Mystery Knowledge & Mystery Centers
GA 232
22 December 1923, Dornach
13. The Transition from the Spirit of the Ancient Mysteries to That of the Mediaeval Mysteries
[Before the lecture Rudolf Steiner officially Announces his Proposal for the Composition of the Executive Council. See GA 259]
The Mysteries were, as I said yesterday, spread in varied form over many regions of the Earth; and every region, according to its population and other conditions, had its special form of the Mysteries. But now there came a time which was of extraordinary significance for the Mysteries. It was the time in the Earth’s evolution which began some centuries after the foundation of Christianity.
In my book Christianity as Mystical Fact, it can be seen that what happened on Golgotha gathered together, in a certain sense, what had previously been distributed in the various Mysteries throughout the world. The Mystery of Golgotha, however, differs from all the other Mysteries which I have been describing, in that the Mystery of Golgotha stands so to speak on the stage of history before the whole world, while the older Mysteries were enacted in the obscurity of the inner temples and sent out their impulses into the world from the dim twilight of these inner temples.
If we look into the oriental Mysteries or into those I described to you as the Mysteries of Ephesus in Asia Minor, or again if we look into the Greek Mysteries, be it the Chthonic, or the Eleusinian, or those I spoke of yesterday, the Samothracian, or finally if we look into those Mysteries I have characterised as the Hibernian—everywhere we see how the Mystery in question was enacted in the obscurity of the inner temple, and thence sent out its impulses into the world. Whoever understands the Mystery of Golgotha—and merely to know the historical information available is not to understand it—whoever really understands the Mystery of Golgotha has understood thereby all the Mysteries which had gone before.
The Mysteries which preceded the Mystery of Golgotha, and culminated in it, all had a unique quality in respect of the feelings aroused by them. In the Mysteries many tragic things took place. He who attained to Initiation was obliged to undergo suffering and pain. You know these things; they have been described by me time and again. Before the time of the Mystery of Golgotha, however, if a candidate was to go through an Initiation and was warned beforehand that he would have to face manifold tests and trials, to suffer pain and sorrow, he would still have said: ‘I will go through all the fire in the world, for it leads to the Light, it leads into the Light-regions of the spirit where I may attain to a vision of what can be only dimly divined in ordinary human consciousness on Earth.’ It was really a great longing, and a longing at the same time full of joy, that took possession of one who sought the way to the older Mysteries; he was filled with a deep and sublime joy.
Then came an intervening time. In the lectures that are to follow in a few days I shall have to characterise these things from the historical standpoint. The intervening time led ultimately to the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, when, as you know, a new epoch began in human evolution. And now we find an altogether different mood in those who are setting out on a search for knowledge of the higher worlds.
We will first of all look once again, by means of the Akashic Records, into the ancient Mysteries. There we find joyful faces, deeply serious but filled notwithstanding with joy. If I were to describe to you a scene which even in these days can be brought to light again from the Akashic Records, a scene for example in the Samothracian Mysteries, I should have to say that the countenances of those who entered the innermost temple of the Kabiri, were full of depth and seriousness but were nevertheless joyful, happy countenances.
But now came the intervening time. And afterwards we come to that which had not exactly a temple, but was rather a gathering together in the moral or spiritual sense, as indeed was already the case also in the ancient Mysteries. We come to what is often described as the Rosicrucianism of the Middle Ages.
If we want to characterise the pupil of Rosicrucianism in the way I have just done for the ancient Mysteries, we shall have to say something very different of the pupil of the Rosicrucian Mysteries. For those who strove after knowledge in mediaeval times, those who endeavoured to make research into the spiritual world, bore not joyful but very tragic countenances. And so true is this that we may say: Those who did not bear a deeply tragic expression were certainly not sincere in their efforts. There was abundant reason why such men should wear a tragic expression on their countenances.
Let me now give you a picture of the way in which those who strove after knowledge learned gradually to relate themselves differently to the secrets of Nature and of the Spirit.
Yesterday I demonstrated to you how the phenomena and processes of Nature were for the man of olden time nothing less than divine. They would as little have thought of treating a phenomenon of Nature apart by itself, as we should think of considering a movement of the human eyes as a thing in itself and not as a revelation of the soul and spirit of man. The phenomenon of Nature was treated as an expression of the God who revealed himself through it. For the man of olden time the surface of the Earth was as truly the skin of the divine Earth-Being as is our skin the skin of an ensouled human being. We really have not the least understanding of the mood of soul of a man of antiquity, unless we know that he spoke in this way of the Earth as a body of the Gods, and of the other planets as brothers and sisters of the Earth.
But now this direct and immediate relation to the things and processes of Nature, which saw in the single object or phenomenon the revelation of the divine, underwent a change. That which is divine in the phenomena of Nature had, so to speak, withdrawn. Supposing it could happen to one of you that people saw in you merely the body—as we do the Earth—neutral, soul-less—it would be horrible!
But this horrible thing has really come about for knowledge in recent times. And the men of knowledge of the Middle Ages felt the horror of it. For as I said, the divine had withdrawn, for man’s knowledge, from natural phenomena. And whereas in ancient times the objects and processes of Nature were revelations of the divine, now comes this intermediary time, when they are only pictures, no longer revelations but only pictures of the divine.
The man of today, however, has not even any right idea of how the processes of Nature can be regarded as pictures of the divine. Let me give you an example, one that is quite familiar to anyone who knows a smattering of chemistry; it will show you what sort of conception of science these men had, who did at any rate still view the objects and processes of Nature as pictures of the divine.
We will take a quite simple experiment which is continually being made by chemists today. You have a retort and you put into it oxalic acid which you can procure from clover, and you mix the oxalic acid with an equal part of glycerine. Then you heat the mixture, and you obtain carbonic acid. The carbonic acid is given off, and what remains behind is formic acid. The oxalic acid is transformed by the loss of carbonic acid into formic acid. This experiment can easily be made in a laboratory: you can see it performed there before you, and you can look upon it as a modern chemist does, namely as a complete and finished process.
Not so the mediaeval man. He looked in two directions. He said: Oxalic acid is found especially in clover; but it occurs in a certain quantity in the whole organism of man, in particular in the part of the organism that comprises the organs of digestion—spleen, liver, and so on. In the region of the digestive tract you have to reckon with processes that are under the influence of oxalic acid. And the oxalic acid that is present in a higher degree in the lower part of the body, is acted upon by the human organism itself in a way that is similar to the action of the glycerine in the retort. Here too we have a glycerine action. And note the remarkable result: under the influence of the glycerine action the transformed product of oxalic acid, namely formic acid, goes over into the lung and into the breath. And man breathes out carbonic acid. You send out your breath, and with it you send out the carbonic acid. You can imagine instead of the retort the digestive tract, and where the formic acid is collected, you can imagine the lungs, and higher up you have once more carbonic acid, in the air breathed out from the lungs.
Man is however not a retort! The retort demonstrates in a dead way what takes place in man in a living way. The expression is absolutely correct, for if man never developed oxalic acid in his digestive tract he would simply not be able to live. That is to say, his etheric body would have no sort of basis in his organism. If man did not change the oxalic acid into formic acid, his astral body would have no basis in his organism. Man needs oxalic acid for his ether body and formic acid for his astral body. Or rather, he does not need the substances, he needs the work, the inner activity that goes on in the oxalic acid process and in the formic acid process.

This is of course something which the chemist of today has yet to discover; he still speaks of what goes on in man as if it were all merely external processes.
This was then the first question put by the student of Natural Science in mediaeval times, as he sat before his retort. He asked himself: Such is the external process that I observe; now what is the nature of the similar process in man?
And the second question was this: What is the same process like in the great world of Nature outside? In the case of the example I have chosen, the researcher of those days would have said as follows: I look out over the Earth and see the world of plants. In all this plant world I find oxalic acid. True, it occurs in a marked degree in wood sorrel and in all kinds of clover; but in reality it is distributed over the whole of the vegetation, if sometimes only in homeopathic doses. Everywhere there is a touch of it. The ants find it even in decaying wood.
The ant-swarms, which we humans often find so troublesome, change the oxalic acid that occurs all over the fields and meadows and is found indeed wherever there is vegetation, into formic acid. We continually breathe in the formic acid out of the air, although in very small doses, and we are indebted for it to the work of the insects who change the oxalic acid of the plants into formic acid.
Thus the mediaeval student would say to himself: In man this metamorphosis of oxalic acid into formic acid, takes place. And in all the life of Nature the same metamorphosis is present. These two questions presented themselves to the student with every single process he carried out in his laboratory. There was besides something else most characteristic of the mediaeval student, something that has today been completely lost. Today we think: Why, anyone can do research in a laboratory! It does not matter in the very least whether he is a good or bad man. All the formulae are there ready; you have only to analyse or synthesise. Anyone can do it—In the days, however, when Nature was approached quite differently, when men saw in Nature the working of the divine, of the divine in Man, as well as of the divine in the great world of Nature, then it was required of the man who did research that he should at the same time be a man of piety. He must be apt and ready to direct his soul and spirit to the divine-spiritual in the world.
