The Rudolf Steiner Archive

For anyone who has followed the course of scientific development in recent decades, there can be no doubt that a mighty turnaround is taking place within it. Today, when a natural scientist speaks about the so-called riddles of existence, it sounds quite different than it did just a short time ago. It was around the middle of the nineteenth century when some of the boldest minds saw scientific materialism as the only possible creed for someone familiar with the more recent results of research. The rough saying that was made at the time has become famous: “Thoughts are to the brain as bile is to the liver.” Karl Vogt said it, who in his “Köhlerglauben und Wissenschaft” (The Belief of the Coal Burner and Science) and in other writings declared that everything had been overcome that did not allow the mental activity, the life of the soul, to emerge from the mechanism of the nervous system and the brain in the same way that a physicist explains that the hands of a clock move forward from the mechanism of the clock. It was the time when Ludwig Büchner's “Kraft und Stoff” (Power and Matter) had become a kind of gospel for large sections of the educated classes. It is fair to say that excellent, independent minds have come to such convictions due to the tremendous impact that the successes of natural science have had in recent times. Shortly before, the microscope had taught the composition of living things from their smallest parts, the cells. Geology, the study of the formation of the earth, had come to explain the development of our planet according to the same laws that are still at work today. Darwinism promised to explain the origin of man in a purely natural way and began its triumphal march through the educated world so auspiciously that for many, all “old beliefs” seemed to have been dispelled by it.

Recently, however, this has changed completely. There are still holdouts of these views who, like Ladenburg at the 1903 meeting of natural scientists, proclaim the materialistic gospel; but they are opposed by others who, through more mature reflection on scientific questions, have come to a completely different conclusion. A paper has just been published entitled “Natural Science and Worldview”. It was written by Max Verworn, a physiologist who was a student of Haeckel. In this writing, we read: “In fact, even if we had the most complete knowledge of the physiological events in the cells and fibers of the cerebral cortex, with which the psychic event is linked, even if we could look into the mechanics of the brain gear like into the gear of the wheels of a clockwork, we would still never find anything but moving atoms. No human being could see or otherwise perceive with the senses how sensations and ideas arise in this way. The results that the materialistic view has had in its attempt to reduce spiritual processes to atomic movements also vividly illustrate its limitations: as long as the materialistic view exists, it has not explained the simplest sensation in terms of atomic movements. That is how it was and how it will be in the future. How could it ever be conceivable that things that are not perceptible to the senses, such as psychic processes, could ever be explained by merely breaking down large bodies into their smallest parts! After all, the atom is still a body, and no movement of atoms is ever capable of bridging the gap between the physical world and the psyche. The materialistic view, however fruitful it has been as a scientific working hypothesis, however fruitful it will undoubtedly remain in this sense in the future – I need only refer to the successes of structural chemistry – is nevertheless unsuitable as a basis for a world view. Here it proves to be too narrow. Philosophical materialism has played out its historical role. This attempt at a scientific worldview has failed forever.” So speaks a naturalist at the beginning of the twentieth century about the worldview that was proclaimed around the middle of the nineteenth like a new gospel demanded by scientific progress.

In particular, it is the 1850s, 1860s and 1870s that may be described as the years of the materialist high tide. At that time, the explanation of mental and spiritual phenomena in purely mechanical terms had a truly fascinating influence. And the materialists were able to claim that they had won a victory over the adherents of the spiritual world view. Even those who had not started out from natural science studies joined their ranks. Büchner, Vogt, Moleschott and others had still relied on purely natural scientific presuppositions, but in 1872 David Friedrich Strauß, in his book 'Old and New Belief', tried to gain the supporting points for the new creed from his theological and philosophical knowledge. Decades before, he had already made a sensational impact on intellectual life with his Life of Jesus. He seemed to be equipped with the full theological and philosophical education of his time. He now boldly stated that the materialistic explanation of world phenomena, including man, must form the basis for a new gospel, for a new moral understanding and shaping of existence. The descent of man from purely animal ancestors seemed to want to become a new dogma, and in the eyes of the naturalistic philosophers, any adherence to a spiritual and soul origin of our race was regarded as a superstition from the childhood of mankind that had not been overcome and with which one no longer had to deal.

And to those who relied on modern natural science, the cultural historians came to the rescue. The customs and beliefs of wild tribes were studied. The remains of primitive cultures, dug out of the earth, like the bones of prehistoric animals and the imprints of extinct plant life: they were supposed to bear witness to the fact that man, when he first appeared on the globe, differed only in degree from the higher animals, but that in terms of spirit and soul he had developed from mere animality to his present height. A point had been reached when everything in this materialistic structure seemed to be in tune. And under a certain compulsion, which the ideas of the time exerted on them, people thought as a believing materialist writes. “The diligent study of science has led me to take everything calmly, to bear the inevitable patiently and, incidentally, to help ensure that humanity's misery is gradually reduced. I can do without the fantastic consolations that a believing mind seeks in wonderful formulas, all the more so because my imagination finds the most beautiful inspiration in literature and art. When I follow the course of a great drama or, at the hand of scholars, undertake a journey to other stars, a journey through pre-worldly landscapes, when I admire the sublimity of nature on mountain peaks or worship the art of man in tones and colors, do I not have enough of the uplifting? Do I still need something that contradicts my reason? The fear of death, which torments so many pious people, is completely alien to me. I know that when my body decays, I will live no more than I lived before I was born. The torments of purgatory and hell do not exist for me. I return to the boundless realm of nature, which lovingly embraces all children. My life was not in vain. I have used the strength I possessed well. I leave the earth in the firm belief that everything will become better and more beautiful!” (From Faith to Knowledge. An instructive developmental process, faithfully described by Kuno Freidank.) Today, many people think this way, who are still dominated by the obsessions that affected the representatives of the materialistic worldview during the period mentioned.

But those who tried to keep up with the latest scientific thinking have come to different conclusions. The first response from an outstanding natural scientist at the Natural Scientists' Assembly in Leipzig (1876) to natural scientific materialism has become famous. At the time, Du Bois-Reymond gave his “Ignorabimus Speech”. He tried to show that this natural scientific materialism is in fact capable of nothing more than determining the movements of the smallest particles of matter, and he demanded that it must be content with doing just that. But at the same time, he emphasized that not even the slightest thing has been achieved in explaining the processes of the mind and soul. One may have whatever opinion of these statements by Du Bois-Reymond, but one thing is clear: they represented a rejection of the materialistic explanation of the world. They showed how a natural scientist could go mad as a result of it.

The materialistic explanation of the world had thus entered the stage at which it modestly explained the life of the soul. It established its “not knowing” (agnosticism). Although it stated that it wanted to remain “scientific” and not resort to other sources of knowledge, it also did not want to ascend to a higher world view with its means. (In a comprehensive way, Raoul Francé, a naturalist, has shown in recent times the inadequacy of scientific results for a higher world view. This is an undertaking to which we would like to return another time.

And now the facts steadily increased that showed the impossibility of the undertaking to base an psychology on the study of material phenomena. Science was forced to study certain “abnormal” phenomena of the soul life, hypnotism, suggestion, somnambulism. It was shown that for the truly thinking person, a materialistic view is quite inadequate for these phenomena. The facts that were discovered were not new. Rather, they were phenomena that had been studied in ancient times and up to the beginning of the nineteenth century, but which had simply been set aside as inconvenient during the period of the materialist flood.

In addition, there was something else. It became more and more apparent on what a weak foundation the naturalists themselves had built their explanations of the origin of the 'animal forms and consequently also of man. For some time, the ideas of 'adaptation' and the 'struggle for existence' had a great attraction in explaining the origin of species! It was realized that one had been pursuing illusions with them. A school formed under Weismann's leadership that refused to accept that characteristics that a living being had acquired through adaptation to its environment could be inherited, and that a reorganization of living beings could thus occur. Therefore, everything was attributed to the “struggle for existence,” and there was talk of the “omnipotence of natural breeding.” In sharp contrast to this, based on indisputable facts, some declared that one had spoken of a “struggle for existence” in cases where it did not exist at all. They wanted to show that nothing could be explained by it. They spoke of a “powerlessness of natural breeding”. Furthermore, de Vries was able to show in recent years through experiments that there are sudden changes from one life form to another (mutation). This also shattered what Darwinians had regarded as a firm article of faith, namely that animal and plant forms only changed gradually. More and more, the ground simply disappeared underfoot, on which one had built for decades. In any case, thinking researchers had already believed that they would have to leave this ground sooner or later, such as the early deceased W.F. Rolph, who in his book “Biological Problems, also an Attempt to Develop a Rational Ethics” stated as early as 1884: “It is only through the introduction of this insatiability that the Darwinian principle of perfection in the struggle for life becomes acceptable. For only now do we have an explanation for the fact that the creature, wherever it can, acquires more than it needs to maintain its status quo: that it grows in excess where the opportunity presents itself. ... While for the Darwinist there is no struggle for existence wherever the creature's existence is not threatened, for me the struggle for existence is an ever-present one. It is primarily a struggle for life, a struggle for the increase of life, but not a struggle for existence."

It is only natural that in such a situation the discerning admit: the materialistic world of thought is not suitable for building a worldview. We cannot say anything about mental and spiritual phenomena on the basis of it. And there are already numerous natural scientists today who are trying to build a world structure on completely different ideas. We need only recall the work of the botanist Reincke: “The World as Deed”. It is certainly apparent that such naturalists have not been educated with impunity in purely materialistic ideas. What they put forward from their new idealistic point of view is poor, it may satisfy them for the time being, but not those who look deeper into the riddles of the world. Such natural scientists cannot bring themselves to approach methods that start from a genuine contemplation of the spirit and the soul. They have the greatest fear of “mysticism”, of “gnosis” or “theosophy”. This can be clearly seen, for example, from the writings of Verworn cited above. He says: “There is unrest in natural science. Things that seemed clear and transparent to everyone have become cloudy today. Long-proven symbols and ideas, which until recently everyone used and worked with without hesitation at every turn, have been shaken and are viewed with suspicion. Basic concepts, such as that of matter, appear shaken, and the firmest ground begins to sway under the steps of the natural scientist. Certain problems alone stand firm as rock, against which all attempts and efforts of natural science have so far failed. In the face of this realization, the disheartened throws himself resignedly into the arms of mysticism, which has always been the last resort where the tormented mind saw no way out. The level-headed person looks around for new symbols and tries to create new foundations on which he can continue to build.” It is clear that the nature-researching thinker of today, through his habits of imagination, is not in a position to conceive of ‘mysticism’ other than as something that includes the confusion and ambiguity of the intellect.

And what ideas about the life of the soul does such a thinker arrive at? We read at the end of the cited writing: “Prehistoric man had formed the idea of a separation of body and soul at the sight of death. The soul separated from the body and led an independent existence. It found no rest and came back as a ghost if it was not banished by sepulchral ceremonies. Fear and superstition frightened people. The remnants of these beliefs have survived to this day. The fear of death, that is, of what will come afterwards, is still widespread today. How different it all looks from the point of view of psychomonism! Since the psychic experiences of the individual only come about when certain lawful connections exist, they cease as soon as these connections are somehow disturbed, as they are incessantly disturbed during the day. With the physical changes at death, these connections cease altogether. Thus, no sensation and idea, no thought and no feeling of the individual can exist anymore. The individual soul is dead. Nevertheless, the sensations and thoughts and feelings live on. They live on beyond the perishable individual in other individuals, wherever the same complexes of conditions exist. They are passed on from individual to individual, from generation to generation, from nation to nation. They work and weave on the eternal loom of the soul. They work on the history of the human spirit. — Thus we all live on after death as links in the great, continuous chain of spiritual development.” But is this any different from the survival of the water wave in others that it has raised, while it itself passes away? Do you truly live on if you only continue to exist in your effects? Do you not have such a survival in common with all phenomena of physical nature? It is evident that the materialistic conception of the world must undermine its own foundations. It is not yet able to build new ones. Only a true understanding of mysticism, theosophy, gnosis will make this possible. At the natural scientists' conference at Lübeck several years ago, the chemist Ostwald spoke about “Overcoming Materialism” and founded a new natural philosophy journal for the purpose of achieving the goal he had suggested. Natural science is ripe to receive the fruits of a higher worldview. And all its resistance will be in vain; it will have to take account of the needs of the yearning human soul.

It has often been emphasized at this point how present-day science, through its own experiences, is confronted with questions that knock on the door of theosophy and gnosis, and only from these will we be able to find their answers. In this context, there is less and less need to think of the facts through which natural science and occultism seem to come together. For in this area, all sorts of opportunities for prejudice, false conclusions and overestimation of external sensory perceptions (N-rays, organic radiations, etc.) lurk. It is much more important when thinkers who are grounded in natural scientific facts, actually without wanting to, through observation of the in a certain sense normal course of nature, are led to conclusions and deductions which confront the theosophist as ancient knowledge in a new form. Here two sentences are to be put together, the agreement of which speaks clearly enough for everyone who can judge impartially:

H. P. Blavatsky says in The Secret Doctrine (Vol. I, p. 163): “Fohat (that is the fundamental power by which the Universe is constructed) has, as already shown, various meanings. He is called the ‘Builder of Builders’, because the power which he personifies has formed our sevenfold chain. He is one and seven, and on the cosmic plane is behind all such manifestations as light, heat, sound, adhesion, etc., etc., and is the 'spirit' of electricity, which is the life of the universe."

The great thinker who is presently the Prime Minister of England, A. J. Balfour, delivered a speech on August 17, 1904 at the British Association on our “Weltanschauung”. In it, we find the following: “We are on the eve of a most extraordinary revolution. Two hundred years ago, electricity seemed to be nothing more than a scientific toy. And today it is already considered by many to be the essence of things, the sensually perceptible expression of which is matter. Scarcely a century has passed since even the ether was assigned a place in the universe by serious thinkers. And at present, the possibility is already being discussed that it is the very primary substance from which the whole world is composed. The further conclusions that arise from this view of the universe are no less astonishing. For example, mass was previously thought to be a fundamental property of matter that could neither be explained nor needed explaining; that was immutable in nature, experienced neither gain nor loss, no matter what force acted on it; and that was inseparably attached to every, even the smallest, part of matter, regardless of its shape, volume, chemical or physical nature.

