Donate books to help fund our work. Learn more→

The Rudolf Steiner Archive

a project of Steiner Online Library, a public charity

The Human Soul and the Animal Soul
GA 60

17 November 1910, Berlin

Translated by D. S. Osmond and V. E. Watkin

The Human Spirit and the Animal Spirit

Let me in a few words recall some of the things dealt with in the last lecture. Particularly important for us were the views we were able to form, from immediate observation, concerning the difference between the human life of soul and that of the animals. We realized that the animal soul life may not be distinguished from that of man in such a way as to justify the assertion that man is superior to the animal in respect of certain spiritual attributes. To refute such a view we need only point to how certain achievements, obviously attained only by man struggling to a definite stage of intelligence, are brought about objectively within the animal world in the building of their dwellings and in the whole of their life. So that in what the animal does, in what it produces, in what it creates, we have exactly the same intelligent activity that is shown by man in the tools and products he makes. It might really be said: Into what the animal does there flows, and then congeals, the same intelligence that we find in man. Therefore we may not speak of animal soul and human soul by simply saying that the animal is to a definite extent behind man or man to a definite extent in advance of the animal.

When speaking of the soul—and we describe the soul life as the inner life, in contradistinction to the spirit life seen pre-eminently in formation and development—we referred to the fact that we discover how intimately bound up is the soul life of the animal with its own organization; and what the animal can experience in its soul appears to us as predetermined by its whole structure and the whole arrangement of its organs. Thus it must be said: the animal's life of soul is determined by the fashion of its organization, and in its soul life the animal lives, as it were, within itself. But the essential feature of man's life of soul lies in the human soul being emancipated to a high degree from the immediate organism, and in the fact that—I beg you not to misunderstand me, I mean relatively only—independently of the bodily organization he experiences the spirit as such, in the way we have understood it; in other words, that the human soul is able to surrender itself directly to the spirit.

If we now rise to the consideration of the spirit in man and in animal we shall have to start from the concepts and ideas developed in our consideration of the soul in man and animal; we shall have to concern ourselves rather more deeply with a phenomenon arising out of what was said last time; namely, that in the animal all spiritual achievements immediately connected with its organs and experienced in its soul have been implanted into, and bound up with, what is hereditary in its species. We may also say that there lives itself out in the animal's soul that which belongs to the species, and because this is hereditary the animal comes into existence with the predisposition towards all the activities conditioned by the spirit which can be experienced through its soul nature. Thereby the animal enters existence fully equipped, and bequeaths to its racial descendants its inherited characteristics which we may call an outpouring of the animal spirit. It is different with man who in his life of soul emancipates himself from his bodily organism. But because in the course of nature this is transmitted through lineal descent, he enters existence helpless, to a certain extent, where the functions that should serve him in life are concerned. On the other hand, however, this helplessness is the one thing that enables man to develop in soul and spirit. Thus we find it to be the most important thing for man that, when he enters life through birth, everything determined from without should remain indeterminate. With this we have indicated how we have to consider the relation of the spirit to the bodily nature in animal and man—the soul lying between the spirit and bodily nature. In the way the animal appears to us as member of a species, gradually attaining its instinctive aims in life, we have a direct activity of the spirit in the organic bodily nature. The organic body in which the animal experiences its life of soul is, as it were, the spirit that has entered reality. An immediate relation exists in the animal between spirit and body. And if we look at the animal, study it—whether superficially as a layman, or more thoroughly with all the facilities comparative anatomy and physiology or any other science can offer—we see everywhere in the animal form, in the conditions of animal life, congealed spirit being lived out in this way in the individual animal species. And the external form—the external life in the same way—is for us the direct imprint of what we call the spirit lying behind the animal, so that in the animal we have to look for the closest relation between spirit and bodily nature.

This is quite different when we come to man. And when we have to draw attention to the most important differences between man and animal, it is essential not to look for them too far afield. In considering things in the right way, what is most important lies so near that there is no need for us to enter into all manner of intimate details in the investigation. Observing man, we find something standing between spirit and bodily nature which we need not take into consideration in the animal. This is important. In the animal form and organization the spirit works as it were directly. In man it does not work directly; an intermediate member thrusts itself in, which can be very easily observed in life. As man confronts us when we observe him, this intermediate member which brings about a looser connection between spirit and bodily nature is expressed in what we call the self-conscious ego. I do not want to refer now to the way in which this self-conscious ego takes shape in the body; I wish only to say: In the way man appears to us, in the way he confronts us as a phenomenon of soul, this self-conscious ego stands between his spirit and his bodily nature. Certainly from the point of view of those who believe they are standing on the firm ground of natural science, it is child's play to find objections to the expression “self-conscious ego.” But, at the moment, we are wanting to follow up the way in which this self-conscious ego is inserted between the spirit and the bodily nature.

Here we find above all—we drew attention to this last time—that man is dependent on the life of his environment, of the world outside, in relation to his language, his way of thinking and also to the extent he has developed a consciousness of self. It is a generally recognized fact that man, if shut out from all contact with humanity, if obliged to grow up alone, would never arrive at speaking, nor definite thinking, nor consciousness of self; he would be forced to remain in the state of helplessness in which he was born. Thus we see that in the case of the animal all the activities necessary for animal life, for animal existence, come to it through heredity. And we see human activities arise in such a way that they may not be looked for in the line of heredity any more than, let us say, the original warmth necessary for hatching a hen's egg may be sought within the egg; it has to come to it from without. So we find that the things of which man has need for his development have to be acquired through something within him; whereas in the case of the animal it is imprinted into him by the spirit. Thus there remain open to man certain possibilities of development into which he takes up definite organizing forces through his self-conscious ego. For, naturally, no one will doubt that changes in the organization are bound up with man's gradual acquisition of speech, thinking, consciousness of self, and the activities connected with these; so that tendencies possessed by the animal from the beginning through hereditary activities, are taken up by man from the environment, just as warmth is taken up by the hen's egg that is being hatched; in other words, it is introduced from outside. Thus possibilities of development remain open to man as regards the inter-working of the environment. Naturally Spiritual Science does not adopt the view that man could achieve anything without organs. So we must be clear that everything working into man changes his organization. If we investigate the human organization closely, we see that this organization is actually changed by forces coming from without, which have to reach man by way of his ego. And then we see something else—if we consider man as he takes his place in the world, to become what he is able to become through speech, through his way of thinking and his consciousness of self, we grasp him as it were at one pole, at one end. We must, however, grasp him also at the other end. If we would penetrate him with thought, this is not so easy a matter. But it is in fact necessary to lay hold of man's other end.

Man actually enters the world as a helpless being. It is perfectly easy to see what we are dealing with here, but not so easy to make it the subject of observation. In the course of his life the human being has to do something that the animal is spared. This is done by the human being when he learns to walk, or, rather, learns to stand. Connected with this learning to stand, a great deal in human life lies concealed; namely, the gaining control over what we may call our bodily equilibrium. If we carefully study the design for the animal's organization, the organization of its structure, we find that the animal is so organized that a certain balance is imprinted into it making it possible for it to carry on its life. It is so formed that his body is endowed with a firm balance. It constitutes man's helplessness, from one point of view, and, from another, his advantage over the animal, that he has to make the effort to acquire balance with the help of his ego. There is no question here of comparing man with the animals nearest to him. Where the comparative anatomy of all the individual organs is concerned, it would be childish were Spiritual Science to assume a gulf between man and the animals nearest him. But whereas in the design of the animal organization there lies a predetermined balance, to human beings the possibility is open to acquire this balance after birth; but still more possibilities are open to them. The direction of its movement is laid down for the animal through the predetermined organization imprinted into him—if one may use the word imprinted; whereas for man the possibility is open to develop, within limits, his own sense of movement. Other things too are open to the human being, and we shall come back to the various manifestations of this. It is open to man to be able to imprint life itself into his organization. It is certainly possible to speak of this imprinting of life into the living being. Who with any mind for these questions would fail to notice that the organization of a duck comes to expression in plastic form, or that this is also the case where the elephant is concerned? Who would fail to see how the skeleton, if one looks at it, as distinct from the single animal species, discloses riddle upon riddle; how life is as it were discharged into the form, is caught up into the form, appearing to us as if frozen there? Here, too, man has come in a certain way to pour life into his own form. We need therefore only make the preliminary remark that in studying an animal form with open mind, we are interested far more in the universal, the general, what has to do with species, bestowing little thought on the individual forms. What interests us in man's skeleton is the noblest organ, the structure of his skull, above all, its plastic art. And in every human being this structure is different, because it is open to what lies at the basis of the human ego—to what is individual; whereas in the animal it is what belongs to the species that comes to expression. Thus when we lay hold of man by his other end we find that during certain periods of life he has full scope for imprinting into himself his sense of balance, the sense of his own movement and his whole sense of life. The interesting point here is that at the beginning of human life we are able to watch this working of the spirit in man, this imprinting of the spirit into form and movement; how in the struggle for upright gait, in the struggle to acquire a sense of one's own movement, in the imprint of bodily form, these forces are really active and coming to expression. Then at a certain age, however, the possibility ceases for the further working of the forces which in childhood had free play. At a certain period of life, in regard to the activity we have been describing, these forces close down. But when they are really within the individual man, having finished their work in a particular sphere, they cannot at once vanish; they come to meet us at a later time in life, and at this later time we should be able to show that these forces are there in human life as realities.

Now in fact we find these forces clearly arising in man again in a quite characteristic way for the progress of the spirit. What is accomplished by man in the development of his sense of balance, we find again in his later life, when he applies the same force to the development of his gestures. Gesture is something actually leading us into the deeper parts of the human organization, insofar as the spirit lives in man. And by bringing what is within him to expression in gesture, man has recourse to the same force he applied to the effort of gaining a sense of balance, for the setting up of a certain balanced poise. What man developed manifestly through learning to walk and stand, appears in later life in a finer, deeper, more intimate form when, instead of coming to physical expression, it is expressed more through the soul, in gesture. Hence we feel ourselves really intimately within man when we confront him and can let his gestures, the whole manner in which what is within him is expressed in outer movement, work upon us. In this respect every man is actually more or less of a gifted artist when confronting his fellows. For if we would penetrate to the finer psychological influences passing from man to man, we should see what an infinite amount depends—without it rising into consciousness—upon how gestures taken as a whole play upon a man. This need not enter into the broad light of external consciousness, yet it enters the soul and comes to expression when external consciousness sums up a host of intimate details, played out beneath the surface of consciousness, into everyday words such as “I like him,” “I don't like him”, or “I like her”, “I don't like her”.

We can also see how the forces organizing individual movement work on in later life. This we see when, passing from the gesture expressed in movement, we turn more to where the inner being of man may be found poured into the external form, but still in movement, in mimicry and in the physiognomy. There in fact what begins as individual sense of movement works on further, giving scope to the human being to go on developing out of helplessness, and then keeping this helplessness in check. When we notice how man, in his mien and in the play of his physiognomy, keeps his external self in continuous movement through his inner self, we find how what actually first appears in the organization more as a mere expression of bodily activity, then appears rather as poured into the soul-nature and intensified. What worked more directly in the earlier days of the human being is caught up more within him, in the self-conscious ego, to pour itself then from within outwards into the bodily regions; whereas to begin with self-conscious ego and spirit had, as it were, come to terms.

If we now see that what justifiably interests us in man is the particular form of his skull, we have to say: In this particular form of the skull of man something indeed is also expressed of his innermost being. Everyone knows that, broadly, this is the case, and that in the form of the brow, in the form of the skull, of each human being, we shall always find individual differences in men's inner nature. It goes without saying that we are not speaking here of those spheres of the spiritual life which are emancipated from the soul bound up with the body. There exists, however, as a certain ground work what may be described as an expression of the spirit that has become soul—what is wrongly developed in the sciences called phrenology, craniology, and things of that kind. It is above all essential for us to be clear that the forms coming to expression in the human skull are not general but individual to man, as he confronts us as a moral, intellectual being. When we begin to generalize, we fail to understand the whole connection. From this aspect, all phrenology practiced in this way is mischievous materialism. It should never be counted as science in its legitimate sense, for that it cannot be. What confronts us in the formation of the human skull is individual, different in each man. And the way in which we seek to form an opinion of each man in accordance with these characteristics must also be individual, just as our attitude is individual to each work of art. As there are no universal, fixed rules, as we have to take up our own attitude to each work of art, that is a work of art, if we consider according to universal rules what in an artistic sense lies hidden in man, we shall come to some kind of judgment but a judgment quite different from the ordinary one. And the following will make itself felt—that in observing the human skull we shall see how the spirit works in direct relation to the form, how forces of the spirit, of the ego, from within outwards push against the form of the skull which encases what works from without inwards. Only when we have a feeling for this working from without inwards and from within outwards, can we enter into what meets us in the form of the human skull that envelops the brain.

Thus, direct observation show us how in reality the spirit lives itself out in the animal forms. And since the animal's soul life is immediately bound up with its organization, the instinctive life being an expression of this organization, it will always be possible to see why some particular instinct or impulse must appear in the animal as part of its life of feeling. On the other hand, it may be said of man that in him we also see the spirit working on his organization, but from within; we see, too, however, that what lies at the basis of the self-conscious ego is in opposition to the organization and forces its way into it, at the same time forcing its way into the work of the spirit.

Now let us consider man in a rather different way. In him we see the capacity for speech—which is quite obvious; then a definite way of thinking and a certain consciousness of self as the result of education. These capacities arise through man's contact with the external world. But it is not enough simply to take things on trust; we must realize that something far more profound lies at the basis of speech, of the way of thinking and of the consciousness of self brought about through the environment. What lies at their basis is the fact that man possesses three senses not found in the animal. The word sense has to be taken literally, but let us keep to fact and not to words. In the realm of speech-sound, of concept and of what we call ego being, the animal shows itself quite incapable of taking things in, in the way of human beings. Of all the senses, the animal gets as far as that of tone. For outer perception this is for the animal a kind of zenith. Its sense faculty rises to tone. But beyond that no possibility is offered by its general organization for an understanding of speech-sound, concept or ego being as in other beings. The animal recognizes its own species, the dog the dog, the elephant another elephant, and so on. But no spiritual investigator would ascribe to animals any perception of their own ego being. And materialistic investigation will never succeed in producing any proof of a perception of ego being in the animal organization; thus scientific investigation should not, and spiritual investigation will not, be in doubt about this.—So we see in man that the possibilities of development remain open where perception of the inner nature of sound, the inner nature of concept and idea, and the inner nature of the ego being are concerned. Were the possibility of development in these three activities closed to man, the other forces I named would have no nourishment pouring from within, and would be unable to find expression. Animals have no organs to make it possible for them to develop in these three ways. For all that man shows in life as superiority over the animal ears the imprint of what is within him as capacity for expression—his conception of sound, his conception of concepts, and his conception of the ego, of the ego consciousness. Meanwhile we find in the animal the expression of how the spirit is poured into form; we therefore see in the animal gestures and physiognomy determined by the nature of the species. This all expresses how the spirit can be active while becoming, as it were, congealed directly in the form. In man we find each individual has his characteristic gesture, his own particular physiognomy and facial expression; in this there comes to very clear expression what, on the other hand, he has in the way of capacity for developing speech-sound, concept or idea, and consciousness of self. In reality the capacity for this development pours itself into gesture, physiognomy, facial expression, into the whole way his consciousness of self is manifested. Here we see flowing from within outwards, expressing itself in the human being, what can be experienced only through the direct intercourse of the self-conscious ego with the spirit.

