A WOMAN CALLED FRANK SONU SHAMDASANI A feminine icon stands at the head of Jung’s Transformations and Symbols of the Libido, presiding over the birth of Analytical Psychology. If we were to place her on a memory dais, we would perhaps have, roaming the back wards, The Mad Miss Miller, a moth that longed for the sun, straightjacketed in a diagnosis of schizophrenia. In this paper, on the basis of historical research, I wish to re-stage and re-dress this figure, believing that how we imagine such an icon plays a crucial role in guiding and inform- ing how we read the text and hence in figuratively shaping the Jungian imagination and the vestments of our lives. To date, historical readings of Jung's 1912 Transformations and Symbols of the Libido and the revised 1952 Symbols of Transfor- mation have framed the text(s) in terms of the unstitching of the Freud-Jung relationship and the development of Jung’s method- ology.' Such a framing is encouraged by Jung’s account of its writ- ing in his preface to the revised version. There he describes how the whole book came upon him like a landslide or an explosion of all the psychic contents that found no breathing-space in the narrowness of Freudian psychology. Furthermore, “its imperfec- tions and incompleteness” laid down the program he was to follow for the next few decades of his life. Jung, however, also highlighted the role of Frank Miller, its heroine, by writing that “the whole thing is really only asomewhat extended commentary on a ‘prac- tical’ analysis of the prodromal stages of schizophrenia. The symp- toms of the case form the Ariadne thread to guide us through the labyrinth of symbolistic parallels. ’? In his preface to the 1924 edi- tion, Jung added this remarkable news:A WOMAN CALLED FRANK 27 Extremely valuable confirmation reached me in 1918 through an American colleague who was treating Miss Miller for the schizophrenic disturbance which had broken out after her sojourn in Europe. He wrote to say that even personal ac- quaintance with the patient had not taught him “one iota more” about her mentality. This confirmation led me to con- clude that my reconstructions of the semi-conscious and un- conscious fantasy processes had evidently hit the mark in all essential respects.3 It is astonishing that Frank Miller, as if buried under the land- slide of the violent eruption of the text(s), has not been signifi- cant in any study to date—despite the fact that she provoked the longest case study and ‘Portrait of a Lady’ in the collection of Jung’s works. Are we to view the figure of Frank Miller as an ac- cessory draped around the body of the text—a scarf, a stocking, a cape, or a lingering perfume—that has not been worthy of serious consideration? Have we lost Jung’s Ariadne, who guided him through the labyrinth? Those of us who are involved in the Jungian enterprise have had the figures of our lives shaped and fashioned by Jung's “‘Im- ago Miller)’ inasmuch as we wear or have worn the myth of the heroic battle for deliverance from the Mother that Jung coutured out of Frank Miller's creations. Our lives have been an “Imitatio” of his tailoring of her case, an imitative elaboration of her strug- gle with the realm of the Mothers, her Night Sea Journey, and at- tempt at Rebirth—an acting out of the text(s). Thus a wounded or poorly dressed image of Frank Miller may have had dire ef- fects on the Jungian psyche, as Jung often claimed was the case with poorly imaged figures. To address this issue, we may turn to Jung's 1925 seminar, where he spoke candidly of her pivotal role in his imagination.* Jung said that, in the midst of his mythological studies, he came upon the Miller fantasies, which acted like a catalyst on all the ma- terial he had gathered, and that in Frank Miller he saw someone like himself, who had mythological fantasies. He recounts how it took him several years to see through the fantasy of objectivity in which he had written the book, to realize that the book described his unconscious processes, of which he gave the following account:28 SONU SHAMDASANI She took over my fantasy and became stage director to it She became an anima figure. . . a carrier of an inferior func- tion of which I was very little conscious. 1 was in my con- sciousness an active thinker accustomed to subjecting my thoughts to the most rigorous sort of direction; therefore fan- tasy was a mental process that was directly repellent to me. As a form of thinking I held it to be altogether impure, a sort of incestuous intercourse, thoroughly imimoral from an intel- lectual point of view. . . . It shocked me to think of the pos- sibility of a fantasy life in my own mind . . . and so great was my resistance to it, that | could only admit the fact in myself through the process of projecting my material into Miss Miller's, Or to put it even more strongly, passive thinking seemed to be such a weak and perverted thing that I could only handle it through a diseased woman, As a matter of fact, Miss Miller did afterwards become entirely deranged. . . . I had to realise then that in Miss Miller I was analyzing my own fantasy function, which because so repressed, like hers was semi-morbid.* Jung further added: “One of the most important influences was that | elaborated Miss Miller’s morbidity into myths in a way sat- isfactory to myself, and so | assimilated the Miller side of myself which did me much good.’”¢ In this crucial passage, Jung claims that at this time it was Frank Miller who was his anima, and it was through this projection that his realization concerning the autonomy of fantasy came about. Astonishingly, Jung's statement that it was Frank Miller who was his anima at this crucial moment has not been taken into account in any study of his work. To repeat, Jung Goes not say that the anima figure through whom he realized the autonomy of fantasy was Toni Wolff, Sabina Spielrein, Emma Jung, or Maria Moltzer,” but Frank Miller, and that it was she who was the stage director of his fantasy. trange that Jung’s depictidn of his shift away from the prej- udice against fantasy stemming from an instrumental view of rea- son should be clasped with an equal prejudice against women. Jung, who had done so much to,counter the view of schizophrenia as a disease process, describes Frank Miller as a “morbid,” “‘dis-z a A WOMAN CALLED FRANK 29 eased,” and “deranged” woman. Are we to view Frank Miller as a featureless dressmaker’s dummy upon whom Jung embroidered his elaborate mythological designs? How much do such appella- tions rightfully belong to her and how.much to Jung’s mad anima? Did Jung have any ethical qualms about writing his study ofa living person whom he had never met and of subsequently revealing her breakdown? To begin with, the latter did in fact appear to be the case, In a footnote in Transformations and Symbols of the Libido, which was omitted from the revised version, Jung writes: 1 would not conceal that for a while | remained doubtful within myself whether I should dare to disclose analytically the private affairs which the authoress, through a certain unselfishness in the face of scientific interest, had handed over to the general public. But I said to myself that the authoress would have to put up with a more penetrating understanding, as well as the objections of the criticism. One of course always puts something at risk when one exposes oneself to the general public. My total lack of personal ties with Miss Miller allowed me free speech; at the same time it absolved me from everything one would owe a lady in terms of courtesy—which does affect the course of reasoning. The personality of the author is to me therefore jus shadowy as her phantasies. I have, like Ulysses at one point, taken care only to let th shadow drink so much blood as to make it speak so that it might disclose some secrets of the Underworld. Not, however, that I took pleasure in extracting private affairs from strangers SO as to put the object of my conjectures in the pillory, but because I wished to demonstrate her individual secret as uni- versally valid. For that reason I took up the task of this analy- sis for which the authoress perhaps gives me little thanks.