The Rudolf Steiner Archive

7. The Nature of Egoism

[ 1 ] Goethe's “Wilhelm Meister”

[ 2 ] Somewhere, at some point, a society was founded. Its mission statement read: “The Abolition of Egoism”; that is, it sought to commit its members to cultivating selflessness and freedom from all egoism. Like all societies do, it had elected a president, and the task at hand was to propagate the society’s guiding principle throughout the world. It was emphasized time and again in this society, in the most varied ways, that none of the members, anywhere—especially within the society—should harbor even the slightest selfish desire for themselves, or even give voice to anything resembling a selfish desire or the like.

[ 3 ] Now, this was certainly an organization with an exceptionally commendable program and a lofty humanitarian goal. But one could not at the same time say that the members sought within themselves the realization of precisely what was the very first point on the program. They hardly ever came to know unselfish human desires. The following scenario played out very frequently within the society. One person would say: “Yes, I’d like this and that. Surely the society could grant me that. But if I go to the chairperson, I’ll be presenting a self-centered desire. That’s completely against the society’s program—it just won’t do!” Then another would say: “It’s simple: I’ll go for you. I’ll represent your wish and put forward something that’s completely selfless. But look here! I’d like to have something, too. That, of course, is also something thoroughly self-serving. You can’t bring that up in our society according to our main program point!” Then the first one said, “If you’re so selfless on my behalf, I’ll do something for you, too. I’ll go to the chairman for you and ask for what you want!” And that’s exactly what happened. First, one of them went to the chairman; then, two hours later, the other one went. Both had put forward completely unselfish requests. But this didn’t happen just once—it was actually common practice in this society. And it was rare for anything selfish—any selfish request from a member—to be granted, because it was always countered in the most selfless way by the other person.

[ 4 ] I said that this society existed “somewhere and at some point.” Of course, what I have just described is an entirely hypothetical society. But anyone who looks around a little in life might say: There is a little bit of this society everywhere and always. After all, what has just been said was only brought up to illustrate how the very word “egoism” is one of those terms that can become catchphrases in the most eminent sense—not when they appear in the world in direct relation to what they denote, but when they appear in a mask, under a guise, and are thereby able, in a certain way, to deceive about themselves.

[ 5 ] Today we will focus on the buzzword “egoism” and its opposite—a term that has long since become commonplace—namely, “altruism” or selflessness. But not merely as buzzwords; rather, we will seek to delve a little into the very nature of egoism. When such matters are considered from the standpoint of spiritual science, the focus is less and less on the question: What kind of sympathy or antipathy might this or that characteristic evoke? How can it be evaluated according to this or that preexisting human judgment? — Rather, the focus is on showing how that to which the term in question refers arises in the human soul or elsewhere in reality, and within what limits it applies; and if it is to be combated as this or that quality, to what extent it can then be combated by human nature or the other entities of existence.

[ 6 ] According to his definition, egoism would be the human trait by which a person pursues interests that serve to elevate his own personality, while its opposite, altruism, would be the human trait aimed at placing human abilities in the service of others—of the entire outside world. A very simple consideration can show just how dangerous it is to focus on words rather than the substance of the matter. Let us suppose that someone proves to be a particularly generous benefactor in one way or another. It could very well be that he is a benefactor solely out of selfishness—perhaps driven by quite petty selfish motives, perhaps by vanity or the like. The fact that someone is readily labeled an “egoist” does not mean that his character has been entirely dismissed. For if a person seeks only to satisfy himself but possesses nothing but noble qualities—so that he finds his own best fulfillment in serving the interests of others—then perhaps such an “egoist” might even be tolerated. This may seem like a play on words, but it is not, because this play on words permeates our entire life and existence and is expressed everywhere, in all areas of life.

[ 7 ] For everything that exists within human beings, we can find at least something analogous—something that can serve as a parable—in the rest of the universe. The fact that we can find something in the universe that serves as a parable for this outstanding characteristic of human nature may well be hinted at by Schiller’s saying:

If you seek the highest, the greatest, the plant can teach it to you:
What it is without will, let you be with will! — That’s it!

[ 8 ] In it, Schiller contrasts human existence with that of plants and recommends that humans cultivate in their character something as noble as the plant, albeit at a certain lower level. And the great German mystic Angelus Silesius expresses much the same idea:

The rose has no reason; it blooms simply because it blooms,
It pays no heed to itself, asks not whether anyone sees it.

[ 9 ] Here, too, we are reminded of the nature of plants. The plant takes in what it needs for growth; it does not ask “why” or “because”; it blooms because it blooms, and does not concern itself with whom it serves. And yet: because it draws its life forces into itself, because it draws from its surroundings everything it needs at any given moment—it is precisely through this that it becomes, for its surroundings—and ultimately for human beings as well—what it is capable of being. It becomes the most useful creature imaginable when it belongs to those very areas of the plant world that can serve the lives of higher beings. And although it has often been said, it is by no means trivial to state once again:

When the rose adorns itself,
It also adorns the garden.

[ 10 ] The garden is adorned by the rose when the rose itself is as beautiful as possible. We can connect this to the word “egoism” and say: When the rose truly wants to be selfishly beautiful, when it wants to present itself as magnificently as possible, the garden becomes as beautiful as possible through it. May we, in a certain sense, extend what is expressed in this way in a lower realm of nature to human beings as well? We need not do so at all; many others have done it before us, and Goethe did it most beautifully. When Goethe wanted to express what a human being is in the truest sense of the word—that is, what most fully reveals the dignity and the entire substance of his existence—he uttered these words: “When the healthy nature of man functions as a whole, when he feels himself to be in the world as part of a great, beautiful, dignified, and valuable whole, when harmonious contentment grants him pure, free delight: then the universe, if it could perceive itself, would exult as having reached its goal and admire the pinnacle of its own becoming and being.” And on another occasion, Goethe said in his magnificent book on “Winckelmann,” where the words just quoted also appear: “Since man is placed at the summit of nature, he sees himself once again as a whole of nature, which in turn must bring forth a summit within itself. To this end, he elevates himself by imbuing himself with all perfections and virtues, invoking choice, order, harmony, and meaning, and finally rising to the creation of the work of art.”

