Donate books to help fund our work. Learn more→

The Rudolf Steiner Archive

a project of Steiner Online Library, a public charity

The Study of Man
GA 293

5 September 1919, Stuttgart

Lecture XIV

If we regard man in the way we have done here in evolving a true art of education, his threefold bodily nature becomes evident from many aspects. We can clearly distinguish between all that belongs to the system of the head—the head formation of man, and what belongs to the formation of the chest, of the whole trunk; and these, again, we distinguish from what belongs to the limb formation. At the same time we must recognise that the limb formation is much more complicated than is usually imagined: because what is present in the limbs in germ—and is really formed, as we have seen, from without inwards—is continued right into the interior of man's being; hence we have to distinguish between what is built up from within outwards and what is pushed into the human body, so to speak, from without inwards.

If we have a picture in our minds of this threefold division of the human being, it will be particularly clear how man's head is in itself a whole human being, a whole human being raised from out the animal stage.

In the head we have the real head; but we have also the trunk, that is all that belongs to the nose; and we have the limb part, which is continued into the bodily cavity, namely, all that comprises the mouth. So we can see how the whole human being is present in the head in bodily form. Only, the chest part of the head is stunted; it is so stunted that the relation between the nose and the lung nature is no longer conspicuous. A correspondence, however, does exist between the nose and nasal passages and the lung nature. This nose is rather like a metamorphosed lung. It therefore transforms the breathing process also and makes it take on a more physical nature. Perhaps you think of the lung as less spiritual than the nose? This is a mistake. The lung is more of a work of art. It is more permeated with spirit, or at least with soul, than is the nose—which, to be sure, really pokes out in the face in the most immodest way; whereas the lung, although more soul-like than the nose, conceals its existence with more modesty.

And it is the mouth, and all that belongs with it, that is related to the metabolic system, to digestion and nourishment, and to all that is a continuation of the limb-forces into man; the mouth, indeed, cannot disguise its relationship to nourishment and to the limb nature.

Thus the head is a whole human being, only the non-head part of it is stunted: chest and lower body are also present in the head but in a stunted form.

Now when in contrast to this, we consider the limb man we find that all its outer shapes, all its outer configuration is essentially a transformation of man's two jaw bones, of the upper and lower jaw. What encloses your mouth below and above is but a stunted form of your legs and feet, and your arms and hands. Only you must think of the thing in its right position. Now you can say: If I think of my arms and hands as the upper jaw-bone, and my legs and feet as the lower jaw-bone, I have to ask: “To what are these jaw bones directed? Where do these jaws bite? Where is the mouth?” And you must answer this question as follows: It is where your upper arm is attached to your body, and where the upper part of your leg, the femur, is attached to your body. So that if you think of this as the human trunk (see drawing) you must think of the real head as somewhere outside: it opens its mouth here above (see drawing) and here below also; so that you can imagine a remarkable tendency of this invisible head that opens its jaws in the direction of your chest and your abdomen.

What then does this invisible head do? It is constantly devouring you. It opens its jaws upon you. And here the outward form is a wonderful representation of the real facts. Whereas man's proper head is a material bodily head, the head belonging to his limb-nature is a spiritual head, but one that becomes a little material so that it can continually eat the human being up. And when death comes, it has devoured him completely.

Figure 1

This, truly, is the wonderful process, that our limbs are so made as constantly to be consuming us. Our organism slips continuously into the yawning jaws of our own spirituality. The spiritual perpetually demands of us a sacrificial devotion. And this sacrificial devotion is expressed even in the form of the body. We have no understanding of the human form unless we recognise the expression of this sacrifice to the spirit in the relation of the limbs to the rest of the human body. Thus we can say: the head and limb nature of man form a contrast to one another and it is the chest or trunk nature, mid-way between, that (from one aspect) maintains the balance of these opposites.

In man's chest there is in reality just as much head nature as limb nature. Limb nature and head nature are interwoven in the chest nature. The chest has a continuous upward tendency to became head, and a continuous downward tendency to fit in with the out-stretched limbs, with the outer world, in other words to become a part of the limb nature. The upper part of the chest nature has the constant tendency to become head; the lower part has the tendency to become limb man. That is to say: the upper part of the human trunk has the continual desire to become head, but it cannot do so. The other head prevents it. Therefore it produces continuously only an image of the head, something that represents so to speak, a beginning of the head formation. Can we not clearly recognise that in the upper part of the chest formation there is a suggestion of head formation? Yes, there we have the larynx, called Kehlkopf in German, from the native genius of the language, i.e., the head of the throat. The larynx is absolutely a stunted human head; a head which cannot become completely head and therefore lives out its head nature in human speech. The larynx continually makes the attempt in the air to become head; and this attempt constitutes human speech. When the larynx tries to become the uppermost part of the head we get those sounds which clearly show that they are held back by man's nature more strongly than any. When the human larynx tries to become nose it cannot, because the real nose prevents it. But it produces in the air the attempt to become nose, and this constitutes the nasal sounds. Thus in the nasal sounds the actual nose is checking the “air nose” which is seeking to arise. It is exceedingly significant how, when man speaks, he is continually making the attempt in the air to produce pieces of a head, and how these pieces of head are extended in wave-like movements which are then checked by the physically developed head.

You can now see what human speech really is. Therefore you will not be surprised that as soon as the head is more or less complete physically, i.e., towards the seventh year when the change of teeth takes place, opportunity is provided for the soul head—which is produced out of the larynx—to be permeated by a kind of skeletal system. But it must be a skeletal system of the soul. To achieve this we must now leave off developing language merely at random through imitation, and must devote our powers to the grammatical side of language. Let us be conscious that when the child comes to us in his seventh year we have to do for his soul a thing similar to that done by his body in pushing up into his organism the second teeth. Thus we shall impart power and firmness to his language (but a firmness of the soul only) by introducing grammar in a reasonable way: that is, the working of language in writing and reading. We shall get the right attitude of mind to human speaking if we know that the words man forms actually express a tendency to become head.

