Donate books to help fund our work. Learn more→

The Rudolf Steiner Archive

a project of Steiner Online Library, a public charity

The Anthroposophic Movement
GA 258

11 June 1923, Dornach

Second Lecture

The Theosophical Society: A Common Body with a Conscious Self. Blavatsky Phenomenon

In giving an account of the history of Anthroposophy in relation to the Anthroposophical Society, and of the life-conditions that determined it, there will be two questions from which one must set out, and which arise naturally out of the history itself. These two questions I may perhaps formulate in the following manner:—First, why was it necessary to connect the anthroposophic movement on to the theosophic movement in the way that was done? And secondly,—why does it happen,—on merely external grounds, as a rule,—that Anthroposophy down to this day is confounded by malevolent opponents with Theosophy, and the Anthroposophical Society with the Theosophical Society?

The answers to these two questions can only really grow out of the course of the history itself. As I said yesterday, when one talks of an anthroposophic society, the first point for consideration is, what kind of people they are, who feel an impulse to pursue their search along the path of an anthroposophic movement. And I endeavoured yesterday to describe how the souls, who thus turn to Anthroposophy to find satisfaction for their spiritual needs, are, in a certain sort of way, homeless souls. Now at the end of the nineteenth and beginning of the twentieth centuries, these homeless souls in actual fact were there. Many more of them were there than people are usually inclined to suppose. For many people were seeking, by many and various roads, to bring to development in some form the underlying man within them.

One need only recall—quite apart from the attempts which proceeded from the new-age materialism and led into all the varieties of spiritualism,—how, quite apart from all this, numbers of souls found a kind of inner contentment through the perusal of writings such as those of Ralph Waldo Trine and others.

What was it, then, that such souls were seeking, who at that period had recourse to writings like those of Ralph Waldo Trine?—They were trying, I might say, to fill up the human gap in them with something,—something for which they longed, which they desired to feel and realize in their inner lives, but which was not to be found upon the paved roads of modern civilization,—something which for these people was not to be found, either in the popular profane literature, or profane art, nor yet which they were able to find by means of the traditional religious faiths.

I must begin first by giving you a few facts to-day, and leave it to the next lectures to draw the connecting lines between the facts. The first thing needed is to bring certain facts in the right form before the soul.

Amongst all the many people who were seeking, whether along spiritistic roads or through Ralph Waldo Trine or others, amongst all these were the people who attached themselves to the various branches, then in existence, of the Theosophical Society. And if one puts to oneself the question: Was there any peculiar, distinctive feature in those people who more particularly attached themselves in some form to the Theosophical Society! some quality by which they were distinguished from the others, who became spiritualists, for instance, or who sought to find in Ralph Waldo Trine an inner mine of wealth?—was there any difference between them?—then one must certainly reply: Yes, there was a most distinctive difference. It was unmistakably a special variety, as I might say, of human search, which was going on in those persons, who were more particularly impelled in some form towards the Theosophical Society.

As we know from the actual course of the Theosophical Society, it seemed probable, that what had to be sought as Anthroposophy at the beginning of this century would be most likely to find understanding amongst those circles which joined together at that time to pursue Theosophy. Rut to have the requisite light upon this, we must first place the facts properly before our souls.

Now I should like, before going further, to devote a little while to describing the persons themselves, who came together in this way, and to give you some picture of what, was then, in those days, to be understood by Theosophical Society,—that theosophic association which, as you know, found its most marked and prominent expression in the English ‘Theosophical Society’. And this was the society, as you know, on to which was then joined what afterwards came forth as Anthroposophy,—or indeed, more truly speaking, it came forth at once as Anthroposophy.

Looking at the ‘Theosophical Society’ and the whole intention of it, as actually presented before our eyes so to speak in a group of people, we must first look a little into the minds of these people, we must look into these people's souls and see what kind of consciousness these particular people had.—In a way, these people certainly lived out what was in their mind's consciousness. They came together, and held ‘meetings’, where they delivered lectures and carried on discussions. They met together also at other times, besides the ‘meetings.’ A great deal of conversation indeed went on amongst them in more private circles. It was not usual at General Meetings, for instance, for the time to be so filled up, as it was with us yesterday; they always found an opportunity to have a meal together, to drink tea, and so forth. Between times, indeed, they even found opportunities for changing their dresses, and things of that kind. There was always, at any rate, some sort of gleam from the outer world of what I might call social behaviour. All that, of course, is not so much what interests us. What is of interest for us is the mental consciousness of these people. And here the first thing at once to strike one strongly was that, between the different personalities, there were forces at play which were in remarkable contradiction to the personalities themselves.

This contradictory play of forces struck one particularly, when the people held their meetings. They met together; but of every person there,—if one were not a theosophist sworn and signed,—of each single person, one kept trying to form two conceptions. That was the curious thing, that when one came amongst the ‘Theosophical Society’ it was simply unavoidable to have two conceptions of each person. First, there was the conception one formed from how he was as one actually met with him. Rut the other, was the conception which the rest had of each amongst them. This was the outcome of general views, views of a quite general and of a very theoretic character,—notions about Man in general, about universal love of mankind,—about the stage one had reached: being ‘advanced’, as they called it, or ‘not advanced.’,—about the kind of way in which one's mind must be seriously disposed, if one were to prove worthy to receive the doctrines of theosophy,—and so on. They were notions of a highly theoretic kind. And there must be something, they thought, of all this, existing in the people actually walking about before them in flesh and blood. So that what was really living amongst them, were not those conceptions I spoke of at first: the conceptions, namely, that one forms quite naively of the other person,—these conceptions had really no living existence amongst the members; but what lived in each of them was a picture of all the others,—a picture that was really born of theoretic notions about human beings and human conduct.

In reality, no one saw the other as he actually was; he saw a sort of ghost. And so it was inevitable, when one met, say, with a Mr. Miller and naively formed for oneself a picture of Mr. Miller, and one then called to mind the sort of conception any other person might have of this same Mr. Miller, that one then raised a kind of ghost-conception; for the real conception of him did not exist amongst any of the rest, but each had in mind a ghost, theoretically constructed. And in this way one could not help having two conceptions of each person. Only, most of the members dispensed with the conception of the actual person, and admitted only the conception of the ghost. So that in reality, between the individual members there dwelt constantly their ghostly conceptions of one another. One met in the minds of the ‘members’, so to speak, with nothing but ghosts.—One required, in fact, to have an interest in psychology.

One required, too, a certain largeness of mind and heart in order to enter into it all with real interest. And then, indeed, it was extremely interesting to enter into what went on, rightly speaking, as a kind of ghost-society. For, to the extent which I have just said, it was a society of ghosts that went on there. This was more especially forced upon one's eyes in the case of the leading personalities. The leading personalities lived quite a peculiar kind of life amongst the others.

The talk, for instance, would be about some particular leading personality,—say X:—she went about at night as an astral form from house to house,—only to members' houses, of course!—as an Invisible Aid. And she emanated all sorts of things too.—They were, in part, uncommonly fine ghostly conceptions that existed of the leading personalities.

And often then it was a striking contrast when one came to meet the same person afterwards in actual reality. But then the generally prevailing tone of mind took care that, as far as possible, only the ghost-conceptions should have a chance to live, and the real conceptions not be all too lively.

Well, for this sort of thing, you see, it was undoubtedly necessary to have views and doctrines. For it is not so easy a matter, seeing that not everybody is clairvoyant,—though in those days there were an extraordinary number of people who gave themselves out at least to be clairvoyant (with what truth is a question into which we won't for the moment enter),—but since not all of them, at any rate, were clairvoyant, it was necessary to have certain theories, from which to put together these ghosts that were constructed.

Now these theories all had about them something remarkably antique; so that one could not but have the impression of old, warmed-up theories, that were being used to put together these ghost-constructions of people. In many cases, too, it was easy to find in ancient writings the patterns from which these ghostly figures of men were traced.

So, in addition to the ghostliness, there was also the fact that the people, whom one had as ghosts before one, were by no means people of the present day. They were really people of earlier incarnations, people who seemed to have risen out of the graves of Egypt or Persia, or from the graves of ancient India. The impression of the present time vanished, in a sense, altogether from one.

But, added to this, there was something else, quite different.—These ancient teachings, even when wrapped in comparatively modern terminology, were very little to be understood. Now these ancient doctrines, very largely, were talked about in abstract forms of speech. Physical body, indeed, was still called ‘physical body’. ‘etheric body’ was taken from the form of the Middle Ages, and ‘astral body’, too, perhaps. But then at once came things like manas, kama-manas, and so forth,—things which were in everybody's mouths, but of which nobody exactly knew what they purported.

And all this was clothed again in quite modern, materialistic conceptions. But within, contained in these teachings, there were whole chains of worlds and world-concepts and world-ideas; till one had the feeling: The souls are speak-ing as they did in far by-gone, earlier ages,—not hundreds, but thousands of years ago.

This was carried very far. Whole books were written in this style of speech. These books were translated; and so everything was carried on further in the same form.

There was, however, another side to it also. It had its beautiful side too. For all this, existing though it often did as mere words only, and not understood, left, nevertheless, something of its colouring upon the people. And if not in the souls themselves, yet one might say that in the soul-costumes of the people there was an immense amount of it all,—in their soul-costumes. The people went about really, as I might say, not exactly with a consciousness of aether bodies, or of kama-manas, but with a sort of consciousness of being robed in a series of mantles: one mantle is the aether-body, another Lama-manas, and so on. They attached some importance, too, to this set of mantles, this soul-costume. And this gave the people a sort of cement that held them together.

All this was something, which welded the ‘Theosophical Society’ together in an extraordinarily solid manner into a whole, and which was really effective in establishing an immense feeling of corporate fellowship, that made each one feel himself a representative of the ‘Theosophical Society.’ This ‘Society’ was a thing in itself; beside the fact of the individuals in it, the Society itself was some-thing. It had, one might really say, a ‘Self-consciousness’ of its own. It had its own ‘I’. And this ‘I’ of the Society was so strong that, even when the absurdities of the leading personages came to the surface in an un-mistakably queer fashion, the people had so come to feel themselves a corporate body, that they held together with iron pertinacity, and had a sort of feeling that it was like treachery not to hold together, whatever the failings of the personages at the head.

Anyone who has had opportunity to see something of the inner struggles that went on in some of the adherents of the Theosophic Society later on, long after the Anthroposophic Society was separated from it, what struggles went on in them, when again and again they recognized: ‘The things that the leaders are doing are quite monstrous; and yet, all the same, one can't separate from them!’ ... if one has watched these struggles that went on in the individual souls, then, although there was much about it which one can only condemn as excessively bad,—yet, on the other hand, one acquires a certain respect for this ‘I’-consciousness of the whole Society.

And here arises the question whether it were not possible, even under the conditions under which the Anthroposophic Society was bound to enter the world,—whether, even under these conditions it were not possible for some such associated consciousness to grow up?

In founding the anthroposophic society, all those, often very dubious methods had to be dispensed with, by means of which, in the theosophic society, the ‘I’-consciousness of the society had been obtained, and the strong tie through-out the whole. The ideal that was to hover before the anthroposophic society must be: Whom lies only in Truth. These, however, are things, which have remained down to this day ideals. In this field especially, the anthroposophic society still leaves much to be desired; inasmuch as, until now, in respect to developing a corporate body, an associate ‘I’, it has not made even the first beginnings.

The Anthroposophical Society is an association of persons, who, as individual human beings, may be very full of zeal; but as a society they do not as yet, truly speaking, exist; because there is lacking just this sense of ‘belonging together’; because only very, very few of the members of the Anthroposophical Society feel themselves representative of this society. Each feels himself a private individual, and quite forgets that an Anthroposophical Society is supposed to exist.

And now that I have given a brief description of the public (which I will fill in more fully in these coming days), I should like to describe the matter now on its other side.—In what way, then, amidst this whole quest of the age,—for so I must call it,—did Anthroposophy now take its place?

The fundamental principles of Anthroposophy are to be found already, by anyone who chooses, in my Philosophy of Freedom. There is only one I wish more especially to pick out to-day, which is, that this Philosophy of Freedom everywhere points in the first place and by inner necessity to a domain of Spirit; a domain of Spirit from which, for example, the moral impulses are drawn. So that, following the Philosophy of Freedom, it is not possible to stop short at the sense-world; one is obliged to go on further, to a spiritual domain grounded in itself.

And this general existence of a spiritual domain takes further the very special and concrete form, that Man in his own innermost being, when he becomes conscient of his own innermost being, is connected, not with the world of Sense, but is connected in this, his innermost being, with the world of Spirit.

These two things: first that there is a spiritual domain; and, secondly, that Man, with the innermost ‘I’ of his being, is connected with this spiritual domain,—these are the two fundamental points of the Philosophy of Freedom. And a time could not but come, when the question arose: Is it possible for that which has now to be proclaimed as a sort of message to the men of the new age from the spiritual world,—is it possible for one to proclaim it in this way? Is there here an opportunity for connecting it onto some-thing? For naturally, one could not just stand up and talk into the air.—Although indeed, in these days, all sorts of strange proposals are made to one. I once,—it was in the year 1918, during my stay in Vienna—received an invitation, by telegram indeed, to travel from Vienna to the Rax Alp, on the northern boundary of Styria, and there to plant my-self on the Rax Alp, and deliver a lecture to the mountains. The proposal was actually made to me at the time, and by telegram. I need hardly say, that I did not respond to the proposal.—However, one can't talk to the mountains or the air; one must find something existing in the civilization of the day, onto which one can connect. And there was, on the whole, even at the turn of the nineteenth to twentieth century, still uncommonly little there. People were there, whose search namely, at that time, was leading them into the Theosophical Society. These were, after all, the people to whom it was possible to speak of these things.

But here, too, one required, not only to have a feeling of responsibility towards these people, as a public; one required on the other hand also to have a feeling of one's responsibility towards the spiritual world,—and, in particular, towards that form of the spiritual world which had come to expression at that particular time. And here I may perhaps be allowed to show you the way in which, out of this endeavour on my part, which as yet did not outwardly bear the name of Anthroposophy, there gradually grew up what became afterwards Anthroposophy. I want to-day merely to put forward a few facts, and leave it to the following days to trace you the connecting threads between them.

To begin with, I could discern in the 'eighties of last century what I might call a kind of fata morgana: some-thing which wore quite a natural appearance in the physical world, but which, though only as an airy fata morgana, as a light-phenomenon, had yet, in a sense, a deeper significance.

The fact was, that when one reflected upon the evolution in world-conceptions then taking place in the civilized world, as it struck one in what I may call its then-modern form (few people paid any heed to this evolution; but it was there), one might come upon something very curious. There,—if we confine our reflections for the moment to Central Europe only,—there was that great, I might say world-shaking philosophy, which aspired to be everything else as well, which aspired to being an entire world-conception: the idealist philosophy of the first half of the nineteenth century. There were the after-echoes still of the philosophy of Hegel, say, of Fichte, of Solger; philosophies, which, at the time they were founded, meant really to many persons who became their disciples, quite as much as ever Anthroposophy can be to someone to-day. And yet, in the main, it was all abstract conceptions, a pile of abstract conceptions.

