The Rudolf Steiner Archive

My dear friends:

After almost two years of Waldorf education, and in view of the opening of yet another important class in September, we shall again consider a number of curriculum issues. I shall, however, leave this till tomorrow. Today I shall take a look at the results of our work so far. New ideas may arise from this review that could further improve our teaching.

In order to prevent a possible misunderstanding of what I am going to say today, I can assure you that I have noticed and appreciated the progress made during these two years. The way you are teaching—the presentation of subjects—is already such that it can be said: You have progressively come to grips with your tasks. You have, in an extraordinarily healthy way, fused with the goals of these tasks.

But it behooves us to consider such details as can provide the basis for a positive development of our work. I believe that in reviewing your work, all of you will have this initial feeling that our work with the children has kept helping us to improve our methods. There is, however, something we might have missed—perhaps with a degree of pain. It is relatively easy to mediate the subject matter to the children, to give them a momentary understanding for what we teach them. But we have not yet succeeded in making the subject matter last for them, in making it a part of their whole being, so that it can stay with them throughout their lives, so that we may achieve the same results with our teaching as with our talks at special festive occasions.

Our teaching must live. It must reach beyond the ideas, images, feelings, and skills the children have acquired. We must give them something that can—depending on their dispositions and possibilities—continue into their adult lives.

Just as the limbs of any living creature are developing during the growing stages, are becoming bigger and more complicated, so also should the ideas, feelings, and skills we give our children be not fully formed but rather capable of growth and development. We must see to it that our teaching does not remain rigid, static, but that it can grow with them, change as they change during the course of development, so that at the age of thirty or forty they will still have the benefit of what they learned at seven or eight, because the learning has grown and developed as their complicated limbs have developed, because it has slowed down at the appropriate time, and so forth. Our teaching must enter the children’s being deeply, so that it can continue to develop with them, can live or fade away. This means that the children will have to absorb whatever we present to them and make it their own. The question arising from this realization is: How can we achieve this? The answer will come from assumptions quite different from those we generally make.

My dear friends, what we need to do is to make every effort at understanding the human being in his or her totality—in our case, this is the child—as a being consisting of body, soul, and spirit. Such understanding will allow us to comprehend the inner processes in the children when we teach them various subjects, and, as a result, we shall learn to adjust our work to these processes. Today, therefore, we shall concentrate on gaining a complete picture of how we ought to teach and educate.

To begin, let me draw your attention to the many erroneous ideas that are current regarding the human being. Teachers, especially, are convinced that what and how we teach—be it through visual perception or stories or activities—will increase children’s skills, ideas, and concepts, will strengthen their feeling, and that the increase and strengthening will last throughout the children’s lives. But this is not so. Let us proceed by example. We give the children certain ideas and mental images—in a history lesson, in the history of literature, in mathematics, or in geography—assuming that they will retain them as lasting possessions. It is generally assumed that such concepts descend somewhere into the lower regions of the soul, into the sub- or unconscious spheres, and that there they remain in one way or another, to be called upon whenever a situation arises. This is the function of memory, so they say.

But this assumption is not true. The ideas, the mental images, which we produce in the children and which, with us, they elaborate and develop, immediately change when the children occupy themselves with other things after the lesson. In no way does a concept swim about in the unconscious in its original form, to be called up at random. This is certainly not the case. The ideas and concepts we produce in the children are, when the children are no longer thinking about them, no longer present anywhere. They are not swimming about; they are no longer there. The process by which children later recollect is quite different from what is generally assumed—namely, that the ideas and concepts are called forth from the unconscious.

Not only may the processes taking place in recollecting and perceiving be compared; in a certain respect, they may be considered as one and the same. When we perceive something, when in the case of children we direct their soul activity to some outer object and develop with them an idea or concept, the activity will certainly be the children’s very own; they are preoccupied, are working with the idea or concept. We call this process perception.

When the children remember something, the same process is involved, but now it is directed inward. Something is happening within the children. The children are working with, developing, something in the same way as in the perception of an outer object. These inner processes that continue when the original mental images of perception are no longer directly present are extremely complicated. It is very difficult to describe in any specific instance how a mental image prepares to reconnect with the human being in order to emerge as memory—so that the image may again be perceived, this time as an inner event. But when we remember, we really perceive inner events in the same way we perceive outer objects.

It is really not all that important to have an exact knowledge of these processes. We need to be aware of something else. We need to know that the continuing effects of mental images and ideas that, later, emerge in memory actually take place in the sphere of our feelings. It is our life of feelings—with its joys, pains, pleasures, displeasures, tensions, and relaxations—that is the actual vehicle for the enduring qualities of the ideas and mental images that we can recall at a later stage. Our mental images change into stirrings of feeling, and it is these stirrings of feeling that we later perceive and that enable us then to remember.

It is important for us to understand this process because we must pay special attention to it in education. If in line with the convictions of most teachers today, we merely present to the children things to be looked at, to be accurately perceived by the senses, we are not giving them anything that will help them to remember later in life. Their memory will be greatly enhanced, however, if we put feeling into our words, if we teach with warmth, if we spice our lessons with the possibility of allowing the children to experience corresponding emotions, if we make them smile or feel sad, if we endeavour to go beyond the merely intellectual aspects to the life of feeling. I cannot overemphasize the importance of such an approach. It is, of course, more difficult. It demands great presence of mind. Mere intellectual instruction is easier than a teaching that wishes to stimulate the children’s feeling, that makes for an inner connection with a subject. We need not be pedantic in this teaching, need not necessarily always connect feeling directly to the subject taught. We may refer to something else in order to stimulate feelings. The important thing is that the children’s feelings are engendered during a lesson. Such stirrings of feeling aid memory. And this fact we must not lose sight of. Even in the driest of subjects, such as physics or geometry, we should try to appeal to the children’s feelings. If, for example, we interrupt a thought process and ask a child, “If you were to do this and something unexpectedly were to happen …?”—we add feeling to the lesson. We add tension, expectation, and relaxation that will permeate and benefit the thought process.

Never underestimate the effect of the unknown or half known. The effect of such on feeling is extremely important. If toward the end of a lesson we say, “and tomorrow we shall do this…”—the children need not know anything about “this”; their expectation and curiosity will still be aroused. If, for example, I have taught the properties of the square before those of the triangle and I conclude the lesson by saying, “Tomorrow we shall learn about the triangle”—the children do not yet know anything about the triangle, but it is exactly this fact that causes a certain tension, an expectation of what is to come, a looking forward to the next day’s lesson. The effect will carry the day. We ought to make use of the unknown or half known in order to facilitate the children’s effort at fitting the details into a totality. We really must not ignore such matters.

As we get used to working in this way we shall, on the one hand, in a quite elementary way, connect teaching with education and, on the other hand, feel the need to make ourselves ever more familiar with the nature of the human being, the child. And then, as out of our anthroposophical knowledge we ponder this nature, this wisdom of the human being, much will become clear to us and lead to increased teaching skills.

Developing such wisdom and teaching skills will ever more be of the gravest importance. It will allow the subject matter to fuse with the children, to become their very own possession. We have not yet achieved enough here.

Essentially our lessons consist of two interacting parts. We instruct, we exhort the children to participate, to use their skills, to be physically active. Be it in eurythmy, music, physical education, even writing or the mechanical processes in arithmetic—we try to engender activity. The other part of our lessons is concerned with contemplation. Here we ask the children to think about, to consider the things we tell them.

Although these two aspects always interact, they are fundamentally different. It is not generally appreciated how much the teacher of a contemplative subject, such as history, owes to a colleague who is more concerned with skills and aptitudes. Concentrating merely on contemplation leads the children to a stunted, prosaic adult life, with a tendency to boredom. They will have a superficial view of life, will not feel inclined to observe accurately, will not pay attention to events around them. Children who are trained predominantly in contemplation become benumbed, confused adults. We really owe a great deal, as teachers of contemplative subjects, to the teachers of handwork, music, and eurythmy. We can go so far as to say that the history teacher actually lives off the music or singing teacher and that, vice versa, the singing and music teachers live off the contemplative elements in history, and so forth.

In a situation that calls for directing the children’s attention to something of a contemplative nature, when they are sitting on their chairs listening to and concentrating on a story or on something that demands their judgment—however great our efforts may be to get them to think for themselves, if they merely sit and listen, this is no more than, if I may use the paradox, a “waking sleeping activity.” The children are, in a certain sense, outside the body with the soul and spirit, and it is only because the separation is not as complete as in sleep that the body’s participation continues. Indeed, especially during a contemplative lesson, we can observe the same phenomenon that is present in sleep—namely, an ascending organic activity. In children who are merely listening to stories, organic processes are called forth that are identical to those occurring during sleep, when the metabolic processes ascend to the brain. Making the children sit and listen, we engender in them, in the organism, a delicate sleep-like activity.

It is generally assumed that sleep strengthens and replenishes the organism. Waking up with a headache could correct this view. We must be clear about the fact that the unhealthy parts of our organism are kept back by the awake activity of the upper organs, so that they cannot ascend. But during sleep they rise, ascend. And this rising upward of what is amiss in the organism is continuously engendered by our insistence on making the children listen, think, and contemplate. When, on the other hand, we teach them eurythmy, when we make them sing, or play instruments, when we employ them in physical activities, as in handwork and gymnastics, even when we make them write something—when they are in fact doing things, the organic processes thus stimulated are an intensification of waking activity.

Even if the effect is not noticed, singing and eurythmy are hygienic, even therapeutic activities. This cannot be denied. This hygienic, therapeutic activity will perhaps be the healthier the less we approach it in an amateurish medical way, the more we simply do it out of our healthy imaginative conception of life.

Still, it is good for the teachers to know that they cooperate as partners, that the children owe the healthy ascent of their body fluids—essential during a contemplative lesson such as history—to the singing or eurythmy lesson of the previous day. We can only benefit from such a comprehensive overview of education, which will encourage us, should a problem arise, to cooperate with our colleagues. We shall discover that we can advise each other if, for example, as a teacher of history I can discuss a child with the music teacher.

Little, if anything, will happen if this consultation takes place in a didactic, routine way. Positive results will be achieved only when—from the comprehensive overview—we feel the urge to discuss a problem with a colleague. Then we may be convinced that when the physics teacher notices a problem and talks it over with the singing teacher, the problem will be lessened or solved when the appropriate steps are taken in singing. The singing teacher will know better what to do than the physics teacher and will be grateful to that teacher for having drawn attention to the problem. Only in this way will we establish a fruitful cooperation as teachers. Only in this way will we be enabled to consider the totality of the human being. The rest will follow, one thing developing from another.

This greater mobility in education will result also in something we cannot do without—humor. We need humor not only for thinking, at the right moment, of the unknown or half known, through which we evoke tensions and relaxations as memory aids, but for something else as well. As we make our teaching ever more mobile, as we get used to considering the whole human being instead of merely the subject matter, we shall in time learn to enlarge certain aspects of our lessons. This widening of subject in all directions is again of enormous importance, especially when it occurs in the direction I shall shortly speak about.

Consider a physics lesson. We are certainly not in favor of having apparati in our classrooms or of methodically developing experiments. Such methods can be employed, can even be very intelligent. It could be asserted that such an approach has proved itself and that a great deal is achieved by it. But the effect is short-term, and we cannot be concerned merely with short-term effects. What we intend to do is to provide the children with something that will benefit them throughout life. To succeed in this intent, we have continuously to enlarge concepts. We must, of course, teach the phenomena in optics and hydraulics. But we must also learn to be ready, at appropriate moments, to relate certain aspects of lessons to other things in life.

Let me give you an example. We could, at a given opportunity, spontaneously refer to the weather, to climatic conditions, to phenomena occurring across the globe in a distant country, so that the students realize that there are connections everywhere in the world. They will then experience the feelings that arise when we are led from one phenomenon to another; the tensions and relaxations that result will allow them to identify with the subject, grow together with it, make it their very own possession.

The most important connection we can establish is the one with the human being. We should never miss an opportunity for making this connection. Every situation—be it during a discussion of an animal, of a plant, or of the phenomenon of warmth—every situation presents an opportunity, without losing sight of the subject, without diverting the students from it, to connect with the human being. What, indeed, is there to prevent us, when talking about the phenomenon of warmth, from mentioning fever? What is to prevent us, when talking about elastic balls in physics, from mentioning the phenomenon of vomiting, a process similar to the repulsion in elastic balls? Vice versa, what is there to prevent us, during a lesson on reflexes in the human organism, from mentioning the simple phenomenon of repulsion in elastic balls, and so forth?

Such connections to life in general can be established already in the lower grades, can gradually get the children used to seeing the human being as the confluence of all world phenomena. When we teach the things that lie outside the human being as natural phenomena, they will always tend to be forgotten. When, on the other hand, we relate them to the human being, when we consider the corresponding phenomena in the human being, we shall notice another tendency: that it is really impossible to regard something that is connected with the human being without feelings. We cannot describe the functions of the ear or of the heart without evoking feelings in the children. By relating the outer world to the human being we always stimulate their feelings—and this is so very important.

Making this connection is, therefore, so very important in subjects treating the objective world, subjects that are usually taught “objectively,” as unconnected with the human being. We should always try to find such connections, and in fact, the most objective subjects are the ones that lend themselves most easily to our doing so, because all the world can be found within the human being.

Again, we have the means of aiding the children’s memory. We can be quite sure that the children will soon forget facts learned by rote in physics. They will not identify with them; the facts will not become inner possessions. But as soon as we relate such facts to the human being, demonstrate what is happening for the human being, the facts will remain, will become an intrinsic part of the children’s experience. What is explained to the human being about the human being becomes the human being’s very own possession. It is necessary for us to avoid abstractions, on the one hand, and on the other hand, what Schlegel referred to as the “crude-material-concrete.” Both should be avoided, especially in our lessons and education.

Let me give you another example. Recently I observed a lesson on comedy and tragedy in class eight. It is relatively easy to think of quite persuasive definitions of the comical, the humorous, the tragic, the beautiful, and so on. They can be found in current literature. But most, if not all, of them are abstractions and will not allow living mental images to arise. What actually happens is that our experience of a tragic, a sad event affects our metabolic processes, slows them down. Our experience of tragedy is, indeed, connected with our physical processes, as though something in our stomach cannot be digested, cannot pass into the intestine.

A deeply sad experience has the effect of literally hardening our metabolism, even though these processes are delicate. Indeed, if you happen to be unhappy, sad, or depressed, you are working against your digestion. The experience is identical to the feeling one has when food lies like a lump in the stomach, a crudely material but qualitatively comparable phenomenon. In a healthy digestion, the food passes naturally from the stomach to the intestine, is absorbed by the villi, passes into the blood, then penetrates the diaphragm, so that it can be distributed in the upper organism. This physical process is, qualitatively understood, identical to the effect of laughing, when we artificially induce the vibrations of the diaphragm. Laughing is a process that makes us organically healthy; its effect is similar to that of a healthy undisturbed digestion.

Such knowledge will allow us to relate the humorous to the digestive processes. We are learning to think in the way the ancient Greeks did, are beginning to understand the Greeks’ concept of hypochondria, of abdominal ossification. An objective observation will confirm this connection. Living toward the upper organism, getting the diaphragm into movement, stimulated by a healthy digestion and passing to the world outside—this physical process does, indeed, provide the connection of a humorous, happy mood to the physical body. By avoiding such abstract explanations as “humor allows us to rise above a situation,” we shall succeed in establishing the confluence of the abstract with the concrete. We establish a totality. We show the children how to combine, in their minds, spirit and soul with the physical, corporeal. We repress the absolutely harmful modern ideas of continuously teaching the human cultural aspects—soul and spirit—without relating them to the physical and, vice versa, at the other pole of the pendulum, of speaking about the physical in crudely materialistic ways. Taken separately, neither approach is truthful; for the ideas interact, flow into each other.

It behooves us to evoke total, comprehensive ideas and images, by binding humor and tragedy not to abstract concepts but to the diaphragm. A possible objection is that doing so might encourage a materialistic view of the world. This is certainly not so. It is exactly by showing how spirit and soul are living in the physical that we bring people to the point of seeing that the whole of the material world owes its existence to soul and spirit. As soon as we can imagine—when somebody is laughing, when somebody experiences laughter in the soul and spirit—that the event is connected with the diaphragm, we shall also gradually arrive at the idea of the effects of spirit and soul in rain, thunder, and lightning. We are led to these realizations by relating everything to the human being.

In relating everything to the human being it is important not to dwell too much on the egocentric—because much or exclusive self-interest, egocentricity, would result in contemplative egotism. If, on the other hand, in our contemplative lessons, we connect everything to the human being, we produce in the human being—simply by making one see oneself as consisting of body, soul, and spirit—a disposition that provides the best basis for one’s working from the depths of one’s being during physical activities. If our lessons allow the contemplative thinking elements to connect with the human being, we shall educate our students through history, geography, physics to become singers, to become truly musical people. Affecting our students in such a way that we let them think what they themselves physically want, we produce something in them which we really ought continuously to be creating.

In order to achieve this creation, we must acquire certain concepts. As you well know, it is not possible to remain well fed without the need of eating again. We cannot feed a person and say: “This is it, you need no longer be hungry!” Living processes proceed in rhythms. This truth applies to music, to everything in life. A human being must live in rhythmic alternations, so that one’s “being led back to oneself” is subjected to the highest tension and, in turn, to relaxation. The concepts we teach our students about stomach, lungs, and liver will produce in them a disposition that will again be offset in singing, in the way hunger alternates with eating—a rhythmic process. Only rhythm maintains life. The correct handling of the contemplative subjects will produce faculties that will correspondingly manifest in the other subjects.

If instead of merely enumerating Julius Caesar’s actions, successes, and failures, we would at the same time give the children imaginative pictures of the man, paint as it were a historical situation, so that the children feel impelled to have in their imagination a kind of shadowy picture of him, see him walk, follow his walk in their minds—if they were to imagine Julius Caesar in such a way that they did not merely copy the image in a painting but actually modeled it in their minds, and if they then proceeded to a handwork lesson, you may be absolutely sure that they would knit better than they would have without Caesar.

Such connections are as mysterious as those between hunger and satiation. Ignoring the connections produces different results. For example, if we teach for an hour without stimulating the imagination of the children, their stomachs will be filled with acid, will have excessive pepsin. This cannot be avoided in a contemplative lesson. It is, however, not only a matter of acidifying the food in the stomach; there is also a spiritual dimension. All matter is at the same time spirit. When the children are singing, the pepsin’s role is to produce in them the inner prickling they should feel during singing. This prickling cannot occur if the pepsin remains stuck in the folds of the stomach. And it does remain there if one only talks, without stimulating the imagination. When the imagination is stirred, the pepsin is distributed throughout the body, with the result that the singing teacher will be confronted by children whose organs are permeated by this prickling, this effervescent sensation. Without such experience—especially in the speech organs—the children will be lethargic and lazy, and they will sing without enthusiasm.

I tell you these things so that you can appreciate the importance of considering the totality of the school organism, of seeing it as a unit. Interfering in things that do not concern one does not help. Of course, each teacher must feel free to do what he or she thinks best. But one will gradually acquire the necessary skills by studying the nature of children and by appealing to their imagination. The children long for this attention, need it. And the teacher will greatly benefit from a preoccupation with this aspect of education.

A lively interest in human nature is, of course, the condition for succeeding in this endeavor. Such interest can be developed, and anthroposophy will provide you with all the hints you need. What I especially recommend to you—from a direct pedagogical/didactic point of view—is that you avoid getting stuck in abstractions when you develop your own concepts. You should instead endeavor to understand the human being in regard to organization.

You must actually become pioneers in a certain sphere, must tell yourselves: “We have today, on the one hand, the abstract sciences—history, geography, even physics, and so on. They are practiced in the most abstract ways. People acquire concepts. On the other hand, we have the sciences of the human being—anatomy, physiology—by means of which we learn about the human being, as though the organs were cut out of leather and reassembled.” Truly, as cut from leather—because there is really no difference between the descriptions of living organs presented by our anatomists and cut-out leather pieces. The human being is not described as a totality. The spirit is ignored.

You can, however, be pioneers. You can contribute positively to education by making use of both the abstractions, the lifeless concepts propagated today, and the crudely materialistic approach. You may teach both, but only in order to combine them in a living way, by interweaving them. You could teach history in such a way that it enlivens anatomy, and anatomy in order to bring life to history. The function of the liver could, for example, give you an idea for treating the history of the later Egyptian culture, because the nuance, this special nuance in the presentation, the (let me say) aroma one has to spread across the later stages of Egyptian history, one acquires during the contemplation on the function of the liver in the organism. The effect is the same.

By interweaving subjects in this way you will not only give humanity something that is culturally interesting; you will also meet an educational need by bringing together the so-called physical, which does not as such exist, and the abstract spiritual, which again has no meaning as such. Thus you may enter the classroom in such a way that your words carry weight and, at the same time, acquire wings. You will not torture the children with words that merely fly away, nor will you teach them skills and aptitudes that weigh them down.

In yesterday’s introduction I wanted to show the importance of the teacher’s understanding of the human being and of the school as organic unit. Everything else really depends on this understanding. Today I shall touch on several issues that may then be further developed.

If we wish to have a correct picture of the human being, what really matters is that we rid ourselves of all the prejudices in the current scientific world conceptions. Most people today—even those who are not materialists—are convinced that the processes in logical thinking are carried out by the soul, an inner organism, and that the brain is used as a kind of mechanism for carrying out these processes. All logical functions and processes, they say, are cerebral. The attempt is then made to explain these processes in three stages—the forming of mental images, judgments, and conclusions. It is true, is it not, that we must apply these processes in our lessons, that we must teach and practice them?

We have been so conditioned to this way of thinking that all logic is a function of the head that we have lost sight of the real, the actual nature of logic. When we draw people’s attention to the truth of the matter they demand proofs. The proof, however, lies in unprejudiced observation, in discovering the development of logic in the human being. Of the three stages—mental images, judgments, conclusions—only in the first is the head involved. We ought to be conscious of this: The head is concerned only with the forming of mental images, of ideas, and not with judgments or conclusions.

You may react by saying that spiritual science is gradually dismissing the head and diminishing its functions. But this is in accordance with the truth in its most profound meaning. The head really does not do all that much for us during our life between birth and death. True, in its outer appearance, its physical form, it is certainly the most perfect part of our body. But it is so because it is a copy of our spiritual organism between death and rebirth. It is, as it were, a seal, an impress of what we were before birth, before conception. Everything that was spirit and soul impressed itself on the head, so that it represents the picture of our prenatal life.

It is really only the etheric body—besides the physical—that is fully active in the head. The astral body and the I fill the head, but they merely reflect their activity in it; they are active for their own sake and the head merely reflects this. In the shape of the head we have a picture of the supersensible world. I indicated as much during last year’s lectures when I drew your attention to the fact that we are really carrying our heads as special entities on the top of our bodies. I compared the body to a coach or horse and the head to the passenger or rider. The head is indeed separated from the world outside. It sits, like a parasite, on the body; it even behaves like a parasite. We really must get away from the materialistic view of the head that attaches too much importance to it. We need our head as a reflecting apparatus, no more. We must learn to see the head as a picture of our prenatal spirit and soul organism.

The forming of mental images and ideas is indeed connected to the head. But not our judgments. These are actually connected to arms and hands. It is true—we judge with our arms and hands. Mental images, ideas we form in our heads. But the processes leading to judgments are carried out by the mechanism of arms and hands. The mental images of a judgment do, as its reflection, take place in the head.

You can develop a feeling for this distinction and then recognize its important didactic truth. You can tell yourselves that the task of our middle organism is to mediate the world of feelings. The rhythmical organism is essentially the basis for the mediation of feelings. Judgments are, you will agree, deeply related to feelings, even the most abstract of judgments. When we say “Carl is a good boy,” this is a judgment, and we have the feeling of confirmation. The feeling of confirmation or negation—any feeling actually that expresses the relation between predicate and subject—plays a major role in judgments. It is only because our judgments are already strongly anchored in our subconscious that we are not aware of our feelings’ participation in them.

There takes place for us as human beings, inasmuch as we judge, a phenomenon that we must understand. The arms, although in harmony with the rhythmic organism, are at the same time liberated from it. In this physical connection of the rhythmical organism with the liberated organism of the arms, we can see a physical, sense-perceptible expression of the relation between feelings and judgments.

