Lecture #2439
DELIVERED
ON THE ANNIVERSARY of GOETHE'S Birthday
in connection with the lectures on
Wonders of the World, Ordeals of the Soul and
Revelations of the Spirit
August 28, 1911
My dear
theosophical Friends!
The
composition of “Faust” was Goethe's companion
from his early years, on, one may say in the truest sense of
the word, — till his death. For the second part of the
poem was left behind by him, sealed, as his literary
testament. The composition of certain important passages of
the 2nd part of Faust really belongs to the closing years of
that universal genius. Anyone who has had the opportunity of
following Goethe's spiritual evolution, as revealed in his
life-work, will discover many a thing of the most extreme
interest, particularly in reference to the fact that Goethe's
ideas continually altered regarding the course of development
of his poem, when he returned again and again to this labour
of his life. There is an interesting memorandum extant on the
conclusion of “Faust” as it was intended to be,
in accordance with Goethe's views of that date — a
period which we may fix at the end of the ’eighties or
beginning of the ’nineties of the eighteenth century.
We find here, besides a few notes on the first and second
parts, a short sentence containing an indication bearing on
the conclusion of the poem. This scrap of writing shows the
words jotted down in pencil by Goethe, “Epilogue in
Chaos on the way to Hell.” This reveals to us that it
was Goethe's intention at one time not to honour his Faust by
the kind of apotheosis which forms the present conclusion of
the poem, brought to an end in his extreme old age; but that,
in accordance with the course indicated in the Prologue in
Heaven, — from Heaven, through the world, to Hell
— he desired to bring Faust to a conclusion with the
Epilogue in Chaos on the Way to Hell. At that time Goethe
entertained thoughts which led him to believe that knowledge
which overstepped certain limits could only end in chaos. We
may trace a certain connection between the frame of mind
which prompted these words, which I quoted as Goethe's own,
with that which was said yesterday regarding the ordeals of
the soul; on the one hand the losing of itself in
nothingness; on the other hand the descent into the turbid
inner nature of the human being and the failure, in spite of
all efforts, to find the junction. Goethe's personality was
indeed one which compelled him to vanquish all difficulties,
step by step, and to experience all vicissitudes in his own
person. It is for this reason that all his creations leave
such an impression of sincerity and truthfulness on us,
— sometimes indeed the effect is so powerful that we
cannot immediately keep pace with him; because it is
impossible for us, unprepared, to transport ourselves into
the particular phase of his personality prevailing at one
period or another of his life. We may note a truly great
advance in Goethe between the moment at which he intended to
conclude his “Faust” with an epilogue in chaos on
the way to hell, and that other period in which he brings his
work to a close in the spirit of the monumental words
“Wer immer strebend sick bemüht, den können
wir erlösen.”
[Approximately: “He who is ever striving,
toils onward, him we can deliver.”]
For when Goethe, wrote the present, universally-known conclusion
to his “Faust,” the premonition of which we spoke
yesterday was alive within him, coupled with that inner
strength which brings the assurance that, though we must pass
through all ordeals of the soul, we shall-inevitably
accomplish the closing of the circle described yesterday.
This, my dear theosophical friends, is intended as a slight
indication of the most pronounced characteristic in Goethe's
life. Those among us who love a harmonious life, who cannot
accommodate themselves to its contradictions, though these
are the vital element in a progressive life reveals many
contradictions, and that Goethe's judgment of many matters in
his old age differed from that of his youth. But this was
only because he was forced to conquer every truth for
himself. Goethe's personality is a striking example of the
necessity of the lessons of life; it shows us that it is
precisely life on the physical plane which evokes direct
inner experiences, and that life, with its succession of
events, is needful for us, in order that we may become human
beings in the true sense of the word. When we pass in review
Goethe's whole life and contemplate its successive stages, we
are struck by the universality of his genius, the magnificent
comprehensiveness and many-sidedness of his mentality. It is
most important to study Goethe precisely from this point of
view, in his life-time, and also to measure by our own time
the importance of that which he was by reason of the
universality of his spirit, and then to ask ourselves how
Goethe can above all things influence our own epoch by the
universality of his genius.
It is well
for us, then, to devote a little study to the inner character
of the time in which we live, — to our present epoch
and its spiritual culture. It is especially important for
theosophists to consider attentively the spirit of our age.
