The Rudolf Steiner Archive

1. Haeckel, the Mysteries of the Universe, and Theosophy

[ 1 ] When I speak today on the topic, “Haeckel, the Mysteries of the Universe, and Theosophy,” I am aware that this subject presents extraordinary difficulties for those who explore spiritual life, and that my remarks may well cause considerable offense on both sides. Nevertheless, it seems to me necessary to speak about this once from a theosophical standpoint, for, on the one hand, the gospel that Haeckel derived from his research has, through his book *The Riddles of the Universe*, reached thousands upon thousands of people. Ten thousand copies of *The Riddles of the World* were sold within a short time, and the book has been translated into many languages. Rarely has such a serious book achieved such widespread circulation.

[ 2 ] If Theosophy or the Science of the Spirit is to clarify its goals, then it must address such an important phenomenon—one that also deals with the deepest questions of existence—and express its position on it. In and of itself, the theosophical or spiritual-scientific view of life is not meant for conflict, but for reconciliation, for the harmonization of opposites. I, too, find myself in a unique position with regard to Ernst Haeckel’s worldview. For I am familiar with the sentiments and feelings that today can draw people—partly out of their scientific conscience, partly out of the general state of the world and prevailing worldview—as if by a fascinating force, into the simple, grand lines of thought that make up Haeckel’s worldview. I would probably not dare to speak so freely today if, with regard to Haeckel, I were what one calls an opponent; if I were not intimately familiar with what one can experience when immersing oneself in this marvelous edifice of his ideas.

[ 3 ] Above all, however, anyone who observes the development of spiritual life with an open mind will have to acknowledge the moral strength in Haeckel’s work. With tremendous courage, this man has fought for his worldview for decades—a hard-fought struggle in which he has had to defend himself against manifold adversities that stood in his way. On the other hand, we must not overlook the fact that Haeckel possesses a great capacity for synthesizing ideas and presenting them coherently. What so many natural scientists lack in this regard, he possesses to a high degree. He has dared—despite the fact that, in recent decades, the prevailing scientific currents have been opposed to such an undertaking—to synthesize the results of his research into a worldview. This must be recognized as an achievement of a special kind. I also find myself in a peculiar position with regard to the theosophical worldview when I speak of Haeckel. Anyone who has studied the development of the Theosophical Movement knows what harsh words and struggles were waged by the Theosophists—and especially by the founder of the Theosophical Movement, Helena Petrovna Blavatsky—against the conclusions that Ernst Haeckel drew from his research. Few phenomena in the realm of worldviews are fought against with such passion in the “Esoteric Doctrine” as Haeckel’s arguments. I may well claim to speak impartially, for I believe that, in part, in my essay “Haeckel and His Opponents,” as well as in my book on “Worldviews and Philosophies of Life in the 19th Century,” I have done full justice to the true substance of Haeckel’s worldview. I believe I have extracted from his works that which is enduring and fruitful.

[ 4 ] Consider the worldview as a whole, insofar as it is based on scientific grounds. In the first half of the 19th century, the intellectual climate was quite different from that of the second half. And Haeckel’s emergence coincided with a time when it was very natural to give the young, so-called Darwinism a materialistic interpretation. If one understands how close it was back then—when Haeckel entered the natural sciences as a young, enthusiastic researcher—to interpret all scientific discoveries in materialistic terms, then one will grasp the materialistic tendency and take the path of peacemaking rather than that of conflict. If you consider those who, in the mid-19th century, turned their gaze freely toward the great mysteries of humanity, you will find two distinct attitudes. On the one hand, there is complete resignation in the face of the highest questions of existence—an admission that, from a scientific standpoint, one cannot penetrate the questions concerning the divine order of the world, immortality, free will, the origin of life—in short, the true mysteries of the universe. On the other hand, beyond this mood of resignation, you will also find remnants of an ancient religious tradition even among natural scientists. In the first half of the 19th century, you will find bold advances in the investigation of these questions from a scientific standpoint only among German philosophers—for example, Schelling, Fichte, or even Oken, a man of unparalleled freedom in other areas of life as well. What haunts natural scientists today—those who seek to establish worldviews—can already be found in broad strokes in Oken’s work. But a peculiar breeze still blows over it; the sentiment of the old spiritualism still lives within it—a spiritualism that is clear that behind everything that can be perceived through the senses and explored through instruments, something spiritual is to be sought.

