called upon it to do and he did not trust it" (69).
Several times Santiago refers to his left hand as unreliable. While his right
hand is trustworthy, capable of carrying out Santiago’s will, the left hand
possesses a will of its own which is not always subject to Santiago’s
conscious control. Rather, it stubbornly and seemingly maliciously reminds
him that there are powers in the universe and within his own body that are
not amenable to conscious volition.

Also, as was discussed with reference to the archetype of the trickster
in Ihe_§m_Alse_Bises, the ancient trickster figure’s dual nature-its
creator/ destroyer aspectuhas come down to us abstractly as the moral
problem embodied in the opposing concepts of justice and injustice, good and
evil, and masculine and feminine. The right and left hands as symbols for

these opposing concepts can be observed in the contemporary dichotomy of

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right and left brain functions as well as in patriarchal Jewish texts. In Alien

Jung includes several examples from these ancient texts, showing the

symbolism of the hand in the context of good and evil:
God’s love and mercy are named his right hand, but his justice and
his administration of it are named his left hand. Thus we read in
I Kings 22:19: "I saw the Lord sitting on his throne, and all the
host of heaven standing beside him on his right hand and on his
left." The Midrash comments: "Is there right and left on high?
This means that the intercessors stand on the right and the
accusers on the left." The comment on Exodus 15:6 ("Thy right
hand, 0 Lord, glorious in power, thy right hand, 0 Lord, shatters
the enemy") runs: "When the children of Israel perform God’s will,
they make the left hand his right hand. When they do not do his
will, they make even the right hand his left hand." "God’s left
hand dashes to pieces; his right hand is glorious to save" (59).

In the Jewish tradition the ambiguity of the spiritual factor, God, is
inherent in the character projected upon him through the attributions of both
mercy and justice, justice and injustice, etc. This dual aspect of God reflects
the duality inherent in the psyche of human beings; it implicitly
acknowledges the simultaneous existence of the moral attributes of good and
evil within the individual. However, Jung asserts that for most of the
Western world it is the image of Christ that continues as the living, heroic
myth: "Chemxemnljfifiahgareheryeeeuhgselj‘ (Arlen 37), representing
higher, glorified man, made in the image of God. Jung’s problem with the

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Christian myth as it stands today, however, is the absence of the shadow
from Christ’s character. Instead of Christ’s image embodying a dual nature,
which, according to Jung, is the reality of human beings, the positive
attributes of the saviour--the "good"-have been irrevocably separated from
negative qualitiesuthe "e ' "-that have been imputed to Satan or to the devil
(which has become a trickster figure). The image of wholenessuof good
complimented by the shadowuis present in the Jewish tradition, represented
by the two hands of God. Jung also writes of a Gnostic-Christian text dating
from AD. 150 in which the author understands good and evil as the right and
left hand of God and which also views creation as pairs of opposites. Jung
writes, "In much the same way the follower of Bardesanes, Marinus, sees
good as ‘light’ and pertaining to the right hand..., and evil as ‘dark’ and
pertaining to the left hand....The left also corresponds to the feminine" (Aien
54). Although the early Gnostic-Christians, too, posited the ambiguous nature
of the Godhead, their teaching has not been widely disseminated.

Symbolically, Santiago’s recognition of the inner duality represented by
the opposition of his two hands reflects the wholeness which the Christ image
in itself lacks. Hemingway’s old man, however, does not deny the presence
of "evil" within himself-he does not deny responsibility for this hand. "It is
not the band’s fault and you have been many hours with the fish" (56). Nor
does he deny responsibility for his pride which caused him to go out too far.
Additionally, he is as capable of hatred as of love. Even as he battles the
negative feminine, symbolized by the sharks that consume his fish, Santiago is
able to "hit it (the mako shark) with out hope but with resolution and

220

complete malignancy" (102). It is the old man’s goodness and strength which
are primarily manifested throughout the story. However, in his acceptance of
the existence of contrary characteristics within himself--the hatred as well as
the love-he shows that he has accepted his shadow and is a complete human
being.

At the outset of the story, Santiago’s ego-consciousness exhibits
feminine qualities illustrative of the prior development of his being. He is
already a wise old man. He has learned to love what he kills and has
acquired, through nature, a code to live by: acceptance of natural conditions
with pity and love but without weakness and regret. Unlike the other,
competitive fishermen, Santiago expresses the feminine attitudes of
cooperation and patience, of stoic acceptance of the sea on her own terms, as
feminine. Also, in his humility he is able to accept assistance from other
people: from the boy and from his fellow townsmen. He gratefully accepts
the food and the beer that Manolin brings form the Terrace. When the boy
wishes to procure fresh bait for the next day’s fishing, Santiago’s response
is simply to thank him because, "He was too simple to wonder when he had
attained humility. But he knew he had attained it and he knew it was not
disgraceful and it carried no loss of true pride" (10).

According to Jung, it is vital that a person who is becoming
individuated not succumb to psychic inflation, either by identifying with the
unconscious and renouncing the ego, or by "psychologizing" and assimilating
the figures of the unconscious into the ego. In both instances there ceases

to be a continued separation between the ego and the archetypes, a

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separation which is essential in maintaining the balance between consciousness
and the unconscious. The extremity of either of the above positions is
undesirable because, as Jung says, "one will never attain that median degree
of modesty which is essential for the maintenance of a balanced state" (Aien
25).

The old man exhibits pride, but it is balanced by his humility. Pride
causes him to go beyond human limits in his search for a great fish. His
pride, however, is complimented by his deep humility. Santiago has
maintained the balance of which Jung speaks. He has not capitulated to the
lure of the unconscious, becoming ensnared by the illusions of the "veil of
Maya." His eros principle, his anima, is not passive like a child’s-wherein
the child seeks to become enveloped in the nourishing, protective "charmed
circle" of the mother, becoming released from all worldly cares and
disappointments. Rather, his eros principle is active, as it lovingly reaches
out to encompass other people and life forms in the circle of its
relationshipsuincluding that which he must kill. Also, Santiago has
maintained a sense of separation between his ego and the archetypal images
springing from his unconscious. He does not identify with the archetype of
the wise old man or of the self, both of which he actualizes within himself.
This is shown time after time in his humility before the unknown forces
which he confronts on his quest. Santiago acknowledges that beasts and
birds possess instinctive qualities greater than his own human abilities.

The archetype of the animal is represented by the plethora of animal

life which Santiago encounters in and on the sea. It is particularly

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represented by the giant, noble marlin, and by the old man’s body, his animal,
through which he is able to relate instinctively to other life forms. Prior to
contemporary conditions of city life, the majority of human beings lived
among animals in relatively natural conditions-circumstances under which
they could learn "nature’s ways." Now, though, direct connection with the
animal has been lost. The human species has become "civilized." Although it
is masculine intelligence which sets the human species apart from the rest of
the animal kingdom, animals possess qualities that are integral to the larger
scheme of life on earth and from which human beings can learn. False pride
and arrogance have caused a separation between the mind and the body which
is likewise false. Relying only on intelligence causes human beings to become
like the stuffed animals in Wadivorced from their instincts
and emotions.

Santiago’s humility before the instinctive greatness of the Great
Mother’s beasts reflects a matriarchal rather than a patriarchal attitude. The
patriarchal myth of the Biblical Adam, assigned by God to name the beasts,
illustrates Adam’suand man’s--inherent superiority over other creatures. The
Greek myth of Epimetheus and Prometheus casts mortals in a much less
favorable light; this myth possesses some attributes of the matriarchy out of
which early Greek culture was growing. Unlike the Old Testament’s myth, in
Greek mythology human beings were not created by the most powerful deity,
but by a Titan, Epimetheus, whom Zeus assigned to create all of earth’s
creatures. Epimetheus created and breathed life into a variety of animals,

giving each the power it needed to survive. When at last he created a

creature in the image of the gods, he had no more powers to assign. It was
for this reason that Prometheus, taking pity on the weakness of mortals, stole
the Olympian fire and gave it to human beings so that they, too, might
survive.

Similarly, Santiago acknowledges the light of intelligence which sets him
apart fi'om other forms of life; however, he also reveres the strengths of
other life forms. Santiago’s attitude is not that of the patriarchy, which
assigns value in a "great chain of being" with the human species on the top.
Santiago sees that his intelligence is of no greater value than his fish’s
instinctive nobility and endurance. His attitude reflects a matriarchal
acceptance of all forms of life.