[ 11 ] Goethe’s entire mindset, however, shows us that he focuses exclusively on the artist, and as he specifically puts it: When man is placed at the summit of nature, he takes in everything that the world can express within him and ultimately reveals to the world, from within himself, its reflection; and nature would rejoice if it could perceive and feel this reflection of itself in the soul of man! What does this mean other than: Everything that surrounds us in our existence in the world—what is “nature” out there, what is “spirit” out there—is concentrated within man, rises to a summit, and becomes, in the individual human being, in this human individuality, in this human ego, as beautiful, as true, and as perfect as possible. Therefore, a person will best fulfill their existence by drawing as much as possible from their surroundings and shaping their self, their ego, as richly as possible. Then they will appropriate everything that exists in the world and everything within themselves that can blossom—indeed, bear the fruit of existence.

[ 12 ] Underlying such a view is the idea that… human beings can never do enough to truly synthesize within themselves everything that exists in the environment, to represent a kind of flowering and culmination of the rest of existence. If one wished to call this “egoism,” one could certainly do so. One could then say: The human ego exists to serve as an organ for that which would otherwise remain eternally hidden in the rest of nature, and which can find expression only by concentrating within the human spirit. Thus, one might say that it is part of human nature to synthesize within oneself the rest of existence that surrounds one. However, it lies in the nature and essence of human beings that what, as a general law out there in the lower realms, leads to the highest and the greatest, can within themselves lead to aberration and error. This is connected to what we call human freedom. Human beings could never have a free existence if they did not possess within themselves the capacity to misuse certain forces within them in a one-sided way, so that these forces lead, on the one hand, to the highest form of existence, and on the other hand, distort existence, perhaps even turning it into a caricature. A simple comparison can make this clear to us. Let us return once more to the plant.

[ 13 ] When it comes to plants, it does not even occur to us to speak of selfishness in general. We have said this only to make clear to ourselves the law of selfishness that prevails throughout the world: what is expressed in plants could be called selfishness. But when it comes to plants, we are by no means speaking of selfishness. If plant existence is viewed not in a materialistic sense but in a spiritual one, then one can observe that the plant is, in a certain sense, immune to selfishness altogether. On the one hand, its very existence does indeed depend on making itself as beautiful as it possibly can. And it does not ask itself: Whom does this beauty serve? But when the plant sums up its entire existence within itself, when it rises to the highest unfolding of its own being, then the moment has already come for it to surrender this very being. There is something peculiar about the meaning of a plant’s existence. Goethe puts it beautifully in his Prose Sayings: “In the blossoms, the vegetative law reaches its highest manifestation, and the rose is merely the pinnacle of this manifestation… The fruit can never be beautiful; for there the vegetative law withdraws into itself (into the law alone).” In other words, it is clear to him that when a plant blooms, it expresses its own law most clearly. But at the very moment it blooms, it must also be ready to surrender its most beautiful aspect in the act of fertilization; it is compelled to sacrifice this very self to its successor, the seed. Therefore, there is truly something great in the fact that the plant, at the very moment when it would come to express its “I,” must sacrifice itself. This means that we see in this lower kingdom that egoism in nature rises to a point where it destroys itself, where it gives itself up in order to bring forth something new. That which is most highly developed in the plant—what one might call the plant’s individuality, its self—which bursts forth in full beauty with the flower, begins to wither the moment the new plant seed is produced.

[ 14 ] Now let us ask ourselves: Is something similar perhaps the case in the human realm? And indeed, if we consider nature and spiritual life from a spiritual perspective, we will find that something quite similar is the case in the human realm. After all, human beings are not only called upon to bring forth beings like themselves—that is, to live within the species—but also, beyond the species, to lead the life of individuality within themselves. We will only be able to truly recognize what egoism is in human beings in its true form when we view the essence of the human being as we have come to know it in the previous lectures.

[ 15 ] From the perspective of spiritual science, we do not view the human being merely as a physical body—which, after all, the human being shares with the entire mineral kingdom—but rather we speak of the fact that the human being carries within themselves, as a higher aspect of their being, first and foremost the etheric body or life body, which they share with all living things; that they then share with the entire animal kingdom the vehicle of pleasure and suffering, joy and pain, which we call the astral body or the body of consciousness; and we speak of the fact that within these three aspects of the human being lives their true core of being, the “I.” We must also regard this “I” as the bearer of egoism, in both the justified and unjustified senses. Now, the entire process of human development consists in the “I” transforming the three remaining members of the human being. At an imperfect stage of existence, the “I” is the slave of the three lower members: the physical body, the etheric body, and the astral body. If we now consider the astral body, we can say that, at a lower stage of existence, the human being follows all his instincts, desires, and passions. But the higher he develops, the more he purifies his astral body; that is to say, he transforms that which he is a slave to into something governed by his higher nature, by his “I,” so that the “I” increasingly becomes the ruler and purifier of the other members of the human being. And this, too, has already been mentioned in previous lectures: that human beings today are in the midst of this development and are moving toward a future in which the “I” will have become increasingly the ruler over all three aspects of human nature. For as human beings transform the astral body, they generate within it what we call the “spiritual self,” or, to use a term from Eastern philosophy, “Manas.” Given the way human beings live today, they have transformed a part of their astral body into Manas. Furthermore, in the future it will be possible for human beings to transform their etheric body; and the part of the etheric body thus transformed is called the “life spirit,” or “Buddhi,” to use a term from Eastern philosophy. And when human beings become masters of the processes of their physical body, we will designate this transformed part of the physical body as “Atman” or the “Spiritual Human.” Thus, we look toward a future—of which we are seeing only the beginnings today—in which human beings, consciously from their “I,” will be the regulators and rulers of their entire activity.

