A visit to the home of Emma and Carl Gustav Jung leaves a lasting impression on most visitors. In August 2024, Rachel Huber and Bernard Hort shared their reflections, emphasizing the atmosphere of quiet contemplation that permeates the residence.
Rachel Huber explores the alchemical symbolism embedded in the details of objects from their shared lives, providing a fascinating lens through which to examine the dynamic partnership between Emma and Carl Gustav Jung.
Bernard Hort reflects on Jung’s Swiss heritage and the compensatory grounding potential of Swiss culture. Drawing on Nietzsche’s approaches to history, he explores how visiting Jung’s house can inspire a dynamic, creative engagement with the past.
French version of this article
The Emma and Carl Gustav Jung museum in Küsnacht
On this page
- Introduction | Rachel Huber
- From the flames of the hearth to the flames of the soul
The personal alchemy of Emma and Carl Gustav | Rachel Huber - Jung’s Swiss heritage
A creative engagement with history and culture | Bernard Hort
Introduction
Rachel Huber
Although I’ve been traveling to Switzerland since 2009, I hadn’t yet had the opportunity to visit the home of Emma and Carl Gustav Jung, a long-held wish of mine. Thanks to a fortunate turn of events, I had the pleasure this summer of joining theologian Bernard Hort for a private tour of their residence.
The tour was expertly led by Denise Rudin, who holds a diploma in analytical psychology. She answered our many questions with both insight and expertise.
Deeply inspired by the ideas of the Zurich-based psychiatrist, Bernard and I felt compelled to share this important moment by reflecting what resonated with us, both leading up to the visit and throughout it.
From the flames of the hearth to the flames of the soul: the personal alchemy of Emma and Carl Gustav
Rachel Huber
Inner revelations
The process of individuation, budding within our soul and striving to unfold, can at times be difficult to grasp, while at other moments, it reveals itself more clearly. Like the delicate work of an archaeological excavation, each clue deserves careful and compassionate attention.
In this context, I am reminded of certain pieces of furniture in the home of Emma and Carl Gustav Jung. Beyond their practical function and aesthetic style, these items offer insights into their owners’ inner journeys.
This subjective presentation serves as a guiding thread. You may discover a resonance that speaks to your soul during your visit to this meaningful place.
From encounter to sanctuary: walls of the soul
A brief history: In 1896, a 21-year-old Carl Gustav Jung visits his parents in Schaffhausen. During this visit, he locks eyes with 14-year-old Emma Rauschenbach. The encounter is so profound that Jung feels an undeniable certainty from that moment onward: Emma is destined to become his future wife.
Six years later, now a licensed physician, Carl Gustav proposes to Emma. On February 14, 1903, they formalize their union and move into a modest apartment within the Burghölzli psychiatric hospital, where Carl Gustav begins his career as a psychiatrist. They live there for six years.
In 1907, the couple decides to build a home to accommodate their growing family. They choose a plot of land in Küsnacht, by the shores of Lake Zurich: a place Carl Gustav has always dreamed of owning. The financing for this ambitious project relies on Emma’s resources, which come from her wedding dowry and the profits of the Rauschenbach family fortune.
The Jung family home: an inner world expressed in architecture
Construction progresses rapidly with the help of architect and archaeologist Ernst Fiechter, Jung’s cousin, along with renowned landscapers Walter and Oskar Mertens, who design the exterior. Carl Gustav plays an active role in shaping both his home and the surrounding gardens.
He incorporates numerous motifs and ideas that occupy his mind and will influence his career, such as the tower that stands at the front, housing the entrance. In Jung, I see the fundamental human aspiration to materialize one’s cosmic concepts in stone.
This quest is already evident in the Ziggurat of Ur, built around 2100-2000 B.C. It stands as an iconic monument of Mesopotamian civilization, taking the form of a multi-tiered tower dedicated to religious purposes.
The term « ziggurat, » derived from the verb zaqāru, meaning « to elevate, » refers to a structure with multiple levels that, when consisting of seven tiers, symbolizes the seven heavens. This concept is also reflected in the writings of Saint Irenaeus of Lyon in the 2nd century, who stated: « Now this world is encompassed by seven heavens, in which dwell powers and angels and archangels, doing service to God, the Almighty and Maker of all things. »
This idea resonates with the Latin inscription engraved above the entrance: « Vocatus atque non vocatus Deus aderit » – Invoked or not invoked, God will be present.