[ 5 ] Haeckel himself recounted time and again how this peculiar spirit permeated the character of his great teacher, the unforgettable naturalist Johannes Müller. You can read in Haeckel’s own words how, while he was studying under Johannes Müller at the University of Berlin and researching the anatomy of animals and humans, he noticed the great similarity—not only in external form, but in what first manifests itself through that form, in the form’s inherent tendency. When he later expressed to his teacher that this pointed to a mysterious kinship between animals and humans, Johannes Müller—who had looked so deeply into nature—replied: “Yes, whoever once fathoms the mystery of the species will attain the highest.” — One simply has to put oneself in the mind of such a researcher, who certainly would not have stopped if there had been a prospect for him to penetrate the mystery. On another occasion, when teacher and student were on a research expedition, Haeckel again remarked on the great kinship that exists among animals; and once more, Johannes Müller said something quite similar. I merely wanted to convey a certain mood here. If you consult any significant naturalist of the first half of the 19th century—for example, Burdach—you will find, despite the careful elaboration of all scientific details, that whenever the “realm of life” is discussed, there is always an indication that it is not merely physical and chemical forces at work, but that something higher is at play.

[ 6 ] But when the development of the microscope enabled humans to look into the unique composition of living beings and observe that they are made up of a fine tissue of minute organisms—from which the physical body of these beings is composed—things changed. This physical body, which serves as a “garment” for plants and animals, breaks down into cells for the naturalist. The discoveries concerning the life of cells were made by naturalists in the late 1830s. And because so much of the life of the smallest living beings could be explored sensually through the microscope, it was only natural that what acts as the organizing principle within the living being was forgotten and overlooked, since it cannot be perceived by any physical sense—or indeed by anything external at all.

[ 7 ] At that time, Darwinism did not yet exist, but under the influence of these great successes achieved in the field of research into the sensible world, a materialistic natural science began to take shape in the 1840s and 1850s. People believed then that they could understand the entire world based solely on what they could perceive and explain through their senses. What seems downright childish to many people today caused a tremendous sensation back then and became, so to speak, a gospel for humanity. Force and matter, Büchner, Moleschott—these were the buzzwords and the leading figures. It was considered an expression of childish fantasy from earlier epochs of human history to suspect, in what one can examine with the eyes down to the smallest detail, something that goes beyond what is visible to the eye and perceptible to the senses.

[ 8 ] Now you must bear in mind that, alongside all reasoning and all research, feelings and emotions play a major role in the development of spiritual life. Anyone who believes that worldviews are formed solely on the basis of the cool deliberations of reason is very much mistaken. To put it bluntly, the heart always has a say in the matter. Secret factors of upbringing also come into play. In its most recent phase of development, humanity has undergone a materialistic upbringing. Although this dates back a long way, it only reached its peak during the period we are discussing. We call this epoch of materialistic education the Age of Enlightenment. Human beings had to learn—and this was also the ultimate consequence of the Christian worldview in particular—to find their bearings here on this firm ground of reality. The God whom they had sought for so long beyond the clouds, they were now to seek within themselves. This had a profound effect on the entire development of the 19th century; and anyone who, as a psychologist of the age, wishes to study the development of humanity in the 19th century will understand all the phenomena that arise within it—such as the freedom movement of the 1830s and 1840s—only as individual, lawfully unfolding storms of the emerging sense of the significance of physical reality. We are dealing with a direction in the education of humanity that initially, by force, tore every prospect of a spiritual, intellectual life from the human heart. And the conclusion that the world consists of sensory phenomena was not drawn from the natural sciences; rather, as a result of the education of humanity at that time, materialism was introduced into the explanation of scientific facts. Anyone who truly studies things impartially, as they are, will find that it is as I am about to say, although I cannot speak about this in detail in just one short hour.