Now, just as the upper part of the chest system in man has the tendency to become head, so the lower part has the tendency to become limbs. And just as all that proceeds from the larynx in the form of speech is a refined head, a head formed out of air, so all that proceeds downwards from the chest nature of man to take on something of the limb organisation, is a coarsened limb nature. The outer world pushes into man, so to speak, a densified, coarsened limb nature. And once natural scientists discover the secret that a coarsened form of hands and feet, arms and legs is present in man—more of the limbs being pressed inside than remains visible outside—then indeed they will have fathomed the riddle of sex nature. And then only will man find the right tone for speaking of these things. It is no wonder therefore that the talk prevalent to-day about sex instruction is mostly meaningless. For one cannot explain well what one does not understand oneself. And contemporary science has not the least understanding for the thing I have just barely touched on in characterising the connection between the limb man and the trunk man. Just as one finds in the first years of school life that what penetrated the teeth before the age of seven is now pressing into the soul, so in the later years of schooling one finds pressing into the child's soul all that arises from the limb nature and comes to its rightful expression after puberty. This must be known.

Thus, just as the power to write and read is an expression of the teething of the soul, so all activity of imagination, all that is permeated with inner warmth is an expression of what the soul develops in the later school years, the twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth and fifteenth years. In particular, there then appear all those capacities of the soul which can be permeated and filled with inner love, all that shows itself, namely, in the power of imagination. It is to this power of imagination that we must especially appeal in the latter part of the period between the change of teeth and puberty. We are much more justified in encouraging the child of seven to develop its own intellectuality by way of reading and writing than we are justified in neglecting to bring imagination continually into the growing power of judgment of the child of twelve. (It is from the age of twelve onwards that the power of judgment gradually develops.) We must arouse the child's imagination in all we teach him, in all the lessons he has to learn during these years; all history, all geography teaching must be steeped in imagination.

And we do really appeal to the child's imagination if, for instance, we say to him: “Now you have seen a lens, haven't you, a lens that collects the light? Now, you have such a lens in your own eye. And you know what a camera obscura is, where external objects are reproduced? Your eye is really a camera obscura, a dark room of this kind.” In a case of this sort where we show how the external world is built into the human organism through the sense organs—we are, once again, really appealing to the child's imagination. For what is built into the body is only seen in its external deadness when we take it out of the body, we cannot see it so in the living body.

Thus all the teaching, even what is given in geometry and arithmetic must consistently appeal to the imagination. We appeal to the imagination if, in dealing with plane surfaces, for instance, we endeavour (as we have been doing in our practical course) not only to make them comprehensible to the intellect, but to make them so thoroughly comprehensible that a child needs to use his imagination even in arithmetic and geometry. That is why I said yesterday (In another course of lectures to teachers) that I wondered that nobody had thought of explaining the theorem of Pythagoras in the following way. The teacher could say: “Suppose we have three children; the first has just so much powder to blow that he can make it cover the first square; the second so much that it will cover the second square; the third so much that it will just cover the little square. We shall be helping the child's imagination when we show him that the powder needed to cover the largest square is the same in quantity as that needed to cover the other two squares. Through this the child will bring his power of comprehension on the powder blown on the squares, perhaps not with mathematical accuracy, but in a form filled with imagination. He will follow the surfaces with his imagination. He will grasp the theorem of Pythagoras by means of the flying and settling powder, that would have to be blown moreover into square shapes (a thing impossible in reality of course, but calling out the exertion of imagination). He will grasp the theorem with his imagination.

Therefore in these years we should foster an intercourse alive with imagination between teacher and child. The teacher must keep alive all his subjects, steep them in imagination. The only way to do this is to permeate all that he has to teach with a willing rich in feeling. Such teaching has a wonderful influence on children in their later years.

A thing of the very greatest importance, a thing to be particularly cultivated during the later primary school years is the mutual intercourse, the complete harmony of life, between teacher and children. For this reason no one can be a good primary teacher unless he constantly endeavours to bring imagination into all his teaching; he must shape his teaching material afresh every time. For in actual fact the thing one has once worked out in an imaginative way, if given again years later in precisely the same form, is intellectually frozen up. Of necessity imagination must always be kept living, otherwise its products will became intellectually frozen.

This, in turn, throws light on what the teacher must be himself. He must never for a single moment in his life get sour. And if life is to be fruitful, two things must never meet, namely, the teaching vocation and pedantry. Should the teaching vocation ever be joined to pedantry the worst possible evil would result from this union. But I doubt if we need even imagine such an incongruity, as that teaching and pedantry have ever been united.

From this you see that there is a certain inner morality in teaching, an inner obligation, a true “categorical imperative” for the teacher. And this categorical imperative is as follows: Keep your imagination alive. And if you feel yourself getting pedantic, then say to yourself: for other people pedantry may be bad, for me it is wicked and immoral. This must be the teacher's attitude of mind. If it should not be his attitude of mind, then dear friends, the teacher would have to consider how he could gradually learn to apply what he had gained in his teaching profession to another walk of life. Of course in actual life these things cannot always come up to the ideal, but it is essential to know what the ideal is.

You will not, however, achieve the right enthusiasm for this educational morality unless you turn ever and again to fundamentals and make them part of yourself, You must know, for example, that the head itself is really a whole human being with the limbs and chest part stunted; that every limb is a whole human being only that in the limb man the head is quite stunted; and in the chest man, head and limbs are held in balance. If you have this fundamental ground, its force will bring the necessary enthusiasm into your educational morals.

The intellectual part of man is very apt to become lazy and sluggish. And it will become most intensely sluggish if it is perpetually fed with materialistic thoughts. But if it is fed with thoughts, with mental pictures, won from the spirit it will take wings. Such thoughts, however, can only come into our souls by way of imagination.

Now the second half of the nineteenth century has stormed against the introduction of imagination into teaching! In the first half of the nineteenth century there were brilliant men, men such as Schelling, for example, whose sounder thought embraced education as well. You should read the beautiful and stirring account written by Schelling of the methods of academic study—written, it is true, not about primary schools but for college life—but alive with the spirit of pedagogy of the first half of the nineteenth century. His work was attacked, in a veiled way, in the second half of the nineteenth century, when everything seeking access to man's soul by way of imagination was treated with scorn and abuse. This is because people had become cowards in what concerns the life of the soul, and because they believed that the moment they gave themselves up to imagination they would be falling into the arms of falsehood. They had not the courage to be free and independent in their thought and still to unite themselves with truth instead of falsehood. They were afraid to move freely in thought believing that if they did so they would straightway be letting falsehood into their souls. Thus in addition to the permeating of his teaching material with imagination, of which I have just spoken, the teacher must have courage for the truth. Without this courage for the truth he will find that his will in teaching will not serve him, especially when it comes to the older children. But this courage for the truth which the teacher develops must go hand in hand with a feeling of responsibility towards the truth.

