Community Life, Inner Development, Sexuality and the Spiritual Teacher
GA 253
The Protagonists
In 1913 on the hill in Dornach near Basel, Switzerland, construction had begun on the building then known as the Johannesbau and later to be called the Goetheanum, the central headquarters of the anthroposophical movement. Members of the Anthroposophical Society from all parts of the world had been called upon to work on the building, and they were joined by a growing number of others who moved to Dornach, either permanently or temporarily, on their own initiative. Thus a unique center of anthroposophical activity developed in Dornach, a center that was, understandably enough, burdened with the shortcomings and problems unavoidable in such a group.
In the summer of 1914, these difficulties escalated when World War I broke out, since people from many different nations, including those at war, had to work together and get along with each other. Isolation from the rest of the world and, last but not least, both local and more widespread opposition to the building and the people it attracted, further complicated the situation. In spite of all obstacles, however, the building continued to grow under the artistic leadership of Rudolf Steiner, who was well-loved as a teacher and felt by all to be a bulwark of constancy. But in the summer of 1915 all this changed as a result of incidents that threatened to test the Dornach group, and thus the Anthroposophical Society as a whole, to the breaking point.
Rudolf Steiner's marriage to Marie von Sivers at Christmas of 1914 had provoked not only general gossip, but also some bizarre mystical behavior on the part of a member named Alice Sprengel1Alice Sprengel, b. 1871 in Scotland, d. 1949 in Bern, Switzerland. Grew up in Yorkshire, then came to Berlin and was active there in theosophical circles. There she also met Steiner and eventually joined his anthroposophical group and was a member of his Mystica Aeterna Lodge. After leaving Steiner, she joined the Order of Oriental Ternplars, a pseudo-masonic occult order. She became the secretary of Theodor Reuss (1855–1923), the Grand Master of the O.T.O. and moved with him and his group to Ascona. She was part of the Executive Council of the O.T.O., and by 1937 she was in charge of a Lodge of the O.T.O. in Locarno. For more information see Ellic Howe, The Magicians of the Golden Dawn: A Documentary History of a Magical Order 1887–1923, (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1972) and Helmut Möller and Ellic Howe, Merlin Peregrinus: Vom Untergrund des Abendlandes (“Merlin Peregrinus: On the Underground of the Occident”), (Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann, 1986). Heinrich Goesch (see below) and his wife Gertrud seized upon her strange ideas and made use of them in personal attacks on Rudolf Steiner. Since this was done publicly in the context of the Society, Rudolf Steiner asked that the Society itself resolve the case. This resulted in weeks of debate, at the end of which all three were expelled from the Society. Rudolf and Marie Steiner did not take part either in the debates or in the decision to rescind their membership.
The documents that follow reconstruct the events of the case in the sequence in which they occurred.
Alice Sprengel (b. 1871 in Scotland, d. 1949 in Bern, Switzerland) had joined the Theosophical Society in Munich in the summer of 1902, at a time when Rudolf Steiner had not yet become General Secretary for Germany. She joined the German Section a few years later. In a notice issued by the Vorstand of the Anthroposophical Society in the fall of 1915 informing members about the case, Miss Sprengel is described as having undergone unusual suffering in her childhood. At the time of her entry into the Society, she still impressed people as being very dejected. In addition, she was unemployed at that time and outwardly in very unfortunate circumstances. For that reason, efforts were made to help her.
Marie Steiner, then Marie von Sivers, sponsored her involvement in the Munich drama festival in 1907 and arranged for her to be financially supported by members in Munich. In order to help her find a means of supporting herself in line with her artistic abilities, Rudolf Steiner advised her on making symbolic jewelry and the like for members of the Society. It was also made possible for her to make the move to Dornach in 1914. She, however, interpreted this generous assistance to mean that she had a significant mission to fulfill within the Society. Having been given the role of Theodora in Rudolf Steiner's mystery dramas fed her delusions with regard to her mission, as did the fact that toward the end of the year 1911, in conjunction with the project to construct a building to house the mystery dramas, Rudolf Steiner had made an attempt to found a “Society for Theosophical Art and Style” in which she had been nominated as “keeper of the seal” because of her work as an artist. She imagined having lived through important incarnations and even believed herself to be the inspirer of Rudolf Steiner's spiritual teachings. In addition, having been asked to play Theodora gave rise to the delusion that she had received a symbolic promise of marriage from Rudolf Steiner, and she then suffered a breakdown as a result of Rudolf Steiner's marriage to Marie von Sivers at Christmas 1914. Her letters to Rudolf Steiner and Marie Steiner, reproduced below, clearly reveal that she was deeply upset.
Letter from Alice Sprengel to Rudolf Steiner
(undated; received December 25, 1914. Cf. p. 159.)
“Seven years now have passed,” 2From Rudolf Steiner's mystery drama The Guardian of the Threshold (Scene 4, Strader speaking to Theodora), The Four Mystery Plays, GA 14, (London: Rudolf Steiner Press, 1982), p. 297. Dr. Steiner, since you appeared to my inner vision and said to me, “I am the one you have spent your life waiting for; I am the one for whom the powers of destiny intended you.”
You saw the struggles and doubts this experience occasioned in me; you knew that in the end my conviction was unshakable—yes, so it is. And you waited for my soul to open and for me to speak about this. Yet I remained silent, because my heart was broken. Long before I learned of theosophy, but also much more recently, I had had many experiences that made me say, “I willingly accept whatever suffering life brings me, no matter how hard it may be. After all, I have been shown by the spirit that it cannot be different.” But this is something that seems to go beyond the original plan of destiny; I lack the strength to bear it, and so it kills something in me, destroys forces I should once have possessed. These experiences were mostly instances of people deliberately abusing my confidence, and all in the name of love. But I had the feeling that this was not only my own fault; it seemed as if the will of destiny was inflicting more on me than I could bear.
I had some vague idea of why that might be so. Once, some years ago, I heard a voice within me saying, “There are beings in the spiritual world whose work requires that human beings sustain hope, but they have no interest in seeing these hopes fulfilled—on the contrary.” At that point I was not fully aware of what we were later to hear about the mystery of premature death, of goals not achieved, and so forth.
Then, however, I bore within me a wish and a hope that seemed like a proclamation from the spiritual world. This wish and this hope had made it possible for me to bear the unbearable; they worked in me with such tremendous force that they carried me along with them. My soul was in such a condition, however, that it could neither relinquish them nor tolerate their fulfillment, or, to put it better, it could not live up to what their fulfillment would have demanded of it. Thus I could not come to clarity on what the above-mentioned experience meant for me as an earthly human being. Neither the teaching nor the teacher was enough to revive my soul; that could only be done by a human being capable of greater love than any other and thus capable of compensating for a greater lack of love.
I can no longer remain silent; it speaks in me and forces me to speak. Years ago I begged you for advice, asked for enlightenment, and your words gave me hope and comfort. I am grateful for that, but today I would no longer be able to bear it. Why did you say to me recently that I looked well, that I should persevere? Did you think I was already aware of the step you are taking now, and that I had already “gotten over it”? I was as far from that as ever.
In conclusion, I ask that you let Miss von Sivers read this letter.
Alice Sprengel
Letter from Alice Sprengel to Rudolf Steiner
Arlesheim
February 3, 1915
Dear Dr. Steiner,
This will probably be my last letter to you; I will never turn to you again, neither in speaking nor in writing. I only want to tell you that I see no way out for myself; I am at my wits' end. As the weeks gone by have showed me, it is inconceivable that time will alleviate or wipe out anything that has happened; it will only bring to light what is hidden. Until now I have more or less managed to conceal how I feel, but I will not be able to do so indefinitely. I feel a melancholy settling in on me; being together with others and feeling their attentiveness is a torment to me, but I also cannot tolerate being alone for any length of time. I feel that everything that was to develop in me and flow into our movement through me has been buried alive.
My life stretches ahead of me, but it is devoid of any breath of air that makes life possible. And yet, in the darkest hour of my existence, I feel condemned to live—but my soul will be dead. Desolation and numbness will alternate with bouts of pain. I cannot imagine how the tragedy will end. It is likely, though, that I will show some signs of sorrow in weeks to come, and it may well be that I will say and do things that will surprise me as much as anyone else. I do not have the feeling that my words will arouse any echo in you. I feel as if I were talking to a picture. Since that time early on in those seven years when I stood bodily in front of you and you appeared to me as the embodiment of the figure that had been revealed to my inner vision, you have become unreal to me. Then, your voice sounded as sweet and comforting as my own hopes. You restored my soul with mysterious hints and promises that were so often contradicted in the course of events. And when my soul wanted to unfold under that radiant gaze of yours in which I could read that you knew what had happened to me, something looked at me out of your eyes, crying “This is a temptation.”
The most terrible thing was to have what stood before me in visible human form become unreal to me. And yet, I had the feeling that there was something real behind all this. I do not know what power makes your essential being a reality for me. You know that I have struggled for my faith and will continue to do so as long as there is a glimmer of life in me. You also know how I have pleaded with that Being whose light and teachings you must bring to those who suffer the terrible fate of being human, pleaded that whatever guilt may flow on my account may not disturb you in your mission, and I have the feeling that I have been heard. Nevertheless, the shadow of what has happened to me will fall across your path, just as it will darken my future earthly lives. That shadow will also fall across the continued existence of our movement and upon the destiny of our building. If the mystery dramas are ever performed again, you will have to have another Theodora, and since I will never be able to come to terms with what has happened, the very doors of the temple are closed to me in future. I wonder if, under these circumstances, there will ever again… I do not need to finish the sentence.
I sense that, on an occult level, this is a terrible state of affairs. Is there no way out?
Only a miracle can help in this case.
I am well aware that deliverance is possible, and if it were not to come, it would be terrible, and not only for me.
Let me tell you a story by way of conclusion, the story of the “soeur gardienne.” 3The reference is to Edouard Schuré's drama La Soeur Gardienne. Rudolf Steiner began working on the production in the summer of 1913 in Munich, but had to abandon the project because he was overtaxed.
During the preparations for the plays during the summer of 1913, I noticed that you were not satisfied with me, and when it was all over I felt like a sick person who knows the doctor has given up on her. That feeling never left me from then on, and I could tell you of many instances, especially in recent months, when I felt a deathly chill come over me although your words actually sounded encouraging. The feeling grew stronger whenever I encountered anyone who knew what lay ahead. Why do I feel as if someone had slapped me in the face? Don't they all look as if they were part of a plot? That's what came to mind on many occasions, but I was relatively cheerful then and put it out of my mind. But all this is just a digression.