In considering conclusions, the drawing of conclusions, we must understand the connection to legs and feet. Our contemporary psychologists will, of course, ridicule the idea that it is not the head that draws conclusions but the legs and feet. But it is true. Were we, as human beings, not oriented toward our legs and feet, we could never arrive at conclusions. What this means is that we form ideas and mental images with the etheric body, supported by the head organism; we make our judgments—in an elementary, original way—with our astral body, supported by our arms and hands; and we draw conclusions in our legs and feet—because we do this with our ego, and the ego, the I, is supported by legs and feet.

As you can thus see, the whole of the human being participates in logic. It is important to understand this participation. Our conventional scientists and psychologists understand but little of the nature of the human being because they don’t know that the total human being is employed in the process of logic. They believe that only the head participates in it. We must now understand the way in which the human being, as a being of legs and feet, is placed on the earth—a way quite different from that of the human head being. We can illustrate this difference in a drawing.

By imagining the outline of the human being we may arrive at the following concept. Let us assume that the person in the diagram is lifting a weight by hand, in our case a heavy object weighing one kilogram. The object is lifted by hand. Let us now ignore the person and, instead, tie the object (A) to a rope, pass the rope over a pulley, and tie another object of either identical or heavier weight to the other end (B). If B happens to be heavier, it will draw the original weight (A) up. We have here constructed a mechanical device the achievement of which is identical to that of hand and arm. I can replace hand and arm with a mechanical device—the result is the same. I unfold my will and, in so doing, I accomplish something that can equally be achieved by some mechanical device, as shown in the illustration.

What you can see in this diagram is a happening that is quite objective. The employment of my will does not alter the outer picture. With my will I am fully placed into the objective world. I impart myself into the objective world; unfolding my will, I no longer differentiate myself from it.

What I have demonstrated can be observed especially clearly when I take a few steps or use my legs for something else. What the will accomplishes during the use of my legs and feet is a process that is quite objective, something that takes place in the world outside. As seen from without, there is no difference between a mechanical process and my own personal effort of will. All my will does is to direct the course of events. This is most strongly the case when I employ functions that are connected with my legs and feet. I am then really outside myself, I flow together with the objective world, I become part of it.

The same cannot be said of the head. The functions of the head tear me away from the world. What I call seeing and hearing, what ultimately leads to the forming of ideas and mental images, cannot in this objective way impart itself to the world outside. My head is not part of that world; it is a foreign body on earth, a copy of what I was before I descended to earth.

Head and legs are extreme opposites and, between them, in the center—because there the will is already active, but in conjunction with feelings—between them we have the organization of arms and hands. I ask you to keep in your mind this picture of the human being—through the head, as it were, separated from the earth, having brought the head from the spiritual world as a witness, the proof of belonging to the spiritual world. One imparts oneself into the physical world by adapting the organs of will and the feelings to the outer laws, to environment and institutions. There is no sharp boundary between outer events and the accomplishments of the will. But a sharp boundary is always drawn between outer events and the ideas and mental pictures mediated to us through the head.

This distinction can give us an even better understanding of the human being. The head develops first in the embryo. It is utter nonsense to regard it as being merely inherited. Its spherical shape tells you that it is truly a copy of the cosmos, whose forces are active in it. What we inherit enters the organism of our arms and legs. There we are our parents’ children. They relate us to the terrestrial forces. But our heads have no access to the earth’s forces, not even to fertilization. The head is organized by the cosmos. Any hereditary likeness is caused by the fact that it develops with the help of the other organism, is nourished by the blood that is affected by the other organism. But it is the cosmos that gives the head its shape, that makes it autonomous and individual. Above all, the work of the cosmos—inasmuch as it is connected to the head—can be seen in those things that are part of the nerve-sense organism. We bring our nerve-sense organism with us from the cosmos, allowing it to impart itself into the other organism.

This knowledge is important because it helps us to avoid subscribing to the nonsensical idea that we are the more spiritual the more we ignore the physical and to avoid talking in abstractions about spirit and soul. We become truly spiritual when we learn to see the connection between the physical/corporeal and the soul and spirit, when we understand that our head is a product of the cosmos, is organized by it, makes us part of it. The organism of our legs is inherited; there we are our parents’ and grandparents’ descendants.

This knowledge, being true, will affect our feelings, while all the current concepts—be they about spirit or matter—are abstract, in no way related to reality. They leave us cold, cannot stir our feelings. I would therefore like to ask you to take to your hearts, to ponder deeply, and to develop for your educational work the fact that there is really no difference whether the human being is regarded as a physical/corporeal being or as a being of spirit and soul. Once we have learned to observe spirit and soul in the correct way we shall see them as creative elements from which flows the physical/corporeal. We shall recognize spirit and soul in their creative activity. And if, as artists, we reflect on this activity in the right way, we shall gradually lose sight of the material altogether as it becomes spirit all by itself. The physical/corporeal transforms into spirit in our correct imagination.

When one stands firmly on the ground of spiritual science, of anthroposophy, it no longer matters if one is a materialist or a spiritualist. It really doesn’t matter. The harm done by materialism is not the study of material phenomena. If this study were performed thoroughly, the phenomena would transform into spirit and all the materialistic concepts would be recognized as absurdities. The harm done is the feeble-mindedness that results when we do not complete thought processes, when we do not concentrate enough on what the senses perceive. We thus lose sight of reality. If we were to pursue thoughts about the material world to the end, we would arrive at the picture, the idea of the spirit.

As for spirit and soul, as long as we enter their reality when we reflect on them, they will not remain as the abstractions we are given by our current sciences but will assume form, will become visible. Abstract understanding becomes an artistic experience that will ultimately result in our seeing spirit and soul as material, tangible reality.

Be one a materialist or a spiritualist both perspectives will lead to the same result, provided the thought process is completed. Again, it is not the spirit that is the problem in spiritualism but rather this uncompleted thought process that so easily turns the spiritualist into an idiot, a nebulous mystic, a person who causes confusion and who can only vaguely come to grips with reality.

There is yet another essential and important task for you. Equipped with a sound understanding of the nature of the child, you must develop an eye for distinguishing the child with a predominant cosmic organism from the one with a predominant terrestrial/physical organism. The former will have a plastically formed head, the latter a plastically structured trunk and, especially, limbs.

What now matters is to find the appropriate treatment for each. In the more earthly child, the hereditary forces are playing a major role; they permeate the entire metabolic limb system in an extraordinarily strong way. Even when the child does not appear to be melancholic, there is, nonetheless, alongside the apparent temperament a nuance of melancholy. This is due to the child’s earth nature, the “earthiness” in the child’s being.

When we notice this trait in a child, we shall do well to try to interest him or her in music that passes from the minor to the major mood, from the melancholic strains of the minor to the major. The earthly child especially can be spiritualized by the movements demanded by music and eurythmy. A child with a distinct sanguine temperament and delicate melancholic features can easily be helped by painting. And even if such a child appears to have but little talent for music or eurythmy, we should still try our best to develop the disposition for it that is certainly there.

A child with a distinctly pronounced head organism will benefit from subjects such as history, geography, and the history of literature. But care must be taken not to remain in the contemplative element but, as I already pointed out yesterday in another context, to evoke moods, feelings, tension, curiosity that are again relaxed, satisfied, and so on.

Again, it is a matter of habitually seeing the harmony between spirit and body. The ancient Greeks had this knowledge, but it got lost. They really always saw in the effects of a work of art on human beings something they then also applied to the physical. They spoke of the crisis in an illness, of catharsis, and they spoke in the same way of the effects of a work of art and of education. The Greeks observed the processes that I described yesterday, and it is up to us to rediscover them, to learn to unite soul and spirit with the physical/corporeal in our thinking.

It is thus important that we use all our own temperamental energies, in order to teach history with a strong personal accent. Objectivity is something the children can develop later in life. To worry about objectivity, when we tell them about Brutus and Caesar, at the expense of expressing the feeling engendered in us during the dramatic presentation of their differences, their polarities—this would be bad teaching. As teachers, we must be involved. We do not need to wax passionate, to roar and rage, but we do need to express at least a delicate nuance of sympathy or antipathy toward Caesar and Brutus in our characterization. The children must be stimulated to participate.

History, geography, geology, and so on must be taught with real feeling. The latter subject is especially interesting—to feel deeply about the rocks beneath the earth. Goethe’s essay on the granite can here be of great help. I strongly recommend it to you. Read it with feeling, in order to see how a person could humanly relate—not merely in thinking, but in his whole being—to the primal father, the age-old, holy granite. This approach must, of course, then be extended to other subjects.

If we cultivate these responses in ourselves, we shall also make it possible for the children to experience and participate in them. This is naturally a more difficult approach, as it takes greater effort. But our teaching will be alive, a living experience. Believe me, everything we mediate to the children via feelings allows their inner life to grow, while an education that consists of mere thoughts and ideas is devoid of life, remains dead. Ideas and thoughts are no more than mirror images. With them we merely address the head, whose value lies in its connection with the past, its time in the spiritual world. When we give the children images and ideas that are made living through our strong feelings, we make a connection to what is significant for the earth, to the elements contained in the blood.

Let me give you an example. It is absolutely necessary for us to develop the appropriate feeling for the hostile, destructive forces in an airless space. The more graphically we show this—after the air has been pumped out—the more dramatically we can describe this terrible airless space, the more we shall achieve. In earlier times people referred to it as horror vacui. They experienced this horror streaming from it; their language contained it, and we must learn to discover this feeling again. We must learn to see a connection between an airless space and a thin, dried up person. Shakespeare indicated this in Julius Caesar:

Let me have men about me that are fat;
Sleek-headed men and such as sleep o’nights:
Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look;
He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.

It is the well-padded whom we trust, rather than the lean, skinny, bald-headed person with cold intellect. We must feel this relation of a lean person or a spider to airless space. Then we shall be able to pass on to the children, through imponderables, the cosmic feeling that must be an integral part of the human being.

Again and again, when speaking of education, we must emphasize the necessity of connecting the totality of the human being to the objective world, because it is only then that we can bring a healthy element also to those aspects in education that are so harmfully influenced by materialistic thoughts. We cannot, my dear friends, be as outspoken as Herr Abderhalden who—after having been invited to a eurythmy performance where in my introduction I also mentioned the hygienic and other aspects of physical education—said: “As a physiologist I cannot see anything in physical education that is physiologically justified. On the contrary, physical education is, in my opinion, the most harmful activity imaginable; it has no educational value whatsoever. It is a barbarity.”

We cannot afford to be so direct. We would be attacked from every side, as happens today. It is so, isn’t it, when you really think about it, that all the exercises and activities of physical education, wherein the worst of materialistic concepts are applied to the physical body, have become idols, fetishes—be they systems concentrating on the strongly physical, the superphysical, or the subphysical; be it the Swedish method or the German. What the systems and methods have in common is the belief that the human being is no more than a physical organism—a belief resulting from the very worst ideas developed by the age of materialism, not in accord with the thoughts I have outlined.

The exercises are generally based on an assumption describing the ideal posture for the human being—the correct curvature of the spine, the form of the chest, the manner of moving the arms and hands. What we actually get from the exercises is certainly not a human being but merely the picture these people have made themselves of the human being. No wonder there are so many diagrams in the manuals. This picture of the human being lends itself to being modeled in a papier-mâché figure. Everything that is said of the human being in Swedish gymnastics can be found in such a papier-mâché doll. The living human being can then be used like a sack and made to imitate the lifeless dolls. The real human being is ignored, is lost sight of in such practices. All we have are papier-mâché figures.

In spite of the fact that they have become so popular and influential, these practices must be seen as infamous, really quite reprehensible, because of this exclusion of the real human being. The human being is theoretically excluded in the sciences; in modern gymnastics the human being is practically excluded, reduced to a papier-mâché figure. Such practices should never find their way into education. In good physical education, the students should only carry out movements and assume postures that they can also actually experience within. And they do experience them.

Let’s take a look at the breathing processes. We must know that we must bring the children to the point where the breathing- in bears a faint resemblance to tasting some favorite food. This experience should not go so far as to the actual perception of taste but merely to a faint resemblance of it; the freshness of the world ought to be experienced when breathing in. We should try to get the child to ask: “What is the intrinsic color of the air I am breathing in?” We shall indeed discover that as soon as breathing is correctly experienced, the child will have the feeling that “it is greenish, really actually green.” When we have brought a child to the point of experiencing inbreathing as greenish we have accomplished something. Then we shall also always notice something else: that the child will ask for a specific posture when breathing in. The inner experience stipulates the correct corresponding posture, and the right exercises will follow from it.

The same procedure will lead to the experience of the corresponding feeling in breathing out. As soon as the children, when breathing out, can feel that they really are fine, efficient boys and girls, as soon as they experience themselves as such, feel their strength, ask to apply their strength to the world outside, then they will also experience, in a way that is healthy and appropriate to their age, the corresponding abdominal movement, the movement of the limbs and the bearing of the head and arms. This rich feeling during breathing out will induce the children to move correctly.

Here the human being is employed. We can see the human being before us, no longer allowed to be a sack, imitating a papier-mâché figure. We are moving in accordance with the soul that then pulls the physical body after it. We adapt the physical movements to the children’s needs, to their inner, soul and spirit experience.

In the same way, we should encourage the inner experience the children’s physical nature asks for in other areas—in the movements of arms and legs, in running, and so forth. We can thus really connect physical education directly to eurythmy, as it should be connected. Eurythmy makes soul and spirit directly visible, ensouls and spiritualizes everything that moves in us. It makes use of everything human beings have developed for themselves during their evolution.

But—also—the physical can be spiritually experienced. We can experience our breathing and metabolism if we advance far enough in our efforts. It is possible to do this—to advance to the point that we can experience ourselves, including our physical organism. And then, what the children are—on a higher level, I would say—confronting in eurythmy can pass into physical education. It is certainly possible to connect the two activities, to build a bridge from the one to the other. But this kind of physical education should be based on the development of movements not from the mere experience of the physical/corporeal but rather from the experience of soul and spirit, by letting the children adapt the physical/corporeal to their experiences.

Of course, in order to achieve this we ourselves must learn a great deal. We must first work with these ideas before we apply them to both ourselves and especially before we apply them to our teaching. They don’t easily impress themselves on our memory. We are not unlike a mathematician who cannot remember formulae or theorems but who, at a given moment, is able to redevelop them. Our situation is the same. We must develop these ideas about the total human being—spirit, soul, and body—and we must always make them livingly present. Doing so will stand us in good stead. By working out of the totality of the human being we can have a stimulating effect on the children.

Again and again you will find that when you have spent long hours in preparing a lesson, when you have grappled with a subject and then enter the classroom, the children will learn differently than they would when taught by a “superior” lecturer or instructor who spent as little time as possible in preparation. I actually know people who on their way to school quickly read up the required material. Indeed, our education and teaching are deeply affected by the way we grapple not only with the immediate subject matter but also with all the other things connected to skills and methods. These things, too, should be worked and grappled with.

There are spiritual connections in life. If we have first heard a song in our mind, in the spirit, it will have a greater effect on the children when we teach it to them. These things are related. The spiritual world works in the physical. This activity, this work of the spiritual world, must be applied especially to education and didactics. If, for example, during the preparation for a religion lesson, the teacher experiences a naturally pious mood, the lesson will have a profound effect on the children. When such a mood is absent, the lesson will be of little value to them.

In the future all teaching must be founded on a real psychology—a psychology which has been gained through an anthroposophical knowledge of the world. Of course it has been widely recognised that instruction and education generally must be built up on psychology, and you know that Herbartian pedagogy, for instance, which has influenced great numbers of people, founded its educational standards on Herbartian psychology. Now during the last few centuries and up to recent times there has been something present in the life of man which prevents a real practical psychology from coming into being. This can be traced to the fact that in the age in which we now are, the age of the Consciousness Soul, man has not yet reached the spiritual depth which would enable him to come to a real understanding of the human soul. But those concepts which have been built up in past times in the sphere of psychology—the science of the soul—out of the old knowledge of the fourth Post-Atlantean period, have become more or less devoid of content to-day: they have become mere words. Anyone who takes up psychology or anything to do with psychological concepts will find that there is no longer any real content in the books on the subject. They will have the feeling that psychologists only play with concepts. Who is there to-day for instance who develops a really clear conception of what mental picture or will is? In psychologies and theories of education you can find one definition after another of mental picture and of will, but these definitions will not be able to give you a real mental picture, a real idea, either of mental picture itself or of will. Psychologists have completely failed—owing to an external, historical necessity, it is true—to make any connection between the soul life of the individual human being and the whole universe. They were not in a position to understand how the soul-life of man stands in relation to the whole universe. It is only by perceiving the connection between the individual human being and the whole universe that it is possible to arrive at the idea of the being “man.”

Let us look at what is ordinarily called mental picture. We must develop this, as well as feeling and willing, in the children, and to this end we must first of all gain a clear conception of the mental picture. Anyone who looks with an open mind at what lives in men as this activity will at once be struck by its image character. The mental picture is of the nature of an image. And those who try to find in it the character of existence or being are subject to a great illusion. What would it be for us if it were “being”? We certainly have elements of being in us also. Think only of our bodily elements of being: to take a somewhat crude example: your eyes, they are elements of being, your nose or your stomach, that is an element of being. It will be clear to you that you live in these elements of being, but you cannot make mental pictures with them. You flow out with your own nature into the elements of being, and you identify yourself with them. The possibility of understanding, of grasping something with your mental pictures arises from the fact that they have an image character, that they do not so merge into us that we are in them. For indeed, they do not really exist, they are mere images. One of the great mistakes of the last period of man's evolution during the last few centuries, has been to identify being with thought as such. Cogito ergo sum (I think therefore I am), is the greatest error that has been put at the summit of recent philosophy, for in the whole range of the Cogito there lies not the sum but the non sum. That is to say, as far as my knowledge reaches I do not exist, but there is only image.

Now when you consider the image character of mental picturing you must above all think of it qualitatively. You must consider its mobility, one might almost say its activity of being, but that might give too much the impression of being, of existence, and we must realise that even activity of thought is only an image activity. Everything which is purely movement in mental picturing is a movement of images. But images must be images of something; they cannot be merely images as such. If you think of the comparison of mirror images you can say to yourselves: out of the mirror there appear mirror images, it is true, but what is in the mirror images is not behind the mirror, it exists independently somewhere else. It is of no consequence to the mirror what is to be reflected in it; all sorts of things can be reflected in it. When we have thus clearly grasped that the activity of mental picturing is of this image nature, we must next ask: of what is it an image? Naturally no outer science can tell us this, but only a science founded on Anthroposophy. Mental picturing is an image of all the experiences which we go through before birth, or rather conception. You cannot arrive at a true understanding of it unless it is clear to you that you have gone through a life before birth, before conception. And just as ordinary mirror images arise spatially as mirror images, so your life between death and re-birth is reflected in your present life and this reflection is mental picturing. Thus when you look at it diagrammatically you must mentally picture the course of your life to be running between the two horizontal lines bounded on the right and left by birth and death.

You must then further represent to yourself that mental picturing is continually playing in from the other side of birth and is reflected by the human being himself. And it is because the activity which you accomplish in the spiritual world before birth or conception is rejected by your bodily nature that you experience mental picturing. For true knowledge this activity is a proof, because it is an image, of life before birth.

I want to place this first before you as an idea (we shall come back to a real explanation of these things later) in order to show you that we can get away from the mere verbal explanations which you find in psychologies and theories of education, and arrive at a true understanding of what the activity of mental picturing is, by learning to know that in it we have a reflection of the activity which was carried on by the soul before birth or conception, in the purely spiritual world. All other definitions of mental picturing are of absolutely no value, because they give us no true idea of what it is.

We must now investigate will in the same way. For the ordinary consciousness will is really a very great enigma. It is the crux of psychologists simply because to the psychologist will appears as something very real but basically without content. For if you examine what content psychologists give to will you will always find that this content comes from mental picturing. As for will itself it has no immediate real content of its own. Then again the fact is that there are no definitions of will: these definitions of will are all the more difficult because it has no real content. But what is will really? It is nothing else but the seed in us of that which after death will be reality of spirit and of soul. Thus when you picture to yourself what will be our spirit-soul reality after death, and picture it as seed within us, then you have will. In our drawing our life's course ends with death on the one side, and will passes over beyond it.

Thus we have to picture to ourselves: mental picturing on the one hand, which we must conceive of as an image from pre-natal life; and will, on the other hand, which we must conceive of as the seed of something which appears later. I beg you to bear clearly in mind the difference between seed and image. For a seed is something more than real, and an image is something less than real; a seed does not become real until later, it carries within it the ground of what will appear later as reality; so that the will is indeed of a very spiritual nature. Schopenhauer had a feeling for this truth, but naturally he could not advance to the knowledge that will is a seed of the Spirit-Soul as it unfolds after death in the spiritual world.

Now we have divided man's soul-life into two spheres, as it were: into mental picturing, which is in the nature of image, and will, which is in the nature of seed, and between image and seed there lies a boundary. This boundary is the whole life of the physical man himself who reflects back the pre-natal, thus producing the images of mental picturing, and who does not allow the will to fulfil itself, thereby keeping it continually as seed, allowing it to be nothing more than seed. Now we must ask: what are the forces that really bring this about?

We must be quite clear that in man there are certain forces which reflect back the pre-natal reality and hold the after death reality in seed. And now we come to the most important psychological concepts of facts which are reflections of the forces described in my book Theosophy—reflections of sympathy and antipathy. Because we can no longer remain in the spiritual world (and here we come back to what was said yesterday) we are brought down into the physical world. In being brought down into the physical world we develop an antipathy for everything spiritual so that we radiate back the spiritual, pre-natal reality in an antipathy of which we are unconscious. We bear the force of antipathy within us, and through it transform the pre-natal element into a mere mental picture or image. And we unite ourselves in sympathy with that which radiates out towards our later existence as the reality of will after death. We are not immediately conscious of these two, sympathy and antipathy, but they live unconsciously in us, and they signify our feeling, which consists continually of a rhythm, of an alternating between sympathy and antipathy.

We develop within us all the world of feeling, which is a continual alternation—systole, diastole—between sympathy and antipathy. This alternation is continually within us. Antipathy on the one hand changes our soul life into picture image: sympathy, which goes in the other direction, changes our soul life into what we know as our will for action, into that which holds in germ what after death is spiritual reality. Here we come to the real understanding of the life of soul and spirit. We create the seed of the soul life as a rhythm of sympathy and antipathy.

Now what is it that you ray back in antipathy. You ray back the whole life, the whole world, which you have experienced before birth or conception. That has in the main the character of cognition. Thus you really owe your cognition to the shining in, the raying in of your pre-natal life. And this cognising, which possesses great reality before birth or conception, is weakened to such a degree through antipathy that it becomes only a picture image. Thus we can say: this cognising comes up against antipathy and is thereby reduced to mental picture.

If antipathy is sufficiently strong something very remarkable happens. For in ordinary life after birth we could not picture mentally if we did not do it in a measure with the very force which has remained in us from the time before birth. When you use this faculty to-day as physical man you do not do it with a force which is in you, but with a force which comes from a time before birth, and which still works on in you. You might suppose it ceased with conception, but it remains active, and we make our mental pictures with this force which continues to ray into us. You have it in you, continually living on from pre-natal times, only you have the force in you to ray it back. You have this force in your antipathy. When in your present life you make mental pictures, each such process meets antipathy, and if the antipathy is sufficiently strong a memory image arises. So that memory is nothing else but a result of the antipathy that holds sway within us. Here you have the connection between the purely feeling nature of antipathy which rays back in an indefinite manner, and the definite raying back, the raying back of the activity of perception in memory, an activity which is carried out in a pictorial way. Memory is only heightened antipathy. You could have no memory if you had so great a sympathy for your mental pictures that you could devour them; you have a memory only because you have a kind of “disgust” for them, you fling them back and in this way make them present. That is their reality.

When you have gone through this whole process, when you have produced a mental picture, reflected this back in the memory, and held fast the image element, then there arises the concept. This then is one side of the soul's activity: antipathy, which is connected with our pre-natal life.