* iS In this violent passage, Jung teleologically justifies the sacrifice of Frank Miller's privacy through the nobility of his aim.? To explore the questions just raised, we need to find out who her psychiatrist was. Fortunately, on 13 December 1955, Michael Fordham wrote to Aniela Jaffé on behalf of the editors of The Col- lected Works, requesting from Jung the name of Frank Miller’s30 SONU SHAMDASANI psychiatrist and of the institution where she was certified, They hoped to include whatever material could be found in The Col- lected Works.’® Anicla Jaffe replied that unfortunately Jung could not remember his name but added that he thought it might be better not to publish anything due to medical discretion, as she might still be alive"! Meanwhile Fordham’s letter crossed with a letter written on 17 December by a Dr. Katzenellenbogen, who had written out of the blue to Jung and closed his letter with the following sentence: “Many years ago in relation to ‘the Way of the libido’ I related to you that the authoress of the account, Miss Miller, was at that time a patient of mine at Danvers State Hospital. My diagnosis from the examination of the living person has fully and entirely con- firmed the intuitive analysis of the authoress solely on the ground of her brochure. This I brought to your attention at the time,"!* Jung thought the archetypes were at work; he gave Fordham the go-ahead to contact Katzenellenbogen and find out what he could and even wanted to cite this episode as further proof of his theory of synchronicity.'* In the course of investigations car- ried out by the editors of The Collected Works, her hospital records were retrieved. Katzenellenbogen was commissioned to write a study comparing Frank Miller and Jung’s book, which unfortu- nately was never written.'* The nearest we have to it are recollec- tions of the deep impression that she made on him with her intelligence and culture, scattered through letters of his that I recovered, Furthermore, the material the editors retrieved from Danvers was incomplete, lacking her commitment papers, impor- tant correspondence, and a crucial illustrated document announc- ing her lectures. A reading of her psychiatric file is likely to be suspended by a series of three questions. What was her real name? Was Jung so astonishingly correct in his analysis of her? What else does it reveal to us about Frank Miller, the great Ur-case of Jungian psychology? Jungian readings have taken the name of Frank Miller as a pseudonym. However, nowhere in Jung's original book or her own piece is there any indication that her name was a sham, except perhaps for the improbability of a ‘woman called Frank. Signifi- cantly, Jung only claimed it was a pseudonym in the preface to the 1924 edition, when he raised the curtain on her breakdown."= a A WOMAN CALLED FRANK 31 In her hospital records, reviews of her lectures, and in poems and essays of hers that I found, her name is given as Frank Miller. Could the first name have been a nickname for Frances perhaps? I located her birth certificate, which~states that on 11 July 1878 a female child was born to Frank and Bessie Miller in Mobile, Ala- bama.'* Disappointingly, this gave no trace of her name. However, I located the Alabama State census for 1880,!7 which gives her name as—Frank Miller.'® Though she appears not to have gone under a pseudonym, she did feminize her name. When she registered at the Universities of Berlin, Geneva, and Lausanne, studying literature and philos- ophy, she signed under the name of Franceska, which introduces an irreducible doubling into her signature. !? Perhaps one should write from now on Frank/Franceska Miller. The question of her proper name has already begun to ruffle the collar of the traditional Jungian narrative. We now come to the issue of her breakdown, as told to Jung by Katzenellenbogen, which, after the savaging Jung’s book received at the hands of the Freudians, must have been seen as somewhat of a vindication. The diagnosis reads ‘‘Psychopathic personality, with hypomanic traits.” Her family history is given as “bad.” She is described as being of “unstable temperament,’ ‘‘erotic,” ‘‘vain,’ and “inclined to be talkative’’ The prognosis for the hypomania is given as “good,” for the psychopathic personality, “‘very bad.’?? The diagnosis seems somewhat at variance with what we had been led to suspect. Perhaps we should now look at her speech— what disturbances, delusions, and deformations does it reveal? What does Frank Miller herself have to say about her situation? She stated that ... She was perfectly willing to stay in hospital providing some man whom she could trust would tell her that she was insane and that she needed to be here, but that she was sent here under promise of being sent to a private sanatorium for a rest as that was all that she needed, She was not insane and thought that she had not been treated right in being sent to hospital The patient said that she was nervous and run down and needed a rest and also some treatment for stomach trouble with which she had suffered for some time. There are no hal-32 SONU SHAMDASANI lucinations or delusions. Consciousness is clear and apprehen- sion is unclouded.?4 The admitting psychiatrist turns out to be none other than Charles Ricksher, Jung’s former colleague at the Burgholzli. Frank Miller appears far from being a raving maniac—lucid, clear, and defending her rights as a woman, indignant at being placed, as well she might, in a state mental asylum against her will and without her knowledge. What's more, she was discharged. after just a week, to her aunt, who promised to take her to a private sanatorium,’? There are no immediate signs that she spent the rest of her life as a bedraggled waif, roaming the back wards of an insane asylum The diagnosis of psychopathy at this time in the Boston area has been studied by Elizabeth Lunbeck in an article entitled “A New Generation of Women: Progressive Psychiatrists and the Hypersexual Female.’?