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Goethean Science
GA 1

4. The Nature and Significance of Goethe's Writings on Organic Development

[ 1 ] The great significance of Goethe's morphological works is to be sought in the fact that in them the theoretical basis and method for studying organic entities are established, and this is a scientific deed of the first order.

[ 2 ] If one is to do justice to this rightly, one must above all bear in mind the great difference existing between the phenomena of inorganic nature and those of organic nature. A phenomenon of the first kind, for example, is the impact of two elastic balls upon one another. If one ball is at rest and the other ball strikes it from a certain direction and with a certain velocity, then the first ball is likewise given a certain direction and velocity. If it is a matter then of comprehending such a phenomenon, this can be achieved only by our transforming into concepts what is directly there for the senses. We would succeed in this to the extent that nothing of a sense-perceptibly real nature remained that we had not permeated conceptually. We see one ball approach and strike the other, which then goes on moving. We have comprehended this phenomenon when, from the mass, direction, and velocity of the first ball, and from the mass of the second, we can determine the direction and velocity of the second ball; when we see that under the given conditions this phenomenon must necessarily occur. But this means nothing other than: that which offers itself to our senses must appear as a necessary consequence of what we have to postulate ideally beforehand. If this is the case, then we can say that concept and phenomenon coincide. There is nothing in the concept that is not also in the phenomenon, and nothing in the phenomenon that is not also in the concept. Now we must take a closer look into those relationships out of which a phenomenon of inorganic nature occurs as a necessary consequence. The important fact arises here that the sense-perceptible processes of inorganic nature are determined by factors that likewise belong to the sense world. In our example, mass, velocity, and direction—i.e., exclusively factors belonging to the sense world—come into consideration. Nothing further arises as a determining factor for the phenomenon. It is only the directly sense-perceptible factors that determine one another. A conceptual grasp of such processes is therefore nothing other than a tracing of something sense-perceptibly real back to something sense-perceptibly real. Spatial-temporal relationships, mass, weight, or sense-perceptible forces such as light or warmth call forth phenomena that themselves belong in the same category. A body is heated and increases thereby in volume; the heating and the expanding both belong to the sense world; both the cause and the effect do so. We therefore do not need to go outside the sense world at all in order to comprehend such processes. We merely trace, within the sense world, one phenomenon back to another. When we therefore explain such a phenomenon, i.e., want to permeate it conceptually, we do not need to take up into the concept any elements other than those which are observably perceptible to our senses. We can observe everything that we want to comprehend. And the congruence of perception (phenomenon) and concept consists in this. Nothing in the processes remains obscure to us, because we know the relationships from which they follow. With this, we have elaborated upon the character of inorganic nature and have shown at the same time to what extent we can explain inorganic nature out of itself, without going out of or beyond it. Now one has never doubted this explainability, ever since one first began to think about the nature of these things. One has not, to be sure, always gone through the above train of thought from which the possibility of a congruence of concept and perception follows; but still one has never hesitated to explain phenomena out of the nature of their own being in the way indicated.31A few philosophers maintain that we can indeed trace the phenomena of the sense world back to their original elements (forces), but that we can explain these just as little as we can explain the nature of life. On the other hand, one can say that those elements are simple, i.e., cannot themselves be composed of still simpler elements. But to trace them, in all their simplicity, further back, to explain them, is an impossibility, not because our capacity for knowledge is limited, but rather because these elements rest upon themselves; they are present for us in all their immediacy; they are self-contained, cannot be traced hack to anything else.

[ 3 ] But matters were different, up until Goethe, with respect to the phenomena of the organic world. In the case of an organism, sense-perceptible factors appear—form, size, colour, warmth conditions of an organ, for example—that are not determined by factors of the same kind. One cannot say of the plant, for example, that the size, form, location, etc., of the roots determine the sense-perceptible factors of the leaf or blossom. A body for which this were the case would not be an organism but rather a machine. It must be admitted that all the sense-perceptible factors of a living being do not manifest as a result of other sense-perceptible factors,32 This is precisely the contrast between an organism and a machine. In a machine, everything is the interaction of its parts. Nothing real exists in the machine itself other than this interaction. The unifying principle, which governs the working together of the parts, is lacking in the object itself, and lies outside of it in the head of its builder as a plan. Only the most extreme short-sightedness can deny that the difference between an organism and a mechanism lies precisely in the fact that the principle causing the interrelationship of the parts is, with respect to a mechanism, present only externally (abstractly), whereas with respect to an organism, this principle gains real existence within the thing itself. Thus the sense-perceptible components of an organism also do not then appear out of one another as a mere sequence, but rather as though governed by that inner principle, as though resulting from such a principle that is no longer sense-perceptible. In this respect it is no more sense-perceptible than the plan in the builder's head that is also there only for the mind; this principle is, in fact, essentially that plan, only that plan has now drawn into the inner being of the entity and no longer carries out its activities through the mediation of a third party—the builder—but rather does this directly itself. as is the case with inorganic nature. On the contrary, in an organism, all sense-perceptible qualities manifest as the result of a factor that is no longer sense-perceptible. They manifest as the result of a higher unity hovering over the sense-perceptible processes. It is not the shape of the root which determines that of the trunk, nor the trunk's shape which determines that of the leaf, and so on, rather, all these forms are determined by something standing over them that itself is not again a form observable by the senses; these forms do exist for one another, but not as a result of one another. They do not mutually determine one another, but rather are all determined by something else. Here we cannot trace what we perceive with our senses back to other sense-perceptible factors; we must take up, into the concept of the processes, elements that do not belong to the world of the senses; we must go out of and beyond the sense world. Observation no longer suffices; we must grasp the unity conceptually if we want to explain the phenomena. Because of this, however, a separation occurs between observation and concept; they no longer seem to coincide with each other; the concept hovers over what is observed. It becomes difficult to see the connection. Whereas in inorganic nature concept and reality were one, here they seem to diverge and actually to belong to two different worlds. The observation that offers itself directly to the senses no longer seems to bear within itself its own basis, its own being. The object does not seem explainable out of itself, but rather from something else. Because the object appears in a way not governed by the laws of the sense world, but is there for the senses nevertheless, appears to the senses, it is then as though we stood here before an insoluble contradiction in nature, as though a chasm existed between inorganic phenomena, which are comprehensible through themselves, and organic beings, in which an intrusion into the laws of nature occurs, in which universally valid laws seem suddenly to be broken. Up until Goethe, in fact, science generally considered this chasm to exist; he was the first to succeed in speaking the word that solved the riddle. Before him, one thought that only inorganic nature was explainable out of itself; man's ability to know ceases when confronted by organic nature. One can best estimate the greatness of the deed Goethe accomplished when one considers that the great reformer of philosophy in recent time, Kant, not only shared completely in that old error, but even sought, in fact, to find a scientific foundation for the view that the human spirit will never succeed in explaining organic entities. He saw the possibility, to be sure, of an intellect—of an intellectus archetypus, of an intuitive intellect—to which it would be granted to see into the relationship of concept and reality in organic beings just as it does in inorganic things; only, he denied to man himself the possibility of any such intellect (Verstand).33Readers familiar with German philosophy in English will remember that the conventional translation of Verstand is “understanding.”—Ed. For Kant, it is supposedly characteristic of the human intellect that it can think of the unity, the concept of a thing, only as resulting from the interaction of its parts—as an analytical generalization gained by a process of abstraction—but not in such a way that each individual part manifests as the outflow of a definite concrete (synthetical) unity, of a concept in an intuitive form. For this reason, it is also supposedly impossible for the intellect to explain organic nature, because organic nature would have to be thought of, indeed, as working from the whole into the parts. Kant says about this: “It is characteristic of our intellect, therefore, with respect to our power of judgment, that it does not determine knowledge through itself, does not determine what is particular through what is general, and that therefore the particular cannot be traced back to the general.”34Critique of Judgment (Kritik der Urteilskraft) According to this, we would therefore have to renounce all knowledge, with regard to organic entities, of the necessary connection between the idea of the whole—which can only be thought—and what manifests to our senses in space and time. According to Kant, we must limit ourselves to the recognition that such a connection exists; but the logical challenge to know how the general thought, the idea, steps out of itself and manifests itself as sense-perceptible reality, this supposedly cannot be fulfilled with respect to organisms. Rather we would have to assume that concept and reality confront each other here without mediation; and that some influence lying outside them both creates them in somewhat the same way a person, according to an idea he has thought up, constructs some composite thing or other—a machine, for example. In this way the possibility of an explanation of the world of organisms was denied, its impossibility in fact seemingly proven.

[ 4 ] This is how matters stood when Goethe undertook to devote himself to the organic sciences. But he entered into these studies after preparing himself for them in a most appropriate way, through repeated readings of the philosopher Spinoza.

[ 5 ] Goethe took up Spinoza for the first time in the spring of 1774. In Poetry and Truth, he says of this, his first acquaintance with the philosopher: “That is, after vainly looking around in the whole world for a means of educating my strange being, I finally happened upon the Ethics of this man.” In the summer of the same year, Goethe met with Friedrich Jacobi. The latter, who had come more thoroughly to terms with Spinoza—as his letters of 1785 about Spinoza's teachings show—was entirely qualified to lead Goethe more deeply into the essential nature of the philosopher. Spinoza was also very much discussed at that time, for in Goethe “everything was still in its first effects and counter-effects, fermenting and seething.” Somewhat later, he found a book in his father's library whose author heatedly opposed Spinoza, even distorting him, in fact, into a total caricature. This gave Goethe the stimulus to occupy himself seriously once more with the profound thinker. In Spinoza's writings he found elucidation on the deepest scientific questions that he was then capable of raising. In 1784, the poet reads Spinoza with Frau von Stein. On November 19, 1784, he writes to her: “I am bringing Spinoza along in Latin, in which everything is much clearer ...” The effect of this philosopher upon Goethe was now immense. Goethe himself was always clear about this. In 1816, he writes to Zelter: “Except for Shakespeare and Spinoza, I do not know that any departed soul has had such an effect upon me (as Linnaeus).” He regards Shakespeare and Spinoza therefore as the two spirits who have exerted the greatest influence on him. The manner in which this influence now manifested itself with respect to his studies of organic development becomes clearest to us if we consider a statement about Lavater from Goethe's Italian Journey; Lavater was also in fact a proponent of the view generally prevalent then that something living can arise only through an influence that does not lie in the nature of the entity itself, through a violation of the general laws of nature. Goethe then wrote the following words about this: “Recently I found, in a pitiful, apostolically monkish declamation of the Zürich prophet, the nonsensical words that everything that has life lives by something outside itself. Or it sounded something like that. Now a missionary can write down something like that, and when he is revising it no good spirit tugs at his sleeve.” Now that is expressed entirely in the spirit of Spinoza. Spinoza makes a distinction between three kinds of knowledge. The first kind is that in which upon hearing or reading certain words we recall certain things and form certain mental pictures of these things which are similar to the pictures by which we represent the things to ourselves pictorially. The second kind of knowledge is that in which, out of sufficient mental pictures of the characteristics of things, we form general concepts for ourselves. The third kind of knowledge, however, is that in which we advance from an adequate picture of the real being of certain attributes of God to an adequate knowledge of the being of things. Spinoza calls this kind of knowledge scientia intuitiva, knowledge in beholding. This last, the highest kind of knowledge, is that for which Goethe strove. One must above all be clear about what Spinoza meant by this The things are to be known in such a way that we recognize within their being certain attributes of God. Spinoza's God is the idea-content of the world, the driving principle that supports and carries everything. Now one can picture this either in such a way that one takes this principle to be an independent being—existing by itself, separated off from finite beings—that has these finite things outside itself, governs them, and causes them to interact. Or, on the other hand, one can picture this being as having merged into finite things in such a way that it is no longer over and outside them, but rather now exists only within them. This view in no way denies that primal principle; it acknowledges it entirely; only, it regards this principle as having been poured out into the world. The first view regards the finite world as a manifestation of the infinite, but this infinite remains with its own being intact; it relinquishes nothing of itself. It does not go out of itself; it remains what it was before it manifested itself. The second view also regards the finite world as a manifestation of the infinite, only it assumes that this infinite, in becoming manifest, has gone entirely out of itself, has laid itself, its own being and life, into its creation in such a way that it now exists only within this creation. Now since our activity of knowing is obviously a becoming aware of the essential being of things, and since this being can after all consist only in the involvement a finite being has in the primal principle of all things, our activity of knowing must then mean a becoming aware of that infinite within the things.35Certain attributes of God within the things. Now, as we have described above, it was readily assumed, before Goethe, with respect to inorganic nature, that one could explain it out of itself, that it carries within itself its own substantiation and essential being, but that this is not the case with organic nature. Here one could not know, within an object itself, that essential being that manifests itself within the object. One therefore assumed this being to be outside the object. In short: one explained organic nature according to the first view and inorganic nature according to the second. As we have seen, Spinoza had proven the necessity for a unified knowledge. He was too much the philosopher to have been able also to extend this theoretical requirement out over the specialized area of organic science. It remained for Goethe to do this now. Not only his statement about Spinoza quoted above, but also numerous others show us that Goethe adhered decisively to Spinoza's views. In Poetry and Truth: “Nature works according to laws that are eternal, necessary, and so divine that even the Divinity Himself could change nothing about them.” And, in connection with Jacobi's book, Of Divine Things and their Manifestation,36Von den göttlichen Dingen and ihrer Offenbarung ( 1811 ) Goethe remarks: “How could the book of such a beloved friend be welcome to me when I had to see developed in it the thesis that nature conceals God. With my pure, deep, inborn, and trained way of looking at things, which had taught me absolutely to see God in nature, nature in God, such that this way of picturing things constituted the foundation of my whole existence, would not such a peculiar, one-sidedly limited statement estrange me forever in spirit from this most noble man whose heart I revered and loved?” Goethe was completely conscious of the great step he was taking in science; he recognized that by breaking down the barriers between inorganic and organic nature and by consistently carrying through on Spinoza's way of thinking, he was giving science a significant turn. We find his knowledge of this fact expressed in his essay Power to Judge in Beholding (Anschauende Urteilskraft). After he had found, in the Critique of Judgment, the Kantian establishment of the in ability of the human intellect to explain an organism, as we described above, Goethe expresses his opposition to it in this way: “To be sure, the author (Kant) seems here to point to a divine intellect; but when we, in fact, lift ourselves in the moral sphere into a higher region through belief in God, virtue, and immortality and mean to draw near to the primal being, so likewise, in the intellectual realm, it could very well be the case that we would make ourselves worthy, through beholding an ever-creating nature, of participating spiritually in its productions. Since I had, after all, ceaselessly pressed on, at first unconsciously and out of an inner urge, toward that primal archetypal element, since I had even succeeded in building up a presentation of this which was in accordance with nature, nothing more could keep me then from courageously under taking the adventure of reason, as the old man of Königsberg himself calls it.”

[ 6 ] The essential thing about a process of inorganic nature—a process belonging merely to the sense world, in other words—consists in the fact that it is caused and determined by another process which likewise belongs only to the sense world. Let us assume now that the causal process consists of the elements m, d, and v (mass, direction, and velocity of a moving elastic ball) and that the resulting process consists of the elements m', d', and v'; then what m, d, and v are will always determine what m', d', and v' are. If I now want to comprehend the process, I must represent the whole process, consisting of cause and effect, in one common concept. But this concept is not of such a sort that it could lie within the process itself and determine the process. The concept now brings both processes together into one common expression: It does not cause and determine. Only the objects of the sense world determine each other. The elements m, d, and v are elements that are also perceptible to the external senses. The concept appears there only in order to serve man's spirit as a means of drawing things together; it expresses something that is not ideally, conceptually real, but rather is sense-perceptibly real. And that something which it expresses is a sense-perceptible object. Knowledge of inorganic nature is based upon the possibility of grasping the outer world through the senses and of expressing its interactions through concepts. Kant saw the possibility of knowing things in this way as the only way man has. He called this thinking “discursive.” What we want to know is an external perception; the concept, the unity that draws things together, is merely a means. But if we wanted to know organic nature, we would then have to consider the ideal element, the conceptual factor, not as something that expresses or signifies something else, but rather we would have to know the ideal element as such; it would have to have a content of its own, stemming from itself, and not from the spatial-temporal world of the senses. That unity which, in inorganic nature, man's spirit merely abstracts from the world, would have to build upon itself, would have to develop itself out of its own self, would have to be fashioned in accordance with its own being and not according to the influences of other objects. Man is supposedly denied the ability to apprehend such an entity as this that develops itself out of itself and that manifests itself out of its own power. Now what is necessary for such an apprehension? A power of judgment that can impart to a thought yet another substance (Stoff) than one merely taken up by the outer senses, a power of judgment that can apprehend not merely what is sense-perceptible, but also what is purely ideal, by itself, separated from the sense world. Now one can call a concept that is not taken from the sense world by abstraction, but rather has a content flowing out of itself and only out of itself, an “intuitive concept” and knowledge of this concept an “intuitive” one. What follows from this is clear: An organism can be apprehended only in an intuitive concept. Goethe shows, through what he does, that it is granted to the human being to know in this way.

[ 7 ] What prevails in the inorganic world is the interaction of the parts of a series of phenomena; it is their reciprocal determining of each other. This is not the case in the organic world. There, one part of an entity does not determine the other, but rather the whole (the idea), out of itself and in accordance with its own being, determines each individual part. One can follow Goethe in calling this self-determining whole an “entelechy.” An entelechy is therefore a power that, out of itself, calls itself into existence. What comes into manifestation also has a sense-perceptible existence, but this is determined by that entelechical principle. From this also arises the seeming contradiction. An organism determines itself out of itself, fashions its characteristics in accordance with a presupposed principle, and yet it is sense-perceptibly real. It has therefore arrived at its sense-perceptible reality in a completely different way than the other objects of the sense world; thus it seems to have arisen in an unnatural way. But it is also entirely explainable that an organism, in its externality, is just as susceptible to the influences of the sense world as is any other body. The stone falling from a roof can strike a living entity just as well as an inorganic object. An organism is connected with the outer world through its intake of nourishment, etc.; all the physical circumstances of the outer world affect it. Of course this can also occur only insofar as the organism is an object of the sense world, a spatial-temporal object. This object of the outer world then, this entelechical principle that has come into existence, is the outer manifestation of the organism. But since the organism is subject not only to its own laws of development but also to the conditions of the outer world, since it is not only what it should be in accordance with the being of the self-determining entelechical principle, but also is what other dependencies and influences have made it, therefore the organism never seems, as it were, to accord fully with itself, never seems obedient merely to its own being. Here human reason enters and forms for itself, in idea, an organism that is not in accordance with the influences of the outer world, but rather corresponds only to that entelechical principle. Every coincidental influence that has nothing to do with the organism as such falls away entirely here. This idea, now, that corresponds purely to what is organic in the organism is the idea of the archetypal organism; it is Goethe's typus. From this one can also see the great justification for this idea of the typus. This idea is not merely an intellectual concept; it is what is truly organic in every organism, without which an organism would not be one. This idea is, in fact, more real than any individual real organism, because it manifests itself in every organism. It also expresses the essential nature of an organism more fully, more purely than any individual, particular organism. It is acquired in an essentially different way than the concept of an inorganic process. This latter is drawn from, abstracted from, reality; it is not at work within reality; the idea of the organism, however, is active, is at work as entelechy within the organism; it is, in the form grasped by our reason, only the being of the entelechy itself. This idea does not draw the experience together; it brings about what is to be experienced. Goethe expresses this in the following words: “Concept is summation, idea is result of experience; to find the sum requires intellect; to grasp the result requires reason” (Aphorisms in Prose). This explains that kind of reality which belongs to the Goethean archetypal organism (archetypal plant or archetypal animal). This Goethean method is clearly the only possible one by which to penetrate into the essential nature of the world of organisms.

[ 8 ] With respect to the inorganic, the fact should be regarded as essential that the phenomenon, in all its manifoldness, is not identical with the lawfulness that explains it, but rather points, merely, to this lawfulness as to something external to it. The observation (the material element of knowledge, given us by the outer senses) and the concept (the formal element, by which we recognize the observation as necessitated) confront each other as two elements that objectively require each other, it is true; but they do so in such a way that the concept does not lie within the individual parts of a series of phenomena themselves but rather within a relationship of these parts to each other. This relationship, which brings the manifoldness into a unified whole, is founded within the individual parts of the given, but as a whole (as a unity) it does not come to real, concrete manifestation. Only the parts of this relationship come to outer existence—in the object. The unity, the concept, first comes to manifestation as such within our intellect. The intellect has the task of drawing together the manifoldness of the phenomenon; it relates itself to the manifoldness as its sum. We have to do here with a duality: with the manifold thing that we observe, and with the unity that we think. In organic nature the parts of the manifoldness of an entity do not stand in such an external relationship to each other. The unity comes into reality in the observed entity simultaneously with the manifoldness, as something identical with the manifoldness. The relationship of the individual parts of a phenomenal whole (an organism) has become a real one. It no longer comes to concrete manifestation merely within our intellect, but rather within the object itself, and in the object it brings forth the manifoldness out of itself. The concept does not have the role merely of summation, of being a combiner that has its object outside itself; the concept has become completely one with the object. What we observe is no longer different from that by which we think the observed; we are observing the concept as the idea itself. Therefore, Goethe calls the ability by which we comprehend organic nature the power to judge in beholding (Anschauende Urteilskraft). What explains (the formal element of knowledge, the concept) and what is explained (the material, the beheld) are identical. The idea by which we grasp the organic is therefore essentially different from the concept by which we explain the inorganic; the idea does not merely draw together—like a sum—a given manifoldness, but rather sets forth its own content out of itself. The idea is the result of the given (of experience), is concrete manifestation. Herein lies the reason why in inorganic natural science we speak of laws (natural laws) and explain the facts by them, and in organic nature, on the other hand, we do this by types. The law is not one and the same with the manifoldness of the observed that the law governs; the law stands over it; in the typus, however, the ideal element and the real element have become a unity; the manifoldness can be explained only as going forth from a point of the whole, the whole that is identical with the manifoldness.

[ 9 ] In Goethe's knowledge of this relationship between the science of the inorganic and that of the organic lies what is so significant in his research. One is in error, therefore, when today one often explains his research as a forerunner of that monism which wants to found a unified view of nature—comprising both the organic and the inorganic—by endeavoring to trace what is organic back to the same laws (mechanical-physical categories and laws of nature) by which the inorganic is determined. We have seen how Goethe conceives a monistic view to be. The way he explains the organic is essentially different from the way he proceeds with respect to the inorganic. He wants to be sure that the mechanistic way of explaining things is strictly avoided with respect to what is of a higher nature (see his Aphorisms in Prose). He criticizes Kieser and Link for wanting to trace organic phenomena back to inorganic activity.

[ 10 ] What gave rise to the erroneous view about Goethe indicated above was the relationship into which he brought himself to Kant with respect to the possibility of a knowledge of organic nature. But when Kant asserts that our intellect is not able to explain organic nature, he certainly does not mean by this that organic nature rests upon mechanical lawfulness and that he is only unable to grasp it as resulting from mechanical-physical categories. For Kant, the reason for this inability lies, rather, precisely in the fact that our intellect can explain only mechanical-physical things and that the being of the organism is not of this nature. Were it so, then the intellect, by virtue of the categories at its command, could very well grasp its being. It is definitely not Goethe's thought now to explain the organic world as a mechanism in spite of Kant; but rather he maintains that we by no means lack the ability to know that higher kind of nature's working which establishes the essential being of the organic.

[ 11 ] As we consider what has just been said, we are confronted right away by an essential difference between inorganic and organic nature. Since in inorganic nature any process whatever can cause another, and this in turn yet another, and so on, the sequence of occurrences seems nowhere to be a closed one. Everything is in continuous interaction, without any one particular group of objects being able to close itself off from the effects of others. The sequences of inorganic activity have nowhere a beginning nor an end; there is only a chance connection between one happening and the next. If a stone falls to earth, the effect it produces depends upon the chance form of the object on which it falls. It is a different matter now with an organism. Here the unity is primary. The entelechy, built upon itself, comprises a number of sense-perceptible developmental forms of which one must be the first and another the last; in which one form can always only follow the other in an altogether definite way. The ideal unity puts forth out of itself a series of sense-perceptible organs in a certain sequence in time and in a particular spatial relationship, and closes itself off in an altogether definite way from the rest of nature. It puts forth its various states out of itself. These can therefore also be grasped only when one studies the development of successive states as they emerge from an ideal unity; i.e., an organic entity can be understood only in its becoming, in its developing. An inorganic body is closed off, rigid, can only be moved from outside, is inwardly immobile. An organism is restlessness within itself, ever transforming it self from within, changing, producing metamorphoses. The following statements of Goethe refer to this: “Reason is oriented toward what is becoming, the intellect toward what has become; the former does not bother itself about purpose (wozu?); the latter does not ask about origin (woher?). Reason rejoices in development; intellect wishes to hold everything fixed in order to use it” (Aphorisms in Prose) and: “Reason has rulership only over what is living; the world that has already come about, with which geognosy concerns itself, is dead.” (Ibid.)

