Two Essays on Haeckel
GA 54
5 October 1905, Berlin
Translated by Dr. Bertram Keightley
II. Haeckel's “The Riddle of the Universe” and Theosophy
In selecting such a theme as the one I propose for to-day, “Haeckel, The Riddle of the Universe, and Theosophy,” I am aware that to a student of spiritual life it is fraught with difficulties, and that the statements I am about to make may possibly give offence to so-called materialists and theosophists alike. And yet there seems to me a necessity that this matter should, once in a while, be approached from the theosophical point of view, since from one standpoint the “gospel” derived from Haeckel's researches has been made accessible to thousands upon thousands of mankind by means of his book, The Riddle of the Universe. Ten thousand copies of this work were sold within a very short time of its appearance, and it has been translated into many languages. Seldom, indeed, has a book of serious purpose found so wide a circulation.
Now, if theosophy is to make clear its aims, it is but right that it should take into account so important a publication—one that concerns itself with the most profound questions of existence. Theosophy should deal with it comprehensively, and seek to express its attitude with regard to it. For after all, the theosophical conception of life is not combative but rather conciliatory, desirous of harmonising opposing views.
Furthermore, I myself am in a very peculiar position with respect to Ernst Haeckel's conception of the universe, for I know well those feelings and perceptions which, partly by reason of a scientific consciousness, and partly from the general conditions of the world and the usual conceptions thereof, draw men as though by the power of some fascination towards such great and simple paths of thought as those from which Haeckel has constructed his conception of the universe. And here I may say that I should hardly have dared to speak my mind thus openly were I in any sense an opponent of Haeckel, or were it not that I am intimately acquainted with all that can be experienced in the process of adapting oneself to the wonderful edifice of his ideas.
The very first thing that anyone bringing his attention frankly to bear upon the development of spiritual life is bound to recognise, is the moral power displayed in Haeckel's labours. For years past this man, imbued with an enormous amount of courage, has fought for the acceptance and the recognition of his conception of the universe—fought strenuously, having again and again to defend himself against the manifold obstacles that impeded his progress. On the other hand, we must not be unmindful of the fact that Haeckel's great powers of comprehensive expression are balanced by equally comprehensive powers of thought: the very qualities in which many scientists are deficient happen to be those with which he is very highly endowed.
In gathering together the results of his researches and investigations under the one comprehensive title of a conception of the universe, he has boldly departed from those tendencies of scientific thought which have for several decades opposed any such undertaking; and this very departure must be recognised as an act of special significance.
Another fact to be noted is, that I am placed in a singular position with regard to the theosophical conception of the universe when I speak about Haeckel; for anyone acquainted with the process of development through which the theosophical movement has passed will be aware of what sharp words and what opposition, not only on the part of theosophists in general, but on the part of the founder of the theosophical movement, Madame H. P. Blavatsky, were directed against the deductions which Ernst Haeckel draws from his work of investigation. Few publications touching cosmogony have been so violently opposed in the Secret Doctrine as that of Haeckel.
You will understand that I speak here without prejudice, for I think that in parts of my book, Haeckel and his Opponents, as well as in my other work on Cosmogonies of the Nineteenth Century, I have to the fullest extent done justice to what I take to be the real truths contained in Haeckel's conception of the universe. I believe that I have sifted from his labours that which is fruitful, and that which is enduring. Consider the general attitude towards the conception of the world in so far as it is based upon scientific reasons. During the first half of the nineteenth century a totally different spiritual attitude prevailed from that known in the second half. Haeckel's appearance on the scene coincided with a time in which it was an easy thing for the new growth of so-called Darwinism to be subjected to materialistic interpretations. If, therefore, we realise how insistent was this tendency, at the very time when Haeckel was a young and enthusiastic student entering upon the pursuit of natural science, to reduce all discoveries in that domain of learning to a materialistic issue, the consequent bent towards materialism may well be understood, and may therefore lead us into a path of peace rather than of conflict.
If you will consider those men who, about the middle of the nineteenth century, set themselves to confront the great riddle of humanity with calm, unprejudiced eyes, you will find two things: on the one hand, a state of absolute resignation in relation to the highest questions concerning a divine ordering of the world, such as immortality, freedom of will, origin of life—a resignation, in short, with regard to all the actual riddles of the universe. On the other hand you will discover, co-existing with this attitude of resignation, remnants of an ancient religious tradition, and this even among students of natural science. Bold adventuring towards investigation of such questions from the scientific point of view was, during the first half of the nineteenth century, to be met with only among German philosophers, such as Schelling and Fichte, as well as Oken, who, by the way, was a pioneer of freedom without equal, not alone upon this subject, but in many paths of life.
All attempts made by men in the present day towards the fundamentalising of world-theories are to be found in still bolder outline among the works of Oken. And yet all this was animated by a certain subtleness—a breath, as it were, of that old spiritualism which is clearly conscious that, behind and beyond all that our senses can perceive, all that can be investigated by means of instruments, there still lurks something spiritual to be sought for. Haeckel has again and again told us how distinctly the mind of his great teacher—that deep student of natural science, Johannes Müller, of imperishable memory—was tinged with this subtle breath. You can read in Haeckel's own writings how he had been struck (it was at the time when he was busy at the Berlin University and studying the anatomy of men and animals under Johannes Müller) by the great resemblance apparent not alone in outward form, but also by that similarity which compels attention in the evolution of form. He tells us how he had remarked to his master that such resemblance as this must hint at some mysterious kinship between man and beast, and that the answer made by Johannes Müller, who had searched so deeply into Nature, had been: “Ah! he who lays bare the secret of species will indeed have reached the highest summit.”
What we have to do is to attune ourselves to the spirit, the motive, of such a seeker; of one who assuredly would never have halted had he beheld a prospect of entering into possession of that secret. On one other occasion, when teacher and pupil were travelling together on some journey of investigation, Haeckel again referred to the close relationship existing between animals; and Johannes Müller once more replied very much to the same effect. In alluding to this I only wish to draw your attention to a certain attitude of mind.
If you will look back among the writings of any well-known naturalist belonging to the first half of the nineteenth century—for instance, to those of Burdach—you will find that, in spite of all the careful and elaborate minutiae appertaining to natural science, whenever the kingdom of life comes to be considered, the suggestion is ever present that here no mere physical and chemical powers are in operation, but that something higher has to be taken into account.
When, however, improvements in microscopes made it possible for man to observe, to a far greater extent than heretofore, all those curious formations which serve to distinguish living creatures, showing that we have to do with a fine web of the minutest animalcules, and that this actually composes the physical body—when, as I have said, so much was made visible, the attitude of the scientific mind underwent a change. This physical body, which serves plants and animals as their garment, now resolved itself, so far as the scientist was concerned, into a tissue of cells. This discovery as to the life of these cells was made by naturalists about the end of the third decade of the nineteenth century, and, seeing that it was possible to ascertain so much about the lives of such animalcules by the exercise of the senses, assisted by the aid of the microscope, it required but a step further for that which acts as the organising principle in these living creatures to be lost sight of, because no physical sense, nothing external, proclaimed its presence.
At that time there was no Darwinism, yet it was owing to the impression made by this great advance in the domain of practical research that we find a natural science grounded in materialism coming into vogue during the 'forties and 'fifties. It was then thought that what could be perceived by the senses, and thus explained, could be understood by the whole world. Things that now seem puerile created then the most intense sensation, and became, so to speak, a gospel for humanity. Such words as “energy” and “matter” became popular by-words, while men like Büchner and Moleschott were recognised authorities. It was considered an evidence of childish fancy, belonging to earlier epochs of the human race, to suppose that anything that could be minutely examined with the eye was possessed of aught beyond what was actually visible.
Now, you must bear in mind that, side by side with all discovery, feelings and sensations play a great part in the development of mental life. Anyone who may be inclined to think that cosmogonies are the result of bold calculations of reason makes a mistake: in all such matters the heart is active, and the secret sources of education also contribute their share. Humanity has, during its latest phase of development, been passing through a materialistic stage of education. The actual beginning of this stage is traceable far back, it is true; nevertheless, it reached its apex in the time of which we are speaking. We call this epoch of materialistic education the age of enlightenment.
Man had now—and this was the final result of the Christian conception of the universe—to find his foothold upon the firm ground of reality: the God whom he had so long sought beyond the clouds he was now bidden to seek within his inner consciousness. This had a far-reaching effect upon the entire development of the nineteenth century, and anyone interested in psychological changes and caring to study the development of humanity at that time will be enabled to understand how all the events and occurrences which then followed upon each other, such as the struggle for freedom in the 'thirties and 'forties, can but be classed as separate storms and convulsions of the feelings which were the result of that newly developed sense of physical reality, and which were bound to run their appointed course. We have to deal with a tendency in human education that sought in the first place forcibly to eradicate from the human heart every aspiration towards a spiritual life.
It is not from natural science that those deductions, pronouncing the world to consist of naught but what can be perceived by the senses, have been drawn; they are a consequence of the educational teaching obtaining at that time. Materialism had become interwoven with explanations relating to the facts of natural science. Anyone who will take the trouble to study these things as they really are, bringing to bear upon the subject a mind free from prejudice, will be in a position to see for himself that the case is as I am about to set forth, but it is impossible for me in the space of one short hour to deal with the matter exhaustively.
The whole of the stupendous advance made in the realms of natural science, of astronomy, of physics and chemistry, due to spectrum analysis, to a greater theoretical knowledge of heat, and to that teaching concerning the development of living organisms known to us as the Darwinian theory—all these come within this period of materialism. Had these discoveries been made at a time when people still thought as they did about the end of the eighteenth and beginning of the nineteenth centuries, a time when a greater spiritual sensitiveness prevailed, then these discoveries would have been so construed as to furnish proofs positive of the working of the spirit in Nature—indeed, by very reason of the wonderful discoveries in natural science the supremacy of spirit would have been deemed incontestably established.
It is clear, then, that scientific investigations with regard to Nature need not necessarily and under all circumstances lead to materialism. It was merely because so many leaders of civilisation at that time were materialistically inclined that these discoveries became interpreted in a materialistic way. Materialism was imported into natural science, and naturalists, such as Ernst Haeckel, accepted it unconsciously. Darwin's discovery per se need not have tended to materialism.
Materialism points to Darwin's book, The Origin of Species, as its chief support. Now, it is clear that if a thinker inclining to materialism approached these discoveries, he would be sure to invest Darwinism with a materialistic colouring, and it was due to Haeckel's boldly materialistic attitude of thought that Darwinism has received its present materialistic interpretation. It was an event of great moment when Haeckel, in the year 1864, announced the connection between man and the higher animals (apes). At that time this could but mean that man was descended from the higher animals. But since that day scientific thought has undergone a curious process of development. Haeckel has adhered to his opinion that man is the descendant of those higher animals, they being in their turn the developments of still lower types, reaching back finally to the very simplest forms of life. It is thus that Haeckel constructs man's entire genealogical tree—in fact, the lineal descent of all humanity. By this means everything of a spiritual nature became for him excluded from the world, except as a reflection of already-existing material things.
And yet Haeckel, having in the depths of his being a peculiar spiritual consciousness working side by side with his materialistic “thinking mind,” casts about for some means of help, since these two parts of his being have never been able to “come into line;” he has not succeeded in bringing about a working partnership between them. For this reason he comes to the conclusion that even the smallest living creature may be accredited with a sort of consciousness, but he does not explain to us how the complex human consciousness is developed out of that which is latent in the smallest living creature.
In the course of a conversation Haeckel once said: “People are always objecting to my materialism, but I don't deny the Spirit, nor do I deny Life: I only want people to observe that when you place matter in a retort everything in it soon begins to work and effervesce—to ferment.” That remark shows plainly enough that Haeckel possesses a spiritual as well as a scientific mind.
Among those who, at the time of Darwin's supremacy, proclaimed their adherence to the theory of man's descent from the higher animals was the English scientist Huxley. He asserted the close similarity in external structure between man and the higher animals to be even greater than that existing between the higher and lower species of apes, and that we could but come to the conclusion that a line of descent existed leading from the higher animals to man. In more recent times scientists have discovered new facts, but even then those feelings which for centuries past have educated the human heart and soul were undergoing a change, a transformation. Hence it was that Huxley in the 'nineties, not long before his death, gave utterance to the following view—a strange one, coming from him:
“We see therefore,” he observed, “that in Nature life is conditioned by a series of steps, proceeding from the simplest and most incomplete up to the complicated and perfected. We cannot follow this continuity, yet why should not this continuous line proceed onwards in a region which we are unable to survey?”
In these words the way is indicated by which man may, by the pursuit of natural science, rise to the idea of a Divine being, standing high above man—a being farther removed from man than man himself is from the one-celled organism. Huxley had once said:
“I would rather have descended from such ancestors, ancestors similar to the brute, than from such as deny the human intelligence.”1Readers who are unacquainted with Huxley's famous reply may be glad to have it in extenso, as given by Edward Clodd in Thomas Henry Huxley, published by William Blackwood & Sons:
“At the meeting of the British Association at Oxford, on 28th June, 1860, Owen emphasised the statement that ‘the brain of the gorilla presented more differences, as compared with the brain of man, than it did when compared with the brains of the very lowest and most problematical of the Quadrumana.’ To this Huxley, in polite English, gave the lie direct, and pledged himself to ‘justify that unusual procedure elsewhere.’ Two days after, by mere chance, he was present at the reading of a paper by Dr. Draper ‘On the Intellectual Development of Europe considered with reference to the views of Mr. Darwin.’ In the discussion which followed, Bishop Wilberforce, throwing a glance at Huxley, ended a suave and superficial speech by asking him ‘as to his belief in being descended from an ape. Is it on his grandfather's or his grandmother's side that the ape ancestry comes in?’ Huxley did not rise till the meeting called for him. Then he let himself go. ‘The Lord hath delivered him into mine hands,’ he said in an undertone to Sir Benjamin Brodie. After showing how ill-equipped was the Bishop for controversy upon the general question of organic evolution, although it was an open secret that Owen had primed him for the contest, Huxley said: ‘You say that development drives out the Creator, but you assert that God made you; and yet you know that you yourself were originally a piece of matter no bigger than the end of this gold pencil-case?’ Then followed the famous retort:
“‘I asserted, and I repeat, that a man has no reason to be ashamed of having an ape for his grandfather. If there were an ancestor whom I should feel shame in recalling it would rather be a man—a man of restless and versatile intellect—who, not content with success in his own sphere of activity, plunges into scientific questions with which he has no real acquaintance, only to obscure them by an aimless rhetoric, and distract the attention of his hearers from the real point at issue by eloquent digressions and skilled appeals to religious prejudice.’”
Thus do precepts and concepts, all the soul thinks and feels, alter in the course of time. Haeckel has continued his work of research along the lines he first adopted. In the year 1867 he had already published his popular work, The Natural History of Creation, and from this book much may be learnt. It teaches the laws by which the living kingdoms in Nature are linked one to the other. We can see through the veil shrouding the grey past and bring what is existent into relation with what is extinct, of which only the last remains may now be found upon the earth.
Haeckel has recognised this accurately. That world-history, here in a wider sense playing its part, I can only elucidate by making use of an illustration. You may find it no more accurate than are most comparative illustrations, yet it fairly bears out my meaning.
