1. General Remarks upon Jordan's Types
IN my chronological survey of previous contributions to this interesting problem of psychological types, I now come to a small and rather odd work (my acquaintance with which I owe to my esteemed colleague Dr Constance Long, of London): Character as seen in Body and Parentage by Furneaux Jordan, F.R.C.S. (3rd edn., London 1896).
In his little book of one hundred and twenty-six pages, Jordan's main description refers to two types or characters, whose definition interests us in more than one respect. Although -- to anticipate slightly -- the author is really concerned with only one half of our types, the point of view of the other half, namely the intuitive and sensation types, is none the less included and confused with the types he describes.
I will first let the author speak for himself, presenting his introductory definition. On p. 5 he says:
"There are two generic fundamental biases in character ... two conspicuous types of character (with a third, an intermediate one) ... one in which the tendency to action is extreme and the tendency to reflection slight, and another in which the proneness to reflection greatly predominates and the impulse for action is feebler. Between the two extremes are innumerable gradations; it is sufficient to point only to a third type ... in which the powers of reflection and action tend to meet in more or less equal degree ... In an intermediate class may also be placed the characters which tend to eccentricity, or in which other possibly abnormal tendencies predominate over the emotional and non- emotional."
It can be clearly seen from this definition that Jordan contrasts reflection, or thinking, with activity. It is thoroughly understandable that an observer of men, not probing too deeply, would first be struck by the contrast between the reflective and the active natures, and would therefore be inclined to define the observed antithesis from this angle. The simple reflection, however, that the active nature does not necessarily proceed from impulse, but can also originate in thought, would make it seem necessary to carry the definition somewhat deeper. Jordan himself reaches this conclusion, for on p. 6 he introduces a further element into his survey, which has for us a particular value, namely the element of feeling. He states here that the active type is less passionate, while the reflective temperament is distinguished by its passionate feelings. Hence Jordan calls his types "the less impassioned" and "the more impassioned". Thus the element which he overlooked in his introductory definition he subsequently raises to the constant factor. But what mainly distinguishes his conception from ours is the fact that he also makes the "less impassioned" type "active" and the other "inactive".
This combination seems to me unfortunate, since highly passionate and profound natures exist which are .also energetic and active, and, conversely, there are less impassioned and superficial natures which are in no way distinguished by activity, not even by the low form of activity that consists in being busy. In my view, his otherwise valuable conception would have gained much in clarity if he had left the factors of activity and inactivity altogether out of account, as belonging to a quite different point-of-view, although in themselves important characterological determinants.
It will be seen from the arguments which follow that with the "less impassioned and more active" type Jordan is describing the extravert, and that his "more impassioned and less active" type corresponds with the introvert. Either can be active or inactive without thereby changing its type; for this reason the factor of activity should, in my opinion, be ruled out as an index character. As a determinant of secondary importance, however, it still plays a role, since the whole nature of the extravert appears more mobile, more full of life and activity than that of the introvert. But this quality depends upon the phase which the individual temporarily occupies vis-a-vis the outer world. An introvert in an extraverted phase appears active, while an extravert in an introverted phase appears passive. Activity itself, as a fundamental trait of character, can sometimes be introverted; it is then wholly directed within, developing a lively activity of thought or feeling behind an outer mask of profound repose; or at times it can be extraverted, showing itself in vigorous and lively action whilst behind the scenes there stands a firm dispassionate thought or untroubled feeling.
Before we make a more narrow examination of Jordan's train of ideas, I must, for greater clarity, stress yet another point which, if not borne in mind, might give rise to confusion. I remarked at the beginning that in earlier publications I had identified the introvert with the thinking and the extravert with the feeling type. As I said before, it became clear to me only later that introversion and extraversion are to be distinguished from the function-types as general basic attitudes. These two attitudes may be recognized with the greatest ease while a sound discrimination of the function types requires a very wide experience. At times it is uncommonly difficult to discover which function holds the premier place. The fact that the introvert naturally has a reflective and contemplative air, as a result of his abstracting attitude, has a misleading effect. This leads us to assume in him a priority of thinking. The extravert, on the contrary, naturally displays many immediate reactions, which easily allow us to conclude a predominance of the feeling-element. But these suppositions are deceptive, since the extravert may well be a thinking, and the introvert a feeling, type. Jordan merely describes the introvert and the extravert in general. But, where he goes into individual qualities, his description becomes misleading, because traits of different function-types are confused together, which a more adequate examination of the material would have kept apart. In general outlines, however, the picture of the introverted and extraverted attitude is unmistakable, so that the nature of the two basic attitudes can be plainly discerned.