If we experience things in this way, we may say: If we do not approach man with abstract, dry, prosaic concepts but perceive him in a living way, we see how ego being, the being in idea and the being in speech-sound, work directly on external form and movement. It is indeed as if, as crystallographers, we were to study the forming forces of a crystal, then discover that we have in front of us a cube in the rock salt, an octahedron in the sulphur, and in the garnet a rhombododecahedron. Just as there we see how inner forces pour their activities into form, when perceiving man in a living way we see immediately living in his external form all that he actually is, what in his being makes a strong impression on us—what meets us as congealed ego idea, congealed concept or conception, and as congealed sense of sound. We should be able indeed to picture quite vividly this congealed sense of sound that meets us. For that intercourse with the spirit which man cherishes perhaps in the most intimate way, which every man, artist or not, is able to cherish, which works into this being as the finest weavings of his soul, this intercourse is experienced by man in a characteristic way, the whole importance of which for man's life should not be overlooked. We dare not indeed overlook it in its content, in its inner nature—I am not speaking here of word content—in the inner nature of the “how” in the word content, in the inner nature of the character of sound, or the soul in language. Language does not only have the spirit expressed in the content of words; language also possesses a soul. And much more than we think, a language works upon us in the character of its sound. A language with many “ah” sounds works upon us in one way; a language that in the character of its words is more prone to “ee” or “o” in quite another way. For in the timbre of the sound character there is poured out as if in the unconscious, the soul that flows over the whole of mankind. This builds us up, works upon us, and comes to expression in life as a special kind of gesture. For man's speech is a special kind of gesture—not as to the words but insofar as it has soul—in the way man lives in speech with his soul and expresses himself. In all that, indeed, we should be able to mention significant differences.

Everyone knows that, apart from what is said, there belongs to what flashes from man to man in that queer indefinable way the inner quality of the way in which it is said. If we take this into consideration we shall say: We learn an infinite amount of what is deepest in human beings just from the way in which they speak. In ordinary life we have often to disregard this, for higher points of view may drive it into the background. Yet there is something in us that is very alive to the harshness or the pleasing tone of a voice. Those who really observe the soul know that harshness of voice is far more unpleasant in a man than in a woman, for the simple reason that this sphere is closely connected with our organization, and that the pitch of the voice in a man is more intimately related to, far more deeply bound up with, the life of soul than is the case in a woman. It is true but it cannot be proved. It can only be indicated, and if you are observant you will soon see it is so. Anyone able to understand such things, if wanting to give expression to something important, will therefore need to convey in his speech what has just been referred to, and not merely the word content. To give you an example of what I mean, really not from lack of modesty, I should like to refer to the Rosicrucian Mystery play I wrote—“The Portal of Initiation.” In all the most important passages in it, it is clear that what cannot be expressed in the content is brought out in the use of language, in the vowel sounds. You will find that where you get the sound “oo” after “ah,” “ee” cannot follow “ah.” It is of outstanding importance that we bear in mind that this realm is the “gesture” of speech, recognizing how the might of the spirit is working into the organization; and that we pay heed to this direct working of the spirit on the soul that contains the self-conscious ego. And then we look back on how the human soul pours itself into the bodily nature. I am coming now, it is true, to a language that obviously for many of you must be hypothetical; to talk of it may seem bold to some of you and to others even offensive. That, however, is beside the point.

We see how in man the ego being, what the sense of forming ideas can yield and undergo, and what the sense of sound can experience, pour themselves into gesture, physiognomy and facial expression, also, within the limits I have indicated, into the form. So that in man, in that period of his life between birth and death when the ego inserts itself between spirit and bodily nature, we see the direct activity of the spirit. Now let us just consider the following; and because the matter is more or less subtle, I shall speak figuratively. Let us imagine that what man accomplishes with his ego being, his power of conception and his sense of sound, in the way this flows more or less into his balance, individual movement and consciousness of self, and later into freedom of gesture, facial expression and the physiognomy revealing what is within him—let us imagine all this working together out of necessity, so that no conscious ego intervenes between these two, or three, aspects. Let us therefore imagine the ego to be eliminated, allowing the two sides of human nature to work on each other, so that through a sense of sound that does not enter consciousness but lives itself out in the innermost being, there is realized from the outset, in experience, the setting up of a balance that is not promoted by the ego; you would then have something which remains free for man, established without the intervention of the ego. This is what from the very beginning determines balance in the animal. And imagine the conception through which man grasps his laws and the animal species—in other words the whole organization so far as it is individual movement, physiognomy and facial expression, expressed in all animal movement, expressed also in animal instincts, passions and so on—and you have, bound up in the animal through the necessity of natural laws, what man has in his life through the intervention of the ego. We have, too, bound up from the outset with the animal, through the necessity of natural law, what in man is directly expressed only in life. In man the formative force of life works right into his form. But imagine it was no longer kept in reserve for individual life but from the beginning it acquired its form through Nature's activity, and then you have it in accordance with species, and in the way it confronts us plastically in the various animal species.—Thus we see in man a being with a sense world lying between two poles. He has his sense world, the world of perception, sound world, world of taste and world of smell and so on, lying between, on the one side, the way in which, conscious of himself, he finds a relation to his sense of balance in the different spatial directions, in the way he feels his existence in his own body; and on the other side, his sense of sound, his comprehension of concept, and his ego conception. As with inner necessity the inner life stands in relation to the intervening sense, so for the animal the inner life is related as something intervening, which, out of necessity, forms the whole organization. Let the two sides in man come together without the intervention of the ego and you have the direct working of the spiritual into the bodily without the intervention of the soul. In man we have what may be thus described—according to the spiritual and physical side he is an unfolding in space, gestures and so on, which on both sides stands open to the working of the spirit. And with this we must reconcile ourselves to the fact that through it in a certain way a foundation is laid for the whole understanding of man and the human spiritual life altogether, insofar as it plays its part in the history of the spirit. We see that we may not confound what man experiences conceptually with what he experiences when he realizes and develops the concept itself. In a certain relation man is in a quite different situation where the realization of a concept is concerned from his situation in respect of understanding it. The development of a concept is quite a different story from the means of understanding it. In this connection I should like to refer to an actual fact.

In the year 1894 Laurenz Müllner, a great admirer of Galileo, on being appointed Rector of the University of Vienna, gave his inaugural address, and in it he drew attention to a remarkable fact which indeed is very interesting. He pointed out that in Galileo we have a spirit able to grasp the physical laws of mechanics, the laws of oscillation, of the motion of projectiles, of the velocity of falling bodies, of equilibrium, which perhaps—said Professor Müllner—are expressed in the most grandiose way in Michelangelo's wonderful work—the lofty dome of St. Peter's in Rome. This is indeed true and must be admitted by anyone upon whom the work of art in question has made an impression. Thus it might be said—Laurenz Müllner went on: In Galileo's intellect these laws first arise in the form of concepts, which we then see in Rome rising to the heavens in the symmetry and equipoise of the gigantic cupola of St. Peter's. In Galileo man has learned to grasp in concepts what is presented in St. Peter's as the artistic creation of Michelangelo. Added to this we have the actual fact that the day of Galileo's birth and the day of Michelangelo's death fell in the same year. In 1564 Michelangelo died on 18th February and in the same year, almost on the same day—the 15th of February—Galileo was born, Galileo who discovered for mankind the physical laws of mechanics.

That is really an extraordinarily interesting fact. For it goes to prove that man brings about in a direct way the intercourse with the spirit through which he is able to imprint upon things the laws discovered afterwards; he does not accomplish this with his understanding, nor through concepts—not through the intelligence at all. But this points us to something else; namely, that in his organization man is in touch with the spirit before the intelligence has worked upon his soul inwardly. Hence in a certain way it can be said: Man is so constituted that he himself is able to incorporate into his substance what lives in him as outpouring of the spirit, what has worked upon him before he has been able to grasp it with his intelligence. This is so in the creation of any work of art. This fact is of interest because it enables us to see that man in physical life in regard to all that he lives, and all that comes to clear expression in an organ, before understanding the laws of that organ has something within him which carries out these laws plastically, gives them plastic form. So that if we follow up this thought it is quite clear that the sense for these laws of the spirit, expressed, for example, in a work of art, is there—must be there—in the soul before the laws are given bodily form. Hence, at the spiritual end of man, so to speak, we have also the reverse side—if we use the word in its better sense, raising it to the proper spiritual sphere. For then we are definitely shown that through an ennobled and purified instinct man creates what he discovers only later. As animals create instinctively, in the way bees, for example, organize their wonderful bee community, so man creates directly out of the spiritual world, before the spiritual world is reflected into this intelligence.

Thus we see that even in this direction everything points to the meeting of the self-conscious ego with the working of the spirit. Through instinct the animal arrives even in its feeling life at reflecting into its intelligence what it puts into its buildings, and so on. Take, for example, the beaver and what it builds. Among beavers Michelangelos will always be found, but never a Galileo who understood the same laws to which the beaver gives form in its constructions. In man there is something confronting his self-conscious ego, something created by the spirit when it enters the organization.

So in our study of human development, we have seen that between spirit and bodily organization the expression of the self-conscious ego intervenes, that the purified organization of the human being has immediate experience of the spirit, as it is seen in the imaginative creations of the artist; and that a self-conscious being lives in him which can oppose the ordering of the spirit in the body. Thus it is not a question of giving man preference over the animal or not; that would be the wrong way to approach the matter. We have, however, to realize that in the animal the spirit comes into direct contact with the bodily organization, and the soul passes its life in accordance with this bodily organization; whereas in man the living ego which is found in the soul pushes its way between spirit and bodily organization, establishing itself as mediator—thus working there between spirit and bodily organization. Through this the human ego has direct intercourse with what lives in the spiritual world. And it lives out this direct intercourse primarily by strenuous efforts to establish spiritual conditions in its environment which the animal is able to establish only instinctively. We see strongly marked a certain life of rights, a moral life among animals. But we understand the life of rights, the life of the State, and the whole course of world history, only when we see in man the emancipation of the spirit from the bodily nature by the intervention of the ego between spirit and bodily nature, through which the ego enters into immediate intercourse with the spiritual world.

The way in which this ego enters into direct intercourse with the spiritual world constitutes the normal condition of the human being. But as the intervention of a self-conscious ego between spiritual and bodily nature signifies progress beyond animal evolution, it is possible for man to go farther on this path by again developing within him the spirit which he set free from the bodily nature—developing it in the free intercourse experienced. The possibilities for this will be found in the lecture “The Nature of Sleep”, and its full significance appears in Knowledge of the Higher Worlds. There we see how in normal human beings the emancipation of the spirit from the bodily nature has arrived at a certain stage, but can be carried further by developing slumbering germinating forces in man, through the unfolding of which he can advance to direct vision into the spiritual world.

We had first to lay a foundation for what we are able to cultivate as actual contemplation of the spiritual world, by seeking the real significance of the human being in this intervention of the ego between spirit and bodily nature. But this again is given us also in an external bodily way, since the self-conscious ego as it confronts us in life does so in the inner being of man, entirely in his physiognomy and in accordance with his gestures. Some of you may remember that I have not only mentioned but have also substantiated that the old saying “Blood is a very special fluid”1A lecture called in English: “The Occult significance of Blood” is founded on deep truth. This is really so, and in what is thus expressed simply as a direct working of the soul on the blood circulation, we can divine something of that working of the self-conscious ego into the bodily nature, into the organization. That is, so to say, the nearest gate for the ego, fertilized by the spirit, to enter the bodily nature and work upon it. We see this on observing how the soul works upon the blood circulation. In the phenomena of blushing and turning pale I have often given you common examples for the direct working of what goes on in the soul and expresses itself physically; for fear and shame are actual processes of the soul. Anyone wanting to deny this would have to be an unconscious materialist, like, for example, William James: for although he wishes to be spiritual he is actually a materialist in wishing to defend the assertion: “Man does not weep because he is sad, he is sad because he weeps.” According to this we should have to imagine that man experiences sadness in his soul because some kind of material influence has an effect on the organism and squeezes out tears: and if man notices this—so says William James—he becomes sad. If we do not recognize how untenable this conclusion is, we shall not be able to understand that in affairs like laughing and weeping, and also in blushing, where a rush of blood takes place from the centre to the periphery, we have to do with material processes directly under the influence of soul and spirit.

If we think this over we shall be able to admit that in man what belongs to the soul does in very truth express itself in the circulation of the blood. What we say here about man; namely, that in the blood, and in the circulation, the self-conscious ego has its life, we cannot directly apply to the animal, because in it a self-conscious ego cannot work into the blood circulation, and—what is essential—because the animal does not open itself directly to the influence of the spiritual world which works into it; rather, from necessity. Whereas in the animal's blood circulation we have before us something in which the soul life of the animal finds immediate expression, in the blood circulation of the human being something is to be seen of the way in which the spirit works on the ego. If some day people will begin to give a little thought to what is here in question; namely, the importance for human life that man should not be organized from the outset to receive a definite imprint, of balance, of individual movement and of the sense of life, but must himself struggle to attain them—when they can discover how true it is that in spatial directions we have to do with realities, whether a spine is in a horizontal or vertical relation to space, or whether the blood circulates in this or that direction—then they will see how essential is the way in which such organizations are inserted into the whole cosmic connection. We should be obliged to see in reality, for example, in the spatial direction of a certain line, something of essential importance. When this is understood we may judge how great is the significance of the position and all the processes in the blood, in the human blood system. Today it is believed that the theory of the blood circulation is complete in itself. It is not so at all. We are only beginning to learn something of the secrets of the blood circulation. And not dogmatically to make bare assertions I will point to the following.

Not more than twenty-five years ago, a scientific investigator in this sphere, the criminologist Moritz Benedict, celebrated for his mathematical qualifications in this direction, was first to draw attention to the important fact—generally ignored today—that the corresponding beats in the right artery and the left are different—an important fact for knowledge of the connections in the human being. And of special importance is something found in this sphere, not by anyone famous but by a very simple man, a Dr. Karl Schmidt. It was published by him in 1892 in the Vienna Medical Weekly in his article “Heartbeat and Pulsation,” in which quite important observations were indicated. Only when these things, still in their infancy, are studied to some degree, will a beginning have been made in knowledge of the connection between the self-conscious ego and the blood circulation, on the one hand, and, on the other hand, the connection between the animal spirit working in the animal and the animal blood circulation. Last time, I pointed out that we, indeed, are able to go into details in the sciences of the organs and their individual functions, and are able to give evidence of the different ways the spirit shows itself in man and in animal. In this connection it is quite comprehensible that modern investigations into the relation of man's blood to that of apes say little, because they go only into externals—the purely physical substance, the chemical reactions, and so forth—not into the real question. Were it only a matter of physical substance it would necessarily be quite immaterial whether a wheel was used as a child's toy or for a watch. But it always depends on how a member or an organ is used in the whole of a being or of a thing. It has nothing to do with how man's blood is related to the blood of the ape, or the like, but with how the organs in question are placed in the service of the organization as a whole.

How the actual truth is treated by external investigation is best shown in Goethe's dealings with natural science. In Goethe's days, where the things of Nature are concerned, a rigid materialism was already prevailing, and even the most eminent scientists who wished to maintain the difference between man and animal founded their claims on something purely material. They were of the opinion that this difference was to be seen in the fact that in the upper jawbone of the animal there is an intermediate bone not found in man. They said: What distinguishes man from the animal is that the animal possesses an intermaxillary bone to accommodate the upper incisors, and this bone is not found in man! For Goethe this was inadmissible. His concern was not to find the difference between man and animal in anatomical details, but in the way the spirit in man and the spirit in the animal made use of the organs. (Incidentally I will just refer you to Goethe's “Theory of Metamorphosis” in which may be found information about all the individual human organs.) Thus from the outset Goethe could never reconcile himself to the idea that man's superiority to the animal was to be sought in a material detail. Therefore his one wish was to prove that this assertion was incorrect, that this chasm did not exist; and he set himself to work to find this intermaxillary bone in man. If Goethe had never accomplished anything but this one deed, if he had discovered nothing further than the presence in man of the intermaxillary bone, though no longer in a developed state and not apparent, through this alone for human evolution he would still remain a mighty genius. Said Goethe to himself—and I do not relate this because he did it but because it came to light through his experience: With Herder, and with others who are at pains to understand man spiritually, I have directed attention primarily to how man rises above the animal because the animal is bound up with its organization; but man is emancipated from it and enters into immediate intercourse with the spirit, thus being able to work back upon his organs. Goethe says this, as I have indicated, but in the following words: “Animals are taught by their organs, said the men of old. I add to this: man, too, is taught by his organs; however, he has the advantage of in turn teaching them.” Goethe could not but admit that the organs are the same but formed from different sides. Hence his great joy when at last he found the intermaxillary bone in man. At this point he writes to Herder: “... I have found—neither gold nor silver but something that gives me infinite joy—the ‘os intermaxillary’ in man! With Loder I compared man's skull with that of the animal and got on its track—when, lo! There it was. But I beg you to keep quiet about it, for this affair must be handled with caution. This should, however, make you too rejoice, for it is a kind of keystone to man; it is not lacking, it is there—actually there. I have imagined it in connection with your ‘whole’—how splendidly it will fit in. ...” (Letter of 27th March, 1784.)