Let us suppose that a writer on art appeared upon the scene and produced a book in which he treated with consummate skill the whole period stretching from the days of Leonardo da Vinci to modern times. He presents to our minds all that has been achieved in the pursuit of art during that period, and we believe ourselves enabled to look within at the development of man's creative powers. Let us, then, go further, and imagine that another person came along and criticised the descriptive work, saying: “But, look here! Everything this art historian has put on record never happened at all! These are all descriptions of pictures that don't exist! What use have I for such imaginings? One has to investigate reality in order to arrive at the true method of adequately presenting art in its historical bearings. I will therefore investigate the remains of Leonardo da Vinci himself, and try to reconstruct the body, and then judge by the contours of his skull what brain he is likely to have had and how it may probably have functioned.” In the same way the events described by the art historian are depicted by the professor of anatomy. There may have been no mistake. All may have been correct. Well, then, in that case, says the anatomist, we must “fight to a finish” against this idealisation of our art historian; we must combat his phantasy, his imagination, for it amounts to credulity and superstition to allow anyone to attempt to make us believe that besides the form of Leonardo da Vinci there was some “gaseous vortex” to be apprehended as a soul.
Now, this illustration, in spite of its manifest absurdity, really hits the mark. This is the position in which everyone finds himself who chooses to assert his belief in the Natural History of Creation as the only accurate one. Nor can this illustration be negatived by merely indicating its weak points. They are there, perhaps, but that is beside the point. What is of importance is that the obvious should for once be presented according to its inner relationship; and that is what Haeckel has done in a full and exhaustive way. It has been done in such a manner that anyone wishing to see, can see, how active is the Spirit in the moulding of the form, where, to all appearances, matter alone reigns supreme. Much may be learnt from that; we may learn how to acquire spiritually knowledge as to the world's material combination, how to acquire it with earnestness, dignity, and perseverance. Anyone going through Haeckel's Anthropogenesis sees how form builds itself up, as it were, from the simplest living creature to the most complicated, from the simplest organism to man. He who understands how to add the Spirit to what is already granted by the materialist may in this example of “Haeckelism” have the opportunity of studying the best elementary theosophy.
The results of Haeckel's research constitute, so to speak, the first chapter of theosophy. Far better than by any other method, we can arrive at a comprehension of the growth and transformation of organic forms by a study of his works. We have every reason to call attention to the great things which have been achieved through the progress of this profound study of Nature.
At the time when Haeckel had constructed this wonderful edifice, the world was facing the deeper riddles of humanity as problems without solution. In the year 1872 Du Bois-Reymond, in a speech memorable for its brilliant rhetoric, alluded to the limits placed to natural science and to our knowledge of Nature. During the past decade the utterances of few men have been so much discussed as has this lecture with the celebrated “Ignorabimus.” It was a momentous event, and offered a complete contrast to Haeckel's own development and to his theory of the descent of man. In another lecture Du Bois-Reymond has tabulated seven great questions as to existence, questions which the naturalist can only answer in part, if at all. These seven “riddles of the universe” are:
The origin of energy and matter.
How did the first movement arise in this quiescent matter?
How did life originate within this “matter set in motion?”
How is it that so many things in Nature bear the stamp of utility to a degree only met with in such human achievements as are the result of intelligent reasoning?
Assuming we were able to examine our brain, we should find it to be nothing but a jumble of little whirling spheres; how is it, then, that these same little balls, or spheres, enable me, let us say, to “see red,” to hear the tones of the organ, to feel pain, etc.? Think of a mass of whirling atoms, and it will be plain to you that it is not from them that you derive the sensations expressing themselves in such words as “I see red,” “I smell the scent of the rose,” etc.
How do understanding, reason, and speech develop in the living being?
How can “free will” originate in a being so circumscribed that his every act is the product of the whirling of these atoms?
It was in connection with these riddles of the universe put forward by Du Bois-Reymond that Haeckel gave his book the title of The Riddle of the Universe. His desire was to give the answer to the questions raised by Du Bois-Reymond. There is a specially important passage in the lecture Du Bois-Reymond delivered on the “Limits of Inquiry into Nature,” which will enable us to step across into the field of theosophy.
At the time when Du Bois-Reymond was lecturing at Leipsic before an assembly of natural scientists and medical men, the spirit of natural science was seeking after a purer, higher, and freer atmosphere—such an atmosphere as might lead to the theosophical cosmogony. On that occasion Du Bois-Reymond spoke as follows:—
“If we study man from the point of view of natural science, he presents himself to us as a working compound of unconscious atoms. To explain man in accordance with natural science means to ‘understand’ this atomic motion to its uttermost degree.”
He considered that if one were in a position to indicate the precise way in which the atoms moved at any given place in the brain, while saying, for instance, “I think,” or “Give me an apple”—if this could be done, then the problem would, according to natural science, have been solved. Du Bois-Reymond calls this the “astronomic” understanding of man. Even as a miniature firmament of stars would be the appearance of these active groups of human atoms. But what has not here been taken into consideration is the question as to how sensations, feelings, and thoughts arise in the consciousness of the man of whom, let us say, I perfectly well know that his atoms move in such and such a manner. That natural science can as little determine as it can the manner in which consciousness arises. Du Bois-Reymond concluded with the following words:—
“In the sleeping man, who is not conscious of the sensation expressed in the words ‘I see red,’ we have before us the physical group of the active members of the body. With regard to this sleeping body, we need not say, ‘We cannot know’—‘Ignorabimus!’ We are able to comprehend the sleeping man. Man awake, on the contrary, is incomprehensible to the scientist. In the sleeping man something is absent which is nevertheless present in the man awake: I allude to the consciousness through which he appears before us as a spiritual being.” At that time, owing to a lack of courage in matters concerning natural science, further progress was impossible; there was no question as yet of theosophy, because natural science had, in concise terms, defined the boundary, had set a barrier at the precise spot up to which it wished to proceed in its own fashion. It was owing to this self-limitation of science that theosophical cosmogony had, about this time, its beginning. No one is going to maintain that man, when he goes to sleep “ceases to be,” and on re-awaking in the morning “resumes existence.” And yet Du Bois-Reymond says that something which is present in him by day is absent during the night. It is here that the theosophical conception of the universe is enabled to assert itself. Sense-consciousness is in abeyance in the sleeping man. As, however, the man of science uses as a prop for his argument that which brings about this sense-consciousness, he is unable to say anything concerning the spirituality that transcends it, because he lacks precisely the knowledge of that which makes of man a spiritual being.
By the use of such means as serve for natural science we are unable to investigate matters spiritual. Natural science depends upon what may be demonstrated to the senses. What can no longer be sensed when man falls asleep, cannot be the object of scientific investigation. It is in this something, no longer perceptible in the sleeping man, that we must seek for that entity by which man becomes a spiritual being. No mental representation can be made of what transcends the purely material and passes beyond the knowledge of the senses, until organs, of which the scientist can know nothing if he only depends on his sense-perceptions—spiritual eyes—are developed; eyes which are able to see beyond the confines of the senses.
For this reason we have no right to say, “Here are the limits of cognition;” but merely, “Here are the limits of sense-perception.”
The scientist perceives by means of his senses, but he is no spiritual observer; he must become one. become a “seer.” in order that he may see what is spiritual in man. This is the bourne towards which tends all profound wisdom in the world; not seeking the mere widening of its radius where actual material knowledge is concerned, but striving towards the raising of human faculty.
This also is the great difference between what is taught by present-day natural science and what is taught by theosophy. Natural science says: “Man has senses with which he perceives, and a mind whereby he is enabled to connect the evidences of his senses. What does not come within the scope of these lies beyond the ken of natural science.”
Theosophy takes a different view of the case. It says: “You scientists are perfectly right, so long as you judge from your point of view, just as right as the blind man would be from his in saying that the world is devoid of light and colour. We make no objection to the standpoint of natural science, we would only place it in juxtaposition to the view taken by theosophy, which asserts that it is possible—nay, that it is certain—that man is not obliged to remain stationary at the point of view he occupies to-day; that it is possible for organs—spiritual eyes—to develop after a similar fashion to that in which those physical sense-organs of the body, the eyes and ears, have been developed; and once these new organs are developed, higher faculties will make themselves apparent.”
This must be taken on faith at first—nay, it need not even be believed; it may just be accepted as an assertion in an unprejudiced manner. Nevertheless, as true as it is that all believers in the Natural History of Creation have not beheld all that is therein presented to them as fact (how many of them have actually investigated these facts?), so true is it that these facts concerning a knowledge of the super-sensual can be explained to everyone.
The ordinary man, held in bondage by his senses, cannot possibly gain admittance to this realm. It is only by the aid of certain methods of investigation that the spiritual world opens to the seeker. Thus, man must transform himself into an instrument for those higher powers, one able to penetrate into worlds hidden from those still enthralled by their physical senses. To such as can accomplish this, visions of a quite distinctive nature will appear. The ordinary human being is not capable of seeing for himself, or of consciously recognising things about him, when his senses are wrapped in slumber; but when he applies occult methods of investigation this incapacity ceases, and he begins to receive quite consciously impressions of the astral world.
There is at first a state of transition, familiar to all, between that exterior life of sense cognisance and that life which even in the most profound state of slumber is not quite extinguished. This state of transition is the chaos of dreams. To most people these will appear as mere reflections of what they have been experiencing during the previous day. Indeed, you will ask, how should a man be able to receive any new experiences during sleep, since the inner self has as yet no organs of cognition? But still, something is there—life is there. That which left the body when sleep wrapped it round has memory, and this remembrance rises before the sleeper in pictures more or less fantastic and confused. (Should anyone desire more information on this subject, it will be found in my books entitled The Way of Initiation and Initiation and its Results, Theosophical Publishing Society, 161, New Bond Street, W.)2Now published by the Rudolf Steiner Publishing Co., in one volume, The Knowledge of the Higher Worlds and Its Attainment. Cloth, Crown 8vo, pp. 221, 6s.
Now, in place of this chaos, order and harmony will, in the course of time, be brought about; an order and a harmony governing this region of dreams, and this will be a sign that the person in question is beginning to develop spiritually. Then he will cease to see the mere aftermath of reality, grotesquely portrayed; he will see things which have in ordinary life no existence.
Those who desire to remain within the boundary of the senses will, of course, say, “But they are only dreams!” Yet, if they, by such means, obtain an insight into the loftiest secrets of creation, it may surely be a matter of indifference to them whether they gain this through the medium of a dream or by means of the senses. Let us, for instance, suppose that Graham Bell had invented the telephone in a state of dream-consciousness. That would have been of no moment whatever to-day, for the telephone itself in any case is an important and useful invention. Clear and regular dreaming is therefore the beginning, and if in the stillness of the night hours you have come to “live in your dreams,” if, after a time, you have habituated yourself to a cognisance of worlds quite other than this, then will soon come a time when you will learn, by these new experiences, to step forth into actuality.
Then the whole world will assume a new aspect, and you will be as sensible of this change as you would be of threading your way through a row of solid chairs, through anything your senses may at this moment be aware of in their vicinity. Such is the condition of anyone who has acquired a new state of consciousness. Something new, a new kind of personality, has awakened within him. In the course of his further development a stage will at length be reached where not only the curious apparitions of the higher worlds pass before the spiritual eye as visions of light, but the tones also of those higher worlds become audible, telling their spiritual names, and able to convey to the seer a new meaning. In the language of the mysteries, this is expressed in the words, “Man sees the sun at midnight;” which is to say, that for him there are no longer any obstacles in space to prevent him from seeing the sun when on the other side of the world. Then, too, is the work of the sun, acting within the universe, made plain to him, and he becomes aware of that harmony of the spheres, that truth to which the Pythagoreans bore witness.
Tones and sounds, this music of the spheres, now become, for him, actual. Poets who were also seers have known of the existence of something approaching this music, and only those who can grasp Goethe's meaning from this point of view will be able to understand those passages, for instance, occurring in the “Prologue in Heaven” (see Faust, pt. I), which may be taken either as poetic phraseology or as a lofty truth. Where Faust is a second time introduced into the world of spirits, he speaks of these sounds:
“Sounding loud to spirit-hearing,
See the new-born Day appearing!”Faust, Part II.
Here we have the connection between natural science and theosophy. Du Bois-Reymond has pointed to the fact that the sleeper only can be an object for the experiments of natural science. But if man should begin to open his inner senses, if he should come to see and hear that there is such a thing as spiritual actuality, then indeed will the whole edifice of elementary theosophy, so wonderfully, constructed by Haeckel—a structure none can admire more profoundly than I—then will this great work glow with a new glory, revealing, as it must, an entirely new meaning. According to this marvellous structure we see a simple living creature as the archetype, yet we may trace back that creature spiritually to an earlier condition of consciousness.
I will now explain what theosophy holds as the doctrine of the descent of man. It is obvious that in a single lecture like the present no “proofs” can be advanced, and it is also natural that to all who are only acquainted with the theories commonly advanced on this subject everything I say will appear fantastic and highly improbable. All theories thus advanced originated, however, in the leading circles of materialistic thought, and many who would probably resent the suggestion of materialism as utterly foreign to their nature, are nevertheless (and indeed quite comprehensibly so) caught in a net of self-delusion.
The true theosophical teaching concerning evolution is, in our day, hardly known; and when our opponents speak of it, he who does know is at once able to recognise by the objections raised that he is dealing with a caricature of this doctrine of evolution.
For all such as merely acknowledge a soul, or spirit, to which expression is given within the human, or animal organism, the theosophical mode of representation must be utterly incomprehensible, and every discussion touching that subject is, with such persons, quite fruitless. They must first free themselves from the state of materialistic suggestion in which they live, and must make themselves acquainted with the fundamental attitude of theosophical thought.
Just as the methods of research employed by physical science trace back the organism of the physical body into the dim distance of primeval times, so it is the mode of theosophical thought to delve into the past with regard to the soul and the spirit. Now, the latter method does not lead to any conclusions antagonistic or contradictory to the facts advanced by natural science; only with the materialistic interpretations of these facts it can have nothing to do.
Natural science traces the descent of the physical living being backwards, arriving by this course at organisms of a less and less complicated kind. Natural science declares: “The perfect living being is a development of these simpler and less complicated ones;” and, as far as physical structure is concerned, this is true, although the hypothetical forms of primeval ages of which materialistic science speaks do not entirely conform with those known to theosophical research. This, however, need not concern us at the present moment.
From the physical standpoint theosophy also acknowledges the relationship of man with the higher mammals, with the man-like apes. But there can be no question of the descent of our humanity from a creature of the mind and soul calibre of the ape, as we know it. The facts are quite otherwise, and everything that materialism puts forward of this nature rests upon an error of thought. This error may be cleared up by means of a simple comparison sufficient for our purpose, though trite.
We will imagine two persons, one morally deficient and intellectually insignificant; the other endowed with a high standard of morality and of considerable intellectuality. We will assume that some fact or other confirms the relationship of these two. Now, I ask you, will the inference be drawn that the one in every way more highly endowed is descended from one who was of the standard described? Never! We may think it a surprising fact that they are brothers. We may find, however, that they had a father who was not of exactly the same standard as either of the brothers, and in that case one will be found to have worked his way up, the other to have degenerated.