But if we accept the new theory, then these doctrines must also be corrected. Not only is mass capable of being explained, but the explanation is readily available. Mass is not a fundamental property of matter. Rather, as already mentioned, it arises from the interactions that exist between the electric monads that make up matter and the ether, in which the former are immersed as if in a bath. It is by no means immutable. On the contrary, if it is moved extremely quickly, it is subject to changes with every change in its speed. – The electrical theory that we have discussed leads us... into a completely new area. .... It dissolves... matter, whether it has a molar or molecular form, into something that is no longer matter at all. The atom is now nothing more than relatively wide space in which tiny monads carry out their orderly cycle; the monads themselves are no longer considered units of substance, but as electrical units, so that this theory not only explains matter, but immediately explains away it.” (Balfour: “Unsere heutige Weltanschauung”, Leipzig, Verlag Johann Ambrosius: Barth. Page ısf. and 27.)

Anyone who follows the spiritual life of the present day has ample opportunity to see how official science is being driven by its own ideas in the direction of secret science and serious mystical endeavors. Out of prejudice, it does not even want to allow itself to make even a superficial examination of these endeavors and unconsciously and continually provides the building blocks for them with its own methods.

For some time now, essays by Dr. Carl Camillo Schneider on individual questions of the doctrine of the soul have been appearing in various magazines. Only details from two magazines will be cited here. For the purposes of this essay, it is not necessary to go into a detailed discussion of the essays. It is sufficient to say that Schneider feels compelled by his scientific considerations to resort to the assumption of a “four-dimensional space”. However, esoteric science regards three-dimensional space only as something that belongs to the world of the external physical senses, whereas it speaks of multi-dimensional spaces when discussing objects of the soul (astral) and spirit (mental) world. To show the assertions that Schneider comes to, individual passages from his essays will be cited. In one essay on “The Essence of Time” (No. 12 of 1905 of the “Wiener klinischen Rundschau”), we read: “I distinguished... between the sensual world, which can also be described as a momentary world of space, and the spiritual world, which extends over the entire time and is composed of countless worlds of space. This spiritual world is only successively given to us and, furthermore, only in an extremely small section that spans our lives. If, however, succession were abolished and all moments of time were given to us simultaneously, the world would change its appearance completely. Time would freeze into a dimension that would join the three dimensions of space as a fourth. The spiritual world, when time is fully comprehended, is four-dimensional.” — Now, what is asserted here as a result of intellectual reasoning is known to the true mystic through spiritual insight. It is only that, in the face of his more stringent requirements, Schneider's explanations seem somewhat amateurish, more like a fancifully inaccurate picture than like reality. Mysticism is decried as enthusiasm. Its strictness is simply not known.

In an article on “Psychophysical Parallelism” (No. 29 of the “Wiener klinischen Rundschau”, 1905), Schneider comes to the idea that the whole world is based on a soul and that it cannot be said that our body's brain produces something spiritual: “Our body is a reflection of our psychic world. It must be so because we utilize the sensations from the stimulus event that make up this psychic world. The plant is also only a reflection of its psychic world, as are a molecule and an atom, only these worlds are more or less insignificant compared to ours: they are smaller, or almost tiny, sections of the general psyche, of which ours is already a relatively large section. Besides being a reflection, we are now also an active link in this world that is reflected in us. In order to be able to act, our psyche is coupled to one of its contents and operates through its mediation in itself.

How fantastic this remarkable attempt to understand the world in its spiritual character is! This concept of a vague, general psyche, of a coupling, etc., is related to the explanations of the true mystic, as the following description would be related to the scientific description of a plant by a strict botanist: “The plant consists of firm plant parts and juices.” In an article on “Space Perception” (“Zukunft” of August 5, 1905), Schneider explains: “Things in themselves do not exist, only psychics. Every thing is psychic; therefore, one cannot speak of a proper sensation, since our sense organs do not feel anything; the psychic things only enter into a complex of things that we call our consciousness, but which one should better call our psychic organization. Within each individual psychic organization, which appears as a unity in self-consciousness (feeling), things present themselves somewhat differently than in another; the differences can even be very considerable (psychic defects).” What clarity would come to all these attempts to understand something if the ideas of genuine mysticism about the different aspects of the human being were applied! But even such attempts are significant. Schneider is a private lecturer at the University of Vienna.

Recently a journal has begun to appear in Leipzig called “Der Buddhist. Unabhängige deutsche Monatsschrift für das Gesamtgebiet des Buddhismus und die buddhistische Welt. Deutsche Monatsblätter zur Orientierung über die buddhistische Mission im Morgen- und Abendlande.” Its editor is Karl B. Seidenstücker, who is known for publishing writings from the field of Buddhist worldviews. The journal announces the founding of a “Buddhist Mission Association in Germany,” which has the purpose of “promoting and spreading Buddhism in German-speaking countries.”

The magazine presents itself as a thorough presentation of the Buddhist world view. For example, in a sharp and appropriate way, an article by Bhikkhu Ananda Maitriya characterizes the concept of “Nibbana,” whereby the Buddhist understanding of this term is clearly elaborated. In general, the magazine places a great deal of emphasis on clearly presenting the Buddhist point of view, which does not start from the “higher self” (Atma), but rather looks at this self from the perspective of the non-self. Such precise characterizations alone can promote an understanding of a worldview. Von Seidenstücker's articles are mentioned: “God and Gods, or is Buddhism atheistic?” and “Mahäbodhi”.

Insofar as the magazine serves to educate about the Buddhist worldview, it must be considered a highly commendable undertaking. However, insofar as it pursues a missionary purpose in German-speaking countries, it should be noted that propagandistically disseminating the worldview of one people within another contradicts the higher laws of intellectual life. Truth is one and the same, but it must take on different forms depending on the time and the cultural area. Buddhism is the truth in the guise that is appropriate for its people. In particular, its starting point of non-self would contradict the tasks of the present Western world, which must find the way to truth precisely through the higher development of self. Theosophy differs from all similar missionary attempts of a particular form of world view in that it focuses on the one life of truth and, with regard to the forms in which it presents this life, takes into account the character of certain cultures. The Occident is in a phase of development in which Christianity, by recognizing its true essence, must bring about a new epoch. Theosophy recognizes this as a requirement of the laws of evolution. — But the “Buddhist Mission Association in Germany” has the following words in its statutes: “The B.M.V. stands on the ground of tolerance and refrains from any attack on any religious or ecclesiastical communities. It declares its sympathy for all endeavors that serve spiritual progress and true humanity and that benefit living beings for the sake of their well-being and salvation.” If it really works in this spirit, then its practical result cannot contradict that of Theosophy. And the magazine will undoubtedly contribute to the goal of making the Buddhist religion known to Europeans through its serious character. And that is also one of the tasks of Theosophy.

“Contributions to the Further Development of the Christian Religion” is the title of a book (published in Munich in 1904 by J.F. Lehmann's publishing house) for which “a large number of scholars from various professions and sciences joined forces for a common task”. This task is characterized as follows: “to explain and promote the state of religion in contemporary life; each contributor reports on the subject with which he is familiar, but together they address not their fellow specialists, but all those who care about the highest questions and who share in the movement and striving, the doubt and restlessness. ... Only those who stand on the ground of Christianity, who are convinced that an eternal truth has broken through in Christianity, that a way of life has been developed to which lasting spiritual domination is due, can contribute to the further development of the Christian religion. But only those who are also convinced that the present state of the Christian religion does not correspond to the demands of the world-historical situation, that in that eternal truth is combined with many things that today many, exceedingly many, perceive as temporal and human, to which they therefore cannot possibly pay the reverence that is due only to the eternal and divine, can work for a further development.

In the book, the teachings of Christianity, insofar as the individual authors have penetrated them, are now themselves measured against a truth that, from a higher point of view, is felt to be no less temporal and human. In almost all the essays, it can be seen that the authors are rooted in the present-day cultural-historical way of looking at things, which tends towards materialistic ideas. It is understandable that it is not stated everywhere that such a standard is applied. The authors are also hardly aware of the “temporal and human” in their judgment. And they may have many objections to the term “materialistic.” But it is not the dogmas that someone represents that are important, but the habits of thought that are peculiar to him. He who can accept only what the modern world view calls “natural” lives in materialistic habits of thought, even if he defends a doctrine that comes from the spiritual world in the highest sense. — When considering Christianity, it is possible, through true immersion in its core, to draw the newer world view up to it, instead of drawing it down into the realm of modern thought. And only the former can have a truly educational effect. That is why the sober coldness of current ideas emanates from the book everywhere, not the warmth that one feels emanating from Christianity when one penetrates into its deep secrets.

Books of this kind show, precisely through what they cannot achieve, the necessity of the theosophical perspective for a revival of Christian truths. The approach from which these “contributions” arose devotes all critical energy to ruffling the garment of Christianity because this garment does not match the modern costume; the theosophical method, on the other hand, attempts to penetrate the essence of that which wears this garment. The latter then shows itself in the character of another time, but it itself still contributes to the understanding of its wearer. In this way, theosophy does justice to the modern scientific way of thinking in that it naturally replaces the garment of a bygone age with one of the present. After the garment has been torn to shreds, nothing remains of the essence in the description in the “Beiträge”, which it has not really approached at all, but rather an arbitrary construct of what the observer perceives as Christianity. And that is in most cases a profession of faith without psychic and spiritual power. There is not the slightest necessity for this profession to be traced back to a Christ who has been completely “temporally and humanly” made, and the fact that this Christ is still presented as the same one of whom the Gospels tell appears to be the height of arbitrary conceptual constructions. The only contribution that is somewhat noteworthy is R. Eucken's on “Science and Religion,” in which an attempt is made to understand the independence of intellectual life and to break it down into three stages: 1. the spirit that seeks to understand nature is placed as something peculiar above placed above nature itself, 2. the spiritual life in the history of mere succession of human-personal effects is regarded as something special, and 3. the creative power of the individual personality is understood as an emanation of his divine power. But this attempt also gets stuck in bare abstractions and does not penetrate to a true conception of a spiritual world. The other contributions deal with: The Nature and Origin of Religion, its Roots and their Development (Prof. Dr. L. v. Schroeder, Vienna), entirely in line with modern rationalist cultural history; the Old “Testament in the Light of Modern Research (Prof. D. H. Gunkel, Berlin), only a protective writing for modern biblical criticism; Gospel and Early Christianity (the New Testament in the light of historical research by Prof. D. A. Deißmann, Heidelberg), no vigorous advocacy of clear ideas; Faith of Salvation and Dogma (Prof. D. Dr. A. Dorner, Königsberg); Religion and Morality (Prof. D. Dr. W. Herrmann, Marburg); Christianity and Teutons (Sup. D.F. Meyer , Zwickau), a very subjective picture of Christian life in Germany in the centuries before Luther; Religion and School (Prof. Litt. D. Dr. W. Rein, Jena); the community-building power of religion (Lic. G. Traub, Dortmund); The Essence of Christianity (Lic. Dr. G. Wobbermin, Berlin). It should be emphasized that the book is written in the spirit of modern university theology, based on the “latest scientific findings”.

[ 1 ] In selecting such a theme as the one I propose for to-day, “Haeckel, The Riddle of the Universe, and Theosophy,” I am aware that to a student of spiritual life it is fraught with difficulties, and that the statements I am about to make may possibly give offence to so-called materialists and theosophists alike. And yet there seems to me a necessity that this matter should, once in a while, be approached from the theosophical point of view, since from one standpoint the “gospel” derived from Haeckel's researches has been made accessible to thousands upon thousands of mankind by means of his book, The Riddle of the Universe. Ten thousand copies of this work were sold within a very short time of its appearance, and it has been translated into many languages. Seldom, indeed, has a book of serious purpose found so wide a circulation.

[ 2 ] Now, if theosophy is to make clear its aims, it is but right that it should take into account so important a publication—one that concerns itself with the most profound questions of existence. Theosophy should deal with it comprehensively, and seek to express its attitude with regard to it. For after all, the theosophical conception of life is not combative but rather conciliatory, desirous of harmonising opposing views.

Furthermore, I myself am in a very peculiar position with respect to Ernst Haeckel's conception of the universe, for I know well those feelings and perceptions which, partly by reason of a scientific consciousness, and partly from the general conditions of the world and the usual conceptions thereof, draw men as though by the power of some fascination towards such great and simple paths of thought as those from which Haeckel has constructed his conception of the universe. And here I may say that I should hardly have dared to speak my mind thus openly were I in any sense an opponent of Haeckel, or were it not that I am intimately acquainted with all that can be experienced in the process of adapting oneself to the wonderful edifice of his ideas.

[ 3 ] The very first thing that anyone bringing his attention frankly to bear upon the development of spiritual life is bound to recognise, is the moral power displayed in Haeckel's labours. For years past this man, imbued with an enormous amount of courage, has fought for the acceptance and the recognition of his conception of the universe—fought strenuously, having again and again to defend himself against the manifold obstacles that impeded his progress. On the other hand, we must not be unmindful of the fact that Haeckel's great powers of comprehensive expression are balanced by equally comprehensive powers of thought: the very qualities in which many scientists are deficient happen to be those with which he is very highly endowed.

In gathering together the results of his researches and investigations under the one comprehensive title of a conception of the universe, he has boldly departed from those tendencies of scientific thought which have for several decades opposed any such undertaking; and this very departure must be recognised as an act of special significance.

Another fact to be noted is, that I am placed in a singular position with regard to the theosophical conception of the universe when I speak about Haeckel; for anyone acquainted with the process of development through which the theosophical movement has passed will be aware of what sharp words and what opposition, not only on the part of theosophists in general, but on the part of the founder of the theosophical movement, Madame H. P. Blavatsky, were directed against the deductions which Ernst Haeckel draws from his work of investigation. Few publications touching cosmogony have been so violently opposed in the Secret Doctrine as that of Haeckel.

You will understand that I speak here without prejudice, for I think that in parts of my book, Haeckel and his Opponents, as well as in my other work on Cosmogonies of the Nineteenth Century, I have to the fullest extent done justice to what I take to be the real truths contained in Haeckel's conception of the universe. I believe that I have sifted from his labours that which is fruitful, and that which is enduring. [ 4 ] Consider the general attitude towards the conception of the world in so far as it is based upon scientific reasons. During the first half of the nineteenth century a totally different spiritual attitude prevailed from that known in the second half. Haeckel's appearance on the scene coincided with a time in which it was an easy thing for the new growth of so-called Darwinism to be subjected to materialistic interpretations. If, therefore, we realise how insistent was this tendency, at the very time when Haeckel was a young and enthusiastic student entering upon the pursuit of natural science, to reduce all discoveries in that domain of learning to a materialistic issue, the consequent bent towards materialism may well be understood, and may therefore lead us into a path of peace rather than of conflict.