[ 12 ] The organism confronts us in nature in two main forms: as plant and as animal, in a different way in each. The plant differs from the animal in its lack of any real inner life. This last manifests in the animal as sensation, arbitrary movement, etc. The plant has no such soul principle. It still consists entirely in its externality, in its form. By determining its life, as it were, out of one point, that entelechical principle confronts us in the plant in such a way that all its individual organs are formed according to the same developmental principle. The entelechy manifests here as the developmental force of the individual organs. These last are all fashioned according to one and the same developmental type; they manifest as modifications of one basic organ, as a repetition of this organ at different levels of development. What makes the plant into a plant, a certain form-creating force, is at work in every organ in the same way. Every organ appears therefore as identical to all the others and also to the whole plant. Goethe expresses this as follows: “I have realized, namely, that in that organ of the plant which we are usually accustomed to address as ‘leaf,’ the true Proteus lies hidden that can conceal and reveal itself in every formation. Anyway you look at it, the plant is always only leaf, so inseparably joined with the future germ (Keim) that one cannot think the one without the other.” (Italian Journey) Thus the plant appears, as it were, composed of nothing but individual plants, as a complex individual consisting in turn of simpler ones. The development of the plant progresses therefore from level to level and forms organs; each organ is identical to every other, i.e., similar in formative principle, different in appearance. The inner unity spreads itself out, as it were, in the plant; it expresses itself in manifoldness, loses itself in this manifoldness in such a way that it does not gain—as the animal does, as we will see later—a concrete existence which is endowed with a certain independence and which, as a center of life, confronts the manifoldness of the organs and uses them as mediators with the outer world.

[ 13 ] The question now arises: What brings about that difference in the appearance of plant organs which, according to their inner principle, are identical? How is it possible for developmental laws that all work according to one formative principle to bring forth at one time a leaf and at another a petal? In the case of plant life, which lies entirely in the realm of the external, this differentiation can also be based only upon external, i.e., spatial, factors. Goethe regards an alternating expansion and contraction as just such external factors. As the entelechical principle of plant life, working out from one point, comes into existence, it manifests itself as something spatial; the formative forces work in space. They create organs with definite spatial forms. Now these forces either concentrate themselves, they strive to come together, as it were, into one single point (this is the stage of contraction); or they spread themselves out, unfold themselves, seek in a certain way to distance themselves from each other (this is the stage of expansion). In the whole life of the plant, three expansions alternate with three contractions. Everything that enters as differentiation into the plant's formative forces which in their essential nature are identical—stems from this alternating expansion and contraction. At first the whole plant, in all its potential, rests, drawn together into one point, in the

Diagram of parts of plant

[ 14 ] seed (a). It then comes forth and unfolds itself, spreads itself out in leaf-formation (c). The formative forces thrust themselves apart more and more; therefore the lower leaves appear still raw, compact (cc'); the further up the stem they are, the more ribbed and indented they become. What formerly was still pressing together now separates (leaf d and e). What earlier stood at successive intervals (zz') from each other appears again in one point of the stem (w) in the calyx (f). This is the second contraction. In the corolla, an unfolding, a spreading out, occurs again. Compared with the sepals, the petals (g) are finer and more delicate, which can only be due to a lesser intensity at one point, i.e., be due to a greater extension of the formative forces. The next contraction occurs in the reproductive organs (stamens (h), and pistil (i)), after which a new expansion takes place in the fruiting (k). In the seed (a) that emerges from the fruit, the whole being of the plant again appears contracted to a point.37The fruit arises through the growth of the lower part of the pistil, the ovary (1); it represents a later stage of the pistil and can therefore only be sketched separately. With the fruiting, the last expansion occurs. The life of the plant differentiates itself into an organ—the actual fruit—that is closing itself off, and into the seeds; in the fruit, all the factors of the phenomenon are united, as it were; it is mere phenomenon, it estranges itself from life, becomes a dead product. In the seed are concentrated all the inner essential factors of the plant's life. From it a new plant arises. It has become almost entirely ideal; the phenomenon is reduced to a minimum in it.

[ 15 ] The whole plant represents only an unfolding, a realization, of what rests in the bud or in the seed as potentiality. Bud and seed need only the appropriate external influences in order to become fully developed plant forms. The only difference between bud and seed is that the latter has the earth directly as the basis of its unfolding, whereas the former generally represents a plant formation upon the plant itself. The seed represents a plant individuality of a higher kind, or, if you will, a whole cycle of plant forms. With the forming of every bud, the plant begins a new stage of its life, as it were; it regenerates itself, concentrates its forces in order to unfold them again anew. The forming of a bud is therefore an interruption of vegetation. The plant's life can contract itself into a bud when the conditions for actual real life are lacking, in order then to unfold itself anew when such conditions do occur. The interruption of vegetation in winter is based on this. Goethe says about this: “It is very interesting to observe how a vegetation works that is actively continued and uninterrupted by severe cold; here there are no buds, and one only learns now to comprehend what a bud is.”38Italian Journey, December 1,1786. What lies hidden in the bud where we are is open to the day there; what lies within the bud, therefore, is true plant life; only the conditions for its unfolding are lacking.

[ 16 ] Goethe's concept of alternating expansion and contraction has met with especially strong opposition. All the attacks on it, however, originate from a misunderstanding. One believes that these concepts could be valid only if a physical cause could be found for them, only if one could demonstrate a way of working of the laws at work in the plant from which such expansion and contraction could proceed. This only shows that one is setting the matter down on its tip instead of its base. There is not something there that causes the contraction and expansion; on the contrary, everything else is the result of these; they cause a progressive metamorphosis from stage to stage. One is just not able to picture the concept in its own characteristic form, in its intuitive form; one requires that the concept represent the result of an external process. One can only think of expansion and contraction as caused and not as causing. Goethe does not look upon expansion and contraction as resulting from the nature of the inorganic processes occurring in the plant; rather he regards them as the way that inner entelechical principle shapes itself. He could therefore not view them as a sum, as a drawing together, of sense-perceptible processes and deduce them from such processes, but rather had to see them as proceeding from the inner unified principle itself.

[ 18 ] The plant's life is maintained by metabolism. With respect to this, an essential difference sets in between those organs closer to the root—i.e., to that organ which sees to the taking in of nourishment from the earth—and those organs that receive the nourishment which has already passed through the other organs. The former appear directly dependent upon their external inorganic environment; the latter, on the other hand, upon the organic parts that precede them. Each subsequent organ thus receives a nourishment prepared, as it were, for it by the preceding organ. Nature progresses from seed to fruit through a series of stages in such a way that what follows appears as the result of what precedes. And Goethe calls this progressing a progressing upon a spiritual ladder. Nothing more than what we have indicated lies in his words, “that an upper node—through the fact that it arises out of the preceding one and receives its sap indirectly through it—must receive its sap in a more refined and more filtered state, must also enjoy the effects of what the leaves have done with the sap in the meantime, must develop itself more finely and bring a finer sap to its leaves and buds.” All these things become comprehensible when one applies to them the meaning intended by Goethe.

[ 18 ] The ideas presented here are the elements inherent in the being of the archetypal plant—inherent in a way that conforms, in fact, only to this archetypal plant itself, and not as these elements manifest in any given plant where they no longer conform to their original state but rather to external conditions.

[ 19 ] Something different occurs now, to be sure, in animal life. Life does not lose itself here in its external features, but rather separates itself, detaches itself from its corporeality and uses its corporeal manifestation only as a tool. It no longer expresses itself as the mere ability to shape an organism from within outward, but rather expresses itself within an organism as something that is still there besides the organism, as its ruling power. The animal appears as a self-contained world, a microcosm in a much higher sense than the plant. It has a centre that each organ serves.

Thus is every mouth adept at grasping the food
That is right for the body, be now weak and toothless
The jaw, or mighty with teeth; in every instance
An adept organ conveys food to each member.
Also every foot does move—be it long or a short one—
All harmonious to the sense and need of the creature.

[ 20 ] In the case of the plant, the whole plant is in every organ, but the life principle exists nowhere as a particular center; the identity of the organs lies in their being formed according to the same laws. In the case of the animal, every organ appears as coming from that center; the center shapes all organs in accordance with its own nature. The form of the animal is therefore the basis for its external existence. This form, however, is determined from within. The way an animal lives must therefore take its direction from those inner formative principles. On the other hand, the inner development in itself is unrestricted, free; within certain limits, it can adapt itself to outer influences; but this development is still determined by the inner nature of the typus and not by mechanical influences from outside. Adaptation cannot therefore go so far as to make an organism seem to be only a product of the outer world. Its development is restricted to certain limits.

These limits no god can extend; nature honors them;
For only thus restricted was ever the perfect possible.

[ 21 ] If every animal being existed only in accordance with the principles lying within the archetypal animal, then they would all be alike. But the animal organism members itself into a number of organ systems, each of which can arrive at a definite degree of development. This is the basis now for a diverse evolution. Equally valid among the others as idea, one system can nevertheless push itself forward to a particular degree; it can use for itself the supply of formative forces lying within the animal organism and can deprive the other organs of it. The animal will thus appear as particularly developed in the direction of that organ system. Another animal will appear as developed in another direction. Herein lies the possibility for the differentiation of the archetypal organism in its transition to the phenomenal realm in genera and species.

[ 22 ] The real (factual) causes of this differentiation, however, are still not yet given thereby. Here adaptation and the struggle for existence come into their own right—the former causing the organism to shape itself in accordance with the outer conditions surrounding it, the latter working in such a way that only those entities survive that are best adapted to existing conditions. Adaptation and the struggle for existence, however, could have absolutely no effect upon the organism if the constituting principle of the organism were not of such a kind that—while continuously maintaining its inner unity—it can take on the most manifold forms. The relationship of outer formative forces to this principle should in no way be regarded as one in which, for example, the former determine the latter in the same way one inorganic entity determines another. The outer conditions are, to be sure, the stimulus for the typus to develop in a certain form; but this form itself cannot be derived from the outer determining factors, but only from the inner principle. In explaining the form, one should always seek the outer factors, but one should not regard the form itself as resulting from them. Goethe would have rejected the derivation of the developmental forms of an organism from the surrounding outer world through mere causality, just as much as he rejected the teleological principle according to which the form of an organ is traced back to an external purpose it is to serve.

[ 23 ] In the case of those organ systems of an animal in which what matters is more the external aspect of the structure—in the bones, for example—there that law which we saw in the plants appears again, as in the forming of the skull bones. Goethe's gift for recognizing the inner lawfulness in purely external forms manifests here quite especially.

[ 24 ] The difference between plant and animal established by these views of Goethe might seem meaningless in face of the fact that modern science has grounds for justifiable doubt that there is any definite borderline between plant and animal. Goethe, however, was already aware of the impossibility of setting up any such borderline. In spite of this, there are specific definitions of plant and animal. This is connected with Goethe's whole view of nature. He assumes absolutely nothing constant, fixed, in the phenomenal realm; for in this realm everything fluctuates in continuous motion. But the essential being of a thing, which can be held fast in a concept, cannot be derived from the fluctuating forms, but rather from certain intermediary stages at which this being can be observed. For Goethe's view, it is quite natural that one set up specific definitions and that these are nevertheless not held to in one's experience of certain transitional forms. In fact, he sees precisely in this the mobile life of nature.

[ 25 ] With these ideas, Goethe established the theoretical foundations of organic science. He found the essential being of the organism. One can easily fail to recognize this if one demands that the typus, that self-constituted principle (entelechy), itself be explained by something else. But this is an unfounded demand, because the typus, held fast in its intuitive form, explains itself. For anyone who has grasped that “forming of itself in accordance with itself” of the entelechical principle, this constitutes the solution of the riddle of life. Any other solution is impossible, because this solution is the essential being of the thing itself. If Darwinism has to presuppose an archetypal organism, then one can say of Goethe that he discovered the essential being of that archetypal organism.39In modern natural science one usually means by “archetypal organism” (Urorganismus) an archetypal cell (archetypal cytode), i.e., a simple entity standing at the lowest level of organic development. One has in mind here a quite specific, actual, sense-perceptibly real entity. When one speaks in the Goethean sense about the archetypal organism, then one does not have this in mind but rather that essence (being), that formative entelechical principle which brings it about that this archetypal cell is an organism. This principle comes to manifestation in the simplest organism just as in the most perfect one, only differently developed. It is the animalness in the animal; it is that through which an entity is an organism. Darwin presupposes it from the beginning; it is there, is introduced, and then he says of it that it reacts in one way or another to the influences of the outer world. For him, it is an indefinite X; Goethe seeks to explain this indefinite X. It is Goethe who broke with the mere juxtaposing of genera and species, and who undertook a regeneration of organic science in accordance with the essential being of the organism. Whereas the systems before Goethe needed just as many different concepts (ideas) as there were outwardly different species for which no intermediary existed, Goethe maintained that in idea all organisms are alike, that they are different only in their manifestation; and he explained why they are so. With this, the philosophical foundation for a scientific system of organisms was created. It was then only a matter of implementing this system. It would have to be shown how all real organisms are only manifestations of an idea, and how they manifest themselves in a given case.

[ 26 ] The great deed thus accomplished for science was also widely acknowledged by those more educated in the field. The younger d'Alton writes to Goethe on July 6, 1827: “I would regard it as my greatest reward if Your Excellency, whom natural science has to thank not only for a total transformation through magnificent perspectives and new views in botany, but also for many first-rate contributions to the field of osteology, should recognize in the accompanying pages an endeavor worthy of praise.” Nees von Esenbeck, on June 24, 1820, wrote: “In your book, which you called An Attempt to Explain the Metamorphosis of Plants, the plant has spoken about itself among us for the first time, and, in this beautiful anthropomorphism, also captivated me while I was still young.” And finally Voigt, on June 6, 1831: “With lively interest and humble thanks I have received your little book on metamorphosis, which now so obligingly includes me historically also as one of the early adherents of this theory. It is strange: one is fairer toward animal metamorphosis—I do not mean the old metamorphosis of the insects, but rather the new kind about the vertebrae—than toward plant metamorphosis. Apart from the plagiarisms and misuses, the silent recognition of animal metamorphosis may rest on the belief that one was risking less there. For, in the skeleton the separate bones remain ever the same, whereas in botany, metamorphosis threatens to topple the whole terminology and consequently the determining of species, and there weak people are afraid, because they do not know where something like that might lead.” Here there is complete understanding for Goethe's ideas. The awareness is there that a new way of viewing what is individual must take place; and the new systematics, the study of particulars, should only first proceed then from this new view. The self-supporting typus contains the possibility of assuming endlessly manifold forms as it enters into manifestation; and these forms are the object of our sense perception, are the genera and species of the organism living in space and time. Insofar as our spirit apprehends that general idea, the typus, it has grasped the whole realm of organisms in all its unity. When now our spirit beholds the development of the typus in each particular form of manifestation, this form becomes comprehensible to it; this form appears to our spirit as one of the stages, one of the metamorphoses, in which the typus realizes itself. And the nature of the systematics to be founded by Goethe was to consist in demonstrating these different stages. In the animal, as well as in the plant realm, there holds sway an ascending evolutionary sequence; organisms are divided into highly developed and undeveloped ones. How is this possible? It is characteristic of the ideal form of the typus of the organisms, in fact, that it consists of spatial and temporal elements. For this reason, it also appeared to Goethe as a sensible-supersensible form. It contains spatial temporal forms as ideal perception (intuitive). When the typus now enters into manifestation, the truly (no longer intuitive) sense-perceptible form can correspond fully to that ideal form or not; the typus can come to its full development or not. The lower organisms are indeed lower through the fact that their form of manifestation does not fully correspond with the organic typus. The more that outer manifestation and organic typus coincide in a given entity, the more highly developed it is. This is the objective basis of an ascending evolutionary sequence. It is the task of any systematics to demonstrate this relationship with respect to the form of every organism. In arriving at the typus, the archetypal organism, however, no account can be taken of this; in arriving at the typus it can only be a matter of finding a form that represents the most perfect expression of the typus. Goethe's archetypal plant is meant to provide such a form.

[ 27 ] One has reproached Goethe for taking no account of the world of cryptogamia in arriving at his typus. We have indicated earlier that this could only have been so out of the fullest consciousness, since he did occupy himself also with the study of these plants. This does have its objective basis, however. The cryptogamia are in fact those plants in which the archetypal plant only comes to expression in a highly one sided way; they represent the idea of the plant in a one-sided sense-perceptible form. They can be judged according to the idea thus set up; but this idea itself only bursts forth fully in the phanerogamia.

[ 28 ] But what is to be said here is that Goethe never accomplished this implementation of his basic thought, that he entered too little into the realm of the particular. Therefore all his works remain fragmentary. His intention of also shedding light here is shown by his words in the Italian Journey (September 27, 1786) to the effect that it will be possible, with the help of his ideas, “truly to determine genera and species, which until now has occurred in a very arbitrary way, it seems to me.” He did not carry out this intention, did not make a specific presentation of the connection of his general thoughts to the realm of the particular, to the reality of the individual forms. This he himself regarded as a deficiency in his fragments; with respect to this he writes to Soret von de Candolle on June 28, 1828: “It is also becoming more and more clear to me how he regards my intentions, in which I am persisting and which, in my short essay on metamorphosis, are stated definitely enough, it is true, but whose connection with botany based on perception does not emerge clearly enough, as I have known for a long time.” This is certainly also the reason why Goethe's views were so misunderstood; they were misunderstood only because they were not understood at all.

[ 29 ] In Goethe's concepts we also gain an ideal explanation for the fact, discovered by Darwin and Haeckel, that the developmental history of the individual represents a repetition of the history of the race. For, what Haeckel puts forward here cannot after all be taken for anything more than an unexplained fact. It is the fact that every individual entity passes, in a shortened form, through all those stages of development that paleontology also shows us as separate organic forms. Haeckel and his followers explain this by the law of heredity. But heredity is itself nothing other than an abbreviated expression for the fact just mentioned. The explanation for it is that those forms, as well as those of the individual, are the manifest forms of one and the same archetypal image that, in successive epochs, brings to unfoldment the formative forces lying within this image as potentiality. Every higher entity is indeed more perfect through the fact that, through the favorable influences of its environment, it is not hindered in the completely free unfolding of itself in accordance with its inner nature. If, on the other hand, because of certain influences, the individual is compelled to remain at a lower stage, then only some of its inner forces come to manifestation, and then that which is only a part of a whole in a more highly developed individual is this individual's whole. And in this way the higher organism appears in its development as composed of the lower organisms, or too the lower organisms appear in their development as parts of the higher one. In the development of a higher animal, we must therefore also see again the development of all the lower ones (biogenetic law). Just as the physicist is not satisfied with merely stating and describing-facts, but also seeks out their laws—i.e., the concepts of the phenomena—so, for the person who wants to penetrate into the nature of organic entities, it also does not suffice for him merely to cite the facts of kinship, heredity, struggle for existence, etc.; but rather he wants to know the ideas underlying these things. We find this striving in Goethe. What Kepler's three laws are for the physicist, Goethe's ideas of the typus are for the organic scientist. Without them, the world is a mere labyrinth of facts for us. This has often been misunderstood. One declares that the concept of metamorphosis in Goethe's sense is merely a picture that basically occurs only in our intellect through abstraction. That Goethe was not clear about the fact that the concept of the transformation of leaves into flower organs makes sense only if the latter, the stamens, for example, were once real leaves. However, this turns Goethe's view upside down. A sense-perceptible organ is turned into a principally primary one and the other organ is then derived from it in a sense-perceptible way. Goethe never meant it this way. For him, what is first in time is absolutely not also first with respect to the idea, to the principle. It is not because the stamens were once true leaves that they are now related to the leaves; no, but rather because they are related ideally, in accordance with their inner nature, they appeared at one time as true leaves. The sense-perceptible transformation is only the result of the ideal relatedness and not the other way around. Today, it is an established empirical fact that all the lateral organs of the plant are identical; but why does one call them identical? According to Schleiden, because these all develop on the axis in such a way that they are pushed forth as lateral protuberances, in such a way that lateral cell formation remains only on the original body and that no new cells form on the tip that is formed first. This is a purely external relatedness, and one considers the idea of identity to be the result of this. Again the matter is otherwise for Goethe. For him the lateral organs are identical in their idea, in their inner being; therefore they also manifest outwardly as identical formations. For him, sense-perceptible relatedness is a result of inner, ideal relatedness. The Goethean conception differs from the materialistic one in the way it poses its questions; the two do not contradict one another; they complement one another. Goethe's ideas provide the foundation for the other view. Goethe's ideas are not merely a poetic foreshadowing of later discoveries but rather independent principle discoveries that have not by far been valued enough and upon which natural science will still draw for a long time. Even when the empirical facts that he used shall have been far surpassed, or in part even disproven, by more exact and detailed research. still the ideas he set up are fundamental once and for all for organic science, because they are independent of those empirical facts. Just as, according to Kepler's laws, every newly discovered planet must revolve around its star, so must every process in organic nature occur according to Goethe's ideas. Long before Kepler and Copernicus, people saw the occurrences in the starry heavens. These two first found the laws. Long before Goethe, people observed the realm of organic nature; Goethe found its laws. Goethe is the Copernicus and Kepler of the organic world.

[ 30 ] One can also clarify for oneself the nature of the Goethean theory in the following way. Besides ordinary empirical mechanics, which only collects the facts, there is also a rational mechanics, which, from the inner nature of the basic mechanical principles, deduces the a priori laws as necessary ones. As empirical mechanics relates to rational mechanics, so the theories of Darwin, Haeckel, etc., relate to the rational organic science of Goethe. About this aspect of his theory, Goethe was not at once clear from the beginning. Later, to be sure, he expressed it quite emphatically. When he writes to Heinrich Wilhelm Ferdinand Wackenroder, on January 21, 1832: “Continue to acquaint me with everything that interests you; it will connect somewhere with my reflections,” he means by this only that he has found the basic principles of organic science from which everything else must be derived. At an earlier time, however, this all worked unconsciously in his spirit and he just treated the facts according to it.40Goethe often experienced this unconscious behavior of his as dullness. It first became objectively clear to him through that first scientific conversation with Schiller which we will describe later. Schiller recognized right away the ideal nature of Goethe's archetypal plant and declared that no reality could be consistent with such a plant. This stimulated Goethe to think about the relationship of what he called “typus” to empirical reality. He encountered a problem here that belongs to the most significant problems of all human investigation: the problem of the relationship between idea and reality, between thinking and experience. This became ever clearer to him: No one single empirical object corresponds entirely to his typus; no entity of nature was identical to it. The content of the typus concept cannot therefore stem from the sense world as such, even though it is won in the encounter with the sense world. Its content must therefore lie within the typus itself; the idea of the archetypal entity could only be of a kind which, by virtue of a necessity lying within itself, develops a content out of itself that then in another form—in the form of a perception—manifests within the phenomenal world. it is interesting in this regard to see how Goethe himself, when meeting empirical natural scientists. stood up for the rights of experience and for keeping idea and object strictly separated. In 1786, Sömmerring sends him a book in which Sömmerring makes an attempt to discover the seat of the soul. In a letter that he sends to Sömmerring on August 28, 1796, Goethe finds that Sömmerring has woven too much metaphysics into his views; an idea about objects of experience has no justification if it goes beyond these, if it is not founded in the being of the object itself. With objects of experience, the idea is an organ for grasping, in its necessary interconnection, that which otherwise would be merely perceived in a blind juxtaposition and succession. But, from the fact that the idea is not allowed to bring anything new to the object, it follows that the object itself, in its own essential being, is something ideal and that empirical reality must have two sides: one, by which it is particular, individual, and the other by which it is ideal-general.

[ 31 ] Association with contemporary philosophers and the reading of their works led Goethe to many points of view in this respect. Schelling's work On the World-Soul 41Von der Weltseele and his Sketch of a System of natural Philosophy 42Entwurf etwas Systems der Naturphilosophie as well as Steffen's Basic Features of a philosophical Natural Science 43Grundzüge der philosophischen Naturwissenschaft were fruitful for him. Also a great deal was talked through with Hegel. These stimuli finally led him to take up Kant again, with whom Goethe had already once occupied himself at Schiller's instigation. In 1817 (see his Annals) he takes a historical look at Kant's influence upon his ideas on nature and natural things. To these reflections, going to the core of science, we owe the following essays:

Fortunate Event (Glückliches Ereignis)
Power to Judge in Beholding (Anschauende Urteilskraft)
Reflection and Devotion (Bedenken und Ergebung)
Formative Impulse (Bildungstrieb)
Apologies for the Undertaking (Das Unternehmen wird entschuldigt)
The Purpose Introduced (Die Absicht eingeleitet)
The Content Prefaced (Der Inhalt bevorwortet)
History of My Botanical Studies (Geschichte meines botanischen Studiums)

How the Essay on the Metamorphosis of the Plants Arose

[ 32 ] All these essays express the thought already indicated above, that every object has two sides: the direct one of its manifestation (form of manifestation), and the second one that contains its being. In this way, Goethe arrives at the only satisfactory view of nature, which establishes the one truly objective method. If a theory regards the ideas as something foreign to the object itself, as something merely subjective, then it cannot profess to be truly objective if it ever uses the idea at all. But Goethe can maintain that he adds nothing to the objects that does not already lie in the objects themselves.

