Encountering the Anima in Africa
Encountering the Anima in Africa
Encountering the Anima in Africa: H. Rider Haggard’s She by Matthew A. Fike, Ph.D. Winthrop University
H. Rider Haggard’s She was one of Jung’s favorite novels and is frequently
mentioned in The Collected Works. Although his view that She depicts an encounter with the anima is a critical commonplace, his reasons for considering Ayesha, the title character, to be a classic anima figure have not been sufficiently explored.
This essay uses the anima’s widely ranging nature—specifically, Jung’s statements about the Kore and the stages of eroticism—to explain his interpretation and then to analyze Ayesha’s effect on Ludwig Horace Holly, the main character and narrative voice.
His African journey is one of failed individuation: after repressing his anima in England, Holly projects his anima onto Ayesha in Africa, experiencing compensation and enantiodromia (a swing from misogyny to anima possession).
In this fashion, She depicts the perils of directly confronting the anima archetype and the collective unconscious.
In The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, C. G. Jung writes: “The anima
. . . has not escaped the attentions of the poets.
There are excellent descriptions of her, which at the same time tell us about the symbolic context in which the archetype is usually embedded.
I give first place to Rider Haggard’s novels She, The Return of She [sic], and Wisdom’s Daughter” (CW 9i, par. 145).
Similarly, in his “Foreword to Brunner,” he notes, “The motif of the anima is developed in its purist and most naïve form in Rider Haggard. True to his name, he remained her faithful knight throughout his literary life and never wearied of his conversation with her.”
For Jung, “Rider Haggard is without doubt the classic exponent of the anima motif” (CW 18, par. 1,279−80).
Jung’s take on She, however, runs more deeply than these opening quotations suggest: it is one of the few literary texts on which he offers significant
commentary, which makes the task in this essay partly metacritical.
He mentions Haggard’s fiction repeatedly in The Collected Works; in fact, as Sonu Shamdasani notices, there are more references to Haggard than to Shakespeare (144).
C. G. Jung and Visions: Notes of the Seminar Given in 1930−1934 by C. G. Jung.
Coincidentally, the 1925 seminar took place just months before his Bugishu
Psychological Expedition set out for Africa.
Not surprisingly, Blake W. Burleson, author of Jung in Africa, notes that She “was one of Jung’s favorite novels” (30).
Although Jung’s view that She depicts an encounter with the anima is a critical
commonplace, his reasons for considering Ayesha (pronounced ass-ah), the She of the book’s title, to be an anima figure have not been sufficiently explored.
The most helpful concepts for this purpose—the Kore and the stages of eroticism—have been virtually ignored.1
The present essay, which uses these tools to examine Jung’s claim in connection with the anima’s effect on Ludwig Horace Holly, the main character and
narrative voice, coalesces around the theme of Holly’s failed individuation.
After showing that Ayesha closely matches Jung’s understanding of the anima, we will turn to her effect on Holly.
In brief, he represses his anima in England and later projects it onto Ayesha in Africa, experiencing compensation and enantiodromia (a swing from inveterate misogyny to anima possession).
Sadly, his encounter with Ayesha repeats the relational failure that he experienced a quarter century before: her preference for Leo, the emptier but more attractive vessel, over the erudite but ugly Holly reenacts the situation that sparked his initial repression.
Insofar as Holly projects the anima and fails to achieve individuation,
Haggard presents the African journey as a psychological encounter in the spirit of Jung’s famous statement: “The psychological rule says that when an inner situation is not made conscious, it appears outside, as fate” (CW 9ii, par. 126).
The Tale
Readers who are unfamiliar with She will benefit from the following plot
summary.2 Ludwig Horace Holly is paid a visit one night at his Cambridge University lodging by a dying acquaintance named Vincey, who asks him to become the guardian of his young son, Leo. After some discussion, Holly agrees.
Vincey dies that night—an apparent suicide.
Once the legal arrangements have been formalized, Holly welcomes the three-year-old boy into his home and begins receiving the promised financial support.
As the years roll by, Leo, per Vincey’s instructions, learns Arabic, as does Holly in order to help his adopted son acquire fluency.