Two summers ago, shortly before the rehearsals began, I read La Soeur Gardienne. I had always assumed that Miss von Sivers would play the title role. On reading it, however, I began to doubt that the role would suit her; in fact, it seemed to me that she would not even want to play that part. And then I noticed how the figure came alive within me—it spoke, it moved in me. It was my role. If only I were allowed to play it! I saw what it would mean to me, and it was too beautiful to be true. Then invisible eyes looked at me, and I heard, “They will not give you that part, so resign yourself.” In my experience, that voice had always been correct. In view of the existing situation, I said to myself, “Dr. Steiner knows as well as I do that I had this experience; he must have good reasons for arranging things this way in spite of it—and as far as Miss von Sivers is concerned, I must have been mistaken—the whole thing must simply be another one of the incomprehensible disappointments that run like a red thread through my life.”
My soul collapsed; I behaved as calmly as I could, but that did not seem to be good enough. Your behavior as well as Miss von Sivers' was totally incomprehensible to me. They were looking everywhere for someone, anyone, to take the title role, and no one seemed to think of me; anyone else seemed more desirable. And yet people were making comments about how strange it was that I had nothing to do in that play. I held back, because at one point I was really afraid I would have to play a different role. Performances have been more or less the only occasions in my life where I could breathe freely, so to speak, where I could give of myself. But that was only true when I played parts that lived in me, like Theodora and Persephone. But when a role didn't sit well with me, it increased the pressure I was living under for quite some time. That is why I was not as unconcerned about these things as others might be; for me it was a matter of life and death. In the midst of all this tension something befell me that I had already experienced countless times before in many different situations and against which I have always been defenseless. My soul crumples as soon as it happens. Once again, “it” looked at me and said, “This is a lesson for you!” (or sometimes it said “a test” or “an ordeal”).
I felt the effects in my soul of countless experiences, repeated daily, hourly, going back to my earliest childhood. I do not know why my surroundings have always been tempted to participate wrongfully in my inner life. Only here and only very recently have I been able to ward this off, but it has forced me into complete isolation. What my foster parents, teachers, playmates, friends, and even strangers used to do to see what kind of a face I would make or to guess at how I would react! And much more than that. As I said, these experiences were so frequent that I could not deal with them; they suffocated me. Mostly I took it all calmly, thinking they didn't know any better. Now, however, in the situation I described, these semi-conscious memories played a trick on me—and I was overcome by anger. And then this summer, a year later, I had to relive the whole thing. And it occurred to me that I should have told you about what went before it.
As I said, those words “This is a lesson for you” always made me stiffen and freeze. When I look back on my life, it seems as if a devilish wisdom had foreseen all the possibilities life would bring to me in these last few years, and as if this intelligence had done its utmost to make me unfit for them. I could watch it at work, and yet was powerless to do anything. Much could be said about why that happened. But nothing in my own soul or in any single soul could ever help me over this abyss. Only the spark leaping from soul to soul, the spark that is so weak now, so very weak, can make the miracle happen now…
February 5
I have just read over what I wrote, and now I wonder, is it really all right for everything to happen as I described? That is how it would have to happen if everything stays as it is now. But don't we all three feel how destiny stands between us? Can it really be that there is one among us who does not know what has to happen next? That will bring many things to light; the course of events to come depends on what had been one person's secret. This is truly a test, but not only for me. What was hidden shall be revealed.
I still have one thing to say to you, my teacher and guide: even though the tempter looks out of your eyes, there have been times when I experienced with a shudder that what was revealed to me also meant something to you, something that has not been given its due. However, this must happen and will happen—you know that well, and so does
The Keeper of the Seal
Excerpt from a letter from Alice Sprengel to Marie Steiner
(undated; received on August 21, 1915. Cf. p. 139 and p. 160.)
I know that people who have “occult experiences” are a calamity as far as the people in positions of responsibility in our movement are concerned, and understandably so, but still, that is what our movement is there for—to come to grips with things like that.
The relationship between you and Dr. Steiner is not the point right now; no, it is the relationship between you and myself. However, your civil marriage unleashed a disaster for me, one that I had feared and seen coming for years—not in its actual course of events, you understand, but in its nature and severity. That is to say, for years I had seen something developing between my teacher and me, something to which we can indeed apply what we have heard in the last few days, though not for the first time. It has a will of its own and laws of its own and cannot be exorcised with any clever magic word. As I said, I had sufficient self-knowledge to know what had to come if nothing happened to prevent it.
Three years ago, like a sick person seeking out a physician, I asked Dr. Steiner for a consultation. There was something very sad I had to say during that interview, and I have had to say it frequently since then: Although I could follow his teachings, I could not understand anything of what affected me directly or of what happened to me. I must omit what brought me to the point of saying this, since I do not know how much you know about my background and biography. I was not able to express my need, and Dr. Steiner made it clear that he did not want to hear about it. The following summer, however, we were graced with the opportunity to perform The Guardian of the Threshold; in it a conversation takes place between Strader and Theodora, a conversation that reflected in the most delicate way the very thing that was oppressing me. Perhaps Dr. Steiner did not “intend” anything of the sort; nevertheless, it is a fact. Perhaps it was meant as an attempt at healing. I do not understand…
Letter from Mary Peet to Alice Sprengel 4Mary Peet Bivar, an Englishwoman living in Brussels, had been a pupil of Annie Besant's for many years before siding with Rudolf Steiner in 1910. She founded the Johannes Branch in Brussels in 1912, moved in the middle of 1914 first to Basel and then to Arlesheim. She was tirelessly active on behalf of Rudolf Steiner and anthroposophy until her death in 1927. See the obituary in Was in der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft vorgeht, No. 44, October 30, 1927.
Arlesheim,
October 1915
Dear Miss Sprengel,
I cannot let the time pass without writing to tell you how greatly shocked I am at your disgraceful behavior to Doctor Steiner—and also to Mrs. Steiner.
I have truly always thought of you as a rather delicate and hysterical looking [sic] person, but I little imagined to what depths your evidently hysterical nature could lead you.
Your illusive hope of becoming a prominent person in our society not having been realized has been too much of a disappointment for your nature. This kind of thing happens every day, in that disappointed young women fall into all sorts of hysterical conditions, which give rise to all sorts of fantastical dreams. In this case the most holy things have been mixed with false illusions arising from much vanity, self-pride, and the desire for greatness!
To one who pictures herself to be the reincarnation of David, and of the Virgin Mary, very little can be said, for if one starts with such suppositions, one necessarily places oneself almost beyond the pale of reason and logic.
A dog will not bite the hand that has fed it for years—you have not shown the fidelity of a dog in that you have turned all your hatred and spite against the one who has given you all that has brought life into your existence, both spiritually and physically, for you have been beholden to him and his friends for your subsistence.
And now, because you are thoroughly disappointed, you have tried and are trying your best to injure him with every subtle untruth and insinuation, engendered by those thoughts which have entered your imaginative brain.
Doctor Steiner is beloved, revered, and respected; his life is an example to all. He has been able through his power of logic and clear and right thinking to feed us with the bread of Wisdom and Life, and has truly been a Light-bringer to us all.
I implore you to listen to reason before it is too late! Try to examine yourself for one hour and perceive the cause of all the fearful self-deception from which you are suffering. Beware of the awful figure of HATE, called up by your jealousy and consequent disappointment!
You cannot undo the past, but you can try to redeem the lost opportunities you have had by refraining from showing more and more clearly the picture that many can see—to which you are apparently quite blind up till now—namely, that of jealous woman suffering from ingratitude, disappointment, and hysterical illusions!
O Man! Know Thyself!
Truly,
[signed Mary Peet]
Heinrich Goesch (b. 1880 in Rostock, d. 1930 in Konstanz) was a man of many talents and interests who was already a Ph.D. and LL.D. at age twenty. His name also appeared once in December 1900 on the list of those present at a meeting of the Berlin literary society Die Kommenden. Financial support from parents and relatives enabled him to lead a life that allowed him to pursue numerous interests. Except for the last years of his life, when he lectured on art at the Dresden Academy of Arts and Crafts, he had never actually practiced a profession, presumably for reasons of health. According to a report by the psychiatrist Friedrich Husemann, Goesch had suffered from a very early age from epilepsy or seizure substitutes (absences). An expert witness reports having experienced one of Goesch's heaviest seizures.5See Karl Heyers, Wie Man Gegen Rudolf Steiner Kampft ("How Rudolf Steiner Is Opposed"), Stuttgart, 1932.
Goesch had come into contact with psychoanalysis in 1908 or 1909 while living with his wife (a cousin of Kathe Kollwitz) and his brother Paul, a painter, in Niederpoyritz near Dresden, where they were engaged in studying architecture, aesthetics, and philosophy. Paul Fechter, a journalist who was a friend of the Goeschs at that time, reports the following in his memoirs:
Such was the world that greeted the dawning of psychoanalysis. One day Heinrich Goesch made the acquaintance of one of its earliest adepts, the son of a professor in Graz, who had made the teachings of Sigmund Freud, which at that time had not yet been widely popularized, the basis of his whole life. Goesch took him along to Niederpoyritz, where in endless nightly sessions the young doctor initiated the two brothers into the secrets of the new doctrine. As a result, Heinrich and Paul Goesch, consistent and logical in all their intellectual pursuits, were not content with the theory, but set about putting it into practice. They not only listened to what their guest had to offer, they tried it out on themselves and anything else they could get their hands on. They analyzed themselves and others and staged complex-resolutions by night until Niederpoyritz rebelled and their reputation rivaled that of young Schlegel in Jena.
All that would have made no difference; rumors get started and then fade away again. The effect on Paul Goesch, however, was disastrous—his thin-skinned psyche cracked under these experiments. Analysis, it seems, had eliminated certain inhibitions he needed in order to maintain a secure hold on life. Shortly after the doctor's visit, he entered a mental hospital for the first time...6Paul Fechter, Menschen und Zeiten: Begegnungen aus funf Jahrzehnten ("People and Times: Encounters in Five Decades"), Giltersloh, 1948.