Now we will take the other side, that of willing, which is in the nature of a germ in us and belongs to the life after death. Willing is present in us because we have sympathy with it, because we have sympathy with this seed which will not be developed until after death. Just as our thinking depends upon antipathy, so our willing depends on sympathy. Now if this sympathy is sufficiently strong—as strong as the antipathy which enables mental picturing to become memory—then out of sympathy there arises imagination. Just as memory arises out of antipathy so imagination arises out of sympathy. And if your imagination is sufficiently strong (which only happens unconsciously in ordinary life), if it is so strong that it permeates your whole being right down into the senses, then you get the ordinary picture forms* through which you make mental pictures of outer things. This activity has its starting point in the will. People are very much mistaken when in speaking psychologically they constantly say: “We look at things, then we make them abstract, and thus we get the mental picture.” This is not the case. The fact that chalk is white to us is a result of the application of the will, which by way of sympathy and imagination has become picture form.¹ But when we form a concept, on the other hand, it has quite a different origin; for the concept arises from memory.

Here I have described to you the soul processes. It is impossible for you to comprehend the being of man unless you understand the difference between the elements of sympathy and antipathy in man. These elements, as I have described, find their full expression in the soul world after death. There sympathy and antipathy hold sway undisguised. I have been describing the soul-man who, on the physical plane, is united with the bodily man. Everything pertaining to the soul is expressed and revealed in the body, so that on the one hand we find revealed in the body what is expressed in antipathy, memory and concept. All this is bound up with the nerves in the bodily organisation. While the nervous system is being formed in the body all that belongs to the pre-natal life is at work there. The pre-natal life of the soul works into the human body through antipathy, memory and concept, and hereby creates the nerves. This is the true concept of nerves. All talk of classifying nerves as sensory and motor is meaningless, as I have often explained to you.

Similarly, in a certain sense, the activity of willing, sympathy, picture-forming and imagination works out of the human being. This is bound to the seed condition; it can never really come to completion but must perish at the moment it arises; it has to remain as a seed, and the seed must not evolve too far. Thus it must perish in the moment of arising. Here we come to a very important fact about the human being. You must learn to understand the whole man, spirit, soul and body. Now in man there is something continually being formed which always has the tendency to become spiritual. But because out of our great love, albeit selfish love, we want to hold it fast in the body, it never can become spiritual; it loses itself in its bodily nature. We have something within us which is material but which is always wanting to pass over from its material condition and become spiritual. We do not let it become spiritual, and therefore we destroy it in the very moment when it is striving to become spiritual—I refer to blood, the opposite of the nerves.

Blood is really a “very special fluid.” For it is the fluid which would whirl away as spirit if we were able to remove it from the human body so that it still remained blood and was not destroyed by other physical agencies—an impossibility while it is bound to earthly conditions. Blood has to be destroyed in order that it may not whirl away as spirit, in order that we may retain it within us as long as we are on the earth, up to the moment of death. For this reason we have perpetually within us: formation of blood—destruction of blood—formation of blood—destruction of blood: through in-breathing and out-breathing.

We have a polaric process within us. We have those processes within us which, working through the blood and blood-vessels, continually have the tendency to lead our being out into the spiritual. To talk of motor nerves, as has become customary, does not correspond to the facts, because the motor-nerves would really be blood-vessels. In contrast to the blood all nerves are so constituted that they are constantly in the process of dying, of becoming materialised. What lies along the nerve-paths is really extruded, rejected material. Blood wants to become ever more spiritual—nerve ever more material. Herein consists the polaric contrast. In the later lectures we shall follow these fundamental principles further and we shall see how this can give us help to arrange our teaching in a hygienic way, so that we can lead a child to health of soul and body, and not to decadence of spirit and soul. The amount of bad education now prevalent is because so much is unknown. Although physiology believes it has discovered a truth when it talks of sensory and motor nerves, it is nevertheless only playing with words. Motor nerves are spoken of because of the fact that when certain nerves are injured, i.e. those which go to the legs, a man cannot walk when he wants to do so. It is said that he cannot walk because he has injured the nerves which, as motor nerves, set the leg in motion. In reality the reason why he cannot walk is that he has no perception of his own legs. This age in which we live has been obliged to entangle itself in a mass of errors, so that, through having to disentangle ourselves from them, we may become independent human beings.

Now you will have seen, from what I have here developed, that really the human being can only be understood in connection with the cosmos. For when we make mental pictures we have what is cosmic within us. We were in the cosmos before we were born, and our experience there is now mirrored in us; we shall be in the cosmos again when we have passed through the gate of death, and our future life is expressed in seed form in what rules our will. What works unconsciously in us works in full consciousness for higher knowledge in the cosmos.

We have a threefold expression of this sympathy and antipathy revealed in our physical body. We have, as it were, three centres where sympathy and antipathy interplay. First we have a centre of this kind in the head, in the working together of blood and nerves, whereby memory arises. At every point where the activity of the nerves is broken off, at every point where there is a gap, there is a centre where sympathy and antipathy interplay. Another gap of this kind is to be found in the spinal marrow; for instance, when one nerve passes in towards the posterior horn of the spinal marrow and another passes out from the anterior horn. And again there is such a gap in the little bundles of ganglia, which are embedded in the sympathetic nerves. We are by no means such simple beings as it might seem. In three parts of our organism, in the head, in the chest and in the lower body, there are boundaries at which antipathy and sympathy meet. In perceiving and willing it is not that something leads round from a sensory to a motor nerve, but a direct stream springs over from one nerve to another, and through this the soul in us is touched; in the brain and in the spinal marrow. At these places where the nerves are interrupted we unite ourselves with our sympathy and antipathy to the soul-life; and we do so again where the ganglia systems are developed in the sympathetic nervous system.

We are united with our experience with the cosmos. Just as we develop activities which have to be continued in the cosmos, so does the cosmos constantly develop with us the activity of antipathy and sympathy. When we look upon ourselves as men, then we see ourselves as the result of the sympathies and the antipathies of the cosmos. We develop antipathy from out of ourselves, the cosmos develops antipathy together with us; we develop sympathy, the cosmos develops sympathy with us.

Now as human beings we are manifestly divided into the head system, the chest system, and the digestive system with the limbs. But please notice that this division into organised systems can very easily be combated, because when men make systems to-day they want to have the separate parts neatly arranged side by side. If we say that a man is divided into a head system, chest system, and a system of the lower body with the limbs, then people expect each of these systems to have a fixed boundary. People want to draw lines where they divide, and that cannot be done when dealing with realities. In the head we are principally head, but the whole human being is head, only what is outside the head is not principally head. For though the actual sense organs are in the head, we have the sense of touch and the sense of warmth over the whole body. Thus in that we feel warmth we are head all over. In the head only are we principally head, but we are secondarily head in the rest of the body. Thus the parts are intermingled, and we are not so simply divided as the pedants would have us be. The head extends everywhere, only it is specially developed in the head proper. The same is true of the chest. Chest is the real chest but only principally, for again the whole man is chest. For the head is also to some extent chest as is the lower body with the limbs. The different parts are intermingled. And it is just the same in the lower body. Some physiologists have noticed that the head is “lower body.” For the very fine development of the head-nerve system does not really lie within the outer brain layer of which we are so proud; it does not lie within but below the outer layer of the brain. For the outer covering of the brain is, to some extent, a retrogression; this wonderful artistic structure is already on the retrograde path; it is much more a system of nourishment. So that in a manner of speaking, we may say a man has no need to be so conceited about the outer brain for it is a retrogression of the complicated brain into a brain more used for nourishment. We have the outer layer so that the nerves which are connected with knowing may be properly supplied with nourishment. And the reason that our brain excels the animal brain is only that we supply our brain nerves better with nourishment. We are only able to develop our higher powers of cognition because we are able to nourish our brain nerves better than the animals are able to do. Actually the brain and the nervous system have nothing to do with real cognition but only with the expression of cognition in the physical organism.

Now the question is: why have we the contrast between the head system (we will leave the middle system out of account for the present) and the polaric limb system with the lower body? We have this contrast because at a certain moment the head system is breathed out by the cosmos. Man has the form of his head by reason of the antipathy of the cosmos. When the cosmos has such aversion for what man bears within him that it pushes it out, then the image or copy arises. In the head man really bears the copy of the cosmos in him. The roundly formed head is such a copy. The cosmos, through antipathy, creates a copy of itself outside itself. That is our head. We can use our head as an organ for freedom because it has been pushed out by the cosmos. We do not regard the head correctly if we think of it as incorporated in the cosmos as intensively as is our limb-masses system, in which are included the sexual organs. Our limb system is incorporated in the cosmos and the cosmos attracts it, has sympathy with it, just as it has antipathy towards the head. In the head our antipathy meets the antipathy of the cosmos; there they come into collision. And in the rebounding of our antipathies upon those of the cosmos our perceptions arise. All inner life which rises on the other side of man's being has its origin in the loving sympathetic embrace between the cosmos and the limb system of man.

Thus the human bodily form expresses how a man, even in his soul nature, is formed out of the cosmos, and also what he then takes from the cosmos. If you look at it from this point of view you will more easily see that there is a great difference between the formation of the mental picture and the formation of will. If you work exclusively and one-sidedly on the building up of the former, then you really point the child back to his pre-natal existence, and you will harm him if you are educating him rationalistically, because you are coercing his will into what he has already done with—the pre-natal life. You must not introduce too many abstract concepts into what you bring to the child. You must rather introduce imaginative pictures. Why is this? Imaginative pictures stem from picture-forming and sympathy. Concepts, abstract concepts, are abstractions; they go through memory and antipathy, and they stem from the pre-natal life. If you use many abstractions in teaching a child, you involve him too intensely in the production of carbonic acid in the blood, namely in processes of the hardening of the body, and decay. If you bring to the child as many imaginations as possible, if you educate him as much as possible by speaking to him in images, then you are actually laying in the child the germ for the preservation of oxygen, for continuous growth, because you point to the future, to what comes after death. In educating we take up again in some measure the activities which were carried out with us men before birth. We must realise that mental picturing is an activity connected with images, originating in what we have experienced before birth or conception. The spiritual Powers have so dealt with us that they have planted within us this image activity which works on in us after birth, If in our education we ourselves give the children images we are taking up this cosmic activity again. We plant images in them which can become germs, seeds, because we plant them into a bodily activity. Therefore, whilst as educators we acquire the power to work in images we must continually have the feeling: you are working on the whole man; it echoes, as it were, through the whole human being, if you work in images.

If you yourselves continually feel that in all education you are supplying a kind of continuation of pre-natal super-sensible activity, then you will give to all your education the necessary consecration, for without this consecration it is impossible to educate at all.

To-day we have learnt of two systems of concepts: cognition, antipathy, memory, concept: willing, sympathy, picture-forming, imagination: two systems which we shall be able to apply practically in all that we have to do in our educational work. We will speak further of this tomorrow.

• 1. Imaginationen

I have already shown that the Apocalypse is built up on the number principle—one of the occult principles—from a certain view point. From my explanations about the fundamental rhythmic numbers in the universe and in man earlier today you may have seen how deeply numbers are grounded in the universe, to the extent that they can disclose rhythmical things.

The buildup in accordance with numbers is quite natural with occult revelations which are written in the way that the Apocalypse of John is. According to the modern principle of initiation the visions that the Apocalypticer speaks about arise if one has Imaginations before one and Inspiration speaks into them. Then one sees the Imaginations spread out before one in a pictorial way and Inspirations speak through them. However, when this occurs one has a number principle whereby the number 7 is always the most perfect one for all occultists. This is practically a tenet of occultism: 7 is the most perfect number. The number principle enables one to follow things up. You shouldn't think that this number 7 has much content or that its content is very important for one. But it is of very great importance when one is listening to Inspirations. If one lives in the number seven one can understand Inspirations in many different ways. I will give you an example. Let's suppose someone feels that there are important spiritual backgrounds behind his own age. Of course most people around the world feel the spiritual backgrounds in their own time; this is only natural from a human point of view, but it is rather arbitrary nevertheless. For if I am an observer in 1924, the observation year is 1924, whereas if someone else is an observer in the year 1905, that is the observation year, and so on. However, if I am the observer at any time and I know what I'm observing, and I'm able to go 7 impressions back from any given impression, then according to the laws of the spiritual world whatever makes the seventh impression explains the first one, and the fourteenth one explains both of these. So this is really a methodic principle to find one's way into what something can tell one. Just as one has to know the language which someone is speaking in order to understand him, so the main thing is to be able to live in this number seven.

This is the way one has to look at these things. For this revelation of the number seven is very complicated. All kinds of things in the universe are arranged in accordance with the number seven, and to a lesser extent according to twelve and other numbers. One can follow up the events which explain things from every point through multiples of 7.

We can do this precisely in connection with the fact that we indicate such an important point yesterday, which really seems to be extremely important in our age where Michael is regulating things in the world. We pointed out that John's significant vision of the woman clothed with the sun, the dragon under her feet, giving birth to a little boy will appear to men in a particular form in the near future. Therewith we have gained an extremely important point of departure; and from this point of view an apocalypse, every apocalypse and especially John's Apocalypse is the most impressive if one grasps what one is standing in in this way.

When I tried to interpret the Apocalypse in Nuremberg in 1908 it was an entirely different time in the entire Anthroposophical movement. The main thing then was to interpret Anthroposophy by means of the Apocalypse, as it were. One can interpret a great deal through the Apocalypse, and the events in the world which it was important to mention at that time could already be seen in the Apocalypse. However, as I already mentioned a number of times, you should identify yourselves with the Apocalypse and realize that the Apocalypse describes a large number of events which proceed in accordance with multiples of seven. Since I pointed to the events which are connected with the woman clothed with the sun and the dragon under her feet, you will be able to tell in which Apocalyptic point of time we're living from the point of view of the experiences of the consciousness soul.

My lectures in 1908 dealt more with the evolution of mankind in general, and with the evolution of the astral body, but with respect to the consciousness soul which doesn't run parallel with the other evolutionary processes, but pushes into them we're really living in the age of the trumpet sounds today.

We're standing at the beginning of the development of the consciousness soul, and we only hear the trumpet sounds if this consciousness soul elevates itself to the point where it can have supersensible visions, because people do not interpret what goes on down below in a supersensible way today. The significant thing today is that people accept things indifferently and that they do not interpret them in a supersensible way. In Anthroposophical lectures I have often referred to a particular point in the 19th century in this connection, namely to the beginning of the 1840s. I said that the beginning of the forties is a significant incision into the development of the civilized world, from a spiritual viewpoint. It is the culmination of materialism, as it were. Everything that is connected with materialism was already decided in 1843/44. What happened after this until now is basically only an after effect of this, and everything that happens in the future will also be an after effect. This point in time at the beginning of the forties is really extremely important for what has happened to the civilized population of Europe and its American appendage, for the breaking in of Ahrimanic powers into human affairs was a tremendously intensive one. You can say: yes, but there were even worse events after the years 1843/44. However, this only seems to be the case. You have to remember that Ahriman is smarter than human beings. Ahriman did his most important work in 1843/44, and he arranged things in the way that he does this in accordance with his intelligence. This is the low point in the materialistic path, or the summit, if you prefer. Then men continued to go about their business, and the things they did later on are sometimes seemingly nastier, but they are not as terrible for the totality of human evolution. If one looks at them from a spiritual viewpoint, they are the after effects of what was projected at the beginning of the forties. The sixth angel began to blow his trumpet at the beginning of the forties and he will continue to sound until the events of which I spoke yesterday will begin at the end of the 20th century, when the seventh trumpet will begin to sound.

We are definitely in the midst of the three woes. This is the second woe that civilized humanity is going through in the age of the consciousness soul, which was preceded by the fifth trumpet back to 150 years earlier. And if we follow the trumpets back with respect to the seven-foldness of the consciousness soul, we arrive at a somewhat earlier point in time. The consciousness age begins in 1413 down below here on earth; but things have shifted, and earlier times work into them. The trumpet sounds go back to about the age of the Crusades. In real occult centers one always looked upon this time of the Crusades up to our time as the age of the trumpet sounds, in a certain sense. You will be able to connect the stages which are described in the Apocalypse' with outer events. For instance, when Copernicanism takes hold and when materialism sets in one third of the human beings are killed, that is, they stop developing their full spirituality. And the plague of locusts which is described in the Apocalypse is really very shocking.

Here one comes to something which one doesn't like to talk about, although of course it belongs to the things that priests must deal with. This plague of locusts is with us in a very prominent way from a purely consciousness standpoint. Of course such things should not be discussed when we speak in a theoretical way or when we speak to humanity in general, where cures for sick conditions can always occur. But if it's a question of priestly activities, then of course one must know with whom one is dealing, just as one has to know this for normal humanity.

As a rule, the people who call themselves liberals or democrats are very glad if they can point to evidence that the number of people in a particular region on earth is increasing tremendously. An increase in the population is something which is very much desired, especially by politically minded democratic and liberal people, and also by people who think that they are free thinkers and intellectuals.

Now first of all this is not quite correct, because the statistics are based on errors; people usually look at one part of the earth and they don't realize that the other parts of the earth were more densely populated in previous times than they are today. It is not quite correct; however, on the whole it is correct in the sense that there is a kind of a surplus of human beings who are already appearing in our time who have no egos, who are not really human. This is a terrible truth. They walk around and are not incarnations of an ego; they enter into the physical line of heredity and receive an etheric body and an astral body. In a certain way they are equipped with an Ahrimanic consciousness, and they look human if one doesn't look too closely, but they are not human beings in the full sense of the word.

This is a terrible truth, which is present, it's a truth, and when the Apocalypticer speaks about the plague of locusts during the trumpets epoch he is referring directly to human beings. Here again one can see how good the Apocalypticer's vision is, for such men in their astral body look exactly the way the Apocalypticer describes them—like etheric locusts with human faces. One definitely has to think about such supersensible things in this way, and priests must know about such things. For a priest is a minister. Hence he must also be able to find words for everything that happens in such a soul. They're not always bad souls; they can just be souls who get to the soul stage but are lacking an ego.

One will certainly realize this when one runs into these human beings. A priest has to know this, for after all there is fellowship among men with regard to such matters. People with normal souls suffer through their association with such persons who really go through the world like human locusts. The question can and must arise: How should one behave towards such human beings? It is often very difficult to relate to such people because they feel things deeply, they can feel things very deeply, but one notices that there is no real individuality in them. However, one must of course take care to keep the fact that they have no individualities from them, otherwise insanity will necessarily result. But even though one has to conceal this from them, it's a question of arranging things for such souls—after all they are souls, even though they're not spirits—in such a way that these people can develop in the company of others, that they can make connections with others and go along with them, as it were. These human beings display the nature and essence of human beings fairly closely until their 20th year. The intellectual or mind soul only emerges around age 20, and this makes it possible for the ego to live out its life on earth.

Anyone who says that one shouldn't act in a sympathetic way to such ego-less, individuality-less people, since they won't incarnate again and because they have no individuality—is very much mistaken. He would also have to say that one shouldn't behave in a sympathetic way towards children. One must decide what is really inside such men in each individual case. Sometimes such men contain posthumous souls, that is, posthumous with respect to the actual or normal human souls that arose at a particular time in evolution and which incarnate repeatedly as men. These are souls which remained behind, or they are souls which returned belatedly from other planets, to which almost all human beings went during a certain age. Such souls may be present in such human bodies. Thus we must consciously educate such men like permanent children.

All of this is really secreted in the Apocalypse. And if one takes these ideas in the Apocalypse that are given as Imaginations, they sometimes cut into one's heart in a terrible way. It's really horrible the way he talks about all kinds of suffering that will befall mankind on earth with regard to our age; we can only say that a great deal of this is already here as far as the spiritual aspects go.

Then of course there are mildly grand ideas like the angels who come down with incense and a censer. There's a reference to the smoke of incense. Then our gaze immediately falls upon a great deal which happened at the time of the Crusades. The trumpets go back to the Crusades. What we see in the sphere of the consciousness soul enters the consciousness soul of humanity during the Crusades epoch.

Here one finds that consciousnesses of individual personalities arise during the time of the Crusades and what is connected with this, who really had tremendously strong impressions from their experiences of the spiritual world. Here we really meet what I would like to call geniuses of piety. It's very important for us to realize that we meet geniuses of, religiousness there.

If we go further back, we find that for the consciousness sphere the period between the Mystery of Golgotha and the time of the Crusades and everything that is connected with this is a smaller epoch that corresponds to the opening of the seven seals. One can only understand this completely if one realizes the following. Just think of how many personalities arise during the time of the Crusades who direct almost all of their religiousness into their depths, into their intensity of feeling, into an inner mystical experience. This begins at that time, whereas previously one looked up into the whole universe when one wanted to perceive the divine world; the previous state of affairs also existed in tone-setting places, although there was a continual battle with the stream that proceeded from Rome. They had an understanding for the God who lives, weaves and works in the sensory phenomena to which they looked up. However, at some point everything was more or less directed within. The great geniuses of mysticism appear. Previously one received divine revelations through the perception of the universe; afterwards we have a feeling of the, inner kindling of light which the human heart can feel, so that divine things can be illuminated from within men.

The stages which the Apocalypse describes are also present here. We have the first, quiet, victorious advance, where the spreading out of Christianity depends on the victorious spirit and word, where Christianity spreads out in the sub-depths of the social life at that time. Then we have a second epoch, where the spread of, Christianity takes away a lot of what one could call peace from the world. Christianity participates quite a bit in the wars which take place in a second epoch. Then we see an epoch where a gradual dying out of the inner impulse of Christianity occurs, where Christianity becomes the state religion, which of course is a dying of the real Christian impulse. Then we have the period which corresponds to the fourth seal, when Islam breaks in in the way I described. And so it goes; seal after seal is opened, and then what occurs under the influence of significant religious geniuses and under the influence of the Crusades is something that one can observe if one follows up what really happened more exactly. In this respect all the history books are really a falsification of history.

Up till the Crusades the spread of Christianity in a good sense through the repeated efforts of countless members of monastic orders and also in a more external and bad sense, occurred through the direct inspiration of the Palestinian stories. Of course, the gospels were only referred to by priests and not by laymen, but the things that happened were definitely influenced by what the priests learned from the gospels. The priests had the gospels and the cultic rites; the cult gradually became something that reflected the supersensible world in a sensory way. The priests looked upon the sacrifice in the mass as a direct portal to the supersensible world, and therefore they looked up to the starry heavens less and less for their divine, spiritual inspiration. All of the wonderful prophecies and wisdom which I mentioned this morning in connection with ancient astrology and astrosophy disappeared almost entirely by the time of the Crusades.

During the time of the Crusades we suddenly see people appearing who travelled from east to west. Some of them are coming back from the Crusades, and others who came a little later had taken a deep interest in the secrets of the Orient. A large number of writings were brought from the east that were later lost or destroyed. They were definitely brought, but not many of them survived because people didn't watch their literary possessions as vigilantly then as one does today. However, the cosmic Christianity which they contained was handed down by word of mouth from about the time of the Crusades. People began to develop a deep interest in this at the time of the Crusades.

A kind of 7th seal is opened here. And one could say that things have really changed with regard to people's respect for written things. For instance, it's still uncertain at the moment, but if this Italian professor really did find handwritten things by Livius, you can imagine what a storm the Italian state will kick up in order to acquire them. And yet you wouldn't have to go back too far to get to a time when the state would have been quite indifferent to whether or not this or that had been found. This is something which has only developed rather recently.

I once witnessed a find like this. When I was at the Goethe and Schiller archives we received a letter by Goethe which looked rather odd; it was dirty and terribly torn. To us this was a real crime; that was no way to treat Goethe's letters. We tried to find out what was behind this. And we discovered that the letter had once been in the possession of Kuno Fischer, and he had simply sent Goethe's original letters to the printers with his notes and comments in the margins, without bothering to copy them. It was a bit miraculous that this letter had survived, since one generally doesn't keep manuscripts.

Thus it's not too surprising that the Christianity that was still alive in the Orient, or the orientalism that helped to explain Christianity were spread by the Crusades. What we would call cabalistic truths spread and a few people who might have known much more than Jakob Boehme lived at a time when no one thought that this was strange, whereas during Jakob Boehme's time the fact that someone like him existed created a sensation.

It is the time of the Crusades, where we want to point to what was going on in men's consciousnesses, and not so much to the outer events that are described in history books,—it's the time when the seal age gave way to the trumpet age. People with a little depth to them have always had a feeling about the time of the Crusades which made them say: Ah yes, the trumpet sounds; if I look at the thing from supersensible viewpoints it's really terrible what is going on there with respect to human souls. However, men on earth don't hear the trumpets, even though they're there.

