Speech Formation and Dramatic Art
GA 282
10 April 1921, Dornach
Translated by Luke Fischer; commissioned by Neil Anderson
My much revered attendees!
On the Art of Drama
This evening is meant to be devoted to a discussion of questions that have been addressed to me by a circle of artists, dramatic artists. And I’ve chosen to respond to these questions this evening because within the event of this course no other suitable time was available. All the time was occupied. This is one reason; the other reason is that I may nevertheless assume that at least some of what will be said in connection to these questions can also be of interest to all participants.
The first question that has been posed is the following: How does the evolution of consciousness [or ‘development’ of consciousness] present itself to the spiritual researcher in the area of the art of drama, and what tasks arise from this, in terms of future evolutionary necessity, for the dramatic art and those who work within it?
Much that could already be expected as an answer to this question will better emerge in the context of later questions. I therefore ask of you to take that which I have to say in connection to the questions more as a whole. Here I would firstly like to say that in point of fact the art of drama will have to participate in a unique way in the development towards increased consciousness, which we have to approach in our particular time. Isn’t it so, that from the most diverse perspectives it has been emphasised over and over again that through this evolution of consciousness one wants to take away from artistic people something of their naivety, of their instincts — and suchlike—that one will make them uncertain; but if these matters are approached more closely from the point of view that here is validated on the basis of spiritual science, then one sees that these worries are entirely unjustified.
Much does indeed get lost from the faculty of intuitive perception [anschauliches Vermögen] — including the perceptive faculty with respect to what one does oneself, when one thus grasps oneself in self-perception—through what today is normally called awareness or reflection and occurs in merely intellectual activity; what one can call the artistic quality in general [Künstlerisches überhaupt] is likewise precisely lost through the intellectual activity of thought. With the intellect or understanding [Verstand] one cannot in any way direct what is artistic. But as true as this is, it is also true that the full participation in reality is not at all lost through the kind of knowledge that is striven for here, when this knowledge develops into a power or force of consciousness, the power of intuitive vision [Anschauungskfraft]. One need not, therefore, have any fear that one could become inartistic through that which can be acquired in awareness, in the conscious mastery of tools and suchlike. In that anthroposophically oriented spiritual science is always directed towards knowledge of the human being that which is otherwise only grasped in laws, in abstract forms, expands into an intuitive vision [Anschauung]. One acquires at last a real intuitive vision of the bodily, psychological, and spiritual constitution [Wesen—‘essence’ or ‘being’] of the human being. And as little as an artistic accomplishment can be inhibited by naïve intuition [or perception], just as little can it be inhibited by this intuition. The error that here comes to light actually rests on the following.
In the context of the Anthroposophical Society, which in fact developed out of a membership [or fellowship], (for reasons, which you can now also find, for example, discussed and reiterated in the short text ‘The Agitation against the Goetheanum’,) and which earlier incorporated many members of the Theosophical Society—in the context of this Society indeed all manner of things were done; and particularly among those who grew out of the old Theosophy something took root that I would like to call a barren symbolism, a barren symbolising. I still have to think with horror of the year 1909, when we produced Schuré’s drama The Children of Lucifer (— in the next issue of Die Drei my lecture will be printed, which then connected itself to this production), with horror I have to think of how at that time a member of the Theosophical Society—who then also remained so—asked: Well, Kleonis, that is really – I think – the sentient soul? ... And the other figures were the consciousness soul, manas ... and so everything was neatly divided; the terminology of Theosophy was ascribed to the individual characters. At one time I read a Hamlet interpretation in which the characters of Hamlet were designated with all of the terms for the individual members of human nature. Indeed, I have also encountered a large number of these symbolic explications of my own Mystery Dramas and I cannot express how happy it makes me when in a truly artistic consideration something essential is articulated in a manner that aims to accord with what an artistic work aims to be [this is a rather awkward sentence in the original German, which I’ve aimed to translate more simply]. In doing so, one must not symbolise; rather, one must take one’s point of departure from the quality of the immediate impression, — that is what it’s a matter of. And this barren, sophistical symbolising is something that would have to become antipathetic if one’s concern is to become conscious. Because this symbolising does not imply consciousness, but rather a supremely unconscious circumlocution of the matter. It entails, namely, a complete abstraction [in the sense of ‘drawing away’ or ‘removal’] from the content and a pasting of external vignettes onto the content. One must, therefore, enter into that which in a spiritual-scientific manner can be livingly real; then, on this basis, one will find that this consciousness is, on the one hand, precisely and entirely necessary for every individual artistic direction, if it wants to go along with evolution. Each artistic direction would simply remain behind the evolution of humanity, if it did not want to go along with this process of becoming conscious. This is a necessity.
On the other hand, there is entirely no need to protect oneself from becoming conscious, in the way that it is here intended, as from a blight, which is, however, justified with respect to the usual intellectual aestheticizing and symbolising. In contrast, it can be observed how the art of drama has in actual fact already been involved in a certain process of consciousness. — In this respect, I may, however, appeal to something further back. You see, it can be said: a great deal of nonsense has been thrown about by interpreters and biographers of Goethe in discussions of Goethe’s artistry. Goethe’s artistry is really something that appears like an anticipation of what came later. And one can actually still only say: those literary historians, aestheticians and so on, who always speak of Goethe’s unconsciousness, of his naïvity, evince, in essence, only that they are themselves highly unaware about that which actually took place in Goethe’s soul. They project their own lack of awareness onto Goethe.
Goethe’s most wonderful lyrical works; how did they in fact emerge? They emerged in an immediate way out of his life. There is a danger in speaking about Goethe’s romantic relationships [or ‘love affairs’], because one can easily be misunderstood; but the psychologist may not shy away from such potential misunderstandings. Goethe’s relationship to those female figures, who he loved in his youth especially, but also in his older age, was of such a kind that his most beautiful creations of lyric poetry arose from these relationships. How is this possible? It was made possible through the fact that Goethe always existed in a kind of split within his own being. For the reason that he experienced in an external manner, even in the most intimate, in his most heart-felt experiences, Goethe always existed in a kind of division of his personality. He was at once the Goethe who truly loved no less than any other and the Goethe, who could, in other moments, stand above these matters, who could, as it were, look on as a third person at how the Goethe objectified beside him developed a romantic relationship to a particular female figure. Goethe could in a certain sense — this is intended in a thoroughly real psychological sense — could always exit and withdraw from himself, could relate to his own experience in a particular way that was at once sensitive and contemplative [Steiner uses the hyphenated expression ‘empfindend-kontemplativ’ which reminds me of how he elsewhere speaks of Goethe as having a ‘sensible-supersensible’ vision of things]. Thereby something wholly determinate formed itself in Goethe’s soul. One must indeed look intimately into his soul [ambiguity in the German about whether it is ‘one’s’ soul or ‘Goethe’s’ soul], if one wants to survey this. The determinate form took shape because, to begin with, he was not as seized by reality as people who are merely instinctively absorbed by such an experience, who are absorbed by their drives and instincts, who cannot actually withdraw with their soul from the experience, but rather are blindly given over to it. There is, of course, the added factor that in the external world the relationship often did not need to lead to the usual conclusions that romantic relationships otherwise must lead ... According to the kind of question that is applied in this respect ... I don’t mean to say anything negative—but among much that is asked in this connection, there stands at times ‘Borowsky-Heck’ [allusion to a poem by Christian Morgenstern] ... In saying this, nothing at all should have been expressed that could be exposed to misunderstanding, but rather what I have said is specifically intended as an interpretation of Goethe).1See Die Behörde (“The Agency”) by Christian Morgenstern (from Palmström), which was performed in eurythmy at the time. But, on the other hand, this led to the fact that what remained for Goethe—this could even occur at the same time as the actual relationship in his life—was not merely a memory, but rather an image, a real image, a formed image. And in this way there arose in Goethe’s soul the wonderful images of Gretchen from Frankfurt, Friederike from Sessenheim (—about whom Froitzheim specifically wrote his work, which has been appreciated by German literary history).2J. Froitzheim, senior teacher in Strassburg, Goethe scholar, who considered especially, and in a particularly delicate way, the private life of Friederike Brion. Then there arose that enchanting, wonderful figure of the Frankfurter Lili, and the wonderful character, which we then find in Werther. Also among these figures there belongs already Kätchen from Leipzig, and there belongs, in addition, even in Goethe’s advanced age, such figures as Marianne Willemer, even Ulrike Levetzow and so forth [Steiner uses the term Gestalt a lot in this lecture. Here I have translated it with ‘figure’. However, it also means ‘character’ and ‘form’.]. One can say that it is solely the figure of Frau von Stein that is not a complete image in this way; this has to do with the whole complexity of this personal relationship. But precisely because these personal connections led to these figures, because more remained than a memory, because a surplus in contrast to mere memory was present, this led to the wonderful lyrical transformation of the images that lived within him.3See in comparison Dr Steiner’s statements about Karl Julius Schröer’s booklet Goethe and Love in the address “Some Reflections [Einiges] on Wilhelm Meister” from 15 August 1921 (Goetheanum 1935, no. 32). And this can itself have the consequence that such lyric poetry becomes dramatic, and in one special case this lyrical formation of an image indeed became dramatic in a wholly exceptional way.
I would like to draw your attention to the first part of Faust; you will find in the first part of Faust that there is an alternation between the designations of the personages of Gretchen and Margarethe. And that leads us into something that is deeply connected to the whole, psychological [seelischen] genesis of Faust. Everywhere you will find ‘Gretchen’ written as a designation of the figure who passed over into Faust from the Frankfurter Gretchen. You will find the name of Gretchen written in every instance where there is a rounded image: Gretchen at the fountain; Gretchen at the spinning wheel—and so on, where the lyrical gradually entered into the dramatic. In contrast, you will find ‘Margarethe’ in every instance where, in the normal course of the drama, the figure is simply composed together with the dramatic action. Everything that bears the name of Gretchen is a self-contained image, which emerged lyrically and formed itself into a dramatic structure. This indicates how even in an intimate way the lyrical can entirely objectify itself such that it can become expedient to the dramatic combination. Now, it is in this way that the general conditions are created that always grant the dramatic artist the possibility to stand above his characters. As soon as one begins to take a personal stand for any character, one can no longer shape it dramatically. Goethe had, namely when he created the first part of Faust, wholly stood for the character of Faust; for this reason the personality of Faust is also hazy, incomplete, not rounded. In Goethe the character of Faust did not become entirely separate and thereby objective. In contrast, the other characters did.
Now, this objectivity also has the consequence that one can in turn fully empathise with them, that one can really see the characters, that one can become in a certain sense identical to them. This is indeed a talent with which the writer of Shakespeare’s dramas was most certainly endowed ... this potential to present a character entirely in the manner of something that is pictorially and objectively experienced and thereby to make it precisely possible to slip [unterkriechen—literally ‘crawl under’] into the character. This art of the dramatist thus to bring the character into relief such that he can, thereby, in turn precisely get inside [hineindringen] the character, this capacity of the dramatist must in a certain sense pass over into the actor, and it is the cultivation of this capacity that will enable that which constitutes the awareness or consciousness [Bewußtheit] of the actor [des Schauspielerischen]. It was particular to the Goethean form of consciousness that he was capable of embodying pictorial characters in a lyrical and dramatic way, which he rendered most beautifully in the Frankfurter Gretchen.
But the actor must cultivate something similar, and examples of this can also be given. I will invoke one such example. I don’t know how many of you were able to become familiar with the actor Lewinski from the Vienna Court Theatre [Wiener Burgtheater]. The actor Lewinski was in his outer appearance and his voice actually entirely unsuited to being an actor, and when he depicted his relationship to his own art of acting, he depicted it, more or less, in the following way. He said: Indeed, I would naturally not have been at all capable as an actor (—and he was for a long time one of the top actors in the Vienna Court Theatre, perhaps one of the most significant so-called character-players [Charakterspieler]), I would have been thoroughly incapable (he said), if I had relied on presenting myself in a particular manner on the stage, the small hunchback with a raspy voice and fundamentally ugly face. This man naturally could not amount to anything. But in this regard (he said) I assisted myself; on the stage I am actually always three people: the first is a small hunched, croaking man who is fundamentally ugly; the second is one who is entirely outside of the hunched, croaky man, he is purely ideal, an entirely spiritual entity, and I must always have him in view; and then, only then do I become the third: I creep out of the other two, and with the second I play on the first, play on the croaky hunchback.
This must, of course, be done consciously, it must be something that has, I’d like to say, become operable [Handhabung]! There is in fact something in this threefold division that is extraordinarily important for the handling [Handhabung] of dramatic art. It is precisely necessary—one could also put it otherwise—it is precisely necessary that the actor gets to know his own body well, because his own corporeality is for the real human being who acts, strictly speaking, the instrument on which he plays. He must know his own body as the violin player knows his violin (—he must know it—) he must, as it were, have the ability to listen to his own voice. This is possible. One can gradually bring it about that one always hears one’s own voice, as in cases when the voice reverberates [umwellte]. This must, however, be practiced through, for example, attempting to speak dramatic — it can also be lyrical — verse which possesses a strong and lively form, rhythm and meter, through adapting oneself as much as possible to the verse form. Then one will gradually acquire the feeling that what is spoken has entirely detached from the larynx and is as though astir in the air, and one will acquire a sensible-supersensible perception [Anschauung] of one’s own speech.
In a similar manner one can then acquire a sensible-supersensible perception of one’s own personality. It is only necessary not to regard oneself all too flatteringly. You see, Lewinski did not flatter himself, he called himself a small, hunched, fundamentally ugly man. One must, therefore, be not at all prey to illusions. Someone who always only wants to be beautiful — there may also be those, who then indeed are — but someone, who only wants to be beautiful, who does not want to acknowledge anything at all concerning their corporeality, will not so easily acquire a bodily self-knowledge. But for the actor this knowledge is absolutely essential. The actor must know how he treads with his soles, with his legs, with his heels, and so on. The actor must know whether he treads gently or sharply in normal life, he must know how he bends his knee, how he moves his hands, and so forth. He must, in truth, make the attempt, as he studies his role, to perceive himself [sich selber anzuschauen—or look at himself]. That is what I would like to call immersion [Steiner’s neologism is literally ‘standing-within’, Darinnenstehen]. And for this purpose precisely the detour through language can contribute a great deal, because in listening to one’s own voice, one’s own speech, a subsequent intuitive perception [Anschauung] of the remaining human form can emerge almost of its own accord.
Question: In what way could we also in our field fruitfully involve ourselves in the work—on the basis of extant external documents (dramaturgies, theatre history and biographies of actors)—of identifying and synthesising historical evidence for the findings of spiritual research, such as in the manner that has already been fostered for the specialised sciences in the concrete form of seminars?
In this respect a society of actors can, in particular, accomplish extraordinarily much, but this must be done in the appropriate way. It will not succeed through dramaturgies, theatre history and biographies of actors, because I genuinely believe that a number of very considerable objections can be made against them. An actor, at least when he is fully engaged, should actually have no time at all for theatre histories, dramaturgy or biographies of actors! In contrast, extraordinarily much can be accomplished through a direct observation of human beings (Menschenanschauung), through perceiving the immediate characteristics of people. And in this regard I recommend something to you that for actors especially can be extraordinarily fruitful.