The “doctor” whose name Fechter does not reveal was Otto Gross, private lecturer in psychopathology at the University of Graz and one of Freud's first pupils. Unlike Freud, who used psychoanalysis simply as a method of medical treatment, Gross, by applying it in social and political contexts as well, tried to make it the underlying basis of everyday life. His efforts eventually brought him into conflict with all existing social structures. As a drug addict, he became a patient of C. G. Jung at the Burghoelzli in Zurich and in that capacity played a certain role in the professional disagreements between Jung and Freud. Later, at the instigation of his father, Hans Gross (professor of criminology at Graz), he was declared legally incompetent and spent most of the rest of his life in mental hospitals.7See Emanuel Hurwitz, Otto Gross: Paradies-Sucher zwischen Freud und Jung (“Otto Gross: Paradise-Seeker between Freud and Jung”), Zurich, 1979.
In his obituary of Heinrich Goesch, Fechter has this to say about Goesch's relationship to psychoanalysis:
When Otto Gross first introduced him to the as yet relatively unknown psychoanalytic method of Sigmund Freud, Heinrich Goesch recognized it immediately as a means of extending his personal experience into unfathomed depths. He took up this new subject passionately, not as a theoretical, conceptual, or abstract object of study and experience, but plunging with his whole being and all the strength he possessed into this stream that opened up before him and led into new depths. He did not study psychoanalysis, he experienced it through and through, making himself the object of his own analysis, descending into the shocks and ecstasies of the darkness that opened up in front of him with a total disregard for how it might affect his everyday existence. At once, he began to pull the theory out of the realm of science and into his immediate personal experience. It was a very dangerous experiment...8In Deutsche Rundschau, May 1930.
Goesch became acquainted with Rudolf Steiner's anthroposophy around 1910. Shortly thereafter, he became a member of the German Section of the Theosophical Society, led at that point by Rudolf Steiner as General Secretary. He had been recommended by the physician Max Asch, who wrote to Rudolf Steiner on April 27, 1910.9Max Asch, physician, died 1911. Member of the German Section of the Theosophical Society since 1904. While commemorating the dead during the General Assembly of 1911 (December 10, 1911), Rudolf Steiner dedicated these words to him: “I must also recall a third person, whose departure from the physical plane may have seemed to many to have come unexpectedly quickly. This person is our beloved member Dr. Max Asch. In his extremely eventful life he had to overcome many things that can make it difficult for someone to approach a purely spiritual movement, but in the end he did find his way to us, and he, the physician, found healing for his own suffering in reading and studying theosophy. He assured me repeatedly that in his physician's heart he could find no more fruitful faith in any remedy than in what he received spiritually from theosophical books, that he could feel theosophical teachings streaming like balsam into his pain-racked body. He cultivated theosophy in this sense right up to the hour of his death. When our friend departed this world, it was very difficult for me to resign myself to not being able to speak a few words at the graveside as his daughter wrote to ask me. I was unable to fulfill this wish because my lecture series in Prague began that day, thus making it impossible for me to render this last service on the physical plane to our friend the theosophist. You can be sure that the words I would have spoken at his grave followed him in thought into the worlds he was entering.”
Asch was also a friend of the physician Carl Ludwig Schleich (1859–1922). In this regard, see Rudolf Steiner's lecture given in Dornach on September 7, 1924, in Karmic Relationships, Vol. IV, GA 238, rev. ed. (London: Rudolf Steiner Press, 1983), pp.25-37.
For the last two weeks or so, I have been involved in a lively and personal exchange of ideas with a Mr. Heinrich Goesch, Ph.D., who seems to me predestined for occult training. He is one of the most highly gifted people I have ever met, and about one year ago had unusual inner experiences that occurred as part of a state of ecstasy lasting about a week, which leads me to assume that his case would be of particular interest to you, too. He has recently immersed himself in the study of your works Theosophy, An Outline Of Occult Science, etc.), and the unbelievable quickness with which he grasps these things leads me to suspect that he has undergone some form of occult schooling in an earlier incarnation—apparently a specifically Christian one, given the nature of his ecstatic experiences. Mr. Goesch will attend your lecture tomorrow evening; if you wish, I will introduce him to you. He wants to become a member of the Theosophical Society immediately.
The lecture in question took place on April 28, 1910, in the Berlin House of Architects. Its title was “Error and Mental Disorder.” 10In Vol. II of Metamorphoses of the Soul: Paths of Experience, GA 59, (London: Rudolf Steiner Press, 1983), pp. 85-100. On April 30, 1910, Asch wrote to Rudolf Steiner again:
Heinrich Goesch, Ph.D., about whom I wrote to you, would be very grateful if you would find an opportunity to speak with him soon. He would like to attend your lectures in Hamburg, since they are related to an area he has researched with particular interest in the last few years. Therefore, he would like to become a member of the Theosophical Society as soon as possible. Mr. Goesch lives in Charlottenburg…
A short time after Heinrich Goesch and his wife Gertrud became members, the construction of a building to serve as its central headquarters became a focal point of the Society's activity. Goesch was very interested in architecture and in 1912 made some suggestions about the design of the building. This interest, it seems, was also what led him to come in the spring of 1914 to Dornach, where work on the Johannesbau (first Goetheanum) had begun in fall of 1913.
These facts from the biography of Goesch, who, as Paul Fechter puts it, displayed “a personal and unique combination of logic and mysticism,” make it somewhat understandable why he would jump into the Sprengel case with typical passionate energy. According to the psychiatrist Friedrich Husemann, epileptics characteristically combine egocentricity with a disproportionate sensitivity to personal affront and a tendency to complain. On the basis of these changes in their affective life, it is easy for them to develop delusions, and a certain affinity must have developed between Goesch's delusions and those of Alice Sprengel. Goesch formulated his thoughts in a long and elaborate letter (dated August 19, 1915) to Rudolf Steiner, who read it to the Dornach circle on August 21, 1915, in place of his usual Saturday evening lecture.
Im Jahre 1913 war auf dem Dornacher Hügel unweit von Basel in der Schweiz mit der Errichtung des damals Johannesbau, später Goetheanum genannten Zentralbaues für die anthroposophische Sache begonnen worden. Als Mitarbeiter waren Mitglieder der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft aus aller Welt berufen worden, denen sich mehr und mehr andere zugesellten, die auf eigene Initiative für kürzer oder länger oder für immer nach Dornach kamen. So entstand in Dornach ein Zentrum anthroposophischen Lebens ganz besonderer Art, verständlicherweise auch belastet mit Unzulänglichkeiten und Problemen, die in jedem solchen Kreis unvermeidlich auftreten müssen. In Dornach wurden sie noch besonders verstärkt durch den im Sommer 1914 ausgebrochenen Ersten Weltkrieg insofern, als nun Angehörige der verschiedensten, zum Teil miteinander kriegführenden Nationen weiter zusammenarbeiten und sich vertragen mußten. Hinzu kamen die Isolierung von der Welt und nicht zuletzt die Anfeindungen aus der näheren und weiteren Umgebung gegen den Bau und das darum sich scharende Völkchen. Unbeschadet davon wuchs der Bau unter der künstlerischen Leitung Rudolf Steiners, des von allen gleich geliebten Lehrers und von allen als immer gleichbleibend empfundenen ruhenden Pols. Dies änderte sich im Sommer 1915, als eine Krise zur Zerreißprobe für den Dornacher Kreis und damit für die ganze Anthroposophische Gesellschaft wurde.
Rudolf Steiners Verheiratung mit Marie von Sivers an Weihnachten 1914 harte nicht nur allgemeinen Klatsch, sondern insbesondere bei einem Mitglied, Alice Sprengel, merkwürdige mystische Verschrobenheiten ausgelöst, die von einem Ehepaar, Heinrich und Gertrud Goesch, aufgegriffen und benützt wurden, um Rudolf Steiner persönlich anzugreifen. Da sie dies gesellschaftsöffentlich machten, verlangte Rudolf Steiner, daß die Sache auch durch die Gesellschaft selbst bereinigt werde. Daraufhin kam es zu sich wochenlang hinziehenden Verhandlungen, die mit dem Ausschluß der drei endeten. Rudolf Steiner und Marie Steiner hatten sich weder an den Verhandlungen noch an dem Ausschlußbeschluß beteiligt.
Im folgenden wird der Fall nach den vorliegenden Dokumenten chronologisch rekonstruiert.
Alice Sprengel (Lebensdaten unbekannt) war im Sommer 1902 in München in die Theosophische Gesellschaft eingetreten, also zu einer Zeit, als Rudolf Steiner noch nicht als deutscher Generalsekretär tätig war. Einige Jahre später schloß sie sich der deutschen Sektion an. Über sie als Persönlichkeit heißt es in dem Schriftstück, durch das der Zentralvorstand der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft im Herbst 1915 die Mitglieder über den Fall orientierte, daß sie eine ungewöhnlich leidvolle Jugend durchlebt und noch zu der Zeit, als sie an die Gesellschaft herankam, einen seelisch sehr gedrückten Eindruck gemacht habe. Außerdem sei sie stellungslos gewesen, so daß auch ihre äußeren Lebensumstände alles andere als günstig gewesen seien. Darum habe man ihr helfen wollen. Marie Steiner (damals Marie von Sivers) zog sie 1907 zur Mitwirkung bei den Münchner Festspielen heran und veranlaßte, daß sie von Münchner Mitgliedern finanziell unterstützt wurde. Um ihr zu einem ihren kunstgewerblichen Fähigkeiten entsprechenden Erwerb zu verhelfen, erhielt sie außerdem von Rudolf Steiner Ratschläge zur Anfertigung von symbolischem Schmuck u.ä. für Mitglieder der Gesellschaft. 1914 wurde ihr auch ermöglicht, nach Dornach überzusiedeln. Die ihr so großzügig gewährten Hilfen deutete sie jedoch dahingehend, daß ihr in der Gesellschaft eine bedeutsame Mission zukommen müsse. Aufgrund der ihr zuerteilten Rolle der «Theodora» in den Mysteriendramen Rudolf Steiners, sowie der Tatsache, daß Rudolf Steiner Ende 1911 im Zusammenhang mit dem Projekt, für die Mysterienspiele einen eigenen Bau zu errichten, den Versuch gemacht hatte, eine «Gesellschaft für theosophische Art und Kunst» zu stiften, in der sie ihrer kunstgewerblichen Tätigkeit wegen als «Siegelbewahrer» nominiert worden war, lebte sie sich immer stärker in ihre Missionsvorstellungen hinein. Sie bildete sich ein, große Inkarnationen hinter sich zu haben und hielt sich sogar für die Inspiratorin von Rudolf Steiners geistigem Lehrgut. Die ihr zugewiesene Rolle der «Theodora» hatte in ihr außerdem den Wahn erzeugt, dadurch von Rudolf Steiner symbolisch ein Eheversprechen erhalten zu haben. Als dann Rudolf Steiner und Marie von Sivers sich Weihnachten 1914 verheirateten, löste dies bei ihr eine seelische Katastrophe aus. Die folgenden Briefe, die sie an Rudolf Steiner und Marie Steiner schrieb, weisen sie eindeutig als Psychopathin aus:
Alice Sprengel an Rudolf Steiner
(Undatierter Brief, bei ihm eingegangen am 25. Dezember 1914, vgl. Seite 172)
«In diesen Tagen sind es sieben Jahr» daß Sie, Herr Doktor, vor meinem inneren Auge erschienen und zu mir sagten: «Ich bin es, auf den du gewartet hast dein Leben lang; ich bin der, dem dich die Schicksalsmächte bestimmt haben.»