Materialistic science makes a similar mistake to that here indicated. Facts known to it induce the acceptance of a connection between ape and man, yet from this it should not draw the conclusion that man is descended from the ape-like animals. What should be accepted is a primeval creature, a common physical ancestor, from the stock of which the ape has degenerated, while man has been the ascending “brother.”
Now, what was there in that primeval creature to cause this ascendance to the human on the one hand, the sinking into the ape kingdom on the other? Theosophy answers, “The soul of man himself did this.” Even then the soul of man was present, at a time when, on the face of this physical earth, the creatures possessing the highest sense of development were these common ancestors of man and ape. From amid the multitude of these ancestors the best types were capable of subjecting themselves to the soul's progress, the rest were not. Thus it happens that the present-day human soul has a “soul-ancestor” just as the body has its physical forebear.
It is true that, so far as the senses are concerned, those “soul-ancestors” could not, according to our present-day observations, have been perceptible within our bodies. They still belonged in a sense to “higher worlds,” and they were also possessed of other capabilities and powers than those of the present human soul. They lacked the mental activity and the moral sense now evident. Such souls could conceive no way of fashioning instruments from the things in the outer world; they could create no political states. The soul's activity still consisted to a great extent in transforming the archetype of those ancestral bodies themselves. It laboured at improving the incomplete brain, enabling it at a later period to become the seat of thought activities. As the soul of to-day, directed towards external things, constructs machines, etc., so did that ancestral soul labour at constructing the body of the human ancestor. The following objection can, of course, be raised: “Why, then, does not the soul at the present day work at its body to the same extent?” The reason for its not doing so is that the energy used at a former time for the transforming of the organs has since been directing its whole effort upon external things in the mastery and regulation of the forces of Nature.
We may therefore ascribe a twofold descent to man in primeval times. His spiritual birth is not coeval with the perfecting of his organs of sense. On the contrary, the “soul” of man was already present at a time when those physical “ancestors” inhabited the earth. Figuratively speaking, we may say that the soul “selected” a certain number of such “ancestors” as seemed best fitted for receiving the external corporeal expression distinguishing the present-day man. Another branch of these ancestors deteriorated, and in its degenerate condition is now represented by the anthropoid apes. These, then, form, in the true sense of the word, branch lines of the human ancestry. Those ancestors are the physical forebears of man, but this is due only to the capacity for reconstruction which they had primarily received from the human soul within. Thus is man physically descended from the “archetype,” while spiritually he is the descendant of the “ancestral soul.”
But we can go even further back with regard to the genealogical tree of living creatures, and we shall then arrive at a physically still more imperfect ancestor. Yet, at the time of this physical ancestor, too, the “soul-ancestor” of man was existent. It was this latter which raised the physical ancestor to the level of the ape, again outstripping its less adaptable brother in the race for development, and leaving him behind on a lower stage of creation. To such as these belong those present-day mammals of a lower grade than that of the apes. Thus we may go further and further back into primeval times, even to a time when upon this earth, then bearing so different an aspect, existed those most elementary of creatures from which Haeckel claims the development of all higher beings. The soul-ancestor of man was also a contemporary of these primitive creatures; it was already living when the “archetype” transformed the serviceable types, leaving behind at different stages those incapable of further development.
In actual truth, therefore, the entire sum of earth's living creatures are the descendants of man, within whom that which in this day “thinks and acts” as soul originally brought about the development of living beings. When our earth came into existence, man was a purely spiritual being; he began his career by building for himself the simplest of bodies. The whole ladder of living creatures represents nothing but the outgrown stages through which he has developed his bodily structure to its present degree of perfection.
The creatures of the present day differ widely in appearance from that of their ancestors at those particular stages where they branched off from the human tree. Not that they have remained stationary, for they have deteriorated in accordance with an inevitable law, which, owing to the lengthy explanation it would involve, cannot be entered into here. But the greatest interest attaches to the fact that through theosophy we arrive, so far as man's outward form is concerned, at a genealogical tree not altogether unlike Haeckel's. Haeckel, however, presupposes as the physical ancestor of man nothing but a hypothetical animal. Yet the truth is that at all those points where Haeckel uses the names of animals, the still undeveloped forebears of man should be installed; for those animals, down to the meanest living creatures, are but deteriorated and degenerate forms occupying those lower stages through which the human soul has passed on its upward journey.
Externally, therefore, the resemblance between Haeckel's genealogical tree and that of theosophy is sufficiently striking, though internal evidences show them to be as wide apart as the poles.
Hence the reasons why Haeckel's deductions are so eminently suited for the learning of sound elementary theosophy. One need do no more than master, from the theosophical point of view, the facts he has elucidated in so masterly a manner, and then raise his philosophy to a higher and nobler plane. If Haeckel seeks to criticise and belittle any such “higher” philosophy, he shows himself to be simply puerile—after the fashion, for instance, of a person who, not having got beyond the multiplication table, yet presumed to assert: “What I know is true, and all higher mathematics are only imaginary nonsense.” No theosophist desires to deny or contradict the elementary facts of natural science; but the crux of the matter is that the scientist, deluded by materialistic suggestions, does not even know what theosophy is talking about.
It depends upon a man himself what kind of philosophy he adopts. Fichte has put this in so many words:
“The unperceiving eye cannot detect colours;
The non-perceptive Soul cannot perceive Spirit.”
The same thought has been voiced by Goethe in a well-known phrase:
“Were the eye not sun-like—how could we see the sun?
Were God's own power not within us, the God-like vision—
could it enrapture us?”
and an expression of Feuerbach, if rightly conceived, proclaims that each one sees God's image after his own likeness. The slave to his senses sees God in accordance with those senses; the spiritual observer sees the Spirit deified. “Were lions, bulls, and oxen able to set up gods, their gods would resemble lions, bulls, and oxen,” was the remark of a Greek philosopher long ages ago.
The fetish-worshipper, too, has as his highest principle something we may call spiritual, but he has as yet not come to seek for this within himself, and this is why he has not got beyond beholding his god as anything more than a block of wood. The fetish-worshipper cannot raise his prayer above what he can inwardly feel, for he still regards himself as on the same level as the block of wood. And those who can see no more than a whirl of atoms, those to whom the highest resolves itself into tiny dots of matter, such as these, too, have missed recognition of the highest principle within themselves.
It is true that Haeckel places before us in all his works the information he has honestly acquired, so that to him must be accorded “les defauts de ses qualites.” The sterling worth of his teaching will live, its negative qualities will vanish. Taken from the higher point of view, one might say that the fetish-worshipper worships in his fetish a lifeless object, while the materialistic adherent of the theory of atoms worships not alone one “little god” but a whole host of them, which he calls atoms!3The word “worship” is, of course, not to be taken literally, for the materialistic thinker, though he has not yet been weaned from “fetishism,” has lost the habit of prayer. The superstition of the one is about as great as that of the other; for the materialistic atom is no more than a fetish, and the wooden block is made up of atoms too. Haeckel says in one passage: “We see God in the stone, in the plant, in the brute, in man—God is everywhere,” yet he only sees God as he can comprehend Him. How enlightening here are Goethe's words, when he says:
“Thou'rt like the Spirit which thou comprehendest, Not me!”
—Bayard Taylor's translation.
Thus does the materialist mark the whirling atoms in stone, in plant, in animal, and in man, possibly, too, in every work of art, and claim for himself a knowledge of a monistic cosmogony that has overcome the ancient superstitions. Yet theosophists have a monistic cosmogony too; and we can say, in the same words as Haeckel uses, that we see God in the stone, in the plant, in the brute, and in the man; but what we see are no whirling atoms, but the living God, the spiritual God, whom we seek outside in Nature, because we can also seek Him within ourselves.
Haeckel, die Welträtsel und die Theosophie
Wenn ich heute über das Thema spreche: «Haeckel, die Welträtsel und die Theosophie», so weiß ich, daß dieses Thema dem Erforscher des geistigen Lebens außerordentliche Schwierigkeiten bereitet und daß ich vielleicht mit meinen Ausführungen nach links und nach rechts schwer Anstoß erregen werde. Dennoch aber scheint es mir eine Notwendigkeit zu sein, einmal vom theosophischen Standpunkte aus darüber zu sprechen, denn einerseits hat ja das Evangelium, das Haeckel aus seinen Forschungen gewonnen hat, durch sein Buch «Die Welträtsel», den Zugang zu Tausenden und aber Tausenden von Menschen gefunden. Zehntausend Exemplare der «Welträtsel» waren nach kurzer Zeit abgesetzt, und in viele Sprachen ist das Buch übersetzt worden. Selten hat ein so ernstes Buch eine so große Verbreitung gefunden.
Wenn die Theosophie oder Geisteswissenschaft klarmachen soll, welches ihre Ziele sind, dann muß sie sich mit einer so wichtigen Erscheinung, die sich auch mit den tiefsten Fragen des Daseins beschäftigt, auseinandersetzen und ihre Stellung dazu zum Ausdruck bringen. An sich ist ja die theosophische oder geisteswissenschaftliche Lebensbetrachtung nicht da zum Kampfe, sondern zur Versöhnung, zum Ausgleich der Gegensätze. Dann bin ich auch selbst in einer besonderen Lage gegenüber der Weltanschauung Ernst Hacekels. Denn ich kenne die Empfindungen und Gefühle, die heute den Menschen teilweise aus seinem wissenschaftlichen Gewissen, teilweise aus der allgemeinen Weltlage und Weltanschauung heraus, wie durch eine faszinierende Kraft hineinführen können in die einfachen, großen Gedankengänge, aus denen sich diese Weltanschauung Haeckels zusammensetzt. Ich würde wohl nicht wagen, heute so unbefangen zu sprechen, wenn ich in bezug auf Haeckel das wäre, was man einen Gegner nennt; wenn ich nicht genau bekannt wäre mit dem, was man durchmachen kann, wenn man sich hineinlebt in dieses wunderbare Gebäude seiner Ideen.
Vor allem aber wird derjenige, der mit offenem Sinn die Entwickelung des Geisteslebens betrachtet, in Haeckels Wirken die moralische Kraft anerkennen müssen. Mit ungeheuerem Mut hat dieser Mann seit Jahrzehnten seine Weltanschauung durchgekämpft, schwer durchgekämpft und sich sehr gegen mannigfache Widerwärtigkeiten, die ihm entgegentraten, zu wehren gehabt. Auf der andern Seite dürfen wir nicht verkennen, daß in Haeckel eine große Kraft der zusammenfassenden Darstellung und des zusammenfassenden Denkens lebt. Was in dieser Beziehung so vielen Naturforschern fehlt, das hat er in hohem Maße. Er hat es gewagt, trotzdem in den letzten Jahrzehnten die eigentlich wissenschaftlichen Strömungen gegen ein solches Unternehmen gerichtet waren, die Resultate seiner Forschungen in einer Weltanschauung zusammenzufassen. Das muß als eine Tat besonderer Art anerkannt werden. Auch der theosophischen Weltanschauung gegenüber bin ich in einer eigentümJlichen Lage, wenn ich über Haeckel spreche. Wer sich mit dem Entwickelungsgang der theosophischen Bewegung befaßt hat, der weiß, welche scharfen Worte und Kämpfe von seiten der Theosophen und auch gerade von seiten der Begründerin der theosophischen Bewegung, von seiten der Frau Helena Petrowna Blavatsky, gegen die Konsequenzen geführt worden sind, die Ernst Haeckel aus seinen Forschungen gezogen hat. Gegen wenige Erscheinungen auf dem Gebiete der Weltanschauungen wird in der «Geheimlehre» mit solcher Leidenschaftlichkeit gekämpft, wie gerade gegen die Haeckelschen Auseinandersetzungen. Ich darf wohl behaupten, unbefangen zu sprechen, weil ich glaube, zum Teil in meiner Schrift «Haeckel und seine Gegner», wie auch in meinem Buch über die «Welt- und Lebensanschauungen im 19. Jahrhundert», dem wirklichen Wahrheitsgehalt der Haeckelschen Weltanschauung in vollem Sinne gerecht geworden zu sein. Ich glaube das aus seinen Werken herausgesucht zu haben, was unvergänglich, was fruchtbar ist.
Sehen Sie die ganze Lage der Weltanschauung an, insofern sie sich auf wissenschaftliche Gründe stützt. Noch in der ersten Hälfte des 19. Jahrhunderts war die Geistesrichtung eine ganz andere als in der zweiten. Und Haeckels Auftreten fiel in eine Zeit, in welcher es sehr nahe lag, dem jungen sogenannten Darwinismus eine materialistische Konsequenz zu geben. Wenn man versteht, wie nahe es damals Jag, als Haeckel in die Naturwissenschaft hineinkam als junger enthusiastischer Forscher, alle naturwissenschaftlichen Entdeckungen materialistisch zu deuten, dann wird man die materialistische Tendenz begreifen und den Weg der Friedensstiftung einschlagen und weniger den des Kampfes. Wenn Sie diejenigen betrachten, welche in der Mitte des 19. Jahrhunderts den Blick frei nach den großen Menschheitsrätseln gerichtet haben, so werden Sie zweierlei finden. Auf der einen Seite eine völlige Resignation gegenüber den höchsten Fragen des Daseins, ein Eingeständnis, vom wissenschaftlichen Standpunkt aus nicht durchdringen zu können zu den Fragen nach der göttlichen Weltordnung, nach der Unsterblichkeit, der Freiheit des Willens, dem Ursprung des Lebens, kurz zu den eigentlichen Welträtseln. Auf der andern Seite werden Sie außer dieser resignierenden Stimmung noch Überreste einer alten religiösen Tradition auch bei den Naturforschern finden. Kühnes Vordringen bei der Untersuchung dieser Fragen, vom wissenschaftlichen Standpunkt aus, finden Sie in der ersten Hälfte des 19. Jahrhunderts nur bei den deutschen Philosophen, zum Beispiel bei Schelling, Fichte oder auch bei Oken, einem Freiheitsmann sondergleichen auch auf andern Gebieten des Lebens. Was heute bei den Naturforschern spukt, die Weltanschauungen begründen wollen, können Sie schon in größeren Zügen bei Oken finden. Aber es weht noch ein eigentümlicher Windhauch darüber hin, es lebt noch darin die Empfindung des alten Spiritualismus, der sich klar ist, daß hinter allem, was man durch die Sinne wahrnehmen und durch Instrumente erforschen kann, etwas Geistiges zu suchen ist.