There is a physiognomics of Aristotle — you will locate it easily — in which details down to a red or a pointy nose, hairy and less hairy hand-surfaces, more or less accumulation of fat, and suchlike, all the peculiarities through which the psycho-spiritual constitution of the human being comes to expression, are initially indicated, along with how this psycho-spirituality can be perceived and so forth: an exceptionally useful tool, which now, however, is outdated. Today one cannot observe in the same manner that Aristotle observed his Greek contemporaries, one would thereby arrive at entirely false conclusions. But precisely the actor has the opportunity to see such qualities in human beings through the fact that he must also portray them, and if he observes the judicious rule of never naming a person in the discussion of such matters, then, if he becomes a good observer of human beings along these lines, this will not harm his career and his personal dealings, his social connections. Mr and Mrs or Miss so and so should simply never be invoked, when he communicates his interesting, significant observations, but rather always only Mr X, Mrs Y, and Miss Z and so on; as a matter of course, that which pertains to external reality should be masked as much as possible. Then, however, if one really gets to know life in this way, if one really knows what peculiar expressions people make with their nostrils as they tell this or that joke, and how meaningful it is to give attention to such peculiar nostrils—this is, of course, only intimated in these words—then one can indeed say that extraordinarily much can be attained on this path. What matters is not whether one knows these things—that is not at all what is important—but rather that one thinks and perceives along these lines. Because when one thinks and perceives along these lines, one takes leave of the usual manner of observing things today. Today one indeed observes the world in such manner that a man, who — for all I know—might have seen another 30 times, has not once known what sort of button he has on his front vest. Today this is really entirely possible. I have even known people who have conversed with a lady for the whole afternoon and did not know what colour her dress was—a wholly incomprehensible fact, but this occurs. Of course, such people who have not once recognized the dress-colour of the lady with whom they have conversed are not very suited to developing their perceptual capacity in the particular direction that it must assume, if it is to pass over into action and conduct. I have even experienced the cute situation in which people have assured me that they know nothing about the clothes of a lady with whom they have interacted for the whole afternoon: not even whether they were red or blue. If I may include something personal in this regard, I have even had the experience of people expecting that I would not know the colour of her clothes, if I spent a long time talking with a lady! One can thereby tell how certain soul-dispositions are valued. That which is in front of one must be beheld in its full corporeality. And if one beholds it in its full corporeality, not merely — I want to say — as an outer nebulous cloak of a name, such a manner of perceiving [Anschauen] then also develops into the possibility of forming, of artistically shaping [Gestalten].
Therefore, above all else the actor must be a keen observer, and in this respect he must bear a certain humour. He must take these things humorously. Because, you see, what happened to that professor must not happen to him, that professor who for a while always lost his train of thought because on a bench right in front of him there sat a student whose top button on his vest was torn off: at that moment this particular professor had to collect himself, in that he was peering at the missing button (—in this regard it was not a matter of the will to observe, but the will to concentrate); but one day the student had sown the torn-off button back on, and you see, the professor repeatedly lost the thread of his concentration. This is to take in a perception of the world without any humour ... this must also not happen to the actor; he must observe the matter humorously, always at the same time stand above it: then he will in turn give form to the matter.
This is, therefore, something that needs to be thoroughly observed—and if one habituates oneself to learning to formulate such things, if one really becomes accustomed to see certain inner connections in what is given to embodied perception, — and if one positions oneself above it through a certain humour, so that one can really give it form ... rather than forming it sentimentally, — one must namely not create in a sentimental manner — then in handling such a matter one will also develop that facility or lightness, which one must indeed possess, if one wants to characterise in the world of semblance. But one has to characterise in the world of semblance, otherwise one always remains an imitating bungler in this regard. In short, through actually conversing with one another in this way about — I’d like to say — social physiognomy, those who are active in the art of drama will be able to bring together a great deal that is more valuable than dramaturgy and, in particular, than biographies of actors and theatre history; the latter is anyhow something that can be left to other people. And all human beings would actually have to take an interest in what can in turn be observed and rendered precisely by the art of the actor, because this would also be a highly interesting chapter in the art of human observation, and out of such an art of observation, which is entirely specific to the art of drama, could develop what I’d like to call—to employ a paradox—naïve, conscious handling [Handhabung] of the art of drama.
Question: Of what value to our time is the performance of works of past epochs, for example, the Greek dramas, Shakespeare’s dramas, as well as dramas of the most-recent past, from Ibsen and Strindberg to the modernists?
Now, it is the case, that with respect to the dramatic conception the contemporary person must employ different forms from those that were employed, for example, in the Greek art of drama. But that does not prevent us, —indeed it would even be a sin, if we were not to do this—from presenting Greek dramas on the stage today. We are only in need of better translations—if we translate them into modern language in the manner of those by the philistine Wilamowitz, who precisely through his lexically literal translation fails to capture the true spirit of these dramas. We must, however, also be sure to present a kind of art for modern people, which is precisely appropriate to their eye and their intelligence [Auffassungsvermögen]. With respect to the Greek dramas, it is, of course, also necessary to penetrate them more deeply. And I don’t think—take this as a paradoxical insight—I don’t think that that one can live into the Greek drama of Aeschylus or of Sophocles (with Euripides it may be easier) without approaching the matter in a spiritual-scientific way. The characters in the dramas of Aeschylus and Sophocles must actually come to life in a spiritual-scientific way, because in this spiritual science the elements are first given that can render our sensibility and our will-impulses such that we able to make something out of the characters of these dramas. As soon as one lives into these dramas through that which can be communicated by spiritual science (and you can find the most diverse indications about this in our lecture cycles and so on)—through that which can be communicated by way of spiritual science in that it uncovers in a special manner the origin of these dramas in light of the Mysteries—it becomes possible to bring to life the characters in these dramas. It would naturally be an anachronism to want to produce these dramas in the way in which they were produced by the Greeks. One could, of course, do this one time as a historical experiment; one would have to be aware, though, that this would be nothing more than a historical experiment. However, the Greek dramas are actually too good for this end. They can indeed be brought to life for contemporary human beings,—and it would even be a great service to bring them to life in a spiritual scientific sense, through a spiritual scientific approach, and on this basis to translate them into dramatic portrayals.
In contrast it is possible for the contemporary human being to identify with Shakespeare’s specific creation [Gestaltung] without any particular difficulty. To do so one only needs a contemporary human sensibility and impartiality. And the characters of Shakespeare should actually be regarded in the manner that they were, for example, regarded by Herman Grimm, who expressed the paradox, that is nevertheless very true, truer than many historical claims: It is actually much more enlightening to study Julius Caesar in Shakespeare than to study him in a work of history. In actual fact there lies in Shakespeare’s imagination [phantasy] the capacity to enter into the character in such a manner that the character comes to life within him, that it is truer than any historical representation. Therefore, it would naturally also be a shame, for example, not to want to produce Shakespearean dramas today, —and in producing Shakespearean dramas it is a matter of really being so intimate with the matter that one can simply apply to these characters the general assistance, which one has acquired, of technique and so on.
Now between Shakespeare and the French dramatists—whom Schiller and Goethe then strived to emulate—and the most recent, the modern dramatists, there lies an abyss. In Ibsen we are actually dealing with problem-dramas, and Ibsen should actually be presented in such a manner that one becomes aware that his characters are in fact not characters. If one sought to bring to life in the imagination [Phantasie] his characters as characters, they would constantly hop about, trip over themselves [herumhüpfen, sich selber auf die Füße treten] because they are not human beings. Rather, these dramas are problem-dramas, great problem-dramas, and the problems are such that they should, all the same, be experienced by modern human beings. And in this regard it is exceptionally interesting when an actor today attempts to pursue his training precisely with Ibsen’s plays; because in Ibsen it is the case that when the actor attempts to study the role, he will have to say to himself: that is no human being, out of this I must first make a human being. And in this regard he will have to proceed in an individual manner, he will have to be conscious that when he portrays one of Ibsen’s characters, the character can be entirely different from how another would portray the character. In this respect one can bring a great deal from one’s own individuality into play ... because the character allows that one first bring individuality to them, that one portray the character in entirely different ways; whereas in Shakespeare and also in Greek dramas one should essentially always have the feeling: there is only one possible portrayal, and one must strive towards this. One will of course not always find it the same, but one must have the feeling: there is only one possibility. In Ibsen or first in Strindberg, this is not at all the case; they must be treated in such a way that individuality is first carried into them. It is indeed difficult to express such matters, but I would like to give a pictorial description: You see, in Shakespeare it is such that one has the definite feeling: he is an artist who sees in all directions, who can even see backwards. He genuinely sees as a whole human being and can see other human beings with his entire humanity. Ibsen could not do this, he could see only surfaces... And so the stories of the world [Weltgeschichten—literally ‘world histories], the human beings, which he sees, are seen in the manner of surfaces [flächenhaft] ... One must first give them thickness, and that is precisely possible through taking an individual approach. In Strindberg this is the case to an especial extent. I hold nothing against his dramatic art, I cherish it, but one must see each thing in its own manner. Something such as the Damascus play is wholly extraordinary, but one has to say to oneself: these are actually never human beings, but rather merely human skins, it is always only the skin that is present, and it is filled entirely with problems. Indeed, in this regard one can achieve a great deal, because here it first becomes properly possible to insert one’s whole humanity; here, as an actor, it is precisely a matter of properly giving an individuality to characters.
Question: How does a true work of art appear from the perspective of the spiritual world, especially a dramatic work, with its effect on language, in contrast to other pursuits of the human being?
Above all else the other pursuits of human beings are such that one actually never beholds them as a self-contained totality [or ‘complete’ totality]. It is really the case that human beings, especially in our present time, are formed in a certain manner out of their surroundings, out of their milieu. Hermann Bahr once characterized this quite aptly in a Berlin lecture. He said: In the 90’s of the 19th century something rather peculiar happened to people. When one arrived in a town, in a foreign town, and encountered the people who in the evening came from a factory ... well, each person always looked entirely like another, and one literally reached a state that could fill one with angst: because one finally no longer believed that one was dealing with so many human beings who resembled one another, but rather that it was only one and the same person who now and again multiplied himself. — He (Barr) then said: Then one entered from the 90s into the 20th century (— he also coyly alluded that when he arrived in some town, he had quite often been invited, and then said): whenever he was invited somewhere, he always had a hostess on his right and on his left, —on another day he again had a hostess on his right and on his left, and on the next day a completely different person again on his right and on his left ... but he was unable to discern when it was a completely different person; he thus could not tell: whether this was now the person from yesterday or from today! Human beings are thus indeed a kind of imitation of their milieu. This has particularly become the case in the present. Now, one need not experience this in so grotesque a way; nevertheless, there is something in this that also applies more generally to human beings in their miscellaneous pursuits; they must be understood in relation to their whole surroundings. To a great extent human beings must be understood out of their surroundings, isn’t that so! If one is dealing with the art of drama, then it is a matter of really perceiving what one sees as a self-contained whole, as something rounded in itself. In addition, many of the prejudices that play a particularly strong role in our inartistic times must be overcome, and I now have to say some things—because I want to answer this question in all honesty — which in the contemporary context of aestheticizing and criticizing and so on, can well-nigh call forth a kind of horror.
It is the case that when one is dealing with an artistic portrayal of the human being, in the process of study one must gradually notice: If you speak a sentence, which inclines towards passion, which inclines towards grief, which inclines towards mirth, whereby you want to convince or persuade another, through which you want to berate another, in all these instances you can feel: an a very precise kind of movement of the limbs is correlated, especially with respect to the associated tempo. This is still a long way from arriving at Eurythmy, but a very precise movement of the limbs, a very definite kind of slowness or swiftness of speaking comes out. If one studies this, one gets the feeling that language or movement is something independent, that irrespective of the meaning of the words, the same intonation, the same tempo can be conveyed,—that this is a separate matter, that it takes places of its own accord. One must acquire the feeling that language could still function when one combines entirely senseless words in a particular intonation, in a particular tempo. One must also acquire the feeling: you can, in doing so, make very precise movements. One must be able, as it were, to enter into oneself [mit sich selber hineinstellen], must take a certain joy in making particular movements with one’s legs and arms, which, in the first instance, are not made for any reason other than for the sake of certain tendency or direction; for example, to cross one’s left hand with one’s right and so on. And in these matters one must take a certain aesthetic joy, aesthetic pleasure. And when one studies one must have the feeling: now you are saying this ... oh yes, that catches the tone, the intonation, which you already know, this movement catches this intonation ... this must be twofold! One must not think that what is genuinely artistic would consist in first arduously drawing out of the poetic content the manner in which it should be rendered and said, but rather one must have the feeling: what you suggest in this respect for the intonation, for the tempo, you have long possessed, and the movement of your arms and legs too, it is only a matter of appropriately capturing [einschnappen—‘to catch’ or ‘to snap’] what you have! Perhaps one does not have it at all, but one must nevertheless have the feeling of how one has to capture it objectively in this or that.
You see, when I say: perhaps one does not have it, this rests on the fact that one can nonetheless detect
that, with respect to what one is currently practicing, that which is precisely needed has not yet been found. But one must have the feeling: it must be put together out of that which one already has. Or, in another way one must be able to pass over into objectivity. That is what matters.
Question: What task does music have within the art of drama?
Now, I believe that, in this regard, we have given a practical answer through the manner in which we have made use of music in Eurythmy. This does not mean, however, that I think that in pure drama the suggestion of moods—in advance and subsequently—through music is something that should be rejected, —and if the possibility is presented—of course, the possibility must in the first place be given by the poet—to apply music, then it should be applied. This question is naturally not so easy to answer if it is posed at such a general level, and in this respect it is a matter of doing the appropriate thing in the fitting moment.
Question: Is talent a necessary precondition for the actor or can something of equivalent value be awakened and developed through the spiritual-scientific method in every human being who possesses a love and artistic feeling for the art of drama, but not the special, pre-bestowed talent?
Of course—the question of talent! At one time I had a friend on the Weimar stage ... there, all manner of people made an entry onto the stage, who were permitted to try out ... such aspirants are not always welcomed to make an appearance on the stage! If one spoke to this friend, who himself was an actor there, and said to him: Do you believe that something can come of one of them? then he frequently said: Well, if he acquires talent! —That is something that indeed possesses a certain truth. It should certainly be conceded ... indeed, it is even a deep truth that one can really learn anything, if one applies that which can flow from spiritual science right into the impulses of the human being. And what is learned thereby can at times appear as talent. It cannot be denied that this is so. But there’s a small rub in it, and this consists in the fact that one must firstly live long enough in order to go through such a development, and that, if through diverse means something like the formation of the capacity of talent is thereby brought about, then the following can happen: someone has now been, let’s say, taught the talent for a ‘young hero’, but it required so much time to teach him this that he now has a large bald spot and grey hair ... It is in such matters that life makes what is in principle entirely possible into something extremely difficult. For this reason it is indeed necessary to feel a strong sense of responsibility with respect to the selection of personalities for the art of drama. One can roughly say: There are always two: there is one who wants to become an actor, —the other is the one who in some way has to make a decision about this. The latter would have to possess an immense sense of responsibility. He must, for example, be aware that a superficial judgment of this situation can have extraordinarily negative consequences. Because it is often easy to believe that this person or another has no talent for something, —but there is a talent only deeply buried. And if one is given an opportunity to recognize this talent, then that which is present, but which one previously doubted, can indeed be relatively quickly drawn out of the person. But much depends—because practical life must precisely remain practical—on acquiring a certain capacity to discover talent in people; and one must, at first, only restrict oneself to what spiritual science could offer (this can be a great deal) in service of bringing this talent alive, of developing and drawing it out more quickly. All of this can happen. But concerning people, who sometimes regard themselves as possessing a tremendously great Kainzian [Kainzian is after the Austrian actor Josef Kainz] genius for acting, one will nevertheless often have to say that in wrath God allowed them to become actors. And then one must also really have the conscience (—speaking of course in a well-meaning way so as not to snub them) precisely not to urge them into the vocation of acting, which is indeed not for everyone, but specifically demands that above all else a capacity is present for inner psycho-spiritual mobility. That this can easily pass over into the bodily, the physical; this is what must be especially taken into consideration.