The younger man earns a degree at Cambridge and then studies law until, on his twenty-fifth birthday,
Holly opens the chest that Vincey left to mark his son’s coming of age.
It contains artifacts, including a “scarab” or gem cut in the shape of a beetle.3
Various documents suggest the existence of an immortal woman somewhere in southeastern Africa.
In a letter, Vincey, whose name means avenger, instructs his son either to find and kill her or to put an end to the family obsession by destroying the assembled evidence.
Leo
enthusiastically vows to find her, and Holly agrees to accompany him on the journey.
Together with their long-time servant Job, they sail for present-day Mozambique
where their ship goes down, all hands lost.
Fortunately, their own smaller vessel carries the trio and their servant Mohammed safely to shore.
In their journey inland up a river and through dangerous swamps, they are eventually aided by a native man named Billali and his people, the Amahagger (the people of the rocks).
Leo accepts the advances of an Amahagger woman named Ustane, becoming in effect a married man.
(Ustane is the reincarnation of Amenartus, the woman for whom Leo’s ancient self,
Kallikrates, had rejected Ayesha, the now-immortal woman described in Vincey’s
documents.4 Holly had shared the same ancient lifetime as the philosopher Noot.)
Violence erupts when the Amahagger murder Mohammed by “hot-potting” him
(jamming a red-hot pot over his head).
In the ensuing fray, Holly and Leo fight for their lives, killing many natives.
Billali stops the fight and vows to bring the assailants to Ayesha, She-who-must-be-obeyed, for justice.
Leo contracts malaria along the way, but Billali leads Holly to believe that Ayesha can cure him.
After a long journey, the expedition arrives at her ancient underground dwelling in Kôr where many embalmed corpses are present.
The ancient woman is veiled in fabric wound around her entire body lest onlookers be overcome by her beauty, which is exactly what happens to Holly when she unveils during their first conversation, in which they discourse broadly on history.
Later, Holly secretly observes her grief over the embalmed corpse of Kallikrates whom Ayesha murdered twenty-two centuries before when he rejected her for Amenartus.
After sentencing the Amahagger criminals to death by torture, curing Leo, and
killing Ustane with a thought, Ayesha leads Holly, Leo, and Job through underground passageways and across a seemingly bottomless gulf to the womb of the Earth, a rocky chamber where She wants Leo to bathe in the Pillar of Life, which makes one as immortal as nature itself.
When he hesitates, She steps into it in an attempt to demonstrate its benign nature.
This time it causes her to age more than two thousand years in a few moments.
The shock of her demise causes Job to die of a heart attack.
Holly and Leo barely survive the jump back across the gulf (Job having dropped the
long plank on which they earlier crossed).
With Billali’s help, father and adopted son make it through the swamps and return to England none the worse for wear but haunted by memories of Ayesha, whom they will meet again in reincarnated form in the sequel, Ayesha: The Return of She.
Why does Jung consider Ayesha to be a “classic” anima figure?
In The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, Jung associates the anima with
wisdom, the historical aspect, “a superior knowledge of life’s laws,” and the quality of being outside of time (CW 9i, par. 64).
All of these qualities directly characterize Ayesha; but in Norman Etherington’s words, “if Ayesha is meant to personify an unattainable dream of femininity, how are her less endearing traits to be explained?” (Rider Haggard 87).
Jung’s comment in his 1925 seminar provides the seed of an answer: “Her [Ayesha’s] potency lies in large measure in the duality of her nature” (112).
The anima is not only bipolar but multi-faceted, as Jung makes clear in his
comments on the Kore and the stages of eroticism; both help to explain his sense that Ayesha is an anima figure.
The Kôr/Kore pun has been surprisingly overlooked in the criticism, though “Kôr”
has been helpfully glossed, and a connection between Ayesha and the goddess has been noted. On the one hand, Showalter mentions “the core, Kôr, coeur, or heart of darkness which is a blank place on the map” (81); and Barri J. Gold says that Kôr represents “the very core of a giant female body” (314).