The difference between man and animal cannot be found in any particular detail. It has to be found entirely in the way the spirit makes use of things. For through this we behold man's relation to the spirit, how he has emancipated himself from what belongs to the body and is able to enter into direct intercourse with the spirit. Hence the difference in the sensation we experience on contemplating something spiritual from what we experience on contemplating anything physical and material. We seek to use words in quite different ways according to whether we look upon the spiritual or the physical.

Among Goethe's works two poems may be found together. Each contains three remarkable lines:

“In all things the eternal's moving past,
For everything must come to naught at last
If in being it still would stay.”

“Das Ewige regt sich fort in Allen:
Denn Alles muss in Nichts zerfallen,
Wenn es im Sein beharren will.”

Thus ends one poem, and the other begins:

“No being can come to naught at last!
In all the Eternal's moving past.
In being know thyself, then, blessed.”

“Kein Wesen kann zu Nichts zerfallen!
Das Ewige regt sich fort in Allen,
Am Sein erhalte dich beglückt!”

A complete contradiction! How may we explain it? And Goethe has put it so blatantly in two poems next to one another. In truth if we contemplate the spirit in material existence, in our heart we may call forth the feeling: If the spirit would continue in material being, if it were not to break up all form, it would have to crumble into nothingness. The moment we see the spirit in the bodily nature we have to say: We have here to do with the eternal, immortal being, with the spirit with which we can unite in man's emancipated soul. Then we may say:

“No being can come to naught at last,
In all the Eternal's moving past.
In being know thyself, then, blessed.”

if we bear in mind the immortal, the eternal, in a being.

If we see the soul, if we see the spirit in the bodily nature, we have to say: If it lived itself out entirely in the body, if it would hold fast to the body, then it would have to fall into nothingness.

Thus the study of the animal's spirit and the human spirit leads us gradually upwards to a premonition of what in reality may be called the spirit. But before it is wished to find the way in which knowledge about the spirit can be acquired, it is necessary to know the way in which the spirit shines forth in the human soul which it frees from the body in order within it to live a life independent of the bodily organization, a life in its own sphere.

Menschengeist und Tiergeist

Es wird mir gestattet sein, heute mit ein paar Worten an einige Ausführungen des letzten Vortrags zu erinnern. Besonders wichtig sind uns ja die Anschauungen gewesen, die wir uns aus der unmittelbaren Beobachtung heraus über den Unterschied des menschlichen und tierischen Seelenlebens haben bilden können. Diesen Unterschied haben wir dahin angegeben, daß wir uns klar waren, daß das tierischeSeelenJeben nicht so von dem menschlichen unterschieden werden dürfe, daß man sagt: Der Mensch ist so und so weit vor dem Tier voraus in bezug auf diese oder jene geistigen Eigenschaften. Denn um eine solche Anschauung zu widerJegen, braucht man nur darauf hinzuweisen, wie gewisse Verrichtungen, die beim Menschen zweifellos nur durch Erringung einer gewissen Intelligenzstufe zu erreichen sind, objektiv innerhalb der tierischen Welt im Bau der tierischen Wohnungen, im ganzen tierischen Leben ausgeführt werden, so daß sozusagen in den Produkten, in der Hervorbringung dessen, was das Tier tut, genau dieselbe intelligente Tätigkeit steckt wie in dem, was der Mensch als seine Werkzeuge, als seine Produkte hervorzubringen vermag. Man könnte wirklich sagen: In dem, was das Tier vollbringt, fließt hinein, erstarrt darinnen dieselbe Intelligenz, die wir dann auch beim Menschen finden. Deshalb dürfen wir nicht einfach in der Art von Tierseele und Menschenseele sprechen, daß wir sagen, das Tier wäre so und so weit hinter dem Menschen zurück — der Mensch so und so weit vor dem Tier voraus.

Insoweit wir von Seele gesprochen haben — wir bezeichnen im Gegensatz zu dem Geistesleben, das wir vorzugsweise in der Formung, in der Ausgestaltung sehen, das seelische Leben als das Leben der Innerlichkeit —, haben wir uns darauf berufen, daß wir in dem tierischen Seelenleben ein enges Gebundensein an die Organisation des Tieres gesehen haben, und daß das, was das Tier in seinem Seelischen erleben kann, uns vorherbestimmt erscheint durch den ganzen Bau und die ganze Fügung seiner Organe. Deshalb mußten wir sagen: Dieses tierische Seelenleben ist durch die Art und Weise bestimmt, wie das Tier organisiert ist, und das Tier lebt in seinem Seelenleben gleichsam in sich selbst hinein. Das aber ist das Wesentliche des menschlichen SeelenJebens, daß die Seele des Menschen sich von dem unmittelbaren Organismus bis zu einem hohen Grade emanzipiert und gewissermaßen — bitte das nicht mißzuverstehen, es ist nur relativ gemeint — unabhängig von der leiblichen Organisation den Geist als solchen, wie wir ihn verstanden haben, erlebt, das heißt unmittelbar in der Lage ist, sich dem Geist hinzugeben.

Wenn wir nun aufsteigen zur Betrachtung des menschlichen und tierischen Geistes, so müssen wir vor allen Dingen von diesen Begriffen und Ideen ausgehen, die wir an der Betrachtung der menschlichen und tierischen Seele entwickelt haben und uns ein wenig intimer mit einer Erscheinung befassen, die aus alledem hervorgeht, was das vorige Mal gesagt worden ist. Das Tier hat alle seine geistigen Verrichtungen, die ja unmittelbar an seine Organe gebunden sind und in seiner Seele erlebt werden, hineingelegt, gebunden an das, was sich im Tier gattungsmäßig vererbt. Wir können also sagen: In dem tierischen Seelenleben lebt sich das Gattungsmäßige aus, und weil dies vererbbar ist, tritt sozusagen das Tier mit der Geburt so in die Erscheinung, daß alle durch den Geist bedingten Verrichtungen, die durch das Seelische erlebt werden können, veranlagt sind. Dadurch tritt das Tier gewissermaßen fertig ins Dasein und vererbt die Merkmale, die wir als einen Ausfluß des tierischen Geistes bezeichnen können, auch wieder gattungsmäßig auf die Nachkommen. Anders ist es beim Menschen, der sich in bezug auf das seelische Leben von der leiblichen Organisation emanzipiert. Weil diese aber natürlich in die Vererbungslinie übergeht, so tritt er in einer gewissen Beziehung hilflos ins Dasein hinein gegenüber denjenigen Verrichtungen, die ihm im Leben dienen sollen. Auf der andern Seite aber macht diese Hilflosigkeit erst möglich, was man seelisch-geistige Entwickelung nennen kann. So finden wir als das Gewichtigste für den Menschen, wenn er durch die Geburt ins Dasein tritt, daß offen stehen bleibt, was von außen bestimmt ist. Damit haben wir darauf hingewiesen, wie wir uns überhaupt die Beziehung des Geistes zu der Leiblichkeit — zwischen Geist und Leiblichkeit steht das Seelische darinnen — bei Tier und Mensch zu denken haben. In dem, wie uns das Tier gattungsmäßig vor Augen tritt und seine Instinkte nach und nach im Leben auslebt, haben wir eine unmittelbare Betätigung des Geistes in der organischen Leiblichkeit zu sehen. Es ist gleichsam der organische Leib, in dem sich das Tier seelisch erlebt, der in die Wirklichkeit getretene Geist. Ein unmittelbares Verhältnis zwischen Geist und Leib ist beim Tier vorhanden. Wenn wir den Blick auf das Tier richten, es studieren, ob nun oberflächlich mit der Laienbeobachtung oder genauer mit dem, was uns die vergleichende Anatomie und Physiologie oder andere Wissenschaften bieten können: überall sehen wir sozusagen den in den tierischen Formen, in den tierischen Lebensverhältnissen geronnenen Geist, der sich auslebt in dieser Weise in der einzelnen Tiergattung. Die äußere Form und das äußere Leben ebenso ist uns unmittelbar ein Abdruck dessen, was wir den dem Tiere zugrunde liegendenGeist nennen, so daß wir die engste Beziehung zwischen demGeiste und der Leiblichkeit beim Tiere zu suchen haben.

Das ist ganz anders beim Menschen. Es ist außerordentlich wichtig, wenn man auf das Wichtige im Unterschiede zwischen Mensch und Tier aufmerksam zu machen hat, daß man sozusagen nicht die Dinge weit herholt. Das Wichtigste liegt nahe genug, wenn es sich darum handelt, die Dinge in der richtigen Weise anzusehen, als daß man mit allen möglichen intimen Einzelheiten der Forschung zu kommen brauchte. Wenn wir den Menschen betrachten, finden wir, daß sich zwischen den Geist und die Leiblichkeit etwas hineinstellt, das beim Tier nicht hineingestellt gedacht werden darf. Und das ist das Wesentliche. Gleichsam unmittelbar wirkt sich der Geist in der tierischen Form und Organisation aus. Beim Menschen wirkt er sich nicht unmittelbar aus, sondern es schiebt sich ein Zwischenglied hinein, das wir im unmittelbaren Leben sehr genau beobachten können. Wie uns der Mensch rein in der Beobachtung entgegentritt, drückt sich dieses Zwischenglied, das gleichsam die losere Beziehung zwischen Geist und Leiblichkeit vermittelt, in dem aus, was wir beim Menschen das selbstbewußte Ich nennen. Ich will jetzt noch nicht darauf Rücksicht nehmen, wie sich dieses selbstbewußte Ich wieder in der Leiblichkeit gestaltet, sondern ich will nur sagen: Wie uns der Mensch in der Beobachtung entgegentritt, wie uns seine seelischen Erscheinungen entgegentreten, steht zwischen Geist und Leiblichkeit dieses selbstbewußte Ich. Gewiß, es ist wieder kinderleicht, vom Standpunkt einer Wissenschaft, die glaubt, auf dem festen Boden der Naturwissenschaft zu stehen, bloß gegen den Ausdruck «selbstbewußtes Ich» etwas einzuwenden. Aber wir wollen jetzt die Art verfolgen, wie sich dieses selbstbewußte Ich zwischen Geist und Leiblichkeit hineinstellt.

Da finden wir vor allen Dingen — wir haben schon das letzte Mal darauf aufmerksam gemacht —, daß der Mensch angewiesen ist auf das Leben in seiner Umgebung, in der Außenwelt in bezug auf die Aneignung der Sprache, die Aneignung der Denkweise und auch in bezug auf die Aneignung eines gewissen Selbstbewußtseins. Das ist ja eine allbekannte Tatsache, daß der Mensch, wenn er, ausgeschlossen von jeder menschlichen Gemeinschaft, einsam sich entwickeln müßte, weder zur Sprache, noch zu einer gewissen Denkart, noch zu einem gewissen Selbstbewußtsein kommen würde und in jener Hilflosigkeit verbleiben müßte, in der er geboren ist. Wir sehen also, daß beim Tier alle dieBetätigungen, die für das tierische Leben, für die tierische Existenz notwendig sind, von vornherein in die Vererbungslinie hineingeboren sind. Wir sehen die Betätigungen beim Menschen so auftreten, daß sie ebensowenig innerhalb der Vererbungslinie gesucht werden dürfen wie etwa die Wärme, die beim Bebrüten eines Hühnereies notwendig ist, innerhalb des Hühnereies gesucht werden darf, denn sie muß von außen an dasselbe herankommen. Da sieht man schon, daß es der Mensch nötig hat, sich Dinge, die zu seiner Entwickelung gehören, durch etwas anzueignen, was in ihm ist, während sie dem Tier sozusagen direkt geistig eingeprägt sind. Beim Menschen bleiben also bestimmte Entwickelungsmöglichkeiten offen, in die er durch sein selbstbewußtes Ich gewisse Organisationskräfte aufnimmt. Denn niemand wird natürlich daran zweifeln, daß mit dem Hineinwachsen des Menschen in Sprache, in Denkweisen, in das Selbstbewußtsein und durch die damit verbundenen Berätigungen Veränderungen der Organisation verbunden sind; so daß sozusagen dasselbe, was sich beim Tier durch Tätigkeiten veranlagt vorfindet, die vererbbar sind, beim Menschen hereingenommen wird von der Umgebung, wie die Wärme vom bebrüteten Hühnerei aufgenommen wird, das heißt von außen hineinorganisiert wird. So bleiben beim Menschen Entwickelungsmöglichkeiten offen gegenüber den Einwirkungen der Umgebung, denn natürlich steht die Geisteswissenschaft nicht auf dem Standpunkt, daß der Mensch irgend etwas ohne Organe verrichten könne.

So müssen wir uns klar sein, daß alles, was auf den Menschen hereinwirkt, ihn umorganisiert. Das ist auch der Fall, wenn man recht genau auf die menschliche Organisation eingeht, daß der Mensch tatsächlich durch die von außen an ihn herantretenden Kräfte umorganisiert wird, die auf dem Umwege durch sein Ich an ihn erst herantreten müssen. Dabei sehen wir noch etwas: Wenn wir den Menschen betrachten, wie er sich in die Welt hineinstellt, um das zu werden, was er durch Sprache, Denkart und Selbstbewußtsein werden kann, dann fassen wir ihn gleichsam an dem einen Pol, an dem einen Ende an. Wir müssen ihn aber auch an dem andern Ende anfassen. Das ist, wenn man es mit dem Gedanken durchdringen will, nicht so ganz leicht. Aber es ist tatsächlich notwendig, daß man den Menschen auch am andern Ende anfaßt.

Der Mensch kommt tatsächlich hilflos auf die Welt. Es ist ja kinderleicht zu finden, um was es sich handelt, aber nicht so leicht, es in die Betrachtung hineinzustellen. Der Mensch muß im Laufe seines Lebens etwas herstellen, was dem Tier herzustellen erspart bleibt. Dieses stellt der Mensch her, während er gehen lernt, oder, noch besser gesagt, während er stehen lernt. Hinter dem Stehenlernen verbirgt sich sehr viel im menschlichen Leben: nämlich die Überwindung dessen, was man das Gleichgewicht der Leiblichkeit nennen kann. Wenn man genau auf den Organisationsplan eingeht, auf die Organisation des Baues der Tiere, so findet man, daß in der Tat das Tier so organisiert ist, daß ihm ein gewisses Gleichgewicht eingeprägt ist, durch das es sich in die Lage zu bringen vermag, in der es sein Leben fortbringen kann. Es ist so gebaut, daß ein festes Gleichgewicht seiner Körperlichkeit mitgegeben ist. Das ist auf der einen Seite die Hilflosigkeit, auf der andern Seite der Vorzug des Menschen gegenüber dem Tier, daß er darauf angewiesen ist, mit Hilfe seines Ich sich dieses Gleichgewicht erst zu erringen. Hier geht es auch nicht, daß man den Menschen mit den nächststehenden Tieren vergleicht. Wenn man eingeht auf die vergleichende Anatomie, auf alle einzelnen Organe, so würde es kindisch sein von der Geisteswissenschaft, wenn sie eine Kluft annehmen würde zwischen dem Menschen und den nächststehenden Tieren. Aber in dem Organisationsplan des Tieres liegt ein vorbestimmtes Gleichgewicht. Beim Menschen liegt die Möglichkeit offen, nach der Geburt dieses Gleichgewicht erst herzustellen. Es liegt aber noch mehr an Möglichkeiten offen. Beim Tier ist durch die eingeprägte — wenn man das Wort gebrauchen will — vorbestimmte Organisation die Richtung der Eigenbewegung angegeben. Beim Menschen bleibt wieder die Möglichkeit offen, sozusagen innerhalb eines gewissen Spielraumes seinen Eigenbewegungssinn zu entwickeln. Noch mehr bleibt beim Menschen offen — wir werden darauf noch zurückkommen, wie das sich anders äußert —: eine gewisse Möglichkeit, in die Organisation selbst das Leben hineinzuprägen.