[ 33 ] Goethe also pursued the detailed factual aspects of those branches of science to which his ideas were related. In 1795, he attended lectures by Loder on the ligaments; during this period, he did not at all lose sight of anatomy and physiology, which seems all the more important since it was precisely then that he was writing his lectures on osteology. In 1796 attempts were made to grow plants in darkness and under coloured glass. Later on, the metamorphosis of insects was also investigated.

[ 34 ] A further stimulus came from the philologist F.A. Wolff who drew Goethe's attention to his namesake Wolff who, in his Theoria Generationis, had already expressed ideas in 1759 that were similar to those of Goethe on the metamorphosis of the plants. Goethe was moved by this fact to concern himself more deeply with Wolff, which he did in 1807; he discovered later, however, that Wolff, with all his acuity, was not yet clear on precisely the main points. Wolff did not yet know the typus as something non-sense-perceptible, as something that develops its content merely out of inner necessity. He still regarded the plant as an external, mechanical complex of individual details.

[ 35 ] Goethe's exchanges with his many scientist friends, as well as the joy of having found recognition and imitation of his endeavors among many kindred spirits, led Goethe to the thought, in 1807, of publishing the fragments of his natural-scientific studies that he had held back until then. He gradually abandoned his intention of writing a more comprehensive natural-scientific work. But the individual essays did not yet reach publication in 1807. His interest in the colour theory pushed morphology into the background again for a time. The first booklet of these essays first appeared in 1817. By 1824, two volumes of these essays had appeared, the first in four booklets, the second in two. Besides the essays on Goethe's own views, we also find here discussions of significant literary publications in the realm of morphology, and also treatises of other scholars, whose presentations, however, are always complementary to Goethe's interpretation of nature.

[ 36 ] On yet two further occasions, Goethe was challenged to occupy himself more intensively with natural-scientific matters. Both of these involved significant literary publications—in the realm of science—that related most deeply to his own strivings. On the first occasion, the stimulus was given by the studies of the botanist Martius on the spiral tendency in plants, on the second occasion, by a natural-scientific dispute in the French Academy of Sciences.

[ 37 ] Martius saw plant form, in its development, as comprised of a spiral and a vertical tendency. The vertical tendency brings about growth in the direction of the root and stem; the spiral tendency brings about the spreading out of leaves, blossoms, etc. Goethe saw in this thought only an elaboration of ideas he had already set down in 1790 in his book on metamorphosis, but here focusing more on spatial elements (vertical, spiral). For proof of this assertion, we refer you to our comments on Goethe's essay, On the Spiral Tendency of Vegetation,44Über die Spiraltendenz der Vegetation from which the fact emerges that Goethe, in this essay, does not bring forward anything essentially new with respect to his earlier ideas. We want to direct this statement particularly to those who assert that there is evident here, in fact, a retrogression of Goethe from his earlier clear views back into the “deepest depths of mysticism.”

[ 38 ] Even at a most advanced age (1830–32), Goethe still wrote two essays on the dispute between the two French natural scientists, Cuvier and Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire. In these essays we find yet once more, in striking conciseness, a synthesis of the principles of Goethe's view of nature.

[ 39 ] Cuvier was altogether an empiricist of the old school of natural science. For each species of animal he sought a particular corresponding concept. He believed he had to take up into the conceptual edifice of his system of organic nature as many individual types as there are animal species present in nature. But for him the individual types stood there side by side without any mediation. What he did not take into consideration is this. Our need for knowledge is not satisfied with the particular as such in the way it approaches us directly as phenomenon. But since we approach an entity of the sense world with no other intention, in fact, than of knowing it, we should not assume that the reason we declare ourselves unsatisfied with the particular as such is to be found in the nature of our ability to know. On the contrary, the reason must lie within the object itself. The essential being of the particular itself, in fact, by no means consists only in this, its particularness; it presses, in order to be understood, toward a kind of being that is not particular, but rather, general (ein Allgemeines). This ideal-general is the actual being—the essence of every particular entity. Only one side of the existence of a particular entity lies in its particularness; the other side is the general—the typus (see Goethe's Aphorisms in Prose). This is how it is to be understood when the particular is spoken of as a form of the general. Since the ideal-general is therefore the actual being, the content, of the particular, it is impossible for the ideal-general to be derived, abstracted, from the particular. Since it has nowhere from which to borrow its content, it must give this content to itself. The typical-general is therefore of such a nature that, in it, content and form are identical. But it can therefore also be grasped only as a whole, independent of what is individual. Science has the task with every particular entity of showing how, according to the entity's essential being, the entity subordinates itself to the ideal-general. Through this the particular kinds of existence enter the stage of mutually determining and depending upon each other. What otherwise can be perceived only as spatial-temporal juxtaposition and succession is now seen in necessary interconnection. But Cuvier wouldn't hear of any such view. This view, on the other hand, was the one held by Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire. This is actually the aspect that aroused Goethe's interest in this dispute. The matter has often been misrepresented because one saw the facts, through the glasses of most modern views, in a completely different light than that in which they appear if one approaches them without preconceptions. Geoffroy referred not only to his own research, but also to a number of German scientists of like mind, among whom Goethe is also named.

[ 40 ] Goethe's interest in this matter was extraordinary. He was extremely happy to find a colleague in Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire: “Now Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire is also definitely on our side and with him all his significant students and adherents in France This event is of inconceivably great value to me, and I am right to jubilate about the final victory of something to which I have dedicated my life and which is pre-eminently also my own,” he says to Eckermann on August 2, 1830. It is altogether a strange phenomenon that in Germany Goethe's research found a response only among philosophers and but little among natural scientists, whereas the response in France was more significant among the latter. De Candolle gave Goethe's theory of metamorphosis his closest attention and treated botany generally in a way that was not far from Goethean views. Also, Goethe's Metamorphosis had already been translated into French by F. de Gingins-Lassaraz. Under such conditions, Goethe could definitely hope that a translation of his botanical writings into French, carried out with his collaboration, would not fall on barren ground. Such a translation was then provided in 1831, with Goethe's continuous assistance, by Friedrich Jakob Soret. It contained that first Attempt of 1790, the history of Goethe's botanical studies, and the effect of his theories upon his contemporaries, as well as something about de Candolle,—in French, with German on the opposite page.

4. Über das Wesen und die Bedeutung von Goethes Schriften über organische Bildung

[ 1 ] Die hohe Bedeutung von Goethes morphologischen Arbeiten ist darin zu suchen, daß in denselben die theoretische Grundlage und die Methode des Studiums organischer Naturen festgestellt ist, welches eine wissenschaftliche Tat ersten Ranges ist.

[ 2 ] Will man dieses in der richtigen Weise würdigen, so muß man sich vor allem den großen Unterschied gegenwärtig halten, welcher zwischen Erscheinungen der anorganischen und solchen der organischen Natur besteht. Eine Erscheinung der ersteren Art ist z. B. der Stoß zweier elastischer Kugeln aufeinander. Ist die eine Kugel ruhend und stößt die andere in einer gewissen Richtung und mit einer gewissen Geschwindigkeit auf dieselbe, so erhält jene ebenfalls eine gewisse Bewegungsrichtung und eine gewisse Geschwindigkeit. Handelt es sich nun darum, eine solche Erscheinung zu begreifen, so kann dies nur dadurch erreicht werden, daß wir das, was unmittelbar für die Sinne da ist, in Begriffe verwandeln. Es muß uns dieses in dem Maße gelingen, daß nichts Sinnenfällig-Wirkliches bleibt, welches wir nicht begrifflich durchdrungen hätten. Wir sehen die eine Kugel ankommen, an die andere stoßen, letztere sich weiter bewegen. Wir haben diese Erscheinung begriffen, wenn wir aus Masse, Richtung und Geschwindigkeit der ersten und aus der Masse der anderen die Geschwindigkeit und Richtung von letzterer angeben können; wenn wir einsehen, daß unter den gegebenen Verhältnissen jene Erscheinung mit Notwendigkeit eintreten müsse. Das letztere heißt aber nichts anderes, als: Es muß dasjenige, was sich unseren Sinnen darbietet, als eine notwendige Folge dessen erscheinen, was wir ideell vorauszusetzen haben. Ist das letztere der Fall, so können wir sagen, daß sich Begriff und Erscheinung decken. Es ist nichts im Begriffe, was nicht auch in der Erscheinung wäre und nichts in der Erscheinung, was nicht auch im Begriffe wäre. Nun haben wir auf jene Verhältnisse, als deren notwendige Folge eine Erscheinung der unorganischen Natur auftritt, näher einzugehen. Hier tritt der wichtige Umstand ein, daß die sinnlich wahrnehmbaren Vorgänge der unorganischen Natur durch Verhältnisse bedingt werden, welche ebenfalls der Sinnenwelt angehören. In unserem Falle kommen Masse, Geschwindigkeit und Richtung, also durchaus Verhältnisse der Sinnenwelt in Betracht. Es tritt nichts weiteres als Bedingung der Erscheinung auf. Nur die unmittelbar sinnlich-wahrnehmbaren Umstände bedingen sich untereinander. Eine begriffliche Erfassung solcher Vorgänge ist also nichts anderes als eine Ableitung von Sinnenfällig-Wirklichem aus Sinnenfällig-Wirklichem. Räumlichzeitliche Verhältnisse, Masse, Gewicht oder sinnlich wahrnehmbare Kräfte wie Licht oder Wärme sind es, welche Erscheinungen hervorrufen, die wieder in dieselbe Reihe gehören. Ein Körper wird erwärmt und vergrößert dadurch sein Volumen; das erste wie das zweite gehört der Sinnenwelt an, sowohl die Ursache wie die Wirkung. Wir brauchen also, um solche Vorgänge zu begreifen, gar nicht aus der Sinnenwelt herauszugehen. Wir leiten nur innerhalb derselben eine Erscheinung aus der andern ab. Wenn wir also eine solche Erscheinung erklären, d. h. begrifflich durchdringen wollen, so haben wir in den Begriff keine anderen Elemente aufzunehmen als solche, welche auch anschaulich mit unseren Sinnen wahrzunehmen sind. Wir können alles anschauen, was wir begreifen wollen. Und darin besteht das Decken von Wahrnehmung (Erscheinung) und Begriff. Es bleibt uns nichts dunkel in den Vorgängen, weil wir die Verhältnisse kennen, aus denen sie folgen. Hiermit haben wir das Wesen der unorganischen Natur entwickelt und zugleich gezeigt, inwiefern wir dieselbe, ohne über sie hinauszugehen, aus sich selbst erklären können. An dieser Erklärbarkeit hat man nun niemals gezweifelt, seit man überhaupt angefangen hat, über die Natur dieser Dinge zu denken. Man hat zwar nicht immer den obigen Gedankengang durchgemacht, aus welchem die Möglichkeit einer Deckung von Begriff und Wahrnehmung folgt; doch hat man nie Anstand genommen, die Erscheinungen auf die angedeutete Weise aus der Natur ihres eigenen Wesens zu erklären. 64Einige Philosophen behaupten, daß wir die Erscheinungen der Sinnenwelt wohl auf ihre ursprünglichen Elemente (Kräfte) zurückführen können, daß wir aber diese ebensowenig wie das Wesen des Lebens erklären können. Demgegenüber ist zu bemerken, daß jene Elemente einfach sind, d. i. sich nicht weiter aus einfacheren Elementen zusammensetzen lassen. In ihrer Einfachheit sie abzuleiten, zu erklären, ist aber eine Unmöglichkeit, nicht weil unser Erkenntnisvermögen begrenzt ist, sondern weil sie auf sich selbst beruhen; sie sind uns in ihrer Unmittelbarkeit gegenwärtig, sie sind in sich abgeschlossen, aus nichts weiterem ableitbar.

[ 3 ] Anders aber verhielt es sich bis zu Goethe mit den Erscheinungen der organischen Welt. Beim Organismus erscheinen die für die Sinne wahrnehmbaren Verhältnisse, z. B. Form, Größe, Farbe, Wärmeverhältnisse eines Organes, nicht bedingt durch Verhältnisse der gleichen Art. Man kann z. B. von der Pflanze nicht sagen, daß Größe, Form, Lage usw. der Wurzel die sinnlichwahrnehmbaren Verhältnisse am Blatte oder an der Blüte bedingen. Ein Körper, bei dem dies der Fall wäre, wäre nicht ein Organismus, sondern eine Maschine. Man muß vielmehr zugestehen, daß alle sinnlichen Verhältnisse an einem lebenden Wesen nicht als Folge von andern sinnlichwahrnehmbaren Verhältnissen erscheinen, 65Dies ist eben der Gegensatz des Organismus zur Maschine. Bei der letzteren ist alles Wechselwirkung der Teile. Es existiert nichts Wirkliches in der Maschine selbst außer dieser Wechselwirkung. Das einheitliche Prinzip, welches das Zusammenwirken jener Teile beherrscht, fehlt im Objekte selbst und liegt außerhalb desselben in dem Kopfe des Konstrukteurs als Plan. Nur die äußerste Kurzsichtigkeit kann leugnen, daß gerade darinnen die Differenz zwischen Organismus und Mechanismus besteht, daß dasjenige Prinzip, welches das Wechselverhältnis der Teile bewirkt, beim letzteren nur außerhalb (abstrakt) vorhanden ist, während es bei ersterem in dem Dinge selbst wirkliches Dasein gewinnt. So erscheinen dann auch die sinnlich wahrnehmbaren Verhältnisse des Organismus nicht als bloße Folge auseinander, sondern als beherrscht von jenem inneren Prinzipe, als Folge eines solchen, das nicht mehr sinnlich wahrnehmbar ist. In dieser Hinsicht ist es ebensowenig sinnlich wahrnehmbar, wie jener Plan im Kopfe des Konstrukteurs, der ja auch nur für den Geist da ist; ja es ist im wesentlichen jener Plan, nur daß er jetzt eingezogen ist in das Innere des Wesens und nicht mehr durch Vermittlung eines Dritten - jenes Konstrukteurs - seine Wirkungen vollzieht, sondern dieses direkt selbst tut. wie dies bei der unorganischen Natur der Fall ist. Alle sinnlichen Qualitäten erscheinen hier vielmehr als Folge eines solchen, welches nicht mehr sinnlich wahrnehmbar ist. Sie erscheinen als Folge einer über den sinnlichen Vorgängen schwebenden höheren Einheit. Nicht die Gestalt der Wurzel bedingt jene des Stammes und wiederum die Gestalt von diesem jene des Blattes usw., sondern alle diese Formen sind bedingt durch ein über ihnen Stehendes, welches selbst nicht wieder sinnlich-anschau-licher Form ist; sie sind wohl füreinander da, nicht aber durcheinander. Sie bedingen sich nicht untereinander, sondern sind alle bedingt von einem anderen. Wir können hier das, was wir sinnlich wahrnehmen, nicht wieder aus sinnlich wahrnehmbaren Verhältnissen ableiten, wir müssen in den Begriff der Vorgänge Elemente aufnehmen, welche nicht der Welt der Sinne angehören, wir müssen über die Sinnenwelt hinausgehen. Es genügt die Anschauung nicht mehr, wir müssen die Einheit begrifflich erfassen, wenn wir die Erscheinungen erklären wollen. Dadurch aber tritt eine Entfernung von Anschauung und Begriff ein; sie scheinen sich nicht mehr zu decken; der Begriff schwebt über der Anschauung. Es wird schwer, den Zusammenhang beider einzusehen. Während in der unorganischen Natur Begriff und Wirklichkeit eins waren, scheinen sie hier auseinanderzugehen und eigentlich zwei verschiedenen Welten anzugehören. Die Anschauung, welche sich den Sinnen unmittelbar darbietet, scheint ihre Begründung, ihre Wesenheit nicht in sich selbst zu tragen. Das Objekt scheint aus sich selbst nicht erklärbar, weil sein Begriff nicht von ihm selbst, sondern von etwas anderem entnommen ist. Weil das Objekt nicht von Gesetzen der Sinnenwelt beherrscht erscheint, doch aber für die Sinne da ist, ihnen erscheint, so ist es, als wenn man hier vor einem unlösbaren Widerspruche in der Natur stünde, als wenn eine Kluft bestünde zwischen anorganischen Erscheinungen, welche aus sich selbst zu begreifen sind, und organischen Wesen, bei denen ein Eingriff in die Gesetze der Natur geschieht, bei denen allgemeingültige Gesetze auf einmal durchbrochen würden. Diese Kluft nahm man in der Tat bis auf Goethe allgemein in der Wissenschaft an; erst ihm gelang es, das lösende Wort des Rätsels zu sprechen. Erklärbar aus sich selbst sollte, so dachte man vor ihm, nur die unorganische Natur sein; bei der organischen höre das menschliche Erkenntnisvermögen auf. Man wird die Größe der Tat, welche Goethe vollbracht hat, am besten ermessen, wenn man bedenkt, daß der große Reformator der neueren Philosophie Kant jenen alten Irrtum nicht nur vollkommen teilte, sondern sogar eine wissenschaftliche Begründung dafür zu finden suchte, daß es dem menschlichen Geiste nie gelingen werde, die organischen Bildungen zu erklären. Wohl sah er die Möglichkeit eines Verstandes ein - eines intellectus archetypus, eines intuitiven Verstandes -, dem es gegeben wäre, den Zusammenhang von Begriff und Wirklichkeit bei den organischen Wesen geradeso wie bei den Anorganismen zu durchschauen; allein dem Menschen selbst sprach er die Möglichkeit eines solchen Verstandes ab. Der menschliche Verstand soll nämlich nach Kant die Eigenschaft haben, daß er sich die Einheit, den Begriff einer Sache nur als hervorgehend aus der Zusammenwirkung der Teile - als durch Abstraktion gewonnenes analytisches Allgemeine - denken kann, nicht aber so, daß jeder einzelne Teil als der Ausfluß einer bestimmten konkreten (synthetischen) Einheit, eines Begriffes in intuitiver Form erschiene. Daher sei es diesem Verstande auch unmöglich, die organische Natur zu erklären, denn diese müßte ja aus dem Ganzen in die Teile wirkend gedacht werden. Kant sagt darüber: «Unser Verstand hat also das Eigene für die Urteilskraft, daß ihm Erkenntnis durch denselben, durch das Allgemeine, das Besondere nicht bestimmt wird, und dieses also von jenem nicht abgeleitet werden kann». 66Kant, Kritik der Urteilskraft; Ausgabe von Kehrbach, S. 294. Wir müßten danach also bei den organischen Bildungen darauf verzichten, den notwendigen Zusammenhang der Idee des Ganzen, welche nur gedacht werden kann mit dem, was unseren Sinnen im Raume und in Zeit erscheint, zu erkennen. Wir müßten uns nach Kant darauf beschränken, einzusehen, daß ein solcher Zusammenhang existiert; die logische Forderung aber zu erkennen, wie der allgemeine Gedanke, die Idee aus sich heraustritt und als sinnenfällige Wirklichkeit sich offenbart, diese könne bei den Organismen nicht erfüllt werden. Wir müßten vielmehr annehmen, daß sich Begriff und Wirklichkeit hier unvermittelt gegenüberstünden und durch einen außerhalb der beiden liegenden Einfluß etwa auf dieselbe Weise zustande gebracht worden seien, wie der Mensch nach einer von ihm aufgeworfenen Idee irgendein zusammengesetztes Ding, z. B. eine Maschine aufbaut. Damit war die Möglichkeit einer Erklärung der Organismenwelt geleugnet, ihre Unmöglichkeit sogar scheinbar bewiesen.

[ 4 ] So standen die Dinge, als Goethe sich daran machte, die organischen Wissenschaften zu pflegen. Aber er ging an das Studium derselben, nachdem er durch die wiederholte Lektüre des Philosophen Spinoza in der angemessensten Weise darauf vorbereitet war.