The need for imagination, a sense of truth, a feeling of responsibility, these are the three forces which are the very nerves of pedagogy. And whoever will receive pedagogy into himself, let him inscribe the following as a motto for his teaching:

Imbue thyself with the power of imagination,
Have courage for the truth,
Sharpen thy feeling for responsibility of soul.

Vierzehnter Vortrag

Wenn wir den Menschen in der Art betrachten, wie wir das bisher zur Ausbildung einer wirklichen pädagogischen Kunst getan haben, dann fällt uns ja durch das Allerverschiedenste auch die äußere leibliche Dreigliederung des Menschen in die Augen. Wir unterscheiden deutlich alles dasjenige, was mit der Kopfbildung, der Kopfgestaltung des Menschen zusammenhängt, von dem, was mit der Brustbildung und Rumpfbildung überhaupt zusammenhängt, und wiederum von dem, was mit der Gliedmaßenbildung zusammenhängt, wobei wir uns aber allerdings vorzustellen haben, daß die Gliedmaßenbildung viel komplizierter ist, als man sich gewöhnlich vorstellt, weil das, was in den Gliedmaßen veranlagt ist und, wie wir gesehen haben, eigentlich von außen nach innen gebildet ist, sich in das Innere des Menschen fortsetzt, und wir daher beim Menschen zu unterscheiden haben dasjenige, was von innen nach außen gebaut ist und dasjenige, was von außen nach innen gewissermaßen in den menschlichen Leib hineingeschoben ist.

Wenn wir diese Dreigliederung des menschlichen Leibes ins Auge fassen, dann wird es uns ganz besonders deutlich werden, wie das Haupt, der Kopf des Menschen, ein ganzer Mensch schon ist, ein aus der Tierreihe heraufgehobener ganzer Mensch.

Wir haben am Kopfe den eigentlichen Kopf. Wir haben am Kopf den Rumpf: das ist alles dasjenige, was zur Nase gehört. Und wir haben am Kopf den Gliedmaßenteil, der sich in die Leibeshöhle fortsetzt: das ist alles dasjenige, was den Mund umschließt. So daß wir am menschlichen Haupte sehen können, wie da der ganze Mensch leiblich vorhanden ist. Nur ist die Brust des Kopfes schon verkümmert. Sie ist so verkümmert, daß gewissermaßen alles, was zur Nase gehört, nur noch undeutlich erkennen läßt, wie es mit dem Lungenartigen zusammenhängt. Aber es hängt dasjenige, was zur Nase gehört, mit dem Lungenartigen zusammen. Es ist gewissermaßen diese menschliche Nase etwas wie eine metamorphosierte Lunge. Sie gestaltet daher auch den Atmungsprozeß so um, daß sie ihn mehr nach dem Physischen hin ausbildet. Daß Sie die Lunge vielleicht als weniger geistig ansehen als die Nase, das ist ein Irrtum. Die Lunge ist kunstvoller gebaut. Sie ist mehr vom Geistigen, wenigstens vom Seelischen durchdrungen als die Nase, die eigentlich, wenn man die Sache wirklich richtig auffaßt, mit einer großen Unverschämtheit sich nach außen hin in das menschliche Antlitz stellt, während die Lunge ihr Dasein, trotzdem sie seelischer ist als die Nase, viel keuscher verbirgt.

Verwandt mit allem, was dem Stoffwechsel, was der Verdauung und Ernährung angehört und sich aus den Gliedmaßenkräften in den Menschen herein fortsetzt, verwandt mit alledem ist dasjenige, was zum menschlichen Munde gehört, der ja auch seine Verwandtschaft mit der Ernährung und mit alledem, was zu den menschlichen Gliedmaßen gehört, nicht verleugnen kann. So ist das Haupt, der Kopf des Menschen ein ganzer Mensch, bei dem nur das Nichtkopfliche verkümmert ist. Brust und Unterleib sind am Kopfe, aber sie sind am Kopfe verkümmert.

Wenn wir im Gegensatz dazu den Gliedmaßenmenschen ansehen, so ist der in alledem, was er uns äußerlich darbietet, in seiner äußerlichen gestaltlichen Bildung im wesentlichen die Umgestaltung der beiden Kinnladen des Menschen, der oberen und unteren Kinnlade. Was unten und oben Ihren Mund einschließt, das ist, nur verkümmert, dasjenige, was Ihre Beine und Füße und Ihre Arme und Hände sind. Nur müssen Sie sich die Sache richtig gelagert denken. Sie können nun sagen: Wenn ich mir nun vorstelle, daß meine Arme und Hände seien obere Kinnlade, meine Beine und Füße untere Kinnlade, dann muß ich die Frage aufwerfen: Ja, wohin richtet sich denn dasjenige, was in diesen Kinnladen ausgesprochen ist? Wo beißt es denn? Wo ist denn der Mund? - Und da müssen Sie sich die Antwort erteilen: Da, wo Ihr Oberarm auf Ihrem Leib aufsitzt, und da, wo Ihre Oberbeine, die Oberschenkelknochen an Ihrem Leibe aufsitzen. So daß, wenn Sie sich vorstellen wollen, das sei der menschliche Rumpf (es wird gezeichnet), so müssen Sie sich vorstellen, da draußen irgendwo sei das eigentliche Haupt; es öffne nach der oberen Seite den Mund und es öffne nach der unteren Seite den Mund, so daß Sie sich vorstellen können eine merkwürdige Tendenz dieses unsichtbaren Kopfes, der seine Kiefer nach Ihrer Brust und nach Ihrem Bauche hin öffnet.