The characterization of the types from the standpoint of affectivity appears to me as the really important aspect of Jordan's work. We have already seen that the "reflective" and contemplative nature of the introvert finds compensation in an unconscious, archaic life with regard to instinct and sensation. We might even say that that is why he is introverted, since he has to rise above an archaic, impulsive, passionate nature to the safer heights of abstraction, in order to dominate' his insubordinate and turbulent affects. This statement of the case is in many instances not at all beside the mark. Conversely, we might say of the extravert that his less deeply rooted emotional life is more readily adapted to differentiation and domestication than his unconscious, archaic thought and feeling, and it is this deep phantasy activity which may have such a dangerous influence upon his personality. Hence he is always the one who seeks life and experience as busily and abundantly as possible, that he may never come to himself and confront his evil thoughts and feelings. From observations such as these, which are very easily verified, we may explain an other wise paradoxical passage in Jordan, where he says (p. 6), that in the "less impassioned" (extraverted) temperament the intellect predominates with an unusually large share in the shaping of life, whereas the affects claim the greater importance with the "reflective" or introverted temperament.
At first glance, this interpretation would seem to contradict my assertion that the "less impassioned" corresponds with my extraverted type. But a nearer scrutiny proves that this is not the case, since the reflective character, though certainly trying to deal with his unruly affects, is in reality more influenced by passion than the man who takes for the conscious guidance of his life those desires which are orientated to objects. The latter, namely the extravert, attempts to make this principle all inclusive, but he has none the less to experience the fact that it is his subjective thoughts and feelings which everywhere harass him on his way. He is influenced by his inner psychic world to a far greater extent than he is aware of. He cannot see it himself, but an observant entourage always discerns the personal purposiveness of his striving. Hence his golden rule should always be to ask himself: "What is my actual wish and secret purpose?"
The other, the introvert, with his conscious, thought-out aims, always tends to overlook what his circle perceives only too clearly, namely that his aims are really in the service of powerful impulses, to whose influence, though lacking both purpose and object, they are very largely subject. The observer and critic of the extravert is liable to take the parade of feeling and thought as a thin covering, that only partially conceals a cold and calculated personal aim. Whereas the man who tries to understand the introvert might readily conclude that vehement passion is only with difficulty held in check by apparent sophistries.
Either judgment is both true and false. The conclusion is false when the conscious standpoint, i.e. consciousness in general, is strong enough to offer resistance to the unconscious; but it is true when a weaker conscious standpoint encounters a strong unconscious, to which it eventually has to give way. In this latter case the motive that was kept in the background now breaks forth; the egotistical aim in the one case, and the unsubdued passion; the elemental affect, that throws aside every consideration in the other.
These observations allow us to see how Jordan observes: he is evidently preoccupied with the affectivity of the observed type, hence his nomenclature: "less emotional" and "more impassioned". If, therefore, from the emotional aspect he conceives the introvert as the passionate, and from the same standpoint he sees the extravert as the less impassioned and even as the intellectual, type, he thereby reveals a peculiar kind of discernment which one must describe as intuitive. This is why I previously drew attention to the fact that Jordan confuses the rational with the perceptional point of view. When he characterizes the introvert as the passionate and the extravert as the intellectual, he is clearly seeing the two types from the side of the unconscious, i.e. he perceives them through the medium of his unconscious. He observes and recognizes intuitively: this must always be more or less the case with the practical observer of men. However true and profound such an apprehension may sometimes be, it is subject to a most essential limitation: it overlooks the living reality of the observed man, since it always judges him from his unconscious reflexion instead of his actual presence. This error of judgment is inseparable from intuition, and reason has always been at loggerheads with it on this account, only grudgingly acknowledging its right to existence, in spite of the fact that it must often be convinced of the objective accuracy of the intuitive finding. On the whole, then, Jordan's formulations accord with reality, though not with reality as it is understood by the rational types, but with the reality which is for them unconscious. Naturally, this is a circumstance than which nothing is more calculated to confuse all judgment upon the observed persons, and to enhance the difficulty of interpretation of the facts observed. In these questions, therefore, one ought never to quarrel over nomenclature, but should hold exclusively to the actual facts of observable, contrasting differences. Although my own manner of expression is altogether different from that of Jordan, we are nevertheless at one, with certain divergences, upon the classification of the observed phenomena.