[ 16 ] But whatever will one day consciously become part of the human being has been prepared in human nature for a very long time. And in a certain sense, the “I” has already been working—unconsciously or subconsciously—on the three members of human nature. We find that this “I” has, since time immemorial, transformed a part of the astral body—which we also call the “sensory body”—into the “sensory soul”; that a part of the etheric body has been transformed into what we called the “intellectual soul” or “emotional soul” in previous lectures; and finally, a part of the physical body has been transformed to serve the “I”—that is, the “consciousness soul.” Thus we have three members of the human being as the inner life of human nature: the feeling soul, which is fundamentally rooted in the feeling body; the intellectual or emotional soul, which is rooted in the etheric body; and the consciousness soul, which is rooted in the physical body. Today, we are interested in the inner nature of the human being above all insofar as the relationship between the feeling body and the feeling soul is concerned.

[ 17 ] When we watch a person grow up from the moment of birth and observe how, little by little, their abilities develop as if from the dark depths of their physical being, we can say: The human soul of sensation is working its way up toward the light of day. For the human being has built up and maintained the sensory body out of the entire environment of his being. We can understand this if we recall once again a saying by Goethe: “The eye is formed by light for light.” — If we take any human sense organ through which a person gains consciousness of the physical external world, then it is not only true—as Schopenhauer one-sidedly emphasized—that light could not be perceived if a person had no eye, but on the other hand, it is equally true that if there were no light, there could be no eye. Over infinitely long periods of time—as Goethe says—the light, which is spread everywhere, has worked upon the organism, shaping from indeterminate beginnings that organ which is today capable of seeing the light. The eye is formed by the light, in the light, for the light. When we look at our environment, we can see within it the forces that have shaped the human being’s abilities to become conscious of this environment. Thus, the entire sensory body—the entire structure through which we enter into a relationship with the environment—has been shaped by the living forces of the environment. As human beings, we have no part in this. The astral body is a product, a blossom of the environment. Within the sensory body, the sensory soul now emerges. This sensory soul came into being when the “I,” so to speak, separated and plastically shaped the sensory soul out of the substance of the sensory body. Thus, the “I” lives within the sensory body and, as it were, draws out the substance for the sensory soul.

[ 18 ] Now, this “I” can function in two ways: First, by developing within itself those inner spiritual capacities of the feeling soul that are in harmony with the capacities and qualities of the feeling body and thus resonate harmoniously with them. This becomes clear to us through an example drawn from education. It is precisely education that provides us with the most beautiful and practical principles for what spiritual science is.

[ 19 ] The sensory body is shaped by the environment. Those who, as educators, surround the child from the very beginning of its physical existence work on the sensory body. They can impart to the sensory body what the “I” directs—namely, those soul qualities that are in harmony with the qualities of the sensory body. But something can also be introduced to the child that contradicts the qualities of the sensory body. If the child is raised in such a way that it takes a lively interest in everything that enters it through its eyes, if it is able to take delight in colors and forms in the right way, or if it knows how to find joy in sound in the right way, if it is gradually able to bring about harmony between what comes in from the outside and what arises in the sensory soul as joy, as delight, as a sense of participation and interest in existence, then what comes from within is a true reflection of existence; then what lives in the soul can resonate with external existence. Then we can say that the human being does not merely live within himself, is not merely capable of forming a soul of feeling within his sensory body, but has become capable of stepping out of himself once more; then he is not only able to see and hear what nature has enabled him to perceive, but he is also able to reach out again toward what he has seen and heard, to pour himself out into the environment, to live in what his sensory body conveys to him. Then there is not only harmony between the life of sensation and the sensory soul; there is also harmony between the external world and the experiences of the sensory soul. Then the sensory soul pours itself out into the external world; then the human being is truly a kind of mirror of the universe, a kind of microcosm, a small world that—according to Goethe—feels at ease in the vast, beautiful, and great world.

[ 20 ] We can consider another example: If a child were to grow up on a deserted island, far from any human society, it would be unable to develop certain abilities. It would not develop language, the ability to think, or those noble qualities that can only be kindled in the human soul through living together with others. For these are qualities that develop within a person, in the soul.

[ 21 ] Now, a person can develop in such a way that, through their qualities, they step outside of themselves and create harmony with their environment; or, alternatively, they can allow these qualities to harden within themselves, causing them to wither away. A person causes to wither that which arises in the feeling soul when, although they take in impressions from the outside world—color, sound, and so on—they do not awaken an echo within themselves to pour these impressions back out into the outside world with joy and interest. A person becomes hardened within when they do not, in turn, apply what they can develop through interaction with others to live it out in relation to others. When they shut themselves off and wish to live with it only within themselves, they fall into disharmony between themselves and their surroundings. They create a rift between their sensory soul and their sensory body. When a person withdraws into themselves after first having enjoyed the fruits of human development—when they fail to put what can flourish only within the world of their fellow human beings back into the service of humanity—a chasm is created between the person and their environment; be it the entire wider environment, if the person turns away from the outside world without interest; or be it the human environment from which they have received the most beautiful interests. And the consequence is that the human being withers away within himself. For whatever comes to the human being from the outside can only nourish and enliven him if it is not torn away from its root. It is as if the human being were torn away from the root of his life if he were unwilling to pour out his soul into the outside world. And if a person increasingly isolates himself from the outside world, the result is the withering away—the death—of his spiritual life. This is precisely the dark side of egoism that we must now characterize, which arises when a person works with his “I” in such a way that he creates a gulf between himself and his environment.

[ 22 ] When egoism takes the form in which human beings are not the flower of the entire external world and are not continually nourished and enlivened by it, then it leads to their own demise. This is the barrier that is generally placed in the way of egoism. And here we see what the essence of egoism consists of: on the one hand, it consists in the fact that the universe around us does indeed reach its pinnacle and bloom within the human being himself, in that the human being can draw the forces of this universe into himself; but on the other hand, it consists in the fact that he must consciously carry out what the plant carries out unconsciously. At the moment when the plant is to express its essence within itself, that which lies behind the plant transfers the plant’s egoistic nature into a new plant. But human beings, as self-conscious beings, as bearers of the “I,” are enabled to establish this harmony within themselves. What they receive from the outside, they must, at a certain stage, give back again—giving birth, so to speak, to a higher “I” within their own “I,” one that does not harden within itself but rather harmonizes with the rest of the world.