[ 5 ] Zum ersten Male machte sich Goethe an Spinoza im Frühjahre 1774. Goethe sagt von dieser seiner ersten Bekanntschaft mit dem Philosophen in «Dichtung und Wahrheit»: 67III. Teil, 14. Buch. «Nachdem ich mich nämlich in aller Welt um ein Bildungsmittel meines wunderlichen Wesens vergebens umgesehen hatte, geriet ich endlich an die ˂Ethik˃ dieses Mannes». Im Sommer desselben Jahres traf Goethe mit Friedrich Jacobi zusammen. Letzterer, der sich ausführlicher mit Spinoza auseinandersetzte - wovon seine Briefe über die Lehre des Spinoza, 1785, zeugen -, war ganz dazu geeignet, Goethe tiefer in das Wesen des Philosophen einzuführen. Spinoza wurde damals auch viel besprochen, denn bei Goethe «war noch alles in der ersten Wirkung und Gegenwirkung, gärend und siedend». 68Dichtung und Wahrheit, III. Teil, 14. Buch. Einige Zeit später fand er in der Bibliothek seines Vaters ein Buch, dessen Autor gegen Spinoza heftig kämpfte, ja ihn bis zur vollkommenen Fratze entstellte. Dies wurde der Anlaß, daß sich Goethe mit dem tiefen Denker noch einmal ernstlich beschäftigte. Er fand in seinen Schriften Aufschlüsse über die tiefsten wissenschaftlichen Fragen, die er damals aufzuwerfen fähig war. Im Jahre 1784 liest der Dichter Spinoza mit Frau von Stein. Er schreibt am 19. November 1784 an die Freundin: «Ich bringe den Spinoza lateinisch mit, wo alles viel deutlicher ... ist.» [WA 6, 392] Die Wirkung dieses Philosophen auf Goethe war nun eine ungeheure. Goethe selbst war sich darüber stets klar. Im Jahre 1816 schreibt er an Zelter: «Außer Shakespeare und Spinoza wüßt' ich nicht, daß irgend ein Abgeschiedener eine solche Wirkung auf mich getan (wie Linn詮» [WA 27, 219] Er betrachtet also Shakespeare und Spinoza als die beiden Geister, welche auf ihn den größten Einfluß ausgeübt haben. Wie nun sich dieser Einfluß in bezug auf die Studien organischer Bildung äußerte, das wird uns am deutlichsten, wenn wir uns ein Wort über Lavater aus der «Italienischen Reise» vorhalten: Lavater vertrat eben auch jene damals allgemein gangbare Ansicht, daß ein Lebendiges nur durch einen nicht in der Natur der Wesen selbst gelegenen Einfluß, durch eine Störung der allgemeinen Naturgesetze entstehen könne. Darüber schrieb denn Goethe die Worte: «Neulich fand ich in einer leidig apostolisch-kapuzinermäßigen Deklamation des Züricher Propheten die unsinnigen Worte: Alles, was Leben hat, lebt durch etwas außer sich. Oder so ungefähr klang's. Das kann nun so ein Heidenbekehrer hinschreiben, und bei der Revision zupft ihn der Genius nicht beim Ärmel». 69Italienische Reise, 5. Okt. 1787. Dies ist nun ganz im Geiste Spinozas gesprochen. Spinoza unterscheidet drei Arten von Erkenntnis. Die erste Art ist jene, bei der wir uns bei gewissen gehörten oder gelesenen Worten der Dinge erinnern und uns von diesen Dingen gewisse Vorstellungen bilden, ähnlich denen, durch welche wir die Dinge bildlich vorstellen. Die zweite Art der Erkenntnis ist jene, bei welcher wir uns aus zureichenden Vorstellungen von den Eigenschaften der Dinge Gemeinbegriffe bilden. Die dritte Art der Erkenntnis ist nun aber diejenige, bei welcher wir von der zureichenden Vorstellung des wirklichen Wesens einiger Attribute Gottes zur zureichenden Erkenntnis des Wesens der Dinge fortschreiten. Diese Art der Erkenntnis nennt nun Spinoza scientia intuitiva, das anschauende Wissen. Diese letztere, die höchste Art der Erkenntnis, war es nun, die Goethe anstrebte. Man muß sich dabei vor allem klar sein, was Spinoza damit sagen will: Die Dinge sollen so erkannt werden, daß wir in ihrem Wesen einige Attribute Gottes erkennen. Der Gott Spinozas ist der Ideengehalt der Welt, das treibende, alles stützende und alles tragende Prinzip. Man kann sich nun dieses entweder so vorstellen, daß man es als selbständiges, für sich abgesondert von den endlichen Wesen existierendes Wesen voraussetzt, welches diese endlichen Dinge neben sich hat, sie beherrscht und in Wechselwirkung versetzt. Oder aber, man stellt sich dieses Wesen als aufgegangen in den endlichen Dingen vor, so daß es nicht mehr über und neben ihnen, sondern nur mehr in ihnen existiert. Diese Ansicht leugnet jenes Urprinzip keineswegs, sie erkennt es vollkommen an, nur betrachtet sie es als ausgegossen in die Welt. Die erste Ansicht betrachtet die endliche Welt als Offenbarung des Unendlichen, aber dieses Unendliche bleibt in seinem Wesen erhalten, es vergibt sich nichts. Es geht nicht aus sich heraus, es bleibt, was es vor seiner Offenbarung war. Die zweite Ansicht sieht die endliche Welt ebenso als eine Offenbarung des Unendlichen an, nur nimmt sie an, daß dieses Unendliche in seinem Offenbarwerden ganz aus sich herausgegangen ist, sich selbst, sein eigenes Wesen und Leben in seine Schöpfung gelegt hat, so daß es nur mehr in dieser existiert. Da nun Erkennen offenbar ein Gewahrwerden des Wesens der Dinge ist, dieses Wesen doch aber nur in dem Anteile, den ein endliches Wesen von dem Urprinzipe aller Dinge hat, bestehen kann, so heißt Erkennen ein Gewahrwerden jenes Unendlichen in den Dingen. 70Einiger Attribute Gottes in denselben. Nun nahm man, wie wir oben ausgeführt haben, vor Goethe bei der unorganischen Natur wohl an, daß man sie aus sich selbst erklären könne, daß sie ihre Begründung und ihr Wesen in sich trage, nicht so aber bei der organischen. Hier konnte man jenes Wesen, welches sich in dem Objekte offenbart, nicht in dem letzteren selbst erkennen. Man nahm es daher außerhalb desselben an. Kurz: Man erklärte die organische Natur nach der ersten Ansicht, die anorganische nach der zweiten. Die Notwendigkeit einer einheitlichen Erkenntnis hatte, wie wir gesehen haben, Spinoza bewiesen. Er war zu sehr Philosoph, als daß er diese theoretische Forderung auch auf die speziellen Zweige der Organik hätte ausdehnen können.* Dies blieb nun Goethe vorbehalten. Nicht nur der obige Ausspruch, sondern noch zahlreiche andere beweisen uns, daß er sich entschieden zur spinozistischen Auffassung bekannte. In «Dichtung und Wahrheit»: 71IV. Teil, 16. Buch. «Die Natur wirkt nach ewigen, notwendigen, dergestalt göttlichen Gesetzen, daß die Gottheit selbst daran nichts ändern könnte. » Und in bezug auf das 1811 erschienene Buch Jacobis: «Von den göttlichen Dingen und ihrer Offenbarung» bemerkt Goethe: 72Tag- und Jahres-Hefte 1811. «Wie konnte mir das Buch eines so herzlich geliebten Freundes willkommen sein, worin ich die These durchgeführt sehen sollte: die Natur verberge Gott. Mußte, bei meiner reinen, tiefen, angeborenen und geübten Anschauungsweise, die mich Gott in der Natur, die Natur in Gott zu sehen unverbrüchlich gelehrt hatte, so daß diese Vorstellungsart den Grund meiner ganzen Existenz machte, mußte nicht ein so seltsamer, einseitig-beschränkter Ausspruch mich dem Geiste nach von dem edelsten Manne, dessen Herz ich verehrend liebte, für ewig entfernen?» Goethe war sich des großen Schrittes, den er in der Wissenschaft vollführt, vollständig bewußt; er erkannte, daß er, indem er die Schranken zwischen anorganischer und organischer Natur brach und Spinozas Denkweise konsequent durchführte, eine bedeutsame Wendung der Wissenschaft herbeiführe. Wir finden diese Erkenntnis in dem Aufsatz «Anschauende Urteilskraft» ausgesprochen. Nachdem er die oben von uns mitgeteilte Kantsche Begründung der Unfähigkeit des menschlichen Verstandes, einen Organismus zu erklären, in der «Kritik der Urteilskraft» gefunden, spricht er sich dagegen so aus: «Zwar scheint der Verfasser (Kant) hier auf einen göttlichen Verstand zu deuten, allein wenn wir ja im Sittlichen durch Glauben an Gott, Tugend und Unsterblichkeit uns in eine obere Region erheben und an das erste Wesen annähern sollen, so dürft' es wohl im Intellektuellen derselbe Fall sein, daß wir uns durch das Anschauen einer immer schaffenden Natur zur geistigen Teilnahme an ihren Produktionen würdig machten. Hatte ich doch erst unbewußt und aus innerem Trieb auf jenes Urbildliche, Typische rastlos gedrungen, war es mir sogar geglückt, eine naturgemäße Darstellung aufzubauen, so konnte mich nunmehr nichts weiter verhindern, das Abenteuer der Vernunft, wie es der Alte vom Königsberge selbst nennt, mutig zu bestehen.» [Natw. Schr., 1. Bd. S. 116.]

[ 6 ] Das Wesentliche eines Vorganges der unorganischen Natur oder anders gesagt: eines der bloßen Sinnenwelt angehörigen Vorganges besteht darin, daß er durch einen anderen ebenfalls nur der Sinnenwelt angehörigen Prozeß bewirkt und determiniert wird. Nehmen wir nun an, der verursachende Prozeß bestehe aus den Elementen m, c und r, 73Masse, Richtung und Geschwindigkeit einer bewegten elastischen Kugel. der bewirkte aus m', c' und r'; so ist immer bei bestimmten m, c, und r, m', c' und r' eben durch jene bestimmt. Will ich nun den Vorgang begreifen, so muß ich den Gesamtvorgang, der sich aus der Ursache und Wirkung zusammensetzt, in einem gemeinsamen Begriffe darstellen. Dieser Begriff ist nun aber nicht derart, daß er im Vorgange selbst liegen und daß er den Vorgang bestimmen könnte. Er faßt nun beide Vorgänge in einen gemeinsamen Ausdruck zusammen. Er bewirkt und bestimmt nicht. Nur die Objekte der Sinnenwelt bestimmen sich. Die Elemente m, c und r sind auch für die äußeren Sinne wahrnehmbare Elemente. Der Begriff erscheint nur da, um dem Geiste als Mittel der Zusammenfassung zu dienen, er drückt etwas aus, was nicht ideell, nicht begrifflich, was sinnenfällig wirklich ist. Und jenes etwas, was er ausdrückt, dies ist sinnenfälliges Objekt. Auf der Möglichkeit, die Außenwelt durch die Sinne aufzufassen und ihre Wechselwirkung durch Begriffe auszudrücken, beruht die Erkenntnis der anorganischen Natur. Die Möglichkeit, auf diese Art Dinge zu erkennen, sah Kant für die einzige dem Menschen zukommende an. Dieses Denken nannte er diskursives; was wir erkennen wollen, ist äußere Anschauung; der Begriff, die zusammenfassende Einheit, bloßes Mittel. Wollten wir aber die organische Natur erkennen, so müßten wir das ideelle Moment, das Begriffliche nicht als ein solches fassen, das ein anderes ausdrückt, bedeutet, von diesem sich seinen Inhalt borgt, sondern wir müßten das Ideelle als solches erkennen; es müßte einen eigenen aus sich selbst, nicht aus der räumlich-zeitlichen Sinnenwelt stammenden Inhalt haben. Jene Einheit, welche dort unser Geist bloß abstrahiert, müßte sich auf sich selbst bauen, sie müßte sich aus sich heraus gestalten, sie müßte ihrem eigenen Wesen gemäß, nicht nach den Einflüssen anderer Objekte gebildet sein. Die Erfassung einer solchen aus sich selbst sich gestaltenden, sich aus eigener Kraft offenbarenden Entität sollte dem Menschen versagt sein. Was ist nun zu einer solchen Erfassung nötig? Eine Urteilskraft, welche einem Gedanken auch einen anderen als bloß einen durch die äußeren Sinne aufgenommenen Stoff verleihen kann, eine solche, welche nicht bloß Sinnenfälliges erfassen kann, sondern auch rein Ideelles für sich, abgesondert von der sinnlichen Welt. Man kann nun einen Begriff, der nicht durch Abstraktion aus der Sinnenwelt genommen ist, sondern der einen aus ihm und nur aus ihm fließenden Gehalt hat, einen intuitiven Begriff und die Erkenntnis desselben eine intuitive nennen. Was daraus folgt, ist klar: Ein Organismus kann nur im intuitiven Begriffe erfaßt werden. Daß es dem Menschen gegönnt sei, so zu erkennen, das zeigt Goethe durch die Tat.*

[ 7 ] In der unorganischen Welt herrscht Wechselwirkung der Teile einer Erscheinungsreihe, gegenseitiges Bedingtsein der Glieder derselben durcheinander. In der organischen ist dies nicht der Fall. Hier bestimmt nicht ein Glied eines Wesens das andere, sondern das Ganze (die Idee) bedingt jedes Einzelne aus sich selbst, seinem eigenen Wesen gemäß. Dieses sich aus sich selbst Bestimmende kann man mit Goethe eine Entelechie nennen. Entelechie ist also die sich aus sich selbst in das Dasein rufende Kraft. Was in die Erscheinung tritt, hat auch sinnenfälliges Dasein, aber dies ist durch jenes entelechische Prinzip bestimmt. Daraus entspringt auch der scheinbare Widerspruch. Der Organismus bestimmt sich aus sich selbst, macht seine Eigenschaften einem vorausgesetzten Prinzipe gemäß, und doch ist er sinnlichwirklich. Er ist also auf eine ganz andere Weise zu seiner sinnlichen Wirklichkeit gekommen als die andern Objekte der Sinnenwelt; er scheint daher auf nicht natürlichem Wege entstanden zu sein. Nun ist es aber auch ganz erklärlich, daß der Organismus in seiner Äußerlichkeit ebenso den Einflüssen der Sinnenwelt ausgesetzt ist, wie jeder andere Körper. Der vom Dache fallende Stein kann ebenso ein lebendes Wesen, wie einen unorganischen Körper treffen. Durch Aufnahme von Nahrung usw. ist der Organismus mit der Außenwelt im Zusammenhange; alle physischen Verhältnisse der Außenwelt wirken auf ihn ein. Natürlich kann dies auch nur insoferne stattfinden, als der Organismus Objekt der Sinnenwelt, räumlich-zeitliches Objekt ist. Dieses Objekt der Außenwelt nun, das zum Dasein gekommene entelechische Prinzip, ist die äußere Erscheinung des Organismus. Da er hier aber nicht nur seinen eigenen Bildungsgesetzen, sondern auch den Bedingungen der Außenwelt unterworfen ist, nicht nur so ist, wie er dem Wesen des sich aus sich selbst bestimmenden entelechischen Prinzipes gemäß sein sollte, sondern so, wie er von anderem abhängig, beeinflußt ist, so erscheint er gleichsam sich selbst nie ganz angemessen, nie bloß seiner eigenen Wesenheit gehorchend. Da tritt nun die menschliche Vernunft ein und bildet sich in der Idee einen Organismus, der nicht den Einflüssen der Außenwelt gemäß, sondern nur jenem Prinzipe entsprechend ist. Jeder zufällige Einfluß, der mit dem Organischen als solchem nichts zu tun hat, fällt dabei ganz weg. Diese rein dem Organischen im Organismus entsprechende Idee ist nun die Idee des Urorganismus, der Typus Goethes. Hieraus sieht man auch die hohe Berechtigung dieser Typusidee ein. Sie ist nicht ein bloßer Verstandesbegriff, sie ist dasjenige, was in jedem Organismus das wahrhaft Organische ist, ohne welches derselbe nicht Organismus wäre. Sie ist sogar reeller als jeder einzelne wirkliche Organismus, weil sie sich in jedem Organismus offenbart. Sie drückt auch das Wesen eines Organismus voller, reiner aus als jeder einzelne, besondere Organismus. Sie ist auf wesentlich andere Weise gewonnen als der Begriff eines unorganischen Vorganges. Jener ist abgezogen, abstrahiert aus der Wirklichkeit, er ist nicht in letzterer wirksam; die Idee des Organismus aber ist als Entelechie im Organismus tätig, wirksam; sie ist in der von unserer Vernunft erfaßten Form nur die Wesenheit der Entelechie selbst. Sie faßt die Erfahrung nicht zusammen; sie bewirkt das zu Erfahrende. Goethe drückt dies mit den Worten aus: «Begriff ist Summe, Idee Resultat der Erfahrung; jene zu ziehen, wird Verstand, dieses zu erfassen, Vernunft erfordert.» (Sprüche in Prosa [Natw. Schr., 4. Bd., 2. Abt., S. 379]) Damit ist jene Art der Realität, die dem Goetheschen Urorganismus (Urpflanze oder Urtier) zukommt, erklärt. Diese Goethesche Methode ist offenbar die einzig mögliche, um in das Wesen der Organismenwelt einzudringen.

[ 8 ] Beim Unorganischen ist es als wesentlich zu betrachten, daß die Erscheinung in ihrer Mannigfaltigkeit mit der sie erklärenden Gesetzlichkeit nicht identisch ist, sondern auf letztere, als auf ein ihr Äußeres, bloß hinweist. Die Anschauung - das materielle Element der Erkenntnis - die uns durch die äußeren Sinne gegeben ist, und der Begriff - das formelle - durch den wir die Anschauung als notwendig erkennen, stehen einander gegenüber als zwei einander zwar objektiv fordernde Elemente, aber so daß der Begriff nicht in den einzelnen Gliedern einer Erscheinungsreihe selbst liegt, sondern in einem Verhältnisse derselben zueinander. Dieses Verhältnis, welches die Mannigfaltigkeit in ein einheitliches Ganze zusammenfaßt, ist in den einzelnen Teilen des Gegebenen begründet, aber als Ganzes (als Einheit) kommt es nicht zur realen, konkreten Erscheinung. Zur äußeren Existenz - im Objekte - kommen nur die Glieder dieses Verhältnisses. Die Einheit, der Begriff kommt als solcher erst in unserem Verstande zur Erscheinung. Es kommt ihm die Aufgabe zu, das Mannigfaltige der Erscheinung zusammenzufassen, er verhält sich zu dem letzteren als Summe. Wir haben es hier mit einer Zweiheit zu tun, mit der mannigfaltigen Sache, die wir anschauen, und mit der Einheit, die wir denken. In der organischen Natur stehen die Teile des Mannigfaltigen eines Wesens nicht in einem solchen äußerlichen Verhältnisse zueinander. Die Einheit kommt mit der Mannigfaltigkeit zugleich, als mit ihr identisch in dem Angeschauten zur Realität. Das Verhältnis der einzelnen Glieder eines Erscheinungsganzen (Organismus) ist ein reales geworden. Es kommt nicht mehr bloß in unserem Verstande zur konkreten Erscheinung, sondern im Objekte selbst, in welch letzterem es die Mannigfaltigkeit aus sich selbst hervorbringt. Der Begriff hat nicht bloß die Rolle einer Summe, eines Zusammenfassenden, welches sein Objekt außer sich hat; er ist mit demselben vollkommen eins geworden. Was wir anschauen, ist nicht mehr verschieden von dem, wodurch wir das Angeschaute denken; wir schauen den Begriff als Idee selbst an. Daher nennt Goethe das Vermögen, wodurch wir die organische Natur begreifen, anschauende Urteilskraft. Das Erklärende - das Formelle der Erkenntnis, der Begriff - und das Erklärte -das Materielle, die Anschauung - sind identisch. Die Idee, durch welche wir das Organische erfassen, ist somit wesentlich verschieden von dem Begriffe, durch den wir das Unorganische erklären; sie faßt ein gegebenes Mannigfaltige nicht bloß - wie eine Summe - zusammen, sondern setzt ihren eigenen Inhalt aus sich heraus. Sie ist Resultat des Gegebenen (der Erfahrung), konkrete Erscheinung. Hierin liegt der Grund, warum wir in der unorganischen Naturwissenschaft von Gesetzen (Naturgesetzen) sprechen und die Tatsachen durch sie erklären, in der organischen. Natur dies dagegen durch Typen tun. Das Gesetz ist mit der Mannigfaltigkeit der Anschauung, die es beherrscht, nicht ein und dasselbe, es steht über ihr; im Typus aber ist Ideelles und Reales zur Einheit geworden, das Mannigfaltige kann nur als ausgehend von einem Punkte des mit ihm identischen Ganzen erklärt werden.

[ 9 ] In der Erkenntnis dieses Verhältnisses zwischen der Wissenschaft des Unorganischen und jener des Organischen liegt das Bedeutsame Goethescher Forschung. Man irrt daher, wenn man heute vielfach die letztere für eine Vorausnahme jenes Monismus erklärt, welcher eine das Organische wie das Unorganische umfassende einheitliche Naturanschauung dadurch begründen will, daß er das erstere auf dieselben Gesetze - die mechanisch-physikalischen Kategorien und Naturgesetze - zurückzuführen bestrebt ist, von denen das letztere bedingt wird. Wie Goethe sich eine monistische Anschauung denkt, haben wir gesehen. Die Art, wie er das Organische erklärt, ist wesentlich verschieden von der, wie er beim Unorganischen vorgeht. Er will die mechanische Erklärungsweise streng abgelehnt wissen bei dem, was höherer Art ist (siehe «Sprüche in Prosa» [Natw. Schr., 4. Bd., 2. Abt., S. 413]). Er tadelt an Kieser und Link, daß sie die organischen Erscheinungen auf unorganische Wirkungsweisen zurückführen wollen. (Ebenda 1. Bd., S. 198 u. 206.)

[ 10 ] Die Veranlassung zu der angedeuteten irrtümlichen Ansicht über Goethe hat das Verhältnis gegeben, in das er sich zu Kant in bezug auf die Möglichkeit einer Erkenntnis der organischen Natur gesetzt hat. Wenn aber Kant behauptet, daß unser Verstand die organische Natur nicht zu erklären vermag, so meint er damit gewiß nicht, daß sie auf mechanischer Gesetzlichkeit beruhe, und er sie nur als eine Folge mechanisch-physikalischer Kategorien nicht fassen kann. Der Grund von diesem Unvermögen liegt nach Kant vielmehr gerade darin, daß unser Verstand bloß Mechanisch-Physikalisches erklären könne und das Wesen des Organismus nicht dieser Natur ist. Wäre es dieses, so könnte der Verstand vermöge der ihm zu Gebote stehenden Kategorien es sehr wohl begreifen. Goethe denkt nun nicht etwa daran, die organische Welt trotz Kant als Mechanismus zu erklären; sondern er behauptet, daß uns das Vermögen keineswegs abgehe, die höhere Art der Naturwirksamkeit, welche das Wesen des Organischen begründet, zu erkennen.

[ 11 ] Indem wir das vorhin Gesagte erwägen, tritt uns sogleich ein wesentlicher Unterschied zwischen anorganischer und organischer Natur entgegen. Weil dort jeder beliebige Prozeß einen anderen bewirken kann, dieser wieder einen anderen usf., so erscheint die Reihe der Vorgänge nirgends als eine geschlossene. Alles ist in steter Wechselwirkung, ohne daß sich eine gewisse Gruppe von Objekten der Einwirkung anderer gegenüber abzuschließen vermöchte. Die anorganischen Wirkungsreihen haben nirgends Anfang und Ende; das folgende steht mit dem vorhergehenden nur in einem zufälligen Zusammenhange. Fällt ein Stein zur Erde, so hängt es von der zufälligen Form des Objektes, auf welches er fällt, ab, welche Wirkung er ausübt. Anders nun ist die Sache in einem Organismus. Hier ist die Einheit das erste. Die auf sich gebaute Entelechie enthält eine Anzahl sinnlicher Gestaltungsformen, von denen eine die erste, eine andere die letzte sein muß; bei denen nur immer in ganz bestimmter Weise die eine auf die andere folgen kann, Die ideelle Einheit setzt aus sich heraus eine Reihe sinnenfälliger Organe in zeitlicher Aufeinanderfolge und in räumlichem Nebeneinandersein und schließt sich in ganz bestimmter Weise von der übrigen Natur ab. Sie setzt ihre Zustände aus sich heraus. Daher sind sie auch nur in der Weise zu begreifen, daß man das aus einer ideellen Einheit hervorgehende Gestalten aufeinanderfolgender Zustände verfolgt, d. h. ein organisches Wesen ist nur in seinem Werden, in seiner Entwicklung zu verstehen. Der unorganische Körper ist abgeschlossen, starr, nur von außen zu erregen, innen unbeweglich. Der Organismus ist die Unruhe in sich selbst, vom Innern heraus stets sich umbildend, verwandelnd, Metamorphosen bildend. Darauf beziehen sich folgende Aussprüche Goethes: «Die Vernunft ist auf das Werdende, der Verstand auf das Gewordene angewiesen; jene bekümmert sich nicht: wozu? dieser fragt nicht: woher? -Sie erfreut sich am Entwickeln; er wünscht alles festzuhalten, damit er es nutzen könne» («Sprüche in Prosa»; Natw. Schr., 4. Bd., 2. Abt., S. 373) und «Die Vernunft hat nur über das Lebendige Herrschaft; die entstandene Welt, mit der sich die Geognosie abgibt, ist tot.» [Ebenda S.373]

[ 12 ] Der Organismus tritt uns in der Natur in zwei Hauptformen entgegen: als Pflanze und als Tier; in beiden auf verschiedene Weise. Die Pflanze unterscheidet sich vom Tiere durch den Mangel eines realen Innenlebens. Beim Tiere tritt das letztere als Empfindung, willkürliche Bewegung usw. auf. Die Pflanze hat ein solches seelisches Prinzip nicht. Sie geht noch ganz in ihrer Äußerlichkeit, in der Gestalt auf. Indem jenes entelechische Prinzip gleichsam von einem Punkte aus das Leben bestimmt, tritt es uns in der Pflanze in der Weise entgegen, daß alle einzelnen Organe nach demselben Gestaltungsprinzipe gebildet sind. Die Entelechie erscheint hier als Gestaltungskraft der einzelnen Organe. Letztere sind alle nach einem und demselben Bildungstypus gebaut, sie erscheinen als Modifikationen eines Grundorganes, als Wiederholung desselben auf verschiedenen Entwicklungsstufen. Das, was die Pflanze zur Pflanze macht, eine gewisse formbildende Kraft, ist in jedem Organe auf gleiche Weise wirksam. Jedes Organ erscheint so als identisch mit allen anderen und auch mit der ganzen Pflanze. Goethe drückt dies so aus: «Es ist mir nämlich aufgegangen, daß in demjenigen Organ der Pflanze, welches wir als Blatt gewöhnlich anzusprechen pflegen, der wahre Proteus verborgen liege, der sich in allen Gestaltungen verstecken und offenbaren könne. Vorwärts und rückwärts ist die Pflanze immer nur Blatt, mit dem künftigen Keime so unzertrennlich vereint, daß man eins ohne das andere nicht denken darf.» 74Italienische Reise, 17. Mai 1787. Die Pflanze erscheint so gleichsam aus lauter einzelnen Pflanzen zusammengesetzt, als ein komplizierteres Individuum, das wieder aus einfacheren besteht. Die Bildung der Pflanze schreitet also von Stufe zu Stufe vor und bildet Organe; jedes Organ ist mit jedem andern identisch, d. h. dem Bildungsprinzipe nach gleich, der Erscheinung nach verschieden. Die innere Einheit dehnt sich bei der Pflanze gleichsam in die Breite, sie lebt sich in der Mannigfaltigkeit aus, verliert sich in derselben, so daß sie nicht, wie wir dies später am Tiere sehen werden, ein mit einer gewissen Selbständigkeit ausgestattetes konkretes Dasein gewinnt, welches als Lebenszentrum der Mannigfaltigkeit der Organe gegenübertritt und sie als Vermittler mit der Außenwelt gebraucht.