Before going on to comment upon the way Jordan reduces his observed material into types, I should like briefly to return to his postulated third or "intermediate" type. Jordan, as we saw, ranged under this heading the wholly balanced on one side, and the unbalanced on the other. It will not be superfluous at this point to call to mind the classification of the Valentinian school [1], in which the Hylic man is subordinated to the psychic and pneumatic. The hylic man, according to his definition, corresponds with the sensation type, i.e. with the man whose prevailing determinants are supplied in and through the senses. The sensation type has neither a differentiated thinking nor a differentiated feeling, but his sensuousness is well developed. This, as we know, is also the case with the primitive. But the instinctive sensuality of the primitive has a counterweight in the spontaneity of the psychic processes. His mental product, his thoughts, practically confront him. He does not make or devise them -- he is not capable of that: they make themselves, they happen to him, even confronting him like hallucinations. Such a mentality must be termed intuitive, since intuition is the instinctive perception of an emerging psychic content. Although the principal psychological function of the primitive is as a rule sensation, the less prominent compensating function is intuition. Upon the higher levels of civilization, where one man has thinking more or less differentiated and another feeling, there are also quite a number of individuals who have developed intuition to a high level and employ it as the essentially determining function. From these we get the intuitive type. It is my belief, therefore, that Jordan's middle group may be resolved into the sensation and intuitive types.
2. Special Description and Criticism of the Jordan Types
With regard to the general appearance of the two types Jordan emphasizes the fact (p. 17) that the less emotional yields far more prominent and striking personalities than the emotional type. This notion springs from the fact that Jordan identifies the active type of man with the less emotional, which in my opinion is inadmissible. Leaving this mistake on one side, it is certainly true that the behaviour of the "less emotional", or let us say the extravert, makes him more conspicuous than the emotional or introvert.
(a) The Introverted Woman (The more-impassioned woman)
The first character that Jordan discusses is that of the introverted woman. Let me summarize the chief points of his description (pp. 17 ff.):
"She has quiet manners, and a character not easy to read: she is occasionally critical; even sarcastic ... but though bad temper is sometimes noticeable, she is neither fitful nor restless, nor captious, nor censorious, nor is she a "nagging" woman. She diffuses an atmosphere of repose, and unconsciously she comforts and heals, but under the surface emotions and passions lie dormant. Her emotional nature matures slowly. As she grows older the charm of her character increases. She is "sympathetic", i.e. she brings insight and experience to bear on the problems of others. The very worst characters are found among the more impassioned women. They are the cruellest stepmothers. They make the most affectionate wives and mothers, but their passions and emotions are so strong that these frequently hold reason in subjection or carry it away with them. They love too much, but they also hate too much. Jealousy can make wild beasts of them. Stepchildren, if hated by them, may even be done to death.
"If evil is not in the ascendant, morality itself is associated with deep feeling, and may take a profoundly reasoned and independent course which will not always fit itself to conventional standards. It will not be an imitation or a submission: not a bid for a reward here or hereafter. It is only in intimate relations that the excellences and drawbacks of the impassioned woman are seen. Here she unfolds herself; here are her joys and sorrows ... here her faults and weaknesses are seen, perhaps slowness to forgive, implacability, sullenness, anger, jealousy, or even ... uncontrolled passions ... She is charmed with the moment ... and less apt to think of the comfort and welfare of the absent ... she is disposed to forget others and forget time. If she is affected, her affectation is less an imitation than a pronounced change of manners and speech with changing shades of thought and especially of feeling ... In social life she tends to be the same in all circles ... In both domestic and social life she is as a rule not difficult to please, she spontaneously appreciates, congratulates, and praises. She can soothe the mentally bruised and encourage the unsuccessful. In her there is compassion for all weak things, two-footed or four. She rises to the high and stoops to the low, she is the sister and playmate of all nature. Her judgment is mild and lenient. When she reads she tries to grasp the inmost thought and deepest feeling of the book; she reads and re-reads the book, marks it freely, and turns down its corners."
From this description it is not difficult to recognize the introverted character. But the description is, in a certain sense, one-sided, because the chief stress is laid upon the side of feeling, without emphasizing the one characteristic to which I give special value, viz. the conscious inner life. He mentions, it is true, that the introverted woman is "contemplative," but he does not pursue the matter further. His description, however, seems to me a confirmation of my comments upon the manner of his observation; in the main it is the outward demeanour constellated my feeling, and the manifestations of passions which strike him; he does not probe into the nature of the conscious life of this type. Hence he never mentions that the inner life plays an altogether decisive role in the introvert's conscious psychology. Why, for example, does the introverted woman read so attentively? Because above everything she loves to understand and comprehend ideas. Why is she restful and soothing? Because she usually keeps her feelings to herself, living them inwardly, instead of unloading them upon others. Her unconventional morality is based upon deep reflection and convincing inner feelings. The charm of her calm and intelligent character depends not merely upon a peaceful attitude, but derives from the fact that one can talk with her reasonably and coherently, and because she is able to estimate the value of her companion's argument. She does not interrupt him with impulsive demonstrations, but accompanies his meaning with her thoughts and feelings, which none the less remain steadfast, never yielding to opposing arguments.