If you will consider those men who, about the middle of the nineteenth century, set themselves to confront the great riddle of humanity with calm, unprejudiced eyes, you will find two things: on the one hand, a state of absolute resignation in relation to the highest questions concerning a divine ordering of the world, such as immortality, freedom of will, origin of life—a resignation, in short, with regard to all the actual riddles of the universe. On the other hand you will discover, co-existing with this attitude of resignation, remnants of an ancient religious tradition, and this even among students of natural science. Bold adventuring towards investigation of such questions from the scientific point of view was, during the first half of the nineteenth century, to be met with only among German philosophers, such as Schelling and Fichte, as well as Oken, who, by the way, was a pioneer of freedom without equal, not alone upon this subject, but in many paths of life.

All attempts made by men in the present day towards the fundamentalising of world-theories are to be found in still bolder outline among the works of Oken. And yet all this was animated by a certain subtleness—a breath, as it were, of that old spiritualism which is clearly conscious that, behind and beyond all that our senses can perceive, all that can be investigated by means of instruments, there still lurks something spiritual to be sought for. [ 5 ] Haeckel has again and again told us how distinctly the mind of his great teacher—that deep student of natural science, Johannes Müller, of imperishable memory—was tinged with this subtle breath. You can read in Haeckel's own writings how he had been struck (it was at the time when he was busy at the Berlin University and studying the anatomy of men and animals under Johannes Müller) by the great resemblance apparent not alone in outward form, but also by that similarity which compels attention in the evolution of form. He tells us how he had remarked to his master that such resemblance as this must hint at some mysterious kinship between man and beast, and that the answer made by Johannes Müller, who had searched so deeply into Nature, had been: “Ah! he who lays bare the secret of species will indeed have reached the highest summit.”

What we have to do is to attune ourselves to the spirit, the motive, of such a seeker; of one who assuredly would never have halted had he beheld a prospect of entering into possession of that secret. On one other occasion, when teacher and pupil were travelling together on some journey of investigation, Haeckel again referred to the close relationship existing between animals; and Johannes Müller once more replied very much to the same effect. In alluding to this I only wish to draw your attention to a certain attitude of mind.

If you will look back among the writings of any well-known naturalist belonging to the first half of the nineteenth century—for instance, to those of Burdach—you will find that, in spite of all the careful and elaborate minutiae appertaining to natural science, whenever the kingdom of life comes to be considered, the suggestion is ever present that here no mere physical and chemical powers are in operation, but that something higher has to be taken into account.

[ 6 ] When, however, improvements in microscopes made it possible for man to observe, to a far greater extent than heretofore, all those curious formations which serve to distinguish living creatures, showing that we have to do with a fine web of the minutest animalcules, and that this actually composes the physical body—when, as I have said, so much was made visible, the attitude of the scientific mind underwent a change. This physical body, which serves plants and animals as their garment, now resolved itself, so far as the scientist was concerned, into a tissue of cells. This discovery as to the life of these cells was made by naturalists about the end of the third decade of the nineteenth century, and, seeing that it was possible to ascertain so much about the lives of such animalcules by the exercise of the senses, assisted by the aid of the microscope, it required but a step further for that which acts as the organising principle in these living creatures to be lost sight of, because no physical sense, nothing external, proclaimed its presence.

[ 7 ] At that time there was no Darwinism, yet it was owing to the impression made by this great advance in the domain of practical research that we find a natural science grounded in materialism coming into vogue during the 'forties and 'fifties. It was then thought that what could be perceived by the senses, and thus explained, could be understood by the whole world. Things that now seem puerile created then the most intense sensation, and became, so to speak, a gospel for humanity. Such words as “energy” and “matter” became popular by-words, while men like Büchner and Moleschott were recognised authorities. It was considered an evidence of childish fancy, belonging to earlier epochs of the human race, to suppose that anything that could be minutely examined with the eye was possessed of aught beyond what was actually visible.

[ 8 ] Now, you must bear in mind that, side by side with all discovery, feelings and sensations play a great part in the development of mental life. Anyone who may be inclined to think that cosmogonies are the result of bold calculations of reason makes a mistake: in all such matters the heart is active, and the secret sources of education also contribute their share. Humanity has, during its latest phase of development, been passing through a materialistic stage of education. The actual beginning of this stage is traceable far back, it is true; nevertheless, it reached its apex in the time of which we are speaking. We call this epoch of materialistic education the age of enlightenment.

Man had now—and this was the final result of the Christian conception of the universe—to find his foothold upon the firm ground of reality: the God whom he had so long sought beyond the clouds he was now bidden to seek within his inner consciousness. This had a far-reaching effect upon the entire development of the nineteenth century, and anyone interested in psychological changes and caring to study the development of humanity at that time will be enabled to understand how all the events and occurrences which then followed upon each other, such as the struggle for freedom in the 'thirties and 'forties, can but be classed as separate storms and convulsions of the feelings which were the result of that newly developed sense of physical reality, and which were bound to run their appointed course. We have to deal with a tendency in human education that sought in the first place forcibly to eradicate from the human heart every aspiration towards a spiritual life.

It is not from natural science that those deductions, pronouncing the world to consist of naught but what can be perceived by the senses, have been drawn; they are a consequence of the educational teaching obtaining at that time. Materialism had become interwoven with explanations relating to the facts of natural science. Anyone who will take the trouble to study these things as they really are, bringing to bear upon the subject a mind free from prejudice, will be in a position to see for himself that the case is as I am about to set forth, but it is impossible for me in the space of one short hour to deal with the matter exhaustively.

[ 9 ] The whole of the stupendous advance made in the realms of natural science, of astronomy, of physics and chemistry, due to spectrum analysis, to a greater theoretical knowledge of heat, and to that teaching concerning the development of living organisms known to us as the Darwinian theory—all these come within this period of materialism. Had these discoveries been made at a time when people still thought as they did about the end of the eighteenth and beginning of the nineteenth centuries, a time when a greater spiritual sensitiveness prevailed, then these discoveries would have been so construed as to furnish proofs positive of the working of the spirit in Nature—indeed, by very reason of the wonderful discoveries in natural science the supremacy of spirit would have been deemed incontestably established.

[ 10 ] It is clear, then, that scientific investigations with regard to Nature need not necessarily and under all circumstances lead to materialism. It was merely because so many leaders of civilisation at that time were materialistically inclined that these discoveries became interpreted in a materialistic way. Materialism was imported into natural science, and naturalists, such as Ernst Haeckel, accepted it unconsciously. Darwin's discovery per se need not have tended to materialism.

Materialism points to Darwin's book, The Origin of Species, as its chief support. Now, it is clear that if a thinker inclining to materialism approached these discoveries, he would be sure to invest Darwinism with a materialistic colouring, and it was due to Haeckel's boldly materialistic attitude of thought that Darwinism has received its present materialistic interpretation. It was an event of great moment when Haeckel, in the year 1864, announced the connection between man and the higher animals (apes). At that time this could but mean that man was descended from the higher animals. But since that day scientific thought has undergone a curious process of development. Haeckel has adhered to his opinion that man is the descendant of those higher animals, they being in their turn the developments of still lower types, reaching back finally to the very simplest forms of life. It is thus that Haeckel constructs man's entire genealogical tree—in fact, the lineal descent of all humanity. By this means everything of a spiritual nature became for him excluded from the world, except as a reflection of already-existing material things.

And yet Haeckel, having in the depths of his being a peculiar spiritual consciousness working side by side with his materialistic “thinking mind,” casts about for some means of help, since these two parts of his being have never been able to “come into line;” he has not succeeded in bringing about a working partnership between them. For this reason he comes to the conclusion that even the smallest living creature may be accredited with a sort of consciousness, but he does not explain to us how the complex human consciousness is developed out of that which is latent in the smallest living creature.

In the course of a conversation Haeckel once said: “People are always objecting to my materialism, but I don't deny the Spirit, nor do I deny Life: I only want people to observe that when you place matter in a retort everything in it soon begins to work and effervesce—to ferment.” That remark shows plainly enough that Haeckel possesses a spiritual as well as a scientific mind.

[ 11 ] Among those who, at the time of Darwin's supremacy, proclaimed their adherence to the theory of man's descent from the higher animals was the English scientist Huxley. He asserted the close similarity in external structure between man and the higher animals to be even greater than that existing between the higher and lower species of apes, and that we could but come to the conclusion that a line of descent existed leading from the higher animals to man. In more recent times scientists have discovered new facts, but even then those feelings which for centuries past have educated the human heart and soul were undergoing a change, a transformation. Hence it was that Huxley in the 'nineties, not long before his death, gave utterance to the following view—a strange one, coming from him:

“We see therefore,” he observed, “that in Nature life is conditioned by a series of steps, proceeding from the simplest and most incomplete up to the complicated and perfected. We cannot follow this continuity, yet why should not this continuous line proceed onwards in a region which we are unable to survey?”

In these words the way is indicated by which man may, by the pursuit of natural science, rise to the idea of a Divine being, standing high above man—a being farther removed from man than man himself is from the one-celled organism. Huxley had once said:

“I would rather have descended from such ancestors, ancestors similar to the brute, than from such as deny the human intelligence.”¹

[ 12 ] Thus do precepts and concepts, all the soul thinks and feels, alter in the course of time. Haeckel has continued his work of research along the lines he first adopted. In the year 1867 he had already published his popular work, The Natural History of Creation, and from this book much may be learnt. It teaches the laws by which the living kingdoms in Nature are linked one to the other. We can see through the veil shrouding the grey past and bring what is existent into relation with what is extinct, of which only the last remains may now be found upon the earth.

Haeckel has recognised this accurately. That world-history, here in a wider sense playing its part, I can only elucidate by making use of an illustration. You may find it no more accurate than are most comparative illustrations, yet it fairly bears out my meaning.

Let us suppose that a writer on art appeared upon the scene and produced a book in which he treated with consummate skill the whole period stretching from the days of Leonardo da Vinci to modern times. He presents to our minds all that has been achieved in the pursuit of art during that period, and we believe ourselves enabled to look within at the development of man's creative powers. Let us, then, go further, and imagine that another person came along and criticised the descriptive work, saying: “But, look here! Everything this art historian has put on record never happened at all! These are all descriptions of pictures that don't exist! What use have I for such imaginings? One has to investigate reality in order to arrive at the true method of adequately presenting art in its historical bearings. I will therefore investigate the remains of Leonardo da Vinci himself, and try to reconstruct the body, and then judge by the contours of his skull what brain he is likely to have had and how it may probably have functioned.” In the same way the events described by the art historian are depicted by the professor of anatomy. There may have been no mistake. All may have been correct. Well, then, in that case, says the anatomist, we must “fight to a finish” against this idealisation of our art historian; we must combat his phantasy, his imagination, for it amounts to credulity and superstition to allow anyone to attempt to make us believe that besides the form of Leonardo da Vinci there was some “gaseous vortex” to be apprehended as a soul.

[ 13 ] Now, this illustration, in spite of its manifest absurdity, really hits the mark. This is the position in which everyone finds himself who chooses to assert his belief in the Natural History of Creation as the only accurate one. Nor can this illustration be negatived by merely indicating its weak points. They are there, perhaps, but that is beside the point. What is of importance is that the obvious should for once be presented according to its inner relationship; and that is what Haeckel has done in a full and exhaustive way. It has been done in such a manner that anyone wishing to see, can see, how active is the Spirit in the moulding of the form, where, to all appearances, matter alone reigns supreme. Much may be learnt from that; we may learn how to acquire spiritually knowledge as to the world's material combination, how to acquire it with earnestness, dignity, and perseverance. Anyone going through Haeckel's Anthropogenesis sees how form builds itself up, as it were, from the simplest living creature to the most complicated, from the simplest organism to man. He who understands how to add the Spirit to what is already granted by the materialist may in this example of “Haeckelism” have the opportunity of studying the best elementary theosophy.

[ 14 ] The results of Haeckel's research constitute, so to speak, the first chapter of theosophy. Far better than by any other method, we can arrive at a comprehension of the growth and transformation of organic forms by a study of his works. We have every reason to call attention to the great things which have been achieved through the progress of this profound study of Nature.

[ 15 ] At the time when Haeckel had constructed this wonderful edifice, the world was facing the deeper riddles of humanity as problems without solution. In the year 1872 Du Bois-Reymond, in a speech memorable for its brilliant rhetoric, alluded to the limits placed to natural science and to our knowledge of Nature. During the past decade the utterances of few men have been so much discussed as has this lecture with the celebrated “Ignorabimus.” It was a momentous event, and offered a complete contrast to Haeckel's own development and to his theory of the descent of man. In another lecture Du Bois-Reymond has tabulated seven great questions as to existence, questions which the naturalist can only answer in part, if at all. These seven “riddles of the universe” are:

1. The origin of energy and matter
2. How did the first movement arise in this quiescent matter?
3. How did life originate within this “matter set in motion?”
4. How is it that so many things in Nature bear the stamp of utility to a degree only met with in such human achievements as are the result of intelligent reasoning?
5. Assuming we were able to examine our brain, we should find it to be nothing but a jumble of little whirling spheres; how is it, then, that these same little balls, or spheres, enable me, let us say, to “see red,” to hear the tones of the organ, to feel pain, etc.? Think of a mass of whirling atoms, and it will be plain to you that it is not from them that you derive the sensations expressing themselves in such words as “I see red,” “I smell the scent of the rose,” etc.
6. How do understanding, reason, and speech develop in the living being?
7. How can “free will” originate in a being so circumscribed that his every act is the product of the whirling of these atoms?

[ 16 ] It was in connection with these riddles of the universe put forward by Du Bois-Reymond that Haeckel gave his book the title of The Riddle of the Universe. His desire was to give the answer to the questions raised by Du Bois-Reymond. There is a specially important passage in the lecture Du Bois-Reymond delivered on the “Limits of Inquiry into Nature,” which will enable us to step across into the field of theosophy.