[ 9 ] The truly tremendous advances in the fields of natural science, astronomy, physics, and chemistry—brought about by spectral analysis, by expanded theoretical knowledge of heat, and by the theory of the evolution of living beings, known as Darwin’s theory—fall within this period of materialism. If these discoveries had occurred at a time when people still thought as they did at the turn of the 18th to the 19th century—when people still had a more spiritual sensibility—then they would have seen in them just as much evidence of the spirit’s rule and activity in nature. The marvelous discoveries of natural science would have been cited precisely as proof of the primacy of the spirit. It is evident from this that scientific discoveries did not in and of themselves necessarily lead to materialism under all circumstances; rather, it was only because many bearers of spiritual life at that time were of a materialistic disposition that these discoveries were interpreted in a materialistic manner. Materialism was introduced into the natural sciences, and naturalists such as Ernst Haeckel unconsciously adopted it. Darwin’s discovery itself need not have led to materialism. In his first work, you will find the following statement: “I hold that all living beings that have ever existed on Earth are descended from a primordial form into which life was breathed by the Creator.” These words appear in Darwin’s book *On the Origin of Species*, the very work that materialism uses as its foundation.

[ 10 ] It is clear that anyone who approached these discoveries as a materialist thinker was bound to give Darwinism a materialist slant. It was through Haeckel’s bold, materialist way of thinking that Darwinism acquired its current materialist tendency. It had a profound impact when, in 1868, Haeckel announced the connection between humans and the “lordly animals” (apes). At that time, this could mean nothing other than that humans were descended from the great apes. To this day, however, thought has undergone a peculiar course of development. Haeckel remained fixed on the idea that humans are descended from the great apes, which in turn are descended from the lower animals, and these lower animals from the simplest of living beings. This is how he constructs the entire human family tree. As a result, for him, all spirit was eliminated from the world and existed only as a manifestation of the material. Haeckel still seeks to reconcile this, for deep within him, alongside his materialistic intellectual soul, he possesses a peculiar, spiritualistic emotional soul. These two have never quite balanced each other out within him, nor have they ever truly been able to reach a fraternal agreement. He therefore ends up attributing a kind of consciousness even to the smallest living beings; yet this leaves unexplained how the complex human consciousness develops from the consciousness of the smallest living beings. Haeckel once said during a conversation: “People take issue with my materialism; but I do not deny the spirit at all, nor do I deny life; I simply want people to consider that when they place substances into a retort, everything inside it soon comes to life and begins to thrive.” — This shows quite clearly how Haeckel possesses a spiritual, emotional side alongside his scientific, rational mind.

[ 11 ] One of those who, at the time Darwin first appeared on the scene, also asserted that humans were descended from higher animals was the English researcher Huxley. He stated that there is such a great resemblance in external structure between humans and higher animals that this resemblance is greater than the resemblance between higher and lower species of apes. One could only conclude from this that humans are descended from higher animals. In more recent times, researchers have uncovered new facts; even those sensibilities that had shaped the human heart and soul through centuries of education underwent a transformation; and so it came to pass that in the 1890s, shortly before his death, Huxley expressed the view that was, for him, remarkable: We see, then, that in the natural world we find a gradation of living beings, from the simplest and most imperfect to the most complex and perfect. We can survey this sequence. But why should this sequence not continue into a realm that we cannot survey? — These words point to the path by which humanity, starting from the study of nature, can rise to the idea of a divine being that stands far above humankind—a being that stands higher above humankind than humankind itself stands above a simple single-celled organism. Huxley once said: “I would rather descend from ancestors who are animal-like than from those who deny human reason.”

[ 12 ] Thus, concepts and perceptions—that is, what the soul thinks and feels—have changed. Haeckel continued his research in his own way. As early as 1868, he published his popular book *The Natural History of Creation*. Much can be learned from it; one can learn how the realms of life in nature are interconnected according to natural laws. One can look back into the distant past and relate living organisms to extinct ones, of which only the last remnants remain on Earth. Haeckel had understood this perfectly. I can only clarify the broader historical context that unfolds by drawing a comparison. Anyone willing to delve into such matters will find that this comparison is no more flawed than any other comparison—which, despite everything, can still be apt. Suppose an art historian were to come along and describe the vast realm of painting from Leonardo da Vinci to the present day in a beautiful treatise on art history. Everything created during this period in that vein would appear before your soul, and you would feel as though you were looking into this freely unfolding weaving and working of the human spirit. Suppose, furthermore, that someone were to come along and say, regarding this description: “But everything the art historian presents here is not real; it is something that does not actually exist; it is merely a description of figments of the imagination that do not exist at all—and what do these fantasies have to do with me? One must examine reality in order to arrive at a correct account of art history.” I therefore want to examine the skeletal remains of Leonardo da Vinci and attempt to reconstruct his body, investigate what kind of brain he had, and how it functioned. — The same things are thus described by both the art historian and the anatomical natural historian. No error need be made; everything could be correct. Then the anatomical historian said, “We must fight tooth and nail against what the idealistic art historians tell us; we must refute it as a fantasy, for it is almost as if a superstition had taken hold of people, one that seeks to make us believe that, alongside the form of Leonardo da Vinci, there also existed some gaseous vortex serving as a soul.”