This compact and well-developed ordering of conscious psychic contents is a stout defence against a chaotic and passionate emotional life, of which the introvert is very often aware, at least in its personal aspect: she fears it because it is present to her. She meditates about herself: she is therefore outwardly equable and can recognize and appreciate another, without loading him with either blame or approbation. But because her emotional life would devastate these good qualities, she as far as possible rejects her instincts and affects, but without thereby mastering them. In contrast, therefore, to her logical and consolidated consciousness, her affect is proportionally elemental, confused and ungovernable. It lacks the true human note; it is disproportionate and irrational; it is a phenomenon of Nature, which breaks through the human order. It lacks any tangible arriere pensee or purpose: at times, therefore, it is quite destructive -- a wild torrent, that neither contemplates destruction nor avoids it, profoundly indifferent and necessary, obedient only to its own laws, a process that accomplishes itself. Her good qualities depend upon her thinking, which by a tolerant or benevolent comprehension has succeeded in influencing or restraining one element of her instinctive life, though lacking the power to embrace and transform the whole. Her affectivity is far less clearly conscious to the introverted woman in its whole range than are her rational thoughts and feelings. She is incapable of comprehending her whole affectivity, although her way of looking at life is well adapted. Her affectivity is much less mobile than her intellectual contents: it is, as it were, tough and curiously inert, therefore hard to change; it is perseverant, hence also her self-will .and her occasional unreasonable inflexibility in things that touch her emotions.
These considerations may explain why a judgment of the introverted woman, taken exclusively from the angle of affectivity, is incomplete and unfair in whatever sense it is taken. If Jordan finds the vilest feminine characters among the introverts, this, in my opinion, is due to the fact that he lays too great a stress upon affectivity, as if passion alone were the mother of all evil. We can torture children to death in other ways than the merely physical. And, from the other point-of-view, that wondrous wealth of love of the introverted woman is not always by any means her own possession: she is more often possessed by it and cannot choose but love, until one day a favourable opportunity occurs, when suddenly, to the amazement of her partner, she displays an inexplicable coldness. The emotional life of the introvert is generally his weak side; it is not absolutely trustworthy. He deceives himself about it; others also are deceived and disappointed in him, when they rely too exclusively upon his affectivity. His mind is more reliable, because more adapted. His affect is too close to sheer untamed nature.
(b) The Extraverted Woman (The less-impassioned woman)
Let us now turn to Jordan's delineation of the "less impassioned woman". Here too I must reject everything which the author has confused by the introduction of activity, since this admixture is only calculated to render the typical character less recognizable. Thus, when we speak of a certain quickness of the extravert, this does not mean the element of energy and activity, but merely the mobility of active processes.
Of the extraverted woman Jordan says: [2]
"She is marked by a certain quickness and opportuneness rather than by persistence or consistency ... Her life is almost wholly occupied with little things. She goes even further than Lord Beaconsfield in the belief that unimportant things are not very unimportant, and important things not very important. She likes to dwell on the way her grandmother did things, and how her grandchildren will do them, and on the universal degeneracy of human beings and affairs. Her daily wonder is how things would go on if she were not there to look after them. She is frequently invaluable in social movements. She expends her energies in household cleanliness, which is the end and aim of existence to not a few women. Frequently she is 'idea-less, emotionless, restless and spotless'. Her emotional development is usually precocious. and at eighteen she is little less wise than at twenty-eight or forty-eight. Her mental outlook usually lacks range and depth, but it is clear from the first. When intelligent. she is capable of taking a leading position. In society she is kindly, generous and hospitable. She judges her neighbours and friends, forgetful that she is herself being judged, but she is active in helping them in misfortune. Deep passion is absent in her, love is simply preference, hatred merely dislike and jealousy only injured pride. Her enthusiasm is not sustained, and she is more alive to the beauty of poetry than she is to its passion and pathos ... Her beliefs and disbeliefs are complete rather than strong. She has no convictions, but she has no misgivings. She does not believe, she adopts, she does not disbelieve, she ignores. She never enquires and never doubts. In large affairs she defers to authority; in small affairs she jumps to conclusions. In the detail of her own little world. whatever is. is wrong; in the larger world outside ... whatever is, is right ... She instinctively rebels against carrying the conclusions of reason into practice.