Take a look into Hegel's Encyclopaedia of the Philosophic Sciences, the first of the four parts, and you will find a string of concepts, developed one out of the other. It starts with Real Being (Sein); then comes Nothing (Nichts); then comes Becoming (Werden); then comes Objective Existence (Dasein). ... Well, I can't, of course, give you an account now of the whole of Hegel's Logic, for it is a fat book, and it goes on in concepts like these. Finally, at the end, comes Purpose (Zweck). It never in fact gets further than abstract thoughts and abstract ideas.—

Real Being; Nothing; Becoming; Objective Existence; Purpose. And. yet Hegel called it: ‘God before the Creation of the World.’ So that one could only suppose that, if one asked the question: What was God like before the creation of the world? the answer was a system of abstract concepts and abstract ideas.

Now there was living in Vienna, just at the time when I was young,—and that's long ago,—a philosopher of the Herbart school, Robert Zimmermann. And Robert Zimmermann said: ‘That is not permissible for us any longer to-day.’ (By ‘to-day’ he meant the last third of the nineteenth century.) ‘We cannot to-day think as Hegel and Solger and all those people thought.’—In what way, then did such people think?

Zimmermann, you see, said to himself: ‘These people thought in the kind of way, as though they themselves were God.’ Zimmermann thought in a very curious way really for a philosopher, but very characteristically; he said: ‘Hegel thought in the same way, as though he himself were God.’—That might almost, as it was spoken, have come from the Theosophical Society of the period; for there was a member a leading member indeed, of the Theosophical Society, Franz Hartmann; and his lectures, which he used to hold, were all to this effect:—One must become aware of the God within oneself; every man has within him as it were a divine man, a God; and when this divine man begins to talk, then one talks Theosophy.

Well, Franz Hartmann, when he let his divine man talk, said all sorts of things, about which I wish at the moment to express no opinion. But Hegel, when—according to Zimmermann's view—he let the God within him speak, said Real Being; Nothing; Becoming; Objective Existence; and then,—then the world began logically to hum; and then, it twisted over into its Other-State-of-Being, and lo! the natural world!

Now Robert Zimmermann said: ‘There must be an end of that; for that is Theosophy! We can't have Theosophy any more in these days,’ said Robert Zimmermann in the 'eighties. ‘It is impossible for us in these days to accept the Theosophy of a Schelling, a Solger, a Hegel. We must not let the God in Man speak: that makes a theocentric standpoint, to which one can only aspire, if one is prepared to be like Icarus;—and you know what that means; one skids off the track in the Cosmos, and. comes tumbling down!—We must keep to a human standpoint.’—And so, in opposition to the ‘Theosophy’ of Hegel, Schelling, Solger and the rest, (whom he treats as ‘theosophists’ also in his History of Aesthetics), Robert Zimmermann wrote his book Anthroposophy. And from this Anthroposophy I afterwards took the name. It appeared at the time to me an unusually interesting book, as a sign of the times.

Only ... this Anthroposophy of Zimmermann's ... it is made up of the most horribly abstract concepts. It is composed in three parts, too; and then there are subordinate chapters: 1, Logical Ideas; 2. Aesthetic Ideas; 3. Ethical Ideas.

One looks, you see, as a human being,—putting aside for the moment the part on aesthetics, which deals with Art, and the Ethical Ideas, which deal with human conduct,—one naturally looks to find, in what is there presented to one as a conceptual view of the world, something from which a human being must draw inner satisfaction, something which enables him to say to himself, that he is connected with a divine, spiritual existence, that within him there is some-thing eternal. Robert Zimmermann set out to answer the question: When Man ceases to be merely a man of the senses, when he really wakes to conscious knowledge of his spiritual manhood, what does he then know?—He knows the logical ideas. Hegel wrote at least a whole book, full of such logical ideas; but then those are ideas such as only a God can think. But when it is not a god thinking in the man, but the man himself who is thinking, then the result is five logical ideas,—at least, with Robert Zimmermann. First idea, the Absoluteness of Thought; second, the Equivalence of two Concepts; third, the Synthesis of Concepts; fourth, the Analysis of Concepts; and fifth, the Law of Contradiction, that is, a thing can only be some-thing-in-itself, or else another thing; a third alternative is not possible.

Well, my dear friends, that is the total compass of what is given there, put together in the form of abstract ideas, as representing what a human being can know for certain, when he detaches himself from the world of sense, when he falls back upon his own mind and soul. If this ‘Anthroposophy’ were all and only what there was to offer to the human being, then one could but say: Everything must be regarded as superseded, whatever men once possessed in their different religious faiths, in their rites of worship and so forth; everything must be regarded as superseded, which is accepted as Christianity; since all these things again can only be deduced from history, etc. When man reflects on what he is able to know qu anthropos, on what he is able to know for certain, when he bestirs his own soul, independently of either sensible impressions or external history, it is this: ‘I can know for certain, that I am subject to the Absoluteness of Thought, to the Equivalence of Concepts, to the Synthesis of Concepts, to their Analysis, and to the Law of the Excluded Third (the third alternative that is self-excluded).’ With these, as people used to say, one must go to heaven.

Besides this, there were certainly the Aesthetic Ideas. These were the ideas of: Perfection, Accordance, Harmony ...; there are five again of these ideas, and, .similarly, five Ethical Ideas.—The Aesthetic Ideas included also the ideas of Discord and the Accordance of Discord.

  1. Logical ideas: Absoluteness of Thought; Equivalence; Synthesis; Analysis; Law of Contradiction.

  2. Aesthetic ideas: Perfection; Accordance; Harmony; Discord; Accordance of Discord. From these five ideas, through these five ideas, comes the life of all the arts.

  1. Ethical ideas: And in the five ethical ideas: Ethical Perfection, Benevolence, Equity, Conflict, and Adjustment of Conflict, lies the life of all human transactions.

As you see, it is all reduced to the uttermost form of abstraction. At the beginning stands: Outline of Anthroposophy.

That a great deal was meant by it, you may see from the dedication with which it is prefaced. There are, I might really say, touching lines in this dedication. One reads in it,—I can't quote verbally, but something like this: To Harriet!—Thou it wast, who, when night began to darken round my eyes, didst lead me to gather the scattered thoughts, that long had lived within me, and bind them together in this book. And a willing hand was ready, too, to set on paper what my mind's eye had shown me in the dark-room.—

In short, it is indicated in very beautiful words, that the author had had an eye-disease, had been obliged to spend some time in the dark-room, where he had thought out these ideas, and that a willing hand had offered to write them down. These dedicatory lines conclude very beautifully with the words:—No one then can deny, that this book, like light itself, proceeded out of darkness.

It was just like a fata morgana, you see; most curious. Robert Zimmermann, out of Theosophy, brought forth an Anthroposophy, after his notions. But I don't think that, if I had lectured on this Anthroposophy, we should ever have had an anthroposophical movement. The name, however, was very well chosen. And this name I took over, when—for inherent reasons which will become apparent in the course of these lectures—I had, for inherent reasons, to begin by dealing with a variety of things; and in the first place, with the spiritual, and for every seer of the spiritual world clearly established fact, that there are recurrent earth-lives.

But when one is not light-minded in such matters, but has a sense of spiritual responsibility, one must first find a point of connection. And one may truly say, that at that period,—the turn of the nineteenth to twentieth century,—it was extremely hard to find any connection in the consciousness of the age for the recurrence of earth-lives. Points of connection, however, subsequently presented themselves. And I will begin by telling how I myself sought for these points of connection.

There is a very interesting Compendium of the Truths of Anthropology, by Topinard. In the concluding chapter of this book,—it was a book of which more mention was made ;it that period, than to-day; to-day it is already somewhat antiquated as regards details, but it is cleverly written;—in the concluding chapter there is a very neat summary. And there one could find, put together in Topinard, in a way which of course every modern-minded person of the time endorsed, a summary of all the different biologic facts which led up to the conception of the various species of animals as proceeding out of one another,—as proceeding, the one out of the other. Topinard had, set out in full in his book, all the material which could be quoted in support. And one could thus find everything which had led to the conception of a progressive transformation of the different animal species, one out of another. And Topinard stops short with the facts, and says, after adducing, I think, some twenty-two points, that the twenty-third he has then to adduce is this Transformation of the Animal Species. And now we stand directly before the problem of Man. That, he leaves unanswered: How is it with Man?

Here, then, one might say, taking the evolution of the biologists seriously, quite seriously, and connecting onto an author, who is also really to be taken seriously: Here he leaves the question open. Let us go further; let us add to point twenty-two point twenty-three, and we get this: That the animals always repeat themselves on a higher grade in their species; with Man we must transfer this to the individual, and when the individual repeats himself, then we shall have repeated earth-lives. I took as connection, you see, what I happened to have. That was altogether the form still at that time, in which I tried to make comprehensible to the whole world's understanding, what lies of course as a spiritual fact de facto before the soul. But to make it understandable to the surrounding world, one had to take what lay directly to hand, but which ended, not with a full stop, but with a dotted line. I simply connected on to the dotted line of natural-science.

That was the first thing. And this lecture I delivered in the circle of which I told you yesterday. They did not have much understanding for it; because they were not, there, interested in natural science. They did not feel, there, the necessity for paying any consideration to natural science; and it naturally seemed to the people waste of time, to set to work to prove what they already believed.

Well, what made the second thing, was, that, at the beginning of the century, I delivered a series of lectures in a circle which called themselves ‘The Coming Race’ (‘die Kommenden’), and where as a rule only literary themes were discussed. These lectures had for title From Buddha to Christ, and in them I tried to show the whole line of evolution from Buddha to Christ, and to sum up in Christ the total of all that lay in the previous aspects of conception. The series closed with that interpretation of the Gospel of John which sets out from the Waking of Lazarus. So that this Lazarus problem therefore, as it is found later in my Christianity as Mystical Fact, forms here the conclusion of this lecture-cycle From Buddha to Christ.

This occurred at about the time when, from the same circle of people who had invited me to hold the lectures that are contained in my book Mysticism at the Dawn of the New Age of Thought, I now received a request to speak to an audience of theosophists on the very subject it was my aim and wish to speak on. And this came together again with the efforts being made to found a German Section of the ‘Theosophical Society’. And I found myself called upon,—before really I was a member, before I had even given the least sign of becoming a member,—to become General Secretary in the German Section of the ‘Theosophical Society’.

At the time this German Section was being founded, I gave a lecture-cycle, at which there were, I think, only two or three theosophists present. The rest were mainly the same audience as in the circle in which I was holding the lectures From Buddha, to Christ.

It was a circle called the ‘Coming Race’ (‘die Kommenden’). The names seemed to stick to me:—there must be some law connected with it. ‘Anthroposophy’ stuck to me from Robert Zimmermann. The ‘Coming Race’ reappeared in the name of the ‘Coming Day’ (‘der Kommende Tag’). Names of this kind stick to one,—old names.

To this circle,—which, as I said, had been joined by two or three theosophists at most; and by these really out of curiosity, as you will see at once, for I spoke to this circle on the evolution of world-conceptions from the earliest Oriental times to the present day: or, Anthroposophy. This cycle of

1 Literally ‘Thought-dash’.

2 1901-2, in Berlin.—See too the ‘Story of my Life’ by Dr. Rudolf Steiner, Chap. XXX.

lectures, then, bore from the first as its proper title: ‘The history of mankind's evolution, as shown in its world-conceptions from the earliest Oriental ages down to the present times: or, Anthroposophy.’—This lecture-cycle, as I must again mention, was held by me contemporaneously with the founding of the German Section of the Theosophical Society. I used to go away, indeed, out of the meeting, and whilst the others were continuing their conference and continuing to discourse Theosophy, I delivered my series of lectures on Anthroposophy.

One of the people, who afterwards, from theosophists became good anthroposophists,—one who became indeed a very good anthroposophist,—went out of curiosity at the time to these lectures, and said to me afterwards: ‘Yes, but what you have just been saying doesn't agree at all with what Mrs. Besant says and what Blavatsky says.’ To which I replied: ‘Well, no doubt that must be the case then.’—He was a good connoisseur of Theosophy and all its dogmas, who discovered, quite rightly, that ‘It doesn't agree.’—So even at that period, one could say: It is not in agreement; it is something different.

Well, these are facts, which for the moment I have just put before you. And now there is another fact I should like to mention, drawn apparently from another quarter altogether, and to which I have already alluded yesterday.

Take the books of Blavatsky, beginning with the principal books, first, the Isis Unveiled, and second, the Secret .Doc-trine. Now, one did not really need to have any very great weakness for the people who accepted everything in these books as sacred dogma; but all the same, if only for the reasons I mentioned yesterday, there was enough to make one find these books extraordinarily interesting,—above all, to find the phenomenon of Blavatsky herself an extraordinarily interesting one,—extraordinarily interesting, if only from a deeper psychologic standpoint.—And in what way?

Well, there is, after all, a big difference, you see, between these two books, the Isis Unveiled and Blavatsky's other book, the Secret Doctrine; there is a very big difference indeed. And you will recognize this difference most forcibly, if I tell you how the two books were judged at the time by the people who were connoisseurs in such things.—What do I mean, when I speak of ‘connoisseurs in such things’?

My dear friends, there really exist traditions, which have come down from the very oldest mysteries and been pre-served since in various so-called Secret Societies. And the people too in certain secret societies had grades distributed to them accordingly. They moved up, from the first grade to the second, thence to the third, and so on. And, in these grades, such and such things were communicated to them always from the same traditions.

In the lower grades, the people did not understand the things, but they accepted them as sacred dogmas. They did not really understand the things in the higher grades either. But though neither the lower grades, nor yet the higher grades, understood the traditions, it was nevertheless a firm belief amongst those who belonged to the lower grades, that those who belonged to the higher ones understood everything. This was a quite fixed belief that existed among them; but all the same there did exist among them also a preserved store of genuine knowledge. Verbally, they knew a very great deal. And you need only take up anything ... to-day, when everything is printed and everything obtainable, these things too are easy to obtain you need only take up what is printed on the subject, and put life into it again from what Anthroposophy can teach you (for there is no other way of giving the things life), and you will then see, even in the mangled form in which they are usually printed to-day, that these traditions do contain within them a vast hoard of ancient, awe-inspiring knowledge. Often the words sound all wrong; but anyone who knows a little, knows what is implied, and that an ancient hoard of old-world knowledge lies behind. Rut still, however, the special feature of these secret societies and their proceedings is this: that the people have a general feeling that in earlier ages there existed persons who were initiates, and who possessed an ancient lore that enabled them to give information about the universe,—about the cosmos and the world of spirits. And they knew, too, how to put words together, they knew how to talk about these things that had been handed down to them. There were plenty of such people.

And now appeared the Unveiled Isis of Blavatsky. And the people, who had become possessed of the traditional knowledge through having attained to lower or higher grades in these secret societies, were the very people to have a terrible fright when the Unveiled Isis appeared. The reason of their fright was usually explained to be, that the times—they said—were not yet ripe, for these things, which had always been kept concealed in the secret societies, to be given out straightway to the mass of mankind through the press. That was what they thought. They were really indeed of this honest opinion, that the times were not ripe for these things to be communicated to the whole of mankind.

There was, however, for individuals amongst them, another reason besides. And this reason can only properly be under-stood, if I call your attention to certain other facts again.—You must consider, that during the fifth post-atlantean period,—namely, in the nineteenth century,—everything, really, had passed over into abstract concepts and ideas; so that finally, as we saw, one of the profoundest and most powerful minds couched his whole world-outlook in the abstract concepts: Real Being; Nothing; Becoming; Objective Existence, etc., down to Purpose. Everything in this modern age has turned to abstract concepts and ideas.