[ 13 ] Es entsteht nun die Frage: Wodurch wird jene Verschiedenheit in der Erscheinung der dem inneren Prinzipe nach identischen Pflanzenorgane herbeigeführt? Wie ist es den Bildungsgesetzen, die alle nach einem Gestaltungsprinzipe wirken, möglich, das eine Mal ein Laubblatt, das andere Mal ein Kelchblatt hervorzubringen? Die Verschiedenheit kann bei dem ganz in der Äußerlichkeit liegenden Leben der Pflanze auch nur auf äußerlichen, d. h. räumlichen Momenten beruhen. Als solche sieht Goethe nun eine abwechselnde Ausdehnung und Zusammenziehung an. Indem das entelechische, aus einem Punkte wirkende Prinzip des Pflanzenlebens ins Dasein tritt, manifestiert es sich als räumlich, die Bildungskräfte wirken im Raume. Sie erzeugen Organe von bestimmter räumlicher Form. Nun konzentrieren sich diese Kräfte entweder, sie streben gleichsam in einen einzigen Punkt zusammen; und dies ist das Stadium der Zusammenziehung, oder sie breiten sich aus, entfalten sich, sie trachten sich gewissermaßen voneinander zu entfernen: dies ist das Stadium der Ausdehnung. Im ganzen Leben der Pflanze wechseln drei Ausdehnungen mit drei Zusammenziehungen. Alles, was in die dem Wesen nach identischen Bildungskräfte der Pflanze Verschiedenes hineinkommt, rührt von dieser wechselnden Ausdehnung und Zusammenziehung her. Zuerst ruht die ganze Pflanze der Möglichkeit nach auf einen Punkt zusammengezogen im Samen (a). Daraus tritt sie nun hervor und entfaltet sich, dehnt sich aus in der Blattbildung (c). Die Bildungskräfte stoßen sich immer mehr ab, daher erscheinen die unteren Blätter noch roh, kompakt (cc'); je weiter aufwärts, desto gerippter, gezackter werden sie. Was sich vorher noch aneinanderdrängte, tritt jetzt auseinander (Blatt d und e). Was früher in aufeinanderfolgenden Zwischenräumen (zz') stand, das tritt in der Keichbildung (f) wieder

Figur 1

[ 14 ] an einem Punkte des Stengels auf (w). Die letztere bildet die zweite Zusammenziehung. In der Blumenkrone tritt neuerdings eine Entfaltung, Ausbreitung ein. Die Blumenblätter (g) sind im Vergleiche zu den Kelchblättern feiner, zarter; was nur von einer geringeren Intensität auf einem Punkte, also von einer größeren Extension der Bildungskräfte herrühren kann. In den Geschlechtsorganen [Staubgefäßen (h) und Stempel (i)] tritt die nächste Zusammenziehung ein, worauf in der Fruchtbildung (k) eine neue Ausdehnung stattfindet. In dem aus der Frucht hervorgehenden Samen (a) erscheint wieder das ganze Wesen der Pflanze auf einen Punkt zusammengedrängt. 75Die Frucht entsteht durch Auswachsung des unteren Teiles des Stempels (Fruchtknotens 1); sie stellt ein späteres Stadium desselben dar. kann also nur getrennt gezeichnet werden. In der Fruchtbildung tritt die letzte Ausdehnung ein. Das Pflanzenleben differenziert sich 2n ein abschließendes Organ, eigentliche Frucht, und in den Samen; in der ersteren sind gleichsam alle Momente der Erscheinung vereinigt, sie ist bloße Erscheinung, sie entfremdet sich dem Leben, wird totes Produkt. Im Samen sind alle inneren, wesentlichen Momente des Pflanzenlebens konzentriert. Aus ihm entsteht eine neue Pflanze. Er ist fast ganz ideell geworden, die Erscheinung ist bei ihm auf ein Minimum reduziert.

[ 15 ] Die ganze Pflanze stellt nur eine Entfaltung, eine Realisation des in der Knospe oder im Samen der Möglichkeit nach Ruhendem dar. Knospe und Same brauchen nur die geeigneten äußeren Einflüsse, um zu vollkommenen Pflanzenbildungen zu werden. Der Unterschied zwischen Knospe und Same ist nur dieser, daß der letztere unmittelbar die Erde zum Boden seiner Entfaltung hat, während die erstere im allgemeinen eine Pflanzenbildung auf einer Pflanze selbst darstellt. Der Same stellt ein Pflanzenindividuum höherer Art dar, oder, wenn man will, einen ganzen Kreis von Pflanzengebilden. Die Pflanze beginnt gleichsam mit jeder Knospenbildung ein neues Stadium ihres Lebens, sie regeneriert sich, sie konzentriert ihre Kräfte, um sie von neuem wieder zu entfalten. Die Knospenbildung ist also zugleich eine Unterbrechung der Vegetation. Das Pflanzenleben kann sich zur Knospe zusammenziehen, wenn die Bedingungen eigentlichen realen Lebens mangeln, um sich bei Eintritt derselben neuerdings zu entfalten. Die Unterbrechung der Vegetation im Winter beruht darauf. Goethe sagt darüber: 76Italienische Reise, 2. Dez. 1786. «Es ist gar interessant, zu bemerken, wie eine lebhaft fortgesetzte und durch starke Kälte nicht unterbrochene Vegetation wirkt; hier gibt's keine Knospen, und man lernt erst begreifen, was eine Knospe sei.» Was also bei uns in der Knospe verborgen ruht, ist dort offen am Tage; es ist also wahres Pflanzenleben, was in der letzteren liegt; nur fehlen die Bedingungen seiner Entfaltung.

[ 16 ] Man hat sich nun ganz besonders gegen den Begriff abwechselnder Ausdehnung und Zusammenziehung bei Goethe gewendet, Alle Angriffe darauf aber gehen von einem Mißverständnisse aus. Man glaubt, daß diese Begriffe nur dann Gültigkeit haben könnten, wenn sich eine physikalische Ursache für sie finden ließe, wenn man eine Wirkungsweise der in der Pflanze wirkenden Gesetze nachweisen könnte, aus welcher ein solches Ausdehnen und Zusammenziehen folge. Dies zeigt nur, daß man die Sache auf die Spitze statt auf die Basis stellt. Es ist nichts vorauszusetzen, was die Ausdehnung oder Zusammenziehung bewirkt; im Gegenteile: alles andere ist Folge der ersteren, sie bewirken eine fortschreitende Metamorphose von Stufe zu Stufe. Man kann sich eben den Begriff nicht in seiner selbsteigenen, in seiner intuitiven Form vorstellen; man verlangt, daß er das Resultat eines äußeren Vorganges darstellen soll. Man kann sich Ausdehnung und Zusammenziehung nur als bewirkt, nicht als bewirkend denken. Goethe sieht Ausdehnung und Zusammenziehung nicht so an, als ob sie aus der Natur der an der Pflanze vor sich gehenden unorganischen Prozesse folgen würden, sondern er betrachtet sie als die Art, wie sich jenes innere entelechische Prinzip gestaltet. Er konnte sie also nicht als Summe, als Zusammenfassung sinnenfälliger Vorgänge ansehen und aus solchen deduzieren, sondern er mußte sie als eine Folge des Innern einheitlichen Prinzips selbst ableiten.

[ 17 ] Das Pflanzenleben wird unterhalten durch den Stoffwechsel. In bezug auf diesen tritt eine wesentliche Verschiedenheit zwischen jenen Organen ein, welche näher der Wurzel sind, d. h. dem Organe, das die Nahrungsaufnahme aus der Erde besorgt, und jenen, welche den bereits durch andere Organe hindurchgegangenen Nahrungsstoff bekommen. Erstere erscheinen unmittelbar von ihrer äußeren anorganischen Umgebung abhängig, diese dagegen von den ihnen vorhergehenden organischen Teilen. Jedes folgende Organ erhält daher eine gleichsam für sich, durch das vorhergehende zubereitete Nahrung. Die Natur schreitet vom Samen zur Frucht in einer Stufenfolge fort, so daß das Nachfolgende als Resultat des Vorangehenden erscheint. Und dieses Fortschreiten nennt Goethe ein Fortschreiten auf einer geistigen Leiter. Nichts weiter als das von uns Angedeutete liegt in seinen Worten, «daß ein oberer Knoten, indem- er aus dem vorhergehenden entsteht und die Säfte mittelbar durch ihn empfängt, solche feiner und filtrierter erhalten, auch von der inzwischen geschehenen Einwirkung der Blätter genießen, sich selbst feiner ausbilden und seinen Blättern und Augen feinere Säfte zubringen müsse». Alle diese Dinge werden verständlich, wenn man ihnen den von Goethe gemeinten Sinn beilegt.

[ 18 ] Die hier dargelegten Ideen sind die im Wesen der Urpflanze gelegenen Elemente und zwar in der bloß dieser selbst angemessenen Weise, nicht so, wie sie in einer bestimmten Pflanze zur Erscheinung kommen, wo sie nicht mehr ursprünglich, sondern den äußeren Verhältnissen angemessen sind.

[ 19 ] Beim Tierleben tritt nun freilich etwas anderes ein. Das Leben verliert sich hier nicht in der Äußerlichkeit, sondern es separiert sich, sondert sich von der Körperlichkeit ab und gebraucht die körperliche Erscheinung nur noch als sein Werkzeug. Es äußert sich nicht mehr als bloßes Vermögen, einen Organismus von innen heraus zu gestalten, sondern es äußert sich in einem Organismus als etwas, was noch außer dem Organismus, als dessen beherrschende Macht, da ist. Das Tier erscheint als eine in sich beschlossene Welt, ein Mikrokosmos in viel höherem Sinne als die Pflanze. Es hat ein Zentrum dem jedes Organ dient.

«So ist jeglicher Mund geschickt die Speise zu fassen,
Welche dem Körper gebührt, es sei nun schwächlich und zahnlos
Oder mächtig der Kiefer gezähnt; in jeglichem Falle Fördert
ein schicklich Organ den übrigen Gliedern die Nahrung.
Auch bewegt sich jeglicher Fuß, der lange, der kurze Ganz
harmonisch zum Sinne des Tiers und seinem Bedürfnis.» 77«Metamorphose der Tiere»; vgl. Natw. Schr., 1. Bd., S. 344.

[ 20 ] Bei der Pflanze ist in jedem Organ die ganze Pflanze, aber das Lebensprinzip existiert nirgends als ein bestimmtes Zentrum, die Identität der Organe liegt in der Gestaltung nach denselben Gesetzen. Beim Tiere erscheint jedes Organ als aus jenem Zentrum kommend, das Zentrum bildet seinem Wesen gemäß alle Organe. Die Gestalt des Tieres ist also die Grundlage für sein äußerliches Dasein. Sie ist aber von innen bestimmt. Die Lebensweise muß sich also nach jenen inneren Gestaltungsprinzipien richten. Andrerseits ist die innere Bildung in sich unumschränkt, frei; sie, kann sich den äußeren Einflüssen innerhalb gewisser Grenzen fügen; doch ist diese Bildung eine durch die innere Natur des Typus und nicht durch mechanische Einwirkungen von außen bestimmte. Die Anpassung kann also nicht so weit gehen, daß sie den Organismus nur als ein Produkt der Außenwelt erscheinen ließe. Seine Bildung ist eine in Grenzen eingeschränkte.

«Diese Grenzen erweitert kein Gott, es ehrt die Natur sie;
Denn nur also beschränkt war je das Vollkommene möglich.» 78Metamorphose der Tiere, a. a. 0. S.345.

[ 21 ] Wäre jedes tierische Wesen nur den im Urtier liegenden Prinzipien gemäß, so wären sie alle gleich. Nun aber gliedert sich der tierische Organismus in eine Menge von Organsystemen, die jedes bis zu einem bestimmten Grad der Ausbildung kommen können. Dieses begründet nun eine verschiedenartige Entwicklung. Der Idee nach gleichberechtigt mit allen andern, kann sich doch ein System besonders in den Vordergrund drängen, kann den im tierischen Organismus liegenden Vorrat von Bildungskräften auf sich verwenden und ihn den anderen Organen entziehen. Das Tier erscheint so nach der Richtung jenes Organsystems hin besonders ausgebildet. Ein anderes Tier erscheint nach einer anderen Richtung gebildet. Hierin liegt die Möglichkeit der Differenzierung des Urorganismus bei seinem Übergange in die Erscheinung in Gattungen und Arten.

[ 22 ] Die wirklichen (tatsächlichen) Ursachen der Differenzierung sind damit aber noch nicht gegeben. Hier treten in ihre Rechte: die Anpassung, welcher zufolge der Organismus den ihn umgebenden äußeren Verhältnissen gemäß gestaltet, und der Kampf ums Dasein, der darauf hinarbeitet, daß nur die den obwaltenden Umständen am besten angepaßten Wesen sich erhalten. Anpassung und Kampf ums Dasein könnten aber am Organismus gar nichts bewirken, wenn das den Organismus konstituierende Prinzip nicht ein solches wäre, das bei stets aufrecht erhaltener innerer Einheit die mannigfaltigsten Formen annehmen kann. Der Zusammenhang der äußeren Bildungskräfte mit diesem Prinzipe ist keineswegs so aufzufassen, als wenn die ersteren auf die letzteren etwa in der Art bestimmend einwirkten, wie ein unorganisches Wesen auf ein anderes. Die äußeren Verhältnisse sind zwar die Veranlassung, daß sich der Typus in einer bestimmten Form ausbildet; diese Form selbst aber ist nicht aus den äußeren Bedingungen, sondern aus dem inneren Prinzipe herzuleiten. Man wird bei dieser Erklärung die ersteren immer aufzusuchen haben, die Gestalt selbst aber hat man nicht als ihre Folge zu betrachten. Das Ableiten von Gestaltungsformen eines Organismus aus der umgebenden Außenwelt durch bloße Kausalität würde Goethe geradeso verworfen haben, wie er es mit dem teleologischen Prinzip getan hat, wonach die Form eines Organes auf einen äußeren Zweck, dem es zu dienen hätte, zurückgeführt wurde.

[ 23 ] Bei denjenigen Organsystemen des Tieres, bei denen es mehr auf die Äußerlichkeit des Baues ankommt, z. B. bei den Knochen, da tritt auch jenes bei den Pflanzen beobachtete Gesetz wieder hervor, wie bei der Bildung der Schädelknochen. Die Gabe Goethes, die innere Gesetzmäßigkeit in rein äußerlichen Formen zu erkennen, tritt hier ganz besonders hervor.

[ 24 ] Der Unterschied, der mit diesen Anschauungen Goethes zwischen Pflanze und Tier festgestellt wird, könnte belanglos erscheinen angesichts dessen, daß die neuere Wissenschaft Gründe zu berechtigten Zweifeln an einer festen Grenze zwischen Pflanze und Tier hat. Der Unmöglichkeit der Aufstellung einer solchen Grenze war sich aber Goethe schon bewußt (siehe Natw. Schr., 1. Bd., S. 11). Dennoch gibt es bestimmte Definitionen von Pflanze und Tier. Das hängt mit seiner ganzen Naturanschauung zusammen. Er nimmt in der Erscheinung überhaupt kein Konstantes, Festes an; denn in letzterer schwankt alles in steter Bewegung. Das im Begriffe festzuhaltende Wesen einer Sache ist aber nicht schwankenden Formen zu entnehmen, sondern gewissen mittleren Stufen, auf denen es sich beobachten läßt (siehe a. a. 0., S. 8). Es ist für Goethes Anschauung ganz natürlich, daß man bestimmte Definitionen aufstellt und diese trotzdem in der Erfahrung von gewissen Übergangsgebilden nicht festgehalten werden. Ja er sieht gerade darin das bewegliche Leben der Natur.

[ 25 ] Mit diesen Ideen hat Goethe die theoretische Grundlage für die organische Wissenschaft begründet. Er hat das Wesen des Organismus gefunden. Man kann dieses leicht verkennen, wenn man verlangt, daß der Typus, jenes sich aus sich heraus gestaltete Prinzip (Entelechie), selbst durch etwas anderes erklärt werden solle. Aber dies ist eine unbegründete Forderung, weil der Typus, in intuitiver Form festgehalten, sich selbst erklärt. Für jeden, der jenes «Sich--nach-sich-selbst-Formen» des entelechischen Prinzipes erfaßt hat, bildet dieses die Lösung des Lebensrätsels. Eine andere Lösung ist unmöglich, weil jene das Wesen der Sache selbst ist. Wenn der Darwinismus einen Urorganismus voraussetzen muß, so kann man von Goethe sagen, daß er das Wesen jenes Urorganismus entdeckt hat. 79In der modernen Naturlehre versteht man unter Urorganismus gewöhnlich eine Urzelle (Urzytode), d. h. ein einfaches Wesen, welches auf der untersten Stufe der organischen Entwicklung steht. Man hat hier ein ganz bestimmtes, reales, sinnenfällig wirkliches Wesen im Auge. Wenn man im Goetheschen Sinne von Urorganismus spricht, so ist nicht dieses ins Auge zu fassen, sondern jene Essenz (Wesenheit), jenes gestaltende, entelechische Prinzip, welches bewirkt, daß jene Urzelle ein Organismus ist. Dieses Prinzip kommt im einfachsten Organismus ebenso wie im vollendetsten zur Erscheinung, nur in verschiedener Ausbildung. Es ist die Tierheit im Tiere, das, wodurch ein Wesen ein Organismus ist. Darwin setzt es von Anfang an voraus; es ist da, wird eingeführt und dann sagt er von ihm, daß es auf die Einflüsse der Außenwelt in dieser oder jener Weise reagierte. Es ist bei ihm ein unbestimmtes X, dieses unbestimmte X sucht Goethe zu erklären. Goethe ist es, welcher mit dem bloßen Nebeneinanderreihen der Gattungen und Arten brach und eine Regeneration der organischen Wissenschaft dem Wesen des Organismus gemäß vornahm. Während die Vor-Goethesche Systematik ebenso viele verschiedene Begriffe (Ideen) brauchte, als äußerlich verschiedene Gattungen existieren, zwischen denen sich keine Vermittlung fand, erklärte Goethe, daß der Idee nach alle Organismen gleich, nur der Erscheinung nach verschieden sind; und er erklärte, warum sie es sind. Damit war die philosophische Grundlage für ein wissenschaftliches System der Organismen geschaffen. Es handelte sich nur noch um die Ausführung desselben. Es müßte gezeigt werden, wie alle realen Organismen nur Offenbarungen einer Idee seien und wie sie sich in einem bestimmten Falle offenbaren.

[ 26 ] Die große Tat, welche damit in der Wissenschaft getan war, wurde auch mannigfach von tiefer gebildeten Gelehrten anerkannt. Der jüngere d'Alton 80Goethes Naturwissenschaftliche Korrespondenz (1812-1832), hg. v. F.Th. Bratranek, 1. Bd., S. 28. schreibt am 6. Juli 1827 an Goethe: «Ich würde es für die schönste Belohnung erachten, wenn Euer Exzellenz, dem die Naturwissenschaft nicht allein eine völlige Umgestaltung in großartigen Überblicken und neuen Ansichten der Botanik, sondern selbst vielfache treffliche Bereicherungen in dem Gebiete der Knochenlehre verdankt, in vorliegenden Blättern ein beifallswertes Bestreben erkennten.» Nees von Esenbeck 81Ebenda, 2. Bd., S. 19 f. am 24. Juni 1820: «In ihrer Schrift, die Sie einen ˂Versuch, die Metamorphose der Pflanzen zu erklären˃, nannten, hat zuerst die Pflanze unter uns über sich selbst geredet und in dieser schönen Vermenschlichung auch mich, als ich noch jung war, bestrickt.» Endlich Voigt 82Ebenda, 2. Bd., S. 330 f. am 6. Juni 1831: «Mit lebhafter Teilnahme und untertänigem Dank habe ich die kleine Schrift über die Metamorphose empfangen, welche mich als so frühen Teilnehmer an dieser Lehre nun auch auf das verbindlichste historisch einverleibt. Es ist sonderbar, man ist gegen die animalische Metamorphose - ich meine nicht die alte der Insekten, sondern die von der Wirbelsäule ausgehende - billiger gewesen, als gegen die vegetabilische. Abgesehen von den Plagiaten und Mißbräuchen, möchte die stille Anerkennung darin ihren Grund haben, daß man bei ihr weniger zu riskieren glaubte. Denn beim Skelett bleiben die isolierten Knochen ewig dieselben, in der Botanik aber droht die Metamorphose die ganze Terminologie und folglich die Bestimmung der Spezies umzuwerfen, und da fürchten sich denn die Schwachen, weil sie nicht wissen, wohin so etwas führen könne.» Hier ist volles Verständnis der Goetheschen Ideen vorhanden. Es ist das Bewußtsein da, daß eine neue Art der Anschauung des Individuellen Platz greifen müsse; und aus dieser neuen Anschauung sollte erst die neue Systematik, die Betrachtung des Besonderen hervorgehen. Der auf sich selbst gebaute Typus enthält die Möglichkeit, bei seinem Eintreten in die Erscheinung unendlich mannigfaltige Formen anzunehmen; und diese Formen sind der Gegenstand unserer sinnlichen Anschauung, sie sind die im Raume und in der Zeit lebenden Gattungen und Arten der Organismen. Indem unser Geist jene allgemeine Idee, den Typus erfaßt, hat er das ganze Organismenreich in seiner Einheit begriffen. Wenn er nun die Gestaltung des Typus in jeder besonderen Erscheinungsform anschaut, wird ihm die letztere begreiflich; sie erscheint ihm als eine der Stufen, der Metamorphosen, in denen sich der Typus verwirklicht. Und diese verschiedenen Stufen aufzuzeigen, sollte das Wesen der durch Goethe zu begründenden Systematik sein. Sowohl im Tier - wie im Pflanzenreiche herrscht eine aufsteigende Entwicklungsreihe; die Organismen gliedern sich in vollkommene und unvollkommene. Wie ist dieses möglich? Die ideelle Form, der Typus der Organismen hat eben das Charakteristische, daß er aus räumlich zeitlichen Elementen besteht. Es erschien deshalb auch Goethe als eine sinnlich-übersinnliche Form. Er enthält räumlichzeitliche Formen als ideelle Anschauung (intuitiv). Wenn er nun in die Erscheinung tritt, kann die wahrhaft (nicht mehr intuitiv) sinnliche Form jener ideellen völlig entsprechen oder nicht; es kann der Typus zu seiner vollkommenen Ausbildung kommen oder nicht. Die niederen Organismen sind eben dadurch die niederen, daß ihre Erscheinungsform nicht völlig dem organischen Typus entspricht. Je mehr äußere Erscheinung und organischer Typus in einem bestimmten Wesen sich decken, desto vollkommener ist dasselbe. Dies ist der objektive Grund einer aufsteigenden Entwicklungsreihe. Die Aufzeigung dieses Verhältnisses. bei jeder Organismenform ist die Aufgabe einer systematischen Darstellung. Bei Aufstellung des Typus, der Urorganismen, kann aber hierauf keine Rücksicht genommen werden; es kann sich dabei nur darum handeln, eine Form zu finden, welche den vollkommensten Ausdruck des Typus darstellt. Eine solche soll Goethes Urpflanze bieten.

[ 27 ] Man hat Goethe den Vorwurf gemacht, daß er bei Aufstellung seines Typus auf die Welt der Kryptogamen keine Rücksicht genommen habe. Wir haben schon früher darauf hingewiesen, daß dieses nur in völlig bewußter Weise geschehen kann, da er sich mit dem Studium dieser Pflanzen auch beschäftigt hat. Es hat aber seinen objektiven Grund. Die Kryptogamen sind eben jene Pflanzen, in denen die Urpflanze nur höchst einseitig zum Ausdrucke kommt; sie stellen die Pflanzenidee in einer einseitigen sinnenfälligen Form dar. Sie können an der aufgestellten Idee beurteilt werden; diese selbst aber kommt in den Phanerogamen erst zu ihrem völligen Ausbruche.

[ 28 ] Was aber hier zu sagen ist, ist dieses, daß Goethe diese Ausführung seiner Grundgedanken nie vollbracht hat, daß er das Reich des Besonderen zu wenig betreten hat. Daher bleiben alle seine Arbeiten fragmentarisch. Seine Absicht, auch hier Licht zu schaffen, zeigen uns seine Worte in der «Italienischen Reise» (27. September 1786), daß es ihm mit Hilfe seiner Ideen möglich sein werde, «Geschlechter und Arten wahrhaft zu bestimmen, welches, wie mich dünkt, bisher sehr willkürlich geschieht». Dieses Vorhaben hat er nicht ausgeführt, den Zusammenhang seiner allgemeinen Gedanken mit der Welt des Besonderen, mit der Wirklichkeit der einzelnen Formen nicht besonders dargelegt. Dies sah er selbst als einen Mangel seiner Fragmente an; er schreibt am 28. Juni 1828 darauf bezüglich an [F.J.] Soret von de Candolle: «Auch wird mir immer klarer, wie er die Intentionen ansieht, in denen ich mich fortbewege und die in meinem kurzen Aufsatze über die Metamorphose zwar deutlich genug ausgesprochen sind, deren Bezug aber auf die Erfahrungsbotanik, wie ich längst weiß, nicht deutlich genug hervorgeht.» [WA 44, 161] Dies ist wohl auch der Grund, warum Goethes Anschauungen so mißverstanden wurden; denn sie wurden es nur deshalb, weil sie überhaupt nicht verstanden wurden.