Representatives of the female gender in animistic form-human being,
bird, and fish-are almost entirely absent in Ihe_Ql_d_MarLane_the__Sea. The
only references to the female are to Santiago’s dead wife; to the sea, herself;
to luck; and to the female marlin that Santiago and the boy had caught and
killed years before, but which lives in Santiago’s memory. However, in spite
of the lack of female characters, the story is filled with primordial images of
the feminine. The Great Mother is omnipresent; she is the container of the
sea, the fish, the birds, and the fishermen and she also "is" the sea, the fish,
the birds, and the fishermen. They are not only her creatures; they are
aspects of the primordial feminine, herself. In this primordial realm, Santiago
relates to all forms of life through the prior development of his anima. He is

a loving participant in life, not a contestant with it.

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Again, it is necessary to emphasize that it is his firm foothold in
consciousness, through the strict observance of ritual, that gives Santiago the
strength, the fearlessness, and the endurance, to withstand his immersion into
the unconscious. Jung writes:

As they (those who enter the unconscious) must never forget who
they are, they must on no account imperil their consciousness.
They will keep their standpoint firmly anchored to the earth, and
will thus-to preserve the metaphor—become fishers who catch with
book and net what swims in the water (ACU 308).
Although the old man willingly submits to the feminine, he does not do so at
the peril of his ego-consciousness, which is, indeed, firmly anchored to the
earth. By going out so far, the old man gives up his attachments to the
societal world of the fathers, and when he becomes hooked, he submits to the
Great Mother’s enchantment.

The sea upon which Santiago travels and in which his fish resides,
symbolizes the unconscious realm.. According to Jung, water is the most
common symbol of the unconscious. He also says that the way to
individuation is "surely to go the way of the waters which always tend
downward, if we would raise up the treasure..." (ACU 18). The treasure to be
discovered in the waters is the wholeness embodied in the archetypes. Since
the archetypes are by nature collective, they are the biological elements by
which individuals are able to form connections with other human beings as
well as with other life forms. Water is the source of life on earth, just as

uterine amniotic fluid is the first environment of all individual human

development. Regarding the primal yet spiritual nature of water as symbol,
and its equation with blood, Jung says:
"Spirit" always seems to come from above, while from below comes
everything that is sordid and worthless. For people who think in
this way, spirit means highest freedom, a soaring over the depths,
deliverance from the prison of the chthonic world, and hence a
refuge for all those timorous souls who do not want to become
anything different. But water is earthy and tangible, it is also the
fluid of the instinct-driven body, blood and the flowing of blood,
the odor of the beast, carnality heavy with passion. The
unconscious is the psyche that reaches down from the daylight of
mentally and morally lucid consciousness into the nervous system
that for ages has been known as the "sympathetic." This does not
govern perception and muscular activity like the cerebrospinal
system, and thus control the environment; but, though functioning
without sense-organs, it maintains the balance of life and, through
the mysterious paths of sympathetic excitation, not only gives us
knowledge of the innermost life of other beings but also has an
inner effect upon them. In this sense it is an extremely collective
system, the operative basis of all "participation mystique" (ACU
19-20).
The waters of the gulf stream carry Santiago out beyond the boundaries
of the human world where he will meet his brother and his adversary. The

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same waters symbolize the depths of the unconscious in which the water of
life resides.

The vessel in which Santiago travels out onto the sea is a symbol of the
elementary, containing aspect of the feminine and refers to her belly
symbolism. According to Neumann, the function of the containing aspect of
the boat-vessel represents a transition to the symbols in which the function
of protection outweighs that of containing (GM 45). The skiff in which the
old man fishes contains him on his venture at the same time that it protects
him from the sea and its creatures. Although modern people view water
vessels as conveniences--as means of sport or transportation--it is not
difficult to understand the numinous significance of vessels for individuals
dependent on fishing as a way of life. Santiago cares for his skiff as he
cares for his body. The skiff’s sail is described in terms which cause it to
sound older and more mythic than real. "The sail was patched with flour
sacks and, furled, it looked like the flag of permanent defeat" (5). In spite
of its appearance, though, the sail and the vessel to which it is attached, are
as enduring as Santiago’s spirit.

Casting out his fishing lines, Santiago penetrates the darkness of the
symbolic waters and enters into the shadowy depths of the unconscious.
Becoming attached to the fish, the old man reaches the deepest portion of his
unconscious, instinctual nature. The fish, as an exemplar of the archetype of
the animal, symbolizes instinctive life. According to Jung, "the animal has
always symbolized the psychic sphere in man which lies hidden in the
darkness of the body’s instinctual life" (ACU 247). However, the fish not

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only symbolizes the deepest aspect of humankinds’ instinctive life, it also
symbolizes, in the Christian pantheon, the highest aspect of the nature of
humansuthe personification of the archetype of the self-Christ. It is not
surprising, therefore, that Jung reminds his reader that the beginning of
Christianity coincides with the beginning of the age of Pisces, the symbol of
which is the fish. Jung says, "Mankind looked and waited, and it was a fish
-‘levatus de profund’ (drawn from the deep)-that became the symbol of the
saviour, the bringer of healing" (ACU18). Accordingly, not only is Christ
symbolized by a fish, Christ was a fisherman, fishing for the souls of human
beings. His disciples were fishermen. He fed the crowds with fishes, etc.
Jung emphasizes the aptness of the fish as symbol for the Christ as follows:
The fish symbol shows...it is the "nourishing" influence of
unconscious contents, which maintain the vitality of consciousness
by the continual influx of energy: for consciousness does not
produce its energy by itself. What is capable of transformation is
just this root of consciousness, which-inconspicuous and almost
invisible (i.e., unconscious) though it isuprovides consciousness
with all its energy. Since the unconscious gives us the feeling
that it is something alien, a non-ego, it is quite natural that it
should be symbolized by an alien figure. Thus, on the one hand, it
is the most insignificant of things, while on the other, so far as it
potentially contains that "round" wholeness which consciousness
lacks, it is the most significant of all....l have elected to call it the
"self"... (ACU 142).

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Hemingway is not leading his readers into an affirmation of Christian
dogma through his portrayal of Santiago’s encounter with his giant marlin.
However, what he is providing is the opportunity for the reader to experience
the "living spirit" of the archetype of the self which resides in everyone and
which both Christ and Santiago represent. The fish which has long
symbolized the living Christ in humankind, and the fish which Santiago
struggles with and kills, is a living symbol of the instinctive life from which
contemporary human beings have become divorced. Jung and his students
continually remind their readers that it is not the intellect but the emotions
and instincts that are the source for the renewing water of life. It is not in
the active masculine conscious attitude but in the receptive feminine
unconscious that "salvation" and intimations of "immortality" lie.

During the two days and nights he is towed by the fish, Santiago’s
attitude toward it changes. The old man’s changing attitude reflects the
depth of his penetration into the unconscious. During this time he
relinquishes his active, masculine desire to kill the fish on his own terms and
becomes increasingly passive in his acceptance of whatever outcome fate
ordains. When he first books the fish, he wants the hook to go into the
heart and to kill the fish immediately. The old man’s impatience causes him
to become temporarily "caught" in his own masculine will to accomplish the
job swiftly. Later, when he finds himself being pulled, he thinks that the
fish cannot go on pulling him against the current forever, that the effort will
soon kill him. However, that is not the case. The fish is booked at noon

and by evening Santiago wishes to see the fish so that he can know what his

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adversary looks like. During the first night Santiago begins to pity the fish
and his admiration for its strength grows. At the end of the first night
Santiago begins to think of his journey in life-and-death terms. "Fish,...I’ll
stay with you until I am dead" (51).

On the second day, as he is struggling with his cramped hand, the old
man begins to feel compassion for his "friend." He wishes that he could feed
him. He tells the fish, "Fish, I love you but I will kill you" (52). His
identification with the fish increases to the point where later that day the
old man thinks that he would rather be the fish. Santiago realizes that he
has only his will and his intelligence to pose against the greatness of the
noble fish’s instinctual ability.