[ 13 ] This comparison is apt, even though it may seem silly. Anyone who swears by the sole correctness of the “Natural History of Creation” finds himself in such a situation. Nor can he be refuted by pointing out his errors. There may indeed be errors, but that is not at all the point here. What is important is that the sensory world has finally been presented in terms of its inner coherence. This has, in essence, been accomplished by Haeckel in a grand and comprehensive manner. It has come to pass that anyone who wishes to see can indeed see how the spiritual is at work in the formation of forms, even where matter alone seems to reign and weave. Much can be learned from this; one can see how to grasp the material interrelationships in the world spiritually, with seriousness, dignity, and perseverance. Anyone who studies Haeckel’s *Anitthropogeny* will see how form develops from the simplest living beings to the most complex, from the simplest organisms all the way up to human beings. Whoever knows how to add the spirit to what the materialist says will find in this Haeckelianism the most beautiful elementary theosophy.

[ 14 ] Haeckel’s research findings constitute, so to speak, the first chapter of theosophy or spiritual science. Studying his works provides a far better way to gain insight into the development and transformation of organic forms than any other means. We have every reason to highlight the great achievements made through the progress of this in-depth understanding of nature.

[ 15 ] In the days when Haeckel described this marvelous structure, the deeper mysteries of humanity were regarded as unsolvable problems. In a rhetorically brilliant speech in 1872, Du Bois-Reymond spoke about the limits of natural science and the understanding of nature. Few topics have been discussed more in recent decades than this speech with its famous “Ignorabimus.” It was a significant act and represents a major contrast to Haeckel’s own development and his theory of human descent. In another speech, Du Bois-Reymond identified the “Seven World Mysteries”—the great enigmas of existence that the natural scientist can answer only partially, if at all—namely:

[ 16 ] 1. The Origin of Force and Matter.

[ 17 ] 2. How did the initial motion come about in this at rest matter?

[ 18 ] 3. How did life arise within moving matter?

[ 19 ] 4. How can we explain the fact that there is so much in nature that bears the mark of purposefulness, a quality that is usually found only in actions carried out by human reason?

[ 20 ] 5. How can it be that—since, if we could examine our brains, we would find nothing but tiny particles swirling about—these particles manage to make me see “red,” hear the organ’s sound, feel pain, and so on? — Imagine swirling atoms, and it will immediately become clear to you that the sensations expressed in the words “I see red, I smell the scent of roses, and so on” can never arise from them.

[ 21 ] 6. How do intelligence, reason, thought, and language develop within living beings?

[ 22 ] 7. How can free will arise in a being that is so bound that every action must be caused by the swirling of atoms?

[ 23 ] Haeckel named his book *Die Welträtsel* (*The Riddles of the World*) in reference to Du Bois-Reymond’s “riddles of the world.” He sought to provide an answer to Du Bois-Reymond’s arguments. A particularly important passage can be found in Du Bois-Reymond’s speech on the limits of scientific knowledge. We are led to this important passage, and through it we can be guided toward theosophy.