} She notes that the diagnosis of psycho- pathy was overwhelmingly applied to young women who were the first to live on their own in cities and to achieve a limited free- dom to spend and associate with whom they pleased. Their emer- gent expression of sexuality and independence which transgressed social norms was enough for them to be branded as immoral and thereby institutionalized. Their aspirations were usually ridiculed by psychiatrists. The immediate events leading to Frank Miller’s hospitalization bear out this portrait The third question—what else does the material tell us about Frank Miller—now promises to radically re-style how we have come to see her. However, rather than simply look at her life as empirically disconfirming Jung’s analysis, we should beware of the lure of the question which frames Jung’s text in this way in the first place. For posing the empirical question stages the reading of the text within a binary pair of confirmation and disconfirma- tion and dramatically invites the denouement of its opposite. Rather than simply outfitting her life within these two roles, it would be more fruitful to let hersubvert the twinsets and instead explore subtler pleats, folds, darts, and tucks between her and his texts, posing new models of relation between them. If we sim- ply see her as pinning up or uapinning Jung’s greatness, we doZ = A WOMAN CALLED FRANK 33 not let her appear in her own apparel. The removal of Jung’s heavy overcoat allows these guises to revamp our reading of his work. The short hemline of my article precludes an ample considera- tion of the life and times of Frank Miller. Such a consideration would require attention to such issues as the circumstances per- taining to women growing up in Alabama and Georgia after the defeat of the South and for an American traveling in Europe and Russia prior to the First World War and the Russian Revolution. My designs are to drape the rest of this article around her creative activity, by first showing her in her costume lectures and then rounding off with a rereading of her article and Jung’s work. We are fortunate enough not only to have the figure of Frank Miller taped and measured to suit the designs of Flournoy, Jung, Katzenellenbogen, and myself, but also as she presented herself, and this was ‘a la mode’ in which she was seen in her heyday. Her lecture leaflet begins as follows: After years of travel and study abroad, after careful research in various well-known libraries and the help of many illustri- ous men, after preparation in six universities and colleges and experience in contributing to numerous periodicals on both sides of the Atlantic, Miss Frank Miller presents a suite of three illustrated costume lectures on Russia, Greece and Scandinavia, which have already won her press notices in five languages and excited interest through many of the Northern States and Canada. Miss Frank Miller's debut was in no less an institu- tion than Columbia University, where the initial presentations were given.24 The covering of her lectures in newspapers—and pictures of her as she graced the stage in the guise of the ladies of the Imagina- tion she depicted—assists us in imagining what it would have been like to have been in the dress circle at one of her lectures. The Brooklyn Daily Eagle for 21 November 1902 reports that an especially entertaining lecture dealing with the develop- ment of art, literature and music of Russia during the past 100 years, [was] given yesterday afternoon by Miss Frank Miller.34 SONU SHAMDASANI Miss Miller spent two years in Russia visiting every large city in the country, and her observations regarding the manners and customs of the people were based on personal knowledge, which added not a little to the charm of her talk. She has made a special study of art, music and literature . . . and supple- mented her comments with a number of original transla- tions. . . . She concluded her talk with the recital of an origi- nal poem entitled “The Service’, and having special reference to the Cathedral of St. Isaac. . . . Interest was heightened by the appearance of the lecturer in the Boyar Costume of the Medieval Days, and later in the costume of a peasant girl of Northern Russia. The latter costume was exceedingly pictur- esque and decidedly becoming to the wearer, and the brilliant coloring, the exquisite embroidery and handwork excited ad- miration of the many women present. . . . strings of gaily col- ored beads, which she wore around her neck, added to the picturesque effect of the costume, and her high slippers of soft leather in the highest of colourings were as much admired as her gay costume of red, white and black. The costume of the Boyar dame (or member of the landed gentry) was soft grey in tone numerous pendants of cut steel lent a brightening touch and a picture hat and exquisite cape of ermine completes the costume.?* The Columbia Spectator of 3 December 1901 reports: At the suggestion of Mr, S. P. Avery, and under his patronage, Miss Frank Miller gave the second of her delightful “costume readings” on November 2lst. , . . It was an excellent resumé of modern Greek artistic, social, literary and political condi- tions, The artistic personality of the speaker and the peculiarly sympathetic quality of her manner and the style made the lec- ture unusually pleasing. Among those present were Mr. Avery, the Greek Consul, and many of the leading members of the Greek Colony of New York.?6 The Greek Consul, Botassi, hat this to say of her affecting pres- ence: “My dear Miss Miller: your lecture on Greece last eveningfi Peasant girl of northern RussiaGreek peasant costumeAntique Greek cogtume= cf A WOMAN CALLED FRANK 39 was delightful, and I say it without hesitation, a pronounced suc- cess. You kept your audience spellbound, and there was not a moment when you were not interesting... . And you looked charming in your Greek peasant costume. As for the antique cos- tume, all I can say is that I imagined one of the caryatids of the Acropolis stepped out of the Erectheum to delight our eyes. . . 2°27 As an applique around her article, a few words are necessary about Theodore Flournoy, with whom she studied at the Univer- sity of Geneva. Flournoy’s influence on Jung, arguably greater than that of Freud, has yet to be adequately explored.** Jung went so far as to say that it was through Flournoy and James that he “learnt to understand the nature of psychic disturbances within the set- ting of the human psyche as a whole.”?? The German edition of Jung’s Memories, Dreams, Reflections contains a glowing tribute to Flournoy: Jung writes that it was from him that he got the idea of the Creative Imagination.2° Flour- noy’s concept of the teleological automatisms—helpful, uncaused impulses that prepare for the future—anticipated ideas which form the bodice of Jungian thought: the autonomy and the teleology of the psyche; the creative, compensatory nature of the uncon- scious; and synchronicity. Flournoy’s masterpiece From India to the Planet Mars caused a great splash when it landed and fired the sky-rocketing imagina- tion of the surrealists.*! In it, he showed the ancestral and extra- terrestrial existences of his medium, whom he dubbed Héléne Smith, to be the work of the subconscious creative imagination fueled by cryptomnesias. After the book's takeoff, Flournoy fell out with his medium, who felt betrayed by it; she demanded the royalties and changed her name to the one that Flournoy had given her.?? The spiritual- ists rallied round her defense. Into this explosive setting came a young American student, Frank Miller. She gave him an article, based on self-observations, that vindicated his work against the spiritualists. Flournoy’s introduction to her piece is culogistic and markedly contrasts with Jung’s reading of her “case.” What Flournoy par- ticularly valued in her was the way she beautifully combined a sensitivity that others would claim to be mediumistic with the critical intelligence and ability for psychological introspection so40, SONU SHAMDASANI sadly lacking in the mediums. However, he could not help dream- ing of her in the following sacrificial tunic: As a spiritualistic medium, Miss Miller would certainly be the reincarnation of some princess of historical or prehistoric an- tiquity . and she would not have failed to furnish us with interesting revelations of her Egyptian, Assyrian and even Aztec pre-existence, If it were only a question of the pictur- esque, I could not help regretting that the firmness of her rea- son counter-balancing the inclination of her temperament should have always kept her from being wrecked on the flowery slopes of occult philosophy and would have robbed us of quite a number of fine subliminal romances!33 The themes of her article, as | will show later, relate to many ofJung’s stylistic signatures. Additionally, her explanatory thread, eryptomnesia, was an important braid in early Jung.