On the third day Santiago’s identification with the fish is complete, but
his strength is failing. It is on the third day that the fish makes a series of
jumps that indicates the end is near. By this time Santiago is manifesting
acute signs of distress. As the fish begins a series of circles around the
skiff, the old man feels light-headed; then he sees spots before his eyes; and
finally he feels dizzy. When he begins to feel faint, his "participation
mystique" with the fish becomes nearly complete and he says to the fish:
"You are killing me fish....But you have a right to. Never have I seen a
greater, or more beautiful, or a calmer or more noble thing than you,
brother. Come on and kill me. I do not care who kills who" (92). Santiago
loves in the fish its nobility, its courage, and its endurance. In "A Ritual of

Transfiguration: Ihe_Qle_Man_ane_th_e_Sea," Arvin R. Wells says: "All the

qualities which Santiago sees in the great fish--beauty, nobility, courage,

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calmness and enduranceuare the qualities which he values most; they are the
qualities which redeem life from meaninglessness and futility" (60). Not only
does Santiago value these qualities, he already contains them within himself.
That is why he can love them in another. Since he and his fish share the
same attributes, it does not matter who wins the contest. Santiago can
renounce his masculine desire for victory because of his intuitive feminine
acceptance and understanding of his intimate intimate relatedness with his
brother the fish.

At last the old man summons what is left of his strength and more, and
plunges his harpoon into the heart of the fish, pushing it with the full weight
of his body, and "the fish came alive with his death in him and rose high out
of the water showing all his great length and width and all his power and his
beauty. He seemed to hang in the air above the old man in the skiff' (93).
Rovit says, "In this moment, Santiago loses Santiago, merges into his
struggle with the fish, merges into the fish and the universal struggle of life,
and becomes elemental man and quest hero" ("View Points" 105). This is the
moment of Santiago’s participation in the "perpetual now" (Carpenter 281), of
his transformation into the wisdom of the Great Mother.

The transformative character of the Great Mother is the archetype of
the meaning of life itself. In his moment of transcendence, the old man
penetrates into the deepest recesses of his unconscious to discover the living
roots of his subjectivity enmeshed with the roots of all life. In this state,
time, space, language, and logic are lost in the magnitude of the realization

that life does not exist in the individual, rather the individual exists in life,

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in the ebb and flow of the continual transformation of energy occurring in
the universe. It is a moment of epiphanyuof spiritual insight into the nature
of life.

The transcendent spiritual principal through which duality and opposition
are overcome is born through the juxtaposition of Santiago’s "participation
mystique" with his fish and the extremity of his suffering and the
concomitant struggle of his masculine will to overcome the limitations of his
physical body. As occasioned Robert Jordan’s transformative experiences, at
the extreme points of the feminine axes (the good mother and the terrible
mother and the positive transformative character and the negative
transformative character of the feminine), each pole turns into its opposite
and a "point of indifference" is reached where positive and negative are no
longer distinct. In this state, a transcendent consciousness experiences life
as a unified whole, beyond thoughts, beyond the ego’s separation of subject
and object and its moral distinctions of good and evil.

Because Santiago has become one with his fish, the fish’s death enables
its noble, courageous, enduring spirit to become reborn in Santiago. Not only
does the old man kill the fish, but, as Katherine T. Jobes points out, he also
eats its flesh: "From killing and eating his totem-brother, Santiago eeeemes
the marlin" (TCI of TOMATS 4). As in the bullfight, the concrete act of
killing and ingesting the fish’s flesh and blood is more vivid and real than
the Christian ritual whereby the body and blood of the slain Christ are

symbolically eaten. Ritual acts serve the purpose of imparting to the

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participant the qualities of that which is sacrificed. N eumann underscores

this fact when he says:
One of the basic phenomena of totemism and of all initiation rites
is that the totem or ancestor is reincarnated in the initiate, finding
in him a new dwelling place and at the same time constituting his
higher self. This result can be traced all the way from the sonship
of the Horus hero and its connection with the apotheosis of his
father Osiris to the Christian Incarnation and the phenomenon of
individuation in modern man (Origins 247).

Participation in the sacrament of the eucharist enables recipients to
experience their higher "self" through symbolic union with Christ. The true
afficion may experience this transcendent state through experiencing the
ritual of the bullfight. For the simple fisherman, killing his brother and
adversary, the fish, implants the fish’s spirit in himself. The old man is thus
embued with the spirit to endure, with strength and nobility, the remainder of
the life which has been alloted to him.

As paradoxical as it may seem, killing-as in the bullfight and deep-sea
fishing--and sexual intercourse share a common element. When experienced
with the correct balance of pride and humility, both are ritual acts involving
an altered balance of the masculine and feminine principles. Instead of the
masculine principle remaining active, the ego becomes passive to the
receptive female principle which receives and irnpregnates the participant with
renewed life force. In contrast to masculine ego-consciousness, which sees

everything externally and separately, as objects before which the ego is the

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experiencing subject, the sympathetic system of the feminine unconscious
experiences everything as interior. According to Jung, this sympathetic
system: "maintains the balance of life and, through the pathways of
sympathetic excitation, not only gives us knowledge of the inner most life of
other beings but also has an inner effect upon them. In this sense it is an
extremely collective system, the operative basis of all participation mystique"
(ACU 303).

The heart is a significant organ in the sympathetic system. Carlos
Baker has already discussed the function of Santiago’s thoughts of the boy
and the lions in terms of "the constant wave-like operation of bracing and
relaxation. The boy braces, the lions relax, as in the systolic-diastolic
movement of the human heart" ("The Boy and the Lions" 30). The heart also
functions in other ways. The transcendent state Santiago attains refers
directly to the blood symbolism of both the elementary and the
transformative aspects of the Great Mother. The heart is the center of the
circulatory system which carries the instinctual wisdom of the elementary
aspect of the Great Mother. Also, the heart symbolizes the soul of man; the
transpersonal realm of the spirits can be reached only through the heart.
The heart is the center for the higher emotions: love, pity, humility, and
endurance. It is the heart and the blood, then, which furnish the connection
to the past and to the future, and, ultimately, to the transcendent sense of
unity with all of life.

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Accordingly, on his journey home, with his fish lashed to the skiff,
Santiago recollects, in his simple language, the strangeness of what he
remembers:

At one time when he was feeling so badly toward the end, he had
thought perhaps it was a dream. Then when he had seen the fish
come out of the water and hang motionless in the sky before he
fell, he was sure there was some great strangeness and he could
not believe it. Then he could not see well, although now he saw
as well as ever (98).

True feminine wisdom which the old man has gained is not abstract,
disinterested knowledge, but a wisdom of loving participation. The Great
Mother in her highest, Transforrnative aspect is both wisdom and food; the
nourishing life that she communicates is a life of the spirit and of
transformation. According to Neumann:

As spirit mother, she is not, like the Great Mother of the lower
phase, interested primarily in the infant, child, and the immature
man, who cling to her in these stages. She is rather a goddess of
the whole, who governs the transformation from the elementary to
the spiritual level; who desires whole men knowing life in all its
breadth, from the elementary phase to the phase of spiritual
transformation (GM 331).

Santiago has proven himself to be a whole man. Unlike Ike, who in
"The Bear" became so ensnared by the enchantment of the Great Mother that

he was unable to perform the heroic act of killing her in her manifestation as

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the bear, Santiago kills his brother, the fish, and he kills him with
compassion and love. Santiago has earned the status of hero and can return
to society with the spirit of his fish implanted within himself.

Significantly, Neumann points out that two symbols of the
transformative character of the Great Mother, in addition to the heart, are
the tortoise and the lion. In Western culture the Hellenistic goddess Sophia
represents the highest transformative feminine wisdom. M. Esther Harding
writes of Saphia that, "To the Gnostic of Greece and Egypt, Sophia was the
Divine Wisdom, the female form of the Holy Spirit" (WM 314). In the
symbolism surrounding Sophia, the tortoise forms the base and represents the
material world of earth and water which supports the tree of life. At the
base of the tree stands the sun lion of the masculine spirit which is born out
of it.

Early in the story Santiago reveals his identification with the turtle.
"Most people are heartless about turtles because a turtle’s heart will beat for
hours after he has been cut up and butchered. But...I have such a heart too
and my feet and hands are like theirs" (34). Like the turtle, Santiago relies
on his body in his life’s work, and he lives on both land and water. Also,
just as the turtles’s heart survives the death and dismemberment of its
physical body, so too Santiago’s feminine soul, reached through his heart,
overcomes the limitations of his body. His heart imbues all with which it
comes into contact with the energy of love, transforming the simplest
impressions into "food" for his masculine spirit. The turtle, symbol of

Sophia, furnishes a concrete image of the strength and endurance of the old

 

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man’s heart and helps to clarify Santiago’s capacity to bear the burden of his
quest.

