The Rudolf Steiner Archive

17. Goethe's Gospel II

[ 1 ] Eight days ago, I attempted to explain Goethe’s worldview as reflected in his Faust. In doing so, we saw that Goethe presents the great struggle of the universe—the spiritual universe—between good and evil, as it unfolds within and around human beings, in a manner consistent with mysticism or what we call theosophy. We have seen that whenever Goethe directs people’s attention to the worlds that transcend the sensory realm, he does so in such a way that we can clearly demonstrate, through his expressions, his intimate familiarity with what we hold as our conviction in theosophy. We have seen this in the “Prologue in Heaven” and in the way he has the Earth Spirit speak, but also in what we can regard as an allusion to the spiritual world and as a juxtaposition of the lower and higher self. We have examined the address to the Earth Spirit more closely and seen how Goethe introduces his Faust to the world we have called the world of higher knowledge by elucidating how the human being is composed of the physical, the psychical, and the spiritual. We were able to demonstrate this through Faust’s descent to the “Mothers,” through the characteristic qualities of the homunculus—which cannot be plausibly explained in any other way—and then through Helena’s return to human form in the “Classical Walpurgis Night.” We have seen how he ascends to knowledge, climbing to the heights of a spiritual Montserrat, to the heights of knowledge and mystical experience, concluding with the words he has the Chorus mysticus speak, and thereby hinting at the sense in which he wishes Faust to be understood.

[ 2 ] What Goethe expressed here is not a flight of fancy, nor is it meant in a purely poetic sense, for Goethe has always viewed art as the manifestation of secret laws of nature—a view he once expressed by saying: “Art should be based on the deepest foundations of knowledge.” There is no doubt that if we follow Goethe to the pinnacle of his life, if we look up and gaze toward the spiritual worlds, then we will be able to demonstrate a continuous ascent to truly mystical heights in Goethe himself. I already pointed out last time that the turning of Goethe’s gaze toward the spiritual was not merely a tendency but was already present when he had already established a worldview for himself, when, upon his arrival in Weimar, he sought to understand how things in nature are interconnected, and when he sought there a spiritual entity that underlies all of nature. Last time I already spoke of the “Nature” hymn he composed in Weimar. There he addresses nature directly, but in such a way that it becomes for him a direct expression of a spiritual entity. In every word of this prose hymn, you can see that he addresses nature as a spiritual being. In his book On Natural Science, he says the following about nature in general:

Nature! We are surrounded and embraced by her—unable to step out of her, and unable to penetrate deeper into her. Uninvited and without warning, she draws us into the circle of her dance and carries us along until we are weary and slip from her arms [...] She has thought and continues to ponder; but not as a human being, rather as Nature[...] She has neither language nor speech, yet she creates tongues and hearts through which she feels and speaks [...] I was not speaking of her. No, whatever is true and whatever is false, she has spoken it all. Everything is her fault; everything is her merit.