>4 One of the crucial epistemic shifts in 7ransformations and Symbols of the Libido was a mnemonic move, from cryptomnesia to memoria. In this text, Jung cited for the first time the ‘Solar Phallus Man,” who, unbeknown to himself, was enacting a Mithraic ritual. The Solar Phallus Man, together with other figures, carried on his shoulders the weight and burden of proof of the Collective Un- conscious. In this exemplum, by ruling out the role of cryp- tomnesia, Jung argued that the mythic hints, echoes, allusions, and textures that weave through our lives were traces or cita- tions that did not stem from any putative origin within the shawl of one's lifetime. To accommodate their presence, Jung had recourse to the notion of a collective memory, or memoria. Hence his selection of her article was of more’ than supplementary significance for his study.35 It bore not only the mythic allusions he wished to relocate, but also the explanatory paradigm he wished to displace. I propose to read Jung’s and Miller's articles as a twinset, rather than as separates, I ask pardon from my readers if I offend con- ventional dress codes by inverting the under and outer garments and if my reading appears, frankly, trop décolleté. | wish to draw attention to certain ruffles and ereases in the overlay of his reading of her text that have been starched and ironed out to date. InHe = A WOMAN CALLED FRANK 4l rereading her article to revision Jung’s work, however, one should beware of again pressing it into the service of Jungian Psychology; such a move would duplicate Jung’s use/usure of her material, even in the act of deconstructing it. “ I will first discuss her role as his model and its effects on his audience. At the heart of his text(s) is a reversal of the order of mimesis. This is one sash that rhetorically differentiates the cases of Freud and Jung from the previous psychiatric literature. In the latter, the anatomized case reports distance readers from their sub- jects. In the paradigmatic cases of Freud and Jung, however, the universal claims, together with explanations that challenge clear demarcations between “normal” and “pathological,” considerably alter the effects on their readers. At the beginning of his text(s), Jung boldly asserts that he “wished to demonstrate her individual secret as universally valid.’ 3* This is the first site where he makes universal claims for his analysis of an individual. He clearly intends to show that the complexes he unclothes in his analysis of her are universally bind- ing. For many readers, the question of the referentiality of the text(s) shifts from whether it was an accurate rendering of Frank Miller to whether it was a becoming dress mirror to one's own life. Further, through the grand narrative it offers to fashion and outfit one's life, the text(s) engenders the experiences it outlines The history of the Jungian movement is in part the story of how Jung's imagination of Frank Miller's life became for others trans- formed into the personal certainty of revelatory experience and initiation. In Jung's text(s) there is a tension between the universality and singularity of his analysis. This is exemplified by the change in the subtitle. Jung’s 1912 subtitle frames the text as A Contribu- tion to the History of the Evolution of Thought. His subtitle to the 1952 version rebevels the frame as A Study of the Prodromal Stages of a Case of Schizophrenia. Significantly, the revised sub- title announces in advance the denouement of the book—Frank Miller's “schizophrenia.” It organizes the reading of the text tele- ologically, which duplicates Jung’s teleological reading of her fan- tasies as predicting her breakdown. In his late work, Jung articulates a subtle and important understanding of exemplarity, which is found in “The Psychology42 SONU SHAMDASANI of the Transference” (CW 16). In this text, he again uses the motif of the Ariadne thread to describe his exempla, which in this case are the woodcuts of the Rosarium Philosopborum. In his epi- logue, he states We are here moving in the field of incomparable, individual singularities. Such a process can, however, to some extent be classified with the help of widely conceived categories and described through corresponding analogies or at least hinted at. But its innermost nature remains the individual singular- ity of lived life which no one comprehends from the outside, but through which he whom it concerns is comprehended The picture series which served us as Ariadne threads is one of many; that is to say, one could have set up many paradigms which would have presented the transference in just as many different ways. But no single paradigm would have been capable of fully expressing the infinite fullness of the in- dividual variants which all have their right to exist.37 This suggests that, had Jung chosen someone other than Frank Miller as his model, his portrait of the secret of the individual would have had a different silhouette. In addition, Jung here crucially begins to move Psychology beyond the closure of paradigmicity and archetypology to open it to the infinity of the Other.** What was it about Frank Miller that suited her to becoming the exemplum of such diverse theoretical projects as Jung’s, Flour- noy’s, and my own? Is it possible to avoid pinning down the Other to one’s paper-pattern? How does one escape the ethical violence of psychological systems inaugurated on niaking an example of an Other and the subsequent manufacturing of this in the fabricating of cases? And how to step out of the logocentric closure of history writing governed by an arché and a telos to com- memorate the singular life of Frank Miller? Before we can begin to unstitth Jung’s reading of Frank Miller's article, the editorial stays in the 1952 version stand in need of retailoring. Her article was published in the Archives de Psy- chologie for 1905, and not 196, as given. The editorial preface to the appendix which contains her article states that, in Flour-= A WOMAN CALLED FRANK 43 noy’s introduction, he “speaks of the Miller material as a ‘traduc- tion’; it is therefore evident that Miss Miller wrote her memoir in English and it was translated (by Flournoy?) into French.’ Following from this supposition, the editorial note states that “the original of the Miller memoir has never come to light.’