Santiago not only identifies with the turtles, he also has recurring
dreams of lions playing on an Afiican beach. These dreams sustain him not
only in life, but also during the course of his quest. Sam S. Baskett suggests
the significance of the lions in terms of Isaiah’s vision of harmony-«he
"Peaceable Kingdom," depicted by Edward Hicks ("Toward a ‘Fifth Dimension’
in Ihe_0_ld_Man_and_the_§e_a" 276). This harmony is reflected in Santiago’s
relationship with nature and also serves to carry the old man’s lions "beyond
the idiosyncratic and the immediate" (277). Additionally, Baker partially
credits the significance of the lions and of Africa as memories of Santiago’s
youth. When they appear in Santiago’s dreams, he remembers and regains
some of his youthful strength and vigor. "In his old age and the time of his
suffering, Santiago is supported by the memory of his youth and the
strength of his youth. living so, in the past, he is happy" ("The Boy and the
Lions" 309). Both explanations are plausible. However, there is an additional
explanation. The night before he begins his eighty-fifth day of fishing,
Santiago sleeps and dreams of the lions. "They played like young cats in the
dusk and he loved them as he loved the boy" (22). It is the energy of his
love for the lions that sustains the old man with the emotional fuel that he
must have to continue living vitally in his old age as well as under the
extremity of his suffering and struggle on the sea. Also, the lions, like the
fish and the turtles, represent the archetype of the animal in its
undomesticated form. They possess natural, instinctual qualities of the Great

1

 

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Mother which have not been contaminated by contact with humans. Even
domestic cats have not been tamed as dogs have, but retain something of the
independence of their natural state. Santiago identifies his ability to see in
the dark when he was younger with that of a cat. Finally, in the symbolism
surrounding Sophia, the lion is a symbol of the masculine spirit which is born
out of the feminine. As such, it is a symbol of the central archetype of the
self. Because of Santiago’s feminine attitude of receptivity and love, his
masculine spirit has been, and continues to be, renewed by the spirit of the
lions. Unlike the patriarchal doctrines of Christianity which separate the
spiritual from the material world, Santiago’s spirit is renewed by the
elemental and concrete.

Santiago not only completes a successful quest, he also returns to
society with the symbol of his quest lashed to the side of his skiff.
However, the Great Mother not only provides nourishment and life, but also
dismemberment and death. The sharks which the old man encounters on his
return voyage back into society represent the terrible, devouring mother.
Santiago characterizes the sharks which destroy his fish according to the
natural moral code by which all of life is judged in Hemingway’s fiction.
Although all of the sharks contribute to the decimation of his fish and the
gradual diminution of its monetary value, all sharks are not characterized as
evil. Among the opponents in life, human or otherwise, there are degrees of
moral worth. The mako shark which attacks first has a noble, intelligent
fearlessness, which the old man respects, but the others are "hateful sharks,

bad smelling, scavengers as well as killers...." (107) The second category of

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sharks is like the Portuguese man-of-war, which, because of its illusory
beauty, Santiago calls aqua malla and thinks of as the falsest thing on the
sea. In the old man’s moral scheme, these creatures are of no value. Like
Jordan, whose expanding love does not encompass the Fascists, Santiago’s love
and regard does not extend to the false and the ignoble.

At first the old man continues to identify with his fish and when the
sharks hit, "it was as though he himself were hit" (103). He strikes back
with an equally primitive, vicious vengeance. Even in Santiago’s battle with
the sharks, his pride does not dominate his ego-consciousness, and he
maintains his sense of proportion. Santiago thinks, "The dentuso is cruel and
able and strong and intelligent. But I was more intelligent than he was.
Perhaps not, he thought. Perhaps I was only better armed" (103). When he
loses his harpoon and becomes defenseless against the coming of sharks, the
old man still does not give in to despair but lashes his knife to an oar,
making a new weapon for the fight. Later, Santiago wishes that he had
thought to chop off the marlin’s bill and transform it into a weapon with
which to fight his enemies, so that he and his fish could fight them together.
While it may not be clear to Santiago, it is clear to the reader that
Santiago’s fish has been fighting with him--providing him with the strength
and firmness of resolve that are beyond human capabilities. In spite of his
"blood mushed hands" and the pain in his back, Santiago maintains his
stature as a hero in his relentless battle with the sharks until there is

nothing left of his fish for which to fight. At no time does he give in to

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despair. When he is faced with the probability that he will have to relinquish
his fish he says, "It is silly not to hope....Besides I believe it is a sin" (104).

Although he does, indeed, lose the monetary value of his fish when the
sharks take all of the meat, at no time does he condemn the gods for his
misfortune. In fact, he stoically accepts full responsibility: "I shouldn’t have
gone out so far, fish....Neither for you nor for me. I’m sorry, fish" (110).

The old man’s stoic attitude toward his loss reflects his attitude toward
the fate or "luck" which plays such an integral part in his quest. At the
onset, Santiago considers himself to be unlucky. Later, when he catches the
greatest fish he has ever seen or heard about, it is an indication that his
luck has changed. On his return, when the sharks are depriving him of the
material value of his fish, Santiago also ascribes his misfortune to bad luck.
As a fisherman, the old man does everything he knows to do in order to
insure his luck, and what happens after he has done his part he attributes to
luck--to powers higher than human.

The concept of luck or fate is feminine, and Santiago refers to luck as
feminine. According to Neumann, the central symbol of the destiny of all
material life is "the unity of life amid the change of the seasons and the
concurrent transformation of living things" (GM 30). This is the vision
glimpsed in M, where the image of the regeneration and
transformation of nature is presented in juxtaposition to the nada of the lives
of Jake and his friends. In The Old Man and rhe Sea, the dark side of the
continual process of nature’s transformation is expressed when Santiago says,

"everything kills everything else in some way" (106). This elementary law of

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nature is symbolized in Santiago’s "defeat" by the sharks. It is also
glimpsed earlier in the story in the process of mutual eating and being eaten
of the birds and fish which Santiago passes on his way out to sea. Clearly,
laws and forces operate in the universe before which the individual is
powerless and appears inconsequential. These powers serve as reminders that
the course of one’s life is not in one’s direct control. However, amid the
competition in the struggle for survival and the apparent meaninglessness that
sometimes obscures one’s view, is the possibility for glimpsing a higher
meaning, a larger sense of purpose. As the fish hangs above Santiago’s skiff,
Santiago’s external vision is blurred, but his inner vision, like that of
Oedipus after he is blinded, receives the insight of this higher purpose.

Unlike Jake Barnes who rails against his fate of being rendered impotent
in the war, or Robert Jordan, who refuses to accept the element of luck as a
determinant in the success of his quest, Santiago accepts his destiny and his
luck without bitterness or complaint. Although it was, indeed, masculine
pride that caused him to venture out too far in his quest for a great fish,
Santiago intuitively knows that it does no good to assign blame. It is the
nature of human beings that limits are not known until they are exceeded.
when Santiago begins to think about sin and questions himself about the
ethics of killing the fish, he realizes that it is his fate to be a fisherman as
it is the fish’s fate to be a fish. The masculine attempt to assign categories
of sinfulness toward that which one is and must do is, in the end, absurd. In
the final analysis, everything can be said to be a sin in one way or another.

It is not the nature of the feminine to assign cause or to cast blame. Also,

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Santiago realizes that "Luck is a thing that comes in many forms and who
can recognize her?" (117) Who is to say what is lucky? Santiago says that
he violated his luck by going out so far. If it had not been for his luck in
catching the fish in the first place, he would not have the opportunity for
experiencing the absence of luck on his return. Again, he expresses his
humility before the unconscious, unknown.

The character of the boy serves several functions in this novella.
Wagner says that "it is the love between imperfect human beings that lies at
the core of Santiago’s experience. It is that love that redeems Santiago;
and it is that love to which he returns" ("The Poem of Santiago and
Manolin" 74). Wagner’s statement accords with Jungian reading for several
reasons. In the first place, Manolin represents the positive elementary and
transformative aspects of the feminine in his relationship to Santiago.
Manolin exhibits qualities of the elementary, nurturing aspect of the Great
Mother in the way that he feeds and cares for the old man. He not only
provides Santiago with the only food he has eaten, and bait for fishing, but
he thinks, "I must have water here for him....and soap and a good towel.
Why am I so thoughtless? I must get him another shirt and a jacket for the
winter and some sort of shoes and another blanket" (27). Also, after
Santiago’s return, it is Manolin who protects the old man from the curiosity
of others, and who weeps unashamedly because he, more than anyone, knows
what the old man has endured.

