Theosophy in Secret Germany
Melchior Lechter, Panis angelorum (1906) |
In my very first blogpost on Creative Reading (2012)
I wrote about the German poet Stefan George and his "hidden church of the
spirit." At first sight, this elite cult of refined esthetics and
homo-erotic spirituality might seem to have pretty little in common with madame
Blavatsky (ridiculed by George himself as “die dicke Madame”, “the fat madam”)
and the popular movement of Theosophy that was making headlines in the same
period. However, in his excellent recent monograph Der George-Kreis und die Theosophie, mit einem Exkurs zum Swastika-Zeichen bei Helena Blavatsky, Alfred Schuler und Stefan George (The George Circle and
Theosophy: with an Excursus about the Swastika symbol in Helena Blavatsky,
Alfred Schuler and Stefan George) Jan Stottmeister shows that by making the
comparison nevertheless, we can learn much that has been forgotten about
the cultural climate of the early twentieth century. The book begins with well-documented
overviews of modern Theosophy and the esthetic milieu of the fin-de-siècle. What these networks had in common, in spite
of all differences, was their counter-culturalism: “From 1889 ... to the
turn of the century ... George moved in counter-cultural milieus that, by
communicating knowledge about secrets, constituted themselves as the esoteric
Other to the outside world. The outside world was the bourgeois society of the
late 19th century, experienced as disenchanted, rationalized, dominated by mass
culture, and hopelessly ugly. Estheticism and occultism, the esthetics and
hermeneutics of secrecy, symbolist art programs and secret teachings, the
intermingling roles of artist and visionary, artistic/religious and other
alternative religious constructions of meaning – all belonged inseparably
together within this milieu. Whether "the secret" meant the essence
of a poetry that, following Mallarmé, should remain linguistically aloof and
beyond the public gaze, so as to be revealed only to "âmes d'élite"
(elite souls) capable of understanding it; or whether it meant the knowledge
claimed by charismatic leaders of Orders that promised to initiate their pupils
into the secrets of the world – such distinctions were subordinate to the general
desire of demarcating oneself, socially, intellectually, and habitually, from
the dominant culture of materialism (p. 91).
Melchior Lechter, Shambhala (1925) |
However, as George began establishing
his circle after 1900 – by demarcating his vision from that of competing groups
such as the "Cosmic Circle" of Munich (dominated by Alfred Schuler
and Ludwig Klages), staking his claim of ultimate and undisputable authority,
and instituting his cult of the "divine boy" Maximin – it became intolerable
to der Meister to think that his pupils might show allegiance to any
other "Masters" (such as the Theosophical Mahatmas) or to any other boyish
vehicle of divinity (such as Jiddu Krishnamurti, the Indian boy elected by the
Theosophists as their future World Teacher). As Stottmeister shows, the central
figure in George's competition with Theosophy was the nowadays forgotten artist
Melchior Lechter (1865-1937; for the only collection with full-color prints of
his paintings, glass-paintings, prints and designs, see the catalogue Melchior Lechters Gegen-Welten of 2006).
Lechter turns out to be a
fascinating character. He admired J.-K. Huysmans’ famous novel of extreme
fin-de-siecle decadence, A rebours,
and followed the example of its protagonist, Des Esseintes, by turning his
house and atelier into a private artistic “Counter-World” (Gegen-Welt) against bourgeois society: a place where everything
breathed a refined atmosphere of sacrality more reminiscent of a Catholic
church than a living space. It became the favourite meeting place of George’s
circle in Berlin; and among all George’s friends, only Lechter was recognized
by Der Meister as a “Master” in his
own right. Most notably, all George’s volumes of poetry first appeared in
limited bibliophile editions designed by Lechter, who thereby dominated the
visual imagination of George’s religion of art. However, Lechter was not just
an extreme fin-de-siècle esthete, but also a great admirer of Madame Blavatsky.
In his mind, these two perspectives seem to have gone perfectly together; and
so it is not suprising that hidden references to his Theosophical beliefs are
omnipresent in his artistic production, including his works commissioned by
George. Stottmeister’s analyses of this discreet Theosphical presence in works
of art are precise, detailed, full of interest, very well informed, and last
but not least, written (like the whole book) in excellent prose with a fine
sense of subtle humor whenever the occasion calls for it.
Melchior Lechter, Sacred Tower in the Mountains with the Four Sources of the Streams of Life (1917) |
The fascination with
Theosophy among members of his circle did become a problem for George. Sometimes
he seems to have tried making opportunistic use of it for his own purposes, as
in an intriguing conversation reported by Herbert Steiner (no relation of the
founder of Anthroposophy Rudolf Steiner, discussed at length elsewhere in
Stottmeister’s book), who claims that George described himself as a messenger
sent by the Mahatmas (p. 199-200). But in the end, there could be only one
Master in George’s universe. In October 1910, Melchior Lechter made a trip to
India, together with another central member of the George circle, Karl
Wolfskehl. Both had becomes members of the Theosophical Society briefly before
(p. 254). They paid no less than five visits to Adyar, had a private meeting
with Annie Besant, accompanied her and her followers on walks, listened to
lectures, and met the young Hindu “vehicle of the world teacher”
Jiddu Krishnamurti. Back home, Lechter published an account of his trip to
India as Tagebuch der indischen Reise
(Diary of the Indian Journey, 1912) and sent it to George as a Christmas
present. This proved to be a fatal miscalculation. George refused to answer and
cut all ties of friendship with Lechter. They had a few awkward meetings in
later years; but as usual with George, the break was final and irreversible.