Haeckel hat selbst immer wieder und wieder erzählt, wie durch das Gemüt seines großen Lehrers, des unvergeßlichen Naturforschers Johannes Müller, dieser eigentümliche Hauch wehte. Sie können es bei Haeckel nachlesen, wie ihm, als er auf der Berliner Universität bei Johannes Müller beschäftigt war und die Anatomie der Tiere und Menschen studierte, die große Ahnlichkeit, nicht nur in der äußeren Form, sondern in dem, was sich in der Form erst durchringt, in der Tendenz der Form, auffiel. Wie er dann dem Lehrer gegenüber äußerte, daß dies auf eine geheimnisvolle Verwandtschaft der Tiere und Menschen hindeute, worauf Johannes Müller, der so tief in die Natur hineingesehen hatte, erwiderte: Ja, wer einmal das Geheimnis der Arten ergründet, der wird das Höchste erreichen. — Man muß sich eben hineindenken in das Gemüt eines solchen Forschers, der sicher nicht Halt gemacht hätte, wenn für ihn eine Aussicht gewesen wäre, in das Geheimnis einzudringen. Ein anderes Mal, als Lehrer und Schüler auf einer Forschungsreise waren, da äußerte Haeckel wieder, welche große Verwandtschaft unter den Tieren bestehe; da sagte abermals Johannes Müller etwas ganz Ähnliches. Hiermit wollte ich nur eine Stimmung kennzeichnen. Lesen Sie bei irgendeinem bedeutenden Naturforscher der ersten Hälfte des 19. Jahrhunderts nach, zum Beispiel bei Burdach, so werden Sie, trotz sorgfältiger Herausarbeitung aller naturwissenschaftlichen Einzelheiten, da, wo vom Reiche des Lebens gesprochen wird, stets einen Hinweis darauf finden, daß da nicht bloß physische und chemische Kräfte wirken, sondern daß etwas Höheres in Betracht komme.
Als dann aber die Ausbildung des Mikroskopes dem Menschen ermöglichte, hineinzuschauen in die eigentümliche Zusammensetzung des lebendigen Wesens und man beobachten konnte, daß man es mit einem feinen Gewebe kleinster Lebewesen zu tun hat, aus welchen sich der physische Leib der Wesen zusammensetzt, da wurde es anders. Dieser physische Körper, welcher Pflanzen und Tieren als Kleid dient, löst sich für den Naturforscher in Zellen auf. Die Entdeckungen über das Leben der Zellen wurden von den Naturforschern am Ende der dreißiger Jahre des 19. Jahrhunderts gemacht. Und weil man so viel von dem Leben der kleinsten Lebewesen in sinnlicher Weise durch das Mikroskop erforschen konnte, war es naheliegend, daß man das, was als organisierendes Prinzip in dem Lebewesen wirkt, vergaß und übersah, weil es durch keinen physischen Sinn, überhaupt durch nichts Außeres erkannt werden kann.
Damals gab es noch keinen Darwinismus, aber unter den Eindrücken dieser großen Erfolge, die auf dem Gebiete der Erforschung des Sinnenfälligen gemacht wurden, bildete sich in den vierziger, fünfziger Jahren eine materialistische Naturwissenschaft heraus. Da dachte man, daß man aus dem, was man sinnenfällig wahrnimmt und erklären kann, auch die ganze Welt begreifen könne. Was heute sehr vielen geradezu kindlich vorkommt, das machte damals ungeheures Aufsehen und bildete sozusagen ein Evangelium für die Menschheit. Kraft und Stoff, Büchner, Moleschott, das waren die Schlagworte und die tonangebenden Größen. Als ein Ausdruck kindlicher Phantasie früherer Menschheitsepochen galt es, wenn man bei dem, was man ins kleinste mit den Augen untersuchen kann, noch etwas vermutet, das über das Augenfällige, das sinnlich Wahrnehmbare hinausgeht.
Nun müssen Sie bedenken, daß neben aller Urteilskraft, neben aller Forschung, in der Entwickelung des Geisteslebens die Gefühle und Empfindungen eine große Rolle spielen. Derjenige, der da glaubt, daß Weltanschauungen nur nach den kühlen Erwägungen der Urteilskraft gebildet werden, der irrt sich sehr. Da spricht, wenn ich mich radikal aussprechen darf, immer auch das Herz mit. Da wirken auch geheime Erziehungsgründe mit. Die Menschheit hat in ihrer letzten Entwickelungsphase eine materialistische Erziehung durchgemacht. Diese reicht zwar in ihren Anfängen weit zurück, ist aber erst zu der Zeit, von der wir sprechen, an ihrem Höhepunkt angelangt. Wir nennen diese Epoche der materialistischen Erziehung das Zeitalter der Aufklärung. Der Mensch mußte sich — das war auch die letzte Konsequenz gerade der christlichen Weltanschauung — hier auf diesem festen Boden der Wirklichkeit zurechtfinden lernen. Den Gott, den er so lange jenseits der Wolken gesucht hatte, sollte er nun in seinem eigenen Innern suchen. Das wirkte tief auf die ganze Entwickelung des 19. Jahrhunderts ein; und der, welcher als Zeitpsychologe die Entwickelung der Menschheit im 19. Jahrhundert studieren will, der wird alle Erscheinungen, die darin auftreten, wie zum Beispiel die Freiheitsbewegung in den dreißiger und vierziger Jahren, nur als einzelne, gesetzmäßig verlaufende Stürme des sich herausentwickelnden.Gefühls von der Bedeutung physischer Wirklichkeit erfassen. Man hat es mit einer Erziehungsrichtung der Menschheit zu tun, die zunächst mit Gewalt allen Ausblick nach einem spirituellen, nach einem geistigen Leben aus dem menschlichen Herzen herausriß. Und nicht aus der Naturwissenschaft heraus ist die Konsequenz gezogen, daß die Welt aus sinnenfälligen Erscheinungen bestehe, sondern man zog, infolge der Menschheitserziehung jener Zeit, in die Erklärung naturwissenschaftlicher Tatsachen den Materialismus hinein. Wer wirklich die Dinge unbefangen studiert, wie sie sind, der wird finden, daß es so ist, wie ich sagen werde, obgleich ich in einer kurzen Stunde mich nicht darüber ausführlich aussprechen kann.
Die ganz gewaltigen Fortschritte auf dem Gebiete der Naturerkenntnis, der Astronomie, der Physik und Chemie, durch die Spektralanalyse, durch die erweiterte theoretische Kenntnis der Wärme und durch die Lehre von der Entwickelung der Lebewesen, die man die Darwinsche Theorie nennt, fallen in diese Periode des Materialismus. Wenn diese Entdeckungen in eine Zeit gefallen wären, in der man noch so gedacht hätte wie um die Wende des 18. zum 19. Jahrhundert, als man noch eine mehr spirituelle Empfindung hatte, dann hätte man in denselben noch ebenso viele Beweise für das Walten und Wirken des Geistes in der Natur gesehen. Gerade zum Beweise des Primats des Geistes würden die wunderbaren Entdeckungen der Naturwissenschaft geführt haben. Man sieht hieraus, daß die naturwissenschaftlichen Entdeckungen an sich nicht notwendig und unter allen Umständen zum Materialismus hinführen mußten; sondern nur, weil viele Träger des Geisteslebens in dieser Zeit materialistisch gesinnt waren, wurden diese Entdeckungen materialistisch gedeutet. Der Materialismus wurde in die Naturwissenschaft hineingetragen, und unbewußt haben Naturforscher, wie Ernst Haeckel, denselben angenommen. Darwins Entdeckung selbst hätte nicht zum Materialismus drängen müssen. In seinem ersten Werke finden Sie den Satz: «Ich halte dafür, daß alle Lebewesen, die je auf der Erde gewesen sind, von einer Urform abstammen, welcher das Leben vom Schöpfer eingehaucht wurde.» Diese Worte stehen in Darwins Buch «Über die Entstehung der Arten», jenem Werke, das der Materialismus zu seiner Stütze macht.
Es ist klar, wer als materialistischer Denker an diese Entdeckungen herantrat, der mußte dem Darwinismus eine materialistische Färbung geben. Durch Haeckels materialistisch kühne Art des Denkens erhielt der Darwinismus seine jetzige materialistische Tendenz. Es war von großer Wirkung, als im Jahre 1868 Haeckel den Zusammenhang der Menschen mit den Herrentieren (Affen) verkündete. In jener Zeit konnte dies nichts anderes heißen, als der Mensch stamme von den Herrentieren ab. Bis heute hat aber das Denken einen eigentümlichen Entwickelungsgang durchgemacht. Haeckel ist dabei stehengeblieben, daß der Mensch von den Herrentieren abstamme, diese wieder von den niederen und diese niederen wieder von den allereinfachsten Lebewesen. So entwickelt er den ganzen Stammbaum des Menschen. Dadurch war für ihn aller Geist aus der Welt ausgeschaltet und nur als Erscheinungsform des Materiellen vorhanden. Haeckel sucht sich noch zu helfen, da er in seinem Innersten, neben seiner materialistischen Denkerseele, eine eigentümlich geartete, spiritualistische Gefühlsseele hat. Diese beiden haben sich in ihm nie so recht ausgleichen, nie so recht eine brüderliche Einigung finden können. Er kommt deshalb dazu, daß er dem kleinsten Lebewesen auch eine Art Bewußtsein zuschreibt; dabei bleibt aber unerklärt, wie sich das komplizierte menschliche Bewußtsein aus dem Bewußtsein der kleinsten Lebewesen entwickelt. Haeckel sagte einst bei Gelegenheit eines Gespräches: Da stoßen sich die Leute an meinem Materialismus; aber ich leugne ja gar nicht den Geist, ich leugne ja gar nicht das Leben; ich möchte doch nur, daß die Leute bedenken, daß, wenn sie Stoffe in eine Retorte hineinbringen, darinnen bald alles lebt und webt. — Das zeigt so recht deutlich, wie Haeckel neben der wissenschaftlichen Denkerseele eine spiritualistische Gefühlsseele hat.
Einer derjenigen, die damals, als Darwin auftrat, die Abstammung der Menschen vom höheren Tier ebenfalls behaupteten, war der englische Forscher Huxley. Er hat es ausgesprochen, daß eine so große Ahnlichkeit im äußeren Bau zwischen dem Menschen und den höheren Tieren besteht, daß diese Ähnlichkeit größer sei, als die Ahnlichkeit zwischen den höheren und niederen Affenarten. Man könne daraus nur schließen, daß eine Abstammung des Menschen von den höheren Tieren bestehe. In neuerer Zeit haben die Forscher neue Tatsachen gefunden; auch jene Empfindungen, die in jahrhundertelanger Erziehung des Menschen Herz und Seele herangebildet haben, formten sich um; und so kam es, daß Huxley in den neunziger Jahren, kurz vor seinem Tode, die für ihn merkwürdige Ansicht ausgesprochen hat: So sehen wir denn, daß wir in der Natur draußen eine Stufenfolge des Lebendigen finden, vom Einfachsten und Unvollkommensten bis zum Zusammengesetzten und Vollkommensten. Diese Reihenfolge können wir übersehen. Warum aber sollte sich diese Reihenfolge nicht fortsetzen in ein Gebiet, das wir nicht übersehen können? — In diesen Worten ist der Weg angedeutet, auf dem der Mensch aus der Naturforschung heraus sich emporschwingen kann zur Idee eines göttlichen Wesens, das hoch über dem Menschen steht, eines Wesens, das höher über diesem steht, als er selbst über einem einfachen Zellenwesen. Huxley sagte einst: Ich will lieber von solchen Vorfahren abstammen, die tierähnlich sind, als von solchen, welche die menschliche Vernunft leugnen.
So haben sich die Begriffe und Empfindungen, das, was die Seele denkt und fühlt, verändert. Haeckel hat in seiner Art seine Forschungen fortgesetzt. Schon im Jahre 1868 hat er sein populäres Buch «Natürliche Schöpfungsgeschichte» veröffentlicht. Aus dieser kann man vieles lernen; man kann lernen, wie die Reiche des Lebendigen in der Natur gesetzmäßig zusammenhängen. Man kann hineinschauen in die grauen Zeiten der Vergangenheit und das Lebende in Zusammenhang mit dem Ausgestorbenen bringen, von dem nur noch die letzten Überreste auf der Erde vorhanden sind. Das hatte Haeckel genau eingesehen. Das Welthistorische, das sich im weiteren abspielt, kann ich nur durch einen Vergleich klarmachen. Derjenige, welcher den Willen hat, auf solche Dinge einzugehen, wird finden, daß dieser Vergleich nicht mehr hinkt, als alle Vergleiche hinken, die aber trotz alledem treffend sein können. Nehmen Sie an, es käme ein Kunsthistoriker und beschriebe das große Reich der Malerei von Leonardo da Vinci bis heute in einer schönen kunstgeschichtlichen Abhandlung. Alles was in dieser Zeit nach solcher Richtung hin geschaffen worden ist, träte vor Ihre Seele hin und Sie würden glauben, hineinzuschauen in dieses frei sich entwickelnde Weben und Wirken des Menschengeistes. Nehmen Sie ferner an, es käme jemand und sagte bezüglich dieser Beschreibung: Aber alles, was der Kunsthistoriker hier darstellt, ist ja nichts Wirkliches, das ist ja etwas, was gar nicht da ist, das ist ja nur eine Beschreibung von Phantasiegebilden, die es gar nicht gibt, und was gehen mich diese Phantasien an; man muß das Wirkliche untersuchen, um zu einer richtigen kunstgeschichtlichen Darstellung zu kommen. Ich will daher einmal die Gebeine des Leonardo da Vinci einer Prüfung unterziehen und versuchen, den Körper desselben wieder zusammenzustellen, untersuchen, was er für ein Gehirn gehabt und wie dieses gearbeitet hat. — Dieselben Dinge werden also sowohl von dem Kunsthistoriker, als auch von dem anatomischen Naturhistoriker beschrieben. Kein Fehler braucht zu unterlaufen, alles könnte richtig sein. Dann meinte der anatomische Historiker, wir müssen auf Tod und Leben bekämpfen, was die idealistischen Kunsthistoriker uns erzählen, wir müssen es als eine Phantasie bekämpfen, denn das sei ja fast so, als wäre über die Menschen ein Aberglaube gekommen, der uns glauben machen will, daß neben der Gestalt von Leonardo da Vinci noch so ein gasförmiger Wirbel als Seele bestanden habe.
Dieser Vergleich ist treffend, obgleich er albern erscheinen mag. In solcher Lage befindert sich derjenige, welcher auf die alleinigeRichtigkeit der «Natürlichen Schöpfungsgeschichte» schwört. Auch er kann nicht so bekämpft werden, daß man ihm Fehler nachweist. Die mögen zwar vorhanden sein, aber darauf kommt es hier gar nicht an. Wichtig ist es, daß das Sinnenfällige einmal seinem inneren Zusammenhange nach dargestellt wurde. Das ist im Grunde genommen durch Haeckel in einer großen und umfassenden Weise geschehen. Es ist so geschehen, daß derjenige, der sehen will, auch sehen kann, wie gerade das Geistige bei der Bildung der Formen wirksam ist, wo scheinbar nur die Materie waltet und webt. Daraus kann man viel lernen; man kann ersehen, wie man geistig den materiellen Zusammenhang in der Welt mit Ernst, Würde und Ausdauer erfaßt. Derjenige, welcher die «Anitthropogenie» Haeckels durchnimmt, der sieht, wie die Gestalt sich aufbaut von den einfachsten Lebewesen bis zu den kompliziertesten, von den einfachsten Organismen bis hinauf zum Menschen. Wer zu dem, was der Materialist sagt, noch den Geist hinzuzufügen versteht, der studiert in diesem Haeckelismus die schönste elementare Theosophie.
Die Haeckelschen Forschungsresultate bilden sozusagen das erste Kapitel der Theosophie oder Geisteswissenschaft. Viel besser als durch irgend etwas anderes kann man sich in das Werden und Umgestalten der organischen Formen hineinfinden, wenn man seine Werke studiert. Allen Grund haben wir, zu zeigen, was durch den Fortschritt dieser vertieften Naturerkenntnis Großes geleistet wurde.