With respect to exercises for the development of the sense of self-movement—well, they cannot be given so quickly. I will, however, consider the matter and ensure that it will also be possible to approach those who would like to know something along these lines. These things must, of course, if they are to achieve something worthwhile, be slowly and objectively worked out and developed from the foundations of spiritual science. With regard to this matter, I will note this question for a later response.
Question: Can fundamental and deeper-leading guidelines be given for the comprehension and penetration of new roles than those that we could acquire out of practical experience and out of already available texts? May we also ask for references to such available literature from which we could draw an answer to these and similar questions?
Now, in connection to literature, also in connection to the available literature, I would not like to overemphasise what I already recommended in my previous discussion of human observation: — you know, the buttons and the clothes worn by ladies! This embodied observation is something that provides a good preparation. Then, however ... at this moment, I believe that it is quite necessary to say the following with respect to dramatic portrayals today: people who appear on the stage today generally do not want to penetrate their roles: because most of the time they actually simply assume and learn their roles when they still have no idea about the content of the whole drama ... they learn their roles. That is actually something terrible. When I was on the board of the former dramatic society and we had to produce, for example, Maeterlinck’s The Intruder (l’intruse) ... we—because otherwise in the rehearsals no one would have known the capacities of the other actors, rather only his own — there we literally forced the people to first listen to a reading of the play as well as an interpretation of the play in the reading rehearsal, —and we then also did this with various other pieces—one of them was the Mayoral Election (Bürgermeisterwahl) by Burckhard, another was The seven lean Cows (die sieben mageren Kühe) by Juliane Déry—I endeavoured at that time in the dramatic society in Berlin to introduce the play, which I called precisely an interpretation of the drama—but an artistic interpretation in which the characters come to life. We would first meet for a director’s session whose aim was by all possible means to bring the portrayal and the characters to life purely for the imagination ... In this context people already listen intently, when one penetrates into a person; this happens much more easily than when one is confined to studying alone ... and there, from the beginning, everything takes shape that must be effective in a troupe: namely the ensemble. This is something that I especially believe must be recommended in the study of every dramatic, artistic matter: that truly at the very beginning in front of the players the subject matter is not merely read, but is also interpreted, but interpreted in a dramatic, artistic way. It is entirely necessary that with regard to such things one cultivates a certain humour and a certain lightness or facility [Leichtigkeit].
Art must actually always possess humour, art should not be allowed to become sentimental. The sentimental, when it must be portrayed, —of course one often finds oneself in a position where one must portray sentimental people—this the actor must above all grasp with humour, must always stand above it in full consciousness, —not permit that he himself slips into the sentimental! Along these lines, when the first directoral sessions are actually made interpretative, one can very quickly disaccustom people from finding this didactic. If one does this with a certain humour, then they will not find it didactic, and one will soon see that the time that one devotes to this has been used well, that in such directoral sessions people will thereby develop a particular talent for the imitation of their characters in their imagination. That is what I have to say about such matters.
Naturally, in speaking about such things the matter appears somewhat— I want to say — awkwardly, but, you see, what is actually the worst in the art of dramatic characterisation is the urge towards naturalism. Consider, however, once: how would the actors of earlier times, if they had wanted to be naturalists, have pulled off a fitting portrayal of, let’s say, a Lord Steward of the Household, whom they could never have seen in his entire dignity as Lord Steward? For that they lacked the social standing. And even that precaution which in court theatres—in those theatres that were sufficiently customised—was always met ... even this precaution did not actually have the desired effect. Isn’t it so, the different Princes, Grand Dukes, Kings, placed in the highest direction of the theatre, if they were ‘court theatres’, someone such as a general, because they must have thought to themselves: well now, the acting-people have naturally no idea about how things take place in the court, there one must naturally appoint some general as the artistic director ... who self-evidently did not have the faintest idea about any art! Sometimes it was merely a captain. Therefore, these people were as a precaution then appointed to the directorship of the court theatre and were meant to teach the actors what was a kind of naturalistic handling of things, e.g. in court society, so that one knew how to comport oneself. But all of that does not cut it; it is rather a matter of capturing [Einschnappen], a matter of sensitivity to bodily movement, to intonation. One discovers what is significant out of the matter itself. And this is what one can namely practice: the observation of that which follows from the inner feeling for artistic form, without wanting to imitate what is external. In such matters this is what is to be kept in mind.
For my part, I only hope that these indications that I have given are not susceptible in any respect to misunderstanding. It is indeed necessary in speaking about this area to treat it in such a way that one does justice to the fact of the matter: one is here dealing with something that must be removed from the realm of gravity. I have to say: I recall over and again the great impression that I had at the first lecture of my revered old teacher and friend, Karl Julius Schröer, who at one point in this first lecture spoke of ‘aesthetic conscience’. This aesthetic conscience is something significant. This aesthetic conscience brings one to the recognition of the principle that art is not a mere luxury, but rather a necessary part of every existence that is worthy of the human being. But then, if one has this fundamental tone, then one may also, building on this undertone, unfold humour, lightness, then one may consider how to treat sentimentality humorously, how to treat sadness in standing entirely above it (Darüberstehen), and suchlike. This is what must be; otherwise the art of drama cannot come to terms in a fruitful way with the challenges that the present age must now present to human beings.
I am far removed from having wanted today to hold, as it were, a sermon on levity, not even on artistic levity; however, I would like to emphasise over and again: a humorous, light manner of proceeding with the task before one; this is nonetheless something that must play a large role in art and especially in the handling of artistic technique.
Rudolf Steiner Aphoristisches über Schauspielkunst
Eine Fragenbeantwortung
Der heutige Abend soll einer Auseinandersetzung über Fragen gewidmet sein, die mir aus einem Kreise von Künstlern, schauspielerischen Künstlern gestellt worden sind, und deren Beantwortung am heutigen Abend ich aus dem Grunde gebe, weil innerhalb unserer Kursveranstaltung eine andere Zeit nicht dafür vorhanden war; es war alle Zeit besetzt. Das ist der eine Grund. Der andere ist der, daß ich allerdings annehmen darf, daß wenigstens einiges von dem, was in bezug auf diese Fragen zu sagen sein wird, auch ein Interesse für alle Teilnehmer haben kann.
Die erste Frage, die gestellt ist, ist diese:
1. Wie stellt sich dem Geistesforscher die Bewußtseinsentwickelung auf dem Gebiete der Bühnenkunst dar, und welche Aufgaben ergeben sich daraus im Sinne zukünftiger Entwickelungsnotwendigkeit für die Schauspielkunst und die darinnen Stehenden?
Manches, was vielleicht schon bei der Beantwortung dieser Frage erwartet werden könnte, wird sich im Zusammenhange bei späteren Fragen besser ergeben. Ich will Sie also bitten, dasjenige, was ich in Anknüpfung an die Frage zu sagen habe, mehr als ein Ganzes zu nehmen. Hier möchte ich zunächst sagen, daß erstens in der Tat die Schauspielkunst ganz besonders wird teilnehmen müssen an jeder Entwickelung zu stärkerer Bewußtheit, der wir einmal in unserer Zeit entgegengehen müssen. Nicht wahr, es wird von den verschiedensten Seiten her immer wieder und wiederum betont, daß man durch diese Bewußtseinsentwickelung dem künstlerischen Menschen etwas von seiner Naivität, von seinem Instinktiven nehmen wolle, daß man ihn unsicher machen werde und dergleichen. Aber wenn man diesen Dingen gerade von dem Gesichtspunkte aus nähertritt, welcher hier auf geisteswissenschaftlichem Boden geltend gemacht wird, so muß man einsehen, daß diese Befürchtungen durchaus ungerechtfertigt sind.
Von dem, was anschauliches Vermögen ist, auch anschauliches Vermögen in bezug auf das, was man selber tut, wo man also in Selbstanschauung begriffen ist, geht zwar durch das, was man heute gewöhnlich Bewußtheit, Besonnenheit nennt, und was alles in der bloßen verstandesmäßigen Tätigkeit verläuft, vieles verloren; es geht auch durch die gedankliche Verstandestätigkeit einfach das verloren, was man Künstlerisches überhaupt nennen kann. Man kann nicht mit dem Verstande das Künstlerische in irgendeiner Weise regulieren.
Aber so wahr dieses ist, so wahr ist es auf der anderen Seite, daß durch eine Erkenntnis, wie sie hier angestrebt wird, wenn diese Erkenntnis dann Bewußtseinskraft wird, die Anschauungskraft, das volle Darinnenstehen in der Realität durchaus nicht verlorengeht. Man braucht also keine Angst davor zu haben, daß man unkünstlerisch werden könne durch das, was an Bewußtheit, an bewußter Beherrschung der Mittel und dergleichen angeeignet werden kann. Indem anthroposophisch orientierte Geisteswissenschaft ja immer hinzielt auf Menschenerkenntnis, erweitert sich auch das, was sonst nur in Gesetzen, in abstrakten Formen erfaßt wird, zu einer Anschauung. Man bekommt zuletzt von dem körperlichen, seelischen, geistigen Wesen des Menschen eine wirkliche Anschauung. Und so wenig es einen hindern kann, in naiver Anschauung etwas künstlerisch auszuführen, ebensowenig kann es einen hindern, mit dieser Anschauung etwas künstlerisch auszuführen. Der Irrtum, der hier zutage tritt, beruht eigentlich auf folgendem.
Auf dem Boden der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft, die sich eigentlich aus den Gründen, die Sie auseinandergesetzt finden zum Beispiel auch jetzt wiederum in der kleinen Schrift «Die Hetze gegen das Goetheanum», aus einer Mitgliedschaft entwickelt hat, die früher vielfach Mitglieder der Theosophischen Gesellschaft umfaßte, auf dem Boden dieser Gesellschaft hat man ja allerlei getan. Und namentlich wurzelte bei denen, die aus der alten Theosophie herausgewachsen sind, das, was ich nennen möchte eine wüste Symbolik, ein wüstes Symbolisieren. Ich muß noch mit Schrecken denken an das Jahr 1909, wo wir Schurés Drama «Die Kinder des Lucifer» aufführten - in der nächsten Nummer «Die Drei» wird ja mein Vortrag wieder abgedruckt, der sich dann angeschlossen hat an diese Aufführung -, wie dazumal ein Mitglied der Theosophischen Gesellschaft, das es auch dann geblieben ist, gefragt hat: Ja, Kleonis, das ist wohl, ich glaube, die Empfindungsseele? — Und andere Gestalten waren die Bewußtseinsseele, Manas und so weiter. So wurde das alles hübsch eingeteilt. Die einzelnen Bezeichnungen, die man in der Theosophie hatte, wurden hingeschrieben zu den einzelnen Persönlichkeiten. Ich habe dann einmal eine Hamlet-Interpretation gelesen, da waren diese Personen des «Hamlet» auch belegt mit all den Termini der einzelnen Glieder der menschlichen Natur. Nun, ich habe ja an meinen eigenen Mysteriendramen - ich habe es schon erwähnt - in dieser symbolischen Ausdeutung wirklich recht viel erfahren, und ich kann gar nicht sagen, wie froh ich war, als gestern hier unser Freund, Herr Uehli, einmal eine wirklich künstlerische Betrachtung des ersten Dramas, die vielleicht zu schmeichelhaft gewesen ist, wenn wir die Sache persönlich nehmen, aber eine wirklich künstlerische Betrachtung angelegt hat, das heißt, dasjenige gesagt hat, was man sagen muß, wenn man eben irgend etwas, was künstlerisch sein will, betrachten will. Da darf man nicht symbolisieren, da muß man ausgehen von dem, was der unmittelbare Eindruck ist. Um das handelt es sich dabei. Und diese wüste Symbolisiererei ist natürlich etwas, was recht abschreckend werden müßte, wenn man von dem Bewußtwerden sprechen will. Denn dieses Symbolisieren bedeutet nicht etwa ein Bewußtwerden, sondern ein höchst unbewußtes Herumreden in der Sache. Es bedeutet nämlich ein Sichvöllig-Entfernen von dem Inhalt und ein Aufkleben äußerer Vignetten an den Inhalt. Also man muß schon auf das eingehen, was geisteswissenschaftlich lebensvoll wirklich sein kann, dann wird man finden, daß dieses Bewußtwerden ganz notwendig ist für jede einzelne Kunstrichtung, wenn sie mit der Evolution mitgehen will. Sie würde einfach hinter der Menschheitsentwickelung zurückbleiben, wenn sie nicht in diesem Prozeß des Bewußtwerdens mitgehen wollte. Das ist eine Notwendigkeit.
Auf der anderen Seite hat man sich durchaus nicht zu hüten vor dem Bewußtwerden, so wie es hier gemeint ist, wie vor einem Mehltau, was allerdings berechtigt ist beim gewöhnlichen verstandesmäßigen Ästhetisieren und auch Symbolisieren. Dagegen kann man beobachten, wie die Schauspielkunst selber im Grunde schon hineingespielt hat in ein gewisses Bewußtwerden. Ich darf da vielleicht doch etwas weiter ausholen. Sehen Sie, wir können sagen: Es ist außerordentlich viel Unfug getrieben worden von Goethe-Interpreten und GoetheBiographen in bezug auf das, was über Goethes Künstlerschaft gesprochen worden ist. Goethes Künstlerschaft ist wirklich etwas, _ was, ich möchte sagen, wie vorausnehmend für das Spätere dastand. Und man kann eigentlich immer nur sagen: Diejenigen Menschen, Literaturhistoriker, Ästhetiker und so weiter, die immer von Goethes Unbewußtheit, von Goethes Naivität sprechen, bezeugen im Grunde genommen nur, daß sie selber höchst unbewußt sind über das, was eigentlich in Goethes Seele vorging. Sie legen ihre eigene Unbewußtheit in Goethe hinein.