[ 23 ] This insight can also come to a person through observing life: that selfishness, when it develops in a one-sided way, destroys itself. A simple observation of life can lead one to confirm this. We need only look at those people who are unable to take a living part in the great laws and beauty of nature, from which the human organism itself is formed. How painful it must be for those who can perceive the whole interconnection to see people pass by all this with indifference—even though their eyes and ears have their origin in the external world—when they close themselves off from that in which the roots of their existence lie and wish only to brood within themselves. Here we see how existence, when turned inward in this way, in turn punishes humanity. The person who carelessly passes by that to which he owes his very existence goes through the world as a jaded individual; and the result is that he rushes from one desire to the next, completely failing to recognize that he seeks what is meant to satisfy him in some vague, nebulous realm, whereas he himself should be pouring his very being into that from which his own being is drawn. Anyone who walks through the world saying: “Oh, people are such a burden to me; I can’t make head or tail of them; everyone disturbs my existence; I’m far too good for this world!”—should simply consider that he is denying the very thing from which he himself has grown. Had he been raised on a deserted island without the humanity he considers himself too good for, he would have remained stupid; he would never have developed the abilities he possesses. What he finds so great and praiseworthy in himself could not exist without those very people he can’t stand. He must realize that it is only through his own caprice that he separates what lives within him from his surroundings, and that what rebels so strongly against his surroundings is, in fact, precisely what he owes to those very surroundings. When a person rebels so strongly against the existence of nature and humanity, not only does his interest in nature and human existence wither away, but his life force also fades; he then goes through a barren, unfulfilled existence. All those who wallow in world-weariness because they cannot find interest in anything should ask themselves: What is the reason for my selfishness? Here, too, it becomes clear that there is a law in the universe: the self-correction of all existence. Where selfishness manifests itself in a perverse way, it leads to the desolation of existence. When a person goes through life without caring for his fellow human beings or the rest of the world, he not only leaves untapped the energies he could devote to the world and to existence, but he also desolates and destroys himself. That is the good thing about egoism: when taken to the extreme, it crushes the human being.

[ 24 ] If we now apply the great law we have derived from the nature of egoism to the various faculties of the human soul, we may ask, for example: How does human egoism affect the conscious soul, through which a person gains knowledge and understanding of their environment? In other words: When can a piece of knowledge truly be fruitful? A piece of knowledge can be truly fruitful only when it brings a person into harmony with the rest of the world; that is to say, only those concepts and ideas drawn from the environment—from the living worldview—are truly life-giving for the human soul. Only when we become one with the world will this insight be life-giving. Therefore, all insight that springs from the soul—which, above all, seeks the great truths of existence step by step—is so beneficial to the soul—and, from there, also to the human being’s outer physical body. In contrast, everything that takes us out of our living connection with the world—all brooding within oneself, all inward rumination—is something that brings us into disharmony with the rest of the world and hardens us within ourselves. Here, once again, is an opportunity to point out the widespread misunderstanding of the phrase “Know thyself!” which retains its significance for all time. Only when a person has grasped that they belong to the whole world—that their self lies not only within their own skin but is spread out over the entire world, over the sun, the stars, and all beings on Earth—and that this self finds expression only within their own skin; only when they have recognized their interconnectedness with the whole world—can they apply the maxim: “Know thyself!” Then self-knowledge is knowledge of the world. But if he has not first imbued himself with this understanding, he is just as wise as a single finger that might believe it could develop its own self apart from the organism. Cut it off, and it will most certainly no longer be a finger in three weeks. The finger does not succumb to the illusion that it can exist without the organism. Only humans think they could exist without a connection to the world. Knowledge of the world is self-knowledge, and self-knowledge is knowledge of the world. And all this brooding within ourselves is merely a sign that we cannot detach ourselves from ourselves.

[ 25 ] It is therefore utter nonsense—a notion currently being propagated in certain theosophical circles—to say that the solution to the mysteries of existence lies not in the outside world, not in the phenomena interwoven by the Spirit, but within one’s own self. “Find God within your own breast,” is the advice one hears given today. “You need not trouble yourselves to seek revelations of the World Spirit out there in the universe; just look within yourselves, and there you will find everything!” Such advice does people a great disservice; it makes them arrogant and selfish in their pursuit of knowledge. Consequently, certain theosophical movements, instead of educating people toward selflessness, instead of detaching them from their own selves and connecting them with the great mysteries of existence, cause them to become hardened within themselves when they claim that people can find the whole truth and all wisdom within themselves. One can appeal to people’s arrogance and vanity by saying: “You have nothing to learn in the world; you will find everything within yourselves!” One appeals to the truth only when one shows that harmony with the greater world leads us to a place where a person can become greater within themselves and, through that, greater within the world.

[ 26 ] The same is true of what we might call human feeling—the entire content of the human emotional or intellectual soul. This grows stronger when a person knows how to create harmony between themselves and the outside world. A person cannot become strong and vigorous by brooding over these questions from morning till night: What should I think now? What should I do now? What is hurting me again? — and so on; rather, by allowing the beauty and grandeur of their entire surroundings to touch their heart, by showing understanding and interest in everything that glows warmly in the hearts of others, or in what other people lack. By allowing those feelings to rise that foster understanding and a living connection with our surroundings, we develop vital forces within our own emotional world. In this way, we overcome narrow-minded selfishness and elevate and enrich our “I” by bringing it into harmony—in true selflessness—with our surroundings. This is expressed most clearly where human will comes into play—the very soul of consciousness. As long as a person can only will for themselves, as long as their impulses of will strive only for what is beneficial to their own being, they will always feel unfulfilled within themselves. Only when they see in the external world the reflection of their volitional decision—when the realization of their volitional impulses takes place there—can they say that they have brought their will into harmony with what is happening in the environment. In fact, it is true that our own strength and power are not developed through what we want for ourselves, but rather through what we want for our surroundings, for other people; that our will is realized and shines back into us as a reflection. Just as light shapes the eye from within us, so does the strength of our soul take shape from within ourselves through the world of our deeds and our actions.