In den Zeiten, da Haeckel diesen Wunderbau aufgeführt hat, stand man den tieferen Rätseln der Menschheit als unlösbaren Problemen gegenüber. In einer rhetorisch glänzenden Rede hat Du Bois-Reymond im Jahre 1872 über die Grenzen der Naturforschung und des Naturerkennens gesprochen. Über weniges ist in den letzten Jahrzehnten mehr gesprochen worden als über diese Rede mit dem berühmten «Ignorabimus». Sie war eine wichtige Tat und stellt einen wichtigen Gegensatz zu Haeckels eigener Entwickelung und seiner Lehre von der Abstammung des Menschen dar. In einer andern Rede hat Du Bois-Reymond als die großen Rätselfragen des Daseins, die der Naturforscher nur teilweise oder gar nicht beantworten kann, «Sieben Welträtsel» aufgestellt, nämlich:
i. Den Ursprung von Kraft und Materie.
2. Wie ist in diese ruhende Materie die erste Bewegung hineingekommen?
3. Wie ist innerhalb der bewegten Materie Leben entstanden?
4. Wie erklärt es sich, daß in der Natur so vieles ist, das den Stempel der Zweckmäßigkeit an sich trägt, wie sie nur bei den von der menschlichen Vernunft ausgeführten Taten vorhanden zu sein pflegt?
5. Wie erklärt es sich, da, wenn wir unser Gehirn untersuchen könnten, wir doch nur durcheinanderwirbelnde kleine Kügelchen finden würden, daß diese Kügelchen es zustande bringen, daß ich «rot» sehe, Orgelton höre, Schmerz empfinde und so weiter? — Denken Sie sich wirbelnde Atome und es wird Ihnen sofort klar sein, daß nie die Empfindung daraus entstehen kann, die sich ausdrückt in den Worten, «ich sehe rot, ich rieche Rosenduft und so weiter».
6. Wie entwickelt sich innerhalb der Lebewesen Verstand, Vernunft, das Denken und die Sprache?
7. Wie kann ein freier Wille entstehen in einem Wesen, das so gebunden ist, daß jede Handlung hervorgerufen werden muß durch das Wirbeln der Atome?
In Anknüpfung an diese «Welträtsel» von Du BoisReymond hat Haeckel eben sein Buch «Die Welträtsel» genannt. Er wollte die Antwort auf die Ausführungen Du Bois-Reymonds geben. Eine besonders wichtige Stelle ist in jener Rede Du Bois-Reymonds, die er über die Grenzen des Naturerkennens gehalten hat. Auf diese wichtige Stelle werden wir hingeführt und können durch sie zur Theosophie hinübergeleitet werden.
Als Du Bois-Reymond in Leipzig vor den Naturforschern und AÄrzten sprach, da schaute der Geist der Naturforschung aus nach einer reinen, freieren und höheren Luft, nach der Luft, welche in die theosophische Weltanschauung führte. Du Bois-Reymond sagte damals foigendes: Wenn wir den Menschen naturwissenschaftlich betrachten, so ist er für uns ein Zusammenwirken unbewußter Atome. Den Menschen naturwissenschaftlich erklären, heißt diese Atombewegungen bis ins letzte hinein verstehen. — Er meint, wenn man in der Lage ist, anzugeben, wie die Bewegung der Atome an irgendeiner Stelle des Gehirns ist, wenn man sagt, «ich denke», oder «gib mir einen Apfel», so hat man dieses Problem naturwissenschaftlich gelöst. Du Bois-Reymond nennt dieses die «astronomische» Erkenntnis des Menschen. Wie ein Sternenhimmel im kleinen würden sich die bewegten Gruppen von menschlichen Atomen ausnehmen. Was man da nicht begriffen hat, ist der Umstand, wie es kommt, daß in dem Bewußtsein des Menschen, von dem ich, sagen wir, ganz genau weiß, so und so bewegen sich seine Atome — Empfindung, Gefühl und Gedanke entstehen. Das kann keine Naturwissenschaft feststellen. Wie das Bewußtsein entsteht, kann keine Naturwissenschaft sagen. Du BoisReymond schloß nun wie folgt: Beim schlafenden Menschen, der sich der Empfindung nicht bewußt ist, die sich ausdrückt in den Worten: «ich sehe rot», haben wir die physische Gruppe der bewegten Körperteile vor uns. Bezüglich dieses schlafenden Körpers brauchen wir nicht zu sagen: «Wir werden nicht wissen», «Ignorabimus». Den schlafenden Menschen können wir verstehen. Der wache Mensch ist dagegen für keinen Naturforscher verständlich. Im schlafenden Menschen ist das nicht vorhanden, was beim wachenden vorhanden ist, nämlich das Bewußtsein, durch das er uns als Geisteswesen entgegentritt.
Damals war bei der Mutlosigkeit der Naturwissenschaft ein weiteres Vordringen nicht möglich; man konnte damals noch nicht an Theosophie oder Geisteswissenschaft denken, weil die Naturwissenschaft scharf dieGrenze bezeichnet, den Punkt hingesetzt hatte, bis wohin sie in ihrer Weise gehen will. Wegen dieser Selbstbeschränkung, die sich die Naturforschung hiermit auferlegt hat, hat die theosophische Weltanschauung in derselben Zeit ihren Anfang genommen. Niemand wird behaupten, daß der Mensch, wenn er abends einschläft und des Morgens wieder aufwacht, am Abend aufhöre zu sein und am nächsten Morgen von neuem entstehe. Dennoch sagt Du Bois-Reymond, daß in der Nacht beim Menschen dasjenige nicht da ist, was bei Tag in ihm vorhanden ist. Hier liegt für die theosophische Weltanschauung die Möglichkeit einzusetzen. Das Sinnesbewußtsein spricht nicht bei dem schlafenden Menschen. Indem aber der Naturforscher sich darauf stützt, was dieses Sinnesbewußtsein vermittelt, so kann er nichts über das, was darüber hinausgeht, über das Geistige, sagen, weil ihm dadurch gerade dasjenige fehlt, was den Menschen zum geistigen Wesen macht. Mit den Mitteln der Naturforschung können wir also in dasGeistige nicht hineindringen. Die Naturforschung stützt sich darauf, was sinnlich wahrnehmbar ist. Was nicht mehr wahrnehmbar ist, wenn der Mensch schläft, das kann nicht Objekt ihrer Forschung sein. In diesem, bei dem schlafenden Menschen nicht mehr wahrnehmbaren Etwas haben wir aber gerade die Wesenheit zu suchen, die den Menschen zum Geisteswesen macht. Nicht früher kann man über dasjenige etwas aussagen, was über das rein Materielle, das Sinnliche, hinausgeht, als bis — wovon der Naturforscher als solcher, wenn er nur auf das Sinnenfällige ausgeht, nichts wissen kann — Organe, geistige Augen geschaffen sind, die auch das sehen, was über das Sinnliche hinausgeht. Deshalb darf man nicht sagen, hier sind die Grenzen der Erkenntnis, sondern nur, hier sind die Grenzen der sinnlichen Erkenntnis. Der Naturforscher nimmt sinnlich wahr, ist aber nicht geistiger Seher. Seher muß er aber werden, um das schauen zu können, was der Mensch Geistiges in sich hat. Das ist es auch, was alle tiefere Weisheit in der Welt anstrebt, nicht eine bloße Erweiterung der sinnlichen Erkenntnis, dem Um- . kreise nach, sondern eine Erhöhung der menschlichen Fähigkeiten. Das ist auch der große Unterschied zwischen der heutigen Naturwissenschaft und dem, was die Theosophie lehrt. Der Naturforscher sagt sich: Der Mensch hat Sinne, mit denen er wahrnimmt, und einen Verstand, mit dem er die Sinneswahrnehmungen kombiniert. Was man damit nicht erreichen kann, das liegt außerhalb der naturwissenschaftlichen Erkenntnis. — Die Theosophie hat eine andere Anschauung. Sie sagt: Du hast recht, Naturforscher, wenn du von deinem Standpunkte aus urteilst, du hast damit genau so recht, wie der Blinde von seinem Standpunkte aus recht hat zu sagen, die Welt sei licht- und farbenlos.
Ich mache keine Einwendungen gegen den naturwissenschaftlichen Standpunkt; ich möchte ihm nur die Anschauung der Theosophie oder Geisteswissenschaft gegenüberstelJen, welche sagt: Es ist möglich, nein, es ist sicher, daß der Mensch nicht stehenzubleiben braucht auf demStandpunkte, auf welchem er heute steht. Es ist möglich, daß sich Organe, Geistesaugen entwickeln, in ähnlicher Weise, wie sich in diesem physischen Leibe Sinnesorgane, Augen und Ohren, entwickelt haben. Sind diese Organe entwickelt, dann treten höhere Fähigkeiten auf. Das muß man zunächst glauben — nein, man braucht es nicht einmal zu glauben, man nehme es nur unbefangen als eine Erzählung hin. So wahr aber, wie nicht alle Gläubigen der «Natürlichen Schöpfungsgeschichte» gesehen haben, was in ihr an Tatsachen angeführt ist — denn wie viele sind es, die diese Tatsachen wirklich gesehen haben —, ebensowenig kann man die Tatsache der Erkenntnis des Übersinnlichen hier jedermann vorweisen. Es gibt für den gewöhnlichen Sinnenmenschen keine Möglichkeit, in dieses Gebiet hineinzukommen. Wir können nur mit Hilfe der okkulten Forschungsmethoden in die geistigen Gebiete hineingelangen. Wenn der Mensch sich zu einem Werkzeug umwandelt für die höheren Kräfte, um hineinzuschauen in die dem Sinnenmenschen verborgenen Welten, dann treten in ihm — ich werde im neunten Vortrage über «Innere Entwickelung» noch ausführlich darüber sprechen — ganz besondere Erscheinungen auf. Der gewöhnliche Mensch ist nicht imstande, sich selbst zu schauen oder die Gegenstände in seiner Umgebung bewußt in sich aufzunehmen, wenn seine Sinne schlafen. Wenn aber der Mensch die okkulte Forschungsmethode anwendet, dann hört diese Unfähigkeit auf, und er fängt dann an, in einer bewußten Weise die Eindrücke in der astralen Welt wahrzunehmen.
Zunächst gibt es einen Übergang, den jeder kennt, zwischen dem äußerlichen Leben der Sinneswahrnehmung und jenem Leben, das selbst im tiefsten Schlafe nicht erstirbt. Dieser Übergang ist das Chaos der Träume. Jeder kennt es, meist nur als Nachklang dessen, was er am Tage erlebt hat. Wie sollte er auch im Schlafe etwas Neues aufnehmen können? Der innere Mensch hat ja noch keine Wahrnehmungsorgane. Aber etwas ist doch vorhanden. Leben ist da. Was aus dem Körper beim Schlafe herausgetreten ist, das erinnert sich, und diese Erinnerung steigt in mehr oder weniger verworrenen Bildern in dem Schlafenden auf. Wenn Sie sich weiter über diese Dinge informieren wollen, so nehmen Sie die Aufsätze «Wie erlangt man Erkenntnisse der höheren Welten?» zur Hand. An Stelle des Chaos beginnt dann nach und nach Ordnung und Harmonie in das Reich der Träume zu kommen. Dies ist ein Zeichen dafür, daß der Mensch anfängt, sich geistig zu entwickeln; und dann sieht er im Traume nicht bloß die Nachklänge der Wirklichkeit in chaotischer Weise, sondern auch Dinge, die es für das gewöhnliche Leben gar nicht gibt. Gewiß werden die Leute sagen, welche auf dem Gebiete des Tastbaren, auf dem Gebiete des Sinnlichen bleiben wollen: Das sind ja nur Träume.— Wenn Sie aber dabei Einsicht in die höchsten Weltgeheimnisse erlangen, so kann es Ihnen eigentlich ganz gleichgültig sein, ob Sie sie im Traume oder auf sinnliche Weise erhalten haben. Denken Sie, Graham Bell hätte das Telephon im Traume erfunden. Darauf käme es doch heute gar nicht an, wenn das Telephon auf jeden Fall zu einer bedeutsamen und nützlichen Einrichtung geworden wäre. Das klare und geordnete Träumen ist also der Anfang.
Wenn der Mensch in der Stille des Nachtlebens in die Träume sich einlebt, wenn er eine Weile sich gewöhnt hat, ganz andere Welten wahrzunehmen, dann kommt auch bald die Zeit, da er auch mit diesen neuen Wahrnehmungen in die Wirklichkeit hinauszutreten lernt. Dann bekommt diese ganze Welt ein neues Aussehen für ihn, und er ist sich dieses Neuen so bewußt, wie wir des Sinnlichen uns bewußt sind, wenn wir durch diese Stuhlreihen, durch alles, was Sie hier sehen, hindurchschreiten. Dann ist er in einem neuen Bewußtseinszustand; es eröffnet sich etwas Neues, Wesenhaftes in ihm. Der Mensch kommt dann dadurch auch weiter in der Entwickelung, zuletzt zu dem Standpunkte, wo er nicht nur die eigentümlichen Erscheinungen der höheren Welten wie Lichterscheinungen mit geistigem Auge wahrnimmt, sondern auch Töne der höheren Welten erklingen hört, so daß ihm die Dinge ihre geistigen Namen sagen und in neuer Bedeutung ihm entgegentreten. In der Sprache der Mysterien wird das ausgedrückt mit den Worten: Der Mensch sieht die Sonne um Mitternacht, das heißt, für ihn sind keine räumlichen Hindernisse mehr da, um die Sonne auf der andern Seite der Erde zu sehen. Dann wird ihm auch das, was die Sonne im Weltenraume tut, offenbar, dann wird er auch das, was die Pythagoräer als eine Wahrheit vertreten haben, die Sphärenharmonie, wahrnehmen. Dieses Klingen und Tönen, diese Sphärenharmonie, wird für ihn etwas Wirkliches. Dichter, die zugleich Seher waren, wußten, daß es so etwas wie Sphärenharmonie gibt. Nur der, welcher Goethe von diesem Standpunkt aus faßt, kann ihn verstehen. Die Worte im «Prolog im Himmel» zum Beispiel kann man entweder nur als Phrase hinnehmen oder als höhere Wahrheit. Da, wo Faust im zweiten Teile in die Geisterwelt eingeführt wird, spricht er wieder von diesem Tönen: «Tönend wird für Geistesohren schon der neue Tag geboren.»
Da haben wir den Zusammenhang zwischen der Naturforschung und der Theosophie oder Geisteswissenschaft. Du Bois-Reymond hat darauf hingewiesen, daß nur der schlafende Mensch Gegenstand für die Naturforschung sein kann. Wenn nun aber der Mensch anfängt, seine inneren Sinne zu eröffnen, wenn er anfängt, zu hören und zu schauen, daß es auch eine geistige Wirklichkeit gibt, dann beginnt das ganze Gebäude elementarer Theosophie, das Haeckel so wunderbar aufgebaut hat, und das keiner mehr bewundern kann als ich, einen ganz neuen Glanz, eine ganz neue Bedeutung zu bekommen. Nach diesem Wunderbau sehen wir als Urwesen ein einfaches Lebewesen, aber ebenso können wir unser Wesen geistig zurückverfolgen bis zu einem früheren Zustand des Bewußtseins.