[ 24 ] When Du Bois-Reymond spoke before the natural scientists and physicians in Leipzig, the spirit of natural science yearned for a purer, freer, and higher atmosphere—the atmosphere that led to the theosophical worldview. Du Bois-Reymond said the following at that time: When we view human beings from a scientific perspective, they appear to us as an interaction of unconscious atoms. To explain human beings scientifically means to understand these atomic movements down to the very last detail. — He believes that if one is able to specify the movement of atoms at any given point in the brain when one says, “I think,” or “Give me an apple,” then one has solved this problem from a scientific perspective. Du Bois-Reymond calls this the “astronomical” understanding of human beings. The moving groups of human atoms would look like a miniature starry sky. What has not been grasped here is how it is that, in the consciousness of a person—about whom I know, let’s say, with complete precision that his atoms move in such-and-such a way—sensations, feelings, and thoughts arise. No natural science can determine this. No natural science can say how consciousness arises. Du Bois-Reymond concluded as follows: In the case of a sleeping person, who is not aware of the sensation expressed in the words “I see red,” we have before us the physical group of moving body parts. With regard to this sleeping body, we need not say, “We will not know,” “Ignorabimus.” We can understand the sleeping person. The waking person, on the other hand, is incomprehensible to any natural scientist. What is present in the waking person—namely, the consciousness through which he confronts us as a spiritual being—is absent in the sleeping person.

[ 25 ] At that time, given the despondency within the natural sciences, further progress was not possible; it was not yet possible to conceive of theosophy or spiritual science, because the natural sciences had sharply defined the boundary—they had set the limit beyond which they were willing to go in their own way. Because of this self-imposed limitation that natural science had thereby set for itself, the theosophical worldview took its first steps during the same period. No one would claim that when a person falls asleep at night and wakes up again in the morning, they cease to exist in the evening and are reborn the next morning. Nevertheless, Du Bois-Reymond states that at night, what is present in a person during the day is absent. Herein lies the opportunity for the theosophical worldview to take hold. Sensory consciousness is not active in the sleeping human being. But since the natural scientist relies on what this sensory consciousness conveys, he cannot say anything about what lies beyond it—about the spiritual—because he thereby lacks precisely that which makes the human being a spiritual being. We cannot, therefore, penetrate into the spiritual by the means of natural science. Natural science relies on what is perceptible through the senses. That which is no longer perceptible when a person is asleep cannot be the object of its research. Yet it is precisely in this aspect—which is no longer perceptible in a sleeping person—that we must seek the essence that makes a human being a spiritual being. We cannot speak of that which transcends the purely material, the sensory, until—and this is something the natural scientist, as such, cannot know if he relies solely on the sensory—organs, spiritual eyes, are created that can also see what lies beyond the sensory. Therefore, one must not say, “Here are the limits of knowledge,” but only, “Here are the limits of sensory knowledge.” The natural scientist perceives through the senses but is not a spiritual seer. Yet he must become a seer in order to be able to perceive what the human being possesses of the spiritual within himself. This is also what all deeper wisdom in the world strives for: not merely an expansion of sensory knowledge in terms of scope, but an elevation of human capacities. This is also the great difference between modern natural science and what Theosophy teaches. The natural scientist tells himself: Human beings have senses with which they perceive, and an intellect with which they synthesize sensory perceptions. Whatever cannot be achieved through these means lies beyond the scope of scientific knowledge. — Theosophy takes a different view. It says: “You are right, natural scientist, when you judge from your standpoint; you are just as right as the blind person is, from his standpoint, to say that the world is devoid of light and color.”

[ 26 ] I have no objections to the scientific point of view; I merely wish to contrast it with the perspective of theosophy or spiritual science, which states: It is possible—no, it is certain—that human beings need not remain at the stage they are at today. It is possible that spiritual organs—spiritual eyes—will develop in much the same way that the sensory organs—eyes and ears—have developed in this physical body. Once these organs are developed, higher abilities will emerge. One must first believe this—no, one does not even need to believe it; one need only accept it with an open mind as a narrative. But just as not all believers in the “Natural History of Creation” have seen the facts cited therein—for how many are there who have truly seen these facts?—so too can the fact of knowledge of the supersensible not be demonstrated to everyone here. For the ordinary sensory human being, there is no way to enter this realm. We can only enter the spiritual realms with the help of occult research methods. When a person transforms himself into an instrument for the higher forces in order to look into the worlds hidden from the sensory human being, then very special phenomena occur within him—I will speak about this in detail in the ninth lecture on “Inner Development.” The ordinary person is incapable of observing themselves or consciously taking in the objects in their surroundings when their senses are asleep. But when a person applies the occult method of research, this inability ceases, and they then begin to perceive impressions in the astral world in a conscious manner.