[ 3 ] Thus he places himself within this nature—which he conceives entirely in spiritual terms—and speaks of nature as the outward expression of a spiritual being. Since Goethe addressed nature in this way, he was bound to ascend. For this is how he conceives of the physical incarnation: he imagines that the soul stands above nature. It is, of course, part of the great whole of the world, and he therefore also speaks of a higher nature. But in speaking of lower nature—of the various changes, of the metamorphoses of the natural world—he constructs a worldview in the mystical sense. To give an example, I mention Paracelsus. Goethe is inconceivable without him. Through Paracelsus, Goethe becomes more understandable. I do not mean to claim that Paracelsus’s teachings can be adopted wholesale. Do not think that I wish to speak on behalf of those who today would like to speak again as Paracelsus did. But we could still learn an infinite amount from such a uniquely exalted spirit. Goethe, too, learned an infinite amount from him. Just one word to illustrate how Goethe strove in the spirit of Paracelsus: Paracelsus places himself before the true essence of the human being—psychically and spiritually—embodied in the primordial forms of nature, in the mineral, plant, and animal kingdoms, where it is expressed in a one-sided manner everywhere, only to ultimately manifest itself in the most comprehensive way in human beings. In the various minerals, plants, and animals, letters are created with which the great Universal Spirit ultimately wrote the human being. This shows how deeply Paracelsus penetrated the human being. When Goethe set out to study the progression of worldly beings from the imperfect to the perfect, he expressed himself in a manner similar to Paracelsus. Mrs. von Stein received daily answers to the question of how his thoughts were maturing. Once, when he believed he was on the trail of a particularly important discovery, he said to her: “My spelling has helped me.” He meant that he had tried to get to know the plants and animals, which, like Paracelsus, were letters to him for solving the great riddle that human beings represent for one another. From the very beginning of his study of nature, Goethe intended to proceed in this way in order to seek the great spiritual connection within all beings. Thus, from the outset, he sought what he called the “primordial plant,” which was supposed to live within all plants and which, in essence, is the spirit of plant existence. Then he moved on to the “primordial animal” and sought to demonstrate the existence of the “primordial animal” within animals. The Metamorphosis of Plants and The Metamorphosis of Animals—you need only read them, and you will have the most beautiful theosophical treatise on plants and animals that you can possibly find. It was precisely this mindset that led Goethe, at that time—and indeed soon after his arrival in Weimar—to an important scientific discovery. Up until the time Goethe began his studies of nature, the fact that humans are superior to animals had to be found in the presence of specific individual organs. The idea, however, that humans differ from higher animals in their physical constitution had already been challenged by Herder in his History of Mankind. Herder was, to a significant extent, Goethe’s teacher. It was said at the time: All higher animals have their upper incisors set in a special intermediate jawbone. Only humans lack such an intermediate jawbone. Goethe said: The difference between humans and other beings is of a spiritual and mental nature. But the difference cannot be found in such a specific detail; therefore, humans must also have an intermediate bone. Researchers long resisted acknowledging Goethe’s discovery. But today it is taken for granted that the discovery is based on an indisputable fact. Thus, even back then, Goethe made this great scientific discovery out of his own conviction. In Italy, he studied the plant and animal worlds with the aim of finding ways to gain an overview of these beings. In The Metamorphosis of Plants and Animals, he presented a masterpiece of this kind. The idea that Goethe developed is one that is already found to a great extent in the work of Giordano Bruno. Giordano Bruno is, in fact—as is self-evident to any being who truly looks into the depths of nature and the universe—one of those who accepts that human beings pass through various incarnations, who accepts that human beings have been here many times before and will return many times again. The human body, as we see it before us, shows us how the soul and spirit expand into space. And when a human being dies, the soul and spirit contract; they become, as it were, point-like, only to expand again and then contract once more. Thus, existence alternates between expansion and contraction. Human beings ascend by continually elevating themselves, becoming more perfect with each new expansion, only to contract once more and pass through the purely spiritual realm. These were the thoughts of Giordano Bruno, and Goethe extended them to plant and animal life. The entire metamorphosis shows us that the plant, from the flower and the root, consists of contraction and unfolding. This can also be found in Swedenborg’s writings, where he recorded the fundamental discoveries he made, which then bore fruit in Goethe’s work and reappear to us through him. Now, a number of scholars from the Nordic academies have joined forces to publish Swedenborg’s writings, and we will see what a vast body of scientific knowledge across all fields of the natural sciences can be found in Swedenborg’s work. Goethe studied Swedenborg, and there is an interesting doctoral dissertation from the University of Berlin, by Hans Schlieper, which demonstrates the connection between Goethe’s writings and those of Swedenborg. If you wish to gain insight into how Swedenborg developed these ideas, you need only read the article on Swedenborg in Emerson’s Representative Men, and you will find the ideas that proved so extraordinarily fruitful in Goethe’s work. But you will also find that the various kingdoms of nature must ultimately find their culmination in humanity, that it must ultimately become evident how the soul emerges from the small world to find its unity in the great world, in the cosmos. Schiller also expressed this in a magnificent way. In his correspondence with Goethe, Schiller wrote on August 23, 1794:

For a long time now, though from a considerable distance, I have observed the course of your mind and noted the path you have charted for yourself with ever-renewed admiration. You seek the essence of nature, but you seek it by the most arduous path, one that any weaker mind would surely avoid. You take all of nature as a whole in order to shed light on the individual; in the totality of its manifestations, you seek the basis for explaining the individual. From simple organisms, you ascend, step by step, to the more complex ones, in order to finally construct the most complex of all—human beings—genetically from the building blocks of the entire edifice of nature. By recreating him, as it were, in the image of nature, you seek to penetrate his hidden mechanisms. A grand and truly heroic idea, which amply demonstrates how deeply your mind holds together the rich whole of its concepts in a beautiful unity. You could never have hoped that your life would be sufficient to achieve such a goal, but merely setting out on such a path is worth more than completing any other—and you have chosen, like Achilles in the Iliad, between Pythia and immortality.

[ 4 ] I could go on reading, and you would find how every single one of Schiller’s words aptly applies to Goethe. Goethe himself has expressed this relationship between human beings—as a microcosm—and the rest of nature in a very beautiful way, demonstrating with tremendous power of language how not just a single aspect, but the entire spirit of nature lives within human beings, and how this entire spirit comes to perceive itself. Anyone who recalls the beautiful words spoken by the German mystics will be familiar, among others, with this one: “Divinity lives within man, and in man God has created an organ through which to contemplate Himself.” Goethe says in his book on Winckelmann, where he discusses antiquity:

When the healthy nature of human beings functions as a whole, when they feel at home in the world as part of a great, beautiful, dignified, and valuable whole, when this harmonious contentment grants them a pure, free delight—then the universe, if it could perceive itself, would rejoice at having reached its goal and marvel at the pinnacle of its own becoming and being.

[ 5 ] What else is Goethe saying here other than what he depicts in his Faust as the passage of all realms through nature? Goethe was never satisfied with the materialistic view of nature. And when Holbach had formulated a particularly stark expression of this view, Goethe, even as a young man, turned against him. Goethe says of this that he could find nothing in it but barren speculation, not a true explanation of nature. Furthermore, matter was supposed to exist from eternity, and from eternity it was supposed to be in motion, thereby producing the phenomena of existence. Thus Goethe dismisses materialism. Goethe always strove to find harmony between what he calls spiritual nature and what constitutes the embodiment of spiritual nature. Therefore, he was a follower of the doctrine that sees the embodiment of the spirit in our physical being and in the outer forms of nature. Goethe held this viewpoint throughout his life and developed it into ever clearer forms. However, this standpoint implies something else. It implies that we must acknowledge that the human being is not the final stage. The realms of perfection must extend beyond the human being. This is the theosophical worldview. Thus, as theosophists, we do not take the standpoint that the human being is in any way a closed entity. But just as there are also less perfect beings, so too do we acknowledge that we have both more perfect and less perfect fellow human beings—indeed, that there are some who have advanced far beyond the level of the rest of humanity. These are the great teachers who strive to lead humanity upward into ever higher and higher worlds. This is a realm extending from the lowest beings all the way up to the gods. We acknowledge that humanity will one day rise to divinity, and we already recognize today an order that begins with the lower spirits and does not end until physical existence is exhausted, and we look up to heights and beings that fill the gulf between human beings and those beings of whom humans have only a faint inkling. It was in this sense—that he looked up to higher spiritual beings—that Goethe composed his poem from his early Weimar period, the well-known poem “The Divine”:

May man be noble,
Helpful and good!
For that alone
Distinguishes him
From all beings
That we know.
Hail to the unknown
Higher beings
That we sense!
May man be like them!
May his example teach us
To believe in them.