One of the first in Central Europe, who began with these abstract ideas, is the philosopher Schelling. At a time, when people were able to be enthused by such ideas, because they still had, latent in them, forces of human sentiment, and when, in Jena, Schlegel and Tieck were amongst the listeners when, with immense enthusiasm, such ideas were discussed,—at that time Schelling too had been one of those who taught these abstract ideas. Then, after a few years, Schelling no longer found any satisfaction in these abstract ideas,—plunged into all kinds of mysticism, more particularly into Jacob Boehme,—received from these ideas of Boehme's a new and fruitful impulse, and then, out of the ideas he had received from Jacob Boehme, produced some-thing, which now rang somewhat less abstracted and more substantial. No one can be said to have really any longer understood,—for it was not understood,—what Schelling had written in 1809, in his Human Freedom, and the Circumstances involved with it; but somewhere in the 'twenties, Schelling, who till then had been living for a long while in retirement, began to speak, and in a curious manner. You may find to-day in Reclam's Universal Library Series a little volume of Schelling's, called The Ages of the World. If you take up this little volume, you will get an odd feeling; you will say to yourself: ‘It's all quite hazy still, and abstract; and yet one has the strange feeling: How is it, that it doesn't occur to the man, to Schelling, to say what, for instance, has since been said on anthroposophic ground about the true facts concerning Atlantis; but that he almost, clumsily as it were, hints at them?’—So far he gets; to clumsily hinting at them. It is a quite interesting little volume, this of Schelling's, in Reclam's Universal Library, on The Ages of the World.

And then, as you know, Friedrich Wilhelm IV appointed him in 1844 to the University of Berlin. There, accordingly, after Hegel had been dead for fourteen years, he became Hegel's successor. And there Schelling began to deliver his lectures on the Philosophy of Revelation.

This, too, is still fearfully abstract, He speaks of three potentials, A', A', A' ... fearfully abstract! Then, however, he carries it on further, as far as to a kind of comprehension of the ancient Mysteries—as far as to a kind of comprehension of Christianity. And again, when he launches into these ideas, we have almost the feeling: It is an attempt, though in a still quite primitive fashion, to find a way into a real spiritual world. Only one can't rightly do much with what Schelling gives here briefly in his lectures.—But the people, all the same, understood nothing of it. It is not, after all, so very easy to understand, since the way is a dubitable one.

In the mind of the age, however,—as this is a proof,—in the mind of the age, then, there did lie something which, like Schelling, hinted: We must search into a spiritual world.

In another form, the same thing happened in England. It is extremely interesting to read the writings of Laurence Oliphant. Oliphant describes—in another way naturally, for Englishmen describe otherwise than Germans, more tangibly, in terms of things and senses,—he describes the picture which had risen before his mind of earliest ages of Man's evolution upon earth. And in a certain sense, and taking into consideration the difference of national genus, they are parallel phenomena: Schelling, in the first half of the nineteenth century, more from the idealist side; and Laurence Oliphant, more from the realist side; in both, a powerful kind of striving after the spiritual world, of striving after a comprehension of the world as revealed to man's sight from the spirit.

If one examines what it is exactly that is so curious, in Schelling as well as in Oliphant (it is the same phenomenon really in both, only varied by country), one finds that it is this: These two people grew up,—the one in German, the other in English fashion,—into the civilization of their age,—struggled through till they reached a crowning perfection in the ideas, then held as the philosophic ideas of the age, about Man, about the Universe, and so forth.

Schelling in his fashion, as well as Oliphant in his fashion, struggled their way through. Now, as you know from the anthroposophic descriptions which I have given you, Man's evolution to-day takes place during the first part of his life in such a way, that the physical presents an accompanying phenomenon to the evolution of his soul. This ceases later on.—With the Greeks, as I told you, their evolution still went on until they were in the thirties, in such a way that there was an actual, progressive evolution of the two, a parallelism of the physical and the spiritual.—With Schelling and with Oliphant it was again somewhat different from what it is with the average person of the present day. With them, what took place was this: their evolution went on at first as it does with a normal human being, ... for of course to-day one can be a philosopher, and in every respect a quite normal human being,—perhaps, indeed, a sub-normal one; but that's by the way! ... One just develops one's notions a little further, you know, and then one stops short, if one is a normal human being. Schelling and Oliphant didn't stop short; but with increasing age their souls became all of a sudden as lively as they had been in a previous earth-life, and there rose up a memory of things which they had known long ago, in earlier incarnations,—rose up in a natural way: distant memories, hazy memories. And now, a light suddenly flashes on one; now one begins to see both Oliphant and Schelling in a different light.

They struggle their way through; become first normal philosophers, according to their different countries; then in their later years they acquire a memory of something they had known before in previous earth-lives,—now as a hazy memory. And then, they begin to talk about the spiritual world. It is a hazy, indistinct memory, that rises up in Schelling and in Laurence Oliphant; but still it was a thing of which there was a certain amount of fear amongst the people who had merely a traditional, old evolution, lest it might get the upper-hand, might spread. These people were horribly afraid lest men might come to be born, who would remember what they had lived through in times before, and would talk about it. ‘And then’—thought they—‘what will become of our principle of secrecy? We exact solemn oaths from the members of the first, second, third grades; but if people come to be born, in whom it all wakes up again as a living memory, what we've preserved so carefully and keep locked up, of what use then is all our secrecy!’

And now appeared Isis Unveiled. The curious phenomenon was this: This book brought a whole lot of what was kept secret in secret societies openly into the book-market. The great problem that now faced these people was: How have these things, which we have kept well locked up, and to which the people are sworn by solemn oaths,—how has Blavatsky got hold of them, and from what source? Amongst these people particularly, and all who were frightened, this book, Isis Unveiled, aroused great attention.

It certainly was, for those people who took a conscient share in the spiritual life going on around them at the end of the nineteenth century,—it certainly was a problem, what had appeared here, with this book of Blavatsky's.

And now there appeared the Secret Doctrine. Then the thing became really serious.—To-day, as I said, I am merely setting forward the bare facts.—A whole mass of the things, which properly in secret societies were reserved for the highest grades alone, were planted by this book before the world. And the people who had been scared already by the first book, and now in addition by this second one, coined various expressions for it at the time; for there was something terribly, especially for the so-styled Initiates, terribly upsetting in this Blavatsky phenomenon.

Well, with the Isis Unveiled, things were not yet quite so uncanny,—for Blavatsky was after all a chaotic personality, who, along with the really profound wisdom, was constantly mixing up, as I said yesterday, all sorts of stuff that is absolutely worthless. At any rate, about the Isis Unveiled the alarmed, so-styled Initiates could still say: It's a book which, where it's true it isn't new, and where it's new it isn't true. And that was the judgment passed on this book to begin with. The people recognized that the unpleasant thing about it for them was: the things have been disclosed. (The book itself was named Isis Unveiled!) But they calmed their uneasiness by thinking: ‘What must have happened is, that—from some quarter or other—there has been an infringement, strictly speaking, of our rights.’

And then, when the Secret Doctrine made its appearance, in which there was a whole heap of things, that were not known even to the highest grades, then the people could no longer say: What is true isn't new, and what's new isn't true; for there were a whole number of things said in it, which had not been preserved by tradition.

So that they were now faced in a most curious way with the very thing that they had been afraid of ever since Schelling and Laurence Oliphant,—coming now from a woman, and in a most strange and, moreover, perplexing fashion.

For this reason, as I said, the personality is, psychologically, even more interesting than the books. It was certainly a significant and remarkable phenomenon for the spiritual life of the departing nineteenth century, this phenomenon of Blavatsky.

This is the point down to which I wished to carry my facts.

Zweiter Vortrag

Wenn man über die Geschichte und die Lebensbedingungen der Anthroposophie in ihrem Verhältnisse zur Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft zu sprechen hat, dann werden zunächst die Betrachtungen an zwei Fragen, die sich einfach aus dieser Geschichte heraus ergeben, anzuknüpfen haben. Diese beiden Fragen könnte ich in der folgenden Weise formulieren. Erstens, warum war es notwendig, die anthroposophische Bewegung anzuknüpfen in der Art, wie es geschehen ist, an die theosophische Bewegung? Und zweitens, warum wird, was ja im Grunde genommen nur aus äußerlichen Gründen geschieht, die Anthroposophie bis heute noch von übelwollenden Gegnern mit der Theosophie, beziehungsweise die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft mit der Theosophischen Gesellschaft verwechselt?

Es werden sich die Antworten auf diese Fragen wirklich nur aus dem Geschichtlichen heraus entwickeln können. Gestern sagte ich, daß ja, wenn man von Anthroposophischer Gesellschaft spricht, es zunächst darauf ankäme, wie die Menschen sind, die sich gedrängt fühlen, ihren Weg durch eine anthroposophische Bewegung zu suchen. Und ich habe gestern zu charakterisieren versucht, in welchem Sinne die Seelen, die da herankommen an Anthroposophie, um ihre geistigen Sehnsuchten zu befriedigen, in einer gewissen Art heimatlose Seelen sind. Nun, in der Tat, am Ende des 19. Jahrhunderts und im Beginn des 20. Jahrhunderts waren solche heimatlosen Seelen vorhanden. Es waren ihrer mehr vorhanden, als man gewöhnlich anzunehmen geneigt ist, denn viele Menschen versuchten auf verschiedenen Wegen, das Tiefer-Menschliche in sich in irgendeiner Art zur Ausbildung zu bringen.

Man braucht sich ja nur daran zu erinnern, wie, ganz abgesehen von.den Bestrebungen, die aus dem .neuzeitlichen Materialismus hervorgegangen sind und die dann zu den verschiedensten Formen des Spiritismus geführt haben, zahlreiche Seelen eine gewisse innere Befriedigung gesucht haben dadurch, daß sie solche Schriften wie etwa die von Ralph Waldo Trine und ähnliche gelesen haben. Was haben denn solche Seelen gesucht, die in der angedeuteten Zeit etwa zu den Schriften von Ralph Waldo Trine griffen? Sie haben, ich möchte sagen, ihr Menschliches anzufüllen versucht mit etwas, was eben von ihnen ersehnt wurde, was sie innerlich fühlen und erleben wollten, was aber auf den gangbaren Wegen der neueren Zivilisation nicht zu finden war, was für sie weder zu finden war in der populären profanen Literatur oder in der profanen Kunst, was für sie auch nicht zu finden war bei den traditionellen Religionsbekenntnissen.

Ich werde nun heute zunächst einige Tatsachen anzuführen haben und es den nächsten Vorträgen überlassen müssen, die Verbindungsfäden zwischen diesen Tatsachen vor Ihnen zu ziehen. Zunächst wird es sich darum handeln, gewisse Tatsachen in entsprechender Weise vor die Seele zu führen.

Unter all den Menschen, die so suchten, sei es auf spiritistischem Wege, sei es durch Ralph Waldo Trine oder andere, waren auch diejenigen, die sich der damals in verschiedenen Zweigen vorhandenen Theosophischen Gesellschaft anschlossen. Und wenn man sich die Frage vorlegt: Unterschieden sich diese Menschen, die sich gerade der Theosophischen Gesellschaft in irgendeiner Form anschlossen, durch irgendwelche charakteristische Eigenschaften von den anderen, die zum Beispiel Spiritisten wurden oder sich durch Ralph Waldo Trine innerlich zu bereichern versuchten, unterschieden sie sich von diesen, — so muß man allerdings die Frage mit Ja beantworten. Sie unterschieden sich ganz bedeutsam. Es war schon eine besondere Art, möchte ich sagen, von menschlichem Suchen bei denjenigen vorhanden, die gerade zu irgendeiner Form der Theosophischen Gesellschaft getrieben worden sind.

Wir wissen aus dem Verlauf der Entwickelung der Theosophischen Gesellschaft, daß man sich schon vorstellen konnte, daß dasjenige, was im Beginne unseres Jahrhunderts nun als Anthroposophie zu suchen war, am ehesten hätte Verständnis finden können innerhalb der Kreise, die sich zur Theosophie dazumal verbanden. Aber das kann eben erst beleuchtet werden, wenn die Tatsachen ordentlich vor unsere Seele hingestellt sind.

Nun möchte ich, dabei stehenbleibend, zunächst die Menschen, die sich da zusammenfanden, charakterisieren, eine Art Bild geben von dem, was man damals als Theosophische Gesellschaft verstehen konnte, die ja ihre prägnanteste Ausprägung in der englischen Theosophical Society fand. An diese schloß sich ja auch an, was dann als Anthroposophie, oder besser gesagt, was eigentlich gleich als Anthroposophie hervorgetreten ist.

Wenn man dasjenige, ich möchte sagen, als Menschengruppe vor sich hatte, was in der Theosophical Society gemeint war, so muß man zunächst in das Bewußtsein dieser Menschen etwas hineinschauen, hineinschauen in die Seelen dieser Menschen, um zu erkennen, wie das Bewußtsein dieser Menschen geartet war. Diese Menschen haben dieses ihr Bewußtsein ja schon in irgendeiner Weise ausgelebt. Sie haben Versammlungen, Meetings abgehalten; da sind Vorträge gehalten worden, Diskussionen gepflogen worden. Sie haben sich sonst auch außerhalb der Meetings getroffen, sogar sehr viel miteinander gesprochen in kleineren Zirkeln. Es war zum Beispiel bei Generalversammlungen nicht üblich, daß die Zeit so ausgefüllt war, wie das bei uns gestern der Fall war. Man fand immer die Möglichkeit, gemeinsam zu essen, Tee zu trinken und so weiter. Man fand sogar in den Zwischenzeiten die Möglichkeiten, andere Toiletten anzulegen und dergleichen. Es war immerhin schon eine Art von auch, ich möchte sagen, aus der Außenwelt hereinscheinenden sozialen Verhaltens. Aber das ist es natürlich weniger, was uns interessieren kann. Interessieren muß uns das Bewußtsein der Menschen. Und da konnte zunächst stark auffallen, daß außerordentlich widersprechende Kräfte zwischen diesen Persönlichkeiten spielten.

Diese widersprechenden Kräfte fielen einem besonders auf, wenn die Leute Versammlungen abhielten. Sie kamen zusammen. Aber von jedem Menschen, wenn man nicht eingeschworener Theosoph war, suchte man zwei Vorstellungen zu haben. Es war das Eigentümliche, daß, wenn man in die Theosophical Society kam, es einfach eine Notwendigkeit war, von jedem Menschen zwei Vorstellungen zu haben. Die eine Vorstellung war diejenige, die man sich bildete, je nachdem er einem entgegentrat. Die andere Vorstellung aber war diejenige, die die anderen von jedem einzelnen hatten. Sie war herausgeboren aus ganz allgemeinen Anschauungen, aus Anschauungen, die sehr theoretischer Natur waren: Vorstellungen über den Menschen überhaupt, über allgemeine Menschenliebe, über Vorgerücktsein — «advanced», wie man es nannte — oder Nichtvorgerücktsein, über die Art und Weise, wie man ernst gestimmt sein müsse, wenn man würdig sich erweisen solle, die Lehren der Theosophie aufzunehmen und so weiter. Es waren Vorstellungen recht theoretischer Art. Und man dachte: In den Menschen, die da in Fleisch und Blut herumgingen, müsse doch etwas von alldem sein. Da lebten eigentlich nicht die Vorstellungen, die ich zunächst meine, die man sich so auf naive Weise von dem anderen Menschen gebildet hat, die lebten eigentlich nicht bei den Mitgliedern, sondern es lebte ein Bild in jedem einzelnen von allen anderen, das eigentlich aus theoretischen Vorstellungen von Menschen und Menschenverhalten hervorgegangen war.

Eigentlich sah keiner den anderen, wie er wirklich war, sondern er sah eine Art Gespenst. Und so mußte man eben, weil man, wenn man zum Beispiel einem Herrn Müller begegnete und sich naiv ein Bild von dem Herrn Müller bildete, dann, wenn man sich vergegenwärtigte, was irgendein anderer für eine Vorstellung habe von dem Herrn Müller, sich eine gespenstische Vorstellung machen. Denn die wirkliche Vorstellung hatte keiner von dem anderen, sondern ein Gespenst stellte er sich vor, das konstruiert war. So hatte man eben nötig, von jedem Menschen zwei Vorstellungen zu haben. Nur ersparten sich die meisten Mitglieder die Vorstellung vom wirklichen Menschen, sie nahmen nur die Vorstellung des Gespenstes auf, so daß eigentlich zwischen den einzelnen Mitgliedern immer gespensterhafte Vorstellungen voneinander lebten. Man begegnete eigentlich in den Bewußtseinen der «members» lauter Gespenstern. Man mußte-schon eben Interesse haben für Psychologie.

Man mußte auch eine gewisse Vorurteilslosigkeit und Weitherzigkeit haben, um eben wirklichen Anteil zu nehmen. Es war ja sehr interessant dann, Anteil zu nehmen an dem, was eigentlich da als eine Art Gespenstergesellschaft lebte. Denn in der Begrenzung, wie ich es jetzt sagte, war es eine Gespenstergesellschaft, die da lebte. Insbesondere trat einem das gegenüber den führenden Persönlichkeiten sehr stark vors Auge. Die führenden Persönlichkeiten lebten bei den anderen auf eine ganz eigentümliche Weise. Da wurde, sagen wir, von irgendeiner führenden Persönlichkeit gesprochen, X zum Beispiel. Die ging des Nachts als Astralgestalt von Haus zu Haus — natürlich nur durch die Häuser der Mitglieder - als unsichtbarer Helfer. Die strahlte noch alles mögliche aus. Es waren zum Teil außerordentlich schöne gespensterhafte Vorstellungen, die von den führenden Persönlichkeiten vorhanden waren. Es war dann oftmals ein auffälliger Kontrast, wenn einem diese Persönlichkeiten in der Wirklichkeit entgegentraten. Aber da sorgte ja dann die allgemeine Stimmung, daß möglichst nur die Gespenstervorstellungen leben konnten und die wirklichen Vorstellungen wenig leben konnten.

Sehen Sie, zu so etwas brauchte man durchaus Anschauungen, Lehren. Denn da nicht alle Menschen hellsichtig sind, obwohl es dazumal außerordentlich viele gab, die wenigstens vorgaben, hellsichtig zu sein — wir wollen das jetzt nicht untersuchen, wieweit das stimmte —, aber da nicht alle hellsichtig gewesen sind, so bedurfte es gewisser Theorien, durch die man das zusammenzimmerte, was man da als Gespenster formierte.

Nun, diese Theorien hatten etwas außerordentlich Altertümliches. So mußte man den Eindruck empfangen, daß es altaufgewärmte Theorien sind, nach denen nun da die Menschen gespensterhaft konstruiert wurden. Vielfach konnte man auch leicht finden, wie diese gespenstischen Menschengestalten altem Schrifttum nachgebildet waren.

So kam zu der Gespensterhaftigkeit dazu, daß die Menschen, die ‚man da als Gespenster vor sich hatte, gar nicht Menschen der Gegenwart waren. Es waren eigentlich Menschen früherer Inkarnationen, Menschen, die einem vorkamen wie den ägyptischen oder persischen Gräbern entstiegen, oder alten indischen Gräbern entstiegen. Man hatte in einem gewissen Sinne ganz den Eindruck der Gegenwart verloren.

Aber dazu kam noch etwas ganz anderes. Diese alten Lehren konnten, selbst wenn sie in verhältnismäßig moderne Terminologie gehüllt waren, wenig verstanden werden. Nun wurde von diesen alten Lehren viel geredet in abstrakten Formen. Physischer Körper wurde ja noch physischer Körper genannt. Ätherischer Leib wurde dem Mittelalter nachgebildet, vielleicht auch noch astralischer Leib. Dann aber kamen schon die Dinge wie Manas, Kama Manas und dergleichen, die alle im Munde führten Aber niemand verstand eigentlich, um was es sich handelte. Es war ja das alles auch gekleidet in ganz modern materialistische Vorstellungen. Aber es waren Weltenzusammenhänge, Weltenbegriffe und -ideen in diesen Lehren enthalten, so daß man das Gefühl bekommen konnte: da sprechen die Seelen wie in weit abgelegenen, früheren, nicht nur Jahrhunderten, sondern Jahrtausenden.

Das ging ja sehr weit. Es wurden Bücher geschrieben in einer solchen Sprachart. Sie wurden übersetzt; und das ging also alles in einer solchen Form vor sich. Aber es hatte auch noch eine andere Seite. Es hatte eine schöne Seite. Nämlich von all dem, was da oftmals nur als Worte lebte, was da unverstanden war, von all dem färbte auf die Menschen doch etwas ab. Man möchte sagen: Wenn auch nicht in den Seelen, so war von alledem doch außerordentlich viel im Seelenkostüm der Leute. Sie gingen eigentlich herum, ich möchte sagen, indem sie nicht gerade ein Bewußtsein hatten von Ätherleib oder von Kama Manas, aber sie hatten so das Bewußtsein, daß sie eine Reihe von Mänteln umgab: der eine ist ein Ätherleib, der andere ist Kama Manas und so weiter. Sie hielten etwas auf diese Mäntel, auf dieses Seelenkostüm, und das bildete einen starken Kitt für die Leute.

Das ist etwas, was in einer außerordentlich intensiven Weise die Theosophical Society zu einem Ganzen zusammengeschmiedet hat, was wirklich gemacht hat, daß ungeheures Zusammengehörigkeitsgefühl vorhanden war, daß jeder einzelne sich als einen Repräsentanten der Theosophical Society fühlte. Diese Society war etwas für sich, außer dem, daß jeder einzelne da war, war diese Gesellschaft etwas. Sie hatte, man kann schon sagen, ein Selbstbewußtsein für sich. Sie hatte ein eigenes Ich. Dieses eigene Ich war so stark, daß, selbst als dann die Absurditäten der führenden Persönlichkeiten in einer geradezu kuriosen Weise an die Oberfläche getreten sind, diejenigen Menschen, die sich einmal als zugehörig gefühlt haben, mit eiserner Gewalt festgehalten haben und so ein Gefühl dafür hatten: Das ist etwas wie Verrat, wenn auch bei großen Fehlern der führenden Persönlichkeiten nicht zusammengehalten wird.

Wer etwa einen Einblick gewonnen hat in jene Kämpfe, die von gewissen Anhängern der Theosophischen Gesellschaft später durchgemacht worden sind, als die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft längst von ihr getrennt war, welche Kämpfe da durchgemacht worden sind, wenn immer wieder und wiederum gesehen worden ist: Da machen die Führer ganz ungeheuerliche Dinge, aber man kann sich doch deshalb nicht von ihnen trennen, — wenn man angesehen hat die Kämpfe, die da in den einzelnen Seelen vor sich gegangen sind, dann bekommt man, wenn man auch wirklich ungeheuer Schlechtes dabei verurteilen muß, auf der anderen Seite einen gewissen Respekt vor diesem Ich-Bewußtsein der ganzen Gesellschaft.

Und es entsteht eben die Frage: Wäre es nicht möglich, daß mit den Bedingungen, unter denen die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft in die Welt treten sollte, auch ein solches Gesellschaftsbewußtsein erwachsen könnte?

Mit der Begründung der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft mußte verzichtet werden auf jene oftmals sehr bedenklichen Mittel, durch welche dort in der Theosophischen Gesellschaft der starke Zusammenhalt und das Ich-Bewußtsein der Gesellschaft errungen worden ist. Es mußte das Ideal eben vor der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft schweben: Die Weisheit liegt nur in der Wahrheit. Aber das sind eben doch Dinge, die bis heute Ideal geblieben sind. Gerade auf diesem Felde läßt ja die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft insofern noch viel zu wünschen übrig, als sie in bezug auf die Bildung eines Gemeinschaftskörpers, eines eigenen Gesellschafts-Ichs, nicht einmal noch in den Anfängen steht. Die Anthroposophische Gesellschaft ist eine Vereinigung von Menschen, die als einzelne Menschen sehr strebsam sein können, aber als Gesellschaft ist sie im Grunde genommen noch gar nicht da, weil eben dieses Zusammengehörigkeitsgefühl nicht da ist, weil die wenigsten Mitglieder der Anthroposophischen Gesellschaft sich als Repräsentanten dieser Gesellschaft fühlen. Es fühlt sich jeder als ein einzelner und vergißst ganz, daß es eine Anthroposophische Gesellschaft geben soll.

Nun habe ich mit einigem - ich werde das dann noch ergänzen an den folgenden Tagen — das Publikum charakterisiert. Ich möchte auch noch die andere Seite charakterisieren. Denn wie hat sich in dieses ganze Zeitstreben, so muß ich ja sagen, Anthroposophie nun hineingestellt? Wer will, wird eben die Grundprinzipien der Anthroposophie bereits finden in meiner «Philosophie der Freiheit». Ich will heute nur das eine hervorheben, das ist das, daß ja diese «Philosophie der Freiheit» zunächst überall mit einer inneren Notwendigkeit auf ein geistiges Reich hinweist, aus dem zum Beispiel die moralischen Impulse genommen werden. So daß also im Sinne der «Philosophie der Freiheit» nicht stehengeblieben werden kann bei der Sinneswelt, sondern fortgeschritten werden muß zu einem in sich begründeten geistigen Reiche. Dieses Bestehen eines geistigen Reiches bekommt ja noch die ganz andere konkrete Form, daß der Mensch in seinem innersten Wesen, wenn er sich seines innersten Wesens bewußt wird, nicht mit der Sinneswelt zusammenhängt, sondern in diesem innersten Wesen mit der geistigen Welt zusammenhängt.

Diese zwei Dinge: erstens, daß es ein geistiges Reich gibt, zweitens, daß der Mensch mit dem innersten Ich seines Wesens mit diesem geistigen Reich zusammenhängt, sind ja die Fundamentalpunkte der «Philosophie der Freiheit». Es mußte eben einmal die Frage entstehen: Kann man dasjenige, was wie eine Art von Botschaft von der geistigen Welt der neueren Menschheit verkündet werden soll, in dieser Weise verkündigen? Gibt es eine Möglichkeit, anzuknüpfen an irgend etwas? Denn man konnte sich natürlich nicht hinstellen und in die Luft hineinreden. Allerdings kommen einem in der neuesten Zeit alle möglichen sonderbaren Vorschläge zu. So bin ich einmal während meiner Anwesenheit in Wien im Jahre 1918 aufgefordert worden, telegrafisch sogar, von Wien aus nach der Raxalp am Nordrand von Steiermark zu fahren, mich auf die Raxalp zu stellen und dort einen Vortrag für die Alpenberge zu halten! Diese Aufforderung ist tatsächlich telegrafisch an mich damals ergangen. Ich brauche ja wohl nicht zu sagen, daß ich der Aufforderung nicht nachgekommen bin. Aber man kann doch nicht zu Bergen oder in die Luft hineinsprechen, man muß anknüpfen an irgend etwas, was eben da ist in der Zeitzivilisation. Es war im Grunde genommen auch noch um die Wende des 19. und 20. Jahrhunderts außerordentlich wenig da. Menschen waren da, die damals eben aus ihrem Streben heraus in die Theosophische Gesellschaft hinein wollten. Das waren schließlich diejenigen, zu denen sich von diesen Dingen reden ließ.

Aber man mußte auch wiederum nicht nur ein Verantwortlichkeitsgefühl haben gegenüber diesen Menschen als einem Publikum, man mußte andererseits das verantwortliche Gefühl gegenüber der geistigen Welt haben, gerade jener Form der geistigen Welt, die in der damaligen Zeit zum Ausdrucke gekommen ist. Und da darf ich vielleicht darauf aufmerksam machen, wie allmählich herausgewachsen ist aus dem ja noch nicht äußerlich von mir Anthroposophie genannten Streben dasjenige, was dann Anthroposophie geworden ist. Ich möchte eben heute nur Tatsachen hinstellen zunächst und die verbindenden Fäden dann in den nächsten Tagen vor Ihnen ziehen.

Vor allen Dingen konnte ich in den achtziger Jahren des vorigen Jahrhunderts eine Art Fata Morgana erblicken, etwas, was sich in der physischen Welt in einer ganz natürlichen Weise ausnahm, was aber, wenn auch nur als windige Fata Morgana, ich möchte sagen, als Lichterscheinung, doch in einem gewissen Sinne eine tiefere Bedeutung hatte. Wenn man. auf die damals moderne Art auf sich wirken ließ die Weltanschauungsentwickelung, die damals in der Zivilisation lebte — wenige Menschen befaßten sich ja damit, aber sie war eben doch da -, so konnte man auf etwas sehr Eigentümliches treffen. Da war, wenn wir nur auf Mitteleuropa zunächst reflektieren, die, ich möchte sagen, welterschütternde Philosophie da, die aber alles mögliche sein wollte, die eben eine ganze Weltanschauung sein wollte: die Philosophie des Idealismus von der ersten Hälfte des 19. Jahrhunderts. Da waren die Nachklänge da, sagen wir, der Fichteschen, der Hegelschen, der Solgerschen Philosophie, die wirklich in der Zeit, in der sie begründet worden sind, manchen Leuten, die ihre Bekenner wurden, ebensoviel waren, wie nur je Anthroposophie heute dem Menschen sein kann. Aber es waren im Grunde genommen abstrakte Begriffe, eine Summe von abstrakten Begriffen.

Sehen Sie sich einmal den ersten von den drei Teilen von Hegels «Enzyklopädie der philosophischen Wissenschaften» an, dann werden Sie eine Reihe von Begriffen finden, die auseinander entwickelt werden. Da beginnt es mit dem Sein. Dann kommt das Nichts. Dann kommt das Werden. Dann kommt das Dasein. Ich kann natürlich jetzt nicht die ganze Hegelsche Logik beschreiben, denn das ist ein dickes Buch, da geht es so fort in solchen Begriffen. Zuletzt ist der Zweck. Es kommt eben nur zu abstrakten Gedanken und zu abstrakten Ideen: Sein, Nichts, Werden, Dasein, Zweck.

Aber dennoch hat Hegel das genannt: Gott vor der Erschaffung der Welt. So daß man sich also vorzustellen hatte, daß, wenn man die Frage aufwarf: Wie ist Gott gewesen vor der Erschaffung der Welt? — man eben ein System von abstrakten Begriffen und abstrakten Ideen bekam.

Nun lebte in Wien, gerade als ich jung war — das ist lange her ein Herbartscher Philosoph, Robert Zimmermann. Der sagte: Das ist uns heute nicht mehr erlaubt — er meinte das «Heute» als das letzte Drittel des 19, Jahrhunderts -, so zu denken, wie etwa Hegel oder Solger oder dergleichen gedacht haben. Denn wie dachten die Leute?

Sehen Sie, Zimmermann sagte sich: Die Leute dachten so, wie wenn sie Gott selber wären. Zimmermann dachte ja eigentlich sehr merkwürdig für einen Philosophen, aber sehr charakteristisch. Er sagte: Hegel hat gedacht, wie wenn er Gott selber wäre. Das war eigentlich fast wie aus der damaligen Theosophischen Gesellschaft heraus gesprochen, denn es gab ein Mitglied, sogar ein führendes Mitglied der Theosophischen Gesellschaft, Franz Hartmann, der hielt alle seine Vorträge dahingehend, daß er sagte: Man muß sich des Gottes in sich selbst bewußt werden, jeder Mensch hat so etwas wie einen göttlichen Menschen, einen Gott in sich, und wenn der anfängt zu sprechen, dann spricht man Theosophie. — Franz Hartmann hat ja, wenn er seinen göttlichen Menschen hat sprechen lassen, allerlei Dinge gesagt, die ich jetzt nicht beurteilen will. Aber Hegel hat nach Zimmermanns Anschauung, wenn er seinen Gott in sich hat sprechen lassen, gesagt: Sein, Nichts, Werden, Dasein, und dann quirlte zuerst logisch die Welt, und dann schlug sie sich hinüber in ihr Anderssein, und dann war Natur da.

Nun sagte Robert Zimmermann: Das darf nicht mehr sein, denn das ist Theosophie. Wir können heute keine Theosophie mehr haben, sagte in den achtziger Jahren Robert Zimmermann, wir können nicht die Theosophie des Schelling, des Solger, des Hegel heute noch anerkennen. Wir müssen nicht den Gott im Menschen sprechen lassen, das gibt einen theozentrischen Standpunkt. Der kann nur angestrebt werden, wenn man sich so etwa wie Ikarus verhält: nicht wahr, man glitscht dann im Kosmos aus und fällt herunter! Man muß auf menschlichem Standpunkte stehenbleiben. Und so schrieb Robert Zimmermann gegen die Theosophie Hegels, Schellings, Solgers und anderer, die er auch in seiner «Geschichte der Ästhetik» als Theosophen behandelt, seine «Anthroposophie». Und von dieser «Anthroposophie» habe ich ja später den Namen genommen. Sie erschien als ein mich dazumal als Zeiterscheinung außerordentlich interessierendes Buch. Nur ist diese «Anthroposophie» zusammengesetzt aus den entsetzlichsten abstrakten Begriffen. Sie besteht auch aus drei Teilen. Dann hat sie Nebenkapitel: erstens die logischen Ideen, zweitens die ästhetischen Ideen, drittens die ethischen Ideen.

Sehen Sie, der Mensch sucht ja, wenn man zunächst absieht von der Ästhetik, die die Kunst behandelt, von den ethischen Ideen, die das Verhalten des Menschen behandeln, in dem, was ihm dann dargeboten wird in einer Weltanschauung, dasjenige, wodurch er innere Befriedigung haben muß, wodurch er sich sagen können muß, daß er mit einem Göttlich-Geistigen zusammenhänge, daß ein Ewiges in ihm ist. Robert Zimmermann wollte nun die Frage beantworten: Wenn der Mensch aufhört, ein bloß sinnlicher Mensch zu sein, wenn er sich wirklich seines geistigen Menschtums bewußt wird, was weiß er denn dann? Die logischen Ideen weiß er. Hegel hat doch wenigstens ein ganzes Buch voll solcher logischer Ideen geschrieben. Doch das sind ja Ideen, die nur ein Gott denken kann. Aber wenn nun nicht ein Gott im Menschen denkt, sondern der Mensch selber denkt, dann kommen fünf logische Ideen heraus, wenigstens bei Robert Zimmermann. Erstens die Denknotwendigkeit, zweitens die Gleichgeltung von zwei Begriffen, drittens die Zusammenfassung von Begriffen, viertens die Trennung von Begriffen und fünftens der Satz des Widerspruches: etwas kann nur entweder ein Selbst sein oder ein anderes, ein Drittes ist nicht möglich. Das, meine lieben Freunde, ist der Umfang desjenigen, was da angeführt wird, in abstrakte Ideen zusammengefaßt; also dasjenige, was der Mensch wissen kann, wenn er sich loslöst von der Sinneswelt, wenn er sich auf sein Geistig-Seelisches bezieht.

Wäre diese «Anthroposophie» dasjenige, was dem Menschen einzig und allein geboten werden könnte, so müßte man sagen: Es muß als überwunden gelten, was die Menschen einmal in den verschiedenen Religionsbekenntnissen, im Kultus und so weiter gehabt haben, es muß als überwunden gelten das, was als Christentum gilt. Denn das kann ja nur wiederum abgeleitet werden aus der Geschichte und so weiter. Wenn der Mensch sich auf dasjenige besinnt, was er wissen kann als Anthropos, was er wissen kann, wenn er seine Seele unabhängig von den sinnlichen Eindrücken oder der äußeren Geschichte in Bewegung setzt, so ist es das: Ich kann wissen, daß ich mich fügen muß der Denknotwendigkeit, der Gleichwertigkeit der Begriffe, der Zusammenfassung der Begriffe, der Trennung, dem Satze vom ausgeschlossenen Dritten, das sich ausschließt. Mit dem mußte man, wie man es auch genannt hat, selig werden.

Dann kamen allerdings dazu die ästhetischen Ideen. Das sind die Ideen der Vollkommenheit, des Einklanges, der Harmonie; es sind wiederum fünf Ideen. Und ebenso sind fünf ethische Ideen. Zu den ästhetischen Ideen kommen noch dazu der Widerstreit und der Einklang des Widerstreites.

Erstens die logischen Ideen: Denknotwendigkeit, Gleichgeltung, Zusammenfassung, Trennung, Satz des Widerspruchs.

Zweitens die ästhetischen Ideen: Vollkommenheit, Einklang, Harmonie, Widerstreit, Einklang des Widerstreites. Aus diesen fünf Ideen, mit diesen fünf Ideen leben nun alle Künste.

Drittens die ethischen Ideen. Und in den fünf ethischen Ideen: der ethischen Vollkommenheit, dem Wohlwollen, dem Rechte, dem Streite und dem Ausgleich des Streites lebt nun das Handeln der Menschen.

Sie sehen, in die äußerste Form der Abstraktion ist da alles gebracht. Davor steht: «Anthroposophie im Umriß».

Daß sehr viel gemeint war damit, das können Sie aus dem Widmungsblatte, das dem voranging, ersehen. In diesem Widmungsblatte finden sich, ich möchte sagen, rührende Zeilen. Da steht — ich kann nicht wörtlich zitieren, aber ungefähr -: An Harriet. Du warst es, die mich veranlaßte, als Nacht sich um mein Auge zu dunkeln begann, die zerstreuten Ideen, die lange in mir lebten, zu diesem Buche zu verbinden. Und eine willige Hand fand sich, aufzuschreiben dasjenige, was ich in der Dunkelkammer ersonnen hatte.

Es ist also in einer sehr schönen Sprache darauf hingewiesen, daß der Verfasser eine Augenkrankheit hatte, eine Zeitlang in der finsteren Kammer zubringen mußte, da er diese Ideen ersonnen hat, und daß dann eine willige Hand sich gefunden hat, das aufzuschreiben. Diese Widmungszeilen schließen dann sehr schön, indem da steht: Und so kann denn niemand leugnen, daß dieses Buch, wie das Licht selbst, aus der Dunkelheit hervorgegangen ist.

Sie sehen, es war wie eine Fata Morgana: sehr merkwürdig. Robert Zimmermann hat aus der Theosophie eine «Anthroposophie» in seinem Sinne hervorgebracht; aber ich glaube nicht, daß, wenn ich jemals diese «Anthroposophie» vorgetragen hätte, wir eine anthroposophische Bewegung hätten. Doch der Name war sehr gut gewählt. Und den Namen nahm ich dann herüber, als ich eben aus Untergründen heraus, die schon auch noch in diesen Vorträgen zutage treten werden, zunächst an ein Mehrfaches zu gehen hatte. Erstens: an die geistige, für jeden in die Geisterwelt Einblickenden sichergestellte Tatsache, daß es wiederholte Erdenleben gibt.

Aber wenn man eben mit solchen Dingen nicht leichtsinnig ist, sondern ein geistiges Verantwortlichkeitsgefühl hat, so muß man anknüpfen an irgend etwas. Man kann schon sagen, daß es einem in der damaligen Zeit, in der Wende des 19. und 20. Jahrhunderts, außerordentlich schwer wurde, mit den wiederholten Erdenleben anzuknüpfen an das Zeitbewußtsein. Aber es ergaben sich Anknüpfungspunkte. Und ich will zunächst erzählen, wie ich selber diese Anknüpfungspunkte gesucht habe.

Es gibt eine sehr interessante Zusammenfassung der anthropologischen Wahrheiten von Topinard. In dem Schlußkapitel — es war in der damaligen Zeit ein Buch, das noch öfter genannt wurde, als es heute genannt wird, heute ist es schon etwas veraltet in den Einzelheiten, aber es ist geistreich geschrieben - ist eine hübsche Zusammenstellung. Und da fand man in einer Art, die natürlich jeder, der im modernen Bewußtsein damals stand, unterschrieb, bei diesem Topinard all diejenigen biologischen Tatsachen zusammengestellt, die dazu führten, die Tierarten aus einander hervorgehend zu denken, eine aus der anderen. Topinard konnte sich auch auf alles dasjenige, was in seinem Buche auseinandergesetzt war, berufen. Man fand also alles dasjenige, was dazu geführt hatte, sich vorzustellen, daß eine Umwandlung stattfindet von Tierart zu Tierart. Topinard bleibt bei den Tatsachen stehen und sagt, nachdem er etwa zweiundzwanzig Punkte, glaube ich, angeführt hat: der dreiundzwanzigste sei dann das, was er als diese Verwandlung der Tierarten anführt. Aber nun stehen wir vor dem Problem des Menschen. Das läßt er unbeantwortet. Wie ist es mit dem?

Nun konnte man, indem man die Entwickelungslehre der Biologen ernst, ganz ernst nahm, anknüpfend an einen solchen Autor, der nun wirklich auch ernstzunehmen ist, sagen: Da läßt er die Frage offen! Setzen wir fort, fügen wir zum Punkt zweiundzwanzig den Punkt dreiundzwanzig, so bekommen wir, daß eben die Tiere in ihren Arten sich immer auf einer höheren Stufe wiederholen. Beim Menschen muß man übergehen zum Individuum. Wenn das Individuum sich wiederholt haben wird, dann bekommen wir die wiederholten Erdenleben. Sie werden sehen: es war an das angeknüpft, was ich eben hatte, es war durchaus noch dazumal die Form, die ich versuchte, um der ganzen Welt verständlich zu machen, was ja natürlich als geistige Tatsache wirklich dasteht vor der Seele. Doch, um es der Mitwelt verständlich zu machen, mußte das genommen werden, was unmittelbar da war, aber nicht mit einem Punkt schloß, sondern mit einem Gedankenstrich. Ich habe einfach an den Gedankenstrich der Naturwissenschaft angeknüpft. Das war das Erste. Diesen Vortrag habe ich in jenem Kreise gehalten, von dem ich Ihnen gestern gesprochen habe. Man hat kein sehr starkes Verständnis dafür gehabt, weil man sich da nicht für Naturwissenschaft interessierte. Da fühlte man nicht, daß es notwendig sei, Naturwissenschaft zu reflektieren, und es schien den Leuten natürlich unnütz, daß dasjenige, was sie nun einmal glaubten, auch noch bewiesen sein solle.

Das Zweite war gegeben damit, daß ich in einem Kreise, in dem sonst nur literarische Themen behandelt worden waren, der sich «Die Kommenden» nannte, einen Vortragszyklus hielt im Beginne des Jahrhunderts, der den Titel trug: «Von Buddha zu Christus», wo ich versuchte, die ganze Entwickelungsströmung von Buddha zu Christus darzustellen und in Christus die Zusammenfassung desjenigen zu geben, was in den vorangehenden Anschauungen da war. Dieser Vortragszyklus schloß mit jener Interpretation des Johannes-Evangeliums, die einsetzt bei der Erweckung des Lazarus. So daß also das Lazarus-Problem, wie es sich dann in meinem «Christentum als mystische Tatsache» findet, eben den Schluß bildete dieses Vortragszyklus «Von Buddha zu Christus,

Das fiel ungefähr in die Zeit hinein, in der dann aus jenem Kreise ' heraus, der mich eingeladen hatte zu den Vorträgen, die in meinem Buche «Die Mystik im Aufgange des neuzeitlichen Geisteslebens» zusammengefaßt sind, die Aufgabe an mich herantrat, vor Theosophen zu sprechen über dasjenige, was ich eben sprechen sollte und wollte. Dann fiel das zusammen mit den Bestrebungen, eine deutsche Sektion der Theosophical Society zu gründen. Und ich wurde aufgefordert, eigentlich bevor ich Mitglied war, irgendwie auch nur Miene gemacht hatte, Mitglied zu werden, Generalsekretär zu werden dieser deutschen Sektion der Theosophical Society.

Als diese deutsche Sektion begründet wurde, hielt ich einen Vortragszyklus, bei dem, ich glaube, nur zwei oder drei Theosophen dabei waren, sonst im wesentlichen das Publikum, das in dem Kreise war, wo ich auch gesprochen habe über «Von Buddha zu Christus». Dieser Kreis hieß «Die Kommenden». Es blieben mir so die Namen. Es muß mit irgendeinem Gesetze zusammenhängen. «Anthroposophie» von Robert Zimmermann ist geblieben, «Die Kommenden» traten wiederum auf in dem Namen des «Kommenden Tages». Es bleiben einem solche Namen, alte Namen.

Für diesen Kreis - in den, wie gesagt, höchstens zwei oder drei Theosophen hingegangen waren und diese wirklich nur aus Neugierde — sprach ich über die Entwickelung der Weltanschauungen von den ältesten orientalischen Zeiten bis zur Gegenwart, oder Anthroposophie. Also dieser Vortragszyklus trug zunächst seinen ausführlichen Titel: «Entwickelungsgeschichte der Menschheit an der Hand der Weltanschauungen von den ältesten orientalischen Zeiten bis zur Gegenwart, oder Anthroposophie». Dieser Vortragszyklus — das muß ich immer erwähnen - ist gleichzeitig gehalten worden von mir, als die deutsche Sektion der Theosophischen Gesellschaft gegründet worden ist. Ich ging sogar fort aus der Versammlung, und während die anderen weiter konferierten und sich weiter unterhielten über Theosophie, hielt ich meinen Vortragszyklus über Anthroposophie.

Einer derjenigen, die dann aus Theosophen gute Anthroposophen geworden sind, sogar einer, der ein sehr guter Anthroposoph geworden ist, ging dazumal aus Neugier zu diesem anthroposophischen Vortragszyklus und sagte mir nachher: Ja, aber was Sie da gesagt haben, das stimmt ja gar nicht mit dem, was Mrs. Besant sagt und was die Blavatsky sagt. — Da sagte ich: Dann wird’s ja wohl so sein. — Also ein guter Kenner war das von all den Dogmen der Theosophie, der richtig herausfand: Das stimmt nicht. Also man konnte schon dazumal sagen: Das stimmt eben nicht, es ist etwas anderes.

Nun, diese Tatsachen stellte ich zunächst einmal vor Sie hin. Ich möchte nun eine andere Tatsache hinstellen, die scheinbar aus einer ganz anderen Ecke genommen ist, auf die ich schon gestern hingewiesen habe.

Da waren die Bücher der Blavatsky, die Hauptbücher zunächst: das erste «Die entschleierte Isis», das zweite «Die Geheimlehre». Nun brauchte man wirklich nicht ein großes Faible für diejenigen zu haben, die das in diesen Büchern Enthaltene wie ein heiliges Dogma hinnahmen. Man konnte aber dennoch schon aus den gestern angeführten Gründen diese Bücher als etwas außerordentlich Interessantes empfinden, und vor allen Dingen konnte man die Erscheinung der Blavatsky selber als etwas außerordentlich Interessantes empfinden, wenn auch nur von dem Standpunkt einer tieferen Psychologie aus. Warum? Nun, sehen Sie, es ist doch ein gewaltiger Unterschied zwischen den beiden Büchern, der «Entschleierten Isis» und der Blavatskyschen «Secret Doctrine», der «Geheimlehre», es ist ein gewaltiger Unterschied! Dieser Unterschied wird Ihnen am stärksten hervortreten, wenn ich Ihnen sage, wie von solchen, die Kenner von ähnlichen Dingen waren, dazumal über die beiden Bücher geurteilt worden ist. Was meine ich, wenn ich von Kennern solcher Dinge spreche?

Es haben sich, meine lieben Freunde, ja wirklich von den ältesten Mysterien her Traditionen erhalten, die in verschiedenen sogenannten Geheimgesellschaften dann aufbewahrt worden sind. Da wurden auch den Leuten in gewissen Geheimgesellschaften Grade erteilt. Sie rückten auf vom ersten zum zweiten, zum dritten Grad und so weiter. Da waren ihnen, auch immer wiederum aus .den Traditionen, die und die Dinge mitgeteilt worden. In den unteren Graden verstanden die Leute die Dinge nicht, aber sie nahmen sie als heilige Dogmen auf. Eigentlich verstanden sie sie auch nicht in den höheren Graden. Aber wenn auch weder die unteren Grade noch die höheren diese Traditionen verstanden, so war doch der feste Glaube bei den Angehörigen der unteren Grade vorhanden, daß die Angehörigen der höheren Grade alles verstehen. Dieser Glaube, der war ganz fest vorhanden. Aber immerhin, es war da auch ein konserviertes reines Wissen vorhanden. Dem Wortlaute nach kannte man außerordentlich vieles. Sie brauchen ja nur — heute, wo alles gedruckt wird und alles zugänglich wird, sind ja diese Dinge auch leicht zugänglich — dasjenige, was gedruckt ist an solchen Dingen, zur Hand zu nehmen und es nun wiederum zu beleben mit dem, was Sie aus Anthroposophie wissen können — auf eine andere Weise geht es nämlich nicht, das Beleben -, dann werden Sie sehen, daß schon in diesen Traditionen, auch in der verballhornten Gestalt, wie sie heute vielfach gedruckt sind, ein großes, altes, majestätisches Wissen enthalten ist. Manchmal klingen die Worte ganz falsch, aber derjenige, der etwas weiß, weiß, auf was das hindeutet: daß das von uraltem Wissen ist. Aber das eigentliche Kennzeichen solchen Betriebes in diesen Geheimgesellschaften ist doch dieses, daß die Leute eben ein allgemeines Gefühl haben: Es gab in früheren Zeiten Menschen, die Eingeweihte waren, und die aus einem uralten Wissen über die Welt, über den Kosmos, über das Geisterreich Auskunft geben konnten. Und sie wußten Sätze zu bilden, sie wußten etwas zu sagen über das, was da überliefert war. Solche Menschen gab es viele.

Nun erschien «Die entschleierte Isis» von der Blavatsky. Gerade die Menschen, die nun ein solches traditionelles Wissen dadurch hatten, daß sie niedere oder höhere Grade in solchen Geheimgesellschaften erlangt hatten, erschraken außerordentlich, als «Die entschleierte Isis» erschien. Den Grund des Schreckens gab man ja gewöhnlich so an, daß man sagte, die Zeiten seien noch nicht reif, diese Dinge, die da in den Geheimgesellschaften verborgen gehalten werden, schon der allgemeinen Menschheit durch den Druck mitzuteilen. Das dachte man. Man war ja sogar dieser ehrlichen Ansicht, daß eben die Zeiten noch nicht reif wären, dieses der Menschheit mitzuteilen. Aber für einzelne gab es noch einen anderen Grund. Und dieser andere Grund kann eigentlich nur verstanden werden, wenn ich Sie noch auf andere Tatsachen aufmerksam mache.

In der fünften nachatlantischen Periode, namentlich im 19. Jahrhundert, ist ja eigentlich alles in die abstrakten Begriffe und Ideen übergegangen, so daß endlich eben einer der tiefsten, bedeutendsten Geister seine Weltanschauung in die abstrakten Begriffe Sein, Nichts, Werden, Dasein, bis zum Zweck hin gebracht hat. Es ist alles in dieser neueren Zeit in abstrakte Begriffe und Ideen übergegangen.

Einer derjenigen, der mit solchen abstrakten Ideen in Mitteleuropa begonnen hat, war der Philosoph Schelling. In der Zeit, als man mit solchen Ideen, weil in ihnen noch innere menschliche Empfindungskräfte waren, begeistern konnte, wo Schlegel, Tieck in Jena zuhörten, wie mit ungeheurer Begeisterung von solchen abstrakten Ideen geredet worden ist, in der Zeit war auch Schelling unter denen, die solche abstrakten Ideen gelehrt hatten. Dann hat Schelling nach einigen Jahren keine Befriedigung mehr gehabt an diesen abstrakten Ideen, hat sich dann in allerlei Mystik, namentlich in Jakob Böhme vertieft, und hat sich dann auch befruchten lassen durch Böhmesche Ideen, hat dann etwas, was nun schon konkreter klang, aus Jakob Böhmeschen Ideen herausgeholt. Es hat schon niemand eigentlich mehr verstanden, denn es wurde nicht verstanden, was Schelling geschrieben hatte in den «Philosophischen Untersuchungen über das Wesen der menschlichen Freiheit und die mit ihr zusammenhängenden Gegenstände», 1809. Aber so in den zwanziger Jahren fing Schelling auf eine merkwürdige Art zu reden an, nachdem er bis dahin lange zurückgezogen gelebt hatte. Sie finden heute in Reclams Universalbibliothek ein kleines Bändchen von Schelling, das heißt «Die Weltalter». Wenn Sie dieses Bändchen in die Hand nehmen, so werden Sie ein sonderbares Gefühl kriegen. Sie werden sich sagen: Da ist ja alles noch recht nebulos und abstrakt. Aber man hat doch ein merkwürdiges Gefühl: Wie kommt der Mensch, der Schelling, darauf, nicht das zu sagen, was zum Beispiel dann auf anthroposophischem Boden als die Wahrheiten über die Atlantis gesagt worden ist, aber fast — wie ungeschickt — darauf hinzudeuten? So weit kommt er: wie ungeschickt darauf hinzudeuten. Es ist ganz interessant, dieses Bändchen in Reclams Universalbibliothek von Schelling «Die Weltalter».

Dann aber berief ihn ja Friedrich Wilhelm IV. im Jahr 1841 an die Universität in Berlin. Da wurde er dann auch, nachdem Hegel seit zehn Jahren tot war, der Nachfolger Hegels. Da fing Schelling an vorzutragen seine «Philosophie der Offenbarung».

Auch das ist noch furchtbar abstrakt. Er redet von drei Potenzen A, 1, 2, 3. Es ist furchtbar abstrakt. Aber er führt das dann fort bis zu einer Art Erfassung der alten Mysterien, bis zu einer Art Erfassung des Christentums. Und wiederum, wie er eingeht auf diese Ideen, können wir das Gefühl haben: Da ist auf eine noch ganz primitive Art ein Weg gesucht in eine wirklich geistige Welt hinein. Aber man kann nicht so eigentlich zurechtkommen mit dem, was da der Schelling kurz vorgetragen hat. Die Leute haben aber trotzdem nichts verstanden. Es ist ja auch schließlich nicht sehr leicht, das zu verstehen, weil es eben ein bedenklicher Weg ist.

Nun aber, im Zeitbewußtsein — dafür ist das ja ein Beweis — lag denn doch etwas, was da jemanden wie Schelling darauf hinwies: Man muß in einer geistigen Welt suchen.

In einer anderen Form geschah das in England. Es ist außerordentlich interessant, die Schriften von Lawrence Oliphant zu lesen. Oliphant stellt nun natürlich in anderer Weise — denn Engländer stellen anders dar als Deutsche, viel dinglicher, handgreiflicher, sinnlicher — dasjenige dar, was ihm aufgegangen ist über Urzeiten der Menschheitsentwickelung der Erde. Es sind in gewissem Sinne, wenn man eben auf den Unterschied des Völkischen hinsieht, Parallelerscheinungen: der Schelling in der ersten Hälfte des 19. Jahrhunderts mehr aus Idealismus heraus, der Oliphant mehr aus Realismus heraus, eine Art starken Hinstrebens zur geistigen Welt bei beiden, Hinstrebens zu einem Begreifen dessen, was vor dem Menschen als Welt sich offenbart aus dem Geiste heraus.

Forscht man nach, was da eigentlich Merkwürdiges vorliegt, sowohl bei Schelling, wie bei Oliphant - es ist, nur völkisch verschieden, die gleiche Erscheinung, die da eigentlich vorlag -, so ist es nämlich dieses: Diese Leute wuchsen, der eine auf deutsche, der andere auf englische Art in die Zeitkultur hinein, rangen sich durch bis zu einer höchsten Vollendung derjenigen Ideen, die man als philosophische Ideen der Zeit hatte über den Menschen, über Weltall’ und so weiter.

Sowohl Schelling auf seine Art wie Oliphant auf seine Art rangen sich durch. Nun wissen Sie ja aus meinen anthroposophischen Darstellungen: Der Mensch entwickelt sich heute im Lebensanfange so, daß das Physische eine Begleiterscheinung seiner seelischen Entwickelung ist. Nachher hört es auf. Von den Griechen konnte ich Ihnen sagen: die entwickelten sich noch in den Dreißigerjahren so, daß nun eine wirkliche Weiterentwickelung, Parallelismus des Physischen und des Geistigen da war. Bei Schelling und bei Oliphant war das nun etwas anderes als bei den Durchschnittsmenschen von heute. Bei ihnen war es so: Sie entwickelten sich zuerst als normale Menschen; denn natürlich, wenn man heute ein Philosoph ist, kann man durchaus ein normaler Mensch sein, vielleicht sogar ein unternormaler Mensch, aber das nur in Parenthese. Man entwickelt halt die Begriffe etwas weiter, nicht wahr, aber dann bleibt man stehen, wenn man ein normaler Mensch ist. Schelling und Oliphant blieben nicht stehen, sondern als sie älter wurden, da wurde plötzlich die Seele so lebendig, wie sie in einem früheren Erdenleben war, und da trat eine Erinnerung an uralt Gewußtes aus früheren Inkarnationen auf: in einer natürlichen Weise, ferne Erinnerungen, unklare Erinnerungen. Und jetzt hat man plötzlich einen Lichtblitz. Jetzt fängt man an, sowohl Oliphant wie Schelling in einem anderen Lichte zu sehen.

Die ringen sich durch, werden zuerst normale Philosophen, je nach ihren Ländern, dann in ihrem späteren Alter bekommen sie eine Erinnerung an ein früher Gewußtes in früheren Erdenleben, jetzt wie eine unklare Erinnerung. Da fangen sie an, von der geistigen Welt zu reden. Es ist eine unklare Erinnerung, was bei Schelling und bei Lawrence Oliphant auftrat. Es war aber doch etwas, was man bei denen, die nur traditionelle alte Entwickelung hatten, in einem gewissen Grade befürchtete, daß es überhand nehmen, grassieren könnte. Die Leute befürchteten schrecklich, es könnten Menschen geboren werden, die sich an das erinnern, was sie früher einmal durchlebt haben, und dann davon reden. Ja, sie dachten sich: Was wird denn dann aus unserem Geheimhaltungsprinzip? Wir lassen heilige Eide schwören den Angehörigen des ersten, zweiten, dritten Grades und so weiter, aber wenn nun Menschen geboren werden, die das durch Erinnerung wiederum erleben, was uns da bewahrt ist und was wir einsperren, wie ist es dann mit unserem ganzen Geheimhalten?

Und nun erschien «Die entschleierte Isis»! Das merkwürdige Phänomen war: Dieses Buch brachte eine ganze Menge von dem, was in Geheimgesellschaften geheimgehalten wurde, offen auf den Büchermarkt. Das große Problem trat jetzt vor die Menschen hin: Woher hat das, was wir doch eingesperrt haben, und wofür die Leute heilige Eide geschworen haben, woher hat das die Blavatsky? Gerade von solchen, die mit erschrocken waren, wurde dieses Buch, «Die entschleierte Isis», sehr stark beachtet. Also es war schon für jene Menschen, die bewußt das Geistesleben vom Ende des 19. Jahrhunderts miterlebten, ein Problem, was da erschienen war mit dem Buche von Blavatsky.

Nun erschien «Die Geheimlehre». Da war das erst recht der Fall. Ich stelle, wie gesagt, heute nur Tatsachen hin. Eine ganze Menge von Dingen, die eigentlich in Geheimgesellschaften nur den höchsten Graden vorbehalten waren, war damit hingestellt. Und solche, die eben erschrocken waren schon vor dem ersten Buch, und dann noch vor dem zweiten Buch, prägten damals verschiedene Worte dafür, denn es war — gerade für die sogenannten Eingeweihten — dieses Phänomen Blavatsky etwas ungeheuer Aufregendes. «Die entschleierte Isis» war ihnen noch nicht einmal so ganz unheimlich, denn Blavatsky war ja eine chaotische Persönlichkeit, die dann immerfort in dasjenige, was wirklich tiefe Weisheit war, allerlei Zeug hineinbrachte, wie ich gestern schon sagte, was nichts wert ist. Aber immerhin, über «Die entschleierte Isis» konnten die erschrekkenden sogenannten Eingeweihten sagen: Es ist ein Buch, was wahr ist daran, ist nicht neu, und was neu ist, ist nicht wahr! - So wurde zunächst über dieses Buch geurteilt. Die Leute wußten: Das Unangenehme für sie war: die Dinge sind enthüllt worden. Es hieß ja auch das Buch «Die entschleierte Isis». Sie beruhigten sich eben damit: Ja, da muß von irgendeiner Seite etwas geschehen sein, was eigentlich in unsere Rechte eingreift.

Als aber «Die Geheimlehre», die «Secret doctrine» erschien, wo eine ganze Menge Dinge darinnen standen, die auch die höchsten Grade nicht wußten, da konnten die Menschen nicht mehr sagen: Dasjenige, was wahr ist, ist nicht neu, und was neu ist, ist nicht wahr, — denn es waren eine ganze Anzahl von Dingen da gesagt, die eben sich traditionell nicht erhalten hatten.

So hatte man auf eine ganz sonderbare Art dasjenige, was man fürchten konnte seit Schelling und Lawrence Oliphant, an einer Frau in einer ganz merkwürdigen, noch dazu verwirrenden Art vor sich.

Deshalb sagte ich: Die Persönlichkeit ist psychologisch noch interessanter als die Bücher. Es war schon ein wichtiges, merkwürdiges Phänomen für das Geistesleben des ausgehenden 19. Jahrhunderts, dieses Phänomen Blavatsky.

Bis hierher wollte ich die Tatsachen führen.

Second Lecture

When discussing the history and conditions of anthroposophy in relation to the Anthroposophical Society, we must first consider two questions that arise naturally from this history. I could formulate these two questions as follows. First, why was it necessary to link the anthroposophical movement to the theosophical movement in the way that it happened? And secondly, why is it that, although this was essentially only for external reasons, anthroposophy is still confused by ill-wishers with theosophy, or rather the Anthroposophical Society with the Theosophical Society?

The answers to these questions can really only be found in history. Yesterday I said that when we talk about the Anthroposophical Society, the first thing that matters is what kind of people feel compelled to seek their path through an anthroposophical movement. And yesterday I tried to characterize in what sense the souls who approach anthroposophy in order to satisfy their spiritual longings are, in a certain way, homeless souls. Well, in fact, at the end of the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th century, such homeless souls did exist. There were more of them than one is usually inclined to assume, because many people tried in various ways to develop the deeper human qualities within themselves in some way.

One need only remember how, quite apart from the aspirations that arose from modern materialism and then led to various forms of spiritualism, numerous souls sought a certain inner satisfaction by reading writings such as those of Ralph Waldo Trine and others like him. What were such souls seeking when they turned to the writings of Ralph Waldo Trine during the period mentioned? I would say that they tried to fill their humanity with something they longed for, something they wanted to feel and experience inwardly, but which could not be found on the common paths of modern civilization, which could not be found for them in popular secular literature or in secular art, and which could not be found for them in traditional religious creeds.

Today, I will first have to present a few facts and leave it to the next lectures to draw the connecting threads between these facts for you. First of all, it will be a matter of presenting certain facts to the soul in an appropriate manner.

Among all the people who were searching, whether through spiritualism, Ralph Waldo Trine, or others, there were also those who joined the Theosophical Society, which existed in various branches at that time. And if one asks the question: Did these people who joined the Theosophical Society in some form differ in any characteristic way from the others who, for example, became spiritualists or sought inner enrichment through Ralph Waldo Trine, did they differ from them? — then one must answer the question in the affirmative. They differed quite significantly. I would say that there was a special kind of human seeking present in those who were drawn to some form of the Theosophical Society.

We know from the course of the development of the Theosophical Society that it was already conceivable that what was to be sought at the beginning of our century as anthroposophy would have found the greatest understanding within the circles that were connected with theosophy at that time. But this can only be illuminated when the facts are properly presented before our soul.

Now, remaining with this point, I would first like to characterize the people who came together there, to give a kind of picture of what could be understood at that time as the Theosophical Society, which found its most concise expression in the English Theosophical Society. This was also followed by what then emerged as anthroposophy, or rather, what actually emerged immediately as anthroposophy.

If one had before one, as it were, a group of people, which is what was meant by the Theosophical Society, one must first look into the consciousness of these people, look into the souls of these people, in order to recognize what the nature of their consciousness was. These people had already lived out their consciousness in some way. They held gatherings and meetings; lectures were given and discussions were held. They also met outside of the meetings and talked a great deal with each other in smaller circles. For example, at general meetings it was not usual for the time to be filled as it was yesterday. There was always an opportunity to eat together, drink tea, and so on. They even found opportunities in between to install other toilets and the like. After all, it was a kind of social behavior that, I would say, shone in from the outside world. But of course, that is less what interests us. What must interest us is people's consciousness. And there, it was immediately noticeable that extremely contradictory forces were at play between these personalities.

These contradictory forces were particularly noticeable when people held meetings. They came together. But unless you were a committed theosophist, you tried to have two ideas about each person. It was peculiar that when you joined the Theosophical Society, it was simply a necessity to have two ideas about each person. One idea was the one you formed depending on how they came across to you. The other idea, however, was the one that others had of each individual. It was born out of very general views, out of views that were very theoretical in nature: ideas about human beings in general, about universal love, about being advanced — “advanced,” as it was called — or backwardness, about the way one had to be serious if one was to prove worthy of receiving the teachings of theosophy, and so on. These were ideas of a rather theoretical nature. And one thought: there must be something of all this in the people who walked around in flesh and blood. The ideas I am referring to, which one had formed in such a naive way about other people, did not actually live in the members, but rather an image lived in each individual of all the others, which had actually emerged from theoretical ideas about people and human behavior.

Actually, no one saw the other as he really was, but rather saw a kind of ghost. And so, when one encountered Mr. Müller, for example, and naively formed an image of Mr. Müller, then, when one realized what someone else had in mind about Mr. Müller, one had to form a ghostly image. For no one had a real idea of the other, but instead imagined a ghost that was constructed. So one had to have two ideas about each person. However, most members spared themselves the idea of the real person and only accepted the idea of the ghost, so that ghostly ideas of each other always lived between the individual members. In fact, one encountered nothing but ghosts in the consciousness of the “members.” One had to be interested in psychology.

One also had to be free of prejudice and open-minded in order to take a real interest. It was very interesting to take part in what was actually a kind of ghost society. For within the limitations I have just mentioned, it was a ghost society that lived there. This was particularly evident in the case of the leading personalities. The leading personalities lived among the others in a very peculiar way. Let's say, for example, that someone talked about a leading personality, X. At night, X went from house to house as an astral figure — only to the houses of members, of course — as an invisible helper. X radiated all kinds of things. Some of the ghostly images presented by the leading personalities were extraordinarily beautiful. It was often a striking contrast when one encountered these personalities in reality. But then the general mood ensured that only the ghostly images could live on and the real images could hardly live on at all.

You see, for something like this, one definitely needed views, teachings. Because not all people are clairvoyant, although at that time there were an extraordinary number who at least pretended to be clairvoyant — we don't want to examine now to what extent that was true — but since not all people were clairvoyant, certain theories were needed to piece together what was formed there as ghosts.

Now, these theories had something extremely ancient about them. One had to get the impression that they were old, rehashed theories according to which people were now being constructed as ghosts. In many cases, it was also easy to see how these ghostly human figures were modeled after ancient writings.

Thus, in addition to their ghostly nature, the people who were ‘seen as ghosts’ were not people of the present. They were actually people from earlier incarnations, people who seemed to have risen from Egyptian or Persian tombs, or from ancient Indian tombs. In a sense, one had completely lost the impression of the present.

But there was something else as well. These ancient teachings, even when couched in relatively modern terminology, were difficult to understand. Much was said about these ancient teachings in abstract terms. The physical body was still called the physical body. The etheric body was modeled after the Middle Ages, and perhaps the astral body as well. But then came things like Manas, Kama Manas, and the like, which everyone talked about. But no one really understood what they were. It was all clothed in very modern materialistic ideas. But these teachings contained world contexts, world concepts, and world ideas, so that one could get the feeling that souls were speaking from distant pasts, not just centuries but millennia ago.

This went very far. Books were written in this kind of language. They were translated, and so it all took place in this form. But there was also another side to it. It had a beautiful side. Namely, something of all that often lived only as words, of all that was misunderstood, rubbed off on people. One might say that even if it did not live in their souls, an extraordinary amount of it lived in people's soul costumes. They actually went around, I would say, without being directly aware of the etheric body or the kama manas, but they were aware that they were surrounded by a series of cloaks: one is the etheric body, the other is the kama manas, and so on. They held something in these cloaks, in this soul costume, and that formed a strong bond between people.

This is something that forged the Theosophical Society into a whole in an extraordinarily intense way, which really created an enormous sense of togetherness, so that each individual felt like a representative of the Theosophical Society. This Society was something in itself; apart from the fact that each individual was there, this society was something. It had, one might say, a self-awareness of its own. It had its own ego. This self was so strong that even when the absurdities of the leading personalities came to the surface in a downright curious way, those people who had once felt they belonged held on with iron determination and felt that it was something like betrayal if they did not stick together even when the leading personalities made big mistakes.

Anyone who has gained an insight into the struggles that certain followers of the Theosophical Society later went through, long after the Anthroposophical Society had separated from it, what struggles were gone through when it was seen again and again: the leaders are doing outrageous things, but one cannot separate from them because of that, — when one has seen the struggles that have taken place in the individual souls, then, even though one must condemn the truly monstrous evil involved, one also gains a certain respect for the self-awareness of the whole society.

And the question arises: Would it not be possible for such a social consciousness to develop under the conditions under which the Anthroposophical Society was to come into being?

With the founding of the Anthroposophical Society, it was necessary to dispense with those often very questionable means by which the Theosophical Society had achieved its strong cohesion and sense of self-awareness. The ideal had to be held aloft before the Anthroposophical Society: Wisdom lies only in truth. But these are things that have remained ideals to this day. It is precisely in this field that the Anthroposophical Society still leaves much to be desired, inasmuch as it has not even begun to form a community body, a society ego of its own. The Anthroposophical Society is an association of people who may be very ambitious as individuals, but as a society it does not really exist yet, because this sense of belonging is not there, because very few members of the Anthroposophical Society feel that they represent this society. Everyone feels like an individual and completely forgets that there is supposed to be an Anthroposophical Society.

Now I have characterized the audience with a few points — I will add to this in the following days. I would also like to characterize the other side. For how, I must say, has anthroposophy now positioned itself in this whole striving for time? Anyone who wishes to do so will already find the basic principles of anthroposophy in my “Philosophy of Freedom.” Today I want to emphasize only one thing, namely that this Philosophy of Freedom first of all points everywhere with an inner necessity to a spiritual realm from which, for example, moral impulses are taken. So that in the sense of the Philosophy of Freedom, one cannot remain in the sensory world, but must advance to a spiritual realm that is grounded in itself. The existence of this spiritual realm takes on a completely different concrete form in that, when human beings become aware of their innermost being, they are not connected to the sensory world, but are connected to the spiritual world in this innermost being.

These two things: first, that there is a spiritual realm, and second, that human beings are connected to this spiritual realm through the innermost self of their being, are the fundamental points of the Philosophy of Freedom. The question had to arise: Can what is to be proclaimed as a kind of message from the spiritual world to modern humanity be proclaimed in this way? Is there a possibility of connecting to something? For one could not, of course, stand there and talk into thin air. However, all kinds of strange suggestions have been made recently. Once, during my stay in Vienna in 1918, I was asked, by telegram no less, to travel from Vienna to the Rax on the northern edge of Styria, stand on the Rax, and give a lecture for the Alpine mountains! This request was actually sent to me by telegram at the time. Needless to say, I did not comply with the request. But you can't just talk to mountains or into thin air; you have to connect to something that is present in the civilization of the time. At the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries, there was actually very little there. There were people who, out of their own aspirations, wanted to join the Theosophical Society at that time. These were ultimately the people who could be persuaded to talk about these things.

But one had to have not only a sense of responsibility towards these people as an audience, one also had to have a sense of responsibility towards the spiritual world, precisely that form of the spiritual world that found expression at that time. And here I would like to point out how what later became anthroposophy gradually grew out of the striving that I did not yet call anthroposophy externally. Today I would like to present only the facts for now and then draw the connecting threads before you in the next few days.

Above all, in the 1880s I was able to see a kind of mirage, something that stood out in the physical world in a very natural way, but which, even if only as a fleeting mirage, I would say as a light phenomenon, nevertheless had a deeper meaning in a certain sense. If one allowed oneself to be influenced by the modern way of thinking at that time, the development of worldviews that existed in civilization at that time—few people were concerned with it, but it was there nonetheless—one could encounter something very peculiar. If we reflect only on Central Europe for the moment, there was, I would say, the world-shaking philosophy that wanted to be everything possible, that wanted to be a whole worldview: the philosophy of idealism from the first half of the 19th century. There were the echoes, let us say, of the philosophies of Fichte, Hegel, and Solger, which, at the time they were founded, meant as much to some people who professed them as anthroposophy can mean to people today. But they were basically abstract concepts, a sum of abstract concepts.

If you take a look at the first of the three parts of Hegel's “Encyclopedia of the Philosophical Sciences,” you will find a series of concepts that are developed separately. It begins with being. Then comes nothingness. Then comes becoming. Then comes existence. Of course, I cannot describe Hegel's entire logic here, because it is a thick book that continues with such concepts. Finally, there is purpose. It only leads to abstract thoughts and abstract ideas: being, nothingness, becoming, existence, purpose.

But Hegel still called it that: God before the creation of the world. So that one had to imagine that when one asked the question: What was God like before the creation of the world? — one got a system of abstract concepts and abstract ideas.

Now, when I was young — a long time ago — there lived in Vienna a Herbartian philosopher named Robert Zimmermann. He said: Today — and by “today” he meant the last third of the 19th century — we are no longer allowed to think the way Hegel or Solger or the like thought. For how did people think?

You see, Zimmermann said to himself: People thought as if they were God himself. Zimmermann's thinking was actually very strange for a philosopher, but very characteristic. He said: Hegel thought as if he were God himself. That was actually almost like something spoken from the Theosophical Society at that time, because there was a member, even a leading member of the Theosophical Society, Franz Hartmann, who gave all his lectures to the effect that he said: One must become aware of the God within oneself, every human being has something like a divine human being, a God within oneself, and when that begins to speak, then one speaks theosophy. — When Franz Hartmann let his divine human speak, he said all kinds of things that I do not want to judge now. But according to Zimmermann's view, when Hegel let his God speak within himself, he said: Being, Nothingness, Becoming, Existence, and then first the world stirred logically, and then it threw itself into its otherness, and then nature was there.

Robert Zimmermann said: That must no longer be allowed, because that is theosophy. We can no longer have theosophy today, said Robert Zimmermann in the 1980s, we can no longer recognize the theosophy of Schelling, Solger, and Hegel today. We must not let God speak in man, for that leads to a theocentric standpoint. That can only be aspired to if one behaves like Icarus: then one slips in the cosmos and falls down! One must remain on the human standpoint. And so Robert Zimmermann wrote his “Anthroposophy” against the theosophy of Hegel, Schelling, Solger, and others, whom he also treats as theosophists in his “History of Aesthetics.” And it was from this “Anthroposophy” that I later took the name. At the time, it appeared to me to be an extremely interesting book, a product of its time. However, this “anthroposophy” is composed of the most appalling abstract concepts. It also consists of three parts. Then it has subchapters: first, the logical ideas; second, the aesthetic ideas; third, the ethical ideas.

You see, if we disregard for the moment the aesthetics that art deals with and the ethical ideas that deal with human behavior, what human beings seek in what is presented to them in a worldview is that which gives them inner satisfaction, that which allows them to say that they are connected to something divine and spiritual, that there is something eternal within them. Robert Zimmermann wanted to answer the question: When humans cease to be merely sensual beings, when they become truly conscious of their spiritual humanity, what do they know then? They know logical ideas. Hegel wrote at least an entire book full of such logical ideas. But these are ideas that only a god can think. But if it is not a god who thinks in man, but man himself who thinks, then five logical ideas emerge, at least according to Robert Zimmermann. First, the necessity of thought; second, the equivalence of two concepts; third, the summarization of concepts; fourth, the separation of concepts; and fifth, the law of contradiction: something can only be either itself or something else; a third possibility is not possible. That, my dear friends, is the scope of what is presented here, summarized in abstract ideas; that is, what humans can know when they detach themselves from the sensory world and refer to their spiritual-soul nature.