[ 27 ] Thus we see how human beings, as self-conscious beings, establish harmony with what we call the external world through a correct understanding of their “I,” their ego, until they grow beyond themselves and accomplish what we might call the birth of a higher human being, and brings forth something within himself, just as a plant at a lower stage brings forth a new being from within itself when it faces the danger of becoming hardened. This is how we must grasp the essence of egoism. It is precisely the “I” that allows itself to be enriched by the environment—the “I” that, at the summit of existence, brings forth a new “I”—that will be ripe to overflow into deeds which otherwise can only find expression in worthless demands, in worthless moral postulates. For only through knowledge of the world is a will kindled that can, in turn, relate back to the world. No matter what a society’s agenda may be, it will never be able to fulfill moral demands—even if countless societies make universal love for humanity their top priority. All ordinary preaching about love for humanity comes across no differently than if a stove stood in a cold room and one said to it: “Dear stove, it is your moral duty as a stove to heat the room!” — You could stand there for hours, for days on end—it would never occur to the stove to warm the room. In the same way, it never occurs to people to practice love for humanity, even if you preach for centuries that people should love one another. But if you bring the human ego into contact with the entire content of the world, if you allow people to share in what first bursts forth from the physical flowers, from all the beauties of nature, then you will see that this sharing is, in turn, the foundation for the higher kind of sharing that a person can achieve with another person. And by getting to know human beings and human natures, people truly learn—when they stand face to face with one another—to show understanding for each other’s faults and virtues.

[ 28 ] Such wisdom, born of a living understanding of the world, flows into the blood, into actions, into the will. And what is called love for humanity is born out of such wisdom. Just as you don’t need to chatter in front of the stove: “Dear stove, it is your duty to warm the room!”—but simply put wood and fire into it and stoke the flames, so you should give people the wood and fire that ignite, warm, and illuminate their souls: this is a living understanding of the world, where there is an understanding of human nature and a harmonious resonance between the human ego and the rest of the external world. This is also where living love for humanity arises—that which can flow from heart to heart, bringing people together and teaching them to recognize that the actions we perform solely for ourselves kill us and leave us barren, whereas the actions that blossom in the life of another are a reflection that stems from our own strength. Thus, through correctly understood egoism, our “I” becomes rich and capable of development when we live out our own self as much as possible through the self of the other, when we develop not only self-feelings but also, as much as possible, feelings of compassion. This is how spiritual science views the nature of egoism.

[ 29 ] All those who have reflected seriously and thoughtfully on existence have, above all, been deeply interested in the nature of what we have discussed today. The nature of egoism was bound to interest the most distinguished individuals precisely at a time when human beings had broken away from certain ties to their surroundings. The 18th century is, after all, the era in which human individuality broke free from its surroundings. One of those who grappled with the problem of human egoism—the human “I”—was Goethe. And he gave us the very embodiment of egoism in literature as an example drawn from the world of what he thought about the nature of egoism. This work is his *Wilhelm Meister*.

[ 30 ] Just as *Faust* accompanied him through life, so too did the poetry of *Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship* and its sequel, *Wilhelm Meister’s Travels*, accompany Goethe through life. As early as the 1770s, Goethe felt called upon to shape the unique life of Wilhelm Meister as a kind of reflection of his own life; and in his twilight years, when he was already on the eve of his death, he completed this second work in *The Wander Years*. Now, it would certainly take us too far afield to go into the details of *Wilhelm Meister*. Nevertheless, perhaps I may briefly draw your attention to the problem of egoism as it presents itself to us in Goethe’s work.

[ 31 ] One might say: Goethe portrays a truly sophisticated egoist in his *Wilhelm Meister*. Wilhelm Meister was born into a merchant family. But he is selfish enough not to remain in this profession, even though it is considered his duty. What does he actually want? It becomes clear that he wants to develop his own self as fully as possible, to shape it as freely as possible from within himself. A kind of becoming a perfect human being—this lives within him as a vague premonition. Now Goethe leads this Wilhelm Meister through the most diverse life circumstances to show how life acts upon this individuality in order to elevate it. Goethe knows full well that Wilhelm Meister is tossed about by all sorts of life circumstances and yet does not reach a specific goal. That is why, at one point, he calls him a “poor wretch”; but at the same time he says that he knows that a person, even if he must struggle through stupidity and error, is nevertheless guided by certain forces—which simply exist in the world—toward a certain goal or at least a certain path. It is Goethe’s conviction—one that never left his soul—that human life is never entirely subject to chance, but, like all things, is governed by laws, namely spiritual laws. That is why Goethe says: The entire human race should be regarded as one great, aspiring individual that rises above chance to become its master.

[ 32 ] Goethe thus seeks to show how Wilhelm Meister is always intent on elevating, enriching, and perfecting his ego. But at the same time, Goethe places his Wilhelm Meister in circumstances that, fundamentally, lack the grounding of real life. Now, given the nature of the 18th century, we can understand why he removes him from real life. For he leads him into the sphere of the theater. He is thus not meant to pursue a single real-life profession, but rather to move through circles that unfold the appearance of life, the image of life. Art itself is, after all, in a certain sense an image of life. It does not exist within immediate reality; it rises above immediate reality. Goethe was well aware that anyone who, as an artist, stands alone with his art runs the risk of losing the firm ground of reality. It is a beautiful saying that the muse can accompany, but not guide, one through life. At first, Wilhelm Meister surrenders himself entirely to the guidance of the forces inherent in art—specifically, in an art form that focuses particularly on beautiful appearance: the art of drama.

[ 33 ] If we take a moment to reflect on Wilhelm Meister’s life, we see how he is indeed torn between dissatisfaction and joy. Two episodes are particularly important for understanding the first part of *Wilhelm Meister*, the “Apprenticeship Years.” Torn between dissatisfaction and the joy of life, Wilhelm Meister finds himself in his acting environment. He finally reaches the point where he stages a kind of model performance of *Hamlet* and, precisely through this, experiences a certain satisfaction within the very element into which he has been driven. In this way, he elevates his sense of self. The two episodes interspersed throughout the *Apprenticeship Years*, however, truly reveal to us what Goethe has in mind: namely, the essence of egoism.