[ 27 ] First of all, there is a transition—one that everyone is familiar with—between the external life of sensory perception and that life which does not cease even in the deepest sleep. This transition is the chaos of dreams. Everyone is familiar with it, though usually only as an echo of what they have experienced during the day. How could they possibly take in anything new while asleep? After all, the inner self does not yet possess any organs of perception. But something is present nonetheless. Life is there. That which has stepped out of the body during sleep remembers, and this memory rises up in the sleeper in more or less confused images. If you wish to learn more about these matters, please consult the essays “How Does One Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds?” Gradually, order and harmony begin to replace the chaos in the realm of dreams. This is a sign that a person is beginning to develop spiritually; and then, in dreams, they see not only the chaotic echoes of reality but also things that do not exist at all in ordinary life. Certainly, those who wish to remain in the realm of the tangible, in the realm of the sensory, will say: “These are just dreams.”—But if, in the process, you gain insight into the highest mysteries of the world, it really makes no difference to you whether you received them in a dream or through the senses. Do you think Graham Bell invented the telephone in a dream? That would be completely irrelevant today, since the telephone has in any case become a significant and useful invention. Clear and orderly dreaming is therefore the beginning.

[ 28 ] When a person, in the stillness of the night, immerses himself in dreams, and when he has grown accustomed for a while to perceiving entirely different worlds, the time soon comes when he learns to step out into reality with these new perceptions as well. Then this entire world takes on a new appearance for them, and they are as aware of this newness as we are of the physical world when we walk through these rows of chairs, through everything you see here. Then they are in a new state of consciousness; something new and essential opens up within them. Through this, the human being also progresses further in their development, ultimately reaching the point where they not only perceive the distinctive phenomena of the higher worlds—such as light phenomena—with the spiritual eye, but also hear the sounds of the higher worlds resounding, so that things reveal their spiritual names to them and appear before them in a new significance. In the language of the Mysteries, this is expressed with the words: “Man sees the sun at midnight”—that is, for him there are no longer any spatial obstacles preventing him from seeing the sun on the other side of the Earth. Then what the sun does in the cosmos also becomes apparent to him; then he will also perceive what the Pythagoreans held to be a truth: the harmony of the spheres. This ringing and sounding, this harmony of the spheres, becomes something real for him. Poets who were also seers knew that such a thing as the harmony of the spheres exists. Only those who view Goethe from this perspective can understand him. The words in the “Prologue in Heaven,” for example, can be taken either merely as a phrase or as a higher truth. When Faust is introduced to the spirit world in the second part, he speaks again of this sound: “Resounding, the new day is already born for spiritual ears.”

[ 29 ] Here we have the connection between natural science and theosophy, or spiritual science. Du Bois-Reymond has pointed out that only the sleeping human being can be the subject of natural science. But when a person begins to open their inner senses, when they begin to hear and see that there is also a spiritual reality, then the entire edifice of elementary theosophy—which Haeckel so wonderfully constructed, and which no one can admire more than I—begins to take on a whole new luster, a whole new meaning. According to this marvelous structure, we see ourselves as primordial beings—simple living creatures—but we can also trace our being spiritually back to an earlier state of consciousness.

[ 30 ] I will now examine the theory of human origins from a theosophical or spiritual-scientific perspective. Of course, any “evidence” for this theory must be entirely set aside in a single lecture. It is only natural that to all those who are familiar only with the currently accepted ideas about human evolution, everything I am about to say will sound improbable and fanciful. But all these ideas have, after all, sprung from the prevailing materialistic schools of thought. And many who may currently wish to reject the accusation of materialism are, in fact, merely caught up in a—albeit understandable—self-deception. The true theosophical or spiritual-scientific theory of evolution is scarcely known today. And when its opponents speak of it, those who are familiar with it can immediately see from their objections that they are speaking of a caricature of this theory of evolution. For all those who recognize a soul or spirit only insofar as it finds expression within the human or animal organism, the theosophical way of thinking is completely incomprehensible. Any discussion on this subject with such people is fruitless. They would first have to free themselves from the materialistic influences in which they live and familiarize themselves with the foundations of the spiritual-scientific school of thought.