Man kann ganz gewiß von einer gewissen Prägung des Lebens in einem Lebewesen sprechen. Oder wer würde mit einigem plastischen Sinn nicht merken, daß sich die Organisation einer Ente an den plastischen Formen zum Ausdruck bringt? Oder daß sich die Organisation des Elefanten an den plastischen Formen zum Ausdruck bringt? Und daß vorzugsweise dasSkelett, wenn wir es anschauen, im Unterschiede zu den einzelnen Tierarten uns Rätsel über Rätsel enthüllt, wie sozusagen das Leben in die Form hineinschießt, in der Form sich verfängt und uns wie erstarrt erscheint? Auch da bleibt dem Menschen ein Spielraum, das Leben in einer ganz gewissen Weise in die Form hineinzugießen, so daß wir nur vorauszuschicken brauchten, daß wir, wenn wir eine tierische Form mit unserm plastischen Sinn studieren, uns viel mehr für das Allgemeine, für das Gattungsmäßige, Generelle interessieren und die individuellen Formen sehr vernachlässigen. Beim Menschen interessiert uns das edelste Organ — als das Organ des Skelettes — der Schädelbau, ganz besonders in seiner Plastik. Und er ist bei jedem Menschen ein anderer, weil er offen bleibt für das, was dem Menschen in dem Ich zugrunde liegt, für das Individuelle, während er beim Tier das Gattungsmäßige zum Ausdruck bringt. Wenn wir also den Menschen beim anderen Ende anfassen, dann finden wir, daß er während gewisser Zeiten des Lebens freien Spielraum innerhalb der Ausprägung des Gleichgewichtssinnes, des Eigenbewegungssinnes und des ganzen Lebenssinnes hat. Das Interessante ist, daß wir sozusagen diese Arbeit des Geistes am Menschen, diese Ausprägung des Geistes in Form und Bewegung im Beginne des menschlichen Lebens sehen können: wie in der Erringung des aufrechten Ganges, in der Erringung des Eigenbewegungssinnes und in der Ausprägung der Körperformen sich diese Kräfte wirklich betätigen und zum Ausdruck bringen. Dann aber hört in einem gewissen Lebensalter die Möglichkeit auf, daß die Kräfte, die in der Kindheit frei spielen, weiter einwirken. Mit einem bestimmten Lebensalter sind diese Kräfte in bezug auf die Wirkung, die wir charakterisiert haben, abgeschlossen. Wenn sie aber wirklich in dem Menschen als Individualität darinnen sind, können sie nicht auf einmal verschwinden, wenn sie ihre Arbeit in bezug auf ein gewisses Gebiet getan haben, sondern sie müssen uns in einer späteren Lebenszeit wieder entgegentreten. Wir müßten für das spätere Leben nachweisen können, daß diese Kräfte da sind, Realitäten im menschlichen Leben sind.

Wir finden nun in der Tat diese Kräfte wieder in einer ganz charakteristischen Weise für den Fortschritt des Geistes am Menschen deutlich hervortreten. Was der Mensch in der Ausbildung des Gleichgewichtssinnes leistet, das finden wir im späteren Leben wieder, wenn er dieselbe Kraft für die Ausbildung seiner Gebärden anwendet. Die Gebärde ist etwas, was uns tatsächlich in das tiefere Gefüge der menschlichen Organisation, insofern der Geist im Menschen lebt, hineinführt. Und indem der Mensch sein Inneres in der Gebärde zum Ausdruck bringt, verwendet er dieselbe Kraft, die er erst verwendet, um den Gleichgewichtssinn zur Herstellung einer gewissen Gleichgewichtslage zu erringen. Was der Mensch beim Gehenlernen, beim Stehenlernen handgreiflich entwickelt, das erscheint uns also verfeinert, vertieft, verinnerlicht im späteren Leben, wenn es, statt körperlich zur Darstellung zu kommen, mehr seelisch zur Darstellung kommt in der Gebärde. Daher fühlen wir uns erst so recht intim in das menschliche Innere hinein, wenn wir einem Menschen gegenüberstehen und seine Gebärden, die ganze Art und Weise, wie sich in seinen äußeren Bewegungen das Innere ausdrückt, auf uns wirken lassen können. In dieser Beziehung ist eigentlich jeder Mensch mehr oder weniger ein feiner Künstler gegenüber seinen Mitmenschen, Wenn man eingehen würde auf feine psychologische Wirkungen, die von einem Menschen zum anderen gehen, so würde man sehen, daß unendlich viel davon abhängt — ohne daß es sich die Menschen zum Bewußtsein bringen —, wie die Gebärde als Ganzes genommen auf einen Menschen wirkt. Das braucht nicht in das grobe äußere Bewußtsein einzutreten, es tritt aber darum doch in die Seele ein und äußert sich dann besonders in Wirkungen, wo das äußere Bewußtsein unzählige Intimitäten, die sich unter der Schwelle des Bewußtseins abspielen, einfach grob in Worten zusammenfaßt wie: er gefällt mir, er gefällt mir nicht, oder sie gefällt mir, sie gefällt mir nicht.

Wir können aber auch sehen, wie die Kräfte, die in der Eigenbewegung organisierend wirken, im späteren Leben weiterwirken, wenn wir von der Gebärde, die sich in der Bewegung ausdrückt, mehr übergehen zu dem, wo das Innere des Menschen sozusagen in die äußere Form — aber in Beweglichkeit — sich hineinergießt in der Mimik und in der Physiognomie. Da wirkt in der Tat dasjenige weiter, was erst als Eigenbewegungssinn wirkt und sozusagen der Hilflosigkeit des Menschen Spielraum läßt, sich weiterzuentwickeln, und dann diese Hilflosigkeit in Zucht nimmt. Wenn wir sehen, wie der Mensch sein Außeres durch sein Inneres sozusagen in fortwährendem Gange hält mit seiner Miene, auch mit dem Spiel seiner Physiognomie, so finden wir, wie in der Tat das, was erst in der Organisation meh: als ein bloßer Ausdruck der Wirkung in die Leiblichkeit erscheint, mehr in das Seelische umgegossen und dadurch verinnerlicht erscheint. Was in der ersten Lebenszeit des Menschen mehr direkt wirkt, wird gleichsam in die Innerlichkeit eingefangen, in das selbstbewußte Ich, um dann von innen nach außen sich in die leibliche Sphäre hineinzuergießen, während es anfangs eine Auseinandersetzung des selbstbewußten Ich mit dem Geist war. Wenn wir nun beim Menschen sehen, wie uns an ihm berechtigterweise die besondere Schädelform interessiert, so müssen wir sagen: In dieser besonderen Schädelform drückt sich in der Tat auch etwas von seinem innersten Wesen aus. Jeder Mensch weiß, daß dies schon im groben der Fall ist und daß man immer Unterschiede zwischen dem menschlichen Innern bei diesem oder jenem Menschen in der Stirnform, in der Schädelform finden wird. Selbstverständlich darf man nicht auf gewisse Gebiete des geistigen Lebens dabei blicken, die sich wieder von der an den Leib gebundenen Seele emanzipieren. Aber als eine gewisse Grundlage ist doch das vorhanden, was man als Ausdruck des zur Seele gewordenen Geistes bezeichnen kann und mit so großem Unrecht ausgestaltete in dem, was man Phrenologie, Schädelbeobachtung und dergleichen nennt. Denn das Wesentliche ist gerade, sich klarzumachen, daß jene Formen, die im menschlichen Schädel zum Ausdruck kommen, für den Menschen als solchen, wie er als moralisches, intellektuelles Wesen vor uns steht, individuelle und nicht generelle sind. Wo wir aber darangehen, zu generalisieren, da verkennen wir überhaupt den ganzen Zusammenhang. In dieser Art ist die ganze Phrenologie, wenn sie so getrieben wird, ein materialistischer Unfug. Man sollte sie überhaupt zu keiner Wissenschaft machen im rechten Sinne des Wortes, denn das kann sie nicht sein. Was uns in der menschlichen Schädelbildung entgegentritt, ist ein Individuelles, das von Mensch zu Mensch verschieden ist. Die Art und Weise, wie wir dann den Menschen gerade nach diesen Merkmalen beurteilen wollen, muß ebenso eine individuelle sein, wie es das Verhältnis des Menschen zu einem Kunstwerk ist. Wie es da keine allgemeinen, festgestellten Regeln gibt, sondern wie man ein Verhältnis zu einem jeden Kunstwerk gewinnen muß, wenn es wirklich eines ist, so wird man, wenn man nach allgemeinen Regeln an das geht, was an künstlerischem Sinn in dem Menschen steckt, schon zu einigen Urteilen kommen können. Nur werden sich diese Urteile ganz anders ergeben, als sie gewöhnlich ausgesprochen werden. Aber gerade das wird sich uns ergeben: Betrachten wir einen menschlichen Schädel, so werden wir sehen, wie der Geist in der Form in unmittelbarer Beziehung arbeitet, wie die Kräfte des Geistigen — des Ich — von innen heraus die Schädelkapsel förmlich entgegenschieben dem, was von außen nach innen arbeitet. Nur wenn man ein Gefühl für dieses Arbeiten von außen nach innen und von innen nach außen hat, kann man sich auf das einlassen, was in der menschlichen Schädelform, die das Gehirn umschließt, uns entgegentritt.

So zeigt uns die Beobachtung, wie in der Tat der Geist im Tiere unmittelbar sich auslebt in den Formen. Da das seelische Leben des Tieres wieder unmittelbar an die Organisation gebunden ist und das instinktive Leben ein Ausdruck der Organisation ist, so wird man immer finden können, warum diese oder jene Instinkte oder Impulse gefühlsmäßig beim Tier auftreten müssen. Dagegen kann man vom Menschen sagen: Bei ihm sehen wir ebenso den Geist von innen an seiner Organisation arbeiten. Wir sehen aber auch, wie das, was dem selbstbewußten Ich zugrunde liegt, sich entgegenstellt und sich hineinschiebt in die Organisation — und damit in die Arbeit des Geistes.

Nun betrachten wir aber den Menschen einmal etwas anders. Da haben wir — was offen am Tage liegt — die Fähigkeit der Sprache, eine gewisse Denkungsart und ein gewisses Selbstbewußtsein durch die Erziehung bei ihm vorliegend. Diese Fähigkeiten entstehen durch die Berührung des Menschen mit der Außenwelt. Aber man tut nicht genug, wenn man diese Dinge einfach hinnimmt. Denn man muß sich klar sein, daß etwas viel Tieferes, viel Intimeres sowohl der Sprache, der Denkart wie auch dem Selbstbewußtsein zugrunde liegt, das durch die Umgebung ausgelöst wird. Es liegt dem zugrunde, daß der Mensch in der Tat gewissermaßen drei Sinne hat, die wir beim Tier nicht finden. Man darf dabei das Wort Sinn nicht nur vergleichsweise nehmen; aber halten wir uns an Tatsachen und nicht an Worte. Das Tier zeigt sich im weitesten Umfange unfähig, auf dem Gebiete des Lautes, des Begriffes und dem, was wir Ich-Wesenheit nennen, sich so aufnahmefähig zu erweisen wie der Mensch. Das Tier geht, wenn wir die Sinne durchgehen, bis zum Tonsinn hinauf. — Das liegt für die äußere Wahrnehmung dem Tier als eine Art Höchstes zugrunde. — Bis zum Ton geht es mit seiner Sinnfähigkeit, dann aber lösen sich aus seiner allgemeinen Organisation nicht die Möglichkeiten heraus, ein Verständnis zu haben für Laut, Begriff und für die Ich-Wesenheit, die in einem anderen Wesen ist. Das Tier sieht die Gattung: der Hund den Hund, der Elefant den Elefanten und so weiter. Aber kein Geistesforscher würde dem Tier die Wahrnehmung für eine Ich-Wesenheit zuschreiben. Es wird der materialistischen Forschung nicht gelingen, für die Wahrnehmung einer Ich-Wesenheit in der tierischen Organisation etwas nachzuweisen; also die Naturforschung sollte es nicht bezweifeln, und die Geistesforschung wird es nicht bezweifeln. So haben wir Entwickelungsmöglichkeiten beim Menschen offen für die Wahrnehmung der Innerlichkeit des Lautes, für die Innerlichkeit von Begriff und Vorstellung und für die Innerlichkeit des Ich-Wesens selbst. Hätte der Mensch für diese drei Betätigungen nicht Entwickelungsmöglichkeiten offen, so würden die andern Kräfte, die ich genannt habe, keine von innen sich ergießende Nahrung haben und sich auch nicht ausdrücken können. Das Tier hat für diese drei Entwickelungsmöglichkeiten nicht die Organe. Denn in alledem, was der Mensch in seinem Hinausgehen über das Tier darlegt, zeigt sich der Abdruck dessen, was in seinem Innern ist, als Möglichkeit des Ausdruckes der Lautauffassung, der Begriffsauffassung und der Ich-Auffassung, des Ich-Bewußtseins, währenddessen haben wir beim Tier ausgedrückt, wie der Geist in die Form gegossen ist, und es zeigt uns daher eine durch das Gattungsmäßige gegebene Gebärde und eine durch das Gattungsmäßige bedingte Physiognomie. Das alles drückt sozusagen aus, wie sich der Geist unmittelbar in die Form hineingerinnend betätigen kann. Beim Menschen sehen wir, wie ein jeder seine spezielle Gebärde hat, seine spezielle Physiognomie und Mimik, und wie sich gerade darin ganz besonders ausdrückt, was er auf der anderen Seite an Entwickelungsmöglichkeiten für den Laut, für Begriff oder Vorstellung und für das Selbstbewußtsein hat. In der Tat ergießt sich in die Gebärde, in die Physiognomie und Mimik und in das ganze Auftreten des Selbstbewußtseins dasjenige, was der Mensch in bezug auf Entwickelungsmöglichkeiten für Laut, Begriff und Ich-Wesenheit hat. Da sehen wir von innen nach außen rinnen das, was erst durch den unmittelbaren Verkehr des selbstbewußten Ich mit dem Geist erlebt wird, und sehen es sich am Menschen ausdrücken.

Wenn wir dies so erleben, dürfen wir uns sagen: Also sehen wir am Menschen, wenn wir nur nicht mit abstrakten, trockenen, nüchternen Begriffen an ihn herantreten, sondern mit lebendiger, lebensvoller Anschauung, wie IchWesen, Vorstellungs-Wesen und Laut-Wesen unmittelbar an der äußeren Gestaltung und Bewegung arbeiten. Es ist förmlich so, wie wenn wir als Kristallographen die Formkräfte eines Kristalls studieren würden und uns dann eine Vorstellung bilden, wie wir im Steinsalz einen Würfel, im Schwefel ein Oktaeder, im Granat ein Rhombendodekaeder und so weiter vor uns haben. Wie wir da sehen, wie innere Kraftwirkungen sich in die Form ergießen, so sehen wir beim Menschen nach außen unmittelbar leben vor der lebendigen Anschauung alles, was der Mensch uns eigentlich ist, was gerade starken Eindruck in bezug auf seine Wesenheit auf uns macht, und was uns wie geronnene Ich-Vorstellung, wie geronnene Begriffe oder Vorstellungen und wie geronnener Lautsinn entgegentritt. Ja, das Letzte, was uns im Ton oder Laut entgegentritt, können wir ganz besonders anschaulich uns vor Augen führen. Denn jenen Verkehr mit dem Geist, den der Mensch vielleicht auf die intimste Art pflegt, den jeder Mensch, ob Künstler oder nicht, mit dem Geiste pflegen kann, der sozusagen ganz in die feinsten Seelenverwebungen seines Wesens hineinwirkt, erlebt der Mensch in jener Eigentümlichkeit, die doch nicht in ihrer ganzen Bedeutung für das menschliche Leben übersehen werden soll, übersehen werden darf in dem Gehalt, in der Innigkeit — ich sage jetzt nicht des Wortinhaltes, sondern in der Innigkeit des Wie im Wortinhalt, in der Innigkeit des Lautcharakters, der Seele der Sprache. Die Sprache hat nicht nur den Geist, der sich äußert im Inhalt der Worte, die Sprache hat auch eine Seele. Und viel mehr als wir denken, wirkt gerade in dem Lautcharakter eine Sprache auf uns. Ganz anders wirkt in unserer Seele eine Sprache, welche viel a hat, ganz anders eine solche, die im Wortcharakter mehr i oder # hat. Denn in dem, was im Timbre des Lautcharakters liegt, ergießt sich wie im Unbewußten die Seele, die über die ganze Menschheit ausgegossen ist, über uns herüber. Das baut und wirkt an uns, und das kommt im Leben wieder als eine besondere Art von Gebärde zum Ausdruck, Denn eine besondere Art von Gebärde ist auch die Sprache des Menschen, aber nicht insofern sie Ausdruck der Worte ist, sondern insofern sie Seele hat, wie der Mensch mit seiner Seele in der Sprache lebt und sich ausdrückt. Da können wir sogar ganz wichtige Unterschiede angeben.