A great many people should be aware of this trumpet period, since we're living at the time of the 6th trumpet, and you know what the most important effects and characteristics of this trumpet are. We're told that a third part of the men are killed, as I mentioned. Of course this doesn't happen all at once. But this killing refers to the absence of an ego in those men who had already been prepared previously through their locust forms.

These are things which force priests to look more deeply into the structure of what actually occurs. After all, priests are supposed to be dealing with supersensible things. We are surrounded by supersensible things in all directions, and what one can observe in human beings through the fact that they have a physical body is only one segment of human life. As soon as we press into the supersensible world we see that people do things of which they are often not aware. It could be that it's in someone's karma to behave in a particular way towards another human being in this earth life; and one can sometimes not know what it does to the other person's life if he goes by him without paying any attention to him. Of course later on karma will exert much more force and the thing will be adjusted; but maybe it could have been adjusted in this lifetime already. Someone who should have had something to do with another human being in this life cannot be moved to do it and he passes him by. One doesn't necessarily have to notice this in outer life on the physical plane. No real objections to this can be made, since the person concerned has done all of his duties, from a conventional outer viewpoint, but perhaps he did something that can strike terribly deep wounds into something which is connected with world evolution. Then one cannot say that one is dealing with super-terrestrial things, but with supersensible things, for supersensible things are constantly happening on earth.

It will be necessary to understand the Apocalypse in a serious way, to the extent that the one whom I called the etheric Christ will make himself visible within humanity. Therefore, it was due to a very healthy feeling which came up out of your deepest sub-consciousness that you wanted to make the Apocalypse into the object of these studies. Perhaps you initially had a different idea about what I can give about the Apocalypse at this time, but that you wanted to hear something about the Apocalypse from me was definitely the voice of the times in your hearts. And one can say that the fact that the need arose in you to understand the Apocalypse shows that you have a certain relationship with John the Apocalypticer, since you priests belong together and have become united in such tendencies. Since this permeation with the spirit of the Apocalypse is very necessary for you, you will not find any contradiction in the fact that one can find various sevenfold epochs, that one can really begin them anywhere and that one then discovers how things proceed; but if one cannot look upon the number principle as the methodic thing one won't find any connections in world evolution at all. Therewith we have really touched upon the productive side of the Apocalypse for our time.

Now we usually find other events sprinkled into the Apocalypse at the places where one set of seven goes over into the next one. that we run into here is very much in need of an explanation. If one only reads the Apocalypse in an external way one might think that there are so and so many numbers of human beings who have the seal of God on their foreheads in a particular epoch, so that they are among the fortunate ones who are rescued, or saved, or, however one wants to put it, whereas the others cannot be saved. This, is something which can be depressing if one reads the Apocalypse in a thoughtful way.

However, one should realize that there is always a difference between racial development and individual development in ancient writings. One should realize that no one felt at all depressed in earlier times when one said that so and so many will be saved in a particular race, whereas the others will be destroyed. No one included himself among these because one thought in a realistic way. It's just like today, where everyone is anxious to have his life insured.

Here one calculates how long one will probably live. Insurance companies don't accept people who will probably die soon because if they insured a lot of people who will soon die, their cash boxes would soon be empty. They want to have people who live a long time and make a lot of payments. Hence one must calculate the insured's probable life expectancy on the basis of past experience through probability calculus, which is a very interesting method of calculation. I have never found that anyone felt that he had to die at the moment he was supposed to according to the no doubt correct methods of the insurance companies. There's no such thing. One doesn't feel obliged to die. And this is based on a reality. As soon as one gets into numbers one is not grasping the stage of spirituality at which a particular human individuality is.

When one says such things, one is touching upon a certain mystery and an occult secret. This is based on the fact that one thinks that if one has 1,2,3,4,5 individualities and one counts them and then uses the number—already in counting them—that this must also be of importance for the spiritual world. But it is not important in the same way. Numbers enter in at the moment when the spiritual world breaks through and becomes manifest. As for instance when it becomes manifest in the world year or in breathing, or wherever the spiritual world breaks through. So that if one ascends to a spiritual consciousness, one needs the number at the boundary or threshold into the spiritual world. One doesn't get further there if one doesn't have a number or something similar to a number. But once on has crossed the threshold and one wants to do something with numbers, nothing fits. Therefore, when an occult writer like the Apocalypticer speaks of racial development which takes place on earth, he can very well say that there are so and so many people in this category—and we will see next time what these numbers mean—but a single human individuality cannot feel that he is affected by this, because these numbers refer to the development of races and not to human individualities. We will go into how all of this is possible the next time.

On the one hand, it is necessary to show people the necessity of the separation and free organization of spiritual life by looking at the threads of spiritual life in the present. On the other hand, it is necessary to show everything that ultimately shows how economic life must be based on the associative principle.

Above all, a sure judgment must be called for in order to prevent the individual from doing anything in economic life that cannot be fruitfully integrated into that economic life. In the spiritual life, it is the case that the judgment must always ultimately come from the individual person; therefore, through a free spiritual life, the individual person must be able to fully come into his or her own; the state must be brought about in which each person can individually come into his or her own according to his or her abilities. In economic life, this would be of no use at all. On the contrary, it would be harmful because the economic judgment of an individual person has no value at all. It can never be rooted in reality.

Anyone familiar with anthroposophy will readily understand this. For what constitutes spiritual life ultimately flows from within the human being. A person must shape what he brings with him through birth out of himself. Admittedly, he shapes it through interaction with his environment. He also acquires experience, be it external, be it internal, be it physical, be it spiritual experience. But the process that unfolds must come from his very individual abilities. Now, if we want to intervene in economic life, we have nothing in our humanity that could be as decisive for social life as the individual abilities of the individual.

These individual abilities enrich the general life of humanity when they are applied by the human being. If he simply applies them, community life is enriched. In economic life as such, that is, insofar as one is dealing with the exchange and valuation of goods, nothing is present from the human being other than his needs. Man, as it were, knows nothing about economic life and its necessities as an individual through anything other than his needs; he knows that he has to eat and drink to a certain extent, he has individual needs. But these individual needs are only important to himself, only to himself,

What a person produces intellectually has significance for everyone else; what he produces intellectually is, in fact, a priori socially significant. The needs that a person has, and for the sake of which he must desire that there be an economic life, have significance only for himself. Economically, he can only know how to provide for himself. But this in no way provides a social yardstick, nowhere the basis for a social judgment. For it simply excludes what is to be effective in the social life if one has only one yardstick for what one needs oneself. Therefore, a social judgment can never be built on that knowledge, which is taken from one's own needs. The individual has no basis for social judgment. If he acts from what he is as an individual, that is, simply takes his needs into account, then applies his intellect and abilities, not to produce something for the general public, as in intellectual life, but to satisfy his needs, then he acts under all circumstances as an anti-social being.

That is why all cleverness is of no help when it comes to economic judgments. I must again and again cite the example of the defense of the gold standard in the course of the 19th century. If you read the parliamentary reports and other things that, for example, also originated from practitioners in defense of the gold standard in individual countries, you can actually find a great deal of individual acumen everywhere. What was said was actually completely clever, one might say. One gains respect for human capacity when one still reads the speeches that were held about the gold standard today. But just what the cleverest people said always culminated in the fact that the gold standard would contribute significantly to promoting free trade in the world. And the reasons that were put forward to support this judgment, that free trade would result from the gold standard, are actually indisputable. But the opposite has happened everywhere! Everywhere in the wake of the gold standard, the need for protective tariffs and the like has arisen. Everywhere, free trade has been restricted. And this example shows to an eminent degree that individual human cleverness is of no help when it comes to economic questions, even if it is as prominent as it was in the 19th century. It is a mistake for individuals to want to act economically on the basis of individual judgments.

The necessity of associations follows with apodictic certainty. Only when people who are active in the most diverse branches and elements associate with each other, and what one person knows in one field is supplemented and expanded by what another knows, only then does a common judgment arise that can then be transformed into economic action and lead to social recovery. There is no way to escape the necessity of association, if one simply points out this basic fact. Furthermore, what happens to economic life as such under the influence of threefolding? What do we actually have in economic life? We have three factors.

The first is that which arises from expertise in the production of this or that. Whether you want to mine coal, grow grain, raise livestock or supply some industry, you have to be an expert in the field.

The second thing is that, in our present economic life, the movement of goods, of the necessities of life, must be properly directed. Trade must be conducted in the right way. Goods must be transported to the places where they are needed. For only there do they have their real value. Otherwise they are not commodities, but only objects. One must distinguish between them. Something, even food, can, when it is in any place, be merely an object and not a commodity. For if there is an enormous amount of food of a certain quality in any place, without people needing it, there are only as many goods as people can use up. The others are merely objects, and they only become commodities when they come to the places where they can be used. Without trade, no object is a commodity. This is the second point. But this second point is intimately connected with human labor. For the transformation of natural and other objects from objects into commodities occurs precisely through human labor. If you think about it, you will find that this transformation of objects into commodities is actually quite equivalent to the expenditure of human labor. The labor begins with what we take from nature. It is always possible to trace it back to the object's character, and if you can trace it back to that, then you cannot speak of any economic character of the object. It only becomes economic when it comes into circulation. Only then does it become something that has significance for the economy as a whole. But this is connected with the overall structure and development of human labor, with the type and time and so on of human labor.

The third thing in the economy is that you know what is needed. Because only by knowing what is needed over a certain territory can you produce in a reasonable way. An item that is produced too much will inevitably become cheap; and an item that is produced too little will inevitably become expensive. The price depends on how many people are involved in the production of an item. That is the fundamental and vital question of economics, that it starts from the satisfaction of needs, and from the free satisfaction of needs. What is at issue here cannot be determined by statistics because it is part of a living process. It can only be determined by people associated with a particular territory simply becoming humanly acquainted with those who have this or that need, know the sum of the needs humanly and can negotiate from a purely human, living point of view, not from a statistical point of view, how many people are needed to produce an item. So that in the life of the association, one has first of all those people who set out to educate themselves about the existing needs in a given area, which of course arises from economic foundations, and develop the will to initiate negotiations about how many people in any economic sector must produce so that the needs can be satisfied. All this must be linked to having a sense of the freedom of needs. In no way should any opinion prevail among those who have the task just described, whether any need is justified or not, but it must be merely a matter of objectively establishing a need.

Combating senseless needs, luxurious, harmful needs, is not the responsibility of the economic life of the association, but only of the influence of the spiritual life. Meaningless and harmful needs must be eliminated by educating people in spiritual life to refine their desires and perceptions. A free spiritual life will certainly be able to do this. To put it bluntly: cinemas must not be banned by the police, but people must be educated in such a way that they do not acquire a taste for them. That is the only healthy way to combat harmful influences in social life. The moment needs as such are assessed by the economy or the state, we no longer have a threefold social order, but a chaotic mixture of spiritual, economic and other interests. The threefold social order must be taken seriously down to its innermost fibers. Spiritual life must be truly placed on its own footing. It is not free when some kind of censorship authority exists, when this or that can be forbidden in the sphere of human needs. No matter how fanatical you are, you can rail against cinemas; that does not affect the free spiritual life. The moment you call for the police, the moment you shout: That should be forbidden, you impair the free spiritual life. This must be remembered, and one must not shrink from a certain radicalism.

So initially, the associations will have to deal with people who inform themselves about the needs within a certain territory and then initiate negotiations, not make laws, about the necessary production.

So you see, you can characterize the matter somewhat differently, then perhaps it will even, I would say, seem somewhat more mundane. But finally, by way of illustration, it can also be said that initially the associations will need objectified agencies and agents who are not only interested in ensuring that the person for whom they work sells as much as possible, but who also ask themselves: What needs are there? – and who are then experts in how to produce in order to satisfy these needs.

Thus we have, I might say, the first link of the associations. The second link is taken from the series of those who have to supply the market, who, therefore, when a product is manufactured somewhere, have to arrange for its transportation, or initiate negotiations for it to be transported to the place where it is needed. So we find, so to speak, experts in consumption, experts in trade and, thirdly, experts in production. However, these are taken from the free spiritual life, because this includes everything that flows from the spiritual into productive life through abilities.

You see, representatives of all three limbs of the social organism will be present in the economic associations; only the associations themselves will belong only to the economic link and will only deal with economic matters: with the consumption, circulation and production of goods and the pricing that results from this. Therefore, in the threefold social organism, there are corporations that have sole competence within the respective link. In the economic associations, nothing but economic issues are discussed; but in the associations, of course, the people who have their abilities and competencies for the negotiations come from the free spiritual life and the legal-state. It is therefore not a matter of placing the three elements of the social organism schematically next to each other, but of having administrations and corporations with expertise in the individual matters. That is what it is about.

The details will be clear to you from the “key points”. First of all, it is a matter of always appealing to the intellectual life with regard to capital, by saying: the person who has brought together the means of production through his abilities remains in the business as long as these abilities are present. Determining this is a matter for the intellectual life. Then it still attributes so much judgment to him that he can determine his successor. That also belongs to the free spiritual life. And if he cannot or will not do it himself, the free corporation of the free spiritual life decides. You see, everything that is a function of abstract capitalism passes over into the work of the free spiritual life within economic life. It is exactly the same as in the human organism. The blood is connected with the circulatory system, but it passes into the head and pulses through it. It is exactly the same with the real social organism. Therefore it is, in a sense, fatal that, especially abroad, particularly in Nordic countries, there has been such a strong tendency to speak of a “tripartite division” of the social organism instead of “tripartition”. This “tripartite” social organism naturally gives rise to terrible misunderstandings. It is a division that is not a division. The individual members must interact with each other. We must create a clear understanding of this.

And we can hope that the reasonable bourgeois, like the proletarians, will gradually come to understand the matter. We already had the beginnings of this in Stuttgart in 1919; elsewhere, a start may have been made here or there. But the opposition from all sides has become so active that we, with our few people, have not been able to hold out for the time being. Therefore, we have now called upon your strong forces so that a kind of strengthening of our advocacy for the threefold social organism can occur. It is now absolutely necessary, I would even say urgent, that a strong push be made for everything that emerges from anthroposophical spiritual science and what threefolding of the social organism is. Because in a certain respect, it is still a matter of our temporary existence or non-existence. We should not deceive ourselves about this.

But we must work towards great clarity in everything. That is why I have tried again to give as clear an idea as possible of associative life. If anyone wants to know more about associations, we can do that this evening by answering all kinds of questions. It must be a constant feature of our lectures that we strive for clarity and that we try to evoke an understanding of how lack of clarity in our public and social affairs has brought about our present situation. I will give you an example of this.

When you are asked about this or that today, people come to you with schematic questions. They ask you: what about capital, what about small businesses, what about land and so on? Well, with regard to healthy social conditions, the land question is settled in my “Key Points”, although it seems to have only been touched on in a subordinate clause. But everything that is otherwise discussed today stems from the fact that land is involved in our social life in an incredibly convoluted way.

When the newer economic life arose and imposed the character of a commodity on everything, for example, labor, so that everything can be bought, then land also became a commodity. You could buy and sell it. But what is actually involved in this buying and selling of land? If we want to understand this, we have to go back to very primitive conditions, in which the feudal lord had acquired a certain piece of land either by conquest or in some other way, and gave it to those who were to work it, who then, in kind or in other forms of payment, gave him a certain quota in return, which initially meant the origin of land rent. But why did the people give this rent to him, to the feudal lord or to the church, to the monastery? Why did they give it to him? What made it plausible for them to make such payments? Nothing else made it more plausible for them than if they, as small owners, worked on their land and soil to till and harvest it, since anyone could come along and chase them away. Being able to work the land requires protection of the land and soil. Now, in most cases, the feudal lords themselves had an army, which they maintained from the tributes, and that was for the protection of the land. And the land rent was paid not for the right to work the land, but for the protection of the land. The right to work the land had arisen entirely out of necessity, since the landowner himself could not work all the land. This had nothing to do with any other circumstances. But the land had to be protected. And that is what the dues were paid for. In the same way, the dues were paid to the monasteries. The monasteries themselves maintained armies with which they protected the land, or they were bound by some kind of treaty here or there in such a way that the land was secured by some other power relationship. If you trace the origin of the land rent, you have to see it as a tax for the protection of the land and soil. If we consider this original meaning of the land rent, we see that it refers to times when very primitive conditions prevailed, when, in economic terms, sovereign feudal lords or monasteries ruled who obeyed no one.

These conditions ceased, first in the West and only later in Central Europe, in that certain rights that the individual had - in certain areas of Germany they ceased to be individual rights at the very latest - were gradually transferred to individual princes, which was by no means an economic but a political process. The rights were transferred. With the transfer of the rights, the protection of the land was also transferred. It then became necessary for the prince to maintain the armies. For this he naturally had to demand a levy. Gradually, the systematization of the tax system came about, which weighs so heavily on us today. This was added to the other, but curiously the other remained! It lost its meaning, because the one who was now the landowner no longer needed to spend anything on the protection of land and property; the territorial prince or the state was now there for that. But the land rent remained. And with the new economic life, it gradually passed into the ordinary circulation of goods. The fact that the connection between land rent and land lost its meaning meant that land rent could be turned into a profit-making object. It is pure nonsense that has become reality. There is something in the process of circulation of values that has basically completely lost its meaning, but which is still treated today as a commodity.

Such things can be found everywhere in our economic life. They have arisen from some justified things. Something else has taken the place of these justified things. But the old has remained. And some new process has taken it up and introduced the senseless into social life.

If you now simply take economic life as it is – if you are a professor of economics and thus have the task of thinking as little as possible in the sense I have characterized it before – then you define the land rent as it is written in the books today. And as something so senseless, it also figures in life today. So you can see how much work there is to be done to make people understand that we not only have nonsense in our system of thought, but also everywhere in economic life. And when the individual sighs under economic life, it is actually from such undergrounds. What is needed today is to arrive at a more thorough, unprejudiced, comprehensive thinking than that which can be developed by sitting in today's educational institutions.

For ultimately, what kind of thinking is being developed there today? The thinking that is perhaps characterized by mathematics is being developed. But it is being developed in such a way that it stands apart from all reality. Then they develop the kind of thinking that can be learned through experimentation, that can be learned through systematics. They develop the kind of thinking that has finally become a mere formality in the hands of people like Poincare, Mach and so on, something that they merely call “summarizing external reality.” In short, they do not develop any kind of thinking at all! And because they do not develop any thinking, they cannot do anything in economics at all.

Indeed, a method of economics has gradually emerged – Lujo Brentano handled it particularly cleverly – that develops out of understandable needs the theory that one should not think at all about what economic life should be, but only observe it correctly. Well, one should imagine how one is somehow to arrive at a science of economic life by mere observation! It would be like advising the pedagogue to just observe the children. It would never be possible to develop an activity from it. That is why our economic theorists are so terribly sterile, because they have the method of passively confronting external reality.

And the other side of the coin becomes apparent when people really do start to intervene in economic life. On the one hand, they developed a science that only observes. But when war came to Central Europe, they were suddenly supposed to intervene in economic life, even to the point of influencing price formation. What was the result? The economist Terhalle summarized the results: First, he said, and he cites countless scientific proofs in his book on “Free or Fixed Pricing?” First: things have been done in such a way that you can see that the people who did it didn't know what was important at all. Secondly, they are based on theoretical schematisms that have so little to do with reality that, by applying them, they ruin reality. Thirdly, in influencing the formation of prices, it has come about that individual trades have not been helped but harmed; and fourthly, honest craftsmanship and trade have been harmed in favor of profiteering! Just imagine what it means for an official economist to have to judge the political and governmental economic activity of recent years on the basis of economic research: that it has favored profiteering at the expense of honest trade and craftsmanship! One has only to sense what this actually means. These things must be said to people, as clearly as possible, so that one can see how powerless our civilization has become in the face of reality.

If we do not clarify such things as I have just told you with regard to land rent, we will not be able to show people the necessity of the associations; because just imagine the associations installed in the most makeshift way: immediately, experience reveals how damagingly all the unnatural things in economic life affect the formation of prices. This cannot come to light, of course, if economic life is organized in such a way that the agents go out into the countryside and do business for the individual enterprises. There they cannot be confronted with the connection between production and consumption. They do not have the interest to focus on how much should be produced. For them, only the one self-evident “truth” applies, that their master can produce as much as possible. This interest in the master's production being as strong as possible must be replaced by the positive knowledge: how many producers must there be, because we have seen that there is such and such a demand for an article, so that it must be ensured that not too many and not too few work on the territory in question for this purpose? The objective interest must take the place of the interest in the individual entrepreneur. That is what matters in the association.

Now we have to show people how economic life, because it has so many absurd elements in it – because in addition to the land rent, there are many others – is already pushing for integration. The cartel system, with the quota allocation of profit, demand, sales and so on, the merging, the amalgamation – what does it arise from? In Europe it takes more the form of a cartel, in America more that of a trust. It arises from the fact that the individual can no longer produce due to the many absurd elements that are in economic life. Just think how different it is today, when everything is pushing towards large-scale enterprise, than it was when the sole trader or small business owner was part of economic life. What can a person ask today if they want to start their own business? They can only ask how the market for a particular product is doing, whether there is demand for a particular product. A product that is in demand seems promising, a product that is not in demand does not seem promising.

In the past, when the number of entrepreneurs was small, it did not matter much; only when there were too many did the individual ones perish. But suppose that everything tends towards large-scale enterprise, when it is noticed that a particular article is needed and that something can be earned from it. By setting up the large-scale enterprise, you abolish the very thing from which you concluded that it was necessary to set up the large-scale enterprise! Because everything tends towards large-scale enterprise, what used to be decisive for the individual small entrepreneur is no longer decisive. This is why the necessity for mergers arises. And so we have cartels, trusts and so on, because the leading circles were quite careless with regard to consumption. Because they did not care about it, these mergers arise only out of the interests of the producers. Consumption is not taken into account.

The essential thing is that it is shown: You can no longer get by in economic life without association. Therefore, the one-sided associations of cartels and trusts, which, however, arise from mere production interests, must be supplemented by being based on an understanding of consumption, on an insight into the needs of a particular territory. Thus the trusts and cartels, by being caricatures of what should arise, show how necessary it is to move in a certain direction, in the direction of association. One has only to look at what kind of associations should now be created.

Characterization must be based on real life in all cases. Then perhaps we shall be able to make people understand how necessary associations are for economic life. And so it will actually be a matter of giving the lectures you now want to give in terms that are as clear as possible. The prerequisite must be that what is given in the “key points” is basically a kind of axiom of modern social life. It is never necessary to prove the Pythagorean theorem in all its individual objects. But it must prove itself in all its individual objects. Just as little is it necessary to prove the insight into social conditions, as it is gained, in detail; it is proved as such by its content, like the Pythagorean theorem. And one has only to show how things must be integrated into life. This must be taken into account.

And I would like to say this: Let us really consider our activity in such a way that it connects with what has already been done. That is why I said yesterday: It is necessary to look at our movement as a whole and not to be embarrassed to present what has been done to the people and to tell them that it is there. We have an experience again and again, in fact in a truly alarming way: When I go somewhere to give a lecture, there is a table of books at the entrance of the hall. It is only looked at if I do not mention any of the books. If I do mention one, it is bought. Usually there are not enough of them available. The others are passed over. Well, I always regret that there are so many books. You can't mention them all in a single lecture. Therefore, we must also face the present with a sense of reality. I recommend that you do not disdain any opportunity to recommend the Dreigliederungszeitung where you can, because we must reach the stage where the Dreigliederungszeitung becomes a daily newspaper. But we will not reach that stage unless we make it more popular than it is. So, we must face reality to that extent. But don't forget to recommend something else as well! Otherwise the other things will be returned unpurchased in huge numbers. It may look strange to say such things in serious lectures, but if we don't say them, they are very often not done either. And we have come together to agree on the things that should be done. Because we want to do something in the near future.

You will remember that on the last occasion when I was able to speak to you here, I gave you a description of the experiences of the soul during sleep. Today I would like to carry the subject a little further. It will, I am sure, already be clear to you that one whose knowledge of human life confines itself to daytime existence, knows only half the life of man; for things of the very greatest importance take place during sleep. There is no need for me here to explain first the methods by which one comes to know these things; I assume from the outset that you receive what I say as coming from the exact clairvoyance which you will remember I described in my lectures here in London, a few months ago. [Knowledge and Initiation and Knowledge of the Christ through Anthroposophy. Two lectures, London, 14 and 15 April, 1922.]