*° However, the supposition of an English “‘original’”’ is based on a misreading. Flournoy does not speak of her article as a transla- tion. Furthermore, James Harvey Hyslop, with whom she also studied,*! in his introduction to the English publication of her article in the Journal of the American Society for Psychical Research, states that it was translated for the journal by its author. The translation of her article in the appendix to the 1952 version, which is not by Richard Hull, is very poor. To cite an instance, on page 460, in the last sentence of Chiwantopel’s lament, the phrase ‘J'ai conservé mon corps inviolé” is inexplicably omit- ted. Thus I have relied on the original version of her article, and on her own translation, from which all quotations are given. We come now to her article, “Some Instances of Subconscious Creative Imagination.” The article is partitioned into sections, which follow a certain dramatic build-up. The first steps out dis- playing flashes of the creative imagination. The next two walk out together displaying the fashioning of dream poems in day and night attire. The last rounds out her collection with a dramatic design which combines elements of Aztec and Indian inspiration with the kaleidoscope of modern city life. She begins the first section by noting: “At certain moments, and for a few instants only, the impressions of another suggest themselves so vividly to me that they appear to be mine, although as soon as the suggestion is passed, I am perfectly sure that such is not the case.”*? When others express their disgust of caviar, which she is fond of, she experiences it herself. She dislikes certain perfumes, but when a lady uses eau de cologne and speaks of its strength and exquisiteness, she experiences the pleasure. When she follows a story with interest, she has the experience of participating in it This is especially so in the plays of Sarah Bernhardt, Duse, and Irving. This experience is highlighted in instances when “the role of imagination is accentuated.’#3 When she was shown a photo- graph of a ship, “the illusion was of striking beauty and power—I44 SONU SHAMDASANI felt the pulsations of the engines, the roll of the waves, and the lunging of the ship.’** The next instance, she writes, “fully throws into relief creative fantasy.’*5 One day, in the bath, she ties a cloth around her hair, and it takes on a conical shape. For a moment, it seemed to her “that I was on a pedestal, a real Egyptian statue, . . . rigid members, one foot in advance of the other, insignia in hand. It was truly superb, and it was with regret that I felt thé impression fade away as does a rainbow, #6 The section concludes with the following episode. A celebrated artist wished to illustrate her publications. She writes that “I suc- ceeded in making him portray landscapes, such as those on Lake Leman, where he had never been. . . and make him draw things he had never seen and. . . give him the feeling of an ambient he had never felt.’*7 Jung begins his reading by stating: ‘We know, from much psychoanalytic experience, that whenever one recounts his phan- tasies or dreams, he deals not only with the most important and intimate of his problems, but with the one the most painful at the moment.’ The instances she cites he reads en bloc as de- picting the libido spontaneously gaining possession of certain im- pressions, made possible by her lack of adaptation to reality. The Egyptian epiphany he reads as saying that she would like to be as stiff and as wooden as an Egyptian statue. The episode with the artist Jung sees as expressing her almost magical effect on another. He claims that the need for emphasizing this comes from the fact that she is someone who rarely succeeds in making an emotional impression on others. Jung seems to feel no need to substantiate the amazing statement he begins with, and it sets the tone for how he will read her article —as a patient in analysis. By means of this trope, he turns her fan- tasies into problems and completely ignores the topics of her arti- cle and the rustling of its rhetoric. Part of the pay-off of this open- ing move was that it enabled him to address his own clinical and theoretical problematics as they bore on the analysis of a “patient.” The durability of Jung's “made to measure” analysis of Frank Miller may be seen in the somewhat more “off the peg” analyses it con- tinues to underpin and underline. The deficits of this strategy, together with its wear and tear, have yet to be reflected upon.2 = A WOMAN CALLED FRANK 45 The instances she cites are all concerned with aesthesis and serve to demonstrate the alterity of the imagination, Given Jung's often cited difficulties with art, his negative reading of this sec- tion is not surprising. While the first instances depict her recep- tivity to the advent of such expefiences, they conclude with a depiction of her training another person into such a receptivity. In view of her costume lectures, one can see that such a recep- tivity was a secret of her art, which enabled others to be trans- ported to places they had never seen, to times in which they had. never lived, through her embodying and fully becoming the per- sonages she portrayed. The Egyptian statue epiphany may also be seen in terms of a cultural appreciation of the beauty of the statuesque. The New York World newspaper, to which she was a contributor, carried. the report of a performance by Charlotte Sully, who had won merited praise for her Grecian statue impersonations.*? The reports of Frank Miller’s lectures belie Jung’s comments concerning her difficulty in making emotional impressions on others, Taking a look at Jung’s style of reading, we find that the posi- tion of the artist who sets out to illustrate her publications is the role that Jung is lured into, by undertaking his analytic illustra- tion of her piece. Furthermore, her ability to experience another's impressions as her own, which she transmits to the artist, is precisely what happens to Jung, in that he is lured into stepping, into her shoes and experiencing her experiences as his own— which, as he recounted in the 1925 seminar, took him many years to realize had taken place. The second section of her article begins with a depiction of a sea voyage she undertook, her delight at leaving behind the cities of New York, Stockholm, Odessa, and St. Petersburg, to journey south and be transported by the glory of the Bosporus and feel her soul vibrate at the glory of Athens’ past. She writes: “I re- mained for long hours dreaming on the bridge . . . the history, legends and myths of the different countries seen in the distance came to me, as confused—fused into a sort of luminous mist, through which actual things seemed to exist no longer, while dreams and ideas seemed the only veritable reality:’5° She recounts how she wrote a sailor’s song to fit the melody of an Italian of- ficer, who made an impression on her.46 SONU SHAMDASANI She then describes a dream she had, in which “a confused idea concerning the creation and powerful chorals which re-echoed through the whole universe . . . mixed with choruses of oratorios given by one of the best musical societies of New York with in- distinct memories of ion’s Paradise Lost.’*! Then words ap- peared from the chaos and formed the following poem: When the Eternal first made sound, a myriad ears sprang out to hear, and throughout all the universe there rolled an echo deep and clear: “All glory to the God of Sound!" When the Eternal first made light a myriad eyes sprang out to look, and hearing ears and seeing eyes once more a mighty choral took “All glory to the God of Light!” When the Eternal first gave love, a myriad hearts sprang into life; ears filled with music, eyes with light, pealed forth with hearts with love all rife: “All glory to the God of Love!"5? What struck her about the poem was that, contrary to the biblical narrative in which she believed, it put the creation of light in the second place instead of the first. She recalls that Anaxagoras also makes the cosmos come from chaos by means of a whirl- wind which is accompanied by sound; but’she adds that at the time she hadn’t heard of Anaxagoras nor of Leibniz’s doctrine of “dum Deus calculat fit mundus,” The dream further reminds her of the Book of Job, Haydn's Creation, an article on the Idea creating the object, and the sermons of her pastor, Jung sees this episode as depicting an introversion, which for him at this time had a pathological cast. He especially has his eye on the singer. Jung claims that she undervalues and represses the erotic impression, which is then transformed into the religious hymn. He regards her poem as an ethically worthless pose. Her eA WOMAN CALLED FRANK 47 attempts at explanation he finds hollow. He sees the significance of this episode as analogous to his cases of neuroses where, at the outset, a dream occurred anticipating subsequent events. He claims that it marks for her the inceptien of a sublimated aim in life. In her opening passage, through the southerly move to Greece and Italy and the aesthetic delight occasioned by this, in the midst of the silence, blue sky, and waves, she has an epiphany of what Jung would later articulate as “esse in anima.’ Is this perhaps one of the spumatic influences on Jung’s mature ontology? Most of the resemblances she cites to her poem she traces to cryptomnesias. However, crucially, when it comes to Leibniz and Anaxagoras, she claims to have had no prior contact with their ideas. These are exempla that premodel the cut of Jung's ex- emplary figures, such as the Solar Phallus Man. Furthermore, the spontaneous appearance of archetypal ideas contrary to standard biblical notions, which she describes here, was a key theme in Jung’s psychology of religion and practice in therapy. The third part of her article displays a poem called ‘The Moth to the Sun,” which fluttered to her in a state of half dream. Here is the poem: I longed of thee when I first crawled to consciousness, My dreams were all of thee when in the chrysalis I lay, Oft myriads of my kind beat out their lives against some feeble spark once caught from thee And one hour more—and my poor life is gone; Yet my last effort, as my first desire, shall be but to approach thy glory; then, having gained one raptured glance, I'll die content, for I, the source of beauty, warmth and life have in his perfect splendour once beheld!5+ The poem made a great impression on her, and she traced resemblances to an article she had read comparing the longing of man toward God with that of the Moth for the star, a play she had seen called The Moth and the Flame, and a similar rhythm and feeling in the last two lines as in a poem by Byron. Comparing this twilight poem with her day poems and the preceding night poem, she finds that they form a natural series,48 SONU SHAMDASANI which remoyes suspicion of any “occult intervention” which others would have claimed with the night poem. Jung begins his reading of this section by noting that she says nothing concerning the time interval between the events she re- counts. He concludes from this that nothing of importance has happened in the meantime and that the poem is concerned with the same complex as before. He reads her poem as follows: “Is a moth really expected to rise to the sun? We know the prover- bial saying about the moth that flew into the light and singed its wings, but not the legend of the moth that strove towards the sun, Plainly here, two things are connected in her thoughts which do not belong together.’ 55 He then compares the longing of the moth to Faust’s longing. He sees the moth as Frank Miller herself. Narrativizing the separate instances, he sees the poem as portray- ing an act of self-murder, following from the renunciation of the erotic wish for the Italian sailor. Jung’s work at this time significantly advanced the conception of temporality in psychoanalysis. However, by maintaining a no- tion of a core complex, he continues to gloss the temporal inter- vals in her article. The layerings, hints, and accents are features of her rhetorical designs, which hardly reveal the nudity of her life. By reading the fabric of her text as sheer, Jung suppresses her writing.*° This effacement forms the unthought of his text and is at its most acute at the stitches in her narrative which threaten the structure of his argument. He subordinates what is veiled to what is veilless, such that what is present totalizes without remnants. This enables him to take seriously the notion that per- sonal analysis was unable to teach Katzenellenbogen “one iota more” concerning Frank Miller. In the 1952 version, her subse- quent fate is simply tacked on to the tail-end of his analysis and read as belonging to the same uniform complex. This disregards any number of significant events that might have happened subse- quently, so that her fate is completely spelled out in advance in his text, While one of her intentions in citing this poem is to expose the spiritualistic fallacy of the mediums, Jung, in reading it, falls into a naturalistic fallacy. James Hillman describes this as “the psychological habit of comparing fantasy events with similar events in nature.’57 Here, we are fortunate to have another readingws a? A WOMAN CALLED FRANK 49 of her poem, by none other than Gaston Bachelard, in his book The Flame of a Candle. Bachelard’s reading of her poem occurs in a chapter entitled “The Solitude of Candle Dreaming.” He writes that “For a dreamer who dreams greatly, the simpler the incident, the longer are the commentaries. C.G. Jung has written a whole chapter to show this drama. . . .”5* Commenting on her poem, he writes that “Here again, poetry gives to an insignificant occurrence the significance of a destiny, The poem increases everything, it’s towards the sun, the flame of flames, that the miniscule being, for a long time coiled in its chrysalis, searches for the supreme sacrifice, the glorious sacrifice.’*> Commenting on Jung’s comparison of her poem with Goethe’s poem, Bachelard writes that “we do not hesitate in fol- lowing Jung in this rapprochement which he makes between the poem of his schizophrenic and of the poem of Goethe because we assist this increasing of the image which is one of the most constant dynamisms of the literary reverie, It is for us a witness of the psychological dignity of the written reverie’’©° Bachelard completes his commentary by further comparing her poem to the Divan of Goethe. In these passages, Bachelard was the first to rehabilitate Frank Miller as a poetess. Further, if we follow his reading of Jung's ampli- fications (which at this time would be more correctly called mythological free associations), we may relocate the greatness of Jung's analysis of Frank Miller. We may see it less in the specifics of his interpretations than in the dignity, weight, and seriousness that Jung accorded to the Psyche, It is important to note that his mode of amplification takes its point of departure from her own procedure, which he cites as justification of it. Many of the mythic themes he analyzed at length form but the trailing hemline of her text, and he even at times bows down before her erudition. However, whereas Jung's mythic comparisons are of voluminous folds, hers are always slender. The final section, the piéce de résistance of her collection, begins by depicting her receptive and prayerful mood one even- ing. Images began to appear, such as fiery spirals and a Sphinx in an Egyptian setting. Then a powerful drama unfolds, starring an Aztec figure, name of Chiwantopel, near a dream city. While Chiwantopel leaps up from a wood, a deer-skinned In-50 SONU SHAMDASANI dian advances, preparing to draw his bow against him. But Chiwantopel bares his breast defiantly, and the Indian steals away. Chiwantopel begins a speech, speaking of his wanderings since he left his father’s palace, pursuing his mad desire to find “she who will understand.” He reviews the women he has known— Chi-ta, Ta-nan, and Ka-ma—and laments: “Not one who under- stands me, not even one, akin to me, nor a soul sister to my soul.’6! He wonders if there will ever be one who will know his soul and exclaims, Yes! But one thousand moons will wax and wane before her pure soul is born. And it is from another world that her fathers will come to this one. Suffering will accom- pany her: she too will search and will find no one who will understand her, In her dreams I will come to her and she will understand, I have preserved my body inviolate. lam come ten thousand moons before her and she will come ten thousand moons too late. But she will understand. It is not once in all ten thousand moons that such a soul as hers is born!