[ 6 ] This is the poem in which Goethe described the progression up to higher beings. Those who have attended theosophical lectures here before will know that in Theosophy we recognize an unbroken succession of beings, ranging from the average person of today to the higher beings; that we know there are fellow human beings among us who have attained high levels, who are our teachers, but who have withdrawn from the hustle and bustle of human life because they must have freedom. Only a select few disciples are able to see them. Those who rise to a fervor for profound truths, to a corresponding insight—which must be a free one—can hear these exalted human individualities. Goethe then speaks of these higher individualities. I need only quote the poem “Symbolum.” In it, he speaks of the sacred shudder that must pierce us in the face of truth and the spiritual world. Goethe is thus speaking here of the voices of the spirits and the Masters. This will show you the profound harmony between Goethe and what we call the theosophical worldview. Now I would also like to show you that such harmony truly extends very far in Goethe’s work. As you know, in the theosophical worldview we speak of the fact that human beings have more than just a physical body. This physical body is a subordinate body of the human being. Then we have the etheric double. It can be seen by those whose soul organs are open. It is seen when one visualizes the physical body away. Then the same space occupied by the human being is filled by the etheric body. It looks the color of peach blossoms. Next comes the astral body, the expression of feelings, drives, desires, and passions. The theosophical worldview calls this body “Kama-Rupa.” These three superimposed bodies are what we speak of today. It is said that there is a correspondance within our physical nature. The so-called occultist speaks of the physical body having an external correspondance in what we call solid bodies, of what we call the etheric body bearing a resemblance to liquids, and of the astral body having a sensory correspondance in everything that takes on a gaseous or air-like form. Everything that takes shape in the sensual and instinctual life is referred to as a likeness of the astral body. In mystical terms, one speaks of a deity who creates these forms. This is nothing other than “Kama.” When Goethe studied cloud formations, he spoke—entirely in keeping with this worldview—of how, for him as well, the distinct forms of water reveal an image of the truly spiritual, a Kama-Rupa:

When the deity Camarupa, lofty and majestic,
Wavers through the air, moving now lightly, now heavily,
Gathers the folds of her veil, then scatters them,
delighting in the shifting forms,
now standing still, then fading like a dream,
we marvel and can scarcely believe our eyes;