Jeder weiß, daß zu jenen eigentümlichen Imponderabilien, die von Mensch zu Mensch spielen, die Innigkeit gehört, wie ein Mensch spricht, ganz abgesehen davon, was er sagt. Wenn wir dieses berücksichtigen, werden wir uns sagen: Wir lernen viel, viel von dem Intimsten eines Menschen gerade dadurch kennen, wenn wir beobachten, wie ein Mensch spricht. Wir müssen im Leben oftmals darüber hinwegsehen, denn höhere Gesichtspunkte können es in den Hintergrund treten lassen. Dennoch ist aber etwas in uns, was sehr rechnet mit dem Krächzen oder dem Wohllaut einer Stimme. Wer ein wirklicher Seelenbeobachter ist, der weiß, daß eine krächzende Stimme bei einem Mann viel unangenehmer ist als bei einer Frau — aus dem einfachen Grunde, weil diese Gebiete ganz intim mit unserer Organisation zusammenhängen und beim Manne eine viel intimere Beziehung, eine viel innigere Verbindung des Seelenlebens mit der ganzen Behandlung der Stimme, dem Timbre und so weiter besteht, als es bei der Frau der Fall ist. Wahr ist es, aber beweisen kann man es nicht. Man kann nur darauf hinweisen. Wenn Sie darauf achtgeben, werden Sie es schon bemerken. Wer auf solche Dinge einzugehen vermag, wird daher gerade das Bedürfnis haben, wenn er besonders wichtige Dinge aussprechen will, in die Sprache nicht bloß Inhalt hineinzulegen, sondern auch dasjenige, was jetzt gerade angedeutet worden ist. Und wahrhaftig nicht aus Unbescheidenheit, sondern um ein Beispiel anzuführen für das, was gemeint ist, will ich dabei hinweisen auf das von mir verfaßte Rosenkreuzermysterium «Die Pforte der Einweihung». Da tritt an den gewichtigsten Stellen überall hervor, daß das, was überdies nicht in dem Inhalt gesagt werden kann, in der Behandlung der Sprache bis auf den Vokalklang gegeben ist; Sie werden nicht dort, wo ein \(u\) klingt auf ein \(a,\) ein \(i\) auf ein \(a\) folgen lassen können.

Es ist außerordentlich wichtig, daß wir dieses Gebiet als die «Gebärde der Sprache» ins Auge fassen und sehen, wie der Geist in seiner Macht auf die Organisation wirkt, und daß wir die unmittelbare Wirkung des Geistes auf die Seele, die das selbstbewußte Ich in sich enthält, beachten. Dann sehen wir wieder zurück, wie die menschliche Seele in die Leiblichkeit sich hineinergießt. Jetzt komme ich allerdings zu einer Sache, welche für viele von Ihnen selbstverständlich eine Hypothese sein muß, und die auszusprechen für den einen gewagt, für den andern sogar ärgerlich erscheinen kann. Aber darauf kommt es nicht an.

Wir sehen am Menschen die Ich-Wesenheit, was der Vorstellungssinn ergibt und erleben kann und was der Lautsinn erleben kann, in die Gebärde, in die Physiognomie und Mimik sich hineinergießen und auch in die Form innerhalb jener Grenzen, die ich angedeutet habe, so daß wir im Menschen eine unmittelbare Wirksamkeit des Geistes sehen in jenem Lebensalter zwischen Geburt und Tod, wo das Ich sich hineinstellt zwischen Geist und Leiblichkeit. Nun denken wir uns jetzt einmal folgendes: ich rede, weil die Dinge mehr oder weniger subtil sind, in Gleichnissen. Denken wir uns das, was der Mensch vollbringt mit IchWesenheit, Begriffsvermögen und Lautsinn, so wie es sich hineinergießt wirklich zunächst mehr oder weniger in das Gleichgewicht, in die Eigenbewegung und in das Selbstbewußtsein, später in die freie Gebärde, in die freie Mimik und in die das Innerliche verratende Physiognomie, von vornherein mit einer Notwendigkeit zusammenwirken, so daß sich zwischen diese zwei, beziehungsweise drei Seiten kein Ich hineinstellt. Denken wir uns also das Ich ausgeschaltet und so die beiden Seiten der menschlichen Natur aufeinanderwirken, daß gleichsam durch einen nicht zum Bewußtsein gekommenen Lautsinn, der das tiefste Innere auslebt, von vornherein in seinen Erlebnissen eine ohne das Dazwischentreten des Ich bewirkte Herstellung des Gleichgewichtes zustande kommt, so haben Sie etwas, was beim Menschen offen bleibt, ohne ein Dazwischentreten eines Ich hergestellt: das ist das, was dem Tier sein Gleichgewicht von vornherein bestimmt. Und denken Sie sich die Vorstellung, wodurch der Mensch seine Gesetze und die tierische Gattung erfaßt, das heißt, die ganze Organisation insofern sie Eigenbewegung ist, und wo sie Physiognomie und Mimik ist, in der ganzen Bewegung des Tieres ausgedrückt — was ausgedrückt wird in den tierischen Instinkten, Leidenschaften und so weiter —, so haben Sie wieder dasjenige, durch eine naturgesetzliche Notwendigkeit im Tier verbunden, was der Mensch in seinem Leben so hat, daß sein Ich verbindend dazwischen tritt. Wieder haben wir beim Tier durch naturgesetzliche Notwendigkeit verbunden, was im Menschen der unmittelbare Ausdruck des Lebens ist. Beim Menschen arbeitet die Lebensgestaltung noch hinein in die Form. Denken Sie es sich aber nicht mehr aufgespart für das Leben, sondern unmittelbar durch die Naturwirksamkeit gestaltet, dann haben Sie es gattungsmäßig, wie es uns in der Plastik der verschiedenen Tiergattungen entgegentritt.

So sehen wir im Menschen ein Wesen, das seine Sinnenwelt in der Mitte hat zwischen zwei Polen. Er hat seine Sinnenwelt: die Wahrnehmungswelt, die Tonwelt, die Geschmackswelt, die Geruchswelt und so weiter. Diese liegen zwischen dem, wie er sich selber wahrnimmt, sich Beziehungen gibt in den verschiedenen Richtungen des Raumes im Gleichgewichtssinn, wie er sich im eigenen Leib befindlich fühlt, und zwischen dem Lautsinn, dem Begriffsverständnis und der Ich-Vorstellung auf der anderen Seite. Wie sich nun mit innerer Notwendigkeit das innere Leben für die dazwischen liegenden Sinne verhält, so verhält es sich für das Tier, notwendig gestaltend die ganze Leibesorganisation. Lassen Sie beim Menschen die beiden Seiten zusammengehörig sein ohne ein Dazwischenkommen eines Ich, so haben Sie das unmittelbare, ohne das Dazwischentreten seiner Seele vorhandene Einwirken der Geistigkeit auf die Leiblichkeit. Beim Menschen haben wir das, was wir nennen können: er ist nach der geistigen und physischen Seite eine Auslegung in Raum, Gebärde und so weiter, die offen bleibt für die Wirkung des Geistes nach der einen Seite und nach der andern Seite. Damit müssen wir uns befreunden, daß in der Tat gewissermaßen dadurch die Grundlage für das ganze Verständnis des Menschen und des menschlichen Geisteslebens überhaupt geschaffen ist, insofern es sich in der Geistesgeschichte abspielt.

Wir sehen, daß wir nicht zusammenwerfen dürfen, was der Mensch im Begriff erlebt, mit dem, was er erlebt, indem er den Begriff selber verwirklicht und selber ausgestaltet. In einer gewissen Beziehung ist der Mensch in bezug auf die Ausgestaltung des Begriffes in einer ganz anderen Lage als in bezug auf das Verständnis des Begriffes. Die Ausgestaltung des Begriffes steht auf einem ganz anderen Blatt als die Mittel zum Verständnis des Begriffes. Ich möchte dabei auf eine Tatsache hinweisen.

Im Jahre 1894 hielt ein großer Verehrer Galileis in Wien, als er das Rektorat der Wiener Universität antrat, Laurenz Müllner, eine Kektoratsrede und machte dabei auf eine eigentümliche Tatsache aufmerksam, die ja zunächst sehr interessant ist. Er machte darauf aufmerksam, daß in Galilei derjenige Geist der Menschheit gegeben worden ist, der in Begriffe fassen konnte die mechanisch-physikalischen Gesetze — die Gesetze der Pendelbewegung, der Wurfbewegung, der Fallgeschwindigkeit, des Gleichgewichtes —, die in der grandiosesten Weise vielleicht zum Ausdruck kommen — so sagte Professor Müllner — in der himmelansteigenden Kuppel der Peterskirche in Rom, in dem wunderbaren Werke Michelangelos. Das ist wahr, das muß jeder sagen, auf den das betreffende Kunstwerk einen Eindruck macht. Und so können wir sagen, meinte Laurenz Müllner: In Galileis Verständnis treten jene Gesetze zuerst in Begriffe gefaßt auf, die wir in dem Gleichmaße und den Gleichgewichtsverhältnissen der gigantischen Kuppel der Peterskirche zu Rom zum Himmel aufragen sehen. Der Mensch hat sozusagen in Galilei in Begriffe zu fassen verstanden, was sich in der Peterskirche in Rom als Kunstschöpfung Michelangelos darstellt. Nur tritt dazu jetzt die eine Tatsache: daß der Geburtstag Galileis und der Todestag Michelangelos in dasselbe Jahr fallen: 1564 stirbt Michelangelo am 18. Februar, und in demselben Jahr, fast auf den Tag genau, am 15. Februar, wird Galilei geboren, der die mechanisch-physikalischen Gesetze für die Menschheit entdeckte!

Das ist in der Tat eine außerordentlich interessante Tatsache, denn sie weist darauf hin, daß der Mensch jenen Verkehr mit dem Geist, durch den er in die Lage kommt, die Gesetze, die nachher gefunden werden, selber den Dingen einzuprägen, in unmittelbarer Weise vollzieht und nicht durch den Verstand, nicht durch den Begriff, überhaupt nicht durch die Intelligenz. Das weist uns aber auf etwas anderes hin, nämlich darauf, daß der Mensch in seiner Organisation in einem Verkehr mit dem Geiste ist, bevor innerlich, seelisch, die Intelligenz ihn auch verarbeitet hat. Daher können wir gewissermaßen sagen: Der Mensch ist so beschaffen, daß er selber der Materie einverleiben kann, was in ihm lebt als Ausfluß des Geistes, was auf ihn gewirkt hat, bevor er es in die Intelligenz fassen konnte. Und das ist ja so bei allem künstlerischen Schaffen. Diese Tatsache interessiert uns deshalb, weil wir daran sehen, daß der Mensch im physischen Leben mit Bezug auf alles, was er lebt und was offenbar in einem Organ seinen Ausdruck hat, vor dem Verständnis für die Gesetze jener Organe etwas an sich hat, was die Gesetze plastisch durchführt, sie plastisch gestaltet. So daß es also, wenn wir den Gedanken durchdenken, ganz klar ist, daß der Sinn für jene Gesetze des Geistes, die sich zum Beispiel in einem Kunstwerk ausdrücken, vor dem Einverleiben der Gesetze in die Seele da ist und da sein muß. Daher haben wir also sozusagen an dem geistigen Ende des Menschen auch das Umgekehrte, wenn wir nur das Wort nicht unedel anwenden, sondern entsprechend ins Geistige hinaufgehoben. Dann zeigt sich uns in der Tat: durch einen ins Geistige heraufgehobenen und geläuterten Instinkt schafft der Mensch dasjenige, was er erst später entdeckt. Wie das Tier instinktiv schafft, wie zum Beispiel die Bienengenossenschaft ihren wunderbar eingerichteten Bienenstaat zustande bringt, so schafft der Mensch unmittelbar aus der geistigen Welt heraus, bevor sich die geistige Welt in seiner Intelligenz spiegelt.

So sehen wir, daß auch nach dieser Richtung hin alles auf das Gegenübertreten des selbstbewußten Ich gegenüber dem Wirken des Geistes hinweist. Das Tier kommt mit seinem Instinkt eben seelisch dazu, in seiner Intelligenz zu spiegeln, was es hineinbaut in seine Baue und dergleichen. Nehmen wir als Beispiel den Biber und seinen Bau: Unter den Bibern wird es immer «Michelangelos» geben, aber niemals einen «Galilei», der in derselben Weise die Gesetze versteht, die der ‹Biber-Michelangelo› in den Biberbau hineinbaut. Beim Menschen gibt es das, was dem selbstbewußten Ich gegenübertritt, was der Geist schafft, wenn er in die Organisation hineintritt.

So haben wir bei der Betrachtung der menschlichen Entwickelung klar gesehen, daß sich zwischen Geist und Leibesorganisation dasjenige hineinstellt, was der Ausdruck des selbstbewußten Ich beim Menschen ist, daß beim Menschen die veredelte Organisation den Geist unmittelbar erlebt, wie wir es im künstlerischen Phantasieschaffen erblicken, und daß dann noch die selbstbewußte Wesenheit in ihm lebt, die sich der Einordnung des Geistes in den Leib entgegenstellen kann. Also es kommt nicht darauf an, ob wir dem Menschen einen Vorzug geben vor dem Tier oder nicht, das wäre der verkehrte Weg; sondern wir haben darauf zu sehen, daß beim Tier der Geist unmittelbar an die Leibesorganisation heranrückt und die Seele gemäß dieser Leibesorganisation das Leben hinbringt, während beim Menschen sich zwischen Geist und Leibesorganisation das in der Seele befindliche lebendige Ich hineinstellt, die Vermittelung herstellt und arbeitet zwischen Geist und Leibesorganisation. Damit aber hat das Ich des Menschen einen unmittelbaren Verkehr mit dem, was in der geistigen Welt lebt. Es lebt zunächst diesen unmittelbaren Verkehr dadurch aus, daß es sich durchringt, geistige Verhältnisse in seiner Umgebung zu begründen, welche das Tier nur aus seinen Instinkten begründen kann. Wir sehen ein gewisses Rechtsleben, ein moralisches Leben beim Tier schon ausgeprägt. Wir verstehen aber das Rechtsleben, das moralische Leben, das Staatsleben, den ganzen Gang der Weltgeschichte nur, wenn wir beim Menschen die Emanzipation des Geistes von der Leiblichkeit sehen, indem sich das Ich hineinstellt zwischen Geist und Leiblichkeit und dadurch in unmittelbaren Verkehr mit der geistigen Welt tritt. Wie dieses Ich mit der geistigen Welt in einen unmittelbaren Verkehr tritt, ist es der normale Menschheitszustand. Wie aber ein Fortschritt gegenüber der Tierentwickelung das Hineinstellen eines selbstbewußten Ich zwischen Geist und Leiblichkeit bedeutet, so ist es auch möglich, daß der Mensch weiterschreitet auf dieser Bahn, indem er den Geist wieder, den er emanzipiert hat von der Leiblichkeit, in sich selber weiterentwickelt, wie er sich im freien Verkehr mit ihm erlebt. Dessen Möglichkeiten werden wir sehen in dem Vortrag über das «Wesen des Schlafes», und dessen volle Bedeutung wird sich uns zeigen in dem Vortrag «Wie erlangt man Erkenntnis der geistigen Welt?». Da werden wir sehen, wie das Emanzipieren des Geistes von der Leiblichkeit für den normalen Menschen bis zu einer gewissen Stufe eingetreten ist, aber weitergeführt werden kann, indem schlummernde, keimhafte Kräfte in dem Menschen veranlagt sind, durch deren Entfaltung er zu einem unmittelbaren Hineinschauen in die geistige Welt geführt werden kann. Wir mußten erst einen Unterbau schaffen für das, was wir als die eigentliche Betrachtung der geistigen Welt werden pflegen können. Wir haben damit gewonnen, daß wir die eigentliche Bedeutung des menschlichen Wesens darin zu suchen haben, daß das menschliche Ich hineintritt zwischen Geist und Leiblichkeit. Das aber ist auch wieder äußerlich leiblich gegeben, indem uns sozusagen das selbstbewußte Ich, wie es uns im Leben entgegentritt, in der menschlichen Innerlichkeit schon durchaus, man möchte sagen, physiognomisch und auch der Geste nach entgegentritt. Einige von Ihnen werden sich erinnern, daß ich nicht nur ausgesprochen, sondern auch belegt habe, daß dem alten Satz «Blut ist ein ganz besonderer Saft» eine tiefe Wahrheit zugrunde liegt. Das ist in der Tat so. Und in dem, was sich einfach als eine unmittelbare Wirkung der Seele auf die Blutzirkulation ausdrückt, kann man schon etwas erraten von jenem Hineinwirken des selbstbewußten Ich in die Leiblichkeit, in die Organisation. Das ist sozusagen die nächste Pforte, wo das vom Geist befruchtete Ich in die Leiblichkeit hineinwirkt. Wir sehen es, wenn wir das Seelische in seiner Wirkung auf die Blutzirkulation betrachten. Ich habe schon öfter darauf hingewiesen, daß wir in den ganz groben Erscheinungen der Schamröte und der Angstbleichheit eine unmittelbare Wirkung sehen von etwas, was in der Seele vor sich geht und im Leib sich ausdrückt, denn es sind in der Tat Furcht und Schamgefühl seelische Vorgänge. Man müßte, wollte man das bestreiten, unbewußter Materialist sein, was zum Beispiel William James tatsächlich ist, obwohl er Spiritualist sein will, indem er in der Tat den Satz verfechten will: «Der Mensch weint nicht, weil er traurig ist, sondern er ist traurig, weil er weint.» Man müßte sich demnach vorstellen, daß der Mensch dadurch in seiner Seele Traurigkeit erlebt, daß irgendwelche, wenn auch noch so feine, materielle Einflüsse auf den Organismus ausgeübt werden, welche die Tränen herauspressen, und wenn der Mensch dies merkt — so meint William James — dann werde er traurig. Wenn wir diesen Schluß in seiner ganzen Unhaltbarkeit nicht erkennen, werden wir nicht einsehen können, daß wir es in Dingen wie Lachen und Weinen, aber auch in der Schamröte, wo eine Umlagerung des Blutes vom Zentrum nach der Peripherie stattfindet, mit materiellen Vorgängen zu tun haben, welche unmittelbar unter seelisch-geistigen Einflüssen stehen. Wenn wir das bedenken, werden wir sagen können: In der Tat drückt sich beim Menschen das Seelische in der Blutzirkulation aus. Was wir aber so vom Menschen sagen, daß das selbstbewußte Ich im Blut und in der Blutzirkulation sich auslebt, können wir nicht unmittelbar auf das Tier anwenden, weil da ein selbstbewußtes Ich nicht in die Blutzirkulation hineinwirken kann. Das aber ist das Wesentliche, weil das Tier sich nicht unmittelbar dem Einfluß der geistigen Welt öffnet, die mit Notwendigkeit hereinwirkt. Während wir in der tierischen Blutzirkulation wieder etwas vor uns haben, wo sich unmittelbar auslebt, wie das tierische Seelenleben zum Ausdruck kommt, haben wir in der menschlichen Blutzirkulation etwas von der Art zu sehen, wie der Geist auf das Ich wirkt.

Wenn die Menschen dereinst anfangen werden, ein wenig die Dinge zu studieren, auf die es ankommt, nämlich daß das, was ich heute im Anfang sagte, wesentlich ist für das menschliche Leben, daß der Mensch nicht von vornherein organisiert ist für eine bestimmte Ausprägung von Gleichgewichts-, Eigenbewegungs- und Lebenssinn, sondern sie sich erst erringen muß, — wenn man dahinterkommen wird, daß mit den Richtungen im Raume Realitäten gegeben sind, daß es nicht gleichgültig ist, ob ein Rückgrat horizontal oder vertikal zu den Raumverhältnissen steht oder ob eine Blutzirkulation in dieser oder jener Richtung fließt, dann wird man vor allen Dingen in der Art und Weise, wie sich solche Organisationen in den ganzen Weltenzusammenhang hineinstellen, das Wesentliche sehen. Man wird zum Beispiel in der Tat in den Richtungen nach einer bestimmten Linie im Raum hin etwas Wesentliches sehen müssen. Wenn man das einsieht, wird man die große Bedeutung gerade der Lage und der ganzen Blutvorgänge im menschlichen Blutsystem beurteilen können. Heute glaubt man, daß die Lehre von der Blutzirkulation etwas einigermaßen Abgeschlossenes ist. Das ist es gar nicht. Wir sind erst im Beginn, etwas von den Geheimnissen der Blutzirkulation kennenzulernen. Damit ich diese Dinge nicht so hinstelle, als ob sie bloße Behauptungen wären, will ich auf folgendes hinweisen.

Es ist höchstens fünfundzwanzig Jahre her, daß ein auf diesem Gebiete sehr bedeutender Naturforscher, weil er die nötige mathematische Vorbildung dafür hatte, nämlich der Kriminalanthropologe Moriz Benedikt, erst auf die sehr erhebliche Tatsache aufmerksam machte, die ja heute wieder vielfach ignoriert wird, daß die gleichartigen Schläge in der Pulsader rechts und links verschieden sind, was außerordentlich wichtig ist für die Erkenntnis der Zusammenhänge im Menschenwesen. Und besonders ist wichtig, was kein berühmter Mann auf diesem Gebiete gefunden hat, sondern ein sehr einfacher Mann, Dr. Karl Schmid, und was er 1892 veröffentlichte in der «Wiener Medizinischen Wochenschrift» in seiner Abhandlung «Herzstoß und Pulskurven». Da wird hingewiesen auf ganz wichtige Beobachtungen. Erst wenn man diese Dinge, die jetzt erst im Anfang sind, einigermaßen studieren wird, wird man einen Anfang gemacht haben in der Erkenntnis des Zusammenhanges zwischen selbstbewußtem Ich und Blutzirkulation auf der einen Seite und auf der andern Seite zwischen dem im Tier wirkenden tierischen Geist und der tierischen Blutzirkulation.

Ich habe das letzte Mal darauf hingewiesen, daß wir in der Tat vermögen, bis in die Einzelheiten der Organologie und der einzelnen Funktionen zu gehen, und den Unterschied nachweisen können, wie der Geist sich im Menschen und wie der Geist sich im Tier zeigt. Demgegenüber ist es ganz begreiflich, daß die neueren Forschungen über die Verwandtschaft von Menschen- und Affenblut weniger besagen, weil sie auf das Außere, rein Stoffliche gehen, auf die chemische Reaktion und so weiter und nicht auf das, worauf es ankommt. Käme es auf das bloß Stoffliche an, so müßte es ganz gleichgültig sein, ob ein Rad als Spielzeug für Kinder, oder bei einer Uhr verwendet wird. Aber es hängt immer davon ab, wie ein Glied oder Organ in der Gesamtheit eines Wesens oder Dinges verwendet wird. Es hängt nicht davon ab, wie Menschenblut sich zu Affenblut verhält oder dergleichen, sondern wie die betreffenden Organe in den Dienst der Gesamtorganisation gestellt sind. Wie sich da wirklich das, was wahr ist, berührt mit der äußeren Forschung, das zeigt uns ja am besten das Verhältnis Goethes zur Naturwissenschaft. In dem Zeitalter Goethes war in bezug auf die Naturdinge schon ein harter Materialismus im Schwunge, und gerade die hervorragendsten Naturforscher, die den Unterschied zwischen Mensch und Tier festhalten wollten, beriefen sich dabei auf etwas rein Materielles. Sie meinten, jener Unterschied zeige sich darin, daß die Tiere in der oberen Kinnlade noch einen Zwischenknochen haben, der beim Menschen fehle, und sie sagten etwa: Das ist die Kluft zwischen Mensch und Tier, daß das Tier noch einen Zwischenknochen für die Aufnahme der oberen Schneidezähne hat, der Mensch aber keinen! Für Goethe war das unerträglich. Ihm kam es darauf an, nicht in den einzelnen Baustücken, sondern in bezug auf die Art, wie der Geist im Menschen und wie der Geist im Tier sich der Organe bedient, den Unterschied zwischen Mensch und Tier zu finden. Nebenbei will ich nur darauf hinweisen, daß man die Goethesche Metamorphosen-Lehre anwenden kann in bezug auf alle einzelnen menschlichen Organe. So konnte sich Goethe niemals, von Anfang an nicht mit dem Gedanken befreunden, daß in einer materiellen Einzelheit das Hinausragen des Menschen über die Tiere zu suchen sein sollte. Deshalb wollte er zunächst nachweisen, daß jene Behauptung nicht zutrifft und daß diese Kluft nicht da ist, und er ging nun daran, den «Zwischenkieferknochen» beim Menschen aufzuweisen. Wenn Goethe weiter nichts getan hätte als diese eine einzige Tat, wenn er nichts anderes gefunden hätte, als daß in der Tat der Zwischenkieferknochen beim Menschen da ist, nur verwachsen, so daß man ihn nicht sieht, so würde er schon dadurch ein gewaltiges Genie in der menschlichen Entwickelung sein. Goethe sagte sich — nicht weil er es getan hat, erzähle ich es,sondern weil es in der Empfindung Goethes zutage tritt—: Ich habe mit Herder und mit andern, die sich bemühen, den Menschen aus dem Geist heraus zu begreifen, vor allen Dingen das Augenmerk darauf gerichtet, daß der Mensch gerade deshalb über den Tieren steht, weil die Tiere an ihre Organisation gebunden sind. Der Mensch aber emanzipiert sich davon und tritt in einen unmittelbaren Verkehr mit dem Geist und kann dadurch wieder zurückwirken auf die Organe, was Goethe, wie ich auch schon andeutete, mit den Worten sagte: «Die Tiere werden durch ihre Organe belehrt, sagten die Alten. Ich setze hinzu: die Menschen gleichfalls; sie haben jedoch den Vorzug, ihre Organe wieder zu belehren.» Goethe konnte gar nicht anders als zugeben: die Organe sind dieselben; nur werden sie von einer andern Seite her gestaltet. Daher die große Freude Goethes, als er den Zwischenkieferknochen am Menschen endlich gefunden hatte. Da schreibt er an Herder:

«... Ich habe gefunden — weder Gold noch Silber, aber was mir unendliche Freude macht — das os intermaxillare am Menschen! Ich verglich mit Lodern Menschen- und Tierschädel, kam auf die Spur und siehe, da ist es. Nun bitt’ ich dich, laß dich nichts merken, denn es muß geheim behandelt werden. Es soll dich auch recht herzlich freuen, denn es ist wie der Schlußstein zum Menschen, fehlt nicht, ist auch da! Aber wie! Ich habe mir’s auch in Verbindung mit deinem Ganzen gedacht, wie schön es da wird . . .»

In nichts einzelnem kann der Unterschied des Menschen vom Tier gefunden werden; er muß durchaus in dem gefunden werden, wie sich der Geist der Dinge bedient. Denn dadurch blicken wir auf das hin, was der Mensch dem Geist gegenüber ist, wie er sich von der Leiblichkeit emanzipiert hat und in einen unmittelbaren Verkehr mit dem Geiste treten kann. Daher der Unterschied in der Empfindung, der uns überkommt, wenn wir auf ein Geistiges und wenn wir auf ein Leiblich-Materielles hinblicken. Wir werden versuchen, die Worte mit einem ganz andern Sinn zu gebrauchen, ob wir auf das Geistige hinblicken oder auf das Leibliche.

Zwei Gedichte stehen in Goethes Werken nebeneinander. Merkwürdige drei Zeilen enthalten sie:

Das Ewige regt sich fort in allen:
Denn alles muß in nichts zerfallen,
Wenn es im Sein beharren will.

So schließt das eine Gedicht. Und das andere beginnt:

Kein Wesen kann zu nichts zerfallen!
Das Ewige regt sich fort in allen,
Am Sein erhalte dich beglückt!

Ein vollständiger Widerspruch! Wie können wir ihn erklären? Goethe hat ihn so grob in zwei Gedichten hingestellt, die unmittelbar aufeinander folgen. In der Tat können wir die Empfindung in unserm Herzen auslösen, wenn wir hinschauen auf den Geist im materiellen Dasein. Wenn der Geist beharren wollte im materiellen Dasein, wenn er nicht jede Form zerbrechen wollte, müßte er in nichts zerfallen. In dem Augenblick, wo wir den Geist in der Leiblichkeit erblicken, müssen wir sagen: Er muß in nichts zerfallen! Wo wir aber auf den Geist sehen, der in jeder Form in dem Geistigen neu erscheint, da müssen wir sagen: Wir haben es mit dem ewigen, unsterblichen Sein zu tun, mit dem Geist, mit dem wir uns in der emanzipierten Menschenseele verbinden können. Da dürfen wir gerade so sagen:

Kein Wesen kann zu nichts zerfallen!
Das Ewige regt sich fort in allen,
Am Sein erhalte dich beglückt!

wenn wir das unsterbliche Ewige eines Wesens ins Auge fassen.

Sehen wir die Seele, sehen wir den Geist in der Leiblichkeit an, so müssen wir sagen: Lebte er sich ganz in der Leiblichkeit aus, wollte er die Leiblichkeit festhalten: er müßte in nichts zerfallen.

So führt uns gerade die Betrachtung des Tiergeistes und Menschengeistes dahin, nach und nach zu einer Ahnung erst aufzusteigen von dem, was im Grunde genommen Geist genannt werden darf. Und bevor man dazu vordringen will, wie man Erkenntnisse über den Geist gewinnen kann, muß man vor allem erst wissen, wie der Geist hereinleuchtet in die menschliche Seele, die er emanzipiert von der Leiblichkeit, um innerhalb ihrer ein von der leiblichen Organisation unabhängiges und ein in seine Eigengebiete führendes Leben zu haben.

Human Spirit and Animal Spirit

I would like to take a few moments today to recall some of the points made in the last lecture. Of particular importance to us were the insights we were able to gain from direct observation into the difference between human and animal soul life. We indicated this difference by making it clear that animal soul life should not be distinguished from human soul life in such a way that one says: Man is so and so far ahead of the animal in terms of this or that spiritual characteristic. For to refute such a view, one need only point out how certain activities, which in humans can undoubtedly only be achieved by attaining a certain level of intelligence, are objectively carried out within the animal world in the construction of animal dwellings, in the whole of animal life, so that, so to speak, the products, the results of what animals do, contain exactly the same intelligent activity as what humans are able to produce as their tools, as their products. One could truly say: in what the animal accomplishes, the same intelligence flows into it and solidifies within it that we also find in humans. Therefore, we must not simply speak in terms of animal souls and human souls, saying that animals are so far behind humans — and humans so far ahead of animals.

Insofar as we have spoken of the soul — in contrast to the life of the spirit, which we see primarily in the form and design of things, we describe the life of the soul as the life of innerness — we have referred to the fact that we have seen a close connection between the animal's soul life and its physical organization, and that what the animal can experience in its soul life seems to us to be predetermined by the entire structure and disposition of its organs. Therefore, we had to say: this animal soul life is determined by the way the animal is organized, and the animal lives in its soul life, as it were, within itself. But this is the essence of human soul life, that the human soul emancipates itself to a high degree from the immediate organism and, in a sense — please do not misunderstand, this is only meant relatively — experiences the spirit as such, as we have understood it, independently of the physical organization, that is, it is immediately able to devote itself to the spirit.

If we now ascend to the consideration of the human and animal spirit, we must first of all start from these concepts and ideas that we have developed in our consideration of the human and animal soul, and deal a little more intimately with a phenomenon that emerges from all that was said last time. The animal has placed all its spiritual activities, which are directly linked to its organs and experienced in its soul, into what is inherited in the animal as a species. We can therefore say that the generic nature lives out in the animal's soul life, and because this is inheritable, the animal, so to speak, comes into being at birth in such a way that all the activities conditioned by the spirit, which can be experienced through the soul, are predisposed. In this way, the animal enters into existence, as it were, ready-made, and passes on the characteristics that we can describe as an outflow of the animal spirit to its offspring, also in a generic way. The situation is different with humans, who emancipate themselves from their physical organization in relation to their soul life. However, because this is naturally passed on through heredity, humans enter into existence in a certain sense helpless in relation to the activities that are to serve them in life. On the other hand, however, it is this helplessness that makes possible what can be called soul-spiritual development. Thus, we find that the most important thing for humans when they enter existence through birth is that what is determined from outside remains open. With this, we have pointed out how we should think about the relationship between the spirit and the physical body — between spirit and physicality, the soul stands in between — in animals and humans. In the way animals appear to us as a species and gradually live out their instincts in life, we see a direct activity of the spirit in organic physicality. It is, as it were, the organic body in which the animal experiences itself spiritually, the spirit that has entered into reality. There is a direct relationship between spirit and body in animals. When we look at animals, study them, whether superficially with lay observation or more precisely with what comparative anatomy and physiology or other sciences can offer us, we see everywhere, so to speak, the spirit congealed in animal forms, in animal living conditions, which lives itself out in this way in the individual animal species. The outer form and outer life are also an immediate imprint of what we call the spirit underlying the animal, so that we must seek the closest relationship between spirit and physicality in animals.

This is quite different in humans. When drawing attention to the important differences between humans and animals, it is extremely important not to go too far afield, so to speak. The most important thing is close enough at hand when it comes to looking at things in the right way, without needing to come up with all kinds of intimate details of research. When we look at humans, we find that something intervenes between the spirit and the physicality that cannot be thought of as intervening in animals. And that is the essential point. The spirit has an immediate effect, as it were, on the animal form and organization. In humans, it does not have a direct effect, but an intermediary element intervenes, which we can observe very clearly in everyday life. As humans appear to us in pure observation, this intermediary element, which mediates the looser relationship between spirit and physicality, is expressed in what we call the self-conscious ego in humans. I do not want to consider here how this self-conscious ego is formed in physicality, but I will simply say that this self-conscious ego stands between spirit and physicality in the way human beings appear to us in observation, in the way their soul phenomena appear to us. Certainly, it is again child's play, from the standpoint of a science that believes it stands on the firm ground of natural science, to object to the expression “self-conscious ego.” But let us now pursue the way in which this self-conscious ego interposes itself between spirit and physicality.

First and foremost, we find — as we already pointed out last time — that human beings are dependent on life in their environment, in the outside world, with regard to the acquisition of language, the acquisition of a way of thinking, and also with regard to the acquisition of a certain self-awareness. It is a well-known fact that if humans had to develop in isolation, excluded from any human community, they would not acquire language, a certain way of thinking, or a certain self-awareness, and would remain in the helplessness in which they were born. We see, then, that in animals, all the activities necessary for animal life, for animal existence, are born into the line of inheritance from the outset. We see these activities occurring in humans in such a way that they cannot be sought within the line of heredity, just as the warmth necessary for incubating a chicken egg cannot be sought within the chicken egg, because it must come to it from outside. Here we can already see that human beings need to acquire things that are part of their development through something that is within them, whereas in animals these things are, so to speak, directly imprinted on them spiritually. In humans, therefore, certain possibilities for development remain open, into which they absorb certain organizational forces through their self-conscious ego. For no one will doubt, of course, that as humans grow into language, ways of thinking, self-consciousness, and the deliberations associated with them, changes in organization are involved; so that, as it were, what is found in animals as predispositions that are hereditary is taken in by humans from their environment, just as heat is absorbed by a incubated chicken egg, that is, it is organized from the outside. Thus, possibilities for development remain open to humans in relation to the influences of their environment, for spiritual science does not take the view that humans can do anything without organs.

We must therefore be clear that everything that affects humans reorganizes them. This is also the case when we look closely at the human organization, that humans are actually reorganized by the forces that approach them from outside, which must first approach them indirectly through their ego. In doing so, we see something else: when we observe human beings as they place themselves in the world in order to become what they can become through language, thinking, and self-awareness, we grasp them, as it were, at one pole, at one end. But we must also grasp them at the other end. This is not so easy to comprehend if one wants to penetrate the idea. But it is indeed necessary to grasp human beings at the other end as well.

Human beings are indeed born helpless. It is very easy to find out what this is all about, but not so easy to put it into perspective. In the course of their lives, human beings must achieve something that animals do not have to achieve. Human beings achieve this while they are learning to walk, or, better said, while they are learning to stand. There is a great deal hidden behind learning to stand in human life: namely, overcoming what can be called the balance of physicality. If one looks closely at the organizational plan, at the organization of the structure of animals, one finds that animals are in fact organized in such a way that they have a certain balance imprinted on them, through which they are able to put themselves in a position where they can carry on with their lives. They are built in such a way that they are given a fixed balance of physicality. On the one hand, this is the helplessness, and on the other hand, the advantage of humans over animals, that they are dependent on their ego to achieve this balance in the first place. Here, it is not a question of comparing humans with the animals closest to them. If one goes into comparative anatomy, into all the individual organs, it would be childish of spiritual science to assume a gap between humans and the animals closest to them. But in the organizational plan of the animal there is a predetermined equilibrium. In humans, the possibility remains open to establish this equilibrium after birth. But there are even more possibilities open. In animals, the direction of their own movement is determined by their imprinted — if you will use that word — predetermined organization. In humans, the possibility remains open to develop their own sense of movement, so to speak, within a certain scope. Even more remains open in humans — we will come back to how this manifests itself differently —: a certain possibility to imprint life into the organization itself.

One can certainly speak of a certain imprinting of life in a living being. Or who, with any sense of plasticity, would not notice that the organization of a duck is expressed in its plastic forms? Or that the organization of an elephant is expressed in its plastic forms? And that, when we look at it, the skeleton in particular, in contrast to the individual animal species, reveals mystery upon mystery to us, as if life shoots into the form, gets caught in the form, and appears to us as if frozen? Here, too, humans have the freedom to pour life into form in a very specific way, so that we need only say in advance that when we study an animal form with our plastic sense, we are much more interested in the general, the generic, the universal, and neglect the individual forms. In humans, we are interested in the noblest organ — as the organ of the skeleton — the structure of the skull, especially in its plasticity. And it is different in every human being because it remains open to what underlies the human being in the ego, to the individual, while in animals it expresses the generic. So when we approach the human being from the other end, we find that during certain periods of life he has free scope within the expression of his sense of balance, his sense of movement, and his whole sense of life. The interesting thing is that we can see this work of the spirit on the human being, this expression of the spirit in form and movement, at the beginning of human life: how these forces really come into play and express themselves in the attainment of upright gait, in the attainment of the sense of self-movement, and in the development of body forms. But then, at a certain age, the possibility ceases for the forces that play freely in childhood to continue to have an effect. At a certain age, these forces are completed in relation to the effect we have characterized. But if they are truly present in the human being as individuality, they cannot suddenly disappear once they have done their work in a certain area, but must reappear in a later stage of life. We should be able to prove for later life that these forces are there, that they are realities in human life.

We now find these forces clearly emerging again in a manner that is quite characteristic of the progress of the spirit in human beings. What human beings achieve in the development of their sense of balance, we find again in later life when they apply the same power to the development of their gestures. Gesture is something that actually leads us into the deeper structure of human organization, insofar as the spirit lives in human beings. And by expressing his inner self in gesture, man uses the same power that he first uses to achieve a certain state of balance in order to develop his sense of balance. What humans develop tangibly when learning to walk and stand appears to us in later life in a refined, deepened, and internalized form when, instead of being expressed physically, it is expressed more spiritually in gestures. That is why we only feel truly intimate with the human interior when we stand face to face with another person and allow their gestures, the whole way in which their inner self is expressed in their outward movements, to have an effect on us. In this respect, every person is more or less a subtle artist in relation to their fellow human beings. If one were to consider the subtle psychological effects that pass from one person to another, one would see that an infinite amount depends — without people being aware of it — on how the gesture as a whole affects a person. This does not need to enter into the gross outer consciousness, but it nevertheless enters into the soul and then expresses itself particularly in effects where the outer consciousness simply summarizes countless intimacies that take place below the threshold of consciousness in crude terms such as: I like him, I don't like him, or I like her, I don't like her.

But we can also see how the forces that have an organizing effect in our own movements continue to have an effect in later life, when we move from the gesture expressed in the movement to where the inner self, so to speak, pours itself into the outer form — but in a flexible way — in facial expressions and physiognomy. What continues to have an effect is what initially acts as a sense of self-movement and, so to speak, allows the helplessness of the human being room to develop further, and then disciplines this helplessness. When we see how the human being keeps his exterior in constant motion through his interior, so to speak, with his facial expressions and also with the play of his physiognomy, we find that what first appears in the organization as a mere expression of the effect in the physical body is more poured into the soul and thus appears internalized. What has a more direct effect in the first phase of human life is, as it were, captured in the inner self, in the self-conscious ego, and then poured out from the inside to the outside into the physical sphere, whereas at first it was a confrontation between the self-conscious ego and the spirit. When we look at a person and are rightly interested in the particular shape of their skull, we must say that this particular shape of skull does indeed express something of their innermost being. Everyone knows that this is roughly the case and that one will always find differences between the inner being of one person and another in the shape of their forehead or skull. Of course, one must not look at certain areas of spiritual life that are emancipating themselves from the soul bound to the body. But as a certain basis, there is still what can be described as an expression of the spirit that has become soul, and which has been so wrongly elaborated in what is called phrenology, skull observation, and the like. For the essential thing is to realize that those forms that are expressed in the human skull are individual and not general for human beings as such, as they stand before us as moral, intellectual beings. But when we start to generalize, we completely misunderstand the whole context. In this sense, the whole of phrenology, when practiced in this way, is materialistic nonsense. It should not be made into a science in the true sense of the word, because it cannot be one. What we encounter in the formation of the human skull is something individual that differs from person to person. The way in which we then want to judge people according to these characteristics must be just as individual as the relationship between a person and a work of art. Just as there are no general, established rules, but rather one must develop a relationship with each work of art, if it is truly one, so too, if one approaches what is artistic in human beings according to general rules, one will be able to arrive at some judgments. Only these judgments will turn out quite differently than they are usually expressed. But that is precisely what will happen to us: if we look at a human skull, we will see how the spirit works in direct relation to form, how the forces of the spiritual—the ego—formally push the skull capsule from within toward what works from the outside in. Only when we have a feeling for this working from the outside in and from the inside out can we engage with what confronts us in the human skull form that encloses the brain.

Observation shows us how the spirit in animals actually lives itself out directly in their forms. Since the soul life of animals is again directly linked to their organization, and since instinctive life is an expression of that organization, we will always be able to find why this or that instinct or impulse must occur emotionally in animals. In contrast, we can say of human beings: in them, we also see the spirit working from within on their organization. But we also see how that which underlies the self-conscious ego opposes itself and intrudes into the organization — and thus into the work of the spirit.

But let us now look at human beings in a slightly different way. We have — what is obvious — the ability to speak, a certain way of thinking, and a certain self-awareness that is present in them through their upbringing. These abilities arise through human contact with the outside world. But it is not enough to simply accept these things. For we must be clear that something much deeper, much more intimate, underlies both language and way of thinking as well as self-awareness, which is triggered by the environment. It is based on the fact that human beings actually have, in a sense, three senses that we do not find in animals. The word “sense” should not be taken only comparatively here, but let us stick to facts and not words. Animals are largely incapable of being as receptive as humans in the areas of sound, concepts, and what we call the ego. When we go through the senses, animals go as far as the sense of sound. This is the highest form of external perception for animals. — Its sensory capacity extends to sound, but its general organization does not allow it to develop an understanding of sound, concepts, and the ego-being that exists in another being. Animals see their own species: dogs see dogs, elephants see elephants, and so on. But no spiritual researcher would attribute the perception of an ego-being to animals. Materialistic research will not succeed in proving the perception of an ego entity in the animal organization; therefore, natural science should not doubt it, and spiritual research will not doubt it. Thus, we have opportunities for development in humans for the perception of the inner nature of sound, for the inner nature of concepts and ideas, and for the inner nature of the ego entity itself. If humans did not have opportunities for development in these three areas, the other forces I have mentioned would have no nourishment flowing from within and would not be able to express themselves. Animals do not have the organs for these three areas of development. For in all that humans exhibit in their advancement beyond animals, the imprint of what is within them is revealed as the possibility of expressing the perception of sound, the perception of concepts, and the perception of the self, of self-consciousness, whereas in animals we have expressed how the spirit is cast into form, and therefore shows us a gesture given by the species and a physiognomy conditioned by the species. All this expresses, so to speak, how the spirit can act directly by pouring itself into form. In humans, we see how each person has their own specific gestures, their own specific physiognomy and facial expressions, and how this is a particularly vivid expression of their potential for development in terms of speech, concepts or ideas, and self-awareness. In fact, what a person has in terms of potential for developing sound, concepts, and ego-being pours into their gestures, physiognomy, facial expressions, and the whole appearance of their self-awareness. We see what is first experienced through the direct interaction of the self-aware ego with the spirit flowing from the inside out, and we see it expressed in human beings.

When we experience this, we can say to ourselves: So we see in human beings, if we approach them not with abstract, dry, sober concepts, but with a living, lively view, how the I-being, the concept-being, and the sound-being work directly on the outer form and movement. It is literally as if we, as crystallographers, were studying the formative forces of a crystal and then forming an idea of how we have a cube in rock salt, an octahedron in sulfur, a rhombic dodecahedron in garnet, and so on. Just as we see how inner forces pour into the form, so too do we see in human beings, directly before our living perception, everything that a human being actually is, everything that makes a strong impression on us in relation to their essence, and everything that confronts us as solidified concepts of the self, as solidified concepts or ideas, and as solidified sense of sound. Yes, we can visualize the latter, which confronts us in tone or sound, in a particularly vivid way. For that communication with the spirit, which human beings perhaps cultivate in the most intimate way, which every human being, whether an artist or not, can cultivate with the spirit, which, so to speak, works its way into the finest soul-weavings of their being, is experienced by human beings in that peculiarity which, nevertheless, should not be overlooked in its full significance for human life, must not be overlooked in its content, in its intimacy — I am not referring now to the content of the words, but to the intimacy of how they are expressed, to the intimacy of the sound character, the soul of language. Language not only has a spirit that is expressed in the content of words, language also has a soul. And much more than we think, it is precisely the sound character of a language that has an effect on us. A language that has a lot of a has a completely different effect on our soul than one that has more i or # in its word character. For in the timbre of the sound character, the soul that is poured out over all of humanity pours over us as if in the unconscious. This builds and affects us, and it is expressed in life as a special kind of gesture. For the language of human beings is also a special kind of gesture, not insofar as it is an expression of words, but insofar as it has a soul, as human beings live and express themselves with their souls in language. Here we can even point out some very important differences.

Everyone knows that one of those peculiar imponderables that vary from person to person is the intimacy with which a person speaks, quite apart from what they say. If we take this into account, we will say to ourselves: we learn a great deal about the most intimate aspects of a person precisely by observing how they speak. We often have to overlook this in life, because higher considerations can push it into the background. Nevertheless, there is something in us that is very sensitive to the croak or the melodiousness of a voice. Anyone who is a true observer of the soul knows that a croaky voice is much more unpleasant in a man than in a woman — for the simple reason that these areas are very intimately connected with our organization and that in men there is a much more intimate relationship, a much more intimate connection between the life of the soul and the whole treatment of the voice, the timbre, and so on, than is the case with women. It is true, but it cannot be proven. One can only point it out. If you pay attention, you will notice it. Anyone who is able to respond to such things will therefore feel the need, when they want to express particularly important things, to put not only content into their speech, but also what has just been indicated. And truly, not out of immodesty, but to give an example of what is meant, I would like to refer to the Rosicrucian mystery I wrote, “The Portal of Initiation.” There, in the most important passages, it becomes apparent everywhere that what cannot be said in the content is given in the treatment of language, down to the vowel sound; you will not be able to follow a \(u\) with \(a,\) or an \(i\) with an \(a\).