Sie sahen die Kämpfe und Zweifel, die dieses Erlebnis mir brachte, und Sie wußten, daß unverrückbar schließlich das Eine für mich stehen blieb: Ja, es ist so. Und Sie warteten, daß meine Seele sich öffnen und ich von dieser Sache sprechen würde. Aber ich schwieg, denn meine Seele war zerbrochen. Schon lange ehe ich zur Theosophie kam, aber auch bis in die letzten Jahre hinein, erlebte ich manches, dem gegenüber ich mir sagen mußte: Wohl nehme ich willig auf mich, was mir das Leben an Leid bringt, wie schwer es auch sein möge. Ist mir doch auch vom Geiste gezeigt worden, daß es nicht anders sein kann. Hier aber ist etwas, das scheint über den ursprünglichen Schicksalsplan noch hinauszugehen; es fehlen mir die Kräfte, es zu ertragen, und so tötet es etwas in mir; es zerstört eine Kraft, die ich einmal haben sollte. Es waren dies meistens solche Fälle, daß Menschen angeblich in Liebe planmäßig mein Vertrauen mißbrauchten. Ich hatte aber das Gefühl, daß dies nicht nur durch meine eigene Schuld bewirkt würde; es war mir, als ob Schicksalswille mir mehr auferlegte als ich tragen konnte.
Ich ahnte ein wenig, warum das so sein mochte. Vor mehreren Jahren sprach es einmal in mir: Es gibt Wesenheiten in der geistigen Welt, für deren Wirken es nötig ist, daß Menschen Hoffnungen tragen; aber sie haben kein Interesse daran, daß diese Hoffnungen sich auch erfüllen - im Gegenteil. Was wir später hörten vom Geheimnis des vorzeitigen Todes, des nicht erreichten Zieles usw. kam mir damals noch nicht klar zum Bewußtsein.
Nun aber trug ich in mir einen Wunsch, eine Hoffnung, die mir als Kundgebung aus der geistigen Welt erschienen, die mich Unerträgliches hatten ertragen lassen; die wirkten nun in mir mit so ungeheurer Stoßkraft, daß sie mich mit sich rissen. Meine Seele aber war in einem Zustand, daß sie weder verzichten konnte noch die Erfüllung ertragen; oder besser gesagt, sie konnte das nicht erfüllen, was die Erfüllung von ihr gefordert hätte. So konnte ich nicht darüber ins Klare kommen, was das erwähnte Erlebnis für meinen Erdenmenschen bedeutete. Denn nicht die Lehre, nicht der Lehrer allein konnten meine Seele wieder beleben; das konnte nur der Mensch, der größerer Liebe fähig war als andere, so daß er auch größere Lieblosigkeit gut machen konnte.
Schweigen kann ich nun nicht mehr. Es spricht aus mir. Vor Jahren erflehte ich Ihren Rat, ich bat um Aufklärung. Damals sprachen Sie mir Trost und Hoffnung zu. Dafür danke ich Ihnen, aber ich würde es heute nicht mehr ertragen. Warum sagten Sie neulich zu mir, es schiene mir ja gut zu gehen? Ich sollte durchhalten? Glaubten Sie, ich hätte schon Kenntnis von dem Schritt, den Sie zu tun im Begriff sind und ich hätte «überwunden»? Ich war so weit davon entfernt wie je.
Zum Schluß frage ich Sie: wollen Sie Fräulein von Sivers diesen Brief lesen lassen?
Alice Sprengel
Alice Sprengel an Rudolf Steiner
Arlesheim, den 3. Februar 1915
Herr Doktor!
Dies ist wohl mein letzter Brief an Sie, weder schriftlich noch mündlich werde ich mich in Zukunft wieder an Sie wenden. Sagen möchte ich Ihnen nur, daß ich keinen Weg mehr vor mir sehe, daß ich mich am Ende fühle. Die verflossenen Wochen haben mir gezeigt, daß nicht daran zu denken ist, es könnte die Zeit etwas mildern oder verwischen. Sie kann nur offenbar machen, was verborgen ist. Bisher gelang es mir ja ziemlich zu verbergen, wie es um mich steht. Das wird nicht auf die Dauer möglich sein. Melancholie legt sich über mich, das Zusammensein mit anderen, ihre Aufmerksamkeit wird mir zur Qual, auch die Einsamkeit ertrage ich nicht auf die Dauer. Wie verschüttet fühle ich, was sich in mir entfalten wollte, was durch mich in unsere Bewegung einfließen sollte. Ein Leben liegt vor mir, dem die Luft zum Leben fehlt. Dennoch fühlte ich mich zum Leben verurteilt in der dunkelsten Stunde meines Daseins. Meine Seele aber wird tot sein. Verödung und Stumpfheit wird mit Schmerzanfällen abwechseln. Wie die Tragödie verlaufen wird, kann ich mir nicht vorstellen. Doch wird sich vielleicht schon in den nächsten Wochen manches Traurige an mir zeigen, und es ist mir, als würde ich vielleicht manches sagen oder tun, was sowohl mich als andere überraschen wird. Ich habe nicht das Gefühl, daß meine Worte an Sie etwas wie ein Echo finden werden. Mir ist, als spräche ich zu einem Bilde. Unwirklich sind Sie mir geworden, seitdem Sie im ersten Teil der verflossenen 7 Jahre, wenn ich Ihnen physisch gegenüberstand, mir erschienen wie die verdichtete Gestalt, die sich meinem inneren Auge gezeigt hatte. Süß und tröstend klang Ihre Stimme wie meine eignen Hoffnungen. Sie labten mich mit geheimnisvollen Andeutungen und Verheißungen, denen so oft im Verlauf des Geschehens das Gegenteil folgte. Und wenn meine Seele sich entfalten wollte unter Ihrem strahlenden Blick, in dem ich das Wissen las von dem, was mir geschehen war, dann schaute mich etwas an aus Ihren Augen, das mir zurief: « Dies ist eine Versuchung.» -—
Das eben ist das Furchtbare, daß unwirklich für mich wurde, was sichtbar als Mensch vor mir stand. Und dennoch hatte ich das Gefühl, daß hinter der ganzen Sache etwas Reales stand. Ich kenne nicht die Kraft, die mir Ihr Wesen zur Realität macht. Daß ich um meinen Glauben gekämpft habe, wissen Sie, auch daß ich es bis zum letzten Schimmer tun werde. Sie wissen auch, daß ich angefleht habe jenes Wesen, dessen Licht und Lehre Sie zu bringen haben denen, denen das furchtbare Los zu Teil ward, Mensch zu sein. Es möge, was durch mich an Schuld in diese Sache hineinkommt, so werden, daß Sie in Ihrer Sendung nicht gestört werden. Ich habe das Gefühl, daß ich erhört, worden bin. Dennoch wird auf Ihren Weg fallen der Schatten von dem, was mir geschehen ist, wie es meine künftigen Erdenleben verdunkeln wird. Auch auf den Fortgang der Bewegung, auf das Schicksal unseres Baues wird dieser Schatten fallen. Wenn jemals die Mysterienspiele wieder aufgeführt werden, dann müssen Sie doch eine andere Theodora haben; und da ich mich mit dem, was geschehen ist, niemals abfinden werde, so sind mir ja auch in Zukunft des Tempels Pforten verschlossen. Ja, ich muß mich fragen: kann denn unter diesen Umständen jemals wieder ----- ich brauche den Satz nicht zu vollenden.
Ich ahne, daß dies alles in okkulter Beziehung eine ganz furchtbare Sache ist. Ja, gibt es denn gar keinen Ausweg?
Nur ein Wunder kann hier helfen.
Ich weiß wohl, daß Rettung möglich wäre, und daß es nicht nur für mich furchtbar wäre, wenn sie nicht käme.
Lassen Sie mich Ihnen zum Schluß etwas erzählen, die Geschichte von der «Soeur gardienne».