Thoughts of the boy also function to bolster Santiago’s will and resolve

during his quest. Carlos Baker has suggested that, like the lions, the boy

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represents Santiago’s youthful self and the strength which he possessed at the
boy’s age. By thinking of the boy, Santiago summons his youthful strength to
continue his struggle. As in the case of the lions, this is true, but Manolin,
like the lions, has additional significance. Santiago is connected to the boy,
as to the lions, through his heart, and it is his love for the boy which brings
fresh resolve when the old man involves his image. Also, physiologically, the
repetition of "I wish the boy were here," and "I wish I had the boy," function
as a ritual chant which not only summons images, but also regulates breathing
and calms the sympathetic nervous system. (As with Baker’s "systolic-
diastolic" movement of the heart.) This action serves to prevent fear and
despair from overpowering Santiago’s consciousness.

The boy also serves a third function. He personifies the archetype of
the child and, as such, symbolizes the beginning and the end as well as the
continuity of life. In his relationship to Santiago, the boy symbolizes the
archetype of the self. One of the essential features of the child archetype is
its futurity-the child is potential future. Santiago is not only struggling
for himself, though it is apparent that even if there were no other human
being to whom he was related Santiago would struggle bravely, but the boy
adds another dimension to his labors. The boy may, indeed, represent
Santiago’s past strength, but he also represents the continuity of Santiago’s
wisdom in the future. Like Pedro Romero in IheSun_Alse_Blses, Manolin is
a symbol of fertility and regeneration within society. He is the society to
which Santiago returns with the wisdom he has gained, as an example of what

a human being can endure. It is not insignificant that at the beginning of

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the story Manolin is a child and obeys his parents. But in the end he is man
enough to defy his parents’ wishes and to say with firm conviction, "Now we
fish together again" (125). Manolin has not physically participated in a ritual
initiation into manhood, but it is as if Santiago’s trial were his own, for he
is united with Santiago through his heart, in the true sense of "participation
mystique." Through Manolin there is expressed the futurity of the wisdom
that Santiago has gained during his heroic voyage beyond the barriers of
human convention.

Not only does Santiago, himself, personify the archetype of the self, but
also the configuration of the old man and the boy represents this archetype.
Jung says of the self:

Because of its unconscious component the self is so far removed
from the conscious mind that it can only be partially expressed by
human figures; the other part of it has to be expressed by
objective, abstract symbols. The human figures are father and son,
mother and daughter, king and queen, god and goddess.
Theriomorphic symbols are the dragon, snake, elephant, lion,
bear... (ACU 187).
Although Manolin is not literally Santiago’s son, the old man has been the
boy’s mentor since he was five, and by defying his parents’ wishes for him to
work with a conventionally successful fisherman, Manolin becomes Santiago’s
symbolic son. In this way, the wisdom which Santiago gains on his quest is

passed on to future generations.

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According to the principles of Jungian depth psychology, when a person
has become individuated, developed and brought into consciousness aspects of
the collective unconscious, that person is able to accept the full
responsibility for his or her actions. Behind the preliminary archetypes of
the shadow and the anima lies that of the wise old man. Although Santiago
expressed qualities of the wise old man at the beginning of Hemingway’s
novella, he returns, ever wiser, with the "boon" of a spiritually successful
quest embodied in the wisdom which he gained by entering the deepest
recesses of his unconscious self, by "going out too far." He has gained the
understanding of the negative, elementary character of the Great Mother,
"everything kills everything else in some way" (106). And he has also become
initiated into the transpersonal wisdom of the mystery of life: the
understanding of the unity and continuity and inherent meaning and purpose
of all life, contained within life itself, the Great Mother.

Santiago can love and hate; he combines these feminine emotions with
the masculine ability to act decisively in the world. These qualities have
enabled him to complete a successful quest and return into the societal
sphere. More than in any previous Hemingway hero, in Santiago the process
of individuation is complete. Hemingway’s novella presents the reader with
an image of the natural and societal worlds in their rightful order. Nature
and the feminine unconscious are, indeed, the realm out of which masculine
ego-consciousness and the transcendent masculine spirit have grown, not the
other way around as we have come to believe. It is Santiago’s ability to

integrate the wisdom of the feminine unconscious with his masculine ego-

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consciousness which permits the reader to glimpse momentarily that unitary
self within his or her own being. To glimpse the mystery of life is to begin
to know the error by which humans, in their overweening pride, have become
blinded. Nature and the earth and a matriarchal societal structure preceded
the patriarchal structure which now exists. Creative, spontaneous life
underlies the rigid, codified dogma which has come to replace it.

The tourists who view the remains of Santiago’s marlin represent
twentieth century "sophisticates"--many of the readers of Hemingway’s
novella--who travel through life as tourists. Tourists do not make individual
decisions nor do they experience life as it actually is, but rather they come
to know life as it is presented to them, in predigested form, by the tour
guide. Since the purpose of touring-as of many aspects of contemporary
life--is pleasure, it is certain that the tour guide does not present the client
with the unpleasant, difficult, painful aspects of life. Rather, the tourist,
like Frances in Wises, is shown only the nice, the clean, and
the pleasant. However, as Santiago’s experience shows, it is struggle and
work and suffering-endured with patience and acceptance--which may elicit
the deeper and concomitantly higher experiences which life holds in store for

those who are willing to deviate from the brochure of societal conditioning.

Chapter Five

Conclusion

Each of Hemingway’s protagonists embodies experiences expressing
different archetypal realities. Through Nick Adams, Jake Barnes, Robert
Jordan, and Santiago, Hemingway is telling particular, ephemeral tales, but he
is also describing the process of a sustained quest. The purpose of each
quest is to achieve the balance and meaning lacking in each character’s life.
Because the characters differ in age and occupation, it is natural that
difierent archetypes should emerge within their stories. The problems of
youth are different from those of age. While Robert Jordan achieves glimpses
of transcendent wholeness, only Santiago reflects a more fully individuated
personality. The wisdom that he attains is a wisdom beyond the
comprehension of young peopleusuch as Jake and Nick areuwhose primary
responsibility is the consolidation of their egos. The character of Santiago
could not have been created by the youthful Hemingway who wrote "Big Two-
Hearted River" and Ihe_Snn_Alse_Rlses. As a young writer, Hemingway must
have observed the equanimity which age may bring, but the archetypes of
wisdom and wholeness were, for him, still only possibilities. However, each
protagonist journeys along the path toward a fully developed self in the best
way he knows, and each ventures further than the last.

For Nick and Jake, whose egos are weak, the quest is to find the grail
of the nourishing water of life. Their lives are threatened with sterility from

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without and chaos from within. Searching for a center fiom which order and
meaning emanate, they are able to immerse themselves in the realm of the
primordial feminine. There they receive sustenance through nature’s
regenerative power. Nick and Jake, however, are limited in their ability to
penetrate into the unconscious. Their masculine egos are fragile and they are
afraid. Nick’s fear is symbolized by his reluctance to fish the damp, misty,
overgrown swamp. Jake’s fear is symbolized by his unwillingness to swim out
of the bay’s safety and into the boundless sea. Both men, though, have
begun the process of individuation by becoming outsiders from the collective
and by beginning the search for a truer reality than the collective masculine
persona and ego-consciousness represent.

Nick experiences regeneration. Jake gains deeper self-knowledge.
Through much of Jake’s story he is ensnared in the negative feminine because
of his anima projection on Brett. By the end of the story, though, Jake
advances further along the path toward individuation as he recognizes his own
shadow self and learns to withdraw his shadow and anima projections.
Accordingly, he is learning to accept responsibility for his state of being and
for his actions in the world. The archetype of the self, the center of
wholeness, is represented by fishing and the fish in both stories. It is
through the ritual of fishing, which combines both masculine and feminine
attributes, that Nick and Jake experience renewal. In W the
archetype of self is also personified by Pedro Romero, the bullfighter with

true afficion. Images of wholeness, while not predominant in this novel, are

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also glimpsed in the fields of wheat through which the train carrying
Vincente Girones’ body moves, and in the spectacle of the bullfight itself.

Robert Jordan, at the outset of W1; has already
incorporated elements of his anima’s uniting function into consciousness. He
intuitively understands his connection with, and his responsibility for, his
fellow human beings. However, in spite of his masculine skill and courage in
carrying out his quest of blowing the bridge, Jordan is beset by fears. He
fears bondage in the feminine through his growing relationships with the
people on the mountain. Finally, though, it is through his relationships that
he experiences deeper and concomitantly higher aspects of the unconscious.
Through his love for Maria, Jordan is able to experience moments of eternity.
In Jordan’s consciousness, masculine and feminine briefly unite as he sends
his spirit off with Maria. At the novel’s end, Jordan understands the wisdom
of the wise old man and the self, as he endeavors to remain conscious to
slow the Fascist soldiers’ progress.