AltName

Was tut denn dieser unsichtbare Kopf? Er frißt Sie ja fortwährend, er sperrt sein Maul gegen Sie auf. Und hier haben Sie in der äußeren Gestalt ein wunderbares Bild des Tatsächlichen. Während der richtige Kopf des Menschen ein leiblich-materieller Kopf ist, ist der Kopf, der zu den Gliedmaßen dazugehört, der geistige Kopf. Aber er wird ein Stückchen materiell, damit er fortwährend den Menschen verzehren kann. Und im Tode, wenn der Mensch stirbt, hat er ihn ganz aufgezehrt. Das ist in der Tat der wunderbare Prozeß, daß unsere Gliedmaßen so gebaut sind, daß sie uns fortwährend aufessen. Wir schlüpfen fortwährend mit unserem Organismus in den aufgesperrten Mund unserer Geistigkeit hinein. Das Geistige verlangt von uns fortwährend das Opfer unserer Hingabe. Und auch in unserer Leibesgestaltung ist dieses Opfer unserer Hingabe ausgedrückt. Wir verstehen die menschliche Gestalt nicht, wenn wir nicht dieses Opfer der Hingabe an den Geist schon ausgedrückt finden in der Beziehung der menschlichen Glieder zu dem übrigen menschlichen Leib. So daß wir sagen können: Kopf- und Gliedmaßennatur des Menschen sind entgegengesetzt, und die Brust- oder Rumpfnatur des Menschen, die in der Mitte liegt, ist in gewisser Beziehung dasjenige, was zwischen diesen beiden Gegensätzen die Waage hält.

In der Brust des Menschen ist in der Tat ebensoviel Kopf- wie Gliedmaßennatur. Gliedmaßennatur und Kopfnatur vermischen sich miteinander in der Brustnatur. Die Brust hat nach oben hin fortwährend die Anlage, Kopf zu werden und nach unten hin fortwährend die Anlage, den entgegengestreckten Gliedmaßen, der Außenwelt, sich anzuorganisieren, sich anzupassen, also, mit anderen Worten, Gliedmaßennatur zu werden. Der obere Teil der Brustnatur hat fortwährend die Tendenz, Kopf zu werden, der untere Teil hat fortwährend die Tendenz, Gliedmaßenmensch zu werden. Also der obere Teil des menschlichen Rumpfes will fortwährend Kopf werden, er kann es nur nicht. Der andere Kopf verhindert ihn daran. Daher bringt er nur fortwährend ein Abbild des Kopfes hervor, man möchte sagen, etwas, was ausmacht den Beginn der Kopfbildung. Können wir nicht deutlich erkennen, wie im oberen Teil der Brustbildung der Ansatz gemacht wird zur Kopfbildung? Ja, da ist der Kehlkopf da, der ja aus der naiven Sprache heraus sogar Kehlkopf genannt wird. Der Kehlkopf des Menschen ist ganz und gar ein verkümmertes Haupt des Menschen, ein Kopf, der nicht ganz Kopf werden kann und der daher seine Kopfesnatur auslebt in der menschlichen Sprache. Die menschliche Sprache ist der fortwährend vom Kehlkopf in der Luft unternommene Versuch, Kopf zu werden. Wenn der Kehlkopf versucht, der oberste Teil des Kopfes zu werden, da kommen zum Vorschein diejenigen Laute, welche deutlich zeigen, daß sie am stärksten von der menschlichen Natur zurückgehalten werden. Wenn der menschliche Kehlkopf versucht, Nase zu werden, da kann er nicht Nase werden, weil ihn die wirklich vorhandene Nase daran verhindert. Aber er bringt hervor in der Luft den Versuch, Nase zu werden, in den Nasenlauten. Die vorhandene Nase staut also die Luftnase, die da entstehen will, in den Nasenlauten. Es ist außerordentlich bedeutungsvoll, wie der Mensch, indem er spricht, fortwährend in der Luft den Versuch macht, Stücke von einem Kopf hervorzubringen, und wie sich wiederum diese Stücke von dem Kopf in welligen Bewegungen fortsetzen, die sich dann stauen an dem leiblich ausgebildeten Kopf. Da haben Sie dajenige, was die menschliche Sprache ist.

Sie werden sich daher nicht wundern, daß in dem Augenblick, wo der Kopf gewissermaßen leiblich fertig geworden ist, so gegen das siebente Jahr hin, mit dem Zahnwechsel dann schon die Gelegenheit geboten ist, den seelischen Kopf, der aus dem Kehlkopf hervorgetrieben wird, mit einer Art von Knochensystem zu durchsetzen. Es muß nur ein seelisches Knochensystem sein. Das tun wir, indem wir nicht mehr bloß wild durch Nachahmung die Sprache entwickeln, sondern indem wir angehalten werden, die Sprache durch das Grammatikalische zu entwickeln. Haben wir doch, meine lieben Freunde, das Bewußtsein, daß wir, wenn das Kind uns zur Volksschule übergeben wird, seelisch bei ihm eine ähnliche Tätigkeit auszuüben haben wie der Leib ausgeübt hat, indem er die zweiten Zähne in diese Organisation hineingetrieben hat! So machen wir fest, aber nur seelisch fest, die Sprachbildung, indem wir in vernünftiger Weise das Grammatikalische hineinbringen: dasjenige, was aus der Sprache hineinwirkt in Schreiben und Lesen. Wir werden zu dem menschlichen Sprechen das richtige Gemütsverhältnis bekommen, wenn wir wissen, daß die Worte, die der Mensch formt, in der Tat veranlagt sind, Haupt zu werden.