Wohl merkte ich im Sommer 1913 während der Vorbereitung zu den Spielen, daß Sie unzufrieden mit mir waren; und als alles vorbei war, fühlte ich mich wie ein Kranker, der sich von seinem Arzt aufgegeben weiß. Dies Gefühl hat mich nie wieder verlassen, und ich könnte manches erzählen, wie gerade in den letzten Monaten, als Ihre Worte eigentlich aufmunternd klangen, Todeskälte mich umschauerte; was sich auch besonders steigerte, so oft mir jemand begegnete von denen, die wußten, was bevorstand. Warum ist mir, als hätte man mich ins Gesicht geschlagen? Und sehen sie nicht alle aus, als wären sie an einem Komplott beteiligt? So schoß es mir bei mancher Begegnung durch den Sinn. Doch war ich damals verhältnismäßig heiter, und verscheuchte den Eindruck. Aber dies ist nur eine Abschweifung. - Kurz ehe im vorletzten Sommer die Proben begannen, las ich die «Sceur gardienne». Ich hatte immer angenommen, daß Fräulein von Sivers die Titelrolle spielen würde. Im Lesen aber kamen mir Zweifel, ob ihr die Rolle liegen würde, ja es war mir, als ob sie sie nicht einmal gern spielen möchte. Und da merkte ich, daß die Gestalt anfing in mir zu leben, sie sprach, sie bewegte sich in mir! Es war meine Rolle. Wenn ich sie spielen dürfte! Ich sah, was es für mich bedeuten würde - es war zu schön, um wahr zu sein. Da blickten mich unsichtbare Augen an und es sprach: Man wird dir die Rolle nicht geben, mache dich darauf gefaßt! Nach meinen Erfahrungen hatte diese Stimme immer recht. Angesichts der Situation, die ich in der Tat vorfand, sagte ich mir: daß ich dieses Erlebnis gehabt habe, weiß Herr Doktor so gut wie ich; wenn er trotzdem dieses Arrangement trifft, so muß er wohl Gründe haben; - was Fräulein von Sivers betrifft, so habe ich mich wohl geirrt - das Ganze ist wohl wieder eine von den unbegreiflichen Enttäuschungen, die das Leitmotiv meines Lebens bilden. Und meine Seele schrumpfte zusammen und ich verhielt mich so ruhig ich konnte. Damit schien man aber nicht zufrieden zu sein. Völlig unverständlich war mir sowohl Fräulein von Sivers’ als Ihr Verhalten. Man suchte sozusagen mit der Laterne eine Darstellerin der Titelrolle, (jede andere), an mich schien man überhaupt nicht zu denken; jede andere schien erwünschter. Doch gab es Bemerkungen, wie es eigentlich sonderbar sei, daß ich in dem Stück nichts zu tun hätte. Ich war zurückhaltend, denn einmal fürchtete ich wirklich, eine andere Rolle in dem Stück spielen zu müssen. Nun waren die Aufführungen ziemlich die einzige Gelegenheit in meinem Leben, wo ich sozusagen frei atmen, mich selbst geben durfte. Und das nur in Rollen, die in mir lebten, wie die Theodora und Persephone. Wenn ich aber mit einer Rolle nicht gut stand, so vermehrte das auf lange Zeit den Druck, unter dem ich lebte. So hatte ich allerdings nicht die Gelassenheit dieser Sache gegenüber, wie andere sie haben mochten; es war Lebensfrage für mich. - Und in all dieser Spannung widerfuhr mir etwas, was ich unzähligemale erlebt habe, in den verschiedensten Situationen, und dem gegenüber ich immer wehrlos gewesen bin. Meine Seele knickte immer zusammen, so bald mir dieses begegnete. Wieder blickte «Es» mich an und sprach: dies ist eine Lektion! (Manchmal hieß es auch: eine Prüfung oder ähnlich).
Und ich spürte in meiner Seele die Wirkungen zahlloser, täglich, stündlich sich wiederholender Erlebnisse, die bis in die ersten Kinderjahre zurückreichten. Ich weiß nicht, warum es so ist, daß von jeher meine Umgebung sich versucht gefühlt hat, in einer unrechtmäßigen Weise an meinem Seelenleben teilzunehmen. Erst in den allerletzten Zeiten, erst hier, kann ich mir das ferne halten, doch führte das mich zu völliger Vereinsamung. Was haben doch Pflegeeltern, Erzieher, Gespielen, Freunde, Fremde u.a. alles angestellt, um zu sehen, was ich für ein Gesicht machen würde, oder um sich auszumalen, was ich über dieses oder jenes wohl empfinden würde. Und vieles andere noch. Wie gesagt, diese Erlebnisse waren so sehr an der Tagesordnung, daß ich sie nicht verarbeiten konnte. Ich erstickte daran. Ich nahm die Sache meistens ruhig hin, man wußte es eben nicht besser. Jetzt aber, in der geschilderten Lage, spielten mir diese halbbewußten Erinnerungen einen Streich und Zorn faßte mich. - Diesen Sommer nun, also ein Jahr später, stellte sich die ganze Sache nochmals vor mich hin, ich mußte alles nochmals durchleben. Und der Gedanke kam mir, daß ich Ihnen das vorangegangene Erlebnis hätte erzählen sollen.
Wie gesagt, die Worte «dies ist eine Lektion» übten stets eine erstarrende, vereisende Wirkung auf mich aus. Wenn ich mein Leben überblicke, dann ist es mir, wie wenn eine teuflische Weisheit vorausgesehen hätte, was an Lebensmöglichkeiten in diesen letzten Jahren an mir vorüberziehen würde, und wie wenn diese Intelligenz alles Erdenkliche aufgeboten hätte, um mich dafür unbrauchbar zu machen. Ich konnte sie dabei beobachten und war doch machtlos. Viel ließe sich darüber sagen, warum das geschah. Aber niemals könnte das, was in mir oder überhaupt in einer Seele für sich allein lebt, an dieser Klippe vorüberführen. Nur das, was wie ein Funke von Seele zu Seele fliegt, was jetzt noch so schwach, ach so schwach ist, kann hier das Wunder wirken ---
d.5.2
Ich überlese nochmals das Geschriebene.
Und nun frage ich:
Darf denn wirklich das alles so geschehen, wie ich es schilderte? Und es müßte so geschehen, wenn alles so bliebe, wie es jetzt ist. Aber - fühlen wir Drei etwa nicht, wie das Schicksal zwischen uns steht? Kann wirklich Einer unter uns sein, der nicht weiß, was jetzt zu geschehen hat? Dieses wird vieles ans Licht bringen; von dem, was das Geheimnis eines Einzelnen war, wird der Verlauf der Ereignisse abhängen. Dies ist wahrlich eine Prüfung, aber nicht nur für mich. Offenbar wird werden, was verborgen ist.
Noch Eines sage ich Ihnen, mein Führer: mochte Ihnen auch der Versucher aus den Augen blicken, - gar manchesmal habe ich doch erschauernd mitfühlen dürfen, wie das, was mir sich offenbart hatte, auch für Sie etwas bedeutete, dem hier nicht sein Recht wurde. Daß dies aber geschehen muß und wird, das wissen Sie wohl; das weiß auch
der Siegelbewahrer.
Alice Sprengel an Marie Steiner (Auszug) (Brief ohne Datum, eingegangen am 21. August 1915, vgl. Seite 150)
... Ich weiß, daß für die Verantwortlichen in unserer Bewegung die Leute mit «okkulten Erlebnissen» eine große Kalamität bilden. Zu verstehen ist das ja, immerhin ist unsere Bewegung doch nun einmal dazu da, um mit so etwas fertig zu werden.
Also nicht die Beziehungen zwischen Ihnen und Herrn Doktor kommen hier in Betracht. Eher schon diejenigen zwischen Ihnen und mir. Aber jene Eintragung auf dem Standesamt löste für mich die Katastrophe aus, die ich mit Schrecken seit Jahren hatte kommen sehen, - wohlgemerkt, nicht in ihrem Verlauf, aber ihrem Charakter und ihrem Schwergewicht nach. Das heißt also, daß ich seit Jahren zwischen meinem Lehrer und mir etwas aufsteigen sah, auf welches durchaus das anzuwenden ist, was uns, nicht zum ersten Mal, in diesen Tagen auseinandergesetzt wird. Es hat seinen eigenen Willen und seine eigenen Gesetze und ist mit den klügsten Sprüchlein nicht zu beschwören. Wie gesagt, soviel Selbsterkenntnis hatte ich, um vorauszusehen, was kommen mußte, wenn nichts dagegen geschah. Und wie der Kranke den Arzt, bat ich, vor 3 Jahren, Herrn Doktor um eine Unterredung. Hier mußte ich, und in der Folge immer häufiger, ein trauriges Wort sagen: Ob ich wohl der Lehre folgen konnte, nichts konnte ich begreifen von dem, was mich selbst betraf und was mir geschah. Was mich zu diesem Ausspruch brachte, muß ich hier übergehen, ich weiß nicht, wieviel Ihnen von meinem Entwicklungs- und Lebensgang bekannt ist. Ich kam nicht dazu, von meiner Not zu sprechen, Herr Doktor ließ deutlich merken, daß er nichts davon hören wollte. Im Sommer darauf aber ward uns der Hüter der Schwelle beschert. Darin das Gespräch zwischen Strader und Theodora, in dem sich in der zartesten Weise spiegelte, was mich bedrängte. Vielleicht hat Herr Doktor nichts derartiges «gemeint». Tatsache ist es dennoch. Sollte es vielleicht ein Heilversuch sein. Ich verstehe nicht—.
Eine außerordentlich treffende und gesunde Charakteristik von Alice Sprengel gibt der folgende Brief von der damals ebenfalls am Goetheanum lebenden Engländerin
Mary Peet an Alice Sprengel (Übersetzung):
Arlesheim, Oktober 1915
Liebes Fräulein Sprengel
Ich möchte nicht länger warten, um Ihnen meine Empörung auszudrücken über Ihr schmähliches Verhalten gegenüber Dr. Steiner und auch Frau Steiner gegenüber.
Ich habe Sie stets für eine ziemlich empfindlich und hysterisch wirkende Person gehalten, aber ich hätte nicht für möglich gehalten, wie weit Ihr offensichtlich hysterisches Wesen Sie führen könnte.
Daß Ihre Hoffnungen, eine prominente Persönlichkeit in unserer Gesellschaft zu werden, sich als Illusionen erwiesen, war eine Enttäuschung, die Sie nicht verkraften konnten. Das ist ja ein sehr alltäglicher Vorgang, daß enttäuschte junge Frauen in alle möglichen hysterischen Zustände verfallen, die dann phantastische Träume bewirken. In diesem Falle wurden wahrhaft heilige Dinge gemischt mit Illusionen, entstanden aus Eitelkeit, Stolz und Geltungssucht.
Wenn sich jemand für die Wiederverkörperung von David und der Jungfrau Maria hält, so ist nicht mehr viel zu sagen, denn wer sich derartigen Vorstellungen hingibt, stellt sich außerhalb des Bereichs von Logik und Vernunft.
Ein Hund pflegt nicht die Hand zu beißen, die ihm jahrelang zu fressen gegeben hat, - Sie haben nicht einmal die Treue eines Hundes bewiesen, indem Sie Ihren ganzen Groll und Haß gegen denjenigen gerichtet haben, der Leben in Ihre Existenz gebracht hat, geistig sowohl wie physisch, denn Sie verdankten ja ihm und seinen Freunden Ihre Existenzgrundlage.
Und jetzt, weil Sie enttäuscht sind, tun Sie alles, um ihn mit Unwahrheiten und Insinuationen zu beleidigen, die aus den Gedanken entstehen, welche sich Ihres Gehirns bemächtigt haben.
Dr. Steiner ist geliebt, verehrt und respektiert, sein Leben beispielhaft für alle. Durch die Kraft seines logischen und klaren Verstandes hat er vermocht, uns mit dem Brot der Weisheit und des Lebens zu nähren, und hat sich als ein wahrer Lichtträger für uns alle erwiesen.
Ich bitte Sie dringend, Vernunft anzunehmen, bevor es zu spät ist! Versuchen Sie, nur eine Stunde lang Selbstbesinnung zu üben und den Grund der fürchterlichen Selbsträuschung zu erkennen, an der Sie leiden. Hüten Sie sich vor der schrecklichen Gestalt des HASSES, die Sie durch Ihre Eifersucht und dauernde Enttäuschtheit herbeirufen!
Sie können die Vergangenheit nicht ungeschehen machen, aber Sie können versuchen, die verpaßten Gelegenheiten wiederzufinden, indem Sie aufhören, ein Bild zu bieten, das viele zu sehen vermögen, das Ihnen aber offenbar unsichtbar ist: das einer Eifersüchtigen, Undankbaren, Enttäuschten, hysterischen Illusionistin!
O Mensch, erkenne dich selbst!
Herzlichst
Mary Peet
Heinrich Goesch (Rostock 1880-1930 Konstanz) war vielseitig begabt und interessiert und hatte bereits mit 20 Jahren seinen Dr. phil. und Dr. jur. gemacht. Im Dezember 1900 taucht sein Name auch einmal in den Anwesenheitslisten der Berliner literarischen Gesellschaft «Die Kommenden» auf. Von Eltern und Verwandten finanziell unterstützt, konnte er ein Leben führen, das ihm erlaubte, zahlreichen Interessen nachzugehen. Ausgenommen in seinen letzten Lebensjahren, in denen er an der Dresdner Akademie für Kunstgewerbe über Kunst vortrug, hatte er nie einen richtigen Beruf ausgeübt, wohl aus gesundheitlichen Gründen. Laut Gutachten des Psychiaters Friedrich Husemann dürfte Goesch schon sehr früh an Epilepsie oder epileptischen Äquivalenten (Absencen) gelitten haben. Ein sachverständiger Augenzeuge berichtete, wie er einen schwersten epileptischen Anfall Goeschs miterlebt habe. (Siehe Karl Heyer, «Wie man gegen Rudolf Steiner kämpft», Stuttgart 1932.)
Mit der Psychoanalyse war Goesch um 1908/09 in Berührung gekommen, als er mit seiner Frau, einer Kusine von Käthe Kollwitz, und seinem Bruder Paul, der Maler war, in Niederpoyritz bei Dresden lebte, wo sie sich mit Architektur, Ästhetik und Philosophie beschäftigten. Der Journalist Paul Fechter, der damals mit Goeschs befreundet war, berichtet darüber in seinen Erinnerungen «Menschen und Zeiten. Begegnungen aus 5 Jahrzehnten», Gütersloh 1948, folgendes:
«In diese Welt brach nun die Psychoanalyse ein. Heinrich Goesch begegnete eines Tages einem ihrer frühesten Adepten, dem Sohn eines Grazer Hochschullehrers, der die damals noch nicht überall popularisierte Lehre Sigmund Freuds zur Grundlage seines Lebens gemacht hatte. Er nahm ihn mit nach Niederpoyritz, der junge Arzt weihte in endlosen nächtlichen Sitzungen die beiden Brüder in die Geheimnisse der neuen Lehre ein - mit dem Erfolg, daß Heinrich und Paul Goesch, konsequent und folgerichtig in allem, was sie geistig aufnahmen, sich nicht mit der Theorie begnügten, sondern sich daranmachten, die Lehre in die Tat umzusetzen. Sie hörten nicht nur zu, was der Gast zu melden hatte, sie erprobten es sofort an sich und an allem, was irgend erreichbar in der Nähe war. Sie analysierten sich und die anderen; sie inszenierten nächtliche Komplexlösungen mit einer Gründlichkeit, daß Niederpoyritz aufsässig wurde und sie in einen Ruf kamen, der dem der jungen Schlegels in Jena wenig nachgab.
Das wäre nicht wesentlich gewesen: Gerede steigt auf und verebbt wieder. Verhängnisvoller war, daß Paul Goeschs dünnwandige Seele bei diesen Experimenten einen Sprung bekommen hatte. Die Analyse hatte bei ihm offenbar Hemmungen ausgeschaltet, die für den Halt seines Lebens notwendig gewesen waren: er ging bald nach dem Besuch des Doktors zum ersten Mal in eine Anstalt...
Der von Fechter hier nicht mit Namen genannte «Doktor» war Otto Groß, Privatdozent für Psychopathologie in Graz und einer der ersten Schüler Freuds. Er strebte danach, die Psychoanalyse nicht nur wie Freud als ärztliche Behandlungsmethode anzuwenden, sondern sie auch in sozialer und politischer Hinsicht zu verwirklichen, sie zur allgemeinen Grundlage des Lebens zu machen. Dadurch kam er schließlich mit allen gesellschaftlichen Strukturen in Konflikt. Als Drogenabhängiger wurde er u.a. auch Patient von C. G. Jung im Burghölzli Zürich und spielte als Patient eine gewisse Rolle in den fachlichen Auseinandersetzungen zwischen Freud und C. G. Jung. Später wurde er auf Betreiben seines Vaters Hans Groß, Professor für Kriminalistik in Graz, entmündigt und verbrachte die meiste Zeit seines weiteren Lebens in Heilanstalten. (Siehe Emanuel Hurwitz, «Otto Groß. Paradies-Sucher zwischen Freud und Jung», Zürich 1979.)
Über die Beziehung Goeschs zur Psychoanalyse heißt es in Paul Fechters «Worte des Gedenkens» zum Tode Heinrich Goeschs (in «Deutsche Rundschau», Mai 1930):
«Als Otto Groß zu ihm stieß und ihn zuerst mit der damals noch kaum beachteten Psychoanalyse Sigmund Freuds bekannt machte, begriff Heinrich Goesch sofort, daß ihm hier eine Methode gebracht wurde, mit deren Hilfe er seinen persönlichen Bereich in der Richtung auf die Tiefe in bisher ungeahnte Bezirke ausdehnen konnte. Er griff mit Leidenschaft dies Neue auf, wieder nicht theoretisch begrifflich, abstrakt, als Objekt für sein Wissen und seine Erfahrung, sondern er stürzte sich mit all seinen Kräften und seinem ganzen Sein in diesen vor ihm sich auftuenden, in neue Tiefen führenden Strom des Lebens. Er studierte die Psychoanalyse nicht, er durchlebte sie, nahm sich selbst als sein Objekt der Analyse und stieg mit allen Erschütterungen und Ekstasen ohne irgendeine Rücksicht auf die Konsequenzen für das äußere Dasein in das Dunkel, das sich hier vor ihm auftat. Er entzog die Theorie den Bereichen der Wissenschaft und nahm sie sofort, wie alles, was ihm begegnete, in sein unmittelbares Leben hinein. Es war ein sehr gefährliches Experiment ...»
Die Anthroposophie Rudolf Steiners lernte Goesch um 1910 kennen. Bald darauf wurde er Mitglied der damals von Rudolf Steiner als Generalsekretär geleiteten Deutschen Sektion der Theosophischen Gesellschaft, empfohlen von dem Arzt Dr. Max Asch, der am 27. April 1910 an Rudolf Steiner geschrieben hatte: «Ich stehe seit etwa 2 Wochen in einem regen persönlichen Gedankenaustausch mit einem Herrn Dr. phil. Heinrich Goesch, der, wie mir scheint, für eine okkulte Schulung prädestiniert ist. Er gehört zu den hochbegabtesten Menschen, die mir bisher begegnet sind und hat vor etwa einem Jahre so merkwürdige innere Erlebnisse, die innerhalb eines achttägigen ekstatischen Zustandes zu Tage traten, gehabt, daß ich zu der Vermutung neige, daß dieser Fall auch für Sie ein spezielles Interesse haben dürfte. Er hat sich in der letzten Zeit ganz in das Studium Ihrer Schriften - Theosophie, Geheimwissenschaft etc. - versenkt und die unglaubliche Schnelligkeit, mit der er diese Dinge erfaßt hat, läßt mich annehmen, daß er in einer früheren Inkarnation schon eine Geheimschulung irgendwelcher Art durchgemacht hat - mir scheint die spezifisch christliche nach den Frlebnissen in der erwähnten Ekstase. Herr Dr. Goesch wird morgen Abend im Vortrag sein; wenn Sie es wünschen, stelle ich ihn Ihnen vor. Er will auch sofort Mitglied der theosoph. Gesellschaft werden.» Der erwähnte Vortrag fand am 28. April 1910 im Berliner Architektenhaus statt und hatte als Thema «Irrtum und Irresein» (in «Metamorphosen des Seelenlebens. Pfade der Seelenerlebnisse», zweiter Teil, GA 59). Am 30. April 1910 schrieb Asch nochmals an Rudolf Steiner: «Herr Dr. phil. Heinrich Goesch, von dem ich Ihnen schrieb, würde Ihnen sehr zu Dank verpflichtet sein, wenn Sie ihm bald Gelegenheit zu einer Aussprache geben würden, da er gern die Vorträge in Hamburg, die mit seinen Spezialforschungen des letzten Jahres einen gewissen Zusammenhang haben, hören und daher sobald als möglich Mitglied der theosoph. Gesellschaft werden möchte. Herr Dr. Goesch wohnt in Charlottenburg ...»
Bald nachdem Heinrich Goesch und seine Frau Gertrud Mitglieder geworden waren, stand im Leben der Gesellschaft das Projekt eines Zentralbaues im Vordergrund. Da Goesch großes Interesse für Architektur hatte, machte er 1912 Vorschläge für die Ausführung des Zentralbaues und kam offensichtlich auch aus diesem Interesse heraus im Frühjahr 1914 nach Dornach, wo seit dem Herbst 1913 an der Errichtung des Johannesbaues (erster Goetheanumbau) gearbeitet wurde.
Die angeführten Fakten aus dem Entwicklungsgang von Goesch, in dem nach Paul Fechter «eine sehr eigene Verbindung von Logik und Mystik» war, machen in etwa verständlich, warum er sich mit der ihm eigenen Leidenschaft auf den Fall Sprengel stürzte. Da nach dem Psychiater Friedrich Husemann ein hervortretendes Merkmal der Epileptiker ihre Egozentrizität ist, womit eine unverhältnismäßig starke Empfindlichkeit für persönliche Kränkungen und die Neigung zum Querulieren zusammenhänge und sich auf der Grundlage eines in dieser Weise veränderten Affektlebens leicht Wahnideen ausbildeten, muß eine Affinität zwischen seinen eigenen Wahnideen und denen von Alice Sprengel entstanden sein. Er verarbeitete sie in einem langen Brief an Rudolf Steiner, von dem das vom 19. August 1915 datierte Elaborat anstelle seines gewohnten Abendvortrages am Samstag, den 21. August 1915, vorgelesen wurde:
The following is a chronological reconstruction of the case based on the available documents.
Alice Sprengel (dates of birth and death unknown) joined the Theosophical Society in Munich in the summer of 1902, at a time when Rudolf Steiner was not yet serving as German secretary general. A few years later, she joined the German section. The document in which the Central Executive Council of the Anthroposophical Society informed the members about the case in the fall of 1915 states that she had had an unusually painful youth and had made a very depressed impression at the time she approached the Society. In addition, she was unemployed, so that her external circumstances were anything but favorable. That is why they wanted to help her. Marie Steiner (then Marie von Sivers) invited her to participate in the Munich Festival in 1907 and arranged for her to receive financial support from Munich members. In order to help her earn a living in line with her artistic skills, Rudolf Steiner also gave her advice on making symbolic jewelry and similar items for members of the Society. In 1914, she was also given the opportunity to move to Dornach. However, she interpreted the generous assistance she received as a sign that she must have an important mission within the society. Due to the role of “Theodora” assigned to her in Rudolf Steiner's mystery dramas, as well as the fact that Rudolf Steiner had attempted to found a “Society for Theosophical Art and Craft,” in which she had been nominated as “seal keeper” because of her artistic craftsmanship, she became increasingly absorbed in her ideas of mission. She imagined that she had had great incarnations and even considered herself the inspiration for Rudolf Steiner's spiritual teachings. The role of “Theodora” assigned to her had also created the delusion that she had symbolically received a marriage proposal from Rudolf Steiner. When Rudolf Steiner and Marie von Sivers married at Christmas 1914, this triggered an emotional catastrophe for her. The following letters she wrote to Rudolf Steiner and Marie Steiner clearly identify her as a psychopath:
Alice Sprengel to Rudolf Steiner
(Undated letter, received by him on December 25, 1914, cf. page 172)
“It has now been seven years since you, Doctor, appeared before my inner eye and said to me: ‘I am the one you have been waiting for all your life; I am the one the powers of fate have destined for you.’”
You saw the struggles and doubts that this experience brought me, and you knew that in the end, one thing remained unshakeable for me: Yes, it is so. And you waited for my soul to open up and for me to speak of this matter. But I remained silent, for my soul was broken. Long before I came to Theosophy, but also up until recent years, I experienced many things that made me say to myself: I willingly accept whatever suffering life brings me, no matter how difficult it may be. For the Spirit has shown me that it cannot be otherwise. But here is something that seems to go beyond the original plan of destiny; I lack the strength to bear it, and so it kills something in me; it destroys a strength that I was once supposed to have. These were mostly cases in which people allegedly abused my trust in love in a systematic way. But I had the feeling that this was not only caused by my own fault; it seemed to me as if the will of fate was imposing more on me than I could bear.
I had a slight inkling why this might be so. Several years ago, a voice spoke to me: there are beings in the spiritual world whose work requires people to have hopes; but they have no interest in these hopes being fulfilled – on the contrary. What we later heard about the mystery of premature death, of unattained goals, etc., did not yet dawn on me at that time.
But now I carried within me a desire, a hope, which seemed to me to be a manifestation from the spiritual world, which had made me endure the unbearable; which now worked within me with such tremendous force that they carried me away. But my soul was in a state where it could neither renounce nor endure fulfillment; or rather, it could not fulfill what fulfillment would have required of it. So I could not understand what the aforementioned experience meant for my earthly human being. For neither the teaching nor the teacher alone could revive my soul; only the person who was capable of greater love than others, so that he could also make up for greater lovelessness, could do that.
I can no longer remain silent. It speaks from within me. Years ago, I begged for your advice, I asked for clarification. At that time, you offered me comfort and hope. I thank you for that, but I could no longer bear it today. Why did you say to me recently that I seemed to be doing well? That I should persevere? Did you believe that I already knew about the step you are about to take and that I had “overcome” it? I was as far from it as ever.
Finally, I ask you: do you want Miss von Sivers to read this letter?
Alice Sprengel
Alice Sprengel to Rudolf Steiner
Arlesheim, February 3, 1915
Doctor!
This is probably my last letter to you; I will not contact you again in the future, either in writing or verbally. I just want to tell you that I see no way forward, that I feel at the end of my tether. The past few weeks have shown me that there is no chance that time will soften or blur things. It can only reveal what is hidden. Until now, I have managed to hide my condition fairly well. That will not be possible in the long run. Melancholy descends upon me, being with others and their attention becomes torture for me, and I cannot bear loneliness in the long run either. I feel buried, what wanted to unfold within me, what was supposed to flow through me into our movement. A life lies ahead of me that lacks the air to breathe. Yet I felt condemned to life in the darkest hour of my existence. But my soul will be dead. Desolation and dullness will alternate with bouts of pain. I cannot imagine how the tragedy will unfold. But perhaps in the coming weeks, some sadness will show itself in me, and it seems to me that I might say or do things that will surprise both myself and others. I do not feel that my words to you will find any echo. I feel as if I am speaking to an image. You have become unreal to me since, in the first part of the past seven years, when I stood physically before you, you appeared to me as the condensed form that had shown itself to my inner eye. Your voice sounded sweet and comforting, like my own hopes. You refreshed me with mysterious hints and promises, which were so often followed by the opposite in the course of events. And when my soul wanted to unfold under your radiant gaze, in which I read the knowledge of what had happened to me, something looked at me from your eyes that called out to me: “This is a temptation.” —
That is precisely what is so terrible, that what stood visibly before me as a human being became unreal to me. And yet I had the feeling that there was something real behind the whole thing. I do not know the power that makes your being real to me. You know that I have fought for my faith, and that I will continue to do so until the very end. You also know that I have implored that being whose light and teachings you are to bring to those who have suffered the terrible fate of being human. May whatever guilt I have brought into this matter be such that it does not interfere with your mission. I have the feeling that I have been heard. Nevertheless, the shadow of what has happened to me will fall on your path, just as it will darken my future earthly lives. This shadow will also fall on the progress of the movement, on the fate of our building. If the Mystery Plays are ever performed again, you will have to find another Theodora; and since I will never come to terms with what has happened, the doors of the temple will remain closed to me in the future. Yes, I must ask myself: under these circumstances, can I ever again... I need not finish the sentence.
I suspect that all this is a very terrible thing in occult terms. Yes, is there really no way out?
Only a miracle can help here.
I know well that salvation would be possible, and that it would be terrible not only for me if it did not come.
Let me tell you something in conclusion, the story of the “Soeur gardienne.”
I noticed in the summer of 1913, during the preparations for the Games, that you were dissatisfied with me; and when it was all over, I felt like a sick man who knows he has been given up on by his doctor. This feeling has never left me, and I could tell you many stories, such as in the last few months, when your words actually sounded encouraging, but I was overcome by a deathly chill; which intensified whenever I encountered someone who knew what was coming. Why do I feel as if I have been slapped in the face? And don't they all look as if they are involved in a conspiracy? That's what crossed my mind during many encounters. But I was relatively cheerful at the time and dismissed the impression. But this is just a digression. Shortly before rehearsals began the summer before last, I read “Sceur gardienne.” I had always assumed that Miss von Sivers would play the title role. But as I read, I began to doubt whether the role would suit her; in fact, it seemed to me that she would not even want to play it. And then I realized that the character was beginning to live inside me, she was speaking, she was moving inside me! It was my role. If only I could play it! I saw what it would mean for me—it was too good to be true. Then invisible eyes looked at me and said: You will not be given the role, be prepared for that! In my experience, this voice was always right. In view of the situation I actually found myself in, I said to myself: the doctor knows as well as I do that I had this experience; if he makes this arrangement anyway, he must have his reasons; As for Miss von Sivers, I must have been mistaken—the whole thing is probably another one of those incomprehensible disappointments that are the leitmotif of my life. And my soul shrank, and I behaved as calmly as I could. But that didn't seem to satisfy them. Both Miss von Sivers' and your behavior were completely incomprehensible to me. They were searching high and low for an actress to play the title role (any other actress), and no one seemed to consider me at all; every other actress seemed more desirable. Yet there were comments about how strange it was that I had no part in the play. I was cautious, because at one point I really feared that I would have to play another role in the play. Now, the performances were pretty much the only opportunity in my life where I could breathe freely, so to speak, and be myself. And that was only in roles that lived within me, such as Theodora and Persephone. But if I didn't do well in a role, it increased the pressure I lived under for a long time. So I didn't have the same composure about this as others might have had; it was a matter of life and death for me. And in all this tension, something happened to me that I have experienced countless times in a wide variety of situations, and against which I have always been defenseless. My soul always collapsed as soon as I encountered this. Again, “It” looked at me and said: this is a lesson! (Sometimes it was also called a test or something similar).
And I felt in my soul the effects of countless experiences, repeated daily, hourly, dating back to my early childhood. I don't know why it is that my environment has always felt compelled to participate in my inner life in an illegitimate way. Only in the very last days, only here, have I been able to keep this at bay, but it led me to complete isolation. What did foster parents, educators, playmates, friends, strangers, and others do to see what kind of face I would make, or to imagine what I would feel about this or that? And much more. As I said, these experiences were so commonplace that I couldn't process them. I was suffocating. I usually took it calmly; I didn't know any better. But now, in the situation I described, these semi-conscious memories played a trick on me and I was overcome with anger. This summer, a year later, the whole thing came back to me and I had to relive it all over again. And it occurred to me that I should have told you about the previous experience.
As I said, the words “this is a lesson” always had a paralyzing, chilling effect on me. When I look back on my life, it is as if some diabolical wisdom had foreseen what opportunities would pass me by in recent years, and as if this intelligence had done everything possible to render me incapable of taking advantage of them. I could observe it happening, yet I was powerless. Much could be said about why this happened. But nothing that lives within me or within any soul on its own could ever lead me past this cliff. Only that which flies like a spark from soul to soul, which is still so weak, oh so weak, can work the miracle here...
d.5.2
I reread what I have written.
And now I ask:
Can all this really happen as I have described it? And it would have to happen if everything remained as it is now. But—do we three not feel how fate stands between us? Can there really be one among us who does not know what must now happen? This will bring many things to light; the course of events will depend on what was the secret of one individual. This is truly a test, but not only for me. What is hidden will become apparent.