And it was a recognised fact that if a man prepared himself for his experiments as though for a sacred rite, if he were inwardly warmed in soul by the pious exercises he went through beforehand, then he would find that the experiments led him inward to the revelation of the human being and outward to the investigation of external Nature. Inner purity and goodness were regarded as a preparation for research.
I have now given you a description of the transition from the spirit of the ancient Mysteries to Mysteries such as were able to exist in the Middle Ages. If we are speaking out of what was preserved as tradition, then we can say that a great deal of the content of the ancient Mysteries found a place also in the Mysteries of mediaeval times. Nevertheless it was impossible in the Middle Ages to attain to the greatness and sublimity even of the Mysteries that survived comparatively late, such as the Samothracian or the Hibernian.
As a tradition we have still in our day what we call Astrology. As a tradition, too, has come down to us what we call Alchemy. For all that, we know nothing whatever today of the conditions of a true astrological or of a true alchemical knowledge.
It is quite impossible to come to Astrology by empirical research or thought. If you had suggested such a thing to those who were initiated in the ancient Mysteries, they would have replied: You might as well try to get to know a secret a man keeps from you, by empirical research or by sitting down to think about it. Suppose there were a secret known to one man and no one else, and someone were to contend that he was going to find it out by making experiments or by thinking about it. It would of course be absurd. He can learn the secret only by being told it. A man of antiquity would have found it equally absurd to try to arrive at a knowledge of astrological matters by thinking about them or by making experiments or observations. For he knew that it is the Gods alone, or as they were called later, the Cosmic Intelligences, who know the secrets of the starry worlds. They knew them and it is they alone who can tell them to man. And so man has to pursue the path of knowledge that leads him to a good understanding and relationship with the Cosmic Intelligences.
A true and genuine Astrology depends on man’s ability to understand the Cosmic Intelligences. And upon what does a true Alchemy depend? Not upon doing research after the manner of a chemist of today, but upon being able to perceive within the Nature processes, the Nature Spirits, upon being able to come to an understanding with the Nature Spirits so that they tell one how the process takes place, and what really happens. Astrology was in olden times no spinning of theories or fancies, neither was it mere research through observation; it was an intercourse with Cosmic Intelligences. And Alchemy was an intercourse with Nature Spirits. It is essential to know this. If you had gone to an Egyptian of olden times or more especially to a Chaldean, he would have told you: I have my observatory for the purpose of holding conversations with the Cosmic Intelligences; I hold conversations with them by means of my instruments, for my spirit is able to speak with the help of my instruments.—And the pious student of Nature in the Middle Ages who stood before his retort and investigated on the one hand the inner being of man, and on the other the weaving, moving life of great Nature—he would have told you; I make experiments, because through the experiments the Nature Spirits speak to me. The Alchemist was the man who conjured up the Nature Spirits. What was taken for Alchemy later was no more than a decadent product.
The Astrology of olden times owed its origin to intercourse with the Cosmic Intelligences. But by the time of the first centuries after the rise of Christianity, the ancient Astrology, that is to say, the intercourse with the Cosmic Intelligences, was gone. When the stars stood in opposition, or in conjunction, and so forth, then reckoning was made accordingly. Men had still the tradition that was left from the days of old. Alchemy on the other hand, remained. Intercourse with the Nature Spirits was still possible in later times.
And when we look into a Rosicrucian alchemical laboratory of the fourteenth or even the fifteenth century, we find there instruments not unlike those of the present day; at any rate, one can gain some idea of them from instruments in use today. But when we look with spiritual vision into these Rosicrucian Mysteries, we find everywhere the earnest and deeply tragic personality, of whom Faust is a later and indeed a lesser development. For in comparison with the student who stands in the Rosicrucian laboratory with his deeply tragic countenance, who has so to speak done with life—in comparison with him, the Faust of Goethe is something like a newspaper print of the Apollo of Belvedere as compared with the real Apollo when he appeared at the altar of the Kabiri, taking form in the clouds of sacrificial smoke.
It is verily so; when one looks into these alchemical laboratories of the eighth to the thirteenth centuries, one is confronted with a very deep tragedy. The tragic mood and tone that belonged to the serious and earnest people of the Middle Ages is not to be found recorded in the history books, for the writers of those books have not looked into the depths of the soul of men.
But the genuine students and researchers, who made investigations with retorts to learn about Man and about the wide world of Nature, are none other than glorified Faustian characters in the early Middle Ages. They are all deeply conscious of one thing. They can all say: ‘When we experiment, then the Nature Spirits speak to us, the Spirits of the Earth, the Spirits of the Water, the Spirits of the Fire, the Spirits of the Air. We hear their whispered murmurs, we hear their strangely wandering sounds, beginning with a humming and growing ever into harmony and melody that again turns back upon itself, melody unfolding melody. We hear them when Nature processes take place, when we stand before a retort.’ In all piety of heart, they steeped themselves in the process that was taking place. For example in the very process of which we have spoken, where they experienced the metamorphosis of oxalic acid into formic acid, when they asked the question of the process, and the Nature Spirit gave the answer, then it was so that they could as it were make use of what the Nature Spirit gave for the inner being of man. For then the retort began to speak in colour. And they were able to feel how the Nature Spirits of the earthy and of the watery rise up from the oxalic acid and assert themselves, and how the whole passes over into a humming melody, into a harmonious shaping of melodies that then again turns back into itself. Such was their experience of the process that results in formic acid and carbonic acid.
And if one is able to enter in this living way into the process and feel how it passes from colour into tone and music, then one can enter also with a deep and living knowledge into what the process has to tell concerning great Nature and concerning Man. Then one knows: The things and processes of Nature reveal something else, something that is spoken by the Gods; for they are pictures of the divine. And one can turn the knowledge to good account for man.
Throughout these times the knowledge of healing was closely and intimately bound up with the knowledge of the whole Universe.
Let us imagine we had the task of building up a therapy based on such perceptions. We have a human being before us. The same complex of external symptoms can of course be an expression of the most varied conditions of disease. With a method however that arises from this kind of knowledge—I do not say it can be done today as it was done in the Middle Ages for today of course it has to be quite different—but with such a method we would be able to say: If a certain precise complex is manifest, then it shows that the human being is unable to transform enough oxalic acid into formic acid. He has somehow become too weak to do it.—We would perhaps be able to provide a remedy by giving him formic acid in some form or other, so that we bring help to him from outside, when he cannot himself produce the formic acid.
Now it might easily happen that in the case of two or three people for whom you have made the diagnosis that they cannot themselves produce the formic acid—when you treat them with formic acid, it works quite satisfactorily; but in a third case it gives no help at all. Directly you give oxalic acid, however, the patient is at once better. Why is this? Because the deficiency in force lies in another place, it lies where the oxalic acid has to be changed into formic acid. In such a case, if we were to think on the lines of a researcher of the Middle Ages, we should say: Yes, under certain circumstances the human organism, when given formic acid, will reply: I do not want it. I do not ask for it in the lung or other organ, I do not need it brought into the breath and the circulation. I want to be treated in quite another place, namely in the region of the oxalic acid, for I want myself to change the oxalic acid into formic acid. I will not have the formic acid. I want to make it myself.
Such are the distinctions that show themselves. Naturally a great deal of swindling and stupidity has gone under the name of Alchemy, but for the genuine student who was worthy of the name, this was always the subject of his research: the healthy nature of the human being studied in connection with diseased conditions.
And it all led to nothing less than intercourse with the Nature Spirits. The researcher of mediaeval times had the feeling: I am in touch with the Nature Spirits, I converse with them. There had been a time when men have had intercourse with the Cosmic Intelligences. That is barred to me.
And now, since the Nature Spirits too have withdrawn from human knowledge, and the things and processes of Nature have become the abstractions that they are for the physicist and chemist of today, we no longer find the tragic mood of the student of the Middle Ages. For it was the Nature Spirits who awakened in him the yearning after the Cosmic Intelligences. These had been accessible to the men of antiquity; but the mediaeval student could no longer find the way to them with the means of knowledge at his disposal. He could only find the way to the Nature Spirits. The very fact that he did perceive the Nature Spirits, that he was able to draw them into the field of knowledge, made it so tragic for him that he was not able to approach the Cosmic Intelligences by whom the Nature Spirits were themselves inspired. He perceived what the Nature Spirits knew; but he could not penetrate through them to the Cosmic Intelligences beyond. That was the feeling he had.
Fundamentally speaking, the cause of this tragedy was that while the mediaeval alchemists still had knowledge of the Nature Spirits they had lost the knowledge of the Cosmic Intelligences. And this in turn was the cause of the fact that they were unable to attain to a complete knowledge of man, although they were still able to divine where such a complete knowledge of man was to be found. When Faust says:
‘And here, poor fool, with all my lore, I stand, no wiser than before.’
we may really take the words as reminiscent of the feeling that prevailed in many a laboratory of the Middle Ages. This teaching gave men the Nature Spirits, but the Nature Spirits gave them no true knowledge of the soul.
Today we have the task to find again much that has been lost even to tradition. These students of mediaeval times had still the tradition, they still heard tell of repeated Earth-lives. As they stood in their laboratories, however, the Nature Spirits spoke of all manner of things in connection with substances or, by way of description, of the happenings of the world, but never once did they speak of repeated Earth-lives. They took no interest in the subject at all.