Nun, so wie der menschliche Brustteil nach oben die Tendenz hat, Haupt zu werden, so hat er nach unten die Tendenz, Gliedmaßen zu werden. So wie dasjenige, was als Sprache aus dem Kehlkopf hervorgeht, ein verfeinerter Kopf ist, ein noch luftig gebliebener Kopf, so ist alles dasjenige, was nach unten von dem Brustwesen des Menschen ausgeht und sich nach den Gliedmaßen hin organisiert, vergröberte Gliedmaßennatur. Verdichtete, vergröberte Gliedmaßennatur ist dasjenige, was die Außenwelt gewissermaßen in den Menschen schiebt. Und wenn einmal die Naturwissenschaft dazu kommen wird, das Geheimnis zu ergründen, wie Hände und Füße, Arme und Beine vergröbert und mehr nach innen geschoben sind in den Menschen, als sie nach außen hervortreten, dann wird diese Naturwissenschaft das Rätsel der Sexualität erkundet haben. Und dann wird der Mensch erst den richtigen Ton finden, über so etwas zu sprechen. Es ist daher gar nicht zu verwundern, daß all das Gerede, das heute getrieben wird über die Art, wie sexuelle Aufklärung gepflogen werden soll, ziemlich wesenlos ist. Denn man kann nicht gut dasjenige erklären, was man selber nicht versteht. Was die Wissenschaft der Gegenwart ganz und gar nicht versteht, das ist dasjenige, was nur angedeutet wird, wenn man so den Gliedmaßenmenschen im Zusammenhang mit dem Rumpfmenschen charakterisiert, wie ich es eben getan habe. Aber man muß dann wissen, daß eben so, wie man gewissermaßen in den ersten Volksschuljahren dasjenige in das Seelische hineingeschoben hat, was sich in die Zahnnatur hineindrängt vor dem siebenten Lebensjahre, so hat man in den letzten Jahren der Volksschule alles dasjenige, was aus der Gliedmaßennatur stammt und was erst nach der Geschlechtsreife voll zum Ausdruck kommt, hineingeschoben in das kindliche Seelenleben.

Und so wie sich anzeigt in der Fähigkeit, Schreiben und Lesen zu lernen in den ersten Schuljahren, das seelische Zahnen, so kündigt sich an in alledem, was Phantasietätigkeit ist und was von innerer Wärme durchzogen ist, alles dasjenige, was die Seele entwickelt am Ende der Volksschuljahre vom zwölften, dreizehnten, vierzehnten und fünfzehnten Lebensjahre an. Da tritt ganz besonders hervor alles dasjenige, was an seelischen Fähigkeiten darauf angewiesen ist, von innerer seelischer Liebe durchströmt zu werden, das heißt also dasjenige, was als Phantasiekraft sich zum Ausdruck bringt. Die Kraft der Phantasie, an sie müssen wir appellieren insbesondere in den letzten Jahren des Volksschulunterrichts. Wir dürfen dem Kinde viel mehr zumuten, wenn es durch das siebente Jahr in die Volksschule eintritt, an Schreiben und Lesen die Intellektualität zu entwickeln, als wir unterlassen dürfen, in die herankommende Urteilskraft — denn die Urteilskraft kommt dann langsam heran vom zwölften Jahr ab — die Phantasie fortwährend hineinzubringen. Die Phantasie des Kindes anregend, so müssen wir an das Kind heranbringen alles dasjenige, was es in diesen Jahren lernen muß; so müssen wir an das Kind alles heranbringen, was zum geschichtlichen, zum geographischen Unterricht gehört.

Und auch dann appellieren wir ja eigentlich an die Phantasie, wenn wir zum Beispiel dem Kinde beibringen: Sieh, du hast gesehen die Linse, die Sammellinse, welche das Licht ansammelt; solch eine Linse hast du in deinem Auge. Du kennst die Dunkelkammer, in der äußere Gegenstände abgebildet werden; solch eine Dunkelkammer ist dein Auge. -— Auch da, wenn wir zeigen, wie hineingebaut ist die äußere Welt durch die Sinnesorgane in den menschlichen Organismus, auch da appellieren wir eigentlich an die Phantasie des Kindes. Denn dasjenige, was da hineingebaut ist, es wird ja nur in seiner äußeren Totheit gesehen, wenn wir es aus dem Körper herausnehmen; das können wir ja am lebenden Körper nicht sehen.

Ebenso muß der ganze Unterricht, der dann erteilt wird in bezug auf Geometrie, sogar in bezug auf Arithmetik, nicht unterlassen, an die Phantasie zu appellieren. Wir appellieren an die Phantasie, wenn wir uns immer bemühen, so wie wir es versucht haben im praktisch-didaktischen Teil, dem Kinde Flächen nicht nur für den Verstand begreiflich zu machen, sondern die Flächennatur wirklich so begreiflich zu machen, daß das Kind seine Phantasie anwenden muß selbst in der Geometrie und Arithmetik. Deshalb sagte ich gestern, ich wunderte mich, daß niemand darauf gekommen ist, den pythagoreischen Lehrsatz auch so zu erklären, daß er gesagt hätte: Nehmen wir an, da wären drei Kinder. Das eine Kind hat so viel Staub zu blasen, daß das eine der Quadrate mit Staub überdeckt ist; das zweite Kind hat so viel Staub zu blasen, daß das zweite Quadrat mit Staub bedeckt ist und das dritte so viel, daß das kleine Quadrat mit Staub überdeckt ist. Da würde man dann der Phantasie des Kindes nachhelfen, indem man ihm zeigte: die große Fläche, die muß mit so viel Staub bepustet werden, daß der Staub, der zu der kleinsten Fläche und der, der zur größeren Fläche gehört, ganz gleich ist dem Staub, der in der ersten Fläche ist. Da würde dann, wenn auch nicht mit mathematischer Genauigkeit, aber mit phantasievoller Gestaltung, das Kind seine Auffassekraft in den ausgepusteten Staub hineinbringen. Es würde die Fläche verfolgen mit seiner Phantasie. Es würde den pythagoreischen Lehrsatz durch den fliegenden und sich setzenden Staub, der auch noch quadratförmig gepustet werden müßte — das kann natürlich nicht in Wirklichkeit geschehen, die Phantasie muß angestrengt werden -, es würde das Kind mit der Phantasie den pythagoreischen Lehrsatz begreifen.

So muß man fortwährend darauf Rücksicht nehmen, daß insbesondere in diesen Jahren noch anregend ausgebildet werden muß, was, die Phantasie gebärend, von dem Lehrer auf den Schüler übergeht. Der Lehrer muß in sich selber lebendig erhalten den Unterrichtsstoff, muß ihn mit Phantasie durchdringen. Das kann man nicht anders, als indem man ihn durchdringt mit gefühlsmäßigem Willen. Das wirkt manchmal noch in späteren Jahren ganz merkwürdig. Was gesteigert werden muß in den letzten Volksschulzeiten, was ganz besonders wichtig ist, das ist das Zusammenleben, das ganz zusammenstimmende Leben zwischen dem Lehrer und den Schülern. Daher wird keiner ein guter Volksschullehrer werden, der nicht sich immer wiederum bemüht, phantasievoll seinen ganzen Lehrstoff zu gestalten, immer neu und neu seinen Lehrstoff zu gestalten. Denn in der Tat, es ist so: wenn man dasjenige, was man einmal phantasievoll gestaltet hat, nach Jahren genau so wiedergibt, dann ist es verstandesmäßig eingefroren. Die Phantasie muß notwendig fortwährend lebendig erhalten werden, sonst frieren ihre Produkte verstandesmäßig ein.