I will tell you one more thing, my guide: even though the tempter may look you in the eye, I have often shuddered with sympathy, knowing that what had been revealed to me also meant something to you that was not being done justice here. But you know well that this must and will happen; the keeper of the seal also knows this.
the keeper of the seal knows this too.
Alice Sprengel to Marie Steiner (excerpt) (letter without date, received on August 21, 1915, cf. page 150)
... I know that for those responsible in our movement, people with “occult experiences” are a great calamity. This is understandable, after all, our movement is there to deal with such things.
So it is not the relationship between you and the doctor that is at issue here. Rather, it is the relationship between you and me. But that entry in the registry office triggered the catastrophe that I had been dreading for years—not in terms of its course, mind you, but in terms of its character and its gravity. This means that for years I had seen something developing between my teacher and me that is entirely applicable to what is being discussed, not for the first time, these days. It has its own will and its own laws and cannot be conjured up with the wisest of sayings. As I said, I had enough self-awareness to foresee what would happen if nothing was done about it. And like a sick person asks a doctor, I asked the doctor for a consultation three years ago. Here, and increasingly often thereafter, I had to say a sad word: even though I was able to follow the teachings, I could not understand anything that concerned me and what was happening to me. I must omit here what led me to make this statement; I do not know how much you know about my development and life. I did not get around to talking about my distress; the doctor made it clear that he did not want to hear about it. But in the summer that followed, we were blessed with the guardian of the threshold. In it, the conversation between Strader and Theodora reflected in the most delicate way what was troubling me. Perhaps the doctor did not “mean” anything of the sort. Nevertheless, it is a fact. Perhaps it was an attempt at healing. I don't understand—.
The following letter from Mary Peet, an Englishwoman who was also living at the Goetheanum at the time, provides an extraordinarily accurate and healthy characterization of Alice Sprengel.
Mary Peet to Alice Sprengel (translation):
Arlesheim, October 1915
Dear Miss Sprengel
I cannot wait any longer to express my indignation at your shameful behavior towards Dr. Steiner and also towards Mrs. Steiner.
I have always considered you to be a rather sensitive and hysterical person, but I would never have thought that your obviously hysterical nature could lead you so far.
The fact that your hopes of becoming a prominent figure in our society proved to be illusions was a disappointment you could not cope with. It is, of course, a very common occurrence for disappointed young women to fall into all kinds of hysterical states, which then give rise to fantastical dreams. In this case, truly sacred things were mixed with illusions born of vanity, pride, and a craving for recognition.
When someone considers themselves to be the reincarnation of David and the Virgin Mary, there is not much more to say, because anyone who indulges in such ideas places themselves outside the realm of logic and reason.
A dog does not bite the hand that has fed it for years—you have not even shown the loyalty of a dog by directing all your resentment and hatred toward the one who brought life into your existence, both mentally and physically, because you owed your livelihood to him and his friends.
And now, because you are disappointed, you are doing everything you can to insult him with untruths and insinuations that arise from the thoughts that have taken hold of your brain.
Dr. Steiner is loved, revered, and respected, his life an example to all. Through the power of his logical and clear mind, he has been able to nourish us with the bread of wisdom and life, and has proven himself to be a true bearer of light for us all.
I urge you to come to your senses before it is too late! Try to practice self-reflection for just one hour and recognize the reason for the terrible self-deception from which you suffer. Beware of the terrible figure of HATRED that you conjure up through your jealousy and constant disappointment!
You cannot undo the past, but you can try to recapture missed opportunities by ceasing to present an image that many can see, but which is apparently invisible to you: that of a jealous, ungrateful, disappointed, hysterical illusionist!
O man, know thyself!
Sincerely,
Mary Peet
Heinrich Goesch (Rostock 1880-1930 Konstanz) was multi-talented and interested in many things, and had already earned his Dr. phil. and Dr. jur. degrees by the age of 20. In December 1900, his name also appeared once in the attendance lists of the Berlin literary society “Die Kommenden” (The Coming Ones). With financial support from his parents and relatives, he was able to lead a life that allowed him to pursue numerous interests. Except for the last years of his life, when he lectured on art at the Dresden Academy of Arts and Crafts, he never had a real job, probably for health reasons. According to the expert opinion of psychiatrist Friedrich Husemann, Goesch may have suffered from epilepsy or epileptic equivalents (absences) from a very early age. An expert eyewitness reported how he had witnessed one of Goesch's most severe epileptic seizures. (See Karl Heyer, “Wie man gegen Rudolf Steiner kämpft” [How to Fight Rudolf Steiner], Stuttgart 1932.)
Goesch came into contact with psychoanalysis around 1908/09, when he was living with his wife, a cousin of Käthe Kollwitz, and his brother Paul, who was a painter, in Niederpoyritz near Dresden, where they were engaged in architecture, aesthetics, and philosophy. The journalist Paul Fechter, who was a friend of Goesch's at the time, reports the following in his memoirs “Menschen und Zeiten. Begegnungen aus 5 Jahrzehnten” (People and Times: Encounters from Five Decades), Gütersloh 1948:
"Psychoanalysis now burst into this world. One day, Heinrich Goesch met one of its earliest adepts, the son of a university professor from Graz, who had made Sigmund Freud's teachings, which were not yet widely popular at the time, the basis of his life. He took him to Niederpoyritz, where the young doctor initiated the two brothers into the secrets of the new teachings in endless nightly sessions—with the result that Heinrich and Paul Goesch, consistently and logically, in everything they absorbed intellectually, were not satisfied with theory, but set about putting the teachings into practice. They not only listened to what their guest had to say, they immediately tried it out on themselves and on everything that was within reach. They analyzed themselves and others; they staged nightly complex solutions with such thoroughness that Niederpoyritz became rebellious and they gained a reputation that was little inferior to that of the young Schlegels in Jena.
That would not have been significant: talk rises and ebbs away again. More disastrous was the fact that Paul Goesch's thin-walled soul had been cracked by these experiments. The analysis had apparently removed inhibitions that had been necessary for his stability in life: soon after visiting the doctor, he went to an institution for the first time...
The “doctor” not named here by Fechter was Otto Groß, a private lecturer in psychopathology in Graz and one of Freud's first students. He strove not only to apply psychoanalysis as a medical treatment method, as Freud did, but also to implement it in social and political terms, making it the general basis of life. This ultimately brought him into conflict with all social structures. As a drug addict, he also became a patient of C. G. Jung at the Burghölzli in Zurich and, as a patient, played a certain role in the professional disputes between Freud and C. G. Jung. Later, at the instigation of his father Hans Groß, professor of criminology in Graz, he was declared legally incompetent and spent most of the rest of his life in sanatoriums. (See Emanuel Hurwitz, “Otto Groß. Paradies-Sucher zwischen Freud und Jung” [Otto Groß: Paradise Seeker between Freud and Jung], Zurich, 1979.)
Paul Fechter's “Words of Remembrance” on the death of Heinrich Goesch (in “Deutsche Rundschau,” May 1930) says the following about Goesch's relationship to psychoanalysis:
"When Otto Groß joined him and first introduced him to Sigmund Freud's psychoanalysis, which was still largely ignored at the time, Heinrich Goesch immediately understood that he had been given a method with which he could expand his personal sphere into previously unimagined depths. He embraced this new idea with passion, again not theoretically or conceptually, abstractly, as an object for his knowledge and experience, but threw himself with all his strength and his whole being into this stream of life that opened up before him and led to new depths. He did not study psychoanalysis, he lived it, taking himself as his object of analysis and descending into the darkness that opened up before him with all its shocks and ecstasies, without any regard for the consequences for his external existence. He removed the theory from the realm of science and immediately incorporated it, like everything else he encountered, into his immediate life. It was a very dangerous experiment ..."
Goesch became acquainted with Rudolf Steiner's anthroposophy around 1910. Soon afterwards, he became a member of the German Section of the Theosophical Society, then headed by Rudolf Steiner as General Secretary, recommended by the physician Dr. Max Asch, who had written to Rudolf Steiner on April 27, 1910: "For about two weeks now, I have been engaged in a lively personal exchange of ideas with a Dr. Heinrich Goesch, who, it seems to me, is predestined for occult training. He is one of the most highly gifted people I have ever met and, about a year ago, he had such remarkable inner experiences, which came to light during an eight-day ecstatic state, that I am inclined to assume that this case may also be of special interest to you. Recently, he has immersed himself completely in the study of your writings—Theosophy, Secret Science, etc. and the incredible speed with which he has grasped these things leads me to believe that he has already undergone some kind of secret training in a previous incarnation—it seems to me to be specifically Christian, based on his experiences in the aforementioned ecstasy. Dr. Goesch will be giving a lecture tomorrow evening; if you wish, I will introduce him to you. He also wants to become a member of the Theosophical Society immediately.“ The lecture mentioned took place on April 28, 1910, at the Berlin Architektenhaus and had as its theme ”Error and Insanity“ (in ”Metamorphoses of the Soul Life. Paths of Soul Experiences," second part, GA 59). On April 30, 1910, Asch wrote again to Rudolf Steiner: "Dr. Heinrich Goesch, whom I wrote to you about, would be very grateful if you would give him an opportunity to talk to you soon, as he would like to hear the lectures in Hamburg, which are related to his special research of the last year, and would therefore like to become a member of the Theosophical Society as soon as possible. Dr. Goesch lives in Charlottenburg..."
Soon after Heinrich Goesch and his wife Gertrud became members, the Society's focus shifted to the project of constructing a central building. As Goesch had a keen interest in architecture, he made proposals for the design of the central building in 1912 and, apparently motivated by this interest, came to Dornach in the spring of 1914, where work on the Johannesbau (the first Goetheanum building) had been underway since the fall of 1913.
The facts cited from Goesch's development, in which, according to Paul Fechter, there was “a very unique combination of logic and mysticism,” make it somewhat understandable why he threw himself into the Sprengel case with his characteristic passion. According to psychiatrist Friedrich Husemann, a prominent characteristic of epileptics is their egocentricity, which is associated with a disproportionately strong sensitivity to personal insults and a tendency to quarrel, and on the basis of an affective life altered in this way, delusions easily develop. there must have been an affinity between his own delusions and those of Alice Sprengel. He processed them in a long letter to Rudolf Steiner, which was read aloud on Saturday, August 21, 1915, instead of his usual evening lecture. The letter was dated August 19, 1915.