And now, my dear friends, I have placed before you some of the thoughts that gave rise to the fundamentally tragic mood of the mediaeval student of Nature. He is indeed a remarkable figure, this Rosicrucian student of the early Middle Ages, standing in his laboratory with his deeply serious and sorrowful countenance, not sceptical of human understanding but filled with a profound uncertainty of heart, with no weakness of will but with the consciousness: I have indeed the will! But how am I to guide it, so that it may take the path that leads to the Cosmic Intelligences?
Countless were the questions that arose in the heart of the mediaeval student of Nature. The monologue at the beginning of Faust, with all that follows, is no more than a weak reflection of his numberless questionings and strivings.
Tomorrow we will look a little further at this earnest student with his deeply-moving countenance, who is really the ancestor of Goethe’s figure of Faust.
Dreizehnter Vortrag
Das Mysterienwesen der verschiedenen Zeiten, es war in mannigfaltigen Gestaltungen über die verschiedenen Gegenden der Erde ausgebreitet, sagte ich gestern. Jede Gegend hatte nach ihrer Bevölkerung, nach den Bedingungen, die das Erdgebiet, das in Betracht kam, sonst aufwies, eine besondere Mysteriengestaltung. Nun kam aber eine Zeit, die für das ganze Mysterienwesen von einer außerordentlich großen Wichtigkeit ist. Das ist die Zeit, die einige Jahrhunderte nach der Begründung des Christentums für die Erdenentwickelung eintrat.
Man sieht ja schon aus meinem Buche «Das Christentum als mystische Tatsache», daß dasjenige, was auf Golgatha geschehen ist, in einer gewissen Weise alles zusammenfaßt, was in den verschiedensten Mysterien über die Erde verteilt war. Aber das Mysterium von Golgatha unterschied sich ja von all den anderen Mysterien, die ich Ihnen geschildert habe, dadurch, daß es sozusagen auf dem Schauplatz der Geschichte vor aller Welt dasteht, währenddem die älteren Mysterien eben wirklich im Dämmerdunkel des Tempel-Inneren sich abspielten, und von diesem Dämmerdunkel des Tempel-Inneren heraus ihre Impulse hinausschickten in die Welt.
Sehen wir in die orientalischen Mysterien, sehen wir zu den Mysterien hin, die ich Ihnen als die vorderasiatischen ephesischen Mysterien geschildert habe, sehen wir zu den griechischen Mysterien, sei es zu den chthonischen, sei es zu den eleusinischen, sehen wir zu den Mysterien hin, die ich gestern erwähnt habe, zu den samothrakischen Mysterien, oder sehen wir endlich zu den Mysterien hin, die ich charakterisiert habe als die hybernischen Mysterien, überall sehen wir, wie im Dämmerdunkel des Tempel-Inneren sich das eigentliche Mysterium abspielt und dann seine Impulse hinaussendet in die Welt. Wer das Mysterium von Golgatha wirklich begreift - man hat es ja dadurch nicht begriffen, daß man die Nachrichten, die von ihm erhalten sind, histotisch weiß-, der hat darinnen zugleich begriffen die Mysterien, die vorangegangen sind.
Diese Mysterien, die dem Mysterium von Golgatha vorangegangen sind und in ihm gipfelten, sie hatten alle in bezug auf ihre Gefühlswirkungen eine Eigentümlichkeit. In den Mysterien ging viel Tragisches vor sich. Und wer die Einweihung zu den Mysterien erlangte, mußte durchmachen Leiden, Schmerzen. Nun, das habe ich ja des öfteren charakterisiert. Aber im ganzen kann man doch sagen, daß bis zum Mysterium von Golgatha hin derjenige, der durch eine Einweihung zu gehen hatte, der vorbereitend aufmerksam darauf gemacht wurde, daß er die mannigfaltigsten Überwindungen, Leiden, Schmerzen durchzumachen hatte, Tragisches durchzumachen hatte, - der hätte dennoch gesagt: Durch alle Feuer der Welt werde ich gehen, denn das führt hinein in jene Lichtregion des Geistes, in der man schaut, was man nur ahnen kann im gewöhnlichen Bewußtsein des Menschen auf Erden in einem bestimmten Zeitalter. Es war also im Grunde genommen Sehnsucht, Sehnsucht zu gleicher Zeit, die freudig war, die denjenigen befiel, der den Weg zu den alten Mysterien suchte - gewiß eine ernste Freude, eine tiefe Freude, eine erhabene Freude, aber Freude dennoch.
Nun kam eine Zwischenzeit - wenn ich die Vorträge halte in den nächsten Tagen, werde ich ja diese Dinge von den historischen Gesichtspunkten aus zu charakterisieren haben - es kam eine Zwischenzeit, die endlich führte zu dem vierzehnten, fünfzehnten Jahrhundert, wo, wie Sie ja wissen, eine neue Epoche in der Menschheitsentwickelung begann. Eine Zwischenzeit kam. Und nachher kam dasjenige, was eine ganz andere Stimmung abgab beim Ausgangspunkte seines Weges für den, der da suchte nach dem Wissen in den höheren Welten. Es ist ja in der Tat so, daß, wenn wir in alte Mysterien nachträglich durch die Akasha-Chronik hineinschauen, wir doch freudige Gesichter finden, tiefgründige, aber im Grunde genommen freudige Gesichter. Wenn ich Ihnen eine Szene schildern würde, die man ja in der AkashaChronik nachträglich herausholen kann, eine Szene zum Beispiel in den kabirischen, samothrakischen Mysterien, dann müßte man doch sagen: die Persönlichkeiten, die da hineingingen in das Tempel-Innere der Kabiren, sie hatten vielsagende, tiefgründige Antlitze, aber etwas Freudiges.
Dann kam eine Zwischenzeit. Und dann kam das, was nicht eigentliche Tempel hatte, aber doch einen moralischen Zusammenhalt, wie er schon war in den alten Mysterien. Und dann kam das, was oftmals als das rosenkreuzerische Wesen im Mittelalter bezeichnet wird.
Wenn man aber in einer ähnlichen Weise, wie ich es jetzt eben getan habe für einen Gesichtspunkt, für die antiken Mysterien, wenn man diese Mysterienschüler des Rosenkreuzertums charakterisieren wollte, so müßte man sagen: die wichtigsten dieser Persönlichkeiten, die im Mittelalter nach der Erkenntnis, nach der Erforschung der geistigen Welt gingen, hatten wahrhaftig nicht freudige, hatten wahrhaftig tief tragische Gesichter. Das ist so sehr eine Wahrheit, daß man schon sagen kann: diejenigen, die nicht tief tragische Gesichter hatten, waren ganz gewiß keine echten Menschen in diesem Streben. Und es war allerdings aller Grund vorhanden, tragische Gesichter an sich zu tragen.
Ich möchte Ihnen anschaulich machen an der Art und Weise, wie nach und nach die Menschen, die nach Erkenntnis gestrebt haben, zu den Geheimnissen der Natur und des Geistes anders stehen mußten, als man im Altertum in den alten Mysterien zu ihnen gestanden hat, in dieser Zeit, die dann hingipfelte zu dem Rosenkreuzertum des vierzehnten und fünfzehnten Jahrhunderts.
Ich habe ja schon gestern darauf aufmerksam gemacht: Naturerscheinungen, Naturvorgänge waren ja für den alten Menschen unmittelbar Göttervorgänge. So wie es niemandem einfallen würde, die Bewegung des menschlichen Auges für sich zu betrachten und nicht als die Offenbarung des Seelisch-Geistig-Leiblichen des Menschen, so wenig fiel es einem Menschen der alten Zeit ein, irgendeine Naturerscheinung abgesondert für sich zu betrachten. Er betrachtete sie als den ‚Ausdruck des Gottes, der sich offenbarte durch die Naturerscheinungen. Die Erdoberfläche, sie war dem alten Menschen ebenso die Haut des erd-göttlichen Wesens, wie die Menschenhaut eben die Haut des beseelten Menschenwesens für den heutigen Menschen ist. Man versteht gar nicht, wie die Seelenstimmung eines alten Menschen war, wenn man eben nicht weiß, daß er so sprach, wie ich es gestern erwähnt habe: von der Erde als einem Götterleib, und von den Beziehungen der anderen Planeten unseres Planetensystems wie von Brüdern und Schwestern.
Dieses unmittelbare Verhältnis zu den Naturerscheinungen und Naturdingen, wo eben das einzelne Naturding, die einzelne Naturerscheinung die Offenbarung des Göttlichen für den Menschen war, diese Anschauung ging aber dann über in eine ganz andere, wo sozusagen für die Erkenntnis sich zurückgezogen hatte, was göttlich ist in den Naturerscheinungen. Denken Sie sich — wenn es sein könnte, daß das Furchtbare einträte -, irgendeiner von Ihnen würde sich irgendwo placieren, und es würde geschehen, daß man an ihm nur mehr den Leib sieht, so wie man die Erde sieht, für sich neutral, ohne Beseelung: es wäre ja schrecklich, etwas ganz Furchtbares!