[ 17 ] At the time when Du Bois-Reymond was lecturing at Leipsic before an assembly of natural scientists and medical men, the spirit of natural science was seeking after a purer, higher, and freer atmosphere—such an atmosphere as might lead to the theosophical cosmogony. On that occasion Du Bois-Reymond spoke as follows:—

“If we study man from the point of view of natural science, he presents himself to us as a working compound of unconscious atoms. To explain man in accordance with natural science means to ‘understand’ this atomic motion to its uttermost degree.”

He considered that if one were in a position to indicate the precise way in which the atoms moved at any given place in the brain, while saying, for instance, “I think,” or “Give me an apple”—if this could be done, then the problem would, according to natural science, have been solved. Du Bois-Reymond calls this the “astronomic” understanding of man. Even as a miniature firmament of stars would be the appearance of these active groups of human atoms. But what has not here been taken into consideration is the question as to how sensations, feelings, and thoughts arise in the consciousness of the man of whom, let us say, I perfectly well know that his atoms move in such and such a manner. That natural science can as little determine as it can the manner in which consciousness arises. Du Bois-Reymond concluded with the following words:—

“In the sleeping man, who is not conscious of the sensation expressed in the words ‘I see red,’ we have before us the physical group of the active members of the body. With regard to this sleeping body, we need not say, ‘We cannot know’—‘Ignorabimus!’ We are able to comprehend the sleeping man. Man awake, on the contrary, is incomprehensible to the scientist. In the sleeping man something is absent which is nevertheless present in the man awake: I allude to the consciousness through which he appears before us as a spiritual being.” [ 18 ] At that time, owing to a lack of courage in matters concerning natural science, further progress was impossible; there was no question as yet of theosophy, because natural science had, in concise terms, defined the boundary, had set a barrier at the precise spot up to which it wished to proceed in its own fashion. It was owing to this self-limitation of science that theosophical cosmogony had, about this time, its beginning. No one is going to maintain that man, when he goes to sleep “ceases to be,” and on re-awaking in the morning “resumes existence.” And yet Du Bois-Reymond says that something which is present in him by day is absent during the night. It is here that the theosophical conception of the universe is enabled to assert itself. Sense-consciousness is in abeyance in the sleeping man. As, however, the man of science uses as a prop for his argument that which brings about this sense-consciousness, he is unable to say anything concerning the spirituality that transcends it, because he lacks precisely the knowledge of that which makes of man a spiritual being.

By the use of such means as serve for natural science we are unable to investigate matters spiritual. Natural science depends upon what may be demonstrated to the senses. What can no longer be sensed when man falls asleep, cannot be the object of scientific investigation. It is in this something, no longer perceptible in the sleeping man, that we must seek for that entity by which man becomes a spiritual being. No mental representation can be made of what transcends the purely material and passes beyond the knowledge of the senses, until organs, of which the scientist can know nothing if he only depends on his sense-perceptions—spiritual eyes—are developed; eyes which are able to see beyond the confines of the senses.

For this reason we have no right to say, “Here are the limits of cognition;” but merely, “Here are the limits of sense-perception.”

The scientist perceives by means of his senses, but he is no spiritual observer; he must become one. become a “seer.” in order that he may see what is spiritual in man. This is the bourne towards which tends all profound wisdom in the world; not seeking the mere widening of its radius where actual material knowledge is concerned, but striving towards the raising of human faculty.

This also is the great difference between what is taught by present-day natural science and what is taught by theosophy. Natural science says: “Man has senses with which he perceives, and a mind whereby he is enabled to connect the evidences of his senses. What does not come within the scope of these lies beyond the ken of natural science.”

[ 19 ] Theosophy takes a different view of the case. It says: “You scientists are perfectly right, so long as you judge from your point of view, just as right as the blind man would be from his in saying that the world is devoid of light and colour. We make no objection to the standpoint of natural science, we would only place it in juxtaposition to the view taken by theosophy, which asserts that it is possible—nay, that it is certain—that man is not obliged to remain stationary at the point of view he occupies to-day; that it is possible for organs—spiritual eyes—to develop after a similar fashion to that in which those physical sense-organs of the body, the eyes and ears, have been developed; and once these new organs are developed, higher faculties will make themselves apparent.”

This must be taken on faith at first—nay, it need not even be believed; it may just be accepted as an assertion in an unprejudiced manner. Nevertheless, as true as it is that all believers in the Natural History of Creation have not beheld all that is therein presented to them as fact (how many of them have actually investigated these facts?), so true is it that these facts concerning a knowledge of the super-sensual can be explained to everyone.

The ordinary man, held in bondage by his senses, cannot possibly gain admittance to this realm. It is only by the aid of certain methods of investigation that the spiritual world opens to the seeker. Thus, man must transform himself into an instrument for those higher powers, one able to penetrate into worlds hidden from those still enthralled by their physical senses. To such as can accomplish this, visions of a quite distinctive nature will appear. The ordinary human being is not capable of seeing for himself, or of consciously recognising things about him, when his senses are wrapped in slumber; but when he applies occult methods of investigation this incapacity ceases, and he begins to receive quite consciously impressions of the astral world.

[ 20 ] There is at first a state of transition, familiar to all, between that exterior life of sense cognisance and that life which even in the most profound state of slumber is not quite extinguished. This state of transition is the chaos of dreams. To most people these will appear as mere reflections of what they have been experiencing during the previous day. Indeed, you will ask, how should a man be able to receive any new experiences during sleep, since the inner self has as yet no organs of cognition? But still, something is there—life is there. That which left the body when sleep wrapped it round has memory, and this remembrance rises before the sleeper in pictures more or less fantastic and confused. (Should anyone desire more information on this subject, it will be found in my books entitled The Way of Initiation and Initiation and its Results, Theosophical Publishing Society, 161, New Bond Street, W.)

[ 21 ] Now, in place of this chaos, order and harmony will, in the course of time, be brought about; an order and a harmony governing this region of dreams, and this will be a sign that the person in question is beginning to develop spiritually. Then he will cease to see the mere aftermath of reality, grotesquely portrayed; he will see things which have in ordinary life no existence.

Those who desire to remain within the boundary of the senses will, of course, say, “But they are only dreams!” Yet, if they, by such means, obtain an insight into the loftiest secrets of creation, it may surely be a matter of indifference to them whether they gain this through the medium of a dream or by means of the senses. Let us, for instance, suppose that Graham Bell had invented the telephone in a state of dream-consciousness. That would have been of no moment whatever to-day, for the telephone itself in any case is an important and useful invention. Clear and regular dreaming is therefore the beginning, and if in the stillness of the night hours you have come to “live in your dreams,” if, after a time, you have habituated yourself to a cognisance of worlds quite other than this, then will soon come a time when you will learn, by these new experiences, to step forth into actuality.

Then the whole world will assume a new aspect, and you will be as sensible of this change as you would be of threading your way through a row of solid chairs, through anything your senses may at this moment be aware of in their vicinity. Such is the condition of anyone who has acquired a new state of consciousness. Something new, a new kind of personality, has awakened within him. In the course of his further development a stage will at length be reached where not only the curious apparitions of the higher worlds pass before the spiritual eye as visions of light, but the tones also of those higher worlds become audible, telling their spiritual names, and able to convey to the seer a new meaning. In the language of the mysteries, this is expressed in the words, “Man sees the sun at midnight;” which is to say, that for him there are no longer any obstacles in space to prevent him from seeing the sun when on the other side of the world. Then, too, is the work of the sun, acting within the universe, made plain to him, and he becomes aware of that harmony of the spheres, that truth to which the Pythagoreans bore witness.

Tones and sounds, this music of the spheres, now become, for him, actual. Poets who were also seers have known of the existence of something approaching this music, and only those who can grasp Goethe's meaning from this point of view will be able to understand those passages, for instance, occurring in the “Prologue in Heaven” (see Faust, pt. I), which may be taken either as poetic phraseology or as a lofty truth. Where Faust is a second time introduced into the world of spirits, he speaks of these sounds: “Sounding loud to spirit-hearing, See the new-born Day appearing!” Faust, Part II.

[ 22 ] Here we have the connection between natural science and theosophy. Du Bois-Reymond has pointed to the fact that the sleeper only can be an object for the experiments of natural science. But if man should begin to open his inner senses, if he should come to see and hear that there is such a thing as spiritual actuality, then indeed will the whole edifice of elementary theosophy, so wonderfully, constructed by Haeckel—a structure none can admire more profoundly than I—then will this great work glow with a new glory, revealing, as it must, an entirely new meaning. According to this marvellous structure we see a simple living creature as the archetype, yet we may trace back that creature spiritually to an earlier condition of consciousness.

[ 23 ] I will now explain what theosophy holds as the doctrine of the descent of man. It is obvious that in a single lecture like the present no “proofs” can be advanced, and it is also natural that to all who are only acquainted with the theories commonly advanced on this subject everything I say will appear fantastic and highly improbable. All theories thus advanced originated, however, in the leading circles of materialistic thought, and many who would probably resent the suggestion of materialism as utterly foreign to their nature, are nevertheless (and indeed quite comprehensibly so) caught in a net of self-delusion.

The true theosophical teaching concerning evolution is, in our day, hardly known; and when our opponents speak of it, he who does know is at once able to recognise by the objections raised that he is dealing with a caricature of this doctrine of evolution.

For all such as merely acknowledge a soul, or spirit, to which expression is given within the human, or animal organism, the theosophical mode of representation must be utterly incomprehensible, and every discussion touching that subject is, with such persons, quite fruitless. They must first free themselves from the state of materialistic suggestion in which they live, and must make themselves acquainted with the fundamental attitude of theosophical thought.

[ 24 ] Just as the methods of research employed by physical science trace back the organism of the physical body into the dim distance of primeval times, so it is the mode of theosophical thought to delve into the past with regard to the soul and the spirit. Now, the latter method does not lead to any conclusions antagonistic or contradictory to the facts advanced by natural science; only with the materialistic interpretations of these facts it can have nothing to do.

Natural science traces the descent of the physical living being backwards, arriving by this course at organisms of a less and less complicated kind. Natural science declares: “The perfect living being is a development of these simpler and less complicated ones;” and, as far as physical structure is concerned, this is true, although the hypothetical forms of primeval ages of which materialistic science speaks do not entirely conform with those known to theosophical research. This, however, need not concern us at the present moment.

[ 25 ] From the physical standpoint theosophy also acknowledges the relationship of man with the higher mammals, with the man-like apes. But there can be no question of the descent of our humanity from a creature of the mind and soul calibre of the ape, as we know it. The facts are quite otherwise, and everything that materialism puts forward of this nature rests upon an error of thought. This error may be cleared up by means of a simple comparison sufficient for our purpose, though trite.

We will imagine two persons, one morally deficient and intellectually insignificant; the other endowed with a high standard of morality and of considerable intellectuality. We will assume that some fact or other confirms the relationship of these two. Now, I ask you, will the inference be drawn that the one in every way more highly endowed is descended from one who was of the standard described? Never! We may think it a surprising fact that they are brothers. We may find, however, that they had a father who was not of exactly the same standard as either of the brothers, and in that case one will be found to have worked his way up, the other to have degenerated.

[ 26 ] Materialistic science makes a similar mistake to that here indicated. Facts known to it induce the acceptance of a connection between ape and man, yet from this it should not draw the conclusion that man is descended from the ape-like animals. What should be accepted is a primeval creature, a common physical ancestor, from the stock of which the ape has degenerated, while man has been the ascending “brother.”

[ 27 ] Now, what was there in that primeval creature to cause this ascendance to the human on the one hand, the sinking into the ape kingdom on the other? Theosophy answers, “The soul of man himself did this.” Even then the soul of man was present, at a time when, on the face of this physical earth, the creatures possessing the highest sense of development were these common ancestors of man and ape. From amid the multitude of these ancestors the best types were capable of subjecting themselves to the soul's progress, the rest were not. Thus it happens that the present-day human soul has a “soul-ancestor” just as the body has its physical forebear.

It is true that, so far as the senses are concerned, those “soul-ancestors” could not, according to our present-day observations, have been perceptible within our bodies. They still belonged in a sense to “higher worlds,” and they were also possessed of other capabilities and powers than those of the present human soul. They lacked the mental activity and the moral sense now evident. Such souls could conceive no way of fashioning instruments from the things in the outer world; they could create no political states. The soul's activity still consisted to a great extent in transforming the archetype of those ancestral bodies themselves. It laboured at improving the incomplete brain, enabling it at a later period to become the seat of thought activities. As the soul of to-day, directed towards external things, constructs machines, etc., so did that ancestral soul labour at constructing the body of the human ancestor. The following objection can, of course, be raised: “Why, then, does not the soul at the present day work at its body to the same extent?” The reason for its not doing so is that the energy used at a former time for the transforming of the organs has since been directing its whole effort upon external things in the mastery and regulation of the forces of Nature.

[ 28 ] We may therefore ascribe a twofold descent to man in primeval times. His spiritual birth is not coeval with the perfecting of his organs of sense. On the contrary, the “soul” of man was already present at a time when those physical “ancestors” inhabited the earth. Figuratively speaking, we may say that the soul “selected” a certain number of such “ancestors” as seemed best fitted for receiving the external corporeal expression distinguishing the present-day man. Another branch of these ancestors deteriorated, and in its degenerate condition is now represented by the anthropoid apes. These, then, form, in the true sense of the word, branch lines of the human ancestry. Those ancestors are the physical forebears of man, but this is due only to the capacity for reconstruction which they had primarily received from the human soul within. Thus is man physically descended from the “archetype,” while spiritually he is the descendant of the “ancestral soul.”

But we can go even further back with regard to the genealogical tree of living creatures, and we shall then arrive at a physically still more imperfect ancestor. Yet, at the time of this physical ancestor, too, the “soul-ancestor” of man was existent. It was this latter which raised the physical ancestor to the level of the ape, again outstripping its less adaptable brother in the race for development, and leaving him behind on a lower stage of creation. To such as these belong those present-day mammals of a lower grade than that of the apes. Thus we may go further and further back into primeval times, even to a time when upon this earth, then bearing so different an aspect, existed those most elementary of creatures from which Haeckel claims the development of all higher beings. The soul-ancestor of man was also a contemporary of these primitive creatures; it was already living when the “archetype” transformed the serviceable types, leaving behind at different stages those incapable of further development.