When man passes from day-consciousness into sleep-consciousness—which is for the man of the present time unconsciousness—he is not in his physical body, nor in his etheric body. During sleep he is a purely spiritual being. On my last visit I gave you a description, from one aspect, of the experience man undergoes as soul and spirit between the times of falling asleep and awaking. Today I want to describe this experience from another side.

You will remember how in sleep man goes out into the cosmic ether, and feeling himself in the midst of a vast and vague unknown is at first overcome with anxiety and apprehension; then you will also remember how in this moment something awakens in the soul which one can call—borrowing the expression from conscious life—a yearning for the Divine. And we went on to speak of how in the second stage of sleep man experiences a reflection of the movements of the planets, and how, for one who has already a relation to the Mystery of Golgotha, Christ then appears, to be his Guide through the otherwise chaotic experiences that come to him while he is living his way through a kind of reproduction or copy of the life of the stars and the planets. For now comes the experience of the fixed stars. Man goes forth, from the planetary spheres—we mean of course the copy of the planetary spheres—and enters upon an experience of the constellations of the fixed stars. So that between falling asleep and awaking, man actually covers the whole cosmic existence beyond the Earth. I told you moreover that it is the forces of the Moon (the spiritual counterpart of what reveals itself to us in the various lunar phenomena) that bring man back again in the morning—or whenever he wakes up—bring him back into his physical and into his etheric body.

And now I should like, as I said, to describe these experiences from another angle. Unless we have allowed ourselves to become completely involved and imprisoned in the materialistic ideas of modern times, the conscious life that we lead in the daytime has for us a moral and also a religious foundation. We have our knowledge of Nature; but we cannot help feeling that we have in us something more than knowledge and science, that we have as well, moral duties, moral responsibilities, and we feel moreover that our whole being is grounded in a spiritual world. This latter realisation may be described as a religious consciousness. It is, however, only because he is in the physical body, that he is able to have this religious consciousness. It is, however, only because he is in the physical body, that he is able to have this religious consciousness in waking life. For you must understand that in his physical body man is not alone, but with him are spirits of higher cosmic rank; in his physical body, man lives together with higher spirits. And man lives, in his ether-body, with the moral purposes of these higher spirits. Thus, the religious consciousness of man is dependent on his life in the physical body, and his moral consciousness on his life in the etheric body. And this leads us to distinguish two parts in the cosmic ether, from which, as you know, our own ether-body is derived. One part is warmth, light, chemical ether, life ether. But behind all this, behind the warmth and light and chemical processes and life, is a moral element—the moral essence of the cosmic ether.

Now this moral essence of the cosmic ether is present only in the neighbourhood of stars and planets. If you are living on the Earth, then you are not only within the cosmic ether, but also within its moral essence, although by day you do not know it. And when you wander through the cosmos, then whenever you are in the environment of a star, you are in the moral essence of the cosmos ether. But in between the stars, the moral element is driven out of the ether by the action of the sunlight. Note that I say the sunlight, not the Sun, which is a cosmic body within which is contained the very source and origin of the moral ether; but when the Sun shines, then by means of its light it drives away the moral essence of the ether. And so it comes about that when we look out through our eyes on to the world, we see flowers, we see springs and brooks, we see the whole face of Nature, but without any moral element discernible within it; the sunlight has killed out the moral element. And when we fall asleep and leave our physical and etheric bodies, then we take with us what we have acquired in this way during waking hours on Earth by beholding Nature; but strange as it may sound, we leave behind us our religious feeling and our moral feeling, we leave them behind with the physical and with the ether-body, and our soul and spirit live as an a-moral being during the time of sleep.

This has an important consequence for us. We are living during this time in a world that has been irradiated by the light of the Sun. This means that the moral ordering of the world has gone out of the ether. Consequently the Ahrimanic Being has access to the ether in which we find ourselves as soon as we fall asleep. And this Ahrimanic Being speaks to man while he is asleep. And what he says is most mischievous, for he is rightly called the father of lies; he makes good appear bad to the sleeping human being and bad good.

Reference has been made in the newspapers recently to questions that are being investigated by scientists, as to why criminals sleep well, while moral people with a good conscience often sleep badly. The matter is explained when you consider what I have been telling you. In the case of a highly conscientious and devout man, who has a fine moral feeling, his moral sensibility enters so deeply into his soul that he takes it with him into sleep; with the result that he sleeps badly, believing as he does that he has been guilty of many misdeeds. A bad man, on the other hand, whose moral sensibility is very little developed, will carry with him into sleep no such pangs of conscience,—and this will mean of course at the same time that he will have, spiritually speaking, an open ear for the whisperings of Ahriman who makes evil appear good. Hence the quiet and contented sleep of the criminal! People say, it is not fair that criminals should sleep well, while good people often have poor and disturbed slumber. The fact is to be accounted for in the way I have shown.

The enticement to evil to which man is exposed during sleep is, in truth, exceedingly great, and it can easily happen that in the morning he brings over with him from sleep terrible demonic forces of temptation. Only when he has come down again into his physical and etheric body, will a man who is not very good and upright begin to feel pricks of conscience,—not before. There is thus abundant possibility for, man to fall a victim to Ahriman during the time of sleep.

The danger has by no means always been so great as it is today. In the course of the centuries it has gradually come about that men are so gravely exposed during sleep to the seductions of demonic powers, which make evil appear good. In earlier times of the evolution of mankind things were different. Man had then, as I have often explained to you, nothing like so strong an ego-consciousness as he has now. In the daytime, when he was awake, his ego-consciousness was weaker; and that meant also that during sleep he did not sail so smoothly into evil as he does today. He was protected. The fact is, we are living today in a time that is bringing us to a certain crisis in evolution. It behoves men to arm themselves against the powers of evil that approach them when they fall asleep. In older times men were protected through the fact that when they went to sleep, they entered more into the group-soul. During sleep man lived in the group-soul. We today still live to a certain extent in the group-soul during our waking hours; we feel we belong to a particular nation, often even to a particular clan; or perhaps we are inclined to put on aristocratic airs, and like to feel ourselves as members of a certain family. But sleep takes us right out of the group-soul feeling. It is hardly possible for the man of today to be an aristocrat in sleep. Yes, sleep is a great educator, more than you would think; on the one hand it educates man, it is true, in evil, as we have seen; but on the other hand, it educates him in democracy. The man of olden time passed into the group-soul when he fell asleep; and when he awoke and returned to his physical and to his etheric body, he brought with him a strong feeling of belonging to his group.

There you have the one side of man's life,—what he is during sleep. Man, of course, carries in him all the time the part of his nature that is exposed in sleep at the present day to the temptations of demonic forces, he has it in him continuously. Only, when he is awake, he has to let it merge into the moral and religious consciousness. The religious side of man is given to him, as we saw, by the powers that live with him in his physical body, and the moral side by the powers that live with him in his ether-body.

The man of an older time, who during sleep lived strongly, as we have seen, in the group-consciousness—it was with the Mystery of Golgotha that all this became changed for the further evolution of mankind—the man of an older time, when he dived down again, on awaking, into his physical and his etheric body, began to live then more in himself, But here we discover another difference between him and us. For when he was waking up and coming down again into his physical and ether body, before he was quite awake, he had a clear consciousness of the life he had lived ere he descended to Earth. And he had the same clear consciousness again just before falling asleep. Whilst, therefore, on the one hand he developed a strong group-consciousness, he had at the same time also a strong feeling of belonging to the life that is beyond the Earth. He knew quite well that he had come down from the spiritual world, had passed through the world of the stars, and had chosen for himself a physical body here on Earth. As time went on, this consciousness became darkened. In compensation, men became ‘clever’—as we understand the word today. They developed powers of judgment and discrimination. This kind of faculty has evolved only in the course of time. It is our physical body that gives us the power of judgment,—and this is the reason we are able to exercise the power best during the morning hours. We enter more deeply in these days into our physical and etheric bodies than men did in olden times. Consequently, while they had a consciousness of their life before birth, we have a consciousness rather of earthly existence. We establish ourselves firmly in our physical and etheric body. They did not do so. They might be said to ‘carry’ their physical and etheric body, they carried it round with them, feeling it as something external to themselves, rather as we feel the clothes that we wear. We have quite lost this feeling. We no longer say as they did, when they were going through a door: I carry my physical being through the door. That was for them an entirely natural way of speaking. We would never say that; we say: I walk through the door. We press our I, our ego, right into the physical body; it is therefore perfectly natural for us to express ourselves in this way. And in consequence of this development, we have lost also the consciousness of our connection with the spiritual world and with the world of the stars. The man of an earlier time knew that he was connected with the world of the stars. He knew quite well that he was connected with the world of the stars, and also with the spiritual world that is behind the world of the stars: he knew that he had descended from these worlds to earthly existence.

Modern man will say: In order to live, I need meat, vegetables, eggs, etc. He needs, that is, products of the physical world, and with these he must concern himself from birth to death. Please do not imagine for a moment dear friends, that I mean to speak scornfully or slightingly of the food we eat. It is good in itself and belongs to life; let that be fully recognised. I want only to point out that the men of olden time[s] knew that in order to have strength to live, man needs more than the forces of the Earth that reside in beef and cabbage and egg, he needs also Jupiter and Venus and Saturn, They knew for a fact that just as man, when he is here on Earth, needs to eat eggs, so too has he need to have received, before he came down to Earth, the strength of Jupiter and of Venus; otherwise he could not be earthly man at all. Modern man feels united with the Earth and is very much concerned about what he must eat to keep his body in health. The man of an older time felt a need to be in right relationship with the stars. He said to himself: If I suffer, here on Earth, from some inability or lack of skill, it must be that I did not acquit myself well while descending into the world of the stars; I must put that right next time I make the journey from death to a new birth.

It is indeed so that in those times man evolved what might be called a spiritual diet. In the Mysteries there were leaders and guides who were not unlike our modern doctors of medicine. The modern doctor gives his advice about man's body. That is quite understandable, and no reproach is intended. But the leaders in the Mysteries, who were also physicians, would for example, if a man suffered from some physical infirmity, give instruction as to how he could better his relationship to Venus, or it may be to Saturn. It was thus advice for the soul that these leaders in the Mysteries gave. Let us suppose a physician of this kind found that the person who had come to him for healing was too strongly attracted to his physical body. Instead of feeling his body merely as a garment for his soul, he was firmly bound to it, rather like a man of the present day who persisted in sleeping in his clothes. The physician would say to such a person: When the Moon is full, try going out for a walk in its light, when it is rising in the evening; and while you walk, repeat a certain mantram.

Why did the physician of the ancient Mysteries give this advice? Because he knew that when a person goes for a walk in the light of the Moon, repeating the while certain mantrams, that will counteract the Saturn force, and so it will come about that Saturn has less power over him. For, you see, this physician of olden times knew that the clinging to the physical body, the being so closely knit with it, was due to the fact that the person in question had held on too strongly to Saturn when he was passing through the world of the stars, on his way from the spiritual world into earthly life. This excessive attraction to the life of Saturn had given him the infirmity from which he was suffering. But now the two heavenly bodies, Moon and Saturn, tend to counteract one another. In order, therefore, to cure an affliction due to the Saturn forces, the physician would have recourse to the forces of the Moon. He would, in effect, prescribe a spiritual diet.

We have today a physical diet and that is quite right and suitable for us. In the olden times man felt the need for a diet of a more spiritual kind, and we must now learn to add to our physical diet also a spiritual diet. That is the mission of the present age; we have our physical diet, and we must regain a feeling for the importance of a spiritual diet as well. If we can do this, it will enable us to achieve the tasks that call for fulfilment at this present moment in earth evolution.

This is what I wanted to put before you in the first part of my lecture.

*

It is a satisfaction to me, my dear friends, that I shall be able to give you two more lectures after today, and so I do not need to hurry—as I would otherwise be obliged to do—but can go more fully into that which lies on my heart to say to you on the occasion of this visit.

Vision of the pre-earthly life, of the life man lived in the spiritual world before he united himself here on Earth with a physical and an etheric body, was possible to the men of old, for they possessed an elemental clairvoyance. To attain such vision today we need the help of anthroposophical science. When with this help we have learned to look with the consciousness of Inspiration upon the time we pass through before we descend to Earth, we behold how we live for a long while in an entirely spiritual world, a world where there is no mineral kingdom, no plant kingdom, no animal kingdom,—a world where there are not even the stars that we see shining far away in the encircling heavens, a world, where we have around us spiritual beings, beings of the higher hierarchies. Throughout this period of the time between death and a new birth, we live among spiritual beings. And then we begin to travel through the starry heavens on our way back to Earth, passing—now with more, now again with less, sympathy—through the various starry spheres. And this is the time when we prepare our coming earthly life. For according as we relate ourselves to the starry spheres through which we pass, so will be our life on Earth. Let me give you an example of how this preparation takes place.

Coming forth from the world that is purely spiritual, we pass first through the sphere of the fixed stars. Of these I will not speak just now; that will come in the next lecture. Then we pass through the spheres of Saturn, Jupiter and Mars, through the Sun sphere, and through the spheres of Mercury, Venus and Moon, and so by gradual stages come down to Earth. You will realise from the description that we approach the spheres of the stars from the other side. When you stand on Earth and look at Jupiter, you are seeing Jupiter from one side. And when a being—in this case, a human being—is descending from the spiritual world and passes, on his way to Earth, through the spheres of the stars, then at the time when we, looking from the Earth, see Saturn, this being, as he approaches Saturn, will be seeing it from the other side. It will be the same with all the stars. Coming from the spiritual world, he approaches the stars from behind, as it were, and sees the reverse of what men see on Earth with physical sight. You will not of course imagine that the human being who is making his journey to the Earth ‘sees’ in the way we do. He has no eyes as yet, he will only get eyes when he has a physical body. What he sees is spiritual. He sees Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Sun, in their spiritual aspect; Venus also, then Mercury and Moon. And according to the measure of the sympathy or antipathy with which he passes through the one or other sphere, so will be the forces he receives in the course of his descent from each sphere in turn,—forces of Saturn, forces of Jupiter, and so on.

Let us imagine a particular case. In consequence of the way in which he lived his former life on Earth, a human soul may have the feeling, when the time comes to descend to a new life: It will be good if this time I come to Earth as a woman; if this time I incarnate in a female body.

It is an important question for the descending human soul to decide, whether it shall become man or woman. Its whole destiny on earth depends on the decision; for it is by no means a matter of indifference whether in one particular incarnation we go through our life as a man or a woman. But it is not enough for the soul simply to come to the conclusion: I will be a man, or, I will be a woman. Due preparation has to be made. If the soul desires to be a woman, it will approach the Earth at the time of Full Moon. When we, looking from the Earth, see the Moon full, the soul that is approaching from the spiritual world will see it dark. Now what the soul sees is of course, the spiritual aspect of the Moon. Seeing it dark, the soul sees it ‘peopled,’ as it were, with certain beings. And these beings it is who will prepare the soul, so that, when it comes on Earth, it shall be attracted to a female body. On the other hand, when we, looking from the Earth, see New Moon—which means, we cannot see it at all—then the soul that is descending and sees the Moon from the other side, will see it lit up, will see the light that rays forth from it out into cosmic space,—that is, of course, the spiritual in the light. In this case, the soul can become a man. Whether it receives the forces that bring it to a male or to a female incarnation depends, you see, on the manner of the soul's journey through the spheres of the stars.

And now, in addition to passing through the sphere of the Moon, the soul has also to go, for example, through the spheres of Mercury and Venus. While the manner of its journey through the sphere of the Moon determines whether the soul is to become man or woman, by its passage through the sphere of Venus the soul is endowed with greater or less sympathy for a particular family. For the soul could, of course, be man or woman in this or that or any other family. This attraction to a family is determined in the following way.

A human soul may be descending, for instance, at a time when Venus is right on the other side of the Earth, and the soul may thus be able to disregard the Venus sphere. Such a soul will then have no great connection with his family. Or the soul may, on the other hand, go past Venus, and it can do so in a variety of ways. It will then elect to take the path through the Venus sphere that guides it to some particular family. For the soul has this possibility; it can prepare itself for belonging to a particular family by choosing, as it were, the ‘ray’ that goes from Venus to this family. Coming down from the other side, the dark side, of Venus, the soul then draws near to Earth and finds its way to that family,

The same kind of thing may happen in regard to the Mercury sphere. The sphere of Mercury leads the soul to find its way into a particular folk or people. When the region inhabited by this people is receiving rays of Mercury, then the soul, coming from the other side and approaching the dark side of Mercury, will be helped to find its way to this people.

Thus are human souls prepared for life on Earth. Through the influence of the Moon—and when we speak of these heavenly bodies, it is always the spiritual in them that we have in mind—through the influence of the Moon, preparation is made for the soul to become man or woman; through the influence of Venus, for the soul to belong to some family; through the influence of Mercury, to belong to some folk or people.

The whole life of man on Earth depends, as you see, on the relationship he establishes with the spheres in the course of his descent from the spiritual world. The knowledge of this has been lost. We must regain it. We are accustomed to think of ourselves as composed of hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, carbon, sulphur, etc. But we must come also to feel—quite simply and naturally—that we are composed and are created out of the world of the stars. For we are not just physical human beings made up of protein and a few other substances. All the forces of the universe have combined to form us. These forces of the universe work upon us while we are descending. When we come to Earth, we have them within us,—and something of a memory of this remains to us in sleep. Memory is however always, as you know very well, weaker than the actual experience. When someone who is dear to you has died, think how the memory of the event grows less vivid and powerful as time goes on. And it is the same with the memory we still have in sleep, of how it was with us when we had living and present experiences of the spiritual world, and of the world of the stars. The memory grows dim; and that is why man is exposed now in sleep to the temptations I described earlier in today's lecture. Thus a dim and feeble after-image in sleep—a weak cosmic memory—is all that is left of the experience we had with the spiritual world and with the stars during the time between death and our last birth.

This, dear friends, is what I wanted to say to you today byway of introduction. We shall continue with it next time we meet.

As we live through the day and realize all that we owe to the sun, and to what extent the tasks of life are connected with the sunlight, we forget that through the whole pleasure and satisfaction we derive from the sunlight, there runs the thread of sure knowledge that, on the following morning, after we have rested through the night, the sun will rise anew for us. This is a part of the confidence that lives in our soul—confidence in the lasting reality of the world order. We may not always consciously realize it, but if asked, we should certainly answer in this sense. We devote ourselves to-day to our work because we know that the fruit of our work is assured for tomorrow, that after the night's rest the sun will reappear, and the fruits of our labor can ripen. We turn our gaze upon the earth's covering of plants; this year we revere and admire all its display; we know that the world order ordains that the same covering of plants and fruits for next year will proceed from the seed of this year. If asked again why we live on with such a sense of security, we should in similar circumstances give the answer that the reality of the world order seems to us assured; it seems to us a matter of certainty that what has matured as far as seed in the old crops will in reality reappear.

But there is something of special significance for our inner soul-life, there is something in life which requires a pledge or guarantee of some kind, because, for those who truly think and feel, it does not bear that guarantee of certainty within itself—‘our ideals’—and so much is contained in the expression, ‘our ideals.’ When we think and feel in a higher sense, our ideals belong to those things that are more important to our souls than is external reality. It is our ideals which set our souls inwardly aflame, and in many connections impart to its life its value and dearness. When we look into external life, and at what assures for us the reality of life, we are often troubled by the thought: does this reality contain something that assures to us just the most precious thing in life—the realization of our ideals?

Innumerable conflicts of the human soul proceed from the fact that people doubt more or less strongly in the realization of that upon which they would fain rely with every fiber of their being; that is to say, the realization of their ideals. We need only consider the world of the physical plane in an unprejudiced way and we shall find innumerable human souls passing through the hardest, bitterest struggles owing to the non-attainment of what they hold to be of value in the ideal sense. For from the evolution of reality we cannot in the same sense conclude that our ideals in life will prove to be the seed of a future reality in the same way as the plant seeds of this year foretell the coming harvest. These plant-seeds, we know, will bear within them that which next year will be reality in the widest sense. But if we consider our ideals, we may indeed cherish in our souls the belief that these ideals will have some significance, some value for life; but certainty we cannot have. As human beings we should like our ideals to be the seeds for a later future, but we look in vain for that which can give them assured reality. Even when we consider the physical plane, we find our souls with their ideals, frequently in a parlous condition.

Let us pass from the world of the physical plane into the world of the occult, into the world of hidden spirituality. A man who has become a spiritual seer learns to know souls in the period through which they have to pass between death and a new birth, and it is very significant when one turns the spiritual gaze upon those souls who in their earthly life, were wholly filled with high ideals, with ideals brought forth out of the fire and the light of their hearts.

A man has passed through the gate of death, and has before him the well-known life-tableau, the memory-picture of his past earth life, and interwoven with it is the world of ideals. This world of ideals can come before a man after death in such a way that his feelings concerning it may be expressed as follows: ‘these ideals which have fired and illumined my heart in its innermost recesses, and which I have considered the dearest, the most intimate treasure of my heart, now assume a strange unfamiliar aspect. They look as though they would not rightly belong to all that I remember as actual earth-experience on the physical plane.’ Yet the dead man feels himself magnetically attracted to these ideals of his; he feels, as it were, fascinated by them. But they may also contain an element that gives him a mild shock; he feels that this element may be dangerous, that it may alienate him from the earth-evolution, and what is connected with the Earth-evolution in the life between death and a new birth. In order to express myself quite clearly, I should like to connect what I have said with concrete experiences, with which some of those sitting here are already familiar, but which must this evening be illumined from a certain side so that they may be brought into connection with what I have said in reference to the nature of human ideals.

Of recent years, a man of poetic nature joined us [Christian Morgenstern.]. As the result of a life of dedication to the purest idealism, and a life that had already in pre-anthroposophical days passed through a mystical deepening, this man entered our Movement. Despite the fact that his soul dwelt in a body that was a prey to consumption, he dedicated himself, heart and soul, to our Movement. In the spring of this year we lost him from the earth-life; he passed through the gate of death. He has left to mankind a series of wonderful poems, which have been recently published. Owing to the difficulties of his external physical life, he was in a certain sense, for long periods separated in space from our Movement, either in a lonely spot in the Swiss mountains, or in some other place, where he had to care for his health. But away there, he clung to our Movement, and his poems, which in certain circles have lately been recited over and over again, are the poetic reflection, as it were, of what we have been developing for more than ten years. Now he has passed through the gate of death, and a very remarkable thing results from the occult observance of this soul. The significance of the soul's life in that disease-stricken body has become apparent only since the death of that body. That which this soul absorbed while his soul faithfully followed the progress of our Movement, developed greater force under the surface of the gradually dying body. The diseased body concealed this so long as the soul dwelt within it. And now, when one comes into the presence of this soul after death, there shines forth, as it can only shine forth in the spiritual life, the content of the life which this soul absorbed. The cloudlike sphere, as it were, in which our friend now lives after having passed through the gate of death, is present like a mighty cosmic tableau. For the occult observer it is a most striking sight. It may, perhaps, be said that the occult seer is able to cast his gaze round the whole wide sphere of the cosmic world, but it is one thing to allow the gaze to wander round the whole sphere of the cosmic world of soul, and another to see, separated out from a particular human soul something that has the appearance of a mighty tableau, like a painting of what otherwise is there of itself in the spiritual world. Just as we have the physical world around us, and then see it reflected in the magnificent paintings of a Raphael or Michelangelo, so is it in the spiritual world in the case of which we are here speaking. Just as one never says in presence of a picture by Michelangelo or Raphael, ‘this picture gives me nothing more for I have the whole great reality before me,’—so one does not say, in observing the tableau that mirrors in a soul all that one elsewhere perceives in the vision of spiritual reality, that this soul tableau is not an infinite enrichment. And it may be said that there is infinitely more to be learnt in the presence of this friend who after death contains in his soul a reflection of all that has been described from out the spiritual worlds through the course of many years, than from direct contemplation of the vastness of spiritual reality.