Aber dieses Furchtbare ist für die Erkenntnis in der neueren Zeit eingetreten. Und dieses Furchtbare fühlten die Erkennenden des Mittelalters. Es ist so, wie wenn das Göttliche sich zurückgezogen hätte für das Erkennen aus den Naturerscheinungen und Naturvorgängen. Und während in der alten Zeit Naturdinge und Naturvorgänge Offenbarungen des Göttlichen sind, kommt diese mittlere Zeit, und da sind Naturdinge und -Vorgänge nur Bilder, nicht mehr Offenbarungen, sondern Bilder des Göttlichen.
Alte Zeit: Naturdinge und -Vorgänge
Offenbarungen des GöttlichenMittlere Zeit: Naturdinge und -Vorgänge
Bilder des Göttlichen
Aber der heutige Mensch hat nicht einmal mehr einen rechten Begriff, inwiefern Naturvorgänge und so weiter Bilder des Göttlichen sind. Ich möchte Ihnen an einem Beispiel, das auch heute natürlich jedem bekannt sein kann, der irgendwie ein bißchen Chemie gelernt hat, zeigen, wie bei denjenigen Menschen, die wenigstens noch drinnen standen in der Anschauung: Naturdinge und Naturvorgänge sind Bilder des Göttlichen, wie bei diesen Menschen der Betrieb der Naturwissenschaft war.
Nehmen Sie einen einfachen Versuch, der heute ja von dem Chemiker immer gemacht werden kann. Man nehme eine Retorte - ich will es ganz schematisch erklären -, gebe in die Retorte Oxalsäure hinein, die man aus dem Klee bekommen kann, und vermische diese Oxalsäure zu gleichen Teilen mit Glyzerin. Dann erhitze man diese Mischung von Glyzerin und Oxalsäure, und man bekommt - wie gesagt, ich zeichne schematisch - die hier weggehende Kohlensäure. Die Kohlensäure geht weg, und was hier übrig bleibt, das ist Ameisensäure. Die Oxalsäure verwandelt sich sozusagen unter Verlust der Kohlensäure in Ameisensäure.

Nun, bitte sehen Sie sich dieses Schema an: Oxalsäure, Ameisensäure; Kohlensäure geht fort. Sie können nun, indem Sie im Laboratorium die Retorte vor sich haben, diesen Versuch anstellen. Sie können nun davorstehen wie ein heutiger Chemiker, der eben bei diesem Versuch abschließt.
So war es bei dem mittelalterlichen Menschen vor dem dreizehnten, vierzehnten Jahrhundert nicht der Fall; sondern dieser Mensch blickte nun sogleich nach zweierlei hin. Er sagte: Oxalsäure, ja gewiß, am hervorragendsten ist sie im Klee, Kleesäure; aber Oxalsäure ist in gewissen Mengen im ganzen menschlichen Organismus, namentlich aber bei demjenigen Teil des menschlichen Organismus, der die Verdauungsorgane, Milz, Leber und so weiter umschließt. So daß, wenn Sie den menschlichen Organismus nehmen, Sie da, wo der Verdauungstrakt ist, vorzugsweise mit Vorgängen zu rechnen haben, die unter dem Einfluß der Oxalsäure stehen.
Aber das ist so, daß nun auf diese Oxalsäure, die namentlich im menschlichen Unterleibe vorhanden ist und dort ihre Bedeutung hat, durch den menschlichen Organismus selber eine solche Wirkung ausgeübt wird, oder eine ähnliche Wirkung wie in der Retorte auf die Oxalsäure durch das Glyzerin. Eine Glyzerinwirkung geschieht hier. Und denken Sie sich das Merkwürdige: Unter dem Einfluß der Glyzetinwirkung geht in Lunge und Atmungsluft das Verwandlungsprodukt der Oxalsäure über: Ameisensäure. Und der Mensch atmet Kohlensäure aus, die dort herauskommt (siehe Zeichnung). Sie stoßen mit der Atemluft nach außen; damit stoßen Sie die Kohlensäure heraus. Sie können zunächst ganz gut das hier (die Retorte mit der erhitzten Mischung von Glyzerin und Oxalsäure) als den menschlichen Verdauungstrakt ansehen; das, wo die Ameisensäure abfließt, als die Lunge, und das hier als die ausgeatmete Luft, die Kohlensäure aus der Lunge.
Nun ist der Mensch keine Retorte. Die Retorte zeigt eben auf tote Weise, was im Menschen lebendig und empfindend vorhanden ist. Aber das ist richtig: Würde der Mensch niemals Oxalsäure entwickeln in seinem Verdauungstrakt, so würde er überhaupt nicht leben können, daß heißt, sein Ätherleib hätte gar keine Grundlage in seinem Organismus. Würde der Mensch aber nicht die Oxalsäure in Ameisensäure verwandeln, so hätte sein astralischer Leib keine Grundlage in seinem Organismus. Der Mensch braucht für seinen Ätherleib Oxalsäure, für seinen astralischen Leib Ameisensäure. Und er braucht nicht etwa diese Substanzen, sondern er braucht die Arbeit, die Tätigkeit im Innern, welche darinnen besteht, daß der Oxalsäure-Prozeß stattfindet, daß der Ameisensäure-Prozeß stattfindet. Das ist natürlich etwas, was die heutige Physiologie erst gewinnen muß, sie kann heute noch nicht so sprechen, denn sie spricht von dem, was im Menschen vor‚geht, als wenn es äußerliche Prozesse wären.
Das war das eine, was derjenige, der dazumal Naturwissenschaft getrieben hat und vor seiner Retorte gesessen ist, sich fragte: Wie ist irgendein äußerer Vorgang, den ich in einer Retorte oder in einer anderen chemischen Anordnung wahrnehme, wie ist dieser Vorgang im Menschen?
Die zweite Frage war diese: Wie ist dieser Vorgang in der großen Natur draußen? Nun, für diesen Vorgang, wenn ich ihn als ein Beispiel wählen würde, würde sich der damalige Naturforscher gesagt haben: Ich wende nun den Blick hinaus auf die Erde, wo die Pflanzenwelt ausgebreitet ist. Allerdings - ausgesprochen, radikal, findet sich die Oxalsäure im Sauerklee, in den Kleearten überhaupt; aber in Wirklichkeit findet sich die Oxalsäure überall ausgebreitet in der Vegetation, wenn auch zuweilen in homöopathischer Dosis, aber sie ist überall da. Überall ist zugleich wenigstens ein Anflug, wenn auch manchmal ein homöopathischer Anflug von dem vorhanden, was zum Beispiel die Insektenart der Ameisen dadurch macht, daß die Ameisen noch herankommen an die Oxalsäure selbst im modernden Holze. Dieses Insektenheer, das dem Menschen oftmals so lästig wird, verwandelt das, was ausgebreitet ist als Oxalsäure über die Wiesen, über die Fluren, über den ganzen Vegetationsboden der Erde, in Ameisensäure. Und wir atmen tatsächlich die Ameisensäure, wenn auch in geringer Dosis, fortwährend aus der Luft ein, verdanken diese Ameisensäure, die in der Luft vorhanden ist, der Arbeit der Insekten an den Pflanzen, indem die Oxalsäure der Pflanzen in Ameisensäure umgewandelt wird.
So sagte sich der mittelalterliche Naturforscher: Im Menschen ist der Umwandlungsprozeß von Oxalsäure in Ameisensäure vorhanden. ‚Aber im Leben und Treiben der Natur ist ebenso dieser Umwandlungsprozeß vorhanden.
Diese zwei Fragen stellte sich der mittelalterliche Naturforscher bei jedem Vorgang, den er in seinem Laboratorium machte. Und nun war ihm etwas eigentümlich, diesem mittelalterlichen Naturforscher, was heute dem Menschen ganz abhanden gekommen ist. Heute denkt man, im Laboratorium kann ja jeder forschen, ob einer nun ein guter oder ein schlechter Mensch ist, darauf kommt es ja nicht an. Man hat die Formeln, man analysiert oder synthetisiert; das kann ja jeder machen. Damals, als in dieser Weise an die Natur herangegangen wurde, wo man die Natur genommen hat als Wirkung des Göttlichen, das heißt des Göttlichen im Menschen, wie ich es dargestellt habe, und des Göttlichen in der großen Natur, damals hatte man die Anforderung: Der Mensch, der so forscht, muß zu gleicher Zeit eine innere Frömmigkeit haben. Er muß in der Lage sein, seine Seele und seinen Geist hinrichten zu können zu dem Göttlich-Geistigen der Welt. Und man war sich klar darüber, denn es war eine Tatsache: Derjenige, der sich wie zu einer Opferhandlung vorzubereiten hatte zu seinem Experimentieren und wirklich innerlich warm geworden war von Übungen der Frömmigkeit für sein Experimentieren, der machte eben die Erfahrung, daß ihn das Experiment hineinführte auf der einen Seite in die Erforschung des Menschen, auf der anderen Seite hinausführte in die Erforschung der großen Natur. So daß man die innerliche Güte als Vorbereitung für das Forschen ansah, und man sah seine Laboratoriumsversuche so an, daß man die Fragen, die sie einem beantwortete, als von göttlichgeistigen Wesen gern beantwortet gehabt hätte.
Nun, damit habe ich Ihnen aber jenen Übergang charakterisiert, der stattgefunden hat von dem Geiste der alten Mysterien zu dem, was dann Mysterienwesen im Mittelalter hat sein können. Sehen Sie, traditionell hat sich ja manches von den alten Mysterien auch in das Mysterienwesen des Mittelalters herein bewahrt. Aber was die eigentliche Größe selbst der Spät-Mysterien, der von Samothrake oder von Hybernia war, was das eigentlich Große daran war, das konnte dennoch im Mittelalter nicht erreicht werden.
Traditionell hat sich so etwas ja bewahrt selbst bis in unsere Tage herein, was Astrologie genannt wird. Traditionell hat sich dasjenige bewahrt, was Alchemie genannt wird. Aber man weiß ja heute schon gar nicht, und man hat auch schon im zwölften, dreizehnten Jahrhundert kaum gewußt, welches die Bedingungen des wirklichen astrologischen Wissens und des wirklichen alchemistischen Wissens sind.
Sehen Sie, durch Nachdenken oder durch empirisches Forschen, wie man es heute nennt, kann ja niemand zur Astrologie kommen. Diejenigen Menschen, die in die alten Mysterien eingeweiht waren, hätten Ihnen, wenn Sie sie gefragt hätten, ob man durch Forschung, durch Nachdenken zur Astrologie kommen kann, geantwortet: Du kannst zur Astrologie kommen durch Nachdenken, durch empirische Forschung genau ebenso gut, wie du die Geheimnisse eines Menschen durch empirische Forschung und durch Nachdenken erfahren kannst, wenn er sie dir nicht sagt. Nehmen Sie an, es gäbe etwas, was nur ein Mensch weiß, was niemand weiß, als dieser Mensch; und jemand würde behaupten, er machte Experimente, um hinter das zu kommen, was der Mensch weiß, oder er denkt nach darüber, was der Mensch weiß - nicht wahr, absurd wäre das! Aber über astrologische Dinge etwas zu erfahren durch Nachdenken, oder durch Experimente, oder durch Beobachtungen, hätte ein alter Mensch ebenso absurd gefunden, wie heute ein Mensch es absurd findet, wenn man erforschen will, was man nur dadurch erfahren kann, daß es einem einer sagt. Denn die alten Menschen haben gewußt: Die Geheimnisse der Sternenwelten kennen nur die Götter, oder wie man es später genannt hat, die kosmischen Intelligenzen. Die kosmischen Intelligenzen, die wissen die Geheimnisse der Sternenwelten, die nur können es einem sagen. Daher muß man den Erkenntnisweg machen, der einen dazu führt, sich mit den kosmischen Intelligenzen verständigen zu können.
Wirkliche, wahrhaftige Astrologie beruht darauf, daß man in die Möglichkeit gelangt, die kosmischen Intelligenzen zu verstehen. Und wirkliche Alchemie? Wirkliche Alchemie beruht nicht darauf, daß man so forscht, wie der heutige Chemiker, eben auch experimentiert und nachdenkt, sondern Alchemie beruht darauf, daß man in den Naturprozessen die Naturgeister wahrnehmen kann, so daß man sich mit ihnen verständigen kann; daß einem die Naturgeister sagen, wie der Vorgang verläuft, was da eigentlich geschieht. Astrologie war in den ältesten Zeiten durchaus keine Spintisiererei und kein beobachtendes Forschen, sondern der Verkehr mit den kosmischen Intelligenzen. Alchemie war in den alten Zeiten durchaus kein beobachtendes Forschen, kein bloßes Nachdenken, sondern Verkehr mit den Naturgeistern. Das muß man zunächst wissen. Wäre man zu einem Ägypter der älteren Zeit, oder namentlich zu einem Chaldäer der älteren Zeit gekommen, so hätte einem der gesagt: Mein Observatorium habe ich dazu, um Zwiesprache halten zu können durch meine Instrumente und durch das, was ich aus meinem Geiste heraus mit Hilfe meiner Instrumente sprechen lasse - um Zwiesprache zu halten mit den kosmischen Intelligenzen. Und derjenige, der als frommer Naturforscher im Mittelalter vor die Retorte trat und an der Retorte auf der einen Seite naturwissenschaftlich das Innere des Menschen erforschte, auf der anderen Seite das Weben und Wesen der großen Natur, dieser mittelalterliche Forscher hätte gesagt: Ich experimentiere, weil durch das Experiment die Naturgeister zu mir sprechen. Der Alchemist war derjenige, der die Naturgeister beschwor. Alles, was später als Alchemie angesehen worden ist, ist eben dekadentes Produkt. Alles, was in älteren Zeiten Astrologie war, ist Ergebnis des Verkehrs mit den kosmischen Intelligenzen.
Nun, in dieser Zeit, in den ersten Jahrhunderten nach der Entstehung des Christentums, da war eigentlich schon die alte Astrologie, das heißt der Verkehr mit den kosmischen Intelligenzen, dahin. Man hatte die Tradition noch. Wenn die Sterne in Opposition, in Konjunktion standen und dergleichen, da rechnete man, nicht wahr, und so weiter. Man hatte alles das, was einem geblieben war als Tradition aus den Zeiten, da die Astrologen ihren Umgang mit den kosmischen Intelligenzen hatten. Aber während in dieser Zeit, ein paar Jahrhunderte nach der Entstehung des Christentums, die Astrologie eigentlich schon dahin war, blieb die Alchemie eigentlich noch vorhanden. Der Umgang mit den Naturgeistern war noch durchaus in späteren Zeiten möglich.
Und wenn wir jetzt hineinschauen in das, was im Mittelalter, sagen wir, im vierzehnten, aber sogar noch im fünfzehnten Jahrhundert ein wirklich rosenkreuzerisches alchemistisches Laboratorium war, da finden wir darinnen Instrumente, die verhältnismäßig manchmal sogar schon ähnlich sehen den heutigen Instrumenten, wenigstens kann man sich nach den heutigen Instrumenten schon Vorstellungen machen, was diese Instrumente der damaligen Zeit waren. Aber wenn wir dann geistig hineinschauen in diese rosenkreuzerischen Mysterien, so finden wir eigentlich überall drinnen, ich möchte schon sagen die ältere, noch ernstere und noch tiefer tragische Persönlichkeit, die dann zu dem Faust, namentlich zu dem Goetheschen Faust geworden ist. Und gegenüber dem, was in den rosenkreuzerischen Laboratorien steht als der Forscher mit dem tiefgründigen tragischen Gesichte, der eigentlich mit dem Leben nicht mehr fertig wird, gegenüber dem, was uns da entgegentritt, ist eigentlich der Goethesche Faust auch so etwas Ähnliches, wie jener - ich habe gestern mit einem radikalen Ausdrucke gesagt — Journalartikel-Apollo von Belvedere gegen den Apollo, wie er aus dem dampfenden Opferrauche am Kabiren-Altar sich gebildet hat.
Man sieht im Grunde genommen, wenn man in diese alchemistischen Laboratorien des achten, neunten, zehnten, elften, zwölften, dreizehnten Jahrhunderts hineinschaut, in eine tiefe Tragik hinein. Und diese Tragik des Mittelalters, diese Tragik gerade der ernstesten Leute, die wird ja in keinem Geschichtsbuch in der richtigen Weise verzeichnet, denn man sieht nicht so recht in die Seelen hinein.
Alle diese wirklichen Forscher, die in dieser Art den Menschen und das Weltall als Natur an der Retorte suchen, alle diese Menschen sind gesteigerte faustische Naturen in dem älteren Mittelalter, denn sie fühlen eines tief: Wenn wir experimentieren, dann sprechen die Naturgeister zu uns, die Geister der Erde, die Geister des Wassers, die Geister des Feuers, die Geister der Luft. Sie hören wir in ihrem Raunen, in ihrem Lispeln, in ihren eigentümlich verlaufenden, summend beginnenden Lauten, die dann übergehen in Harmonien und Melodien, um in sich zurückzukehren. So daß Melodien ertönen, wenn Naturvorgänge stattfinden. Man hat eine Retorte vor sich; man vertieft sich, wie ich gesagt habe, als frommer Mann in dasjenige, was da vorgeht. Gerade bei diesem Vorgang, wo man die Metamorphose erlebt der Oxalsäure in die Ameisensäure, gerade da erlebt man, wie zunächst, wenn man den Vorgang nun frägt, einem das Naturgeistige antwortet, so daß man das Naturgeistige dann benützen kann für das innere Wesen des Menschen. Da beginnt zunächst die Retorte durch farbige Erscheinungen zu sprechen. Man fühlt, wie die Naturgeister des Irdischen, die Naturgeister des Wäßrigen aus der Oxalsäure aufsteigen, sich geltend machen, wie aber dann das Ganze übergeht in ein summendes Melodiegestalten, Harmonien, die dann wieder in sich zurückkehren. So erlebt man diesen Vorgang, der dann die Ameisensäure und die Kohlensäure ergibt.