It is often said that we live in an age of specialists, in
which exact science must reign supreme. How frequently do we
hear the words of the great physicist Helmholtz repeated,
namely, that at the present day there can be no mind
comprehensive enough to embrace all the various branches of
human knowledge, as they now exist. It has become absolutely
proverbial that there can be no doctor universalis
at the present day, and that one must be content with a
general knowledge of special subjects. But when we consider
that life is one and undivided, that everything in life is
involved with everything else, and that life does not ask
whether our souls are capable of comprehending what belongs
to the common spiritual living organism of our age; —
when we consider this we must conclude that it would be a
disaster for our age, were it impossible to find, at least to
some extent, the spirit ruling in all specialisation. And our
quest will be easiest, if we endeavour to approach the
subject precisely by those avenues opened up by theosophy or
spiritual science. That science must be universal; it must be
in a position to survey at a glance the branches of the
various sciences in all the different domains of civilised
life. To-day let us examine at least one aspect of our modern
intellectual life, and see how it appears in the light of
theosophy. As our time is limited, we will avoid those
departments of science which are more or less unaffected by
the passage of time, as least as to their nature and purpose,
in spite of the enormous extensions which they have undergone
in our day, — I mean mathematics, although even here we
might point to the fact that the weighty deliberations
carried on in certain branches of mathematics during the
nineteenth century may be said to have opened up the
supersensuous world to that science. But it must be mentioned
that great and wonderful discoveries have been made in all
branches of science in the course of the last few decades,
which testify everywhere, when examined in the proper light,
to the fact that the teachings of theosophy exactly agree
with science; whereas none of the theories that have been
applied to these discoveries up to the present day at all
coincide with the facts which have been accumulated with so
much diligence and energy for the last forty or fifty years.
Taking, for example, chemistry and physics, we see how
remarkable has been the tendency in the development of these
branches in that period. When we were young, in the
’seventies or ’eighties or earlier, the so-called
atomistic theories prevailed in chemistry and physics. These
theories attributed all phenomena to particular kinds of
vibration, either of ether or some other material substance.
In short we might say that it was customary then to explain
everything in the world, in the final instance, by the
theory of vibration. Then as we approached the last decade of
the nineteenth century, it was shown by the facts which
gradually came to light that the theory of motion, or
atomistic theory, was untenable. It may even be called a
remarkable achievement (in the most limited sense of the
word), that Professor Ostwald, who was chiefly noted as a
chemist and natural scientist, brought forward at a congress
in Lubeck, in place of the atomistic theory, the so-called
theory of energy, or energetics. In a certain respect this
was a progressive step; but the later discoveries in the
field of chemistry and physics, down to our own times, have
finally given rise to a considerable amount of scepticism and
want of faith regarding all theoretical science. The idea of
attributing external physical facts, such as the phenomena of
light, etc., to the vibration of minute particles, or to a
mere manifestation of energy, is now only entertained by
unprogressive minds. This opinion is chiefly strengthened by
all that has become known of late years regarding the
substances which gave rise to the theory of radium; and we
can already note the extraordinary circumstance that, owing
to certain facts which have come to light by degrees,
distinguished physicists such as Thomson and others have
found themselves obliged to throw overboard all theories,
first and foremost the ether hypothesis with its artistic
forms of vibration, once cultivated with such extreme
seriousness and assiduous application of the integral and
differential calculus. The theory of motion was therefore
fated to be discarded by the great physicists, who then
returned to the vortices of Cartesius, a theory which may be
said to be based on ancient occult traditions. But even these
theories have been relinquished in their turn; a feeling of
scepticism towards all theorising shows itself precisely in
physics and chemistry, as a result of the conviction that all
matter crumbles away, as it were, under the experiments of
modern physical science. Things have gone so far that, in
view of the advance of modern physical science, the theories
of atomistic vibration and of energetics can no longer be
upheld. All that might still have found a hearing 5, 6 or
more years ago, all on which so many fond hopes were built,
when we were young, when even the force of gravitation was
ascribed to motion, — in the eyes of those acquainted
with the real facts, all this has been demolished. But we
still of course hear of extraordinary ideas on the part of
the unprogressive. There is an interesting fact in this
connection, which I might mention, as it is my intention to
discuss certain characteristics of our own time and of
Goethe. A little book has just appeared which also takes the
standpoint that there is no such thing as gravitation, that
is, that there is no attraction between matter and the
planets. — It has always been a difficulty for science
to support this so-called theory of attraction, because one
must ask: How can the Sun attract the Earth, if it does not
stretch anything out into space? Now within the last few days
this book has appeared, in which attraction is ascribed to
the effect of concussion. For instance, we represent to
ourselves a body, whether planet or molecule, upon which
impacts are continually being exercised from all sides by
other planets or other molecular bodies, How does it happen
that these bodies impinge upon one another from all sides?