[ 29 ] In Goethes Begriffen erhalten wir auch eine ideelle Erklärung für die durch Darwin und Haeckel gefundene Tatsache, daß die Entwicklungsgeschichte des Individuums eine Repetition der Stammesgeschichte repräsentiert. Denn für mehr als eine unerklärte Tatsache kann das, was Haeckel hier bietet, doch nicht genommen werden. Es ist die Tatsache*, daß jedes Individuum alle jene Entwicklungsstadien in abgekürzter Form durchmacht, welche uns zugleich die Paläontologie als gesonderte organische Formen aufweist. Haeckel und seine Anhänger erklären dieses aus dem Gesetze der Vererbung. Aber letzteres ist selbst nichts anderes als ein abgekürzter Ausdruck für die angeführte Tatsache. Die Erklärung dafür ist, daß jene Formen sowie jedes Individuum die Erscheinungsformen eines und desselben Urbildes sind, welches in aufeinanderfolgenden Zeitperioden die der Möglichkeit nach in ihm liegenden Gestaltungskräfte zur Entfaltung bringt. Jedes höhere Individuum ist eben dadurch vollkommener, daß es durch die günstigen Einflüsse seiner Umgebung nicht gehindert wird, sich seiner inneren Natur nach völlig frei zu entfalten. Muß das Individuum dagegen durch verschiedene Einwirkungen gezwungen auf einer niedrigeren Stufe stehenbleiben, so kommen nur einige von seinen inneren Kräften zur Erscheinung, und es ist dann bei ihm das ein Ganzes, was bei jenem vollkommeneren Individuum nur ein Teil eines Ganzen ist. Und auf diese Weise erscheint der höhere Organismus in seiner Entwicklung aus den niedrigeren zusammengesetzt oder auch die niedrigeren erscheinen in ihrer Entwicklung als Teile des höheren. Wir müssen daher in der Entwicklung eines höheren Tieres die Entwicklung aller niedrigeren wieder erblicken (biogenetisches Gesetz). Sowie der Physiker nicht damit zufrieden ist, bloß die Tatsachen auszusprechen und zu beschreiben, sondern nach den Gesetzen derselben forscht, d. h. nach den Begriffen der Erscheinungen, so kann es auch demjenigen, der in die Natur der organischen Wesen eindringen will, nicht genügen, wenn er bloß die Tatsachen der Verwandtschaft, Vererbung, Kampf ums Dasein usw. anführt, sondern er will die diesen Dingen zugrunde liegenden Ideen erkennen. Dieses Streben finden wir bei Goethe. Was dem Physiker die drei Keplerschen Gesetze, das sind dem Organiker die Goetheschen Typusgedanken. Ohne sie ist uns die Welt ein bloßes Labyrinth von Tatsachen. Dies wurde oft mißverstanden. Man behauptet, der Begriff der Metamorphose im Sinne Goethes wäre ein bloßes Bild, das sich im Grunde nur in unserem Verstande durch Abstraktion vollzogen hat. Es wäre Goethe unklar gewesen, daß der Begriff von Verwandlung der Blätter in Blütenorgane nur dann einen Sinn habe, wenn letztere, z. B. die Staubgefäße, einmal wirkliche Blätter waren. Allein dies stellt Goethes Anschauungen auf den Kopf. Es wird ein sinnenfälliges Organ zum prinzipiell ersten gemacht und das andere auf sinnenfällige Weise daraus abgeleitet. So hat es Goethe nie gemeint. Bei ihm ist dasjenige, welches der Zeit nach das erste ist, durchaus nicht auch der Idee, dem Prinzipe nach das erste. Nicht weil die Staubgefäße einmal wahre Blätter waren, sind sie letzteren heute verwandt; nein, sondern weil sie ideell, ihrem inneren Wesen nach verwandt sind, erschienen sie einmal als wahre Blätter. Die sinnliche Verwandlung ist nur Folge der ideellen Verwandtschaft und nicht umgekehrt. Heute ist der empirische Tatbestand der Identität aller Seitenorgane der Pflanze bestimmt, aber warum nennt man diese identisch? Nach Schleiden, weil sich dieselben an der Achse alle so entwickeln, daß sie als seitliche Hervorragungen hinausgeschoben werden, in der Weise, daß die seitliche Zellenbildung nur an dem ursprünglichen Körper bleibt und an der zuerst gebildeten Spitze sich keine neuen Zellen bilden. Dies ist eine rein äußerliche Verwandtschaft, und man betrachtet als die Folge davon die Idee der Identität. Anders ist die Sache wieder bei Goethe. Die Seitenorgane sind bei ihm ihrer Idee, ihrem inneren Wesen nach identisch; daher erscheinen sie auch nach außen als identische Bildungen. Die sinnenfällige Verwandtschaft ist bei ihm eine Folge der inneren, ideellen. Die Goethesche Auffassung unterscheidet sich von der materialistischen durch die Fragestellungen; beide widersprechen einander nicht, sie ergänzen einander. Goethes Ideen bilden zu jener die Grundlage. Nicht nur eine dichterische Prophezeiung späterer Entdekkungen sind Goethes Ideen, sondern selbständige theoretische Entdeckungen, die noch lange nicht genug gewürdigt sind, an denen die Naturwissenschaft noch lange zehren wird. Wenn die empirischen Tatsachen, die er benützte, längst durch genauere Detailforschungen überholt, teilweise sogar widerlegt sein werden; die aufgestellten Ideen sind ein für allemal grundlegend für die Organik, denn sie sind von jenen empirischen Tatsachen unabhängig. Wie jeder neu aufgefundene Planet nach Keplers Gesetzen um seinen Fixstern kreisen muß, so muß jeder Vorgang in der organischen Natur nach Goethes Ideen geschehen. Lange vor Kepler und Kopernikus sah man die Vorgänge am gestirnten Himmel. Diese fanden erst die Gesetze. Lange vor Goethe beobachtete man das organische Naturreich, Goethe fand dessen Gesetze. Goethe ist der Kopernikus und Kepler der organischen Welt.

[ 30 ] Man kann sich das Wesen der Goetheschen Theorie auch auf folgende Weise klar machen. Neben der gewöhnlichen empirischen Mechanik, welche nur die Tatsachen sammelt, gibt es noch eine rationale Mechanik, welche aus der inneren Natur der mechanischen Grundprinzipien die aprioristischen Gesetze als notwendige deduziert. Sowie die erstere zur letzteren, so verhalten sich Darwins, Haeckels usw. Theorien zur rationalen Organik Goethes. Diese Seite seiner Theorie war Goethe vom Anfange an nicht sogleich klar. Später freilich spricht er sie schon ganz entschieden aus. Wenn er am 21. Januar 1832 an Heinr. Wilh. Ferd. Wackenroder schreibt: «Fahren Sie fort, mit allem, was Sie interessiert, mich bekannt zu machen; es schließt sich irgendwo an meine Betrachtungen an» [WA 49,211], so will er damit nur sagen, daß er die Grundprinzipien der organischen Wissenschaft gefunden habe, aus denen sich alles übrige müsse ableiten lassen. In früherer Zeit aber wirkte das alles unbewußt in seinem Geiste und er behandelte die Tatsachen darnach. 83Goethe empfand dies sein unbewußtes Handeln oft als Dumpfheit. Siehe K. J. Schröer, Faust von Goethe, 6. Aufl., Stuttgart 1926, Bd. II,S. XXXIV ff. Gegenständlich wurde es ihm erst durch jenes erste wissenschaftliche Gespräch mit Schiller, welches wir unten mitteilen. 84Natw. Schr., 1. Bd., S. 108 ff. Schiller erkannte sogleich die ideelle Natur von Goethes Urpflanze und behauptete, einer solchen könne keine Wirklichkeit angemessen sein. Das regte Goethe an, über das Verhältnis dessen, was er Typus nannte, zur empirischen Wirklichkeit nachzudenken. Er traf hier auf ein Problem, welches zu den bedeutsamsten des menschlichen Forschens überhaupt gehört: das Problem des Zusammenhangs von Idee und Wirklichkeit, von Denken und Erfahrung. Das wurde ihm immer klarer: die einzelnen empirischen Objekte entsprechen keines seinem Typus vollkommen; kein Wesen der Natur war mit ihm identisch. Der Inhalt des Typusbegriffes kann also nicht aus der Sinnenwelt als solcher stammen, obwohl er an derselben gewonnen wird. Er muß also in dem Typus selbst liegen; die Idee des Urwesens konnte nur eine solche sein, welche vermöge einer in ihr selbst liegenden Notwendigkeit einen Inhalt aus sich entwickelt, der dann in anderer Form - In Form der Anschauung - in der Erscheinungswelt auftritt. Es ist in dieser Hinsicht interessant, zu sehen, wie Goethe selbst empirischen Naturforschern gegenüber für die Rechte der Erfahrung und die strenge Auseinanderhaltung von Idee und Objekt eintritt. Sömmerring übersendet ihm im Jahre 1786 ein Buch, in dem er (Sömmerring) den Versuch macht, den Sitz der Seele zu entdecken. Goethe findet in einem Briefe, den er am 28. August 1796 an Sömmerring richtet, daß dieser zu viel Metaphysik mit seinen Anschauungen verwoben habe; eine Idee über Gegenstände der Erfahrung habe keine Berechtigung, wenn sie über diese hinausginge, wenn sie nicht im Wesen der Objekte selbst begründet ist. Bei Objekten der Erfahrung sei die Idee ein Organ, das als notwendigen Zusammenhang zu fassen, was sonst im blinden Neben- und Nacheinander bloß wahrgenommen würde. Daraus aber, daß die Idee nichts Neues zu dem Objekte hinzubringen darf, folgt, daß das letztere selbst, seinem eigenen Wesen nach ein Ideelles ist, daß überhaupt die empirische Realität zwei Seiten haben muß: die eine, wonach sie Besonderes, Individuelles, die andere, wonach sie Ideell-Allgemeines ist.

[ 31 ] Der Umgang mit den zeitgenössischen Philosophen sowie die Lektüre der Werke derselben führte Goethe manchen Gesichtspunkt in dieser Hinsicht zu. Schellings Werk «Von der Weltseele» und dessen « [Erster] Entwurf eines Systems der Naturphilosophie» ([Goethes] Annalen zu 1798-1799) sowie Steffens «Grundzüge der philosophischen Naturwissenschaft» wirkten befruchtend auf ihn ein. Auch mit Hegel wurde manches durchgesprochen. Diese Anregungen führten endlich dahin, daß Kant, mit dem sich Goethe schon einmal, durch Schiller angeregt, beschäftigt hatte, wieder vorgenommen wurde. 1817 (siehe Annalen) betrachtete er geschichtlich dessen Einfluß auf seine Ideen über Natur und natürliche Dinge. Diesem auf das Zentrale der Wissenschaft gehenden Nachdenken verdanken wir die Aufsätze:

Glückliches Ereignis,
Anschauende Urteilskraft,
Bedenken und Ergebung,
Bildungstrieb,
Das Unternehmen wird entschuldigt,
Die Absicht eingeleitet,
Der Inhalt bevorwortet,
Geschichte meines botanischen Studiums

Entstehen des Aufsatzes über Metamorphose der Pflanzen.

[ 32 ] Alle diese Aufsätze sprechen den oben schon angedeuteten Gedanken aus, daß jedes Objekt zwei Seiten hat: die eine unmittelbare seines Erscheinens (Erscheinungsform), die zweite, welche sein Wesen enthält. So gelangt Goethe zu der allein befriedigenden Naturanschauung, welche die eine wahrhaft objektive Methode begründet. Wenn eine Theorie die Idee als etwas dem Objekte selbst Fremdes, bloß Subjektives betrachtet, so kann sie nicht behaupten, wahrhaft objektiv zu sein, wenn sie sich nur überhaupt der Idee bedient. Goethe aber kann behaupten, nichts zu den Objekten hinzuzufügen, was nicht schon in ihnen selbst läge.

[ 33 ] Auch ins Einzelne, Tatsächliche hin verfolgte Goethe jene Wissenszweige, auf welche seine Ideen Bezug hatten. Im Jahre 1795 (siehe K. A. Böttiger, Literarische Zustände und Zeitgenossen usw. I. Bd., Leipzig 1838, S. 49) hörte er bei Loder Bänderlehre; er verlor überhaupt in dieser Zeit die Anatomie und Physiologie nicht aus den Augen, was um so wichtiger erscheint, als er gerade damals seine Vorträge über Osteologie niederschrieb. 1796 wurden Versuche gemacht, Pflanzen im Finstern und unter farbigen Gläsern zu ziehen. Später wurde auch die Metamorphose der Insekten verfolgt.

[ 34 ] Eine weitere Anregung kam von dem Philologen [F. A.] Wolf, der Goethe auf seinen Namensvetter Wolff aufmerksam machte [WA 27, 209 f.], welcher in seiner «Theoria generationis» schon im Jahre 1759 Ideen ausgesprochen hatte, die denen Goethes über die Metamorphose der Pflanzen ähnlich waren. Goethe wurde dadurch veranlaßt, sich mit Wolff eingehender zu beschäftigen, welches im Jahre 1807 geschah (siehe Annalen zu 1807 und Natw. Schr., 1. Bd., S. 5); er fand indes später, daß Wolff bei all seinem Scharfsinn gerade die Hauptsachen noch nicht klar waren. Den Typus als ein Unsinnliches, seinen Inhalt bloß aus innerer Notwendigkeit Entwickelndes, kannte er noch nicht. Er betrachtete die Pflanze noch als einen äußerlichen, mechanischen Zusammenhang von Einzelheiten.

[ 35 ] Der Verkehr mit zahlreichen befreundeten Naturforschern sowie die Freude darüber, daß er bei vielen verwandten Geistern Anerkennung und Nachahmung seines Strebens gefunden hatte, brachten Goethe im Jahre 1807 auf den Gedanken, die bis dahin zurückgehaltenen Fragmente seiner naturwissenschaftlichen Studien herauszugeben. Von dem Vorhaben, ein größeres naturwissenschaftliches Werk zu schreiben, kam er allmählich ab. Es kam aber zur Herausgabe der einzelnen Aufsätze im Jahre 1807 noch nicht. Das Interesse an der Farbenlehre drängte die Morphologie wieder für einige Zeit in den Hintergrund. Das erste Heft derselben erschien erst im Jahre 1817. Bis 1824 erschienen dann zwei Bände, der erste in vier, der zweite in zwei Heften. Neben den Aufsätzen über Goethes eigene Ansichten finden wir hier Besprechungen bedeutenderer literarischer Erscheinungen aus dem Gebiete der Morphologie und auch Abhandlungen anderer Gelehrter, deren Ausführungen sich aber stets ergänzend zu Goethes Naturerklärung verhalten.

[ 36 ] Zu einer intensiveren Beschäftigung fand sich Goethe in bezug auf die Naturwissenschaft noch zweimal aufgefordert. In beiden Fällen waren es bedeutende literarische Erscheinungen auf dem Gebiete dieser Wissenschaft, die mit seinen eigenen Bestrebungen innigst zusammenhingen. Das erste Mal ward durch die Arbeiten des Botanikers Martius über die Spiraltendenz die Anregung gegeben, das zweite Mal durch einen naturwissenschaftlichen Streit in der französischen Akademie der Wissenschaften.

[ 37 ] Martius setzte die Pflanzenform in ihrer Entwicklung aus einer Spiral- und einer Vertikaltendenz zusammen. Die Vertikaltendenz bewirkt das Wachsen in der Richtung der Wurzel und des Stengels; die Spiraltendenz die Ausbreitung in den Blättern, Blüten usw. Goethe sah in diesem Gedanken nur eine mehr auf das Räumliche (vertikal, spiral) Rücksicht nehmende Ausbildung seiner bereits in der Schrift über die Metamorphose 1790 niedergelegten Ideen. Bezüglich des Beweises dieser Behauptung verweisen wir auf die Anmerkungen zu Goethes Aufsatz «Über die Spiraltendenz der Vegetation», 85Na-tw. Schr., 1. Bd., S.217ff. aus denen hervorgeht, daß Goethe in demselben nichts wesentlich Neues gegenüber seinen früheren Ideen vorbringt. Wir möchten dieses besonders an jene richten, welche behaupten, daß hier sogar ein Rückschritt Goethes von früheren klaren Anschauungen bis zu den «tiefsten Tiefen der Mystik» wahrzunehmen sei.

[ 38 ] Noch im höchsten Alter (1830-32) verfaßte Goethe zwei Aufsätze über den Streit der beiden französischen turforscher Cuvier und Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire. In diesen Aufsätzen finden wir noch einmal in schlagender Kürze die Prinzipien von Goethes Naturanschauung zusammengestellt.

[ 39 ] Cuvier war ganz im Sinne der älteren Naturforscher Empiriker. Für jede Tierart suchte er einen ihr entsprechenden, besonderen Begriff. So viele einzelne Tierarten die Natur darbietet, so viele einzelne Typen glaubte er in den gedanklichen Aufbau seines Systems der organischen Natur aufnehmen zu müssen. Die einzelnen Typen standen bei ihm aber ganz unvermittelt nebeneinander. Was er nicht berücksichtigte, ist folgendes. Mit dem Besonderen als solchem, wie es uns unmittelbar in der Erscheinung gegenübertritt, ist unser Erkenntnisbedürfnis nicht befriedigt. Da wir aber einem Wesen der Sinnenwelt mit keiner anderen Absicht gegenübertreten, als eben dieses Wesen zu erkennen, so ist nicht anzunehmen, daß der Grund, warum wir uns mit dem Besonderen als solchem nicht befriedigt erklären, in unserem Erkenntnisvermögen liege. Er muß vielmehr im Objekte selbst liegen. Das Wesen des Besonderen selbst ist in dieser seiner Besonderheit eben durchaus noch nicht erschöpft; es drängt, um verstanden zu werden, zu einem solchen hin, welches kein Besonderes, sondern ein Allgemeines ist. Dieses Ideell-Allgemeine ist das eigentliche Wesen - die Essenz - eines jeden besonderen Daseins. Das letztere hat in der Besonderheit nur eine Seite seines Daseins, während die zweite das Allgemeine - der Typus - ist (siehe Goethes «Sprüche in Prosa»; Natw. Schr., 4. Bd., 2. Abt., S. 374). So ist es zu verstehen, wenn von dem Besonderen als einer Form des Allgemeinen gesprochen wird. Da das eigentliche Wesen, die Inhaltlichkeit des Besonderen somit das Ideell-Allgemeine ist, so ist es unmöglich, daß das letztere aus dem Besonderen hergeleitet, von ihm abstrahiert werde. Es muß, da es nirgends seinen Inhalt entlehnen kann, sich diesen Inhalt selbst geben. Das Typisch-Allgemeine ist mithin ein solches, bei dem Inhalt und Form identisch sind. Deswegen kann es aber auch nur als ein Ganzes erfaßt werden, unabhängig vom Einzelnen. Die Wissenschaft hat die Aufgabe, an jedem Besonderen zu zeigen, wie dasselbe, seinem Wesen nach, sich dem Ideell-Allgemeinen unterordnet. Dadurch treten die besonderen Arten des Daseins in das Stadium gegenseitiger Bestimmtheit und Abhängigkeit. Was sonst nur als räumlichzeitliches Neben- und Nacheinander wahrgenommen werden kann, wird im notwendigen Zusammenhange gesehen. Cuvier wollte aber von letzterer Anschauung nichts wissen. Sie war hingegen diejenige Geoffroy Saint-Hilaires. So stellt sich in Wirklichkeit jene Seite dar, von welcher aus Goethe für jenen Streit Interesse hatte. Die Sache wurde vielfach dadurch entstellt, daß man durch die Brille modernster Anschauungen die Tatsachen in einem ganz anderen Lichte erblickte, als in dem sie erscheinen, wenn man ohne Voreingenommenheit an sie herantritt. Geoffroy berief sich nicht nur auf seine eigenen Forschungen, sondern auch auf mehrere deutsche Gesinnungsgenossen und nennt unter diesen auch Goethe.

[ 40 ] Das Interesse, welches Goethe an dieser Sache hatte, war ein außerordentliches. Er war hocherfreut, in Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire einen Genossen zu finden: «Jetzt ist Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire entschieden auf unserer Seite und mit ihm alle bedeutenden Schüler und Anhänger Frankreichs. Dieses Ereignis ist für mich von ganz unglaublichem Wert und ich juble mit Recht über den endlichen Sieg einer Sache, der ich mein Leben gewidmet habe und die vorzüglich auch die meinige ist», sagt er am 2. August 1830 zu Eckermann. Es ist überhaupt eine eigentümliche Erscheinung, daß Goethes Forschungen in Deutschland nur bei den Philosophen, weniger aber bei den Naturforschern, in Frankreich hingegen bei letzteren bedeutenderen Anklang fanden. De Candolle schenkte der Goetheschen Metamorphosenlehre die größte Aufmerksamkeit, behandelte überhaupt die Botanik in einer Weise, welche den Goetheschen Anschauungen nicht ferne stand. Auch war Goethes «Metamorphose» bereits durch [F. de] Gingins-Lassaraz ins Französische übersetzt. Unter solchen Verhältnissen konnte Goethe wohl hoffen, daß eine unter seiner Mitwirkung besorgte Übersetzung seiner botanischen Schriften ins Französische nicht auf unfruchtbaren Boden fallen werde. Eine solche lieferte denn auch 1831 unter Goethes fortwährender Beihilfe Friedrich Jakob Soret. Sie enthielt jenen ersten «Versuch» von 1790 (vgl. Natw. Schr., 1. Bd., S. 17ff.); die Geschichte des botanischen Studiums Goethes (ebenda S. 61ff.) und die Wirkung seiner Lehre auf die Zeitgenossen (ebenda S. 194ff.), sowie einiges über de Candolle, französisch mit gegenüberstehendem deutschen Text.

4. on the nature and significance of Goethe's writings on organic formation

[ 1 ] The great significance of Goethe's morphological works is to be found in the fact that in them the theoretical basis and the method of the study of organic natures is established, which is a scientific deed of the first rank.

[ 2 ] If one wishes to appreciate this in the right way, one must first of all bear in mind the great difference that exists between phenomena of inorganic and those of organic nature. A phenomenon of the former kind is, for example, the collision of two elastic spheres. If one ball is at rest and the other collides with it in a certain direction and with a certain speed, the latter will also have a certain direction of movement and a certain speed. If it is a question of comprehending such a phenomenon, this can only be achieved by transforming what is immediately available to the senses into concepts. We must succeed in this to the extent that nothing sensually real remains which we have not penetrated conceptually. We see one sphere arriving, bumping into the other, the latter moving on. We have conceived this phenomenon when we can determine the speed and direction of the latter from the mass, direction and velocity of the first and from the mass of the other; when we realize that under the given conditions this phenomenon must occur with necessity. But the latter means nothing else than: That which presents itself to our senses must appear as a necessary consequence of what we have to presuppose ideally. If the latter is the case, we can say that concept and appearance coincide. There is nothing in the concept that is not also in the phenomenon and nothing in the phenomenon that is not also in the concept. Now we have to look more closely at those relationships as a necessary consequence of which an appearance of inorganic nature occurs. Here the important circumstance arises that the sensually perceptible processes of inorganic nature are conditioned by relations which also belong to the world of the senses. In our case, mass, velocity and direction, i.e. definitely conditions of the sensory world, come into consideration. Nothing else appears as a condition of appearance. Only the directly sense-perceptible circumstances are interdependent. A conceptual grasp of such processes is therefore nothing other than a derivation of the sense-perceptible-real from the sense-perceptible-real. Spatio-temporal relationships, mass, weight or sensually perceptible forces such as light or heat are what cause phenomena that belong to the same series. A body is heated and thereby increases its volume; the first as well as the second belongs to the world of the senses, both the cause and the effect. In order to understand such processes, therefore, we do not need to leave the world of the senses. We only deduce one phenomenon from another within it. If, therefore, we wish to explain such a phenomenon, i.e. to penetrate it conceptually, we have no other elements to include in the concept than those which can also be perceived with our senses. We can look at everything we want to grasp. And this is the ceiling of perception (appearance) and concept. Nothing remains obscure to us in the processes because we know the relationships from which they follow. We have thus developed the essence of inorganic nature and at the same time shown the extent to which we can explain it from within itself without going beyond it. There has never been any doubt about this explainability since we first began to think about the nature of these things. One has not always gone through the above train of thought, from which the possibility of a congruence of concept and perception follows; but one has never hesitated to explain phenomena in the manner indicated from the nature of their own being. 64Some philosophers maintain that we can trace the phenomena of the sense world back to their original elements (forces), but that we can explain them just as little as the essence of life. On the other hand, it should be noted that these elements are simple, i.e. cannot be further composed of simpler elements. However, it is impossible to derive or explain them in their simplicity, not because our cognitive faculty is limited, but because they are based on themselves; they are present to us in their immediacy, they are self-contained, cannot be derived from anything else.