[ 7 ] With the exception of the term “Camarupa,” you can find the theosophical worldview in Goethe’s work. The question now is: How is Goethe connected to what we truly call the Theosophical Movement—and how it was not, for example, created only by the Theosophical Society? The Theosophical Society merely [undertakes] the popularization of the ancient theosophical teachings, which have always existed. Before 1875, the principle was strictly adhered to that theosophical teachings must remain a secret, and that only those who meet very specific prerequisites and conditions may learn them. In my journal Luzifer-Gnosis you will find discussions of matters that can guide you toward higher realms. In earlier times, theosophical teachings were practiced only within the narrowest of circles, in the so-called secret schools. Only those who had attained certain degrees were able to receive specific teachings. A certain level of esoteric knowledge was imparted to a person only after they had attained specific degrees. The most significant society was that of the Rosicrucians, a strictly secret society. Whatever you find about it in books, you may, for all I care, call a hoax. What is found in literature and what is accessible to scholarship is not Rosicrucianism. The brothers knew only one another. At the head stood twelve initiates. Only the Thirteenth was the leader. The outward symbol was the cross with roses. Although it was a secret society, it exerted a great influence on the course of spiritual development. In the time when materialism had not yet come to dominate the wider world, it was still able to exert a very great spiritual influence. This Rosicrucian Society is the very one whose tradition and inner significance Goethe also knew. He became acquainted with it at an early age. During the time he spent in Frankfurt following a very serious illness, after his student years in Leipzig, he was initiated into the mysteries of the Rosicrucians by a certain individual. This mysticism took ever deeper root within Goethe. He then sought to express what he had to say on this subject in a very profound poem. Precisely at the time he wrote this poem, he proved himself to be a practical mystic insofar as he conceived of life as practical mysticism. Only under certain conditions was he taught what was most intimate to him. Mrs. von Stein was one of his closest confidantes. He could not conceive of this connection in any other way than that he had belonged to her even in earlier lives. That is the important point. Not the dogma of reincarnation; the main thing is to view life from this perspective. Thus Goethe once said, to clarify to himself his deep connection, his relationship with Mrs. von Stein: “In times long past, you were surely once my sister or my wife.” This is the way in which he interprets reincarnation here and in other contexts as well. Of course, Goethe regarded this as his secret. He spoke of it only to his closest confidants. That is why you may find certain statements by Goethe that seem to contradict this. You can find similar instances among other mystics as well. We know that this is the case. Now, in the poem mentioned—titled “The Secrets”—Goethe has expressed something of an ascent, of a spiritual order within the Rosicrucian movement. This poem became so dear to Mrs. von Stein. It was never completed; the poem’s scope should have been much greater. He might have been able to express himself fully if it had had as many stanzas as there are days in the year. But he clearly expressed, first, this fundamental idea, and second, the view that a core of truth can be found in all religions, that all great religions contain a fundamental teaching—the so-called “religion of wisdom”—and that the various religions of wisdom are embodied in individual great initiates who are united in a brotherhood, differing according to their aptitudes, the nature of their countries, and so on. Brahmanism, Buddhism, Confucianism, the teachings of Hermes, Judaism, and Christianity—they all contain a common core of truth. They differ because those who truly comprehend human beings in their spiritual essence know that it is not a matter of enforcing an abstract dogma, but rather that one must speak to each person in their own way. One need only possess the core of truth; then one can clothe it in the customs of every country. You will find that our theosophical teachings have rebuilt the ancient teachings of the Rishis within the Hindu religion, just as they have in Europe—even in a form that will once again be commensurate with science. In this way, one can speak to every people in their own particular language. But a common core of truth lives in all these languages. This was also the view of the Rosicrucians, which Goethe expressed in the poem “The Mysteries.” You will see how much mysticism and theosophy lives within Goethe when we consider his secret revelations in the fairy tale of the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily. But now let us take a moment to [consider] this Rosicrucian hue in his poem, which has remained a fragment, [examine]. Goethe knows that there will not be many who will be able to understand this poem, “The Mysteries.” He also knows that this poem contains so much that no one should presume to believe they fully understand it. But he expresses it clearly, allowing us to glimpse into the depths of his soul:

A wonderful song has been prepared for you;
Listen to it with joy, and call everyone here!
The path winds through mountains and valleys;
Here the view is limited, there it opens up again,
And when the path gently winds through the bushes,
Oh, do not think it is a mistake;
For when we have climbed far enough,
We shall draw nearer to our destination at the right time.

[ 8 ] Then he shows how Brother Markus makes his way to a secluded monastery. Twelve hermits—the Initiates—live there, led by the Thirteenth, whom Goethe calls Humanus, who encompasses them all. Each of these Twelve embodies one of the great world religions. Depending on the diversity of countries and times, the various religions differ; in each of the initiates, each of the religions is different. As a collective, however, they work for all of humanity. The leader Humanus is so named because he is such a late incarnation that the highest content of truth and knowledge is expressed in him in a unique way. Those people who are in relatively early incarnations—who have undergone only a few incarnations—learn the lessons of life and ascend to such a degree that they naturally carry within themselves the deepest core of truth. Then, in their new incarnation, they need not study; they are such—as symbolically foretold by certain signs at their birth—that, as must be said of the great Initiates of humanity, they radiate worldly wisdom. Humanus is such a being. After he has radiated his spirit into his surroundings, he ascends into higher spheres. Brother Markus is another such incarnation. When he appeared, Goethe said of him that he had given the impression—as if from higher causes—that a higher wisdom must come into the world. Brother Markus appears to be simple. But he is a late reincarnation of human existence. This Brother Markus is led, at the very moment—as Goethe says—into the brotherhood in which the Twelve are united, just as Humanus is permitted to leave the Twelve, where only his spirit remains among them, and where the spirit ascends into the higher spheres. Brother Markus takes his place. It is this government of humanity that Goethe sought to depict here.