Das aber wirft ein Licht auf die Art, wie der Lehrer selber sein muß. Er darf in keinem Momente seines Lebens versauern. Und zwei Begriffe gibt es, die nie zusammenpassen, wenn das Leben gedeihen soll, das ist Lehrerberuf und Pedanterie. Wenn jemals im Leben zusammenkommen würden Lehrerberuf und Pedanterie, so gäbe diese Ehe ein größeres Unheil, als sonst irgendwie im Leben entstehen könnte. Ich glaube nicht, meine lieben Freunde, daß man das Absurde anzunehmen hat, daß jemals im Leben sich vereinigt haben Lehrerberuf und Pedanterie!

Sie sehen daraus auch, daß es eine gewisse innere Moralität des Unterrichtens gibt, eine innere Verpflichtung des Unterrichtens. Ein wahrer kategorischer Imperativ für den Lehrer! Und dieser kategorische Imperativ für den Lehrer ist der: Halte deine Phantasie lebendig. Und wenn du fühlst, daß du pedantisch wirst, dann sage: Pedanterie mag für die anderen Menschen ein Übel sein — für mich ist es eine Schlechtigkeit, eine Unmoral! — Das muß Gesinnung für den Lehrer werden. Wenn es nicht Gesinnung für den Lehrer wird, dann, meine lieben Freunde, dann müßte eben der Lehrer daran denken, dasjenige, was er für den Lehrerberuf sich erworben hat, für einen anderen Beruf im Leben nach und nach anwenden zu lernen. Natürlich können diese Dinge im Leben nicht dem vollen Ideal gemäß durchgeführt werden, aber man muß das Ideal doch kennen.

Sie werden aber nicht den richtigen Enthusiasmus für diese pädagogische Moral gewinnen, wenn Sie sich nicht durchdringen lassen wiederum von Fundamentalem: von der Erkenntnis, wie schon der Kopf selber ein ganzer Mensch ist, dessen Gliedmaßen und Brust nur verkümmert sind; wie jedes Glied des Menschen ein ganzer Mensch ist, nur daß beim Gliedmaßenmenschen der Kopf ganz verkümmert ist und im Brustmenschen Kopf und Gliedmaßen sich das Gleichgewicht halten. Wenn Sie dieses Fundamentale anwenden, dann bekommen Sie aus diesem Fundamentalen heraus jene innere Kraft, die Ihnen durchdringen kann Ihre pädagogische Moral mit dem nötigen Enthusiasmus.

Dasjenige, was der Mensch als Intellektualität ausbildet, das hat einen starken Hang, träge, faul zu werden. Und es wird am faulsten, wenn der Mensch es nur immer fort und fort speist mit materialistischen Vorstellungen. Es wird aber beflügelt, wenn der Mensch es speist mit aus dem Geiste gewonnenen Vorstellungen. Die bekommen wir aber nur in unsere Seele hinein auf dem Umweg durch die Phantasie.

Was hat die zweite Hälfte des 19. Jahrhunderts gewettert gegen das Hereindringen der Phantasie in das Unterrichtswesen! Wir haben in der ersten Hälfte des 19. Jahrhunderts solche leuchtende Gestalten wie zum Beispiel Schelling; Menschen, die auch in Pädagogik gesunder gedacht haben. Lesen Sie die schöne, anregende Ausführung Schellings «Über die Methode des akademischen Studiums» — was allerdings nicht für die Volksschule, was für die höhere Schule ist -, worin aber der Geist der Pädagogik von der ersten Hälfte des 19. Jahrhunderts lebt. Er ist dann im Grunde genommen in einer etwas maskierten Form in der zweiten Hälfte des 19. Jahrhunderts begeifert worden, wo man alles dasjenige verschimpfte, was irgendwie auf dem Umweg durch die Phantasie in die menschliche Seele einziehen will, weil man feige geworden war in bezug auf das seelische Leben, weil man glaubte, in dem Augenblick, wo man sich irgendwie der Phantasie hingibt, werde man gleich der Unwahrheit in die Arme fallen. Man hatte nicht den Mut, selbständig zu sein, frei zu sein im Denken und dennoch der Wahrheit sich zu vermählen statt der Unwahrheit. Man fürchtete, sich frei zu bewegen im Denken, weil man glaubte, dann würde man gleich die Unwahrheit in seine Seele aufnehmen. So muß der Lehrer zu dem, was ich eben gesagt habe, zu dem phantasievollen Durchdringen seines Unterrichtsstoffes, hinzufügen Mut zur Wahrheit. Ohne diesen Mut zur Wahrheit kommt er mit seinem Willen im Unterrichte, insbesondere bei den größer gewordenen Kindern, nicht aus. Das, meine lieben Freunde, was sich als Mut zur Wahrheit entwickelt, muß aber auch gepaart sein auf der anderen Seite mit einem starken Verantwortlichkeitsgefühl gegenüber der Wahrheit.

Phantasiebedürfnis, Wahrheitssinn, Verantwortlichkeitsgefühl, das sind die drei Kräfte, die die Nerven der Pädagogik sind. Und wer Pädagogik in sich aufnehmen will, der schreibe sich vor diese Pädagogik als Motto:

Durchdringe dich mit Phantasiefähigkeit,
habe den Mut zur Wahrheit,
schärfe dein Gefühl für seelische Verantwortlichkeit.

Fourteenth Lecture

When we consider human beings in the way we have done so far in order to develop a true pedagogical art, then the most diverse aspects, including the external physical threefold structure of the human being, catch our eye. We clearly distinguish everything connected with the formation of the head, the structure of the head, from everything connected with the formation of the chest and torso, and again from everything connected with the formation of the limbs, although we must bear in mind that the formation of the limbs is much more complicated than is usually the case in one's mental image of it. because what is predisposed in the limbs and, as we have seen, is actually formed from the outside in, continues into the interior of the human being, and we therefore have to distinguish in the human being between what is built from the inside out and what is, so to speak, pushed from the outside in into the human body.