Wie sind eigentlich Goethes wunderbarste lyrische Produkte entstanden? Sie sind unmittelbar aus dem Leben heraus entstanden. Es hat ja etwas Gefährliches, über Goethes Liebesverhältnisse zu sprechen, weil man leicht mißverstanden werden kann, allein der Psychologe darf nicht vor solchen Mißverständnissen zurückscheuen. Goethes Verhältnis zu denjenigen Frauengestalten, die er namentlich in seiner Jugend, aber auch im späteren Alter liebte, war ein solches, daß eigentlich die schönsten Schöpfungen der Lyrik aus diesem Verhältnisse hervorgegangen sind. Wodurch ist das möglich? Es ist dadurch möglich gewesen, daß Goethe eigentlich immer in einer Art von Spaltung seines eigenen Wesens darinnenstand. Indem er äußerlich erlebte, selbst in den intimsten, ihm tiefst zu Herzen gehenden Erlebnissen, war Goethe immer in solcher Art Persönlichkeitsspaltung. Er war der Goethe, der wahrhaftig nicht schwächer liebte als irgendein anderer, aber er war zugleich der Goethe, der wiederum in anderen Momenten darüberstehen konnte, der gewissermaßen als ein Dritter zuschaute, wie der sich neben ihm objektivierende Goethe das Liebesverhältnis zu irgendeiner weiblichen Gestalt entwickelte. Goethe konnte sich in einem gewissen Sinne — das ist psychologisch durchaus real gesprochen - immer aus sich und von sich selbst zurückziehen, konnte in einer gewissen Weise empfindend-kontemplativ zu dem eigenen Erlebnis stehen. Dadurch bildete sich etwas ganz Bestimmtes in Goethes Seele aus. Man muß ja intim in seine Seele hineinschauen, wenn man das überschauen will. Es bildete sich das aus, daß er erstens nicht durch die Realität so in Anspruch genommen wurde wie Menschen, die bloß instinktiv in solch einem Erlebnisse darinnenstehen, die mit ihren Trieben und Instinkten darinnenstehen, die mit ihrer Seele eigentlich sich daher auch nicht zurückziehen können, sondern blind drauflos leben. In der Außenwelt kam es natürlich dazu, daß das Verhältnis oftmals nicht zu den gewöhnlichen Abschlüssen zu führen brauchte, zu denen sonst Liebesverhältnisse führen müssen. Nach der Art der Fragestellung, die man da anwendet - ich will ja nichts Böses sagen, aber auch unter manchem, was in dieser Beziehung gefragt wird, steht ja zuweilen: «Borowsky, Heck!» Es sollte damit durchaus nichts gesagt werden, was etwa Mißverständnissen ausgesetzt sein könnte, sondern es ist das, was ich sage, gerade nur als Interpretation Goethes gemeint. Aber auf der anderen Seite führte es dazu, daß das, was bei Goethe so zurückblieb - manchmal sogar gleichzeitig mit den äußeren Lebensverhältnissen eintreten konnte -, nicht bloße Erinnerung war, sondern Bild war, wirkliches Bild, gestaltetes Bild. Und so entstanden in Goethes Seele die wunderbaren Bilder des Frankfurter Gretchens, der Sesenheimer Friederike, über die der Froitzheim sein Friederikenwerk geschrieben hat, was sich die deutsche Literaturgeschichte hat gefallen lassen. Es entstand dann jene bezaubernde Gestalt der Frankfurter Lili, die wunderbare Gestalt, die wir dann in «Werther» sehen. Es gehört zu diesen Gestalten auch schon das Leipziger Käthchen, es gehören selbst im hohen Alter Goethes solche Gestalten dazu wie Marianne Willemer, sogar Ulrike Levetzow und so weiter. Man kann sagen, einzig und allein die Gestalt der Frau von Stein ist nicht in dieser Weise geschlossenes Bild. Das lag in der ganzen Kompliziertheit dieser Lebensbeziehung. Aber gerade dadurch, daß diese Verhältnisse zu solchen Gestalten führten, daß mehr zurückblieb als eine Erinnerung, daß ein Plus gegenüber der bloßen Erinnerung vorhanden war, das führte dann zu der wunderbaren lyrischen Umgestaltung der Bilder, die da in Goethe lebten. Das kann dann selbst die Folge haben, daß solch eine Lyrik dramatisch wird. Und dramatisch ist ja dieses lyrische Gestalten des Bildes in einem besonderen Fall ganz großartig geworden.
Ich mache Sie aufmerksam auf den ersten Teil des «Faust». Sie werden darin finden, daß abwechselnd die Personenbezeichnung im ersten Teil des «Faust» Gretchen und Margarete ist. Und das ist in etwas hineinführend, was mit der ganzen seelischen Entstehungsgeschichte des «Faust» tief zusammenhängt. Sie werden überall «Gretchen» beigeschrieben finden als Personenbezeichnung für diejenige Gestalt, die aus dem Frankfurter Gretchen in den «Faust» übergegangen ist. Sie werden überall beigeschrieben finden den Namen Gretchen da, wo Sie ein gerundetes Bild haben: Gretchen am Brunnen; Gretchen am Spinnrad und so weiter, wo das Lyrische in das Dramatische langsam hineingegangen ist. Dagegen werden Sie überall «Margarete» finden, wo die Gestalt einfach im gewöhnlichen Fortlauf des Dramas aus der dramatischen Handlung heraus mitgestaltet worden ist. Alles dasjenige, was den Namen Gretchen trägt, ist ein in sich geschlossenes Bild, das lyrisch entstanden ist und sich zusammengestaltet hat zu dramatischem Aufbau. Das weist darauf hin, wie selbst in intimer Weise das Lyrische ganz sich verobjektivieren kann, so daß es für die dramatische Kombination brauchbar werden kann. Nun, in dieser Art wird überhaupt dramatisch geschaffen, daß der dramatische Künstler immer die Möglichkeit hat, über seinen Gestalten zu stehen. Sobald man anfängt, persönlich für irgendeine Gestalt sich einzusetzen, kann man sie nicht mehr dramatisch gestalten. Goethe hat sich, namentlich als er den ersten Teil seines «Faust» geschaffen hatte, ganz eingesetzt für die Persönlichkeit des Faust. Daher ist die Persönlichkeit des Faust auch verschwimmend, nicht abgeschlossen, nicht gerundet. In Goethe ist sie nicht ganz abgesondert objektiv gegenständlich geworden. Die anderen Gestalten sind es.
Nun, dieses Gegenständlichwerden hat aber auch zur Folge, daß man sich wiederum ganz in die Gestalten hineinversetzen kann, daß man sie wirklich schauen kann, daß man identisch in einer gewissen Weise mit ihnen werden kann. Das ist eine Gabe, die ganz bestimmt demjenigen zugekommen ist, der Shakespeares Dramen verfaßt hat,
diese Möglichkeit, die Gestalt ganz wie etwas bildhaft objektiv Erlebtes hinzustellen, um dann dadurch gerade in die Gestalt unterktiechen zu können. Diese Kunst, diese Fähigkeit des Dramatikers, das herauszuheben aus der Gestalt, um sie gerade dadurch wiederum so zu machen, daß er hineindringen kann, muß in einem gewissen Sinne übergehen auf den Schauspieler, und sie wird in ihrer Ausbildung dasjenige sein, was die Bewußtheit des Schauspielerischen ausmacht. Es war die besondere Goethesche Form des Bewußtseins, daß er so etwas konnte, wie die bildgewordenen Gestalten lyrisch und dramatisch verkörpern, was er am schönsten eben bei dem Frankfurter Gretchen gab.
Aber der Schauspieler muß etwas Ähnliches entwickeln, und auch dafür gibt es Beispiele. Ich will ein solches Beispiel anführen. Ich weiß nicht, wie viele von Ihnen noch den Schauspieler Lewinski vom Wiener Burgtheater kennengelernt haben. Der Schauspieler Lewinski war seiner äußeren Gestalt und seiner Stimme nach eigentlich möglichst wenig zum Schauspieler geeignet, und wenn er sein Verhältnis zu seiner eigenen Schauspielkunst schilderte, dann schilderte er das etwa folgendermaßen. Er sagte: Ja, ich würde natürlich gar nichts schauspielerisch können — und er war einer der ersten Schauspieler durch lange Zeit im Wiener Burgtheater, vielleicht einer der bedeutsamsten sogenannten Charakterspieler -, ich würde gar nichts können, sagte er, wenn ich mich darauf verlassen würde, wie ich mich eben auf die Bühne hinstelle: der kleine Bucklige mit der kratzenden Stimme, mit dem urhäßlichen Gesicht. Der könnte natürlich nicht irgend etwas sein. Aber da - sagte er - habe ich mir geholfen. Ich bin eigentlich auf der Bühne immer drei Menschen: das eine ist der kleine bucklige, krächzende Mensch, der urhäßlich ist; das zweite, das ist einer, der ist ganz heraußen aus dem Buckligen und Krächzenden, der ist ein rein Ideeller, eine ganz geistige Wesenheit, und den muß ich immer vor mir haben; und dann, dann bin ich erst noch der dritte: ich krieche aus allen beiden heraus und bin der dritte, und mit dem zweiten spiele ich auf dem ersten, auf dem krächzenden Buckligen.
Das muß natürlich bewußt sein, das muß etwas sein, was einem, ich möchte sagen, Handhabung geworden ist! Es ist in der Tat diese Dereiteilung etwas, was für die Handhabung der schauspielerischen Kunst etwas außerordentlich Wichtiges ist. Es ist eben nötig — man kann es auch anders sagen -, daß der Schauspieler seinen eigenen Körper gut kennenlernt, denn diese eigene Körperlichkeit ist im Grunde genommen für den wirklichen Menschen, der zu spielen hat, das Instrument, auf dem er spielt. Er muß seinen eigenen Körper so kennenlernen wie der Violinspieler seine Geige; die muß er kennen. Er muß gewissermaßen in der Lage sein, seiner eigenen Stimme zuzuhören. Man kann das. Man kann es allmählich dahin bringen, daß man seine eigene Stimme immer so, wie wenn sie einen umwellte, hört. Das muß man aber üben, indem man etwa dramatische, es können auch Iyrische sein, aber sehr stark in Form, Rhythmus und Takt lebende Verse versucht zu sprechen, indem man sich möglichst der Versform anpaßt. Dann wird man das Gefühl haben, daß man allmählich das, was gesprochen wird, vom Kehlkopf ganz loslöst, daß es wie in der Luft herumschwirrt, und man wird eine sinnlich-übersinnliche Anschauung von der eigenen Sprache bekommen.
In einer ähnlichen Weise kann man dann eine sinnlich-übersinnliche Anschauung von der eigenen Persönlichkeit bekommen. Man muß sich nur nicht gar zu sehr vor sich selber zieren. Sie sehen, Lewinski hat sich nicht geziert. Er nannte sich einen kleinen buckligen, urhäßlichen Menschen. Man muß sich also durchaus nicht Illusionen hingeben. Derjenige, der immer nur schön sein will - es mag ja auch solche geben, die es dann sind -, aber derjenige, der immer nur schön sein will, der sich gar nichts irgendwie hinsichtlich dieser Körperlichkeit zugestehen will, der wird zu einer körperlichen Selbsterkenntnis nicht so leicht kommen können. Die ist aber für den Schauspieler durchaus notwendig. Der Schauspieler muß wissen, wie er auftritt mit der Sohle, mit den Beinen, mit den Fersen und dergleichen. Der Schauspieler muß wissen, ob er sanft oder scharf auftritt im gewöhnlichen Leben, der Schauspieler muß wissen, wie er seine Knie beugt, wie er die Hände bewegt und so weiter. Er muß in der Tat den Versuch machen, während er seine Rolle studiert, sich selber anzuschauen. Das ist dasjenige, was ich nennen möchte das Darinnenstehen. Und dazu wird eben der Umweg durch die Sprache ganz besonders viel beitragen können, weil ja in dem Zuhören der eigenen Stimme, des eigenen Gesprochenen, sich schon ganz instinktiv dann auch das Anschauen der übrigen menschlichen Gestalt angliedert.
Nun wurde mir die Frage gestellt:
2. Auf welche Art könnten wir auch auf unserem Gebiet uns fruchtbar einfügen in die Arbeit, auf Grund vorliegender äußerer Dokumente (zum Beispiel Dramaturgien, Theatergeschichte, Schauspielerbiographien) geschichtliche Belege für die Ergebnisse der Geistesforschung aufzusuchen und zusammenzufassen, wie es für die Spezialwissenschaften durch die Seminare in konkreter Form schon angeregt worden ist?
In dieser Beziehung kann allerdings namentlich eine Schauspielergesellschaft außerordentlich viel leisten, nur muß man es in richtiger Weise machen. Durch dramaturgische Theoriegeschichte, Schauspielerbiographien wird es nicht gehen, denn ich glaube allerdings, daß sich dagegen einige sehr erhebliche Einwendungen machen lassen. Der Schauspieler, wenigstens wenn er in voller Tätigkeit ist, sollte eigentlich für Theatergeschichten, Dramaturgie oder gar Schauspielerbiographien keine Zeit haben! Dagegen kann außerordentlich viel geleistet werden in bezug auf unmittelbare Menschenanschauung, in bezug auf unmittelbare Charakteristik des Menschen. Und da empfehle ich Ihnen etwas, was gerade für den Schauspieler außerordentlich fruchtbar sein kann.
Es gibt eine «Physiognomik» des Aristoteles - Sie werden sie schon leicht auffinden -, wo bis auf eine rote Nase oder eine spitzige Nase oder mehr oder weniger behaarte Handflächen oder mehr oder weniger großen Speckansatz und dergleichen, wo alle Eigentümlichkeiten, wie sich das Geistig-Seelische im Menschen ausdrückt, zunächst skizzenhaft angegeben sind, wie man es anzuschauen hat und so weiter. Eine außerordentlich nützliche Sache, die nur eben veraltet ist. Man kann nicht in derselben Weise jetzt beobachten, wie Aristoteles seine Griechen beobachtet hat; man würde da zu ganz falschen Resultaten kommen. Aber gerade der Schauspieler hat dadurch, daß er Menschen darstellen muß, Gelegenheit, solches beim Menschen zu sehen. Und wenn er die Klugheitsregel beobachtet, daß er niemals den Namen desjenigen nennt, über den er in bezug auf solche Sachen spricht, dann wird es seiner Karriere und seinem persönlichen Umgang, seinen sozialen Verhältnissen nicht schaden, wenn er nach dieser Richtung hin ein guter Menschenbeobachter wird. Es soll nur immer nicht Herr oder Frau oder Fräulein so und so irgendwie eine Rolle spielen, wenn er seine interessanten, bedeutsamen Mitteilungen macht über seine Beobachtungen, sondern immer nur der X, die Y und das Z und so weiter; es soll selbstverständlich dasjenige, was sich auf die äußere Wirklichkeit bezieht, möglichst kaschiert werden. Dann aber, wenn man in dieser Richtung das Leben wirklich kennenlernt, wenn man wirklich weiß, was die Menschen für kuriose Nasenlöcher machen, wenn sie diesen oder jenen Witz machen, und wie es bedeutungsvoll ist, achtzugeben auf solche kuriosen Nasenlöcher - es ist das natürlich nur andeutend gesprochen -, dann darf man schon sagen, daß man auf diesem Wege außerordentlich viel erreichen kann. Nicht dadurch, daß man diese Dinge weiß — das ist noch gar nicht das Wichtige -, sondern daß man in dieser Richtung denkt und anschaut, darauf kommt es an. Denn wenn man in dieser Richtung denkt und anschaut, dann geht man vom gewöhnlichen heutigen Beobachten ab. Heute beobachtet man ja die Welt so, daß eigentlich ein Mensch, der - was weiß ich — einen anderen dreißigmal gesehen haben kann, noch nicht einmal weiß, was der für einen Knopf vorn an seiner Weste hat. Das ist heute wirklich durchaus möglich! Ich habe schon Menschen kennengelernt, die haben den ganzen Nachmittag mit einer Dame gesprochen und wußten nicht, wie die Farbe ihres Kleides war. Also eine ganz unbegreifliche Tatsache, aber das kommt vor. Natürlich, solche Menschen, die nicht einmal die Farbe des Kleides der Dame kennen, mit der sie gesprochen haben, sind nicht sehr geeignet, ihr Anschauungsvermögen in solche Richtung zu bringen, welche dieses Anschauungsvermögen haben muß, wenn es übergehen soll in die Tat und in das Tun. Ich habe sogar schon das Niedliche erlebt, daß mir Leute versichert haben, sie wüßten nichts über die Kleider der Dame, ob sie rot oder blau waren, mit der sie den ganzen Nachmittag verkehrt haben. Wenn ich da etwas Persönliches einfügen darf, so habe ich sogar schon erlebt, daß Leute mir zumuteten, daß ich in einem solchen Fall die Farbe des Kleides der Dame nicht weiß, mit der ich längere Zeit gesprochen habe! Man sieht daraus, wie manche Seelenveranlagungen gewertet werden. Dasjenige, was man vor sich hat, muß man in seiner vollen Körperhaftigkeit vor sich haben. Und hat man es in seiner vollen Körperhaftigkeit vor sich, nicht bloß, ich möchte sagen, als eine äußere nebulose Umhüllung des Namens, dann geht ein solches Anschauen auch schon über in die Möglichkeit des Bildens, des Gestaltens.