That same year, Carl Gustav leaves his position at the Burghölzli Clinic to open a private practice at home. This decision allows him to distance himself from the psychiatric hospital and focus entirely on his own research. It also enables him to balance his professional and family responsibilities, an approach he maintains throughout his career. In this home, his daughters Marianne and Helene are born, on September 20, 1910, and March 18, 1914, respectively.
First impressions
As we advance along the central path toward the majestic entrance of the house, we also move closer to the shores of the lake. The pathway, lined with boxwood, allows sunlight to filter through the trunks, while the gravel crunches beneath our feet. It’s 2 PM on a particularly warm August day in 2024, and the sound of water, combined with the interplay of light and shadow through the trees, makes it all the more striking.
Denise greets us at the doorstep. A few steps lead us into a small hall that connects the various rooms. The atmosphere is both solemn and welcoming, an attitude perfectly conveyed by our guide.
The first room that catches my eye is the ground-floor living room on the left wing: a cozy space with modern amenities, including central heating. However, it features a striking ceramic stove. This Kachelofen, typical of Germany, Austria, and Switzerland, is designed to heat homes by absorbing warmth and gradually releasing it.
Denise sparks our curiosity by inviting us to examine it closely. It was Emma who decided to acquire this stove, doing so in her husband’s absence.
From the flames of the hearth to the flames of the soul: the personal alchemy of Emma and Carl Gustav
It is 1925, and Emma is 43 years old. She has experienced five pregnancies and raised just as many children, supported by household staff, a common arrangement among affluent families of the time. Her youngest child is 11.
At the same time, she plays a significant role in her husband’s work. Denise explains that in her practice as an analyst and in her writings, Emma demonstrates intellectual independence, clear differentiation, and a subtle authority over those around her.
The years between 1910 and 1913 represent a crucial turning point in Emma’s involvement in analytical psychology, coinciding with a period of crisis and transformation in Carl Gustav’s life, particularly marked by his break with Freud in 1913.
From this point forward, Emma becomes more actively engaged in the theoretical framework developed by her husband, asserting herself not only as a wife but also as a vital collaborator in his work. Despite the personal challenges their relationship faces, including tensions stemming from their private lives, Emma remains a dedicated and invaluable partner.
In 1916, she embarks on formal training as an analyst, enrolling in courses on psychology and psychoanalysis. Encouraged by Carl Gustav, who recognizes her innate abilities in introspection and analysis, she prepares herself for independent practice.
During the 1920s, she establishes herself as a skilled analyst, treating her own patients while furthering her studies and actively engaging in her husband’s seminars. A significant portion of her life is devoted to exploring the quest for the Grail, a project she began before the war and continued working on until her death in 1955, but which remained unfinished.
These studies were further developed and expanded by Marie-Louise von Franz, who compiled them into a book titled The Grail Legend. This exploration of Arthurian myths and feminine psychology not only opened the door to her own unconscious reality but also deepened her understanding of significant archetypal images.
A domestic Magnum Opus
Let’s return to the Kachelofen. Carl Gustav, now 50 years old, is traveling through Africa, visiting Kenya and Uganda. This time, Emma did not accompany him, so she shared her plans with her husband by writing him a letter. Denise encourages us to imagine their correspondence on the matter. As I carefully observe both the proposal and the stove in question, I begin to notice the many intricate details.
I examine the large structure, its cobalt blue color faded to a pale hue. On the front, arranged vertically, are a decorative circle and two square, gilded doors. The smaller door at the top provides access to the secondary combustion chamber, making it easier to clean, maintain, and adjust the airflow. The larger door below is used for loading wood. Both doors are framed with ornamental borders, with the lower one featuring a diamond pattern and central loops.
The tiles, or Kacheln, covering the stove are adorned with zodiac motifs and mythical creatures, such as unicorns. One tile even bears the delivery date: 1926. The stove also includes a small alcove with a built-in bench, the Ofenbank, perfect for curling up and staying warm.
Denise asks, « Can you guess what the figurine atop the Kachelofen represents? » Of course! It’s a… pelican!
This couple inspires me!
I continue to reflect on their correspondence regarding this matter. How did this decision come to be for the couple?
The pelican: symbol of their home and profound bond?
In Memories, Dreams, Reflections (p. 164-165), Jung reveals many of his dreams. One that stands out to me is the 1911 dream about the knight and the customs official. The knight, who left a strong impression on him, is from the 12th century—the period, he notes, « when alchemy was beginning and also the quest for the Holy Grail ». He adds that these stories « had been of the greatest importance » to him ever since he read them, at the age of fifteen, for the first time. He even suspects that a hidden mystery lies within them.