He sees the sign standing tall and majestic,
A source of comfort and hope for the whole world,
To which many thousands of spirits are devoted,
To which many thousands of hearts warmly pray,
Which destroys the power of bitter death,
Which flies on so many banners of victory:
A fountain of refreshment permeates his weary limbs,
He sees the cross and lowers his eyes.

[ 9 ] From the very beginning, this poem reveals to us how Goethe depicts the spiritual guidance of humanity as carried out by the Twelve. Thirty years later, a number of students approached him with a request that he provide some explanations. He also attempted to say a few things about this poem. I would like to cite just a few examples for you. He expressed himself entirely in a theosophical sense:

To now reveal the broader intention—indeed, the general plan and thus also the purpose of the poem—I will explain that the reader is to be guided through a kind of ideal Montserrat and, after making his way through the various regions of mountainous, rocky, and cliff-filled heights, should occasionally arrive once more at vast and blissful plains. One would have visited each of the knight-monks in his dwelling and, through observation of climatic and national differences, come to realize that the finest men from all corners of the earth may gather here, where each of them quietly worships God in his own unique way.

[ 10 ] Now he shows us how Brother Markus is led into the courtyard. Goethe did not get around to depicting the actual interior. However, we are then shown who Brother Humanus is:

And if you ask me what the Chosen One’s name is,
Whom the eye of prudence has singled out?
Whom I often, though never sufficiently, praise,
To whom so many incredible things happened?
Humanus is the name of the saint, the sage,
The finest man I have ever seen with my own eyes:
And his lineage, as the princes call it,
You shall know along with his ancestors.

[ 11 ] Here he also shows how such a leader has risen to such heights. The lower self must have sacrificed itself. We will see this in the sacrifice of the serpent when we discuss the “fairy tale.” But here we see how the leader of the twelve chosen ones saves his higher self, his soul. How he went through this process of dying and becoming, and did not remain a gloomy guest on the dark earth, but awakened the God-man within himself. He tells us clearly and unambiguously that he regards this higher self as feminine. For salvation, the lower self must be put to death. In beautiful symbolism, Goethe expresses in the poem “The Mysteries” the upward development of a being, such as the Thirteenth. He expresses it thus:

As the third man, I spoke more freely and at greater length,
Of how a spirit had foretold his mother’s fate early on,
And how, during his baptismal ceremony,
A star shone more brightly in the evening sky,
And how, with wide wings, a vulture
Settled among the pigeons in the courtyard;
Not swooping menacingly or, as usual, to harm,
He seemed to gently invite them to harmony.
Then he modestly kept silent about
How, as a child, he overpowered the otter,
Which he found coiled tightly around his sister’s arm,
Wrapped firmly around the sleeping girl.
The wet nurse fled and left the infant behind;
He strangled the snake with a sure hand:
The mother came and, trembling with joy,
Beheld her son’s deeds and her daughter’s life.

[ 12 ] The sister is the innermost part of the soul, the same as the Eternal Feminine that draws us to it. The otter is that which must be shed. He adds the following explanation to the symbol:

When nature has elevated a person,
It is no wonder that he achieves so much;
One must praise the power of the Creator within him,
Who raises the weak clay to such honor:
But when a man passes the harshest of life’s trials
By conquering himself;
Then one can joyfully show him to others
And say: “This is he, this is his own!”

[ 13 ] When the God-man is born in the soul, all power surges forward into the vastness:

For all power surges forward into the vastness,
To live and act here and there;
Yet from every side, the current of the world
Restrains and hinders us, sweeping us along:
In this inner storm and outer strife
The spirit hears a word that is hard to understand:
“From the force that binds all beings,
The person who overcomes himself is set free.”