In actual truth, therefore, the entire sum of earth's living creatures are the descendants of man, within whom that which in this day “thinks and acts” as soul originally brought about the development of living beings. When our earth came into existence, man was a purely spiritual being; he began his career by building for himself the simplest of bodies. The whole ladder of living creatures represents nothing but the outgrown stages through which he has developed his bodily structure to its present degree of perfection.

The creatures of the present day differ widely in appearance from that of their ancestors at those particular stages where they branched off from the human tree. Not that they have remained stationary, for they have deteriorated in accordance with an inevitable law, which, owing to the lengthy explanation it would involve, cannot be entered into here. But the greatest interest attaches to the fact that through theosophy we arrive, so far as man's outward form is concerned, at a genealogical tree not altogether unlike Haeckel's. Haeckel, however, presupposes as the physical ancestor of man nothing but a hypothetical animal. Yet the truth is that at all those points where Haeckel uses the names of animals, the still undeveloped forebears of man should be installed; for those animals, down to the meanest living creatures, are but deteriorated and degenerate forms occupying those lower stages through which the human soul has passed on its upward journey.

Externally, therefore, the resemblance between Haeckel's genealogical tree and that of theosophy is sufficiently striking, though internal evidences show them to be as wide apart as the poles.

[ 29 ] Hence the reasons why Haeckel's deductions are so eminently suited for the learning of sound elementary theosophy. One need do no more than master, from the theosophical point of view, the facts he has elucidated in so masterly a manner, and then raise his philosophy to a higher and nobler plane. If Haeckel seeks to criticise and belittle any such “higher” philosophy, he shows himself to be simply puerile—after the fashion, for instance, of a person who, not having got beyond the multiplication table, yet presumed to assert: “What I know is true, and all higher mathematics are only imaginary nonsense.” No theosophist desires to deny or contradict the elementary facts of natural science; but the crux of the matter is that the scientist, deluded by materialistic suggestions, does not even know what theosophy is talking about.

[ 30 ] It depends upon a man himself what kind of philosophy he adopts. Fichte has put this in so many words: “The unperceiving eye cannot detect colours; The non-perceptive Soul cannot perceive Spirit.” The same thought has been voiced by Goethe in a well-known phrase: “Were the eye not sun-like—how could we see the sun? Were God's own power not within us, the God-like vision—could it enrapture us?” and an expression of Feuerbach, if rightly conceived, proclaims that each one sees God's image after his own likeness. The slave to his senses sees God in accordance with those senses; the spiritual observer sees the Spirit deified. “Were lions, bulls, and oxen able to set up gods, their gods would resemble lions, bulls, and oxen,” was the remark of a Greek philosopher long ages ago.

The fetish-worshipper, too, has as his highest principle something we may call spiritual, but he has as yet not come to seek for this within himself, and this is why he has not got beyond beholding his god as anything more than a block of wood. The fetish-worshipper cannot raise his prayer above what he can inwardly feel, for he still regards himself as on the same level as the block of wood. And those who can see no more than a whirl of atoms, those to whom the highest resolves itself into tiny dots of matter, such as these, too, have missed recognition of the highest principle within themselves.

[ 31 ] It is true that Haeckel places before us in all his works the information he has honestly acquired, so that to him must be accorded “les defauts de ses qualites.” The sterling worth of his teaching will live, its negative qualities will vanish. Taken from the higher point of view, one might say that the fetish-worshipper worships in his fetish a lifeless object, while the materialistic adherent of the theory of atoms worships not alone one “little god” but a whole host of them, which he calls atoms!² The superstition of the one is about as great as that of the other; for the materialistic atom is no more than a fetish, and the wooden block is made up of atoms too. Haeckel says in one passage: “We see God in the stone, in the plant, in the brute, in man—God is everywhere,” yet he only sees God as he can comprehend Him. How enlightening here are Goethe's words, when he says: “Thou'rt like the Spirit which thou comprehendest, Not me!”) —Bayard Taylor's translation.

Thus does the materialist mark the whirling atoms in stone, in plant, in animal, and in man, possibly, too, in every work of art, and claim for himself a knowledge of a monistic cosmogony that has overcome the ancient superstitions. Yet theosophists have a monistic cosmogony too; and we can say, in the same words as Haeckel uses, that we see God in the stone, in the plant, in the brute, and in the man; but what we see are no whirling atoms, but the living God, the spiritual God, whom we seek outside in Nature, because we can also seek Him within ourselves.

• 1. Readers who are unacquainted with Huxley's famous reply may be glad to have it in extenso, as given by Edward Clodd in Thomas Henry Huxley, published by William Blackwood and Sons:
  
  “At the meeting of the British Association at Oxford, on 28th June, 1860, Owen emphasised the statement that ‘the brain of the gorilla presented more differences, as compared with the brain of man, than it did when compared with the brains of the very lowest and most problematical of the Quadrumana.’ To this Huxley, in polite English, gave the lie direct, and pledged himself to ‘justify that unusual procedure elsewhere.’ Two days after, by mere chance, he was present at the reading of a paper by Dr. Draper ‘On the Intellectual Development of Europe considered with reference to the views of Mr. Darwin.’ In the discussion which followed, Bishop Wilberforce, throwing a glance at Huxley, ended a suave and superficial speech by asking him ‘as to his belief in being descended from an ape. Is it on his grandfather's or his grandmother's side that the ape ancestry comes in?’ Huxley did not rise till the meeting called for him. Then he let himself go. ‘The Lord hath delivered him into mine hands,’ he said in an undertone to Sir Benjamin Brodie. After showing how ill-equipped was the Bishop for controversy upon the general question of organic evolution, although it was an open secret that Owen had primed him for the contest, Huxley said: ‘You say that development drives out the Creator, but you assert that God made you; and yet you know that you yourself were originally a piece of matter no bigger than the end of this gold pencil-case?’ Then followed the famous retort:
  
  “‘I asserted, and I repeat, that a man has no reason to be ashamed of having an ape for his grandfather. If there were an ancestor whom I should feel shame in recalling it would rather be a man—a man of restless and versatile intellect—who, not content with success in his own sphere of activity, plunges into scientific questions with which he has no real acquaintance, only to obscure them by an aimless rhetoric, and distract the attention of his hearers from the real point at issue by eloquent digressions and skilled appeals to religious prejudice.’”
• 2. The word “worship” is, of course, not to be taken literally, for the materialistic thinker, though he has not yet been weaned from “fetishism,” has lost the habit of prayer.

Dear Participants! It is my duty to extend the warmest greetings to you, who have gathered here for the spiritual work to be done during the next eight days here at the Goetheanum. You will believe me when I assure you of my sincere and heartfelt conviction that what is to be achieved here in this Goetheanum should not arise from the subjective arbitrariness of a single person or group of people, but that it should be the fulfillment of the demands placed on present-day humanity by the spirit of the time itself, for everyone who is able to hear it. And so I not only greet all of you here, but together with all of you who have come together for honest work, I would also like to greet this spirit of our time, this spirit of the present, which speaks so clearly of the forces of decline that most diverse areas of life and human work and what must be replaced by new forces from the mind, from the heart, from the souls of human beings, by new forces that can only be found if certain spiritual sources of the human inner being are tapped into in this present time: This spirit of the time, one would like to greet it through everything that can be achieved here in this Goetheanum, which itself has its origin in its demands. But there are many things standing in the way of the fulfillment of this demand at the present time. There is an enormous amount that comes from a certain kind of inner human laziness; there is much that comes from a very particular kind of human fear. And finally, there are many obstacles rooted in old habits of thinking that are difficult to overcome. It is hardly possible for anyone to offer the spirit of the modern age a completely honest greeting if they cannot come to terms with all the obstacles that lie in this mental laziness, in this spiritual fear, in these inherited habits of thinking. People have become so accustomed to the great, significant, genuine fruits of human development that have been brought forth by the last few centuries that they now find it quite uncomfortable to seek a transition to anything new.

At the end of the Middle Ages, humanity found a transition from belief in external authorities in spiritual matters to a certain inner freedom. But in the last three to four centuries, it has become dependent on something else, on all kinds of authorities that it believes to carry in its own heart, but which, in essence, are again only [external] authorities. It is the indeterminate, barely comprehensible authority of what one has been accustomed to calling “scientific” and there are other external authorities that lie in the social institutions to which the man of the present wants to submit and from which he can only escape if he escapes them out of his very own initiative, out of complete human freedom, if he outgrows them in activity, which he [but] finds so difficult to outgrow because he would prefer to continue comfortably in the way that the precepts of science or of external social institutions may suggest; he sinks, as it were, into what customary education, what customary general scientific belief, general culture have brought. He seeks, as they say, his place in the social world and does not find the very own initiative of the soul life, the complete freedom of the inner being. For the latter is uncomfortable: one cannot think in the worn-out ways, one must get out of them. This can only be done through inner courage, through inner initiative, and out of a complete sense of freedom. It is comfortable to move in well-trodden paths that have been laid out through the centuries. It is uncomfortable to seek out the demands of the spiritual in our present time from spiritual heights with inner courage, inner freedom, and inner initiative.

And the second thing, esteemed attendees, is, I would almost say, a mysterious fear that is present in humanity today. There is no other anxiety to be found in this present time; but it is as if the sum of all anxieties that could accumulate in the human mind were summed up in a common inner fear, the fear of the new, the fear of the still unknown rising forces in all areas of the soul and of the outer life that we need. But this fear does not appear in its true form. People today would be ashamed if this fear were to appear in its true form and they had to show it. This fear appears in a mask. It appears in a mask that does not seem so ugly, in a mask that is even very seductive. It occurs in such a way that the one who is actually merely afraid of the new, the unknown, in the face of the older, seeks all possible logical and intellectual reasons by which he can substantiate it. We experience it every day that the fear of the new, the unknown, actually sits in the souls of people. They come and say: What is being brought to us, that contradicts, as can be proved, the certain scientific results. Often such alleged proof appears in a tightly closed form, so that one can hardly escape its web of thoughts. But these thought webs are nothing more than the pleasing mask in which the fear of the new and the unknown is clothed. And because it is basically so nice to be able to say: You can prove something logically, all the individual reasons against the new are correct – you also mask the fact that you are afraid of the new, a fear that you would be ashamed of if you showed it in its true form. Much of what appears today with seemingly scientific justification, with seemingly strict logic, is nothing more than the mask of inner fear of the new, the unknown. Anthroposophical spiritual science, as it is meant here, wants nothing more than to lead these inner soul dangers for the further progress of the present time before the soul's eye in full deliberation.

And the third thing is to persist in those habits of thinking that have been brought up since the last three, four, five centuries, truly not from worthless sources; they have come up from what has really developed in strict science since the time of Galileo, which reached a certain culmination in the 19th century. Strict inner disciplines, disciplines of outer observation and experimentation, have come upon humanity; they have poured the spirit of their work and labor into even the lowest schools. But with that, those habits of thought have also emerged, which - because they are basically so easy to achieve, even though the methods are strict - also take root most intensely in the human soul, those habits of thought that we find everywhere today, wherever we hear any conversation about science and about faith, about art, about the progress of humanity, about social life. And these habits of thinking are most intimately connected with the outer life. Man has learned in a magnificent way to deal technically with the outer life, precisely through these habits of thinking. Therefore, these habits of thinking have also connected most intensely with egoism, with all that has brought it, this human being, into modern social life. And so these thought habits, which are only the product of the last four to five centuries, appear to today's human being as something that leads to thinking in all absoluteness itself. And while a person, once he has acquired certain habits, clings to these habits to such an extent that, out of an unconscious belief, he thinks that if he were to abandon these habits he would lose part of his own being, it is even much worse with thought habits, especially with those thought habits that have formed within humanity in the most recent epoch. Man regards what is only a habit of thinking as the actual essence of thinking itself. And since he rightly believes that thinking is connected with the deepest nature of man, he clings to these habits of thinking because he believes that they are the only correct thinking and thinks that he would lose his self, his human essence, with these habits of thinking. He believes that he would lose all ground of a world view, of a conception of life, if he abandoned these habits of thinking. And often he has not even an inkling of how much he has fallen prey to these habits of thinking of the last four to five centuries, habits of thinking that must be overcome just as the habits of thinking of older epochs have been overcome.

Only when we are confronted with the full magnitude of the task that arises from overcoming our inner psychological comfort, spiritual fear and thought habits, will we find the right path to the place where the spirit of the present wants to speak in a comprehensible language about the demands that are necessary so that the forces of decline do not carry away the victory over the forces of the rising sun. They have led humanity down into chaos. And this spirit of the time, it speaks quite clearly of the fact that people must seek a knowledge, a view of the supersensible, of the immortal, of the eternal, in contrast to the sensual, the transitory, the temporal. Especially that which has become so ingrained in the habits of the soul and in the habits of thought of modern times, my dear audience, is always connected with a human tendency towards the transitory, the temporal, the sensual.

This is not a criticism of the temporal and the transitory. Nor is it a cheap criticism of the temporal and the transitory. On the contrary, when one stands on the ground of anthroposophical spiritual science, one fully recognizes that humanity once had to go through what lies in having a world view that thoroughly deals with the transitory and the temporal. It is recognized, for example, that the greatness of the 19th century is based on the fact that man learned to see through, with the strictest views, the essence of the transitory, the essence of the temporal. But it would be a sad state of affairs for humanity if, in turn, the eternal, the imperishable, were not seen above the transitory and the temporal. But this eternal, this imperishable, cannot be seen with those powers of the soul that have been of great, great service to research in the transitory and in the temporal. These powers of the soul, the intellectual powers, the powers of abstract thinking and experimental research, have been developed to their highest level in the last few centuries. These last centuries have indeed developed in man everything that could lead to the feeling of freedom, to the awakening of the inner human personality values. But that which one develops in one's own human soul when one only draws near to the external transience and the temporal being does not penetrate inwardly to the full human being, and so, in a certain way, in his latest ascent, man has lost precisely that which is connected with his own human being.