When we consider this threefold structure of the human body, it becomes particularly clear to us how the head, the head of the human being, is already a whole human being, a whole human being elevated from the animal series.

We have the actual head on the head. We have the trunk on the head: that is everything that belongs to the nose. And we have the limb part on the head, which continues into the body cavity: that is everything that surrounds the mouth. So that we can see on the human head how the whole human being is physically present there. Only the chest of the head is already atrophied. It is so atrophied that, in a sense, everything that belongs to the nose can only be vaguely recognized as being connected to the lung-like structure. But what belongs to the nose is connected to the lung-like structure. In a sense, this human nose is something like a metamorphosed lung. It therefore also transforms the breathing process in such a way that it develops it more in the physical direction. It is a mistake to regard the lungs as less spiritual than the nose. The lungs are more artfully constructed. They are more imbued with the spiritual, or at least the soul, than the nose, which, if you really understand the matter correctly, places itself outwardly on the human face with great insolence, while the lungs, despite being more soulful than the nose, conceal their existence much more chastely.

Related to everything that belongs to metabolism, digestion, and nutrition and continues from the powers of the limbs into the human being, related to all of this is that which belongs to the human mouth, which cannot deny its relationship to nutrition and to everything that belongs to the human limbs. Thus, the head of the human being is a whole human being, in whom only that which is not head-related is stunted. The chest and abdomen are at the head, but they are stunted at the head.

If, on the other hand, we look at the limb-man, then in all that he presents to us externally, in his external form, he is essentially the transformation of the two jaws of the human being, the upper and lower jaws. What encloses your mouth at the bottom and top is, only atrophied, what your legs and feet and your arms and hands are. But you have to think about it in the right context. You can now say: If I mentally image that my arms and hands are the upper jaw, my legs and feet the lower jaw, then I have to ask the question: Yes, where does that which is expressed in these jaws point to? Where does it bite? Where is the mouth? — And there you must give yourself the answer: where your upper arm rests on your body, and where your upper legs, the thigh bones, rest on your body. So if you want to form a mental image of this being the human torso (it is drawn), you have to imagine that somewhere out there is the actual head; it opens its mouth on the upper side and it opens its mouth on the lower side, so that you can form a mental image of a strange tendency of this invisible head to open its jaws toward your chest and toward your stomach.

AltName

What does this invisible head do? It constantly eats you, it opens its mouth against you. And here you have a wonderful picture of reality in its outer form. While the real head of the human being is a physical, material head, the head that belongs to the limbs is the spiritual head. But it becomes a little bit material so that it can constantly consume the human being. And in death, when the human being dies, it has consumed him completely. It is indeed a wonderful process that our limbs are constructed in such a way that they continually consume us. We continually slip with our organism into the open mouth of our spirituality. The spiritual continually demands the sacrifice of our devotion from us. And this sacrifice of our devotion is also expressed in the structure of our body. We cannot understand the human form if we do not find this sacrifice of devotion to the spirit already expressed in the relationship of the human limbs to the rest of the human body. So that we can say: the head and limb nature of the human being are opposites, and the chest or trunk nature of the human being, which lies in the middle, is in a certain sense that which keeps the balance between these two opposites.

In fact, there is as much head nature as limb nature in the human chest. Limb nature and head nature mix together in chest nature. The chest constantly has the tendency to become head-like towards the top and towards the bottom it constantly has the tendency to organize itself, to adapt to the limbs stretched out in the opposite direction, to the outside world, in other words, to become limb-like. The upper part of the breast nature has a constant tendency to become head, the lower part has a constant tendency to become limb-human. So the upper part of the human torso constantly wants to become head, but it cannot. The other head prevents it from doing so. Therefore, it only continuously produces an image of the head, one might say, something that constitutes the beginning of head formation. Can we not clearly see how the upper part of chest formation is the starting point for head formation? Yes, there is the larynx, which is even called the larynx in naive language. The human larynx is entirely an atrophied human head, a head that cannot quite become a head and therefore lives out its head nature in human language. Human language is the larynx's constant attempt in the air to become a head. When the larynx attempts to become the uppermost part of the head, those sounds come to the fore which clearly show that they are most strongly restrained by human nature. When the human larynx attempts to become the nose, it cannot become the nose because the actual nose prevents it from doing so. But it produces in the air the attempt to become the nose, in the nasal sounds. The existing nose thus accumulates the air nose that wants to arise in the nasal sounds. It is extremely significant how, when speaking, the human being constantly attempts to produce pieces of a head in the air, and how these pieces of the head continue in wave-like movements, which then accumulate at the physically formed head. There you have what human speech is.

You will therefore not be surprised that at the moment when the head is, so to speak, physically complete, around the age of seven, the change of teeth provides an opportunity to reinforce the spiritual head, which is driven out of the larynx, with a kind of bone system. It must only be a soul bone system. We do this by no longer developing language merely through wild imitation, but by being encouraged to develop language through grammar. Let us be aware, my dear friends, that when the child is handed over to us at elementary school, we have to perform a similar activity on the soul as the body has performed by driving the second teeth into this organization! So we establish, but only psychologically, the formation of language by introducing grammar in a reasonable way: that which influences writing and reading from language. We will develop the right attitude toward human speech when we know that the words that humans form are in fact predisposed to become heads.

Now, just as the human chest has a tendency to become the head, so it has a tendency to become the limbs. Just as what emerges from the larynx as language is a refined head, a head that has remained airy, so everything that emerges downward from the chest of the human being and organizes itself toward the limbs is a coarsened limb nature. Condensed, coarsened limb nature is that which the outside world pushes into the human being, so to speak. And once natural science comes to fathom the mystery of how hands and feet, arms and legs are coarsened and pushed more inward in humans than they protrude outward, then this natural science will have explored the mystery of sexuality. And only then will humans find the right tone to talk about such things. It is therefore not surprising that all the talk today about how sex education should be conducted is rather meaningless. For one cannot explain well what one does not understand oneself. What contemporary science does not understand at all is what is only hinted at when one characterizes the limb-human in relation to the trunk-human, as I have just done. But one must then realize that just as, in the first years of elementary school, one has pushed into the soul what is forced into the nature of the teeth before the age of seven, in the last years of elementary school we have pushed into the child's soul life everything that comes from the limb nature and that only comes to full expression after sexual maturity.