[ 34 ] First, there is the episode involving little Mignon, whom Wilhelm Meister finds in somewhat dubious company, and who accompanies him for a while like a wondrous figure. It is very curious what Goethe once remarked to Chancellor von Müller in his later years, in a meaningful way, about Mignon. He took up a remark made by Frau von Sta@l: that everything said about Mignon is actually an episode that does not really belong in the poem. Goethe agreed: it was indeed an episode, and anyone interested only in the outward progression of the narrative could certainly say that this episode could just as well be omitted. But it would be quite wrong, Goethe argued, to believe that Mignon’s story is merely an episode; rather, the entire *Wilhelm Meister* was actually written because of this remarkable character. Now, in direct conversation, Goethe did express himself in such a way that he presented certain things in a radical light, which should not be taken so literally. But if we delve deeper, we can also see why he said these words to Chancellor von Müller. In this figure of Mignon—this little character was not actually meant to have a proper name, for she was meant to signify “the favorite”—Goethe portrays a human being who lives just long enough for the seed of a kind of egoism to develop within her that could even be considered egoism at all. The entire psychology of this Mignon is very remarkable. This girl develops—in a rather naive way, in fact—everything one might call “immersion in external life.” One never notices in this being any trait that might indicate she would do even those things that other people do solely out of self-interest; rather, she does them as a matter of course, in accordance with her nature. One might say that this little being would not be human if she did not do all these things; she is still so naive, she is still so thoroughly human, that selfishness has not yet stirred within her. The moment an episode in Wilhelm Meister’s life begins that severs the bond connecting him to Mignon, she withers away and dies like a plant, which also dies once it has reached a certain point in its existence. She is a being who is not yet fully human, not yet fully an “I,” who expresses childlike naivety and universal humanity in connection with the entire environment. And she dies like the plant. One could say that the saying truly applies to Mignon:

The rose has no reason; it blooms simply because it blooms,
It pays no heed to itself, asks not whether anyone sees it.

[ 35 ] One could truly say: Two things, made by two different people, are two completely different things, even if they represent the same thing! What others do out of selfishness, she does out of the naturalness of her being; and the moment there is any suggestion that something like a selfish impulse might awaken in her soul, she dies. That is the magical thing about this being—that we have before us a person without a sense of self, and that she slips from our grasp just as selfishness might begin to stir. And since Goethe was interested above all in the problem of selfishness as it pertained to Wilhelm Meister, we find it understandable that the words came to him at that time: “What you should seek in Wilhelm Meister, you will actually find in his opposite, in Mignon.” What is revealed in this little creature—which fades away the very moment it seeks to exist—is precisely what causes Wilhelm Meister such great difficulty in developing his sense of self, and is why he must be guided through the entire education of the school of life.

[ 36 ] Then, seemingly out of context, is woven into *Wilhelm Meister*—that section titled *Confessions of a Beautiful Soul*. It is well known that these “Confessions” are taken almost verbatim from the writings of Goethe’s friend, Susanne von Klettenberg. What flowed from this lady’s heart is to be found in the “Confessions of a Beautiful Soul,” which we encounter in *Wilhelm Meister*. It is precisely in these confessions—one might say—that the essence of egoism reveals itself at its highest point. And how? This beautiful soul, Susanne von Klettenberg, has indeed ascended to the highest levels of human life. But it is precisely in these confessions—as we follow her up into those lofty realms—that she reveals the dangers of egoism, the flip side of enrichment and the fulfillment of the “I.” For Susanne von Klettenberg shares her own development with us in the “Confessions of a Beautiful Soul.” There she first shows how she takes joy in her surroundings and in other people, but then one day something awakens in her soul that tells her: “There is something living within you that brings you closer to the God within you!” The first thing she experiences is that these inner experiences alienate her from the outer world. She has no interest in her surroundings. She finds joy and bliss everywhere, and especially an inner happiness in her communion with what she inwardly calls and experiences as her “God.” She withdraws entirely into her inner life. Deep down, this beautiful soul senses that this is really nothing other than a sophisticated form of selfishness. This dawning of a spiritual dimension within, which alienates a person from their surroundings, makes them cold and heartless toward their surroundings, and isolates them from their surroundings—this may initially grant them a sense of satisfaction, a certain happiness. In the long run, however, it brings them no happiness. For by alienating them from their surroundings, it leaves them desolate within themselves. But this beautiful soul is at the same time a soul striving vigorously within itself, and so it progresses from stage to stage. It cannot completely detach itself from what comes from the outside and can restore harmony. Thus, it always seeks the mysterious depths within the symbols of the various religions in order to see reflected there what has risen within its ego as its divine essence. But what it can experience in these external forms is, in essence, not enough for it. It wants to go further. And so it is led to a remarkable stage in its life. One day it says to itself: Everything that exists on our Earth as humanity was not too insignificant for God to descend and incarnate Himself in a human being. And at that moment, she does not feel that the outer world is in any way diminished—not because it is not the spiritual itself but merely the expression of the spiritual, nor because it represents some kind of decline from the spiritual—but rather, at that very moment, she feels that this outer world is truly permeated by the spiritual, and that human beings have no right to detach themselves from what surrounds them. Then another experience arose that told her: It is true what is said to have taken place in Palestine at the beginning of our era. She participates in it; she herself experiences within herself the entire life of Christ Jesus up to the crucifixion and death. She experiences the Divine within humanity, and she experiences it in such a way—as she clearly describes—that all external imagery, everything that might physically or sensually appear in images, recedes; that it becomes a purely spiritual-soul experience, an invisible visible, an inaudible audible. She now feels united not with an abstract Divine, but with a Divinity that belongs to the earthly world itself. Yet once again she has, in a certain sense, distanced herself and cannot find her way back to ordinary life circumstances. Then something approaches her that enables her to perceive, in every single object of nature, in every individual being, and in all the circumstances that surround us daily, something that is an expression of the spiritual. She regards this as a kind of highest stage. — And it is characteristic of Goethe that he himself found a kind of confession in which he could share the “Confessions of a Beautiful Soul.”