* A viper appears, attacks him and his horse, which perishes. He bids farewell to his horse and thanks the serpent for having put an end to his pilgrimages. There is an earthquake, and Chiwan- topel cries as his body is engulfed, “‘I have preserved my body inviolate—Ah—she will understand! Ja-ni-wa-ma, Ja-ni-wa-ma, thou dost understand!* She begins her comments by suggesting that the fantasy could perhaps be made into a one-act melodrama. She finds possible sources for this romance in the history of the Incas and Pizarro in Peru, Indian costumes, Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, the depar- tures of Buddha and Rasselas, Siegfried’s yearning for Brunhilde, a lecture on “The Inviolate Personality,’ and a view of Vesuvius— in this way drawing together her dream city, the city of the Im- aginal, with the fevered life of New York. She concludes by hoping that her observations may help others who are perplexed to unravel similar instances and may contribute to the elucidation of mediumistic phenomena. * Her initial depictions Jung reads as indicating a tendency toA WOMAN CALLED FRANK 51 scorn real solutions and to prefer fantastic substitutes, He takes the antique setting as indicating the infantile nature of the fan- tasy; he sees Chiwantopel as related to the anus, reading his origin as a birth by the anal route. He sees Ghiwantopel as her infantile personality, as yet unable to understand that one must leave mother and father. Ja-ni-wa-ma, Chiwantopel’s longed-for soul sister, he sees as a corruption of “Mama.” Jung proceeds to read her fantasy prospectively, in the manner of Flournoy’s teleological automatisms, as pointed out by John Kerr.*4 Jung sees the fantasy as a message to Frank Miller, urging her to give up her infantilism He claims that this goes unheeded by her. John Kerr notes that, by depicting the “regressive triumph of her incestuous longings” for her mother, Jung was in effect predicting the onset of insan- ity.66 Given this, one sees how Katzenellenbogen’s news would have struck Jung as a vindication of his book. Jung was also predisposed to read hers as a case of Schizo- phrenia, as his researches that culminated in Transformations and Symbols of the Libido were concerned primarily with the rela- tion of mythology to schizophrenia. In his model in 1912, the presence of archaic or mythological material per se was sufficient to indicate that condition. By the time he came to remodel the text, his views had altered. Pathology now depended on the at- titude of consciousness to such phenomena. This alteration rhe- torically entailed a different reading of her supposed demise, Many curiously derogatory passages were sewn into the 1952 edition, where Jung veritably gives her a dressing down. She is seen as having “not the slightest idea of what is happening. ’** Her par- ticipation in the drama of Chiwantopel is seen as being “without ethical significance.’*? She is described as emotionally naive®* and as having a “narrow moral horizon.’*? The following passage is indicative, Jung writes; “It is hardly to be supposed that Miss Miller, who evidently had not the faintest clue as to the real meaning of her visions—which even Théodore Flournoy, despite his fine feeling for values, could do nothing to explain—would be able to meet the next phase of the process, namely the assimilation of the hero to her conscious personality, with the right attitude.’7° In being unable to understand her visions, she evidently was in illustrious company, (Flournoy did, however, attempt to explain her visions in his introduction to her piece.)a SONU SHAMDASANI Jung's analysis of Frank Miller was his first showcase for his con- cept of teleology, particularly in its application to an individual case. The constructive method, he argues at this time, provides a way out of the closure of reductive and causal interpretations. This is one of his great advances. However, by literalizing telos into clinical prediction, as he does in his reading of the drama of Chiwantopel, and by specifying relations between future events and fantasies as unequivocably as in the models he attempts to escape, the alterity of the future as the unforeseeable and the unknown is foreclosed,”! The sudden and spontaneous are sub- sumed within the seams/semes of the same. The whole second part of Jung's text(s), which he at times claimed was responsible for the final rent in his relation to Freud, was devoted to an explication of the drama of Chiwantopel. It is perhaps not arbitrary that this was Jung’s first explication of an active imagination. In Frank Miller’s researches into the im- aginal via active imagination, did she play the role of the anima inspiratrice for Jung, in what he termed his confrontation with the unconscious? Jung's depictions of active imagination are usually followed by cautionary notes concerning the dangers of psychosis, particularly in cases of latent schizophrenia. This coupling mirrors his reading of her active imagination and his depiction of her supposed schizophrenic demise. In the 1912 version, the commencement of her fantasy is seen as marking a dangerous introversion. In the 1952 version, the green snake that appears is retrospectively read as signifying her latent psychosis. Taken together, this suggests that the sway and gather of his reading of her fantasies belong to his rhetorical mode of instruction, rather than being of any referential import to her fate. The schizophrenia in the 1952 ver- sion is a rhetorical trope, serving to display the fate and fatality of one’s relation to the imaginal. Jung's introduction to his text(s) begins by describing the deep impression on anyone who can properly read the passage in The Interpretation of Dreams where Freud shows the incest fantasy to be at the root of the Oedipus legend. For Jung, this insight not only opens up the possibility of the understanding of antiq- uity; it also offers a point of reference to understand our own cul- ture. Jung’s vision of the mutual illumination of antiquity andze 2 A WOMAN CALLED FRANK 53 modernity parallels the drama of Chiwantopel and Janiwama dreaming of each other across the centuries and finally finding understanding in the person of the other, Jung’s whole book mimetically elaborates this fantasy.7**Furthermore, Jung’s vision of the rediviva of the ancient world also mirrors some contem- porary reactions to her costume lectures. As quoted earlier, Botassi thought he was seeing one of the caryatids of the Acropolis step forth. For Jung at this time, schizophrenia consisted in a loosen- ing of the historical layers of the unconscious; this loosening is one way of viewing what Frank Miller did in her performances, though in a mode rather different from a schizophrenic regres- sion. One wonders what luster it would have added to Jung’s blind- stitches had he seen them. Finally, in writing her study around a bodice of dreams, fan- tasies, and active imaginations, rather than upon childhood anamnesis, she supplied Jung with a preview of what became his predominant style of case material right up to his autobiography. Thus while I have shown that her article was the négligé of his text, it was not without significant effects on Jung’s fashioning of his oeuvre. At the end of her article, Frank Miller states that for a while she had been in quest of an original idea. 1 do not know whether she found this idea or where her further imaginal researches took her. Perhaps she read Jung’s analysis of her, which, given the circles she moved in, is very likely.”