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Karmic Relationships I
GA 235

22 March 1924, Dornach

Lecture XI

Our studies of karma, which have led us lately to definite individual examples of karmic relationships, are intended to afford a basis for forming a judgment not only of individual human connections, but also of more general historical ones. And it is with this end in view that I would like now to add to the examples already given. Today we will prepare the ground, and tomorrow we will follow this up by showing the karmic connections.

You will have realised that consideration of the relation between one earth-life and the next must always be based upon certain definite symptoms and facts. If we take these as our starting-point, they will lead us to a view of the actual connections. And in the case of the individualities of whom I have ventured to tell you, I have shown where these particular starting-points are to be found.

Today I want, as I said, to prepare the way, placing before you problems of which we shall find the solutions tomorrow.

Let me first draw your attention to the peculiar interest that one or another personality can arouse. I shall speak of personalities of historical interest as well as of personalities in ordinary life; the very interest that some persons arouse in us will often urge us to find a clue to their life-connections. Once we know how to look for these clues in the right way, we shall be able to find them. As you will already have noticed from the way in which I have presented the cases, it is all a matter of seeking in the right way. Let us then not be deterred, but proceed boldly.

Whatever one's attitude to the personality of Garibaldi may be in other respects, there can be no doubt that he is an interesting figure in the history of Europe; he played, as we all know, a remarkable part in the events of the 19th century. Today, then, we will make a preparatory study of Garibaldi, and to begin with I will bring to your notice certain facts in his life which, as we shall find, are able to lead the student of spiritual science to the connections of which we shall learn tomorrow.

Garibaldi is a personality who participated in a remarkable way in the life of the 19th century. He was born in the year 1807 and he held a prominent and influential position on into the second half of the century. This means that the way he expresses himself as a man is highly characteristic of the 19th century.

When we come to consider the features of his life, looking especially for those that are important from a spiritual aspect, we find Garibaldi spending his boyhood in Nice as the son of a poor man who has a job in the navigation service. He is a child who has little inclination to take part in what the current education of the country has to offer, a child who is not at all brilliant at school, but who takes a lively interest in all sorts and varieties of human affairs. What he learns at school has indeed the effect of inducing him very often to play truant. While the teacher was trying in his own way to bring some knowledge of the world to the children, the boy Garibaldi much preferred to romp about out-of-doors, to scamper through the woods or play games by the riverside. On the other hand, if he once got hold of some book that appealed to him, nothing could tear him from it. He would lie on his back by the hour in the sunshine, absolutely absorbed, not even going home for meals.

Broadly speaking, however, it was the great world that interested him. While still quite young he set about preparing himself for his father's calling and took part in sea voyages, at first in a subordinate, and afterwards in an independent position. He made many voyages on the Adriatic and shared in all the varied experiences that were to be had in the first half of the 19th century, when Liberalism and Democracy had not yet organised the traffic on the sea and put it under police regulations, but when some freedom of movement was still left in the life of man! He shared in all the experiences that were possible in times when one could do more or less what one wanted! And so he also had the experience—I believe it happened to him three or four times—of being seized by pirates. As well as being a genius, however, he was sly, and every time he was caught, he got away again, and very quickly too!

And so Garibaldi grew up into manhood, always living in the great world. As I have said, I do not intend to give you a biography but to point out characteristic features of his life that can lead us on to a consideration of what is really important and essential. He lived in the great world, and there came a time when he acquired a very strong and vivid impression of what his own inner relationship to the world might be. It was when he was nearly grown up and was taken by his father on a journey through the country, as far as Rome. There, looking out from Rome as it were over all Italy, he must have been aware of something quite remarkable going through his soul. In his voyages he had met many people who were, in general, quite alive and awake, but were utterly indifferent to one particular interest—they were asleep as regards the conditions of the time; and these people made an impression on Garibaldi that nearly drove him to despair. They had no enthusiasm for true and genuine humanity, such as showed itself in him quite early in life—he had indeed a genius for warm, tender-hearted enthusiasm.

As he passed through the countryside and afterwards came to Rome, a kind of vision must have arisen in his soul of the part he was later to play in the liberation of Italy. Other circumstances also helped to make him a fanatical anti-cleric, and a fanatical Republican, a man who set clearly before him the aim of doing everything in his power to further the well-being of mankind.

And now, taking part as he did in all manner of movements in Italy in the first half of the 19th century, it happened one day that for the first time in his life, Garibaldi read his name in the newspaper. I think he was about thirty years old at the time. It meant a good deal more in those days than it would do now, to read one's name in the newspaper. Garibaldi had, however, a peculiar destiny in connection with this reading of his name in the newspaper, for the occasion was the announcement in the paper of his death-sentence! He read his name there for the first time when his sentence to death was reported. There you have a unique circumstance of his life; it is not every man who has such an experience.

It was not granted to Garibaldi—and it is characteristic of his destiny that it was not, considering that his whole enthusiasm was centred in Italy—it was not granted him at first to take a hand in the affairs of Italy or Europe, but it was laid upon him by destiny to go first to South America and take part in all manner of movements for freedom over there, until the year 1848. And in every situation he showed himself a most remarkable man, gifted with quite extraordinary qualities. I have already related to you one most singular event in his life, the finding of his name in the newspaper for the first time on the occasion of the announcement of his own death-sentence. And now we come to another quite individual biographical fact, something that happens to very few men indeed. Garibaldi became acquainted in a most extraordinary way with the woman who was to be the mainstay of his happiness for many years. He was out at sea, on board ship, looking landwards through a telescope. To fall in love through a telescope—that is certainly not the way it happens to most people!

Destiny again made it easy for him to become quickly acquainted with the one whom he had chosen through the telescope to be his beloved. He steered at once in the direction in which he had looked through the telescope, and on reaching land he was invited by a man to a meal. It transpired, after he had accepted the invitation, that this man was the father of the girl he had seen! She could speak only Portuguese, and he only Italian; but we are assured by his biographer, and it seems to be correct, that the young woman immediately understood his carefully phrased declaration of love, which seems to have consisted simply of the words—in Italian of course—“We must unite for life.” She understood immediately. And it really happened so, that from this meeting came a life-companionship that lasted for a long, long time.

Garibaldi's wife shared in all the terrible and adventurous journeys he made in South America, and some of the recorded details of them are really most moving. For example, the story is told of how a report got about that Garibaldi had been killed in battle. His wife hurried to the battlefield and lifted up every head to see if it were her husband's. After a long time, and after undergoing many adventures in the search, she found him still alive. It is most affecting to read how on this very journey, which lasted a long time, she gave birth to a child without help of any kind, and how, in order to keep it warm, she bound it in a sling about her neck, holding it against her breast for hours at a time. The story of Garibaldi's South American adventures has some deeply moving aspects.

But now the time came, in the middle of the 19th century, when all kinds of impulses for freedom were stirring among the peoples of Europe, and Garibaldi could not bring himself to stay away any longer in South America; he returned to his fatherland. It is well-known with what intense energy he worked there, mustering volunteers under the most difficult circumstances—so much so that he did not merely contribute to the development of the new Italy: he was its creator.

And here we come to a feature of his life and character that stands out very strongly. He was, in every relationship of life, a man of independence, a man who always thought in a large and simple way, and took account only of the impulses that welled up from the depths of his own inner being. And so it is really very remarkable to see him doing everything in his power to bring it about that the dynasty of Victor Emmanuel should rule over the kingdom of Italy, when in reality the whole unification and liberation of Italy was due to Garibaldi himself. The story of how he won Naples and then Sicily with, comparatively speaking, quite a small force of men, undisciplined yet filled with enthusiasm, of how the future King of Italy needed only to make his entry into the regions already won for him by Garibaldi, and of how, nevertheless, if truth be told, nothing whatever was done from the side of the royal family or of those who stood near to them to show any proper appreciation of what Garibaldi had accomplished—the whole story makes a deep and striking impression. Fundamentally speaking, if we may put it in somewhat trivial language, the Savoy Dynasty had Garibaldi to thank for everything, and yet they were eminently unthankful to him, treating him with no more than necessary politeness.

Take, for example, the entry into Naples. Garibaldi had won Naples for the Dynasty and was regarded by the Neapolitans as no less than their liberator; a perfect storm of jubilation always greeted his appearance. It would have been unthinkable for the future King of Italy to make his entry into Naples without Garibaldi, absolutely unthinkable. Nevertheless the King's advisers were against it. Advisers, no doubt, are often exceedingly short-sighted; but if Victor Emmanuel had not acted on his own account out of a certain instinct and made Garibaldi sit by him in his red shirt on the occasion of the entry into Naples, he himself would most certainly not have been greeted with shouts of rejoicing! Even so, the cheers were intended for Garibaldi and not for him. He would most assuredly have been hissed—that is an absolute certainty. Victor Emmanuel would have been hissed if he had entered Naples without Garibaldi.

And it was the same all through. At some campaign or other in the centre of Italy, Garibaldi had carried the day. The commanders-in-chief with the King had come—what does one say in such a case, putting it as kindly as one can?—they had come too late. The whole thing had been carried through to the finish by Garibaldi. When, however, the army appeared, with its generals wearing their decorations, and met Garibaldi's men who had no decorations and were moreover quite unpretentiously attired, the generals declared: it is beneath our dignity to ride side by side with them, we cannot possibly do such a thing! But Victor Emmanuel had some sort of instinct in these matters. He called Garibaldi to his side, and the generals, making wry faces, were obliged to join with Garibaldi's army as it drew up into line. These generals, it seems, had a terribly bad time of it; they looked as though they had stomach-aches! And afterwards, when the entry into a town was to be made, Garibaldi, who had done everything, actually had to come on behind like a rearguard. He and his men had to wait and let the others march in front. It was a case where the regular army had in point of fact done absolutely nothing; yet they entered first, and after them, Garibaldi with his followers.

The important things to note are these remarkable links of destiny. It is in these links of destiny that we may find our guidance to the karmic connections. For it has not directly to do with a man's freedom or unfreedom that he first sees his name in print on the occasion of his death-sentence, or that he finds his wife through a telescope. Such things are connections of destiny; they take their course alongside of that which is always present in man in spite of them—his freedom. These are the very things, however—these things of which we may be sure that they are links of destiny—that can give a great stimulus to the practical study of the nature and reality of karma.

Now in the case of a personality like Garibaldi, traits that may generally be thought incidental, are characteristic. They are, in his case, strongly marked. Garibaldi was what is called a handsome man. He had beautiful tawny-golden hair and was altogether a splendid figure. His hair was curly and gleaming gold, and was greatly admired by the women! Now you will agree, from what I have told you of Garibaldi's bride—whom he chose, you remember, through a telescope—that only the highest possible praise can be spoken of her; nevertheless, it seems she was not altogether free from jealousy. What does Garibaldi do one day when this jealousy seems to have assumed somewhat large proportions? He has his beautiful hair all cut away to the roots; he lets himself be made bald. That was when they were still in South America. All these things are traits that serve to show how the necessities of destiny are placed into life.

Garibaldi became, as we know, one of the great men of Europe after his achievements in Italy, and traveling through Italy today you know how, from town to town, you pass from one Garibaldi memorial to another. But there have been times when not only in Italy but everywhere in Europe the name of Garibaldi was spoken with the keenest interest and the deepest devotion, when even the ladies in Cologne, in Mainz and in many another place wore blouses in Garibaldi's honour—not to mention London, where Garibaldi's red blouse became quite the fashion.

During the Franco-Prussian War, in 1870, Garibaldi, now an old man, put himself at the disposal of the French, and an interesting incident took place. His only experience, as we know, had been volunteer fighting, such as he had conducted in Italy and also in South America, yet on a certain occasion in this full-scale war he was the one to capture a German flag from under a pile of men who were trying to protect it with their bodies. Garibaldi captured this flag. But he had such respect for the men who had hurled themselves upon the flag to guard it with their own bodies, that he sent it back to its owners. Strange to relate, however, when he appeared in a meeting at some place or other soon afterwards, he was received with hisses on account of what he had done.

You will agree—this is not merely an interesting life, but the life of a man who in very deed and fact is lifted right above all other greatness in evidence in the 19th century! A most remarkable man—so original, so elementary, acting so evidently out of primitive impulses, and at the same time with such genius! Others working with him may perhaps have been better at leading large armies and doing things in an orderly way, but none of them in that deeply materialistic period had such genuine, spontaneous enthusiasm for what they were aiming at.

Here, then, is one of the personalities whom I would like to place before you. As I said, I shall give preparatory descriptions today, and tomorrow we will look for the answers.

Another personality, very well-known to you by name, is of exceptional interest in connection with investigations into karma. It is Lessing.

The circumstances of Lessing's life, I may say, have always interested me to an extraordinary degree. Lessing is really the founder of the better sort of journalism, the journalism that has substance and is really out to accomplish something. Before Lessing, poets and dramatists had taken their subjects from the aristocracy. Lessing, on the other hand, is at pains to introduce bourgeois life, ordinary middle-class life, into the drama, the life concerned generally with the destinies of men as men, and not with the destinies of men in so far as they hold some position in society or the like. Purely human conflicts—that is what Lessing wanted to portray on the stage. In the course of his work he applied himself to many great problems, as for example when he tried to determine the boundaries of painting and of poetry in his Laocoon. But the most interesting thing of all is the powerful impetus with which Lessing fought for the idea of tolerance. You need only take his Nathan the Wise and you will see at once what a foremost place this idea of tolerance has in Lessing's mind and life. In weaving the fable of the three kings in Nathan the Wise, he wants to show how the three main religions have gone astray from their original forms and are none of them really genuine, and how one must go in search of the true form, which has been lost. Here we have tolerance united with an uncommonly deep and significant idea.

Interesting, too, is the conversation between Freemasons, entitled Ernst und Falk, and much else that springs from Freemasonry. What Lessing accomplished in the way of critical research into the history of religious life is, for one who is able to judge its significance, really astounding. But we must be able to place the whole Lessing, in his complete personality, before us. And this we cannot do by reading, for example, the two-volume work by Erich Schmidt which purports to be a final and complete study of Lessing. Lessing as he really was, is not portrayed at all, but a picture is given of a puppet composed of various limbs and members, and we are told that this puppet wrote Nathan the Wise and Laocoon. It amounts to no more than an assertion that the man portrayed here has written these books. And it is the same with the other biographies of Lessing.

We begin to get an impression of Lessing when we observe, shall I say, the driving force with which he hurls his sentences against his opponents. He wages a polemic against the civilisation of Middle Europe—quite a refined and correct polemic, but at every turn hitting straight home. You must here observe a peculiar nuance in Lessing's character if you want to understand the make-up of his life. On the one hand we have the sharpness, often caustic sharpness, in such writings as The Dramatic Art of Hamburg, and then we have to find the way over, as it were, to an understanding, for example, of the words used by Lessing when a son had been born to him and had died directly after birth. He writes somewhat as follows in a letter: Yes, he has at once taken leave again of this world of sorrow; he has thereby done the best thing a human being can do. (I cannot cite the passage word for word, but it was to this effect.) In so writing, Lessing is giving expression to his pain in a wonderfully brave way, not for that reason feeling the pain one whit less deeply than someone who can do nothing but bemoan the event. This ability to draw back into himself in pain was characteristic of the man who at the same time knew how to thrust forward with vigour when he was developing his polemics. This is what makes it so affecting to read the letter written when his child had died immediately after birth, leaving the mother seriously ill.

Lessing had moreover this remarkable thing in his destiny—and it is quite characteristic, when one sets out to find the karmic connections in his case—that he was friends in Berlin with a man who was in every particular his opposite, namely, Nikolai.

Of Lessing it can be said—it is not literally true, but it is none the less characteristic—that he never dreamed, because his intellect and his understanding were so keen. On this account, as we shall see tomorrow, he is for the spiritual researcher such an extraordinarily significant personality. But there is something in the very construction of his sentences, something in the home-thrusts with which he lays his opponent in the dust, that really makes every sentence a delight to read.

With Nikolai it is just the opposite. Nikolai is an example of a true philistine. Although a friend of Lessing, he was none the less a typical philistine-bourgeois; and he had visions, most strange and remarkable visions.

Lessing, genius as he was, had no visions, not even dreams. Nikolai literally suffered from visions. They came, and they went away only after leeches had been applied. Yes, in extremity they actually applied leeches to him, in order that he might not be for ever tormented by the spiritual world which would not let him alone.

Fichte wrote a very interesting essay directed against Nikolai. He set out to give a picture of the typical German-bourgeois as shown in the personality of Nikolai. For all that, this same Nikolai was the friend of Lessing.

Another thing is very remarkable in Lessing. In his own Weltanschauung, Lessing concerned himself very much with two philosophers, Spinoza and Leibniz. Now it has often attracted me very much, as an interesting occupation for spare hours, to read all the writings in which it is proved over and over again that Lessing was a Leibnizian, and on the other hand those in which it is proved on still more solid ground that he was a Spinozist. For in truth one cannot decide whether Lessing, acute and discerning thinker as he was, was a Leibnizian or a Spinozist, who are the very opposite of each other. Spinoza—pantheist and monotheist; Leibniz—monadist, purely and completely individualistic. And yet we cannot decide whether Lessing belongs to Leibniz or to Spinoza. When we try to put him to the test in this matter, we can come to no conclusive judgment. It is impossible.

At the close of his life Lessing wrote the remarkable essay, The Education of the Human Race, at the end of which, quite isolated, as it were, the idea of repeated earth-lives appears. The book shows how mankind goes through one epoch of development after another, and how the Gods gave into man's hand as a first primer, so to speak, the Old Testament, and then as a second primer the New Testament, and how in the future a third book will come for the further education of the human race. And then all at once the essay is brought to a close with a brief presentation of the idea that man lives through repeated earth-lives. And there Lessing says, again in a way that is absolutely in accord with his character (I am not quoting the actual words, but this is the gist of it): Ought the idea of repeated earth-lives to seem so absurd, considering that it was present in very early times, when men had not yet been spoilt by school learning? The essay then ends with a genuine panegyric on repeated earth-lives, finishing with these beautiful words: “Is not all Eternity mine?”

One used to meet continually—perhaps it would still be so if one mixed more with people—one used to meet men who valued Lessing highly, but who turned away, so to speak, when they came to The Education of the Human Race. Really it is hard to understand the state of mind of such men. They set the highest estimation on a man of genius, and then reject what he gives to mankind in his most mature age. They say: he has grown old, he is senile, we can no longer follow him. That is all very well; one can reject anything by that method! The fact is, no one has any right to recognise Lessing and not to recognise that this work was conceived by him in the full maturity of his powers. When a man like Lessing utters a profound aphorism such as this on repeated earth-lives, there is, properly speaking, no possibility of ignoring it.

You will readily see that the personality of Lessing is interesting in the highest degree from a karmic point of view, in relation to his own passage through different earth-lives. In the second half of the 18th century the idea of repeated earth-lives was by no means a commonly accepted one. It comes forth in Lessing like a flash of lightning, like a flash of genius. We cannot account for its appearance; it cannot possibly be due to Lessing's education or to any other influence in this particular life. We are compelled to ask how it may be with the previous life of a man in whom at a certain age the idea of repeated earth-lives suddenly emerges—an idea that is foreign to the civilisation of his own day—emerges, too, in such a way that the man himself points to the fact that the idea was once present in very early times. The truth is that he is really bringing forward inner grounds for the idea, grounds of feeling that carry with them an indication of his own earth-life in the distant past. Needless to say, in his ordinary surface-consciousness he has no notion of such connections. The things we do not know are, however, none the less true. If those things alone were true that many men know, then the world would be poor indeed in events and poor indeed in beings.

This is the second case whose karmic connections we are going to study.

There is a third case I should like to open up, because it is one that can teach us a great deal in the matter of karmic relationships. Among the personalities who were near to me as teachers in my youth there was a man to whom I have already referred; today I should like to speak of him again, adding some points that will be significant for our study of karma.

There are, of course, risks in speaking of these matters, but in view of the whole situation of the spiritual life which ought to proceed from Anthroposophy today, I do not think such risks can be avoided.

What I am now going to tell you came to my notice several years after I had last seen the person in question, who was a greatly beloved teacher of mine up to my eighteenth year. But I had always continued to follow his life, and had in truth remained very close to him. And now at a certain moment in my own life I felt constrained to follow his life more closely in a particular respect.

It was when, in another connection, I began to take a special interest in the life of Lord Byron. And at that same time I got to know some Byron enthusiasts. One of them was the poetess, Marie Eugenie delle Grazie, of whom I shall have much to say in my autobiography. During a certain period of her life she was a Byron enthusiast. Then there was another, a most remarkable personality, a strange mixture of all possible qualities—Eugen Heinrich Schmidt. Many of you who know something about the history of Anthroposophy will be familiar with his name.

Eugen Heinrich Schmidt first became known in Vienna during the eighties, and it was then that I made his acquaintance. He had just written the prize essay that was published by the Hegel Society of Berlin, on the Dialectics of Hegel. Now he came to Vienna, a tall, slight man filled with a burning enthusiasm, which came to expression at times in very forcible gestures and so on. It was none the less genuine for that. And it was just this enthusiasm of Schmidt's that gave me the required “jerk,” as it were. I thought I would like to do him a kindness, and as he had recently written a most enthusiastic and inspired article on Lord Byron, I introduced him to my other Byron enthusiast, Marie Eugenie delle Grazie. And now began a wildly excited discussion on Byron. The two were really quite in agreement, but they carried on a most lively and animated debate. All we others who were sitting round—a whole collection of theological students from the Vienna Catholic Faculty were there, who came every week and with whom I had made friends—all we others were silent. And the two who were thus conversing about Byron were sitting like this.—Here was the table, rather a long one, and at one end sat delle Grazie and at the other end, Eugen Heinrich Schmidt, gesticulating with might and main. All of a sudden his chair slips away from under him, and he falls under the table, his feet stretching right out to delle Grazie. I can tell you, it was a shock for us all! But this shock helped me to hit upon the solution of a particular problem.

Let me tell you of it quite objectively, as a matter of history. All that they had been saying about Byron had made a strong impression upon me, and I began to feel the keenest need to know how the karmic connections might be in the case of Byron. It was, of course, not so easy. But now I suddenly had the following experience.—It was really as if the whole picture of this conversation, with Eugen Heinrich Schmidt being so terribly impolite with his foot!—as if this picture had suddenly drawn my attention to the foot of Lord Byron, who was, as you know, club-footed. And from that I went on to say to myself: My beloved teacher, too, had a foot like that; this karmic connection must be investigated. I have already given you an example, in the affliction of the knee from which Eduard von Hartmann suffered, of how one's search can be led back through peculiarities of this kind. I was able now to perceive the destiny of the teacher whom I loved and who also had such a foot. And it was remarkable in the highest degree to observe how on the one hand the same peculiarity came to view both in the case of Byron and of my teacher, namely, the club-foot; but how on the other hand the two persons were totally different from one another, Byron, the poet of genius, who in spite of his genius—or perhaps because of it—was an adventurer; and the other a brilliant geometrician such as one seldom finds in teaching posts, a man at whose geometrical imagination and treatment of descriptive geometry one could only stand amazed.

In short, having before me these two men, utterly different in soul, I was able to solve the problem of their karma by reference to this seemingly insignificant physical detail. This detail it was that enabled me to consider the problems of Byron and my geometry teacher in connection with one another, and thereby to find the solution.

I wished to give these examples today and tomorrow we will consider them from the point of view of karma.

Elfter Vortrag

Die Karmabetrachtungen, die wir hier angestellt haben, und die uns ja in der letzten Zeit zu sehr bestimmten einzelnen Fällen von karmischen Zusammenhängen geführt haben, sie sollen Stoff zusammentragen für eine Beurteilung nicht nur einzelmenschlicher Zusammenhänge, sondern auch geschichtlicher Zusammenhänge. Und deshalb möchte ich zu den Beispielen, die ich behandelt habe, heute und morgen noch einzelnes hinzufügen, heute einiges Vorbereitende und morgen dann die karmischen Betrachtungen dazufügen.

Sie werden ja gesehen haben, daß die Betrachtung des Zusammenhangs zwischen dem einen und dem anderen Erdenleben eigentlich immer auf ganz bestimmten Symptomen ruhen muß, bestimmten einzelnen Tatsachen, von denen man ausgehen muß, und die einen dann dazu führen, die konkreten Zusammenhänge zu sehen. Und ich habe Ihnen für die gewagten Fälle, die ich angeführt habe, ja auch gezeigt, worinnen diese einzelnen Anhaltspunkte im besonderen zu suchen sind.

Nun möchte ich heute, wie gesagt, vorbereitend den morgigen Vortrag, Ihnen gewisse Fälle vorlegen, die dann aber erst morgen zur Lösung kommen werden.

Da möchte ich zunächst auf das besondere Interesse hinweisen, das die eine oder die andere Persönlichkeit erregen kann. Ich werde geschichtliche Persönlichkeiten und Persönlichkeiten aus dem gewöhnlichen Leben anführen. Das besondere Interesse, das solche Persönlichkeiten in uns erregen können, kann uns schon darauf führen, gewissermaßen einen Antrieb zu bekommen, die Lebenszusammenhänge zu suchen. Und wer sie richtig suchen kann, der kann sie dann eigentlich auch finden. Denn Sie werden bemerkt haben, gerade aus der Art und Weise, wie ich dargestellt habe, daß es auf das richtige Suchen wesentlich ankommt.

Nun ist — wir wollen in dem, was gewagt ist, durchaus fortfahren, uns nicht abhalten lassen, diese gewagten Betrachtungen anzustellen doch zweifellos, wie man sich sonst auch zu dieser Persönlichkeit stellen kann, eine interessante europäische Persönlichkeit des 19. Jahrhunderts Garibaldi, der natürlich in einer ganz merkwürdigen Art sich in den geschichtlichen Zusammenhang des 19. Jahrhunderts hereinstellte. Wollen wir ihn heute einmal, wie gesagt, vorbereitend betrachten, und ich will Ihnen insbesondere die Dinge vorlegen, die den geisteswissenschaftlichen Betrachter dann zu den Zusammenhängen führen können, die wir morgen ins Auge fassen wollen.

Garibaldi ist ja eine Persönlichkeit, die sozusagen das ganze 19. Jahrhundert in einer ganz außerordentlich bedeutsamen Weise miterlebt hat, die 1807 geboren ist und bis in die zweite Hälfte des 19. Jahrhunderts an hervorragendem Platze gewirkt hat. Das bedeutet schon einen charakteristischen Menschenausdruck, insbesondere für diese Zeit des 19. Jahrhunderts.

Wenn wir nun die geistig wesentlichen Züge dieses Lebens betrachten, so finden wir: er ist der Sohn eines armen Mannes in Nizza, eines armen Mannes, der Schiffahrtsdienste zu leisten hat, ein Kind, das wenig Neigung hat, teilzunehmen an dem, was so die landläufige Erziehung dem Menschen bietet, ein Kind, das eigentlich kein guter Schüler ist, aber ein reges Interesse hat für die mannigfaltigsten Menschheitsangelegenheiten. Was ihm in der Schule geboten wurde, hat ihn ja in ziemlich weitgehendem Umfange dazu veranlaßt, möglichst viel nicht gerade die Aufmerksamkeit in den Klassen zu entfalten, sondern mehr das Schwänzen außerhalb der Schule. Aber wenn er irgendein Buch bekommen konnte, das ihm Interesse einflößte, so konnte er — trotzdem er sonst viel lieber herumtollte, am Ufer oder in Wäldern herumtollte, wenn der Lehrer auf seine Art die Welt den Kindern beibringen wollte - auf der anderen Seite auch wiederum gar nicht weggebracht werden von solch einem Buche, das gerade sein besonderes Interesse erregt hatte. Da konnte er mit dem Rücken auf der Erde, mit dem Bauche der Sonne zugewendet, lange Zeit liegen, auch das Essen wiederum schwänzen, und sich ganz vertiefen in ein solches Buch.

Aber am meisten interessierte ihn doch die Welt. Er machte sich früh daran, hineinzuwachsen in den Beruf seines Vaters, und er hat teilgenommen, zuerst in unselbständiger, dann in selbständiger Stellung, am Herumfahren auf dem Meere mit den Schiffen, hat das Adriatische Meer viel befahren und all das mitgemacht, was dazumal in der ersten Hälfte des 19. Jahrhunderts noch möglich war. Es war ja die Zeit, wo noch nicht der Liberalismus, die Demokratie alles in Polizeimaßregeln auch auf dem Meere einschematisiert hatte, sondern wo es noch etwas freiere Regsamkeit im Menschenleben gab. Da hat er denn, wie es eben ist, wenn man — nun ja, mehr oder weniger — tun kann, was man will, allerdings auch das mitgemacht, daß, ich glaube, drei- oder viermal ist ihm das passiert, das Schiff gekapert worden ist von Seeräubern und er in die Gefangenschaft von Seeräubern gekommen ist, Aber er war ja auch neben dem, daß er genial war, schlau und ist immer wieder entkommen, und zwar sehr bald entkommen.

So wuchs er denn heran, eigentlich immer in der großen Welt lebend — wie gesagt, ich will nicht eine Biographie geben, sondern nur einzelne charakteristische Züge anführen, die dann morgen auf eine wesentliche Betrachtung führen können -, und er bekam einen besonders lebendigen Eindruck von dem, was sich ihm als inneres Verhältnis zur Welt aus seiner Wesenheit heraus ergeben konnte, als er einmal, schon ziemlich herangereift, von seinem Vater an Land geführt worden ist, und zwar gerade in Rom, wo er dann von Rom aus Italien betrachtet hat. Es muß da etwas Besonderes gerade bei dieser Betrachtung Italiens von Rom aus durch seine Seele gezogen sein. Er hat ja, wenn er so mit seinen Schiffern durch das Meer gefahren ist, von den Leuten, die zumeist sehr regsam waren, aber gerade ein bestimmtes Interesse nicht hatten, die nämlich schlafend waren für die Zeitverhältnisse, manchmal wohl einen Eindruck empfangen, der ihn zur Verzweiflung bringen konnte, weil die Leute keinen Enthusiasmus hatten für echtes Menschentum, das insbesondere in ihm in einer gemütvoll genialen Weise eigentlich frühzeitig zur Geltung gekommen ist.

Und so muß etwas — man möchte fast sagen wie eine Vision — dazumal bei diesem An-Land-Gehen in Rom durch seine Seele gezogen sein, was ihm seine spätere Rolle bei der Befreiung Italiens vorgezeichnet hat. Und aus seinen übrigen Lebensverhältnissen heraus ist er ja in der ersten Hälfte des 19. Jahrhunderts dasjenige geworden, was dazumal leichter den Menschen geworden ist: Er ist eigentlich fanatisch antikatholisch, antiklerikal und fanatischer Republikaner geworden, ein Mensch, der sich deutlich vorsetzte, alles zu tun, was er nur tun könne, um das Glück der Menschheit in der ihm möglichen Weise herbeizuführen, der das auch wirklich sich vornahm zu tun.

Als er dann teilgenommen hat an allerlei Bewegungen, die ja in Italien auch in der ersten Hälfte des 19. Jahrhunderts immer da waren, Bewegungen innerhalb engerer Kreise, da ist es ihm passiert, daß er zum erstenmal — ich glaube, er war schon dreißig Jahre alt oder so etwas um dreißig herum - seinen Namen in der Zeitung gelesen hat. Das bedeutete ja dazumal noch viel mehr als heute, seinen Namen einmal in der Zeitung zu lesen. Aber er hat eben gerade ein besonderes Schicksal gehabt in bezug auf dieses Lesen seines Namens in der Zeitung, denn er hat ihn bei der Gelegenheit gelesen, als sein Todesurteil verkündet wurde durch die Zeitung. Also er hat sich selber zuerst gelesen, als er sein Todesurteil durch die Zeitung gegeben sah. Es ist immerhin ein charakteristischer Zug, denn nicht jeder Mensch erlebt so etwas, nicht wahr?

Nun, es war ihm aber nicht gegönnt - und das ist sehr charakteristisch, weil schon damals durchaus sein Enthusiasmus vorhanden war -, es war ihm nicht gegönnt, da schon etwa in die Verhältnisse Italiens oder Europas einzugreifen, sondern es war ihm vom Schicksal auferlegt, zunächst nach Amerika zu gehen und in Amerika an allerlei Freiheitsbewegungen teilzunehmen, bis gegen das Jahr 1848 hin. Aber er blieb immer ein ganz merk würdiger, mit ganz besonderen individuellen Eigenschaften ausgestatteter Mensch. Ist schon das, was ich eben erwähnt habe, ein doch recht singulärer Zug in seinem Leben, daß er seinen Namen zuerst in der Zeitung findet bei Bekanntmachung seines eigenen Todesurteils, so hat er noch eine, man kann schon sagen individuelle biographische Tatsache erlebt, etwas, was auch den wenigsten Menschen passiert. Er hat nämlich die weibliche Persönlichkeit, mit der er dann das Glück seines Lebens durch viele Jahre hindurch begründet hat, auf einem ganz eigentümlichen Wege kennengelernt, nämlich von weit draußen auf dem Meere, wo er auf dem Schiffe war, durch ein Fernglas ans Land hin. Das ist auch eine nicht gerade bei den meisten Menschen vorkommende Art, sich zu verlieben: durch ein Fernglas.

Dann aber wiederum hat es ihm das Schicksal besonders leicht gemacht, diese von ihm als die Seinige auf den ersten Blick — aber wie gesagt, auf den ersten Blick durch das Fernglas -, als die Seinige bezeichnete, bald auch kennenzulernen. Denn natürlich, er steuerte sofort auf das Land zu, in der Linie, die er gesehen hatte durch das Fernglas, und da wurde er eingeladen von einem Manne zum Mittagessen. Und siehe da, es stellte sich gleich nachher heraus — er hatte die Einladung angenommen -, daß das der Vater der Persönlichkeit war, die er durch das Fernglas gesehen hatte. Nun konnte sie nur Portugiesisch, er nur Italienisch; aber es wird versichert von dem Biographen, und es scheint auch richtig zu sein, daß die junge Dame, trotzdem sie nur Portugiesisch konnte, seine ganz kurz bemessene Liebeserklärung, die er nun auch mündlich ablegte, die ja nur in den Worten bestanden zu haben scheint: Wir müssen uns vereinen für das Leben - italienisch gesagt -, daß sie sofort diese Liebeserklärung verstanden hat. Und tatsächlich wurde daraus eine Lebensgemeinschaft für lange, lange Zeit.

Diese Persönlichkeit nahm teil an all den furchtbar abenteuerlichen Reisen, die er in Südamerika absolviert hat, und es gibt Züge, die einen erschütternden Eindruck machen. So zum Beispiel ist einer der Züge der, daß sich das Gerücht verbreitete, Garibaldi wäre getötet worden im Kampf. Nun stürmte die Frau aufs Schlachtfeld und hob jeden Kopf auf, um nachzusehen, ob das Garibaldi sei. Dann fand sie nach langer Zeit, nachdem sie viel abenteuerlich zu suchen hatte, ihn eben doch als Lebendigen wieder.

Aber schon wirklich erschütternd ist es, daß sie bei dieser abenteuerlichen Reise auf der Suche nach Garibaldi, die lange Zeit dauerte, ohne jede Hilfe ihr Kind geboren hat, daß sie, um es warm zu halten, es an einem Band um den Hals gebunden und an ihrer eigenen Brust warm gehalten hat durch lange Zeiten. Es sind in dieser amerikanischen Tätigkeit Garibaldis schon wirklich die tief erschütterndsten Züge vorgekommen.

Als dann in Europa die Zeit kam um die Mitte des 19. Jahrhunderts, wo die verschiedenen Freiheitsimpulse durch die Völker gingen, da hielt es Garibaldi nicht mehr in Amerika, da kam er zurück in sein Vaterland. Und das ist ja ziemlich allgemein bekannt geworden, wie er nun in intensivster und regster Weise durch das Werben von Freischaren unter den schwierigsten Verhältnissen beigetragen hat zu dem, was dann Italien geworden ist und nicht nur beigetragen hat, sondern der eigentliche Schöpfer dessen war, was geschehen ist.

Und da tritt ein Zug in seinem Leben, in seinem Charakter ganz besonders stark hervor. Er war ja ein in jeder Beziehung unabhängiger Mann, ja, ein Mann, der eigentlich, ich möchte sagen, auf naive Weise immer in allen Lebensverhältnissen groß dachte und sich nur um das bekümmerte, was aus seinen innersten Impulsen hervorquellen wollte. Und so ist es schon wirklich sehr merkwürdig, wie er alles getan hat, um die Dynastie des Viktor Emanuel dazu zu bringen, eben dem Königreich Italien vorstehen zu können, während eigentlich die ganze Einigung Italiens, die Befreiung Italiens von ihm ausgegangen ist. Diese Dinge, wie er Neapel, Sizilien erobert hat mit verhältnismäßig ganz geringer, undisziplinierter, aber begeisterter Truppenmacht, wie dann der spätere König von Italien nur einzuziehen brauchte in die von Garibaldi für das Königtum eroberten Gebiete, wie aber doch im Grunde genommen nichts von seiten der königlichen Familie und ihrer Umgebung geschehen ist, um in der richtigen Weise zu würdigen, was Garibaldi getan hatte, das ist doch schon etwas, was einen tiefen Eindruck machen kann. Denn im Grunde genommen, wenn man es trivial ausdrücken wollte, müßte man sagen: die Savoyische Dynastie verdankte Garibaldi alles, und sie war im höchsten Grade undankbar gegen Garibaldi, hat eigentlich nur diejenigen Höflichkeiten gebraucht gegen Garibaldi, denen man sich eben nicht entziehen konnte, die notwendig waren.

So zum Beispiel gerade beim Einzug in Neapel. Garibaldi hatte doch Neapel für die Dynastie erobert und wurde von den Neapolitanern als der eigentliche Befreier angesehen, bei dessen Erscheinen überall ein Sturm von Jubel losging. Es wäre undenkbar gewesen, daß etwa der spätere König von Italien in Neapel ohne Garibaldi eingezogen wäre. Ganz undenkbar wäre es gewesen, Aber die Ratgeber, die waren entschieden dagegen. Gewiß, es ist ja bei manchen ähnlichen Ratgebern viel Kurzsichtigkeit; aber wenn nicht doch Viktor Emanuel einen gewissen Instinkt gehabt hätte und Garibaldi in seiner roten Bluse nicht neben sich hätte sitzen lassen beim Einzug in Neapel, so würde er ganz gewiß statt mit Jubel, mit dem eigentlich Garibaldi, nicht der König von Italien, empfangen worden ist, er würde ganz gewiß ausgepfiffen worden sein. Das ist etwas, was man mit absoluter, exakter Sicherheit behaupten kann, wenn er in Neapel ohne Garibaldi eingezogen wäre.

So war es eigentlich im Grunde genommen auf Schritt und Tritt. Bei einem der Züge, mehr in Mittelitalien, hat eigentlich Garibaldi alles geleistet. Die königlichen Feldherrn mit dem König sind - ich weiß nicht, man sagt in solchen Fällen, um es glimpflich auszudrücken zu spät gekommen: es war schon durch Garibaldi alles fertiggemacht. Aber als das Heer mit den viele Orden tragenden Feldherrn erschien und begegnete dem Garibaldi-Heer, das keine Orden trug, das auch ziemlich anspruchslos sonst in der Kleidung war, da erklärten die Feldherrn: Ja, man kann doch nicht mit denen zusammen etwa reiten, das läßt sich doch nicht machen, das kann nicht sein. Aber Viktor Emanuel hatte, wie gesagt, einen gewissen Instinkt. Er rief Garibaldi an seine Seite, und die Feldherrn, die lange Nasen machten, mußten sich nun zunächst mischen unter diejenigen, die als Garibaldi-Heer sich anreihten. Diesen Feldherrn scheint entsetzlich schlecht geworden zu sein, sie scheinen Magenkrämpfe gekriegt zu haben. Und dann ging es schon nicht anders: Als dann der Einzug in eine Stadt geschehen sollte, mußte Garibaldi, der eigentlich alles gemacht hatte, als Nachhut ganz hinten sich anschließen. Sie mußten die anderen voranmarschieren lassen. Es ist ein Fall, wo die Leute tatsächlich gar nichts getan hatten, aber sie zogen zuerst ein, und dann Garibaldi mit seinen Garibaldianern.

Das Wesentliche sind diese merkwürdigen Schicksalsverkettungen. Gerade an diesen Schicksalsverkettungen müssen Sie das sehen, was auf die karmischen Zusammenhänge führt. Denn, nicht wahr, es hat ja nicht eigentlich etwas direkt mit menschlicher Freiheit oder Unfreiheit zu tun, daß man zuerst seinen Namen bei seinem Todesurteil gedruckt findet, oder daß man seine Frau durch ein Fernglas findet. Das sind schon Schicksalszusammenhänge, die neben dem, was trotzdem immer als Freiheit im Menschen ist, einherlaufen. Aber diese Dinge, von denen man sicher sein kann, daß sie Schicksalsverkettungen sind, die sind zu gleicher Zeit die großen Anreger, um eben das Wesen des Karmas praktisch zu studieren.

Nun, es sind bei solchen Persönlichkeiten auch, ich möchte sagen, die Nebensächlichkeiten des Lebens charakteristisch. Bei solchen Persönlichkeiten sind sie wirkliche, starke Nebensächlichkeiten. Sehen Sie, Garibaldi war, was man einen schönen Mann nennt. Er hatte sehr schönes dunkelblondes Haar, war überhaupt sehr schön. Das Haar war lockig, dunkelblond, und wurde von den Frauen sehr geliebt. Nun, man kann ja, wie gesagt, schon aus den wenigen Zügen, die ich Ihnen von der durch das Fernrohr Erkorenen angeführt habe, von ihr nur das Allerbeste, Interessanteste, Hingebungsvollste sagen; aber eifersüchtig scheint sie doch gewesen zu sein! Das scheint doch nun nicht ganz von ihr weggeblieben zu sein.

Was tat Garibaldi, als die Eifersucht, wie es scheint, eines Tages doch starke Dimensionen angenommen hatte? Er ließ sich sein schönes blondes Haar bis auf die Wurzeln wegschneiden, er ließ sich zum Kahlkopf machen. Es war noch in Amerika. Das alles sind Züge, die wirklich zeigen, wie sich die Schicksalsnotwendigkeiten in das Leben eben hineinstellen.

Garibaldi wurde dann eine europäische Größe nach dem, was er in Italien getan hatte, und wer heute durch Italien reist, weiß ja, daß man eigentlich, wie man von Stadt zu Stadt reist, so auch von Garibaldi-Denkmal zu Garibaldi-Denkmal reist. Aber es gab Zeiten in Europa, wo auch überall außerhalb Italiens der Name Garibaldi mit riesigem Interesse und großer Hingebung genannt worden ist, wo auch, sagen wir, sogar die Damen in Köln oder in Mainz oder irgendwo rote Blusen trugen zu Ehren Garibaldis, weil die rote Bluse eben die Tracht der Garibaldianer war - von London ganz abgesehen: da war die rote Bluse ganz Mode geworden.

Aber dieser Zug ist interessant: Als dann der Deutsch-Französische Krieg 1870 war, stellte sich der nunmehr alt gewordene Garibaldi den Franzosen zur Verfügung. Und interessant ist es, daß er eigentlich der einzige war, der bei einer gewissen Gelegenheit, trotzdem er ja doch nur geübt war in den freien Kriegen, die er in Italien und in Amerika geführt hatte, doch in einem verhältnismäßig regulären Kriege eine deutsche Fahne so erbeutet hat, daß sie hervorgezogen werden mußte aus einem Menschenhaufen, der sie ganz bedeckt hatte, sie schützen wollte mit den eigenen Leibern. Garibaldi hat die Fahne erbeutet. Aber weil er wiederum einen ungeheuren Respekt davor hatte, daß die Menschen sich mit ihren eigenen Leibern auf die Fahne geworfen hatten, hat er sie, nachdem er sie erbeutet hatte, den Besitzern wiederum zurückgeschickt. Allerdings ist er dann, als er in einer Versammlung erschienen ist, ausgepfiffen worden ob dieser Tat.

Nicht wahr, nicht nur ein interessantes Leben, sondern tatsächlich ein Mensch, der sich schon in einer ungeheuer charakteristischen Weise abhebt von allem dem, was sonst im 19. Jahrhundert an Größen heraufgekommen ist! So ursprünglich, so elementar und so aus primitiven und doch wiederum genialen Impulsen heraus wirkend waren die anderen auf diesem Gebiete ganz gewiß nicht. Sie waren vielleicht imstande, größere Heeresmassen zu führen, regelrechter tätig zu sein, aber eine so echte, ursprüngliche Begeisterung für das, was auf diesem Wege angestrebt wurde, war wohl bei niemandem vorhanden in diesem Zeitalter, das schon so tief im Materialismus drinnengesteckt hat.

Nun, das ist eine der Persönlichkeiten, die ich Ihnen vorführen möchte. Wie gesagt, ich werde heute die Vorbereitungen geben, morgen die Lösungen versuchen.


Eine andere Persönlichkeit ist Ihnen ja dem Namen nach sehr gut bekannt; aber gerade diese Persönlichkeit ist in bezug auf die Untersuchung des Karmas von einem außerordentlich großen Interesse: das ist Lessing.

Ich möchte sagen, gerade Lessings Lebenszusammenhänge haben mich immer außerordentlich interessiert. Lessing ist ja eigentlich, möchte man sagen, der Begründer des besseren Journalismus, jenes Journalismus, der Substanz hat, jenes Journalismus, der auch noch etwas will.

Dabei ist Lessing bestrebt, gegenüber jenem überbürgerlichen Elemente, das eigentlich vor ihm innerhalb seines Zivilisationskreises den alleinigen Gegenstand für den Dichter, für den Dramatiker bildete, das bürgerliche Leben in das Drama einzuführen, dasjenige Leben überhaupt, welches zusammenhängt mit den Schicksalen der Menschen als Menschen, nicht mit den Schicksalen der Menschen, insofern diese eine soziale Stellung und dergleichen haben. Die rein menschlichen Konflikte wollte Lessing auf die Bühne bringen.

Dabei hat er sich an manches große Problem herangemacht, wie an das, daß er versuchte, die Grenzen der Malerei und Poesie festzustellen in seinem «Laokoon». Aber das Interessanteste ist, in welcher, ich möchte sagen, stoßkräftigen Art Lessing die Toleranzidee verfochten hat. Sie brauchen ja nur seinen «Nathan der Weise» einmal ins Auge zu fassen, dann werden Sie sehen, wie in diesem Lessing die Toleranzidee in ganz eminentester Weise lebt, wie er im Hineinflechten der Fabel von den drei Ringen in seinem «Nathan» zeigen wollte, wie die verschiedenen Religionen abgeirrt sind, wie die drei Hauptreligionen abgeirrt sind von ihrer ursprünglichen Gestalt, wie sie eigentlich alle drei nicht echt sind, und man die echte, die verloren ist, suchen müsse. So daß also hier die Toleranz mit einer außerordentlich tiefsinnigen Idee verbunden ist.

Dann aber ist bei Lessing interessant dieses Freimaurergespräch «Ernst und Falk» und anderes, was herausstammt aus der Freimaurerei. Was Lessing als geschichtlicher Erforscher des religiösen Lebens, als Kritiker des religiösen Lebens geleistet hat, das ist ja etwas, was für den, der zu beurteilen vermag, was so etwas bedeutet innerhalb des 18. Jahrhunderts, eben erschütternd ist. Man muß nur diesen ganzen Lessing in seiner Persönlichkeit sich vor die Seele stellen können.

Das kann man allerdings nicht, wenn man auf der einen Seite, sagen wir, etwa lesen wollte das zweibändige, als abschließend geltende Werk über Lessing von Erich Schmidt, denn da ist nicht Lessing geschildert, da ist ein Hampelmann geschildert, der zusammengesetzt ist aus verschiedenen menschlichen Gliedern, und von dem behauptet wird, daß er den «Nathan» geschrieben habe und den «Laokoon» geschrieben habe. Aber das sind bloße Behauptungen, daß der, der hier biographisch behandelt wird, das geschrieben habe. Und in ähnlicher Weise sind die anderen Lessing-Biographien verfaßt.

Man bekommt ungefähr einen Eindruck von Lessing, wenn man die Wurfkraft ins Auge faßt, mit der er seine Sätze hinschleudert, um den Gegner zu treffen. Eine vornehme, aber zu gleicher Zeit überall treffende Polemik entwickelt er eigentlich zunächst an mitteleuropäischer Zivilisation. Dabei muß man eine eigentümliche Nuancierung in seinem Charakter gerade dann ins Auge fassen, wenn man auf seine Lebenszusammenhänge eingehen will. Auf der einen Seite wird derjenige, der einen Sinn hat für die Schärfe, für die oft kaustische Schärfe, die in solchen Schriften wie in der «Hamburgischen Dramaturgie» zum Beispiel zutage tritt, nicht leicht den Weg hinüberfinden — aber man muß ihn finden, um Lessing zu verstehen — zu dem, wie Lessing in einem Briefe schreibt, als ihm sein Sohn geboren wurde, der gleich nach der Geburt starb. So ungefähr: Ja, er hat sich gleich wiederum aus dieser Welt des Jammers empfohlen. Er hat damit das Beste getan, was ein Mensch tun kann. — So ungefähr heißt es, ich kann es nicht wörtlich zitieren. Es heißt dieses, den Schmerz ausdrücken in einer ungeheuer kühnen Weise, die aber doch deshalb den Schmerz nicht weniger tief fühlt als derjenige, der ihn nur zu beweinen vermag. Daß er so den Schmerz ausdrückt, dieses Sich-auf-sich-zurückziehen-Können im Schmerz, das war zu gleicher Zeit dem eigen, der in der intensivsten Weise vorwärtszustoßen verstand, wenn er seine Polemik entwickeln wollte. Daher ist es auch so herzzerreißend, wenn man gerade jenen Brief liest, den Lessing geschrieben hat, als ihm das Kind gleich nach der Geburt gestorben ist und die Mutter schwer krank darniederlag.

Dieser Lessing hat nun dieses merkwürdige Schicksal gehabt - und das ist bloß charakteristisch, wenn man eben den karmischen Zusammenhang bei ihm suchen will -, in Berlin befreundet zu werden mit einem Manne, der ja eigentlich, man möchte sagen, in jedem Zug des Lebens der Gegensatz von Lessing war: Nicolai.

Sehen Sie, Lessing, von dem — wenn es auch nicht ganz wahr ist, charakteristisch ist es doch für ihn — gesagt werden kann, daß er nie geträumt hat, weil sein Verstand so scharf war, er ist deshalb, wie wir morgen sehen werden, doch gerade für den Geistesforscher durch seine geistigen Zusammenhänge eine außerordentlich bedeutsame Persönlichkeit. Aber es war etwas bei Lessing, was einen jeden Satz eigentlich entzückend macht in der Konturierung der Sätze, in dem Treffsicheren, mit dem der Gegner in den Sand gelegt wird. Das war das Gegenteil bei Nicolai. Nicolai ist der Typus eines Philisters, ein richtiger Philister. Er war eben doch mit Lessing befreundet, aber er war ein eigentümlicher Philister, ein Philister, der Visionen hatte, die merkwürdigsten Visionen hatte.

Lessing, der Geniale, hatte gar keine Visionen, nicht einmal Träume. Aber der Philister Nicolai litt eben an Visionen. Sie kamen, und sie gingen nur fort, wenn ihm Blutegel angesetzt wurden. Wenn es gar nicht mehr ging, so wurden ihm eben Blutegel gesetzt, dem Philister Nicolai, damit er nur ja nicht immer fort und fort aus der geistigen Welt heraus bestürmt würde.

Fichte hat eine ganz interessante Schrift gegen Nicolai geschrieben. Er hat eigentlich das deutsche Philistertum in der Persönlichkeit des Nicolai symptomatisch schildern wollen. Aber jener Nicolai war eben doch der Freund Lessings.

Nun, ein anderer Zug noch bei Lessing ist sehr merkwürdig. Lessing hat sich in bezug auf seine Weltanschauung viel mit zwei Philosophen beschäftigt, mit Spinoza und Leibniz. Nun muß ich sagen, ich hatte ja solche Nebenbeschäftigungen manchmal gewählt, die Schriften zu lesen, in denen bewiesen wird von der einen Seite, daß Lessing Leibnizianer gewesen ist, und die anderen, die immer wieder beweisen mit noch gediegeneren Gründen, daß er Spinozist gewesen ist. Die stehen sich in der Welt gegenüber. Und man kann schon sagen, eigentlich kann man nicht recht unterscheiden, ob Lessing, der scharfsinnige Mann, Leibnizianer oder Spinozist gewesen ist — was das Gegenteil voneinander ist. Spinoza: pantheistisch, monistisch; Leibniz: monadistisch, also lauter Einzelwesen, ganz individualistisch. Aber man kann das nicht unterscheiden, ob Lessing Leibnizianer oder Spinozist gewesen ist. So daß man, wenn man nach dieser Richtung hin Lessing prüft, eigentlich zu keinem abschließenden Urteil kommt. Man kann nicht zu einem abschließenden Urteil kommen.

Dieser Lessing hat am Abschluß seines Lebens die merkwürdige Schrift «Die Erziehung des Menschengeschlechts» geschrieben, wo am Ende, man möchte sagen, wie ganz vereinsamt die Idee der wiederholten Erdenleben auftritt. Die Schrift handelt so über die Erziehung des Menschengeschlechts, daß nacheinander die Menschheit Epochen der Entwickelung, der Zivilisationsentwickelung durchmacht: Wie die Götter dem Menschen das erste Elementarbuch, das Alte Testament, in die Hand geben, wie dann das zweite Elementarbuch, das Neue Testament, kommt, wiein der Zukunft ein drittes Buch kommen wird zur Erziehung des Menschengeschlechtes.

Dann aber klingt die Schrift aus in eine kurze Darstellung, daß der Mensch in wiederholten Erdenleben lebt. Und dann wiederum, in einer Weise, die ganz aus dem Charakter Lessings herauskommt, sagt er: Sollte diese Idee der wiederholten Erdenleben — er gebraucht diesen Ausdruck nicht, aber es ist das ja da- deshalb so absurd sein, weil sie in der ersten Zeit, als die Menschen noch nicht durch die Schulweisheit verdorben waren, bei den Menschen auftrat? — Es klingt dann die Schrift in einen wahren Panegyrikus auf die wiederholten Erdenleben aus und hat zuletzt die schönen Worte, hinweisend, wie der Mensch von Erdenleben zu Erdenleben geht, die dann ausklingen in: «Ist nicht die ganze Ewigkeit mein?»

Man traf, vielleicht trifft man es auch heute noch, wenn man mit den Leuten zusammenlebt, immer wieder die Menschen, die eigentlich Lessing sehr schätzten, aber abrückten von der Schrift: «Die Erziehung des Menschengeschlechts.» Man kann eigentlich nicht verstehen, was solche Menschen für eine Seelenbeschaffenheit haben. Sie schätzen solch einen genialen Menschen aufs höchste, lehnen aber dasjenige ab, was er gerade in seinem reifsten Alter der Menschheit gibt. Er ist halt alt geworden, senil — so sagen sie —, da kann man nicht mehr mitgehen - so sagen sie. Ja, nicht wahr, auf diese Art läßt sich alles wegschaffen!

Aber es hat eigentlich niemand ein Recht, Lessing anzuerkennen, der nicht diese Schrift, die von ihm als reifster Geist verfaßt worden ist, mit anerkennt. Und bei Lessing gibt es keine rechte Möglichkeit, wenn ein solch Lapidares hingestellt wird wie diese Idee der wiederholten Erdenleben, das nicht anzuerkennen.

Sie werden begreiflich finden, meine lieben Freunde, daß gerade diese Persönlichkeit mit Bezug auf Karma, mit Bezug auf ihren eigenen Durchgang durch die verschiedenen Erdenleben im höchsten Grade interessant ist. Denn etwa eine allgemein geltende Idee war in der zweiten Hälfte des 18. Jahrhunderts die Idee der wiederholten Erdenleben nicht. Sie ist schon bei Lessing fast wie aus der Pistole herausgeschossen, wie eine aufblitzende, geniale Idee. Und man kann nicht sagen, daß es irgendwie gelingen könnte, sie durch Erziehung oder durch irgend etwas zu erklären, was Einfluß haben könnte auf dieses besondere Lessing-Leben und wiederum auf dieses Lessing-Leben im hohen Alter. Das legt einem schon die Aufgabe nahe, zu fragen: Wie mag es mit dem vorangegangenen Erdenleben bei einem Menschen sein, bei dem in einem bestimmten Alter die Idee der wiederholten Erdenleben, die sonst seiner ihn umgebenden Zivilisation fremd ist, plötzlich auftaucht, und zwar auftaucht so, daß der Mensch selber hinweist darauf, wie sie einmal in der Urzeit vorhanden war; also eigentlich innere Gefühlsgründe anführt, die mit dem Hinweis auf die eigenen Erdenleben bis weit zurück zusammenhängen, trotzdem Lessing in seinem gewöhnlichen Oberbewußtsein gewiß von solchen Zusammenhängen keine Ahnung hatte? Aber die Dinge, die man nicht weiß, sind ja deshalb doch da. Wenn nur diejenigen Dinge da wären, die manche Menschen wissen, dann wäre die Welt sehr arm an Ereignissen und an Wesenheiten. Das ist die zweite Frage, die uns beschäftigen soll in karmischer Beziehung.


Eine dritte Frage möchte ich aufwerfen, weil sie vielleicht durch die Schilderung der konkreten Verhältnisse dann im karmischen Zusammenhange besonders lehrreich sein kann, Ich habe ja unter den Persönlichkeiten, die mir als Lehrer nahestanden in meiner Jugend, eine geschildert, die ich da nur so dargestellt habe, wie sie eben in diesem Zusammenhange dargestellt werden muß, die ich Ihnen aber heute mit einigen Zügen schildern möchte, die dann symptomatisch, bedeutend sein können für das Karmastudium.

Ich bin in der folgenden Weise auf das Karmastudium gerade dieser Persönlichkeit geführt worden. Es ist wiederum gewagt, wenn ich dieses erzähle, aber ich glaube nicht, daß in dem Zusammenhange, in dem heute das Geistesleben, das von Anthroposophie ausgehen soll, drinnensteht, diese gewagten Dinge vermieden werden können.

Sehen Sie, das, was ich Ihnen erzähle, hat sich mir eigentlich erst ergeben, nachdem ich einige Jahre den Betreffenden, der mir ein sehr lieber Lehrer war, bis zu meinem achtzehnten Lebensjahre, nicht mehr gesehen hatte. Ich hatte aber immer sein Leben weiter verfolgt, war ihm eigentlich immer nahe geblieben. Nun hatte ich in einem bestimmten Momente meines eigenen Lebens Veranlassung, dieses Leben aus einem ganz bestimmten Grunde zu verfolgen.

In einem bestimmten Moment fing mich nämlich an, durch einen anderen Lebenszusammenhang, das Leben Lord Byrons außerordentlich zu interessieren. Und ich lernte dazumal auch Menschen kennen, die außerordentliche Byron-Enthusiasten waren. Zu diesen gehörte zum Beispiel die Dichterin, von der ich noch in meiner Lebensbeschreibung viel werde zu sagen haben, Marie Eugenie delle Grazie. Sie war eine Byron-Enthusiastin in einem bestimmten Alter ihres Lebens.

Dann war ein Byron-Enthusiast eine merkwürdige Persönlichkeit, eine sonderbare Mischung von allen möglichen Eigenschaften: Eugen Heinrich Schmitt. Manchen, die sich auch mit der Geschichte der Anthroposophie befaßt haben, wird ja der Name Eugen Heinrich Schmitt wohl aufgetaucht sein.

Nun, zunächst wurde Eugen Heinrich Schmitt in den achtziger Jahren in Wien bekannt, damals auch gleich mir bekannt, als er seine preisgekrönte Schrift über Hegels Dialektik, die von der Berliner Hegel-Gesellschaft ausgeschrieben war, geschrieben hatte. Da kam nun dieser lange Eugen Heinrich Schmitt — er war schmächtig und lang nach Wien, ein Mann, der wirklich, wenn auch äußerlich in einer etwas sehr stark zur Schau getragenen Weise, von einem starken Enthusiasmus durchsetzt war, einem Enthusiasmus, der zuweilen, wie gesagt, auch äußerlich sehr starke Formen annahm, aber er war eben Enthusiast. Das ist etwas, was mir vielleicht nur einen Ruck gegeben hat. Ich dachte, ich wollte Eugen Heinrich Schmitt eine Freude machen, und da er gerade damals seinen begeisterten Artikel geschrieben hatte über Lord Byron, so führte ich ihn zu der anderen Byron-Enthusiastin, zu Marie Eugenie delle Grazie. Nun ging da eine furchtbar enthusiastische Byron-Diskussion los. Sie waren eigentlich einig, aber sie diskutierten lebhaft. Alle anderen, die da saßen, schwiegen. Es war dort eine ganze Anzahl von Theologen der Wiener katholischen Fakultät versammelt, die da jede Woche hinkamen, die man auch sehr genau kennenlernte und mit denen ich sehr befreundet geworden bin. Wir anderen schwiegen alle. Aber die beiden Leute unterhielten sich nun über Byron so: Da war der Tisch, etwas länglich, da saß delle Grazie, und hier saß Eugen Heinrich Schmitt, heftig gestikulierend. Plötzlich geht der Stuhl unter ihm weg, er fällt unter den Tisch, seine Füße bis zu delle Grazie hin. Ich darf wohl sagen, es war ein Schock, den man bekam. Aber dieser Schock löste bei mir eine ganz besondere Sache aus — ich möchte das wirklich ganz objektiv historisch erzählen -, er löste bei mir eine ganz besondere Sache aus: Alles, was da über Byron gesprochen worden war, das wirkte so, daß ich das lebhafteste Bedürfnis empfand, zu wissen, wie die karmischen Zusammenhänge bei Byron sein können! Das war natürlich nicht so leicht. Aber es ist wirklich so, wie wenn das Bild dieses Gespräches dagestanden hätte mit dem Eugen Heinrich Schmitt, der mit dem Fuß anstößig wurde, und wie wenn dieses Bild mich auf den Fuß von Byron gebracht hätte, der ein Klumpfuß war, wie Sie wissen: er schleppte den Fuß, weil er kürzer war. Und von da aus sagte ich mir: Solch einen Fuß hat ja auch dieser mein geliebter Lehrer gehabt, und — man muß einmal die karmischen Zusammenhänge untersuchen. — Ich habe Ihnen schon bei einem Beispiele, bei einer Beinverletzung Eduard von Hartmanns gezeigt, wie man durch solche Eigenschaften zurückgeführt wird. Ich konnte mir nun das Schicksal dieses mir nahestehenden Menschen, der auch gerade einen solchen Fuß hatte, leichter vor Augen stellen, und da war natürlich vor allen Dingen das sehr bemerkenswert, daß diese eine Eigenschaft, einen Klumpfuß zu haben, bei Byron und bei dem anderen vorlag. Aber sonst waren sie ganz verschieden: Byron, der geniale Poet, der abenteuerlicher Natur war trotz der Genialität, oder vielleicht wegen der Genialität, und der andere, der ein ausgezeichneter Geometer war, wie sie selten in solchen Lehrstellen vorkommen, den man nun wirklich bewundern konnte mit Bezug auf seine geometrische Phantasie und auf seine Handhabung der darstellenden Geometrie.

Kurz, ich konnte mir bei zwei seelisch ganz und gar verschiedenen Menschen das karmische Problem an dieser scheinbaren physischen Nebensache vorlegen; aber sie führte dazu, nun tatsächlich die beiden Probleme, den einen und den anderen Menschen, Byron und meinen Geometrielehrer, im Zusammenhang zu behandeln und das Problem dabei zu lösen.

Diese Fälle wollte ich Ihnen heute als charakteristische vorlegen, und wir wollen dann morgen an die karmische Betrachtung dieser Fälle gehen.

Eleventh Lecture

The karmic observations that we have made here, and which have recently led us to very specific individual cases of karmic connections, are intended to gather material for an assessment not only of individual human connections, but also of historical connections. And that is why I would like to add to the examples I have dealt with today and tomorrow, some preparatory matters today and then tomorrow the karmic considerations.

You will have seen that the consideration of the connection between the one and the other earth life must actually always rest on very specific symptoms, certain individual facts from which one must start and which then lead one to see the concrete connections. And for the daring cases I have mentioned, I have also shown you where these individual clues are to be found in particular.

Now, as I said, I would like to present certain cases to you today in preparation for tomorrow's lecture, but they will not be resolved until tomorrow.

First of all, I would like to point out the special interest that one or the other personality can arouse. I will mention historical personalities and personalities from everyday life. The special interest that such personalities can arouse in us can lead us to a kind of impetus to search for the contexts of life. And those who can search for them properly can actually find them. For you will have noticed, precisely from the way I have described it, that the right search is essential.

Now Garibaldi is - let us continue with what is daring, let us not be deterred from making these daring observations - undoubtedly an interesting European personality of the 19th century, just as one might otherwise think of this personality, who naturally inserted himself into the historical context of the 19th century in a very strange way. Let us take a preliminary look at him today, as I said, and I would like to present to you in particular the things that can then lead the humanities observer to the connections that we want to consider tomorrow.

Garibaldi is a personality who, so to speak, lived through the entire 19th century in an extraordinarily significant way, who was born in 1807 and worked in an outstanding position until the second half of the 19th century. This already represents a characteristic human expression, especially for this period of the 19th century.

If we now look at the essential intellectual features of this life, we find that he is the son of a poor man in Nice, a poor man who has to perform shipping services, a child who has little inclination to take part in what common education offers people, a child who is not really a good student, but who has a keen interest in the most diverse human affairs. What he was offered at school led him, to a fairly large extent, not to pay much attention in class, but rather to play truant outside school. But if he could get hold of any book that caught his interest, he could not be taken away from such a book that had aroused his particular interest, even though he usually preferred to romp around on the shore or in the woods when the teacher wanted to teach the children about the world in his own way. He could lie there for a long time with his back on the ground and his belly turned towards the sun, even skip meals and immerse himself in such a book.

But what interested him most was the world. He set about growing into his father's profession at an early age, and he took part, first as an employee and then as an independent, in sailing around the sea on ships, sailed the Adriatic a lot and did everything that was still possible in the first half of the 19th century. After all, it was a time when liberalism and democracy had not yet codified everything into police regulations, even on the sea, but when there was still a little more freedom in human life. So, as is the case when you can - well, more or less - do what you want, he did go through the experience of having his ship captured by pirates three or four times, I think, and being taken prisoner by pirates, but apart from being ingenious, he was also clever and always escaped, and escaped very quickly.

So he grew up, actually always living in the big world - as I said, I don't want to give a biography, but only mention individual characteristic traits, which can then lead to an essential consideration tomorrow - and he got a particularly vivid impression of what could arise from his being as an inner relationship to the world when he was once, already quite mature, led ashore by his father, precisely in Rome, where he then looked at Italy from Rome. Something special must have passed through his soul during this contemplation of Italy from Rome. When he sailed through the sea with his sailors, he sometimes received an impression from the people, most of whom were very lively but lacked a certain interest, who were asleep for the times, that could drive him to despair because they had no enthusiasm for genuine humanity, which actually came to the fore in him in a pleasantly ingenious way at an early stage.

And so something - one might almost say like a vision - must have passed through his soul at that time when he landed in Rome, which foreshadowed his later role in the liberation of Italy. And from his other circumstances in the first half of the 19th century, he became what people became more easily at that time: he actually became fanatically anti-Catholic, anti-clerical and a fanatical republican, a man who clearly resolved to do everything he could to bring about the happiness of mankind in the way he could, who really intended to do so.

When he then took part in all kinds of movements that were always there in Italy in the first half of the 19th century, movements within narrow circles, it happened to him that he read his name in the newspaper for the first time - I think he was already thirty years old or something around thirty. In those days it meant much more than it does today to read his name in the newspaper. But he had a special fate with regard to reading his name in the newspaper, because he read it on the occasion when his death sentence was announced in the newspaper. So he read himself first when he saw his death sentence announced in the newspaper. After all, it's a characteristic trait, because not everyone experiences something like that, right?

Well, it was not granted to him - and that is very characteristic, because his enthusiasm was already present at that time - it was not granted to him to intervene in the circumstances of Italy or Europe, but it was imposed on him by fate to first go to America and participate in all kinds of freedom movements in America until around 1848. But he always remained a very worthy man, endowed with very special individual qualities. If what I have just mentioned is a rather singular feature of his life, that he first found his name in the newspaper when his own death sentence was announced, he also experienced another, one could say individual biographical fact, something that happens to very few people. He got to know the female personality, with whom he then established the happiness of his life over many years, in a very peculiar way, namely from far out at sea, where he was on the ship, through binoculars to land. That's not exactly a common way for most people to fall in love: through binoculars.

But then again, fate made it particularly easy for him to soon get to know her, whom he described as his own at first sight - but as I said, at first sight through the binoculars. For of course, he immediately headed for the land in the line he had seen through the binoculars, and there he was invited to lunch by a man. And lo and behold, it turned out immediately afterwards - he had accepted the invitation - that this was the father of the person he had seen through the binoculars. Now she could only speak Portuguese, he only Italian; but the biographer assures us, and it seems to be true, that the young lady, although she could only speak Portuguese, immediately understood his very brief declaration of love, which he now also made verbally, and which seems to have consisted only of the words: “We must unite for life” - in Italian. And indeed, it became a life partnership for a long, long time.

This personality took part in all the terribly adventurous journeys he made in South America, and there are traits that make a shattering impression. For example, one of the traits is that the rumor spread that Garibaldi had been killed in battle. Now the woman rushed onto the battlefield and picked up every head to see if it was Garibaldi. Then, after a long time and a lot of adventurous searching, she found him alive after all.

But it is truly shocking that during this adventurous journey in search of Garibaldi, which lasted a long time, she gave birth to her child without any help, that in order to keep it warm, she tied it to a ribbon around her neck and kept it warm on her own chest for a long time. In this American activity of Garibaldi, the most deeply distressing traits really did occur.

When the time came in Europe around the middle of the 19th century, when the various impulses for freedom swept through the peoples, Garibaldi was no longer in America and returned to his homeland. And it has become quite well known how he contributed in the most intensive and active way to what Italy then became by recruiting bands of freedom fighters under the most difficult circumstances and not only contributed, but was the actual creator of what happened.

And there is one feature of his life, of his character, that stands out particularly strongly. He was a man who was independent in every respect, a man who actually, I would say naively, always thought big in all aspects of life and was only concerned with what wanted to emerge from his innermost impulses. And so it is really very strange how he did everything he could to bring the dynasty of Victor Emmanuel to preside over the Kingdom of Italy, when in fact the whole unification of Italy, the liberation of Italy, started with him. These things, how he conquered Naples and Sicily with a relatively small, undisciplined but enthusiastic force, how the later King of Italy then only had to move into the territories conquered by Garibaldi for the kingdom, but how basically nothing happened on the part of the royal family and its surroundings to properly appreciate what Garibaldi had done, that is something that can make a deep impression. Because basically, if you wanted to put it trivially, you would have to say: the Savoy dynasty owed everything to Garibaldi, and it was extremely ungrateful to Garibaldi, actually only used those courtesies against Garibaldi that were necessary and could not be avoided.

For example, when he entered Naples. After all, Garibaldi had conquered Naples for the dynasty and was regarded by the Neapolitans as the real liberator, whose appearance caused a storm of rejoicing everywhere. It would have been unthinkable for the future King of Italy to enter Naples without Garibaldi. It would have been completely unthinkable, but the advisors were firmly against it. Certainly, there is a great deal of short-sightedness among some similar advisors; but if Victor Emmanuel had not had a certain instinct and had not allowed Garibaldi to sit next to him in his red blouse when he entered Naples, he would most certainly have been booed instead of being received with the cheers with which Garibaldi, not the King of Italy, was actually received. That is something that can be said with absolute, exact certainty if he had entered Naples without Garibaldi.

In fact, it was like that at every turn. In one of the moves, more in central Italy, Garibaldi actually did everything. The royal commanders with the king arrived too late - I don't know, in such cases, to put it mildly: everything was already done by Garibaldi. But when the army appeared with the generals wearing many medals and encountered the Garibaldi army, which wore no medals and was otherwise quite modest in its dress, the generals declared: "Yes, you can't ride with them, it can't be done, it can't be done. But Victor Emmanuel, as I said, had a certain instinct. He called Garibaldi to his side, and the generals who had long noses now had to mingle with those who lined up as Garibaldi's army. These generals seem to have felt terribly sick, they seem to have had stomach cramps. And then it was no different: when it was time to enter a town, Garibaldi, who had actually done everything, had to join the rear guard at the very back. They had to let the others march in front. It's a case where the people hadn't actually done anything, but they moved in first, and then Garibaldi with his Garibaldians.

The essential thing is these strange chains of fate. It is precisely in these chains of fate that you must see what leads to the karmic connections. Because, isn't it true, it doesn't really have anything directly to do with human freedom or lack of freedom that you first find your name printed on your death sentence, or that you find your wife through binoculars. These are already contexts of fate that run alongside what is nevertheless always freedom in man. But these things, of which one can be sure that they are chains of fate, are at the same time the great stimuli for practically studying the nature of karma.

Well, I would say that the trivialities of life are also characteristic of such personalities. With such personalities they are real, strong trivialities. You see, Garibaldi was what you call a handsome man. He had very beautiful dark blond hair, was very beautiful in general. His hair was curly, dark blond, and he was much loved by women. Well, as I have said, from the few traits I have given you of the woman chosen through the telescope, one can only say the very best, the most interesting, the most devoted things about her; but she does seem to have been jealous! That doesn't seem to have completely left her.

What did Garibaldi do when the jealousy, it seems, took on strong dimensions one day? He had his beautiful blond hair cut down to the roots, he had himself made bald. It was still in America. These are all traits that really show how the necessities of fate interfere with life.

Garibaldi then became a European great after what he had done in Italy, and anyone traveling through Italy today knows that, just as you travel from city to city, you also travel from Garibaldi monument to Garibaldi monument. But there were times in Europe when the name Garibaldi was mentioned everywhere outside Italy with great interest and devotion, when, let's say, even the ladies in Cologne or Mainz or somewhere wore red blouses in honor of Garibaldi, because the red blouse was the Garibaldian costume - not to mention London: there, the red blouse had become all the rage.

But this move is interesting: when the Franco-Prussian War broke out in 1870, Garibaldi, who had now grown old, put himself at the disposal of the French. And it is interesting that he was actually the only one who, on a certain occasion, although he was only experienced in the free wars he had fought in Italy and America, captured a German flag in a relatively regular war in such a way that it had to be pulled out of a crowd of people who had completely covered it and wanted to protect it with their own bodies. Garibaldi captured the flag. But because he again had a tremendous respect for the fact that the people had thrown themselves on the flag with their own bodies, he sent it back to its owners after he had captured it. However, when he appeared at a meeting, he was booed for this act.

Not only an interesting life, but actually a man who stands out in a tremendously characteristic way from all the other greats who came up in the 19th century! The others in this field were certainly not so original, so elementary, and so effective out of primitive and yet ingenious impulses. They were perhaps able to lead larger armies, to be more genuinely active, but such genuine, original enthusiasm for what was being striven for in this way was probably not present in anyone in this age, which was already so deeply immersed in materialism.

Now, this is one of the personalities I would like to introduce to you. As I said, I will make the preparations today and try to find the solutions tomorrow.


Another personality is very well known to you by name; but it is precisely this personality that is of extraordinarily great interest in relation to the study of karma: that is Lessing.

I would like to say that I have always been extremely interested in Lessing's life in particular. Lessing is actually, one might say, the founder of better journalism, journalism that has substance, journalism that still wants something.

In doing so, Lessing endeavoured to introduce bourgeois life into the drama, that life in general which is connected with the fates of people as people, not with the fates of people in so far as they have a social position and the like, in contrast to that supra-bourgeois element which actually formed the sole subject matter for the poet, for the dramatist, within his circle of civilization before him. Lessing wanted to bring purely human conflicts to the stage.

In doing so, he tackled many a major problem, such as trying to establish the boundaries of painting and poetry in his “Laocoon”. But the most interesting thing is the, I would say, forceful way in which Lessing championed the idea of tolerance. You only have to look at his “Nathan the Wise” to see how the idea of tolerance lives in Lessing in the most eminent way, how he wanted to show, by weaving the fable of the three rings into his “Nathan”, how the various religions have strayed, how the three main religions have strayed from their original form, how all three are actually not genuine, and how one has to look for the genuine one, which is lost. So here tolerance is linked with an extraordinarily profound idea.

In Lessing's work, however, this Masonic conversation “Ernst and Falk” and other things that stem from Freemasonry are interesting. What Lessing achieved as a historical researcher of religious life, as a critic of religious life, is something that is shocking for those who are able to judge what such a thing means within the 18th century. You just have to be able to place this whole Lessing in his personality in front of your soul.

You can't do that, however, if you want to read, say, the two-volume work on Lessing by Erich Schmidt, which is considered to be the definitive work on Lessing, because it doesn't describe Lessing, it describes a puppet made up of various human limbs and claims that he wrote “Nathan” and “Laocoon”. But these are mere assertions that the person being treated biographically here wrote them. And the other Lessing biographies are written in a similar way.

You get an approximate impression of Lessing if you consider the force with which he hurls his sentences to hit his opponent. He develops a noble, but at the same time universally accurate polemic against Central European civilization. In doing so, one has to take into account a peculiar nuance in his character, especially if one wants to go into the context of his life. On the one hand, those who have a sense for the sharpness, for the often caustic sharpness, which comes to light in such writings as the “Hamburgische Dramaturgie”, for example, will not easily find their way across - but they must find it in order to understand Lessing - to the way Lessing wrote in a letter when his son was born to him, who died immediately after birth. Something like this: "Yes, he immediately recommended himself out of this world of misery. He did the best thing a human being can do. - That's roughly what it says, I can't quote it verbatim. It means expressing the pain in a tremendously bold way, which, however, does not make him feel the pain any less deeply than someone who is only able to weep over it. The fact that he expresses pain in this way, this ability to withdraw into pain, was at the same time characteristic of the man who knew how to push forward in the most intense way when he wanted to develop his polemic. That is why it is so heartbreaking to read the letter Lessing wrote when his child died immediately after birth and his mother was seriously ill.

This Lessing now had this strange fate - and this is only characteristic if you want to look for the karmic connection with him - of becoming friends in Berlin with a man who was actually, one might say, the antithesis of Lessing in every aspect of his life: Nicolai.

You see, Lessing, of whom - even if it is not entirely true, it is still characteristic of him - it can be said that he never dreamed because his mind was so sharp, he is therefore, as we shall see tomorrow, an extraordinarily important personality for the intellectual researcher precisely because of his intellectual connections. But there was something about Lessing that actually makes every sentence delightful in the contouring of the sentences, in the accuracy with which the opponent is laid in the sand. That was the opposite with Nicolai. Nicolai is the type of philistine, a real philistine. He was friends with Lessing after all, but he was a peculiar philistine, a philistine who had visions, the strangest visions.

Lessing, the genius, had no visions at all, not even dreams. But the philistine Nicolai suffered from visions. They came, and they only went away when leeches were put on him. When it was no longer possible, leeches were put on him, the Philistine Nicolai, so that he would not be constantly assailed from the spiritual world.

Fichte wrote a very interesting essay against Nicolai. He actually wanted to portray the German philistinism symptomatically in the personality of Nicolai. But that Nicolai was Lessing's friend after all.

Now, another trait in Lessing is very strange. With regard to his view of the world, Lessing studied two philosophers, Spinoza and Leibniz. Now I must say that I had sometimes chosen such avocations as reading the writings in which one side proves that Lessing was a Leibnizian, and the other that repeatedly prove with even more solid reasons that he was a Spinozist. They face each other in the world. And one can say that it is not really possible to distinguish whether Lessing, the astute man, was a Leibnizian or a Spinozist - which is the opposite of each other. Spinoza: pantheistic, monistic; Leibniz: monadistic, i.e. all single beings, completely individualistic. But one cannot distinguish whether Lessing was a Leibnizian or a Spinozist. So that if one examines Lessing in this direction, one does not actually arrive at a conclusive judgment. One cannot come to a conclusive judgment.

At the end of his life, this Lessing wrote the remarkable work “The Education of the Human Race”, where at the end, one might say, the idea of repeated earthly lives appears as if in isolation. The writing deals with the education of the human race in such a way that mankind goes through successive epochs of development, of the development of civilization: How the gods give man the first elementary book, the Old Testament, into his hands, how then the second elementary book, the New Testament, comes, how in the future a third book will come for the education of the human race.

But then the scripture ends in a short description that man lives in repeated earth lives. And then again, in a way that is entirely out of Lessing's character, he says: "Should this idea of repeated earthly lives - he does not use this expression, but it is there - be so absurd because it appeared among men in the first time, when they were not yet corrupted by school wisdom? - The scripture then ends in a true panegyric on the repeated earth lives and finally has the beautiful words, indicating how man goes from earth life to earth life, which then end in: “Is not all eternity mine?”

One met, and perhaps one still meets today when one lives with people, people who actually held Lessing in high esteem, but who moved away from the text: “The Education of the Human Race.” You can't really understand what kind of soul such people have. They hold such a brilliant man in the highest esteem, but reject what he gives to humanity at his most mature age. He has simply grown old, senile, they say, and you can no longer go along with him, they say. Yes, isn't it, that's the way to get rid of everything!

But no one actually has a right to acknowledge Lessing who does not also acknowledge this writing, which was written by him as the most mature spirit. And with Lessing there is no real possibility of not acknowledging something as lapidary as this idea of repeated earthly lives.

You will understand, my dear friends, that it is precisely this personality with reference to karma, with reference to its own passage through the various earth lives, that is of the greatest interest. For in the second half of the 18th century the idea of repeated earth lives was not a generally accepted idea. Even in Lessing's work it was almost shot out of the pistol, like a flash of genius. And one cannot say that it could somehow be explained by education or by anything that could have an influence on this particular Lessing life and, in turn, on this Lessing life in old age. This already suggests the task of asking: How might it be with the previous life on earth in a person in whom, at a certain age, the idea of repeated lives on earth, which is otherwise alien to his surrounding civilization, suddenly emerges, and emerges in such a way that the person himself points to how it was once present in primeval times; in other words, actually cites inner emotional reasons that are connected with the reference to his own lives on earth far back, although Lessing certainly had no idea of such connections in his ordinary superconscious? But the things that one does not know are still there. If only those things were there which some people know, then the world would be very poor in events and entities. This is the second question that should concern us in karmic terms.


I would like to raise a third question, because it can perhaps be particularly instructive in the karmic context through the description of the concrete circumstances, I have described one of the personalities who were close to me as a teacher in my youth, which I have only described there as it must be described in this context, but which I would like to describe to you today with a few features, which can then be symptomatic, significant for the study of karma.

I have been led in the following way to the karma study of this particular personality. It is again daring for me to relate this, but I do not believe that in the context in which the spiritual life that is to emanate from anthroposophy stands today, these daring things can be avoided.

You see, what I am telling you actually only came to me after I had not seen the person in question, who was a very dear teacher to me, for several years, until I was eighteen. But I had always followed his life, had actually always remained close to him. Now, at a certain moment in my own life, I had reason to follow this life for a very specific reason.

At a certain moment, I became extremely interested in Lord Byron's life through a different context. And at that time I also got to know people who were extraordinary Byron enthusiasts. These included, for example, the poet Marie Eugenie delle Grazie, of whom I will have much to say in my biography. She was a Byron enthusiast at a certain age in her life.

Then a Byron enthusiast was a strange personality, a peculiar mixture of all kinds of qualities: Eugen Heinrich Schmitt. The name Eugen Heinrich Schmitt will have come to mind for some people who have also studied the history of anthroposophy.

Well, Eugen Heinrich Schmitt first became known in Vienna in the eighties, at that time also known to me, when he wrote his prize-winning paper on Hegel's Dialectic, which was advertised by the Berlin Hegel Society. Then this long Eugen Heinrich Schmitt - he was slight and long - came to Vienna, a man who really was imbued with a strong enthusiasm, even if outwardly in a somewhat strongly displayed manner, an enthusiasm that sometimes, as I said, also took on very strong outward forms, but he was an enthusiast. That is something that perhaps just gave me a jolt. I thought I wanted to make Eugen Heinrich Schmitt happy, and as he had just written his enthusiastic article about Lord Byron, I took him to the other Byron enthusiast, Marie Eugenie delle Grazie. Now a terribly enthusiastic Byron discussion started. They were actually in agreement, but they had a lively discussion. Everyone else sitting there was silent. There was a whole group of theologians from the Vienna Catholic faculty who came there every week, who you got to know very well and with whom I became very close friends. The rest of us were all silent. But the two people were now talking about Byron like this: There was the table, somewhat elongated, there sat delle Grazie, and here sat Eugen Heinrich Schmitt, gesticulating violently. Suddenly the chair under him moves away, he falls under the table, his feet up to delle Grazie. I may well say it was a shock. But this shock triggered a very special thing in me - I really want to tell this in a completely objective historical way - it triggered a very special thing in me: Everything that had been said about Byron had such an effect that I felt the most vivid need to know what the karmic connections could be with Byron! Of course it was not so easy. But it is really as if the picture of this conversation had stood there with Eugen Heinrich Schmitt, who was offended with his foot, and as if this picture had brought me to Byron's foot, which was a club foot, as you know: he dragged his foot because it was shorter. And from there I said to myself: This beloved teacher of mine also had such a foot, and - one must examine the karmic connections. - I have already shown you in an example, with a leg injury to Eduard von Hartmann, how one is led back through such characteristics. I was now able to visualize more easily the fate of this person close to me, who also had such a foot, and there it was of course above all very remarkable that this one characteristic of having a club foot was present in Byron and in the other. But otherwise they were quite different: Byron, the poet of genius, who was adventurous in spite of his genius, or perhaps because of it, and the other, who was an excellent geometrician, such as is seldom found in such apprenticeships, whom one could really admire for his geometric imagination and his handling of descriptive geometry.

In short, I was able to present myself with the karmic problem of this seemingly physical minor matter in the case of two completely different people; but it led me to actually treat the two problems, the one and the other person, Byron and my geometry teacher, in context and to solve the problem in the process.

I wanted to present these cases to you today as characteristic ones, and we will then go on to the karmic consideration of these cases tomorrow.