Ayesha refers to the pillar of fire as “‘the very Fountain and Heart of Life’” (257; ch. 15).5
On the other, Pickrell states that Ayesha “presents all three faces of the goddess in one personage: the maiden, the matron, and the crone” (20). But no one, not even Jung himself, has put together kore (Gk., girl), Haggard’s Kôr, and the Kore.
This nexus implies that Kôr is a fitting locale for Holly to do anima work with a female who represents all three facets of the Kore.6
Ayesha is the virgin mother of her people, has lived for over twenty-two centuries, and through a devolutionary aging process in the pillar of fire becomes a shriveled old hag reminiscent of Gagool in King Solomon’s Mines.
Jung claims in “The Psychological Aspects of the Kore” that the Kore corresponds
to “the self or supraordinate personality on the one hand, and the anima on the other” (CW 9i, par. 306; emphasis in the original; cf. par. 314−15).
Although Ayesha, a stumbling block to male individuation, hardly represents the Self, the Kore-Ayeshaanima nexus is highly relevant in terms of bipolarity.
The description in the following quotation would fit Ayesha almost perfectly if one substituted “murderer” for “whore.”
The anima is bipolar and can therefore appear positive one moment and negative the next; now young, now old; now mother, now maiden; now a good fairy, now a witch; now a saint, now a whore.
Besides this ambivalence, the anima also has “occult” connections with “mysteries,” with the world of darkness in general, and for that reason she often has a religious tinge.
Whenever she emerges with some degree of clarity, she always has a peculiar relationship to time: as a rule she is more or less immortal, because outside time.
Writers who have tried their hand at this figure have never failed to stress the
anima’s peculiarity in this respect.
I would refer to the classic description in Rider Haggard’s She. (CW 9i, par. 356; emphasis in the original)7
In “Mind and Earth,” however, Jung underestimates Ayesha’s maternal aspect: “The most striking feature about the anima-type is that the maternal element is entirely lacking.
She [anima] is the companion and friend in her favourable aspect[;] in her
unfavourable aspect she is the courtesan.
Often these types are described very accurately, with all their human and daemonic qualities, in fantastic romances, such as Rider Haggard’s She” (CW 10, par. 75).
Part of Ayesha’s maternal quality is her association with the anima via a connection between snake imagery and the life force.
In a paragraph that ends with another reference to “the novels of Rider Haggard,” Jung comments on the snakeanima connection.
The snake’s color, green, is “the life-colour”; and the anima is “the archetype of life itself” (emphasis in the original).
Snake symbolism suggests that the anima not only has “the attribute of ‘spirit’” but also “personifies the total unconscious” (CW 5, par. 678).
In Apuleius’s The Golden Ass, Isis (the mother of Horus and a mother figure to her people) is associated with snakes (Cott 20); and since Ayesha is an anima figure and a priestess of Isis, a theriomorphic description makes good sense.
She moves and hisses like a snake, has “a certain serpent-like grace” (153; ch. 13), and wears a double-headed “snaky belt” (260; ch. 26) around “her snaky zone”
(211; ch. 20).
In brief, Haggard’s snake imagery signifies both the danger of this particular woman and an archetypal dimension, the maternal life force.
Whereas the Kore suggests the anima’s bipolarity, the “stages of eroticism” (Mary,
Eve, Helen, and Sophia) show the anima more properly as multi-faceted (CW 16, par. 61). Jung suggests that Eve is mother and that Mary represents religious feeling, an interpretation that Daryl Sharp echoes in his Jung Lexicon (20−21).
The following is a reinterpretation of Jung’s idea.
He refers to the stages through which a male progresses with his anima: Mary, mother; Helen, girlfriend, mistress, whore; Eve, wife, murderer (Lewis 124); and Sophia, wisdom.
Considered this way, the stages align nicely with Ayesha who is a mother or Isis figure to her people; a siren who incites masculine desire with her unearthly beauty; a prospective wife for Kallikrates whom she slew in ancient times and for Leo, to whom her kiss proves fatal in the sequel; and a source of wisdom (like Isis) as well as a living fount of knowledge regarding ancient history and nature’s secrets. ~Matthew A. Fike, Encountering the Anima in Africa: H. Rider Haggard’s She, Page 4-10