Also vor allen Dingen muß der Schauspieler ein scharfer Beobachter sein, und es muß ihn in dieser Beziehung ein gewisser Humor auszeichnen. Humoristisch muß er diese Dinge nehmen. Denn, sehen Sie, sonst könnte ihm das passieren, was jenem Professor passierte, der eine Zeitlang immer aus dem Konzept kam, weil gerade in der Bank vor ihm ein Student saß, dem der Knopf oben an der Weste abgerissen war. Nun war der betreffende Professor darauf angewiesen, sich zu sammeln, indem er auf diesen fehlenden Knopf hinguckte. Da war es nicht der Beobachtungswille, sondern der Konzentrationswille. Aber nun hatte der Student eines Tages seinen abgerissenen Knopf wieder angenäht, und siehe da, der Professor verlor alle Augenblicke den Faden der Konzentrierung! Das ist ohne Humor die Anschauung der Welt in sich aufnehmen, das darf der Schauspieler auch nicht haben; er muß eben humorvoll die Sache ansehen, immer darüberstehen, dann wird er auch die Sache gestalten.
Das ist also etwas, was durchaus beobachtet werden muß, und wenn man sich dann daran gewöhnt, solche Dinge formulieren zu lernen, wenn man wirklich sich gewöhnt, gewisse innere Zusammenhänge zu sehen in dem, was körperhafte Anschauung ist, und wenn man sich durch einen gewissen Humor darüberstellt, so daß man es wirklich gestalten kann, nicht sentimental gestaltet - sentimental darf man nämlich nicht gestalten —, dann wird man auch bei dem Handhaben einer solchen Sache jene Leichtigkeit entwickeln, die man immer haben muß, wenn man in der Welt des Scheines charakterisieren will. Aber charakterisieren soll man in der Welt des Scheines, sonst bleibt man immer ein nachahmender Stümper in dieser Beziehung. Also indem tatsächlich untereinander jene, die in der Schauspielkunst tätig sind, sich in dieser Weise, ich möchte sagen, über soziale Physiognomik unterhalten, werden sie ungeheuer viel zusammentragen, was mehr wert ist als Dramaturgie, und namentlich Schauspielerbiographien und Theatergeschichten. Das ist etwas, was man immerhin anderen Leuten überlassen kann. Und für dasjenige, was da gerade durch den Schauspieler wiederum aus seiner Kunst heraus beobachtet und gebracht werden kann, müßten eigentlich alle Menschen Interesse haben, denn das würde ein sehr interessantes Kapitel auch der Menschenbeobachtungskunst sein, und aus einer solchen würde sich gerade dasjenige, was — ich möchte das Paradoxon gebrauchen - naiv bewußte Handhabung der Schauspielerkunst ist, was in ganz besonderer Art Schauspielerkunst ist, entwickeln können.
3. Frage: Welchen Wert hat für unsere Zeit die Aufführung der Dramen vergangener Epochen, zum Beispiel der griechischen Dramen, der Dramen Shakespeares sowie der Dramen der letztvergangenen Zeit über Ibsen, Strindberg bis zu den Modernen?
Nun, nicht wahr, in bezug auf die schauspielerische Auffassung wird sich natürlich der heutige Mensch anderer Formen bedienen müssen, als diejenigen waren, deren sich die griechische Schauspielkunst zum Beispiel bedient hat. Aber das hindert nicht, ja es wäre sogar eine Sünde, wenn wir es nicht täten, daß wir griechische Dramen heute auf die Bühne bringen. Nur müssen wir bessere Übersetzungen haben, wenn wir sie in die moderne Sprache übersetzen, als etwa diejenigen des philiströsen Wilamowitz, der gerade durch die lexikalisch wortgetreue Übersetzung das, was an Geist in diesen Dramen ist, gar nicht trifft. Wir müssen uns aber auch klar sein, daß wir dem modernen Menschen eine solche Kunst vorführen müssen, die für sein Auge, für sein Auffassungsvermögen geeignet ist. Dazu ist natürlich für die griechischen Dramen notwendig, daß man sich etwas tiefer in sie hineinlebt. Und ich glaube nicht - nehmen Sie das für eine paradoxe Anschauung -, daß man sich in das griechische Drama des Äschylos oder des Sophokles, bei Euripides mag es leichter gehen, hineinleben kann, ohne daß man sich auf geisteswissenschaftliche Art der Sache nähert. Geisteswissenschaftlich müssen diese Gestalten in den Äschylos- und Sophokles-Dramen eigentlich lebendig werden, denn in dieser Geisteswissenschaft liegen erst die Elemente, die unser Empfinden, unsere Willensimpulse so wiedergeben können, daß wir aus den Gestalten dieser Dramen etwas machen können. Sobald man sich aber einlebt in diese Dramen durch das, was einem Geisteswissenschaft vermitteln kann - Sie finden ja die verschiedensten Andeutungen darüber in unseren Zyklen und so weiter —, sobald man sich einlebt durch das, was einem Geisteswissenschaft dadurch vermitteln kann, daß sie den Ursprung dieser Dramen im Lichte der Mysterien in einer besonderen Weise aufdeckt — darauf hat gestern Herr Uehli hingewiesen -, ist es dann möglich, die Gestaltung dieser Dramen zu verlebendigen. Natürlich wäre es ein Anachronismus, wenn man sie so aufführen wollte, wie die Griechen sie aufgeführt haben. Man könnte das natürlich einmal tun, um ein historisches Experiment zu machen, aber man müßte sich auch bewußt sein, daß das nichts weiter ist als ein historisches Experiment. Doch sind die griechischen Dramen eigentlich zu gut dazu. Sie können durchaus noch verlebendigt werden im heutigen Menschen, und es wäre sogar ein großes Verdienst, sie durch geisteswissenschaftliche Art zu verlebendigen im geisteswissenschaftlichen Sinne, und sie dann erst in Darstellungen umzusetzen.
Dagegen ist es für den heutigen Menschen möglich, sich ohne besondere Schwierigkeit in die besondere Gestaltung Shakespeares hineinzuversetzen. Dazu braucht man nur heutiges menschliches Empfinden und Vorurteilslosigkeit. Und die Gestalten des Shakespeare sollten eigentlich wirklich so angesehen werden, wie sie zum Beispiel Herman Grimm angesehen hat, der das Paradoxon sagte, das aber schr wahr ist, wahrer als manche historische Behauptung: Es ist eigentlich viel gescheiter, wenn man den Julius Cäsar bei Shakespeare studiert, als wenn man ihn aus einem Geschichtswerk studiert. -— Tatsächlich liegt in Shakespeares Phantasie die Möglichkeit, so hinüberzukriechen in die Gestalt, daß sie in ihm lebendig wirkt, daß sie wahrer ist als jede historische Darstellung. Deshalb wäre es natürlich auch schade, etwa die Shakespeareschen Dramen heute nicht aufführen zu wollen, und es handelt sich darum, wirklich der Sache so nahe zu sein, daß man einfach die allgemeine Hilfe, die man sich aneignet, die Technik und so weiter auf diese Gestalten anwenden kann.
Nun liegt ja allerdings zwischen Shakespeare und den französischen Dramatikern, denen dann Schiller und Goethe noch nachgestrebt haben, und den neuesten, den modernen Dramatikern, ein Abgrund. Bei Ibsen haben wir es eigentlich mit Problemdramen zu tun, und Ibsen sollte eigentlich so dargestellt werden, daß man sich bewußt wird, seine Gestalten sind eigentlich keine Gestalten. Wollte man seine Gestalten als Gestalten in der Phantasie lebendig machen, so würden sie fortwährend herumhüpfen, sich selber auf die Füße treten, denn Menschen sind sie nicht. Aber die Dramen sind Problemdramen, große Problemdramen, und die Probleme sind so, daß sie immerhin erlebt werden sollten von dem modernen Menschen. Und da ist es außerordentlich interessant, wenn der Schauspieler gerade heute sich an Ibsen-Dramen heranzubilden versucht, denn bei Ibsen-Dramen ist es so, daß, wenn er versuchen wird, die Rolle zu studieren, er dann sich wird sagen müssen: Das ist ja kein Mensch, aus dem muß ich erst einen Menschen machen. - Und da wird er individuell vorgehen müssen, da wird er sich bewußt sein müssen, daß wenn er irgendeine Gestalt Ibsens darstellt, daß das ganz anders wird werden können, als wenn irgendein anderer sie darstellt. Da kann man sehr viel von der eigenen Individualität hineinbringen, denn die vertragen es, daß man das Individuelle erst hinzubringt, daß man sie auf ganz verschiedene Art darstellt, während man bei Shakespeare und auch beim griechischen Drama im Grunde genommen immer das Gefühl haben sollte, es gibt nur eine mögliche Darstellung, und der muß man zustreben. Man wird sie gewiß nicht immer gleich finden, aber man muß das Gefühl haben, es gibt nur eine Möglichkeit. Das ist bei Ibsen oder erst bei Strindberg ganz und gar nicht der Fall. Die muß man so behandeln, daß man das Individuelle erst hineinträgt. Es ist schwer, sich über solche Sachen auszudrücken, aber ich möchte mich bildlich ausdrücken. Sehen Sie, bei Shakespeare ist es so, daß man durchaus das Gefühl hat, er ist Künstler, der auf allen Seiten sieht, der auch hinten sehen kann, er sieht wirklich als ganzer Mensch und kann den anderen Menschen mit seinem ganzen Menschen sehen. Ibsen konnte das nicht, er konnte nur flächenhaft sehen. Und so sind auch die Weltgeschichten, die Menschen, die er sieht, flächenhaft gesehen. Man muß ihnen erst Dicke geben; und das ist eben auf individuelle Art möglich. Das ist bei Strindberg in ganz besonderem Maße der Fall. Ich habe nichts gegen seine Dramatik, ich schätze sie, aber man muß jedes Ding auf seine eigene Art sehen. So etwas wie das Damaskus-Drama ist etwas ganz Außerordentliches, aber man muß sich sagen: Das sind eigentlich niemals Menschen. Es ist immer nur die Haut da, und die ist ganz vollgepfropft mit Problemen. — Ja, da kann man viel machen, denn da kann man erst recht seinen ganzen Menschen hineinlegen, da muß man das individuelle Gestalten gerade als Schauspieler erst recht dazugeben.
4. Frage: Wie nimmt sich ein wahres Kunstwerk, speziell das Schauspielkunstwerk, von der geistigen Welt aus gesehen in seiner Wirkung aus im Gegensatz zu sonstigen Betätigungen des Menschen?
Vor allen Dingen sind die sonstigen Betätigungen des Menschen so, daß man sie eigentlich niemals als abgeschlossene Totalität vor sich hat. Es ist wirklich so, daß die Menschen besonders in unserer Gegenwart in einer gewissen Weise aus ihrer Umgebung, aus ihrem Milieu herausgestaltet sind. Hermann Bahr hat das einmal recht treffend in einem Berliner Vortrag charakterisiert. Er sagte: So in den neunziger Jahren des 19. Jahrhunderts wurde es mit den Menschen etwas ganz Eigentümliches. Wenn man da in eine Stadt kam, in eine fremde Stadt, und man begegnete den Leuten, die abends aus der Fabrik kamen - ja, es sah immer einer ganz so aus wie der andere, und man bekam förmlich einen Zustand, der einem Angst machen konnte, denn man glaubte zuletzt nicht mehr, daß man es mit so vielen Menschen, von denen der eine dem anderen gleicht, zu tun hat, sondern daß es ein und derselbe ist, der sich nur soundso oft vermannigfaltigt. - Er sagte dann: Nun kam man von den neunziger Jahren in das 20. Jahrhundert hinein - er spielte dabei etwas kokett an, daß er, wenn er irgendwo in eine Stadt kam, recht oft eingeladen wurde -, wenn man irgendwo eingeladen war, dann hatte man immer eine Tischdame rechts und links; am anderen Tag wieder eine Tischdame rechts und links, und am nächsten Tag eine ganz andere wieder rechts und links. Aber man konnte nicht unterscheiden, wenn man eine ganz andere hatte, so daß man nicht wußte, ist das nun die von gestern oder von heute! — So sind die Menschen durchaus eine Art Abklatsch ihres Milieus. Es ist das besonders in der Gegenwart so geworden.
Nun, man braucht es ja nicht so grotesk zu erleben, aber es ist etwas daran, daß man auch im allgemeinen den Menschen in seiner sonstigen Betätigung so hat, daß man ihn aus seiner ganzen Umgebung heraus verstehen muß. Hat man es mit der Schauspielkunst zu tun, dann kommt es darauf an, daß man wirklich dasjenige, was man sieht, als Abgeschlossenes anschaut, als in sich Gerundetes anschaut. Dazu müssen natürlich manche Vorurteile, die namentlich in unserer unkünstlerischen Zeit so stark spielen, überwunden werden, und ich werde jetzt einiges sagen müssen, weil ich ehrlich auf diese Frage antworten will, was in den jetzigen Ästhetizierern und Kritikastern und so weiter geradezu eine Art von Horror hervorrufen kann.
Es ist so, daß, wenn es sich um künstlerische Menschendatstellung handelt, man allmählich durch das Studium merken muß: Sagst du einen Satz, der in der Richtung der Leidenschaft geht, der in der Richtung der Betrübnis geht, der in der Richtung der Heiterkeit geht, womit du einen anderen überzeugen und überreden willst, wodurch du einen anderen beschimpfen willst, so kannst du immer fühlen, es hängt eine ganz bestimmte Art der Bewegung der Glieder, namentlich in bezug auf das Zeitmaß, damit zusammen. Da kommt man noch lange nicht auf Eurythmie, aber eine ganz bestimmte Bewegung der Glieder, eine bestimmte Art der Langsamkeit oder Schnelligkeit des Sprechens kommt heraus, wenn man das studiert. Man bekommt das Gefühl, daß die Sprache oder die Bewegung etwas Selbständiges wird, daß man ebensogut, ohne daß die Worte einen Sinn haben, denselben 'Tonfall, dasselbe Zeitmaß in den Worten haben könnte, daß das eine Sache für sich ist, daß das für sich läuft. Man muß das Gefühl bekommen, daß die Sprache auch laufen könnte, wenn man ganz sinnlose Worte zusammenstellt in einem bestimmten Tonfall, in einem bestimmten Zeitmaße. Man muß auch ein Gefühl bekommen, du kannst dabei ganz bestimmte Bewegungen machen. Man muß sich gewissermaßen mit sich selber hineinstellen können, muß eine gewisse Freude haben, gewisse Bewegungen mit den Beinen und Armen zu machen, die zunächst gar nicht wegen irgend etwas gemacht werden, sondern nur um einer Richtung, eines Zieles willen, zum Beispiel mit der rechten Hand oder dem rechten Arm den linken zu übergreifen
und so weiter. Und an diesen Dingen muß man eine gewisse ästhetische Freude, Wohlgefallen haben. Und dann muß man das Gefühl haben, wenn man studiert: Jetzt sagst du dieses - ach ja, das schnappt auf den Ton ein, auf einen Tonfall, den du schon kennst; diese Bewegung auf den Tonfall -, das müssen zweierlei sein! - Man muß nicht glauben, daß das eigentlich Künstlerische darin bestünde, daß man nun mühevoll herausklaubt aus dem dichterischen Inhalte, wie man es machen oder sagen muß, sondern man muß das Gefühl haben: Was du da für einen Tonfall, für ein Tempo anschlägst, das hast du ja längst, und die Bewegung der Arme und Beine auch, du mußt nur ins Richtige, was du hast, einschnappen! - Vielleicht hat man es gar nicht, aber man muß das Gefühl haben, objektiv, wie man einschnappen muß in dies oder jenes.