In the dynamics of their relationship, their many shared interests resonate symbolically in the choice of the pelican, which adorns the Kachelofen-athanor. This alchemical and Christ-like symbol reflects the inner process unfolding within both Emma’s and Carl Gustav’s psyches, as well as in the entity their couple represents. It embodies their shared quest for transformation and regeneration, highlighting the deep connection between their individual journeys and their path together.
Within me, a connection is forming—perhaps akin to the one that binds them? Despite the many trials the couple has faced, the pelican, as a symbol, holds deep and enduring meaning for both Emma and Carl Gustav.
The pelican embodies the sacrifice required for transformation and rebirth. It is also an alembic, a vessel for purifying and refining matter:
a distilling vessel, but the distillate, instead of dripping into the receiver, runs back into the belly of the retort. We could take this as illustrating the process of conscious realization and the reapplication of conscious insights to the unconscious. It restored their former security of life to those once near to death […] is an allegory of Christ.
(Jung, CW9, part II, para 377, note 58)
Beyond physical presence: the feminine as a spiritual center
But let’s take a moment to delve into Carl Gustav’s mindset as he reflects with Emma on this central decorative element during his time in Africa. He recounts his visit with the Elgonyis [Memories, Dreams Reflections, p. 262-263], where he meets « a good-looking woman, middle-aged that is, about thirty », with whom he can appropriately engage according to local customs. Upon being welcomed into her home, he notes, in the original French: “Madame était chez elle”, followed by:
I had the feeling that the confidence and self-assurance of her manner were founded to a great extent upon her identity with her own wholeness, her private world made up of children, house, small livestock, shamba and last but not least her not-unattractive physique. The husband was referred to only in an allusive way. It seemed that he was sometimes here, sometimes not here. At the moment he was staying at some unknown place.
My hostess was plainly and unproblematically the embodiment of stability, a veritable pied-a-terre for the husband. The question did not seem to be whether or not he was there, but rather whether she was present in her wholeness, providing a geomagnetic center for the husband who wandered over the land with his herds.
Observing the Elgonyi woman reveals a profound aspect of the Great Mother archetype, which Jung often associates with notions of wholeness, stability, and center. Through her complete and confident presence, she may embody for him a manifestation of the archetypal feminine.
He emphasizes her perfect identity coherence with her « wholeness », meaning she is in harmony with her environment, her children, her home, and even her own body. She does not need her husband’s physical presence to feel complete; rather, she is the center around which everything revolves, including her husband, who may wander but always returns to her.
This image may remind Carl Gustav of an aspect of Emma: her ability to be that central pillar, the spiritual and emotional hearth that anchors the family and provides a sense of security and wholeness. Despite the crises and challenges in their relationship, Emma remains a figure of stability, embodying for her husband the feminine archetype of the Great Mother, who nurtures, supports, and upholds psychological integrity.
The analogy between the Elgonyi woman and Emma also lies in their shared ability to embody a sense of wholeness and completeness. This quality transcends mere physical presence. It encompasses a psychic presence: an unwavering spiritual and emotional anchoring, regardless of whether the other is physically present. In this sense, Emma appears to represent for Carl Gustav the same type of magnetic center, a fixed point around which his own psychological and spiritual development can take shape.
The pelican’s sacrifice: a reflection of the Jung couple?
Thus, the ornamental choice of the pelican as an alchemical symbol may serve as a key element for understanding the dynamics of the Jung couple. This myth, in which the bird wounds itself to nourish its young with its own blood, reflects both the challenges and profound transformations they have experienced together. This powerful image embodies the necessary death that leads to regeneration, a fundamental principle of alchemy. The pelican not only symbolizes purification and sublimation but also represents the archetype of sacrifice and rebirth. In this context, Emma serves as a central pillar and a source of stability in Carl Gustav’s life.
Through this symbol, we can draw a parallel with their experience: personal and shared transformation, often marked by trials and crises, is essential to individuation. The pelican thus becomes a powerful metaphor for their relation’s journey, symbolizing Emma’s ability to embody a centering and psychological regeneration function. In this sense, the pelican reflects the complex and evolving dynamics of their relationship, illustrating their mutual quest for meaning and inner understanding.
As Denise invites us to continue the tour, she will draw our attention to a multitude of meaningful details found throughout the house, including, of course, in the consultation room of the renowned founder of depth psychology. There, in a dimly lit atmosphere, lies an object concealed beneath a thick tapestry, facing Carl Gustav’s desk. This mystery may well be the subject of a future detailed exploration, perhaps offering a fascinating glimpse in an upcoming article.