? I hope at least to have uncorseted. the imagination to speculate upon these and other issues. At this point, she leaves aside the cape of my commentary— and us, too, not knowing the rustle of the garment of her moira-motre. But we are left, with the silken sway of her memoire. 1. For the best work on Jung to date, see John Kerr, Spielrein, Jung and Freud: The Role of Sabina Spielrein in the History of the Psychoanalytic Move- ment 1904-23, forthcoming. Hereafter cited as SJE 2. CW5, xxv. Translation modified, Michael Miinchow. 3. Ibid., xxviii, Translation modified, Michael Muinchow.54 SONU SHAMDASANI 4. Notes on the seminar in Analytical Psychology, Ziirich, 1925 5. Ibid., 23-24 6. Ibid., 26. 7. Maria Moltzer, if Jolande Jacobi’s report is to be believed, also had an affair with Jung. Jacobi says, “Then I heard from others, about the time before he met Toni Wolff, that he had had a love affair there in the Burgholzli with a girl—what was her name? Moltzer.” Interview with Jolande Jacobi, Jung Oral History Archive, Box 3, p. 110, Countway Library of Medicine, Boston. 8. C.G. Jung, Wandlungen und Symbole dr Libido (Deuticke, 1925), 35-36, Translation by Michael Minchow. 9. ima letter to Christiana Morgan, Jung used the same image of the shades in Hades to refer to his patients. See Henry Murray, “Postscript,” C. G. Jung, The Visions Seminars (Spring Publications, 1976), 519. 10. Private possession, Michael Fordham. Quoted with permission. 11. Ibid. Quoted with permission of Dr. Lorenz Jung and Aniela Jaffé. 12. Jung Archive, ETH-Bibliothek Zurich. Quoted with the permission of Dr. Lorenz Jung, Translation by Michael Muinchow. 13. Aniela Jaffé to Michael Fordham, 21 December and 27 December 1955. Location and permission as for note 11 14, John Barrett to Edwin Katzenellenbogen, 28 May 1956. Bollingen Col- lection, Library of Congress. 15. CW 5, xxviii. Aside from this, there are two other instances where her name is given as a pseudonym—CW 5, 846 and p. 485. These, however, were inserted by William McGuire. Memo, McGuire to the Editors of The Collected Works, 29 November 1956, Bollingen Collection, Library of Congress. 16. Birth Certificate, Vital Statistics, Mobile County Health Department, Mobile, Alabama. 17. U.S, National Archives, Microcopy 1734, Roll 45. Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, New York Public Library. 18. After receiving her hospital record, William McGuire wrote, “I myself suggest that consideration be given to passing silently over our discovery that the name is not pseudonymous.” Memo, McGuire to the Editors of The Col- lected Works, 29 November 1956 19. At the University of Lausanne she was registered for the summer semester 1899 and the winter semester 1899-1900 in the faculty of Letters. At the Univer- sity of Berlin she was registered for the winter semester 1899-1900 studying French and Philosophy. At the University of Geneva she was registered for the summer semester 1900 in the faculty of Arts and Social Sciences. 20. Danvers Hospital Record, case no. 14852, Year no. 1321 (1909), 4. Quoted with ee of Danvers State Hospital. 21. Ibid., 22. Ibid., 5 and 19. 23. Feminist Studies 13/2 (Fall 1987) 24. Frank Miller, Costume Lecture leaflet, privately printed circa 1902/03, 1 25. Brooklyn Daily Eagle, 21 November 1902, 14 26. Columbia Spectator, 3 December 1901, 7. 27. Frank Miller, Costume Lecture leaflet, 5 28. The best work on Flournoy to date is that of Mireille Cifali. See her study aA WOMAN CALLED FRANK “Théodore Flournoy, la découverte de l'inconscient,’ Le Bloc-Notes de la psychanalyse, no. 3 (1983). Jung's 1934/5 lectures on Modern Psychology at the ETH contain an important study of From India to the Planet Mars. On Jung and Flournoy, see also James Witzig, “Théodore Flournoy: A Friend Indeed,” Journal of Analytical Psychology, no. 27 (1982). 29. CW, i, $113. 30. C. G. Jung, Erinnerungen, Treiume, Gedanken (Rascher Verlag, 1967), 379. 31. See André Breton, “The Automatic Message)” in What Is Surrealism? (Pluto Press, 1989). 32. See Mireille Cifali, “Théodore Flournoy.” 33. Théodore Flournoy, Introduction to Frank Miller, “Some Instances of Subconscious Creative Imagination,’ Journal of the American Society for Psychical Research UG (1907): 289-90. Hereafter cited as Cl 34. See “Cryptomnesia,” CW 1. 35, Onsupplementarity, see Jacques Derrida, Of Grammatology, tt. Gayatri Chakrovorty Spivak Johns Hopkins University Press, 1976). 36. C. G, Jung, Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido, 36. 37. GW 16, p. 344. Translation by Michael Munchow, 38. On the infinity of the Other, see Emmanuel Lévinas, Totality and In- finity, tr. Alphonso Lingis (Duquesne University Press, 1985) 39. CW 5, p. 446. 40, Ibid. 41. Cited by Hyslop in his introduction to her piece, Cl, 287. Jung was an Honorary Fellow of the American Society for Psychical Research. For Jung's con- tact with Hyslop, with whom he shared a dual interest in parapsychology and psychopathology, see C. G. Jung, Letters, ed. Gerhard Adler and Anicla Jaffé, 2 vols. (Princeton; Princeton University Press, 1975), 2: 431. 42. CI, 293-94. 43. CI, 295. 44. Ibid. 45. Ibid 46. Ibid. 47. Ibid. 48. C. G. Jung, Psychology of the Unconscious, tr. Beatrice Hinkle (RKP, 1951), 22. Hereafter cited as PU. 49. New York World, 2 February 1902, “All around greater New York,” 3 50. Cl, 297. S1. CI, 298. 52. CI, 299. 53. I hold in reserve here a discussion of the relation of Jung’s regional on- tology and the deconstruction of metaphysics. On the Imagination as opening Possibilities beyond the privileging of presence, sec John Sallis, Delimitations. Phenomenology and the End of Metaphysics (Indiana University Press, 1986) 54. CI, 302. 55. PU, 47-48. 56. On the suppression of writing in Western thought, sce Jacques Derrida, Of Grammatology.56 SONU SHAMDASANI 57. James Hillman, Re-Visioning Psychology (Harper Colophon, 1977), 84. 58, Gaston Bachelard, La flamme d'une chandetle, Quadridge (P.U.F., 1986), 47, Translations my own. 59, Ibid., 48. 60, Ibid. 49 61. Cl, 305 62, Cl, 305-06 63. Cl, 306 64, SJE, ch. 15, 33. a 65. SIF, ch. 15, 34 66, CW 5, S616. 67, CW 5, §675. 68, CW 5, $681 69. CW 5, 5683 70. Ibid 71, 1am indebted to Emmanuel Lévinas’s analysis of temporality ii and the Other, tt. Richard Cohen (Duquesne University Press, 1987). 72. This is a myth about myth that has been too readily assumed. Its rela- tion to the alterity of history requires critical examination, which I reserve for a later date. 73. As | will show in my forthcoming study, there were numerous individuals that she knew who were aware that she was the subject of Jung’s study. Time