[ 37 ] What did he intend to demonstrate here as an important lesson for Meister? Wilhelm Meister was to read this manuscript and thereby be led to a higher level. It was meant to show him that a person cannot develop a lively, active inner life within himself to a degree high enough; that he cannot go high or far enough in what might be called communion with the spiritual world; but that shutting oneself off from the outside world cannot lead to fulfillment in life, and that a person can only understand the great world around us when he pours his enriched inner life out into the world around him.

[ 38 ] Goethe thus seeks to show: One can begin by observing the world as it is. There, one will see the ordinary and trivial and become attached to the everyday. One might say: This is the ordinary, everyday world; the spiritual can only be found within oneself! And one can find it within oneself at the highest level. But once one has found it there, one is all the more obliged, for the sake of one’s own self, to return to the external world. Then one finds what one used to find in its spiritual essence. The same world can present itself, on the one hand, to the trivial person, and on the other, to the one who has found the spirit within. One finds the ordinary, trivial world of today’s monism; the other, having first enriched his own spiritual faculties and developed the inner organs, finds within this very same world the spiritual behind all the sensory. Thus, for Goethe, this inner development is a detour toward gaining knowledge of the world. This is exemplified above all by the soul that Goethe characterizes in *Wilhelm Meister*. Wilhelm Meister is propelled forward precisely by the fact that the more secret processes of life influence him. It is less the external experiences themselves than rather the act of vividly immersing himself in those experiences and in the developmental path of such a different soul.

[ 39 ] Goethe’s *Wilhelm Meister* has been criticized for the fact that, once Wilhelm Meister’s “apprenticeship years” come to an end, there is, as it were, a secret society behind him that guides people in a way that is invisible even to him. It has been said that this could no longer be of interest to people today; such a thing existed only in the 18th century. But for Goethe, there was something quite different behind it all. The intention was to show that the ego of the master was truly meant to find its way through the various labyrinths of life, and that a certain spiritual guidance exists within humanity. What we encounter in *Wilhelm Meister* as the “Society of the Tower,” through which Wilhelm Meister is guided, was intended merely as a symbol of the spiritual powers and forces that guide human beings, even if his own life’s path “may be marked by stupidity and confusion”; thus, Meister is guided onward by invisible powers. In our time, such matters are, of course, dismissed rather condescendingly. But in our time, the philistines have also claimed the exclusive right to pass final judgment on such personalities as Goethe, for example. Anyone who knows the world will admit, however, that no one can find in another person more than what they themselves possess. And so anyone could claim this about Goethe. But it is precisely the philistine who does not claim this; rather, he finds everything that is in Goethe. And woe to anyone who claims otherwise. For he possesses all wisdom within himself and can survey all wisdom! Naturally, this turns Goethe into a philistine. That is not Goethe’s fault.

[ 40 ] Thus, *Wilhelm Meister* continues in the second part, *The Wander Years*. Now, both Philistines and non-Philistines have taken issue with the lack of structure and artistic merit in *The Wander Years*. Yes, it’s quite a bit of a mess that Goethe has served up to us here. At the height of his life, drawing on his own life experiences, he sought to depict how a person can navigate the most diverse labyrinths of life. In a certain sense, he wanted to portray a reflection of himself. And he also explains how it came about. At first, he had put a great deal of effort into the first part of *The Wander Years*. Let’s not sugarcoat anything. But then they began printing it before the rest was even finished. And it turned out that the printer could set the type faster than Goethe could write. Goethe then continued the plot in a sketchy manner. In earlier years, he had written various fairy tales and novellas, such as the story of the “Holy Family,” the story of the “Nut-Brown Girl,” the “Fairy Tale of the New Melusine,” and others. All of this is included in *The Wander Years*, although it was not originally intended for that work. Goethe proceeded by inserting such stories at various points and creating quick transitions. This lacks a clear structure. But the story still did not progress quickly enough. Goethe still had some earlier works on hand. He gave them to his secretary Eckermann and told him, “Insert whatever you can into it!” So Eckermann arranged what was still there, and the individual parts are often quite loosely pieced together. One might say: This is a work entirely lacking in composition! And anyone who wishes to judge it from an artistic standpoint is free to do so. But after all, Eckermann didn’t write a single line of it. These are all Goethe’s own works—works in which he always gave expression to what had lived within his soul. And the figure of Wilhelm Meister was always before him. Thus he was able to incorporate into the work the events of life that had affected his soul. That is how they had affected him personally. And since “Wilhelm Meister” is a reflection of himself, these things essentially weave their way into the course of the novel just as they had unfolded for Goethe himself. And we are by no means left with an inaccurate picture as a result. It has been said: There is no suspense in it; the plot is constantly interrupted by wise expositions! They haven’t read the novel and are tearing it to shreds. From their point of view, those critics were, of course, right. But there is another point of view. One can, in fact, learn an immense amount precisely from these “Wandering Years,” if one has the interest and the will to climb up through the experiences from which Goethe himself learned. And that’s something, too. Must everything always have a good structure when there is something that can serve us in other ways? Is that so bad? Perhaps for those who already know everything and have nothing left to learn, it is very bad that there is so much wisdom in *Wilhelm Meister*.

[ 41 ] The second part, in particular, beautifully expresses how the “I” can elevate itself more and more until it reaches the pinnacle of existence. There, we are shown in a particularly lovely way how Wilhelm Meister sends his son to a very unusual educational institution. Once again, the Philistines have passed a highly disparaging judgment on this educational institution. They did not consider at all that Goethe did not intend to establish this institution in reality here or there, but that he wanted—as it were, symbolically—to present a kind of vision of the educational system in his “pedagogical province.” Those who approach this institution immediately notice how certain gestures give expression to what lies within the human soul. There is a gesture in which the hands are clasped over the chest and the pupils look upward. Then there is a gesture in which the hands are clasped behind the back when a person stands beside another. But there is something quite special in which the soul is expressed through the gesture of bowing toward the earth. When asked what all this means, it is explained that the boys are to awaken within their souls, within their “I,” what is called the “three forms of reverence,” through which a person can develop their soul higher and higher. These are presented to the students as the most important educational principle. First, a person is to learn to look up in reverence toward what is above them; then they are to learn reverence for what is below them, so that they may understand in an appropriate way how they, in turn, have grown out of what is below them; then they are to learn to have reverence for what is beside them—that which is of equal worth, as one human being beside another; for only through this can a person have the proper reverence for their own “I.” In this way, he attains true harmony with his surroundings when he has the proper reverence for what is above him, for what is below him, and for what is beside him. In this way, his ego is also developed in the proper manner, and egoism cannot go astray.