Henceforth, George’s books were published without Lechter’s designs. For
Lechter himself, the break was deeply painful.
While Melchior Lechter is
the central figure in Stottmeister’s analysis, separate chapters full of
fascinating information are devoted to other figures relevant to the relation
between George and Theosophy, notably the composer Cyrill Scott; the poet Karl
Wolfskehl (the true “inventor of the George cult”, according to Stottmeister,
p. 254); the writer, spiritualist, Theosophist, and alchemist Alexander von
Bernus; and even the Marxist philosopher Ernst Bloch. Finally, Stottmeister
shows that Friedrich Gundolf’s deeply apologetic book George (1920) is permeated not only by an agenda of hero-worship premised
on George’s unique spiritual superiority (he is described, in biblical terms,
as “The Way, the Truth, and Life”, p. 287) but also, simultaneously, by an
urgently felt need to demarcate him sharply from the competition of Theosophy,
“the worst idea of modernity” (p. 290).
Henceforth (and this is a
familiar story in the study of Western esotericism) the dimension of Theosophy
and occultism was written out of standard scholarly treatments devoted to
Stefan George and his circle. Just as (to mention just one parallel) Swedenborg was reduced in academic Kant scholarship to no more than a ridiculous Spirit Seer without serious philosophical import, Theosophy got reduced to no more
than the flaky brainchild of “die dicke Madame”. In a sharp and perfectly
justified critique of the dominant academic trend in Germany after World War
II, Stottmeister remarks (with obvious reference to Adorno’s famous definition
of occultism as “the metaphysics of the stupid guys”) that “from an academic perspective,
the occultist interests of the smart guys – Ernst Bloch and Walter Benjamin, to
mention just those closest to Adorno – are no longer noticed. In the decades
after World War II, henceforth historians of modernity just know about one type
of occultists: Nazis” (323). The deep irony is that such notions of “Nazi
occultism” have been embraced as historically correct by generations of German
academics, in blissful ignorance of the fact that they were thereby lending credence to occultist pseudo-histories themselves (largely originating from
Pauwels & Bergier’s bestselling Morning
of the Magicians, but given credence, as demonstrated by Stottmeister, by
the authoritative work of George Mosse).
These concluding remarks
about the question of National Socialism – inevitable in a book like this,
given the oft-debated question of how George’s “Secret Germany” is
related to the Third Reich – prove to be the upbeat for a truly impressive
Appendix of more than seventy pages, devoted to “Helena Blavatsky, Alfred Schuler,
Stefan George, and the Western History of the Interpretation of the Swastika Sign” (pp. 327-398). This appendix should definitely be translated into English
as soon as possible. The Swastika sign was not just adopted by the Nazis as
their symbol, but also appears prominently in the seal of the Theosophical
Society (as well as in Blavatsky’s private seal), on Melchior Lechter’s designs
of books from the George Circle, as well as in the work of Alfred Schuler (the
central figure of the Munich “Cosmic Circle” that originally overlapped with
George’s circle). As such, it looks like a red thread among George and
Theosophy that requires interpretation. Stottmeister has excellent things
to say about what he calls the “Swastika effect”, which makes it psychologically
impossible for us to see the swastika without being reminded of the Nazis. In fact, however, the sign
became popular first “in apolitical contexts: as the sign of an occultist
society that actually promoted the brotherhood of races and nations, as a
favourite ornament in Jugendstil and Art Deco design, and as a profane business
logo for products of all kinds (p 330). Ironically, from our present-day
perspective, it was seen as a sign of good luck. Against the background of
popular 19th century theories of race and evolution, including antisemitic
argumentations for Aryan supremacy such as Emile Burnouf’s La Science des Religions (1870), Stottmeister provides a sterling
analysis of how the swastika symbol adopted from India functioned in the
context of Blavatsky’s “race-theoretical anti-racism”, followed by equally
impressive discussions of Alfred Schuler’s obsession with the symbol and, of course, its
appearance in the circle around Stefan George. Any further non-political use of the
Swastika became impossible after World War II, of course, for as Stottmeister
notes, “historical contextualizations were powerless against this reconditioned
visual perception. The Good Luck sign had been transformed irreversibly into a
sign of Horror” (p. 344).
Still, powerless or not,
what is the point of historical scholarship if we do not insist that
fiction can be distinguished from fact and that it is important to do so? Like all good researchers in
the modern study of Western esotericism, Stottmeister gives us a careful deconstruction
of ingrained academic myths that have been taken for granted by scholars for
generations and have obstructed and distorted our view of historical reality.
This pars destruens is necessary in
order to clear the ground for the pars
construens that should follow in its wake: that of reconstructing our standard ways
of imagining Western culture from the bottom up.
Melchior Lechter, Orpheus (1896) |
Interesting parallels here concerning the Symbolists of Germanic Folklore and the discrediting of the Symbolist research done before and during the Third Reich. To this day, scholars of Pa German Hex Signs deny that they (Hex Signs) have meaning and are purely decorative because to do so would validate their Heiden roots
ReplyDeleteGreat readd thanks
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