Und lebt man sich so hinein in dieses Übergehen des Farbigen in das Tönende, dann lebt man sich auch hinein in dasjenige, was einem der Laboratoriumsvorgang über die große Natur und über den Menschen sagen kann. Dann hat man schon das Gefühl: es offenbaren die Naturdinge und Naturvorgänge noch etwas, was die Götter sprechen, sie sind Bilder des Göttlichen. Und man wendet es innerlich nutzbringend auf den Menschen an. In allen diesen Zeiten war ja noch im hohen Grade Heilkunde zum Beispiel mit dem Wissen der allgemeinen Weltanschauung innig verbunden.
Nun, sagen wir, mit solcher Anschauung hätte man die Aufgabe, Therapeutisches auszubilden. Man hat einen Menschen vor sich. Dieselben äußeren Symptom-Komplexe können ja die mannigfaltigsten Krankheitszustände und Krankheitsursachen zum äußeren Ausdruck bringen. Aber mit einer Methode, die etwa das aufnimmt - ich sage nicht, daß sie heute so sein kann wie im Mittelalter, sie muß natürlich heute anders sein —, kann man sich sagen: Wenn ein ganz bestimmter Symptom-Komplex auftritt, so ist der Mensch nicht imstande, genügend Oxalsäure in Ameisensäure umzuwandeln. Er ist irgendwie zu schwach geworden, um Oxalsäure in Ameisensäure umzuwandeln. Man kann ihm vielleicht mit einem Heilmittel beikommen, wenn man ihm nun irgendwie Ameisensäure beibringt, so daß man ihm von außen hilft, wenn er selber die Ameisensäure nicht erzeugen kann.
Sehen Sie, Sie können nun zwei, drei Leute, bei denen Sie diagnostiziert haben, daß sie die Ameisensäure nicht erzeugen können, mit Ameisensäure behandeln, es hilft ihnen ganz gut. Dann bekommen Sie einen Menschen, da ist etwas Ähnliches vorhanden. Sie geben Ameisensäure - es hilft gar nichts. In dem Augenblick, wo Sie aber Oxalsäure geben, hilft es sogleich. Warum? Ja, weil der Kräftemangel eben an einem anderen Orte liegt, da, wo die Oxalsäure in Ameisensäure umgewandelt werden soll. In einem solchen Falle würde jemand, der im Sinne dieser mittelalterlichen Forscher gedacht hat, eben gesagt haben: Ja, der menschliche Organismus wird unter Umständen, wenn man ihm einfach unter gewissen Voraussetzungen Ameisensäure gibt, sagen: die befördere ich nicht in die Lunge, oder dergleichen, damit es in die Atemluft kommt und in die Zirkulation, sondern ich will an einem ganz anderen Orte angegriffen werden, ich will schon in der Sphäre der Oxalsäure angegriffen werden; die will ich mir selber umwandeln in die Ameisensäure. Ich verzichte auf die Ameisensäure, die will ich mir selber machen.
So sind eben die Dinge verschieden. Und um was es sich diesen alchemistischen Forschern handelte, die dieses Namens wert sind - denn natürlich ist mit diesen Dingen viel Schwindel, Dummheit und so weiter getrieben worden -, war immer dasjenige, was gesunde Natur des Menschen ist, in inniger Verbindung gedacht mit dem, was kranke Natur des Menschen war.
Aber all das führte eben zu nichts anderem, als zu dem Verkehre mit den Naturgeistern. Der mittelalterliche Forscher hatte also diese Empfindung: Ich verkehre mit den Naturgeistern. Da gab es aber alte Zeiten, da verkehrten die Menschen mit den kosmischen Intelligenzen. Die sind mir verschlossen.
Ja, meine lieben Freunde, seitdem auch die Naturgeister sich von der menschlichen Erkenntnis zurückgezogen haben, seit Naturdinge und Naturvorgänge jene Abstraktionen geworden sind, als die sie dem heutigen Physiker und Chemiker erscheinen, seit jener Zeit entsteht jene Tragik nicht mehr, die im Mittelalter da war. Denn die Naturgeister, mit denen jene Menschen noch verkehrten, die reichten gerade hin, um die Sehnsucht nach den kosmischen Intelligenzen, zu denen die alten Menschen gekommen sind, zu erwecken. Aber man konnte den Weg zu den kosmischen Intelligenzen nicht mehr finden mit demjenigen, was gerade damals an Erkenntnismitteln aufgewendet werden konnte; man konnte nur den Weg zu den Naturgeistern finden. Und indem man die Naturgeister wahrnahm, die Naturgeister in die Erkenntnis herein bezog, empfand man so tragisch, daß man nicht zu den kosmischen Intelligenzen kommen konnte, von denen die Naturgeister selber wiederum inspiriert sind. Man nahm wahr, was die Naturgeister wissen; aber man konnte nicht durch sie hindurch bis zu den kosmischen Intelligenzen dringen. Das war die Stimmung.
Und im Grunde genommen war der Umstand, daß die NaturgeisterErkenntnis den mittelalterlichen Alchemisten geblieben ist, und die Erkenntnis der kosmischen Intelligenzen verlorengegangen ist, die Ursache ihrer Tragik. Und es war auch wiederum die Ursache dazu, daß schon dieser mittelalterliche Naturforscher nicht mehr zu einer vollständigen Menschenerkenntnis kommen konnte. Aber er ahnte noch, wo eine vollständige Menschenerkenntnis war. Und man muß schon sagen: Es ist wie eine Reminiszenz an dasjenige, was mancher Laboratoriumsmann im Mittelalter fühlte, wenn der Goethesche Faust sagt: Da steh? ich nun, ich armer Tor, und bin so klug als wie zuvor - denn diese Lehre gaben im Grunde genommen gerade den Laboratoriumsmenschen die Naturgeister, zu denen sie vordrangen. Sie gaben aber auch keine rechte Seelenerkenntnis, diese Naturgeister.
Heute ist eben schon vieles auch an Tradition verlorengegangen; es muß aber wiedergefunden werden. Ich möchte sagen, die Nachricht von den wiederholten Erdenleben hatte dieser Forscher auch. Er stand in seinem Laboratorium; die Naturgeister hatten gerade das Eigentümliche, daß sie von allem Möglichen sprachen in der Beziehung der Substanzen, in der Schilderung der Geschehnisse der Welt, daß sie aber ganz und gar niemals sprachen von den wiederholten Erdenleben; sie hatten kein Interesse an den wiederholten Erdenleben.
Nun, meine lieben Freunde, ich habe Ihnen einige der Gedanken vor die Seele gestellt, die als Ausgangspunkte einer tragischen Grundstimmung bei diesen mittelalterlichen Naturforschern vorhanden waren. Und wir wollen auf diese eigentümliche Gestalt hinblicken, auf diesen rosenkreuzerischen Forscher, der in dem früh-mittelalterlichen Laboratorium steht, mit seinem ernsten, oftmals so tiefgründigen, aber kummervollen Gesichte, mit keiner Verstandesskepsis, aber mit einer tiefen Ungewißheit des Gemütes, mit keiner Lähmung des Willens, aber mit dem Bewußtsein:
O, Wille, Wille ist in mir —
Wie leite ich ihn hinaus zu den Bahnen,
Die zu den kosmischen Intelligenzen führen?
Ja, da entstanden unzählige Fragen in dem Gemüte dieses mittelalterlichen Naturforschers! Und ein schwacher Abglanz davon ist der erste Faust-Monolog mit dem, was ihm folgt.
Wir wollen uns morgen diesen ernsten Forscher mit tiefgründigem Gesichte, der eigentlich der Urvater des Goetheschen Faust ist, etwas genauer ansehen.
Thirteenth Lecture
[Before the lecture Rudolf Steiner officially Announces his Proposal for the Composition of the Executive Council. See GA 259]
The mystery-being of different times was spread over the various regions of the earth in manifold forms, I said yesterday. Each region had a special mystery form according to its population, according to the conditions that the area of the earth in question otherwise exhibited. But now a time came that is of extraordinarily great importance for the whole mystery-being. This is the time that occurred a few centuries after the establishment of Christianity for the development of the earth.
You can already see from my book “Christianity as a Mystical Fact” that what happened at Golgotha, in a certain way, summarizes everything that was spread across the earth in the most diverse mysteries. But the mystery of Golgotha differs from all the other mysteries that I have described to you in that it stands, so to speak, on the scene of history before the whole world, while the older mysteries really did take place in the dim darkness of the interior of the temple, and from this dim darkness of the interior of the temple they sent their impulses out into the world.
If we look at the oriental mysteries, if we look at the mysteries that I have described to you as the Near Eastern Ephesian mysteries, if we look at the Greek mysteries, be they the chthonic mysteries or the Eleusinian mysteries, if we look at the mysteries that I mentioned yesterday, the Samothrace mysteries, or finally, let us look at the mysteries that I characterized as the Hybernian mysteries. Everywhere we see how the actual mystery takes place in the twilight darkness of the interior of the temple and then sends its impulses out into the world. He who really comprehends the Mystery of Golgotha – for one does not comprehend it by knowing the historical facts connected with it – has therein comprehended at the same time the mysteries that preceded it.