It is easy to object: So the anthroposophical spiritual science, the Goetheanism, leads away from the proven, outwardly practical world, into dizzying, bottomless cloud cuckoo lands, into that which wants to rise to fantastic heights away from the strict methodology of the last centuries. One wants to forget and oversleep here – one could object – in this Goetheanum everything that the Galilei era has brought, and one wants to dream oneself back into the eternal, for example in a Platonic way. They want to enthuse about the eternal and the immortal in Plato's world of ideas because they lack the patience to engage with the achievements of the last few centuries in relation to the real external world. But if one only really got to know it without prejudice, this anthroposophy, as it is cultivated here in this Goetheanum, one would find that one does not want to flee here with a careless skipping of Galileism into a dreamt-up Platonic world, but that one wants everything here that man can achieve in truly understanding this outer, transitory sense world, in terms of the practice of outer life, that one wants to take up Galileism fully in order to carry its rigor and discipline to the heights to which Plato was allowed to ascend without this modern culture. Plato lived in his world of ideas, which was a living one for him, and he could do so because of the limitations of his epoch, before the age of Galileism. We would have to descend into the abyss, into enthusiasm, into fantasy, if we were to enter the Platonic world of heights in a dreamy state without the preliminary stages of what the times of Galileo, Copernicus, Kepler and Giordano Bruno brought us. Therefore, if one only gets to know what the anthroposophy meant here intends, then one will not reproach it for wanting to turn away from life in a fanciful, enthusiastic way into a Platonic world of ideas. No, it wants to draw the forces full of reality from the spirit in order to penetrate into real practical life. And just as the anthroposophy in question does not want to dream and fantasize about the outside world, it also does not want to lead to the inner life of the human being in such a way that the human being as a mystic becomes a hermit of life, that he wants to steal away like a hermit from all that is his task in real, outer, practical life.

Anthroposophy knows very well that methods such as those cultivated in India, such as the yoga method, have had their time; it knows very well that anyone who, with a complete misunderstanding of the spirit of modern times, wants to return to old mystical systems, that such a person is striving for something that should be avoided here. He strives for a certain mysticism of which nothing else can be said than the following.

My dear audience, there is a superficiality towards the outer world that never wants to go into the real facts, that does not want to follow the finer gradations of the facts, that, I might say, wants to enjoy life arbitrarily on the outside in large meshes. There is such a superficiality on the outside; but there is also a superficiality of the heart. This is the superficiality that, without thoroughly experiencing the inner human secrets, only ever speaks of withdrawing from the perception of the outside world, of cultivating the innermost. Such mystical striving, as it is making its way into many circles today, does not correspond to the demands of the spirit of the time, but rather adds to the external superficiality the superficiality of the heart. And in many circles that today think of themselves as particularly mystically exalted, nothing lives but that mysticism which is inner soul superficiality. With this soul superficiality one does not penetrate into the eternal secrets of life. One can only penetrate them if one has the patience to truly awaken the forces slumbering in the soul or at least to engage intellectually with what the forces slumbering in the soul can find from stage to stage. Only by overcoming the superficiality of the heart, by overcoming this superficial mysticism, lies the possibility of finding those powers of the soul that lead upwards in the right way, from the temporal, from the transitory to the eternal, to the everlasting. But when grasped in this way, it is truly capable of having a fruitful effect on the most diverse areas of today's life. And we need this fertilization. We have a magnificent science that has taken hold of the external course of things out of intellectualism and external observation. We need to advance from this science of the senses to a spiritual science, which is carried out in the same way as the pursuit of sensory science. Just as if it always had to give account before the strict methods and disciplines of the outer sensory science, the anthroposophical spiritual science meant here would like to fertilize today's scientific life in general.

Other branches of life sometimes show an impossibility of being fertilized by ordinary science in its present form. The intellectualism and abstract concepts that have been brought forth in more recent times are avoided by the artist; the artist believes that the more elementary power and force of his artistic experience would be taken from him if the mildew of science were to be poured into his heart, if he were to try to deepen his artistic experience with the help of today's science. And so many people say: Yes, spiritual science also wants to fertilize artistic life, but we understand how destructively scientific life affects artistic life. — People only say this until they realize how closely related artistic experience is to what the soul of a true spiritual scientist must go through to enter the realms where spirit and soul truly live. On this path one must not reflect, one must create, one must connect with that which lives and abides in the essence of things, which constitutes the secret of things. And soul-forces are released from the innermost being with the same vividness, with the same directly effective presence as they have in the artistic experience. And when one first becomes acquainted with the extraordinarily living, creative and formative side of spiritual science, then one will realize that this spiritual science does not bring abstract concepts, but directly inner impulses of life, which again to those spiritual regions from which the artist must draw if he does not want to imitate mere external nature in a superfluous way and thereby fall prey to a superfluous naturalism. What the spiritual scientist has to go through is intimately related to what the artist has to go through. And what the artist forms in his imagination, the spiritual researcher forms in supersensible intuition. These are two different paths that can lead to a good understanding, as many people in the past have understood each other. Those, for example, who, out of a deep intuitive perception of the secrets of the world, have presented something before their soul, as it then lives through Raphael in the Sistine Madonna, as it lives in Leonardo's Last Supper. Again, we have to reach into regions of spiritual life, but in the sense of the newer time, the modern time, so that we also have something in the artistic field that is not just an imitation of nature. Because imitation of nature, that is not possible for anyone. Whatever one wants to imitate in nature, nature can always do better. Only then can one find the way to art, when one finds the way to the spirit.

And if we look at another area in which the newer life has led to a real inner tragedy for many individual human personalities, we see how, in the religious sphere, the depth needed for a real religious experience has been lost. Anthroposophy, as it is meant here, is not meant to be a new foundation of religion! To say that is to defame it. For what we need is not a new religion; what we need is a deepening of the religious impulses in the human heart, in the human soul, but this can be found by man again finding the paths to the spiritual essence of the world. Just as science and art can be fertilized by the anthroposophical spiritual science meant here, so religious life can be deepened through it. And I believe I need not speak of it at all for all those who, looking beyond the immediate everyday, see how we have come into a social existence in the civilized world that is truly threatening, with every year growing larger, that is already horrifying enough today. All sorts of speculations as to how this or that institution should be set up, what should be done from state to state, from nation to nation, have certainly not been lacking in the old ways of thinking. There has been much talk about such things, but nowhere is there any prospect that social chaos might be resolved in a better light.

Does this not indicate how necessary it is for individuals to find their way to the social life, those individuals who find their way to the innermost part of the human soul, from which understanding can be found for what is necessary between human and human, between nation and nation, between race and race! Only when social life is absorbed in spiritual clarity in each individual will the age of individualism also be able to become a social age. But one does not arrive at these social impulses, these social feelings, in the human individuality by, for example, talking in fine phrases about deepening the human soul, about all kinds of social impulses that people should educate in themselves. We only arrive at this when we learn to belong to the world of the senses with our sensory organism, as we have learned to do in the last three to four centuries; when we learn to belong to a spiritual world with our spiritual organism; when we learn to belong to a spiritual world with our spiritual organism, when we are able to carry down ideas about the great destiny of humanity into the individual everyday life.

Humanity has become so proud of the practice of life developed in recent times. What has this practice of life revealed itself to be? It has withdrawn more and more into small circles in certain gestures of life, and in the end it has led to a situation where people can no longer follow the overwhelming course of world events fleeing into chaos with their thoughts. What has emerged is not real life practice, but routine in individual areas, mere life routine. What the human body would be without soul and spirit is this life routine without the fertilization of ideas, which can only come from the acknowledgment, from the realization of the spiritual regions. The most mundane, the smallest things in life become routine if they cannot be directed in the right way towards that which can pulsate in a person out of their sense of connection with the all-encompassing spiritual world. We will not arrive at such a practice, which in turn can support our social life, if we do not introduce the spirit into everyday life, going beyond all routine. For only a life of everydayness that is truly spiritualized and ensouled is truly practical.

Therefore, what wants to be spiritually worked on here in this Goetheanum does not want to become something unworldly, something fanciful, something that leads people away from the practice of life like a hermit; on the contrary, it wants to place them completely within it. We need true and genuine practical life. Every day shows us this when we are told how every day more and more humanity is drawn into decline. Therefore, in these eight days, we will speak of that which in turn leads to the rising, what the spirit of the time demands of the person of the present, what it demands in the sense that only from the insight into the eternal, into the supersensible, into the immortal, can that strength be gained which is needed to transform the forces of decline into forces of ascent. We need only recognize in the right sense how the inner obstacles of mental laziness, spiritual fear, and thought habits lie before us, and we will feel that what we need — inner initiative, activity of the soul , the courage to do something new, the fearlessness in the face of the new and the unknown – that all this can be won if we are so seized by the spirit that it is the spirit itself that lives in all our impulses. For just as the world is created by the spirit, so human activity, human endeavor, human knowledge will be true when they are permeated by the spirit. May all that is to be worked out in experiments bear witness to such spirit-filled practice and knowledge, as has been the case in previous such events during these past eight days here in this Goetheanum. And inspired by this wish that we may work together here in accordance with the great demands of the spirit of our time, I wanted to bring you today the warmest greeting from the spirit that should prevail here in this Goetheanum dedicated to anthroposophy at the beginning of these working days, and I wanted to greet the spirit itself, which should and may prevail here more and more during these eight days and always.

Dear attendees, We will take the liberty of presenting a performance of eurythmic art to you, one that will be performed by children, in order to illustrate the pedagogical-didactic value of eurythmic art. Since today we are dealing primarily with the educational and teaching side of eurythmy, I will present what needs to be said about eurythmy as art in particular at our next performance on Wednesday and will limit myself today to saying only what relates to eurythmy as an educational tool and subject of instruction. I would like to say a few words in advance to the effect that eurythmy is a truly inaudible, visible language, a language that is performed by the moving human being, that is, by movements of the human limbs, the whole human body, or that is also expressed by groups of people in space. What emerges as the eurythmic art, what is achieved on the basis of a visible language, is not an ordinary play of gestures, nor is it something in the ordinary sense of mimicry and least of all a dance art. Rather, it is a truly careful study of what the human organism wants to do, tends to do, by revealing itself in speech or song. The movements that the larynx and the other speech and singing organs are predisposed to perform are transferred to the whole human being according to the principle of Goethean metamorphosis. And because we are dealing with human movements that are natural and elementary way from the essence of the human organization itself, as language is taken in a natural and elementary way from the laws of the human organism, that is why eurythmy is also a means of education and teaching.

At the Stuttgart Waldorf School, which Emil Molt founded and which I direct, we have introduced this eurythmy as a compulsory subject from the earliest elementary school lessons up to the fourteenth or fifteenth year, as far as we have come with the Waldorf School so far. And it has already become apparent during the [two-year] existence of the Waldorf school that the children take this subject on with a special inner satisfaction. If we disregard the artistic aspect for the moment, we could call eurythmy in this respect: soul-inspired and spiritualized gymnastics. And as a subject, it is added to ordinary gymnastics like soul-inspired and spiritualized gymnastics. This ordinary gymnastics is, after all, only a logical consequence of the physiological study of the human organism, of the study of physicality.

The movements that children perform in eurythmy do not arise from this one aspect of the human being, the physical body, but from the body, soul and spirit, that is, from the whole human being. That is why the child also feels what it is doing as a soul-inspired gymnast, as if it has been taken out of the full human being, and it lives into these movements with particular satisfaction.

If we want to understand how this is, we need only think of how, for someone who is able to intuitively place themselves within the laws of the human organism, every possible movement that the body is striving towards is already present in the resting human form. The one who can see in this way sees in the resting human being how this being is constantly seeking to merge with the organism in movements that are already expressed in their formation in the formative or in the calm form. One only sets the human form itself in motion by moving from the observation of the sculpture of the human organism to this moving sculpture of eurythmy, which is at the same time a visible language. Anyone who is able to study the movements of the human being, which arise from the element of will deeply rooted in the subconscious, these possibilities of movement that lie within the human being, will find everywhere that these movements are nothing other than what, in turn, wants to come to rest in the same way as the human organism, when it rests, stands quietly or sits quietly, shows its calm form. You only need to look at a hand and the adjoining arm: If you look at the shape of the fingers, the forearm or anything else, you cannot imagine that it is meant to be at rest. Its resting shape is such that every possible movement and mobility is already expressed in the resting shape.

And when a person's arms and hands are moving, we see how only movements that are natural and elementary are possible, and these in turn point to the calm form of the hands and arms themselves.

The child senses that everything in eurythmy is derived from the inner laws of the human organism. That is why, as we see at the Stuttgart Waldorf School, they perform these eurythmic movements with such great enthusiasm, as spiritualized gymnastics.

And if we look even more at the soul, we have to say that ordinary gymnastics can actually only get out of the human being that which lies in his physical organization. One day we will think about these things more objectively, without today's prejudices. Then it will be seen how one-sided ordinary gymnastics is. I certainly do not want to go as far as a famous physiologist, perhaps even the most famous in Central Europe, who once sat here, listened to such an introduction, and who later told me: So, you consider gymnastics in general to be a one-sidedness that is taken out of physiology? I, as a physiologist, said he, I regard gymnastics as it is practiced today not at all as a subject for instruction, but as a barbarism.

Now, out of courtesy to our culture — one must always be polite too — I will not say that gymnastics is barbaric, but I would like to say: it is one-sided, it is only taken from the physiology of the human organism, while this inspired gymnastics, which occurs in eurythmy, is taken from body, soul and spirit, from the full human being. That is why it is used as a teaching tool, as an educational tool that brings out in the child what the present and future generations in particular will need very, very much, namely the will initiative, the initiative of the soul life.

This has already been demonstrated in the Waldorf school through the teaching of eurythmy, how the development of the will, the will initiative, is released from the subconscious depths of human experience during childhood. This has been achieved because eurythmy does not neglect the physical side, only address the soul and spirit, but takes into account all three elements of human life, developing the spirit, developing the soul, developing the body. that the child experiences eurythmy as something so natural that when it is brought to the child, the child learns to love it out of an equal inner urge, as is the case with speech. Just as with speech, when it is presented to the child, the natural urge in the child to reveal the speech is there, so too with eurythmy, when it is presented in a natural way, there is such an urge in the child to engage in eurythmy as in speech. And so we can hope, ladies and gentlemen, that eurythmy will be increasingly recognized as an educational tool in the pedagogical and didactic fields. What our time lacks, what our time needs, is for the introduction of eurythmy into the curriculum to be seen as a matter of course.

Dear attendees, Last Monday we were able to present eurythmy as an educational and teaching tool, and I took the liberty of talking about eurythmy as a form of gymnastics that is inspired and spiritualized. Today, eurythmy as a free art will be presented to you here. To explain that which seeks to reveal itself as art is actually an inartistic undertaking. For everything that is truly artistic must work through that which it presents directly in perception. And on the other hand, people demand of the truly artistic that they can grasp its whole essence, without first having to seek the way in some roundabout way through a conceptual or other explanation.