For of course they do impinge upon each other everywhere, one
in this, another in the opposite direction, an so on.
The essential point here is that when the
number of impacts exercised from outside is compared with
that produced by the bodies in the space between, the result
is a difference. The last-mentioned are fewer and have less
force than the outer. The consequence is that through the
outer impacts the two bodies, whether molecules or planets,
are driven together. According to this theory the force
usually called attraction is attributed to the impacts of
matter. It is refreshing to find something like a new thought
now-a-days; but to any one who looks more deeply into the
matter this theory is nothing more than refreshing. It is
refreshing for the simple reason that the same theory had
already been worked out with all possible mathematical
quibbles. It is contained in a book, now out of print,
written when I was a little boy, by a certain Heinrich
Schramm, “The Universal Vibration of Matter as the
First Cause of all Phenomena.” In this book the theory
is much more thoroughly dealt with. Such ideas constantly
reappear when scientists leave out of consideration the
evolution of the spiritual life. In this respect the most
extraordinary observations may be made; — errors caused
by a one-sided view are repeated over and over again. What I
should like to impress upon you above all is, that in
consequence of the achievements of physics and chemistry of
late years, abundant proofs have been furnished that that
which is called matter is merely a human conception, which
melts away under experiments, and that physics and chemistry,
leaving behind all motion and energy, steer directly to the
point at which matter merges into the spirit at its
foundation. The body of facts accumulated by physics and
chemistry already demand a spiritual foundation. Geology and
paleontology are in a similar case. In these sciences more
comprehensive theories, based upon vast aggregations of
force, prevailed till about 1860–1870. To-day we find
scepticism. everywhere; and among our best geologists and
palaeontologists there is an inclination to restrict their
labours to the bare registration of facts, because they dare
not combine them in thought. A considerable amount of courage
is needed to develop a system of thought embracing the series
of facts before them. People are afraid to take the step now
demanded even by geology and paleontology: — from the
material to the spiritual, — a step which would
transcend the Kant-Laplace theory. They dare not acknowledge
that their imaginary universal nebula is finally merged in
the spiritual regions, the world of the hierarchies, of which
all that we might call the outer, physical, or perhaps the
astrophysical theory, is but the garment. The case is
different when we come to those sciences which have to deal
more with life and the soul. We come in the first place to
biology.
Now you all
know how great were the hopes built on the progress of
biology, the science of life, when Darwin's great work,
“The Origin of Species”, appeared. Perhaps you
also know that at the natural science Congress held in
Stettin in the year 1863 Ernst Haeckel, with rare courage,
extended to the human being the theory apparently applied by
Darwin only to the animal, and we see that the science of
biology afterwards developed in a remarkable way. We find
cautious spirits who confine themselves more to the
registration of facts; but others are there, who push forward
impetuously, constructing daring theories on the results of
investigations dealing with the relationship of forms among
the different creatures. Foremost of all we find Haeckel
boldly constructing pedigrees, showing how, from elementary
forms of life, the most complicated structures have arisen
through ever-new ramifications. But side by side with these
more striking tendencies, — as we might call them
— there is a line of investigation which it is also
important to notice. This might be called the school of the
anatomist, Carl Gegenbaur. In accordance with his nature,
Gegenbaur was of opinion that, in the first place, we ought
not to concern ourselves with the correlation existing
between different creatures. He looked upon the Darwinian
theory as a guiding principle of investigation, to be used as
a standard, by the aid of which certain facts relating to the
forms of living creatures could be traced. Let us suppose
that the train of thought of a scientist might be expressed
in the following words: — “I am not prepared to
say that the higher animals might not be descended from the
birds or fishes, but I will start from the principle that a
relationship exists between them, and, keeping this in view,
will examine the gills and fins, and will see whether more
and more subtle resemblances do not come to light.” And
in fact it was found that, by using Darwin's method as a
clue, more and more important scientific facts were
discovered. Important results were also arrived at when this
method of research, stimulated by the Darwinian impulse, was
applied to the descent of man, by following up all the
evidence of paleontology and other archaeological records
relating to geology. Wherever scientists have gone to work
with caution, their method has been as follows: They begin by
tracing the links, laying down Darwin's theory as a guiding
principle. And here we have the astounding result that the
Darwinian theory, used in this way, has shown itself to be
extraordinarily fertile in results of late years, and that by
the discoveries to which it has led up till the present time,
it has contradicted and annulled itself! So that we may
observe the remarkable fact, scarcely to be found to the same
extent in any other domain of science, that the Darwinian