The symbolic configuration of the old man and the child is the
predominant image of the "great round" expressing wholeness in W
angl_th_e_Sea. Just as the old symbolize the completion which youth alone
lacks, so also, youth is the necessary counterpart for the aged. Together
they form an image of the archetype of the self. From the beginning,
Santiago illustrates a remarkably individuated personality. He does not need
to project his shadow impulses or his anima outward on others, he accepts

the responsibility for his own state of being. Within him, the masculine and

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the feminine work together to produce a transcendent understanding of the
meaning of life beyond the realm of opposites.

As do other Hemingway protagonists, Santiago wins and loses. However,
Santiago is not defeated. Instead, he is renewed through his connection with
the archetype of the self, totemically embodied in the giant, noble marlin.
The experience of the self is ineffable; it may not be directly conveyed: the
skeleton of the old man’s fish is the only means by which others may
understand what he has endured. This wisdom is passed on to Manolin
through the boy’s eartig'patieerysthue with his shamman. In Santiago,
Hemingway portrays a man who is old and who faces death with the wisdom,
the mystical understanding and acceptance, that life and death are,
paradoxically, but different sides of the same coin. Santiago completes the
quest that Nick began in Michigan thirty years before. Santiago departs from
his community, becomes initiated into the mysteries of the Great Mother, and
returns to his fellow human beings as an example of what a human being can
endure.

In his art Hemingway contrasts the sterility of the collective realm of
the fathers with regenerative images and symbols of the primordial feminine
which are so little valued in the patriarchal context. Hemingway’s heroes do
not succumb to complete uroboric regression in the feminine. (Even though
Jake becomes ensnared, he redeems himself by the novel’s end.) Nick Adams,
Robert Jordan, and Santiago, are masculinely active as they pursue their
quests. However, there are times when they become passively receptive to

the feminine: while fishing, in the bullfight, while making love, and in going

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out too far beyond all other human beings and becoming hooked. By so
doing, each man penetrates his feminine unconscious as deeply as he is
capable and brings into consciousness a deeper wisdom.

The archetypal configurations in each of Hemingway’s fictions show
that artistically Hemingway was able to integrate increasingly deeper portions
of the collective unconscious into his work. His protagonists reflect a
growing harmony of the psyche’s two-fold aspect. Where Nick is afraid to
fish the swamp, and Jake, to swim out to sea, Santiago goes beyond all
human limits in the pursuit of his great fish. Also, while Nick and Jake
experience only glimpses of the unconscious uniting factor of the self,
Santiago embodies the archetype of the self within his own being. In his
pride and humility, Santiago has achieved what Nick set out to do. He has
found the center of his spiritual being in the depths of the primordial
feminine’s transcendent wisdom. Robert Jordan also gains a unified
understanding expressing both conscious and unconscious wisdom before he
dies, but he does not live to carry his newly born wisdom back into the
societal sphere, as does Santiago.

Although the protagonists’ consciousness in the fictions studied show
increasing balance, those who are able to attain and to live a life
characterized by psychic wholeness are primarily "primitive" people who have
not been "corrupted"-made complicated—by becoming excessively "civilized."
Santiago is a "primitive" as are the Spanish people whom Jordan loves. It is
"primitive" Pedro Romero who represents the higher self in Jake’s story.
While Hemingway’s works reveal that he was able to plumb the depths of the

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unconscious, his work also implicitly suggests that it is the consciousness of
simple, "primitive" people which is capable of attaining and maintaining the
transcendent wisdom of which he writes.

The psychic complexity of Hemingway’s "civilized" characters, in his
short stories and in other novels, appears to preclude their living out visions
of a truly centered self. Frederic Henry abandons masculine activity for
unselfconscious feminine passivity in AW. His rejection of
life after Catherine’s death marks the extent of his ensnarement in the
negative feminine. Francis McComber in "The Short Happy Life of Francis
McComber," and Harry, in the "The Snows of Kilimanjaro," both die after
attaining momentary visions of completeness. Harry Morgan in Ie_l:laye_ane
Haye__l~_let is one of Hemingway’s "primitive" characters but he is also an
American. Harry dies too, and before he dies he utters the vision of unity--
"a man alone ain’t got no fucking chance"-which he has not been able to
achieve during his lifetime. It is Harry’s vision which Robert Jordan is able
to fulfill in Spain. Jordan also dies after experiencing transcendence with
Maria. Finally, Colonel Cantwell accepts the vision of the round fullness
encompassing the oppositesuthat death is a natural part of lifeubefore he
dies. It is not evident, however, that he achieved this vision in his life.
Even Santiago’s return to society is ambiguous. Critics are divided about
whether Santiago will live to fish again with Manchu.

It is sufficient that through his art Hemingway has created the
counterpole which balances the predominant masculinity "In Our Time." For

contemporary human beings, living in isolation from their deepest instincts

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and emotions, the portrayal of a simple fisherman’s struggle to attain his
goals and to survive in the process is a credible antidote to the sterility of
modern life. Just as the cast of Faulkner’s "negro" characters furnishes the
antithesis of his imperiled, white Southern men and women, so, also
Hemingway’s "primitives"-Spanish bullfighters, Spanish guerrilla fighters and
a Cuban fisherman--serve to complete the archetype of wholeness which is
missing in twentieth century Western life.

The central symbolism of feminine growth and transformation, death and
destruction-«he cyclic pattern of nature herself-exists in Hemingway’s
works. Erich Neumann says, "Where growth and transformation are governed
by the Feminine, they often appear in the tragic aspect of transience. The
individual passes and his death is as nothing in view of the unchanging
abundance of renascent life" (GM 53-4). Neumann reminds us that there are
two halves of the "cosmic egg." In addition to the dark earthly half which
beckons downward toward mortality and the earth, there exists a
transformation upward, toward immortality and the heavens. Images of the
dark, earthly mortality of the earth are predominant in Hemingway’s early
works. While these images are preponderant in his later works as well, in
W and Ihe_Qld_MalLand_the_Sea there is the hint of
an upward movement--particularly in the altered states of consciousness which
both Jordan and Santiago experience. Hemingway’s continuing popularity
illustrates that the soul and spirit of contemporary people are hungry to
experience the images of feminine birth, death, regeneration, as well as

unified transcendence, which his art conveys.

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Before concluding, I shall briefly examine the most recently published
Hemingway novel, W. As the novel’s mythic title suggests,
it is fertile ground for archetypes. In this published version, which E. L
Doctorow calls Hemingway’s "radically weeded garden" because of massive cuts
from the original, Hemingway returns to many of the conflicts and motifs
expressed in previous fictions. In "Elephant Hunt in Eden: A Study of New
and Old Myths and Other Strange Beasts in Hemingway’s Garden," Robert
Gajdusek suggests that one reason Hemingway may have withheld the novel’s
publication is "it too overtly reuses the themes, metaphors and devices of the
other works" (14). Of the works examined in this study, Ihe_Qarden_e£_E_den
most reflects W. As in the early novel, the archetypes of
the shadow and the anima and animus are dominant. W in
addition, focuses on the process of writing through which the archetype of
the self may be reached. Instead of bullfighting, war, and fishing as
activities which unite the opposites and actualize the self, writing becomes
the method whereby David Bourne, the novel’s hero, attains psychic balance
within himself. In "Mimesis and Metafiction in Hemingway’s W
Eden," Robert B. Jones points out that W is a story about
the writing of a story, projecting the illusion of creating itself" (12). The
self-conscious portrayal of the writing process as a means of creating both
"reality" and the "self" is what sets this novel apart from the rest of
Hemingway’s fictions.

The archetype of the heroic journey from unselfconsciousness to

greater self awareness is developed in the two initiations David Bourne

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undergoes. As his name suggests, David is reborn: on two occasions he must
abandon the innocence and bliss of immersion in unselfconscious trust and
uroboric containment, and through the loneliness and suffering entailed by
separation, develop increased understanding and integration of his inner
being.