If I nevertheless take the liberty of saying a few words in advance, it is because the eurythmy we are trying out here at the Goetheanum and elsewhere is an art that draws from hitherto unfamiliar artistic sources and also makes use of an unfamiliar artistic formal language. And allow me to say a few words in advance about these artistic sources and this artistic formal language.

What reveals eurythmy as a free art are movements of the human being in his or her individual limbs, or also movements of groups of people in space. These movements are not mere mimicry or pantomime, nor are they merely gestural or even dance-like; rather, eurythmy is meant to be a truly visible language, and a visible language that is derived from the sensual-transcendental observations of the human organism itself, so that in eurythmy one can bring forth something from the human being that comes out of him just as organically - without being an instantaneous gesture or facial expression - as human language itself. And just as a sound, or a tone when singing, wells up in a lawful way out of the human soul, so too should that which emerges as eurythmy art come out of the human soul, out of the human organization.

As I said, it is important to carefully study, in a way that is both sensory and supersensory, which movement tendencies or tendencies to move begin in the human speech or singing organs when the person prepares to speak or sing. I say expressly: movement tendencies, because what I mean by this is not a real movement, but one can actually only observe what lies at its basis in the process of coming into being, so to speak in the status nascendi, because that which wants to form itself as movement in the organs of singing and speaking is stopped in its development by the singing or speaking person and converted into those movements that can then represent the tone or the sound, so that what arises in the individual organ systems, in the singing or speaking system in humans, must be transferred to the whole person. This is entirely in accordance with the principle of Goethe's theory of metamorphosis. Goethe regards the individual leaf as a simplified plant, and in turn the whole plant as a complicated leaf. What Goethe applies here only to morphological considerations can be elevated to the artistic. One can transfer what is assessed in a single organ system in terms of movement possibilities to the whole human being, just as nature transfers the form of the individual leaf to the whole plant in a more complicated form. Then the whole human being becomes a speech or singing organ. And even groups of people become a speech or singing organ. And one should seek just as little a connection between the individual movement and the individual soul process as one may seek a connection between the individual sound or tone and that which takes place in the soul. But just as speech as a whole is formed according to law, so too the formation of eurythmic movements as a whole is absolutely lawful. This can be achieved by allowing the human being to reveal himself through this eurythmy, to present in his very own element precisely that artistic element that underlies singing or speaking. For in speech, through the human organization, the conceptual and that which does not merely come out of the head like the conceptual, but rather comes out of the whole human being: the volitional, flows together. But the more the merely conceptual lives in any content, the less artistic that content is. The thought kills the artistic. And only as much as can pass through language from the element of will that comes from the whole, from the fully human, so much can be found in language that is truly artistic and poetic.

Therefore, the poet, who is truly an artist, must wage a constant war against the prosaic element of language. This is particularly the case with civilized languages, where language is increasingly becoming an expression of cognitive thought on the one hand or, on the other, of thought that is suitable for social convention. As languages grow into civilization, they become an increasingly unusable and unusable element for the expression of that spiritual reality which the artistic poet must truly seek. Therefore, the poet must go beyond the prose content and, through rhythm, rhyme, harmony, meter, the musical or imaginative-thematic, lead language back, as it were, to that element in which the human being, through sound or phonetics, makes himself the revealer of the spiritual and can thereby truly elevate the sound or phonetic into the spiritual-artistic.

Now, because of the particular way it expresses itself through movement, eurythmy works from the human will element in an elementary and natural way. It is precisely through this that the truly artistic, both musical and poetic, can be brought out in people. And what the poet, I would say, is already striving for in an invisible eurythmy, can be seen in the human movements that occur in eurythmy. One can create an accompaniment to any piece of music in eurythmy, and then, in a sense, a visible song is performed. One can also sing in eurythmy, just as one can sing audibly. And one can also present poetry in eurythmy, in which case what appears on stage as eurythmy must be accompanied by the recitation or declamation of the poem. In an unartistic age, there will be little understanding for what is necessary for recitation and declamation to accompany the eurythmic art. And today is such an unartistic age.

Today we understand little of what Goethe meant when he rehearsed his iambic dramas with a baton in his hand like a conductor with his actors. He did not look at the prose content, he looked at the artistic formation of the iamb. Or it is difficult to understand how Schiller, especially in his most significant poems, did not initially have the literal prose content in his mind, but rather a melodious theme into which he then incorporated the literal prose content, so to speak. In an unartistic age such as the present, when the importance of declaiming and reciting is seen in the fact that the prose content is emphasized and that what lies behind the prose content as rhythm, rhyme, harmony, musical and imaginative themes lie behind the prose content. In such an age, one will understand little about what forms recitation and declamation must take in order to be performed simultaneously with eurythmy.

But the unartistic person must understand how a secret eurhythmics is sought in real poetry and how this secret, invisible eurhythmics can reveal itself in the visible language in which it appears here. Before such performances I must always say that we ask the audience to be lenient because we know very well that this eurythmy is still in the early stages of development. But anyone who delves into its true essence can also know that it offers unlimited possibilities for development. For why? When Goethe says, “When nature begins to reveal her secret to him who beholds her, he feels the deepest longing for her most worthy interpreter, art,” it may be added, justifying eurythmy: “When human essence itself in its formation and in its movement begins to reveal its secret, feels the deepest longing to reveal to the eye that which lies within this human form in terms of possibilities of movement, of eurythmy.

If, as Goethe says elsewhere, when man stands at the pinnacle of nature, he sees himself as a whole of nature, taking order, harmony, measure and meaning together, in order to rise to the production of a work of art, then, with regard to eurythmy, one may say that this eurythmy does not use an external tool, but the human being itself, and in the human being all the secrets of the world are truly hidden. If we can draw them out of him, then the revelation of these secrets of humanity, of these microcosmic secrets, is a revelation of the macrocosmic secrets.

Eurythmy uses the human being as its tool, drawing from the human being's nature order, harmony, measure and meaning and presenting the human being as a work of art. By undertaking this, there must be unlimited possibilities for development within it, because if the human being is taken as a tool for artistic expression, this is in any case the most worthy artistic tool.

And so we may hope that artistic revelations will come out of eurythmy, which is still in its infancy today. These revelations may still be somewhat influenced by us, but will probably come first through others. These revelations can establish eurythmy as a fully-fledged younger art alongside its fully-fledged older sister arts.

I would like to say a few words about the building idea, with the supporting, direct view of the building. From the outset, the view could arise that if one must first speak about such a building, it indicates that it does not make the necessary impression as an artistic work; and in many cases, what is thought about the building of Dornach, about the Goetheanum in the world, is thought from a false point of view influenced by a sensory view. For example, the opinion has been spread that the building in Dornach is meant to symbolize all kinds of things, that it is a symbolizing building. In reality, you will not find a single symbol when looking at this building, as is popular in mystical and theosophical societies. The building should be able to be experienced entirely from artistic perception and has also been created from these artistic perceptions in its forms, in all its details. Therefore, it must work only through what it is itself. Explaining has become popular, and people then want explanations; but in mentioning this here before you, I also say that such explaining of an artistic work always seems to me to be not only half, but almost completely unartistic, and that I will now give you a kind of lecture in the presence of the building, a lecture that I fundamentally dislike, if only because I have to speak to you in abstract terms about the details that arose in my mind when designing the building, the models and so on, and what was created from life. I would rather speak to you about the building as little as possible.

It is already the case that a new stylistic form, a new artistic form of expression, is viewed with a certain mistrust in the present. I can still hear a word that I heard many decades ago when I was studying at the Technical University, where Ferstel gave his lectures. In one of them, he says: “Architectural styles are not invented, an architectural style grows out of the character of a nation.” Therefore, Ferstel is also opposed to the invention of any new architectural style or type of building. What is true about this idea is that the style that is to stylize the characteristics of a people must emerge not from an abstraction, but from a living world view, which is at the same time a world experience and, from this point of view, comprehensively encompasses the chaotic spiritual life of contemporary humanity. On the basis of this thoroughly correct idea, it becomes necessary to transform what was peculiar to previous architectural styles into organic building forms by incorporating the symmetrical, the geometrically static, and so on.

I am well aware of what can be said, and rightly said from a certain point of view, by someone who has become inwardly attuned to previous architectural styles, against what has been attempted here in Dornach as an architectural style: the transference of geometrical-symmetrical-static forms into organic forms. But it has been attempted. And so you can see in these forms of construction that this building here is an as yet imperfect first attempt to express the transition from these geometric forms of construction to the organic. It is certain that the development of humanity is moving towards these forms of construction, and when we again have the impulses of clairvoyant experience, I believe that these forms of construction will play the first, leading role. This building should be understood in the same way through its relationship with the organizing forces of nature as the previous buildings are understood through their relationship with the geometrical-static-symmetrical forces of nature. This building is to be viewed from this point of view, and from this point of view you will understand how every detail within the building idea for Dornach must be completely individualized here. Just think of the lobe of your ear: it is a very small part of the human organism, but you cannot well imagine that an organic form such as the lobe of the ear is suited to grow on the big toe. This organ is completely bound to its place within the organism. Just as you find that within the whole organism a supporting organ is always shaped in such a way that it can have a static-dynamic effect within the organism, so too the individual forms in our building in Dornach had to be such that they could serve the static-dynamic forces. Every single form had to be organized in such a way that it could and had to be in its place what it now appears to be. Look at each arch from this point of view, how it is formed, how it flattens out towards the exit, for example, how it curves inwards towards the building itself, where it not only has to support but also to express support in an organic way, thereby helping to develop what only appears to be completely unnecessary in organic formation. Ordinary architecture leaves out what goes beyond the static, which the organism develops. But one senses that the building idea has been transferred to the organic design of the forms, and that this is also necessary.

You will have to look at every column from this point of view; then you will also understand that the ordinary column, which is taken out of the geometric-static, has been replaced by one that does not imitate the organic – everything is so that it is not imitated naturalistically – but transferred into organically made structures. It is not an imitation of an organic structure. You will not understand it if you look for a model in nature. But you will understand it if you understand how human beings can live together with the forces that have an organizing effect in nature and how, apart from what nature itself creates, such organizing forms can arise. So you will see in these column supports how the expansion of the building, the support, the inward pointing, and, in the same way as, say, in the upper end of the human thigh, the support, the walking, the walking and so on, is embodied statically, but organically and statically. From this point of view, I also ask you to look at something like the structure with the three perpendicular formations at the top of the stairs here below. The feeling arises here of how a person feels when he climbs the stairs. He must have a feeling of security, of spiritual unity in all that goes on in this building, indeed in everything he sees in this building. Everything came to me entirely from my own intuitive perception. You may believe it or not, but this form came to me entirely from my own artistic intuition. As I said, you may believe it or not, but it was only afterwards that it occurred to me that this form is somewhat reminiscent of the shape of the three semicircular crescents in the human ear, which, when injured, cause fainting, so that they directly express what gives a person stability. This expression, that stability is to be given to the human being in this structure, comes about in the experience of the three perpendicular directions. This can be experienced in this structure without having to engage in abstract reflection. One can remain entirely in the artistic.

If you look at the wall-like structures while handling them, you will find that natural forces have been poured into the forms, but in such a way that these forms, which are radiator covers, are first worked out of the concrete material of the building, and then further up out of the material of the wood, and that they are thereby metamorphosed. You will find that in these structures the process of metamorphosis is elevated to the artistic. It is the idea of the building that should have a definite effect on such radiator covers, which are designed in such a way that you immediately feel the purpose and do not need to explore it intellectually first. This is how these elementary forms, half plant-like, half animal-like, came to be felt. Only after having shaped them out of the material does one realize that they must be so. And it also follows that it is necessary to metamorphose them, depending on whether they are in one place or another, depending on whether they are long and low or narrower and higher. All this does not result from calculating the form, but the forms shape themselves out of the feeling in their metamorphosis, as for example here, where we have come so far, where the building is a concrete structure in its basement and where one has to empathize with the design of what concrete is. You enter here at the west gate. This is the room where you can leave your coat. The staircase, which leads up here on the left and right, takes you up to the wooden structure containing the auditorium, the stage and adjoining rooms.

Please follow me up the stairs to the auditorium.

We are now entering a kind of foyer. You will notice the very different impression created by the wooden cladding compared to the concrete cladding on the lower floor.

I would like to note here: When you have to work with stone, concrete or other hard materials, you have to approach it differently than when you have to work with soft materials, such as wood. The material of wood requires you to focus all your senses on the fact that you have to scrape corners, concaves, and hollows out of the soft material, if I may use the expression. It is scraping, scraping out. You deepen the material, and only by doing so can you enter into this relationship with the material, which is a truly artistic relationship. While when working with wood you only succeed in coaxing out of the material that which gives the forms when you focus your attention on deepening, when working with hard material you do not have to do with deepening. You can only develop a relationship with the hard material by applying it, by working convexly, by applying raised surfaces to the base surfaces, for example when working with stone. Grasping this is an essential part of artistic creation, and it has been partially lost in more recent times.

You will see when we enter the auditorium how each individual surface, each capital, is treated individually. A capital in this organic structure can only be such that one feels: in what follows each other, a kind of repetition cannot be created, as is otherwise the case with symmetrical-geometric-static architectural styles. In this building, which is the product of an organic idea, you have only a single axis of symmetry, running from west to east. You will find a symmetrical arrangement only in relation to this, just as you can find only a single axis of symmetry for a higher organism, not out of arbitrariness but out of the inner organization of forces of the entity in question.

At this point, I would like to mention that the treatment of the walls also had to be completely different under the influence of the organic building idea than it was before. A wall was for earlier architects what demarcates a space. It had the effect of being inside the room. This feeling had to be abandoned in this building. The walls had to be designed in such a way that they were not felt as a boundary, but as something that carries you out into the vastness of the macrocosm; you have to feel as if you are absorbed, as if you are standing inside the vastness of the cosmos. The walls had to be made transparent, so to speak, whereas in the past every effort was made to give the wall such artificial forms that it was closed and opaque. You will see that the transparent is used artistically at all, and that was driven from elementary foundations into the physical in these windows, which you see here and which you will see under construction. If you see windows in the sense of the earlier architectural style, you will actually have to have the healthy sense that they break through the walls, they do not fit into the architectural forms, but they only fit in through the principle of utility. Here, artistic feeling will be needed down to the last detail. There was a need to present the wall in such a way that it is not something closed, but something that expands outwards, towards infinity. I could only achieve this by remembering that, using a single-colored windowpane, you can, as it were, scratch out designs using a kind of etching method, a glass etching method. And so monochromatic window panes were purchased, which were then worked on in such a way that the motifs one wanted could be scratched out with the diamond pencil. So for this purpose, a glass etching technique was conceived, and the windows emerged from that.