scientists disagree on all points. Thus, there are still
persons (certainly the very unprogressive) who relate the
human being to the anthropoid apes still extant, or at least
only slightly metamorphosed. There are some, particularly
among those who pursue the modern analysis of the blood and
the relationship among the components of the blood, who have
returned to the older forms of the Darwinian theory. Katsch,
for instance, affirms that it is impossible, in view of the
facts which have come to light, to relate the human being to
any animal form whatever now extant. All shades of opinion
prevail, from that according to which man is related to the
ape as he now exists, — on to others which diverge from
the latter, but, following the descent of man is not
traceable to the ancestors of these of these apes to any
other mammals. It is held that we must retrace our steps to
animals of which we can form no representation, and that from
these man is descended on the one hand, while the mammals
have branched off on the other hand, so that the apes are
very distantly related to the human being. What strikes us as
remarkable in this is the circumstance that when these
scientists employ the forms familiar to us at present, in
order to call up a picture of that real, primeval man, all
existing physical forms dissolve into a nebulous mass;
— the result is nil. How is this? Because there is a
point in the science of biology, at which the outer physical
facts arrived at by sincere effort, leads to the conclusion
that the ancestors of man cannot be represented as physical
beings, as all attempts in this direction fail. We at last
arrive at the spiritual, primal form of man, the fruit of an
earlier planetary evolution, — at that spiritual,
primal man spoken of in theosophy. Precisely those facts
which have been revealed by the researches of the nineteenth
and twentieth centuries bear incontrovertible testimony to
this truth, and the disagreement among scientists is
concealed solely because the students only attend the
lectures of one professor, and do not compare his teachings
with those of others. If they compared the opinions of the
various learned authorities, they would make strange
discoveries. In the books of a certain naturalist they would
find a passage very distinctly underlined, to the following
effect: “If any of my students now preparing for his
doctor's degree should propound this theory, which is brought
forward by another, I would reject him unhesitatingly.”
This assertion is however no exaggeration, it is only what is
said by the professor of one university of his colleague of
another university. And the disagreement mentioned is one of
the most conspicuous phenomena in the field of biology; while
in physics and chemistry the utmost resignation prevails with
regard to theories. When we come to physiology we find still
more singular conditions. We find that this science
everywhere leads to the most extravagant theories. We see how
even the mere outside husk of physiology is everywhere
influenced by all sorts of things behind or within the
physical, even among thinkers who, without knowing it, are
yet absolute materialists in their mode of thought. I might
mention hundreds of things in this connection, such for
instance as the strange theories put forward of late years by
a school of thought in Vienna, the so-called Freud school;
— theories dealing with the manner in which the
sub-conscious life of man, as it shows itself in dreams or
other phenomena of life, comes within the domain of
physiology. I can merely hint at these facts, and only
mention them because they show that it is necessary
everywhere, even theoretically speaking, that the mass of
empirical facts of the outer senses be traced to spiritual
causes. At the same time we find that the moment at which
general comprehension, or conception of the impression
necessarily made by science as a whole at the present day,
makes itself felt, a kind of resignation sets in. In
philosophy also we find the same resignation. You are
probably aware that under the influence of William James in
America, of Schiller in England and of other scholars in the
philosophic field, a strange theory has been developed, which
is really the outcome of a tendency inherent in facts, to
strive towards their spiritual origin; but its followers
nevertheless refuse recognise that origin in the spirit. This
is the so-called pragmatism, which affirms that, in
considering the various phenomena of life, we must, invent
theories regarding them, as if they were capable of being
combined; but that everything that we think out exists as an
economy of the mind, and has no inner, constitutive, real
value. This theory is the final refuse of the seared minds of
the present day. It denotes the most absolute unbelief in the
spirit, a reliance only on fragile theories, invented for the
purpose of combining facts, and a failure to believe that the
living spirit first implanted in the objects the thoughts
which we find in them at last. The strangest fate of all
sciences in this respect is reserved to psychology. There are
certain psychologists who are incapable of finding the way to
a living spirit, in which the soul finds itself as if reborn
in the objects. On the other hand they cannot deny that, if
any harmony at all can be established between the soul and
the objects, something must be transferred to the objects
from the soul. What is experienced in the soul must have
something to do with the objects. And in connection with
this, there is a curious word in circulation in German
systems of psychology, — one which really flies in the
face of all philological thought — the word “to
feel into” (an object) (Einfühlen). There
can be no clearer example of helping oneself out of a
dilemma, than the use of such a word to avoid exact thought.
As if it were of any importance that we should feel something
into the objects, without being able to find in the things
themselves the essential, real connection between the objects
and that which we see in them. This is a state of
forlornness, in which psychology finds itself bereft of the
spirit, and tries to help itself out of the difficulty by the
use of such a word. Thus we might find many similar
masterpieces brought into existence at the present day by
systems of psychology which cannot be taken seriously. Other
systems of psychology confine themselves to a description of
the outer instruments of the soul-life, — the brain,
etc.; and it has gone so far that psychologists are listened
to with respect when they prove by experiment that no force
or energy absorbed or taken into our system in food and
drink, is lost. This is supposed to prove that the law of the
conservation of energy must also hold good for psychology,
and that there is no such thing as a soul-nature independent
of the body, and working apart through its bodily
instruments. A conclusion such as this is perfectly
illogical. One who can draw such a conclusion, and who is in
a position to formulate such a thought at all, must also
admit that it would be reasonable to stand in front of a
bank, to calculate how much money is carried in and how much
is carried out, and then to reckon how much remains in the
coffers; and from this to draw the conclusion that there are
no employees at work in the bank. Such conclusions are really
drawn, and they are even regarded as scientific in our day.
Theories like these are built up on the returns of modern
research. They cast a veil over the real nature of the facts.
We can observe the real status of psychology in a highly
interesting personality, a truly remarkable man, who wrote a
work on psychology in the ’seventies of the last
century, Francis Brentano. He wrote the 1st. volume of a
psychology which should have filled several volumes. Whoever
is willing to follow the contents of the 1st. volume with an
understanding of the real standpoint of psychological facts,
must reflect that, considering the nature of the premise from
which Francis Brentano starts, and if it be at all possible
to advance on the basis of these premisses, his arguments
must lead into spiritual science or theosophy. This is the
only way open; and those who will not be led to spiritual
science, or even will not make a slight effort to arrive at a
reasonable comprehension of the life of the soul, may be
supposed to be incompetent. And here we have the interesting
fact that the first volume of a psychological work intended
to embrace several volumes, had no successor. He only wrote
the 1st. volume; and though Brentano dealt, in smaller works,
with one or another of the problem which occupied him, he
never found his way to spiritual science; hence he barred the
way to any further progress in psychology.
By another
and still more pregnant fact we may see how even the
negative, principle, so conspicuous everywhere at present,
demands that the thinkers who take their stand on the
wonderful facts that have come to light during the last few
decades, should tend towards spiritual science. This is
doubtless a difficult step for many at the present day. Some
are deterred by reasons into which we need not enter now; we
will merely show how, on all hands, when we try to find the
true forces in modern science, when we set to work with
honesty and sincerity, comprehensively and energetically, the
merging of science into theosophy is a necessary consequence.
Farthest of all from the union with spiritual science is
history, as it is written at the present day. The historians
who apparently approach it most nearly, — those who do
not merely regard history as a succession of fortuitous human
impulses and passions and other facts belonging to the
physical plane, — are those who recognise the existence
of ruling thoughts. As if abstract thought could possibly
have any influence! Unless we ascribe will to those thoughts,
they cannot be spiritual powers, nor can they become active.
To recognise governing ideas in history, therefore, apart
from entities, is devoid of all sense. Not until active life
has been infused into history, not until the spiritual
life-principle is conceived as pervading the soul, expending
itself ever more intensely as it passes from soul to soul,
— not until history is understood as it is understood
in “les Grands Inities” (by Édouard
Shuré) has the point been reached at which that science
merges into theosophy or spiritual sciences. Thus we may
boldly affirm that it is evident to any unprejudiced observer
that all learning imperatively calls for the theosophical
mode of thought. Thinkers who penetrate deeply into the
spiritual life, who follow the path of knowledge with heart
and soul, and are not content merely to weave theories, but
whose very heart is bound up with true knowledge, —
spirits like these, it is true, show by their lives how life
is everywhere in touch with spiritual science. As an
example, I may cite a man who was known to the world for
years as a celebrated poet, who was for long years condemned
to a sick-bed and during that time wrote down the thoughts
and experiences that came to him on the path of knowledge, as
a bequest to posterity; — a poet who was not of course
taken seriously as a philosopher, by philosophers. I mean
Robert Hamerling. But the latter, who was perhaps only justly
appreciated by Vincenz Knauer (who even made him the subject
of lectures) was not a theoretical philosopher, but one who
entered heart and soul on the paths of wisdom, and
synthesised the sciences of chemistry, physics, philosophy,
physiology, biology and history of modern times, as far as
these were accessible to him, fertilising his knowledge by
his poetic intuition. Robert Hamerling, who was able to
fructify the thoughts regarding the world, by his own gift of
poetic intuition, laid down in his “Atomistics of the
Will” all that he found upon the path of knowledge. His
path was not like that trodden by so many to-day, who start
from the mere theory of some school of thought; it led
directly from life itself. In his “Atomistics of the
Will,” he has written much of importance for those who
take an interest in the tendency of ordinary learning and
intellectuality to merge into spirituality. A passage from
the “Atomistics of the Will” written in 1891,
will follow here as an example of the thoughts collected by
him in his solitude, on the evolutionary path of knowledge on
which he had entered. “It is possible,” says
Hamerling on p. 145 of Vol.II. of “Atomistics of the
Will,” “ that living beings exist, whose
corporeality is more tenuous than atmospheric air. At regards
other heavenly bodies, at least, nothing can be urged against
this supposition. Beings whose corporeality is of such
extreme subtlety would be invisible to us, and would exactly
correspond to those beings ordinarily called spirits, or to
the etheric bodies, or souls surviving after the death of
individuals ... ” He continues in the same strain.
Here we have an allusion to the etheric body in the middle of
a book which is the outcome of the intellectual life of the
present day. Let us suppose that truth and uprightness
everywhere prevailed, together with an earnest striving to
know what really lives in the thought of men; let us imagine
that an honest desire existed to try to understand what we
already possess; that, in other words, people should write
fewer books, until they have learnt the content of other
books already written, — then the work done in
our time would be very different; there would be continuity
in it. Were this so, it would have to be admitted that,
during the last few decades, spiritual life has been breaking
forth, and vistas opening of spiritual aims and perspectives,
wherever science has been honestly and earnestly prosecuted.
For there are many examples like that of Robert
Hamerling.
Thus the
special branches of the various sciences unite and demand
that which can alone give a comprehensive view of the world
at the present day, such as I have endeavoured to sketch
lately in “Occult Science”. Into that work are
woven, imperceptibly, the latest results of all the sciences,
side by side with spiritual research. When we consider this
we must acknowledge that open doors to spirituality are
everywhere to be found; but we pass them by unnoticed.
Whoever is acquainted with modern science finds without
exception that its facts, not its theories, require a
spiritual explanation. Were it possible for ordinary science
to emancipate itself from all theories — the atomic,
the vibratory, energetics and all other forms of
one-sidedness with which the world is continually hedged
about by a few stock ideas, — if scientists could only
liberate themselves from such trammels; did they allow the
great mass of facts now brought to light by science to speak
for themselves, all contradiction between the spiritual
science which we follow here and the genuine results of
modern research would cease. Here, Goethe may be our great
helper — Goethe, who fulfilled all the conditions of a
universal mind so magnificently. He fulfilled those
conditions even outwardly; for whoever is acquainted with
Goethe's correspondence knows that he exchanged letters with
countless naturalists on all the most important questions in
the various departments of science. From his experimenting
cabinets and from his study, communications went forth to the
different branches of science at all points of the compass.
He corresponded with botanists, opticians, zoologists,
anthropologists, geologists, mineralogists and historians, in
short with scientists in every field. And though
unprogressive minds certainly refused to recognise him as an
authority, because his investigations were beyond their
understanding, he found other thinkers by whom he was most
highly appreciated, and who consulted him when it became
necessary to settle any question of special interest. This is
an incident of no great importance, but at the same time we
can see how Goethe worked in thought and also in deed with
the foremost philosophers of his day, such as Schelling and
Hegel. We find that the minds of a number of philosophers
were fructified by him, and that Goethe's thoughts reappeared
in their work, in the same or another form. Finally we can
see how in the course of his life Goethe seriously occupied
himself with the study of botany, zoology, osteology in
particular, also with anthropology in a wider sense; further
with optics and physical science in their wider scope.
Isolate scientists in the domain of biology are now showing a
disposition to do justice to Goethe in a small degree. On the
other hand it is quite comprehensible that physicists are
perfectly sincere in their inability to understand Goethe's
teachings regarding colour, from their own standpoint. These
truths regarding colour can only be understood in the future,
— unless the acquaintance with theosophy has meantime
brought about a change, — perhaps not before the second
half of the twentieth, or even the first half of the 21st.
century. The physical science of the present day can only
look upon Goethe's ideas regarding colour as nonsense; this
however is no fault of the teaching; the fault lies in the
forms of modern science. If you read my book, “Goethe's
Conception of the World,” also the preface to Goethe's
works on natural science, published by Kirschner, you will
see what I mean. You will see that the latter contains an
appreciation, of Goethe's theory of colour, which is
scientific in the truest sense, and, compared with which, all
modern theories relating to physical science are mere
dilettantism. Thus we see how Goethe laboured in all
departments of science. We can see how his endeavours to
understand the laws of nature were everywhere fertilised by
the poetic forces of his genius. Goethe looked upon nothing
as separate from the rest; everything intermingled in his
soul. There no one pursuit interferes with another. Goethe is
himself a proof that it is an absurdity to believe that the
active pursuit of some branch of intellectual knowledge could
hamper intuition. If both impulses are only present in
strength and originality, they do not interfere with one
another. We can form an idea of the living cooperation of the
human forces of the soul, as they are expressed in the
different sciences, and in the entire personality of the
human being; the necessity of life makes it possible for us
to form such an idea, and we are helped by the fact that a
modern intelligence exists, in whom this cooperation of the
different soul-forces of the whole personality was actually
living. It is for this reason that Goethe's personality is a
model, to which we must look up in order to study that living
cooperation of the soul-forces. As he is a man whose progress
we can watch from year to year, in the deepening of his own
inner life and understanding of the world, he is an example
to us of the manner in which man must strive, in order to
attain a greater intensity of the inner life. Not the mere
contemplation of Goethe, not the repetition of his words, nor
even devotion to his works should be our duty on a day which
the calendar shows us to be closely connected, in a narrow
sense, with Goethe's life, — but to consider the
grandeur that radiates from his whole person, in the light of
a model for our epoch. Especially the scientific thinker of
our day might learn much from Goethe. For in respect to the
comprehension of the spiritual life, scientific thought is
not in a flourishing condition; but precisely from that
quarter we shall inevitably live to see a great revival of
Goethe, and a gradual and increasing understanding of his
genius. A contemplation of Goethe's life may throw a flood of
light on our advance to spirituality, on theosophy in
general; it will illuminate our progress healthfully, because
in Goethe everything is healthy. He is trustworthy in every
particular, and, where he contradicts himself, it is not his
logic that is at fault. Life itself is a contradiction, and
must be so in order that it may continue to live. This is a
thought which I would fain kindle in you on this birthday of
Goethe's, to show how necessary it is that we should become
absorbed in the things lying open to us. Goethe can give us
an infinity. We can learn most from him if we forget much
that has been written in the countless works extant on
Goethe, for such communications are more likely to cast a
veil over the real Goethe than to make us acquainted with
him. But Goethe has an occult power of attraction; there is
something in him which works of itself. If we yield ourselves
up to Goethe we shall find that we can celebrate his birthday
within ourselves, and we shall feel something of that which
is ever young and fresh in Goethe, of which we might say that
Goethe may rise again in a soul steeped in theosophy. Though
Goethe's name is so often heard and his works so often
quoted, our materialistic age has but a meagre understanding
of him. There was a time when people were really fascinated,
even by very serious discussions on the
subject of Goethe, — not literary and historical
discussions in our sense of the word, for these are not
serious. When Goethe was the subject of serious talk there
were always listeners who were carried away by that inner
spiritual vein which is never wanting in Goethe. We may
recall the time when old Karl Rosenkranz, the Hegel scholar,
who was on a level with the highest culture of his day,
ventured between 1830 and 1840 to announce a series of
lectures on Goethe at the university of Königsberg. He
wished to state frankly a philosopher's opinion of Goethe. He
prepared his lectures, and left his study with the thought:
“Perhaps one or two may come to hear what I have to
say!” — But thought nearly died within him, when
he found himself outside in the midst of a wild snowstorm, so
violent that no one could be expected to venture out to a
lecture that was not obligatory. He made his way to the
lecture-hall and behold, nothing could be more unfavourable
than the conditions under which he had to deliver his
lecture. It was a hall which could not be heated, the floor
was in bad repair, and the walls ran water in streams. But
the name of Goethe was an attraction and there was a good
audience, even on the first evening, and though at each
lecture the conditions grew worse, and the hall more
uncomfortable, the audience grew more and more numerous.