[ 3 ] The situation was different until Goethe with the phenomena of the organic world. In the organism, the conditions perceptible to the senses, e.g. shape, size, color, thermal conditions of an organ, do not appear conditioned by conditions of the same kind. It cannot be said of a plant, for example, that the size, shape, position, etc. of the root determine the sensually perceptible conditions of the leaf or flower. A body in which this were the case would not be an organism, but a machine. On the contrary, it must be admitted that all sensory relationships in a living being do not appear as a consequence of other sensory-perceptible relationships, as is the case with inorganic nature.65This is precisely the contrast between the organism and the machine. In the latter, everything is an interaction of parts. Nothing real exists in the machine itself except this interaction. The unified principle which governs the interaction of those parts is absent in the object itself and lies outside it in the mind of the designer as a plan. Only the most extreme short-sightedness can deny that this is precisely the difference between organism and mechanism, that the principle which brings about the interaction of the parts is only present outside (abstractly) in the latter, whereas in the former it gains real existence in the thing itself. Thus the sensually perceptible relations of the organism do not appear as a mere consequence of one another, but as dominated by that inner principle, as a consequence of such a principle which is no longer sensually perceptible. In this respect it is just as little perceptible to the senses as that plan in the mind of the constructor, which is also only there for the mind; indeed, it is essentially that plan, except that it has now moved into the interior of the being and no longer carries out its effects through the mediation of a third party - that constructor - but does so directly itself. Rather, all sensory qualities appear here as the consequence of something which is no longer sensually perceptible. They appear as the consequence of a higher unity hovering above the sensory processes. It is not the form of the root that determines the form of the stem, nor the form of the stem that determines the form of the leaf, etc., but all these forms are determined by something above them, which is not itself a sensory-perceptual form; they are there for each other, but not through each other. They are not interdependent, but are all conditioned by another. We cannot derive what we perceive sensually from sensually perceptible relationships, we must include elements in the concept of processes that do not belong to the world of the senses, we must go beyond the world of the senses. It is no longer enough to look at things, we must grasp the unity conceptually if we want to explain phenomena. This, however, leads to a distancing of perception and concept; they no longer seem to coincide; the concept hovers above the perception. It becomes difficult to see the connection between the two. Whereas in inorganic nature concept and reality were one, here they seem to diverge and actually belong to two different worlds. The view that presents itself directly to the senses does not seem to have its foundation, its essence, in itself. The object does not seem to be explainable by itself, because its concept is not derived from itself, but from something else. Because the object does not appear to be governed by the laws of the world of the senses, but is nevertheless there for the senses, appears to them, it is as if we were faced here with an insoluble contradiction in nature, as if there were a gulf between inorganic phenomena, which can be understood by themselves, and organic beings, in which an intervention in the laws of nature occurs, in which universally valid laws are suddenly broken through. This gulf was in fact until Goethe generally accepted in science; only he succeeded in speaking the solving word of the riddle. Before him, it was thought that only inorganic nature could be explained by itself; human cognition ceased with organic nature. The magnitude of Goethe's achievement is best appreciated when one considers that the great reformer of modern philosophy Kant not only shared this old error completely, but even sought to find a scientific justification for the fact that the human mind would never succeed in explaining organic formations. He did see the possibility of an intellect - an intellectus archetypus, an intuitive intellect - which would be able to see through the connection between concept and reality in organic beings just as it does in inorganic beings; but he denied the possibility of such an intellect in man himself. According to Kant, the human mind is supposed to have the property that it can only conceive of the unity, the concept of a thing as arising from the interaction of the parts - as an analytical general obtained through abstraction - but not in such a way that each individual part appears as the outflow of a certain concrete (synthetic) unity, a concept in intuitive form. Therefore it is also impossible for this understanding to explain organic nature, for this would have to be conceived as acting out of the whole into the parts. Kant says of this: "Our understanding therefore has the peculiarity for the power of judgment that knowledge is not determined by it, by the general, by the particular, and therefore the latter cannot be derived from the former.66Kant, Kritik der Urteilskraft; edition by Kehrbach, p. 294. Thus, in the case of organic formations, we would have to refrain from recognizing the necessary connection between the idea of the whole, which can only be thought, and what appears to our senses in space and time. According to Kant, we would have to limit ourselves to recognizing that such a connection exists; but the logical requirement of recognizing how the general thought, the idea, emerges from itself and reveals itself as a sensuous reality, this could not be fulfilled in the case of organisms. Rather, we would have to assume that concept and reality are here directly opposite each other and have been brought about by an influence outside the two in the same way as man builds some composite thing, e.g. a machine, according to an idea he has conceived. This denied the possibility of an explanation of the world of organisms, even seemingly proving its impossibility.

[ 4 ] This is how things stood when Goethe set out to cultivate the organic sciences. But he set about studying them after he had been prepared for them in the most appropriate way through repeated readings of the philosopher Spinoza.

[ 5 ] The first time Goethe approached Spinoza was in the spring of 1774. Goethe says of this first acquaintance with the philosopher in “Dichtung und Wahrheit”: 67III. “After I had looked around the world in vain for a means of educating my strange nature, I finally came across the ethicsof this man”. In the summer of the same year, Goethe met Friedrich Jacobi. The latter, who dealt with Spinoza in greater detail - as evidenced by his letters on Spinoza's teachings in 1785 - was entirely suited to introducing Goethe more deeply to the philosopher's nature. Spinoza was also much discussed at the time, for with Goethe "everything was still in its first effect and counter-effect, fermenting and boiling". 68Dichtung und Wahrheit, III. Teil, 14. Buch. Some time later, he found a book in his father's library whose author fought fiercely against Spinoza, even disfiguring him to the point of a complete grimace. This prompted Goethe to take another serious look at this profound thinker. In his writings he found answers to the deepest scientific questions that he was capable of raising at the time. In 1784, the poet read Spinoza with Frau von Stein. He wrote to his friend on November 19, 1784: "I am bringing Spinoza with me in Latin, where everything is much clearer ..." [WA 6, 392] The effect of this philosopher on Goethe was now immense. Goethe himself was always clear about this. In 1816 he wrote to Zelter: "Apart from Shakespeare and Spinoza I would not know that any other departed person has had such an effect on me (as Linné)" [WA 27, 219] He thus regarded Shakespeare and Spinoza as the two spirits who had the greatest influence on him. How this influence manifested itself in relation to the studies of organic education becomes clearest to us when we consider a word about Lavater from the "Italian Journey": Lavater also held the view, generally accepted at the time, that a living thing could only come into being through an influence not inherent in the nature of beings themselves, through a disturbance of the general laws of nature. Goethe wrote the following words about this: "The other day, in a tiresome apostolic-capuchin-like declamation by the Zurich prophet, I found the nonsensical words: Everything that has life lives through something outside itself. Or so it sounded. Now a heathen proselytizer can write that down, and the genius won't "pluck him by the sleeve" when revising it. 69Italian Journey, Oct. 5, 1787. Now this is spoken entirely in the spirit of Spinoza. Spinoza distinguishes between three types of knowledge. The first kind is that in which we remember things when we hear or read certain words and form certain ideas of these things, similar to those by which we visualize them. The second kind of cognition is that in which we form common concepts from sufficient ideas of the properties of things. The third kind of knowledge, however, is that in which we proceed from the sufficient conception of the real nature of some of God's attributes to the sufficient knowledge of the nature of things. Spinoza now calls this kind of knowledge scientia intuitiva, the conceiving knowledge. It was this latter, the highest kind of knowledge, that Goethe was striving for. Above all, we must be clear about what Spinoza wants to say: things are to be known in such a way that we recognize some attributes of God in their essence. Spinoza's God is the idea content of the world, the driving, all-supporting and all-sustaining principle. We can either imagine it as an independent being, existing separately from the finite beings, which has these finite things beside it, dominates them and brings them into interaction. Or else, one imagines this being as being absorbed into the finite things, so that it no longer exists above and beside them, but only in them. This view by no means denies that primordial principle, it fully recognizes it, only it regards it as poured into the world. The first view regards the finite world as a revelation of the Infinite, but this Infinite remains in its essence, it forgives itself nothing. It does not go out of itself, it remains what it was before its revelation. The second view also sees the finite world as a revelation of the infinite, only it assumes that this infinite in its revelation has gone completely out of itself, has put itself, its own being and life into its creation, so that it only exists in this. Since cognition is obviously an awareness of the essence of things, but this essence can only exist in the part that a finite being has of the primal principle of all things, cognition is called an awareness of that which is infinite in things. 70Some attributes of God in them. Now, as we have explained above, before Goethe it was assumed that inorganic nature could be explained by itself, that it bore its reason and its essence within itself, but not so in organic nature. Here one could not recognize that essence which reveals itself in the object in the latter itself. It was therefore assumed to be external to it. In short, organic nature was explained according to the first view, inorganic nature according to the second. As we have seen, Spinoza had proved the necessity of unified knowledge. He was too much of a philosopher to extend this theoretical demand to the special branches of organic science.* This was left to Goethe. Not only the above statement, but numerous others prove to us that he was firmly committed to the Spinozist view. In "Dichtung und Wahrheit": 71IV. "Nature works according to eternal, necessary, so divine laws that the deity itself could not change it. " And with regard to Jacobi's book published in 1811: "Von den göttlichen Dingen und ihrer Offenbarung" Goethe remarks: 72Tag- und Jahres-Hefte 1811. "How could I welcome the book of such a warmly beloved friend, in which I was to see the thesis carried out: nature conceals God. With my pure, deep, innate and practiced way of looking at things, which had taught me to see God in nature and nature in God without fail, so that this way of looking at things was the basis of my whole existence, did not such a strange, one-sided and limited statement have to distance me in spirit from the noblest man, whose heart I adored, forever?" Goethe was fully aware of the great step he was taking in science; he realized that by breaking down the barriers between inorganic and organic nature and consistently applying Spinoza's way of thinking, he was bringing about a significant change in science. We find this realization expressed in the essay Anschauende Urteilskraft Having found the Kantian justification of the inability of the human mind to explain an organism in the "Critique of Judgment" that we have mentioned above, he speaks out against it thus: "It is true that the author (Kant) seems here to point to a divine intellect, but if in the moral we are to elevate ourselves to an upper region through belief in God, virtue, and immortality, and approach the first being, it may well be the same case in the intellectual, that by beholding an ever-creating nature we make ourselves worthy of spiritual participation in its productions. If I had first unconsciously and from an inner drive restlessly pressed for that archetypal, typical thing, if I had even succeeded in building up a natural representation, nothing could now prevent me from courageously passing the adventure of reason, as the old man from Königsberg himself calls it." [Natw. Schr., 1st vol. p. 116.]

[ 6 ] The essence of a process of inorganic nature, or in other words: of a process belonging to the mere sense world, consists in the fact that it is caused and determined by another process also belonging only to the sense world. Let us now assume that the causative process consists of the elements m, c and r, 73mass, direction and velocity of a moving elastic sphere, and that the effected process consists of m', c' and r'; thus, for certain m, c, and r, m', c' and r' are always determined by those elements. If I now want to understand the process, I must represent the whole process, which is composed of cause and effect, in a common concept. But this concept is not such that it lies in the process itself and that it could determine the process. It now summarizes both processes in a common expression. It neither causes nor determines. Only the objects of the sense world determine themselves. The elements m, c and r are also perceptible elements for the external senses. The concept only appears there to serve the mind as a means of summarization, it expresses something that is not ideal, not conceptual, that is sensually real. And that something which it expresses is a sensuous object. Knowledge of inorganic nature is based on the possibility of grasping the external world through the senses and expressing their interaction through concepts. Kant saw the possibility of recognizing things in this way as the only one available to man. He called this thinking discursive; what we want to know is external perception; the concept, the summarizing unity, is merely a means. But if we wanted to know organic nature, we would not have to grasp the ideal moment, the conceptual, as one that expresses, means, borrows its content from another, but we would have to recognize the ideal as such; it would have to have its own content originating from itself, not from the spatio-temporal world of the senses. That unity, which our mind merely abstracts there, would have to be based on itself, it would have to form itself out of itself, it would have to be formed according to its own essence, not according to the influences of other objects. The comprehension of such an entity that forms itself out of itself, that reveals itself by its own power, should be denied to man. What is necessary for such a comprehension? A power of judgment that can also lend a thought a substance other than merely a substance received through the external senses, a power that can grasp not only the sensible, but also the purely ideal for itself, separated from the sensory world. One can now call a concept that is not taken from the sensory world by abstraction, but which has a content flowing from it and only from it, an intuitive concept and the cognition of it an intuitive one. What follows from this is clear: an organism can only be grasped in the intuitive concept. That it is granted to man to recognize in this way is shown by Goethe's deed.*

[ 7 ] In the inorganic world there is interaction between the parts of a series of phenomena, mutual interdependence of the members of the same series. This is not the case in the organic world. Here it is not one member of a being that determines the other, but the whole (the idea) determines each individual from itself, according to its own nature. This self-determining entity can be called, with Goethe, an entelechy. Entelechy is therefore the force that calls itself into existence out of itself. What comes into appearance also has a sensuous existence, but this is determined by that entelechical principle. This is also the source of the apparent contradiction. The organism determines itself out of itself, makes its properties according to a presupposed principle, and yet it is sensually real. It has thus arrived at its sensuous reality in a quite different way from the other objects of the sense world; it therefore seems to have come into being in a non-natural way. But it is also quite understandable that the organism in its outward appearance is just as exposed to the influences of the sense world as any other body. A stone falling from a roof can hit a living being as well as an inorganic body. The organism is connected with the external world through the intake of food etc.; all physical conditions of the external world have an effect on it. Of course, this can only take place insofar as the organism is an object of the sensory world, a spatio-temporal object. This object of the external world, the entelechical principle that has come into existence, is the external appearance of the organism. However, since it is not only subject to its own laws of formation, but also to the conditions of the external world, not only as it should be according to the nature of the entelechical principle that determines itself from within itself, but also as it is dependent on and influenced by others, it never appears completely appropriate to itself, as it were, never merely obeying its own nature. Then human reason enters and forms in the idea an organism that is not in accordance with the influences of the external world, but only in accordance with that principle. Every accidental influence, which has nothing to do with the organic as such, falls away completely. This idea, which corresponds purely to the organic in the organism, is now the idea of the primordial organism, the type of Goethe. From this we can also see the high justification of this type idea. It is not a mere concept of understanding, it is that which is truly organic in every organism, without which it would not be an organism. It is even more real than any individual real organism, because it manifests itself in every organism. It also expresses the essence of an organism more fully, more purely than any individual, particular organism. It is obtained in a substantially different way than the concept of an inorganic process. The latter is extracted, abstracted from reality, it is not effective in the latter; the idea of the organism, however, is active, effective as entelechy in the organism; in the form grasped by our reason it is only the essence of entelechy itself. It does not summarize experience; it affects that which is to be experienced. Goethe expresses this with the words: "Concept is sum, idea result of experience; to draw the latter, understanding is required, to grasp the latter, reason." (Proverbs in Prose [Natw. Schr., 4th vol., 2nd abb., p. 379]) This explains the kind of reality that belongs to Goethe's primeval organism (primeval plant or primeval animal). This Goethean method is obviously the only possible one for penetrating into the essence of the world of organisms.

[ 8 ] In the case of the inorganic, it is to be regarded as essential that the phenomenon in its multiplicity is not identical with the lawfulness that explains it, but merely points to the latter as something external to it. View - the material element of cognition - which is given to us through the external senses, and the concept - the formal - through which we recognize the view as necessary, stand opposite each other as two elements that objectively demand each other, but in such a way that the concept does not lie in the individual members of a series of appearances themselves, but in a relationship between them. This relationship, which summarizes the multiplicity into a unified whole, is grounded in the individual parts of the given, but as a whole (as a unity) it does not come to real, concrete appearance. Only the members of this relationship come to external existence - in the object. The unity, the concept, as such only appears in our understanding. It has the task of summarizing the multiplicity of appearances; it relates to the latter as a sum. We are dealing here with a duality, with the manifold thing that we look at and with the unity that we think. In organic nature, the parts of the manifold of a being are not in such an external relationship to one another. The unity comes to reality at the same time as the multiplicity, as identical with it in what is seen. The relationship between the individual members of a manifest entity (organism) has become a real one. It no longer comes to concrete appearance merely in our understanding, but in the object itself, in the latter of which it produces the multiplicity from itself. The concept does not merely have the role of a sum, of something summarizing, which has its object outside itself; it has become completely one with it. What we look at is no longer different from that by which we think what we look at; we look at the concept as an idea itself. This is why Goethe calls the faculty by which we comprehend organic nature anschauende Urteilskraft. The explaining - the formal of cognition, the concept - and the explained - the material, the contemplation - are identical. The idea through which we grasp the organic is thus essentially different from the concept through which we explain the inorganic; it does not merely summarize a given manifold - like a sum - but sets its own content out of itself. It is the result of the given (of experience), a concrete phenomenon. This is the reason why in inorganic natural science we speak of laws (laws of nature) and explain the facts through them, whereas in organic. Nature, on the other hand, we do this using types . The law is not one and the same with the manifoldness of the view that it dominates, it stands above it; in the type, however, the ideal and the real have become one, the manifold can only be explained as starting from a point of the whole that is identical with it.

[ 9 ] The significance of Goethe's research lies in the recognition of this relationship between the science of the inorganic and that of the organic. One is therefore mistaken if today the latter is often declared to be an anticipation of that monism which seeks to establish a unified view of nature encompassing both the organic and the inorganic by endeavoring to trace the former back to the same laws - the mechanical-physical categories and laws of nature - by which the latter is conditioned. We have seen how Goethe conceives of a monistic view. The way in which he explains the organic is essentially different from the way in which he proceeds with the inorganic. He wants the mechanical mode of explanation to be strictly rejected in the case of what is of a higher kind (see "Proverbs in Prose" [Natw. Schr., 4th vol., 2nd ed., p. 413]). He criticizes Kieser and Link for wanting to attribute organic phenomena to inorganic modes of action. (Ibid. 1st vol., pp. 198 and 206.)

[ 10 ] The reason for the indicated erroneous view of Goethe was the relationship in which he placed himself to Kant with regard to the possibility of a knowledge of organic nature. But when Kant asserts that our understanding is unable to explain organic nature, he certainly does not mean that it is based on mechanical laws and that he is only unable to grasp it as a consequence of mechanical-physical categories. According to Kant, the reason for this inability lies precisely in the fact that our understanding can only explain mechanical-physical things and that the essence of the organism is not of this nature. If it were, the intellect could very well comprehend it by means of the categories at its disposal. Goethe is not thinking of explaining the organic world despite Kant as a mechanism; rather, he claims that we are by no means deprived of the ability to recognize the higher kind of natural activity that constitutes the essence of the organic.

[ 11 ] When we consider what has been said above, we are immediately confronted with an essential difference between inorganic and organic nature. Because there any given process can cause another, which in turn can cause another and so on, the series of processes nowhere appears to be a closed one. Everything is in constant interaction, without a certain group of objects being able to close itself off from the influence of others. The inorganic series of actions have no beginning or end anywhere; the following is related to the preceding only by chance. If a stone falls to earth, its effect depends on the accidental form of the object on which it falls. The situation is different in an organism. Here unity is the first thing. The entelechy built upon itself contains a number of sensuous forms of organization, of which one must be the first, another the last; in which the one can only ever follow the other in a quite definite way, The ideal unity sets out of itself a series of sensuous organs in temporal succession and in spatial juxtaposition and separates itself in a quite definite way from the rest of nature. It sets its states out of itself. Therefore, they can only be understood in such a way that one follows the formation of successive states emerging from an ideal unity, i.e. an organic being can only be understood in its becoming, in its development. The inorganic body is closed, rigid, can only be aroused from the outside and is immobile on the inside. The organism is the restlessness within itself, constantly transforming, metamorphosing from within. The following sayings of Goethe refer to this: "Reason is dependent on what is becoming, understanding on what has become; the latter does not worry: what for? the latter does not ask: whence? -She delights in developing; he wishes to hold on to everything so that he can make use of it" ("Proverbs in Prose"; Natw. Schr., 4th vol., 2nd abb., p. 373) and "Reason has dominion only over the living; the created world, with which geognosy deals, is dead." [Ibid. p.373]

[ 12 ] The organism appears to us in nature in two main forms: as a plant and as an animal; in both in different ways. The plant differs from the animal in the lack of a real inner life. In the animal, the latter appears as sensation, voluntary movement, etc. The plant does not have such a mental principle. It is still completely absorbed in its exteriority, in its form. Inasmuch as this entelechical principle determines life from one point, as it were, it confronts us in the plant in such a way that all the individual organs are formed according to the same principle of form. Entelechy appears here as the formative power of the individual organs. The latter are all built according to one and the same type of formation, they appear as modifications of one basic organ, as repetitions of the same at different stages of development. That which makes the plant a plant, a certain formative power, is active in the same way in every organ. Each organ thus appears to be identical with all the others and also with the whole plant. Goethe expresses this as follows: "It has occurred to me that the true Proteus lies hidden in that organ of the plant which we usually refer to as a leaf, and that it can hide and reveal itself in all forms. Forwards and backwards the plant is always only a leaf, so inseparably united with the future germ that one cannot think of one without the other." 74Italian Journey, May 17, 1787. The plant thus appears to be composed, as it were, of nothing but individual plants, as a more complicated individual, which in turn consists of simpler ones. The formation of the plant thus progresses from stage to stage and forms organs; each organ is identical with every other, i.e. the same according to the principle of formation, but different in appearance. The inner unity of the plant expands, as it were, in breadth; it lives itself out in diversity, loses itself in it, so that it does not, as we shall see later in the animal, acquire a concrete existence endowed with a certain independence, which as a center of life confronts the diversity of organs and uses them as mediators with the outer world.

[ 13 ] The question now arises: How is this difference in the appearance of the plant organs, which are identical in their inner principle, brought about? How is it possible for the laws of formation, which all act according to one principle of design, to produce a leaflet on one occasion and a sepal on another? In the life of the plant, which is entirely external, the difference can also only be based on external, i.e. spatial moments. Goethe now sees alternating expansion and contraction as such. When the entelechical principle of plant life, which acts from a single point, comes into existence, it manifests itself as spatial; the formative forces act in space. They produce organs of a certain spatial form. Now these forces either concentrate, they strive together, as it were, into a single point; and this is the stage of contraction, or they spread out, unfold, they strive, as it were, to move away from each other: this is the stage of expansion. In the whole life of the plant, three expansions alternate with three contractions. Everything different that enters into the essentially identical formative forces of the plant comes from this alternating expansion and contraction. First, the whole plant rests on one point contracted in the seed (a). It now emerges from this and unfolds, expands in leaf formation (c). The forming forces repel each other more and more, which is why the lower leaves still appear rough and compact (cc'); the further upwards, the more ribbed and jagged they become. What was previously pressed together now moves apart (leaves d and e). What used to be in successive spaces (zz') now reappears in the formation of the keich (f)

Figure 1

[ 14 ] at one point of the stem (w). The latter forms the second contraction. An unfolding, spreading occurs recently in the corolla. The petals (g) are finer and more delicate in comparison to the sepals; this can only be due to a lower intensity at one point, i.e. a greater extension of the formative forces. The next contraction occurs in the reproductive organs [stamens (h) and pistil (i)], whereupon a new expansion takes place in the fruit formation (k). In the seed (a) that emerges from the fruit, the entire essence of the plant is again condensed into a single point. 75The fruit is formed by the outgrowth of the lower part of the pistil (ovary 1); it represents a later stage of the pistil and can therefore only be drawn separately. The final expansion occurs during fruit formation. Plant life differentiates itself into a concluding organ, the actual fruit, and into the seed; in the former all moments of appearance are, as it were, united, it is mere appearance, it alienates itself from life, becomes a dead product. All the inner, essential moments of plant life are concentrated in the seed. A new plant emerges from it. It has become almost entirely ideal, its appearance is reduced to a minimum.

[ 15 ] The whole plant represents only an unfolding, a realization of what is potentially dormant in the bud or in the seed. Bud and seed only need the appropriate external influences to become perfect plant formations. The difference between bud and seed is only that the latter has the earth directly as the ground of its unfolding, whereas the former generally represents a plant formation on a plant itself. The seed represents a plant individual of a higher kind, or, if you like, a whole circle of plant formations. The plant begins, as it were, a new stage of its life with each bud formation, it regenerates itself, it concentrates its forces in order to unfold them anew. The formation of buds is therefore also an interruption of vegetation. Plant life can contract into a bud when the conditions of actual real life are lacking, in order to unfold anew when they occur. The interruption of vegetation in winter is based on this. Goethe says about this: 76Italian Journey, Dec. 2, 1786. "It is quite interesting to notice how a lively vegetation that is not interrupted by severe cold works; there are no buds here, and one first learns to understand what a bud is." So what lies hidden in the bud with us is open during the day there; it is therefore true plant life that lies in the latter; only the conditions for its unfolding are missing.

