62. Raoul H. Francé: “The Sensory Life of Plants”

A few months ago, the Kosmos, Gesellschaft der Naturfreunde (Cosmos, Society of Nature Lovers), Stuttgart, published a collection of popular scientific writings that included a booklet on The Sensory Life of Plants (Franckhsche Verlagshandlung in Stuttgart). It was written by the brilliant Raoul H. Francé, who is also the author of the important work in installments “The Life of Plants” (Franckh'sche Buchhandlung, Stuttgart), and who, two years ago, in an excellent orientation tool for those who want to learn about the current state of research regarding the development of living beings. A work such as The Mental Life of Plants must fill occultists with satisfaction. They are bound to be pleased when as many people as possible take note of the facts presented here. For all those who have any sense at all for the “mysterious” sources of life, such a presentation can be a good preparation for understanding the points of view of occultism and theosophy. And when the narrator of these facts solves his task in such a subtle and at the same time generally understandable way, this must be particularly welcomed. A noble sense of nature, a delicate way of approaching the phenomena of life, prevails in the booklet. It is evident everywhere that the author approaches these phenomena not only with intellectual cleverness, but with the participation of the whole soul. He discusses the “wonderful” facts in the life of plants. They are only “wonderful”, however, for those who are inclined to see something lifeless and automatically functioning in plants. For such people, the facts listed can indeed arouse astonishment. For those who know something about occultism and see the expressions not only of life but also of the “spirit” in all natural kingdoms, “admiration” does not cease, it can even increase to “exaltation”, but the “wonder” does cease when they hear from the mouth of the natural scientist how the plant “perceives” light, smell, water, etc. From the story of R. France & s, something feels like a shy admiration for the strange things he has to tell. “... the plant moves... its whole body as freely and lightly and gracefully as the most skillful animal - only much slower. The roots search the soil, the buds and shoots move in measured circles, the leaves and flowers nod and shudder at changes, the tendrils circle in search and reach out with ghostly arms to their surroundings – but the superficial person walks by and mistakes the plant for rigid and lifeless because he does not take the time to spend an hour with it. But the plant has time. Therefore it does not hurry; for the giants in Flora's realm live through the centuries and see countless generations of people come to life and pass away at their feet.” Those who describe in this way are not only concerned with taking note of what they are depicting, but also with empathizing with how they depict it. Therefore, some characteristic passages from the booklet will be reproduced here. “One of the most vital organs of the plant body is the root, or more correctly, the fine, worm-like root ends, the tip of which Darwin compared to a brain for a reason. It is hard to believe what this white thread can do. Above all, it slowly but constantly turns its tip in a circle, literally screwing itself into the ground. Anyone who has observed this compares it to a search for food. The roots feel their way through every crumb of earth in their surroundings. And how strange; from where the soil is dry, the root turns to wetter places. It always grows towards the area with more moisture. In physiology, this is called hygrotropism, a sense of proximity to water. But the root also turns downwards. It also has a sense of gravity (geotropism). As if with tiny ropes, every plant is pulled deeper into the earth. If you examine a perennial meadow clover or a carrot, where it is particularly easy to see, you will find that every year it sinks about 5 cm deeper from the point where it originally germinated. It can only compensate for this descent into the depths by constantly growing the underground stem, but it is precisely this that ensures its firm footing. Living beings know how to turn everything to their advantage.

The story continues with the beautiful description of the tendrils of certain plants, which “search and grope” like the arms of a polyp, in order to embrace a support, thus enabling the plants to climb up trees and walls. The phenomenon of “plant sleep” is explained. “The leaflets press closely together and stand diagonally upwards; they have completed their night turn after sunset.” It is shown how leaves and other parts of certain plants join together in strange ways when they are touched. The reader also learns how other plants have devices that help them to catch small animals in an almost insidious way, which they then consume as food. “In the moors around Hamburg and Hannover, the sundew grows just as it does in the swamps of the Oderbruch and the Spreewald, the high moors of the German low mountain ranges and the mosses of the Bavarian-Swabian plateau. On the upper side of each of its small, key-shaped leaves, a sundew plant has red lashes, at the tip of which a dewdrop really does glisten in the sunshine. Rigid and immobile, they spread out like antennae. It is, of course, only our imagination, but we believe we can see that the plant is lurking. And truly, woe to the unsuspecting mosquito, the eager fly, that wants to nibble on the temptingly sparkling dewdrop. Its little head gets stuck in the viscous mucus; where its little feet come into contact with one of the deceptive glue spindles, it gets more and more smeared and sticks all the more firmly. Meanwhile, the feelers are seized with excitement. After just a few minutes, they reach for the victim, one after the other, slowly but with unerring certainty; within one to three hours, almost all of them have descended on the unfortunate mosquito, whose fate is thus decided.” The prey is now devoured. “On the outside, of course, nothing betrays it, but when the tentacles let go after a few days and the little frying pan straightens, only a scrawny skeleton remains, which the wind blows away. Flesh and blood have been sucked out – the tentacles are not only tongues, but also stomachs at the same time. .... They are creatures that stretch their stomachs on stems into the air."

Thus, in a thoroughly sympathetic way, France presents a long series of plant life phenomena. He then comes to the following consideration: “From this infinite wealth of experiences, however, new convictions necessarily emerged. Beings that react so surely, so diversely, so promptly to the outside world must, of necessity, also possess those connecting paths between their ego and the outside world that we call ‘sense’ and ‘sense organ’ in the case of ourselves.” And it is out of this conviction that researchers have sought the special “sense organs” of plants. France also gives a good overview of what more recent naturalists have discovered in this regard. There are simple organs in plants that can be compared to the sense organs of animals and humans. In certain leaves, for example, the uppermost layer of cells acts like a collecting lens, whereby the light is collected in the center of the cells and prepared for the corresponding effect on the plant nature. This can be compared to the compound eye of certain animals. Furthermore, there are cells at the so-called root hood and at other points on the plant in which freely moving starch grains are deposited. These move around when the plant makes certain turns, and the direction of the plant in line with the line of gravity can come about. Again, this organ can be compared to a sensory organ for gravity. It is not possible here to point out in detail all the “ingenious” devices of this kind that can be found in the plant body. In this connection, special mention should be made of the beautiful little work by Haberlandt entitled “The Sensory Organs of Plants” (Leipzig 1904). Haberlandt, together with Nĕmec, Noll and others, is among the most deserving researchers of recent times in this field. Certain organs that can be compared to nerves have even been identified in plants. It is easy to understand why Francé came to the conclusion: “What more magnificent doctrine can the dumb plant still grant us than the one it has already revealed to us: that its sensory life is a primitive form, the beginning of the human spirit.” Or: “That in its sensory life, the animal is nothing but a more highly developed plant.”

The occultist, however, may point out that his “science” leads to the knowledge of this field, admittedly in a different form, but all the more surely for that. Anyone who has heard lectures on “occultism” that touch on this field will know how absolutely clearly it is spoken of there as of the “root as the head of the plant,” of the plant's relationship to light and gravity and all the other things that Franc& touches on. For those who see through the circumstances, the present attempts of natural scientists appear as unclear groping ventures into a field that can receive clarity and certainty from occultism. Indeed, in many ways the modern natural scientist appears to the occultist as a fantasist. Even the talk of the “meaning” and “mental life” of plants seems fanciful compared to the clear ideas of occultism, which shed light on the relationship between the above-mentioned life phenomena and organs of the plant and those of animals and humans that can be compared with them. And so, in particular, one of Frances's statements would like to be corrected by occultism. France says: “I am not afraid to say it again: that we have hardly tackled the main task, which we have left unsolved, barely grasped in its essence, and must leave it to our children to solve.” This main task can be “grasped in its essence” if natural science does not proudly reject occultism, but instead allies itself with it and allows itself to be fertilized by it. One should not “wander into the distance” to “our children”; one should seek the “good” that “lies so close,” namely in occult wisdom. But for the time being, natural science does not want to learn about occultism. The word “learn” is used here consciously, because occultism is not condemned because it is known, but because it is not known. Essays that will appear in this journal in the future will shed light on the research that underlies the writing of Francés from the point of view of occultism. But the occultist can only repeat: delve into such works as those of the spirited France: you will find in them the best, the surest preparation for occult training. Our ancestors did not need this preparation; it is useful to the present-day mind, which is more directed towards the material. And the “children” will no doubt find the reconciliation between occultism and natural science. Until then, the occultist can wait patiently. With his sincere love for the natural scientist, he stands on the Goethean point of view: whether you are loved in return, what does it matter to you?