[ 42 ] Then it is shown how humanity’s major religions are to influence the human soul. Folk or ethnic religions are to take root as gods or spirits that stand above human beings; then what might be called the philosophical religions are to take root through that which sinks into the soul as reverence for the equal; and that which leads us down into existence—which might otherwise easily be despised—and which enables us to view death, pain, and the obstacles in the world in the proper way, with reverence, leads us to a true understanding of the Christian religion. For it is emphasized that the Christian religion shows us how God descends into the sensory realm, how He takes upon Himself the entire misery of life and passes through all that is human. Reverence for the lower realm is precisely what is said to provide a proper understanding of the Christian religion.

[ 43 ] This is how the precise development of the human being is revealed to us. And Goethe then depicts how Wilhelm Meister is led into a kind of temple, where, through meaningful images, the three religions appear before the souls of the boys—who are to be educated there—from their earliest youth, and how everything is to be brought into harmony in this utopian educational institution. But this institution expresses more of a philosophical insight, a way of conceiving how a human being should grow up from earliest childhood so that, on the one hand, he finds harmony with his environment and, on the other hand, also has the opportunity to elevate his “I” higher and higher. This is depicted down to the finest detail. For example, it is shown how the boys are not distinguished by outward appearances; they do not receive identical uniforms according to their age groups, but are instead guided toward a wide variety of clothing styles from which they are to choose for themselves. In this way, the children’s individuality is developed. Indeed, because a kind of esprit de corps always asserts itself, and individuality takes a back seat to imitating someone more powerful—so that individual boys choose the uniforms of others—the principle is even followed that, after some time, such clothes are then discarded and gradually replaced by others. In short, Goethe seeks to illustrate how the growing human being should be educated—down to the smallest gestures—in all that can, on the one hand, lead him to harmony with his environment, and, on the other hand, develop his individual inner freedom—right down to his attire.

[ 44 ] One might call this a flight of fancy; some even try to claim that such a thing has never existed in this form. But Goethe himself merely wanted to say that it can be realized somehow and at some point, that these ideas should flow into the everywhere and always and take root wherever they can. Those who do not consider this possible might be reminded of Fichte, who developed a lofty ideal before his students; but he was aware—and said this especially for those who know little of reality yet still call themselves “realists”— We others also know—perhaps even better—that ideals cannot be directly realized in ordinary life; but we also know that ideals must exist to serve as a regulative for life and to be put into practice in life! — This is something that must be emphasized time and again. And of those who do not want to have ideals, Fichte says that they thereby merely show that Providence did not count on them in its calculations. And he adds that may a good God grant them rain and sunshine at the right time, good digestion, and, if possible, good thoughts as well! This self-evident statement could also be applied to those who claim, with regard to the educational institution in Goethe’s *Wilhelm Meister*, that it cannot be realized. It can be realized on the grandest and the smallest scales, provided there are people who strive to bring such principles to life even within our everyday circumstances.

[ 45 ] And a second episode in *Wilhelm Meister* is the one in which we are presented with a character who exemplifies, to the highest degree, the dissolution of the “I” into the great Self of the world. This character is portrayed to us in the remarkable figure of Makarie. Here Goethe presents a character who has awakened inwardly, who has developed the spirit within herself to such an extent that she lives in what pervades the world as spirit. Goethe portrays her in such a way that, through an inner knowledge that lives within her following the awakening of her soul—and through the unleashing of her inner powers—she knows from within what a skilled astronomer, at the height of his time, calculates regarding the orbits of the stars. Goethe illustrates what the highest spiritual-scientific investigations entail in the passage where he expresses how the soul, precisely through spiritual science, can become attuned to the entire universe, and how self-knowledge can become knowledge of the world, and knowledge of the world can become self-knowledge.

[ 46 ] In this way, he arranges, as it were, a series of images around his Wilhelm Meister that show us how the human self must develop. In the true sense, Goethe’s *Wilhelm Meister* is, from beginning to end, an example of human development, in that it brings into focus the nature of egoism in relation to this development.

[ 47 ] When we see a poet express such a significant problem of the science of the spirit, this provides us with further proof—as was already evident to us in our reflections on *Faust*, on the “Fairy Tale of the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily,” and on *Pandora* —that in Goethe we have before us a genius who is one with what we call spiritual science in the genuine, true sense. Goethe himself speaks in this way when he says: It is only possible to grasp the essence of egoism if one considers the human being in the fullness of his being, if one knows how the universe, out of the spirit, had to lead the human being to the point where he falls into the temptations of egoism. Had the human being not been able to fall into egoism, he could not stand there like a flower embodying all that is spread out before him. But if he succumbs to this temptation, he succumbs to that which kills him. Thus, the wisdom of the entire world is that everything that is good in the world can turn itself inside out in order to appear as freedom within the human being; but that at the very moment when the human being abuses his freedom—when he turns himself inside out—a self-correction takes place.

[ 48 ] This is yet another chapter that shows us how all that is evil and bad in human nature, when viewed from a higher perspective, can be transformed into good—into that which serves as a pledge of humanity’s eternal, ever-ascending progress. Thus, if we do not shy away from descending into the depths of pain and evil, all the teachings of spiritual science become something that leads us to the highest heights of the spirit and of all humanity—and something that confirms what resonates to us from ancient Greek wisdom and poetry as the beautiful words with which we wish to conclude our reflection today:

Man is a shadow’s dream,
but when the sun’s ray shines in
upon him, sent by God, the day grows bright
and all life is filled with delight!