"At home she shows quite a different character from the one seen in society. With her, marriage is much influenced by ambition, love of change or obedience to well- ecognized custom, and a desire to be 'settled in life', or from a sincere wish to enter a greater sphere of usefulness. If her husband belongs to the impassioned type, he will love children more than she does.
"In the domestic circle her least pleasing characteristics are evident. Here she indulges in disconnected, disapproving comment, and none can foresee when there will be a gleam of sunshine through the cloud. The unemotional woman has little or no self- analysis. If she is plainly accused of habitual disapproval she is surprised and offended, and intimates ... that she only desires the general good 'but some people do not know what is good for them'. She has one way of doing good to her family. and quite another way where society is concerned. The household must always be ... ready for social inspection. Society must be encouraged and propitiated ... Its upper section must be impressed and its lower section kept in order ... Home is her winter, society her summer. If the door but opens and a visitor is announced, the transformation is instant.
"The less emotional woman is by no means given to asceticism; respectability ... does not demand it of her. She is fond of movement, recreation, change ... Her busy day may open with a religious service, and close with a comic opera ... She delights ... to entertain her friends and to be entertained by them. In society she finds not only her work and her happiness, but her rewards and her consolations ... She believes in society. and society believes in her. Her feelings are little influenced by prejudice, and as a rule she is 'reasonable'. She is very imitative and usually selects good models, but is only dimly conscious of her imitations. The books she reads must deal with life and action."
This familiar type of woman, which Jordan terms the "less impassioned", is extraverted beyond a doubt. The whole demeanour sets forth that character which from its very nature must be called extraverted. The continual criticizing, that is never founded upon real reflection, is an extraversion of a fleeting impression, which has nothing to do with true thinking. I remember a witty aphorism I once read somewhere or other: "Thinking is so difficult -- therefore most of us prefer to pass judgments". [3] Reflection demands time above everything: therefore the man who reflects has no opportunity for continual criticism. Incoherent and inconsequent criticism, with its dependence upon tradition and authority, reveals the absence of any independent reflection; similarly the lack of self-criticism and the dearth of independent ideas betrays a defect of the function of judgment. The absence of inner mental life in this type is expressed much more distinctly than is its presence in the introverted type depicted above. From this sketch one might readily conclude that there is here just as great or even a greater defect of affectivity, for it is obviously superficial, shallow, almost spurious; because the aim always involved in it or discernible behind it, makes the emotional effort practically worthless. I am, however, inclined to assume that the author is here undervaluing just as much as he overvalued in the former case. Notwithstanding an occasional recognition of good qualities, the type, on the whole, comes out of it very indifferently. I must assume in this case a certain bias on the part of the author. It is usually enough to have tasted a bitter experience, either with one or more representatives of a certain type, for one's taste to be spoiled for every similar case. One must not forget that, just as the good sense of the introverted woman depends upon a scrupulous accommodation of her mental contents to the general thought, the affectivity of the extraverted woman possesses a certain mobility and lack of depth, on account of her adaptation to the general life of human society. In this case, it is a question of a socially differentiated affectivity of incontestable general validity, which compares more than favourably with the heavy, sticky, passionate affect of the introvert. The differentiated affectivity has cut away the chaotic affect, and has become a disposable function of adaptation, though at the expense of the inner mental life, which is remarkable by its absence. It none the less exists in the unconscious, and moreover in a form which corresponds with the passion of the introvert, i.e. in an undeveloped state. The character of this state is infantile and archaic. The undeveloped mind, working from the unconscious, provides the affective struggle with contents and hidden motives, which can not fail to make a bad impression upon the critical observer, although unperceived by the uncritical eye. The disagreeable impression that the constant perception of thinly veiled egoistic motives has upon the beholder makes one only too prone to forget the actual reality and adapted usefulness of the efforts thus displayed. All that is easy, unforced, moderate, unconcerned and superficial in life would disappear, if there were no differentiated affects. One would either be stifled in continuously manifested pathos, or be engulfed in the yawning void of repressed passion. If the social function of the introvert mainly perceives individuals, the extravert certainly promotes the life of the community, which also has a claim to existence. That is why he needs extraversion because first and foremost it is the bridge to one's neighbour.