It is extremely important that we consider this area as the “gesture of language” and see how the spirit in its power affects the organization, and that we observe the immediate effect of the spirit on the soul, which contains the self-conscious ego within itself. Then we look back again at how the human soul pours itself into the physical body. Now, however, I come to a point which for many of you must of course be a hypothesis, and which may seem daring to some, even annoying to others. But that does not matter.

We see in human beings the I-being, which is what the sense of imagination can conceive and experience and what the sense of sound can experience, pouring into gestures, physiognomy, and facial expressions, and also into form within the limits I have indicated, so that we see in human beings a direct effect of the spirit in that age of life between birth and death, where the ego stands between spirit and physicality. Now let us imagine the following: I speak in parables because things are more or less subtle. Let us imagine what human beings accomplish with ego-being, conceptual ability, and sense of sound, as it pours itself more or less into balance, into self-movement and self-consciousness, and later into free gestures, free facial expressions, and a physiognomy that reveals the inner self, working together from the outset with a necessity such that no ego stands between these two or three sides. So let us imagine the ego switched off and the two sides of human nature interacting in such a way that, as it were, through a sense of sound that has not come to consciousness, which lives out the deepest inner self, a balance is achieved in its experiences from the outset without the intervention of the ego. Then you have something that remains open in human beings, created without the intervention of an ego: that is what determines the animal's equilibrium from the outset. And imagine the concept through which humans grasp their laws and the animal species, that is, the entire organization insofar as it is self-movement, and where it is physiognomy and mimicry, expressed in the entire movement of the animal — what is expressed in animal instincts, passions, and so on — you have again that which, through a natural necessity, is connected in the animal, which man has in his life in such a way that his ego intervenes as a connecting link. Again, we have connected in the animal, through natural necessity, what is the immediate expression of life in man. In man, the shaping of life still works into the form. But if you think of it no longer as reserved for life, but directly shaped by the workings of nature, then you have it in terms of species, as it appears to us in the plasticity of the various animal species.

Thus we see in the human being a creature whose sensory world lies between two poles. They have their sensory world: the world of perception, the world of sound, the world of taste, the world of smell, and so on. These lie between how they perceive themselves, how they relate to the different directions of space in their sense of balance, how they feel themselves to be located in their own body, and between their sense of sound, their understanding of concepts, and their concept of the self on the other side. Just as inner life necessarily relates to the senses lying between them, so too does it necessarily shape the entire physical organization of the animal. If we allow the two sides to belong together in the human being without the intervention of the ego, we have the immediate influence of spirituality on physicality, without the intervention of the soul. In human beings, we have what we might call: spiritually and physically, they are an interpretation in space, gesture, and so on, which remains open to the influence of the spirit on both sides. We must come to terms with the fact that this actually creates, in a sense, the basis for the entire understanding of the human being and of human spiritual life in general, insofar as it takes place in spiritual history.

We see that we must not confuse what the human being experiences in the concept with what he experiences by realizing and developing the concept himself. In a certain respect, human beings are in a completely different position with regard to the development of the concept than with regard to the understanding of the concept. The development of the concept is a completely different matter from the means of understanding the concept. I would like to point out one fact in this regard.

In 1894, Laurenz Müllner, a great admirer of Galileo, gave a rector's speech in Vienna when he took up the rectorship of the University of Vienna, drawing attention to a peculiar fact that is, at first glance, very interesting. He pointed out that Galileo had been given the spirit of humanity that could grasp the mechanical and physical laws—the laws of pendulum motion, projectile motion, falling velocity, and equilibrium—which are perhaps expressed in the most grandiose way, according to Professor Müllner — in the dome of St. Peter's Basilica in Rome, which rises up to the heavens, in Michelangelo's wonderful work. This is true, as anyone who is impressed by this work of art must admit. And so we can say, according to Laurenz Müllner: In Galileo's understanding, those laws first appear in concepts that we see towering toward the sky in the symmetry and equilibrium of the gigantic dome of St. Peter's Basilica in Rome. In Galileo, man has, so to speak, understood how to conceptualize what is represented in St. Peter's Basilica in Rome as Michelangelo's artistic creation. But now there is one more fact: Galileo's birthday and Michelangelo's death anniversary fall in the same year: Michelangelo died on February 18, 1564, and in the same year, almost to the day, on February 15, Galileo was born, who discovered the mechanical and physical laws for humanity!

This is indeed an extremely interesting fact, because it indicates that human beings carry out that communication with the spirit, through which they are able to impress upon things the laws that are subsequently discovered, in a direct manner and not through the intellect, not through concepts, not at all through intelligence. But this points us to something else, namely that human beings, in their organization, are in communication with the spirit before their inner, soul-level intelligence has processed it. Therefore, we can say, in a sense, that human beings are constituted in such a way that they themselves can incorporate into matter what lives within them as an outflow of the spirit, what has had an effect on them before they could grasp it with their intelligence. And this is the case with all artistic creation. This fact interests us because we see from it that in physical life, with regard to everything he lives and which is apparently expressed in an organ, human beings have something in themselves, before they understand the laws of those organs, which plastically implements those laws, shapes them plastically. So when we think through the idea, it becomes quite clear that the sense for those laws of the spirit that are expressed, for example, in a work of art, is there and must be there before the laws are incorporated into the soul. Therefore, we also have, so to speak, the opposite at the spiritual end of the human being, if we do not use the word in a base sense, but rather elevate it appropriately into the spiritual realm. Then it becomes clear to us that through an instinct that has been elevated and purified into the spiritual realm, human beings create what they only discover later. Just as animals create instinctively, as for example the bee community creates its wonderfully organized bee colony, so human beings create directly from the spiritual world before the spiritual world is reflected in their intelligence.

Thus we see that in this direction, too, everything points to the confrontation of the self-conscious ego with the workings of the spirit. With its instinct, the animal comes to reflect in its intelligence what it builds into its burrows and the like. Let us take the beaver and its lodge as an example: among beavers there will always be “Michelangelos,” but never a ‘Galileo’ who understands in the same way the laws that the “beaver Michelangelo” builds into the beaver lodge. In humans, there is that which confronts the self-conscious ego, that which the spirit creates when it enters the organization.

Thus, in considering human development, we have clearly seen that between the spirit and the physical organization there is that which is the expression of the self-conscious ego in humans, that in humans the ennobled organization experiences the spirit directly, as we see in artistic imagination, and that the self-conscious being still lives within them, which can oppose the spirit's integration into the body. So it is not a question of whether we give preference to humans over animals or not; that would be the wrong approach. but we must see that in animals the spirit approaches the body organization directly and the soul brings life in accordance with this body organization, while in humans the living ego in the soul interposes itself between the spirit and the body organization, mediating and working between the spirit and the body organization. But in this way the human ego has direct communication with what lives in the spiritual world. It initially lives out this direct communication by striving to establish spiritual conditions in its environment, which animals can only establish through their instincts. We see a certain legal life, a moral life, already developed in animals. However, we can only understand the life of law, the moral life, the life of the state, the entire course of world history, if we see in humans the emancipation of the spirit from the physical, in that the ego interposes itself between spirit and physicality and thereby enters into direct communication with the spiritual world. The way in which this ego enters into direct communication with the spiritual world is the normal human condition. But just as progress in relation to animal development means the insertion of a self-conscious ego between spirit and physicality, so it is also possible for human beings to continue along this path by further developing within themselves the spirit that they have emancipated from physicality, as they experience themselves in free communication with it. We will see the possibilities of this in the lecture on “The Nature of Sleep,” and its full meaning will become clear to us in the lecture “How to Gain Knowledge of the Spiritual World.” There we will see how the emancipation of the spirit from physicality has occurred to a certain degree for the normal human being, but can be continued by means of dormant, embryonic forces inherent in the human being, through the unfolding of which he can be led to a direct insight into the spiritual world. We first had to create a foundation for what we will be able to cultivate as the actual contemplation of the spiritual world. We have gained the insight that we must seek the true meaning of the human being in the fact that the human ego enters between spirit and physicality. But this is also given externally in physical form, in that the self-conscious ego, as it appears to us in life, already appears to us in human inner life, one might say, physiognomically and also in gestures. Some of you will remember that I have not only stated, but also proven, that there is a deep truth underlying the old saying “blood is a very special juice.” This is indeed the case. And in what is simply expressed as an immediate effect of the soul on the blood circulation, one can already guess something of the influence of the self-conscious ego on the physical body, on the organization. This is, so to speak, the next gateway where the ego, fertilized by the spirit, influences the physical body. We see this when we consider the effect of the soul on the blood circulation. I have often pointed out that in the very gross phenomena of blushing and pallor, we see a direct effect of something that is going on in the soul and is expressed in the body, for fear and shame are indeed soul processes. To dispute this, one would have to be an unconscious materialist, which William James, for example, actually is, even though he wants to be a spiritualist, in that he wants to defend the statement: “Man does not cry because he is sad, but he is sad because he cries.” One would therefore have to imagine that man experiences sadness in his soul because some material influences, however subtle, are exerted on the organism, which squeeze out the tears, and when man notices this — according to William James — he becomes sad. If we fail to recognize the complete untenability of this conclusion, we will not be able to understand that in things such as laughter and crying, but also in blushing, where there is a redistribution of blood from the center to the periphery, we are dealing with material processes that are directly influenced by mental and spiritual factors. If we consider this, we will be able to say: indeed, in humans, the soul is expressed in the blood circulation. However, what we say about humans, that the self-conscious ego lives out its life in the blood and in the blood circulation, cannot be directly applied to animals, because a self-conscious ego cannot influence the blood circulation. But this is the essential point, because animals do not open themselves directly to the influence of the spiritual world, which necessarily has an effect on them. While in the animal blood circulation we again have something before us where the animal soul life is expressed directly, in the human blood circulation we see something of the way in which the spirit acts upon the I.

When people one day begin to study a little the things that matter, namely that what I said at the beginning today is essential for human life, that human beings are not organized from the outset for a certain expression of balance, self-movement, and meaning of life, but must first achieve them, — when people realize that realities are given with the directions in space, that it is not indifferent whether a spine is horizontal or vertical to the spatial conditions or whether blood circulation flows in this or that direction, then they will see the essential above all in the way such organizations fit into the whole world context. For example, one will indeed have to see something essential in the directions along a certain line in space. Once this is understood, one will be able to appreciate the great significance of the position and the entire blood processes in the human blood system. Today, it is believed that the science of blood circulation is something of a closed book. This is not the case at all. We are only just beginning to learn something of the secrets of blood circulation. So that I do not present these things as mere assertions, I would like to point out the following.

It was only twenty-five years ago that a natural scientist of great importance in this field, namely the criminal anthropologist Moriz Benedikt, who had the necessary mathematical training, first drew attention to the very significant fact, which is again widely ignored today, that the similar beats in the pulse artery are different on the right and left, which is extremely important for understanding the connections in the human being. And what is particularly important is what was discovered not by a famous man in this field, but by a very simple man, Dr. Karl Schmid, and what he published in 1892 in the “Wiener Medizinische Wochenschrift” in his treatise “Herzstoß und Pulskurven” (Heartbeat and Pulse Curves). This refers to some very important observations. Only when these things, which are now only in their infancy, are studied to some extent will we have made a start in understanding the connection between the self-conscious ego and blood circulation on the one hand, and on the other hand between the animal spirit acting in the animal and animal blood circulation.

Last time, I pointed out that we are indeed able to go into the details of organology and individual functions and demonstrate the difference between how the spirit manifests itself in humans and how it manifests itself in animals. In contrast, it is quite understandable that recent research on the relationship between human and ape blood is less meaningful because it focuses on the external, purely material aspects, on chemical reactions and so on, and not on what is really important. If it were merely a matter of material substance, it would be completely irrelevant whether a wheel is used as a toy for children or in a clock. But it always depends on how a limb or organ is used in the entirety of a being or thing. It does not depend on how human blood relates to ape blood or the like, but on how the organs in question are placed at the service of the overall organization. Goethe's relationship to natural science shows us best how what is true really touches on external research. In Goethe's time, a harsh materialism was already in vogue with regard to natural things, and it was precisely the most outstanding natural scientists, who wanted to establish the difference between humans and animals, who referred to something purely material. They believed that this difference was evident in the fact that animals have an intermediate bone in their upper jaw that humans lack, and they said something like: The difference between humans and animals is that animals have an intermediate bone for holding the upper incisors, but humans do not! For Goethe, this was unbearable. For him, it was important to find the difference between humans and animals not in the individual structural elements, but in the way the spirit in humans and the spirit in animals make use of the organs. Incidentally, I would just like to point out that Goethe's theory of metamorphosis can be applied to all individual human organs. Thus, from the very beginning, Goethe could never accept the idea that the superiority of humans over animals should be sought in a material detail. Therefore, he first wanted to prove that this assertion was incorrect and that this gap did not exist, and he set about demonstrating the existence of the “intermaxillary bone” in humans. If Goethe had done nothing more than this one thing, if he had found nothing else but that the intermaxillary bone does indeed exist in humans, only fused together so that it cannot be seen, he would still be a tremendous genius in human development. Goethe said to himself—not because he did it, I am telling you this, but because it is evident in Goethe's perception—: Together with Herder and others who strive to understand humans from the perspective of the spirit, I have focused above all on the fact that humans stand above animals precisely because animals are bound to their organization. Humans, however, emancipate themselves from this and enter into direct communication with the spirit, and can thus react back on the organs, which Goethe, as I have already indicated, expressed in the words: "Animals are taught by their organs, said the ancients. I would add: humans are the same; however, they have the advantage of being able to teach their organs again." Goethe could not help but admit that the organs are the same; they are just shaped from a different perspective. Hence Goethe's great joy when he finally found the intermaxillary bone in humans. He wrote to Herder:

"... I have found — neither gold nor silver, but something that gives me infinite joy — the os intermaxillare in humans! I compared human and animal skulls with Lodern, came on the trail, and lo and behold, there it is. Now I beg you, don't let on, for it must be treated as a secret. You should also be very happy, because it is like the keystone of the human being; if it is not missing, it is also there! But how! I have also thought about it in connection with your whole, how beautiful it will be there ..."

The difference between humans and animals cannot be found in any single thing; it must be found in how the spirit makes use of things. For through this we see what man is in relation to the spirit, how he has emancipated himself from physicality and can enter into direct communication with the spirit. Hence the difference in the feeling that comes over us when we look at something spiritual and when we look at something physical and material. We will try to use the words with a completely different meaning, whether we look at the spiritual or at the physical.

Two poems stand side by side in Goethe's works. They contain three remarkable lines:

The eternal stirs in all:
For everything must decay into nothingness,
If it wants to remain in existence.

This is how one poem ends. And the other begins:

No being can decay into nothingness!
The eternal stirs forth in all,
Be happy in your existence!

A complete contradiction! How can we explain it? Goethe has presented it so crudely in two poems that follow immediately after each other. In fact, we can trigger the feeling in our hearts when we look at the spirit in material existence. If the spirit wanted to persist in material existence, if it did not want to break every form, it would have to disintegrate into nothingness. The moment we see the spirit in physicality, we must say: it must not disintegrate into nothingness! But when we look at the spirit, which reappears in every form in the spiritual realm, we must say: we are dealing with eternal, immortal being, with the spirit with which we can connect in the emancipated human soul. Then we can say:

No being can disintegrate into nothingness!
The eternal stirs forth in all,

May being keep you happy!
Be happy in your being!

when we contemplate the immortal eternity of a being.

When we see the soul, when we see the spirit in physicality, we must say: if it lived itself out completely in physicality, if it wanted to hold on to physicality, it would not have to decay into nothingness.

Thus, it is precisely the contemplation of the animal spirit and the human spirit that leads us, little by little, to a first inkling of what can basically be called spirit. And before we can advance to the question of how we can gain knowledge about the spirit, we must first of all know how the spirit shines into the human soul, which it emancipates from physicality in order to have a life within it that is independent of the physical organization and leads to its own domains.