[ 16 ]The concept of alternating expansion and contraction in Goethe has now been particularly opposed, but all attacks on it are based on a misunderstanding. It is believed that these concepts could only be valid if a physical cause could be found for them, if one could prove a mode of action of the laws at work in the plant from which such expansion and contraction would follow. This only shows that one is taking the matter to the extreme instead of to the base. There is nothing to be presupposed which causes expansion or contraction; on the contrary, everything else is a consequence of the former; they bring about a progressive metamorphosis from stage to stage. One cannot conceive of the concept in its self-existent, intuitive form; one demands that it should be the result of an external process. Expansion and contraction can only be thought of as caused, not as effected. Goethe does not regard expansion and contraction as if they followed from the nature of the inorganic processes taking place in the plant, but he regards them as the way in which that inner entelechical principle shapes itself. He could therefore not regard them as a sum, as a summary of sensory processes and deduce them from such, but he had to derive them as a consequence of the inner unified principle itself.

[ 17 ] Plant life is sustained by metabolism. With regard to this, there is an essential difference between those organs that are closer to the root, i.e. the organ that takes up nourishment from the earth, and those that receive the nutrient that has already passed through other organs. The former appear to be directly dependent on their external inorganic environment, the latter on the organic parts preceding them. Each succeeding organ therefore receives nourishment prepared, as it were, for itself by the preceding organ. Nature progresses from seed to fruit in a sequence of stages, so that what follows appears as the result of what precedes. And Goethe calls this progression a progression on a spiritual ladder. Nothing more than what we have indicated lies in his words, "that an upper node, by arising from the preceding one and receiving the juices indirectly through it, must receive them more finely and more filtered, must also enjoy the influence of the leaves that has happened in the meantime, must develop itself more finely and supply its leaves and eyes with finer juices". All of these things become understandable if one attaches to them the meaning intended by Goethe.

[ 18 ] The ideas set out here are the elements inherent in the essence of the primordial plant, and indeed in a manner appropriate to the plant itself, not as they appear in a particular plant, where they are no longer original but appropriate to external conditions.

[ 19 ] Now, of course, something different occurs in animal life. Life does not lose itself here in externality, but separates itself, separates itself from corporeality and uses corporeal appearance only as its tool. It no longer expresses itself as a mere ability to shape an organism from within, but expresses itself in an organism as something that is still there outside the organism, as its dominating power. The animal appears as a self-contained world, a microcosm in a much higher sense than the plant. It has a center that every organ serves.

"So every mouth is skillful to grasp the food,
Which is due to the body, be it weak and toothless
Or mightily toothed jaws; in either case,
an appropriate organ provides nourishment for the other limbs
. Also every foot, the long one, the short one, moves completely
harmoniously to the sense of the animal and its need." 77"Metamorphosis of Animals"; cf. Natw. Schr., 1st vol., p. 344.

[ 20 ] In the plant, the whole plant is in each organ, but the principle of life does not exist anywhere as a specific center; the identity of the organs lies in their formation according to the same laws. In the animal, each organ appears as coming from that center, the center forms all organs according to its nature. The form of the animal is therefore the basis for its external existence. But it is determined from within. The way of life must therefore be based on these inner principles of formation. On the other hand, the inner formation is in itself unrestricted, free; it can submit to external influences within certain limits; but this formation is one determined by the inner nature of the type and not by mechanical influences from outside. Adaptation cannot therefore go so far as to make the organism appear merely as a product of the external world. Its formation is a limited one.

"No god extends these limits, nature honors them;
For only thus limited was perfection ever possible." 78Metamorphosis of Animals, op. cit. p.345.

[ 21 ] If every animal being only conformed to the principles inherent in the primordial animal, they would all be the same. However, the animal organism is divided into a number of organ systems, each of which can reach a certain degree of development. This now gives rise to a differentiated development. Although, in principle, equal to all the others, one system can push itself to the fore, can utilize the reserve of formative powers in the animal organism and withdraw it from the other organs. The animal thus appears particularly developed in the direction of that organ system. Another animal appears to be formed in a different direction. Herein lies the possibility of the differentiation of the primordial organism during its transition into appearance into genera and species.

[ 22 ] However, the real (actual) causes of differentiation are not yet given. Here they come into their own: adaptation, according to which the organism shapes itself according to the external conditions surrounding it, and the struggle for existence, which works towards ensuring that only those beings best adapted to the prevailing circumstances survive. However, adaptation and the struggle for existence could have no effect at all on the organism if the principle constituting the organism were not one that can take on the most diverse forms while always maintaining inner unity. The connection between the external formative forces and this principle is by no means to be understood as if the former had a determining effect on the latter in the same way as one inorganic being has on another. The external conditions are indeed the cause that the type develops in a certain form; but this form itself is not to be derived from the external conditions, but from the inner principle. In this explanation one will always have to look for the former, but the form itself is not to be regarded as its consequence. Goethe would have rejected the derivation of the forms of an organism from the surrounding external world through mere causality, just as he did with the teleological principle, according to which the form of an organ was traced back to an external purpose that it had to serve.

[ 23 ] In those organ systems of the animal in which the outward appearance of the structure is more important, e.g. in the bones, the law observed in plants also emerges again, as in the formation of the skull bones. Goethe's gift of recognizing the inner lawfulness in purely external forms is particularly evident here.

[ 24 ] The difference that Goethe's views establish between plant and animal could appear trivial in view of the fact that modern science has reasons to justifiably doubt a fixed boundary between plant and animal. However, Goethe was already aware of the impossibility of establishing such a boundary (see Natw. Schr., 1st vol., p. 11). Nevertheless, there are certain definitions of plant and animal. This is connected with his whole view of nature. He does not assume any constant, fixed in appearance at all; for in the latter everything fluctuates in constant motion. The ess of a thing to be captured in the concept, however, is not to be taken from fluctuating forms, but from certain medium stages on which it can be observed (see loc. cit., p. 8). It is quite natural for Goethe's view that certain definitions are established and yet these are not retained in the experience of certain transitional formations. Indeed, he sees the mobile life of nature precisely in this.

[ 25 ] With these ideas, Goethe laid the theoretical foundation for organic science. He found the essence of the organism. One can easily misjudge this if one demands that the type, that principle (entelechy) which forms itself out of itself, should itself be explained by something else. But this is an unfounded demand, because the type, held in intuitive form, explains itself. For anyone who has grasped the "self-forming" of the entelechical principle, this is the solution to the riddle of life. Any other solution is impossible because it is the essence of the thing itself. If Darwinism must presuppose a primordial organism, then Goethe can be said to have discovered the essence of that primordial organism. 79In modern natural science, a primordial organism is usually understood to be a primordial cell (primordial cytode), i.e. a simple being that stands at the lowest stage of organic development. Here one has in mind a quite definite, real, sensuously real being. When we speak of the primordial organism in Goethe's sense, it is not this that we have in mind, but that essence (entity), that formative, entelechical principle which causes that primordial cell to be an organism. This principle appears in the simplest organism as well as in the most perfect, only in different forms. It is the animality in the animal, that by which a being is an organism. Darwin presupposes it from the beginning; it is there, is introduced, and then he says of it that it reacts in this or that way to the influences of the external world. For him it is an indeterminate X; Goethe seeks to explain this indeterminate X. It is Goethe who broke with the mere juxtaposition of genera and species and undertook a regeneration of organic science according to the nature of the organism. Whereas pre-Goethean systematics needed as many different concepts (ideas) as there were externally different genera, between which there was no mediation, Goethe explained that all organisms are the same in idea, only different in appearance; and he explained why they are so. This created the philosophical basis for a scientific system of organisms. It was only a question of implementing it. It would have to be shown how all real organisms are only manifestations of an idea and how they manifest themselves in a particular case.

[ 26 ] The great deed which was thus done in science was also recognized in many ways by more deeply educated scholars. The younger d'Alton 80Goethes Naturwissenschaftliche Korrespondenz (1812-1832), ed. by F.Th. Bratranek, 1st vol, p. 28. writes to Goethe on 6 July 1827: "I would consider it the greatest reward if Your Excellency, to whom natural science owes not only a complete transformation in magnificent overviews and new views of botany, but even many excellent enrichments in the field of bone science, would recognize in these sheets an endeavour worthy of applause." Nees von Esenbeck 81Ebenda, 2nd vol., p. 19 f. on 24 June 1820: "In your paper, which you called an ˂attempt to explain the metamorphosis of plants˃, the plant was the first among us to talk about itself and in this beautiful humanization it also captivated me when I was still young." Finally, Voigt 82Ebenda, 2nd vol., p. 330 f. on June 6, 1831: "With lively participation and humble thanks I received the little book on metamorphosis, which, as such an early participant in this doctrine, now also incorporates me historically in the most binding way. It is strange that animal metamorphosis - I do not mean the old insect metamorphosis, but that which originates in the spinal column - has been more favorably received than vegetable metamorphosis. Apart from the plagiarisms and abuses, the reason for the silent recognition may be that less was thought to be at risk with it. For in the skeleton the isolated bones remain eternally the same, but in botany metamorphosis threatens to overturn the whole terminology and consequently the determination of the species, and the weak are afraid because they do not know where such a thing could lead." There is a full understanding of Goethe's ideas here. There is an awareness that a new way of looking at the individual must take hold; and only from this new view should the new systematics, the contemplation of the particular, emerge. The type, built upon itself, contains the possibility of assuming infinitely manifold forms when it enters into appearance; and these forms are the object of our sensuous contemplation, they are the genera and species of organisms living in space and time. By grasping this general idea, the type, our mind has grasped the whole kingdom of organisms in its unity. If it now looks at the formation of the type in each particular form of appearance, the latter becomes comprehensible to it; it appears to it as one of the stages, the metamorphoses, in which the type is realized. And to show these different stages should be the essence of the systematics to be founded by Goethe. In both the animal and plant kingdoms there is an ascending series of development; organisms are divided into perfect and imperfect ones. How is this possible? The ideal form, the type of organism, has the characteristic that it consists of spatio-temporal elements. It therefore also appeared to Goethe as a sensual-supersensible form. It contains spatio-temporal forms as an ideal view (intuitive). When it now appears, the truly (no longer intuitive) sensuous form may or may not fully correspond to the ideal form; the type may or may not come to its perfect development. The lower organisms are lower precisely because their form of appearance does not fully correspond to the organic type. The more external appearance and organic type coincide in a particular being, the more perfect it is. This is the objective reason for an ascending series of development. The demonstration of this relationship in every form of organism is the task of a systematic presentation. When establishing the type, the primordial organisms, however, no consideration can be given to this; it can only be a matter of finding a form that represents the most perfect expression of the type. Goethe's Urpflanze is intended to offer such a form.

[ 27 ] Goethe has been reproached for not taking the world of cryptogams into consideration when composing his type. We have already pointed out earlier that this can only have happened in a completely conscious manner, since he was also concerned with the study of these plants. But there is an objective reason for this. The cryptogams are precisely those plants in which the original plant is only expressed in a highly one-sided way; they represent the plant idea in a one-sided sensory form. They can be judged on the basis of the established idea, but this idea itself is only fully expressed in the phanerogams.

[ 28 ] What is to be said here, however, is that Goethe never accomplished this realization of his basic ideas, that he did not enter the realm of the particular enough. Therefore, all his works remain fragmentary. His intention to shed light here, too, is shown by his words in the "Italian Journey" (September 27, 1786) that with the help of his ideas it would be possible for him to "truly determine genders and species, which, as I think, has been done very arbitrarily up to now". He did not carry out this plan, nor did he particularly explain the connection between his general ideas and the world of the particular, with the reality of the individual forms. He himself saw this as a shortcoming in his fragments; he wrote to [F.J.] Soret von de Candolle on June 28, 1828: "It is also becoming increasingly clear to me how he views the intentions in which I am proceeding and which are expressed clearly enough in my short essay on metamorphosis, but whose reference to empirical botany, as I have long known, is not clear enough." [WA 44, 161] This is probably also the reason why Goethe's views were so misunderstood; for they were only misunderstood because they were not understood at all.

[ 29 ] In Goethe's terms, we also receive an ideal explanation for the fact found by Darwin and Haeckel that the developmental history of the individual represents a repetition of tribal history. For what Haeckel offers here cannot be taken for more than an unexplained fact. It is the fact* that every individual passes through all those stages of development in an abbreviated form which paleontology at the same time shows us as separate organic forms. Haeckel and his followers explain this by the law of heredity. But the latter is itself nothing more than an abbreviated expression for the fact stated. The explanation is that those forms as well as every individual are the manifestations of one and the same archetype, which in successive periods of time brings to fruition the creative powers lying within it according to possibility. Every higher individual is more perfect precisely because it is not hindered by the favorable influences of its environment from developing completely freely according to its inner nature. If, on the other hand, the individual is forced by various influences to remain at a lower level, then only some of his inner forces come to manifestation, and then that which in the more perfect individual is only a part of a whole is a whole in him. And in this way the higher organism appears in its development to be composed of the lower ones, or the lower ones also appear in their development as parts of the higher. We must therefore see in the development of a higher animal the development of all the lower ones (biogenetic law). Just as the physicist is not satisfied with merely stating and describing the facts, but searches for the laws of the same, i.e. for the concepts of phenomena, so it cannot be enough for him who wants to penetrate into the nature of organic beings if he merely states the facts of kinship, heredity, the struggle for existence, etc., but he wants to recognize the ideas underlying these things. We find this striving in Goethe. What Kepler's three laws are to the physicist, Goethe's typological ideas are to the organicist. Without them, the world is a mere labyrinth of facts. This has often been misunderstood. It is claimed that the concept of metamorphosis in Goethe's sense is a mere image that has basically only taken place in our minds through abstraction. It would have been unclear to Goethe that the concept of the transformation of leaves into flower organs only had a meaning if the latter, e.g. the stamens, were once real leaves. But this turns Goethe's views upside down. One sensory organ is made the first in principle and the other is derived from it in a sensory way. Goethe never meant it that way. For him, that which is first in time is by no means first in idea, in principle. It is not because the stamens were once true leaves that they are related to the latter today; no, it is because they are ideally related in their inner essence that they once appeared as true leaves. The sensual transformation is only a consequence of the ideal relationship and not vice versa. Today the empirical fact of the identity of all the lateral organs of the plant has been established, but why are they called identical? According to Schleiden, because they all develop on the axis in such a way that they are pushed out as lateral projections, in such a way that the lateral cell formation remains only on the original body and no new cells are formed on the first formed tip. This is a purely external relationship, and the idea of identity is regarded as the consequence of it. The situation is different again with Goethe. For him, the lateral organs are identical in their idea, their inner essence; therefore they also appear outwardly as identical formations. For him, the sensory relationship is a consequence of the inner, ideal relationship. Goethe's view differs from the materialist view in the questions it poses; the two do not contradict each other, they complement each other. Goethe's ideas form the basis of the latter. Goethe's ideas are not merely a poetic prophecy of later discoveries, but independent theoretical discoveries which have not yet been sufficiently appreciated and which natural science will continue to feed on for a long time to come. Even if the empirical facts he used have long since been overtaken by more detailed research, and in some cases even refuted, the ideas he put forward are once and for all fundamental to organic science, because they are independent of those empirical facts. Just as every newly discovered planet must orbit its fixed star according to Kepler's laws, so every process in organic nature must take place according to Goethe's ideas. Long before Kepler and Copernicus, the processes in the starry sky were observed. They were the first to find the laws. Long before Goethe, the organic kingdom of nature was observed; Goethe found its laws. Goethe is the Copernicus and Kepler of the organic world.

[ 30 ] The essence of Goethe's theory can also be understood in the following way. In addition to ordinary empirical mechanics, which only collects the facts, there is also rational mechanics, which deduces the a priori laws as necessary from the inner nature of the basic mechanical principles. As the former relates to the latter, so do Darwin's, Haeckel's, etc. theories to Goethe's rational organicism. This aspect of his theory was not immediately clear to Goethe from the outset. Later, however, he expressed it quite decisively. When he wrote to Heinr. Wilh. Ferd. Wackenroder on January 21, 1832: "Continue to acquaint me with everything that interests you; it follows on somewhere from my considerations" [WA 49,211], he only meant to say that he had found the basic principles of organic science, from which everything else must be derived. In earlier times, however, all this worked unconsciously in his mind and he treated the facts accordingly. 83Goethe often perceived this unconscious action as dullness. See K. J. Schröer, Faust von Goethe, 6th ed., Stuttgart 1926, vol. II, p. XXXIV ff. It only became tangible to him through that first scientific conversation with Schiller, which we report below. 84Natw. Schr., 1st vol., p. 108 ff. Schiller immediately recognized the ideal nature of Goethe's original plant and claimed that no reality could be appropriate to such a plant. This inspired Goethe to reflect on the relationship between what he called type and empirical reality. Here he encountered a problem that is one of the most important in human research: the problem of the connection between idea and reality, between thought and experience. This became increasingly clear to him: the individual empirical objects did not correspond perfectly to his type; no being in nature was identical with him. The content of the concept of type cannot therefore come from the world of the senses as such, although it is obtained from the same. It must therefore lie in the type itself; the idea of the primordial being could only be such an idea which, by virtue of a necessity lying within itself, develops a content from itself which then appears in another form - in the form of perception - in the world of appearances. In this respect, it is interesting to see how Goethe himself advocates the rights of experience and the strict separation of idea and object to empirical naturalists. In 1786, Sömmerring sent him a book in which he (Sömmerring) attempted to discover the seat of the soul. In a letter to Sömmerring on August 28, 1796, Goethe found that Sömmerring had interwoven too much metaphysics with his views; an idea about objects of experience has no justification if it goes beyond them, if it is not founded in the essence of the objects themselves. In the case of objects of experience, the idea is an organ for grasping as a necessary connection what would otherwise merely be perceived in blind juxtaposition and succession. But from the fact that the idea must not bring anything new to the object, it follows that the latter is itself, according to its own essence, an ideal, that empirical reality in general must have two sides: the one, according to which it is particular, individual, the other, according to which it is ideal-general.

[ 31 ] In his dealings with contemporary philosophers and his reading of their works, Goethe gained many a perspective in this respect. Schelling's work "On the World Soul" and his "[First] Outline of a System of Natural Philosophy" ([Goethe's] Annals of 1798-1799) as well as Steffen's "Fundamentals of Philosophical Natural Science" had a stimulating effect on him. Many things were also discussed with Hegel. These stimuli finally led to Kant, with whom Goethe had already dealt once before, inspired by Schiller, being taken up again. In 1817 (see Annalen) he considered Kant's historical influence on his ideas about nature and natural things. We owe the essays to this reflection on the core of science:

Happy event,
Contemplative power of judgment,
Consideration and surrender,
Educational instinct,
The undertaking is excused,
The intention is initiated,
The content is favored,
History of my botanical studies

Development of the essay on metamorphosis of plants

[ 32 ] All these essays express the idea, already indicated above, that every object has two sides: the one immediate to its appearance (form of appearance), the second containing its being. Thus Goethe arrives at the only satisfactory view of nature, which establishes the one truly objective method. If a theory regards the idea as something alien to the object itself, merely subjective, then it cannot claim to be truly objective if it only makes use of the idea at all. Goethe, however, can claim not to add anything to the objects that is not already in them.

[ 33 ] Goethe also pursued those branches of knowledge to which his ideas related in a detailed, factual way. In 1795 (see K. A. Böttiger, Literarische Zustände und Zeitgenossen etc. I. Bd., Leipzig 1838, p. 49) he heard Loder lecture on ligaments; he did not lose sight of anatomy and physiology at all during this time, which seems all the more important as he was writing his lectures on osteology at that time. In 1796, experiments were carried out to grow plants in the dark and under colored glasses. Later, the metamorphosis of insects was also observed.

[ 34 ] Another suggestion came from the philologist [F. A.] Wolf, who drew Goethe's attention to his namesake Wolff [WA 27, 209 f.], who had already expressed ideas in his "Theoria generationis" in 1759 that were similar to Goethe's ideas on the metamorphosis of plants. This prompted Goethe to study Wolff more closely, which he did in 1807 (see Annalen zu 1807 and Natw. Schr., 1st vol., p. 5); however, he later found that Wolff, for all his acumen, was not yet clear on the main points. He did not yet know the type as a nonsensical thing, developing its content merely out of inner necessity. He still regarded the plant as an external, mechanical connection of details.

[ 35 ] In 1807, Goethe's contact with numerous naturalist friends and the joy that he had found recognition and imitation of his endeavors among many kindred spirits gave him the idea of publishing the fragments of his scientific studies that had been withheld until then. He gradually abandoned the idea of writing a larger scientific work. However, the individual essays were not yet published in 1807. Interest in color theory pushed morphology into the background for some time. The first volume did not appear until 1817, and by 1824 two volumes had been published, the first in four volumes and the second in two. In addition to essays on Goethe's own views, we find reviews of important literary phenomena in the field of morphology as well as essays by other scholars, whose comments are always complementary to Goethe's explanation of nature.

[ 36 ] Goethe was prompted to engage more intensively with the natural sciences on two more occasions. In both cases it was important literary phenomena in the field of this science that were intimately connected with his own endeavors. The first time was prompted by the work of the botanist Martius on the spiral tendency, the second time by a scientific dispute in the French Academy of Sciences.

[ 37 ] Martius composed the plant form in its development from a spiral and a vertical tendency. The vertical tendency causes growth in the direction of the root and the stem; the spiral tendency causes propagation in the leaves, flowers, etc. Goethe saw in this idea only a development of the ideas he had already set down in his 1790 essay on metamorphosis that took more account of the spatial (vertical, spiral). With regard to the proof of this assertion, we refer to the notes to Goethe's essay "On the Spiral Tendency of Vegetation", 85Na-tw. Schr., 1st vol., pp.217ff. from which it emerges that Goethe presents nothing essentially new in it compared to his earlier ideas. We would like to address this especially to those who claim that here we can even perceive a regression on Goethe's part from his earlier clear views to the "deepest depths of mysticism".

[ 38 ] Still in his old age (1830–32), Goethe wrote two essays on the dispute between the two French turforscher Cuvier and Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire. In these essays we once again find the principles of Goethe's view of nature summarized in striking brevity.

[ 39 ] Cuvier was an empiricist in the spirit of the older naturalists. He sought a special term for each animal species. As many individual animal species as nature offers, he believed he had to include as many individual types in the conceptual structure of his system of organic nature. However, the individual types stood side by side in his system. What he did not take into account was the following. Our need for knowledge is not satisfied with the particular as such, as it directly confronts us in appearance. But since we confront a being of the sense world with no other intention than to recognize this very being, it cannot be assumed that the reason why we do not declare ourselves satisfied with the particular as such lies in our cognitive faculty. Rather, it must lie in the object itself. The essence of the particular itself is by no means exhausted in its particularity; in order to be understood, it pushes towards something that is not particular but general. This ideal-general is the actual being - the essence - of every particular existence. The latter has only one side of its existence in the particularity, while the second is the general - the type (see Goethe's "Proverbs in Prose"; Natw. Schr., 4th vol., 2nd dept., p. 374). This is how it is to be understood when we speak of the particular as a form of the general. Since the actual essence, the content of the particular is thus the ideal-general, it is impossible for the latter to be derived from the particular, to be abstracted from it. Since it cannot borrow its content from anywhere, it must give itself this content. The typical-general is therefore one in which content and form are identical. For this reason, however, it can only be grasped as a whole, independent of the individual. Science has the task of showing in each particular how the same, in its essence, subordinates itself to the ideal-general. In this way, the particular species of existence enter the stage of mutual determination and dependence. What can otherwise only be perceived as spatial-temporal juxtaposition and succession is seen in necessary cohesion. Cuvier, however, wanted nothing to do with the latter view. Instead, it was that of Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire. This is in fact the side from which Goethe was interested in this dispute. The matter was often distorted by the fact that the facts were seen in a completely different light through the spectacles of the most modern views than they would appear in if one approached them without bias. Geoffroy referred not only to his own research, but also to several German like-minded people, including Goethe.

[ 40 ] The interest Goethe took in this matter was extraordinary. He was delighted to find a comrade in Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire: "Now Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire is firmly on our side and with him all the important students and supporters of France. This event is of incredible value to me and I rightly rejoice at the final victory of a cause to which I have dedicated my life and which is also my own," he said to Eckermann on August 2, 1830. It is a peculiar phenomenon that Goethe's research in Germany was only well received by philosophers, but less so by natural scientists, whereas in France it was more popular with the latter. De Candolle paid the greatest attention to Goethe's theory of metamorphosis and generally treated botany in a way that was not far removed from Goethe's views. Goethe's "Metamorphosis" had also already been translated into French by [F. de] Gingins-Lassaraz. Under such circumstances, Goethe could well hope that a translation of his botanical writings into French, undertaken with his cooperation, would not fall on barren ground. Such a translation was delivered in 1831 by Friedrich Jakob Soret with Goethe's continued assistance. It contained the first "Versuch" from 1790 (cf. Natw. Schr., 1st vol., p. 17ff.); the history of Goethe's botanical studies (ibid. p. 61ff.) and the effect of his teachings on his contemporaries (ibid. p. 194ff.), as well as some information about de Candolle, in French with a German text opposite.