As we all know, the expression of emotion works suggestively, while the mind can only unfold its effectiveness indirectly, by arduous translation. The affects required by the social function must not be at all deep, or they beget passion in others. And passion disturbs the life and prosperity of society. Similarly the adapted, differentiated mind of the introvert has extensity rather than depth; hence it is not disturbing and provocative but reasonable and sedative. But, just as the introvert is troublesome through the violence of his passion, the extravert is irritating through an incoherent and abrupt application of his half unconscious thoughts and feelings in the form of tactless and unsparing judgments upon his fellow-men. If we were to make a collection of such judgments and were to try synthetically to construct a psychology out of them, we should arrive at an utterly brutal conception, which in cheerless savagery, crudity, and stupidity, would be a fitting rival to the murderous affect-nature of the introvert. Hence I cannot subscribe to Jordan's view that the worst characters are to be found among the passionate introverted natures. Among the extraverts there is just as much and just as basic wickedness. Whereas introverted passionateness reveals itself in coarse actions, the vulgarity of the extravert's unconscious thinking and feeling commits infamous deeds upon the soul of the victim. I know not which is worse. The drawback in the former case is that the deed is visible, while the latter's vulgarity of mind is concealed behind the veil of an acceptable demeanour. I would like to' lay stress upon the social thoughtfulness of this type, his active concern for the general welfare, as well as a most definite tendency to provide pleasure for others. The introvert as a rule has these qualities only in phantasy.
Differentiated affects have the further advantage of charm and beautiful form. They diffuse an aesthetic, beneficent atmosphere. There are a surprising number of extraverts who practise an art (chiefly music) not so much because they are specially qualified in that direction as from a desire to be generally serviceable in social life. Extraverted fault-finding, moreover, is not always unpleasant or wholly worthless in character. It very often confines itself to an adapted, educational tendency, which does a great deal of good. Similarly, his dependence of judgment is not necessarily evil under all circumstances, for it often conduces to the suppression of extravagant and pernicious out-growths, which in no way further the life and welfare of society. It would be altogether unjustifiable to try to maintain that one type is in any respect more valuable than the other. The types are mutually complementary, and from their distinctiveness there proceeds just that measure of tension which both the individual and society need for the maintenance of life.
(c) The Extraverted Man
Of the extraverted man Jordan says (pp. 26 ff.):
"He is fitful and uncertain in temper and behaviour, given ... to petulance, fuss, discontent and censoriousness. He makes depreciatory judgments on all and sundry, but is ever well satisfied with himself. His judgment is often at fault and his projects often fail, but he never ceases to place unbounded confidence in both. Sidney Smith, speaking of a conspicuous statesman of his time, said he was ready at any moment to command the Channel Fleet or amputate a limb ... He has an incisive formula for everything that is put before him: ... either the thing is not true-or everybody knows it already ... In his sky there is not room for two suns ... If other suns insist on shining, he has a curious sense of martyrdom ...
"He matures early: he is fond of administration, ... and is often an admirable public servant ... At the committee of his charity he is as much interested in the selection of its washerwoman as in the selection of its chairman. In company he is usually alert, to the point, witty, and apt at retort. He resolutely, confidently, and constantly shows himself. Experience helps him and he insists on getting experience. He would rather be the known chairman of a committee of three than the unknown benefactor of a nation. When he is less gifted he is probably no less self-important. Is he busy? He believes himself to be energetic. Is he loquacious? He believes himself to be eloquent.
"He rarely puts forth new ideas, or opens new paths .... but he is quick to follow, to seize, to apply, to carry out ... His natural tendency is 'to ancient, or at least accepted forms of belief and policy. Special circumstances may sometimes lead him to contemplate with admiration the audacity of his own heresy ... Not rarely the less emotional intellect is so lofty and commanding, that no disturbing influence can hinder the formation of broad and just views in all the provinces of life. His life is usually characterized by morality, truthfulness, and high principle; but sometimes his desire for immediate effect leads him into difficulties.
"If, in public assembly, adverse fates have given him nothing to do, nothing to propose, or second, or support, or amend, or oppose, he will rise and ask for some window to be closed to keep out a draught, or, which is more likely, that one be opened to let in more air; for physiologically, he commonly needs much air as well as much notice ... He is especially prone to do what he is not asked to do ... He constantly believes that the public sees him as he wishes it to see him ... a sleepless seeker of the public good ... He puts others in his debt, and he cannot go unrewarded. He may, by well-chosen language, move his audience although he is not moved himself. He is probably quick to understand his time or at least his party ... he warns it of impending evil, organizes its forces, deals smartly with its opponents. He is full of projects and bustling activity. Society must be pleased if possible, if it will not be pleased it must be astonished; if it will neither be pleased nor astonished it must be pestered and shocked. He is a saviour by profession and as an acknowledged saviour is not ill pleased with himself. We can of ourselves do nothing right-but we can believe in him, dream of him, thank God for him, and ask him to address us.