Sehen Sie, wenn ich sage: Vielleicht hat man es nicht, so beruht das darauf, daß man allerdings finden kann, daß man für das, was man jetzt gerade übt, noch nicht das hat, was man gerade braucht. Aber man muß das Gefühl haben, es muß zusammengestellt werden aus dem, was man schon hat. Oder auf eine sonstige Weise muß man in ein Objektives übergehen können. Das ist es, worauf es ankommt.
5. Frage: Welche Aufgabe hat die Musik innerhalb der Schauspielkunst?
Nun, ich glaube, da haben wir ja die praktische Antwort gegeben durch die Art und Weise, wie wir Musik in der Eurythmie verwenden. Ich glaube allerdings, daß namentlich das doch nicht als etwas Abzuweisendes anzusehen ist, wenn Stimmungen auch im reinen Drama vorher und nachher durch Musikalisches angeschlagen werden, und wenn die Möglichkeit geboten ist - natürlich muß die Möglichkeit schon durch den Dichter gegeben sein -, das Musikalische anzuwenden, daß es dann auch angewendet werde. Es ist natürlich diese Frage, wenn sie so allgemein gestellt wird, nicht so leicht zu beantworten, und da handelt es sich darum, daß man im rechten Momente das Richtige macht.
6. Frage: Ist das Talent für den Schauspieler nötig als Voraussetzung, oder kann es in gleichwertiger Weise durch geisteswissenschaftliche Methode geweckt und entwickelt werden in jedem Menschen, der Liebe und künstlerisches Gefühl hat für Schauspielkunst, aber nicht das spezielle, althergebrachte Talent? Können spezielle Übungen gegeben werden für die Entwickelung des Eigenbewegungssinnes?
Ja, die Sache mit dem Talent! Ich hatte einen Freund einmal an der Weimarer Bühne. Da traten ja allerlei Leute auf, die so sich erproben ließen. Man ließ manchmal nicht gerne solche Aspiranten auftreten. Wenn man mit diesem Freund, der selber dort Schauspieler war, sprach und zu ihm sagte: Glauben Sie, daß aus dem was werden kann? - dann sagte er sehr häufig: Nun ja, wenn er Talent bekommt! — Das ist etwas, was schon eine gewisse Wahrheit hat. Es ist durchaus zuzugeben, ja, es ist sogar eine tiefe Wahrheit, daß man wirklich alles lernen kann, wenn man dasjenige auf sich anwendet, was aus dem Geisteswissenschaftlichen bis in die Impulse des Menschen hineinfließt. Und was da gelernt werden kann, das ist schon etwas, was zuweilen auftritt wie Talent. Es läßt sich nicht leugnen, es ist so. Aber es hat einen kleinen Haken, und der besteht darin, daß man erstens lange genug leben muß, um eine solche Entwickelung durchzumachen, und daß, wenn in dieser Weise durch allerlei Mittel wirklich so etwas wie das Schaffen einer Talentkraft bewirkt wird, daß dann zum Beispiel das Folgende geschehen kann. Man hat nun jemandem beigebracht das Talent, sagen wir, für einen «jugendlichen Helden», man hat aber so lange dazu gebraucht, daß er nun eine große Glatze und graue Haare hat. Das sind die Dinge, wo einem das Leben manchmal das, was prinzipiell durchaus möglich ist, außerordentlich schwer macht. Aus diesem Grunde ist es schon notwendig, daß man in bezug auf die Auswahl der Persönlichkeiten für die Schauspielkunst Verantwortlichkeitsgefühl haben muß. Man kann etwa so sagen: Es sind immer zwei; das eine ist der, der Schauspieler werden will; das andere ist der, der in irgendeiner Weise darüber zu entscheiden hat. Dieser letztere müßte ein ungeheuer starkes Verantwortlichkeitsgefühl haben. Er muß zum Beispiel sich bewußt sein, daß ein oberflächliches Urteil in dieser Beziehung außerordentlich schlimm sein kann. Denn man kann oftmals leicht glauben, der oder jener habe zu etwas kein Talent; aber es sitzt oft nur zu tief. Und wenn man dann die Möglichkeit hat, an irgend etwas das Talent zu erkennen, dann kann allerdings manchmal das, was da war und von dem man nur nicht geglaubt hat, daß es da ist, verhältnismäßig schnell aus dem Menschen herausgeholt werden. Aber es wird schon trotzdem, weil das praktische Leben eben doch praktisch bleiben muß, viel darauf ankommen, daß man sich eine gewisse Fähigkeit aneignet, Talent in dem Menschen zu entdecken, und man wird zunächst nur darauf sich beschränken müssen, das, was aus der Geisteswissenschaft kommen kann - das kann sehr vieles sein -, dazu zu benützen, um das Talent lebendiger zu machen, um es schneller herauszuentwickeln. Das alles kann geschehen. Aber bei Menschen, die sich manchmal für ungeheuer große schauspielerische Genies halten, da wird man doch oftmals sagen müssen, daß Gott sie in seinem Zorn hat zu Schauspielern werden lassen. Und dann muß man auch wirklich die Gewissenhaftigkeit haben — mit gutmütiger Rede selbstverständlich, indem man sie nicht vor den Kopf stößt-, sie nicht gerade hineinzudrängen in den schauspielerischen Beruf, der nun doch nicht für alle ist, sondern der eben erfordert, daß vor allen Dingen die Fähigkeit vorhanden ist, die innere scelisch-geistige Beweglichkeit leicht in das Körperliche, Leibliche hineingehen zu lassen. Das ist es, was dabei besonders zu berücksichtigen ist.
Mit Bezug auf Übungen für die Entwickelung des Eigenbewegungssinnes - ja, die können so schnell nicht gegeben werden. Ich werde mich aber mit der Sache befassen und sehen, daß es auch möglich sein wird, nach dieser Richtung denjenigen, die darüber etwas wissen wollen, nach und nach entgegenzukommen. Diese Dinge müssen natürlich, wenn sie etwas taugen sollen, langsam und sachlich auch aus geisteswissenschaftlichen Untergründen herausgearbeitet werden. In dieser Richtung werde ich mir diese Frage notieren für eine spätere Beantwortung.
7. Frage: Können für das Erfassen und die Art des Eindringens in neue Rollen prinzipielle und tiefer führende Richtlinien gegeben werden, als wir sie uns aus der Praxis und aus schon vorliegenden Schriften erarbeiten könnten? Dürfen wir auch um Hinweis bitten auf solche vorhandene Literatur, aus der wir uns Antwort auf diese und ähnliche Fragen holen können?
Nun, in bezug auf die Literatur, auch mit Bezug auf die vorhandene Literatur möchte ich nicht allzustark zulangen und möchte hervorheben, was ich vorhin schon auseinandersetzte über Menschenbeobachtung - wissen Sie, das mit den Knöpfen und den Kleidern der Dame. Dieses körperhafte Beobachten ist etwas, was eine gute Vorbereitung ist. Dann aber muß man sagen — nun, ich glaube, für die Fragesteller ist das nicht notwendig zu sagen, aber für schauspielermäßige Darstellung ist es wohl doch noch ziemlich notwendig -: Die Leute, die heute auf der Bühne auftreten, wollen überhaupt zumeist nicht in ihre Rollen eindringen, denn sie nehmen sich eigentlich meist ihre Rolle und lernen sie einfach, wenn sie noch gar nicht wissen, was der Inhalt des ganzen Dramas ist; sie lernen ihre Rolle. — Es ist das eigentlich etwas Furchtbares. Als ich in der ehemaligen Dramatischen Gesellschaft im Vorstand war und wir Dramen zu inszenieren hatten wie zum Beispiel Maeterlincks «Der Ungebetene», «L’Intruse», da haben wir, weil bei den Proben sonst keiner gewußt hätte, was der andere kann, nur was er selber kann, die Leute förmlich herangebändigt, daß sie zuerst einer Vorlesung des Dramas und auch einer Interpretation des Dramas in einer solchen Leseprobe zugehört haben. Und dann bei verschiedenen anderen Stücken, bei der «Bürgermeisterwahl» von Max Burckhard und bei einem Drama von Juliana Dery, es hieß, ich glaube, «Die sieben mageren oder fetten Kühe», habe ich mich dazumal bei der Dramatischen Gesellschaft in Berlin bemüht, das einzuführen, was ich eben nannte eine Interpretation des Dramas, aber eine künstlerische Interpretation, wo die Gestalten lebendig wurden. Man setzte sich zuerst zu einer Regiesitzung zusammen, wo man versuchte, rein vor der Phantasie die Darstellung der Gestalten durch alle möglichen Mittel lebendig zu machen. Und da hören die Leute dann schon zu, wenn man durch den Menschen vordringt; das geht viel leichter, als wenn man für sich selber studieren soll, und da bildet sich von Anfang an gerade das heraus, was wirken muß in einer Truppe: nämlich das Ensemble. Das ist etwas, wovon ich insbesondere glaube, daß es empfohlen werden muß beim Studium einer jeden dramatischen, künstlerischen Sache, daß wirklich vorerst vor den Mitspielenden die Sache nicht nur gelesen, sondern interpretiert wird, aber dramatisch-künstlerisch interpretiert wird. Es ist durchaus notwendig, daß man in solchen Dingen einen gewissen Humor und eine gewisse Leichtigkeit entwickelt. Kunst muß eigentlich immer Humor haben, Kunst darf nicht sentimental werden. Das Sentimentale, wenn es dargestellt werden muß - selbstverständlich kommt man auch vielfach in die Lage, sentimentale Menschen darstellen zu müssen -, das muß der Schauspieler erst recht mit Humor auffassen, immer darüberstehen mit vollem Bewußtsein, nicht sich gestatten, selber in das Sentimentale hineinzuschlüpfen. In dieser Richtung kann man, wenn man die ersten Regiesitzungen eigentlich interpretierend macht, sehr bald den Leuten abgewöhnen, daß sie das lehrhaft finden. Wenn man es mit einem gewissen Humor macht, so werden sie es nicht lehrhaft finden, und man wird schon sehen, daß man die Zeit, die man auf so etwas verwendet, gut anwendet, daß dann die Leute ein merkwürdiges Imitationstalent für ihre eigenen Phantasiegestalten bei solchen Regiesitzungen entwickeln werden. Das ist es, was ich über solche Sachen zu sagen habe.
Natürlich, es nimmt sich schon, wenn man über solche Dinge spricht, die Sache etwas, ich möchte sagen plump aus, aber sehen Sie, das Schlimmste eigentlich bei der schauspielerischen Darstellungskunst ist der Drang nach Naturalismus. Bedenken Sie doch nur einmal, wie hätten es die Schauspieler früherer Zeiten zuwege bringen können, wenn sie Naturalisten hätten sein wollen, sagen wit, einen Hofmarschall, den sie ja niemals in seiner vollen Hofmarschallswürde haben sehen können, richtig darzustellen? Dazu fehlte ihnen ja die soziale Stellung. Aber auch jene Vorsichtsmaßregel, welche bei Hofbühnen, bei solchen Bühnen, die genügend zugeschnitten waren, dann immer getroffen wurde, auch diese Vorsichtsmaßregel verfing eigentlich nicht. Nicht wahr, die verschiedenen Fürsten, Großherzöge, Könige, die haben ja zur obersten Leitung der Bühne, wenn sie Hofbühnen waren, einen General etwa gesetzt, weil sie sich denken mußten: Nun ja, das Schauspielervolk, das weiß natürlich nicht, wie es bei Hof zugeht, da muß man zum Intendanten natürlich irgendeinen General machen! - Der selbstverständlich nicht das mindeste von irgendeiner Kunst verstand! Manchmal ist es auch bloß ein Hauptmann gewesen. Also diese Leute sind aus Vorsicht dann in die Intendantur der Hofbühnen hineingesetzt worden und sollten den Schauspielern beibringen, was eine Art naturalistischer Handhabung der Dinge war, zum Beispiel bei Hofgesellschaften, damit man sich zu benehmen weiß, Aber mit alledem ist es nicht getan, sondern auf das Einschnappen kommt es an, auf das Empfinden der Körperbewegung, des Tonfalles. Man findet aus der Sache selbst heraus, um was es sich handelt. Und das ist es, was man namentlich üben kann, dieses Beobachten dessen, was aus innerem Erfühlen der künstlerischen Form folgt, ohne daß man das Äußere nachahmen will. Das ist es, was bei diesen Dingen zu berücksichtigen ist.
Ich hoffe meinerseits nur, daß diese Andeutungen, die ich gegeben habe, nach keiner Richtung hin mißverstanden werden. Es ist schon einmal nötig, wenn man auf dieses Gebiet zu sprechen kommt, es so zu behandeln, daß man der Tatsache gerecht wird, man hat es da mit etwas zu tun, was dem Reich der Schwere entrückt sein muß. Ich muß sagen, ich erinnere mich noch immer wieder an den großen Eindruck, den ich bei der ersten Vorlesung meines verehrten alten Lehrers und Freundes, Kar Julius Schröer, hatte, der einmal in dieser ersten Vorlesung vom «ästhetischen Gewissen» sprach. Dieses ästhetische Gewissen ist etwas Bedeutsames. Dieses ästhetische Gewissen bringt einen zu der Anerkennung des Prinzips, daß die Kunst nicht bloß ein Luxus ist, sondern eine notwendige Beigabe jedes menschenwürdigen Daseins. Aber dann, wenn man das als den Grundton hat, dann darf man auch, auf diesen Grundton bauend, Humor, Leichtigkeit entfalten, dann darf man nachsinnen darüber, wie man humorvoll die Sentimentalität behandelt, wie man die Traurigkeit bei vollem Darüberstehen behandelt und dergleichen. Das ist es, was sein muß, sonst wird die Schauspielkunst sich nicht in gedeihlicher Weise in die Anforderungen, welche schon einmal das gegenwärtige Zeitalter an den Menschen stellen muß, hineinfinden können.
Nun sagen Sie aber nicht, ich hätte heute eine Predigt über den künstlerischen Leichtsinn gehalten. Davon bin ich weit entfernt. Ich bin weit entfernt davon, etwa heute eine Predigt zum Leichtsinn gehalten haben zu wollen, nicht einmal zum künstlerischen Leichtsinn, aber ich möchte immer wieder und wiederum betonen: Humorvolle, leichte Behandlungsweise desjenigen, was man vor sich hat, das ist doch etwas, was in der Kunst, und namentlich in der Handhabung der Technik der Kunst, eine große Rolle spielen muß.