Ich werde nun die theosophisch oder geisteswissenschaftlich gehaltene Abstammungslehre auseinandersetzen. Von «Beweisen» für dieselbe muß natürlich in einem einzelnen Vortrage ganz abgesehen werden. Es ist natürlich, daß für alle diejenigen, welche nur die heute üblichen Vorstellungen über die Abstammung des Menschen kennen, alles unwahrscheinlich und phantastisch klingen wird, was ich werde sagen müssen. Aber alle diese Vorstellungen sind ja den herrschenden materialistischen Gedankenkreisen entsprungen. Und viele, welche vielleicht gegenwärtig den Vorwurf des Materialismus weit von sich weisen wollen, sind doch nur in einer — allerdings begreiflichen — Selbsttäuschung befangen. Die wahre theosophische oder geisteswissenschaftliche Entwickelungslehre ist heute kaum bekannt. Und wenn Gegner von ihr sprechen, so sieht derjenige, der sie kennt, aus den Einwürfen sofort, daß sie von einer Karikatur dieser Entwickelungslehre sprechen. Für alle diejenigen, welche eine Seele oder einen Geist nur anerkennen, die innerhalb der menschlichen oder tierischen Organisation zum Ausdruck kommen, ist die theosophische Vorstellungsart ganz unverständlich. Mit solchen Personen ist jede Diskussion über diesen Gegenstand unfruchtbar. Sie müßten sich erst frei machen von den materialistischen Suggestionen, in denen sie leben, und müßten sich mit der Grundlage geisteswissenschaftlicher Denkrichtung bekanntmachen.
Wie die sinnlich-naturwissenschaftliche Forschungsmethode die physisch-körperliche Organisation zurückverfolgt bis in ferne unbestimmte Urzeiten, so tut es die geisteswissenschaftliche Denkweise in bezug auf Seele und Geist. Die letztere kommt dabei mit den bekannten naturwissenschaftlichen Tatsachen nicht in den geringsten Widerspruch; nur mit der materialistischen Ausdeutung dieser Tatsachen kann sie nichts zu tun haben. Die Naturwissenschaft verfolgt die physischen Lebewesen ihrer Abstammung nach rückwärts. Sie wird auf immer einfachere Organismen geführt. Nun sagt sie, die vollkommenen Lebewesen stammen von diesen einfachen, unvollkommenen ab. Das ist, soweit die physische Körperlichkeit in Betracht kommt, eine Wahrheit, obgleich die hypothetischen Formen der Urzeit, von denen die materialistische Wissenschaft spricht, nicht ganz mit jenen übereinstimmen, von denen die theosophische oder geisteswissenschaftliche Forschung weiß. Doch das mag uns für unseren jetzigen Zweck nicht weiter berühren.
In sinnlich-physischer Beziehung erkennt auch die Geisteswissenschaft die Verwandtschaft des Menschen mit den höheren Säugetieren, also mit den menschenähnlichen Affen, an. Von einer Abstammung aber des heutigen Menschen von einem an seelischem Wert dem heutigen Affen gleichen Wesen kann nicht die Rede sein. Die Sache verhält sich ganz anders. Alles, was der Materialismus in dieser Beziehung vorbringt, beruht auf einem einfachen Denkfehler. Dieser Fehler möge durch einen trivialen Vergleich klar gemacht werden, der aber trotzdem nicht unzutreffend ist, obgleich er trivial ist. Man nehme zwei Personen. Die eine sittlich minderwertig, intellektuell unbedeutend; die andere sittlich hochstehend, intellektuell bedeutend. Man könne, sagen wir, durch irgendeine Tatsache die Verwandtschaft der beiden feststellen. Wird man nun schließen dürfen, daß die höherstehende von einer solchen abstammt, die der niedrigstehenden gleichwertig ist? Nimmermehr. Man könnte durch die andere Tatsache überrascht werden, welche da besagt: die beiden Personen sind verwandt; sie sind Brüder. Aber der gemeinsame Vater war weder dem einen noch dem andern Bruder ganz gleichwertig. Der eine der Brüder ist herabgekommen; der andere hat sich emporgearbeitet.
Den in diesem Vergleich angedeuteten Fehler macht die materialistische Naturwissenschaft. Sie muß, nach den ihr bekannten Tatsachen, eine Verwandtschaft annehmen zwischen Affe und Mensch. Aber sie dürfte nun nicht folgern: der Mensch stammt von einem affengleichen Tiere ab. Sie müßte vielmehr ein Urwesen — einen gemeinsamen physischen Stammvater — annehmen; aber der Affe ist der herabgekommene, der Mensch der höher hinaufgestiegene Bruder.
Was hat nun jenes Urwesen auf der einen Seite zum Menschen emporgehoben, auf der andern ins Affentum hinabgestoßen? Die Theosophie oder Geisteswissenschaft sagt: Das hat die Menschenseele selbst getan. Diese Menschenseele war auch schon zu jener Zeit vorhanden, als da auf dem physisch-sichtbaren Erdboden als höchste sinnliche Wesen nur jene gemeinsamen Urväter des Menschen und des Affen herumwandelten. Aus der Schar dieser Urväter waren die besten imstande, sich dem Höherbildungsprozeß der Seele zu unterwerfen; die minderwertigen waren es nicht. So hat die heutige Menschenseele einen Seelenvorfahren, wie der Körper einen körperlichen Vorfahren hat. Für die sinnliche Wahrnehmung wäre zur Zeit jener «Urväter» die Seele allerdings nicht im heutigen Sinne innerhalb des Körpers nachweisbar gewesen. Sie gehörte in einer gewissen Beziehung noch den «höheren Welten» an. Sie hatte auch andere Fähigkeiten und Kräfte als die gegenwärtige Menschenseele. Die heutige Verstandestätigkeit und Moralgesinnung fehlte ihr. Sie baute sich nicht aus den Dingen der Außenwelt Werkzeuge und errichtete nicht Staaten. Ihre Tätigkeit war noch in erheblichem Maße auf die Umarbeitung, die Umbildung der «Urväter-Leiber» selbst gerichtet. Sie gestaltete das unvollkommene Gehirn um, so daß dieses später Träger der Gedankentätigkeit werden konnte. Wie die heute nach außen gerichtete Seele Maschinen baut, so baute die Vorfahrenseele noch an dem menschlichen Vorfahrenkörper selbst. Man kann natürlich einwerfen: Ja, warum kann denn die Seele heute nicht mehr in dem Maße am eigenen Körper bauen? — Das kommt eben daher, daß die Kraft, die früher aufgebracht worden ist zur Organumbildung, später sich nach außen auf die Beherrschung und Regelung der Naturkräfte richtete.
So kommt man in der Urzeit auf einen zweifachen Ursprung des Menschen. Dieser ist geistig-seelisch nicht erst durch die Vervollkommnung der sinnlichen Organe entstanden. Sondern die «Seele» des Menschen war schon da, als die «Urväter» noch auf Erden wandelten. Sie hat sich —dies natürlich nur vergleichsweise gesprochen — selbst einen Teil aus der «Urväter-Schar» ausgewählt, dem sie einen äußerlich körperlichen Ausdruck verliehen hat, der ihn zum heutigen Menschen machte. Der andere Teil aus dieser Schar ist verkümmert, herabgekommen, und bilder die heutigen menschenähnlichen Affen. Diese haben sich aiso — im wahren Sinne des Wortes — aus dem Menschenvorfahren als dessen Abzweigung gebildet. Jene «Urväter» sind die physischen Menschenvorfahren; aber sie konnten es nur dadurch sein, daß sie die Fähigkeit der Umbildung durch die Menschenseelen in sich trugen. So stammt der Mensch physisch von diesem «Urvater» ab; seelisch aber von seinem «Seelenvorfahren». Nun kann man wieder weiter in bezug auf den Stammbaum der Wesen zurückgehen. Da kommt man zu einem physisch noch unvollkommeneren «Urvater». Aber auch zu dessen Zeit war der «Seelenvorfahr» des Menschen schon vorhanden. Dieser hat selbst diesen «Urvater» zum Affendasein emporgehoben, wieder die nicht entwickelungsfähigen Brüder auf der betreffenden Stufe zurücklassend. Aus diesen sind dann Wesen geworden, deren Nachkommen heute noch unter den Affen in der Säugetierreihe stehen. Und so kann man hinaufgehen in jene urferne Vergangenheit, in der auf der damals ganz anders als heute aussehenden Erde nur jene einfachsten Lebewesen vorhanden waren, aus denen Haeckel alle höheren entstehen läßt. Auch ihr Zeitgenosse war schon der «Seelenvorfahr» des Menschen. Er hat die brauchbaren umgestaltet und die unbrauchbaren auf jeder besonderen Stufe zurückgelassen. Die ganze Summe der irdischen Lebewesen stammt also in Wahrheit vom Menschen ab. Was heute als «Seele» in ihm denkt und handelt, hat die Entwickelung der Lebewesen bewirkt. Als unsere Erde im Anfang war, war er selbst noch ein ganz seelisches Wesen. Er begann seine Laufbahn, indem er einen einfachsten Körper sich bildete. Und die ganze Reihe der Lebewesen bedeutet nichts anderes als die zurückgebliebenen Stufen, durch die er seinen Körperbau heraufentwickelt hat bis zur heutigen Vollkommenheit. Die heutigen Lebewesen geben natürlich nicht mehr diejenige Gestalt wieder, welche ihre Vorfahren auf einer bestimmten Stufe hatten, als sie sich vom Menschenstammbaum abzweigten. Sie sind nicht stehengeblieben, sondern nach einem bestimmten Gesetze, das hier wegen der notwendigen Kürze der Darstellung nicht weiter berücksichtigt werden kann, verkümmert. Das Interessante ist nun, daß man äußerlich auch durch die Geisteswissenschaft auf einen Stammbaum des Menschen kommt, der dem von Haeckel konstruierten gar nicht so unähnlich ist. Doch macht Haeckel aus den physischen «Urvätern» des Menschen überall — hypothetische — Tiere. In Wahrheit sind aber an alle die Stellen, an die Haeckel Tiernamen setzt, die noch unvollkommenen Vorfahren des Menschen zu setzen, und die Tiere — ja sogar alle Wesen — sind nur die verkümmerten, herabgekommenen Formen, welche jene Stufen beibehalten haben, durch die hindurch sich die Menschenseele gebildet hat. Außerlich besteht also eine Ahnlichkeit zwischen den Haeckelschen und den theosophischen oder geisteswissenschaftlichen Stammbäumen; innerlich — dem Sinne nach — sind sie himmelweit verschieden.,
Daher kommt es, daß man aus Haeckels Ausführungen so gut elementare Geisteswissenschaft lernen kann. Man braucht nur die von ihm bearbeiteten Tatsachen theosophisch oder geisteswissenschaftlich zu durchdringen und seine eigene naive Philosophie zu einer höheren zu erheben. Wenn Haeckel solche «höhere» Philosophie abkanzelt und kritisiert, so ist er eben selbst naiv; wie etwa, wenn jemand, der es nur bis zum Einmaleins gebracht hat, sagen wollte: Was ich weiß, ist wahr, und die ganze höhere Mathematik ist nur ein phantastisches Zeug. — Die Sache liegt doch gar nicht so, daß jemand, der Theosoph ist, das widerlegen will, was elementare Tatsache der Naturwissenschaft ist; sondern nur so, daß der von materialistischen Suggestionen eingenommene Forscher gar nicht weiß, wovon die Theosophie redet.
Es hängt von dem Menschen ab, was er für eine Philosophie hat. Das hat Fichte gesagt mit den Worten: Wer kein wahrnehmendes Auge hat, kann die Farben nicht sehen, wer keine aufnahmefähige Seele besitzt, der kann den Geist nicht sehen.- AuchGoethe hat denselben Gedanken in dem bekannten Spruche zum Ausdruck gebracht: «Wär’ nicht das Auge sonnenhaft, die Sonne könnt’ es nie erblicken; läg’ nicht in uns des Gottes eigne Kraft, wie könnt’ uns Göttliches entzücken?» Und einen Ausspruch Feuerbachs ins rechte Licht setzend, kann man sagen: Jeder sieht das Bild von Gott so, wie er selbst ist. Der Sinnliche macht sich einen sinnlichen Gott, derjenige, welcher dasSeelische wahrnimmt, weiß auch das Seelische in seinem Gott zu finden. — Wenn Löwen, Stiere und Ochsen sich Götter machen könnten, so würden sie Löwen, Stieren und Ochsen ähnlich sein, bemerkte schon ein Philosoph im alten Griechenland. In dem Fetischanbeter lebt auch etwas als höchstes geistiges Prinzip, er hat es aber noch nicht in sich gefunden; er ist daher auch noch nicht dazu gekommen, in seinem Gott mehr zu sehen als den Holzklotz. Der Fetischanbeter kann nicht mehr anbeten, als er in sich selbst fühlt. Er erachtet sich selbst noch gleich dem Holzklotz. Wer nicht mehr sieht als wirbelnde Atome, wer das Höchste nur in den kleinen, bloß materiellen Pünktchen sieht, der hat eben in sich selber nichts von dem Höheren erkannt.
Haeckel hat sich zwar das, was er uns in seinen Schriften darbietet, ehrlich erworben, und ihm mußte es daher gestattet sein, auch die Fehler seiner Tugenden zu haben. Das Positive seiner Arbeit wird wirken, das Negative wird verschwinden. Von einem höheren Gesichtspunkte aus gesehen, kann man sagen: Der Fetischanbeter betet den Fetisch, ein lebloses Wesen an, und der materialistische Atomist betet nicht nur ein kleines Götzchen an, sondern eine Menge kleiner Götzchen, die er Atome nennt. Das Wort «anbeten» ist natürlich nicht wörtlich zu nehmen, denn der «materialistische» Denker hat sich zwar nicht den Fetischismus, wohl aber das «Beten» abgewöhnt. So groß der Aberglaube des Fetischanbeters ist, so groß ist der des Materialisten. Das materialistische Atom ist nichts anderes als ein Fetisch. In dem Holzklotz sind nämlich auch nur Atome. Haeckel sagt nun an einer Stelle: «Gott sehen wir im Stein, in der Pflanze, im Tier, im Menschen. Überall ist Gott.» Er sieht aber nur den Gott, den er begreift. Goethe läßt doch so bezeichnend den Erdgeist zu Faust sprechen: «Du gleichst dem Geist, den du begreifst, nicht mir.» So sieht der Materialist die wirbelnden Atome im Stein, in der Pflanze, im Tier und in dem Menschen und vielleicht auch im Kunstwerk, und beruft sich darauf, daß er eine einheitliche Weltanschauung besitze und den alten Aberglauben überwunden habe. Eine einheitliche Weltanschauung haben aber auch die Theosophen, und wir können dieselben Worte gebrauchen wie Haeckel: Wir sehen Gott im Stein, in der Pflanze und im Menschen, aber wir sehen nicht einen Wirbel von Atomen, sondern den lebendigen Gott, den geistigen Gott, den wir in der Natur draußen zu finden trachten, weil wir ihn in uns selbst auch suchen.