[ 31 ] Just as the sensory-scientific method of research traces the physical organization back to distant, indeterminate primeval times, so does the spiritual-scientific way of thinking do the same with regard to the soul and the spirit. The latter does not contradict the well-known scientific facts in the slightest; it simply has nothing to do with the materialistic interpretation of these facts. Natural science traces the ancestry of physical living beings backward. It is led to ever simpler organisms. It thus concludes that perfect living beings are descended from these simple, imperfect ones. This is a truth as far as physical embodiment is concerned, although the hypothetical forms of primeval times referred to by materialistic science do not entirely correspond to those known to theosophical or spiritual scientific research. But that need not concern us further for our present purpose.

[ 32 ] In terms of sensory and physical characteristics, spiritual science also acknowledges the kinship between humans and higher mammals—that is, the apes similar to humans. However, there can be no question of modern humans descending from a being whose spiritual value is comparable to that of today’s apes. The situation is quite different. Everything that materialism puts forward in this regard is based on a simple error in reasoning. Let this error be clarified by a trivial comparison, which is nonetheless not inaccurate, even though it is trivial. Consider two people. One is morally inferior and intellectually insignificant; the other is morally superior and intellectually significant. Suppose, for example, that some fact establishes a kinship between the two. Can we then conclude that the superior one is descended from someone who is the equal of the inferior one? By no means. One might be surprised by another fact, which states: the two individuals are related; they are brothers. But their common father was not entirely the equal of either brother. One of the brothers has fallen from grace; the other has worked his way up.

[ 33 ] Materialist natural science makes the mistake implied in this comparison. Based on the facts known to it, it must assume a kinship between apes and humans. But it should not conclude that humans are descended from an ape-like animal. Rather, it would have to assume the existence of a primordial being—a common physical progenitor—but the ape is the brother who has fallen, and humans are the brother who has risen higher.

[ 34 ] What, then, was it that elevated that primordial being to the level of humanity on the one hand, and cast it down into the realm of the apes on the other? Theosophy, or spiritual science, says: It was the human soul itself that did this. This human soul already existed at that time, when only those common ancestors of humans and apes roamed the physically visible earth as the highest sensory beings. Among the multitude of these ancestors, the best were capable of submitting to the soul’s process of higher development; the inferior ones were not. Thus, the human soul of today has a spiritual ancestor, just as the body has a physical ancestor. To sensory perception, however, the soul would not have been detectable within the body in the modern sense during the time of those “ancestors.” In a certain sense, it still belonged to the “higher worlds.” It also possessed different abilities and powers than the present-day human soul. It lacked the intellectual activity and moral sensibility of today. It did not construct tools from the objects of the external world, nor did it establish states. Its activity was still directed to a considerable extent toward the reshaping and transformation of the “ancestral bodies” themselves. It reshaped the imperfect brain so that it could later become the vehicle for thought activity. Just as the soul of today, which is directed outward, builds machines, so the ancestral soul still worked on the human ancestral body itself. One might naturally object: Yes, but why can’t the soul today build on its own body to that same extent? — This is precisely because the power that was formerly expended on the formation of organs was later directed outward toward the mastery and regulation of the forces of nature.

[ 35 ] Thus, in prehistoric times, we arrive at a dual origin of humankind. This origin did not arise spiritually and psychologically only through the perfection of the sensory organs. Rather, the “soul” of humankind was already present when the “primordial fathers” still walked the earth. It chose—this is, of course, only a figure of speech—a portion of the “host of forefathers” for itself, to which it gave an outward, physical form that made them into modern humans. The other portion of this host has atrophied and degenerated, and constitutes today’s human-like apes. These, too—in the true sense of the word—arose from the human ancestor as a branch off from it. Those “primordial fathers” are the physical ancestors of humankind; but they could only be so because they possessed within themselves the capacity for transformation through human souls. Thus, physically, humankind descends from this “primordial father”; spiritually, however, from its “soul ancestor.” Now one can go back even further in the lineage of beings. There one arrives at an even more physically imperfect “ancestor.” But even in his time, the “soul ancestor” of humankind already existed. It was this soul ancestor who elevated even this “ancestor” to the level of an ape, once again leaving behind the brothers incapable of further development at that particular stage. From these, beings emerged whose descendants still stand today among the apes in the mammalian lineage. And so one can trace back to that distant past, when the Earth—which looked quite different then than it does today—was inhabited only by those simplest life forms from which Haeckel posits that all higher forms arise. Even their contemporary was already the “spiritual ancestor” of humankind. It transformed the useful ones and left the useless ones behind at each particular stage. The entire sum of earthly living beings thus truly descends from humankind. What today thinks and acts within him as the “soul” is the result of the evolution of living beings. When our Earth was in its infancy, he himself was still an entirely spiritual being. He began his journey by forming the simplest of bodies. And the entire series of living beings represents nothing other than the stages left behind as he developed his physical form up to its present perfection. Of course, today’s living beings no longer reflect the form their ancestors had at a certain stage when they branched off from the human family tree. They have not remained static, but have atrophied according to a certain law, which cannot be discussed further here due to the necessary brevity of this presentation. What is interesting, however, is that one can also arrive at a human family tree through spiritual science, one that is not at all dissimilar to the one constructed by Haeckel. Yet Haeckel consistently portrays the physical “ancestors” of humankind as—hypothetical—animals. In truth, however, in all the places where Haeckel assigns animal names, one must place the still-imperfect ancestors of humankind, and the animals—indeed, all beings—are merely the atrophied, degenerate forms that have retained those stages through which the human soul was formed. Externally, then, there is a resemblance between Haeckel’s family trees and those of theosophy or spiritual science; internally—in terms of meaning—they are worlds apart.,