If this “anthroposophy” were the only thing that could be offered to human beings, one would have to say: what people once had in the various religious confessions, in worship, and so on, must be considered overcome; what is considered Christianity must be considered overcome. For that can only be derived from history and so on. When human beings reflect on what they can know as anthropos, what they can know when they set their souls in motion independently of sensory impressions or external history, it is this: I can know that I must submit to the necessity of thinking, to the equivalence of concepts, to the summarization of concepts, to separation, to the principle of the excluded middle, which excludes itself. With that, one had to become blessed, whatever one called it.

Then, of course, came the aesthetic ideas. These are the ideas of perfection, concord, harmony; again, there are five ideas. And there are also five ethical ideas. In addition to the aesthetic ideas, there is also conflict and the harmony of conflict.

First, the logical ideas: necessity of thought, equality, summary, separation, law of contradiction.

Second, the aesthetic ideas: perfection, harmony, conflict, harmony of conflict. All the arts now live from these five ideas, with these five ideas.

Thirdly, the ethical ideas. And in the five ethical ideas: ethical perfection, goodwill, justice, conflict, and the resolution of conflict, human actions now live.

You see, everything is brought to the extreme form of abstraction. Before that stands: “Anthroposophy in Outline.”

You can see from the dedication page that preceded it that this meant a great deal. In this dedication page there are, I would say, moving lines. It says — I cannot quote it verbatim, but approximately —: To Harriet. It was you who prompted me, as night began to darken my eyes, to connect the scattered ideas that had long lived within me to this book. And a willing hand was found to write down what I had conceived in the darkroom.

So it is pointed out in very beautiful language that the author had an eye disease, had to spend some time in a dark room, where he conceived these ideas, and that a willing hand was then found to write them down. These lines of dedication then conclude very beautifully by saying: And so no one can deny that this book, like light itself, emerged from darkness.

You see, it was like a mirage: very strange. Robert Zimmermann developed “anthroposophy” from theosophy in his own way; but I don't believe that if I had ever presented this “anthroposophy,” we would have an anthroposophical movement. But the name was very well chosen. And I adopted the name when I first had to address several issues, which will also become apparent in these lectures. First: the spiritual fact, assured to everyone who has insight into the spirit world, that there are repeated earthly lives.

But if one is not careless with such things, but has a sense of spiritual responsibility, one must connect with something. It can be said that at that time, at the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries, it was extremely difficult to connect the idea of repeated earthly lives with the consciousness of the time. But points of connection did arise. And I would first like to tell you how I myself sought these points of connection.

There is a very interesting summary of Topinard's anthropological truths. In the final chapter — at that time it was a book that was mentioned even more often than it is today; today it is somewhat outdated in its details, but it is written in a witty style — there is a nice compilation. And there, in a way that everyone with a modern consciousness at the time would naturally agree with, Topinard compiled all the biological facts that led to the idea that animal species emerged from one another, one from the other. Topinard was also able to refer to everything that was discussed in his book. So one found everything that had led to the idea that a transformation takes place from one animal species to another. Topinard sticks to the facts and says, after citing about twenty-two points, I believe, that the twenty-third is what he cites as this transformation of animal species. But now we are faced with the problem of humans. He leaves this unanswered. What about that?

Now, taking the biologists' theory of evolution seriously, very seriously, following on from such an author, who really must be taken seriously, one could say: He leaves the question open! Let us continue, let us add point twenty-three to point twenty-two, and we get that animals of the same species always repeat themselves at a higher level. With humans, one must move on to the individual. When the individual has repeated itself, we get the repeated earthly lives. You will see: it was linked to what I had just said; it was still the form I was trying to use at that time to make the whole world understand what is, of course, really there before the soul as a spiritual fact. But in order to make it understandable to my contemporaries, I had to take what was immediately available, but not conclude with a full stop, but with a dash. I simply tied in with the dash of natural science. That was the first thing. I gave this lecture in the circle I told you about yesterday. People did not have a very strong understanding of it because they were not interested in natural science. They did not feel that it was necessary to reflect on natural science, and it seemed naturally useless to them that what they believed should also be proven.

The second thing was that at the beginning of the century, I gave a series of lectures in a circle that had previously only dealt with literary topics, called “Die Kommenden” (The Coming Ones), entitled “From Buddha to Christ,” in which I attempted to present the entire stream of development from Buddha to Christ and to summarize in Christ what was present in the preceding views. This series of lectures concluded with that interpretation of the Gospel of John which begins with the raising of Lazarus. So the Lazarus problem, as it then appears in my “Christianity as Mystical Fact,” formed the conclusion of this series of lectures “From Buddha to Christ.”

This coincided with the time when, out of the circle that had invited me to give the lectures summarized in my book Mysticism in the Dawn of Modern Spiritual Life, I was approached with the task of speaking to theosophists about what I should and wanted to speak about. This coincided with efforts to establish a German section of the Theosophical Society. And I was asked, even before I was a member or had even hinted at becoming a member, to become the general secretary of this German section of the Theosophical Society.

When this German section was founded, I gave a series of lectures, which I believe were attended by only two or three theosophists, otherwise mainly the audience that was in the circle where I also spoke about “From Buddha to Christ.” This circle was called “Die Kommenden” (The Coming Ones). The names have stayed with me. It must have something to do with some law. “Anthroposophy” by Robert Zimmermann has remained, “Die Kommenden” reappeared in the name of “Kommender Tag” (The Coming Day). Such names, old names, remain with one.

For this circle—which, as I said, included at most two or three theosophists, and they were there really only out of curiosity—I spoke about the development of worldviews from the earliest Oriental times to the present, or anthroposophy. So this series of lectures initially bore the detailed title: “The History of Human Development Based on Worldviews from the Earliest Oriental Times to the Present, or Anthroposophy.” This series of lectures — I must always mention this — was given by me at the same time that the German section of the Theosophical Society was founded. I even left the meeting, and while the others continued to confer and talk about theosophy, I gave my lecture series on anthroposophy.

One of those who then became good anthroposophists from theosophists, even one who became a very good anthroposophist, went out of curiosity to this anthroposophical lecture series and said to me afterwards: Yes, but what you said there does not agree at all with what Mrs. Besant says and what Blavatsky says. — I said: Then that must be the case. — So he was a good connoisseur of all the dogmas of theosophy, who correctly discovered: That's not true. So even back then, one could say: That's not true, it's something else.

Well, I have presented these facts to you first. I would now like to present another fact, which seems to come from a completely different angle, which I already pointed out yesterday.

There were Blavatsky's books, the main books first: the first, “Isis Unveiled,” the second, “The Secret Doctrine.” Now, one really did not need to have a great fondness for those who accepted the contents of these books as sacred dogma. Nevertheless, for the reasons mentioned yesterday, one could still find these books extremely interesting, and above all, one could find the phenomenon of Blavatsky herself extremely interesting, even if only from the standpoint of a deeper psychology. Why? Well, you see, there is a huge difference between the two books, Isis Unveiled and Blavatsky's The Secret Doctrine, a huge difference! This difference will become most apparent to you when I tell you how those who were knowledgeable about such things judged the two books at the time. What do I mean when I speak of those who are knowledgeable about such things?

Traditions have indeed been preserved from the most ancient mysteries, my dear friends, and these have been kept in various so-called secret societies. People in certain secret societies were also awarded degrees. They advanced from the first to the second, to the third degree, and so on. There, again based on the traditions, they were taught certain things. In the lower degrees, people did not understand these things, but they accepted them as sacred dogmas. In fact, they did not understand them in the higher degrees either. But even though neither the lower nor the higher degrees understood these traditions, the members of the lower degrees firmly believed that the members of the higher degrees understood everything. This belief was very strong. But at least there was also a preserved pure knowledge. According to the wording, an extraordinary amount was known. All you need to do — today, when everything is printed and accessible, these things are also easily accessible — is to pick up what is printed on such things and revive it with what you can know from anthroposophy — there is no other way to revive it — then you will see that even in these traditions, even in the distorted form in which they are often printed today, there is a great, ancient, majestic knowledge. Sometimes the words sound completely wrong, but those who know something know what this indicates: that it is ancient knowledge. But the real hallmark of such activities in these secret societies is that people have a general feeling that in earlier times there were people who were initiates and who could provide information from ancient knowledge about the world, about the cosmos, about the spirit realm. And they knew how to form sentences, they knew how to say something about what had been handed down. There were many such people.

Then Blavatsky's “Isis Unveiled” appeared. The very people who now had such traditional knowledge because they had attained lower or higher degrees in such secret societies were extremely alarmed when “Isis Unveiled” appeared. The reason for their alarm was usually given as the belief that the time was not yet ripe to communicate these things, which were kept hidden in the secret societies, to the general public through publication. That was what people thought. People were even of the honest opinion that the time was not yet ripe to communicate this to humanity. But for some individuals there was another reason. And this other reason can only really be understood if I draw your attention to other facts.

In the fifth post-Atlantean period, namely in the 19th century, everything actually transitioned into abstract concepts and ideas, so that finally one of the deepest, most significant minds brought his worldview into the abstract concepts of being, nothingness, becoming, existence, and purpose. In this more recent period, everything has been transformed into abstract concepts and ideas.

One of those who began with such abstract ideas in Central Europe was the philosopher Schelling. At a time when such ideas could inspire enthusiasm because they still contained inner human powers of feeling, when Schlegel and Tieck listened in Jena to such abstract ideas being discussed with tremendous enthusiasm, Schelling was also among those who taught such abstract ideas. Then, after a few years, Schelling was no longer satisfied with these abstract ideas, immersed himself in all kinds of mysticism, notably in Jakob Böhme, and allowed himself to be inspired by Böhme's ideas, extracting something that now sounded more concrete from Jakob Böhme's ideas. No one really understood it anymore, because no one understood what Schelling had written in his Philosophical Investigations into the Essence of Human Freedom and Related Subjects in 1809. But then, in the 1820s, Schelling began to speak in a strange way, after having lived in seclusion for a long time. Today, you can find a small volume by Schelling in Reclam's Universal Library called “Die Weltalter” (The Ages of the World). When you pick up this little book, you will get a strange feeling. You will say to yourself: Everything is still quite nebulous and abstract. But you still have a strange feeling: How does Schelling come up with the idea of not saying what, for example, has been said on anthroposophical grounds as the truths about Atlantis, but almost — how clumsily — hinting at it? That's how far he gets: hinting at it clumsily. It is quite interesting, this little volume in Reclam's Universal Library by Schelling, “Die Weltalter” (The Ages of the World).

But then Friedrich Wilhelm IV called him to the University of Berlin in 1841. There, ten years after Hegel's death, he became Hegel's successor. Schelling began to lecture on his “Philosophy of Revelation.”

This is also still terribly abstract. He talks about three powers, A, 1, 2, 3. It is terribly abstract. But he then continues this to a kind of understanding of the ancient mysteries, to a kind of understanding of Christianity. And again, as he delves into these ideas, we may feel that a path into a truly spiritual world is being sought in a still very primitive way. But one cannot really come to terms with what Schelling briefly presented there. Nevertheless, people did not understand anything. After all, it is not very easy to understand, because it is a questionable path.

But now, in the consciousness of the time — and this is proof of that — there was something that pointed someone like Schelling in the right direction: one must search in a spiritual world.

This happened in a different form in England. It is extremely interesting to read the writings of Lawrence Oliphant. Oliphant, of course, presents in a different way — because the English present things differently than the Germans, much more tangibly, more palpably, more sensually — what he has realized about the primeval times of human development on Earth. In a certain sense, if one looks at the difference between the two peoples, they are parallel phenomena: Schelling in the first half of the 19th century more out of idealism, Oliphant more out of realism, a kind of strong striving toward the spiritual world in both, striving toward an understanding of what reveals itself to human beings as the world out of the spirit.

If one investigates what is actually remarkable here, both in Schelling and in Oliphant—it is the same phenomenon that actually existed, only with different ethnic backgrounds—it is this: These people grew up, one in the German way, the other in the English way, into the culture of their time, and struggled their way to the highest perfection of the ideas that were held at that time as philosophical ideas about human beings, about the universe, and so on.

Both Schelling in his own way and Oliphant in his own way struggled their way through. Now you know from my anthroposophical descriptions that human beings today develop in such a way that the physical is a concomitant of their soul development. Afterwards it ceases. I could tell you about the Greeks: they still developed in the 1930s in such a way that there was a real further development, a parallelism of the physical and the spiritual. With Schelling and Oliphant, it was somewhat different than with the average people of today. With them, it was like this: they first developed as normal human beings; for of course, if one is a philosopher today, one can certainly be a normal human being, perhaps even a subnormal human being, but that is only a parenthetical remark. You just develop your concepts a little further, don't you, but then you stop when you are a normal person. Schelling and Oliphant did not stop, but as they grew older, their souls suddenly became as alive as they had been in a previous earthly life, and a memory of ancient knowledge from previous incarnations emerged: in a natural way, distant memories, unclear memories. And now you suddenly have a flash of insight. Now you begin to see both Oliphant and Schelling in a different light.

They struggle through, first becoming normal philosophers, depending on their countries, then in their later years they get a memory of something they knew in previous earthly lives, now like a vague memory. Then they start talking about the spiritual world. It is a vague memory, which occurred in Schelling and Lawrence Oliphant. But it was something that those who had only traditional old development feared to a certain degree, that it could get out of hand and spread. People were terribly afraid that people might be born who remembered what they had experienced in the past and then talked about it. Yes, they thought: What will become of our principle of secrecy? We make members of the first, second, third degree, and so on, swear sacred oaths, but if people are born who, through memory, experience again what is preserved for us and what we lock away, what will become of our entire secrecy?

And then “Isis Unveiled” appeared! The strange phenomenon was that this book brought a whole lot of what was kept secret in secret societies out into the open on the book market. The big problem now faced people: Where did Blavatsky get what we had locked away and what people had sworn sacred oaths about? It was precisely those who were alarmed who paid close attention to this book, “Isis Unveiled.” So it was already a problem for those people who consciously witnessed the spiritual life of the late 19th century when Blavatsky's book appeared.

Then “The Secret Doctrine” appeared. That was even more the case. As I said, I am only presenting facts today. A whole host of things that were actually reserved for the highest degrees in secret societies were presented in it. And those who were already frightened by the first book, and then even more so by the second book, coined various words for it at the time, because this phenomenon of Blavatsky was something tremendously exciting, especially for the so-called initiates. “Isis Unveiled” was not even that scary to them, because Blavatsky was a chaotic personality who constantly brought all kinds of stuff into what was really deep wisdom, as I said yesterday, which is worthless. But at least the so-called initiates could say about The Unveiled Isis: What is true in this book is not new, and what is new is not true! That was the initial judgment of this book. People knew that what was unpleasant for them was that things had been revealed. The book was called The Veiled Isis. They reassured themselves with the thought: Yes, something must have happened on some side that actually interferes with our rights.

But when The Secret Doctrine appeared, containing a whole host of things that even the highest degrees did not know, people could no longer say: What is true is not new, and what is new is not true — because there were a whole number of things said there that had not been preserved in tradition.

So, in a very strange way, what had been feared since Schelling and Lawrence Oliphant was now present in a woman in a very strange and confusing way.

That is why I said: The personality is even more interesting psychologically than the books. Blavatsky was an important and remarkable phenomenon in the intellectual life of the late 19th century.

This is where I wanted to lead the facts.