At first David appears idyllically happy and "in love" with Catherine.
He is uroborically contained in the paradise of their life together. Together
they form the completeness which David, alone, lacks. However, there is a
flaw. David is divided between his love for Catherine and his desire to
write. He temporarily compromises the two aspects of his life by complying
with Catherine’s insistence that he write the narrative of their honeymoon.
Catherine’s jealousy over David’s writing grows and threatens the perfection
of their union. When their "garden" begins to collapse, David falls in love
with Marita.

Both women represent anima projections. At the outset, David is as
unselfconscious about his relationships as he tries to be self-conscious about
his writing. He does not really love either Catherine or Marita. He loves
himself as he sees himself reflected in them. David’s suffering over
Catherine’s "demise" is very real. (Just as his suffering over the killing of
his elephant is real.) But when Catherine’s hostility to his African story
becomes obsessive, she becomes a tarnished idol. It is not only Catherine’s
"craziness" which leads David, finally, to tell her that he would like to kill

her, but her rejection and destruction of the only part of himself that he

I

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truly values. David’s Adamic innocence in his relationship with Catherine
reveals the psychology of an adolescent boy.

Maria von Franz addresses the problem of men who are still adolescents
in her work, EueLAerernes. She makes some interesting observations about a
particular personality configuration characterized as the "eternal youth."
David Bourne possesses some of the attributes von Franz discusses. First of
all, she says that the man who is identified with the archetype of the puer
aeternus has remained an adolescent for too long. This prolonged state of
adolescence shows an inordinate dependence upon the mother, not on a
particular personal mother but on an ideal woman. One of the characteristic
disturbances of such a man is "Don-Juanism":

The image of a mothernthe image of the perfect woman who will
give everything to a man and who is without any shortcomings--is
sought in every woman. He is looking for a mother goddess, so
that each time he is fascinated by a woman he has later to
discover that she is an ordinary human being....He eternally longs
for the maternal woman who will enfold him in her arms and
satisfy his every need (1-2).

David’s anima projections on Catherine and Marita fit this description.
Together they form the dual anima figure—light and dark, child-like and
matemaluto which Jung so often refers. At first, David’s anima is captivated
by Catherine so that he can "do" nothing, not even write. He submits to
her will in everything: becoming the "woman" in their love making, having
his physical appearance altered so that he looks like her, and finally, sharing

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his wife sexually with a woman. Truly David is "ensnared" in the anima
image he has projected on Catherine, and he cannot will his release. Even
when David falls in love with Marita, who is the antithesis of Catherine, he
is following Catherine’s script. However, in contrast to Catherine’s active
animus qualities, which have caused him deep psychic division, Marita
personifies the elementary aspect of the feminine. Accordingly, his anima
projection changes from Catherine to Marita who truly does "enfold him in
her arms and satisfy his every need." Marita has no needs or interests apart
from David’s and, of utmost importance, she loves his writing and is more
protective of it than is David himself. She reflects what he most values.
And so, in the end, it is Marita and David who form a new union.

Additional qualities of the puer aeternus are naivete, idealism, and
sentimentality. von Franz says that these qualities often attract people who
take advantage of them. This is the case with Catherine, whose active
animus is attracted to David because she can manipulate him through his
naive, romantic "feminine" nature. Catherine’s animus desires to control and
to dominate their relationship and David’s art. In the process, David lacks
masculine will and resolution. Why is David so passive? Frank Scafella, in
"Clippings from W" explains David’s behavior by revealing
that in the holograph for the novel David’s strong desire to make Catherine
happy and whole again (just as he had wished his elephant to be brought
back to life), is left out of the published novel (28). It is David’s naive
belief that Catherine can be made whole again which causes his complicity in

her fantasies. However, by passively submitting to Catherine’s will, David is

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fueling her growing psychic disintegration and the concomitant destruction of
himself. (If David were truly individuated, Catherine could not destroy
him unless he allowed himself to be so.) David’s naivete and his
vulnerability to women is no secret to his women. Catherine knows that she
can manipulate him and knows that in part he enjoys it. Marita says, "Poor
David. What women do to you" (140). David is not a man, he is a youth. It
is in that light that his romanticism and sentimentality, his search for the
perfect anima "mirror" to complete his wholeness, may be understood.

The archetype of the shadow emerges in Catherine’s increasing psychic
division as her masculine animus comes to dominate her personality.
Doctorow has suggested that Catherine is one of Hemingway’s most impressive
women characters, and certainly, she is one of the most complex. Catherine
vacillates between loving and hating her husband. Contrasting images of light
and dark depict her physical appearance and reflect her inner division.
Increasingly, Catherine’s unconscious animus arises through the shadow
leaving a trail of psychic disintegration within herself and David. David calls
Catherine "Devil" and, indeed, Catherine’s "possession" by her inferior animus
can be read as possession by "evil spirits" as she comes to personify the
shadow figure of the devil. In Western cultures, the devil figure bears all
the qualities that are part of the shadow. He tempts, deceives, lies, and
destroys. It is the devil who brings shame and guilt, and who undermines all
that is held sacred. The devil is a perfect scapegoat—a figure on which to
project all of one’s own inferior qualities. As Catherine’s hair becomes

lighter, her skin and her inner being grow darker. She tells David early in

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the story, "I’m going to destroy you" (5). As Jones suggests, Catherine
undermines David sexually and artistically. Sexually, she insists that they
switch sex roles, artistically, she demands that if he is going to write, it
must be their honeymoon narrative.

Catherine’s "madness" personifies not only her own shadow, but also the
negative feminine in David’s psyche. David’s shadow is elicited by
Catherine’s behavior. Arguments between the pair center on his writing. As
Catherine becomes increasingly hostile and negative, David grows increasingly
fearful, anxious, and finally enraged over her destructive behavior. The nadir
of the negative feminine reached through his shadow is reached when he
discovers the ashes of his stories. When mild-mannered David tells Catherine
that he would like to kill her, he shows the depth of his destructive rage.

The only means for David to exercise masculine control is through his
writing. As Catherine manipulates their life together, thereby manipulating
the honeymoon narrative, David withdraws into that "cold, hard place" within
himself that cannot be touched by anything outside. By refusing to continue
the honeymoon narrative, David begins to will his release from Catherine’s
domination.

Through his writing, which embodies the masculine and the feminine,
David is able to transcend his anguish and the increasing ambiguity of his
feelings for Catherine. Just as other Hemingway heros follow precise rituals
in the performance of their occupations, David follows specific rituals for
writing. David accords feminine luck her place in the writing process, but he

masculinely imposes order on that which he can control: having five

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sharpened pencils on hand, leaving off in a place where the writing can begin
easily the next day, replacing his writing materials where they belong, not
drinking until after he has worked, etc. Instead of the honeymoon narrative,
David journeys into the past and begins creating the story of his first
initiation into self-consciousness.

David’s writing of his early childhood experience is the key which
explains his character and actions as an adult. In the darkness of a jungle
night, David experiences the magical wonder, the true numinosity, of a huge,
old, bull elephant with two huge ivory tusks. He is enchanted by the
elephant and follows it to make certain of its wholeness--he has seen its left
tusk and wishes to see its right one, too. In his excitement, David runs
back to the shamba and tells his game-hunting father. By doing so he
betrays the elephant to his father. David’s father sets out in pursuit of the
beast because of its tusks’ monetary value. What begins as a wish to please
his father, turns into the opposite: he and his father become estranged.

In recounting his journey with his father and Juma into the depths of
the primordial African jungle, David reveals his increasing identification with
the elephant. When he sees the bones of his elephant’s friend that the great
elephant had visited, and when he learns that Juma killed his elephant’s
friend--the other part of itself--his identification becomes complete.
Accordingly, his attitude toward his father begins to change. Unlike Santiago
who must kill in order to live, David’s father does not need the money which
the elephant’s ivory tusks will bring. For him the ritual of hunting is

debased to a business. For David, there is no justification for killing the

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elephant-4t is a "profane" act, violating the "sacredness" of his feelings for
the great beast. Yet David feels guilt and shame for having betrayed it.
There is nothing, however, for him to do but to continue with his father and
Juma. When at last the animal is killed-and there is much detail regarding
the blood which is spilled into the earth-David knows that he can never
trust his father nor can his father trust him.

In a moment of "epiphany" the elephant becomes his hero, as his father
had been. von Franz says the elephant is a symbol of individuation and in
ancient times it was associated with the medicine man, as the possessor of
"secret knowledge" (15). David’s first glimpse of the wonder and mystery of
life is represented by the mythic elephant in the first mythical garden. With
the elephant as his hero, David experiences a shift of consciousness. He
becomes alienated from his father and the masculine realm of "the fathers."
His allegiance shifts to the feminine realm, symbolized by the Great Mother’s
creature, the great bull elephant. Unlike "Santiago’s totomic reception of the
spirit of his fish, David’s negativity prevents the elephant’s spirit from
"entering" his being. Although his father kills this symbolic figure of
individuation, David is also to blame. David betrayed his "brother" the
elephant to the hunters.

As Scaffella suggests, David’s guilt and remorse in hunting the elephant
translate into his relationship with Catherine. In this numinous relationship,
too, he has glimpsed the possibility for integration and wholeness. But as
with the elephant, he experiences instead guilt, shame, and remorse as he

accepts complicity in the "evil" schemes which express Catherine’s psychic

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disintegration. Also, David’s alienation from his father and his bonding with
the Great Mother explain his inordinate passivity with Catherine. His
childhood experiences explain his captivity in the feminine, and his resultant
impotence.

David has created the African story out of his present suffering. By
destroying the story which expresses, through his past experience, his lost
hopes for his fulfillment with Catherine, Catherine destroys any possibility for
continuing their relationship. With Catherine, David has become the prey, as
his elephant once had been. Once again David experiences betrayal, only this
time it is he who is betrayed. David does not submit to defeat, though, but
attempts to exorcise his suffering through his art.

Marita performs her traditional feminine function as she takes care of
David and shields him from his pain. With Marita, David is able to
experience again the sense of wholeness lacking in his life since the African
experience. Unlike Catherine, Marita understands the mystery which his
writing is. She loves what David loves most about himself. With Marita
David feels a sense of hope that together they may share the wholeness that
he has never been able to share with another-his art and himself.

As Jones points out, David is not the only hero in W.
Catherine experiences heroic proportions when she leaves David, refusing to
destroy him any further. Catherine’s actions can be understooduand David,
too, understands but is not able to do anything about it--in the context of
her desire to create. Her animus wishes to write or to paint but says that

she cannot. Catherine considers her procreative function and becomes upset

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when she has not become pregnant. Next to David’s, her life is meaningless.
From a Jungian point of view Catherine’s "madness" is caused by unconscious
contents trying to manifest in consciousness. Her "symptoms" are signals that
her animus demands to become recognized and integrated into consciousness.
This integration, however, only finds expression in manipulation of David’s
life and art. Since she cannot create art, she works at creating an
innovative life for herself and David. But Catherine is obsessive. Her
growing lack of control expresses the chaotic state which earlier Hemingway
protagonists fought within themselves. But where the male characters were
able to protect themselves against total regression into madness, Catherine is
not able to will herself to come back from her regressions into the
unconscious.

In Ihe_Qar_den_ef_Eg_en Hemingway expresses the tension of the
creative process in the production not only of art but of the artist’s self.
Creating the painful story of his past, David concomitantly creates himself in
the present; his writing brings order into the chaos of life. By living and
reliving, creating and recreating, experiences entailing suffering and
alienation, David is learning to accept the dark as well as the light, the
unconscious shadow of shame and fear as well as the anima’s mystery and
wonder. Through the process he grows in the understanding of his father and
begins to reclaim his masculine identity. Through David’s relationship with
Marita, Hemingway also presents the image of wholeness and regeneration of
David and a "feminine" woman, one who will not compete with him but who

respects and can live in harmony with his art and himself.

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Hemingway’s art is complex and ambiguous. In W
Hemingway is examining the mystery which masculine and feminine
relationships have held from the beginning. It is the hieros gamos, the union
of masculine and feminine, conscious and unconscious, heaven and earth,
which symbolizes the wholeness which one component alone lacks. In the
contemporary world, traditional sex role distinctions are breaking down and
individuals must learn to create new definitions through the working out of
relationships in their own lives. The process is not easy and suffering is
entailed.

Similarly, while the artist creates with the material of his own
experience, he or she, without losing the integrity of the experience, actually
recreates and redefines "reality," imbuing it with a multi-dimensional aspect.
Imagination can be more "real" than "real life." But only when it is balanced
by order and control. When imagination is not balanced by discipline, it can
become destructive as with Catherine. Hemingway does not pretend to
answer questions raised by the complexity of life in the twentieth century.
Instead of didactically presenting clear cut instances of good and evil, reality
and illusion, masculine and feminine, freedom and destiny, he creates
situations through which people may begin to question the limiting "realities"
which imprison them in the narrow confines of their own "undigested"
experience. David Bourne, in the fashion of a true Hemingway hero, is not
destroyed by his experience. Rather, he stoically faces the challenge of
rebuilding what he has lost. In rewriting his story, David creates a truer

version than the original.

264

The process of closely examining Hemingway’s texts, coaxing out the
complexity of the images and symbols, characters and settings, which
represent underlying archetypes has been both frustrating and rewarding.
Even at the outset I had faith that Hemingway’s art would contain the
archetypal representations for which I was looking. However, the patterns
did not always emerge easily or clearly. Just as it is difficult to withdraw
shadow and anima/animus projections in life, so also it is difficult to
withdraw projections fiom engagement in creative texts. Jung accorded his
differences with Freud to their different personality types. It very well
might be that a different student employing the same methodology would
arrive at different conclusions from the ones I have reached. But the
possibility for varying interpretations only supports the richness of the
method.

It seems to me that the application of Jungian archetypal analysis is a
fertile field for further study. While there already exists a rich body of
Hemingway criticism, other Hemingway texts could be studied from a Jungian
point of view and it would be interesting to note their archetypal contents in
comparison with the ones I have done. Additionally, a Jungian approach
could be used with the works of other authors. While this method has
already been used with several authors’ works, many more would benefit from
deep psychological probing. Jungian studies are not the definitive way to
read a text. But this approach does offer an alternative which provides
insights supportive of extant readings as well as being supplemental to them.

When added to the corpus of extant criticism it adds a further dimension to

265

the imaginative work’s "reality," particularly by focusing on the archetypal
feminine and on the process of individuation which the archetypal
configurations reveal.

Hemingway’s works point to the requirement of life today that each
individual become a hero, searching for, and finding within one’s self, the
water of life, which is no longer provided a priori within the larger societal
context. In a patriarchal culture, symbols of the feminine are not highly
regarded; however, in a matriarchal system, the opposite is true: the value
of nature, and of nature as symbol, is not denigrated but upheld, for the
highest, most essential mysteries of the feminine are symbolized by the earth
and its continual transformation. This is the wisdom for which the modern
soul searches. Just as the outer husk surrounding the seed must rot and
become part of the soil in order to be nourished by the rain and the sun, to
grow into a tree which itself flowers and bears fi'uit, so too the development
of human consciousness must, in part, shed its identification with the world
of ego-consciousness, and descend into the womb of the unconscious--there to
become imbued with the wisdom of the feminine-4n order to return to the
conscious state embodying the wisdom of the feminine as well as the
masculine.

The wisdom of the feminine teaches that the universe is a unified
tapestry and that all are meaningful, integral parts. Replacing the masculine
concept of life as a "life and death struggle for survival" is the image of a
"cosmic dance"-an image as primitive as the first human cultures-given new

life by contemporary physicists’ observations of sub-atomic particles. From

266

this point of view it is impossible to do anything to others or to nature
without also affecting ourselves. The masculine ego’s attitude of competition,
of dividing the world into subject and object, friend and enemy, us and them,
which has for so long prevailed, must become tempered with this feminine
wisdom in order for the earth to survive in this age of potential nuclear
warfare.

As ominous as the planes are to the Republicans on the mountain in Eer
Where rhe Bell fl'ells, the threat of total annihilation confronts all humankind
today, uniting people the world over in Pilar’s caldron from which we cannot
will our escape. From the Jungian perspective the only hope for the
continuation of life on earth lies within the individual, in the psychological
realm. Through the process of individuation, the modern hero, "everyperson,"
may confront the unique problem of contemporary life which is to bring
meaning into one’s life through relatedness--by descending into the
unconscious, liberating the archetypes which slumber there, and integrating
one’s inborn wisdom into consciousness. This is not an active, masculine
process, rather it is a matter of submitting to or of being openly receptive to
that in ourselves which is not "1." Through this process the individual
transcends the ego and establishes bonds with life forms and events outside
the realm of ego consciousness. It is the wisdom of the heart, of eros, which
is sorely lacking in contemporary life. Hemingway’s novels lead the reader,
to realize the archetype of wholeness which each contains within the deepest

recesses of the self.

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