When you consider the motifs of the windows, you must not think that you are dealing with symbolic design alone. You can see it already on this larger windowpane: nothing is designed on these windowpanes other than what the imagination produces. There are mystics who develop a mysticism with superficial sentences and strange ideas and constantly explain that the physical-sensual outer world is a kind of maja, an illusion. People often approach you and say that so-and-so is a great mystic because he always declaims that the outer world is a maja. There is something about the human physical countenance that is maya, that is thoroughly false, that is something else in truth. What appears on this windowpane is not something that symbolizes; it is a being that is envisaged, only it does not look to the spiritual observer as it appears to the senses. The larynx is the organ of vision for the etheric; the larynx is already Maja as a physical larynx, and that which is a mere physical-sensual view is not reality. What is behind it spiritually? The spiritual fact that what is whispered into the ear, left and right, are world secrets. So that one can truly say: the bull speaks into the left ear, the lion into the right ear. If one wants to express this as a motif in a picture or in words, then one can only attach to the word that which is already in the picture itself. However, one must be clear about the fact that one can only understand such a picture if one lives in the world view from which it has emerged. A person who does not have a living Christian feeling will also not be able to behave sympathetically towards the pictorial representations that Christian art has produced.

The artist experiences a lot when he lives into a vision; but such an experience must not be translated into abstract thoughts, otherwise it will immediately begin to fade. An example of the artist's experience is this: When Leonardo da Vinci painted his Last Supper, which is now so dilapidated that it can no longer be appreciated artistically, people thought it was taking too long. He could not finish the Judas because this Judas was to emerge from the darkness. Leonardo worked on this painting for almost twenty years and was still not finished. Then a new prior came to Milan and looked at the work. He was not an artist; he said that Leonardo, this servant of the church, should finally finish his work. Leonardo replied that he could do it now; he had always only sketched the figure of Judas because he had not found the model for it; now that the prior was there, he had found the model for Judas in him, and the painting would now be quickly completed. - There you have such an external, concrete experience. Such external, concrete experiences play a much greater role in all the artist's work than can be expressed in such brief descriptions.

Dear attendees, you have entered the building through the room below the organ and the room for the musical instruments. If you look around after entering, you will see that the architectural idea is initially characterized by the floor plan depicting two not quite completed circles, whose segments interlock. It seems to me that the necessity for shaping the building in this way can already be seen when approaching the building from a certain distance and if one has an idea of what is actually supposed to take place in the building. I will now explain in more detail what the building idea is. First of all, I would like to point out that you can see seven columns arranged in symmetry solely against the west-east axis, closing off the auditorium on the left and right as you move forward. These seven columns are not formed in such a way that a capital shape, a pedestal shape or an architrave shape above it is repeated, but the capital, pedestal and architrave shapes are in a continuous development.

The two columns at the back of the organ area have the simplest capital and pedestal motifs: forms that, to a certain extent, strive from top to bottom, with others striving towards them from bottom to top. This most primitive form of interaction between above and below was then metamorphosed into the following forms of architraves, capitals and pedestals. This progressive metamorphosis came about through artistic perception, in that, when I was developing the model, I tried to recreate what occurs in nature. What takes place in nature, where an unnotched leaf with primitive forms is first formed at the bottom of the plant, and then this primitive form metamorphoses the further up it goes, into the indented, intricately designed leaf, even transformed into petal, stamen and pistil, which must be imitated - albeit not in a naturalistic way. One must place oneself inwardly and vitally into it and then create from within, as nature creates and transforms, as it produces and metamorphoses. Then, without reflection, but out of much deeper soul forces than those of reflection, one will achieve such transformations of the second out of the first, of the third out of the second, and so on.

It can be misunderstood that, for example, in the fifth column and in the architrave motifs above the fourth column, something like a kind of Mercury staff appears. One could now believe that the caduceus was placed in these two positions by the intellect. I believe that someone who had worked from the intellect would probably have placed the caduceus in the architrave motif and below it - the intellect has a symmetrizing effect - the column motif with the caduceus. The person who works as we have done here finds something else. Here, with the motif that you see as the fourth capital motif, only by sensing the metamorphosing transformation, without me even remotely thinking of forming a Mercury staff, this Mercury staff emerged as a petal emerges from the sepal. I did not think of a past style, but of the transformation of the fourth capital motif from the third. One can see how the forms that have gradually emerged in the development of humanity have developed quite naturally.

Then we come to the epoch when man intervenes in the evolution of his soul-life. When this is individualized and worked into the column, it follows later what is worked on this architrave surface earlier. That is why you see the caduceus on the capital later than on the architrave.

A plant that is thin and delicate develops different leaf shapes than a sturdy one. Compare just a shepherd's purse with a cactus, and you will see how the filling and shaping of space is expressed in the figurative design. At the same time, a cosmic secret emerges in it, as one feels evolution all around. There has been much talk of evolution in recent times, but little feeling for it. One only thinks it out with the mind. One speaks of the evolution of the perfect from the imperfect. Herbert Spencer and others have done much harm in this regard, and the idea has arisen that is completely justified in the mind, but which does not do justice to the observation of nature: In intellectual thinking, one starts from the assumption that in evolution, the simpler forms are at the beginning and that these then later become more and more differentiated. Spencer in particular has worked with such evolutionary ideas. But evolution does not show it that way. There is indeed a differentiation, a complication of the forms; but then one comes to a middle and then the forms simplify again. What follows is not more complicated, but what follows is simpler again. You can see this in nature itself. The human eye, which is the most perfect, has, so to speak, achieved greater simplicity than the eye forms of certain animals, which, for example, have the xiphoid process, the fan, which has disappeared again as the eye in evolution moved further up to become human.

Thus it is necessary that man connects with the power of nature, that he feels the power of nature, that he makes the power of nature his own power and creates out of this feeling. So it has been attempted to design this building in an entirely organic way, to design every detail in its place as it must be individualized from the whole. You can see, for example, that the organ is surrounded by sculpted motifs that make it appear as if the organ is not simply placed in the space, but that it works out of the entire organic design as if growing out of it. So everything in this building must be tried to be made in the same way.

You see here the lectern on which I stand. With it, the first consideration was to create something in this place that would, as it were, grow out of the other forms of construction, but in such a way that it would also express the idea that from here, through the word, one strives to express everything that is to be expressed in the building. At the moment when a person speaks here, the forms of the spoken word must continue in such a way that, like the nose on a face, its form reveals what the whole person is. Anyone who has made artistically inspired nose studies can turn a nose study into the “architectural style”, the physiognomy of the whole person. No one can ever have a nose other than the one they have, and there could never be a lectern here other than the one that is here. However, if one asserts this, it is meant in one's own view; one can only act in one's own view.

That an attempt has been made here to truly metamorphose the body can be seen from the fact that the motifs here in the glass windows are in part really such motifs that arise as images of the soul's life. For example, look at the pink window here. You will see on the left wing something coming out like the west portal of the building; on the right wing you see a kind of head. There you see a person sitting on a slope, looking towards the building, and another person looking towards the head. This has nothing to do with speculative mysticism; it is an immediate inner visual experience. This building could not have been created in any other way than by mysteriously sensing the shape of the human head in it, and the organic power on the one hand and the shape of the human head on the other hand result in the intuitive shape of the building. Therefore, the person sitting on the slope sees the metamorphosis of the building in his soul, sometimes as a human head, sometimes as the building revealing itself to the outside world. This provides a motif that leads, if I may say so, to an inner experience.

There you will find in the blue windowpane a person who is aiming – on the left – to shoot a bird in flight. In the right-hand pane you will see that the person has fired. The bird in the left-hand field is in a sphere of light. Around the man you will see all kinds of figures vividly alive in the astral body, one when he is about to shoot, the other when he has fired. This is a reality, but one from mundane life. I can imagine that those who always want to be dripping with inner exaltation may be offended if they experience such things as they are meant here, simply as a human being shooting. Yes, I was pleased when an Italian friend once used a somewhat crude expression about theosophists, who are such mystics. The friend who had already died said it, and I may say it in the very esteemed company here, because the person concerned was a princess, and what a princess says, that can also be said. She glossed over such people, who always want to live in a kind of inner elevation, by saying that they are people with a “face up to their stomachs”. I also repeat her not quite correct German. Now, ladies and gentlemen, the same idea was also implemented in painting. I can only talk about the actual painting, about spiritual painting, by referring to the small dome. Only in the small dome was it possible for me to carry out what I have indicated as the challenge of a newer painting: that behind the effort to create a window experience, drawing disappears altogether. I had one of my characters in the first mystery drama express this as follows: that the forms appear as the work of color. For when one feels with the feeling for painting, then one feels the drawing, which is carried into the pictorial, as a lie. When I draw the horizontal line, it is actually a reproduction of something that is not there at all. When I apply the blue sky as a surface and the green below, the form arises from the experience of the color itself. In this way, every pictorial element can be formed. Within the world of color itself lies a creative world, and the one who feels the colors paints what the colors say to each other in creation. He does not need to stick to a naturalistic model; he can create the figures from the colors themselves. It is the case that nature and also human life already have a certain right to shape the moral out of the colored with a necessity.

Yesterday, Mr. Uehli quite rightly pointed out how newer painters already have an intuitive sense of such effects resulting from light and dark, from the colors themselves, and how they come to paint a double bass next to a tin can. They are pursuing the right thing in itself, that it is only a matter of seeing how the light gradates in its becoming colored when it falls on a double bass and then continues to fall on a tin can. That is the right thing. But the wrong thing is that this is again based on naturalistic experience. If you really live in the colors, it arises from the colored something other than a can and a bass violin. The color is creative, and how it puts together, but it is a necessity of the mere colored out, you have to experience. Then you do not make a can next to a bass violin, because that is again outside the colored.

So here I have tried to paint entirely from the colors. If you see the reddish-orange spot here next to the blue spot and the black spot, this is initially a vivid impression from the colors. But then the colors come to life, then figures emerge from them, which can even be interpreted afterwards. But just as little as one can make plants with the human mind here, so one can just as little paint something on them that one has thought up with the human mind. One must first think when the colors are there, just as the plant must first grow before one can see it.

And so a Faust figure with Death and the Child emerged. The entire head emerged from the colors with all its figuration. Only in the human soul does a spiritual-real object form by itself.

For example, you can see above the organ motif how something is painted that a philistine, a person attached to the sensual world, will naturally perceive as madness. But you will no longer perceive it as madness when I tell you the following: If you close your eyes, you will, as it were, feel something inside the eye, like two eyes looking at each other. What takes place inwardly can certainly be developed further in a certain way. Then what, when viewed in a primitive way, looks like two eyes glowing out of the darkness towards you, and what is experienced inwardly, can be shaped in such a way that, when projected outwards, an entire beyond, an entire world-genesis can be seen in it. Here again an attempt has been made to create out of color what the eye experiences when, by narrowing the pupil, it sees itself in the darkness. One need not merely read the secrets of the mind, one can see them - suddenly they are there.

In a similar way, attempts have been made to bring other motifs into reality, again not from the naturalistic imitation of signs and forms, but entirely from color. The ancient Indians and their inspiration, the seven Rishis, who in turn were inspired by the stars to paint with an open head, is, if you do it that way now, abstract, actually nonsense; I say that quite openly. But when one experiences what was experienced in the ancient Indian culture in the relationship between the disciple and the guru, the teacher, one feels as if the ancient Indian did not have a skullcap, but as if it had evaporated, and as if he were not a human being who lives in his skin, but one feels as a sevenfold being, as if his soul power were composed of the seven soul rays of the holy Rishis of ancient Atlantis, enlightening him, and that he then communicated to his world that which he revealed, not from his own spirit but from the spirit of the holy Rishis. The more one works out what is said here, the more one comes closer to what has been painted here. The intuitive perception has first placed itself in ancient India, in ancient Atlantis. That which can be seen there has been painted on the wall here, and only afterwards can one speculate when it is there. This is how the message can relate to artistic creation. This is how everything in this building should actually come about.

You will find this building covered with Nordic slate. The building idea must be felt through to the point of radiating outwards. The slate, or the material used to cover it, must shine in a certain way in the sunlight. It seemed to happen by chance here – but of course there is always an inner necessity underlying it. When I saw the Nordic slate in Norway from the train, I knew that it was the right material to cover the building. We were then still able to have the slate shipped from Norway in the pre-war period. You will certainly feel the effect when you look at the building from a distance in good sunshine.

My main concern while the building was being constructed was the acoustics. During the construction, the building was of course also provided with scaffolding on the inside so that work could be carried out upstairs. This did not produce any acoustics, the acoustics were quite different, that is, they were a caricature of acoustics. Now it so happens that the acoustics of the building were also conceived from the same building idea. My idea was that I could expect the acoustic question to be solved for the lecturer by occult research. You know how difficult it is; you cannot calculate the acoustics. You will see how it has been achieved, but to a certain degree of perfection, to carry out the acoustics. You may now ask how these seven pillars, which contain the secret of the building, are connected with the acoustics. The two domes within our building are so lightly connected that they form a kind of soundboard, just as the soundboard of a violin plays a role in the richness of sound. Of course, since the whole, both the columns and the dome, are made of wood, the acoustics will only reach perfection over the years, just as the acoustics of a violin only develop over the years. We must first find a way to have a profound effect on the material, to be able to feel through the building idea what is now sensed as the acoustics of this building. You will understand that the acoustics must be sensed best from the organ podium. You will also see that when two people here in the middle talk to each other, an echo can be heard coming down from the ceiling. This seems to be an indication from the world being that one may only speak from the stage or the lectern within the building and that the building itself does not actually tolerate useless chatter from any point.

Now, dear attendees, I have tried to tell you what can be said in this regard while looking at the building. I will have to supplement what I have spoken today in my presentation of the building idea, which I will give at the final event next Saturday. Then I will say what can still be said. Now we have to clear the hall for the next lecture.