"He is unhappy in repose, and rests nowhere long. After a busy day he must have a pungent evening. He is found in the theatre, or concert, or church, or the bazaar, at the dinner, or conversazione or club, or all these, turn and turn about .... If he misses a meeting, a telegram announces a more ostentatious call."
From this description the type is easily recognized. But, even more perhaps than in the description of the 'extraverted woman, there emerges notwithstanding individual evidences of appreciation, an element of caricaturing depreciation. This is partly due to the fact that this method of description cannot be just to the extraverted nature in general, because with the intellectual medium it is well-nigh impossible to set the specific value of the extravert in a fair light: while with the introvert this is much more possible, since his conscious motivation and good sense permit of expression through the intellectual medium as readily as do the facts of his passion and its inevitable consequences. With the extravert, on the other hand, the chief value lies in his relation to the object. To me it seems that only life itself can concede the extravert that justice which intellectual criticism fails to give him. Life alone reveals and appreciates his values. We can, of course, state the fact that the extravert is socially useful, that he deserves great merit for the progress of human society, and so on. But an analysis of his means and motivations will always give a negative result, since the chief value of the extravert lies not in himself but in the reciprocal relation to the object. The relation to the object belongs to those imponderabilia, which the intellectual formulation can never seize.
Intellectual criticism cannot abstain from proceeding analytically: it must constantly seek evidence concerning motivation and aims, in order to bring the observed type to complete definition. But from this process a picture emerges which is no better than a caricature for the psychology of the extravert, and the man who is fain to believe he has found the extravert's real attitude upon the basis of such a description will be astonished to find the actual personality turning his description to ridicule. Such a one-sided conception entirely prevents any adaptation to the extravert. In order to do him justice, thinking about him must be altogether excluded; similarly the extravert can adjust himself correctly to the introvert only when he is prepared to accept his mental contents in themselves quite apart from their possible practical application. Intellectual analysis cannot help charging the extravert with every possible design, subtle aim, mental reservation, and so forth, which have no actual existence, but at the most are only shadowy effects leaking in from the unconscious background.
It is certainly true that the extravert, if he has nothing else to say, may find it necessary for a window to be opened or shut. But who has remarked it? Who is essentially struck by it? Only the man who is trying to give an account of the possible grounds and intentions of such an action, one therefore who reflects, dissects, and reconstructs, while for everyone else this little stir is altogether dissolved in the general bustle of life, without offering an invitation to any ulterior deduction. But it is just in this way that the psychology of the extravert reveals itself: it belongs to the occurrences of daily human life, and it signifies nothing more, either above or below. But the man who reflects, sees further and -- as far as the actual life is concerned -- sees crooked, although his vision is sound enough as regards the unconscious background. He does not see the positive man, but only his shadow. And the shadow admits the justice of the criticism, to the prejudice of the conscious, positive human being. For the sake of understanding, it is, I think, a good thing to detach the man from his shadow, the unconscious; otherwise the discussion is threatened with an .unparalleled confusion of ideas. One sees much in another man which does not belong to his conscious psychology, but which gleams out from his unconscious, and one is rather tempted to regard the observed quality a; belonging to the conscious ego. Life and fate may do this, but the psychologist, to whom the knowledge of the structure of the psyche and the dawning possibility of a better understanding of man is of the deepest concern, must not. A clean discrimination of the conscious man from his unconscious is imperative, since only by the assimilation of conscious standpoints will clarity and understanding be gained, and never through a process of reduction to the unconscious backgrounds, side-lights, and quarter-tones.
(d) The Introverted Man
Of the character of the introverted man (the more impassioned and reflective man), Jordan says (p. 35):
"His pleasures do not change from hour to hour, his love of pleasure is of a more genuine nature, and he does not seek it from mere restlessness. If he takes part in public work he is probably invited to do so from some special fitness; or it may be that he has at heart some movement ... which he wishes to promote. When his work is done he willingly retires. He is able to see what others can do better than he; and he would rather that his cause should prosper in other hands than fail in his own. He has a hearty word of praise for his fellow-workers. Probably he errs in estimating too generously the merits of those around him ... He is never, and indeed cannot be, an habitual scold. Such men develop slowly, are liable to hesitate, never become the leaders of religious movements, are never so supremely confident as to what is error that they burn their neighbours for it; never so confident that they possess infallible truth that, although not wanting in courage, they are prepared to be burnt in its behalf. If they are especially endowed, they will be thrust into the front rank by their environment, while men of the other type place themselves there."