Rudolf Steiner Aphorisms on the Art of Acting
Answering questions
This evening will be devoted to a discussion of questions that have been put to me by a circle of artists, performing artists, and which I am answering this evening because there was no other time available for this within our course; all the time was taken up. That is one reason. The other is that I may assume that at least some of what will be said in relation to these questions may also be of interest to all participants.
The first question that has been asked is this:
1. How does the spiritual researcher view the development of consciousness in the field of stage art, and what tasks arise from this in terms of the future development needs of the dramatic arts and those involved in them?
Some of what might be expected in the answer to this question will become clearer in the context of later questions. I would therefore ask you to take what I have to say in connection with this question as a whole. First of all, I would like to say that the art of acting will indeed have to participate in every development towards greater consciousness that we must face in our time. It is true that it is repeatedly emphasized from various quarters that this development of consciousness will rob the artistic person of some of his naivety and instinctiveness, that it will make him insecure, and so on. But if one approaches these things from the point of view that is asserted here on the basis of spiritual science, one must realize that these fears are completely unjustified.
Much of what constitutes intuitive ability, including intuitive ability in relation to one's own actions, where one is engaged in self-observation, is lost through what is commonly referred to today as consciousness and prudence, which are purely intellectual activities. but through intellectual activity, one also loses what can be called artistic ability. One cannot regulate artistic ability in any way with the intellect.But as true as this is, it is equally true that through the kind of insight sought here, when this insight then becomes a power of consciousness, the power of intuition, the full immersion in reality is by no means lost. So there is no need to fear that one might become unartistic through what can be acquired in terms of consciousness, conscious mastery of the means, and the like. Since anthroposophically oriented spiritual science always aims at knowledge of the human being, what is otherwise only grasped in laws and abstract forms is expanded into a vision. Ultimately, one gains a real insight into the physical, soul, and spiritual nature of the human being. And just as little as it can prevent one from executing something artistically in a naive view, it can just as little prevent one from executing something artistically with this view. The error that comes to light here is actually based on the following.
On the basis of the Anthroposophical Society, which actually developed from a membership that formerly included many members of the Theosophical Society, for reasons that you will find explained, for example, in the small pamphlet “Die Hetze gegen das Goetheanum” (The Agitation Against the Goetheanum), all kinds of things have been done on the basis of this society. And in particular, those who had outgrown the old theosophy developed what I would call a wild symbolism, a wild symbolization. I still think back with horror to the year 1909, when we performed Schuré's drama “The Children of Lucifer” — my lecture, which followed this performance, will be reprinted in the next issue of “Die Drei” — and how a member of the Theosophical Society, who remained a member at that time, asked: Yes, Kleonis, that is, I believe, the sentient soul? — And other figures were the conscious soul, Manas, and so on. So everything was nicely divided up. The individual designations used in theosophy were written down for the individual personalities. I once read an interpretation of Hamlet in which the characters in Hamlet were also assigned all the terms for the individual members of human nature. Well, as I have already mentioned, I have really learned a great deal from my own mystery dramas in this symbolic interpretation, and I cannot tell you how happy I was when yesterday our friend, Mr. Uehli, gave a truly artistic interpretation of the first drama, which may have been too flattering if we take it personally, but it was a truly artistic interpretation, that is, he said what one must say when one wants to consider something that is meant to be artistic. One must not symbolize; one must start from the immediate impression. That is what it is all about. And this wild symbolism is, of course, something that should be quite off-putting if one wants to talk about becoming conscious. For this symbolism does not mean becoming conscious, but rather a highly unconscious beating around the bush. It means completely distancing oneself from the content and sticking external vignettes onto the content. So one must respond to what can truly be alive in the humanities, and then one will find that this becoming conscious is absolutely necessary for every single art form if it wants to keep pace with evolution. It would simply lag behind human development if it did not want to go along with this process of becoming conscious. That is a necessity.
On the other hand, one should not be wary of awareness, as it is meant here, as if it were mildew, which is certainly justified in the case of ordinary intellectual aestheticization and symbolization. On the contrary, one can observe how the art of acting itself has already played into a certain awareness. Perhaps I should elaborate a little further. You see, we can say that Goethe interpreters and biographers have committed an extraordinary amount of nonsense with regard to what has been said about Goethe's artistry. Goethe's artistry is really something that, I would say, anticipated what was to come later. And one can really only say that those people, literary historians, aestheticians, and so on, who always speak of Goethe's unconsciousness, of Goethe's naivety, are basically only testifying to their own profound unconsciousness about what was actually going on in Goethe's soul. They are projecting their own unconsciousness onto Goethe.
How did Goethe's most wonderful lyrical works actually come about? They arose directly from life. There is something dangerous about talking about Goethe's love affairs, because it is easy to be misunderstood, but the psychologist must not shy away from such misunderstandings. Goethe's relationship with the women he loved, particularly in his youth but also in later life, was such that the most beautiful creations of poetry actually emerged from this relationship. How is this possible? It was possible because Goethe was always in a kind of split within his own being. In his external experiences, even in the most intimate ones that touched him deeply, Goethe was always in this kind of split personality. He was the Goethe who truly loved no less than anyone else, but at the same time he was the Goethe who, in other moments, was able to rise above it, who, as it were, watched as a third party as the Goethe who objectified himself alongside him developed a love relationship with some female figure. In a certain sense—psychologically speaking, this is entirely realistic—Goethe was always able to withdraw from himself and his own feelings, and in a certain way he was able to view his own experiences with sensitivity and contemplation. This led to the formation of something very specific in Goethe's soul. One must look intimately into his soul if one wants to understand this. What developed was that, firstly, he was not as preoccupied with reality as people who are merely instinctively involved in such experiences, who are involved with their drives and instincts, who cannot actually withdraw with their souls, but live blindly on. In the outside world, of course, this often meant that the relationship did not have to lead to the usual conclusions that love affairs usually lead to. Depending on the type of question one asks – I don't mean to say anything bad, but even among some of the questions asked in this regard, there is sometimes: “Borowsky, Heck!” This is not meant to imply anything that could be subject to misunderstanding, but is simply my interpretation of Goethe. On the other hand, however, it meant that what remained with Goethe – sometimes even coinciding with his external circumstances – was not mere memory, but image, real image, formed image. And so the wonderful images of Gretchen from Frankfurt and Friederike from Sesenheim arose in Goethe's soul, about whom Froitzheim wrote his Friederikenwerk, which German literary history has accepted. Then there was the enchanting figure of Lili from Frankfurt, the wonderful character we see in “Werther.” These figures also include Käthchen of Leipzig, and even in Goethe's old age, figures such as Marianne Willemer, Ulrike Levetzow, and so on. It can be said that only the figure of Frau von Stein is not a complete image in this way. This was due to the complexity of this relationship. But precisely because these circumstances led to such figures, because more remained than a memory, because there was something more than mere memory, this then led to the wonderful lyrical transformation of the images that lived in Goethe. This can then even result in such poetry becoming dramatic. And this lyrical shaping of the image has become quite magnificent in one particular case.
I draw your attention to the first part of Faust. You will find that the characters in the first part of Faust are alternately named Gretchen and Margarete. And this leads into something that is deeply connected with the entire spiritual genesis of Faust. You will find “Gretchen” written everywhere as the name of the character who has passed from Frankfurt's Gretchen into Faust. You will find the name Gretchen written everywhere where you have a rounded image: Gretchen at the well; Gretchen at the spinning wheel, and so on, where the lyrical has slowly entered into the dramatic. In contrast, you will find “Margarete” everywhere where the character has simply been shaped by the ordinary course of the drama from the dramatic action. Everything that bears the name Gretchen is a self-contained image that originated lyrically and has been shaped into a dramatic structure. This shows how even in an intimate way the lyrical can become completely objectified, so that it can be used for dramatic combination. Now, in this way, dramatic creation takes place in such a way that the dramatic artist always has the possibility of standing above his characters. As soon as one begins to personally advocate for any character, one can no longer shape them dramatically. Goethe, especially when he created the first part of his “Faust,” was completely committed to the personality of Faust. That is why Faust's personality is blurred, incomplete, and not well-rounded. In Goethe, it has not become completely separate and objectively concrete. The other characters have.
Now, this objectification also has the effect that one can empathize completely with the characters, that one can really see them, that one can become identical with them in a certain way. This is a gift that has certainly been bestowed upon the author of Shakespeare's plays,
this ability to present the character as something pictorially and objectively experienced, in order to then be able to delve into the character. This art, this ability of the playwright to bring out the character in such a way that he can penetrate it, must in a certain sense be transferred to the actor, and in his training it will be what constitutes the consciousness of acting. It was Goethe's particular form of consciousness that enabled him to do something like this, to embody the characters that had become images in a lyrical and dramatic way, which he did most beautifully in the case of Gretchen in Frankfurt.
But the actor must develop something similar, and there are examples of this as well. I would like to cite one such example. I don't know how many of you are familiar with the actor Lewinski from the Vienna Burgtheater. In terms of his physical appearance and voice, the actor Lewinski was actually as unsuitable as possible for acting, and when he described his relationship to his own acting art, he described it something like this. He said: Yes, of course I wouldn't be able to do anything as an actor—and he was one of the first actors for a long time at the Vienna Burgtheater, perhaps one of the most important so-called character actors—I wouldn't be able to do anything, he said, if I relied on how I stand on stage: the little hunchback with the scratchy voice and the ugly face. Of course, he couldn't be anything. But then, he said, I helped myself. I am actually always three people on stage: one is the little hunchback, croaking man who is hideous; the second is someone who is completely outside the hunchback and the croaker, who is a purely ideal, a completely spiritual entity, and I must always have him in front of me; and then, then I am the third: I crawl out of both of them and am the third, and with the second I play on the first, on the croaking hunchback.
Of course, this must be conscious, it must be something that has become, I would say, a skill! In fact, this division is something that is extremely important for the skill of acting. It is necessary — one could also say it differently — that the actor gets to know his own body well, because this own physicality is basically the instrument on which the real person who has to act plays. He must get to know his own body as well as the violinist knows his violin; he must know it. He must, in a sense, be able to listen to his own voice. This is possible. Gradually, one can learn to hear one's own voice as if it were enveloping one. However, this requires practice, for example by attempting to recite dramatic verses, or even lyrical ones, but ones that are very strong in form, rhythm, and meter, adapting oneself as much as possible to the verse form. Then you will gradually feel that what is being spoken is completely detached from the larynx, that it is floating around in the air, and you will gain a sensual-supersensory perception of your own language.
In a similar way, you can then gain a sensual-supersensual view of your own personality. You just have to not be too shy about yourself. You see, Lewinski was not shy. He called himself a small, hunchbacked, ugly person. So you must not indulge in illusions. Those who always want to be beautiful—and there may well be some who are—but those who always want to be beautiful, who do not want to allow themselves anything in terms of physicality, will not be able to easily attain physical self-knowledge. But this is absolutely necessary for actors. The actor must know how to walk with the soles of his feet, with his legs, with his heels, and so on. The actor must know whether he walks gently or sharply in everyday life; the actor must know how to bend his knees, how to move his hands, and so on. In fact, while studying his role, he must try to observe himself. This is what I would like to call “being inside.” And the detour through language can contribute a great deal to this, because when listening to one's own voice, one's own speech, the observation of the rest of the human form is then instinctively added.
Now I was asked the question:
2. How could we, in our field, fruitfully contribute to the work of searching for and summarizing historical evidence for the results of spiritual research on the basis of available external documents (e.g., dramaturgy, theater history, actor biographies), as has already been suggested in concrete form for the special sciences through seminars?
In this regard, however, an actors' company in particular can achieve an extraordinary amount, but it must be done in the right way. It will not work through dramaturgical theory history or actor biographies, because I believe that there are some very significant objections to this. Actors, at least when they are fully active, should not really have time for theater history, dramaturgy, or even actor biographies! On the other hand, a great deal can be achieved in terms of direct observation of people, in terms of direct characterization of people. And here I would like to recommend something that can be extremely fruitful for actors in particular.
There is a “physiognomy” by Aristotle — you will find it easily — in which, except for a red nose or a pointed nose or more or less hairy palms or more or less large fat deposits and the like, all the peculiarities of how the spiritual and emotional aspects of a person are expressed are first sketched out in outline, how to look at them, and so on. An extremely useful thing, but one that is now outdated. One cannot observe in the same way that Aristotle observed his Greeks; one would arrive at completely false results. But it is precisely the actor who, because he has to portray people, has the opportunity to see such things in people. And if he observes the rule of prudence never to mention the name of the person he is talking about in relation to such matters, then it will not harm his career and his personal relationships, his social circumstances, if he becomes a good observer of people in this direction. When he makes his interesting and significant statements about his observations, it should never be Mr. or Mrs. or Miss so-and-so who plays a role, but always X, Y, Z, and so on; of course, anything that refers to external reality should be concealed as much as possible. But then, when you really get to know life in this way, when you really know what curious nostrils people make when they make this or that joke, and how important it is to pay attention to such curious nostrils – I am only speaking in hints, of course – then you can say that you can achieve an extraordinary amount in this way. Not because you know these things — that's not what's important — but because you think and look in this direction, that's what matters. Because when you think and look in this direction, you depart from the usual way of observing today. Today, people observe the world in such a way that someone who may have seen another person thirty times, for example, does not even know what kind of button they have on the front of their vest. That is entirely possible today! I have met people who have spent the whole afternoon talking to a lady and did not know what color her dress was. So, a completely incomprehensible fact, but it happens. Of course, such people, who do not even know the color of the dress of the lady they have been talking to, are not very suitable for directing their powers of observation in the direction that these powers of observation must take if they are to be translated into action and doing. I have even experienced the amusing situation of people assuring me that they knew nothing about the color of the dress of the lady with whom they had spent the whole afternoon, whether it was red or blue. If I may add something personal, I have even experienced people expecting me not to know the color of the dress of the lady with whom I had been talking for a long time! This shows how certain dispositions are judged. What you have before you must be present in its full physicality. And if you have it before you in its full physicality, not just, I would say, as an external nebulous envelope of the name, then such viewing already transitions into the possibility of forming, of shaping.
So, above all, the actor must be a keen observer, and in this respect he must be characterized by a certain sense of humor. He must take these things humorously. Because, you see, otherwise what happened to that professor could happen to him, who for a while was always thrown off balance because there was a student sitting in front of him in the bank whose button at the top of his vest had been torn off. Now the professor in question had to collect himself by looking at this missing button. It was not a matter of observation, but of concentration. But then one day the student sewed his torn-off button back on, and lo and behold, the professor lost his concentration every few moments! This is taking in the view of the world without humor, which an actor must not have; he must look at things humorously, always rise above them, and then he will also shape them.
So this is something that must be observed, and when one then gets used to learning to formulate such things, when one really gets used to seeing certain inner connections in what is physical perception, and when one rises above it with a certain sense of humor so that one can really shape it, not shape it sentimentally—for one must not shape it sentimentally— then one will also develop the ease in handling such a thing that one must always have if one wants to characterize in the world of appearances. But one should characterize in the world of appearances, otherwise one will always remain an imitative bungler in this regard. So, by actually talking among themselves in this way, I would say, about social physiognomy, those who are active in the art of acting will gather an enormous amount of information that is more valuable than dramaturgy, namely actor biographies and theater stories. That is something that can be left to other people. And everyone should be interested in what the actor can observe and convey through his art, because that would be a very interesting chapter in the art of observing people, and from such a chapter, precisely that which—I would like to use the paradox—is the naively conscious handling of the art of acting, which is a very special kind of acting, could develop.
3rd question: What value does the performance of dramas from past eras, for example Greek dramas, Shakespeare's dramas, and dramas from the recent past, from Ibsen and Strindberg to the moderns, have for our time?
Well, it is true that, in terms of acting, people today will naturally have to use different forms than those used in Greek acting, for example. But that does not prevent us from staging Greek dramas today; in fact, it would be a sin not to do so. However, we must have better translations when we translate them into modern language than those of the philistine Wilamowitz, who, precisely because of his lexically literal translation, fails to capture the spirit of these dramas. But we must also be clear that we must present modern people with art that is suitable for their eyes and their comprehension. To do this, of course, it is necessary to delve a little deeper into the Greek dramas. And I do not believe – take this as a paradoxical view – that one can delve into the Greek drama of Aeschylus or Sophocles, although it may be easier with Euripides, without approaching the matter in a spiritual-scientific way. These characters in the dramas of Aeschylus and Sophocles must actually come to life through spiritual science, because it is only in this spiritual science that the elements lie which can reflect our feelings and our impulses of will in such a way that we can make something of the characters in these dramas. But as soon as one becomes familiar with these dramas through what spiritual science can convey — you will find various hints about this in our cycles and so on — as soon as one becomes familiar with them through what spiritual science can convey by revealing the origin of these dramas in a special way in the light of the mysteries — as Mr. Uehli pointed out yesterday — then it is possible to bring the characters in these dramas to life. Of course, it would be an anachronism to want to perform them as the Greeks did. One could do that once, as a historical experiment, but one would also have to be aware that it is nothing more than a historical experiment. But the Greek dramas are actually too good for that. They can certainly still be brought to life in today's human beings, and it would even be a great achievement to bring them to life in a spiritual-scientific sense, and only then to translate them into performances.
On the other hand, it is possible for today's human beings to identify with Shakespeare's special style without any particular difficulty. All that is needed is contemporary human sensitivity and an open mind. And Shakespeare's characters should really be viewed as Herman Grimm, for example, viewed them, who stated the paradox that is nevertheless very true, truer than many historical assertions: it is actually much smarter to study Julius Caesar in Shakespeare than to study him in a history book. In fact, Shakespeare's imagination offers the possibility of creeping so deeply into the character that it seems alive in him, that it is truer than any historical account. That is why it would of course be a shame not to want to perform Shakespeare's plays today, and it is a matter of really getting so close to the subject that one can simply apply the general knowledge one acquires, the technique and so on, to these characters.
Now, of course, there is a gulf between Shakespeare and the French dramatists, whom Schiller and Goethe then emulated, and the latest, modern dramatists. With Ibsen, we are actually dealing with problem dramas, and Ibsen should actually be portrayed in such a way that one becomes aware that his characters are not really characters. If one wanted to bring his characters to life as characters in the imagination, they would constantly jump around, stepping on each other's feet, because they are not human beings. But the dramas are problem dramas, great problem dramas, and the problems are such that they should be experienced by modern man. And so it is extremely interesting when actors today try to educate themselves in Ibsen's dramas, because with Ibsen's dramas, when they try to study the role, they will have to say to themselves: This is not a human being, I must first make it into a human being. And there he will have to proceed individually, he will have to be aware that when he portrays any of Ibsen's characters, it can be very different from when someone else portrays them. You can bring a great deal of your own individuality into it, because these characters can tolerate you bringing in your individuality first, portraying them in very different ways, whereas with Shakespeare and also with Greek drama, you should basically always feel that there is only one possible portrayal, and that is what you must strive for. You certainly won't always find it, but you have to feel that there is only one possibility. That is not at all the case with Ibsen or Strindberg. You have to treat them in such a way that you bring in the individual first. It's difficult to express such things, but I would like to express myself figuratively. You see, with Shakespeare, you definitely have the feeling that he is an artist who sees everything, who can also see behind, who really sees as a whole person and can see other people with his whole being. Ibsen couldn't do that; he could only see superficially. And so the world stories, the people he sees, are also seen superficially. You first have to give them depth, and that is only possible in an individual way. This is particularly true of Strindberg. I have nothing against his drama, I appreciate it, but you have to see everything in its own way. Something like the Damascus drama is something quite extraordinary, but you have to say to yourself: these are never really people. There is only the skin, and it is completely filled with problems. — Yes, there is a lot you can do there, because you can put your whole self into it, and as an actor you have to add individual characterization.
4th question: How does a true work of art, especially a work of drama, appear in its effect when viewed from the spiritual world, in contrast to other human activities?
Above all, other human activities are such that they can never really be viewed as a complete totality. It is true that people, especially in our time, are shaped in a certain way by their environment, by their milieu. Hermann Bahr once characterized this quite aptly in a lecture in Berlin. He said: In the 1890s, something very peculiar happened to people. When you came to a city, a strange city, and met the people coming out of the factory in the evening—yes, they all looked exactly the same, and you were overcome by a feeling that could be frightening, because you no longer believed that you were dealing with so many people who looked alike, but that it was one and the same person who had simply multiplied so many times. - He then said: Now we came from the nineties into the 20th century - he hinted somewhat coquettishly that when he came to a city, he was often invited out - when you were invited somewhere, you always had a lady on your right and left; the next day, another lady on your right and left, and the day after that, a completely different one on your right and left. But you couldn't tell the difference when you had someone completely different, so you didn't know if it was the one from yesterday or today! — So people are definitely a kind of copy of their milieu. This has become particularly true in the present day.
Well, you don't have to experience it in such a grotesque way, but there is something to be said for the fact that, in general, you have to understand people in their other activities in the context of their entire environment. When dealing with the art of acting, it is important to really view what you see as a complete whole, as something that is rounded in itself. To do this, of course, we must overcome certain prejudices that are particularly strong in our unartistic age, and I will now have to say a few things because I want to answer this question honestly, which may cause a kind of horror among today's aesthetes and critics and so on.
The fact is that when it comes to artistic human representation, one must gradually realize through study: If you say a sentence that goes in the direction of passion, that goes in the direction of sorrow, that goes in the direction of cheerfulness, with which you want to convince and persuade another person, with which you want to insult another person, you can always feel that a very specific kind of movement of the limbs, especially in relation to the tempo, is connected with it. This is still a long way from eurythmy, but a very specific movement of the limbs, a certain kind of slowness or speed of speech emerges when you study this. One gets the feeling that speech or movement becomes something independent, that one could just as well, without the words having any meaning, have the same intonation, the same rhythm in the words, that it is a thing in itself, that it runs by itself. One must get the feeling that speech could also run if one put together completely meaningless words in a certain intonation, in a certain rhythm. You also have to get the feeling that you can make very specific movements. You have to be able to put yourself into it, so to speak, you have to take a certain pleasure in making certain movements with your legs and arms, which at first are not made for any particular reason, but only for the sake of a direction, a goal, for example, to cross the left arm with the right hand or right arm
and so on. And you have to take a certain aesthetic pleasure, delight in these things. And then, when you study, you have to have the feeling: now you say this – oh yes, that picks up on the tone, on an intonation that you already know; this movement on the intonation – these must be two different things! - You mustn't believe that the artistic aspect lies in laboriously extracting from the poetic content how you should do or say something, but you must have the feeling: the tone of voice, the tempo you strike there, you already have it, and the movement of your arms and legs too, you just have to snap into the right thing you have! - Maybe you don't have it at all, but you have to feel, objectively, how you have to snap into this or that.
You see, when I say, “Maybe you don't have it,” it's based on the fact that you may find that you don't yet have what you need for what you're practicing right now. But you have to feel that it has to be put together from what you already have. Or in some other way you have to be able to transition into something objective. That is what matters.
5th question: What is the role of music in the art of acting?
Well, I think we have given the practical answer to that through the way we use music in eurythmy. However, I believe that it should not be dismissed as something to be rejected if moods are also set by music before and after in pure drama, and if the opportunity arises – of course, the opportunity must already be provided by the poet – to use music, then it should also be used. Of course, when asked in such general terms, this question is not so easy to answer, and it is a matter of doing the right thing at the right moment.
6th question: Is talent a necessary prerequisite for an actor, or can it be awakened and developed in an equivalent way through spiritual scientific methods in every person who has love and artistic feeling for the art of acting, but not the special, traditional talent? Can special exercises be given for the development of one's own sense of movement?
Yes, the question of talent! I once had a friend at the Weimar theater. All kinds of people performed there, trying their hand at acting. Sometimes people didn't like to let such aspirants perform. When I spoke to this friend, who was himself an actor there, and asked him, “Do you think he can make something of himself?” he often replied, “Well, if he gets talent!” — There is some truth in that. It must be admitted, yes, it is even a profound truth, that one can really learn anything if one applies to oneself what flows from spiritual science into the impulses of the human being. And what can be learned there is something that sometimes appears as talent. There is no denying it, that is how it is. But there is a small catch, and that is that, first of all, one must live long enough to undergo such a development, and that, if something like the creation of a talent is really brought about in this way by all kinds of means, then the following, for example, can happen. Someone has now been taught the talent, let's say, for a “youthful hero,” but it has taken so long that he now has a large bald spot and gray hair. These are the things where life sometimes makes what is in principle entirely possible extremely difficult. For this reason, it is necessary to have a sense of responsibility when selecting personalities for the performing arts. You could say that there are always two people involved: one is the person who wants to become an actor, and the other is the person who has to make the decision in some way. The latter must have an extremely strong sense of responsibility. For example, they must be aware that a superficial judgment in this regard can be extremely harmful. For it is often easy to believe that this or that person has no talent for something, but often it is just too deeply buried. And when one then has the opportunity to recognize talent in something, then sometimes what was there and one just did not believe was there can be brought out of the person relatively quickly. Nevertheless, because practical life must remain practical, it will still be very important to acquire a certain ability to discover talent in people, and one will initially have to limit oneself to using what can come from spiritual science – which can be a great deal – to make the talent more alive, to develop it more quickly. All this can happen. But in the case of people who sometimes consider themselves to be tremendously great acting geniuses, one will often have to say that God, in his wrath, has made them actors. And then one must also have the conscientiousness — with good-natured words, of course, so as not to offend them — not to push them into the acting profession, which is not for everyone, but which requires, above all, the ability to easily allow the inner soul-spiritual mobility to enter into the physical, bodily realm. That is what needs to be taken into account in particular.
With regard to exercises for developing one's own sense of movement — yes, those cannot be given so quickly. However, I will look into the matter and see that it will also be possible to gradually accommodate those who want to know something about this. Of course, if these things are to be of any use, they must be worked out slowly and objectively, based on spiritual science. I will make a note of this question for later consideration.
7th question: Can more fundamental and profound guidelines be given for understanding and entering into new roles than we could work out from practice and from existing writings? May we also ask for references to existing literature from which we can obtain answers to these and similar questions?
Well, with regard to literature, including existing literature, I don't want to go too far and would like to emphasize what I discussed earlier about observing people—you know, the thing with the lady's buttons and clothes. This physical observation is something that is good preparation. But then one must say — well, I don't think it's necessary to say this to those asking the questions, but for acting purposes it is still quite necessary — that most of the people who appear on stage today do not want to delve into their roles at all, because they usually just take their role and learn it without even knowing what the content of the whole drama is; they learn their role. — It's actually quite terrible. When I was on the board of the former Dramatic Society and we had to stage plays such as Maeterlinck's “The Uninvited” and “L'Intruse,” we formally required the actors to first listen to a lecture on the drama and also an interpretation of the drama in such a reading rehearsal, because otherwise no one would have known what the others were capable of, only what they themselves were capable of. And then with various other plays, with Max Burckhard's “Bürgermeisterwahl” (Mayor Election) and a drama by Juliana Dery, I think it was called “Die sieben mageren oder fetten Kühe” (The Seven Lean or Fat Cows), I tried at the time at the Dramatic Society in Berlin to introduce what I just mentioned, an interpretation of the drama, but an artistic interpretation where the characters came to life. First, we sat down together for a directing meeting, where we tried to bring the characters to life purely through our imagination, using all possible means. And then people start to listen when you get through to them as human beings; that's much easier than when you have to study for yourself, and right from the start, what has to work in a troupe develops: namely, the ensemble. This is something that I particularly believe should be recommended when studying any dramatic, artistic subject, that the subject should not only be read, but interpreted, and interpreted in a dramatic, artistic way, before the other actors. It is absolutely necessary to develop a certain sense of humor and a certain lightness in such matters. Art must always have humor; art must not become sentimental. If sentimentality has to be portrayed—and of course one often finds oneself in the position of having to portray sentimental people—the actor must approach it with humor, always remaining fully conscious of it and not allowing oneself to slip into sentimentality. In this way, if you make the first directing sessions interpretive, you can very quickly wean people off finding it didactic. If you do it with a certain humor, they will not find it didactic, and you will see that the time you spend on such things is well spent, that people will develop a remarkable talent for imitating their own imaginary characters in such directing sessions. That is what I have to say about such things.
Of course, when you talk about such things, it comes across as a bit, I would say, clumsy, but you see, the worst thing about the art of acting is the urge for naturalism. Just consider how actors in earlier times could have managed to portray, say, a court marshal, whom they could never have seen in his full court marshal's dignity, if they had wanted to be naturalists. They lacked the social status to do so. But even the precautionary measures that were always taken at court theaters, at theaters that were sufficiently tailored to this purpose, did not really work. Isn't that right? The various princes, grand dukes, and kings appointed a general, for example, to be the supreme director of the stage, if it was a court theater, because they had to think: Well, actors don't know how things work at court, so of course you have to make some general the director! — Who, of course, didn't understand the slightest thing about any art! Sometimes it was just a captain. So these people were appointed to the management of the court theaters out of caution and were supposed to teach the actors a kind of naturalistic approach to things, for example, at court gatherings, so that they would know how to behave. But all that is not enough; what matters is the snap, the feeling of body movement, of tone of voice. One discovers what it is all about from the matter itself. And that is what one can practice, namely observing what follows from an inner feeling for the artistic form, without wanting to imitate the exterior. That is what must be taken into account in these matters.
For my part, I only hope that these hints I have given will not be misunderstood in any way. When discussing this subject, it is necessary to treat it in such a way that one does justice to the fact that one is dealing with something that must be removed from the realm of gravity. I must say that I still remember the great impression I had during the first lecture of my esteemed old teacher and friend, Kar Julius Schröer, who once spoke of the “aesthetic conscience” in that first lecture. This aesthetic conscience is something significant. This aesthetic conscience leads one to recognize the principle that art is not merely a luxury, but a necessary addition to any dignified existence. But then, if you have that as your basic tone, you can also develop humor and lightness based on that basic tone, and you can reflect on how to treat sentimentality with humor, how to treat sadness with complete detachment, and so on. That is what must be done, otherwise the art of acting will not be able to find its way in a fruitful manner into the demands that the present age must make on people.
Now don't say that I have preached a sermon today about artistic frivolity. I am far from that. I am far from wanting to have preached today about frivolity, not even about artistic frivolity, but I would like to emphasize again and again: a humorous, light-hearted approach to what one has before one is something that must play a major role in art, and especially in the handling of the techniques of art.