Haeckel, the World's Mysteries, and Theosophy
As I speak today on the subject of “Haeckel, the Mysteries of the World, and Theosophy,” I am aware that this topic presents extraordinary difficulties for the researcher of spiritual life and that my remarks may cause considerable offense on both sides. Nevertheless, it seems to me necessary to speak about it from a theosophical point of view, because, on the one hand, the gospel that Haeckel gained from his research has found its way to thousands and thousands of people through his book “The Riddles of the World.” Ten thousand copies of The Riddle of the Universe were sold in a short time, and the book has been translated into many languages. Rarely has such a serious book found such wide distribution.
If theosophy or spiritual science is to make clear what its goals are, then it must deal with such an important phenomenon, which also concerns the deepest questions of existence, and express its position on it. In itself, the theosophical or spiritual scientific view of life is not there for struggle, but for reconciliation, for the balancing of opposites. I myself am in a special position with regard to Ernst Haeckel's worldview. For I know the feelings and emotions that today can lead people, partly out of their scientific conscience, partly out of the general world situation and worldview, as if by a fascinating force, into the simple, grand trains of thought that make up Haeckel's worldview. I would probably not dare to speak so impartially today if I were what one might call an opponent of Haeckel; if I were not thoroughly familiar with what one can experience when one immerses oneself in this wonderful edifice of his ideas.
Above all, however, anyone who views the development of intellectual life with an open mind will have to acknowledge the moral force in Haeckel's work. With tremendous courage, this man has fought for his worldview for decades, fought hard and had to defend himself against many adversities that confronted him. On the other hand, we must not fail to recognize that Haeckel possesses a great power of synthesis and synthetic thinking. He has to a high degree what so many natural scientists lack in this respect. He has dared to synthesize the results of his research into a worldview, even though in recent decades the actual scientific trends have been directed against such an undertaking. This must be recognized as a remarkable achievement. I am also in a peculiar position with regard to the theosophical worldview when I speak about Haeckel. Anyone who has studied the development of the theosophical movement knows what harsh words and struggles have been directed by the theosophists, and especially by the founder of the theosophical movement, Mrs. Helena Petrovna Blavatsky, against the conclusions that Ernst Haeckel drew from his research. Few phenomena in the field of worldviews are fought against with such passion in The Secret Doctrine as Haeckel's arguments. I believe I can speak impartially, because I believe that in my essay “Haeckel and His Opponents,” as well as in my book on “Worldviews and Views of Life in the 19th Century,” I have done full justice to the true content of Haeckel's worldview. I believe I have extracted from his works that which is imperishable and fruitful.
Consider the whole situation of worldview insofar as it is based on scientific grounds. In the first half of the 19th century, the intellectual climate was very different from that of the second half. And Haeckel's emergence coincided with a time when it was very natural to give the young so-called Darwinism a materialistic consequence. If one understands how close it was at that time, when Haeckel entered the natural sciences as a young enthusiastic researcher, to interpret all scientific discoveries in a materialistic way, then one will understand the materialistic tendency and take the path of peacemaking rather than that of struggle. If you look at those who, in the middle of the 19th century, turned their gaze freely to the great mysteries of humanity, you will find two things. On the one hand, a complete resignation towards the highest questions of existence, an admission that from a scientific point of view it is not possible to penetrate the questions of the divine world order, immortality, freedom of will, the origin of life, in short, the actual mysteries of the world. On the other hand, in addition to this mood of resignation, you will also find remnants of an old religious tradition among natural scientists. In the first half of the 19th century, bold advances in the investigation of these questions from a scientific point of view can only be found among German philosophers, for example Schelling, Fichte, or even Oken, a man of freedom without equal in other areas of life as well. What haunts natural scientists today who want to establish worldviews can already be found in broad strokes in Oken. But a peculiar breeze still blows over it; the feeling of old spiritualism still lives in it, which is clear that behind everything that can be perceived by the senses and explored by instruments, something spiritual must be sought.
Haeckel himself recounted time and again how this peculiar breath blew through the mind of his great teacher, the unforgettable natural scientist Johannes Müller. You can read in Haeckel how, when he was working with Johannes Müller at Berlin University and studying the anatomy of animals and humans, he was struck by the great similarity, not only in external form, but in what is expressed in the form, in the tendency of the form. When he then expressed to his teacher that this pointed to a mysterious kinship between animals and humans, Johannes Müller, who had looked so deeply into nature, replied: Yes, whoever once fathoms the mystery of the species will attain the highest. One must simply think one's way into the mind of such a researcher, who would certainly not have stopped if there had been a prospect of penetrating the mystery. On another occasion, when teacher and student were on a research trip, Haeckel again expressed his view of the great kinship that existed among animals; Johannes Müller again said something very similar. I only wanted to characterize a mood here. If you read any important natural scientist of the first half of the 19th century, for example Burdach, you will find, despite the careful elaboration of all scientific details, that wherever the realm of life is discussed, there is always a reference to the fact that it is not only physical and chemical forces that are at work, but that something higher must also be taken into account.But when the development of the microscope enabled humans to look inside the peculiar composition of living beings and observe that they are made up of a fine tissue of tiny creatures that form the physical body of these beings, things changed. This physical body, which serves as a garment for plants and animals, dissolves into cells for the natural scientist. The discoveries about the life of cells were made by natural scientists at the end of the 1830s. And because so much of the life of the smallest creatures could be explored in a sensory way through the microscope, it was obvious that what acts as the organizing principle in living beings was forgotten and overlooked, because it cannot be recognized by any physical sense, by anything external at all.
At that time, Darwinism did not yet exist, but under the impression of these great successes in the field of sensory research, a materialistic natural science emerged in the 1840s and 1850s. It was thought that the whole world could be understood from what could be perceived and explained by the senses. What seems downright childish to many people today caused a tremendous sensation at the time and formed, so to speak, a gospel for humanity. Force and matter, Büchner, Moleschott—these were the buzzwords and the leading figures. It was considered an expression of childish imagination from earlier epochs of humanity to suspect that there was something beyond what could be seen with the eyes, beyond what was obvious and perceptible to the senses.
Now you must bear in mind that, alongside all power of judgment, alongside all research, feelings and sensations play a major role in the development of spiritual life. Anyone who believes that worldviews are formed solely on the basis of cool considerations of judgment is very much mistaken. If I may speak radically, the heart always has a say in this. Secret educational influences also play a part. In its latest phase of development, humanity has undergone a materialistic education. Although this education has its origins far back in time, it has only reached its peak in the period we are discussing. We call this epoch of materialistic education the Age of Enlightenment. Human beings had to learn to find their way on this firm ground of reality — which was also the ultimate consequence of the Christian worldview. The God they had sought for so long beyond the clouds was now to be sought within themselves. This had a profound effect on the entire development of the 19th century; and anyone who, as a contemporary psychologist, wants to study the development of humanity in the 19th century will understand all the phenomena that occur in it, such as the freedom movement in the 1830s and 1840s, only as individual, lawfully occurring storms of the developing feeling for the significance of physical reality. We are dealing with a direction of human education that initially tore all prospects of a spiritual, intellectual life out of the human heart by force. And it was not from natural science that the conclusion was drawn that the world consists of phenomena that can be perceived by the senses, but rather, as a result of the education of humanity at that time, materialism was introduced into the explanation of scientific facts. Anyone who truly studies things impartially, as they are, will find that it is as I say, although I cannot speak about it in detail in a short hour.
The tremendous advances in the fields of natural science, astronomy, physics, and chemistry, through spectral analysis, through expanded theoretical knowledge of heat, and through the theory of the development of living beings, known as Darwin's theory, fall within this period of materialism. If these discoveries had occurred at a time when people still thought as they did at the turn of the 18th to the 19th century, when they still had a more spiritual sensibility, then they would have seen in them just as much evidence of the spirit's rule and work in nature. The wonderful discoveries of natural science would have led precisely to proof of the primacy of the spirit. From this we can see that scientific discoveries did not necessarily and under all circumstances have to lead to materialism; rather, it was only because many bearers of spiritual life at that time were materialistic in their thinking that these discoveries were interpreted in a materialistic way. Materialism was brought into natural science, and natural scientists such as Ernst Haeckel unconsciously accepted it. Darwin's discovery itself did not necessarily have to lead to materialism. In his first work, you will find the sentence: “I believe that all living beings that have ever been on earth are descended from a primordial form into which life was breathed by the Creator.” These words are found in Darwin's book On the Origin of Species, the work that materialism uses as its foundation.
It is clear that anyone who approached these discoveries as a materialist thinker had to give Darwinism a materialist slant. Haeckel's bold materialist way of thinking gave Darwinism its current materialist tendency. It had a great impact when, in 1868, Haeckel proclaimed the connection between humans and the lordly animals (monkeys). At that time, this could only mean that humans descended from the lordly animals. To this day, however, thinking has undergone a peculiar course of development. Haeckel remained stuck at the idea that humans descended from the lordly animals, which in turn descended from the lower animals, which in turn descended from the simplest living creatures. In this way, he developed the entire family tree of humans. As a result, for him, all spirit was eliminated from the world and existed only as a manifestation of the material. Haeckel still seeks to help himself, since in his innermost being, alongside his materialistic thinking soul, he has a peculiar spiritualistic emotional soul. These two have never really been able to balance each other out in him, never really been able to find a brotherly agreement. He therefore concludes that even the smallest living creature has a kind of consciousness; however, it remains unexplained how the complex human consciousness developed from the consciousness of the smallest living creatures. Haeckel once said during a conversation: People take offense at my materialism, but I do not deny the spirit, I do not deny life; I only want people to consider that when they put substances into a retort, everything soon lives and moves within it. — This shows very clearly how Haeckel has a spiritualistic emotional soul alongside his scientific thinking soul.
One of those who, at the time of Darwin's appearance, also claimed that humans descended from higher animals was the English researcher Huxley. He stated that there is such a great similarity in external structure between humans and higher animals that this similarity is greater than the similarity between higher and lower species of apes. One could only conclude from this that humans descended from higher animals. In more recent times, researchers have discovered new facts; even those feelings that had been cultivated in the hearts and souls of humans through centuries of education were transformed; and so it came about that in the 1890s, shortly before his death, Huxley expressed what was for him a remarkable view: We see, then, that in nature we find a sequence of living beings, from the simplest and most imperfect to the most complex and perfect. We can see this sequence. But why should this sequence not continue into a realm that we cannot see? — These words indicate the path by which man can rise from natural science to the idea of a divine being that stands high above man, a being that stands higher above him than he himself stands above a simple cellular organism. Huxley once said: I would rather descend from ancestors that are animal-like than from those that deny human reason.
Thus, the concepts and feelings, what the soul thinks and feels, have changed. Haeckel continued his research in his own way. As early as 1868, he published his popular book “Natural History of Creation.” Much can be learned from this book; one can learn how the realms of living things in nature are connected according to natural laws. One can look into the gray times of the past and connect the living with the extinct, of which only the last remnants remain on earth. Haeckel understood this perfectly. I can only clarify the world history that unfolds in the wider sense by means of a comparison. Those who are willing to engage with such things will find that this comparison is no more flawed than all comparisons are flawed, but that it can nevertheless be apt. Suppose an art historian came along and described the great realm of painting from Leonardo da Vinci to the present day in a beautiful art-historical treatise. Everything that had been created in this direction during this period would appear before your soul, and you would believe you were looking into this freely developing weaving and working of the human spirit. Suppose, further, that someone came along and said about this description: But everything the art historian presents here is not real, it is something that does not exist at all, it is only a description of imaginary constructs that do not exist, and what do these fantasies have to do with me? One must examine the real in order to arrive at a correct art-historical representation. I therefore want to examine the bones of Leonardo da Vinci and try to reassemble his body, examine what kind of brain he had and how it worked. — The same things are thus described by both the art historian and the anatomical natural historian. No mistake needs to be made, everything could be correct. Then the anatomical historian said that we must fight against what the idealistic art historians tell us, we must fight it as a fantasy, because it is almost as if a superstition had come over people, trying to make us believe that, in addition to the figure of Leonardo da Vinci, there was also a gaseous vortex as his soul.
This comparison is apt, although it may seem silly. This is the situation of those who swear by the sole correctness of the “natural history of creation.” They, too, cannot be fought by proving them wrong. There may well be errors, but that is not the point here. What is important is that the obvious has been presented in its inner context. This has been done in a great and comprehensive way by Haeckel. It has been done in such a way that those who want to see can also see how the spiritual is effective in the formation of forms, where apparently only matter reigns and weaves. Much can be learned from this; one can see how to grasp the spiritual connection in the world with seriousness, dignity, and perseverance. Anyone who studies Haeckel's “Anthropogeny” will see how form is built up from the simplest living beings to the most complex, from the simplest organisms to human beings. Those who understand how to add the spirit to what the materialist says will study the most beautiful elementary theosophy in this Haeckelism.
Haeckel's research results form, so to speak, the first chapter of theosophy or spiritual science. Studying his works is a far better way than any other to understand the development and transformation of organic forms. We have every reason to show what great things have been achieved through the progress of this deepened knowledge of nature.At the time when Haeckel constructed this marvelous edifice, the deeper mysteries of humanity were regarded as unsolvable problems. In a rhetorically brilliant speech in 1872, Du Bois-Reymond spoke about the limits of natural science and the knowledge of nature. Few things have been discussed more in recent decades than this speech with its famous “Ignorabimus.” It was an important act and represents an important contrast to Haeckel's own development and his theory of human descent. In another speech, Du Bois-Reymond identified “seven world riddles” as the great mysteries of existence that natural scientists can only partially answer, if at all, namely:
i. The origin of force and matter.
2. How did the first movement come into this dormant matter?
3. How did life arise within moving matter?
4. How can it be explained that there is so much in nature that bears the stamp of purposefulness, as is usually only found in acts performed by human reason?
5. How can it be explained that, if we could examine our brains, we would find only tiny particles swirling around, yet these particles enable me to see “red,” hear organ music, feel pain, and so on? — Think of swirling atoms and it will immediately become clear to you that they can never give rise to the sensations expressed in the words “I see red, I smell the scent of roses, and so on.”
6. How do intelligence, reason, thought, and language develop within living beings?
7. How can free will arise in a being that is so bound that every action must be caused by the swirling of atoms?
In reference to these “world riddles” of Du Bois-Reymond, Haeckel named his book “Die Welträtsel” (The World Riddles). He wanted to provide the answer to Du Bois-Reymond's explanations. A particularly important passage is in Du Bois-Reymond's speech on the limits of natural knowledge. We are led to this important passage and can be guided through it to theosophy.
When Du Bois-Reymond spoke to natural scientists and physicians in Leipzig, the spirit of natural science was looking for a purer, freer, and higher air, the air that led to the theosophical worldview. Du Bois-Reymond said the following at that time: When we look at human beings from a scientific point of view, they are for us a combination of unconscious atoms. To explain man scientifically means to understand these atomic movements down to the last detail. — He believes that if one is able to indicate how the atoms move at any point in the brain when one says, “I think” or “give me an apple,” then one has solved this problem scientifically. Du Bois-Reymond calls this the “astronomical” understanding of humans. The moving groups of human atoms would look like a small starry sky. What has not been understood here is how it happens that in the consciousness of humans, of whom we know, let's say, exactly how their atoms move — sensations, feelings, and thoughts arise. No natural science can determine this. No natural science can say how consciousness arises. Du Bois-Reymond concluded as follows: In the sleeping human being, who is not aware of the sensation expressed in the words “I see red,” we have before us the physical group of moving body parts. With regard to this sleeping body, we do not need to say, " We will not know,“ ”Ignorabimus." We can understand the sleeping person. The awake person, on the other hand, is incomprehensible to any natural scientist. What is present in the awake person is not present in the sleeping person, namely the consciousness through which he or she appears to us as a spiritual being.
At that time, the despondency of natural science made further progress impossible; At that time, it was not yet possible to think of theosophy or spiritual science, because natural science had sharply defined the boundary, the point beyond which it did not want to go in its own way. Because of this self-imposed restriction on natural science, the theosophical worldview began at the same time. No one will claim that when a person falls asleep in the evening and wakes up again in the morning, they cease to exist in the evening and come into being anew the next morning. Nevertheless, Du Bois-Reymond says that at night, what is present in a person during the day is not there. This is where the theosophical worldview has an opportunity to intervene. Sensory consciousness does not speak in sleeping humans. But since natural scientists rely on what this sensory consciousness conveys, they cannot say anything about what lies beyond it, about the spiritual, because they lack precisely that which makes humans spiritual beings. We cannot penetrate the spiritual realm with the tools of natural science. Natural science relies on what is perceptible to the senses. What is no longer perceptible when a person is asleep cannot be the object of its research. But it is precisely in this something that is no longer perceptible in a sleeping person that we must seek the essence that makes human beings spiritual beings. We cannot say anything about what transcends the purely material, the sensory, until — and this is something that natural scientists, as such, cannot know if they base their research solely on what is perceptible to the senses — organs, spiritual eyes, are created that can also see what transcends the sensory. Therefore, one must not say that these are the limits of knowledge, but only that these are the limits of sensory knowledge. The natural scientist perceives with the senses, but is not a spiritual seer. However, he must become a seer in order to be able to see what is spiritual in human beings. This is also what all deeper wisdom in the world strives for, not merely an extension of sensory knowledge, but an elevation of human abilities. This is also the great difference between today's natural science and what theosophy teaches. The natural scientist says to himself: Man has senses with which he perceives, and a mind with which he combines his sensory perceptions. What cannot be achieved with these lies outside the realm of natural scientific knowledge. Theosophy has a different view. It says: You are right, natural scientist, when you judge from your point of view; you are just as right as the blind man is right from his point of view to say that the world is colorless and without light.
I have no objections to the scientific point of view; I would only like to contrast it with the view of theosophy or spiritual science, which says: It is possible, no, it is certain that man does not have to remain at the point of view he stands at today. It is possible that organs, spiritual eyes, develop in a similar way to how sensory organs, eyes, and ears have developed in this physical body. Once these organs are developed, higher abilities emerge. One must first believe this — no, one does not even need to believe it, one can simply accept it impartially as a story. But just as not all believers in the “natural history of creation” have seen what is presented as fact in it — for how many have really seen these facts? — so too can the fact of supersensible knowledge not be demonstrated to everyone here. There is no way for the ordinary sensory human being to enter this realm. We can only enter the spiritual realms with the help of occult research methods. When a person transforms themselves into an instrument for the higher powers, in order to look into the worlds hidden from the sensory human being, then very special phenomena occur within them — I will speak about this in detail in the ninth lecture on “Inner Development.” The ordinary human being is incapable of seeing himself or consciously taking in the objects in his environment when his senses are asleep. But when the human being applies occult research methods, this inability ceases, and he begins to perceive impressions in the astral world in a conscious manner.
First of all, there is a transition, familiar to everyone, between the external life of sensory perception and that life which does not die even in the deepest sleep. This transition is the chaos of dreams. Everyone is familiar with it, usually only as an echo of what they have experienced during the day. How could they possibly take in anything new in their sleep? The inner human being does not yet have any organs of perception. But something is there. Life is there. What has left the body during sleep remembers, and this memory arises in more or less confused images in the sleeping person. If you would like to learn more about these things, please refer to the essays “How to Gain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds.” Instead of chaos, order and harmony gradually begin to enter the realm of dreams. This is a sign that the human being is beginning to develop spiritually; and then he sees in his dreams not only the echoes of reality in a chaotic way, but also things that do not exist in ordinary life. Certainly, people who want to remain in the realm of the tangible, in the realm of the senses, will say: “Those are just dreams.” But if you thereby gain insight into the highest secrets of the world, it can actually be quite irrelevant to you whether you received them in a dream or in a sensory way. Consider whether Graham Bell invented the telephone in a dream. That would not matter today if the telephone had in any case become a significant and useful device. Clear and orderly dreaming is therefore the beginning.
When a person becomes accustomed to dreams in the silence of night, when they have become accustomed to perceiving completely different worlds, then the time soon comes when they learn to step out into reality with these new perceptions. Then this whole world takes on a new appearance for them, and they are as aware of this newness as we are aware of the sensory world when we walk through these rows of chairs, through everything you see here. Then they are in a new state of consciousness; something new and essential opens up within them. Through this, the person then progresses further in their development, ultimately reaching a point where they not only perceive the peculiar phenomena of the higher worlds, such as light phenomena, with their spiritual eye, but also hear the sounds of the higher worlds, so that things reveal their spiritual names to them and appear to them in a new meaning. In the language of the mysteries, this is expressed with the words: Man sees the sun at midnight, that is, for him there are no longer any spatial obstacles to seeing the sun on the other side of the earth. Then what the sun does in the universe also becomes apparent to him, and he also perceives what the Pythagoreans held to be a truth, the harmony of the spheres. This ringing and sounding, this harmony of the spheres, becomes something real for him. Poets who were also seers knew that there is such a thing as harmony of the spheres. Only those who understand Goethe from this point of view can understand him. The words in the “Prologue in Heaven,” for example, can be taken either as mere rhetoric or as a higher truth. When Faust is introduced to the spirit world in the second part, he speaks again of this sound: “The new day is already being born, resounding in the ears of the spirit.”
Here we have the connection between natural science and theosophy or spiritual science. Du Bois-Reymond pointed out that only the sleeping human being can be the object of natural science. But when a person begins to open their inner senses, when they begin to hear and see that there is also a spiritual reality, then the whole edifice of elementary theosophy, which Haeckel has so wonderfully constructed and which no one can admire more than I, begins to take on a whole new splendor, a whole new meaning. After this marvelous construction, we see a simple living being as the primordial being, but we can also trace our being spiritually back to an earlier state of consciousness.
I will now discuss the theory of descent from a theosophical or spiritual scientific perspective. Of course, any “proof” for this must be completely disregarded in a single lecture. It is natural that for all those who are familiar only with today's common mental images about human ancestry, everything I am about to say will sound improbable and fantastical. But all these mental images have sprung from the prevailing materialistic schools of thought. And many who may currently want to reject the accusation of materialism are merely caught up in a—admittedly understandable—self-deception. The true theosophical or spiritual-scientific doctrine of evolution is hardly known today. And when opponents speak of it, those who are familiar with it immediately see from their objections that they are speaking of a caricature of this doctrine of evolution. For all those who recognize only a soul or spirit that is expressed within the human or animal organization, the theosophical way of thinking is completely incomprehensible. Any discussion of this subject with such people is fruitless. They would first have to free themselves from the materialistic suggestions in which they live and familiarize themselves with the foundations of spiritual science thinking.
Just as the sensory-scientific research method traces the physical-bodily organization back to distant, indeterminate primeval times, so does the spiritual-scientific way of thinking do with regard to soul and spirit. The latter does not contradict the known scientific facts in the slightest; it simply has nothing to do with the materialistic interpretation of these facts. Natural science traces physical living beings back to their origins. It leads to increasingly simple organisms. Now it says that perfect living beings are descended from these simple, imperfect ones. As far as physical corporeality is concerned, this is true, although the hypothetical forms of primeval times, of which materialistic science speaks, do not entirely correspond to those known to theosophical or spiritual scientific research. But that may not concern us further for our present purpose.
In terms of sensory-physical relationships, spiritual science also recognizes the kinship of humans with higher mammals, i.e., with human-like apes. However, there can be no question of modern humans descending from beings similar in spiritual value to modern apes. The situation is quite different. Everything that materialism puts forward in this regard is based on a simple error in thinking. This error can be clarified by a trivial comparison, which is nevertheless not inaccurate, even though it is trivial. Take two people. One is morally inferior and intellectually insignificant; the other is morally superior and intellectually significant. Let us say that some fact establishes the relationship between the two. Can we now conclude that the higher-ranking person is descended from someone equivalent to the lower-ranking person? Never. We might be surprised by another fact, which states that the two people are related; they are brothers. But their common father was not entirely equivalent to either brother. One of the brothers has fallen; the other has worked his way up.
Materialistic science makes the mistake implied in this comparison. Based on the facts known to it, it must assume a relationship between apes and humans. But it should not conclude that humans are descended from ape-like animals. Rather, it should assume a primordial being — a common physical progenitor — but the monkey is the brother who has fallen, and man is the brother who has risen higher.
What has elevated that primordial being on the one hand to man, and on the other hand pushed it down into monkeyhood? Theosophy or spiritual science says: The human soul itself did this. This human soul already existed at the time when only the common ancestors of humans and apes roamed the physically visible earth as the highest sensory beings. Of this group of ancestors, the best were able to submit to the higher educational process of the soul; the inferior ones were not. Thus, today's human soul has a soul ancestor, just as the body has a physical ancestor. For the sensory perception of those “ancestors,” however, the soul would not have been detectable within the body in the present sense. In a certain sense, it still belonged to the “higher worlds.” It also had different abilities and powers than the present human soul. It lacked today's intellectual activity and moral sense. It did not build tools from the things of the outside world and did not establish states. Its activity was still largely directed toward the reworking and transformation of the “ancestral bodies” themselves. It reshaped the imperfect brain so that it could later become the carrier of thought activity. Just as the soul today, which is directed outward, builds machines, so the ancestral soul still built on the human ancestral body itself. One might of course object: Yes, but why can the soul no longer build on its own body to the same extent today? — This is precisely because the power that was previously used to transform organs was later directed outward toward the control and regulation of the forces of nature.
Thus, in primeval times, we arrive at a dual origin of the human being. The human being did not first come into being spiritually and soul-wise through the perfection of the sensory organs. Rather, the “soul” of the human being was already there when the “forefathers” still walked the earth. It chose for itself — comparatively speaking, of course — a part of the “ancestral group,” to which it gave an external physical expression that made it into the human being of today. The other part of this group has atrophied, degenerated, and represents today's human-like apes. These have thus formed – in the true sense of the word – from the human ancestors as a branch of them. Those “forefathers” are the physical ancestors of humans; but they could only be so because they carried within themselves the ability to be transformed by human souls. Thus, humans are physically descended from this ‘forefather’; but spiritually, they are descended from their “spiritual ancestors.” Now we can go further back in the family tree of beings. We come to a “progenitor” who was even more physically imperfect. But even in his time, the “soul ancestor” of man already existed. He himself elevated this “progenitor” to ape existence, leaving behind his brothers who were incapable of development at that stage. These then became beings whose descendants are still among the apes in the mammalian series today. And so one can go back to that distant past, when the earth looked very different from today and only the simplest living beings existed, from which Haeckel derives all higher forms. Their contemporary was already the “ancestor of the soul” of man. He transformed the useful ones and left the useless ones behind at each particular stage. The entire sum of earthly living beings thus truly descends from man. What today thinks and acts as the “soul” within him has brought about the development of living beings. When our Earth was in its infancy, he himself was still a purely spiritual being. He began his career by forming a very simple body. And the entire series of living beings represents nothing other than the stages he left behind as he developed his physique to its present perfection. Of course, today's living beings no longer reflect the form that their ancestors had at a certain stage when they branched off from the human family tree. They have not remained static, but have degenerated according to a certain law, which cannot be considered further here due to the necessary brevity of the presentation. The interesting thing is that, externally, spiritual science also arrives at a human family tree that is not so dissimilar to the one constructed by Haeckel. However, Haeckel turns the physical “forefathers” of humans everywhere into hypothetical animals. In truth, however, all the places where Haeckel puts animal names should be filled with the still imperfect ancestors of man, and the animals — indeed, all beings — are only the atrophied, degenerate forms that have retained the stages through which the human soul was formed. Outwardly, therefore, there is a similarity between Haeckel's and the theosophical or spiritual scientific family trees; inwardly — in terms of meaning — they are worlds apart.
This is why Haeckel's writings are so good for learning elementary spiritual science. One need only penetrate the facts he has worked on theosophically or spiritually and elevate one's own naive philosophy to a higher one. When Haeckel rebukes and criticizes such “higher” philosophy, he is himself naive; just as if someone who has only mastered the basics were to say: What I know is true, and all higher mathematics is just fantastic stuff. — The point is not that someone who is a theosophist wants to refute what is an elementary fact of natural science, but only that the researcher, taken in by materialistic suggestions, does not know what theosophy is talking about.
It depends on the person what kind of philosophy they have. Fichte said this in the words: Those who do not have a perceptive eye cannot see colors; those who do not have a receptive soul cannot see the spirit. Goethe also expressed the same idea in the well-known saying: "If the eye were not sunlike, it could never see the sun; if the power of God did not lie within us, how could we be enchanted by the divine?" And putting a saying of Feuerbach in the right light, one can say: Everyone sees the image of God as he himself is. The sensual person creates a sensual God, while the one who perceives the spiritual also knows how to find the spiritual in his God. “If lions, bulls, and oxen could make gods, they would be similar to lions, bulls, and oxen,” remarked a philosopher in ancient Greece. Something also lives in the fetish worshipper as the highest spiritual principle, but he has not yet found it within himself; he has therefore not yet come to see anything more in his god than a block of wood. The fetish worshipper cannot worship more than he feels within himself. He still considers himself to be like the block of wood. Those who see nothing more than swirling atoms, who see the highest only in the small, merely material dots, have not recognized anything higher within themselves.
Haeckel has honestly acquired what he presents to us in his writings, and he must therefore be allowed to have the faults of his virtues. The positive aspects of his work will have an effect, the negative aspects will disappear. Seen from a higher point of view, one can say: The fetish worshipper worships the fetish, a lifeless being, and the materialistic atomist worships not only a small idol, but a multitude of small idols, which he calls atoms. The word “worship” is not to be taken literally, of course, for the ‘materialistic’ thinker has not given up fetishism, but he has given up “worship.” As great as the superstition of the fetish worshipper is, so great is that of the materialist. The materialistic atom is nothing more than a fetish. After all, the block of wood also contains only atoms. Haeckel says at one point: “We see God in the stone, in the plant, in the animal, in man. God is everywhere.” But he only sees the God he understands. Goethe so aptly has the Earth Spirit say to Faust: “You resemble the spirit you understand, not me.” Thus, the materialist sees the swirling atoms in the stone, in the plant, in the animal, and in the human being, and perhaps also in the work of art, and claims that he possesses a unified worldview and has overcome the old superstitions. But theosophists also have a unified worldview, and we can use the same words as Haeckel: We see God in stones, plants, and humans, but we do not see a whirlwind of atoms, but rather the living God, the spiritual God, whom we seek to find in nature because we also seek him within ourselves.