This is an occult fact. I have repeatedly mentioned it to friends in different places and I have now taken from it elements that are of importance in connection with the subject we are to-day considering. As this occult fact presents itself, it shows me something else. In face of all the opposition to-day to the promulgation of occult teaching as we give it—the question may often be put (I will not say there is ‘doubt’ but that the question is put): ‘What progress will this occult teaching find in the hearts and souls of men?’ ‘Is there any guarantee, any assurance that the work of the Anthroposophical Society will continue to influence the course of the spiritual evolution of humanity?’ The sight of what the soul of our friend has become is one such assurance from the occult world. Why? The friend who has left behind him the poems: Wir Janden einen Pfad (‘We found a Path’) lives in the immense cosmic tableau that is for him after death like a kind of soul-body; but while he was connected with us, he absorbed into his being our teaching about the Christ. He absorbed this anthroposophical teaching, binding it to his own soul in such a way that it became the very spiritual heart-blood of his soul; it contained the Christ as substance. The Christ Being flowed into him in the teaching. The Christ, as He lives in our Movement, passed over into his soul. In the face of this occult fact, the following presents itself. The man who goes through the gate of death may indeed live in a cosmic tableau of this kind; he will go forward with it through the life that lies between death and a new birth. This will work and be embodied in his whole being, or rather it will ‘en-soul’ his whole being, and it will permeate his new earth-life, when he again descends to a life on earth. There is also this in addition, that such a soul receives a germ of perfection for its own life, and progresses in the evolution of the earth's existence. All this comes to pass because of the fact that such a soul has absorbed the teaching into its being. But this particular soul accepted all the teaching, steeped through and spiritualized by the Christ Being, by the conception of the Christ Being which we can make our own. All that such a soul absorbed, however, is not merely a treasure stimulating the further evolution of this single soul, but through Christ Who is there for all mankind, it is a treasure which works back again upon the whole of mankind. And that cosmic tableau which for clairvoyant eyes is being developed in the soul of him who this spring passed through the portal of death-that Christ enfilled soul-tableau, is to me an assurance that what may be given to-day from out of the spiritual worlds will, through the love of Christ radiate into souls who will come later. They will be set on fire, inspired by it. Not only will our friend carry forward our Christ-enfilled teaching to the greater perfecting of his own life, but because it has become part of his being it will become an impulse from the spiritual world to the souls who will live in the coming centuries; into them will pour the rays of that which is Christ-enfilled. Your souls cannot take in for themselves alone the teaching which is their most precious possession, but they will bear it through epochs of evolution yet to come. If you will enfill this teaching with Christ, it will stream forth as a seed into the whole of humanity because the Christ Being belongs to the whole of humanity. Where Christ is, the treasures of life are not isolated; their fruitfulness for individuals is always there, but at the same time they become a treasure for the whole of mankind.

We must place this clearly before our souls. We see then what a significant difference there is between Wisdom that is not filled with Christ, and Wisdom that is illuminated by the Light of Christ. When we come together in a narrower circle of our Society we are not there for the sake of abstract considerations, but in order to follow up true occultism, undismayed by what the modern world has to say against this occultism. Consequently we may speak of matters which only come to our knowledge through investigation in the spiritual.

A second example shall be mentioned. In recent years we have had occasion in Munich to perform what we call the Mystery Dramas, and Swedish friends have frequently been present. The performances of these Mystery Dramas had to differ in many respects from other performances. There had to be a sense of responsibility to the spiritual ·world. One could not attend these Mystery Plays as if one were going to an ordinary theatre. What is done in such a case must proceed from one's own soul-powers. But let us understand clearly that when in our physical life we want to carry something out through the will of our souls, we are compelled to use our muscular power, which is imparted to us from without, as it were, but which belongs to us. If we lack this muscular power that comes to us from outside, we cannot carry out certain things. In a certain sense muscular force belongs to us, and yet again not to us. So it is with our spiritual faculties, only there, our physical forces, our muscular forces do not help us when these faculties are to be active in the spiritual spheres. The powers of the spiritual world itself must come to our aid; the powers and forces which stream out of the spiritual world into our physical world must irradiate and permeate us. Undertakings of a different character may indeed begin with another consciousness. It was always clear to me that the facts could only be presented as the years went on, that the different impulses might only be used when definite spiritual forces, moving in this direction, flowed into our human forces, when spiritual ‘Guardian-Angel’ forces flowed into our human forces.

In the early days when we were beginning our activities in a very small circle—and when we gathered together in Berlin, at the beginning of this century, it was always very easy to count the number present. For a short time a faithful soul was always among them, a soul who through her Karma possessed a special talent for beauty and art. Even though it was for a short time, this soul worked with us, in all our most intimate activities. With an inner depth of feeling, and an enlightened enthusiasm, this soul worked among us, and absorbed the cosmological teachings which it was possible to give at that time. And I remember even to-day how at that time a fact came before my soul which may perhaps seem unimportant, but which may be mentioned here. When our Movement began, a periodical which, for well-considered reasons, was called ‘Lucifer,’ came into being. At that time I wrote an article under the title of ‘Lucifer’ which was meant to lay down, in germ at any rate, the direction along which we wished to work. That article, even if it does not say so in words, adhered to the direction in which the then Theosophical—and now Anthroposophical Society—should be maintained, and I may say that that article too is Christ-enfilled. The lifeblood of Christianity is in that article, and as such it can flow into those souls who absorb what that article contains. It may perhaps here be mentioned that at that time this article met with the most heated opposition among the circle of the few who had joined us from the old theosophical Movement. Everywhere was this article considered entirely ‘untheosophical.’ The personality of whom I have been speaking entered into this article with the warmest possible heart and the deepest inner feeling; and I was able to say to myself: when it is a question of the actual truth, her acquiescence is of far more importance for the progress of the Movement than all the rest of the opposition together. In short, this soul was deeply interwoven with all that was to flow into our anthroposophical Movement. She soon died; as early as 1904 she passed through the gate of death. For a while after death she had to struggle through in the spiritual world to that which she really was. Not so early as 1907, but from the time of our plays in Munich, from 1909 onwards, and then in an increasing degree as time went on, this soul was always there guarding and illuminating what I was able to undertake in connection with our Munich Festival Plays. All that this soul, owing to her talent for the beautiful, was able to give to the artistic realization of our anthroposophical ideas, worked down out of the spiritual world, as though from the guardian angel of our Mystery Plays, in such a way that one felt in oneself the power to take the necessary initiative. Just as in the physical world our muscular energy supports us, so the spiritual force streaming down from the spiritual worlds flowed into one's own spiritual force. Thus do the dead work with us, thus they are present with us. That was yet another case—and here comes the point about which I must specially speak to-day—that was again a case in which all that the personality had absorbed in the field of Anthroposophy manifestly assisted progress not only in her individual life, but it flowed back again to us in something that we ventured to do for the whole Movement. Two possibilities existed; this personality had accepted all that she could, she had it in her soul, and so she could apply it for the sake of her further progress through life and also through the life after death. ... That is right—it ought to happen so—for the human soul must, if it is to attain its divine goal, become ever more and more perfect; it must do all that is possible to help forward this perfecting. But because this soul had taken into herself the whole purport of what it is to be ‘Christ-enfilled,’ what she had taken into herself was able to work not merely for herself but it was able to flow down to us—and become in its effectiveness, a kind of common possession for us all. That is what Christ brings about when He permeates the fruits of our knowledge. He does not take away all that these fruits of our knowledge represent for our individuality; Christ died for all souls; and when we rise up to that knowledge which must be possessed by all true earth-men:—‘Not I, but the Christ in me’—when we realize the Christ within us in all that we know, and when we attribute to Christ the forces which we ourselves employ, then, what we take into our being works not for ourselves alone, but for the whole of humanity. It becomes fruitful for the whole of humanity. Look at the souls of men over the earth. Christ died for them all, and that which you receive in His Name you receive for your own perfecting, but also as a most precious possession that is effective for all mankind.

And now let us return to our introductory words this evening. It was said that when, after death, we look back upon our life-tableau, on that which we have lived through, it appears to us as though our ideals might have something strange about them. We feel in regard to our ideals that they really do not bear us forward to the common life of men, that they have no inherent guarantee of reality in the general life of men, that they carry us away from it. Lucifer has a powerful influence over our ideals because they flow in such beauty out of the human soul, but only out of the human soul, and are not rooted in external reality. This is why Lucifer has such power, and it is really the magnetic impulse of Lucifer which we experience after death. Lucifer approaches us, and the ideals we have are especially valuable to him, because by the indirect path of these ideals he can draw us to himself. But when we permeate with Christ all that we attain spiritually, when we feel the Christ in us, knowing that what we receive, is also received by the Christ in us—‘Not I, but the Christ in me’—then, when we pass through the gate of death we do not look back upon our ideals as though they tended to alienate us from the world. Our ideals have been committed to Christ and we know that it is Christ Who makes our ideals His own concern. He takes our ideals upon Himself. ‘Not I alone can so take my ideals upon myself that they are seeds for humanity upon the Earth, as surely as the plant-seeds of the present summer are seeds for the earthly plant-robe for the coming summer; but the Christ in me can do this; the Christ in me permeates my ideals with the reality of substance.’ And of those ideals we can say: ‘Yes, as man we give expression to ideals upon the earth, but in us lives Christ, and He takes them upon Him.’ These are the real germs of future reality. Christ-enfilled Idealism is permeated with the Seed of Reality, and he who truly understands Christ looks upon these ideals in this way; he says: Ideals have not as yet in themselves that guarantee of their own reality, their own actuality, which inheres in the plant-seed for the coming year; but when our ideals are committed to the Christ within us, then they are real seed. Whoever has a true Christ consciousness making into his life substance St. Paul's words ‘Not I, but the Christ in me is the Bearer of my ideals,’ he has this realization. He says: there are the ripe germinating seeds, there are the streams and seas, the hills and valleys—but close by is the world of idealism; this world of idealism is taken over by Christ, and it is like the seed of the future world in the world of the present, for Christ bears our ideals on into the next world as the God of Nature bears the plant-seeds of this year on into the coming year.

This gives reality to idealism; it removes from the soul those bitter, gloomy doubts which can arise in the feeling: What becomes of the world of ideals that are intimately bound up with external reality, and with all that I must consider of value? He who takes the Christ-Impulse into himself perceives that all that ripens in the human soul as wisdom-treasure is permeated, saturated through and through with reality. And I have brought two examples before you, in order to show you out of the occult world, how different is the working of that which is committed, Christ-enfilled, to the soul, from that which is committed to it only as wisdom which is not Christ-enfilled. What the soul has filled with Christ in this earth-life flows down to us in quite a different way from that which is not filled with Christ.

A terrible impression is produced, when clairvoyant consciousness looks out into the spiritual world and sees souls, in whom full Christ consciousness has not arisen during their last incarnation, fighting for their ideals—fighting for what is dearest to them, because in their ideals Lucifer has a power over them, which enables him to separate them from the fruits of reality which the whole world ought to enjoy.

Quite different is the aspect of those who have allowed their soul-wealth, their wisdom-wealth, to become Christ-enfilled. Such souls work upon us already in this life, evoke in us an after-glow, they animate and vitalize our souls, even in bodily life. What can be felt as most precious inner soul-warmth, as comfort in the most difficult conditions of life, as support in the blackest abyss of life, is this very condition of being filled with the Christ Impulse. And why? Because he who is really permeated with the Christ Impulse feels that in the conquests of his soul, however imperfect they may appear in earthly life, there lies this Christ-Impulse as the assurance and the guarantee for their fulfillment. This is why Christ is such a consolation in the doubts of life, such a support for the soul. How much for the souls of earth remains unfulfilled in life! How much seems to them to be of value, although in the outer physical world it can only appear to be like vain hopes of spring. But what we honestly feel in our soul, what we can unite with our soul as a valued possession—that we can commit to Christ; and whatever may be the prospects of its realization, when we have committed it to Christ He bears it forth upon His wings into Reality. It is not always necessary to have knowledge of this, but the soul that feels the Christ within it, as the body feels its life-giving blood, senses the warmth, the element of realization in this Christ-Impulse in respect of all that cannot be realized in the external world, though the soul with perfect justification longs for its realization. The fact that clairvoyant consciousness sees these things when it surveys souls after death is only a proof of how justifiable is the feeling of the human soul, when in all that man does, in all that he thinks, he feels himself Christ-enfilled, takes the Christ into his soul as its comfort, as support, saying in earth life: ‘Not I, but the Christ in me!’ For man may say: ‘Not I, but the Christ in me’ in this earth-life! Recall to your souls a passage which stands in my book Theosophy and which is meant to indicate one of those points where, at a certain stage of the spiritual life, there is a realization, a fulfillment of what fills the soul in this earthly-life. In a certain passage of my Theosophy I have drawn attention to the fact that ‘Tat wam asi,’ ‘Thou art That,’ upon which the Eastern sages meditate, comes before man as a reality at that moment when the transition from the so-called soul-world into the spiritual world takes place. Look up the passage in question. But something else can become a reality, in a matter that is of immense human significance in reference to St. Paul's words: ‘Not I, but the Christ in me’ which the Christ-enfilled soul may say in this life. If man knows how to experience in such a way that it is inner truth, this ‘Not I, but the Christ in me,’ it comes to fulfillment after death with mighty import. For what we accept in the world under the aspect of life which can be expressed in the words ‘Not I, but the Christ in me,’ becomes our own possession, our inner nature between death and a new birth, to such an extent that we may impart it as fruit to the whole of humanity. What we so take that we accept it under the point of view ‘Not I’ Christ makes into a common possession for all humanity. What I accept from the point of view ‘Not I,’ of this I may dare, after death, to say and to feel, ‘“Not for me alone” but for all my fellow men I And then only may I say the words: “Yes, I have loved Thee above all, even above myself,” therefore have I hearkened to the command, “Love thy God above all.”‘—‘Not I, but Christ in me’ And I have fulfilled that other command, ‘Love thy neighbor as thyself,’ for that which I have attained for myself will, through the fact that Christ bears it in reality, become the common property of all earth-humanity.

We must allow such things as these to work upon us, and then we experience what Christ has to signify in the human soul. Christ can be the bearer and supporter, the comforter and illuminator of the soul of man; and so we gradually become familiar with that which may be called the relation of Christ to the human soul.

In the three previous lectures I have tried to give you an outline of the kind of knowledge that should serve as a foundation for physicians. Owing to the very brief time at our disposal, it has only been the merest sketch. But you will have realized that to speak in detail would need considerable time. The kind of knowledge I have given as a foundation for medicine would constitute, as it were, a first course which would take at least a year and longer still if that were possible. It is impossible for me to do more than give a general description of these things, so I should like you to regard what I have said in the three previous lectures as a sketch of what a physician ought to have as a basis. Let me call it the exoteric side of medical knowledge, and it ought really to be followed by the esoteric side, of which we will speak now.

This esoteric side must be built upon the foundation of the exoteric knowledge. In your medical studies you must not be too proud to master the exoteric side; you must master this with all earnestness. It is difficult at the present time, but, as we shall see, much will be achieved in this direction by the establishment of the Medical Section here at Dornach.

After all, it is possible now to expand the short sketch that has been given by many details contained in my lecture courses and writings. Up to now, very little has been done in this direction and the work will only begin to develop in the real sense of anthroposophical medicine when this work that I am preparing with the help of Frau Dr. Wegman comes to the fore. It will then be apparent that Anthroposophy can give a great stimulus to medicine and medical studies. But you must realize quite clearly that medicine is a very special kind of study, with definite preliminary requirements—a study in which the results of Spiritual Science simply cannot be ignored. There can be no true medicine without the knowledge that results from Spiritual Science. The chaotic conditions prevailing today are due to the fact that the current trend of study and knowledge is utterly unsuited to medicine. We have a science of nature that has found its way even into theology, a science that is suited only to technical purposes and not at all to a real knowledge of the being of man. This science is not able to impart a true knowledge of man's nature. Medical science in the real sense demands something quite special and you will realize that this is so when I come to speak of how the human being really comes into existence.

I spoke yesterday from the exoteric side and will now make the transition to the esoteric aspect: external substances are, in reality, processes. Salt is only a precipitation of processes; the magnesium process, the iron process are processes which exist outside in nature. The lead and mercury processes are processes in external nature which the human being cannot have within his physical organism. For all that, it is only in outward semblance that these processes are not within the human being.

How does the human being come into existence? The physical germ comes into being through fertilization and there must be a union between this physical germ and the etheric body of the human being. But fertilization does not create the etheric body. The etheric body forms around what are, later on, ego organization and astral organization, in order to receive the being of spirit and soul who comes down from the spiritual worlds, the being who has been living in pre-earthly existence. The real kernel of man is of the spirit and soul. It has come firstly, from earlier incarnations, secondly, from the period between death and rebirth, and has been in existence long before any fertilization takes place. This kernel of spirit and soul exists before a connection is made with the physical germ cell which is the result of fertilization. It unites, first, with the etheric body which in turn unites with the physical embryo. Ego, astral organization, etheric organization—this trinity unites with what comes into being through the physical fertilization. You must regard the etheric body as something that is built in from out of the cosmos. Now at the time when the etheric body first unites with the physical organization it contains within itself the forces which are not suitable for the physical organization, namely, the lead forces, the tin forces and so on. It is only in semblance that the human being is not a complete microcosm because certain substances are not within him physically. The substances that are not contained in the physical organism of man are of the greatest importance for the constitution of the etheric body, and in the etheric body, before it unites with the physical body, there are lead processes, tin processes, mercury processes, and so on.

And now the etheric body (and the other members, too, of course) unite with the physical body. All the forces derived by the etheric body from the substances that are not contained within the physical body now pass over to the astral body—this happens to a slight degree during the embryonic period but in a high degree when the real breathing begins at birth. The etheric body then takes on those forces which the physical body works up within itself. Thus the etheric body passes through a very significant metamorphosis. It takes on the content and constitution of the physical body and gives over to the astral body its own constitution, its relationship with the environment of the human being. The astral body is now inwardly linked with what the human being is capable of knowing, and the moment you begin, my dear friends, to acquire not merely a theoretical but a true and inwardly digested medical knowledge—in that moment you make alive within you the knowledge that is already within the astral body. It is there, but it remains unconscious, and it is, in reality, a knowledge of man's relationship with his environment.

Let me take a special case. Think of some district that is depressing—on account of the soil containing gneiss and the mineral known to you as mica. Mica has a very strong influence on the physical constitution of a person who is born in such a district. The physical body is different in a district where there is much mica. The mica forces work upon the physical body from out of the soil. Now you will find that many rhododendrons grow in districts where the soil contains a great deal of mica. This plant grows plentifully in the Alps and in Siberia and so forth. The rhododendron substance is something that is intimately connected with the etheric body before it comes down into the physical body in such regions. This relationship with the rhododendron the ether body gives over to the astral body. And now, suppose that illnesses occur which are due to a preponderating working of the mica by way of the ground water. The etheric body has given over what came to it from the rhododendron, to the astral body. This element is present externally, in the rhododendron plants. This indicates that the rhododendron contains a sap that has a remedial effect upon this illness. In many cases, though not in all, a specific remedy is to be found in regions where particular illnesses occur.

And now suppose you are a physician. Every night when you go to sleep, you pass, in your astral body, into the environment which was once connected with the etheric body but is now connected with the astral body. If you have medical knowledge, if you know what healing forces exist in the environment, that knowledge becomes experience during sleep, and so you have continually the confirmation of what you learn, externally, through dialectics. And this factor must be reckoned with in medical study, because no outer dialectic learning of medical science really helps. It becomes fragmentary and chaotic if there cannot arise during every sleep, within the span of the astral body, the confirmation that is necessary. If medical knowledge is not acquired in such a way that the astral body, in the intercourse with the environment, is able to say “Yes” to what the student has learned, it is just as if he were listening to something that he cannot understand and only confuses him. So you see, medical knowledge is intimately connected with the sleeping state.

Such things convince us that medical knowledge must be acquired by the whole man, by man as a living, feeling being, for together with this ‘nightly’ intercourse with the healing substances, something else grows up, something that can never be acquired through dialectic—I mean, the true desire to help. Without the sincere desire to heal, the feeling of sympathy on the part of the physician with the person he has to cure, without this strong desire to give personal help, no healing in the real sense is possible.

And here I must say something that may seem very strange and paradoxical, but as you want to know in what way things are wrong today and what ought to be done, I must say it, for in Dornach we are working from esoteric impulses. People have often said to me that steps might have to be taken to protect the remedies that are prepared in our pharmaceutical laboratory, so that they shall not be copied by other people. I once replied that I was not so very anxious about this, provided we succeeded in bringing true esoteric impulses into our medical work. Then people will realize that the remedies are made with an esoteric background, and that it is not the same if the remedies are made here, with the esoteric life behind the work, or whether some factory copies them. This may seem very strange, but it is true nevertheless. Much more important than protecting things by business devices is the growth of an attitude which aims at making the remedies effective from out of the Spiritual. This is not superstition—it is something that can be substantiated in Spiritual Science. Therefore, people possessed of understanding will begin to realize that with the taking of remedies that are produced here, a beginning has been made in the right direction.

Such objections as have been made to me are due to the fact that people do not realize in the least how seriously the esoteric, spiritual life must be taken, above all, in medicine. If you once grasp this, you see that a center for medicine must be instituted here as a reality, not as a mere formality.

And now you will understand that a first, exoteric course of medical study should be followed by a second which approaches the human being esoterically, which merges medical knowledge into what becomes a true medical consciousness, a true medical attitude. There have, of course, always been individuals who sought instinctively for this. And in the last third of the nineteenth century, at a time when there was so little that was capable of producing this attitude, one could see, but only in isolated individuals who were then regarded as cranks, sporadic manifestations of this medical consciousness. The basis of the reputation enjoyed by the Viennese School of Medicine at the time when I was growing up was connected with its attitude to therapy, where the actual therapy hardly mattered at all, especially treatment of pneumonia, an illness where one can do very little for the central disease itself. You have all heard of medical nihilism, and this is its origin. The most eminent physicians in Vienna were deliberate advocates of medical nihilism In other words, they held the point of view that no remedy heals. To a certain extent, Rudolf Virchow (1821–1902), too, held this view. His view was: If a hundred patients are said to have been cured, one can assume with fifty percent of them that it did not matter whether they had been given a remedy or not; they would have got well without it; with 30 percent it could be said that the remedy had done actual harm; and with the remainder, chance might have brought it about that the remedy selected had helped. It is not I who make this statement, but Virchow, who had a great reputation in the medical world last century. I know eminent men today, too, who adhere to this view, although they may be advocates of therapy. No true medical consciousness is expressed in this view. Medical consciousness can never be regarded as a merely formal attitude. It must be a reality. Therefore, the second medical course would have to contain the human aspect that is built up on the basis of the exoteric material. There must be that human factor that worked, in a somewhat degenerate form, but, for all that so magnificently and attractively, in a person like Paracelsus.

Certainly, objections to Paracelsus can be made in certain details, but this medical consciousness lived in him, in a splendid way. Whenever he came to a district where the soil was strikingly red, he knew that a number of diseases—especially those that are due to diseases of the blood—were caused by the red sandstone in the soil. {Translator's note: The word in the German is the name of a substance described as a system of sandstone, shale and conglomerates of the lower terrain of Germany.}

The way in which a process of illness develops is very characteristic. We find that the people living in a district where there is this red sandstone soil have accustomed themselves to this soil and have a certain characteristic temperament. They have a very lively activity of the spleen. Coming as a stranger to the district, one does not easily take a liking to them. They are frightfully stubborn, dogmatic, obstinate, and when one considers what they do to be foolish—they just return the ‘compliment!’ But suppose a stranger comes and wants to set up a business or something of the kind. He cannot stand the soil, especially not the water, and he will show certain symptoms of illness. Paracelsus said that illnesses which are contracted in such a district are then passed on to the natives who are born there. He said that something must be present in the etheric body (which he calls the ‘Archaeus’). He said that the ‘Archaeus’ must have undergone something before it entered the embryo. Now in these districts we always find that laburnums are prevalent and in the blossoms, leaves and sometimes also in the roots of the laburnum there is a fluid which can provide a very useful remedy.

What is important is to unfold a quite different perception of nature through this medical consciousness. In my young days I knew a physician whom one often met in the meadows and fields—among the plants and insects and flowers. In the place where he carried on an unpretentious practice, there were three or four very learned men. But the work of this unpretentious physician who had such a love for the wildflowers in the meadows was much more fruitful for the sick people than that of the city physician and the other learned men. Their wisdom came from the schools, but his wisdom and understanding of remedies came from that direct intercourse with nature which leads to a real medical knowledge when we can love nature, in all her details. To look at fragments of nature under the microscope is not to love her. We must love nature. We must all be able to expand her to the macrocosmic. This shows you how necessary it is to call up this subconscious life of the astral body, particularly for medical knowledge, to call it up in reality.

It is not at all my wish to revive the stock-in-trade of ancient medicine, my dear friends, but only to lay before you the results of present-day observation. One is obliged to resort to the terminology of ancient tradition, because neither modern language nor modern medical terminology contain the right expressions. It might even be more favorable for the spreading of our views if we were to devise an altogether new terminology. But that would take years, and as you want to hear about these things now, I shall have to use the old expressions with certain modifications.

It will be a good thing to look, first of all, at the plant world—not because I want to recommend plant remedies for everything, but because much can be learned from the plants, above all for an esoteric deepening.

It is very important to study three things connected with medical tradition, but not to study them in the way that is current in present-day science. When a student has learned something of today, he knows it and he thinks: Well, that's all right, I know it and I can apply it. But a religiously-minded person learns the Lord's Prayer. He, too, knows it, but he does not think that the mere fact of knowing it is sufficient. He says it every day as a prayer. What he knows, he prays, every day. He lets what he knows pass through his soul every day, and that is a very different matter—very different, indeed.

Or think of an Initiate. We presuppose that he knows the elements of occult science. He himself attaches no importance to the mere fact of knowing them, to the fact that he once assimilated them. He knows that it is much more important to let the very first rudiments and then all that follows flow through his soul from time to time so that his soul can always be receiving new forces of inspiration. A person who is fundamentally religious has quite different experiences from one who merely regards nature as something that is there before us in the physical world. We must live in the rhythms of nature again and again if we desire a living and not a dead kind of knowledge. There must be constant, rhythmic repetition of knowledge and the activity of knowledge. That is what I mean when I say that a real medical consciousness must be the basis for medical science. The acquisition of medical knowledge from the nature of the human being and from his environment—that is what is so important, in therapy as well. Again and again you must let the plants really come to life in the soul.

Three things are of particular significance in the plant. One is the scent that is connected with the oils. The scent, or aromatic element is that which attracts certain elementary spirits who like to come down into plants. The activity (not the substance) which underlies this aromatic nature, is to be found, in its most concentrated form, in the mineral kingdom, in sulfur. This spiritual extract that is active in the aroma of the plants gives rise to a kind of longing in the elementary beings who come down through the scent. In ancient medicine, this element was known as the sulfuric nature of the plants. If we contemplate the sulfuric nature of the plants we can acquire an understanding for their scent, if we know that something spiritual is in play above and below when the plant gives off its scent. That is the first thing.

A second thing that we acquire is an inner feeling-filled understanding of what is growing in the leaf. The form and character of leaves is so manifold; they may be serrated, with pointed or round ends, geniculated, and so forth. We should evolve a delicate perception of this leaf nature of the plants. For those spiritual beings who come down through the scent can draw life from this leaf nature. And streaming from the cosmic periphery inwards, there is everywhere the striving to the drop formation. This can give you a marvelous feeling for the cosmic, form-loving principle that is contained in the leaf. And then, think of the plant covered with glistening drops of dew in the morning. In their essential nature these drops of dew are a reflection of the striving of the cosmic periphery to produce the spherical form, the drop form in the plant kingdom. The principle of drop formation is at the basis of the leaf nature in the plant. If the peripheric, cosmic forces alone were spiritually active in the plant, it would always produce this spherical form. The spherical formation is particularly to the fore when the cosmic forces get the upper hand in the formation of berries, also in the formation of many leaves, but the drop formation here is immediately taken possession of by the earthly forces, and manifold forms arise.

This striving towards drop formation is concentrated, in the mineral world, in quicksilver. Therefore, ancient medicine called this 'striving towards drop formation', the Mercurial principle. In ancient medicine, Mercury was not the substance of quicksilver but the dynamic striving towards the drop formation.

On the earth, quicksilver is the metal which has the drop form because the conditions for this exist. On the earth, quicksilver has the form which silver has on the moon, where it would also have to exist in the drop form. The point is that ancient medicine called everything that had the drop form Mercury. All metals were also 'Mercury' in ancient medicine. This ancient medicine had living, mobile concepts, and we, too, must develop them. We must gradually grow into a frame of mind which makes us say: “When I walk over the fields in the morning and see the silver pearls of dew on the leaves, these pearls of dew reveal to me what is living spiritually in the leaves themselves; it is the striving towards the cosmic form of the sphere.” But this must become a feeling within us, so that we are able to understand the plants. We must understand them in their cosmic, spherical form.

If you get such an insight into the nature of the plants that you understand the forces in them which are striving towards drop formation, and then again think of their scent, you will gradually begin to understand everything that works centrifugally in the human being. There is a centrifugal force at work when the nails are cut. The centrifugal forces working through the human being make the nails grow again. During the first seven years of life particularly, the forces which come to a conclusion with the second dentition, work out centrifugally through the human being. They express themselves strongly in the formation of sweat. The element which in the scent of plants strives upwards and attracts the Nature Spirits is also active in the smell of sweat which works in the centrifugal direction. And so if you want to look for the plant nature in the human being, you must seek it where it strives outwards, and in this way you unfold an intimate knowledge of the connection between what is outside and what is within the human being. For you see, when the etheric body gives over its special features to the astral body, the whole thing is changed. The inclination of the etheric body would be to unfold what it takes from the environment, in the upward direction; inasmuch as this is given over to the astral body, it unfolds in the centrifugal direction. In this respect, too, the human being bears the plant existence within him.

And now think of how the plant sinks into the earth with its root; how with its root it enters into a close connection with the salts in the soil. A process takes place here that is exactly the opposite of the one we know in the material world. Take sodium chloride which, in solution, tastes salty, and now think of the process being exactly reversed, the solution being arrested, a congealment taking place and the smell and the taste become latent. There you have the process which goes on between the soil and the root of a plant. That is what was known as the salt process in ancient medicine. Ancient medicine did not use the word salt in the way we use it today, but meant by salt that element which, in the downward-pointed root of the plant, enters into a connection with the substances of the earth. That is the salt nature.

By directing your attention rhythmically to these wonderful secrets of nature you fill your medical knowledge with life that is capable of practical application. If you try in this way to fill your medical knowledge with life, you will begin to regard nature and the human being in such a way that the capacity to heal will be born of the strong impulse to give help, of which I have spoken. The capacity to heal can only come from this foundation. It must be quickened by keen, diligent, and zealous exoteric learning, for otherwise mere vagueness will be the result. But it is necessary to know that the real foundation of medical knowledge lies in this rhythmic, meditative absorption in the natural environment of the human being, and not in theoretical study.

What I am now going to write on the blackboard is not there in order that you may “learn” it, but in order that it may quicken life in your medical thinking.

You healing Spirits,
You unite
With Sulfur's blessing
In the ethereal fragrance;

You come to life
In upward springing Mercury
Dewdrop
Of growing
And becoming.

You make your halting place
In the Earth Salt
Which nourishes the root
In the soil.

Ihr heilenden Geister
Ihr verbindet euch
Dem Sulphursegen
Des Ätherduftes;

Ihr belebet euch
Im Aufstreben Merkurs
Dem Tautropfen
Des Wachsenden
Des Werdenden.

Ihr machet Halt
In dem Erdensalze
Das die Wurzel
Im Boden ernährt.

This is what the soul receives in looking out into the universe around. The human being answers:

I will unite
The Knowledge of my Soul
With Fire of the flower's fragrance;

I will bestir
The Life of my Soul
On the glistening drop of leafy morning;

I will make strong
The Being of my Soul
With the all hardening Salt
Whereby the Earth with loving care
Nurtures the root.


Ich will mein Seelenwissen
Verbinden dem Feuer
Des Blütenduftes;

Ich will mein Seelenleben
Erregen am glitzernden Tropfen
Des Blättermorgens;

Ich will mein Seelensein
Erstarken an dem Salzerhärtenden
Mit dem die Erde
Sorgsam die Wurzel pflegt.

If over and over again, as the pious are wont to do in prayer, we make this inwardly living, it will quicken in the soul the forces which render us capable of medical work. The ordinary powers that are educated in the schools cannot awaken true medical knowledge, for true medical knowledge must be drawn forth from the soul. And so at the very summit of the esoteric studies which we are to pursue, I always place this thought: that the powers of the soul must first be quickened in order to bring to birth in the soul the faculty that can lead to true medical knowledge.

For reasons I will not now mention, I will postpone the more esoteric lecture I had intended to give today, to the end of this course, and speak to you now about something else.

A certain amount of astonishment may have been caused when it was said yesterday that if we want to get at the realities, we must think, for instance, of thought being behind solid, earthy phenomena, and courage behind all that is of the nature of air. There is a significance from the point of view of medical history in having our attention drawn to the fact that thought is to be connected with all that is solid, earthy, all that stands before us with definite contours. For this leads us to say to ourselves that thought—thought as a force—is not to be connected with the watery, with the circulation of fluids in the human organism. Neither is thought to be connected with the airy and the warmth nature in man. We have spoken of the conception we must have of the air and the warmth in the cosmos. Within the human being, too, all these things are present, but in a particular form. Within the human being it is like this—only that which has contours, including that which, although it may be soft and pliable, has, nevertheless, the character of solidity, only this may be thought of as corresponding to thought. We have said that behind the fluid, or the watery element which confronts us in the physical world, we have to think of something spiritual—namely, something that is of the nature of feeling.

This element of feeling within the human organism must be thought of in a special way. We usually think of subjective feeling in this connection; we think of feeling that is connected with the psychical and bodily constitution of the human being. But within the human being, feeling is not merely this direct experience; feeling has an up-building activity within the human being. The watery or fluid body, as a formation of the universal, cosmic fluidity, contains feeling as its very essence. This etheric activity that works within the fluid body must be understood, but it cannot be understood by the same kind of knowledge that we apply to something that is outside the human being, because the substances and processes within the human organism do not work in the same way as they do in the external environment. The moment we come to the fluid organism—when we have to do with a part of the human organization which is in fluid circulation, although there are vascular organs within it—in that moment the knowledge forces which can be applied to what is outside the human being in the physical world are no longer adequate.

That is why medicine lost its knowledge of the fluid man—that was the last of the higher members of which knowledge was lost. One may say that up to the middle forties of the nineteenth century, medicine still had an inkling of the existence of this fluid man. People spoke of the humors, of the circulation of the fluids, of the mixture and the separation of the fluids. Medicine was not confined to the physiology and pathology of cells but actually perceived the combinations and separation of fluids. In the nineteenth century, of course, it was all tradition, but this tradition led back to the time before the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, when men had not only tradition but also actual knowledge—knowledge in the form in which we today wrestle for in Anthroposophy and should be able to reach in imagination. Knowledge in those days had, it is true, an illusionary character, but men had instinctive imaginations. It was known that the human organism cannot be understood by mere sense perception and cogitation; it was known that thinking and sense observation could only be applied to those parts of the organism which have firm contours, and that knowledge of the circulation of the fluids in the watery man must be gained through imagination. It is, therefore, not to be wondered at that the perception of this fluid man was lost. Perception of the fluid man can only come again when we attain to imaginations in full consciousness.

Let us go over what has been said, once again. When the bony system is building itself up from out of the human organism taken as a totality, when the human being is, as it were, crystallizing into the skeleton—this is not a good way of expressing it, but you will understand what I mean—cosmic thoughts are weaving in him. The organs that have definite outlines have these outlines only because they are subject to the same forces to which the building of the bones is subject. It is only the bony structure in the physical sense that is of the nature of thought, and the other organs with definite outlines have been built up out of the etheric world by an activity of thought. Inasmuch as they have definite outlines and contours, an activity of the nature of thought has been working. The forms in the human organism of which physiology and pathology speak are the result of an activity that is of the nature of thought.

But this is only one member of the human organization, and it must fall out of the human organization if one does not rise to imagination. It is imagination that can lead us to the fluid man, to the way in which the muscles are formed out of the fluidity and how the being of man pours into the muscles. Muscles appear to be solid, but this is mere semblance.

Imagination is indispensable if one wants to comprehend the uniting of the solid nature of the bony structure with the fluid nature of the blood into what has the semblance of another solid structure—muscle.

We must therefore realize: Thought, which is of course, supported by physical perception, can in reality, only grasp the bony system, and apart from the bony system everything else that thought may say about the human being is fantasy.

We must ascend from thinking to imagination. With imagination we can grasp the nature of the fluid man and understand how this fluid man shoots into the muscular system. The fundamental nature of the muscles can only be grasped by imagination. Why is this? You see, if you apply thoughts, you cannot help applying, too, those laws which are discovered by thought, namely, mechanical laws. You apply the laws of statics and dynamics, and this is possible with the bony system. But just try to apply statics and dynamics to the muscular system and see how you get on! Try to calculate from the laws of statics how you can crush a cherry pit, or a peach pit, by biting it. Try to find out by an experiment how much weight of pressure is necessary to crush this cherry stone. Some—not all of us perhaps—try to bite them! But try to reckon out whether, according to the laws of mechanics, a muscle is capable of crushing a cherry pit. Thought alone will never help you to understand the muscular system. It is quite impossible. The moment we come to the muscles, the principles of mechanics become futile. We must be able to pass over to a form of knowledge that can leave the laws of mechanics behind and which grasps the whole picture of the muscles through imagination. Ordinary gravity is non-existent here. For the moment you come to the watery element you have to do with pure buoyancy.

In the things that you do with your etheric body, you have nothing to do with weight but with what overcomes weight to a great extent. Even this will make you realize that quite a different form of knowledge must be applied to the muscular system. This form of knowledge is imagination. The muscular system is comprehended through imagination—though there are transitions everywhere. It is not possible to understand the muscular system unless we conceive of it as a structure that has not arisen in the same way as the bony system. It has taken shape, as it were, through a coagulation of blood. This is just as inadequate an expression as when I say that the bony system crystallizes, but it is a comparatively correct picture. Suppose you take some bone—the radius or the ulna, or upper arm—and apply the laws of leverage to it. This is quite all right. But while you can understand by the laws of leverage and other laws of mechanics what goes on in the radius or upper arm, just think whether these laws help you to understand what is going on in a muscle. Your mental pictures here must all become mobile, must be transformed. The essential characteristic of imagination is that it can always yield and give way and so embrace the substance of things that have their being in the process of metamorphosis. And this is the characteristic of the muscle; the muscle has its life in its metamorphosis. In contrast to the bones to which the laws of mechanics can be applied, the muscle is just as mobile as the pictures of metamorphosis—say pictures, not thoughts—which we have in imagination.

In the bony system we have the solid, earthy man; in the muscular system we have the fluid man, the watery man.

At the stage of inspiration, above imagination, we come to the airy man, to what is aeriform within the human being. In inspiration we approach a mode of cognition that very much resembles the hearing of musical tones, melodies. Inspiration has nothing any longer to do with concepts but with something that is like the cognition, the realization of music. Music must not always be heard; inasmuch as it is spiritual, it can also be felt, experienced. All inspiration has, fundamentally, something musical about it. It is a strange fact that the form of the inner organs of man, of those organs which really provide for the growing organization during life in nourishment, breathing, etc., that none of these organ forms can be explained by any laws of mechanics. Not even by imaginative knowledge are they to be explained. It is just nonsense to try to explain the form of the lungs, of the liver, through their position, through the lie of the cells or through weight. Just try to discover if anyone has succeeded in explaining the form of the liver or the lung and you will find that there is nobody. For these organs, which look after the life that is coming into being during earthly life, are present, in germ, at a very early stage, although later on they are much metamorphosed. They are all of them the outcome of the formative forces of the air.

Modern science says: Air is composed of oxygen, nitrogen and a few other substances. The aeriform substance is more or less uniform, only differentiated through inner mechanical movement, such as can be observed in wind. But the air that is described by physics today does not exist, in reality. The air that surrounds our earth is permeated throughout with formative forces. We breathe in these formative forces together with the physical substantiality of the air. Once our organs are complete and we breathe in the air, these formative forces coincide, as it were, with the form of the lung and are not particularly significant except for the purposes of growth. But during the embryonic period, while there is a physical isolation from the external air—then these formative forces of the air work by way of the body of the mother. They build up the lungs and the other organs, with the exception of the muscles and bones. All the inner organs that are to receive life are built up out of the formative forces of the air.

What happens here can be compared—although the comparison is a crude one—to the Chladnic sound figures. Plates covered with fine dust are secured at some point, a violin bow is drawn across the edge of the plate, and then the dust forms itself into certain patterns according to how the violin bow is drawn across the plate. The figures in the dust are formed out of the formative forces produced in the air. So too, the inner organs of man are formed out of the universal formative forces of the air. The lung is formed out of the breathing forces, also the other organs, only the other organs are formed more or less indirectly, the lungs directly. This fact, that the organs are built out of the formative forces of the air, is only to be grasped through inspiration. What has been built out of the air, formed out of the air, has something of the nature of music about it, just as the musical element is at the basis of the Chladnic sound figures.

Much of what modern physiology says is so fundamentally false that one sometimes is embarrassed to say what is correct, so greatly does it differ from what is stated in the ordinary way. In acts of hearing, all the organs of the human being, not only the inner organs of hearing, vibrate together with the air. The whole man vibrates, if only slightly; and the ear is not the organ of hearing just because it vibrates but because it brings to consciousness what is present in the rest of the organism. There is a great but also a subtle, delicate distinction in saying that man hears through the ear, or through the ear is brought to consciousness what has been heard. The human being is built out of sound, although not from sound that is actually heard. Inspiration is required for comprehension of the inner organs. The organization of man's inner organs, of the aeriform man, must be understood by means of inspiration. It is really not to be wondered at that real understanding of the inner organs of man was already lost in days of antiquity, for inspiration was lost and inspiration is the only means whereby the inner organs can be understood. They can be taken from the corpse and diagrams can be made of them, but they cannot be understood by this means.

You see, therefore, that the whole human organism stands really towards the background of the physical world. After reading my book Knowledge of the Higher Worlds, people always get the picture: Here is the physical world and behind it, the spiritual world, in stages or degrees. We reach the nearest spiritual world through imagination, a further spiritual world through inspiration and a further world through intuition. But people do not picture to themselves that of all that is within the human being, the bony system alone is built up by the elementary spirits, whereas the muscular system is built up by spiritual beings of a higher hierarchy. This must be known and understood. A man must be able to reach these beings through imagination if he is to understand the muscles.

To understand the inner organs, still higher spiritual beings must be reached through inspiration. The inner structure of a skeleton, too, can only be truly understood with inspiration. Just think of the following. A modern scientist investigates a plant by analyzing its substance by the methods current today. But this is by no means the plant in its reality. The plant is built up from out of the cosmos, as I said yesterday. It is only the root that is built up from earthly forces. The whole form of the plant is a spiritual reality, a super-sensible reality; this super-sensible reality is then filled with matter. And a man who merely examines this physical matter in the plant is like someone who has a document in front of him that is wet with ink, that he has covered with sand to dry and who then imagines that the sand is the essential thing of the document. The document is covered with this sand and then it is scratched away and the man says: I am examining the sand and I read what the document contains out of the sand. This, more or less, is the way in which people explain the root of a plant, whereas in reality the root is spiritual, filled with physical substance in its framework. So too, the human organs merely receive physical substance.

The reality is that only the bony system is physical; the muscles are etheric, the organs are astral.

If we can attain true intuition we get to the warmth man, the organization that is a space of warmth, inwardly differentiated. The human being actually experiences himself in warmth; his relationship to warmth is not the same as to carbon or nitrogen. Warmth is within him and the human being is within it when he experiences warmth.

The experience of warmth is intense and real and a modern man cannot deny that he has it, whereas he has no inkling of the fact that he experiences air, water, earth. He has no inkling of this because he has grown out of these experiences. Understanding of the warmth involves the application of intuition to the human organization, but it is the delicate differentiations of the warmth in the forms of the organs themselves which have to be perceived and experienced. When intuition can be applied to the warmth organism through the whole body, this form of cognition leads, not, in this case, to an understanding of the inner organs as such, but to the activity of these inner organs. The activity of the inner organs must be grasped by an understanding of the organization within the warmth ether. Every other kind of knowledge is incapable of bringing about understanding of the activity of the organs. The activity of the warmth ether, of the warmth man, must be cognized by intuition.

It will not do simply to think: There is the physical world and one must acquire imagination, inspiration and intuition in order to attain the other worlds. The other worlds are actually present; the etheric world is present in the muscular system, the astral world in the organs and the devachanic world, the spirit world, is present in the warmth man. The spiritual is always around us; it is actually present. Man is a spirit and this spirit is merely filled with physical substance. To say that man is a physical being is an illusion; man in himself is a spirit who actually reaches up into the higher world through his warmth organization.

That is why it is so odd that spiritualists should sit around a table and address themselves to spirits who are far, far inferior to those eight or ten people who are sitting around the table without knowing that they are spirits! This is a truth that must be taken very, very deeply to heart, and then progress can be made.

If through initiation we have grasped the nature of this wonderful activity from organ to organ which goes on in the warmth ether, we find that there are two kinds of warmth. The warmth ether is a quite special element. When any process calls forth a change in the warmth ether, there is always a counter-working. There is always action and reaction with streamings of warmth. The warmth ether is differentiated within itself. There is always a coarser etheric substance which runs counter to a more delicate one.

Suppose you are in a room that is comfortably warm. You make it warmer—so warm that you cannot stand it. That is not merely a physical condition but also a condition of the life of soul. The more delicate warmth is experienced by the soul. The experience of warmth is really always twofold; there is the warmth that we experience psychically and the warmth in which we live, the warmth that is outside the soul; there is the warmth that is within our warmth organism and the warmth that is external to us. Warmth is of the nature of the soul. We can therefore speak of a physical warmth and a soul warmth.

If we pass on to the inner organs, to the aeriform man, where inspiration is needed, here we have the airy element in its main form. Whereas the finer warmth works within warmth, in the aeriform there works light. Intuition reveals warmth within warmth; warmth remains warmth when it is differentiating itself within itself. But this is not the case with air. The real air is not the fantastic air of the physicists which surrounds our earth like another skin. The real air is inconceivable without some condition of light—for darkness is also a condition of light. Light and air belong together; light is an active, organizing force in the whole airy organism. Here we come still further into the realm of soul. There is not only external light but also metamorphosed inner light which permeates the whole human being, which lives in him. The light lives within him together with the air.

Equally, the chemical forces (chemism) are within the human being, together with the water, with the fluid element. Water conceived as physical water, the water of the physicists, is pure fantasy. To picture the fluid element within the human being without the chemical forces is just like picturing a human organism without a head. It can be drawn without a head and the life of soul can be entirely eliminated, but then there is no longer any reality. If you cut the head away from your body, the body cannot live, it is no longer an organism. In the same way, the fluid nature in man is not what the physicists fantastically describe as water. Just as the organism, with the head, forms one whole, so is the fluid organism bound up with the chemical forces. The solid or earthy in the human organism only exists in statu nascendi. Like the water in the human being, it is immediately transformed. Within the human being the earthy is bound up with life.

The physical body and its corresponding etheric body form one whole; they are one unit, seen from two sides. We have the ether stages: warmth, light, chemical forces, life—and we have the physical stages: warmth, air, water, earth. When we give an abstract description of the ethers we give the first place to the warmth ether; when we start from the fluid or solid as the lowest ether, then the highest ether is the life ether. But when we describe the human being we say that the warmth man, the inner activity of the organs, is known by means of intuition. As we descend to the coarsest stage, from the warmth to the earthy in the physical organism, we ascend, in the etheric body, from warmth into life. What does this mean? Think of it. It means that the human being really reverses his own attributes, or qualities. He expends the warmth ether only upon the warmth organism, the light ether upon the airy organism, the chemical ether upon the fluid organism, the life ether upon his solid organization. If you really grasp this, then you cannot think as people ordinarily think. If you insist upon thinking along the ordinary lines, you can, in reality, grasp only the bony system, the earthy human being. It is necessary for you to pass over from ordinary thinking to an inner comprehension of the world, as I have said before.