[ 36 ] This is why Haeckel’s writings are such a good source for learning the basics of spiritual science. One need only examine the facts he presents from a theosophical or spiritual-scientific perspective and elevate one’s own naive philosophy to a higher level. When Haeckel dismisses and criticizes such “higher” philosophy, he himself is being naive—just as if someone who has only mastered the multiplication tables were to say: “What I know is true, and all of higher mathematics is just a bunch of fantasy.” — The matter is not at all that a theosophist seeks to refute what is an elementary fact of natural science; rather, it is simply that the researcher, influenced by materialistic suggestions, does not even know what theosophy is talking about.

[ 37 ] It depends on the individual what kind of philosophy he holds. Fichte expressed this in the following words: “Whoever lacks a perceptive eye cannot see colors; whoever lacks a receptive soul cannot see the spirit.” — Goethe, too, expressed the same idea in his famous saying: “Were the eye not sun-like, it could never behold the sun; were God’s own power not within us, how could the divine delight us?” And putting a saying by Feuerbach into proper perspective, one might say: Everyone sees the image of God as he himself is. The sensual person creates a sensual god for himself; the one who perceives the spiritual also knows how to find the spiritual in his god. — If lions, bulls, and oxen could make gods for themselves, they would be similar to lions, bulls, and oxen, as a philosopher in ancient Greece once observed. Something also lives within the fetish worshipper as the highest spiritual principle, but he has not yet found it within himself; therefore, he has not yet come to see in his god anything more than a block of wood. The fetish worshipper cannot worship more than he feels within himself. He still regards himself as no different from the block of wood. Whoever sees nothing more than swirling atoms, whoever sees the Supreme only in the tiny, purely material specks, has simply not recognized anything of the Higher within himself.

[ 38 ] Haeckel did, after all, earn honestly what he presents to us in his writings, and he must therefore be allowed to have the flaws that accompany his virtues. The positive aspects of his work will endure; the negative ones will fade away. Viewed from a higher perspective, one can say: The fetish worshipper worships the fetish, a lifeless object, and the materialist atomist worships not just one little idol, but a multitude of little idols, which he calls atoms. The word “worship” is, of course, not to be taken literally, for the “materialist” thinker has indeed abandoned fetishism, but not the act of “worship.” As great as the superstition of the fetish worshipper is, so too is that of the materialist. The materialist atom is nothing other than a fetish. For the block of wood, too, consists of nothing but atoms. Haeckel says at one point: “We see God in the stone, in the plant, in the animal, in man. God is everywhere.” But he sees only the God he can comprehend. Goethe, after all, has the Earth Spirit speak so tellingly to Faust: “You resemble the spirit you comprehend, not me.” Thus the materialist sees the swirling atoms in the stone, in the plant, in the animal, and in human beings—and perhaps also in a work of art—and claims that he possesses a unified worldview and has overcome the old superstitions. But the Theosophists, too, have a unified worldview, and we can use the same words as Haeckel: We see God in stone, in plants, and in human beings, but we do not see a swirl of atoms; rather, we see the living God, the spiritual God, whom we seek to find in nature outside ourselves because we also seek Him within ourselves.