These mysteries, which preceded the mystery of Golgotha and culminated in it, all had a peculiarity in terms of their emotional impact. Much tragedy took place in the mysteries. And anyone who attained initiation into the mysteries had to endure suffering and pain. Well, I have characterized this often enough. But on the whole, one can say that up to the Mystery of Golgotha, the one who had to go through an initiation, who was attentively made aware of the fact that he had to go through the most diverse kinds of overcoming, suffering, pain, had to go through tragedy, would still have said: I will go through all the fires of the world, for that leads into that luminous region of the spirit in which one beholds what one can only intuit in the ordinary consciousness of man on earth in a particular age. So basically it was a yearning, a yearning at the same time that was joyful, that befell the one who sought the way to the old mysteries - certainly a serious joy, a deep joy, an exalted joy, but joy nonetheless.
Now there was an interim period - when I give the lectures in the next few days, I will have to characterize these things from a historical point of view - there was an interim period that finally led to the fourteenth, fifteenth century, when, as you know, a new epoch in human development began. There was an interim period. And after that came that which gave off a completely different mood at the starting point of its path for those seeking knowledge in the higher worlds. It is indeed the case that when we look back into ancient mysteries through the Akasha Chronicle, we do find joyful faces, profound but basically joyful faces. If I were to describe a scene that can be retrospectively retrieved from the Akasha Chronicle, for example a scene from the Kabirian, Samothracean mysteries, then one would have to say: the personalities who entered the temple of the Kabirans had meaningful, profound countenances, but something joyful.
Then came an interim period. And then came that which did not have actual temples, but which did have a moral coherence, as it was already in the ancient mysteries. And then came that which is often referred to as the Rosicrucian essence in the Middle Ages.
But if one wanted to characterize the mystery students of Rosicrucianism in a way similar to the way I have just done it for the point of view of the ancient mysteries, one would have to say: the most important of these personalities who, in the Middle Ages, sought knowledge, who explored the spiritual world, truly had not joyful, truly deeply tragic faces. This is so very much the truth that one can say that those who did not have deeply tragic faces were certainly not genuine people in this pursuit. And there was every reason to have tragic faces.
I would like to illustrate to you how, little by little, people who have striven for knowledge have come to see the mysteries of nature and the spirit differently from the way they were seen in ancient times in the old mysteries, in this period, which then culminated in the Rosicrucianism of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries.
As I pointed out yesterday, natural phenomena and processes were directly perceived by ancient man as divine processes. Just as it would not occur to anyone to consider the movement of the human eye in isolation and not as the manifestation of the soul-spiritual-physical of the human being, it would not occur to a person of ancient times to consider any natural phenomenon in isolation. He regarded it as the 'expression of God, who revealed himself through natural phenomena. To the ancient man, the surface of the earth was just as much the skin of the divine being of the earth as the human skin is the skin of the ensouled human being for today's man. We cannot begin to understand the soul-attitude of an ancient person unless we know that he spoke, as I mentioned yesterday, of the Earth as the body of a god and of the relationships between the other planets in our solar system as if they were brothers and sisters.
This direct relationship to natural phenomena and natural things, where the individual natural thing, the individual natural phenomenon was the revelation of the divine for the human being, but this view then changed into a completely different one, where, so to speak, what is divine in natural phenomena had retreated for knowledge. Imagine – if it could happen that the terrible occurred – any one of you would place himself somewhere, and it would happen that one sees only the body in him, just as one sees the earth, neutral, without inspiration: it would be terrible, something quite terrible!
But this terrible thing has occurred for knowledge in modern times. And this awful realization was felt by the thinkers of the Middle Ages. It is as if the Divine had withdrawn from the phenomena and processes of nature for the purpose of cognition. And whereas in ancient times natural things and natural processes were revelations of the Divine, this middle time comes, and there natural things and natural processes are only images, no longer revelations, but images of the Divine.
Ancient times: natural things and processes
revelations of the divineMiddle times: natural things and processes
images of the divine
But today's man no longer even has a proper concept of the extent to which natural processes and so on are images of the divine. I would like to show you, by means of an example that anyone who has studied even a little chemistry can be familiar with, how, for those people who at least still had an intuitive understanding that natural things and natural processes are images of the divine, the practice of science was like.
Take a simple experiment that can be done by any chemist today. Take a retort – I will explain it very schematically – put oxalic acid into the retort, which can be obtained from clover, and mix this oxalic acid with glycerine in equal parts. Then heat this mixture of glycerine and oxalic acid, and – as I said, I am drawing schematically – you get the carbonic acid disappearing here. The carbonic acid disappears and what remains here is formic acid. The oxalic acid is transformed into formic acid, so to speak, with the loss of carbonic acid.

Now, please take a look at this diagram: oxalic acid, formic acid; carbonic acid disappears. You can now conduct this experiment in the laboratory with the retort in front of you. You can now stand in front of it like a modern chemist who is just concluding this experiment.
This was not the case for medieval people before the thirteenth or fourteenth century; instead, these people immediately looked for two things. He said: oxalic acid, yes certainly, it is most prominent in clover, clover acid; but oxalic acid is found in certain amounts in the entire human organism, but especially in that part of the human organism that includes the digestive organs, spleen, liver and so on. So that if you take the human organism, you have to expect processes that are under the influence of oxalic acid where the digestive tract is.
But the fact is that this oxalic acid, which is present in particular in the human abdomen and has its significance there, is subjected to an effect by the human organism itself, or an effect similar to that in the retort on the oxalic acid by the glycerine. A glycerine effect occurs here. And now consider the remarkable fact: under the influence of glycerine, the metabolized product of oxalic acid, formic acid, is released into the lungs and inhaled air. And the person exhales carbon dioxide, which is released from the lungs (see illustration). You exhale with the air you breathe; this is how you expel the carbon dioxide. You can initially view this (the retort with the heated mixture of glycerine and oxalic acid) as the human digestive tract; where the formic acid flows out, as the lungs, and this as the exhaled air, the carbon dioxide from the lungs.
Now, a human being is not a retort. The retort shows in a dead way what is alive and sensitive in a human being. But it is true that if a person never developed oxalic acid in their digestive tract, they would not be able to live at all, that is, their etheric body would have no basis in their organism. But if the human being did not convert the oxalic acid into formic acid, his astral body would have no basis in his organism. The human being needs oxalic acid for his etheric body and formic acid for his astral body. And he does not need these substances, but he needs the work, the activity within, which consists in the oxalic acid process taking place, in the formic acid process taking place. Of course, this is something that today's physiology has yet to discover; it cannot speak in this way yet, because it speaks of what happens in man as if it were external processes.
That was one thing that those who practiced natural science in those days and sat before their retorts wondered: What is some external process that I perceive in a retort or in some other chemical arrangement, what is this process in man?
The second question was this: How does this process occur in the greater nature outside? Now, for this process, if I were to choose it as an example, the natural scientist of that time would have said to himself: I now turn my gaze to the earth, where the plant world is spread out. Indeed – pronounced, radical – oxalic acid is found in wood sorrel, in clover varieties in general; but in reality, oxalic acid is found everywhere in the vegetation, albeit sometimes in homeopathic doses, but it is everywhere. At the same time, there is at least a hint, even if sometimes a homeopathic hint, of what, for example, the ant species does with it, in that ants can still approach oxalic acid even in rotting wood. This army of insects, which often causes such a nuisance to humans, converts what is spread as oxalic acid over the meadows, over the fields, over the entire vegetation of the earth, into formic acid. And we actually breathe the formic acid, albeit in small doses, continuously from the air, owe this formic acid, which is present in the air, to the work of the insects on the plants, by converting the oxalic acid of the plants into formic acid.
Thus the medieval naturalist said to himself: “In man, the process of converting oxalic acid into formic acid is present.” But in the life and activity of nature, this process of conversion is also present.
The medieval naturalist asked himself these two questions about every process he carried out in his laboratory. And now there was something peculiar about this medieval naturalist that is completely lost on people today. Today, people think that anyone can do research in a laboratory, whether they are a good or a bad person, it doesn't matter. You have the formulas, you analyze or synthesize; anyone can do that. At that time, when nature was approached in this way, where nature was taken as the effect of the divine, that is, the divine in man, as I have described it, and the divine in the great nature, at that time the requirement was: the person doing research must at the same time have an inner piety. He must be able to direct his soul and spirit to the Divine-Spiritual of the world. And it was clear to everyone, because it was a fact: the one who prepared for his experimentation as if for a sacrificial act and who had truly warmed to his experimentation through exercises of devotion, he was the one who experienced that the experimentation led him into the study of the human being on the one hand, and on the other hand led him into the study of the great nature. So that one looked upon inner goodness as a preparation for research, and one looked at his laboratory experiments in such a way that one saw the questions that they answered as questions that divine spiritual beings would have liked to have answered.
Now, with that, I have characterized the transition that took place from the spirit of the ancient mysteries to what the mystery beings in the Middle Ages could have been. You see, traditionally, many of the old mysteries were preserved in the mystery beings of the Middle Ages. But what the actual greatness of the late mysteries themselves was, of the mysteries of Samothrace or of Hybernia, what was actually great about them, could not be achieved in the Middle Ages.
Traditionally, something like what is called astrology has been preserved even to this day. Traditionally, what is called alchemy has been preserved. But today, as in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, we hardly know what the conditions of real astrological knowledge and real alchemical knowledge are.
You see, through reflection or empirical research, as it is called today, no one can come to astrology. Those who were initiated into the old mysteries would have answered you, if you had asked them whether you could come to astrology through research or reflection: You can come to astrology through reflection and empirical research just as well as you can learn the secrets of a person through empirical research and reflection if they do not tell you. Suppose there were something that only one person knows that no one else knows, and that person were to claim that he was conducting experiments to find out what that person knows, or that he was thinking about what that person knows – wouldn't that be absurd! But to learn something about astrological matters through reflection, or through experiments, or through observations, would have been found just as absurd by an ancient person as it is today by a person who wants to explore something that can only be learned by someone telling it to them. For the ancients knew: only the gods, or as it was later called, the cosmic intelligences, know the secrets of the stellar worlds. The cosmic intelligences know the secrets of the starry worlds, only they can tell you. Therefore, one must take the path of knowledge that leads one to be able to communicate with the cosmic intelligences.
Real, true astrology is based on the possibility of understanding the cosmic intelligences. And real alchemy? Real alchemy is not based on research like that of today's chemists, on experimenting and pondering, but on perceiving the nature spirits in natural processes, so that one can communicate with them; that the nature spirits tell one how the process is going, what is actually happening there. In the most ancient times, astrology was by no means a form of madness or mere observational research, but a form of communication with cosmic intelligences. In ancient times, alchemy was by no means a form of observational research or mere reflection, but a form of communication with natural spirits. This is the first thing to be understood. If you had approached an ancient Egyptian, or an ancient Chaldean, they would have said: I have an observatory so that I can hold a dialogue through my instruments and through what I allow to be spoken by my spirit with the help of my instruments – so that I can hold a dialogue with cosmic intelligences. And the pious naturalist of the Middle Ages who stood at the retort and, on the one hand, scientifically investigated the human being, and on the other hand, the weaving and essence of nature, would have said: I experiment because through the experiment the spirits of nature speak to me. The alchemist was the one who invoked the spirits of nature. Everything that was later regarded as alchemy is simply a decadent product. Everything that was astrology in older times is the result of communication with cosmic intelligences.
Now, in this time, in the first centuries after the emergence of Christianity, the old astrology, that is, the intercourse with the cosmic intelligences, was actually already gone. One still had the tradition. When the stars were in opposition, in conjunction, and the like, one reckoned, did not one, and so on. All that remained of the traditions from the times when the astrologers had their dealings with the cosmic intelligences. But while in this time, a few centuries after the emergence of Christianity, astrology was actually already gone, alchemy actually still remained. Dealing with the nature spirits was still quite possible in later times.
And if we now look inside a real Rosicrucian alchemical laboratory in the Middle Ages, say in the fourteenth or even the fifteenth century, we find instruments inside that sometimes even look relatively similar to today's instruments. At least we can get an idea of what these instruments of that time were based on today's instruments. But when we then look into these Rosicrucian mysteries spiritually, we find, I might say, the older, still more serious and more deeply tragic personality, which then became the Faust, especially the Goethean Faust. And compared with what stands in the Rosicrucian laboratories as the researcher with the profound tragic countenance, who actually can no longer cope with life, compared to what we encounter there, Goethe's Faust is actually something similar to that - I said yesterday with a radical expression - journal article Apollo of Belvedere against the Apollo, as he formed from the steaming sacrificial smoke at the Kabir altar.
When you look into these alchemical laboratories of the eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth centuries, you basically see a deep tragedy. And this tragedy of the Middle Ages, this tragedy of precisely the most earnest people, is not recorded in the right way in any history book, because you can't really see into souls.
All these true researchers who seek man and the universe as nature in this way, all these people are heightened Faustian natures in the early Middle Ages, for they feel one thing deeply: when we experiment, the spirits of nature speak to us, the spirits of the earth, the spirits of water, the spirits of fire, the spirits of air. We hear them in their murmuring, in their lisping, in their peculiarly flowing sounds that begin with a hum and then transition into harmonies and melodies before returning to themselves. So melodies resound when natural processes take place. You have a retort in front of you; as I said, as a devout man you immerse yourself in what is going on there. Particularly in this process, where one experiences the metamorphosis of oxalic acid into formic acid, one experiences how, when one questions the process, the spiritual of nature answers, so that one can then use the spiritual of nature for the inner being of man. There, at first, the retort begins to speak through colored phenomena. One feels how the nature spirits of the earthly, the nature spirits of the watery, arise from the oxalic acid and assert themselves, but then how the whole thing merges into a humming melody, harmonies that then return to themselves again. This is how one experiences this process, which then yields formic acid and carbonic acid.
And when you immerse yourself in this transition from color to sound, you also immerse yourself in what the laboratory process can tell us about the greater natural world and about human beings. Then one already has the feeling that the things and processes of nature reveal something that the gods speak, they are images of the divine. And one applies this inwardly to the human being in a beneficial way. In all these periods, medicine, for example, was still closely connected with the knowledge of the general world view to a high degree.
Now, let us say that with such a view, one would have the task of developing a therapeutic approach. You have a person in front of you. The same external symptom complexes can, after all, express the most diverse disease states and causes of disease on the outside. But with a method that takes this into account – I am not saying that it can be the same as in the Middle Ages, it must of course be different today – one can say: when a very specific symptom complex occurs, the person is unable to convert enough oxalic acid into formic acid. They have somehow become too weak to convert oxalic acid into formic acid. You might be able to help him with a remedy if you somehow introduce formic acid to him, so that you help him from the outside when he cannot produce formic acid himself.
You see, you can now treat two or three people who you have diagnosed as not being able to produce formic acid with formic acid, and it helps them quite well. Then you get a person who has something similar. You give formic acid – it doesn't help at all. But the moment you give oxalic acid, it helps immediately. Why? Yes, because the lack of strength lies in a different place, where the oxalic acid is to be converted into formic acid. In such a case, someone who thought along the lines of these medieval researchers would have said: Yes, the human organism will, under certain circumstances, if you simply give it formic acid under certain conditions, say: I will not transport it to the lungs or similar, so that it enters the air I breathe and the circulation, but I want to be attacked in a completely different place, I want to be attacked in the sphere of oxalic acid; I want to transform it into formic acid myself. I do without the formic acid, I want to make it myself.
So the things are different. And what these alchemical researchers, who are worthy of the name, were concerned with – because, of course, a lot of fraud, stupidity and so on has been done with these things – was always that which is the healthy nature of man, thought of in intimate connection with that which was the sick nature of man.
But all this led to nothing other than communion with the spirits of nature. The medieval researcher thus had this feeling: I commune with the spirits of nature. But there was an ancient time when people communed with the cosmic intelligences. They are closed to me.
Yes, my dear friends, since the spirits of nature have also withdrawn from human knowledge, since natural things and natural processes have become the abstractions that they appear to today's physicists and chemists, that tragedy that existed in the Middle Ages no longer arises. For the nature spirits, with whom those people still interacted, were just enough to awaken the longing for the cosmic intelligences, to which the ancient people had come. But one could no longer find the way to the cosmic intelligences with the means of knowledge that could be applied at that time; one could only find the way to the nature spirits. And by perceiving the nature spirits, by including the nature spirits in the knowledge, one felt so tragic that one could not come to the cosmic intelligences, from which the nature spirits themselves are in turn inspired. One perceived what the nature spirits know; but one could not penetrate through them to the cosmic intelligences. That was the mood.
And basically, the fact that the knowledge of the nature spirits remained with the medieval alchemists, and the knowledge of the cosmic intelligences was lost, was the cause of their tragedy. And it was also the reason why this medieval natural scientist could no longer arrive at a complete knowledge of the human being. But he still sensed where a complete knowledge of the human being was to be found. And it must be said that it is reminiscent of what some laboratory workers in the Middle Ages felt when Goethe's Faust says: “There I stand, poor fool, no wiser than before.” For it was basically the laboratory workers who were given this teaching by the nature spirits they approached. But they also gave no real knowledge of the soul, these nature spirits.
Today, much has already been lost in tradition; but it must be rediscovered. I would like to say that this researcher also had news of repeated lives on earth. He stood in his laboratory; the nature spirits had the peculiarity that they spoke of all sorts of things in relation to substances, in the description of world events, but they never spoke at all of repeated lives on earth; they had no interest in repeated lives on earth.
Now, my dear friends, I have presented to you some of the thoughts that were present as the starting points of a tragic mood in these medieval naturalists. And let us now turn to this peculiar figure, this Rosicrucian researcher, standing in the early medieval laboratory, with his serious, often so profound, but sorrowful countenance, with no intellectual skepticism, but with a deep uncertainty of mind, with no paralysis of will, but with the consciousness:
Oh, will, will is in me –
How do I direct it out to the paths
That lead to the cosmic intelligences?
Yes, countless questions arose in the mind of this medieval natural scientist! And a faint reflection of them is the first Faust monologue, with what follows it.
Tomorrow we will take a closer look at this serious researcher with profound insights, who is actually the forefather of Goethe's Faust.