Finally the attendance at Karl Rosenkranz' lectures was so
great that the hall could scarcely contain it.
Goethe is one
of those thinkers who can best stimulate us theosophically. A
healthy view of Goethe would be to regard him, in the light
of theosophy, as a great spirit incarnated in the body of
Goethe, — a spirit whom we must first learn to
understand. We must not allow him to be represented to us as
a fleshly form in which there dwells a great spirit whom we
are bound to take on authority. There are really safe paths
leading to theosophy, it is only necessary to follow them,
without shrinking from the trouble. This is why I never
hesitate, even when great numbers are present at a course of
lectures, to shed light, sometimes in a manner inconvenient
perhaps to many, on some bye-path of spiritual knowledge, to
risk a bold assertion or to make a statement difficult to
understand. I should never shrink from such a step, because I
know that only in this way is it possible for theosophy to
make sound progress, or to take root in modern civilised
life. It seems to me that we may mount to the highest
spiritual regions without losing our warmth of heart; it
seems to me that all those assembled here must be conscious
to some degree of the truth, that the methods applied to the
interpretation of theosophy here are those of the most modern
intellectual life, and the strange opinion which prevails
even in theosophical circles, that a réchauffé of
mediaeval learning is served up here, instead of facts in
agreement with modern science, is a very grave departure from
the truth. As this has been pronounced by many — even
among theosophists — it must be pointed out that anyone
who can follow with understanding will be convinced that no
mediaeval learning, but the union of objective, scientific
teachings with genuine, modern spiritual aspirations, is our
aim. It is not my province to judge how far this object has
been attained; but it ought to be clear to everyone that
nothing mediaeval in its character, nor anything merely
associated with traditions, but objective knowledge, on a
level with modern science, is the object of our study here.
It should also be experienced as a certainty that the
conditions of life which are the outcome of our theosophical
studies are able to fill our hearts with enthusiasm. What
seems to me of most importance is that what our hearts have
gained from such a course of study and we carry away with us
into the world, — what we have grasped in the breadth
of the conceptions and words, is concentrated in our hearts;
it lives itself out in our feelings and sensations, in our
compassion and in our actions, and we are then
living theosophy. As the rivers can only flow over
the lands when they have been fed by the sources, so the life
of theosophy can only stream out into the world, when it
draws its forces from the springs of wisdom open to us to-day
by those spiritual Powers whom we call the Masters of Wisdom
and of the Harmony of Feelings. And we have grasped the true
meaning of the word theosophy, or spiritual science, when it
speaks to us in the forms of modern, intellectual life, when,
at the same time, instead of leaving, our hearts and souls
cold, it warms them, so that that warmth may communicate
itself to others everywhere in the world. In proportion as
you carry out into the world what has been said here, not
only in your thoughts, but also in your feelings, your
impulses of will and your actions, these lectures will have
served their purpose. This is the aim of these lectures. With
this wish, my dear theosophical friends, I always welcome you
from the heart when you come, and with the same wish I take
leave of you on this day, at the close of our series of
lectures, with the words: “Let us remain united in the
theosophical, in the intellectual and spiritual sense, even
though we must live in space separated one from the other and
from the present time, in which we can be more closely united
in space; let us take, as the most inspiring mutual greeting
and farewell, the thought that we are together in spirit,
even when we are dispersed in space. In this spirit I take
leave of you to-day, on the occasion of our celebration of
Goethe's birthday, at the close of our course of lectures.
Let us think often of the object which has brought us
together, and may it also bear fruit for that personal bond
which may always unite one theosophist with another in love.
May we be together in this sense, even after we have parted,
and may we ever anew be drawn together again, that we may
rise to heights of spiritual and supersensuous life.
|