The fact that medical science has a certain peculiarity is connected with these things. Medical knowledge was an outstanding part of the ancient mysteries where man had real insight into the treatment of a sick human being. The physicians were trained in the mysteries—they were not merely medical men, but they were also sages, wise men who looked after the religious cults. It is natural that the physician should have kept his knowledge secret, as was the case with all mystery knowledge. For you see, if a man wants to know something, he must clothe this knowledge in thoughts; otherwise he floats about in indefiniteness. The picture that comes in imagination, what is heard spiritually (inspiration) and also what is beheld in intuition must all be clothed in thoughts. In ancient times it was known that medical knowledge must be clothed in thoughts. But by clothing it in thoughts it is deprived of some of its efficacy. I am touching here upon deep matters. It cannot be denied that the knowledge of remedies in a sense takes away their power and a really serious physician must deny himself the use of these therapeutic measures which he uses for his patients; he must deny himself and use, for himself, other kinds of healing. Please think about this last sentence and you will realize, in a much deeper sense than before, that the physician must personally cultivate the mood of helping. He must deny himself the healing forces which he applies to his patients. If a man ascribes the efficacy of a remedy merely to the chemical forces, if he imagines that remedies work like steam in a locomotive, he is not submitting to these spiritual laws. But the moment it is realized that the human being reaches up into the spiritual, it will never be doubted that spiritual laws are at the basis of what is contained in the different remedies. In its real essence, medicine is the most wonderful means of education towards selflessness. To demand that therapy should be taught as mechanics or similar subjects are taught is a crude and coarse misunderstanding. The laws of mechanics can, of course, be applied to the human being, but that is valid then to humanity as a whole. And the physician's work is entirely individual. If a physician has a really profound knowledge of some remedy, it is necessary for him, to a certain extent, to deny healing himself by means of this remedy. This is the great education towards selflessness. I will indicate sometime how the physician can help himself. But you must understand in your hearts what underlies these facts. If you take seriously and earnestly what I have said, it will become a world necessity to introduce into medicine not egoism but altruism. Altruism, selflessness, is the basic principle of medicine. Medical morality is not something that has been invented but proceeds from heavenly laws, from laws which the cosmos itself has formed in order to create remedies which follow its own laws.

The more earnestly a communication like this is taken, the more it will be able to contribute to an understanding of the real basis of all remedies.

Before we essay the second part of our programme, I shall permit myself to point briefly to the genesis of poetry – in man’s inner nature. For what ought to lie at the foundation of a knowledge of man is the following perception: in the first instance, the world, the universe, the cosmos is artistically active in man; but man then brings forth from himself again what the aesthetic activity of the cosmos has inlaid in him, as art.

Two elements must collaborate in a man, working through the powers of his spirit and soul, in order for poetry (in the general way of things) to be engendered and given form. It is not thought – even in the most intellectual poetry it is not thought as such – that is shaped by the artist. It is the collaboration, the wonderful interaction between breathing and blood-circulation. In breathing, the human being is entirely conjoined with the cosmos. The air which I have just breathed in was formerly an ingredient in the cosmos, and it will afterwards become an ingredient in the cosmos once more. In breathing I absorb into myself the substantiality of the cosmos, and then release to the cosmos once more what was briefly within me. Anyone who experiences this – anyone with a real feeling for this breathing-process – will find in it one of the most marvellous mysteries of the whole formation of the world. And this interchange between man and the world finds its inner formation in something closely bound up with the breathing-rhythm: the rhythm of blood-circulation. In a mature man the ratio expressed in the relation between respiration and pulse beat is an average one to four: eighteen breaths (or thereabouts) and seventy-two pulse-beats per minute. Between the two is generated that inner harmony which constitutes man’s entire inner life of plastic and musical creativity.

The following remarks are not advanced as exact knowledge, but by way of a picture. We see engendered before us a spirit of light who, on the waves of the air, plays into man through his breathing. The breath takes hold of the blood-circulation, as of the occult workings of the human organism. We see Apollo, the god of light, carried on the billows of air in the breathing-process, and in his lyre the actual functioning of the blood-circulation. Every poetic act, every forming act of poetry ultimately rests on this ratio between breathing, as inwardly experienced, and the inner experience of the circulation of the blood. Subconsciously our breath counts the pulse-beats; and subconsciously the pulse-beats count the breaths dividing and combining, combining and dividing to mark out the metre and the syllable-quantities. It is not that the manifestations of poetry in speech adapt themselves so as to conform either to respiration or to the circulation of the blood: but rather the ratio between the two. The configuration of syllables may be quite irregular, but in poetry they stand in a certain ratio to one another, essentially similar to that between breathing and circulation.

We can see this in the case where poetry first comes before us, in what is perhaps the most congenial and readily comprehensible form – the hexameter. Here we can see how the first three verse-feet and the caesura stand in a mutual ratio of four to one. The hexameter repeats this ratio of blood‑circulation to breathing a second time. Man receives the spiritual into his own inner processes and inner activities when he creates poetry out of what he is at every moment of his earthly life: a product of breathing and blood-circulation. He articulates this artistically through the syllables in quantity and metre. And we approach intensification and relaxation, tension and release, in a properly artistic way when we allow fewer or more syllables to the unit of breath. And these will then balance each other out in accordance with their inherent natural proportions. In other words, we must adjust the timing of the verse in the right way.

If we let the verse proceed according to the proportion ordained by the cosmos itself, which subsists between breathing and blood-circulation, we arrive at epic. If we ascend towards an assertion of our own inner nature; i.e., let the breathing recede, refrain from activating the life of the breath, do not allow it to count up the pulse-beats on the ‘lyre’ of the blood-circulation – when we recede with our breathing into ourselves and make the pulsation of the blood the essential thing, reckoning up the notches (so to speak) scored onto the blood-stream, we arrive at an alternative form of metrical verse. If we are concerned with the breathing, which calculates, as it were, the blood-circulation, we have recitation: recitation flows in conformity with the breathing-process. If the pulsation of the blood is our criterion, so that the blood engraves its strength, weakness, passion, emotion, tension and relaxation onto the flux of the breath – then declamation arises: declamation pays more attention to the force or lightness, strength or weakness of emphasis given to the syllables, with a high or low intonation. Recitation, in accordance with the quietly flowing breath-stream, reckons only the blood-circulation, and this is communication in poetry – whereas declamation is poetry as description. And in fact everyone who practises speech-formation must ask himself when confronted with a poem: Have I to recite here or declaim? They are two fundamentally different nuances of this art-form. We realise this when we see how the poet himself differentiates in a wonderful way between declamation and recitation.

Compare in this respect the Iphigeneia Goethe composed in Weimar, before he became acquainted in Italy with the Greek style. Observe the Iphigeneia he wrote at that time: it is entirely declamatory. Then he comes to Italy and grows absorbed in his own way in what he terms Greek art (it was not really still Greek art, but he does feel in it an after-effect of Greek art): he rewrites his Iphigeneia in the recitative mode. And while declamation, as stemming from the blood, passes over into recitation, which stems from the breathing, here that inwardly more Nordic, that Germanic disposition of feeling comes to adopt an outward artistic form that works through quantities and metre in this play which Hermann Grimm has aptly christened the “Roman Iphigeneia”. For someone with artistic sensibility there is the greatest conceivable difference between Goethe's German and his Roman Iphigeneia. We do not wish today to manifest a special sympathy or antipathy for one version or the other, but to indicate the tremendous difference, which should be apparent upon hearing a passage from the Iphigeneia either in recitation or declamation. Examples from both versions are now to be presented.

As for the hexameter, we shall encounter this in Schiller’s “Der Tanz”. A correct, regular metre – not necessarily the hexameter – we will come upon this in some poems by Mörike, a lyricist who inclines toward the ballad-form.

If we survey the aesthetic evolution of mankind, we may experience decisively how in ancient Greece everything became recitative and man lived altogether more in his natural surroundings. The life of recitation lies in the breathing-process, in quantitative metres. The declamatory emerges out of the northern sense of inwardness, the depths of feeling we find in the soul and spiritual life of Central Europe. It relies more upon weight and metre. And if, in his process of creation, the Divinity holds sway over the world through quantity, weight and proportion, then the poet is seeking through his declamatory and recitative art to hearken to the regency of the Divine – to do so in a poetic intimacy, through observing the laws of quantity and metre in recitation, and through an intimate feeling for metre and weight in the high and low tones of declamation.

In this context we will now present Schiller’s “Tanz” to exemplify the hexameter; then Mörike’s “Schön – Rohtraut” and “Geister am Mummelsee”, which are in a ballad-style; and lastly a short passage from Goethe’s German and Roman Iphigeneia. [Note 30]

DER TANZ

Siehe, wie schwebenden Schritts im Wellenschwung sich die Paare

Drehen! Den Boden berührt kaum der geflügelte Fuss.

Seh ich flüchtige Schatten, befreit von der Schwere des Leibes?

Schlingen im Mondlicht dort Elfen den luftigen Reihn?

Wie, vom Zephyr gewiegt, der leichte Rauch in die Luft fliesst,

Wie sich leise der Kahn schaukelt auf silberner Flut,

Hüpft der gelehrige Fuss auf des Takts melodischer Woge,

Säuselndes Saitengetön hebt den ätherischen Leib.

Jetzt als wollt es mit Macht durchreissen die Kette des Tanzes,

Schwingt sich ein mutiges Paar dort in den dichtesten Reihn.

Schnell vor ihm her entsteht ihm die Bahn, die hinter ihm schwindet,

Wie durch magische Hand öffnet und schliesst sich der Weg.

Sieh! jetzt schwand es dem Blick; in wildem Gewirr durcheinander

Stürzt der zierliche Bau dieser beweglichen Welt.

Nein, dort schwebt es frohlockend herauf; der Knoten entwirrt sich;

Nur mit verändertem Reiz stellet die Regel sich her.

Ewig zerstört, es erzeugt sich ewig die drehende Schöpfung,

Und ein stilles Gesetz lenkt der Verwandlungen Spiel.

Sprich, wie geschiehts, dass rastlos erneut die Bildungen schwanken,

Und die Ruhe besteht in der bewegten Gestalt?

Jeder ein Herrscher, frei, nur dem eigenen Herzen gehorchet

Und im eilenden Lauf findet die einzige Bahn?

Willst du es wissen? Es ist des Wohllauts mächtige Gottheit,

Die zum geselligen Tanz ordnet den tobenden Sprung,

Die, der Nemesis gleich, an des Rhythmus goldenem Zügel

Lenkt die brausende Lust und die verwilderte zähmt.

Und dir rauschen umsonst die Harmonien des Weltalls?

Dich ergreift nicht der Strom dieses erhabnen Gesangs?

Nicht der begeisternde Takt, den alle Wesen dir schlagen?

Nicht der wirbelnde Tanz, der durch den ewigen Raum

Leuchtende Sonnen schwingt in Kühn gewundenen Bahnen?

Das du im Spiele doch ehrst, fliehst du im Handeln, das Mass.

Friedrich Schiller.

[Though by different means, Sir John Davies also managed to devise a highly-polished, regular metre to reproduce in English the classical _.stateliness of a courtly dance. The following section treats of “The Antiquitte of Dancing,” and is taken from his “Orchestra, or A Poeme of Dauncing”:

Dauncing (bright Lady) then began to be,

When the first seedes whereof the world did spring,

The Fire, Ayre, Earth and Water did agree,

By Loves perswasion, Natures mighty King,

To leave their first disorder’d combating;

And in a daunce such measure to observe,

As all the world their motion should preserve.

Since when they still are carried in a round,

And changing come one in anothers place,

Yet doe they neyther mingle nor confound,

But every one doth keepe the bounded space

Wherein the daunce doth bid it turne or trace:

This wondrous myracle did Love devise,

For Dauncing is Loves proper exercise.

Like this, he fram’d the Gods eternall bower,

And of a shapelesse and confused masse

By his through-piercing and digesting power

The turning vault of heaven formed was:

Whose starrie wheeles he hath so made to passe,

As that their movings doe a musick frame,

And they themselves, still daunce unto the same.

Or if this (All) which round about we see

(As idle Morpheus some sicke braines hath taught)

Of undevided Motes compacted bee,

How was this goodly Architecture wrought?

Or by what meanes were they together brought?

They erre that say they did concur by chaunce,

Love made them meete in a well-ordered daunce.

As when Amphion with his charming Lire

Begot so sweet a Syren of the ayre,

That with her Rethorike made the stones conspire

The ruines of a Citty to repayre,

(A worke of wit and reasons wise affayre)

So Loves smooth tongue, the motes such measure taught

That they joyn’d hands, and so the world was wrought.

Sir John Davies (1569-1626).]

Two Ballads:

SCHÖN-ROHTRAUT

Wie heisst König Ringangs Töchterlein?

Rohtraut, Schön-Rohtraut.

Was tut sie denn den ganzen Tag,

Da sie wohl nicht spinnen und nähen mag?

Tut fischen und jagen.

O dass ich doch ihr Jäger wär’!

Fischen und Jagen freute mich sehr. –

– Schweig stille, mein Herze!

Und über eine kleine Weil’,

Rohtraut, Schön-Rohtraut,

So dient der Knab’ auf Ringangs Schloss

In Jägertracht und hat ein Ross,

Mit Rohtraut zu jagen.

O dass ich doch ein Königssohn wär’!

Rohtraut, Schön-Rohtraut lieb’ ich so sehr.

– Schweig stille, mein Herze!

Einstmals sie ruhten am Eichenbaum,

Da lacht Schön-Rohtraut:

‘Was siehst mich an so wunniglich?

Wenn du das Herz hast, küsse mich!’

Ach erschrak der Knabe!

Doch denket er: mir ist’s vergunnt,

Und küsset Schön-Rohtraut auf den Mund.

– Schweig stille, mein Herze!

Darauf sie ritten schweigend heim,

Rohtraut, Schön-Rohtraut;

Es jauchzt der Knab’ in seinem Sinn:

Und würdst du heute Kaiserin,

Mich sollt’s nicht kränken:

Ihr tausend Blätter im Walde wisst,

Ich hab’ Schön-Rohtrauts Mund geküsst!

– Schweig stille, mein Herze!

DIE GEISTER AM MUMMELSEE

Vom Berge was kommt dort um Mitternacht spät

Mit Fackeln so prächtig herunter?

Ob das wohl zum Tanze, zum Feste noch geht?

Mir klingen die Lieder so munter.

O nein!

So sage, was mag es wohl sein?

Das, was du da siehest, ist Totengeleit,

Und was du da hörest, sind Klagen.

Dem König, dem Zauberer, gilt es zuleid,

Sie bringen ihn wieder getragen.

O weh!

So sind es die Geister vom See!

Sie schweben herunter ins Mummelseetal,

Sie haben den See schon betreten,

Sie rühren und netzen den Fuss nicht einmal,

Sie schwirren in leisen Gebeten –

O schau!

Am Sarge die glänzende Frau!

Jetzt öffnet der See das grünspiegelnde Tor;

Gib acht, nun tauchen sie nieder!

Es schwankt eine lebende Treppe hervor,

Und – drunten schon summen die Lieder.

Hörst du?

Sie singen ihn unten zur Ruh.

Die Wasser, wie lieblich sie brennen und glühn!

Sie spielen in grünendem Feuer;

Es geisten die Nebel am Ufer dahin,

Zum Meere verzieht sich der Weiher. –

Nur still!

Ob dort sich nichts rühren will?

Es zuckt in der Mitten – O Himmel ach hilf!

Nun kommen sie wieder, sie kommen!

Es orgelt im Rohr und es klirret im Schilf;

Nur hurtig, die Flucht nur genommen!

Davon!

Sie wittern, sie haschen mich schon!

Eduard Mörike (1804-1875).

[For something similar in English we need look no further than the authors of the celebrated Lyrical Ballads:

LUCY GRAY;

OR, SOLITUDE

Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray:

And, when I crossed the wild,

I chanced to see at break of day

The solitary child.

No mate, no comrade Lucy knew;

She dwelt on a wide moor,

– The sweetest thing that ever grew

Beside a human door!

You yet may spy the fawn at play,

The bare upon the green;

But the sweet face of Lucy Gray

Will never more be seen.

‘To-night will be a stormy night –

You to the town must go;

And take a lantern, Child, to light

Your mother through the snow.’

‘That, Father! will I gladly do:

’Tis scarcely afternoon –

The minster-clock has just struck two,

And yonder is the moon!’

At this the Father raised his hook,

And snapped a faggot-band;

He plied his work; – and Lucy took

The lantern in her hand.

Not blither is the mountain roe:

With many a wanton stroke

Her feet disperse the powdery snow,

That rises up like smoke.

The storm came on before its time:

She wandered up and down;

And many a hill did Lucy climb:

But never reached the town.

The wretched parents all that night

Went shouting far and wide;

But there was neither sound nor sight

To serve them for a guide.

At day-break on a hill they stood

That overlooked the moor;

And thence they saw the bridge of wood,

A furlong from their door.

They wept – and, turning homeward, cried,

‘In heaven we all shall meet;’

– When in the snow the mother spied

The print of Lucy’s feet.

Then downwards from the steep hill’s edge

They tracked the footmarks small;

And through the broken hawthorn hedge,

And by the long stone-wall;

And then an open field they crossed:

The marks were still the same;

They tracked them on, nor ever lost;

And to the bridge they came.

They followed from the snowy bank

Those footmarks, one by one,

Into the middle of the plank;

And further there were none!

– Yet some maintain that to this day

She is a living child;

That you may see sweet Lucy Gray

Upon the lonesome wild.

O’er rough and smooth she traps along,

And never looks behind;

And sings a solitary song

That whistles in the wind.

William Wordsworth (1770-1850).

From “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner”, Part V:

And soon I heard a roaring wind:

lt did not come anear;

But with its sound it shook the sails,

That were so thin and sere.

The upper air burst into life!

And a hundred fire-flags sheen,

To and fro they were hurried about!

And to and fro, and in and out,

The wan stars danced between.

And the coming wind did roar more loud,

And the sails did sigh like sedge;

And the rain poured down from one black cloud;

The Moon was at its edge.

The thick black cloud was cleft, and still

The Moon was at its side:

Like waters shot from some high crag,

The lightning fell with never a jag,

A river steep and wide.

The loud wind never reached the ship,

Yet now the ship moved on!

Beneath the lightning and the Moon

The dead men gave a groan.

They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose,

Nor spake, nor moved their eyes;

It had been strange, even in a dream,

To have seen those dead men rise.

The helmsman steered, the ship moved on;

Yet never a breeze up-blew;

The mariners all ’gan work the ropes,

Where they were wont to do;

They raised their limbs like lifeless tools –

We were a ghastly crew.

The body of my brother’s son

Stood by me, knee to knee:

The body and I pulled at one rope,

But he said nought to me.

‘I fear thee, ancient Mariner!’

Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest!

’Twas not those souls that fled in pain,

Which to their corses came again,

But a troop of spirits blest:

For when it dawned – they dropped their arms,

– And clustered round the mast;

Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths,

And from their bodies passed.

Around, around, flew each sweet sound,

Then darted to the Sun;

Slowly the sounds came back again,

Now mixed, now one by one.

Sometimes a-dropping from the sky

I heard the sky-lark sing;

Sometimes all little birds that are,

How they seemed to fill the sea and air

With their sweet jargoning!

And now ’twas like all instruments,

Now like a lonely flute;

And now it is an angel’s song,

That makes the heavens be mute.

It ceased; yet still the sails made on

A pleasant noise till noon,

A noise like of a hidden brook

In the leafy month of June,

That to the sleeping woods all night

Singeth a quiet tune.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834).

In a further attempt to make clear the distinction between a recitative and declamatory treatment of the same subject matter in English, we present an additional example of a Psalm in the Authorized Version and the Countess of Pembroke’s translation – in this instance the ninety-eighth Psalm:

O Sing unto the LORD a New song,

for hee hath done marvellous things:

his right hand, and his holy arme hath gotten him the victorie.

The LORD hath made knowen his salvation:

his righteousnesse hath hee openly shewed in the sight of the heathen.

Hee hath remembred his mercie and his trueth

toward the house of Israel:

all the ends of the earth have seene

the salvation of our God.

Make a joyfull noise unto the LORD, all the earth:

make a lowd noise, and rejoyce, and sing praise.

Sing unto the LORD with the harpe:

with the harpe, and the voice of a Psalme.

With trumpets and sound of cornet:

make a joyfull noise before the LORD, the King.

Let the sea roare, and the fulnesse thereof:

the world, and they that dwell therein.

Let the floods clap their handes:

let the hills be joyfull together

Before the LORD, for he commeth to judge the earth:

with righteousnesse shall hee judge the world,

and the people with equitie.

CANTATE DOMINO

O sing Jehova, he hath wonders wrought,

A song of praise that newnesse may commend:

His hand, his holy arme alone hath brought

Conquest on all that durst with him contend.

He that salvation doth his ellect attend,

Long hid, at length hath sett in open view:

And now the unbeleeving Nations taught

His heavinly justice, yelding each their due.

His bounty and his truth the motives were,

Promis’d of yore to Jacob and his race

Which ev’ry Margine of this earthy spheare

Now sees performed in his saving grace.

Then earth, and all possessing earthy place,

O sing, O shout, O triumph, O rejoyce:

Make lute a part with vocall musique beare,

And entertaine this king with trumpet’s noise.

Hore, Sea, all that trace the bryny sands:

Thou totall globe and all that thee enjoy:

You streamy rivers clapp your swymming hands: You

Mountaines echo each at others joy, See on the

Lord this service you imploy, Who comes of

earth the crowne and rule to take:

And shall with upright justice judg the lands,

And equall lawes among the dwellers make.

Mary Herbert, Countess of Pembroke.]

It was once remarked by someone who had listened very superficially to what we have tried to demonstrate here – of how the art of poetry must be traced back to an interplay, exalted and interfused with super-sensible forces, between the spirit of breathing and the spirit of blood-circulation – it was once remarked: Well, the art of poetry will be mechanised! will be reduced to a purely mechanical system: A materialistically-minded verdict typical of our age! The only conceivable possibility is that the psychic and spiritual stand as abstract as can be in well-worn conceptual forms over against the solid material facts (to adopt an expression from the German classical period) – and those include the human organs and their functions in the human being. A true understanding of the close collaboration between the spiritual-super-sensible and the physical-perceptible is reached, however, only by one who everywhere sees spiritual events still vibrating on in material events. Anyone who follows the example of that critic who spoke against our intimations of the truly musical and imaginative qualities of poetry is really saying something – and very paradoxical it sounds – like this: There are theologians who affirm that God’s creative power is there to create the solid material world. But God’s creative power is materialised, if one says that God does not refrain from creating the solid material world. It is quite as clever to say that we materialise the art of poetry if we represent the super-sensible spirit as sufficiently powerful, not only to penetrate into materiality, but even into a rhythmical-artistic moulding of the breathing-process and circulatory-process – like Apollo playing on his lyre. The bodily-corporeal nature of man is again made one with the psychic-spiritual. This does not generate super-sensible abstractions in a Cloudcuckooland, but rather a genuine Anthroposophy, and an anthroposophical art sustained by Anthroposophy. We see how the spiritual holds sway and weaves within corporeal man, and how artistic creation means making rhythmical, harmonious and plastic that which is spiritual in the bodily-physical functions. The age-old, intuitive saying is once more seen to be true: the heart is more than this physiological organ situated in the breast, as known to external sight; the heart is connected with man’s entire soul-life, as being the centre of the blood-circulation. It must be felt anew that just as the heart is connected with the soul, so the essence of breathing is connected with the spiritual. There was a time when man felt this and still saw in the last departing breath the soul abandoning the body. For a clever, enlightened age which disregards such matters, a science of abstractions that is cut off from reality and inwardly dead may have a certain validity. But for a knowledge that is at the same time (in the sense of a Goethean perception) the foundation of true art – it must be said that this knowledge not only has to win through to the unity of the psychic-spiritual and physical corporeality in man, but has also to bring it to life artistically. A dead, abstract science can indeed be grounded on the dichotomy of matter and spirit. On this path it is not possible to create life-giving art. Hence our science, however appropriate it may be in all technical matters, however well-qualified to form the groundwork for everything technological, is eminently inartistic. Hence it is so alien to man; for Nature herself becomes an artist at the point where she produces man.

This, however, underlies particularly the art of poetry.