And just as the ability to learn to read and write in the first years of school indicates the spiritual teething process, so everything that is imaginative activity and imbued with inner warmth indicates everything that the soul develops at the end of elementary school, from the ages of twelve, thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen. What stands out in particular is everything that depends on being permeated by inner soul love, that is, everything that expresses itself as imaginative power. We must appeal to the power of imagination, especially in the last years of elementary school. We can expect much more from the child when it enters elementary school at the age of seven, in terms of developing intellectuality through writing and reading, than we can afford to neglect to continually bring imagination into the developing power of judgment — for the power of judgment then slowly develops from the age of twelve onwards. By stimulating the child's imagination, we must bring to the child everything that it needs to learn during these years; we must bring to the child everything that belongs to historical and geographical education.

And we also appeal to the imagination when, for example, we teach the child: Look, you have seen the lens, the converging lens that collects light; you have such a lens in your eye. You know the darkroom in which external objects are reproduced; your eye is such a darkroom. — Here too, when we show how the external world is built into the human organism through the sensory organs, we are actually appealing to the child's imagination. For what is built in there can only be seen in its external lifelessness when we take it out of the body; we cannot see that in the living body.

Similarly, all teaching that is then given in relation to geometry, even in relation to arithmetic, must not fail to appeal to the imagination. We appeal to the imagination when we always strive, as we have attempted to do in the practical-didactic part, not only to make surfaces comprehensible to the child's intellect, but to make the nature of surfaces so comprehensible that the child must use its imagination even in geometry and arithmetic. That is why I said yesterday that I was surprised that no one had thought of explaining the Pythagorean theorem in such a way that he would have said: Let's assume there are three children. One child has so much dust to blow that one of the squares is covered with dust; the second child has so much dust to blow that the second square is covered with dust, and the third has so much that the small square is covered with dust. Then you would help the child's imagination by showing them: the large area must be covered with so much dust that the dust belonging to the smallest area and that belonging to the larger area is exactly the same as the dust in the first area. Then, even if not with mathematical precision, but with imaginative creativity, the child would bring its powers of comprehension to bear on the blown-away dust. It would follow the area with its imagination. It would understand the Pythagorean theorem through the flying and settling dust, which would also have to be blown in a square shape — this cannot happen in reality, of course, the imagination must be strained — the child would understand the Pythagorean theorem with its imagination.

So one must constantly bear in mind that, especially in these years, what is passed on from the teacher to the pupil, giving birth to imagination, must still be taught in a stimulating way. The teacher must keep the subject matter alive within himself, must imbue it with imagination. This can only be done by permeating it with emotional will. This sometimes has a very strange effect in later years. What needs to be enhanced in the final years of elementary school, what is particularly important, is coexistence, the harmonious life between the teacher and the pupils. Therefore, no one who does not constantly strive to shape their entire teaching material imaginatively, to shape their teaching material anew again and again, will become a good elementary school teacher. For in fact, it is true that if you reproduce exactly what you once designed imaginatively after many years, it will be intellectually frozen. Imagination must necessarily be kept alive continuously, otherwise its products will freeze intellectually.

But this sheds light on the kind of person the teacher himself must be. He must not become sour at any moment in his life. And there are two concepts that never go together if life is to flourish: the teaching profession and pedantry. If the teaching profession and pedantry were ever to come together in life, this marriage would cause greater disaster than could otherwise arise in life. I do not believe, my dear friends, that one has to accept the absurdity that teaching and pedantry have ever been united in life!

You can also see from this that there is a certain inner morality to teaching, an inner obligation to teach. A true categorical imperative for the teacher! And this categorical imperative for the teacher is this: keep your imagination alive. And when you feel yourself becoming pedantic, say: pedantry may be an evil for other people — for me it is wickedness, immorality! — This must become the teacher's conviction. If it does not become the teacher's conviction, then, my dear friends, the teacher would have to consider gradually applying what he has acquired for the teaching profession to another profession in life. Of course, these things cannot be carried out in life in accordance with the full ideal, but one must still know the ideal.

However, you will not gain the right enthusiasm for this pedagogical morality if you do not allow yourself to be penetrated by the fundamental: by the realization that the head itself is a whole human being whose limbs and chest are only atrophied; how every limb of the human being is a whole human being, only that in the limb-human the head is completely stunted and in the chest-human the head and limbs are in balance. If you apply this fundamental principle, then you will gain from it the inner strength that can permeate your educational morality with the necessary enthusiasm.

What humans develop as intellectuality has a strong tendency to become sluggish and lazy. And it becomes laziest when humans feed it continuously with materialistic mental images. But it is inspired when humans feed it with mental images gained from the spirit. But we can only get these into our souls indirectly, through the imagination.

How the second half of the 19th century railed against the intrusion of imagination into education! In the first half of the 19th century, we had such luminaries as Schelling, for example; people who also thought more healthily about education. Read Schelling's beautiful, inspiring essay “On the Method of Academic Study” — which is not intended for elementary school, but for higher education — in which the spirit of pedagogy from the first half of the 19th century lives on. It was then, in a somewhat masked form, enthusiastically embraced in the second half of the 19th century, when everything that sought to enter the human soul via the detour of the imagination was reviled, because people had become cowardly in relation to the life of the soul, because people believed that the moment they gave themselves over to imagination in any way, they would immediately fall into the arms of untruth. They did not have the courage to be independent, to be free in their thinking and yet to marry the truth instead of untruth. They were afraid to move freely in their thinking because they believed that they would immediately take untruth into their souls. So the teacher must add to what I have just said, to the imaginative penetration of his teaching material, the courage to face the truth. Without this courage to face the truth, he will not succeed with his will in teaching, especially with older children. However, my dear friends, what develops as the courage to face the truth must also be paired with a strong sense of responsibility towards the truth.

The need for imagination, a sense of truth, and a sense of responsibility are the three forces that are the nerves of pedagogy. And anyone who wants to absorb pedagogy should write down this pedagogy as a motto:

Imbue yourself with imagination,
have the courage to seek truth,
sharpen your sense of spiritual responsibility.