Jung’s Swiss heritage: A creative engagement with history and culture
Bernard Hort
Some leads for preparing our visit
Going to Jung’s house means taking the time for a long journey and experiencing a growing anticipation… Even before arriving, there is much to reflect on, to absorb, and to feel.
We would like to share some of the reflections that helped us get ready for the visit and navigate the flood of questions that arise during this time of preparation. These are merely suggestions. Each traveler must draw from the source, experience their own journey, and craft their own prelude.
Jung and Switzerland
Between the universal and the individual, the objective psyche and the infinite variety of circumstances, visiting Küsnacht means encountering this paradox. Strolling along the shores of Lake Zurich, we feel the weight of history and geography. We discover rolling hills, tranquil lakeside views, and a beautifully landscaped environment. Jung was deeply Swiss.
But how did he reconcile this with his interest in broader horizons, his openness to the East, his desire for travel, and his constant and essential international connections? How did he transform this tension and how has he « brought these opposites together” right here? This is the question that hangs in the air as we approach the entrance to his home.
Jung delves into this topic in depth in an article titled “The Swiss Line in the European Spectrum” (CW10, para 903-924). In this text, he responds to the question directly.
In response to Count Hermann von Keyserling, a well-known adventurer who openly expressed his low opinion of Switzerland, referring to it as a nation of hoteliers, materialistic and lacking in nobility, Jung said:
I do not wish to evoke the impression that I am trying to turn our national vices into a virtue. I do not deny the ugly side of the earthbound character, but I take it as a given fact and am merely trying to discover what its meaning might be for Europe.
(Jung, CW10, para 921)
the danger inherent in the spirit is that it will uproot man, bear him away from the earth and inspire him to Icarian flights, only to let him plunge into the bottomless sea.
(Jung, CW10, para 918)
According to Jung, Switzerland, with its very flaws and limitations, has a compensatory role to play. It serves as a reminder to the intuitive, the creator, and the artist of the need to ground their ideas and overcome psychic inflation.
In Jung’s view, the weightiness and small-mindedness of Swiss culture are acknowledged, yet transfigured. In his writing, Switzerland’s cautious ways take on a universal and expansive meaning when we consider their psychological function. It truly took someone like Jung to so seamlessly blend local roots with dynamic cosmopolitanism!
What to make of Jung’s history?
This is also a question worth asking during this period of reflection. Why a museum? Why exhibitions, brochures, and flyers about Jung? Because Jung offers us a psychology « with soul, » aiming to nurture a world « without the loss of soul. » Yet, a purely detailed historical understanding often leads in the opposite direction. An excessive focus on history can, quite clearly, stifle vitality and creativity!
Friedrich Nietzsche understood this well. Jung shared Nietzsche’s ambition to give life a unique meaning, though he was deeply wary of Nietzsche’s inability to master his own thoughts.
Confronted with an overwhelming amount of historical studies, Nietzsche strongly emphasizes in On the Use and Abuse of History for Life, written in 1874 as part of his second Untimely Meditation, that history should not merely serve as a means of scholarship but also as a source of inspiration and creativity.
In this context, he distinguishes and examines:
- Monumental history, which celebrates the genius of great individuals. This approach is certainly exhilarating, but it can also lead to a paralyzing rejection of the present, which may be viewed as never being up to par with the greatest figures of the past.
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Antiquarian history, which focuses on the knowledge of details without being able to draw lessons for real life. While this is a useful approach, it can lead to stagnation and existential resignation.
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Critical history, which questions the past and judges it harshly by contemporary standards. This approach can help us gain perspective, but may also cause us to overlook what our heritage has to offer us or how it can inspire us, even in the present.
None of these three approaches is self-sufficient. Clearly, a practice of history that serves life and creativity can only emerge from a continuous exchange between these three perspectives, fostering an inventive and dynamic interplay among them!
A beautiful example
Through her availability, openness to our questions, expertise, and ability to sense the psychic depth of the discussion while continuously redirecting it, our guide, Denise Rudin, was able to skillfully and captivatingly alternate between these three approaches to history. Her presentation flowed effortlessly from one to another with both authority and calm, ensuring that the Jung she spoke of was neither monumentalized, fossilized, nor outdated, but rather alive and, most importantly, inspiring.
As time went on, our guide’s narrative gradually deepened. It became increasingly interactive, encouraging personal reflection. She allowed us to concretely experience a dynamic and creative approach to history. Moreover, she demonstrated that a museum practice can indeed serve life and even support individuation. This memory, too, remains a cherished one from the house of Jung.
Original article by Rachel Huber and Bernard Hort
translation by Peggy Vermeesch.
October 2024
Further reading