To me it seems significant that the author in his chapter on the introverted man, with whom we are now concerned, actually says no more than I have substantially given above. A description of the passion on which account he is termed the "impassioned" type is for the most part omitted. One must, of course, be cautious in making diagnostic conjectures -- but this case seems to invite the supposition that the section on the introverted man has received such niggardly treatment from subjective causes. One might have expected, after the searching and unfair delineation of the extraverted type, a similar thoroughness of description for the introvert. Why is it not forthcoming?
Let us suppose that Jordan himself is upon the side of the introverts. It would then be intelligible that a description like the one he gives to his opposite type with such pitiless severity, would scarcely be acceptable. r would not say because of a lack of objectivity, but rather for lack of discernment of his own shadow. How he appears to his counter-type, the introvert cannot possibly know or imagine, unless he allows the extravert a privileged recital of it, at the risk of being obliged to challenge him to a duel. Just as little as the extravert is disposed to accept the above characteristics without more ado, as a benevolent and striking picture of his character, is the introvert willing to receive his characteristics from an extraverted observer and critic. For it would be just as depreciatory. As the introvert, who tries to get hold of the nature of the extravert, invariably goes wide of the mark, so the extravert who tries to understand the other's inner mental life from the standpoint of externality is equally at sea. The introvert makes the mistake of always wanting to relate action to the subjective psychology of the extravert, while the extravert can only conceive the inner mental life as a product of external circumstances. For the extravert an abstract train of thought must be a phantasy, a sort of chimera, when an objective relation is not in evidence. And as a matter of fact introverted .brain-weavings are often nothing more. At all events a I lot could be said of the introverted man, and one could draw a shadow portrait of him neither less complete nor unfavourable than that which Jordan in his earlier section drew of the extravert.
Jordan's observation that the pleasure of the introvert is of a "more genuine nature" seems to me important This appears to be a peculiarity of the introverted feeling in general: it is genuine; it is because it just is; it is rooted in tile man's deeper nature; it wells up out of itself as it were, having itself as its own aim; it will serve no other ends, lending itself to none, and is content to accomplish itself. This coincides with the spontaneity of the archaic and natural phenomenon, which has never yet bowed the head to the ends and aims of civilization. Whether rightly or wrongly, or at least without consideration of right or wrong. of suitability or unsuitability, the affective state manifests itself, forcing itself upon the subject even against his will and expectation. It contains nothing from which one might conclude a thought-out motivation.
I do not wish to enlarge upon the further sections of Jordan's book. He cites historical personalities as examples, whereby numerous distorted points of view appear which derive from the fallacy already referred to: i.e. the author introduces the criterion of active and passive, and mixes it up with other criteria. From this medley the conclusion is frequently drawn that an active personality must also be counted as a passion-less type, and, vice versa, a passionate nature must likewise always be passive. My standpoint seeks to avoid this error by altogether excluding the factor of activity as a point-of-view. To Jordan, however, the credit belongs of being the first, so far as I know, to give a relatively appropriate character-sketch of the emotional types.
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Notes:
1. The name given to the adherents of Valentinus, an Egyptian theologian who flourished circa A.D. 150 and founded a Gnostic sect. The Hylici suffered themselves to be so captivated by the inferior world as to live only a hylic or material life. (New English Dictionary).
2. p. 9 ff.
3."Denken ist so schwer -- darum urteilen die Meisten."
. With the Stoics 
)."
(vessel) is not infrequent. Here, too, the derivation from the erotic allegory of The Song of Songs is not improbable, for, although the designation vas does not appear in the Vulgate text, we come upon the image of the goblet and of drinking: "Umbilicus tuus crater tornatilis nunquam indigens poculis. Venter tuus sicut acervus tritici, vallatus liliis."
, the figurative birth-place of the grain of wheat and symbol of the god of fertility (Cf. Jung, Psychology of the Unconscious, p. 374). There used to be a Greek marriage-ceremony in which a winnowing-basket filled with fruit was laid upon the head of the bride, a manifest fertility charm.
(restoration for all), or reintegration [120], which is a higher evolutionary form of that world-wide version of the hero-myth in which the hero, on his exit from the belly of the whale, brings with him not only his parents but the whole company of those previously swallowed by the monster -- what Frobenius calls the "universal hatching out"[121]. This association with the hero-myth is also confirmed by Isaiah in the two verses: